#[[ you ever think about... quirk reveal parties... ]]

[cerisereids]

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲- 𝐀.𝐇.

Pairing- Aaron Hotchner x Girly!Assistant!Reader

WC- 7.5k (LORDDDD) (literally belle shut up challenge level impossible)

Summary- With your birthday around the corner, you decide to throw a blowout bash. The people you work with have no idea how to let go. Least of all your boss, Aaron Hotchner. Yet, he doesn't show.

Contains- 18+ MDNI, angst to fluffy smut(ish), girly!reader, reader has long hair she can run her fingers through, spicy but no explicit smut (still 18+ tho don't play), non-explicit sex scene, reader standing on business, discussions of Hotch and Haley's divorce

A/N- divider from @thecutestgrotto !!

The satisfying click of your white kitten heels fill the hallway as you bounce off the linoleum tiles. You’re in a delicate balancing act, juggling a tray of your famous cupcakes as well as glittery pink invitations. Gold lettering splays across the front ‘You’re Invited!’ They’re cheesy little things you had made at the local print shop, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your gloomy office needs some cheer. 

You push the door open with your hip, backing into the room with small little steps as you enter the BAU. Your instantly relieved by a pair of strong arms guiding your through the doorway. “Got it, sugar?” Derek’s voice asks, his hands hovering in precaution. 

“I am just fine! Here! Take one!” You set the cupcake tray down, plucking one out for him, handing it to him with an invitation. His brow quirks, a small smile rising on his lips.

 “What’s all this for?” He asks, bemused. 

“Well, my birthday is coming up, so I thought I’d have a big, blowout, bash! It’s been too long since you guys loosened up, really got to let go and have fun!” You squeal, stepping back slightly as the rest of the team quickly finds the dessert. Like bees to honey, you like to say. 

“So, you decided that instead of celebrating yourself, to insist on us celebrating you?” Emily inquires around a mouthful of cupcake. 

“Pretty much!” You pinch her cheek affectionately, and she giggles. Your gaze turns ever so slightly, catching the window of your boss’ office. Bile rises in your throat. He won’t be so easy to coax out. Both now, and to the party itself. The mere thought of it makes you nauseous. 

Emily saddles up beside you, lightly nudging her elbow with yours. She nods to Aaron’s office, and blood rushes to your cheeks. Your gaze drops to the ground, which you scuff with the bottom of your shoe. You lift your head up, your hair falling down your shoulders like a waterfall. 

“He in?” You ask, resuming your naturally bubbly state, a wide smile plastered over your anxiety. 

“Yup, when is he not?” Emily responds, curious, like a cat. You snap out of your anxious state, giving a playful shrug. You bat your lashes and turn, grabbing the tray and remaining invitations. 

“Hey, I wanted seconds!” Spencer calls after you. You roll your eyes, your clicking heels once again the only noise as you walk away. It’s no secret who you’re going to see. 

Aaron’s office door is slightly ajar, so you enter the same way you did earlier, by hip. His brow quirks upon your arrival, but you don’t forget to clock the way his eyes catch you, scanning up and down your frame. You wore one of your favorite dresses today, a pink, ruffly number that resembles a sunset. It cascades down your body like it was made for you. By the way Aaron’s looking at you, he thinks so, too. The way he looks at you is electric, like a bolt of lightning cracking your spine as you take each other in. Your breath shortens, catching in your throat at the sight of his tired, brown eyes. 

“Hey, big guy,” you lilt, your voice in its usual effervescent tease. You don’t miss the way he flushes down to his neck at the nickname. 

“What is this all about, hm?” he raises a brow, his voice smooth like silk. His eyes widen as you set down the tin of cupcakes, revealing their chocolatey goodness to him. His favorite. You hand him an invitation, nerves bubbling in your stomach as he reads it over. Your cheeks heat, like you’re 17 again waiting for an invite to the prom.

Then, he glances up at you. There’s a sparkle in his eye when he looks at you. You’re not sure if he knows it’s there, but you cherish it. You cherish the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, the world. You cherish the way not a single other colleague receives the exact gaze you do, soft, patient, kind. It’s your best kept secret. 

You breathe out a sigh at that look, relief washing over you like fresh sunlight. 

“Did you make these? They’re beautiful,” he inspects the card in his hands, and your heart thuds against your ribcage, nerves buzzing once again. His nonchalance is like a tightrope, inching you closer either to safety or certain death. 

“Thank you,” you reply. It’s quiet. You’re afraid that if you raise your voice, your heart will come out of your throat. “I make them all myself.”

You settle on his desk, resting a light hip on it while you watch him intently. He studies you, eyes flitting over your face as he takes in the glitter of your eyeshadow, the soft swipes of gloss on your lips. His own are parted, tongue peeking out in a tantalizing way that sets your heart aflame. 

You raise a brow, asserting an effective upper hand. You watch his brow go soft, and you know you have him. It doesn’t take much for you to convince him. Of anything, really. Since you started working for him, he’s taken actual time off (rarely, but he has), eats dinner at a regular time each night, and manages to get a little more sleep. The team calls it witchcraft, sorcery. You’d call it the sheer force of the desire to keep the man you’re deeply in love with alive and healthy. That’d be too complicated, though, so you bat your lashes and accept their praises. 

“That’s really incredible,” it’s soft, his tone. Gentle and low in a way that’s reserved only for you, for these quiet moments in his office. Whether you’re talking about a case, your weekend plans, or the next set of nails you’re getting, he saves this special cadence just for you. Smooth and velvety, liquid chocolate spilling from his tongue. 

“Thank you,” your eyes glimmer as you shift on his desk ever so slightly. Your hip pops toward him in a way that has him licking his lips. Confidence surges through, you sit up taller. “Will you be there?” You bat your lashes, your prettiest doe eyes on full display. “It would mean everything to have you there.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hook, line, and sinker. 

“Yay!” You squeal, hopping off his desk. You fix him a cupcake, taking the last one on the tray and placing it delicately on a pink napkin. 

“You’re only allowed to eat this if you’ve had lunch. Have you?” You’re all business again, in the blink of an eye. You poise a sassy hand on your hip, your brow arching. 

“I had a piece of toast and a pickle,” he admits. It’s sheepish, and you roll your eyes. 

“That’s a disgusting combo. Have another piece of toast before you eat that,” you roll your eyes playfully before stalking off. A barely audible ‘yes, ma’am’, follows you out. You pause, smiling to yourself before heading to your desk. 

“You really think he’s gonna show?” Penelope asks, her tongue swirling around her third daiquiri of the evening. You sigh, popping your hands on your hips as you take a step back from your large window, inspecting your decorative work. 

It’s the night before your big party, an event you normally thrive on hosting. Now, though, it’s the cause of the anxiety sparkling inside you, like your heart’s swimming in carbonated water. You adjust the rollers in your hair, the fluffy sleeves of your pink silk robe falling to your elbows as you do so. 

You center yourself for a moment, focusing on the comforting way the delicate fabric frames your body, falling over your tank top and sleep shorts. You wiggle your feet, currently stuffed into pink bunny slippers. Your gaze finds the moon, full and round, you absorb it. You welcome anything that helps you not crush under the debilitating weight of your affections for Aaron Hotchner. 

“I don’t know! He told me he’d be there!” Your voice is antsy, you wring your hands together with a small smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. While Penelope’s brilliant, she’s not a profiler. She’s also drunk. You pray these two things add up in your favor.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw him go out. Not since the divorce, but if he were for anybody, it’d be for you. That much I know,” she pats a supportive hand on your shoulder, though it does nothing to quell the nausea that comes from the d-word. 

You’d been a strong reliant for your boss while he’d finalized his divorce, almost a year ago now. Getting him late night coffees, sitting on the couch in his office while he completed paperwork, bringing in little treats just to make him smile. They always did, everything you did garnered a smile out of him. 

That’s why you were teased in your first week on the job, after you’d questioned the team’s comments about their stoic leader. “He smiles all the time, what are you guys talking about?” Their sarcastic grins and chuckling was the first time you were fully aware that the relationship you had with your boss was…different than the others. The amount of time that’s passed since then, the bond you’ve made with your boss, makes your head spin.

Still, you aimed to be respectful everyday. No matter how many details you knew about his issues with Haley, the stress of taking care of Jack while he was away, you kept a professional distance. You would not cross that line. In the year since he’d taken the ring off, though, it’s been…different. A wall has come down, a layer unshed. You don’t know what to do with it, with him. 

“Hey, does this look good over here?” Emily calls, snapping you out of your Aaron-induced haze. You plaster another smile on your face, though this time it’s not too difficult. You were thankful to merely witness J.J. propping Emily up on a stool so she can pin a pink disco ball in the center of your expansive living room. Relief washes over you, the love for your friends momentarily distracting you from the ache in your chest. 

“Looks great, thanks Em!” you pat her ass playfully, laughing when she squeals. 

“Anything for you, my darling!” She calls after you as you make your way through the living room to the kitchen, grabbing your own glass of the elixir that now has Penelope fully slumped forward on your kitchen island. 

“Pen? You good?” You nudge her slightly, and she jumps at the contact. 

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I’m great! Cool as a cucumber!” She adjusts her own pajamas, a buttery yellow silk set that comes with a matching eye mask. 

You laugh, shaking your head as you pour your own drink. “You really think Aaron will come tomorrow?” You ask her, your voice is meek. You hate it, that this is what he does to you. 

“I would be truly shocked if he didn’t, my sweet,” she answers, and though her words are slightly slurred, her tone is serious. You smile. 

“I agree!” Emily calls, walking into the kitchen to refill her own cup. J.J. trails behind her, nodding emphatically. 

“I mean, have you heard anyone else here call him Aaron? Like…ever?” J.J. says. You jokinglya move your head side to side, rattling the thought around your head. They all giggle at your response, and your cheeks heat up. You rest your chin on your shoulder, avoiding eye contact with the giddy group. 

“He’ll show. Don’t even worry about it,” J.J. states, the others nodding in agreement. 

You blow out a sigh, downing the rest of your drink in one swig. 

The bass from the speaker reverberates through your house, the walls nearly shaking from the vibrations. You’re only slightly tipsy, a bit dizzy as you slide open the glass door leading to the patio. Nearly every square inch of the pool is full of people, bodies bobbing around, elbows above water to preserve red solo cups. 

The wind blows through your hair, your eyes falling shut. You try to bask in it, absorb the setting sun as you had with the moon the night before. It’s not working. Aaron still hasn’t shown. Your attempts to not get upset about it are weak, feeble, an embarrassment. You thought fresh air would do you some good, but now, in your tipsy, clouded haze, you scan the crowd of faces. Some of them you know, most of them don’t. Above all else, you still don’t see the one you want. You feel stupid for thinking you would. Your heart splinters, cracks in the foundation breaking the whole. 

You sit on the porch step, your face falling to your hands. What’s wrong with you? Throwing parties is like a love language to you- Gatsby himself would be jealous. It’s not atypical for friends of friends of friends to find themselves in your yard. Tonight, though, you’re upset. Upset that none of them are there for you. Upset that you don’t even matter. Upset that the one person who could fix this feeling hasn’t shown. He isn’t here for you. After everything, everything you have done for him. After he promised. Tears prick the insides of your eyes, and you release a shuddering breath.

“Hey, Party Princess!” You look up to find Penelope, arm in arm with Derek. Both of them look a bit too drunk for their own good. Penelope’s face falls immediately upon seeing your teary gaze, your pouty lips. 

“Oh angel! What’s going on?!” She squeaks, sitting down beside you immediately. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, and you lean into them instinctively. 

“Someone special not here, pretty girl?” Derek asks, crouching down to meet your eye level. The acknowledgement of your situation only makes the tears fall. 

Penelope forces your head parallel to the ground. “Look down! Don’t let the tears streak your makeup!” You release a wet laugh at that, inspiring laughter from Derek and Penelope as well. You can hear the relief in theirs, that Aaron Hotchner hasn’t rendered you incapable of laughter. 

You feel Derek’s hand over the expanse of your shoulder, a warm, comforting grip that soothes you only slightly. Your gaze is still on the concrete, shame creeping up your spine at your emotions. “I’m sorry, guys,” you splutter, tears falling faster now. 

“No! No, don’t apologize,” Penelope squeals, finding a tissue in her bag and handing it to you. “Blot those pretty eyes, hon, and let’s go dance! Don’t spend your birthday crying over some guy!” 

You do as she says, closing your wet eye so your lash meets the tissue, small bits of mascara left as residue. You finally lift your head up, meeting Derek’s gaze. “There she is!” He smiles, “the most beautiful girl in Quantico.”

“Hey!” Penelope smacks his bicep. He laughs, holding a hand there in a show of faux pain. 

“Sorry, one of the two most beautiful women in Quantico,” he responds, walking backwards to the bar. He grabs you a shot of tequila, your favorite, and propositions you. 

“That’s much better,” Penelope smirks, satisfied. She moves from beside you, ready to assemble a lime and some salt. You stop her, a hand to her forearm. “No need.” You throw back the shot, your head tilting all the way back as you down the burning liquid. It singes your throat, and you wiggle your head from side to side as it goes down. 

That same counterfeit smile curls your lips, your eyes just as sad as they were before. “Let’s party!”

Aaron Hotchner  is a piece of shit. He knows this. His ex-wife knows this. Hell, Jack probably knows it, too. But now she knows it, and for some reason, that’s his final straw. He stands at her front porch, suit jacket long abandoned, tie forcefully loosened from hours of hunching over his desk. His hair is messy, thanks to his fingers running through it every 5 minutes. The bags under his eyes have darkened throughout the night, and he can tell from his reflection in the window that he looks like hell. The last place he should be is at a party, let alone this party.

He takes in her expansive house, a gift she inherited from her parents once they moved to Calabassass, she told him once. The front is made of classic white stone, a baby blue trim framing the door and windows. It looks as if it hasn’t been touched in years, only to fine tune and keep it looking pristine. Though, the perfection on the outside provides a direct contrast to what little he can see going on inside. He has a view of the kitchen from where he stands, empty beer cans line the kitchen island, pink streamers and popped balloons litter the floor. 

He sees the outline of someone familiar enter the kitchen. Penelope, if the bouncing blonde hair streaked with hot pink was any indicator. He watches as she stumbles about, a large figure, Derek, holding her up by the elbows as she attempts to make a mixed drink. He hopes it’s not for herself. He then realizes what a creep he must look like, a dark figure standing alone in front of a house that’s not his, staring in the window at a party he failed to attend. He turns, ready to leave, firm in his decision that this was all a big mistake to begin with. 

He stops, though from the opening of the door. He whips his head around, relief and disappointment washing over him to see Emily. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if it had been her opening the door. Fall to his knees, grovel, probably. His cheeks tint a bright red at her knowing, disappointed stare. “You fucked up tonight, Hotchner,” her affirming tone washes over him like he’s been dipped in acid, singeing his skin and finding its way to his guts. He’s nothing but a puddle. 

“Where is she?” He asks. It’s meek, feeble. A tone nobody he’s ever worked with heard him use. Emily raises her brow at that, both in shock and suspicion. 

“The backyard, near the pool. She’s had a lot to drink, though. So be careful. You may not be someone she wants to see right now.” Emily’s pitiful smile only makes him feel worse. He can’t leave now that he’s been spotted, though. It would catapult him from normal amounts of jackass to the jackass Olympics, something he’d never be able to recover from. Not when it comes to her. 

He follows Emily in, the remnants of what seemed like a blowout bash now diluted to a handful of bodies in each room. Most of them are the team, who are shooting him looks of shock and pity as he makes his way through the house. His heart beats through his ears as he slides the glass door open, stepping under the pink balloon arch to find her. 

She’s sitting alone on the edge of the pool, her feet dipping in slightly. He takes her in, giving him a brief moment of selfish reprieve before she sees him, before he has to confront the ways in which he’s broken her heart tonight. A floral pink dress flows around her, the sleeves billowing in the wind. The ruffles of the tiered dress are bunched around her hips as she sits, the hemline raised to prevent wetting the fabric. She’s a vision, the pale moonlight ghosting over her frame like a spotlight made just for her. His heart breaks. All of this, and he’s left her so lonely. He is a piece of shit. 

The creak of the porch step calls her attention, her head swinging around her shoulder to see who’s come to join her. The look on her face as she sees him…it’s too much to put into words, even for a profiler as experienced as Aaron. He watches each emotion cross her face. Her instinctual reaction was relief, her eyes brightening like a lightning flash through his heart. Her brows furrow soon after, discontent clouding her features. Anger is soon to follow, the pink gloss on her lips shining as they curve downward. 

She lands on anger. Stays there as she moves to stand, not caring where the water splashes as she swings her feet out of the pool. She stomps over to him, feet smacking against the pool deck as she barrels into him. The force is light, her drunken state impacting the collision. He still stumbles a bit, catching both her and himself as they tumble. 

“Where were you?!” she spits, the fire in her eyes paralyzing. He’s speechless. “I waited for you! I waited for you all night! You said- you said you’d be there! You promised!” Her voice gets louder with each syllable, her fists colliding into his chest with each breath. She turns, walking toward the water once more. 

He follows slowly, tentative. His hand reaches to her elbow, fingers lightly touching the skin. She turns, smacking his hand away. He flinches at the sudden contact, not expecting such force from her. “No!” She exclaims. Tears prick her eyes now, her hand is shaking as she holds up a finger in his face. Aaron’s heart splinters at the sight, guilt searing his veins like a deadly disease. 

“You don’t get to touch me, you don’t get to act like you’re the victim here. You. Didn’t. Show.” She spits, venom punching every word. He can see the group forming at the door out of his peripheral vision. It’s just the team, thankfully. Though he knows he’s lost this right, he’s relieved random strangers aren’t privy to his colossal fuck up. 

“God, I feel so fucking stupid!” She exclaims, running ten fingers through perfectly tousled hair. “Sitting here in this dress, that I picked out for you, at this party, that I only threw for you!” Her voice cracks on that last word, tears finally spilling over her lash line. 

“Me?” He mumbles. It’s the first word he’s said to her all night. It makes him feel like an idiot. There’s heat in her gaze, a deadly forest fire. But she’s silent. He keeps going. “You threw this party for me?” He sounds dumb. He knows it even before she rolls her eyes. A fantastic idiot, that’s what he is. 

“God, Aaron!” She’s yelling, now. The use of his first name knocks the wind out of him every time. This time, though, with the pain lacing her tone, it hits like a tornado. “For the best fucking profiler in fucking America, you have no clue how to read people!” 

He raises a brow at this, and she yanks at the root of her hair, a loud, desperate, ‘ugh!’ tearing from her lips. “I’m so hurt, Aaron, You hurt me. I’m so angry, and I’m so, so in love with you, that I’ll probably fucking forgive you in the morning.”

The words hit him like a bullet train, slicing him clean in half. His mouth falls open, a small ‘o’ that only serves to make him stupider. She stalks over to the bar on the deep end of the pool, leaning over and grabbing a bottle of vodka from the interior. She takes a long swig, eyes falling closed. Tears fall down her cheeks, streaking her perfectly applied makeup. She stumbles a bit, nearing the edge of the water, and his heart rate picks up. He makes the mistake of reaching for the bottle. It only results in a forceful shove, the bottle falling between the two and shattering on the ground. 

Her fury only intensifies now. Her vindictive gaze could turn him to stone. He looks down at the mess, catching her shoeless feet. He grips her wrist before she can move. Her bare feet, drunken state, and the shards of broken glass are a recipe for disaster. He doesn’t care how big of an asshole he is, how much she might hate him right now, but he can’t risk letting her get hurt even more. He’s expecting her reaction, an immediate instinct to shove him off of her. He can’t even register the impact it has on his already fragile heart, because in her alcohol induced frenzy, her shove knocks them both in the water. 

The splash envelops Aaron like a slap to the face. He opens his eyes immediately, and he doesn’t even register the sting of the chlorine in his eyes. His only mission is to find her, to make sure she’s safe. He sloppily wraps himself around her, bringing them up to the surface. They both gasp upon arrival, breathing as if they’d never get the privilege again. He splays a hand across her back, pushing her toward him until they’re chest-to-chest, until she can’t wriggle out of his grasp. He won’t let her go until she’s safely out of the water.

The frantic rise and fall of her chest against his steadies him. It’s enough to ground him, to help him find his bearings as he spots the ladder leading out of the pool. He feels her relax slightly in his arms as he begins to move, her own wrapping around his neck. He lets out the smallest sigh of relief. She doesn’t completely hate him. With how he acted tonight, he’s surprised he’s even been afforded that much. 

He lets her go first, hands finding her waist and lifting her to the first step. His hands hover around her as she stumbles up the ladder, ready for any possible disaster to strike. He follows quickly, his white dress shirt sticking to his skin in a way that would make him feel exposed around anyone else. He rolls his sleeves up to his shoulders, shaking his hair out like a dog. She flinches when he sprays her, giggling quietly. The sweet, fluttering noise is contagious, Aaron laughs himself before muttering a quiet, “sorry.” 

He watches her face change as she remembers again. Remember why they ended up in the pool,  why she’s mad at him in the first place. Light, joyful eyes darken into a cloudy, stormy gaze. Her eyes are like a bow and arrow aimed right at his heart, ready for the kill. He’s ready to admit defeat, to just lay there and let her skin and eat him alive. He avoids her gaze. Cowardly, he knows. 

“So. Fucking. Unfair.” They’re punctuated by a look of desperation and disdain, desire and destruction. His head shoots up again at that, shame creeping up his spine once more. It settles in his neck, constricts his airflow. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve treated you terribly tonight and-”

He’s cut off by a groan that could spark an earthquake. She pulls at the roots of her wet hair in frustration. “Not that. Well- partially that. It’s fucking unfair that you get to skip my party, break my heart, show up, and then emerge from my pool looking like some sort of Adonis. Un-fucking fair, Aaron Hotchner.”

She moves closer to him with each passing word, to the point where his name is merely a whisper, uttered to him only inches from his own face. He studies her, the water droplets falling down her tear-stained face, the look in her eye, now softened to one of desperate devotion, despite all he’s put her through tonight. She’s breathtaking. Just as she was the day they first met, and everyday since then. An otherworldly beauty that has seemed to captivate him, mind, body, and soul. 

She inches even closer, her fingernails raking up his bare forearms. A shiver unzips his spine, invoking a light chuckle from her. As her lips inch ever so closer to his own, he nearly lets himself get lost in it. When she releases a shaky sigh against his mouth, the potent stench of vodka strongly reminds him that she is in no place for such an activity tonight. He scoops her up, folding her over his shoulder as he turns to get her indoors. 

He ignores her squeals of protest, the splattering of her palms on his back, though he can’t help but imagine this exact scenario in a different light- one where she’s sober, and he’s carrying her through his bedroom door. He opens the glass door with one hand, sliding it the rest of the way with his hip. He thanks his lucky stars that the only people left are Penelope and Derek, who likely stayed in case of any possible drownings. He nods at them, a succinct, ‘we’re good, get out.’

The message is heard clearly, the two of them shuffling out the door, but not before taking multiple glances at their boss, who’s carrying his hammered employee like a sack of potatoes. He’s in for an absolute earful come Monday, he’s sure of it. 

Her room is easy to spot, a bright pink door with her name plastered at the top. He smiles to himself, his heart swelling at the way she revels in her inner child. Sparkly room decor, birthday party invitations, a birthday party in general. He’s almost envious of the way she effortlessly mixes her childish woe with her adult sophistication. Even around the office, she clacks around in whatever heel came out of her rotating closet that morning, all while spouting off fine tuned details of any current or prospective cases. 

These are things he’s lost touch with as he’s aged, that whimsy, the wild eyed gaze she gives to new challenges. He hopes she never lets it go. He hopes she’ll be 80 with bedazzled glasses and  the best hair in the room. Knowing her, he has nothing to worry about in that regard. 

He plops her down on the large couch on the far end of her room, not wanting to douse her bed with chlorine. She needs a good night’s sleep. She whines as she attempts to wiggle out of her party dress, the straps proving to be very stubborn as she maneuvers around the couch. He turns instinctively as she figures it out, her dress bunching around her thighs before she lifts it up over her head. The small sliver of thigh he did see is burned into his brain forever, though. There’s no escaping that. 

“Aaron, I need my pajamas,” her voice is soft, tired. 

Aaron clears his throat awkwardly. “Where are they, honey?”

He practically hears her gleam at his words. He knows she’s basking in his pet name the way she always does, like a cat who got the cream. “Top drawer. I want the silk pink set,” her voice has a certain lilt to it now that nearly has his eyes rolling in the back of his head. Pink silk. He’ll die. He could just die. It would probably be less painful than handling her delicate sleepwear, throwing it behind him without turning around. 

She giggles as she puts it on. “You can look now. I’m all covered.”

He turns, eyes trained on the floor, just in case. He’s truly not prepared for what he sees when he turns around. Her smooth legs are crossed at the ankle, her plush thighs filling out the fabric of her soft pajamas. The top is barely enough fabric to be called such, a thin tank top leaving so little to the imagination, he nearly combusts on the spot. The peaks of her nipples are enough to do him in permanently, to put him in the ground for all eternity. He’d deserve it, too. 

“I can’t move. Need you to get me to bed,” she mumbles, her body falling limp against the couch. He rolls his eyes, moving to scoop her in his arms, bridal style this time. The implication makes him choke on his own spit. 

“Wait!” She exclaims, just as he’s reached the foot of her bed. He stops in his tracks. “Need to get the rest of my makeup off, Aaron. Need the bathroom.” Her head falls against his chest, and he can’t say no. Sighing, he adjusts her in his arms and carries her to the ensuite bathroom. 

He sits her down on the closed toilet, covered in a pink, fuzzy fabric. She wiggles, getting comfortable as her eyes fall shut. 

“The soft, fuzzy washcloth on the counter automatically takes off makeup with water. If you could just wet it, I can get the rest.” She’s truly sleepy now, the alcohol taking her over almost entirely now. 

He won’t make her do all of that work, not after everything he’s put her through tonight. He heeds only part of her request, wetting the washcloth and ringing out the excess water. He crouches in front of her, putting a gentle hand to her jaw as he begins to lightly scrub the remaining bits of makeup off. She sighs, one of content and exhaustion. His heart soars. He thinks he may have to start going back to church just to make up for the grace he’s been granted tonight. 

After he moves through the next two steps- cleanser, then moisturizer, per her instruction- they’re back where they started, at the edge of her bed, her nestled in his arms. He lays her down gently, turning to sleep on her couch downstairs. He’s stopped in his tracks with a single tug to the wrist. His heart stops. 

“Stay,” she mumbles. He’s powerless. He peels off his wet clothes, making peace with sleeping in damp underwear, before she mumbles something more. “There’s extra sweatpants in the room to the right. Take them.” He has no choice but to listen. 

You wake with a pounding head, the morning light filtering in like a knife designed to split you in two. You groan, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the sober reality you’ve been thrust back into. You’re caught off guard when you roll into an absolute brick wall of a man, panic rising in your throat before you realise who it is. The only positive is that he’s familiar, that you know it’s not some random guy you hooked up with and let stay the night. On the other side of that coin, you’re waking up next to your boss, the day after you confessed your love for him. 

The arrival of that memory triggers the rest, and they flood in like a broken dam. Your tears, the vodka, the broken glass, the pool, the way his pecs looked in his white shirt, soaked to the bone and clinging to his chest. 

You shake off the thought, though the motion only wakes Aaron. You curse lightly under your breath. It takes everything in you not to crumble at the raspy groan Aaron lets out, seemingly just as surprised to be waking up in a foreign environment. His eyes widen when they find you, pure shock lacing his features before he slowly pieces together the events of the night before. A small smile curves your lips. “Good morning, party pooper.”

Aaron at least has enough gentlemanly instinct to make breakfast. He’s quick to tie your pink apron around his waist, cracking eggs and frying bacon with ease. You perch on one of the stools at your kitchen island, still littered with beer cans and empty solo cups. You sip your coffee as you watch him. You hate how gorgeous he is, how he has the right to look like that even when you’re mad at him. 

Sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lack of a shirt tantalizing. Your eyes zone in on the slivers of skin afforded beyond the apron. You squeeze your thighs together at the hair on his tummy, the hair that trails lower, and lower…

You jump as he puts a plate in front of you, not expecting for him to be done so soon. “Oh!” You squeal, the sound muffled slightly by your coffee mug. You’re using the glass dish as a crutch now, holding it in front of your face like a shield. You know he can tell exactly what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it, but it doesn’t stop you. He should know how you’re feeling right now, with him in front of you, looking even more delectable than the fresh, sizzling bacon. But he’s still the same man that broke your heart merely hours ago. 

He plates himself before nodding his head towards the semi-clean kitchen table. “Let’s eat there, so that way we’re not talking over pyramids of Sam Adams.”

You smile softly at this, swinging your legs around to hop off the stool. He takes your plate before you can, sitting it at the head of the table. You sit, and take a bite. It takes everything in you not to moan. If it weren’t for last night, maybe you would’ve. You sit in silence for a moment, soft chewing and forks clinking against plates the only noise. The only noise, at least, until Aaron looks directly at you. 

“I’m so sorry. I know that there’s not enough apologies in the world to make up for how I’ve treated you. I just- I couldn’t…” his voice trails off. The hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Couldn’t what?” It’s quiet as it leaves your lips, hanging between you two like a ticking time bomb. His eyes flit to the table, his hands clasped together in what looks like silent, desperate, prayer. 

“I couldn’t face rejection again,” he states, plainly. The wheels start turning in your head. Moving, but still unsure of the destination. “You saw so many details of my divorce, the ugly ins and outs. I couldn’t even fathom the thought that you’d be- that you would have any sort of feeling towards me. That you would love me in the way that I love you. Now that I know what I know…”

You’re there. You’ve reached your destination, and you can’t help but collapse your head into your hands and laugh at the stupidity of it all. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at the noise you emit, but it’s all worth it at the smile that appears on his own face, cheeks bunching up around his eyes. It makes your heart swell. 

“So, you’re telling me…you didn’t come to my party because you were afraid I’d reject your feelings, and I spent the entire night drinking and crying on rotation because I thought you were rejecting me…” You spell it out, wild hand motions matching the absurdity of the situation. 

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” He smiles, and heat rises to your cheeks. A silence settles over you then, the gravity of what this means hitting the both of you like a truck. “I’m so, so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to, though I know that sounds redundant because of my actions.”

You let out an incredulous chuckle at that, a huff of air conveying multiple emotions at once. “Aaron…I need to know that you won’t just run when things get hard. I know that you and Haley had something…else. I don’t want to be a repeat of that in your healing journey, or get in the way of your duties with Jack, or-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, a warm hand grazing your forearm over the table. “You’re not just a part of my healing journey. I learned a lot when Haley left me. You saw it. You held a heavy hand in that change. You gave me something to strive for, a glimmer after I’d thought I messed everything up. And instead of treating you the way I know you deserve, I ran right back to my old patterns. I can’t explain how sorry I am. How can I make it up to you?”

You raise a tentative brow. “The self awareness is a good sign, Aaron, but I need you to know that I’m a one and done kind of girl. Typically a none and done kind of girl. I’m making a very special exception here, sir.” He nods at this, eyes boring into yours. “You’re not going to keep me if you keep your old patterns. It’s one or the other, and you can make it up to me by making that decision. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

He nods emphatically, fingers lacing between yours across the table. You sigh, a true, genuine smile on your face for the first time since before last night. You finish your breakfast in a content silence before dragging him back up to your room. 

“It’s one of the only spots in the house not littered with alcohol!” You’d told him, your reasoning quite sound in your eyes. Aaron rolls his, though a smile persists anyway. 

You fall onto your mattress, lifting your arms up for Aaron to join you. He lays beside you, your finger grazing along the waistline of his sweatpants. You revel in the way he shivers at the contact. He makes himself comfortable and you sling a leg across his hips, neck craning up to look in his eyes. A tense silence falls over you two then, thick and wanting. He tests the waters, slowly inching his face closer to yours. You bridge the gap, greedily smashing his lips to yours. 

He kisses you like a man starved, his arms curling around your back as he tries to consume as much of you as possible. You break from the kiss, only for him to pepper multiple tiny ones on your lips, his own drifting to your chin, your jaw, your neck. You turn on your side so your chest to chest with him, the feeling of your tits pressed up against his was enough to make your head spin. His rigid body relaxes in your arms as his lips find yours again. 

You clutch at his shoulders, a small whimper fleeing your lips in between greedy kisses. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that? Drive me fucking crazy,” he mutters, hands finding the soft skin under your sleep tank. “Yeah?” you coo, and he groans. 

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, and you clench your thighs together. His ravenous hands frantically search for every spare part of your body they can find. “Walking around the office in those skirts, those cute fucking heels,” he punctuates his statement with more kisses. Your head is spinning. 

“I’m glad you like them, I pick them out just to drive you crazy,” you joke, and revel in the way his eyes roll back in his head. You rock against his hard length, and he shudders. 

“I need you. Now.”

Aaron lays still under the covers, fingertips raking up and down her back as if she’s made of porcelain. He releases a shaky breath, lips pressing to the top of her head. She’s drifting in and out of sleep, and the selfish part of him wants her awake, to be there with him, to kiss him some more. The nurturing part of him knows that she needs the sleep, that her hangover likely isn’t helping in her fight to stay conscious. 

“I can hear you thinking, y’know?” she murmurs, her words smushed in his chest. He laughs, a small, breathy sound escaping his lips. 

“Yeah?” He inquires, voice coated thick with love. “Just thinking about you. About what you need to feel better,” he exaggerates this point by rubbing thick fingers along her scalp. She shudders in response. 

“Think I need to sleep,” she mumbles, her lids half shut. 

“I think you do, too,” he answers, his never ending smile still on his face. “But I want to be with youuuu,” she drags out the last word, her lips pouty. He kisses them eagerly. She responds with the same fervor, her arms slinking around his neck. 

He can feel himself stir again, his now naked frame hiding nothing from the woman in his arms. 

“I think you want the same thing,” she says, suggestively. Her eyebrows wiggle as her fingers slide dangerously low. Against his body’s wishes, he grips her wrist gently. She pouts again. He kisses her again. He’ll never get tired of it. 

“Boo!” She pouts, and it’s so adorable he almost pulls her on his lap to finish what they started. 

“You need sleep, honey. I’m going to clean up downstairs, you let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods as he slides out of bed. He jumps when she swats his ass. 

“Hey!” He exclaims, but she just smiles, resting her head on her propped hand. 

“What? Like it’s my fault you have a cute butt!” She shrugs. He shakes his head, cheeks flushing as he moves to put on his now-dry clothes from last night. 

“Sleep,” He orders. She wiggles her brows in challenge. 

It takes all his will power to leave her there, naked and wanting. It’s for the best right now, for both of them. Her lids have returned to their half closed state, and he ghosts another kiss over her lips before he goes. 

“I love you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“I love you, too. Get some rest.”

“As long as you’re here when I wake up,” she mutters, nestling into her pillow. 

After last night, he couldn’t dream of being anywhere else.

[babysukiii]

regina’s puppy (3)

// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //

warnings: mutual pining, soft!regina (for reader), mean!regina (not to reader), very jealous!regina, underage drinking, mentions of smoking.

this is part 3 to the series, read part 2 here!

“please don’t make me go.” you just about beg regina, flashing her a pair of puppy eyes that nearly makes her reconsider her entire existence. the blonde was currently blending the makeup on your face, claiming she was going to be your “personal makeup artist” tonight. truth be told you enjoy letting regina do your makeup; the close proximity, her undivided attention, having an excuse to stare at her beautiful face without being questioned. though when she mentioned she was making you go to the party gretchen was throwing, you began to beg her not to take you.

“it’s just a few people from school, and a few drinks. i’ll have you home by ten, or you can just sleepover my house.” she assures you dismissively, her gaze transfixed on your face as if it was a canvas for the beauty blender. it’s been three weeks since you became a part of regina’s “clique”, and to say it’s been strange is an understatement. you had gone from the bottom of the social food chain, to the top of it in less than a month. all because of regina’s strange fixation with you.

“i wasn’t even invited! and i’m pretty sure i wouldn’t even know what to do there.” you retort, and she shakes her head, “you don’t need an invitation when you’re with me.” she responds pointedly. “just stick by my side and look pretty all night. that’s all you have to do.” she declares simply, and your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink. “you think i’m pretty?” you question softly, the uncertainty in your voice causes her heart to clench. her tenebrous blue eyes are gazing into yours, she appears to get lost in you for a mere moment.

“i think you’re so, so pretty.” the blonde reveals in this washed out voice that makes your knees weak. thankfully you’re sitting on the seat of regina’s vanity, otherwise you’re sure you would’ve stupidly fallen. the way you avoid her gaze while your face heats up, causes regina to cup your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at her. your breath hitches, getting lodged in your windpipe as you nearly forget how to breathe due to the close proximity. regina quirks a brow at your reaction as she continues doing your makeup. “are you nervous, y/n? do i make you nervous?” she inquires, practically staring into your soul.

“i—i guess you do.” you mentally facepalm yourself for stuttering, and answering like a fool. the cheshire cat-like grin that takes its place on regina’s features causes a heat to rise in your belly. “it’s okay, y/n, i think it’s cute. how flustered and nervous you get around me... how strained your voice gets, and how red you get.” she teases, and you shake your head in disagreement. “it’s not. it’s embarrassing.” you murmur, and she flashes you a look, “i don’t think so. i like it.” she breathes out, her face so close to yours you forget how to think.

“why?” you manage to ask, and she shrugs, pulling away from you in an instant. the moments over as quickly as it begun, and in a small way you’re thankful for it because you can think clearly now. “i like the way you are with me. especially when you look at me. it’s like i’m the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.” she professes, as she rummages through her makeup bag. regina avoids your eyes. she doesn’t enjoy being honest, but she also can’t bring it in herself to lie to you for some cursed reason.

“cause you are the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.” you answer simply, sounding so honest. regina’s head snaps in your direction; she searches your face for any signs of dishonesty, but all she finds on your features is that usual genuine expression that makes her stomach flip. “you’re just saying that cause i’m regina george.” she says her name in this taunting way, as she begins to apply the blush on your cheeks and nose. “i wouldn’t say something i don’t mean, gina.” you wholeheartedly respond, and you swear you can see a faint blush tinting her cheeks.

regina feels this pang of guilt in her chest. you’re so innocent, and she thinks you’d do just about anything she asks. “if you don’t wanna go tonight, we don’t have to.” the blonde finds herself caving, and you furrow your brows. “well, we’re already getting ready… we might as well go, right? besides, gretchen will have a total meltdown if you don’t show up.” you point out, and regina shrugs. “yeah, but if you don’t wanna go, we don’t have to.” regina reiterates, and you offer her an overly trusting little smile.

“if you go, i go.” you assure her, and her eyebrows perk up at your willingness to do whatever she wants. regina likes that a lot more than she should. “good. why don’t you put on those flare jeans i got you, the black ones.” she smiles as she says this, putting away her makeup. “okay!” you obediently respond as you hop up off the seat, and over to your bag of clothes you brought.

you decide to match a white lace crop top you picked out when you and regina went shopping. when you finish getting dressed, you come out of the blonde’s bathroom, stopping in your tracks when you see her outfit. the tight, black leather pants she was wearing nearly made you drool. regina notices the expression of awe on your face, and she savors it. she’s used to having people gawk at her because they thought she was attractive, or they were envious of her… but you… the way you looked at her was always so different. she couldn’t figure out why she craved your attention all the time; now more than ever.

“you look good.” she declares as her eyes roam up and down your outfit. the blood rises to your face, “i think i have a sherpa jacket that’ll look so hot on you with that.” she states as she walks past you, and towards her walk-in closet. you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. regina looks even hotter than usual tonight, and you didn’t know if you were going to be able to keep your gayness to yourself. you already nearly had a gay panic attack while she was doing your makeup; now you were going to have to be by her side all night while she looked hotter than the temperature of the sun.

“i found it!” she yells out from somewhere in the unnecessarily large closet. when she comes out, regina is holding a cropped, black corduroy, sherpa jacket for you. “try this on and let me see.” she orders, tossing the jacket your way. you catch it, scrambling to put it on compliantly. regina‘s grin falls as soon as you have the jacket on; you’re standing a few feet away from her looking absolutely gorgeous. yet you look up at her with this expression of insecurity, desperately waiting for her approval. “doesn’t look good?” you ask shyly, “you look so beautiful.” regina blurts out, and your face burns as the butterflies in your stomach flutter rapidly.

“th-thank you.” you shyly respond; your timid expression nearly causes her to smile. but then she remembers she’s regina george and she’d never be caught dead being this soft. “you better get used to compliments, y/n. especially when you look like that.” she comments coyly as she reaches for her black doc martens. you watch her put her shoes on; your cheeks practically on fire as you try to compose yourself and get it together. you don’t tell regina you probably will never get used to her complimenting you, and once she’s finished tying her boots, she smile broadly at you, causing your heart to swell at the sight. she’s always gorgeous, but she’s so much more beautiful when she’s unguarded like this.

“come on, let’s go before gretchen starts spamming me with texts.” she jokes, and you giggle as regina grabs your hand. your breath gets caught in your windpipe as she interlocks her hands with yours. that’s another thing you were trying to get used to; holding hands with the prettiest girl on earth. “ugh, i wonder if becky martin’s gonna be there tonight. she was at nathan’s party last month, and had on the same shoes as me.” regina pouts, as you both get into her jeep.

“but you probably looked way better than her anyways.” you respond, and she raises a brow as she starts her car. “probably?” she asks a bit angrily, and you giggle. “you definitely looked way better than becky martin, gina.” you tell her, and her face morphs into a satisfied expression. “i know.”

you’ve never really been to a high school party before, so you weren’t entirely sure what to expect. but as soon as you walk into gretchen’s house, the loud music blares through your ears, and there are far more people here than the cafeteria during lunch. you look around at the hoard of students; some you knew and some you had never seen before. “regina!! y/n!! you guys came!” gretchen sounds abnormally happy to see you, and she wraps her arms around you. “you totally have to try the sangria mix! it has strawberries in it!” she squeals, and regina practically pries gretchen’s hands off of you.

“you’re already drunk? it’s like nine-thirty. and where’s karen? you’re supposed to be making sure she doesn’t hookup with some random guy again.” regina begins to scold gretchen, who proceeds to ramble out an apology. you seem to get distracted by all the noise and people, but regina pulls you out of your thoughts when she intertwines her hand with yours. “do you wanna try sangria or are you a beer girl?” regina asks over the ear-splitting music. “sangria please.” you answer, figuring you’d prefer the fruitier drink.

regina begins to make you a drink; something she never does. usually when she’s at things like this, she’s forcing one of her loyal minions to make her the “perfect” drink… yet here she was, grossly attempting to make you the best first drink you’ve ever had. god, who are you, regina? the blonde can’t help but think as she tries to keep her focus on what she’s doing instead of looking at you. she can’t figure out when it became so difficult for her to keep her eyes off you.

she hands you the drink, and your smile meets your eyes, causing her heart to do a backflip in her chest. nobody smiles at her like that; as if they’re verily happy to be in her presence. you appear to relish in regina’s attention, and she savors the feeling of being so appreciated. “thanks gina.” you respond, sincerely, and when you don’t take a sip she raises her brows in an unamused manner. “well? what are you waiting for?” she asks a bit impatiently, earning a sheepish blush from you. “i’m waiting for you to pour yourself one.” you tell her honestly, and there’s that stupid flutter in her stomach again.

“you’re so sappy.” she mutters, but the flush on her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you grin as she begins to pour herself a drink, and she looks at you before she takes a sip. you follow her lead, and you make a face of disdain just as she does. “okay, so maybe gretchen is better at this then me.” she mutters in this cutely frustrated way that makes you giggle. “hey regina—“ some guy on the football team attempts to talk to her as he approaches you both, but the blonde cuts him off before he can even finish. her eyes full of fury you’d hate to be on the receiving end of. “don’t you see me talking right now? shoo.” she practically barks out.

he frowns, scoffing as he walks off. she shakes her head, rolling her eyes, “if i wanted to speak to him, i would’ve.” she mutters, and you tilt your head, offering her this soft look. “you can’t blame boys for trying to talk to you. you’re the prettiest girl in school.” you remind her, and she huffs, taking another swig of her drink. “yeah, but that’s the only reason they want to talk to me.” she starts stringently, and you listen to her closely. “they only wanna talk to me cause i’m popular, and hot. that’s the only reason why anyone talks to me.” she sounds like she actually believes the words as they leave her mouth.

“you may be “hot” and “popular” but you’re also so much more than that, regina. i mean you’re so nice to me, and you like the same books i do. plus i think your taste in music is really cool. you just don’t give yourself enough credit.” you say easily, taking another sip of your drink. regina gets lost in you for a few seconds; her heartbeat slowing down as everyone else in the house fades out of her mind. she opens her mouth to say something else, but karen and gretchen interrupt. “regina!” the dark haired girl squeals as soon as she sees the queen bee.

she approaches you both and hugs regina, who shoves her off, before karen hugs you. “oh my god, i love your jacket! did you do your makeup?? you look so pretty!” karen’s kind compliments make you smile. karen’s been genuinely nice to you since you became a part of regina’s “clique”. she was welcoming right away, and just happy to have someone new to talk to. “thanks, it’s gina’s jacket. she did my makeup.” you say, flashing this dorky smile at the blonde who is watching the entire interaction with those intense, blue eyes. “don’t you think the blush on the nose looks so cute on her?” regina asks, and karen nods.

“yes! i tried it last summer, but didn’t like it on me.” she admits, as she begins to tell you about the makeup looks she tried last summer. regina glances at gretchen who seems to be staring at something… or someone. “i’ll be right back.” gretchen says, and regina furrows her brows as she watches her friend make her way up to jason who was shamelessly flirting with another girl. regina frowns, “i’ll be right back, i gotta make sure gretchen doesn’t hookup with that asshole again.” the blonde tells you, squeezing your arm before she follows gretchen.

“hey karen! you guys wanna come here and take a hit of this?” one of the guys on the basketball teams calls out for the dark haired girl, and she immediately turns her fixation on him, getting distracted. “okay! come on y/n, let’s go.” she declares, and before you have any time to protest, karen is dragging you over to a group of students you barely know. you look around for regina, and notice she’s busy talking to gretchen and jason… well, she’s more so yelling at them.

“here, wanna try this?” dani, one of the girls on the softball team asks a she offers you a lit joint. you reluctantly take it, placing the filter between your lips before pulling a hit out of it. you begin to cough horrendously, and instead of being put off, the jock lets out a genuine laugh before taking the joint back. “i’ve never seen you around before.” she comments, and your cheeks burn in a bit of embarrassment; though the weed helps numb out the humiliation. “i’m y/n—“ you begin to introduce yourself, but she cuts you off. “no, i know who you are, y/n. we have gym class together.” she reminds you, only adding onto the sheepish blush on your face.

“i meant, i’ve never seen you around before; like outside of school.” she elucidates, and you nod. “i don’t usually come to these sort of things…” you trail off, “… but regina’s been helping me come out of my shell.” you explain, and she raises a brow. “regina? as in regina george?” the softball teams pitcher asks uncertainly, and you nod eagerly, your entire face lighting up like a christmas tree at the mention of the blonde. “yup, she’s over there.” you point over at the blonde who seems to be ripping jason a new one.

“no wonder your hanging out with karen. well, i can certainly see why regina wanted you to be a part of the plastics.” dani declares with a glimmer in her eyes, there’s something in her tone you can’t quite place. you let out this confused little chuckle, “what do you mean by that?” you ask curiously, yet a bit carefully. “you’re beautiful.” she clarifies, and your cheeks heat up due to the unexpected compliment.

your gaze shyly meets hers, and even though it isn’t the same as when regina calls you that; it still makes you smile. “thank you.” you respond, and your soft voice makes the brunette grin. “you’re welcome, i’m just being honest…” she trails off a bit shyly, and dani’s friend interrupts. “you guys wanna head down to the basement and take hits from the bong i brought?” the basketball player asks, as he pulls a mini bong out from one of his large pockets.

“you wanna come?” dani asks hopefully, taking your hand in hers, rubbing the back of your hand with the pad of her thumb. you look over at karen who nods encouragingly, “i—“ you’re about to turn down the offer, when regina’s harsh voice cuts you off. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the furious sound of the girl you’ve had a hopeless crush on for years, causes you to spin around. there’s burning fury in her gaze, and for a moment, you think she’s going to yell at you. your heart races nervously as you think about regina being angry at you.

“gina—“ you try, but regina pries dani’s hand off of yours, taking a step in front of you, practically wedging herself between you two. it isn’t up until this moment that you realize regina wasn’t looking at you with all that rage… she was looking at dani. “we were just inviting your friends to smoke in the basement.” dani’s friend from earlier interrupts, responding for the softball player. regina’s gaze flickers to him. her wrath is enough to get the stoned boy to falter slightly, shifting from one foot to another, “did you wanna come…?” he asks uncertainly, trying to figure out why the blonde was so visibly upset.

regina quirks a brow, looking at dani. “i don’t think your friend here would like that very much. i think she wants y/n all too herself while you try your luck with karen.” regina’s voice is catty while there’s an underlying sense of anger laced throughout it. your belly flips nervously. you glance at dani who looks at you for a moment, before she looks back at regina. “i didn’t realize you were her keeper, regina.” the softball pitcher talks back to the queen bee, who’s brows quirk towards her hairline. by now there are a few people watching curiously as regina crosses her arms, “anything that pertains to her, is my business.” the blonde’s tone is sharp as a blade, and her eyes are deadly serious.

“and if you think for a second i’m going to let some wannabe babe ruth try and get lucky with her in gretchen’s fucking basement…” regina trails off, her seething voice causes dani to shake her head in disbelief. “woah, hold on— i just wanted to smoke with her. and even if i did have some underlying intention… what do you mean you “let” her? last i checked y/n is her own person. she can decide who she wants to hang around all night. following the prissy queen bee, or having actual fun.” dani smirks, and regina’s fingernails dig into her her upper arms.

“i’m standing right here, and i wasn’t going to go down there anyways. i came with regina.” you say as sternly as you can, and regina’s eyes flicker to you. she exhales through her nostrils, releasing a tiny breath of relief she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. dani scoffs, “so that’s what you are now? regina’s puppy? you know, you used to have your own style, and i’d see you hanging out on your own. i always thought you were cool, because you were so out of touch with social norms…” dani trails off, shaking her head in dismay. “… now you go wherever regina goes.” she finishes as she calls you out.

SMACK

before you can even think about saying something, the sound of regina’s open hand meeting dani’s left cheek elicits a loud slapping noise to sound throughout the room. the room goes quiet. regina’s palm is stinging after coming into contact with the jocks cheek, there are gasps and murmurs that fill the suddenly quiet room. dani looks dumbfounded for two seconds before a wave of humiliation washes over her. “if you want to continue being a part of the softball team, or have any sort of social status, you’ll keep your nose out of my business.” she hisses threateningly.

dani scoffs, looking at you and shaking her head. she turns to leave and you look at regina, who now has a satisfied smile etched onto her lips. “now, where were we? oh yeah, we were drinking our sangria’s…” regina interlocks her hand with yours, the same hand that just slapped dani. she leads you away from the shocked gazes and hushed whispers. the last fifteen minutes were playing in your head like a broken record. regina was upset about dani flirting with you; she was more upset than you’d ever seen. you couldn’t help but wonder why. maybe your feelings for regina weren’t as one sided as you thought.

a/n: sorry this is a little long… jealous regina makes my coochie pulse flutter

taglist: @xvyzxx @spideyznss @whateveryouwantsee11 @alwaysgoodnight @chaoticcoffeequeen @mcu-junkie @lottienatswife @vanessashands @natashas-whore @southelroys @dandelions4us @ylenabelxva @probs-reading-fanfics @dont-emily-me @luz-enjoyer @flocon-neigeux @jjiwoo06 @aminetil @pyro-les @tyler-06 @justlovemaths @teenybean @emskies @tulipatheticee @marvelwomenarehoto

i’m so sorry if it didn’t tag u or give u the notification, tumblr wasnt letting me :/

[csainzoperator]

hey stranger!

summary: when you accidentally get stuck in an elevator with carlos sainz.

(fem!reader×carlossainzjr)

an: i hope you guys like this for a change. i was supposed to post this on sunday but i got busy! let me know how you like it, or if you want more of such things. also, i haven't checked the word count yet, but i'll update that soon.

trigger warnings: mentions of alcohol, exes, cheating.

read under the cut!

the elevator jolts, making her stumble a little. it's 2:04 am. the building is silent, not a single person around. she's barefoot, holding her heels in one hand, she groans. her velvety dress slightly sways as she tries to steady herself, the lights flickering inside the elevator.

he's in a crumpled white shirt, his sleeves rolled up, his forearms on show as he fixes his hair. his other hand holding onto his suit jacket. he has his tie loosened around his neck, like he couldn’t care less about how he looks.

they exchange a glance that says, well, this sucks, without needing any words. she leans back into the cold mirrored wall, sighing softly. he presses the emergency button, hoping it does something, anything.

"ofcourse." she mutters, "ofcourse this would happen tonight of all nights."

"bad night?" he questions, gazing at her from the mirror.

"you could say that." she laughs, a laugh that lacks any humour, bitter and quiet. "i just broke up with my fiancé. at our goddamn engagement party"

he whistles low, nodding slowly as he processes the information he's been given. "okay. you win."

she tilts her head, looking up at him as she raises an eyebrow "and what about you?"

"my ex is getting married. and she sent me an invite 2 hours ago." he says as he looks down at his leather shoes.

a few moments pass by in silence. but it wasn't awkward, just shared sympathy. she sits crossed leg on the ground, looking up at him. "we've got time." she says, "and honestly i couldn’t give a damn anymore."

he slides down beside her, stretching his long legs out. "fair."

she offers her hand for a handshake, giving him a sad smile that's almost invisible if you don't look closely. "i'm y/n, professional disaster."

he takes her hand, giving it a firm shake, offering her a slight smirk. "carlos, recovering simp."

she snorts, getting comfortable on the floor. "that's the most honest introduction i've ever heard"

the lights in the elevator are warm enough to make a 60 year old woman fall asleep in a second. light breeze from the elevator fan spreads across the elevator. she tries pressing the emergency button again, only for it to not respond, just like how her ex didn't respond to her texts.

"alright, carlos. are you going to your ex's wedding?"

he sighs dramatically, looking up at her like he's about to reveal victoria's secret. "i burnt the invitation" he mutters, like he's telling her a secret.

she chuckles, "well aren't you quite out of a shakespeare play?"

he turns his head, looking at her with a small smile on his face, thinking about how he made her laugh, felt like quite the achievement after her sour mood earlier. "so, did you actually breakup with your fiancé at the party or did you something shakespeare worthy, like throwing wine on him"

she rolls her eyes, looking up at him, disgust evident in her face. "to be fair, he was the one kissing my cousin in the balcony."

his gasps, his eyes widening, "no."

she nods, patting his shoulder dramatically to soothe the shock. "yes. a whole bottle of expensive champagne. worth every second."

he whistles again, clapping slowly. "you're my hero. what do they say these days? eating? yeah, you ate."

she gives him a mock bow, "thank you, i accept cash as fan mail."

they both laugh, and for a moment, none of them remember why the night was bad. she stretches her legs out beside him, nudging his shoes with hers. "since we're trapped in a vertical metal coffin that plays jazz, how about we play 21 questions?"

he quirks a brow, containing a smile. "what are you? in senior high prom?"

she stares at him, her eyes narrowing. "do you have a better option?" he sighs, shaking his head.

she nods at him, "you go first"

he hums, thinking of a question, a second later he speaks up "what's your most irrational fear?"

she groans. "you're gonna laugh at me."

he shrugs, watching her. "i will either way, so just say it"

she sighs. "peacock feathers. they're just, i can't stand them. or peacocks in general, i think they're plotting something against us."

he doesn't speak for a while, he just stares, barely containing his laughter. "mhm, you're so right. we should tell the government to hide all the secrets just in case."

she rolls her eyes as he covers his mouth, trying not to lose it. "oh no, hide your kids, there's a peacock in the forest that doesn't have access to us but its still a threat!" she gently shoves him away, now laughing with him.

"okay. my turn. have you ever ghosted someone?" she questions.

"once. only by accident. i took a nap and forgot to text back...for three months" he winces.

her jaw drops, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "that's not a nap. that's a coma."

"i texted her saying i died briefly."

"how romantic" she teases.

he grins, rolling his eyes. "question. how many people have you kissed?"

she squints, thinking hard. "depends, does my bestfriend's cat count?"

he blinks, "...i don't know how to answer that"

"i'll say four, but five if you count mochi. he was surprisingly an affectionate cat."

he nods, smiling slightly. "uh huh, i'll keep that in mind."

they go on like that for hours, laughing, teasing, opening little doors into each other's lives.

"question twenty one" she says softly, "if we don't get out of here till morning...would you still want to keep talking to me?"

he doesn't hesitate. "god, i hope we don't get out till morning."

the end.

[demonic0angel]

Dan being forced to go to anger management therapy hosted by Harley Quinn.

(I refuse to believe that Dan would be forced into anything, so this is a Dan in Arkham AU lmao)

Wraith huffed angrily. “And that’s why he deserves pain and suffering.”

Harley stared at him in fascination, tapping a finger on her lips. It had been weeks after their breakout from Arkham, and Wraith was quickly becoming a good friend of the Sirens. It had reached a point where now, he was spilling his secrets over a glass of wine (stolen from a Bruce Wayne-endorsed party), about a boy he used to be and the timeline he came from.

It wasn’t the weirdest thing ever, since this was Gotham after all, but it was still both disturbing and thralling.

Harley could not help but stare as Wraith grumbled to himself, blue eyes flashing crimson and sharp fangs being bared in a snarl. Then she asked, “Did your sister ever say anything about this?”

Wraith huffed and swirled his wine lightly. “She said it’s a form of self-hatred. Because I blame myself for our family’s deaths, I blame Danny too. But I don’t care. We are the same person but we are not the same. He is still human, while I have transcended past mankind to be something greater.” His fingers clenched on the stem of the wine glass. “It’s not fair how he gets to be happy, but I can’t.”

A god complex, a superiority complex, and an inferiority complex, all born from the loss of family and self-identity. His psyche was absolutely damaged by his previous experiences, and trauma had made him into something very, very twisted. It was probably true that he was not human anymore, but it was so interesting how he had abandoned his humanity so thoroughly and thrown it aside.

“You can’t?” Harley asked. “Or you won’t?”

Wraith’s expression twisted. “I can’t.”

That didn’t seem right.

He was happy when eating red meat and drinking expensive wine. He was rather happy when they went shopping and included him in their jokes and games. He was plenty happy when he talked about his sisters. He was very happy when interacting with Nightwing, who seemed to effortlessly peel away his layers to reveal a playful, gentle personality that did not seem to be a facade.

“You seem happy around Nightwing,” Harley said. “And us. What do you think of that?”

Wraith glared at her lightly, but he didn’t seem angry, not like how he was when he talked about his little brother, his other self. The venom in his voice and eyes when he talked about his younger self would’ve been better deserved if he was talking about the Anti-Christ, but Harley didn’t voice this.

“Nightwing has the purest soul in this world. It’s strong and beautiful because of how kind it is. It should be a crime to be cruel to it, not when he’s so… good.” His expression gentled and he swirled his wine again before taking a sip. “And you and the others are… nice to me. I don’t want to spoil your fun.”

Harley beamed. “Aww, we like you too, Wraith-y poo!”

Wraith rolled his eyes and took another sip. Harley poured him some more without him asking, and they drank their wine in silence.

Eventually, Harley said, “It’s not healthy to hate yourself so much, y’know? Maybe you don’t want advice, but I think your sister would agree with me. You should let go of the past and live in the present. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore, does it?”

Wraith scowled. “It may not exist anymore, but I came from that timeline. I am who I am because of my family’s deaths and because of Danny.” The hatred in his voice was deep and potent, making Harley shiver. “It can never let me go and I can never let it go either. The past shaped me in ways that cannot be undone.”

Harley took a sip of wine to think. Then she said, “Well. No matter what, me and the girls are here for you. And I think Nightwing really likes you too! Really!”

Wraith hummed, eyes half lidded before he turned and looked at her with a quirk to his lips like a small, genuine smile. “Yes, I know. Thank you, Harley.”

She grinned. “No problem!”

They continued drinking together in companionable silence.

[zablife]

Silver Fox

Tommy Shelby x female reader

A/N: Something I penned to rid myself of writer's block! A fun bit of smut inspired by Tommy's new look for the upcoming film. 🔞

The man across the room looked familiar, the proud posture and energetic gait the same as you remembered from years ago. However, the locks of silver hair that fell across his forehead were decidedly changed. The last time you saw Thomas Shelby, it was nothing more than salt and pepper. Had it really been such a long time? you wondered.

As you contemplated the years since you'd had him in your bed, he materialized before you with two glasses of champagne. "Care to have a drink with an old friend?" he asked with a smirk.

"Is that what we are?" you asked coyly, hand outstretched to receive the crystal flute he extended like a peace offering.

"I hope so," he winked, raising his glass toward you.

"To old friends, then," you agreed with a smile. It was all too easy to be swept along by his charm, especially as the fizzy bubbles on your tongue went to your head. Soon you found yourself nodding enthusiastically at his invitation to take the party somewhere more private.

As he placed a large hand to the small of your back, you fooled yourself into believing he was only after a bit of political advice. In his early days in Parliament, he often sought your council in addition to Ada's.

However, the moment the door to his hotel room closed, neither of you could pretend any longer. As he pressed you against the back of the door for a smoldering kiss, the spark reignited between you grew to a blazing inferno.

"I missed you, Tommy," you mumbled against his plush lips, hand sliding down the front of his neatly pressed trousers.

"I've missed you too, darling," he whispered, nimble fingers unbuttoning your blouse to reveal your heaving chest.

Your hands traveled up his neck and laced into the silky strands of hair you'd been admiring, a chuckle leaving your lips.

Raising his head from your bosom with an amused look and quirked brow, he asked, "Something funny?"

"Thomas Shelby is a mortal man after all," you exclaimed, fingers carding through his thick head of hair and holding the graying ends to the light. Something about him had always seemed infallible and eternal, but he was now wearing the proof of his age.

The man once known as the Devil of Small Heath chuckled in reply. "Just an ordinary man," he admitted with paradoxical smugness, teeth grazing over a pert nipple.

You gasped as he began to suck, fingers tightening in his hair to hold him in place. "Nothing about you has ever been ordinary," you mused, the ache between your thighs growing as you recalled his skill in the bedroom.

As though reading your mind, his long fingers ventured beneath your skirt to brush against your clothed core. Inhaling sharply at the wetness collecting on the front of your underwear, he lifted his head back to your full lips intent on hearing every sound when he pulled the delicate fabric aside to trace his fingertip around your clit.

You grazed the tip of your nose against his playfully as you wondered, "Think you've still got it?"

He nodded against your soft skin in reply, too consumed by you to speak.

"Then fuck me like you used to," you begged wantonly in his ear.

"Mmmm, you're as naughty as I remember," his deep voice rumbled against your chest in approval. Fingers plunging into your waiting heat, he smirked as your hands came unclasped and fell to his shoulders. As he stroked your g-spot, you grappled for purchase at the intense sensation. You'd never been able to stave off your first orgasm long this way. He knew from the numerous times he'd made you cum while his colleagues waited behind his office door.

Eyes drifting to the mirror in the corner, you watched his muscular arm tense beneath the white cotton shirt as he pleasured you. He might have been a bit older, but his body still looked like that of a younger man and you couldn't wait to tear the fabric from his body to see every chiseled line. With that thought, you rocked your hips into the palm of his hand, eager to release the coil pulling taught in your abdomen.

Sensing you were close from the way your cunt began to throb around his digits, Tommy dropped to his knees before you and slid a hand behind your ass. Pulling you closer to his eager mouth, he lapped at your little bud to keep you on edge.

This was also something you remember about him, the teasing which could go on for hours. There was no way you were lasting that long now. You swung a leg over his shoulder, hand flying to his head to silently urge him for more.

"Going to be greedy, are we?" he hummed, holding you away from him with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Please...need you, Tommy," you panted, so close to release you could feel your clit throbbing.

"Since you asked so nicely," he agreed, fingers scissoring inside you to produce a loud squelching that made you shiver from the obscene sound. His mouth soon joined, pillowy lips closing over your clit as he began to suck.

That was all it took to release a crashing wave of tingly warmth throughout your entire body. Head thrown back in ecstasy, you felt your body quake in little spasms as he continued to fuck you through it.

"That's it, good girl," he praised in a low voice dripping with need.

You looked down between your legs to find him placing a chaste kiss to your mound. Little glimmers of light winked back at you from his crown of silver hair, though you couldn't be sure if it was the delicious haze of pleasure still sparkling in your vision.

Sweeping the fringe from his face to watch him pepper your thighs and belly with kisses, you tried to calm your breathing for round two. "You haven't changed a bit," you huffed out with a laugh.

"I've only gotten better with age, love," he assured you with a cocky grin.

"Show me," you challenged, though you didn't doubt it at all.

[musedblues]

AMORE ~ FATI (part 2)

a/n: oh my oh my, thank you everyone for such wonderful feedback! if there is one thing im gonna be for the rest of the year it's a hoe for geta. so i could be coxed into making this a longer series if yall want 👀

warnings: READ PART 1 before this. minimal historical research. fantastical bs. graphic descriptions of murder. sexual situations. you get the gist! MINORS DNI

taglist: @nosamiam1 @screaming-blue-bagel @prestinalove @nxrdamp @alba8688 @mademoiselledreyfus @theawesomekungfupanda @peepeepoopoololswag

part 2 of ?

///

The day you wed was rushed. In the span of a handful of hours there were flowers and musicians flooding the halls. There were endless rows of fabric for you to pick from to dress in. There were a dozen hands shaping your garments to your figure. There were hundreds of spectators lingering outside the empire, waiting for you to reveal yourself as empress. There was Geta.

He looked to you as he often did, with undivided attention. He looked to you in a room full of people and his stare did not break or faulter. Geta's brown eyed gaze was all you could fixate on as the day unraveled around you, as ceremonies were followed through and as you were hurried along into becoming royalty. All you saw was Geta. All you saw was how he kept those brilliant dark eyes ever locked on yours. 

It would have overwhelmed you to otherwise look away, to think too vastly about the changes your life was catapulting through in such a short amount of time. That's why, when the ceremony had ended and the gathering to celebrate included your three dear friends, you did not know exactly how to answer their pleas for explanation. 

They were happy for you, they were shocked. You were giddy all the while, filling them in as you could, but unable to process the meaning and importance of your new status into words. Instead, you all laughed and spun about the room as musicians played. Julia was thrilled, beaming as the party raged on. She flitted from guest to guest, speaking highly of you loudly enough for you to hear every time.

And then there was Geta, with that illuminating stare ever fixated on you. As your party failed to cease and as the once set sun began to rise into a new day, Geta pulled you away from the gathering. Right in the middle of a conversation you were holding with the priest, Geta yanked you from the room and toward the staircase. He'd barely been able to pull you along toward his room without keeping his hands out from under your dress.

Geta had never displayed much patience when it came to bedding you, that morning being no exception. It seemed his door had barely shut before Geta had ripped your garments away and began to have his way with you. Not that you were complaining. You knew you were signing up for much more, marrying Geta. But you knew also, you were signing up for endless nights and days and weeks in his bed. On his floor. Against that beloved chaise lounge.

And that's where you stayed for a few turns of the sun, In that room, with Geta. He turned away every knock at the door with a booming demand they go away. He was quick to turn his undivided attention back to you, tracing his fingers across your torso, digging his teeth into your skin. He didn't let up. You never asked him to. But when the knocking became more and more persistent, you couldn't help but wonder when your never-ending  tryst may have to be halted.

"Shouldn't you be off working?" You wondered, raking back Geta's light toned locks. He leaned near the window, admiring a new sunrise with you. "Shouldn't I? Aren't I supposed to be adopting some kind of responsibility now?"

"I suppose." Geta seemed to understand. But a sly grin turned up the corners of his mouth as he turned his gaze from the sunrise to you. "But right now, you're only responsibility is to me. I command it." With a brow quirked and a gentle hand on your shoulder, Geta guided your descend till your knees met the floor in a bow before him. You knew exactly what he demanded, and you were glad to be of service.

///

When your time captive in Geta's room did eventually end, he proceeded to shower you with treasures. You were awarded cases full of paints and an entire room in the empire all to yourself- and a million canvas at your disposal. 

"Shouldn't I have more to do?" You worried to him, one evening. Wasn't the whole point of his mother's begging you to wed so you'd have some kind of influence in the royal goings on? Or was your shift in status all that you needed to represent for now?

"Would you care to do more?" Geta wondered, with a pout of a lip. "I promised you value and respect. I should like you to gain it however you please. But I should also like nothing more than for you to be free of responsibility. It adds up to madness. I'd like to keep you carefree." Geta reasoned with a smile, as his hands traced the curve of your chest. He'd been all to enthralled by your new title, by your belonging with him, to him. He'd be ever so captivated as you stayed as relentless as himself, eager as ever to find yourself between his knees. It was hard to want anything else, to long for more than his body tangling with yours. But the days did eventually move on.

Geta began to spend afternoons away from your side. But every day at his command, by others- you were presented with dozens of dresses in the finest colors you'd ever seen. You were fed the freshest foods. There was no time for you to wonder how to fill, Geta saw to your every waking moment of the day, with entertainment to squeal about and treasure to admire. Geta saw to your evenings in his room, under his touch. You saw to his pleasures all the while, ever more enthralled by how the well regarded and often harsh emperor melted in an instant under your lingering caresses.

///

Your days spun on in that same wonderous circle for a while, until Julia stepped in. One morning her highness surprised you by settling in for a meal with you; asking how you'd been adjusting to this new reality. You mentioned getting on nicely with the guards and the servants. You mentioned having made friends with the gardeners and feeling lucky to have be granted time to paint. You admitted to feeling a little too spoiled by Geta. 

"He wants you to be happy. We all do." Julia smiled, lifting a chalice to her lips as you smiled back her way. But she wasn't finished speaking, it seemed. "I'm glad you're fitting in as I suspected you would. But it's time for you to adjust to royal life beyond its pleasures. I'd like you to join me for a charity event this evening."

"I'll be glad to join you! I've only been wary of taking such steps since Geta insisted otherwise. He keeps saying I'll be better off with no responsibilities despite my offers to be of more service." 

Julia listened while you explained, rolling an eye at the mention of her son's guidance. With a swat of her hand, she leaned in closer to speak again. "We'll deal with him along the way, you and me. Come represent with me tonight, it'll be the perfect first job for you."

You trusted the royal's input and longed to make yourself more useful. It was easy to look forward to having a purpose for the evening, and it was a thrill to realize you'd be going out for the first time as a royal yourself. This was it. You were playing the game. You were apart of the bigger picture. 

///

The charity event was less excitable than you'd hoped, in some regards. There wasn't much to do or say there. Just hands to shake and bows to accept. But that was the rush of the evening. Just weeks ago people passed you on the street with no second glance. And you'd passed them by all the same. Funny how quickly life changed. The same class of people you were peers with weeks ago were humbling themselves before you now, beaming smiles your way, expressing pride to know someone from your side of things could dream of achieving such royal goals.

You rode home with Julia in a fog of glee, as she praised you for connecting to the public so effortlessly. For bringing a sense of humanity to the royals, for respecting her son, for the massive change you not only agreed to but seemed to enjoy. You let her fawn over you, relishing the compliments, yearning to feel as radiant as she believed you to be.

When you reached the purple carpeted entrance, and made your way up the stairs, you found Geta waiting up for you near his bed. Clothed only by his robe, he turned to find you dressed in finery, dressed like a royal. The man smiled, eyes raking up and down your figure. 

"You're a vision. You're home." Geta stated, reaching to hold your head in his hands. "It's so funny." He spoke low and gently, searching your eyes as he seemed to realize something while addressing you. "I can't imagine my plans before you were in them."

"How much have you had to drink?" You wondered with a small laugh, nervous by the softness in his lament. Geta was hardly cruel to you. But he was rarely as tender as he'd just become.

"I've just been going stir crazy waiting up for you. I hadn't even realized you'd left for the night until you didn't join me here at the usual hour. Did I hear something about charity with my mother?" Geta wondered, moving about the room now. Stretching his arms on his shuffle toward the edge of the massive carved bed.

"It was rather boring. Thought there be more action." You admitted. "I know you've wished me away from drafting battle plans and enforcing laws. But I do long to be a more active member of this family, Geta. Besides, your mother enforced our union for a reason, didn't she?"

Geta listened as you spoke, keeping a sly eye on your amble toward where he stalled against the bed. He reached a ringed hand out to rest at the curve of your hip, fingers pressing to pull you ever closer before him.

"She was right too, she saw you were made up of good will and the strength to stand by that. I'm glad she forced the idea. I'm more glad you chose this life all the while. It's admirable you wish to have more responsibilities. But that's a question to answer another day. All you need to worry about answering now, is this... tell me how can I make your evening free of all worries and wonders? How can I serve you, your highness?"

"I'd ask you to wake me from this dream, but I rather like the course it's taken." You grinned, reaching your arms around the royal's neck, struggling to hold back a burst of shocked laughter as Geta pulled you in and lifted you up all the while. In a flash he'd thrown you to his bed, moving like a jungle cat in your direction.

///

The next day you were scheduled to meet with a few senators and councilors alike. Your royal role was to be discussed, possible plans drafted. It had been a meeting you'd been looking forward to since your wedding day. 

Not even Caracalla's glare could cloud your excitement, as he passed you in the halls. his dull beady eyes rolled in your direction as he floated by in a stomp. The guard at his side, and the guard at yours, shared looks you couldn't read. And while you felt a certain fear in the wake of the more cruel emperor, a pity followed. How sad a life he lived, so shrouded in hate and rage. 

As you entered the meeting room, welcomed by a set of men smiling at your appearance, the reality of your situation seemed to settle deeper into the pit of your stomach. You recalled Caracalla's very recent glare your way. Geta's imploring you to take as little responsibility on as possible. Julia's plea for you to take on as much as you could bare. The decision was yours to make now, and you realized if you didn't achieve the perfect balance of wishes and demands, this entire empire may implode at your slightest misstep. 

Over the course of a couple of hours, you and the group of leaders discussed stances for you to take heart to. Causes to stand for and against. Talk of addressing the people of the empire and hosting parties and appearing at events took up a large portion of your time. Until finally you worked up a project to occupy your time and a planned meeting for a few days from now.

You were left feeling satisfied by the efforts the team had put into giving you purpose in your roll within this empire. But you wondered still what more you should be achieving?  

The senators left out of the back of the meeting room, while your guard lingered near the half opened main entrance. As you collected a couple of scrolls and began to head out, a muffled voice could be heard around the corner of the crack in the door. with a few steps closer and one shrug to hide better out of sight, you recognized one voice as your husbands. And the other as his brothers. You crept ever closer toward the crack in the ajar entrance to spy as the siblings squared off in the hall, four soldiers squared off between them and their sharp words.

"It's like you to hide behind the voice of a woman," Caracalla scowled, "you've always used our mother's useless input when your feckless lack of leadership reared its head. But to adopt a whorrish commoner as your wife, to give her a semblance of purpose is a laughable new low for you, Geta."

"Speak of the empress as you did just now once more and I will slaughter your guards first before you, so you can see how powerless you truly are." Geta seethed, stepping to sneer at his brother with his hand on his sword. 

You pulled back from the door, mind buzzing. Geta really did care for you, it seemed, even if you were here to benefit the emperor in some twisted way, he'd spoken quite protectively of you in your absence from his side. And that bloomed a certainty in your chest that you needed to be more sure of your place here. You should stop worrying about what action to take, and simply take it.

You spent the evening piddling around with the ideas the senators had given you. And feeling gratitude that the man you'd wed defended your honor. You really could be glad to benefit the emperor as his wife, as his supporter. But you were newly determined to act as the angel on his right shoulder; ready to battle the devil Caracalla on his left.

When Geta joined you for bed that night, you admitted to hearing the spat the siblings shared. You went on to press more, to demand your willingness to be more of an asset to the empire, to Geta. 

"Don't make me tell you no." Geta broke your on going plea with a frustrated groan. You hadn't seen that coming.

"What... what do you mean?"

"I want you here, yes. But I do not want to need you. Don't you see that? Don't you see this entire push and pull is between my brother and me? I will not have you mixed up in the middle. I know my mother thinks you and I working together against Caracalla is what needs to happen but even if it is, now isn't the time. She cannot see that because all of this is only between my brother and me." Geta was speaking as certainly as ever. His words so sharp, his voice so commanding. Yet his eyes stayed soft on yours, his hands never clenching, but reaching out to hold either side of your face.

"I want you here." He repeated again, enunciating every syllable. "But I cannot need to depend on you. Or uncertainty will seep from my leadership alone, and into the villages and this fight between Caracalla and myself will be lost. Thats all this is. Between him, and me. So please don't ask again. Not for a while. I will tell you, empress, when your time will come. Because it will. But not yet."

"I see." You mustered, not quite hurt, not quite sure of yourself, not quite without understanding. Simply shocked but his sudden outburst. Shocked by the rawness of it. Shocked by how he'd waited till now to make such a stance known, he usually spoke exactly how he felt in an instant. Why didn't he make that clear to you from the start, you wondered?

That night you sunk into bed without feeling Geta's skin against yours, without his touch. He kept on one side of the massive bed for the first time since you'd ever shared it with him. And you didn't know what to make of that.

///

A couple nights ended just as that one had, silence filling the space that was usually occupied by heavy sighs and the thud of your bodies against one another's. You did as he asked, you asked little to nothing of the man. So why was he still keeping such a distance from you? 

Sleep evaded you as answers did too. You took to wandering the halls to tire the spinning questions ever on your mind, a poor guard forced to linger close behind your restless quests.

Often nothing happened. Dark cornered dead ends spun your heels, and you ended up back in bed, you'd sleep, or you wouldn't. And then you'd end up wandering the next night, your habit threatening to wear a sorry familiar path along the rugs. 

But one night a light shone from a room you often found dark. You were curious enough to move ever closer toward it, but weary enough to go slow.

In the parlor you found Julia and her son. Caracalla was sipping from a cup of tea as a bevy of guards lined the outskirts of the room. His face grew long with a grimace at the sight of you. But Julia was alight, waving you to come and join them.

"What's this? Come to suck up royal blood like the common tick you are? Why would you allow this nobody such free reign of our home, mother?" The half reigning emperor really had a knack for dramatics. He'd never had a good word for you, but ever the creative and new verbal lashing. 

"Come now, Caracalla. She wed your brother. She was anointed. She's one of us now, official as they come." Julia stood to greet you, giving you a strong look that made you want to hold your breath. She was always planning something, it seemed. You could tell her mind spun now.  "Besides... She's already with child. Already carrying the future heir. Isn't that right? There is much to plan ahead for." 

Appalmenthaltedyour senses and all logic. You sure hadn't yet been given a reason to think you were with child, and knew she couldn't have a reason either. You couldn't decide if you wished she was right or wrong right now. Julia was looking at you as if to suggest you find a way to make it true in an instant. If you were, would that mean Caracalla would step away? Or would that ensure a plot for him to end your days? He wanted such full control. You'd been told by Geta not to dare threaten the stakes of the game between his brother and himself until further notice. But Julia, as before, had done so anyway.

"You really shouldn't have told me that, mother." Caracalla grinned wickedly, rising up from his chair. A shiver crept up your spine when you turned to find the way he was looking at you. 

"Now, son, you have an entire half of this empire to guide. Shouldn't you be off ruling like you say you wish too so badly?" Julia snapped. She was a bold and brave one to do so, in the frighteningly little leaders wake. Caracalla kept his bone chilling glare fixed on you as he saw himself out of the room, guards following. Yours had waited out in the hall. So, when the room went quiet and Julia was left lingering at your side, you couldn't help but let panic show.

"Why did you do that? What if I'm not-"

"These boys are entirely too focused on the dynamics of their fight, and not nearly worried enough about the outcome of the empire they're running." Julia explained in a sharp hush. Her usual kind eyes were wide under furrowed brows and pointing sharply at yours. 

"You and I have to take the reins of the little control we're allotted, weather we wish it or not. How much clearer do I need to make it to the lot of you that the time for games is up? Rome is tired of playing. And I will not stand by for the people to overthrow the hard work of many leaders past- because my imbecilic sons hate each other enough to divide the empire. You better get to work on the heir to this throne, because even what you and I can do together won't likely be enough."

Julia's cutting and hissed speech left you in a stupor. She huffed out of the room, your guard sauntering in confounded as you stood there processing everything that had only just happened. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep tonight.

///

The day of duties had nearly come to a close. You'd had another meeting with the senators. They let you talk until you were blue in the face about changes to policies and addresses to the public. But they only sent you off with another party to plan. You'd shared a quiet meal with Geta, glad when his eyes met yours over the course of the meal. Frustrated when little to no conversation sparked as you ate. Geta only mentioned something about following you up to the room as you finished, heading up the staircase.

In the hall before the second turn you were meant to take, a sharp whistle cut through the darkened home. There was a light on in the parlor, and an eerie silence stayed after the call. You looked to the guard at your side, and he looked to you, tilting his head to imply he'd go first to investigate. But you waved at the guy, hurrying to creep at the pace he set, something in your gut insisting you peer into the illuminated room.

Caracalla stood near the back of the parlor, a room covered in that ugly wallpaper you hated so much. In his grasp, he held Julias arms to her chest, and a knife to her throat. There were no soldiers in sight beyond yours. A horrible mistake. A terrible instance.

"Hey you, blood sucker, don't move." Caracalla taunted you, tightening his grip around his mother who shook with fright in his clutch. "Come in. If you turn around, she dies. If that guard follows you, she dies."

With a careful glance toward the man who usually followed you around, you stepped forward, holding a palm out to insist he stay back as demanded. In a slow creep you entered the room, watching the wild eyed emperor consider your every move. 

"What are you doing Caracalla?" You begged to know, voice steady and low. 

"Now you and I both know you're far too worthless to ever threaten my position, right commoner? You and I both know you're only playing a small role here but, I'm not so naive to the plans for bigger things you all have at my expense." Caracalla spat an explanation your way, wearing the most twisted version of a smile you'd ever seen.  "So, I was hoping we could all come to some sort of agreement tonight. Ah, brother just in time- no, no wait." 

Caracalla's speech ended when Geta must've loomed in the doorway behind you. You didn't dare turn to see. Geta must've waved a guard to follow or moved to draw his sword. Because Caracalla was screaming next "Do not come into this room except alone and with your palms facing me! I will kill her if you decide on any other move!" He yelled so loud spit flew from his lips, face scarlet with rage. Julia trembled in his grasp, biting back sobs you could tell. 

Geta eased beside you, his entrance into the room as calculated as yours had been. His hands up as his sibling demanded. 

"Brother, I'll give you some choices. I know you're a big fan of options, having rarely taken kindly to my demands." Caracalla went on, sickening grin ever growing. He tightened his hold on his mother, a knife so precariously nudging against her throat. Before going on, he glanced up to the guards outside the door, demanding they shut it. He had to shout once more and nod to the woman in his grasp before his wishes were granted. When you heard the thing shut with a hollow thud, your blood ran cold. 

"Now, your choices Geta. You see one of us in this room has to die. One of you." Caracalla was practically beaming, like a child thinking up a rule to a game to play. Julia screwed her eyes shut and muffled a cry. "It could be our dear mother. She's been too crafty, meddling around, making decisions no one but the likes of we emperors ought to be making."

Geta let his hands fall slowly, keeping a laser focus on his brother. 

"Or, It could be your lovely new wife and alleged unborn heir." You felt your fists tighten at your sides, your body frozen in place with a new wave of fear. You felt Geta look to you with a shock you prayed Caracalla couldn't read. You didn't know if you were with child. And you hadn't yet brought up Julia's pressing such matters to the front of your mind. Geta had other matters to deal with the past evening. And he'd been clear about you keeping your own plans to yourself. That must've meant his mothers, too, you were certain. "I'm sure your wife's a fine and easy shag. But her presence here is a threat, no matter how inane I can see she is. And if one commoner should shake up this empire, I'd hate to have to deal with your half bread ilk." 

And before Geta could rocket into rage, Caracalla reminded him that any wrong move and Julia's life would be the one taken, and then the rest of yours would follow suit. 

"Let me finish... you could obviously choose yourself, brother. With you out of my way, I won't have to worry about the fate of the women in the room. I can do with or without them whatever I please. Should you be so chivalrous as to take the fall?"

"You're worse than mad." Geta shook his head, keeping a study on his sibling. Your heart hammered as you waited for the plot of this meeting to unfurl.

"Trouble deciding, I see. Let me help." Caracalla kept his wicked grin as he decidedly and swiftly moved the knife away from Julia's throat before flinging the woman flying to the ground, against the wall at Getas feet, with a crushing thud. What a ruthless fucker. You barely had time to register that the boy had disregarded his mother in a heap, before he was lunging for you. 

Caracalla had you in a stinging grasp in the blink of an eye. His plated chest pressed against your back. His left hand held your wrists in one vice like hold, at your stomach. His right held his knife to the bend of your neck. 

"How's this view, Geta? Inspiring any choice? Time is ticking. I'd hate to make up my mind before you do."

Your brain was working overtime, spinning up a dozen ways out of this. You'd been squirming against his hold since Caracalla reached for you; and it had worked to loosen one of your wrists from his grasp juuust enough to think of breaking free. But you knew you only had one chance. And as he asked Geta to make a choice, and before anyone spoke again, you moved at the speed of light. In one swift action, you yanked your hand free and swung your elbow back hard as you could muster to crack against your captor's nose. 

Caracalla was caught off guard enough to reactively let go, and you were quick enough to spin and sweep his feet out from under him with a carefully kicked foot. This made Caracalla fall to the ground, his knife clattering at his side, his nose pouring blood, his elbows cracking against the marble floor because his hands were too busy reaching for his face to save his quick fall. Geta was fast as you, giving you a flash of a look before his hand extended to shove you away. As he reached for his brother's knife, Geta's foot stomped on Caracalla's chest to keep it down, with a crushing thud.

You clattered over to Julia's side, who was still slumped in tears on the floor. You knelt to her, reaching out an arm as you examined her finding no blood or bruising. Only tears stained her complexion as she watched her sons descend into the eye of the storm of their decades long war.

Geta had Caracalla by the throat, his fingers digging into his brother's neck as he knelt over him. "Didn't I warn you to watch your back, time and again?" Geta spat. "And didn't I tell you to never speak so lowly of my empress just the other day? I made my choice long ago, dear brother, it's always been you." With a cry that had built up over the years, with Caracalla's knife, Geta plunged the instrument into his brother's neck, twice over. Julia buried her head in your shoulder as it happened. You listened to Geta's yell, to the sound of tearing flesh, the sputter of blood. You watched as Caracalla fought his way to bleakness, legs twitching, mouth moving to speak and only spewing red. You watched Geta throw the knife to the ground and rise to stand, his hands finding the back of his head as he heaved to breathe and paced about the room. You saw, between your husband's spiral, that damn ugly wallpaper.

It wasn't long though before Geta knelt before where you did, gasping an apology. He looked to you for a moment, but he was speaking to Julia, you understood. She pulled away from you to look at him as he whispered another sorry, as she cried. He began to reach for her, but the mother shuddered away at the sight of his blood-stained hands. And then with a shake of his blonde head Geta's eyes were on yours again.

"Are you?" He wondered, still breathless, still in a daze. But despite the way the room had begun to spin for all of you, you understood what Geta was asking. 

"I-I don't know." You shook your head, quick to make it clear that it was up in the air. You could've easily been pregnant. But you hadn't had a reason to think you were. Unless Julia cast a spell on you that evening, you couldn't be certain.

Geta's expression shifted a few unreadable times, as you decidedly turned your focus back to consoling Julia. Geta apologized again, and looked about the room. He ultimately stood and opened the doors to the guards and demanded they take care of the body and the blood and wake the coroner. When they took his body Julia went with it. When Geta looked to you there were a million what if's turning into what now's between the two of you. The fight for power had ended, but was there a plan for such a time as this? Was it ever meant to end?

///

Caracalla was laid to rest by Julia's demands. She decidedly packed her things soon after, to spend a month mourning nearer the sea- and to wait out the public's inevitable celebration of her son's death. She'd always known the he was a tyrant and a bully and whatever could be worse than that. But he was also her son. So she went off. 

And all of a sudden Geta was in charge of everything. He freed Caracalla's less threatening prisoners, he addressed the people of Rome and wished to unite them. Geta was taken aback by the mix of praise and disapproval he was met with. Folks celebrated his keen and swift leadership. Folks celebrated his slaughtering his own sibling for the betterment of the empire. Folks denounced his eager leadership. Folks denounced the murder of his sibling, calling Geta as ruthless and power hungry as his brother. Suddenly there was no brother to carry the blame, no brother to take up the honor. There was only Geta.

For the next weeks, Geta was always awake. On the strolls you took past midnight; you found him drafting plans and laws and making sense of things once out of his control and understanding. 

For the next weeks, you hardly heard from the man you wed, decidedly trapping yourself in the room full of canvas and paint and quiet. You weren't even inspired to create, but your fingers moved still to make sense of this new reality in some way. You filled up many frames with rocky blue waves and darkened mountain ranges. 

For the next weeks, you'd rarely felt the emperor's touch. He'd crash into bed as you were scrambling to leave it. He'd appear in rooms you grew sick of staying in, missing your presence, you, passing by his.

Until one day, you were moved to linger about the meeting room as your husband and the senators were setting up a meeting. You sauntered about, restless as the men settled into a discussion about budgets and plagues and armies. A few of the men of the assembly began to bicker about opposing views, as Geta sat letting them. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as the pair argued on. You wondered when the last time he'd had a full night's rest was. 

As senators were arguing about Caracalla's former wishes for the empire, Geta began to insist they cease their chatter. One of them seemed to stall their argument, but another surprisingly turned to you.

"What do you make of this quandary, empress? You've always been wise to-"

From his slouched position, Geta interrupted. "My brother is dead. My wife isn't privy to all of the information needed to decide. I will decide the outcome of this debate. You must stop arguing just to oppose." His announcement was abrupt, his patience wearing thin, you could see. But maybe you could help ease the tension he held throughout himself. You'd been able to before. Maybe you could be made to understand more.

"Are you sure I can't-" You eased into wonder, locking your gaze with Geta's weary brown eye's. He listened for a moment. But then his patience had run out, eyes screwing shut, hands facing out keeping you back, keeping you away.

"No, please" He implored to you, eyes full of pleading. As his gaze grew more heavy, and began to turn toward someone else, you recognized an anger in his expression. Then you saw his focus on the guards near the door. "Take her to the hall!" 

Taken aback as you were by Geta's outburst, you knew better than to fight him, than to argue back. Not in the heat of the moment. You'd decided you'd get him to listen to you one way or another, eventually. But you knew the man well enough now to know this wasn't the time or the place. With a nod you hurried ahead of any guard and sliped out of the room, down the hall, to the gardens. 

You spent the afternoon there contemplating only simple things with the gardeners. Like what the bees thought when winter came or what flower the workers liked best. You found the dining hall alone and thanked the cooks for the meal. You savored your dinner wine and stalled your time up to the bedroom. You figured sleep would evade you yet again. You dreaded the practice of trying to rest when you just knew you wouldn't be able to.

But when you did go up, Geta was there, already sleeping. You were glad to see it, having missed the sight in a few days time. As you eased into bed at his side, you moved slow and held your breath. You'd hate to wake him. But then,

"What would you have said?" Geta's whispered wonder nearly caused you to jump, having assumed he wasn't awake. 

"What?" You gasped, nearly laughing as you settled into bed with less precision now. He didn't move at your side but he did speak up again. He asked how you would have handled the issue with the senate if he would have let you. You only thought for a moment before answering. And once you had, quiet took over the room again. You'd hoped it would be broken by Geta once more. But you watched his breathing slow and realized he'd eased into sleep at last and dared not move to change that. But you wanted to keep talking. You'd always had such meaningful banter. You wanted to ask if he was okay, because you knew he wasn't, you wanted to be so much more to Geta than he was letting you be. 

But instead, you let him sleep.

///

There was a party the next day, a game in the arena. You were pleased to walk by Geta's side, delighted to find a grin turning up the corners of his lips one of the first times you locked eyes with him that morning. But soon after a brooding took over his countenance that showed no signs of letting up.

As the pair of you left for the arena, you took on the task of sharing kind hellos and nods to the people who lined your path. You shook hands with the folks who hosted the games, and listened to their stories and shared some of your own. You shielded your eyes from the hot sun and felt glad to be out in the day, instead of roaming the halls of that dreary home. You watched the fighters in the circle duel, and turned with a frown to find Geta's unfocused gaze fixated elsewhere. Undecided on how to snap him out of such a haze in the midst of such a public event, you went on taking on the task of shaking hands and sharing smiles.

You were left alone to host the dinner that followed. Somewhere between the first pour of wine and the blessing over dinner, you realized Geta had left the room. But it was full of senators and socialites and friends you'd now come to know. And you were at the head of the table. So you lifted your glass in a toast to the rest of the year under the ever-shifting rule of the empire. And you ate. And you laughed and when the night ended you shook hands and shared smiles.

As you began to see everyone out, a pair of men lingered nearer the dining hall than the exit door. An elder with a wiry beard stalled with a furrowed brow, but a gentle grin. 

"As you know, Julia wrote to us, inviting us to tonight's events. But I see she isn't with us?" The man began to address you. He'd introduced himself over dinner, along with a handful of other faces you'd only just met that night. 

"The royal mother is still seaside. I'm sure she'll be sad to have missed your appearance here." 

"Well, your highness, that's the thing. Julia wrote to us... about you. You see, I'm a doctor. She insisted we make your acquaintance and check-" 

"Oh." You offered this poor old fellow a clenched smile as you realized where this was going, sparing the guy the further awkward explanation. Of course the woman sent them here without telling you first. She'd decided to curse pregnancy upon you without asking first. And now, because you were superstitious of the way this whole possibility had been continuously pushed, you told the doctor to stay. 

It wouldn't hurt to check, right?

///

Your stomp up the stairs was determined. You'd just been reminded that your fate, in your hands or not, was not just your own. Born to die, maybe. Living to lead some kind of life with Geta? Sure. But the second half of that 'some kind' was yours. And you were tired of waiting for your turn. You marched up the stairs, with an entire new plan in mind.

Maybe it had been enough, to be married, to host parties. Maybe that was okay. Maybe Geta was ever changed after the murder of his brother. And maybe you couldn't help the man out of his stupor from that. But you weren't going to sit around and wait for Geta to catch up with the changing paces of the empire. You were going to remind him that you were dictated to stay here because there was more to you than a kind smile and a commanding presence.  As you considered the entire life you'd led that ended up in your arrival here, and the life you'd spun into so far this season, you headed to your room. 

But in there, Geta wasn't sleeping. He was sat in that tiny chair at that tiny table in the middle of the room, with his elbows on his knees and his head hung low. In his loose clutch was a nearly empty bottle of wine. 

You eased into the room, shutting the door with care. The flicker of the lanterns in the corner guided your step into the middle of the room, where you stalled before Geta's miserable slouch. Before you could think of how to address the man, he was lifting his head to peer up to you. Geta seemed as if he could cry, the weight of his new reality evident all over his face.

"I was wrong." He whispered. You cast the man a puzzled glare as you settled into your posture before him. Decidedly, you spoke in return.

"I hope you're not regretting what happened to your brother. Unfortunate as it may be to lose family, he had it coming, don't forget-"

"No, I was wrong when I said I didn't want to need you." Geta implored, gazing up at you with big glossy, anger filled eyes that softened as your brow furrowed.

"I do need you. I want you here with me. And I need you here for me. I was wrong." Geta's admission seemed to hiss its way out of the very pits of himself. And as he finished speaking, the emperor slid from the chair to fall to your feet, head pressing against your knees, wine bottle clattering to the floor.

As this powerful man reduced himself to a puddle before you, you felt the rise of a certain power within yourself. You'd come up here with every intention of swinging for the fences. But Geta had submitted himself at your feet by his own will. 

"You need me after all, your highness?" You breathed, carding your fingers through the emperor's golden locks as he stayed in his slump before you. Geta muffled a yes, it sounded as if he were truly near tears now. It could've broken your heart, the cracks in his voice, if you weren't surging with adrenaline now.

"Good. I'm glad you've come to your senses. Now let me tell you what I need." You started, curling your fingers to latch withing Geta's hair, pulling his head back for his eye's to find yours. "I'm done parading around as a glorified party planner. I'm acting as more than a wanton body for your bed, now. You promised me value and respect. And I hope I shouldn't have to remind you of that promise ever again. I hope my demands to be heard shall no longer be put on pause. I refuse to raise your child from the side lines, Geta." You announced, voice soft but commanding as you could make it. 

His already drunken and dewy-eyed expression morphed into something wider and more stupefied. The emperor let his head turn to one side for a beat, and then the other, as if to shake his head. As if to ask if you meant it. 

You let your head move up then down, to assure it was true. Maybe Julia did curse you that night. But a child was never out of the question by how many nights you spent with your legs wrapped behind Geta's back. Things sure happened fast in this world, deaths and births and promises and problems were ever spun to life like passing storms in the royal court. But time always slowed in this room, for better or worse. Luckily tonight, Geta began to smile.

"I shall see to it all, I already promised. I promised you." Geta clawed his way up your figure. His body molding against yours with desperation and desire ever present. His lips pressed against yours, his fingers sunk into the skin of your cheeks. His skin was warm to the touch, as you peeled away the layers that had been covering it. You demanded that the man tell you what he needed then and there, desperate to hear such sultry pleas fall from his lips.

You saw to his wish to plow you against the mattress that's middle had been missing your union. You answered his call for your fingers to yank at his hair. He begged you for more. He swore there was nothing he wouldn't do at your demand. If you'd been dreaming, you never wanted to wake up. Especially if the next day meant you'd be finally allowed to make decisions that affected an entire empire. And now too, the heir to it's throne.

[cathrrrine]

Perfect / Love Won’t Die

Dominick “Sonny” Carisi x Reader • Law and Order SVU • Domestic Fluff, AFAB!Reader

Summary: Sonny happily holds the bouquet of flowers he bought for his girlfriend only for her to open the door and start crying. He immediately panics, but soon finds himself amused when she reveals the true reason for her tears. AO3

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my SVU imagines, but I had to with this one :) Happy 2024! My resolution is to post more of my work so I’m digging through all my drafts and posting them lol. Enjoy husband material Carisi <3

In all the six months you had been dating Sonny, there were never many problems that couldn’t be resolved with a simple conversation or a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As far as Sonny was concerned, it was the perfect relationship. He had gotten to know all your little habits; likes and dislikes, pet peeves, niche obsessions. Six months wasn’t exactly a super long time but it wasn’t short either. After only half a year of dating each other, he’d confidently testify that he had fallen in love with you deeply, enough to want to spend the rest of his life with you. He was happy to get married, have babies, grow old together…the whole shebang.

Things were going steady with you. He couldn’t imagine himself being with anybody else, and he was over the moon to know that you felt the samw way. Long late-night conversations about the future the two of you dreamed of revealed that you wanted him to be a part of it as much as he wanted you. Sure, Sonny was aware of how much of a (hopeless) romantic he could be sometimes, but that was in the past, and all of those relationships weren’t with the right people. His sisters had been talking his ear off ever since high school, warning him about women that would only break his heart. It made him wince just to think about all the red flags they ticked off angrily; gold-diggers, manipulators, emotionally unstable women, emotionally unavailable women…and the likes of it. That and their own broken-heart experiences that prompted very fuelled lectures of examples of men Sonny shouldn’t follow always rang in his mind, even until now.

He’d also been made well aware of how right they were about his exes with a bunch of ‘I told you so’s’ and narrowed eyes, but those relationships were in the past and he was much, much younger (and dumber) than he is now. He only had a couple of serious relationships in his adulthood, which ended up not being the right fit for either parties. Then, his love life got buried under the heavy, heavy load of police work and law school and he never found the time to make himself available in the dating pool. He was always too tired, too beat, too mentally drained. It was never a priority.

Then everything came to a stop and his whole world wouldn’t do anything but revolve around you. Sonny was smitten, like a lovesick puppy who got shot by cupid’s nuclear-powered bazooka as fate would have it.

He never felt this way about anyone in his life before, it was a feeling he relished in and was adamant on not letting go.

You were perfect.

Obviously, you had your flaws, but all only human, none of them fatal. Like how you had a habit of ordering too much food but he ends up being the one to finish it up when you realised your eyes had been bigger than your appetite — but he didn’t mind that at all, in fact he secretly loved being able to feast like a King — or how sometimes, you would arrive 10 minutes late to your dates on one of your busiest weeks, which he never complained about because he had his fair share of being unpunctual as well. Plus, you always made it up to him one way or another.

You were absolutely perfect, inside and out. Sonny thanked God everyday for sending a woman as smart, beautiful and kind as you his way. He’s never felt so lucky.

Sonny knew and loved everything about you, down to your weirdest quirks. If there was a Jeopardy! game where the topic was You, he’d be waving around his trophy like a mad man. What you didn’t tell him, he learned. It was the same way you got to know him. The two of you were always honest with each other, trust being the pillar of your relationship, it was why you got along so well. You knew how to make him happy, as he did for you.

So, why is it that you were crying as he handed you a bouquet of your favourite flowers as soon as you opened the door to your apartment?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” His sweet smile dropped to a concerned frown, uncomfortable and nervous at your sudden reaction.

There you were in front of him, dressed in your most comfortable pair of pyjama pants and an oversized tee that he was sure once belonged to him, messy hair up that he found extremely adorable. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the fact that…well, you were crying.

He always brought you flowers. Was he late? He glanced at the clock on your wall. No…was it something he said? Something he did? Something…he totally forgot about?

“Nothing- no, everything’s fine, nothing’s wrong.” You sniffed, hugging the fresh bouquet close to your chest, dipping your nose into the floral fragrance to smell it only to find that the tears had triggered an onslaught of snot. That only made you cry more.

The bubble of nerves in Sonny’s chest was bursting at this point, he was almost worried he was having a heart attack. “Doll, you’re crying, something’s wrong.”

He held out an arm to pull you into a hug and you eagerly sunk into his embrace. You buried your face into the fabric of his suit jacket, breathing in what you could of his faded perfume. His calloused hands stroked your hair, softly caressing your head as he cradled it. He gently peeled you off of him to get a better look of your face, now red and eyes puffy from sobbing.

He held your cheeks between his palms and you pouted, looking up at him with sad doe-like eyes, and if that didn’t break his heart that he must not have one because the look on your face was shattering him in every possible way right now. One of his thumbs swiped a fresh tear off your cheek, he felt you nuzzle into his hand.

The tall blond gently led you to your couch and set the flowers down on the coffee table before cuddling up with you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms around him desperately, wanting nothing more than to be absolutely engulfed by everything Sonny — scent, skin and biceps.

“You’re killing me sweetheart, you gotta tell me what’s gotten you all upset like this.” You felt him kiss the top of your head and love bloomed in your chest immediately. “Come on, doll, what’s up?”

You sighed, big and loud, huffing away all the choked up tears with one big breath. “I swear it’s nothing. I’m so stupid.”

He was quiet for a while until you felt his voice vibrate from his chest again, “Was it…me? Did I do something wrong?”

You whipped your head to look at him, only to be greeted with a very worried expression.

Oh, Sonny. Oh, sweet heavenly innocent Sonny. How could you not love this man with every fibre of your being when he’s got that look in his eyes? The one where his pupils are so dilated, you could see your reflection in his big, blue puppy eyes.

How could you have been so careless?! Of course he’d think you were crying because of him, the sweet stupid man — God, you loved him so much. The thought only made you more emotional…and just like that the waterworks came rushing back in.

“Oh, God, Sonny-“ you hiccuped, pulling yourself away from him to put your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry- it’s not your fault at all,”

The lovesick, worried-sick man shot up next to you to pull you into his arms once again, stomach churning at the wave of emotions you were going through. He couldn’t even detective his way through this, his mind going haywire with every sniff that came from you.

“Then what is it?” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, “Did something happen at work? Is it that asshole again?”

With what he dealt with at his job, it wasn’t out of the question for his mind to be going down that dark path, but he shoved his anger and panic down to focus on your well-being, remaining rational until you were calm.

That made you shoot up to look at him again, words tumbling out of your mouth hurriedly to curb his worries. “No, no! I’m okay, I’m absolutely fine, Todd — that ass — didn’t do anything to me, I promise you, I swear to God. And it’s not you, it’s not anything even remotely related to anything sane at all. I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over a bunch of random things, it’s just so—“

“Doll.” Your boyfriend’s voice pulled you out of your rambling. The loving concern that radiated off of him was enough to bring you back to your senses. Gently, he asked again. “What is it?”

You melted immediately, both embarrassed and exhausted from all the sobbing you had been doing. “I’m on my period.”

Oh.

Oh!

“I know, I’m not usually this emotionally affected but my hormones are all over the place and my TV decided to autoplay The Notebook, now I’m a mess.” You sniffed. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like this, much less deal with me.”

It was only then that the detective noticed the TV screen, paused on Ryan Gosling’s frowning face.

He tried to stifle his amusement, but it came out in a fit of giggles, much to your dismay.

“It’s not funny.” You pouted.

“I just— I thought—“ His laughter consumed him, shoulders shaking as he held up his palms to his face and ran his fingers through his hair, uncaring of how it would mess it up. Sonny leaned back into the couch and continued to laugh with his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was so quiet it came out like a squeak, ashamed of how you cried like a baby in front of him. Although the two of you spent plenty times over at each other’s places and hanging out with each other, over the six months he knew you, you never had your hormones hit you this hard. It wasn’t uncommon to you, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence either, and it certainly wasn’t an event Sonny had the pleasure of experiencing…until today.

“It’s okay if you’d prefer to be at your own place right now, I totally get it. I won’t be offended in the least, okay? I’ll call you in the morning.” Some men in the past have been weirded out when this happened to you, so you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be offended — it was ‘your fault’ anyway, that was what you had grown accustomed to.

But Sonny, the ever-loving and understanding guy, did not share the same view. Of course not! Raised-with-sisters, loves-his-mother, thoroughly Italian, good-Catholic-man-who-respects-women Sonny, would never in a million years ever even think about being upset with you just because your period messed with your emotions. And that’s why you weren’t sure why you were so surprised when he responded to your offer with a kiss.

This was Sonny. He would never think lowly of you because of something you couldn’t control.

“That’s crazy talk, doll.” He mumbled into the kiss, smiling as he continued to love on your lips. “I’d never leave you alone like this.”

You pulled away a bit to properly look at his face, “Really?”

This was the man your heart belonged to. You don’t know how you didn’t explode when he gave you the most charming smile that ever graced his lips.

“Really.”

Everything you were worried about solved itself into place, like sentient puzzle pieces figuring themselves out with confidence.

“You’re too good for me.”

Unabashedly, you continued to make out with your boyfriend on your couch, a newfound appreciation driving you mad with love.

“I’m only for you, babe. Don’t need anyone or anything else but you.”

———

Now that the two of you were freshened up and settled down with mugs of hot cocoa in your hands, you and Sonny were much more at ease.

There was nothing better to Sonny than to be cuddled up with his girlfriend with her head laying on his chest. You practically clung to the arm draped over your shoulder, making a nest out of his bicep for your face — which reminded him of a koala bear, but he kept that thought to himself. He was so comfortable, so happy that this was his life. His nose pressed against your hair, the scent of your shampoo reminding him of a holiday well-spent together in Mexico. Deja Vu hit him the minute he kissed your head, laughing through his nose when he remembered the events that happened just a few hours prior.

“Hey,” he nudged you with the arm you were glued to. You pulled your focus from the movie you were watching — a comedy, nothing that would make the ‘bloody demon hormones possess me’ as you put it — and raised your eyebrows curiously in response. “I’m just wonderin’…”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you cry when I gave you the flowers?”

You groaned, still somewhat embarrassed at the flurry of emotions you attacked the innocent man with. But you humoured the question anyway, “I opened the door and you were standing there, so handsome and so sickeningly charming, holding up flowers that you brought for me. You should be worried if I didn’t cry.”

“Wow,” he whistled. “I’m really that handsome, huh?”

You playfully hit him in the chest with your fist as you resumed your initial position, “Shut up.” A smirk managed to rip it’s way through your lips. “But mostly, I was crying because I was so sad that the flowers were going to die. I don’t know, just weird how my brain works on my period.”

It was a nonchalant mention, nothing big to you, but it stuck to his mind. Flowers dying made you upset. How precious was that? He catalogued the thought, filing it away for the future. The inkling of humour tempted him, though.

“So, not so much on the handsome part?”

You snorted, “Eh, I’ll give it a 60/40.”

“It should be in the news or something. ‘Guy So Handsome, Makes A Grown Woman Cry’” he gestured in the air as if there was a banner.

“How about, ‘Girl So Hormonal, Makes A Grown Man Cry With Her’?”

“Psh, I didn’t cry.”

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

You laughed, thinking he’d given it up when the sound of the movie began to fade into your hearing again.

“You should come over the precinct, tell the guys how I can make the ladies cry just by showing up at their door.”

He wore that goofy, toothy grin you were so accustomed to whenever he was joking around.

You rolled your eyes. Then decided to mess with him. “Excuse me? Ladies? Plural?”

The grin immediately wiped off of his face. “No- I meant lady, as in singular.”

“Mhmm.”

“I mean— no, that’s not what—“

“Sure, Son.” The monotonous voice you used made him sweat.

“You know you’re the only gal for me! I was just joking…hey, baby, come on, look at me…”

———

Months passed by and relationship milestones came and went. You finally met his family on month eight, and him yours. Month ten, you got a promotion at work and thankfully — not by your doing — Todd left the company. Sonny and the rest of the SVU team made a breakthrough on a case, you met his coworkers you heard so much about for the first time when he brought you along for their celebratory dinner. He was teased relentlessly for ‘keeping such a wonderful woman from us all this time’. You enjoyed the camaraderie that they shared with each other, and felt like you won a prize when they extended it to you.

Time passed by you so fast that you barely noticed it was almost a full year since you and Sonny made it official.

The day of your anniversary, he made reservations for the two of you at a fancy restaurant — Italian, of course. You reminisced the journey of your relationship together over some fine dining and a delightful bottle of wine. The ambiance, mixed with the light-headed feeling from one too many glasses of wine, only made the love you had for Sonny so much more emphasised. It was a dream, to be loved by such an amazing man, to have found your soulmate. If you weren’t at such busy points of your career, you’d literally have his babies right then and there. A couple of mini Sonny’s would do the world good, you pondered. Unbeknownst to you, the subject of your thoughts was thinking the exact same thing, only he was dreaming up a babble of mini You’s instead.

Sonny and you walked home together — he had basically moved into your apartment by now, he was finding it harder and harder to be separated from you at night. Having you next to him made him sleep better, and just generally being around you made him feel better — the two of you never made his move-in an official thing, but there was no need to. It was almost like you shared a telepathic connection. Although, Sonny being Sonny, will make the moving in an official thing whether you needed to or not. Maybe into an actual house, with a backyard and a huge kitchen and a family to raise in to make it a home. One day. Maybe even tomorrow. He’d do anything, anytime with you.

“Got you something, by the way.” He grinned, keys jangling on the doorknob as he swung it open for you.

“Sonny, you didn’t have to.” You blushed. One year together and he still had that effect on you.

“Well, I wanted to.”

While you were taking off your shoes, he used it as a distraction to take it out of the hiding spot he so carefully planned — his height being an advantage to said plan — and waddled over in his socks to where you were sitting on the couch, handing it to you once he was sat as well.

It was a daintily patterned gift bag, not too big and not too small either, with a card attached to it on the front. You carefully removed it to read his words in neat handwriting.

Happy 1 year anniversary, doll. I love you so much. You make me the luckiest man alive. My love for you will never die.

You wanted to cry, so touched by his short but undeniably sweet words. He saw how your bottom lip jutted out, the way it usually did when emotions got the best of you, and smiled to himself with a bit of pride in getting his words right.

Slowly, you pried the top of the bag open, only discovering a plastic dome. “Careful.” Your boyfriend noted.

You wondered what it was, going over all the possibilities in your head as you took it out of the bag; lava lamp, necklace, tiny bottle, lantern…only to gasp when you saw what it really was inside.

A small sphere-shaped cactus with a crown of pink flowers, placed inside a white ceramic pot with the words, ‘My love for you will never die’ engraved in cursive writing around it.

Ahhhh, here come the waterworks.

“Sonny,” your eyebrows scrunched up, lips fully pouting now. “This is the sweetest fucking gift ever.”

Your use of words didn’t go unnoticed by the smiling man, earning you a chuckle out of him. “I remember the time you cried when I brought you flowers, and you told me it was because you were sad ‘bout them dying…it’s cheesy, I know. Corny, a bit. But I thought you’d like it.”

The rising inflection of his voice gave away his nerves, but you were quick to make your appreciation known. “I do, I do! It’s just the most beautiful and thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you, baby. I’m- Aw…“

You choked up and he took that as his cue to pull you into his arms, careful to set the prickly plant down so you wouldn’t accidentally get hurt.

“It’s true though, my love will never die. You’re stuck with me for as long as you want me.”

“You know I’m shit at keeping plants alive, Son!” You couldn’t help the wavering in your voice, “Oh, but this is just so, so sweet. You’re just too cute for your own good.”

“Well, I was cute enough for you to accept the babbling guy who asked you out a year ago.” The giggling that followed made his blue eyes seem brighter.

“Yeah, I couldn’t say no to that face.”

You took the comfortable silence that ensued as a segue to your own offering to him, “Speaking of this cactus being put at the risk of dying, I’m gonna have to appoint someone to remind me it needs water every now and then.”

“I’m assuming that would be me?”

“Yup.” You shifted around to look through your purse. “So, I was thinking…”

Sonny narrowed his eyes at you, “Thinking…?”

You held out your palm and reached out for his, dropping a familiar weight into his hands. As soon as you pulled your hands away, the object revealed itself to be a single silver key with a brown leather strap keychain attached to the ring, ‘Det. Carisi’ engraved on one side and ‘Sonny’ on the other.

He looked up at you, meeting eager eyes that matched his own. You were practically bouncing with giddiness, excited to reach yet another milestone.

“Move in with me? Officially?”

God, you were so perfect.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Madeline Hatter in Record of Ragnarok

-First things first, you and Jack have the best tea parties in Valhalla! He knows the best blends and treats to pair with them, and you provide the venue, despite him finding it very odd at first, but growing to enjoy it overtime.

-You were so unique, so different, and so odd, but many loved that about you, as they found that to be charming- you were like a breath of fresh air, so unlike anyone they ever had the pleasure of meeting.

-There were many who were thrown off by your personality and the way you spoke, speaking in riddles or saying things that made little to no sense, to popping out of random places, pulling things from your hat or purse that shouldn’t have been able to fit in there, to laughing wildly and running off like you had a secret.

-You never let anyone get you down, when those not used to you would call you mad and say hurtful things about being ‘normal’, you would just smile and pour them a cup a tea, “Why would a butterfly change itself when it’s been a butterfly it’s whole life?”

-When someone went to refute this, saying all butterflies start out as caterpillars, you looked at them like they were the weird ones before you pulled out a butterfly from your bag, one that looks like two pieces of buttered toast, flapping around like a normal butterfly.

-They couldn’t explain the odd creature, just staring, unable to comprehend before you cackled madly and backflipped over the balcony railing, landing completely unharmed, despite being in heels, and running off.

-There were many, gods and humans, that you have befriended, who grew used to you and your odd quirks over time and were quite protective of you.

-Brunnhilde and all the Valkyrie sisters adored you, as that’s how you met most of the other gods and humans- they find you so fun and unique, but also incredibly wise, despite you showing it in a different way compared to most.

-Jack introduced you to Hercules and while he was a bit put off by your odd mannerisms, he grew to understand why Jack enjoyed your company and grew to like you as well- finding you funny.

-Thor and Lu Bu were a pair of oddballs who liked you, but they knew you were stronger than you looked, mainly because of the ways you defied the laws of physics, but to you, you weren’t doing anything odd, it’s how things were done in Wonderland.

-They enjoyed having tea with you, sitting on their stools as they floated around, hanging them upside down but still able to drink their tea without any issues while listening to you ramble. You were their relief from training and fighting, but it was a good place to relax.

-Nikola was one who instantly liked you, as he saw the brilliance of your mind in the odd way you spoke in riddles, knowing that you were incredibly intelligent, and he always respected you fiercely and defended you whenever anyone would try to insult you.

-There were many others who enjoyed you, one way or another, but there was one that many thought would hate you, thinking that he would find you annoying and would threaten you.

-To be fair, Poseidon did at first, chastising you for being irritating after you popped out of a hole in the wall, greeting him warmly and pulling your hat off, revealing a teapot and you asked if he wanted a cup.

-He grew to like you over time, and despite never saying it, everyone knew it, because he would always let you in to have tea with him and would let you chat his ear off as he read quietly. He found it difficult to read without you around, you were kind of like white noise to him.

-He did respect you and if anyone threatened you around him, he wouldn’t hesitate to have his trident at the ready, pointing it at the throats who dared to speak so rudely to you, forcing them to apologize, but you would always laugh, saying he was funny.

-You were truly an oddball in Valhalla, but they couldn’t imagine the world without you. It would be too quiet without you.

[toxycodone]

ship. swansea x reader

content. post crash, drunk swansea, implied suicidal reader so tread with caution, reader is gn but there’s mentions of afab genitals

an. written in one setting and not proofread just uh kill me or whatever

You don’t remember much.

As days have passed, routine’s grip on you has had your mind numb. For such a desperate situation, you’d expect to feel anxious. Depressed. Enough time has passed that you could even have a odd sense of acceptance by now due to the fatal end for you that lingers on the horizon.

Yet. You feel nothing. Days blend into weeks. Weeks into months. You only do your usual work routine because the others depend on you to pull your weight still. That, and well, there’s not exactly a simple, effective way to off yourself on this ship. Damn Pony Express for hiding anything deadly behind a code. And damn Anya for hiding that gun. You’d kill for it right about now.

Everything seems bleak. Daisuke’s the only crew member that still manages maintain a shred of positivity nowadays, but even that’s becoming a rarity. Only a matter of time before he succumbs too, you bet.

Despite it all, the most negative one of your bunch before the tragedy is the most upbeat. Swansea drinks himself stupid on that disgusting mouthwash every day. He’s jovial, partying and dancing all the time, save for the fact he needs to interact with Jimmy. Oh, and the odd bouts spent down in Utility.

What were you doing again?

Right. Checking on him. Jimmy’s gung ho about finding a way outta this mess all the sudden. A report from Swansea about the ship’s status is “necessary for him to make plans”. You doubt anything’s changed, or that Swansea could work on the ship in his state, but whatever.

And as usual, the conversation with Swansea is unproductive. Nothing, as you figured. The man’s giving you a bored expression as he answers your questions between swigs of mouthwash. It’s not until you take a break to stretch, revealing a little bit of your midriff, that Swansea’s thick brow quirks with interest.

“You seem tense.” He stands up from his workbench, which surprises you. You’re sure he’s gone through like, at least three bottles of mouthwash since the day started. The fact he’s still conscious is astounding, really. “Anybody ever teach ‘ya to lighten up a little? Relax?”

Swansea pats your shoulder, like how he would Daisuke, you think, until the hand lingers. His large fingers dig into your skin. He’s trying to massage the area, you think. But being so intoxicated has him unable to recognize his own strength.

You grimace. Thinking he’s about to offer you a swig of his half finished bottle of mouthwash, you start to wave him off. Then you notice his bulge. Holy shit. He has a hard on.

It’s not difficult for you to put two and two together. Your addiction to routine begs you to turn around, pretend this isn’t happening, but the desire to feel something, anything, overwhelms it.

Barely minutes pass before you’re spread over the cool metal surface of Swansea’s workbench. The man doesn’t take any time to prep you. There’s no kissing, sensual touches, foreplay of any kind. That hint of the Swansea you remember from before lingers true—the one that’s strictly business.

Anticipation makes you whimper, rubbing your legs together as the drunkard has trouble undoing his belt and shuffling off his pants. You catch a glimpse of his cock from over your shoulder and your eyes widen. Holy shit. He’s not particularly long, but Swansea’s thick as a soda can. You start to back out of this, but Swansea’s already pushing the thick head past your entrance.

It hurts. It fucking hurts. But it’s so fucking good you want to cry. It’s something other than the monotony that’s plagued your soul for lord knows how long. You squint your eyes shut, gritting your teeth as the older man’s length splits you open.

Once Swansea’s lodged himself deep in you, he lets out a satisfied groan. He’s still for a moment, relishing the way you pulse around him, before fucking into you without mercy. He takes advantage of your position, pulling you down onto his length instead of rutting his hips into you—likely to spare his energy. Each one rudely puffs the air out your lungs. You’re barely able to make strangled whimpers or moans yourself. His weighty balls smack against your clit every time you sink down, sparking little yelps of pleasure from your lips.

“Like that?” Swansea asks between grunts. He sounds cocky. You’d quip back if his dick didn’t make your hole burst at the seams.

You claw at the cool metal below as Swansea rams into you. The pain never really leaves even as you get wetter and wetter for him, only ebbs. But you don’t want it to be gone anyways. You feel alive for once, the mix of pain and pleasure making your brain go from numb to delirious. Your hips start to move on their own now, meeting Swansea in the middle as you fuck yourself on his length. The feeling of your pubes meshing when he bottoms out, that sticky mix of you, Swansea’s precum, and a little bit of his spit that he so half-assedly lubed you with earlier webbing between your crotches. You’ve never felt closer to heaven. If this is what Swansea feels like when he drinks, then you’re starting to get it.

Swansea grumbles, then grunts as he repositions himself. His hands hold your shoulders now, forcing his weight on you as he starts to drive his hips into you. He must be close, plowing into you with thrusts strong enough you’re sure you’d fly off his desk if he wasn’t holding you down. He’s fucking you like a sexy toy, using you for his own pleasure, and you’re loving it. Sweat starts to bead between your furrowed brows. Your gut flares with that familiar feeling of tightness, spreading tingles down your legs like TV static.

And it’s as if he senses it too. Swansea takes one hand off your shoulder to rub deep, slow circles on your clit, and your eyes roll back. Holy shit. You know his wife back home misses him bad. Fuck, maybe in a different life you’d feel guilty for this. But the way Swansea’s cock and calloused fingers have you seeing stars is more than enough to send any regrets out the window. Doesn’t help that the man isn’t intent on stopping to let you process your first orgasm in months, either. Your ears are filled with his wanton groans and wet sounds of skin on skin until he’s finally spent. Swansea cums with a deep groan, sheathing himself inside you as his balls drain.

You can’t be bothered to care. Not even when when he slumps his full weight onto you. The feeling of his warm cum and cock inside you makes you feel full, whole. Something you’re not sure you remember feeling, well, ever.

You could die like this, you think. In fact, you probably will soon. But not now. At least you have something to keep your preoccupied.

[its-luna-noel]

soul tied | gojo x reader

03. small talk

"You're not going to die on me." "My love, not even death could keep me from you." When the love of your life - or one of your lives - is on death's door, you perform a soul tie ritual to make sure you'll meet again. This tie binds you across time, space, and every universe; your souls now belong to each other. But even a soul tie doesn't make love easy.

content: f!reader, reincarnation au, soulmates au, threads of fate, angst, pining, slow burn, fluff, meet cutes in every life, non-linear storytelling, fake dating, one bed, drinking

word count: 3.3k

chapter 3/? prev. chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: helloooo! chapter here on the quick turnaround for you guys! hope you enjoy, this was a fun one!

2024, Tokyo

|| Satoru Gojo: Just booked the hotel!

|| You: what do you mean hotel??

|| Satoru Gojo: ?? The hotel we’re staying at this weekend?

|| You: you didn’t tell me we were going out of town!

|| You: i am not staying in a hotel room with you

|| Satoru Gojo: Why not? I’m a great hotel buddy

|| Satoru Gojo: ;)

|| You: put your winky face away

|| You: im not sharing a room with you

|| Satoru Gojo: Why

|| You: cause we barely know each other

|| You: and i bet you snore

|| Satoru Gojo: I do not! And fine, if you want to spend your own money on a room. I’d call soon, there’s a whole wedding party staying at the only hotel in town

|| You: …you couldn’t have told me this earlier?

|| Satoru Gojo: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  I thought you’d be okay staying with me

|| You: you really think you’re that irresistible?

|| Satoru Gojo: Yes

|| You: just called, no other rooms.

|| You: how much do i owe you for my half?

|| Satoru Gojo: None, I got it

|| You: fine

|| You: see you friday

|| Satoru Gojo: Yay!! See you then

~

Satoru picks you up on Friday afternoon, driving up in a sleek black Maserati and parking out front.

You almost roll your eyes. Of course he has to be gorgeous and rich. You walk over as he steps out of his car, looking somehow put together even in his comfortable traveling outfit of joggers and sweater. You’re matching, though you’re sure your sweatpants from Target are much less high-end than whatever bullshit he’s wearing.

He smiles at you. “Hey, thanks again for doing this.”

“Don’t mention it.” You hand him the garment bag that’s holding your dress for the wedding. Curious and ever intrusive, Satoru unzips the bag and peeks inside, revealing a floor-length, wine-colored piece you picked up for a good deal. At the sight, he glances over at you.

He grins down at you, raising an eyebrow. “What, did ya get this at Macy’s?”

You grit your teeth, hands clenched into fists at your side. “Yes.”

He looks surprised, then coughs to cover whatever expression he’s trying to hide. “Oh. Uh, it’s nice.”

You don’t respond, handing him your duffle bag before climbing silently into the front seat. This is going to be a long ride.

Satoru sets your bag in the backseat and hangs the dress on the hanger hook. Then he climbs inside, his long legs stretching forward to hitting the pedals. You have to force yourself to avert your gaze.

“So,” he says as he shifts gears and pulls away from the curb, “tell me about yourself.”

You grunt softly, turning back to him with an incredulous air. “What, you wanna make small talk for the three hour drive?”

You watch the corner of his mouth quirk up in a small smile, though his eyes stay on the road. “Maybe.”

“You just can’t stand silence, can you?”

“I can’t stand awkward silence. There’s a difference.”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.”

He huffs a laugh. “Fine. Sit in silence then.” He reaches over and turns up the volume of his music, drowning out his supposed awkward silence.

You’re quiet for a while, letting his music play as you watch the city fade into suburbs. It’s been a long time since you’ve been out of the city; you used to go with your grandfather, used to visit the surrounding countryside and take hikes, but that went to the wayside when he got sick–

You blink away the thoughts. Now’s not the time for reminiscing. Instead, you turn and raise an eyebrow at your travel companion. “Seriously?”

“What?”

You gesture to the infotainment center, where the title of the currently playing song proudly scrolls: “PARTY IN THE U.S.A.” You say, “This is what you listen to? In a freaking Maserati?”

He grins. “I didn’t think you knew what kind of car this was.”

“I do. And I also know your taste in music sucks.”

He gasps and puts a hand to his chest, looking scandalized. His other hand stays on the steering wheel, and you can’t help but notice how casual he looks, how relaxed, how attractive. “My music taste is great.”

“I think you’re objectively wrong.” Right when he’s about to respond, the starting notes of “Fergalicious” start playing. “Oh my god.”

He laughs, looking entirely too amused at your disdain. “What’s good music, then, in your opinion?” he asks, before singing along under his breath, “Fergalicious, definition: make them boys go loco.”

Your own lips curve into a smile, now. You reach towards his phone, raising your eyebrows. Silently asking.

He chuckles and unlocks his phone for you. “I’m trusting you with my life here,” he teases.

You take it and hide the screen from him as you scroll through Spotify, bringing up a new song to listen to. Something with bass and a good beat. You glance over at him as you select a song by Ashnikko you like.

He glances at the screen on the dash. “Isn’t this from Arcane?”

“Yeah.” He laughs softly, shaking his head. You frown. “What now?”

“Nothing.” His lips are twitching, fighting a smile. You just scowl at him, waiting for him to speak. Finally he does. “You’re just a nerd.”

“Am not!”

“Yes you are.” He laughs again. “Even your definition of a ‘good’ song is from a nerdy little show. Admit it.”

You scowl again, but it’s tinged with playfulness this time. You glance out the window, watching the suburbs finally turn to countryside. “Fine,” you mutter, hiding your smile out the window. “I’m a nerd.”

You can’t see his smile, but you can feel his amusement in the silence. Quickly, before he can respond, you continue, “But so are you!”

He just chuckles. “I’m not denying that, sweetheart. You should ask me about digimon sometime if you really want me to get on a nerdy tangent.”

Sweetheart. You try not to let the nickname spread heat through you, but you can’t help it; your cheeks flush slightly at the nickname. You’re glad you’re still looking out the window. “Tell me about it, then.”

He just snorts and shakes his head. “That’s not a first date type of material,” he teases. “Ask me on the third.”

You snort, too, smiling out the window. You’re not sure if he’s kidding, but the idea of a second or even third date doesn't sound too bad, despite how insufferable you thought he was when he first asked. “Yeah, alright.”

You can see his reflection in the window as he turns to look at you curiously. He says, “So…” and reaches over to turn down the music a little. He clears his throat. “What do you do for work?”

You sigh softly. Seems that you were unable to delay the small talk for long. You turn back to him. “I’m a program leader at the public library.”

He looks surprised. He glances over at you again before returning his attention to the highway. “So you really are a little nerd! What does that entail?”

You shrug. “Basically just creating events for the community. I hang out with a lot of old ladies.”

He laughs at that. “So, what, you all get together and knit together?”

“Basically.” He’s not far off. He laughs again. “I run book clubs, craft nights, stuff like that. Along with, you know, other librarian things.”

He hums, nodding. You’re surprised to find him actively listening; you thought he’d just blow off your job as boring. “Do you like it?”

You nod, expression earnest. “I love it. Let’s me meet new people and stuff.” He nods again. You ask, “What do you do?”

“I’m a high school teacher,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow, looking him over. “You, a teacher? Driving a car like this?”

He smiles and explains, “My family’s pretty well-off. I’m a trust fund baby.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding as the pieces click into place. It leaves a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth; your grandfather couldn’t leave much of anything for you in an inheritance, and here Satoru is, able to fly through life with ease.

He chuckles, sensing your frustration. “That change your opinion of me?”

“No,” you say teasingly, “my opinion of you was already pretty low.”

He huffs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Brat,” he mutters, fighting a smile.

You smile back. Then you ask, “Where do you work? If you don’t mind my asking.”

He shrugs. “It’s no problem. I work at Tokyo Tech.”

“Cool. Do you like it?”

He nods, watching the road. “I like training the next generation.” He glances over with a smile. “Seems like you’re partial to the old generation, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess you could say that.”

“Any particular reason?”

You take a deep breath, not really wanting to talk about it, but what else are you going to chat about for three hours. “Uh, my grandparents raised me. Mom walked out, wasn’t able to care for me as a kid. So they really stepped in and did their best for me.”

He nods a little, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “It sounds like you’re glad to have them,” he observes.

You just nod, glancing out the window. You don’t say more, and he doesn’t push.

The rest of the drive passes much like that, each of you occasionally asking a question while the music plays through the speakers. You take turns playing music you like, and you find yourself laughing a lot with him. Not only is he aggravatingly handsome, and rich, and charming, but he’s also funny.

All of a sudden, staying in the same hotel room with him doesn’t seem so bad.

~

1727, Bahamas

“So,” Captain Gojo says, propping his boots up on the desk and leaning back in his seat with a wide smirk, “why should we take you aboard?”

You, dressed in loose trousers tucked into your own boots and a gray reefer jacket, with a jagged haircut tucked under a red bandana, frown. “You’re asking for my qualifications?”

The captain inclines his head. “Naturally. I don’t take any old scallywag on my ship, Mister…?” He trails off, raising an eyebrow for your name.

You give him your last name. It wouldn’t lead him anywhere; it’s a name that means nothing, gives you nothing. It’s a useless name for a useless family that you left behind in the dust to come find treasure, adventure, the seven seas.

Gojo drops his feet to the floor and folds his hands together, leaning onto his desk. He levels a serious look with you, blue eyes bright and searching. “As I said, I don’t take just anyone. So, either tell me why I should take you, or I’d kindly ask you to leave my ship before we force you off.”

You clench your teeth. You didn’t run away to be cast away before you even embarked on your first journey. You didn’t cut your hair, bind your chest, and rub filth on your face in order to be told ‘no’ and to return to your family with nothing to show for your endeavors.

So you say, gaze matching the captain’s, “My father fixes firearms. He taught me a few things. I’ve trained to be a firearm specialist. I can shoot, and I’m willing to do any jobs you give me, but I work best with my hands.”

Captain Gojo looks down at your hands resting on the desk – feminine hands, soft only superficially dirty. You hope he can’t see those traits in them. He looks back at you and squints thoughtfully. “Is that all?” he drawls.

You shake your head, and that’s when you sweep aside your coat and reveal three brand new, beautiful pistols hidden on your person. The captain’s guards immediately rise to protect him, to apprehend you, but he just raises a hand to stop them, eyes locked on the firearms.

You do not reach for them, hands raised obediently in the air. You say, “I bring gifts.”

And with that, the captain gives a slow, sly smile, and nods. “Alright, kid,” he says, reaching across the desk to shake your hand. “You have yourself a position among my crew. Welcome aboard.”

~

2024, Karuizawa

When you arrive in the small town where the wedding is being held, Satoru turns to look at you. “Hungry?”

You nod eagerly. “Starving.”

He glances out the window, eyes searching from behind his sunglasses. “Feel like having soba?”

“Sure.”

He pulls off and parks, and you can see his car attracting some eyes from pedestrians passing by. You watch their eyes trail over the luxury vehicle, and then you glance over at Satoru, who’s smiling at you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks. “To have something that others envy.”

You watch him for a moment before nodding a little. “Yeah,” you say, finally looking away. “It does.”

The two of you have a simple dinner together, still allowing yourself time for small talk. He asks about work, and your hobbies, and stays away from family, for which you’re grateful. And you ask about him, until your bowls are empty and you’re still left chatting animatedly across the table.

Then he leads you back towards the car, and this time he opens the door for you. You can’t help but blush as you thank him.

The drive to the hotel is another half hour; the town you’re staying in is outside of Karuizawa, and the hotel is, indeed, the only one in town. Once you’re arrived and parked, Satoru steps out and takes your bags, while you take the garment bags, holding them over your shoulder by the hangers. You walk inside and towards the check-in desk.

The front desk lady smiles and greets you. “Hello. What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Satoru Gojo,” he says, voice low and smooth as he checks in. You look around at the quaint hotel, trying not to listen to the financial gift he’s giving you for not making you pay him for your half of the room. Then when he’s given two keycards, he hands you the second one and leads you down the hallway.

“Satoru!” a voice calls, and you assume it’s his friend, perhaps even the one who’s getting married. You turn, and so does Satoru, and your smile goes strained when you don’t see a friend.

You see someone with the same striking white hair as him – clearly a family trait.

“Hey, Akari,” he greets, nodding politely, since he’s unable to wave with both hands occupied by your luggage.

Akari walks over, smiling brightly. “Hey,” she says, and turns her attention to you. “You must be the famed date! I’m Akari, nice to meet you.” She sticks out a hand.

You fumble with the garment bags before shaking her hand, internally cringing at how sweaty your hand must be. You tell her your name, and then you ask. “And you’re Satoru’s…?”

“Cousin! Though, not the lucky bride-to-be, that’s Emi. You’ll get to meet her tomorrow, of course, and the others!”

“Great,” you say, though you seem to have forgotten your enthusiasm at the door.

It’s silent between the three of you for a moment. Then Akari speaks again. “Well, it was nice to meet you!” she says, and you and Satoru echo the sentiment. Then you all, awkwardly, walk in the same direction towards your rooms.

“Oh!” she exclaims, laughing sheepishly as you come to your door. “It looks like we’re neighbors! Good to know.”

You smile weakly before reaching for your card and trying to shove it into the slot with shaky hands. Jesus, could you just get this conversation over with–

Satoru reaches around you to steady your hand, and the door unlocks with a click. He jerks his chin towards Akari. “See you tomorrow,” he says before ushering you inside.

“Bye!” she chirps, and you can feel her curious eyes on you as Satoru shuts the door, locking it behind you.

You look up at him, gritting out under your breath, “You didn’t tell me this was your cousin’s wedding. You said ‘friend.’”

He shrugs, entirely nonchalant. “What’s the difference?”

You give him an incredulous look. “‘What’s the difference?’ Satoru, you’re supposed to warn someone before they meet your entire family!”

He just smiles. “I was going to tell you tonight. Surprise!”

You just groan and push your way past him into the hotel room.

It’s a very nice room, with a large king-sized bed by the windows and a small kitchen island with a bar.

You are, despite your sour mood, impressed by the accommodations. Accommodations which are, of course, free to you, since Satoru seems to be loaded. “Wow,” you say appreciatively.

He grins and places your duffle bag on the bed, beside his small roller carry on. You hang your dress and his suit in the small closet. “Nice, right?”

“Very.” You come over and grab your bag, digging through until you find your bag of toiletries and your pajamas. “Need the bathroom?”

“Nope, go ahead.”

You wash up at the sink, brushing your teeth and starting your skin care. You poke at a particular pimple you’re hoping to cover up with makeup tomorrow, now cursing its existence after finding out this is Satoru’s family you’ll be meeting.

You don’t know why it seems so important to you. It’s not like you guys are really dating, anyway.

You sigh and put down the washcloth, changing into your pajama shorts and t-shirt. Part of you wishes you’d packed something a little cuter, but then you shake the thought away; absolutely no funny business will be happening while his family members are in the next room.

You walk out of the bathroom, padding over to the bed. You climb in on one end, watching Satoru whistle happily on his way to the bathroom. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest with sharing the room with you. Part of you wonders how often he’s done something like this. You just shake your head at the idea; you don’t want to know.

When he comes back, he’s dressed in sweatpants and a comfy looking white t-shirt. You have to fight to keep your eyes from trailing over his arms, his chest, his face. You look away, digging through your bag for the book you packed. You settle yourself against the pillows, opening up the book and setting your bookmark on your lap.

He chuckles as he climbs into bed beside you. You glance at him and ask, “What?”

He leans in towards your ear, close enough you can feel his minty fresh breath, and whispers, “You’re a nerd.” Then he pulls away, grinning, and sinks under the covers, rolling over so his back is to you.

You’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t want to hang out anymore. But you can’t blame him; you did spend several hours in the car, and another hour at dinner. You suppose he’s earned some quiet time.

He sits on his phone for a while, the sound of TikToks filling the quiet room as you try to focus on reading. Every so often, he lets out a soft snort at whatever he’s watching, and you can’t help but smile at the sound each time. Then, after a half hour or so of scrolling, he reaches over and turns off the light on his bedside table.

“Night,” he says, bringing the blanket up around his shoulders.

“Good night,” you reply, voice soft.

You stay up reading for a while longer.

You can’t help but facepalm and let out a soft groan when he does, indeed, snore softly into his pillow.

additional notes: everyone just pretend they have Macy's in Japan, okay? hi! i know this chapter was pretty americanized, with the long drive and everything, but i hope it was still enjoyable! i really tried my best to get some good banter in here, so i hope you liked it! i love these two, and i hope you do too. that's it! see you in the next one :))

thank you for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Do Us Both A Favour

Anselm Vogelweide x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 21: Smoking

Summary: Anselm doesn't seem to be as intimidating as others perceive him to be, at least when he's talking to you.

A/N: This is mainly fluff, I'm sorry.

Warnings: smoking, flirting, innuendo, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1248

You were part of a team hired to catalogue a collection of antique books. It wasn’t the first time you’d done this job, but this was definitely the largest and most varied collection you’d seen from a single individual. 

There wasn’t one room where there wasn’t books. Including an interesting set of laminated novels in the bathroom that were presumably to stop the bath water from splashing on the pages.

You were currently working on a bookcase in a secluded room on the third floor, taking quick notes in your notebook that you would transfer onto your computer later. 

The room opening made you jump, despite how gentle it was. 

“Oh, my apologies.” 

You recognised him instantly, despite this being the first time you’d actually seen him in person. The head of your team had warned you about him quite thoroughly - everyone was to be on their best behaviour when Mr Vogelweide was around.

“No, erm, no, please, I’m sorry, this is your house.” You give him a small bashful smile that he grins at, chuckling lightly. 

He shakes his head, taking a few steps inside. His brace squeaks with every step. He’s wearing a sharp dark teal suit that compliments him immensely. “I’ll put this out.” He says kindly, gesturing to the cigar in his left hand. 

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really.” You say without thinking, wanting to be polite. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you as he moves to his desk, “You smoke?”

You shake your head. 

“Well, I really should put it out then. Manners, you see.” He opens a side draw and pulls out an ornate and heavy looking glass ashtray. 

“Unless,” he smiles, “would you like to see a trick?” 

“A trick?” You turn fully.

He nods, “A trick.” There’s a little gleam in his eyes as he takes the cigar, the smoke wafting into the air. He presses the cigar against his lips and then, with a rather dramatic sleight of hand, it disappears. 

He shows you his empty hands, revelling in your surprised look, before he makes it reappear from his left ear. 

“How did you do that?” 

Anselm grins, “an old party trick.” He lightly presses the lit end into the ashtray. “I’m afraid it takes a lot more for me to reveal my secrets than a simple request, even if it is from a very beautiful person such as yourself.” 

You wish your words didn’t fail you, that heat wasn't burning under your skin. From everything you’d been told Mr Vogelweide had seemed like some twisted miser ready to snap and scream at anyone at any given notice. Instead, he seemed painfully charming. 

“My second trick, seems to be robbing you of your words.” He smiles cheekily as you shake your head ever so slightly, trying to break out of that hypnotic spell you had willfully fallen under. 

“I’m sorry, I…”

“You say sorry, far too much, my sweet.” He’d given you a cheeky wink before he collected a ledger from his desk and left the room, bidding you good day. 

.

It was Tuesday when you next saw him, he’d brought you a cup of sweet honey and lemon tea as you were working in the drawing room. Smiling as he placed the tray next to you. 

“For you.” 

“I, oh,” you smile, blinking heavily as your mind catches up with reality. “Thank you. You didn’t need to.” 

“Oh, but I wanted to.” He sat down, taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Thank you,” You repeat, shifting a little from your place on the floor, it was easier to look at the bottom shelf that way. 

“How is the work coming along?” He asks and you were sure he already knew the answer. But he listens intently as you explain passionately about his collection, smiling when you ask him small questions. 

On Wednesday he invites you to have lunch with him. Seemingly delighted when you agree and sat down in the day room with your packed lunch. Commenting that it was heartwarming to see someone you had prepared their own food. And then grinning like a madman when you’d playfully teased him about it. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that we don’t all have personal chefs, Mr Vogelweide.” 

He snorts, “Anselm, please. You are far too lovely to have my last name in your mouth.” 

You were used to his kind words by now, sure that it was just something he did with everyone. 

You laugh, “And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Exactly what I said, my dear.” 

“I think your surname is lovely.” You nod playfully to punctuate the sentence, knowing by now that he always reacts positively to sincerity mixed with light teasing. 

“Hmm,” the sound grumbles in his chest. “But you like Anselm, more yes? You agree that it is lovelier?” He inches a little closer as he talks, pulling a face to make you laugh. 

Some of your colleagues began to notice your friendliness, started to ask you to ask Anselm if they needed more information on certain volumes. Their perceptions of him being so intimidating weren’t surprising, but you found it a little odd that you couldn’t convince them otherwise. 

“Would you like a scotch?” Anselm asked.

You pause, halfway through your sandwich and glance at the clock. “It’s 12:35.”

“Oh, vodka then?” 

You scan his face, looking for any sign of insincerity and find none. “Are you teasing me?” 

He smiles, “Terribly, I’m afraid. You were away with the fairies.” He waves his hand.

“I was not.” You swallow, you do not want to admit you had been distracted looking at his face. 

“You most certainly were, what was the last thing I said?” 

“Do I want a scotch?” 

He chuckles, “Before that?” 

The small pause you take is enough for him to beam in triumph. 

“Ah ha, see, my dear?” He wags a finger playfully at you. “Am I boring you so?” 

“No.” You answer a little too quickly. 

“No? Well, I’m not sure if I am so convinced by your protest.”

“Anselm, that’s not fair.” You squirm a little under his gaze.

“What is unfair is you using my first name now of all times.” He leans a little closer, obviously amused. “Tell me, what has you so distracted?” 

“I… nothing.” 

“You’d be a terrible poker player, my dear.” He preens a little. 

“I would not.” 

“Then tell me.” He raises his chin ever so slightly, daring you. 

“I… wasn’t…”

“You… weren’t?” He teases, delighting in your discomfort. “Was it dirty is that why you won’t tell me?” 

Again, you take too long to answer.

“Oh, it was.”

“No, no,” you laugh in spite of yourself, “Stop, it wasn’t.” 

“I’m sure it was, it’s always quiet ones like you that end up into the most depraved things.” 

“I, what, no,” your giggles are becoming harder to control. 

“It takes one to know one, after all.” He lightly takes your hand in his, stroking the back with his thumb. 

“I have no interest in whatever depraved things you are into.” 

He chuckles, “I very much doubt that.” “Do you?” You pull a face and he laughs harder. 

“Yes, especially when you’ve been staring at me like you want to jump my bones for the last fifteen minutes.” 

You freeze, unable to even deny it. 

Anselm grins wickedly, pressing closer and whispering in your ear. “How about I do us both a favour, and instead of waiting around, I jump yours?” 

Thank you for reading!

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[scarfacemarston]

Could you maybe probably sort of kind of pretty please with a cherry on top write a Natasha x reader? Wlw preferred but nbreader is cool too. Maybe like a prank fic? I love pranks so much they bring so much serotonin into my veins 💋💋💋

Natasha x F! Reader prank people

Warnings: LOTS of cussing from Rumlow because that's just the type of guy he is. Takes place before the Hydra reveal. You loved a lot of things about Natasha. Who wouldn’t love the woman? You were the luckiest gal in the world to call her your partner. You loved how many layers she had to her and felt honored to see the softer, more playful side of her. Not many people knew that she had a penchant for pranks. It was quite simple for her to play pranks on people and let chaos reign because no one ever suspected it was the severe and stoic Black Widow.

Sometimes, she would prank people and give the most mischievous and playful smile -reserved only for you.

Well, there came a time when you wanted to join in. After all, it was a fun new way for you two to bond as a couple. Natasha quirked an eyebrow at your request but accepted it anyway.

Some of her favorite targets included Isaac Murphy, Brock Rumlow, and the IT guy from the 7th floor of the Shield Headquarters.

“You remember that I like to play the long game here, right? No salt in the sugar container or pie in the face antics. That’s child’s play. No, I want them to be either very confused, suffering or both. You can handle that, can’t you?” Natasha said with a quick of her lips. You scoffed.

“Of course I can! I have some ideas of my own, you know.” You defended yourself. Natasha crossed her arms. “Well this I have to hear.” “Well, I hate Brock Rumlow, too. I have a simple, but obnoxious prank on him, but he might tear up the room.” You warned.

“Hm, if it’s too awful, I’ll have to hear his loud mouth whining about it. Save your best idea for him to make it worth it.” Natasha thought aloud.

“Okay, will do. This Murphy guy, you have his email and number, right? Why not sign him up for the most famous mega church we can find? Joel Olsteen or Kenneth Copland, like that!.”

“He’s suspicious. I’m not sure what is off about him, but I will find out. But, not a bad idea, but I think we can do worse.”

“I’m getting there! What about various political campaigners? We could do Obama, Romney, Kennedy and even more local politicians. I receive those emails and texts daily despite donating to a Green Party campaign six years ago. That’s just one! Imagine how horrible three or more would be!” You enthused.

Natasha grinned. “Not bad, but I really want him to suffer.” “I was thinking we could give his name to various military recruiters? ” You suggested. “I’ll suggest his name to a multi-level marketing group so they can try to recruit him, too. Not bad for your first prank.” Nat said, hugging you from behind. “I think we can do even better.” Nat muttered in your ear.

“Okay, for Rumlow - I was thinking we trick him into thinking there’s somebody who takes his desk during the night shift. Uses his chair, desk, everything.” You said, a grin curling on your features. “Hm, sounds promising. Go on” She murmured. “Well, I was thinking we move his stuff around every day before he comes in. Maybe lay a crossword puzzle or newspapers scattered in the morning that look read? Move his pens, and everything else!” You laughed. Natasha nodded in approval. I think we should leave half-eaten bags of chips, half-drunk water bottles, and candy wrappers so he thinks someone has been eating there. That will get him. He’s quite possessive with his stuff.” Nat suggested. You gasped. “Oh, he’s going to hate that.” “Yep. And to end it up, we can have multiple files on his computer that look like they’re from Murphy, Jack Rollins and Sitwell. All of them sometimes work the night shifts.” Nat laughed as she turned to face you. ‘Imagine the fights!”

“I’ll be sure to tape them, don’t you worry, love,” Natasha said, tapping your nose.

It wasn’t long until Natasha invited you to have lunch with her at a SHIELD gathering. It was a relaxed affair where nothing intelligence-related was discussed. A few other SHIELD members invited their partners or children as well.

Natasha smirked as she took her seat next to you and placed a plate of sandwiches and milkshakes on the table for you to share.

“Might as well have something to eat while we enjoy the show. Murphy looks like he’s going to have a mental breakdown. His phone has been going off all day to the point that Rumlow threatened to break it, and Maria Hill threatened to take disciplinary action."

At that moment, you heard the buzz of a cellphone receiving a notification…and another…and another.

“They won’t leave me alone!” Murphy whined.

“Shut that damn phone up, or I’m smashing it. I don’t give a fuck about any “disciplinary action.”

“It’s the number, you idiot. Not the phone!” Murphy said, raising his voice.

“Then change the fucking number!” Rumlow raised his voice.

“I can’t! I have too many accounts associated with it! I’d have to start all over!” Murphy whined.

Rollins tromped over, glaring at Murphy. “

All of us are plotting your death, Murphy.” Rollins snapped as he pulled Rumlow by the shoulder away.

“Come on, let’s get you a beer.” Rollins muttered.

“I need more than a damn beer,” Rumlow muttered, stomping off. Soon, the noise was annoying, even the two of you.

Finally, Maria Hill herself made her way over, snatching the phone from Murphy’s hand. “You’re on thin ice, kid,” Hill said, pointing at his face.

Murphy sat, slumping into his chair. “It’s not my fault!” he whined.

You and Natasha exchanged looks as you slipped on your milkshake, stealing one of Natasha’s fries.

“I have to admit, I was close to breaking his phone myself.” Nat admitted.

“Yeah, this might have backfired on us.”

“But it is great to see them at each other’s throats. It distracts them from bothering Steve and I,” Natasha said, stopping your hand from stealing another fry.

“I could have bought you fries, you know.” Nat laughed.

“But I so enjoy stealing yours!” You smiled.

~~~~~ A week later, you received a text from Natasha. “Calling you in a second. Need you to hear this. Need to be silent, though.” “Ok” And with that, your phone began to ring. You picked up immediately only to hear shouting and cursing in the background…from a very familiar voice. It was most certainly Rumlow who had become fed up with the idea of someone “stealing his shit in his space.”

“If I find out which piece of shit is using my desk, I’m going to dismember them! Slowly!” Rumlow bellowed.

You heard a second voice. “No one sits there! Calm down there, alpha male. It’s your space.” Rollins snarked.

“Then where the fuck is this shit coming from? You work the night shift! Why are there files from you, Murphy and Sitwell? “ he shouted.

“Yeah, Over there. That’s how I know no one sits there. I don't know how they got that, Rumlow. I didn't do it." Rollins defended.

“Where did this come from? Or this?” - the sound of objects being thrown came through the phone.”

“Fine, ask Murphy!”

You hear another voice in the background.

“That asshole is on thin ice. If it’s him, good luck finding the body.” Rumlow growled.

“It wasn’t me! I quit working nights last month!” Murphy squeaked.

“That leaves Sitwell, then.” You heard Rollins speak up.

You heard Rumlow growl. “Damn it. That nerd is higher on the ladder than we are…but how about we pay the dweeb a visit anyway?” You heard Rumlow’s voice fade in the background.

You heard Natasha’s voice. “I hope you’re proud of yourself and the chaos you caused,” Nat said, snickering.

“Oh, so proud! I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this, though.” You apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I can handle a few mens’ fragile egos and I can drown them out pretty well. I have to say, you impressed me with your pranks. I might need to watch out…but just know that any pranks you play on me, I’ll get you back with a vengence.” Nat warned.

“….. okay, then it will only be fun ones then! A surprise room of puppies, or baklava randomly appearing in places.” You appeased. Nat gave one of her rare laughs.

“I can live with that. Let’s give the boys a break for now, but we are definitely going to prank them again. Maybe we’ll go after new targets. I have to go. Dinner at Demo’s tonight, same time as usual?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Love you, Tasha.”

“Love you, Y/N”.

[sucksinlosers]

For Lucanis and Em: first time Lucanis and Em appeared at a Crow function together where Illario *wasn't* trying to murder them? 😂

I've. Stared at this entirely too long now, so I think I'm just gonna let it go and see what it does. ^^;

Em didn’t like this dress.

Not because it wasn’t pretty. Teia had picked it, a conspiratorial little grin on her face as she held it up to Em’s frame and debated on where to have it taken in. ‘Hair up,’ she had said, gathering Em’s silvery blonde hair at the back of her head. She’d wrinkled her nose briefly at the display of scars now revealed, curling over Em’s shoulders and knitting together at the base of her neck, but remained steadfast in her decision.

It was a pretty dress. And Em looked pretty, for sure. But it was heavy. Layers, deep, rich purples and beautifully woven fabrics… and expectations. So many expectations.

She hadn’t thought people would flock to her. She wasn’t the First Talon. She wasn’t even a Crow. Maybe that was what it was? That she was simply unfamiliar, a curiosity. An outlier. Em smiled pleasantly at the broad-shouldered assassin engaging her in small talk, politely declining their offer of a drink. She chuckles when they suggest she might have declined it for fear of it being poisoned - which may have been a funny joke if she hadn’t heard it several times already, and Viago hadn’t warned her of this exact danger - but all the while, her eyes would drift over the crowd gathered in the ballroom.

She had faced demons, dragons, and ancient elven gods, but Em had hardly ever felt as unnerved as she did now, in a room full of trained, experienced killers. Last time something like this happened, she had at least Illario to focus on, and her team at her back. Now-

A flash of fear flitted over the broad-shouldered assassin’s face, one that struck Em as odd until she felt the warmth of a hand on the small of her back. They quickly excused themselves, and Em stifled a chuckle as she heard the First Talon sigh behind her. “They keep doing that.”

“I wonder why,” she sing-songed softly, turning her head to smile at Lucanis over her shoulder. For how unnerved she had been, in this lavish space with assassins and poisoners and Maker knew what else, the presence of possibly the most frightful killer among them put her mind back at ease. “Caterina finally let you go?”

“... No,” Lucanis murmured into her hair. He almost sounded guilty about it, but Em felt the smallest quirk of a smile as his lips ghosted over her temple. She gasped in feigned offense.

“Cuervo, are you sneaking out?”

“We are sneaking out,” he corrected her softly, gloved hand sliding down from her bare shoulder to her hand, fingers locking with hers. “Come on. Caterina likes Teia, but even Teia can’t keep her forever.”

Em let him tug her along, away from the ballroom and out on what was undoubtedly one of many secluded balconies of the Dellamorte mansion. “One of these days, we’ll go to a Crow party and stay the whole time,” she said with a smirk, shivering slightly as the cool, Antivan air washed over them both. Heavy and layered as this dress was, it did leave her arms and shoulders exposed, and the difference in temperature was stark, this late in the evening.

Lucanis was quick to shrug off his coat and drape it over her shoulders - Em had a sneaking suspicion it was more for decorative flair to begin with, from the way it had been barely fastened to his suit - and he gently pulled it tight around her, another of those tiny smiles playing on his lips. “You didn’t like it in there, either.”

“With all the people there looking at me like I’m an interesting new meal ticket, or trying to figure out if I’m a weakness of yours they can exploit? What’s not to like?” she replied, meaning to sound more casual and airy than she really did. Realizing her error, Em cast her gaze out over the darkened gardens beyond. “I merely miss my trousers,” she huffed, with an indignity that was maybe only partially feigned. “Here I am, at the first Crow party I've been properly invited to, all dressed up for the occasion, and I've not so much as gotten a ‘you look nice’.”

He looked at her, holding her close by the lapels of the coat he’d wrapped around her. Then, as if having decided something, he pulled her closer still, placing a small, tender kiss to Em’s forehead. “You look nice,” Lucanis said with a smile. Em was suspicious of smiles like that - Lucanis smiled at her like that when he knew something she didn't, or when he was indulging her for his own amusement.

“Doesn't count, now. All that effort, cuervo-”

“And it will still look nice on the floor, when I help you out of it later,” Lucanis interrupted her softly, quietly amused when she pouted at him. “But you can be both very beautiful tonight and admit you're uncomfortable, Em.”

Ah, there is was. The reason for that suspicious smile. Em pouted a little more, pointedly directing her attention to one of the small, silver bird skull-buttons on Lucanis’ dress shirt. “All I heard in there was you calling me beautiful and promising to help me undress back home,” she murmured, running her fingers along the cool metal.

The First Talon let out a small breath. This was about the response he expected, but at least she knew he saw her, now. “Home, then,” he assured her, another chaste kiss to her forehead to seal in his promise. “Over the balcony?”

“In this dress?” Em chuckled. “Of course, you could also help me take it off now-”

Lucanis laughed at that for a moment. “Come on. There's a passageway from the servants’ quarters we can use, instead.”

“Killjoy.”

[archive-of-the-lost]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐇𝐀 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞! — @tillichan

Quirk: Life force transfer

You can transfer your life force to other living beings like a sort of energy that heals them if they're hurt or makes them grow faster (in the case of plants). Ever since your quirk manifested, your life force would increase and accumulate in your body every day. If you didn't transfer your life force to anyone or anything for the entire day, you can feel the effects of the energy buildup, akin to a sugar rush or caffeine. You need to transfer some of the energy to not feel so energetic. Increasing your stamina through exercise and vitality by taking care of yourself well (eating healthy foods, drinking water, sleeping enough etc) boosts the amount of life force your body generates. Your life force is like a form of energy, so transferring it to others isn't a 1:1 process. Some of it is lost during the transfer. It's more of a 1:0.8 process, where the other party doesn't gain as much energy as you are giving out in the transfer. An obvious indication of your quirk at such a young age was how the house plants you would help take care of suddenly looked livelier and grew much faster, as if you were giving them fertilizer. At first you thought your quirk was making plants grow, a quirk you were happy enough with. Within a year, you found that you were mistaken when you came across an injured cat by the streets and picked it up, hurriedly taking it to the nearest vet. When you got there, you noticed that the once weak and shaky cat now looked calmer and in a better condition. The wound on it's leg had even stopped bleeding and seemed to be in the process of healing faster than normal. In contrast, you were feeling abnormally tired after a short run, as if you would soon pass out. After telling your parents about the strange tiredness, they brought you to a quirk specialist to run a few tests, in which the true nature of your quirk was revealed. It took you a few months to stop your life force from being transferred by touch without your conscious decision.

Backstory:

After the incident of helping the cat which lead to the discovery of what your quirk actually is, you began to consider a future of becoming a hero. You weren't interested at first, unlike most of your peers at school. Heroes were usually seen on TV after a big fight with villains, assuring the public that they would protect them from evildoers with a big smile. You respected them for their work, but weren't interested in that lifestyle. The fame, the fighting, it just didn't appeal to you even at a young age. However, finding out about your quirk shifted your line of thinking. Perhaps being a hero would be the best course of action given your quirk, and you could help people, but not by fighting villains. You started looking for stuff to read about support heroes to find out more about their underappreciated work. Your parents, despite worrying about the dangers of the job you're dreaming about, supported you fully. They played along with your games where you were a hero coming to save their injured selves, and would come up with stories about support heroes saving people from collapsed buildings before bed. They thought you might grow up and change your mind, but that didn't happen. They're still your biggest supporters.

Best friend: Hitoshi Shinso

Like Shinso, you landed yourself in the general education course but continued to strive to be a hero. Because of that shared goal, and your reluctance to label him as someone scary or "untrustworthy" just because of his quirk, he found himself being curious about you, drawn to you even. But he wasn't looking to make friends, and has years of trust issues after being ostracized by his peers for so long, so he didn't approach you. Fortunately or rather unfortunately in his eyes, you were also curious about him and approached him with the intention of getting to know him beyond the rumors of his quirk. He was a tough nut to crack, cold and sometimes even rude to you despite your friendly questions and requests to hang out with him during lunch, but your never-ending patience got you past his walls eventually. Now he's extremely attached to you, and sometimes worries that people are troubling you given your caring and patient nature. He's more cautious and pragmatic, so that's his way of caring about you. The both of you bond well over your shared love for cats. He often asks you for pictures of your cat back home, taken for you by your parents. He also likes inviting you to hang out with him at parks where he likes to cycle. You don't know how to ride a bike, so you tend to spend your time there either getting something to eat or feeding the birds while he makes a lap around the park. He doesn't ignore you the whole time of course. He spends more of the outing talking with you, time spent cycling being the minority.

Department of Heroes: Class 1-B

After a few months of studying profusely, hard work, and demonstrating the uses of your quirk, you were allowed to transfer to the hero course. Emphasis on the demonstration on how your quirk is used, which you couldn't do well during the entrance test where your options were to either take down robots in combat or rescue people to gain points, neither option being one your quirk could help with. The UA staff realised just how capable you would be as a support hero once they actually saw how you use your quirk, and approved of your request for a transfer after seeing your satisfactory grades. With that, you made it into class 1-B and got to know many of the eccentric personalities there. You continue to work towards your goal of becoming a hero with them, and eagerly await Shinso's own transfer to your class instead of 1-A, hopefully!

Mentor: Kurose Anan AKA Thirteen

One of the rarer heroes who has a support combat style, specialising in search and rescue, there was no one more perfect to be your mentor than her! Other than Recovery Girl but she's not a teacher. Given your quirk and distaste for combat, you were already looking to be a hero that focuses on saving others rather than fight villains to protect them. Professor Thirteen took an interest in you when she heard of your transfer to the hero course, as she is very passionate about quirks used for assistance rather than for destruction and battle. Once she got to interact with you face to face in classes, you both hit it off almost instantly, drawn to each other's well-mannered and passionately altruistic personality. UA's curriculum definitely favors combat training over first aid and search and rescue tactics, so she tries to arrange special classes with you where she can help you to develop the skills you'll be using more often in your career as a support hero.

Healing Hero: Cherub

You're a support hero! Just like your mentor and Recovery Girl. You focus more on rescuing and treating victims during villain attacks, and will sometimes transfer some of your life force to the combat heroes you're working with on the scene if they get hurt or are starting to lose stamina. You're also an underground hero, staying out of the spotlight and away from media attention. You want to live a quiet life; appearing on TV and popularity contests jeopardizes that. Your hero name and title are simple, pointing towards your quirk that heals others and your association with angels. Your classmates often compare to you an angel too. Your hero's costume would be a mix of whimsy and practicality. The entire costume is white with some grey details, consisting of a top with flowy sleeves (smaller than the ones in the picture), poofy shorts that allow for unrestricted movement and long sport socks that sop up sweat quickly and protect your legs from the environment around you, dust and flying debris. You have a utility belt and a satchel attached to it by your hip, storing medicine, morphine, and bandages. A student from the department of support designed shoes with wings that allow you to fly around. You can levitate up to 14 feet with them, mostly using them to jump from spot to spot to maximize speed. You can cover ground quickly when searching for civilians trapped inside collapsed buildings that way.

Relationship with:

Itsuka Kendo

You respect her as class representative and how she's often taking care of the class, which includes keeping the overenthusiastic Monoma in line. Her thoughtful and cheerful personality makes her easy to get along with. Though you're introverted, your friendly and caring personality makes you quite popular among your classmates. They also come to you often for the effects of your quirk, when they're feeling unwell or tired before some physical training. So you and Kendo are considered the "big sisters" of class 1-B, where she as the class representative brings everyone together while you support your classmates and mediate arguments. Because of this, she sometimes relies on you to take care of the class with her, or when she's away. It's hard work!

Koji Koda

You were drawn to him immediately after finding out about his quirk, knowing him as the one who can speak with animals from the other class. You were absolutely determined to befriend him! Despite his timid and quiet personality, as well as his preference in using sign language which you weren't very familiar with, you were able to get him to be comfortable around you eventually. The both of you make for great friends, as you both share a dislike for violence due to your kind-hearted natures and enjoy the company of animals (perhaps more than other humans/mutants). The both of you bond well by sharing animal facts with each other, animal watching together, and updating the other about each other's pets. You also often ask him what the surrounding animals are saying. You've always been so curious! You're almost jealous of his quirk.

Todoroki Shoto

The both of you would be good friends! He started being less cold and more open with his classmates since the beginning of the school year, though he's still clumsy with interactions, it's easier for you to talk to him after the Provisional Hero License Course. He's close with Midoriya, so you'd had plenty of chances to befriend him. His dynamic with you is similar to the one you have with Shinso, with them both being serious, aloof and pragmatic, complementing your friendly and empathetic personality.

Nejire Hado

Within The Big 3, she's the one you get along the most with! Her cheerful and talkative personality made it easy for you to talk to her, and you both hit it off quickly. You appreciate her kindness, authenticity that comes off as blunt, and curiosity for learning new and strange things. She's quite like an older sister to you. The both of you often talk about animals, skin and hair care over a cup of tea. Jasmine tea is her favourite, she loves sharing it with you. She also loves sharing fun facts with you! Because of her inquisitive nature, she has lots to share every time you both manage to have enough free time to meet up, so you get to learn a lot from her.

Tamaki Amajiki

You're quite close with Nejire despite being her junior, so it didn't take long for him to recognize you and remember your name. You're also friends with Kirishima, whom is also Fatgum's intern alongside him, so that's two mutual friends the both of you have. You didn't have many chances to talk to him due to his socially anxious and awkward personality, but you managed to get closer to him with your friendliness and desire to make him feel comfortable around you. He can see why Nejire gets along so well with you. The both of you like to talk about fantasy creatures like dragons and chimeras with each other, sharing the same interest in them. He also likes real animals, with his favourite thing being butterflies, so you both often talk about animals too.

Your ideal match is…Midoriya Izuku!

Another no brainer. The both of you share traits of being altruistic and empathetic, and are more calm and peaceful by nature. he tries to make peace between others like you, but his more timid and anxious personality means he gets overlooked during the argument most of the time. Perhaps he'll leave the peacemaking to you after all... He likes talking to people and making connections, but needs time to recharge like an introvert, so the both of you have similar social batteries and approaches to social situations. The both of you make for a very sweet couple, one that makes your classmates feel single and lonely without meaning to.

♡ Everyone was excited to hear that there would be a transfer to the hero course, him included. Class 1-A was a bit disappointed when they heard from Aizawa that the new student transferred to class 1-B instead of their class, though that didn't stop them from going out into the hallway once lunch break started just to get a look at the new transfer. That's when he saw you, surrounded by your classmates just as eager as him to get to know you. The first thought that came to his mind was that you were so pretty! The second one being curiosity about your quirk, he just had to ask you about it sometime! He ended up having to wait a few days before he could even approach you because your classmates were so glued to your side at first, but once he finally did, you both managed to talk for almost the entire lunch break. He was taken by your calm and kind friendliness after that first meeting, and was determined to keep talking to you, hoping to become friends with you despite your different classes. You both became fast friends, and as he spent more time with you, he couldn't help but fall for your supportive and peaceful self. A few months after first meeting him, then came his confession to you through a letter slipped into your locker. He considered telling you face to face, but ended up being too nervous to do it after all. Writing his feelings down on paper, where he can edit the words instead of stuttering them out verbally is a better and more composed way of confessing anyway.

♡ He's impressed by your good intuition that influences your decision making. He feels that you both are on the same wavelength, which makes talking to you really fun. He likes discussing quirks with you, trusting you enough to let you hold his notebook where he records everyone's quirks and fighting capabilities while you both talk. Together, you both brainstorm how certain quirks can be utilized in a way you haven't seen the user do yet, battle plans, and the best combos where the quirks of the people in the group complement each other perfectly. Though you won't be fighting on the field like him, it's still a fun thinking exercise for you and it's nice to see Midoriya so excited, happy to be able to talk about these things with you.

♡ He would also be impressed by your dancing abilities. Seeing you dance would inspire him to learn some dances as well, leading to him signing up for some classes. He would be most excited to learn pair ballroom dancing, already fantasizing about dancing with you all romantically in the future, perhaps in the privacy of your shared kitchen or at a gala with other dancing couples, leading the dance and expertly not stepping on your toes. He would also consider pole dancing, as the full body workout would be beneficial for his training as a hero. He might follow you to a few lessons to try it out.

Ship tropes

fell first (him) x fell harder (you)

friends to lovers

comfort energy (you) x anxiety energy (him)

A/N: ♡ The header this time around is monochrome and simple, but it's my favourite out of all the matchup trades I've done with you so far because of how well it embodies the source media. Monochrome = The black and white mentality of MHA's society. Onigiri = A simple lunch food in Japan, showing your hard work as a UA student. Onigiri also reminds me of school. I used to eat them for lunch.

♡ The art of the elf was done by Manda Schank. Original here.

♡ I wasn't expecting this matchup to be so long. It's probably because I think out of all the fandoms we've done trades for so far, mha suits you the most. The high school setting with different personalities makes for a lively atmosphere you would thrive in. I had the most fun writing this YLIF trade for you.

♡ It was so hard choosing characters for your notable relationships because you would get along with so many people. Other friends include Momo, Ochaco, Kirishima, Tsuyu, Pony (Tsunotori), Ibara Shiozaki and Mirio etc.

[silent-moons-camp]

OC Facts: Stígandr's lycanthropy

Been a while since I've posted about my Tav. Let's give him some love through me yapping about his lycanthropy.

Facts beneath the break.

Stígandr (and my Durge, Lysandra) both became infected with werewolf lycanthropy when they were inducted into a cult of Malar deep within the Wood of Sharp Teeth, just outside Baldur's Gate.

Both were turned by the cult's leader, a drow named Khastri. Said drow was a loup garou, a type of far more dangerous werewolf whose goal was to infect as many as possible. This makes Stígandr's lycanthropy particularly difficult to cure; the only way to remove it is to kill the one who infected him, and even then, there's no guarantee it will work.

Piggybacking off that previous point, Lysandra does end up being cured by Khastri's death but Stígandr does not.

Stígandr is later blessed by Selûne for his part in saving of both Dame Aylin and Shadowheart. This blessing allows him greater control over his lycanthropy and overall makes it a bit easier to deal with.

Stígandr tries for quite some time to hide his lycanthropy from Shadowheart. When Shadowheart tells him about her fear of wolves, he promises to protect her from any wolves they encounter and this endears her to him. Thing is... he really meant all wolves. There comes a point after the tiefling party where his curse is involuntarily revealed to her.

Said event (that has been sitting as an unfinished oneshot in my Obsidian MD for months) involves him and Lysandra dealing with the full moon together. Lysandra loses herself in the process (thanks, Bhaalspawn blood!) and Stígandr chases after her, both in wolf form, right into the middle of camp.

If you've ever watched Van Helsing, I like to imagine Stígandr looking like the werewolf from that movie. Black fur to match his hair.

He does have fangs.

Stígandr can eat raw meat just fine. It's definitely a weird moment when the rest of the camp finds him munching on some raw deer meat or something. He has an insatiable craving for it sometimes.

He does have a regular wolf form. In the post-game, him and Arnell will hunt together as regular wolves.

Stígandr naturally has the "speak with animals" ability. I've never multiclassed him into a ranger or druid because paladin/ranger or paladin/druid seems like a bad idea, but I like to think he can summon animal friends too. He has a bird that I've yet to give a name to that helps him scout ahead.

He has miraculously never broken his Paladin oath due to his lycanthropy. This is likely because, while an awful group, his place in the Malarite cult gave him the room to prepare before a turning without harming innocents. Probably the only good thing the Malarite cult did for Stígandr.

He has a lot of dog-like quirks. Scratching behind his ears or under his chin makes him very happy. He can be very playful sometimes. Stígandr has probably played fetch with Scratch and had to hold back the urge to chase the ball himself. Shadowheart lovingly teases him about these things.

I think that's it for now. Thank you for reading. <3

[incandescentt-iridescentt]

brain empty, just best friend kirishima's attraction to you multiplying tenfold after he finds out about your dirtiest secret. going feral for you after seeing you in a different light

cw: kissing, slight grinding, alcohol, light choking, technically dubcon if you squint (they're both tipsy, but he checks in and reader verbally consents)

wc: 1.8k (woops)

a/n: nothing? i just hope you enjoyyy!!

kirishima finding about about your only fans/nsfw twitter during a game of do or drink. you're having a party at izuku's house with all your friends n you're all tipsy n giggling, some sitting on the couch and accompanying armchairs, others sitting on the soft rug.

it's mina's turn to ask you something, and of course, being the sly little minx she is, dares you to tell the person to your left your biggest secret. the second the words leave her mouth you're staring at her, lips open like a fish out of water. she stares back, only a small quirk in her brow, urging you, challenging you. "what? you scared, buttercup? fess up or it's four shots for you." you scoff with a smile. you see right through her little scheme. you see, earlier, when she had originally suggested the drinking game, she purposefully placed you next to kirishima. why you may ask? because she's the only one to know about your super duper major fat crush on him, and she knew all about your naughty little account.

she had this set up from the beginning. you turn slowly, bringing a cupped hand to his ear, hesitating slightly before your pink-haired friend interrupts you girlishly. "ah ta ta! you must tell the person to your left your biggest secret.. in detail," everyone pauses, a few shouts and ouuu's passed about the room, "out you go now! out! out! to the kitchen to reveal you dirty little secrets, y/n. i'll make sure no one spies."

the walk to the kitchen is silent but not awkward. he's one of your best friends! you know he wouldn't judge you.. it's just, how would he react? you make your way to the counter and turn to face him, lower back resting on the harsh counter edge. it doesn't faze you, not with the way you're practically shaking out of nervousness. he puts his hands on each of your forearms, squeezing lightly, "you don't hafta do this if you don't wanna, okay, angel? i can lie and pretend you did it anyways." but you're already shaking your head. besides, it'd be nice to tell someone other than mina. you take a breath, but he cuts you off- "wait! sorry, that was loud, uhm.. can we sit on the floor, my legs get a little tired when i'm tipsy." you giggle and nod, and in seconds you're both facing each-other cross-legged on izuku's kitchen floor. you giggle again and clear your throat. his eyes are wide and lit up in interest, body subconsciously leaning towards you.

"okay okay.. so.. you know uhm, twitter?" he nods slowly, curious as to where you were going with this. "well uhm, y'know how there's like.. another side to twitter, like... a nsfw side.." you pause and he blushes lightly, but nods anyway. his mind starts racing,

are you like a sugar mommy or something? or do you just watch a lot of porn there or something? twitter porn is usually very good, much better than the mainstream brazzers shit he knows mineta undoubtedly watches... his mind trails, but refocuses when you continue. "i'm kind of.. on there?"

i was right. he thinks. she watches twitter porn. but that's not-

"... i post there. like my b-body and stuff."

oh... oh i was wrong. so, very wrong.

your hands are covering the lower half of your face, clearly embarrassed. he feels his cock twitch. he doesn't mean it! he swears, it's just the alcohol taking effect. but you look so cute all shy like that, and his eyes betray him when he glances at your plush tits from your low cut top and the sliver of your panties showing from your mini-skirt where you sit cross-legged. his mind is racing ever faster than before.

you? since when? how did you even get into that? you don't seem the type to.. i mean, almost everyone knows you to be quite insecure about your body, even though i think it's fucking ridiculous, considering how gorgeous you are.. do you make bank off that shit?! can i-

"can i see?" the question leaves his lips faster than he can catch them, and he's absolutely mortified. "..oh, my god i can't believe i just asked you that, please forgive me i'm horrible-"

"it's okay, eiji!" you interrupt with a soft chuckle, reaching to pull your phone out of your bra. he quirks his brow at this and you mumble something along the lines of what? it's not like i have pockets. he sees your fingers swipe and tap on your phone screen, pulling open the app. you scroll for a few seconds, murmuring once more about 'having to find a good one'

he bets they're all perfect.

your finger stops scrolling and you huff a little before looking back at him... "ready?" lost for words, he can only nod dumbly again. you turn your phone the slightest centimeter before interjecting yourself-

"j-just remember i'm not skinny like most girls on here and- and i have stretch marks and-" you're cut off by his fingers squishing your cheeks, hard. his face is much closer you yours than you remember, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

"shut up." he says, but his eyebrows are slightly raised, and his eyes are soft, voice gentle as ever. you nod as he pulls away and you turn your phone to him.

his breath stops.

delay between brain reception and alcohol failing him once again when he says,

"shit, y/n."

your stomach twists. it's said deeply, carnally, and you have the sudden urge to squeeze your thighs together.

you can only chuckle nervously and respond with a little 'yeah', trying to play off how fucking jittery you feel.

"y/n, i mean.. this is.. i- i never would've guessed. i mean it's not that you're not attractive! you are! and i've always thought so, and it's not that you have no sex appeal either, because well, obviously.. b- but this is.. something else. it's.. lewd. you seem so? so into it? fuck, these poses.."

and he means what he says! he's always thought you were a pretty girl, but he never let his mind wander past that invisible boundary. you were one of his best friends, and he wanted to be respectful of that.

"unexpected, hm?" you grin.

"yeah.. and y'know, i can't lie and say that i haven't thought of doing the same thing.. i mean, some people make decent money on the side off this stuff! i only decided against it because of my tattoos. would be more difficult to stay anonymous, y'know? but you? you're so.. i dunno you're sweet.. you're innocent-looking, and i've always observed you to be more insecure about your body?? if that makes sense."

"well, yeah. i mean i really started this account for myself. so that i could be able to feel sexy and pretty. not just in an innocent way but in another way. it's nice to be able to feel like i can be attractive beyond the 'cute' girl-next door sort of appeal. it started mostly as a way to build self-confidence."

"honestly, that's.. that so cool? especially if it's helped you! it's unexpected, of course, but i'm happy for you! like i said, as someone whose always wanted to try something like this.. to see you do the same and be successful too, it's just awesome. i'm proud of you!"

you cackle, "i tell you i post my tits online and you tell me you're proud of me.. never thought i'd get that as a reaction."

you make eye contact with him again, but something's changed.. his eyes are lidded, and his gaze drops to your lips, then back up. you feel yourself leaning in before you can stop yourself and he grabs your chin with his thumb and index. a little "c'mere" is whispered before his lips are on yours in a slow and deep kiss.

his other hand snakes to your waist pulls. pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss for a second. you can't help the little whimpers that escape as he gropes the flesh of your hips, practically grinding you down onto him before he pulls away for a second-

"w-wait i'm sorry, are- are you okay with this? are you consenting to this, i don't wanna-"

but you're cutting him off with a desperate plea of yesyesyes before your lips are back on his. your hand travel, in his hair and down his chest, hooking around his pants loops and even dipping slightly into the front of his sweats, where you feel his hips buck the slightest bit at the contact there, and his hand then slides down to your throat to squeeze. you moan into his mouth and he pulls away to mumble a soft "fuck, you're good at this." before you hear faint footsteps approaching. you pull yourself off of him, back into your original position, sitting face to face. you hope no one sees your kiss-swollen lips. he can only smirk at the thought of someone noticing. it's bakugou who comes in, almost a little surprised to see you both sitting on the floor.

"forgot you two idiots were here. the game's been done for a while, we just gave up on you two when you didn't come back.. i'm making coffee for the group, y'want any?" the two of you shake your heads no and he continues fluttering around the kitchen to find the things he needs. bakugou could be a barista if he wanted. he makes latte art effortlessly, and can stir up any creation someone requests ont he spot. it a talent that comes in handy at get-togethers like this, when a drunk kaminari requests a caramel macchiato on a whim, and soon every other one of your friend is nodding along, requesting the same.

the two of you are still sitting on the floor, and when bakugou isn't looking, he steals another quick peck from you with a smirk before helping you up and leading you back into the living room to the rest of your friends. no one really said anything. by this point, some had passed out, others laying on top of eachother watching tiktoks on a single phone, laughing at something that probably wasn't remotely funny, but was due to the leftover tequila buzz. kaminari, sero and jirou are all bickering while playing mario kart, and the two of you are able to settle in so nonchalantly with the rest, it's as though nothing ever happened. but the eye contact you make throughout the night.. and the little kisses he continues to give you anytime you find yourself alone with him tells you that it did, in fact, happen. and he'll never let you forget it.