#(but in my defense the start button wasn’t t working

[ace-of-drakes]

y’all i’m locked out of my microwave

[alisonsfics]

all it took

pairing: tony dinozzo x reader

summary: falling for your coworker was never something you planned on, but it happened nonetheless. so, you kept it top secret. this works fine until someone breaks into NCIS headquarters, and you and tony are put in harms way.

word count: 3k

warnings: hostage situation, guns, blood/injuries (nothing graphic), swearing

You sent a glare in Tony’s direction after getting hit in the face with a piece of candy. “Dinozzo!” You said, exasperatedly, trying to figure out why he had just thrown an M&M at your face.

“I called your name like five times. You didn’t hear me.” He explained. You ran your hand through your hair. “That’s cause I’m working. Gibbs is down in interrogation, and he needs something he can use. I don’t want to be the one to tell him I have nothing— whatever. What do you need?” You asked him.

“I want to show you a trick.” He said, excitedly. You and Tony were really good friends, which meant you both had no trouble having fun around each other. Gibbs didn’t always love this.

Tony tossed a piece of candy up in the air and attempted unsuccessfully to catch it in his mouth. You quickly put your hand over your mouth, suppressing a giggle. “Don’t you even,” Tony warned, expecting the sarcastic comment that was on the tip of your tongue.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. I just figured a federal agent would have better hand-eye coordination.” You said, smirking at him. He knew he had just been challenged. “Alright, let’s see you do it.” He said, inviting you over to his desk.

You stood up from your chair and walked over to the side of Tony’s desk. He tossed a piece of candy your way, which you caught in your mouth on the first try. The smile on Tony’s face faded. “You were clearly assisted by my excellent aim,” he said, defensively.

You giggled at his sad expression. “So, what’s my prize for beating you?” You asked, curiously. A smirk spread across Tony’s face. “That depends on what you want.” He quipped.

A flirty comment out of Tony wasn’t anything knew to you. All of your coworkers knew you both were into each other, but hadn’t admitted it yet.

You thought about it, and his comment gave you an idea about the suspect down in interrogation.

“I need to call Gibbs,” you said, grabbing the phone off his desk.

“I’m very happy for you, but I don’t think Gibbs is going to care that you caught an M&M.” He said, not catching on yet. You flicked his arm.

“Ow,” he exclaimed, scooting his chair back away from you.

“Your phone’s not working,” you said, slamming it down. You raced over to your desk, grabbing your own phone. You heard the same static sound over your phone. “The phones must be down.” You said, confused since the phones were never down.

Over your shoulder, Tony saw a man step out of the elevator with a large gun. His first instinct should have been to grab his own gun and order the man to surrender. That was his job after all.

But not with you standing in the middle.

He dived over to where you were standing, pulling you down to the ground with him. As you both fell to the floor, you heard a bunch of rapid gunshots go into the ceiling.

You felt a burning sensation on your upper arm. You swore under your breath, wincing in pain.

Tony felt his heart sink as he noticed the blood seeping through your shirt. “Hang on, it’ll be okay. One of the ricochets must have hit you. Just looks like a graze though,” he said, tugging off the button-up shirt he was wearing.

He was left in a white t-shirt, tying his other shirt tightly around your arm.

“I need to see Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” The intruder announced to the squad room. There wasn’t very many agents in the office today, but they were all now laying on the ground as instructed.

“Keep pressure on this,” Tony said, starting to stand up. You gripped onto his arm. He saw the fear in your eyes. Tony had never seen you scared before.

You weren’t scared for yourself. You were scared Tony would play hero and get himself hurt.

“Don’t,” you begged him. He could sense your desperation. “I won’t go anywhere,” he gave in. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to him.

You heard heavy footsteps behind you. The intruder was standing right in front of your desk, staring at you both sitting behind it.

“You, up!” He ordered, staring at Tony. Tony slowly stood, holding his hands up. “I’m Gibbs. What do you need?” He asked, nonchalantly.

“You want to try again, agent? Because I know you’re not Gibbs.” He threatened. Tony shrugged his shoulders. “I’m Special Agent Gibbs. Don’t know what to tell you,” he lied.

You cursed Tony out in your head. He was amazing at his job, but always knew how to make you worry about him.

“How about you tell me the truth?” The intruder said, shifting his gun to point it at you. Tony jumped in front of the intruder, keeping you safe. “Hey hey hey, I’m Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo. Don’t hurt her” the words rushed out of his mouth.

The intruder smirked, realizing he had found Tony’s weak spot.

There was no bluffing when it came to you. Tony wouldn’t do anything that risked your safety.

“That’s better, Romeo. Now bring me to Gibbs.” The intruder demanded. Tony hesitated, looking over his shoulder at you. “She’s hurt. Let me call our doctor up here. Then, I’ll do whatever you want,” Tony negotiated.

The intruder considered his proposition for a minute, then turned to you. “You, come here.” He demanded. Following your training, you held your hands in the air and slowly walked towards him.

He pointed his gun at Tony and used his other hand to pat you down. You could see Tony tense up. “So, what do you want with Gibbs?” You asked, trying to get inside his head.

“My name is Jeremiah Parker. Agent Gibbs arrested my brother today, and I’m here to get him back.” The intruder explained, referencing the suspect that was down in interrogation with Gibbs right now.

Jeremiah ran his hand down your legs, grabbing your gun and throwing it to the side. His hand went back up to your waist.

You felt yourself flinch as his hand lingered on your ass. Tony noticed immediately. “Hey, get your hands off of her.” Tony snapped.

Jeremiah simply chuckled. “Calm down, Agent Dinozzo. I’m only looking for these.” He said, grabbing your handcuffs off your belt.

“Cuff his hands, sweetheart.” He told you. Tony gave you a soft smile, letting you know it was okay. You stepped towards Tony, grabbing both his hands and handcuffing them in front of him.

He grabbed one your hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re shaking. It’ll be okay, I promise,” he assured you.

Then, Jeremiah grabbed your shoulders forcefully and pulled you away from Tony. He pressed the tip of his gun against your side.

“Call your doctor, and put it on speaker.” He instructed Tony, who nodded his head and obliged.

The phone rang once or twice and then you heard Jimmy’s voice come through the speaker. “Hello, this is Palmer,” he said, nonchalantly.

“Hey, Jimmy. I need to speak with Dr. Mallard.” Tony said, silently praying Palmer would know he only ever referred to him as Ducky. Jimmy mumbled “one second,” and then there was some silence.

“Hello, Tony?” Ducky asked. “Hi, Dr. Mallard. I need you to bring your first aid kit up to the squad room please.” Tony said, calmly. Ducky was silent for a minute, trying to figure out what was wrong. “Tony, what’s going on?” Ducky asked, already knowing something was off.

“Just hurry,” Tony said, almost snapping. He was almost pleading with Ducky. If Jeremiah knew anything was going on, he’d probably kill you both.

“Tony is everything ok—” Ducky started to ask before Jeremiah quickly hung up the phone.

You felt your body tense as he slammed the phone down. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. If your doctor does as he’s told, you’ll be just fine.” Jeremiah assured you, running his thumb over you cheek.

“I only bring you to Gibbs if you leave her alone.” Tony threatened. Jeremiah didn’t respond, he just chuckled to himself. “You’re the one in handcuffs. I don’t think you’re in a place to make demands.” Jeremiah told him.

The elevator door dinged. You all watched Ducky cautiously step out of the elevator, first aid kit in hand.

Jeremiah pressed his gun against your head. “Over here, doctor,” Jeremiah announced.

Ducky knew something was wrong just from the phone call. He wasn’t shocked that there was an intruder, but seeing a gun pointed at your head made him realize how serious the situation was.

“Ducky, Y/N’s arm got grazed. I need you to stay here and help her. Me and our friend have to go talk to Gibbs.” Tony told him.

Jeremiah shoved you towards Ducky, who held his hands out and caught you from falling over. Tony also lunged to try to catch you, even though his hands were handcuffed together.

Ducky wrapped his arm around your shoulder, in a fatherly manner. “Well Gibbs is down in interrogation now.” He said, looking towards Tony. You knew from Ducky’s expression that Gibbs knew what was going on.

You didn’t know why you were so nervous. You and Tony had worked in the field together for years, but he had never seen you this nervous. You didn’t know why it felt different this time.

You both were in dangerous situations all the time, but this time you were terrified that Tony would get hurt. He had the same worries for you.

Tony noticed how you were nervously biting your lip.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. You know me,” Tony said, softly. He was trying to reassure you, but it wasn’t working.

If you hadn’t seen the small beads of sweat on his forehead, you probably would’ve believed him.

But he was right. You did know him.

You knew he used humor instead of admitting he was scared.

You both had been hiding behind the “just friends” label for years, but Tony had always cared for you more he had ever cared for just a friend. As he saw the look on your face and the tear rolling down your cheek, he had all the confirmation he needed that you felt the same way about him.

He sighed at the irony of the situation. Tony was very aware that this could be the last time he saw you.

You also were terrified. As soon as Tony was out of your sight, there was no saying what would happen to him.

“Ducky, I need you to take care of her” Tony said with the most serious tone you’ve ever heard him use.

Jeremiah kicked Tony in the back of the leg, pushing him forward. “Let’s go,” he demanded.

As soon as Jeremiah turned away from you, you decided to copy one of Tony’s favorite movies, the A-Team, which he had forced you to watch with him.

You had the key to your handcuffs concealed in your hand. You quickly slipped the key into your mouth. “Tony wait,” you called out. Tony stopped in his tracks as you walked over to him.

You cupped his face and kissed him. Tony was shocked, but wasted no time kissing you back. He felt your tongue slip the key into his mouth. He smirked into the kiss, knowing that you remembered watching that movie together.

You reluctantly pulled out of the kiss. “Be safe,” you whispered. He nodded his head, “I promise.”

You felt Ducky’s hands on your arm, pulling you back towards him. You both watched as the two of them walked away towards the elevator.

“He’ll be alright, my dear,” Ducky reassured you. You turned around, leaning your head on Ducky’s shoulder as a few tears slipped onto your cheeks. “I really want to believe you, Duck.” You whispered.

“Anthony will do whatever it takes to come back to you because it’s you.” He told you.

As the elevator doors closed, Tony looked over his shoulder at Jeremiah. “If you put another scratch on her body, I swear to god, I will kill you myself.” Tony threatened.

“Is Agent Dinozzo in love?” Jeremiah questioned. Tony remained silent. He had barely been able to admit those feelings to himself.

“I am a sucker for love. It’s so sad that you’ll never see her again.” Jeremiah quipped.

Then, the elevator screeched to a halt. Tony knew that somewhere Gibbs was responsible.

Meanwhile, Ducky was dragging you up to MTAC. You had told all the other agents in the squad room to go up there to stay safe, but you weren’t planning on staying. You needed to go help Tony.

Ducky didn’t like that idea.

“Now, just come on, my dear. I need to look at your arm. Anthony has this under control. You could walk into an ambush.” Ducky tried to convince you, blocking the door so you couldn’t leave.

“Ducky. I think I love him, and I would regret staying here for the rest of my life if he gets hurt.” You told him, honestly.

Ducky nodded, sympathizing with your situation. “Then, let me fix this first.” He said, fixing the way Tony’s shirt was tied around your arm.

“There you go, but be safe.” He told you, letting you leave. You sprinted down the stairs and grabbed your gun off your desk. You opted to take the stairs down to interrogation instead of the elevator.

Tony and Jeremiah’s elevator finally continued descending down to the interrogation floor.

Jeremiah stuck his gun to Tony’s head, anticipating agents when the elevator doors opened.

The doors opened and revealed Gibbs standing with his gun pointed at Jeremiah. “Put your gun down, Agent Gibbs, or another one of your agents gets hurt.” Jeremiah demanded.

Ducky had told Gibbs about the weird phone call with Tony, but he didn’t know about you getting hurt.

“What did you do?” Gibbs asked, cautiously.

“Y/N got grazed by a bullet. She’s with Ducky now. She’s probably gonna need some stitches.” Tony informed him.

Tony promptly got elbowed by Jeremiah. “Shut your mouth, Romeo. Or your girlfriend is going to get more than a graze.” Jeremiah snapped.

Tony didn’t stop.

“Boss, drop your gun. You won’t need it to take him out.” Tony told Gibbs. Gibbs got the message and placed his gun on the ground.

Jeremiah had had enough. He threw a quick punch at Tony’s face, successfully hitting him right in the nose.

Tony’s plan worked.

He flinched, grabbing his nose with both his hands. He sneakily grabbed the key out of his mouth, but didn’t unlock the handcuffs yet.

Jeremiah walked Gibbs and Tony down the hallway, towards the interrogation room. Tony unlocked the handcuffs when Gibbs gave him the signal.

He popped his hands out and turned around, quickly smacking the gun out of Jeremiah’s hands. Then, McGee jumped out from around the corner with his gun pointed at Jeremiah.

Gibbs grabbed Jeremiah and quickly handcuffed him.

“Go get her,” Gibbs told Tony, but he had already started running towards the stairs. McGee followed after Tony, not quite keeping up. This was the fastest Tony had ever ran. His mind was racing with thoughts of you.

Tony got to the squad room and found your desk empty. You and Ducky were nowhere to be seen. Tony called your name a few times, desperately looking around for you.

McGee arrived shortly after Tony. “She could’ve brought everyone up to MTAC for safety.” McGee suggested. Tony sprinted up the stairs, slamming the door open as he ran inside.

He scanned the faces of all the agents standing in the room, not seeing you. Agents started to funnel out of the room, knowing it was safe now.

“Oh, come on, come on, where are you?” His mind was racing with possibilities.

Tony found Ducky. “Ducky. Where is she?” He asked, urgently.

“She went off to find you, Anthony.” Ducky informed him.

“Tony, Tony, down here,” Tony heard McGee screaming from outside.

Tony ran outside of MTAC and saw you standing down next to McGee in the squad room.

Once his eyes landed on you, he sprinted down the stairs, running as fast as his legs would take him.

He pulled you right into his arms, holding onto you tightly. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay” you whispered into his shirt. “I’m fine. Gibbs has him. It’s all okay” he ran his hand through your hair, comforting you.

“What about your arm?” Tony jumped back, thinking he was hurting you. “I’m fine, Tony. Ducky’s gonna stitch it up. It hurts like a bitch, but I’m fine.” You assured him.

You looked at his face, wanting to double check that he was actually okay. “Your nose looks all red and swollen.” You said, noticing his injury.

“I had to get him to throw a punch at me, so I could get the key out of my mouth. I promise, it’s nothing. It takes more than that to hurt Anthony Dinozzo.” He told you. He pulled you back into his arms.

“I know this is part of the job, but I was so fucking worried about you.” You told him, squeezing onto him tightly.

He grabbed your chin and pulled your face up to connect your lips. He had one hand pressed against your cheek, and the other was on the back of your head. You rested your hands on his sides.

You weren’t taking any part of this moment for granted. You memorized the way his shirt felt under your fingers and spearmint taste on his lips.

“Oh, would you look at that? All it took to get you two together was a hostage situation.” Ducky said. You both pulled away and saw Ducky staring with Gibbs and McGee standing behind him.

“I can’t believe you used the key trick from A-Team. You are so amazing.” Tony said, pressing a bunch of kisses to your cheek. Tony couldn’t contain himself. After all, the girl he was crazy about used his favorite move from his favorite movie to save his life.

“I hate to steal her from you, Anthony, but she really needs those stitches.” Ducky interrupted.

“Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” Tony said, cheesily interlacing your fingers with his and walking over to your desk where Ducky had his first aid kit opened.

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[my-shields-are-down]

Chenford prompt + Chris used me!

I’m combining this with another prompt= + Chris cheated on me!

==============

“Are you Lucy Chen?”

Lucy had been laughing as Tim whispered naughty things he planned to do to the soft skin of her inner things later that night while standing in the rotunda of the LA County Courthouse. One benefit of having dated the former Court Liaison Sergeant, was that the scheduling system had somehow been permanently programmed to schedule all of your trial dates on Thursdays and Fridays-same as your fiancé, funny how that works. As soon as Lucy completed her last round of testimony she and Tim were headed to Big Bear for a long weekend.

Lucy was unintentionally oblivious of the young woman standing next to her. Tim commanded all of her attention as his lips ever so softly brushed up against her neck tattoo. As she was dressed in her dark blue “court” dress that skimmed her curves with her high heels, she didn’t look like a cop. Her badge was still in her bag and not yet looped on the rose gold chain Tim had bought her when she made detective. Between her hair up from her signature loose bun, and the v-neck of her dress, she had a large swath of exposed skin that Tim felt required to suck and kiss.

“Excuse me, are you Lucy Chen?”

This time while asking the woman had reached out and touched Lucy’s arm, triggering a noticeable change in her eyes - her cop eyes clicked on while she kept a casual pose with Tim.

Lucy assessed the woman in front of her before replying. Roughly the same age as Lucy herself, Asian, beautiful, but bouncing with nervous energy, black cargo pants, tight t-shirt and loose jacket. She looked familiar, but as her mind was flooded with endorphins she wasn’t exactly, 100% present in the moment.

Lucy put her hand on Tim’s forearm, and turned to the woman, saying, “why ? Who is asking?”

The young woman’s eyes started scanning the floor, and Lucy went instinctively on alert. Tim leaned down and whispered to her, “I’m gonna go check how long until they call you. I need to get you naked as soon as I can.” Lucy kissed him briefly on the cheek, her diamond engagement ring catching the sunlight pouring through the high windows.

Lucy then turned and dug around in her purse for her badge and upon finding it, stood up straight and turned to face the young woman, saying, “Yes, I’m Detective Lucy Chen.”

Lucy immediately felt the slice on her cheek and put her hands up in defense yelling “KNIFE!” as the young woman, her face contorted in rage, screaming at Lucy as she continued to swipe her razor sharp knife at Lucy, “I’m Ming - Chris Sanford’s one true love. He cheated on me! He used me! To be with you!”

Ming then turned and darted through the crowd of uniformed officers directing them to the melee behind her.

Tim, having witnessed the attack on Lucy sprinted across the foyer, leaping over a defense attorney kneeling to tie his shoe like the quarterback with a break in the offensive line ahead of him, tearing off his button down to put pressure on her cheek. Lucy, grabbed the shirt and redirected his focus to her hands, palms up with a deep lacerations showing across both hands. “Baby, my hands. She sliced my hands. Oh they hurt. Tim they really hurt.”

[writerlyhabits]

This has been in my brain for too long~

I feel like a lot of women have dealt with toxic and/or abusive relationships, and their behavior changes a lot afterwards.

Some people will tense up or flinch if someone walks behind them or moves too quickly, or will curl into themselves if someone raises their voice, or will apologize for literally EVERYTHING, or will cry the moment they think someone is mad at them (guilty as charged 😅). The list goes on.

I was wondering how you’d think Din and Bucky would react/say/behave if they noticed Reader doing those kinds of behaviors around them?

I feel like I’m not making sense. 😅 point is, these dudes are intimidating, and my skittish ass self would be halfway terrified of them until I could build some kind of trust, ya know? I just want some headcanons of them being gentle and patient 😭

While I am so sorry to hear that has happened to you, I understand exactly what you mean. I’ve had an unhealthy relationship of my own that has affected how I react, and for me, I get angry and very self-defensive. I also cry 😅 I hope I did this request justice with some moments with our big gentle boys. 💖 Thanks to @deceiverofgodss for beta reading as always!

Just gonna hop on my soapbox for a sec: Don’t settle. Please. Don’t stay with someone because it’s easier, or it could be worse. Make sure you’re being treated the way you deserve, and if your partner isn’t treating you like you’re a divine creature to be put on a pedestal, get out. For your own mental health and overall wellbeing, don’t let them keep doing it. I love you all 💖

(we're going under the cut cause I got carried away and wrote 2k words 😬)

Bucky Barnes

It was a stupid fight. It wasn’t about anything important, but you were irritated with each other anyway. You had a bad habit of letting your laundry sit in the basket for a few days before putting it away, and when his clothes got mixed in, he didn’t like having to fish them out and find them wrinkled. When Bucky would put your clothes away, he reorganized things and did it wrong, leaving you clueless to where any of your things were.

It finally blew up when you were trying to get ready for dinner with friends. The two of you were going to be late, but none of your clothes were in the right place or looked the way they should.

“If you would just fold it as soon as it was done, they wouldn’t get wrinkled like this,” he offered as he was ironing his shirt.

“I don’t usually have time, James.” You argued. “It’s time-consuming… like finding my sweater, apparently, after you moved them all again.”

“It makes more sense that way!”

“No! Not to me it doesn’t! That’s why I had it the way it was!” you were starting to get yourself worked up, you needed to calm down. It was just a sweater. “If you’re so concerned about the wrinkles, why don’t you just iron them out.” It was a cheap shot, but you couldn’t hold your tongue.

“I’m not going to iron out a t-shirt every damn time I need to get dressed,” he shot back.

Something about the way he said it was off. There was a stronger emotion behind it, it felt more emotionally charged, and it struck a chord within you.

You’d gone silent, and he didn’t continue to harp on you, finishing his work in silence, mulling over his emotions. But by the time he’d finished ironing his button-down shirt and slipping it over his shoulders, you still hadn’t emerged.

Working on the buttons at his wrists, he went to go help you retrieve your sweater so you could just get to the damn restaurant. He knew Sam would give him shit for being late.

When he entered your shared room, he found you crumpled on your knees, your head in your hands as the contents of the bottom dresser drawer sat in disarray in front of you. Your body shook with silent tears and his heart broke.

“Hey hey hey, what’s with the tears? What’s wrong?” he asked softly, quick to kneel down in front of you, trying to get you to look at him with gentle hands.

When you didn’t want to meet his eyes he tried another approach, and you allowed him to pull you into his lap as he sat with you on the floor, your hands still on your face as you buried it in his chest.

“Talk to me sweetheart, what did I do?” He placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as he ran a hand up and down your back, the other stroking your hair.

“You didn’t do it.” He gave a huff of amusement.

“Bullshit, you’re crying. Clearly, you’re very upset about something.” He tried, and you just shook your head. “Baby, you gotta tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

You sat yourself up to look at him in the eyes, tears staining your cheeks.

“No. You didn’t do this.” He looked at you confused, allowing you to elaborate.

You told him everything. You told him how shitty your relationship with your ex really was. How they had treated you, how it made you feel, and the walls you’d built up in response. You explained your self-preservation method of sorts, how you had learned to defend yourself during the frequent fights and arguments that would break out just so that you could keep some of your sanity, let alone your dignity.

When you’d heard his angry voice, it had sent you back to a place you didn’t want to be, and you broke down.

“I kind of panicked at the thought of you being genuinely mad at me.”

You two had been together for a while, you were living together for fucks sake. But you couldn’t think of a single time where you had been truly mad, your arguments coming mostly from your differences and the struggle that came with learning how to blend them together.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m not mad at you,” he cooed, holding your face in his hand. “You drive me up a wall sometimes, but I know I do the exact same thing to you.” He laughed, and he earned a chuckle from you.

“I’m sorry,” you offered, and he furrowed his brows. “I know it’s kind of silly, crying over-”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t for one second think you have to apologize for this.” He didn’t even let you finish the train of thought, he wanted to get it out of your head.

Bucky understood more than most what it was like to have something or someone have control over you, no matter how hard you fought it. He knew what it was like living with the weight of having a reset code to undermine everything he’d worked so hard to get back.

But he also knew what it was like to be free from their hold, to have reclaimed his own mind, and still have to fight back his own memories.

“You have your scars, you have your traumas, just like I do. You’ve been so gentle and understanding with me and everything I come with… Don’t think you deserve any less.”

And he followed through.

You didn’t end up going to dinner that night, it was much more important to stay home and just hold each other, Bucky reminding you just how much he loved you, how much he was willing to do for you.

The next day, clothes were piled high on your bed as you gutted both the closet and dresser, working together to reorganize things in a way that made sense to both of you, putting an end to your missing clothes. You made a point to lay your clean laundry out on the bed when it came out of the dryer, and separate Bucky’s clothes so they could remain wrinkle-free, even if your basket sat at the end of the bed until it was time to do laundry again.

And when the two of you left your emotions unchecked, when your defense mechanism came out again, he was nothing but patient with you. The argument would be put on hold to return to later with clear heads, and he would just hold you.

In those moments, you would feel his love so fiercely that your body had no more room to feel hurt by ghosts of your past. He would try to heal your broken pieces the way you had done his, and together you would each become whole.

Din Djarin

Din communicates very differently than you do. You speak your mind at every moment, your thoughts and emotions are no secret. Din speaks more with his actions than his words.

Sometimes, that difference is your downfall.

He was back from a hunt tired, body aching, and just overall feeling very tense. He needed to release the tension from his body somehow, whether it be a hot shower, a moment alone in the cockpit, stealing you into his bunk … something.

But until he did, he was usually very curt, quick to the point. And sometimes, like tonight, it didn’t bode over well with you.

You’d had a day of your own, the child deciding that he only wanted his father today, despite the fact that he had not even been on board since the morning prior. Every little thing after that took more effort than it should have, more often than not you just had to put him down and let him cry it out while you cleaned the ship from head to toe to distract yourself.

And when you heard the ramp start to open, your head was filled with notions of a warm welcome home, holding your Mandalorian as he told you he missed you, the kid finally being able to find peace, and your little family being able to find comfort after your respective stressors.

So when he didn’t say a word to you before making his way up to the cockpit, you were filled with an array of emotions and you didn’t like any of them.

The child at least seemed to go down a little easier when you went to tuck him into his pod, the mere presence of Din seeming to be enough for him. Thank the maker.

You knock on the door of the cockpit before entering in the event that he’d removed his helmet.

“What?” He snapped.

“Can I come in?” you tried. He gave you the go-ahead, loud enough for you to hear, but grumbled very passively.

“What is it?” While it wasn’t necessarily unkind, it was sharp. He didn’t look at you, keeping his focus on the control panel in front of him.

You didn’t quite know what to do… He’d come back tense from missions before, but this reaction was new, and you didn’t particularly care for it.

“I just… wanted to check-in.” You were quiet, unable to stop the creeping fear that you were going to upset him.

“I’m fine.” That was the universal sign for no I’m not fine, but you didn’t know if you should press. He finally turned his chair slightly so he could look at you over his shoulder. “Was that it?”

With the lack of tone, his question was almost dismissive, and it cut through you deeper than you wanted to admit. It left you floundering, unable to move, unable to speak, your mind going through too many thoughts at once. Some of which you knew were wrong, but just couldn’t help thinking again...

When you don't answer, he turns his chair the rest of the way around to look at you, and he tilts his helmet in the way he did when he was exasperated.

“Sorry…” You couldn’t manage more than a whisper. “I’ll leave you be.”

He picks up on it immediately. Your whole demeanor is different than it should be when he’d turned his chair around. You were stiff and uncomfortable, like you didn’t quite know how to exist in the small space with him.

Dank farrik… his stomach tied itself in a knot seeing you like this. Especially when he knew it was his doing.

“Mesh’la, wait...” he tried much softer, reaching out to grab your wrist.

And you flinched.

He immediately let you go, his visor snapping up to meet your eyes. There were so many emotions behind them, and he didn’t like the thought of what they told.

“You.. you didn’t think I would-”

“No, of course not,” you were quick to reassure, watching his shoulders drop in relief. He waited silently in question. You took a breath to steady yourself, and you told him everything.

You told him everything. You told him about your shitty relationship with your ex. How they had made you feel, and the walls you’d built up because of it. How you’d become weary of quick and unexpected movements, especially being grabbed like that. Why they made you feel that way, and your own defense method to avoid it the best you could in this unforgiving galaxy.

He was quiet for a while, and there was a quiet voice in your mind that wondered if he thought you were being ridiculous.

He reached his hand out gently towards you. “Can I hold you?”

You smiled, nodding as you took his hand, letting him gently lead you into his lap, hooking your legs over his as you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck.

The two of you sat in silence like that for a little, Din having removed his gloves to run his hands soothingly on your back and through your hair.

“I shouldn’t have been so short, you didn’t deserve that,” he says softly after a while. “I didn’t mean to dismiss or scare you. I’m sorry… for how I responded, and for what has happened in your past.”

After that incident Din is very observant of you —more than usual— and is hyper-aware of his actions. Especially after a hunt, or any other time his mood wasn’t the greatest.

He made certain that you knew it was never directed towards you. And if he needed a minute to himself after a hunt he would come hold his helmet to your head before disappearing, a silent agreement between the two of you.

Even when he wasn’t in a sour mood, he tried to be cautious of his actions. Always giving you the chance to react and respond before he did something, or if he needed to act fast he would call your name and give as much warning as possible.

Trying to exist together with your crazy lifestyle was difficult. It was a very intricate dance, and Din was willing to learn every step.

...

Taglist: @deceiverofgodss @janebby @lam-ila

Bucky Barnes: @toothhurtyam @keepingitlokiii @ragnaroqk @iambeeee @st-verygreen @maltifandomwar

Din Djarin: @spideysimpossiblegirl @cats-are-a-girls-bestfriend @gracesmusings

[distracteddegenerate]

Carnation

Yuta x Fem!reader

Warnings: period sex, lots of blood mentions, yandere undertones for Yuuta, TW.Dubcon if you squint I just want to be safe lol, unprotected sex, smut

Got super carried away with this one which is why it’s so long lol. I decided to combine the asks since I have got a lot for Yuta. Second anon if you’re uncomfortable with this fic which is understandable lol just shoot me another ask and I can do something else for you.

You lay curled in your bed, the sheets and pillows a mess around you, a fluffy hot water bottle cradled tightly to your front. The side of your body you laid on was beginning to ache from pressure, and you felt flush from heat, but you dared not move. You dreaded the intensifying of the stabbing pains your own body was wretchedly subjecting you to. Of course today would be the heaviest of your period, the day you had scheduled for a study session with Yuta. He was due to come over in about half an hour, and your pains were yet to ease up at all, despite the painkillers you had recently downed. You could cancel, yet, this was the first ever study session you had set up with your handsome friend, and you were loath to cancel it over something that would clear itself up eventually.

You closed your eyes, and pulled the hot water bottle you gripped like a lifeline closer to the source of your suffering.

~~~

*knock knock*

Fuuuuck. Was it that time already? You groggily sat up, releasing your water bottle and in replacement lightly pressing your hand against the throbbing pain that was starting to surge more strongly in the pit of your belly. You gently placed your feet on the ground off the side of your bed, and rose onto the balls of them just as delicately. You began your gloomy shuffle towards the entrance of your room, fixing your ruffled hair into place.

You pulled the door open on yourself slowly, croaking as Yuta’s tired but docile face materialised into view. 

“Good evening, (Name)-chan.” Yuta had his hands in his pockets and wore a kindly smile, the only thing betraying his pleasant demeanour being those familiar dark circles dusking the underside of his eyes. Dreary though they appeared, you could swear you saw a specular shimmer dance across his irises when he registered your form.

“Ah good evening to you too, Yuta! Come in and make yourself at home, I have some stuff set up on the coffee table.” You tried your best to look as perfectly in humour as you could, to not draw any attention to your current pain stricken condition. Must have been good enough, as Yuta had nodded in response and was now making his way over to nestle himself onto one of the pillows you had placed next to your make-shift study station. 

You yourself was headed to the kitchenette, about to ask what Yuta wanted to drink when a sharp stab erupted from your core. You threw your hand onto a countertop and visibly winced, when you noticed Yuta’s widened eyes had been following you. 

“(Name)! Are you okay?!” Yuta’s expression was alarmed, prepared to pounce up from his seating.

“Uh- I er uh- tripped over! Nothing to worry about!” You were blushing slightly, but righted yourself regardless and tried to stand as straight as you could. Yuta seemed slightly confused, and whilst he opened his mouth to speak you interrupted him with a casual “So what would you like to drink?” 

“Er.. I’m fine actually, I had something before I left home... actually I think you should come sit down, er, carefully.” He still looked a little concerned. You nodded your head and made your way over to his side. Settling yourself down, you could feel more pain pulsating within you, a low rumble threatening another great stab like you had experienced just. You drew your legs to your chest in an attempt to alleviate it slightly, and picked up your copy of “a comprehensive guide to the relation of curses and the law”; holding it open in front of you.

You could feel Yuta’s gaze still trained on you.

~~~

“So, although the police would have to intervene if someone was hurt or killed in the incident, sorcerers still have the right to- er - (Name)?”

Crap. You were too focused on the waves of torture oscillating in your guts to keep your attention on Yuta explaining the info that went over your head in class to you again. And he noticed. You looked up at him softly, and offered a subdued “sorry.” You didn’t really have energy to maintain your act of being fine anymore. His eyes looked concerned. You turned your head to the floor and fiddled with your hands.

“Hey, (Name).” You heard him shift and alter the positioning of his legs. “Is it that time of the month?”

What?! Who asks that like this?! 

You threw your head back up to look at him, your face red and mouth agape. He threw his hands up defensively.

“Sorry, sorry!” He hurriedly turned his gaze into the distance and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just.. I have a little sister, so I’m used to this sort of thing, or at least I know a bit more about it than other guys.” He looked back to you. “It seems like the pains at least are distracting you from your studies, if you need painkillers or something.. I can go get them for you.”

“I er...I already tried that… doesn’t work out that well for me.” Was your meek, barely audible reply. You played with the tassel of the pillow you were sat on. Yuta looked pained on your behalf.

“Y’know… I read online somewhere that there’s always something you can try out failing all else.” He caught your gaze, and held it intently. 

It must be too good to be true, how would Yuta know some hidden method that you (as someone who experienced periods) didn’t know about for dealing with the pains?! Your eager look betrayed itself when a switch flicked in your head and your expression turned into one of astonishment. There’s no way he’s gonna suggest…

“Org*sms.”

You’d known Yuta for awhile now, but you had no idea just how… artless he was. Where was his tact?! Your cheeks burned from embarrassment. You felt like your face was about to explode.

Looking at him though, he was practically unfazed! As if you were going about some matter-of-a-fact order of business. What was this situation!

“I-is.. that a joke Yuta?” Your hands were curling into tight balls. 

“Of course not, (Name). You look like you’re in so much pain. I just want to help alleviate it.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Like you will just hop up right now and go jerk yourself in the bathroom as casually as using the toilet.. Or.. could he have meant..

You felt Yuta’s hand settle on your thigh, as he leant down further towards you. “I can help you out (Name)-chan.”

You couldn’t deny, you’d always found Yuta handsome, but for things to move along this quickly… and of all times! Surely his level of straight-forwardness defied all social conventions, and yet, it was working. The feel of his hand resting on you, his hungry stare, the way he loomed over you, chest rising and falling intently. You could feel a different kind of ache emanating from your lower parts. 

His hand drifted further up your body, coming to stop just below your belly button. “I want to help you… (Name)-chan.” You looked into his dark eyes. They were intense, hungry. You could swear he was salivating. 

“B-but Yuta.. I-I’m.. You know! Isn’t that.. Gross? For you?” He shot you a sheepish grin, hiding his eyes in an evasive fashion. His hand travelled downwards once more, snaking up the inside of your loose-fitting shorts and looping his fingers over the sides of your panties. He toyed with them, rolling the cloth over your skin and lightly pulling at them. “I don’t think any part of you is gross, (Name)-chan.” His eyes flicked open again, drawing you back into his intensity. “I think every part of you is beautiful, even.” You could sense his earnestness, and it made your cheeks burn. You went to throw your hands up to them, but he quickly caught them in his. “So, what’s your answer?” He planted a kiss in your palm. “Do you want my help? (Name)-chan.” 

Fuck.. the way he looked at you. Those ferocious, hooded eyes. Those calloused hands, usually wrapped around a katana, wrapped around yours right now. The burning you felt between your legs. God yes. God, you wanted it.

The alleviation of pain (and studying) was an afterthought.

~~~

Yuta had returned back to your living space with a towel from the bathroom. What? you didn’t want to get the floor messy. You could see an erection straining tightly against his black pants. 

Fuck, you were really gonna do this. He set it down flat on the floor, and invited you to come situate yourself on it.

~~~

After removing his shirt (It was white, after all), Yuta knelt himself down in front of you. He had a certain glint in his eyes, almost conflicting the harmless smile that he also wore, as if he wasn’t about to blissfully pound your bloody c*nt into oblivion. He undid the front buckle of his pants, a bulge emerging, the explicitness of his bare dick concealed by gray underwear. He began palming at the protuberance. You eyed the display curiously, when you had a sudden realisation.

“Y-Yuta, w-what about… protection?” you asked, uneasily. 

“Hm? (Name)-chan, you’re on your period, remember? You won’t get pregnant.”

“B-but..”

He cut you off. “I don’t have anything. Trust me.”

You nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. Yuta was always a trustworthy figure for you. Your strong, reliable friend who you could always depend on. He always took care of you, even during skirmishes with curses, arriving at your side before things even had the chance to get particularly hairy.

You watch Yuta as he tilts his keeling body forward, his hands landing on your ankles before travelling upwards, spreading your legs open in the process. You feel yourself blushing once again, tossing your head to the side. You can feel the front of your damp p*nties being touched, jumping in slight surprise at the abrupt action before Yuta starts rubbing at your cl*t through the fabric. He notices your breathing falter.

“Do you like it, (Name)-chan? Do you like how it feels when I rub you there?”

You mumble a small “yes.”

He’s applying more pressure to his administrations now. “Do you want me to take your p*nties off? So I can touch you properly?”

You answer yes again, this time more hastily. 

With that, he curls his fingers over the sides of your p*nties, dragging your legs into the air as he twists his body appropriately in order to shimmy the restrictive fabric off of you. He casts them to the side, before pulling your trembling limbs back into their previous position. Once he settled them back down, he kept his hands on your thighs as he drank in the glory of your exposed c*nt quivering before him, the string of your tampon peaking out in a taunting manner.

You heard him cooing at you quietly. “Beautiful.”

You cringed, wondering if he’d still be thinking that when he’s stained with blood. Even so, you couldn’t help but melt under the feeling of his fingertips tracing circles into your inner thighs. The way you felt a thumb flick over your n*ked sex.

“Is your stomach still hurting you?” The sudden question snapped you out of your stupor.

Truth be told, you’d almost completely forgotten about your pains you were so caught up in the moment, but something held you back from saying so. As if Yuta would stop touching you if you let him know the “reason” for the two of you doing this was almost completely resolved. And, you were relishing in the tenderness of his comforting too much for it to stop.

“Y-Yes..”

Yuta bent further over you, his head looming over your core. He sunk down, his face leaning into the space of your skin where your tummy and pelvis met. He planted a light kiss there.

“Well, I’m gonna make you feel better.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as his head lifted, his presence shadowing over you once again as he held himself higher. Your heart pounded. He leaned further on your left thigh and removed his hand from the other, as you felt fingers poking at your aching heat again.

Could you feel… pulling?

You felt a horrible, obscene slick escape you suddenly when Yuta yanked out your tampon. He pinched it limply in fingers, observing it slightly before placing it on the towel you shared.

“Yuta?!” You whelped. It was ironic. The two of you were sharing an intimate moment with each other, almost completely exposed. But this? It felt somewhat... invasive.

You could sense Yuta shrugging. “It needed to come out.” Before you even had a chance to respond, you could feel him caressing your folds. He was circling his thumb over them, the peak of the eclipse swiping over your cl*t. “Don’t worry, (Name)-chan you look beautiful.”

You looked to him, but he didn’t return the gaze. His stare was boring into your most private parts, hungrily eating up the view. The calloused hand still wrapped around your leg was gripping on tightly, as you felt Yuta dip a finger into your sopping c*nt.

“Fuck.. it’s so.. wet.”

Well, that was a given you supposed. But you knew a lot of what was down there was also probably your usual feminine slick, with the way he was making you ache. He continued pumping his finger in and out, the motion becoming deeper and rougher, him gaining confidence in what you were willing to take in. You could feel your muscles strain around it.

“That’s three.”

“Wait, w-what?!”

“Three fingers, (Name)-chan. You’re drenched down here.” You felt him remove his digits, Spreading them out across your lips. You then felt him draw a line across your inner thighs that intersected your p*ssy in the middle. Was he… playing in it? You decided not to question, you were too caught up in a wanton haze, hips bucking upwards, begging for his touch to return to your most sensitive parts.

“Y-yuta..”

He looked at you and smiled sincerely. “-just need to make sure you’re nice and loose for me, (Name)-chan.” Before you could react, plunging fingers speared your weeping c*nt, pumping with violent pace. You yelped and crumpled in on yourself when you felt his fingers curl against your velvety walls, yielding against the pressure. You squirmed underneath him even more when he began spreading them, parting your insides. You hummed, laying your hand over the top of his head, entwining yourself in the strands of his hair.

He shifted into your touch. “God, love this. So fucking beautiful.”

He peered at you from beneath those dark lashes. “You think you’re ready?”

“Hm?”

“For my cock.”

At that, you nodded, releasing your grasp on his hair and trailing your hand down his chest as he straightened himself, looping his fingers over the sides of his boxers, staining it with blood. He tugged them down, his painfully erect dick springing out into open air. You found yourself surprised at the length. Yet, He was focused on you. Pointing at your top half he asked you, “Can you take all of this off?”

You nodded and complied hurriedly.

When you were done Yuta was quick, grabbing your knees to hold you in place, leaning over to plant yet another doting kiss on your body, This time in the space between your bare breasts. You felt him begin to push into you. He managed the entirety of his length, before pulling himself almost all the way out again. You noticed how he looked down, admiring the sheen of your blood now coating his member. He quickly snapped his hips back into you again, and began assuming a steady pace of rutting. Your legs found themselves wrapping around him, your ankles cross sectioning across his taught upper back. You wanted to tell him it felt good, but the most you could manage was a weak moan.

That seemed to set something off within him. He lunged over you, enveloping your entire body with his own. He planted one hand on the towel beneath you, firmly beside your head. The other found itself groping a t*t, clawing over it to pinch your hard nipple, surrounding the ar*ola with petals of red. His pace was raw and piercing, but the slight discomfort you felt was laced with a more intense pleasure.

You heard him groan. “-god.. You feel so good. Fucking you like this.. It’s just so.. primal.” He was lightly scraping his nails against you, tracing trails of scarlet down your body. You understood what he meant by that perfectly. The way he was looking down at you, almost slavering at the lips at your vulnerable form, like some wild animal lost in it’s lust.

The feeling of it, the sounds of it. It was also so expl*cit. Yet so gratifying. 

You lost yourself, allowing Yuta to abuse your lower half as he pleased, even matching your hips to his punishing motions. The l*wd squelching noises as he fucked into your excessive wetness, the way he played with your sensitive nipple at the same time, your entire being yearning into his ministrations. 

“I-I’ve always dreamt of this, (Name)-chan” You were too lost in a fucked out haze to really respond, humming lightly as you stroked the arm gripping your breast. His pace got even quicker then, rougher. His form that was already entirely draped over yours weighed down on you with even more pressure, the slap of his bucking hips against your buttox resounding loudly. It’s all too much, your legs weak when you cream his c*ck, a wave of release gushing out of you as your heat throbs wildly.

Your limbs go weak as you reel from the org*sm, your walls spasming around Yuta as he continued his bucking.

Yuta’s gaze rests on your dazed expression, his dark eyes settling over you. “You needed my c*ck didn't you?” He moves the hand that was on your bre*st to caress over your face.  “Desperately. I know you did.” 

You felt Yuta’s pace get rougher, losing it’s steady tempo as he chases closer to his climax. He thrusts into you heartily a final time before his release spills into you, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm out slowly and tenderly. He remains inside for sometime after, rubbing your hips with his thumb as he admires the mixture of c*m and blood streaming out of your hole and cascading down his dick. 

“Beautiful.”

He looks to your face now, smiling gently. 

“So, do you feel better now, (Name)?”

[elentiyawhitethorn]

The Loathsome Librarian

Rowaelin Month, Day 4

Libraries or Librarians @rowaelinscourt

CW: language

Rowaelin Month Masterlist//Fluff//2758 words

Aelin stopped dead in her tracks.

Behind the desk wasn’t Yrene, as usual, but someone new. With his muscle-hugging t-shirt, his stark white hair, and his winding tattoo, this man did not look like a librarian. He looked like he belonged in a gym. Or maybe a pit fight.

Frowning, Aelin made her way to the desk.

The man—Ron, according to his name tag—glanced up. “Checking out?”

Aelin dropped a stack of books in front of him. “Where’s Yrene?”

He slid the books over to himself. “I don’t know. I just got this job.”

“Job? Like you’re not subbing, you work here now?” Aelin crossed her arms.

Ron gave her an exasperated glance. “Yes, I work here. I’m going to need a name if you want me to check these out.”

“Yrene never asked for my name.” Aelin remained stubborn. Perhaps she was being petulant, but she didn’t take well to change. Yrene was her friend, and this man… was not.

“I don’t have telepathic powers, I’m afraid. Name, please.”

Aelin let out an overdramatic sigh and replied, “Galathynius, Aelin.”

Ron typed something into the computer then started scanning. He smirked at the last book. Aelin had already forgotten the title, but it had a picture of a shirtless man on the front, and that probably said enough.

“Don’t they teach you professionalism, Ron?” Aelin asked defensively, annoyed by the way he glanced at her with that half-smile as he set the steamy romance in front of her.

He raised an eyebrow. “Ron?”

Aelin gave another frown. She gestured to his name tag and said, “Don’t you know your own name?”

He glanced down and scowled. “Shit, I forgot. My name’s Rowan; they left out two fucking letters.”

In Aelin’s mind, she was testing out that name. Rowan. It was… delicious.

Not that she would ever admit that. No, all she said after she scooped up her books was, “I don’t think you’re supposed to curse in front of customers.”

Then she spun on her heel and exited the library.

—

>>babe, why weren’t u at the library??

Aelin hit the send button and plumped down on her couch. Yrene was infamous for taking copious amounts of time to reply to text messages, so Aelin pulled out a book. Then she set that book down and retrieved the romance, just to spite him. Ron. Rowan. Whoever he was. Ugh.

Aelin started on the first page to find the main character’s name was Celaena. She smiled to herself—she had gone by Celaena in her wild youth, and she always enjoyed reading about a character she could relate to.

There wasn’t much plot to the book, and Aelin hadn’t even reached page six by the time the love interest was introduced. A man named Rowan.

Aelin slammed the book shut and dropped it on the floor. That didn’t mean anything.

She groaned and pulled a pillow over her head, groaning into it. “Fucking Rowan,” she muttered.

Just then, a ding sounded. Aelin grabbed her phone to see:

<<Sorry I didn’t let you know, it was kind of sudden. I got this new job at Westfall Library, and I was going to text you today.

>>ok cool

That was all Aelin said in reply. She would apologize for the terse tone that would be apparent even in the text later; now she just wanted to be grumpy. Aelin wasn’t usually this childish, but she had just barely failed an exam, and Yrene always cheered Aelin up and motivated her to work harder. Seeing someone new had done the exact opposite.

But Aelin was determined not to fail her finals, so she pushed all thoughts of Ron from her mind and extracted a textbook.

—

He was there again. Of course he was; he worked there now. Still, it was disconcerting.

Aelin huffed quietly, stalked to the romance section, and grabbed a whole stack of books. She made sure each and every one had some sort of inappropriate image on the front. Then she casually walked over to the front desk. “Hello, Ron.”

Rowan frowned, knowing full well she remembered his real name. But he only held out his hands for the books.

Aelin smirked as she handed them to him, watching the same smirk mirrored on his face as he looked at the titles. Aelin was satisfied to see he didn’t need to ask for her name before typing it into the monitor. He glanced up at her while he scanned, saying, “I take it you enjoy romances?”

Aelin grinned and leaned forward. “The steamier, the better.”

She wasn’t lying—Aelin read smut all the time, and she would doubtlessly make her way through all of these—but the slight blush on Rowan’s cheeks as he finished made the truth of the statement inconsequential. Her response to people she didn’t like was to scandalize them. It seemed to be working.

Absentmindedly, Aelin slipped last week’s books from her bag and started inserting them into the return slot.

“You read all those in a week?” Rowan asked, and Aelin glanced up.

“Yes.” She picked up the stack of new books that Rowan slid over the desk.

He rasied an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

Aelin smirked and leaned in. “Thank you. And thanks for the books.”

It was only when she got impossibly close over the desk that Aelin whispered, “See you next week, Ron.”

She barely managed to hold back a triumphant smile until she turned around, hearing Rowan curse behind under his breath.

—

They were playing cat and mouse.

Aelin was definitely the cat.

Every Wednesday, Aelin checked out several books. She’d tired of reading only romances, so she had started grabbing a few mysteries and thrillers, but she made sure at least two of the books in her stack featured a shirtless man. Rowan never stopped smirking. Neither did Aelin.

A month passed. Then two. Aelin never stopped coming, nor did she stop calling the handsome ass Ron. If she didn’t know any better, Aelin might have said he was starting to enjoy it.

It was a couple months after their initial meeting, perhaps the tenth or eleventh encounter, that Aelin sauntered into the library on a crisp evening. And by crisp evening she meant freezing, snowy night. It was mid-January and Aelin had been running late.

She barely made it in the door before the closing time arrived. Sure, you were supposed to leave by the closing time, but as long as she made it inside, Aelin wouldn’t be leaving without her books. No way she was going a week without reading. And she would not be coming in tomorrow; Aelin was a creature of routine.

The door banged shut behind her, and Aelin glanced around the library. Rowan wasn’t at his desk, but the lights were on and the door was unlocked, and Rowan was probably just grabbing his stuff from his office.

Aelin knew she shouldn’t be here at this time, and—being Aelin—she could only bring herself to smile. She headed to the stacks.

The door banged shut again, as it tended to do, and Aelin glanced up, then turned back to the shelves. After all, it was probably just a browser leaving late.

Grabbing a historical fiction (not her usual style, but a friend had recommended it), Aelin finished collecting her stack. She heard footsteps just as she started toward the desk and smiled.

That smile vanished as she heard a voice. A female voice.

“Rowan, I found you.” The voice was breathless, like liquid honey. Aelin instantly hated her.

“Remelle? What are you doing here?”

Rowan sounded annoyed, and definitely surprised, and like the nosy, bitter, remorseless woman she was, Aelin peeked through the shelves, taking in the scene before her.

Rowan was carrying his bag over his shoulder, the other hand braced on his desk. His brow was furrowed at the woman—the woman in skinny jeans and a fancy blouse. She turned slightly and Aelin saw that it was a v-neck. A very long v-neck. Her boobs were practically sticking out of her shirt.

Aelin scowled. She set her stack of books on a shelf and scooted down a little to get a better veiw, nearing the end of the shelf where she could see both of them and the books were taller, concealing her even further.

Aelin needed to find a new hobby.

The woman finally answered, after a moment fluttering her eyelashes delicately. Aelin wanted to say she looked ridiculous, but she didn’t. She looked gorgeous.

“I’ve missed you, Rowan.” Remelle, as Rowan had called her, stepped forward and placed a hand on his bicep.

Rowan looked like he was barely breathing. “Get. Your hand. The fuck. Off of me.”

Remelle frowned, her painted, full lips curving downward. “Rowan, please.”

Rowan mechanically placed his opposing hand over the hand Remelle had on his arm and removed it slowly. “I do not want anything to do with you.”

“Why not?” Her voice was hurt. Good. Aelin wanted to punch her already.

“Because you’re a bitch, Remelle. I usually make it a point not to say shit like that to women, but you are an intolerable, miserable, total bitch. Now get out of my library.”

It wasn’t his library, Aelin thought, but she decided it would probably be best not to interrupt and let him know. She gripped the shelf in front of her in anticipation.

Remelle’s warm brown eyes pleaded with him. “Rowan, I care about you.”

He just snorted. “Sure you do, Remelle.”

Before she could launch into the heartfelt tirade she no doubt had planned, some speech Aelin knew would be absolute baloney, Rowan placed a hand on Remelle’s back and spun her around. Then he did an extremely impressive job of shooing her out of the library, despite her plentiful protests.

Aelin wanted to know more. She had so many questions. Perhaps she should be more concerned with how she was supposed to extract herself from this position, but she just couldn’t stop wondering how Rowan had known Remelle. What they had been to each other.

Aelin shifted her weight, peering through the stacks farther, almost sticking her nose through the shelves. No, not almost. Her head was sticking through between a couple of books, one foot going to a lower shelf to keep her balance. Where had Rowan gone? He had disappeared from view as he ushered Remelle away, but a minute passed and he didn’t return. He couldn’t be leaving, because the lights would have flipped off by now.

“I didn’t know you were into nonfiction,” a dry voice uttered behind her.

Aelin yelped slightly as she spun around, hitting her head on the shelf above her as she turned, which made coming face-to-face with Rowan’s not amused face all the more embarrassing. As did tripping over her own foot and falling back into the bookshelves.

Rowan stepped forward with a sigh that was much too casual for the occasion and grabbed Aelin effortlessly, pulling her back to her feet. She couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t been facing the books, he would have let her fall.

“Ron! There you are!” Aelin exclaimed as he released her. “Yes, a friend recommended this…” She reached behind her and pulled out a book at random. “I hear it’s supposed to be good.” She glanced over at the book in her hand to find a blown up insect staring back at her. Aelin plastered a wide smile on her face.

“Are you actually expecting me to—” Rowan cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. “Put that back, Aelin.”

Aelin winced and inserted the insect book back into its spot. She wasn’t sure what to say. Sorry for eavesdropping on that super private conversation with that bitch?

“How much of that did you see?” His voice was hard.

“Um, not really a lot… ah… all of it. I saw all of it.” Aelin bit her lip nervously. “Sorry.”

Rowan groaned. “What are you even doing here, anyway? We closed five minutes ago.”

Aelin winced. “I had a paper to write, okay? I was late.” She gestured toward the stack of books she had collected upon arrived, piled on a random shelf. “Who was that?” she couldn’t help but ask, not even sorry.

Rowan sighed. “Get your books. I’ll check you out.”

The words were phrased as a dismissal, but from his posture and tone, Aelin got the feeling that he was going to continue. She obediently grabbed her stack and followed him to the front desk.

Rowan started typing. Once he finished, he paused. Then Rowan slowly grabbed the first book and scanned. “Remelle and I met in college. I graduated last year,” he began as he moved onto the next book, his eyes focused on his task, avoiding Aelin’s gaze.

“I don’t know how she got into college, to be honest. Her dad probably bribed a spot for her.” Rowan set the second book down.

“I broke up with my girlfriend, Lyria, in junior year, and felt like shit, so I started sleeping with Remelle.”

The fourth book found its way to the finished stack.

“That continued for a couple of months. I broke things off when she started getting annoying. And clingy. I usually go about the let-her-down-gently route, but you have to understand, Remelle is a piece of work.”

All of the books were scanned now, but Rowan continued looking downward. Aelin listened, intrigued.

“There were a few incidents here and there. Showing up at my apartment in the middle of the night. Crashing a date. Remelle never played fair. It continued for the rest of college, but I thought graduating meant that would be the last I saw of her. This is just her newest attempt at seducing me.”

He finished and looked up at Aelin with a mournful expression on his face.

Aelin snorted. “Well, that was… surprisingly anticlimactic. I mean, jealous, jilted lover… that was kind of already obvious, Ron.”

He scowled, but Aelin continued.

“And am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Wow, you’re popular, okay. All the ladies want to be in your pants. My deepest condolences.”

Rowan scoffed. “Yeah, poor me, getting stalked for the past two years. No biggie. Unlike your difficult life that’s so hard that you somehow have the time to read seven books every week.”

Aelin expected anger to well at the accusation, but she just smiled. “Ron, honey, it’s okay to be jealous of me. I get that a lot.”

If this was a cartoon, steam would be shooting from Rowan’s ears. His face was so red, from embarrassment or fury or a mixture of both, that there was such a contrast between his red face and silver hair that Aelin almost laughed.

“My fucking name is Rowan, as you well know. And I’m not jealous of you of all people. I barely know shit about you, but I do know that you’re a bitch who likes to harass people you don’t like for no reason at all and eavesdropps on conv—”

Aelin leaned forward and kissed him.

Rowan instantly quieted, a solid statue as Aelin pressed her lips against his. She waited until he regained enough brain power to start kissing her back before pulling away. They were against opposite sides of the desk, and she placed her hands on the polished wood.

“I thought that might shut you up,” Aelin said merrily, entirely unfazed by the shocked gape on Rowan’s face. “I have an idea.”

“A… yeah?” Rowan mumbled incoherently, still staring at Aelin.

“You’ve got a crazy stalker ex, yeah?”

“Well, she’s—she’s not really—not an ex,” Rowan stuttered. Cute.

Aelin smirked. “Same difference. You want to get rid of her?”

Rowan nodded faintly.

“Take me on a date,” Aelin said, as if the solution was obvious. “She’ll back off if you think you have a girlfriend. Genius, right?”

“A… date?” Rowan hadn’t yet recovered.

“I know,” Aelin said sympathetically, leaning forward a hair. “It’s really generous of me to offer. You’re one lucky man.”

“I…”

A wicked grin split across Aelin’s face. “I think you have my number in there.” She nodded to the computer that housed her personal information. “Text me and I’ll give you my address. I might even dress up for you.”

Rowan spluttered.

“You’re welcome,” Aelin said, grabbing her books. “See you Saturday, Ron.”

Rowan’s choking was the only sound as Aelin strutted out of the library, a demonic grin on her lips.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

[even-after-a-millennia]

Found: The Goddess of Lost and Forgotten Things

At the end of January, I was asked to be a pinch hitter for Andromaquynh Secret Santa 2021 for @beepbeepsan.  Unfortunately, between a new job and pretty bad writing burnout, it took wayyyyyy longer than expected to finish this fic.  So welcome to my Secret Santa/Pride Month extravaganza, I guess?   Beep, I'm so sorry it's so late.  I hope you like it and you have a great Pride month!

You can read the fic on my ao3 here or under the cut below.

Summary: When Quynh's computer crashes and all her research is lost, she desperately reaches out to the universe.  She didn't expect an exhausted, foul-mouthed goddess to appear out of nowhere and land on her couch. 

Rated T | 4.7k | Andromaquynh

In Quynh’s defense, she didn’t mean to summon an ancient goddess into her studio apartment.  But it was two in the morning, her paper was due by nine a.m., and her computer’s screen had just gone black.

“No, no no no no, no!” she chanted, checking the power cord, hitting the power button, and then smacking random keys trying to get it to come back to life.  “FUCK!”

She threw it down on the couch beside her and pushed the palm of her hands into her eyes, trying to stop herself from crying.  But her nose was starting to go and tears were starting to form and really, was a Master’s degree worth all this fucking stress?

“If there is some fucking person out there who is the deity of forgotten or lost things who could help me out, I would really fucking appreciate it,” she said, her voice breaking as lights danced behind her eyelids.

Then she realized it wasn’t her eyes doing that.  The lights of her apartment were fluttering, and she had a moment of worry she was about to lose power when suddenly, a woman plopped onto her couch beside her.

“What the fuck?!” Quynh shouted, leaping to her feet and throwing the closest textbook she could find at her.

“Ow, fuck!” the woman shouted.

“How did you get in here?” Quynh demanded, hefting another book, ready to throw it.  Then she remembered that it was a rental and lowered it slightly.  Best to use it as a last resort.

“You summoned me.  Why’d you do that?” the woman groaned, dropping her head in her hands.

“My computer died,” Quynh said. “And it’s not like I asked for you specifically!”  She realized that the computer in question was halfway under the woman’s body.  “Shit, you’re crushing it!”

The woman lifted her head and pulled the computer out from under her. Waving it around, she asked, “This thing is what you lost?” 

“My paper on it, yeah.  All my research.  I’ve had that computer since undergrad, if everything I’ve written on there is gone, there’s no way I’m going to be able to graduate.  I don’t have backups anywhere,” Quynh said, her eyes starting to well with tears as she realized all she had lost when that screen had gone dark.

The woman sighed.  Then she waved her hand over the computer and Quynh watched with wide eyes as it came back to life.

“There.  It’s back.  Now leave me the hell alone,” the woman said, getting up.

She walked to the door and Quynh realized she was leaving.

“Wait!” she yelped, not ready to let her go.  “Who are you?”

The woman looked back.  Her hair was short, but still almost covered her eyes.  It was only now that Quynh noticed just how tired the woman looked.  Her eyes were older than her face let on.

“Andromache the Scythian,” the woman replied.  “But you can just call me Andy.”

Quynh nodded, not really sure how to respond.  “I’m Quynh,” she finally settled on.

Andy looked at her a moment then nodded back.  “Goodbye, Quynh.”

She was out the door before Quynh could really think why there was such a note of finality in her tone.

Then she was alone in her apartment, where she was pretty sure some kind of magic being just popped into, just to fix her paper because Quynh had asked her to.

Her paper!

“Shit!”

She got back to work, reasoning that she would think about the woman, Andy, more later.

____________________________________

“So I’m pretty sure I summoned someone last night,” Quynh said to Nile as they ate lunch.

Nile stopped mid-chew to raise an eyebrow at her.  “Are you going to leave me hanging for the details?”

“My computer died,” and at this, Nile gave a wince of sympathy, “and I just asked for someone who helps with lost or forgotten things to help and suddenly there was a woman in my apartment.  She fixed my computer and then left.”

“When was this?” Nile asked.

“Like, two a.m.?”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

Quynh considered.  “Well, I had to go relock my door for the night, and I don’t think that a dream would have been able to unlock it in the first place.”

“That’s so weird…  Did you get a name?” Nile asked.

“Andromache the Scythian, she said.”

Nile immediately had her phone in her hands and was searching for anything on the woman.  Being.  Goddess?  Even though they had been face to face, Quynh wasn’t really sure what to call her.

“There’s nothing on her online,” Nile said.  “No history, no mentions in ancient stories, no mythology, nothing.”

“That is so weird…” Quynh said.  “The person in charge of lost and forgotten things, lost to history herself.  She didn’t even want to be called upon, I don’t think.”

“What do you mean?”

“She seemed mad when she showed up and said to leave her alone.”

Nile’s brow furrowed.  “I wonder why.”

Quynh got an idea.  “I’ll ask her!”

“She wanted to be left alone, remember?”

Quynh flapped a hand at her.  It was a gesture she had picked up from Nile herself, and she liked to use it whenever she could.

“She seemed… tired.  I think she needs something to do, someone to help, even if she doesn’t realize it herself,” Quynh said.

Nile shrugged.  “Alright.  But if it goes badly, just know that I will say I told you so.”

_______________________________________

Quynh was going to summon Andy later that night, but then she had to do her responses for her classes’ discussion posts and start doing research for the next big paper coming up, so she didn’t even have a chance to do more than fleetingly think about the mysterious woman who had showed up in her apartment until the weekend.  Even then, it was past ten o’clock on Saturday night and she was putting down her computer for the first time in hours when she remembered her idea.

“Um, hi, Andromache?  I’m a little lost at the moment, I was wondering if you could help me?” she asked her ceiling.

The lights flickered again, then there was a plop onto the couch.

And there she was.

She was wearing the same clothes as last time, a long trench coat over pants and a faded t-shirt, her short hair brushed off her face this time.

“What.”

“Hi,” Quynh said, smiling at her.

Andy softened slightly.  If Quynh hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed it, but a couple of the crinkles around her eyes disappeared and her eyebrows were slightly less frowny than before.

“Hello.  Now, what have you lost?”

“Ah, but I didn’t say that I had lost something, did I?  I said I was lost,” Quynh said.  “And I’m lost because, unless this is all a hallucination, which I doubt because I can feel the couch bending around your weight, how is it that a woman can appear in my room then give me a very specific name, and yet I cannot find any information about her at all?”

Andy sighed.  “Some things are best left forgotten, Quynh.”

Quynh raised an eyebrow.  “And you think you should be?”

She shrugged.  “Only way for me to have peace.”

Quynh cocked her head.  “Peace?  How so?”

“In between summonings, I don’t really… exist.  I can just sink into the nothingness of time and just be.  I was hoping this time, I wouldn’t come back.”

Quynh sat there, taking that in.

“Well, that’s horrifying,” she concluded.

Andy blinks at her.  “What?”

“You want to stop existing, Andy.  That’s not healthy, and you deserved a better existence than that.”

“I don’t really have a choice about not existing, Quynh.  It’s just what happens between summons.”  And Andy looked so tired as she said it, that Quynh made up her mind on the spot.

“Alright.  I evoke you, Andromache the Scythian, to help me get through grad school.  Because I am always lost and forget things a lot.  Ever since my girlfriend broke up with me last month, I could really use a friendly face around.  You’re stuck with me.”

“To what end?” Andy asked.

Quynh shrugged.  “Until I graduate, I guess.  I’m in my last semester, so just under three months.  That okay?”

Andy looked her over and Quynh tried not to squirm under her very probing gaze.

“What’s in it for me?” Andy asked.

It was Quynh’s turn to analyze the woman — well, goddess — in front of her.

“Think of it as one last hurrah before you sink into nothingness,” Quynh said.  She didn’t think it was a good idea to lie to a goddess, but here she was.  

Luckily, Andy didn’t call her on it.

“Deal,” Andy said, holding out a hand.  

Quynh took a deep breath and shook it.

I’m going to somehow keep you alive, Andy.

_______________________________________

Having a goddess who helps with lost and forgotten things around was doing wonders for Quynh’s grades.  She got begrudging reminders when assignments were due, help finding her notes when her pile of papers got too high, and another person in her small apartment, filling up the emptiness that had been there before.

They quickly fell into a pattern, with Quynh going to class and leaving Andy in the mornings, going to the library between classes, then coming back and doing homework in the evenings.  Her evenings were suddenly full of conversation and even some reluctant laughter.

Andy filled the time slowly going through Quynh’s bookshelves.  She didn’t seem picky about what she was reading at first, going from fiction to an old textbook and back again.  It wasn’t until about a month into staying with Quynh that Andy held up a sapphic romance and asked, “You have any more like this?”

Quynh did.  And when she ran out, she went and got more one by one, trying to sneak them into her collection so that Andy wouldn’t know that she was buying them for her.

The semester was going by quicker than Quynh could have anticipated and midterms nearly destroyed her.  

She woke up the day after handing in her last paper to Andy nudging her with her foot.  

“Wha?” she asked, disoriented.

“Wake up, you gotta eat.  I can tell you forgot to have any real meals yesterday,” Andy said.

Quynh blinked blurrily up at Andy and realized that she was carrying a tray of food.  She pushed herself up on her pillows and pushed her hair out of her face.

“Here,” Andy said, holding out the tray.

Quynh took it and saw a stack of toast, a pile of fresh fruits, and a whole package of bacon on it.

“Holy shit, I can’t eat all of this.  Sit and help me with it,” Quynh said, scooting over on the bed.

Andy eyed the space, then shrugged and sat down.  She popped a whole piece of bacon in her mouth and started chewing.

Quynh had to stop herself from laughing.  Throughout her time living with Andy, she had noticed that she was gruff and kind of grumpy, but that at least part of it was a front.  Quynh saw through it constantly, like the time Andy had peeled her off the sofa when Quynh had drunk a little too much wine on a night out with Nile.  She had laughed at Quynh under her breath, but Quynh had heard it anyway.  She held onto that sound as she drifted off to sleep.

The awareness of her roommate had existed since the first time that she had flopped down onto Quynh's couch, but instead of becoming more used to it with time, Quynh had only become more aware of her.  She felt every inch of space between her hip and Andy’s, and was keenly conscious of how small her pajama shorts were.

“Thanks for this,” she said, grabbing a piece of toast.  She didn’t even care about crumbs.  She needed to do laundry anyway.

Andy hummed, the only acknowledgment of her deed.

“How much of a break do you get until your classes start up again?” Andy asked.

“Just over week.  Just enough time for me to get used to a completely different sleep schedule before class comes back to fuck it up,” Quynh said with a grin.

Andy huffed out a laugh, looking down at the bedspread.  “Do you need me during that time?”

Quynh looked at her incredulously.  “I mean, duh.  What, you have something else to do?”

Grinning ruefully, Andy replied, “It’s kinda the point that I don’t, Quynh.”

“Right.”

They crunched bacon and toast in silence for a while.

“How were you forgotten?” Quynh asked.  She knew she was throwing the question out there unexpectedly, but it had been on her mind for so long that it made perfect sense to say it.

Andy sighed.  “I’ve been around for a long, long time, Quynh.  Most things in museums are younger than me.  There isn’t a record of me because the history of me and my people were wiped from existence.  The civilizations that came later destroyed them.  There’s a blank spot in history.  And that’s where I live.”

“Not anymore, though,” Quynh said.  “I’ll always remember you and I’ll make sure other people do too.”

Andy laughed and it wasn’t a happy sound.  “I don’t think that’s how it works, Quynh.  You are not the first person to inadvertently summon me throughout the millennia.  But I still go back to that limbo once they are done with me, no matter what.”

It was Quynh's turn to hum.

“Maybe I just need to dig deeper…” she mused.

Andy looked at her and shoved another huge bite of bacon into her mouth.

“I don’t know how successful you’ll be, but I’ve seen the research spirals you’ve gone down, so I’m just going to say good luck.”  

Quynh smirked.  “I won’t need it, but thanks.”

Her hair fell into her face as she leaned down for another strawberry.  She didn’t think anything of it until she felt fingers running through it, pushing it back behind her ear.

She froze, then looked up at Andy.  She was sure that she probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, but her heart was suddenly pounding and she couldn’t make herself look away.

Andy didn’t look unaffected either.  Her eyes drifted from where her fingers were curled at the back of Quynh’s neck, up to her chin, before they settled on her lips.

Quynh felt herself leaning forwards, her lips parting slightly as Andy’s face became closer.

Then her phone chimed loudly and they jumped apart.

Clearing her throat, Quynh snatched it up.  “It’s Nile.  Said she got home safe in Chicago.”

Andy nodded, getting up.  “Good.  I’m going to go shower.”

Quynh wanted more to ask if she could join almost as much as she wanted to be done with grad school.  But she bit her tongue and simply nodded as Andy left the room.

Then she flopped back into her pillows and stared at the ceiling until Andy’s shower was over and she could have her lonely turn.

___________________________________

Quynh thought she was keeping her pining for her reluctant roommate pretty well under wraps until she ran into her ex-girlfriend three weeks before graduation.  Sure, she was making herself have headaches with how much she was researching Andy’s history and yeah, she mentally cataloged every touch, deliberate and accidental, that they shared.  She thought about their almost kiss more than she slept.  Despite all that, she thought she had it handled.  But then Andy had to go and ruin all of that.

She stopped by the small bakery three roads down from her apartment on the way back home because no matter how much Andy tried to hide it, she had the biggest sweet tooth imaginable.  Quynh had to get them the chocolate croissants because they were usually out when Quynh came in and she could not pass up this opportunity.  Also, her finals were fast approaching and Quynh would take every chance for comfort food that she could get.

As she walked out the door, she ran into someone.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t-” she cut off when she saw it was Alexis.

They had met through one of their classes and hit it off.  Or Quynh had thought they had until five months into dating, Alexis had dumped her abruptly because a “better prospect” had come up.

Nile had supplied her with so many croissants after that.  Only a month later, Andy had appeared in her apartment and Quynh had realized that she hadn’t ever felt anything like she did for Andy.  Looking at Alexis now, Quynh was surprised to find that she didn’t feel any leftover emotions for her.  Well, except anger.

Alexis didn’t look uncomfortable at seeing Quynh, though.  “Oh hey, I was wondering when I would run into you on campus.  How’ve you been?”

Quynh let out a semi-hysterical laugh.  Apart from being told she was a lesser opportunity and accidentally summoning and then falling for an ancient goddess, not too bad.

“Busy,” she settled on.

“Same.  Hey, you wanna get dinner sometime?  We could catch up,” Alexis said, her inflection hinting at more than catching up.

Quynh let out another laugh, a lower, uglier one this time.  

“No thanks.”

Alexis’ face furrowed in a frown.  “Wow, okay.  I thought we could be mature about everything that happened.”

Quynh smiled, but it probably looked more like a snarl.

“Sorry,” she said, using her words very deliberately, “I lost the ability to give a fuck.”

She saw someone very familiar manifest behind Alexis and pushed past her to get to Andy.

“Hey,” Quynh said, lifting the brown bag in greeting.  “I got you a chocolate croissant.”

Andy hummed, looking from Quynh to Alexis and back again.  She came even closer to Quynh and raised a hand, running her fingertips alongside her jawline.  Quynh shivered at the touch, unable to take her eyes off of Andy as she leaned in and murmured, “Thanks, Quynh,” before brushing a kiss against Quynh’s lips.

Quynh knew that it was supposed to be a kiss in gratitude, or maybe meant to throw Alexis off.  She didn’t really care the minute that she felt Andy’s lips against her own.  

The fingers of her free hand plunged into the short hairs at the base of Andy’s neck and pulled her closer, angling her own head so their noses weren’t brushing anymore.  She felt Andy pause and pulled back long enough to breathe Andy’s name, making her melt into Quynh.  Andy’s hand came to Quynh’s hips, pulling her closer until everything from their hips to their chests were touching.  Quynh hummed in pleasure at the feel of Andy against her and pulled back before she got too deep into the moment.

She glanced behind her and saw that Alexis had gone into the shop.

Looking back at Andy, she asked, “Can I teleport with you?”

It took a second for the question to register, then Andy’s eyes cleared and she nodded.  

“Awesome,” Quynh said.  “Take me home.”

She blinked and missed the moment of transition, only to find herself in her living room.

“Oh, that’s cool.  I’m gonna have you do that on days that I’m running late to class from now on,” Quynh said.

Andy laughed, her breath hot on Quynh’s cheek.

“Whenever you need,” she agreed.

Quynh set the croissants down on her secondhand coffee table and pulled Andy close once more.  

“I don’t want this to be misconstrued so I’m going to tell you this,” she said, the blatant look of want on Andy’s face making it easier to get the words out, “I really like you, Andy.  This isn’t just something I want to do once and get out of our systems.  You’re not a one-time thing for me.”

Leaning down, Andy pressed her forehead against Quynh’s.  “There was only darkness for a long time for me, Quynh.  And then I heard your voice pulling me into the light.  I hated that you brought me back, because I didn’t want to be here.  But you had me stay.  And with every morning that you ran late for class and every night that you were stressed with work, I started to feel alive again.  You make me want to be alive again, Quynh.  With you.”

Quynh felt tears well in her eyes and leaned forward to peck Andy’s lips softly.  “That was always the goal,” she admitted.  “I just didn’t think it would be like this.”

Andy smiled and nodded.  She leaned down and kissed just below Quynh’s ear, making her shiver, before she murmured, “I’m so glad you found me, Quynh.”

“Always,” Quynh whispered before she pulled Andy’s face up and connected their lips once more.  The tenderness of the moment slowly faded as the passion between them grew.

Quynh pulled back after a few minutes to ask, “Bed?”

Andy nodded and Quynh let out an “Oof,” as they suddenly landed on Quynh’s bed.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” she muttered as Andy kissed her jawline.

Their lips met again and again, hands pushing clothes off, panting intermingling with laughter as a piece of clothing got stuck.

Finally, they were both naked and Quynh took a long moment to just take in all of Andy.

Then she looked her in the eye and said, “You know, I’ve never been able to find my g-spot.”  

She grinned.  “Wanna help me?”

Andy smirked.  “Best use of my powers ever.”

___________________________________

As useful as Andy had been so far this semester, she was just as distracting in the last weeks working up to graduation.  They finally had to put a rule in place that they couldn’t touch each other until Quynh got another page written in her final paper, one paper at a time, until they were all done.

It was a great motivator.

Quynh dove into finding out as much as she could about forgotten deities and wrote page after page of what she could find, proposals for future study, ideas for archeological digs that could reveal more.

It helped when the person who lived that history was in her apartment, but she had to find sources that backed up what Andy told.  Which was infinitely harder, dammit.

“Hey, Andy, do you know anything about two deities called Yusuf and Nicolò?  They keep cropping up in my searches,” she asked her.

“Oh, yeah.  They’re the gods of enduring love.  We’ve met over the centuries,” Andy said.

“Huh.  Thanks!”

The last two weeks were a blur of writing and research and not-sleeping.  Finally, finally, she handed in her last paper online.

“The prof wants a paper copy too, so I’m going to print one at the library, drop it off, and then maybe we could cuddle together for a while?” she asked hopefully.

Andy smiled.  Her smile had changed a lot in the last few weeks.  It wasn’t forced.  Wasn’t small.  It lit up her eyes and her whole face.

“That sounds good,” she said.

“Okay, see you soon.  Love you,” Quynh said, leaning in and giving her a kiss goodbye before she went to grab her keys.

She was two feet away from the door when she realized what she had said and froze.  She was almost scared to turn around and see what Andy’s face was doing.

Then she heard, quietly, “Love you too.”

She let out a shaky breath, then rushed back and kissed Andy one more time.

“We can talk about this while we cuddle,” she murmured when she pulled away.  “But this professor is a hardass and I need to get him this paper by five.”

Andy huffed a laugh and nodded.  “Sounds good.”

Quynh was in a daze all the way to the library, the whole time she printed her paper, even as she handed it over to the professor and left his office.

It wasn’t until she got to her apartment and found it empty that she snapped back to reality.  At first, she thought that Andy had just stepped out to get groceries or something.  Maybe something to celebrate Quynh’s last assignment.  But when she called Andy’s phone, the prerecorded message said that the number was unable to be reached.  

“I evoke you, Andromache the Scythian, to help me get through grad school.”

No, there had to be a mistake.  Andy wouldn’t leave her, not if she had a choice.

“To what end?”

But what if Andy hadn’t had a choice?  

“Until I graduate, I guess.  I’m in my last semester, so just under three months.  That okay?”

Suddenly, Quynh couldn’t breathe.

What if the void had pulled her back, now that their contract was finished?  What if it finally did what she had wished initially and had her cease to exist?

“Andy!  Andromache the Scythian, I need you!” Quynh shouted to her empty apartment.  It echoed, highlighting the wrongness of being the only person there.

The lights flickered, but Andy didn’t appear.

“Please, Andy, I need you,” she continued, quieter now.  “I know you wanted to be forgotten, I know the ache you felt to sink into nothingness.  But didn’t that change?  You said you loved me.  I’m going to be exceptionally selfish and beg you to come back to me.  I’m lost without you, Andy.  Please,” Quynh begged.

The lights flickered.  Then went out.

Quynh let out a sob.  She hadn’t even realized that she had been crying until she realized it was hard to breathe with how hard her chest was heaving.

“Andy, please,” she cried in the silence.

Nothing.

Then there was a knock at the door.  Quynh wiped her face, trying to get herself under control.  It was probably one of her neighbors coming to check on her, or angry at her shouting.

She pushed herself off the couch and felt her way toward the door.

Opening it, she wiped the last of her tears away as she said, “I’m sorry for the noise, I’m-”

Then she froze.

She knew that outline, that body.  She had caressed almost every inch of it, worshiped it like the goddess it belonged to deserved.  

“Andy?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Quynh,” she said, her own voice full of emotion in the shadows of the hallway.  “Sorry that it took a while.  I used the last of my power to get here.”

“The last-?” Quynh broke off, her mind scattering with possibilities.  “Is this our last goodbye?” she asked, reaching out to Andy, terrified she would disappear before her, finally dissolve into time and space like she had wished.

The lights came back on just as her hands made contact.  And there she was, in her faded band t-shirt and torn gray jeans, combat boots and leather bracelets in place.  The circles under her eyes were still dark, but her shoulders were lighter somehow.

“Hopefully, but not in the way you’re thinking,” Andy said.  “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” Quynh said, pulling her into her apartment.  She couldn’t take her hand off of Andy.  If she did, Andy might disappear.

“Hey,” Andy said gently, reaching up and caressing Quynh’s cheek.  “I’m okay.  We’re okay.”

“I was scared,” Quynh admitted.  “I thought the void had taken you back.”

“It tried,” Andy said and Quynh’s hand squeezed even tighter, trying to get her to stay.  “I ended up reaching out to some friends.  You remember talking about Yusuf and Nicolò?”

Quynh nodded.

“Well, they’re still around too.  Pulled me out and helped me with my request.”

“Which was?” Quynh asked hesitantly.

Andy leaned forward and kissed Quynh, quick and gentle.  “I want the life I have with you to be my last.  I gave them my powers.  Should ensure their power for a couple more millennia.  I’m human now, Quynh.”

Quynh’s free hand covered her mouth.  She was crying again, unable to speak.  In moments that she could scarcely allow herself to have, with as much studying she was doing, she had wondered what would happen after their arrangement.  After Quynh was gone, long down the road.

She had never imagined this.

“I love you,” she finally choked out.  “I want forever with you, I can’t believe we get it-”  She threw herself at Andy and together, they tumbled backward on the couch.

“I’m not lost anymore, Quynh,” Andy said into her hair.

Quynh pushed herself up so she could look her in the eyes.  “No, you’re not,” she said with a grin.  “I found you.”

[weelittleweasley]

bar maid (b.w.)

prompt: a long night at the leaky cauldron and the late shift can only mean one thing: a boring night. but when a new face pops into the bar, the mood shifts drastically.

pairing: bill weasley x fem! reader

warnings: drinking, mentions of the war, language (literally once), sexual references

word count: 4.5k

taglist: @harrysweasleys​ @gcdric​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @another-lonely-heart-blog​ @starlightweasley​ @parseltongueswriting​ @shilohpug​ @peachypotter​ @vogueweasley​

“Another round of ale, Albert?” you ask with a smile as you wipe down a section of the bar from its previous attendants. The damp dish towel wipes across the mahogany bar, leaving streaks that shine underneath the bar lighting, the faint smell of chemical lemon lingering in the air mixes with the overwhelming scent of lager and spirits. 

Albert flashes you a toothy grin and gives you a shrug. “Eh, why not. It’s a Friday, isn’t it?” Albert laughs before sliding you his brass mug down the length of the bar as you stealthily catch it in your hand. You fill the mug with amber ale, teeming with white foam, smelling of wheat. “You’re too good to me, (Y/N),” Albert tells you with a grin before taking a sip of his usual drink of choice. 

You were a bar maid at the Leaky Cauldron and Albert was one of your regulars. Now, you didn’t think that you would be a bar maid after graduating from Hogwarts and trying to become a professor, but the world had a funny way about it, didn’t it? Being a bar maid meant you got good tips and had the luxury of creating your own schedule, but it also meant when you worked, it was long hours of standing on your feet and serving cheap ale and lager to annoyed businessmen and exhausted workers from the hours of five o’clock to two o’clock in the morning. Work was grueling, but you tried to make as much fun of it as you could.

“It’s the least I can do, Al,” you sigh, flopping the dish towel over your shoulder as you lean over the bar. “Any juicy gossip for me today? I’ve been bored out of my skull since I clocked in and I still got another five hours ahead of me. I need some entertainment,” you groan, cracking your knuckles against the wood of the bar. The thought of another five hours dealing with more alcohol, more grumpy patrons, and another tired night made your head ache. 

Al takes a long sip from his mug, wiping the foam from his upper lip before speaking, “Not much gossip, I’m afraid.” You throw your head back and groan, taking an annoyed sip from your water. “Nothing interesting has happened, my dear,” he huffs in just as much annoyance as you. “We’re living in dark times, all news is usually disappointing, scary, or both. I’m looking for something hopeful just as much as you are,” Al confesses.

You tighten your ponytail and push your baby hairs away from your face, hands flopping on your shoulders as you slump over. Albert was right. The thought of a looming wizarding war over everyone’s heads was enough to keep everyone living in fear of when it would all come to a head and pop. At least working at the pub took your mind off of things, even if it was just for a few hours of the day.

“However,” Albert’s tone changes as you dart your eyes to him, curious. “I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the name Fleur Delacour? I heard through the grapevine that she has recently started working at Gringott’s. Desk job, but people were confused as to why should would come all the way to London for a silly desk job,” Albert explains before sipping from his ale again.

Your eyebrows furrow as the name does ring a bell. “The name sounds familiar. I certainly didn’t go to school with her or else I would know who she was. But the name is oddly recognizable...I’ll ask my younger sister when I speak to her next. She’s at Hogwarts now. I’m sure she’d know,” you tell Albert. “Anyone else take up a job? Familiar names or faces?” 

Al searches his memory for anything else. He presses his tongue to his cheek. “Yeah, there was someone else. William...I don’t remember the surname for life of me, but it was William something...” he trails off.

You think for a moment, trying to scan your brain for a William that you might know. But you drew blank. It had been so long since you saw anyone from your graduating class. You had spent most of your time in the pub or studying or applying for new professor jobs. But no one was looking to hire an under-experienced professor in these times, no matter how good your marks were at Hogwarts, regardless that you were top of your class in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. The thought makes you infuriated because you knew you could teach this new generation of wizards better than anyone else.  

Shaking your head, “Well, whatever, if he was important, you would know his name.” Albert shrugs. “I need to go bring in some kegs from the back, I’ll be back in a second,” you tell him before go around the bar, walking to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, hearing snippets of conversations here and there, most people talking about the news or their families. It was sad; just two years ago people would be roaring with laughter, telling stories and jokes, recounting happy times. Now, everyone was so focused on how the world as you knew it may be crumbling around you. 

The cool fall air wraps around you as you push the door to bring the kegs from outside in as you pull your jumper over your hands to make some make-shift mittens. “Bloody hell,” you whisper to yourself as you see three kegs lined up outside for you to bring in. “Seriously, Tom?” you groan as you grab one keg and start dragging it. “I don’t get paid enough for this, I swear,” you grumble. 

“Need a hand?” a voice interrupts you as you drag the steel keg across the cobblestone. 

You look up and your eyes meet a pair that you haven’t seen in years. An instant smile rises on your lips as the all too familiar red hair is swept in the wind. “You’re kidding,” you laugh as you stand up straight, brushing off your jumper as he smiles widely at you with a chuckle. “Bill Weasley as I live and breathe?” you laugh as you run towards him, Bill engulfing you in a large hug. Your arms wrap around him tightly as he picks you up, your feet leaving the ground as you giggly madly as Bill sways you back and forth. 

It had been years since you had seen Bill Weasley. The two of you had attended Hogwarts together in the same year and became fast friends. You had always admired how Bill was so smart and confident in himself (borderline arrogant, but in the sexiest best way). Bill was a popular one at Hogwarts, but through it all, he always managed to make time for you since you liked staying out of the lime light. Bill was well-loved and revered at Hogwarts, so it was obvious that he became a prefect during your time. And that’s when you two started to drift apart. He became busy doing his things and you became busy with your own studies. After graduation, the two of you went your separate ways, but you always wondered where he had gone. 

Bill sets you down on your feet, his hands still on your hips as he smiled brightly down at you. He looked so mature now, longer red hair tied back in a ponytail, but he was still tall, thin, and undeniably handsome. The hunter green jacket he sported clung onto his tall figure, underneath a button down that was unbuttoned just enough so you could see the chest hairs that poked out from the loose material. Hanging from his ear lobe was a fang earring that wasn’t there before. Bill had changed, but in a way that caught your eye in a way that has never happened before. You gulped. 

“Godric, (Y/N), you haven’t changed one bit,” Bill laughs as he takes a good look at you as you mentally curse that you had been wearing something different than your old blue jumper and leggings with stained boots from the bar. “How long has it been? Seven years?” he speaks as you nod. “Bloody hell, it feels like yesterday we were at Hogwarts,” he recounts the memories fondly as your heart warms to the same memories.

You smile brightly, “Time flies, Weasley.” He chuckles. “We can talk more about it if you help me bring in these kegs and I’ll treat you to an ale on the house. Or are you more of a lager man?” you ask as you walk back over to the steel kegs that wait to be dragged into the pub. 

Bill chuckles as you grab one keg, starting to drag it into the pub. Without any hesitation or effort, Bill picks up the remaining two kegs in each of his hands, muscles flexing underneath his jacket as he shakes his head. You gulp and avert your eyes, trying not to focus on the way he so effortlessly carried the heavy steel kegs as you pushed yours in. “More of a whiskey kind of guy if you got any of that,” Bill tells you as you push the kegs towards the back of the bar, Bill places his two next to yours. “I didn’t know you were working at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Walking back to the bar with Bill by your side you speak, “Yeah. Been working here for a while now since there seems to be a hold on hiring newer, younger professors,” you roll your eyes as Bill laughs. Bill remembered how badly you wanted to be a professor and teach the younger generations of wizards and witches magic. It was your dream, but now it was on pause. “What about you? Why are you back in London? Last I heard of you, you were in Egypt!” you nudge his arm with your elbow.

He gives you a smile, happy that you had been keeping your tabs on him. “I was in Egypt for a long while. Loved it, really. But I came home to help my family out with the Order and such. I’m working at Gringott’s now at a desk job. Very exciting, I know,” he rolls his eyes as you giggle, making your way behind the bar.

A William working at Gringott’s. I should have known, you think to yourself. “Hey Albert,” you call over the man who sits just a mere stool away from Bill. “That new William who's working at Gringott’s now? It’s not just any bloke, he’s a Weasley,” you smile at Albert who looks over to Bill with a look of realization. “Bill, this is Albert, one of my regulars. Al, this is Bill Weasley, we went to Hogwarts together.”

Bill gives Albert a firm shake shake and warm smile. “Nice to meet you, sir,” Bill beams. “You’ve been in good company with this one, I’m sure,” Bill winks as Albert chuckles lowly.

“That I have been. She’s great company and serves an even better mug of ale,” Albert speaks as you smile sweetly at him, Bill laughing. “I would love to stay and chat longer, but I gotta get home to the family,” Albert tells you and Bill, putting on his coat before digging into his pockets and places and handful of coins on the table to pay for his drinks and tip you generously as he usually did. “I’ll see you on Monday, my dear,” Albert calls as he walks towards the door, you giving him a salute goodbye.

Bill speaks, “He seems like a good guy.” You nod as you take out a glass and start to pour him a generous glass of Fire Whiskey before placing it front of him. “How did you know I take it neat? What if I wanted it on the rocks?”

You give him a knowing look. “I know you, Bill. Last time I checked, you were drinking Fire Whiskey straight from the bottle at your graduation party,” you recall with a light chuckle as Bill groans at the memory. “You were off your rocker that night, I’m tellin’ you,” you start to laugh harder, remembering how Bill stood up on the dining room table of the Burrow, singing along to music that he blasted as everyone laughed and sang along with him. Graduation was such a happy time in your young adult life, you wished you could go back and relive it.

He rubs his face with one hand and speaks, “We were a mess that night, weren’t we?” 

“We? Don’t drag me into this, Weasley! I was perfectly happy having one drink, but it was you who made me drink bloody Daisyroot Draught! The smell now makes me sick,” you contort your face with disgust as Bill laughs. “I will admit though, I’ve missed you quite a bit,” you confess, playing with the edges of the dish rag in your hands as you look up at Bill.

Slowly, a smile finds its way onto Bill’s lips as your heart flutters gently as his eyes look into yours. He still had the same eyes that you adored so fondly as a child and teen. In his eyes contained all the memories of Hogwarts and late nights and sleepover at the Burrow. His eyes had laughter and joy in them that you so missed during times like this. You missed Bill Weasley. For more than one reason.

“I’ve missed you more than quite a bit,” Bill reveals as you allow heat to rise to your cheeks. “I missed having my partner in crime around. Sneaking into the kitchens and then getting caught by McGonagall,” he recalls.

You laugh, “Stop, and then she asked if she could join us!” The two of you are in hysterics at the memory of eating leftovers and sweets in the kitchens with Minerva McGonagall as third year students, chatting about school and life after Hogwarts. McGonagall had always taken a liking to the two of you. She always said that you two were peas in a pod.

Bill smiles and takes a sip from his whiskey before speaking, “How long are you working tonight? I’d be happy to stay with you until you clock out.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m the closer and we don’t close the bar down until two in the morning.”

With a cheeky smirk, Bill huffs, “Well, we’ve got a lot to catch up on and we got...” he looks at the clock on the wall, “four and a half hours to kill. So, start talking, (Y/N). We’ve got all night,” he speaks, dropping his left eye in a wink as you smile with a blush. 

-----------

For the next four hours, you and Bill caught up on everything. And by everything, you mean everything. His life after Hogwarts sounded much more interesting than what you had been doing to keep busy. Bill had been spending his time as a Curse-Breaker for Gringott’s, going on missions throughout Egypt, coming home to London here and there. You smiled as he recounted his stories with such passion and love in his eyes. It was evident that Bill loved what he was doing and he was sad that he couldn’t continue doing his job, now being stationed back in London at a boring desk job. Quite the downgrade from fighting and defeating mummies to working an office job.

Soon, people were filing out of the bar as closing time approached until it was just you and Bill in the pub. You had moved from standing behind the bar to sitting on a stool next to Bill, leaning on the bar as you listened to his deep baritone voice speak to you. 

Bill placed a hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze. “(Y/N)? Tell me something,” he speaks.

“Anything, Weasley,” you smile at him, sleepily.

Bill chuckles, “Why are you working as a bar maid when you could be going out and doing what you love? Teaching. You’ve always wanted to teach students magic and it doesn’t seem fair that you are parked behind a bar pouring ale and lager to lazy blokes.” You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I’m serious. What’s stopping you?”

You sigh and recount everything that has held you back from doing what you want. First off, no wizarding school in the United Kingdom was hiring any professor right now due to the climate of the wizarding world. The only other option was moving to America and maybe teaching there at Ilvermorny? Maybe Beauxbatons in France? But it wasn’t a guarantee that you could find a job with such little teaching experience under your belt. “Besides the hiring freeze? I have no experience teaching, Bill. Plus, I want to make money for myself right now so I can save it up and move into my own place rather than living in my small flat with a bunch of my mates. The only other jobs are abroad and I do not have that much money to make a move like that. Besides, my whole family is here. My friends. And you’ve just come back now and leaving just seems illogical,” you sigh, knowing that your dream would have to wait.

He shakes his head, “Excuses, excuses.” You shake your head and take a sip from the whiskey that you had poured yourself, the amber liquid warming up your chest and stomach. It tasted like graduation. “If I can teach a year at Hogwarts, then you certainly can. Besides, you were just as good, if not better, than me in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m sure they could use your help more than ever right now.”

Looking up at Bill, you see how tender and soft his gaze is on you. He really meant every word he spoke to you with genuine honesty. Looking at Bill now was like looking at someone who you had known forever. He really hadn’t changed one bit. He was witty and kind and smart and sweet. Your Bill. But at the same time, he was different. He had become so mature and ruthless and brave. It was a new Bill, a Bill you could get used to. 

You look down and see that his hand was still placed on your knee. Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat and Bill retracts his hand, digging it into the pocket of his jacket again as you take a sip of your whiskey. “Well,” you start, “I know I would be a better professor than you...I’m better at a lot of things than you,” you tease him as he rolls his eyes. 

“Oh yeah? Do I smell a challenge?” Bill laughs as you shrug. “Ah, ah, don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he leans back in his chair, tongue pressed to his cheek as you gulp, the nickname making your palms sweat. “Go on,” he speaks, daring you to challenge him. “You chose.”

Trying to ignore the rapid increase in your heart rate, you swallow hard. “Fine,” you smile before reaching over to the other side of a bar, grabbing a jar filled with a red liquid and multiple bright red cherries. Twisting the cap open, you pluck out two maraschino cherries, one for you and one for Bill. “I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue faster than you can,” you smirk, flirtatiously biting the cherry of its stem as Bill’s eyes widen and he gulps, shifting in his seat.

He clears his throat, “Yeah? How much you wanna bet?” 

You think for a moment, trying to find a wager that would make this worth your while. “If I win, you pick up the tab from tonight,” you smile.

“I thought this was all on the house?” he scoffs with a smirk.

“Not if you lose,” you sing song, making him roll his eyes. “And Albert told me about a new worker at Gringott’s. Fleur Delacour? Yeah, you’ve gotta ask her out on a date,” you smirk. 

Bill’s eyes widen. “Fleur?!” he exclaims with a laugh. “She’s my co-worker! Plus, we’re just friends. Nothing’s there,” he reasons as you shake your head.

You laugh, “Well those are my terms if I win. Gotta get you out on the dating field, Weasley.” You tease him as he smirks, looking down at the whiskey glass in his hands. “And if you win?”

He thinks for a moment, swirling the whiskey around and around in his glass, pondering what his terms would be. Bill bites the cherry off the stem as you watch his lips move carefully, like you were in a trance of some kind. You quickly shake it off, trying to keep yourself from getting distracted by him. “If I win,” Bill huffs, “then first of all, the drinks are on the house. Second, you’ll have to stop by the Burrow because once Mum hears that you’re in London, she’ll have a cow,” he laughs as you giggle. Molly Weasley, what an angel. “And third of all,” he speaks, leaning forward on his elbows so he’s closer to your face as you inhale sharply, “I’ll ask whoever the fuck I want on a date.”

Your heart stops for a moment as your whole body tingles as the words all from his lips. You can’t take your eyes off of his you are frozen. Bill smirks at your reaction before slowly leaning back in his chair, biting down softly on his lower lip as you gulp. “O-Okay then,” you manage to make out, trying to reorient yourself as Bill chuckles. “Count of three?” you speak before placing the cherry stem in your mouth as Bill does his. “One...two...three.”

With that, the two of you start twisting your tongue around the cherry stem, trying to tie it before the other could. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and your stomach is doing flips as your mind is screaming what the hell is going on. The entire time Bill doesn’t take his eyes off of you, staring into yours. The act felt so inherently sexual that you could feel your palms sweat and a second heartbeat between your thighs grow. This was a terribly good idea. 

You can feel the cherry stem in your mouth finally slip into a knot as your eyes widen in victory, hand flying up to your mouth so you can show Bill the work you have done. As you hand reaches your lips, Bill’s fingers slyly pull his cherry stem out of his mouth just mere milliseconds before you. “I win,” he speaks.

“You cheated!” you instantly accuse him, pointing your finger at him.

Bill chuckles, “How did I cheat? I won fair and square and you know it, you sore loser.”

You shake your head, “I clearly won, you saw me! You had to have cheated, just so you could get free whiskey out of it!” Bill just shakes his head and grabs your chair, pulling you closer to him as you fail to notice as you keep rambling nervously. “Admit it, Bill, you just don’t like to admit that you’re not Hogwarts’ golden child anymore. You’ve out grown that title. Step aside for the new winner which is me, of course. You know I won, come on, Bill. I def-”

“(Y/N)?” he asks softly.

You realize that you are mere inches away from Bill now, his hands resting on either side of your stool. You inhale slowly and gulp, trying to calm yourself down to prepare for the inevitable. “Yes, Bill?” you respond just as softly.

“Shut up,” he whispers with a smile.

“Okay.”

Without further hesitation, Bill leans forward and connects your lips together as you inhale deeply, kissing him back and wrapping your arms around his neck instantly. Bill’s hands slide around your sides before hoisting you onto the bar, him standing between your legs as he kisses you deeper. You wrap your legs around his torso, drawing him closer to you, needing to feel his body pressed against yours. His lips move against yours with deep desire that he had been saving for so long and finally, you both were getting what you wanted for so long. His mouth tasted of the whiskey as you took more and more of it, drunk off of his kiss. 

His hands held onto you tightly, not daring to let you go as you lightly moaned into his lips, making him smirk. Bill’s tongue was cool against yours as he massaged yours with his, snogging you right in the middle of the bar. Your mouths moved together, lusting after the other’s touch. You hands ran down his chest and his abs as he groaned gently into your mouth, making your stomach flutter as you smirked softly. Bill’s hand cupped your cheek before making its way to the back of your neck, pressing your lips harder against his. 

You wanted to take him in this pub just like this, but Bill pulls away before you can push off his jacket. The two of you are breathless from kissing, chest heaving up and down, a smile on both of your faces as you blush a wild crimson. “You win,” you surrender to Bill who chuckles.

“I always win, sweetheart,” he winks before kissing you again, this time short as you whine when he pulls away. “And since I won, that means that this whiskey,” he points to his glass, “is on the house, you’ll be joining the Weasley’s for Sunday dinner, and on Monday night, you’ll be taking the night off so I can take you out on a proper date rather than just snogging on the bar of the pub,” he speaks as you laugh.

You run your fingers through his hair, “You mean you do like snogging me on the bar?” you tease him.

Bill furrows his brows, “Hey, hey, slow your roll. Don’t put words in my mouth now.” You laugh, placing your hands on his shoulders. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than snog you in every location of his pub,” he winks as you roll your eyes. “But I reckon a girl like you should be taken out on a proper date by a bloke like me, eh?” 

Pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, you speak against them, “It’d be my honor.”

“Wicked,” he smirked, giving your sides a squeeze before hoisting you down from the bar. “How about you lock this place up and I’ll walk you back to your flat. Can’t have precious cargo like you roaming the streets alone,” he speaks with a gentle tap on your bum as you roll your eyes.

You shove his shoulder teasingly, “Hey, just because you came back from Egypt, Mr. Big Shot, doesn’t mean you make my decisions for me.” Bill chuckles as you smile, “But yeah, I’ll let you walk me home, Weasley.”

[terzos-edibles]

Silver Linings

1. Gotta Keep On, Keepin' On

Summary: No kid, no tribe, and avoiding his responsibilities, Din Djarin has gone back to bounty hunting and mercenary work under the watchful eye of Boba Fett. After a job on Ibaar goes very wrong in more ways than Din would like to count, he is forced to flee with a very peculiar New Republic doctor. He is determined to get enough credits and fuel to drop the doctor off on her home planet and be done with it. But will he be able to part ways with her after she finds all the right and wrong ways to push his buttons?

Words: 1.8k

Rated Mature: language, canonical violence, depression, mentions of suicidal behavior.

“I don't know if I'm scared of dying But I'm scared of living too fast, too slow Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I've got to go There’s no starting over No new beginnings time races on.” - My Silver Lining, First Aid Kit

Ibaar-

The fist of the Empire reached far, sweeping across the farthest reaches of the Galaxy; the deepest corners seemed to have felt its influences. Even the smallest, poorest planets had Stormtroopers deployed to them - a formality to further oppress the planets’ occupants and show their might - and dissuade any sort of rebellion from sparking. The destruction of the second Death Star and subsequent death of Emperor Palpatine at the hands of the Rebellion had shown that plan hadn’t, well, panned out. Still, in the five years or so after the fall of the Empire, the New Republic was just now starting to finally make its way into the Outer Rim Territories after ensuring that the more strategically essential planets were well taken care of. Remnants of the Empire still clung to those planets, holding out hope that the Empire would somehow revive itself and their loyalty would be rewarded. Many felt that the New Republic had abandoned them, that things hadn’t gotten any better since the Empire had fallen. It would be the same as it had always been. The Outer Rim would continue to be forgotten, continued to be terrorized by Remnant Stormtroopers, continued to be terrorized by pirates, and continued to be terrorized by gangsters. People had given up hope once again.

But, aid was coming. Slowly, but it was coming. New Republic troops were starting to make their way back out towards planets that needed them, bringing with them much-needed supplies and rations. Marshals were installed in the major cities and villages to help keep the peace and bring a sense of law to an otherwise lawless territory. Medical teams were dispatched to provide much-needed tautology assistance to planets that were unable to get the care they needed.

Doctor Gertrude Ásketill was the first in line to sign up for those peace operations. She was coming hot off of her time as a rebel medic. She was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and full of hope as they deployed her to the first assignment. She had an entire team - plenty of assistants and droids to ensure that everyone got the proper care they needed. They were able to start a proper clinic, train the locals, and establish a line to the core planets to ensure they could get all the medicine and vaccines they would need. Trudy felt good when she left that planet for the second.

The second planet saw fewer supplies and resources. She thought maybe it might have been a mistake. This planet had a bigger population than the last. Perhaps they didn't realize they needed to send more supplies, but then the third and fourth planets came. Supplies and resources were stripped as funding got cut, and slowly her team was redistributed to other projects.

And that left Trudy on the fifth planet - Ibaar.

It was just her and a few other doctors spread across the Outer Rim that was left of the program. She was sure that they would be recalled back to Chandrila - the capital of the Republic, but that had been almost a year ago. She had been on Ibaar for about as long. She was alone; at least, it felt that way. The only other two in her clinic with her was an older model R4-7 droid named A9-C that had been reprogrammed to help in the medical field. The humanoid-shaped, bug-eyed droid was built in the early days of the Empire and complained more than he assisted. The other was a teenager named Max, who had taken an interest in medicine. Whether it was because he liked Trudy or wanted to become a medic was to be answered. He was a good assistant and listened.

The only other Republic representative on Ibaar with Trudy was the Marshal: Baxley Morgan. How that man ever got the job of Republic Marshal was beyond her. It was probably why he ended up out here. He had a good heart, but the boy was dumb as a brick, and while she was no fighter - she could at least shoot a blaster well enough to hit whatever she was pointing at. It might not have been where she wanted it to go, but at least it’d hit its target.

The Empire had put blockades up to punish the Ibaarians for being sympathetic to the rebel cause. The aid that had been promised to the Ibaarians had finally come, and it was a little lackluster. The locals were friendly enough, but they felt a little betrayed. Trudy couldn’t blame them.

Trudy had become jaded herself; things were back to the status quo. There weren’t any more Imperial blockades, but with the lack of resources and supplies coming in - there might as well have been.

Ibaar, all-in-all, wasn’t a bad planet. It was a mountainous, temperate planet. The capital village, and the one that Trudy was in, was nestled in a valley - built into the side of the mountain while the rest of the land in the valley was used for farming. The natural cliffs that reached their stony fingertips to the sky provided a natural defense for the village, and the hundreds of waterfalls that cascaded down their sides gave the village and farms much-needed water. On a clear day, you could see for miles around. Though for all of Ibaar’s beauty, the weather was the worst. They could be lucky to see the sun one, maybe twice, per month. The rest of the month was plagued with overcast clouds, fog, daily rain, and nightly thunderstorms. It took some getting used to, and Trudy had ordered extra vitamins to help with the lack of sun.

Despite being the capital village of Ibaar, Laakso Village didn’t even have its own docking bay within the village’s boundaries, especially - making already scarce supplies harder to get. Luckily speeders made that journey a bit less complicated, though it was still rough going. A local warlord and his gang - a former Imperial commander and his troopers - had taken it upon themselves to decide that the Ibaarian Mountains were a great place to hide and run their smuggling business out of, using the old rebel tunnels from the war.

It made things dangerous.

Unsuspecting travelers going to and from the port or any of the other smaller villages in the mountains would be ambushed. Those lucky to survive had their property stolen. The bandits would look for anything from blasters, food, credits, various forms of technology they could get their hands on, and medical supplies. Trudy didn’t know how many villagers and travelers she had patched up in her time there, injured by ambushes. While the gang kept the locals terrified, they still hadn’t been bold enough to make their way into Laasko Village, choosing instead to raid the smaller outer villages - ones not protected by a marshal.

Baxley was having a hell of a time dealing with it himself and had brought up hiring some extra help. Trudy had nipped that in the bud; hiding behind hired mercenaries wasn’t going to do anyone any good - that he really needed to call in support from the Republic. The conversation tapered off after that, and the emergency seemed to have died down. However, as it always did, there was no downtime. The newest crisis cropped up - the report of the flu on a neighboring planet in the same system. A planet Ibaar happened to trade with. Which meant Trudy had to work to get vaccines to Ibaar before everyone was sick. She had ordered them about a month ago. Thank the stars someone was on her side, and the vaccines only took a month to get to her. Someone had made the shipment hastily, and they were currently waiting for someone to pick them up. Trudy couldn’t pull her boots on fast enough when the docking attendant called her to report they had been dropped off. Within fifteen minutes, she was in a speeder with a blaster and Max in the passenger seat. They would get there by nightfall - if they were lucky. Trudy just hoped to the stars above that nothing happened on their way.

----

It seemed as though Trudy’s silent prayers were answered. She pulled the speeder around to the docking bay and left it idling as Max hopped out of it, striding up to the attendant’s office and rapping his knuckles on the glass. He had grown like a sprout since Trudy had been there, now easily towering over her - though that wasn’t exactly hard to do. Brownish red shaggy hair constantly fell into his eyes, much to his mother’s dismay, and he was a lot less intimidating than he liked to think he was, especially with those freckles. Trudy waited as they exchanged words, waving a hand as the attendant poked his head out of his office and motioned to where the vaccines were - clearly annoyed he had been interrupted from his dinner and whatever wrestling match was on the holo. Trudy moved towards the vaccines, scanning them in with the datapad she pulled from her pack and happy to see that they didn’t have to quite rush back with them. Their cooling system had enough charge to allow them to rest a little bit - though they would still have to make the trip back by night. Max helped her load the crates into the back of the speeder and went out front to buy them both some roasted tip-yip and drinks from the food cart out front. Trudy turned around, eyeing the gunship docked in the bay the vaccines had been stored in. Annoyance twisted in her stomach that the valuable vaccines were stored where some random visitor to the planet could just poke through them. Though, the presence of the gunship made her raise an eyebrow. Not many ships like this made their way out here; either the owner was here for a quick refuel, or they were up to something no good. She scowled at it as Max returned with the tip-yip on a stick and a couple of cool bottles of water. “We didn’t get harassed today,” Max observed as he sat down on the roof of the speeder, and Trudy took a seat inside. “You think somethin’ is goin’ on?”

She nibbled at the meat on the stick and offered a shrug, turning to look back at the gunship. “Who knows. I just hope they keep whatever they’ve got going on out of the village. I want to sleep peacefully when we get back.”

You know the phrase famous last words? Those were Trudy’s.

--- Miles away, a Mandalorian clad in beskar armor was about to attempt to take down a stronghold of bandits and remnant stormtroopers all on his own. Maybe Fennec Shand was right. Maybe he was suicidal. ** Chapter 2: But I Ain't Dead Yet Taglist: @novemberrain221, @blackdogdesignuk, @mistyfur5, @thepoisonofgod

[seonghwanotes]

the first snow | park seonghwa

pairing: doctor!seonghwa × doctor!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this was highly inspired by hospital playlist but please bare in mind that i wrote this in january 2021, i didn't expect hospital playlist season 2 to have a similar scene like this in ep 1 T-T hope that you'll enjoy this piece! one of my comfort imagines <3

Working in the medical field was a battle between saving your patients’ life and struggling to save your mental state. It wasn’t something new to you, instead it became a routine that it wasn’t surprising anymore if you skipped meals & hours of sleep even if it was 3 hours of rest.

Somehow, it was a mix of good and bad luck for you tonight.

Good luck since you finished at 2am on a Friday but you knew you still had to be on standby in case there were any emergency cases coming your way, even if there was another doctor on standby to cover up for you. Bad luck since you took the bus to work and you could have walked back home but it started snowing.

You took off your glasses and rubbed your temples lightly, the small sensation sending you into a reclined state. You were hungry and sleep deprived, if there was anything that kept you awake at that moment, it was your 6th cup of coffee you had in the afternoon which was approximately 12 hours earlier.

Despite all the obstacles you were facing, your ultimate aim was to reach home, cook yourself some instant noodles and sleep for at least 6 hours. You were lost in reality when you walked into the elevator, mindlessly clicking the button as the door closed. You let out a dry chuckle, realising it was the first time you finished that early since usually you would leave the hospital at 6 or 7am, then returning back at 11am or 12pm.

The elevator doors opened and you took a step in front but backtracked when you realised it wasn’t the ground floor yet. A man who looked about your age walked in and stood beside you, doors closing once again. He was holding an umbrella which made you scrunch your face until you realised that it was snowing outside and you only had your coat to cover you.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, heaving a loud sigh, not caring that a good looking guy was next to you and was most likely giving you a weird look for doing so.

“Are you good?”

With tired eyes, you looked up at him and eyed him for a quick second. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He laughed, “All lies, Dr Y/N.”

To hear your name escape from the lips of a stranger made you come to your senses and you were not so tired anymore. You raised a brow and looked at the taller man, “You know my name?”

“You’re quite famous around here, in case you forgot. I hear your name in every room I go to and happened to catch you walking around the vending machine during breaks. Oh, that has me wondering; how are you living off coffee?” He asked you.

You laughed, flustered that even someone you didn’t know of had monitored your movements in the hospital. “Haven’t had the time to eat so I’m relying on caffeine.”

“Bet you haven’t eaten today then.” He stated, the elevator door opening up, finally reaching the ground floor. The entrance of the hospital was eerie and quiet although it was lit up brightly with lights and the receptionist was taking a quick nap while his assistant was on guard for him.

You both walked out, walking slowly where deep down, you both wanted to secretly waste time to talk to each other, ignoring the hunger and sleep creeping up on you. “Yeah, just for a few days now.”

He stopped walking and looked at you with wide eyes, “Few days? You’re being a hypocrite, you know? Doctors tell others to eat on time while you’re skipping meals.”

“I still manage to sneak in some energy bars!” You answered, defensively. He laughed at your answer and continued walking. It would have been a lie if you said that your heart didn’t skip a beat when you heard him laugh at your answer. It was then it hit you that you hadn’t asked for his name.

“So, are you not going to introduce yourself to me?” You asked, crossing your arms and looking up at him.

His brows rose, “Oh, you don’t know me?” It came off more cocky than it should have which made you snicker, “Am I supposed to know you? This is my first time meeting you.”

“Park Seonghwa, pediatrics. I just transferred two weeks ago.” He put his hand out for you to shake which you accepted, and you let out a gasp right after.

“Oh God, the Park Seonghwa? The interns in my department wouldn’t stop gushing about how godly you look like.” You told him, earning a laugh from him again. “Well, now there’s a face to that name.”

You both walked out of the hospital and were met with the snow covered ground. You tugged on the sleeves of your thick coat, let out a shaky breath from the cold as it formed a cloud in front of you. Stupid of you to not take your car to work, you thought.

“It’s the first snow today.” Seonghwa breathed out, his warm breath fogged up his glasses. Everyone spent their first snow with their significant other while every year, you spent it in your office or you had surgery. Even though you were with a doctor you had just met, it felt a little different than usual.

His dark hair almost blended in with the night sky as you looked at him, wanting to ask him if he was up for dinner. Or maybe, it was a little too late for that. You looked away and watched the snow fall. Instinctively, you put a hand out to catch a snowflake but Seonghwa grabbed your wrist and pulled it back, making you frown. “You’re already shivering, I don’t think I would want you to get a cold now.”

Red tinted your cheeks, making Seonghwa let go of your hand before he shyly ran a hand through his hair. “I see that you don’t have an umbrella.”

“Ah, yeah. I must have misread the weather forecast.” You confessed, receiving a nod from him.

He looked down at his watch before looking back at you. “It is pretty late but I know a good place that sells noodles and soju, would you be up to join me? May or may not be in a romantic way, depends on how you perceive my request.” He asked, being direct and honest with his request.

You chuckled, “Is no an option?”

“It is but you’ll be missing out on a good meal, a good drink, and a good companion to enjoy it with. Oh, no umbrella to bring you back home too.” He said, making you laugh again.

“It’s a yes because I’m starving and a hot bowl of noodles sounds delightful.” You answered, causing the boy to grin widely. He opened his umbrella and held it above him before he looked at you. “Shall we go now?”

You nodded and joined him under the umbrella, leaving no gap for the two of you as you both walked. It was a little too cold for your liking as well and Seonghwa seemed to notice it. “I was half joking when I said my request could have been romantic or not but if it’s too cold, feel free to hold my hand until we reach the place.”

You were taken aback with his words, “For someone I just met a few minutes ago, you’re really brazen and may I add, flirty.”

Seonghwa chuckled, “You are walking with that very stranger to have dinner with him at 2am.”

He wasn’t wrong with that and maybe the first snow was a sign for you to let someone into your life again after investing your time into your work. So without hesitating, you intertwined your fingers with his, causing him to stay silent for a bit before he looked away, smiling quite widely.

“Oh my, you’re really warm.” You commented, making him bring up your hands where you squeezed his a little too hard as a yelp left his mouth. You giggled at his sound, looking up at him and found him staring at you with his starry eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I thought you were cute from afar but you’re prettier up close.” He said, making you blush and look down. You would have pulled away but it was too cold, “I’m not wearing any makeup and I haven’t had any sleep. You’ve got some weird taste there, Dr Park.”

“You can call me Seonghwa.” He butted in, “Your concern for your patients and your sacrifices for the hospital works as your makeup, it’s pretty impressive.”

“Wow,” You breathed, “Your wordplay is interesting. Not bad, Seonghwa.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” He laughed. “I know it would probably get busy for you after this but, can I take you out some other time as well? A proper dinner or anything you’d like.”

This man was one whole new breed. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, that’s a good synonym. Would that be a yes?”

His tall figure towered over you which felt like an extra protective shield under the umbrella and you couldn’t help but feel like you were back in your younger days, the concept of love coming back alive. You were curious yourself to know of the sequel to your first snow with Seonghwa so you nodded.

“As long as we’re coming here again after a long day of work instead of a fancy restaurant on our off day, it’s a yes.”

[intheticklecloset]

My Hero Academia Sentence Starters #81-90

A collection of the MHA sentence starters I’ve done, compiled for the sake of ease. These are all stand-alone stories.

~~~

81) Lee Kirishima, Ler Deku

“How can you hate something that makes you laugh so beautifully?” Deku asked, poking and prodding at the pudge below Kirishima’s belly button, along his waistline. “Squish! Squish! It’s so cute, and it makes you giggle like crazy!”

Kirishima’s neck and ears were as red as his hair. He squirmed on the ground beneath Deku’s pin, his arms trapped at his sides, unable to do anything but lay there and endure the tickly pokes and pinches the greenette gave his pudge. “Nohohohohoho,” he whined, turning his head to the side to try and hide his wide smile. “It’s nohohohohot cuhuhuhute…”

“It is cute!” Deku insisted, taking a tiny bit between his fingers and pinching gently, drawing a “yeep!” out of Kiri. “Squish! Squishy! Squishy-squishy! Tickly squishy squish!”

“Stohohohohohop it!” Kiri giggled, clenching his teeth against his own giggle fit. “Midoriya!”

“But it’s so cute! And look at that big smile! I love that it’s so tickly-ticklish that you just can’t stand it!” Deku beamed, continuing his playful torture. “Come on, Kirishima – you have to admit you love how much it tickles you. Squishy-squishy! Tickly-squishy!”

“Plehehehehehease!” Kiri squealed, unable to hold back his flood of helpless giggles any longer. “It tihihihihihickles so muhuhuhuch! Midoriyahahaha!”

“And?” Deku smirked, enjoying playing with his friend this way. “What else?”

“That’s ahahahahahall!”

“Liar~”

“Nonono please dohohon’t – don’t do thahahahahat!” Kirishima begged as Deku’s hands closed around his wrists, pinning him in place while he settled in for a new kind of tickle torture. “Nohohoho, plehehehease – PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, MIDORIYA!!”

Deku blew raspberry after raspberry along Kiri’s pudge, occasionally nibbling on it as well, keeping his friend in stitches and teasing between each round until the redhead finally gave in. “Tickly-squishy! Tickle, tickle, little squish~ Your pudge is so ticklish, it’s adorable~”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEASE!!” Kiri tossed his head back and laughed hysterically, completely defeated by the gentle, loving, ticklish treatment. “IT’S CUHUHUHUHUTE, OKAHAHAY?! IT’S CUTE JUST STAHAHAHAHAP IT!!”

Deku giggled, blowing one last raspberry before sitting up and patting Kiri’s tummy affectionately. “And don’t you forget it.”

*

82) Lee Deku, Ler Kaminari

“I’ve been meaning to try this again!” Kaminari laughed as he hugged Deku tight against him, pressing his fingers into his friend’s ribs and igniting his famous “tickle-shocks” to make him squeal and giggle uncontrollably.

“Stohohohohohop! Plehehehehehease, Kaminahahahari!” Deku shrieked with giggles, squirming desperately in the blonde’s hold, trying to push away but unable to do so. Kami could be really strong when he wanted to be, and right now Deku had a feeling he wasn’t going anywhere until his friend was good and satisfied with this spontaneous tickly attack. “Ehehehehehehehe! Kamiehehehehehehehe!”

Kami chuckled. “What’s the matter? At least I’m not tickling your hips…yet.”

“Nohohohohohoho! Plehehehease, don’t! Kami, plehehehehease!”

“I only threatened to, Midoriya,” Kami laughed, squeezing his sides and igniting his shocks there. He was surprised when Deku arched his back, a laugh being ripped from him before settling into another long string of giggles. “You act like it’ll really tickle or something~”

“It wihihihihihill! It will – plehehehehehehease, Kaminari!”

Kami began to slide one hand down to the aforementioned hot spot, grinning wickedly over Deku’s shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hug, Midoriya – why are you getting so worked up?”

“B-Behehehecause you’re tihihihihickling me!” Deku cried, squirming even harder now. He knew where Kami was going and the thought of his hips being subjected to the strong tickle-shocks made him weak in the knees already. “Plehehehehehehease, dohohohon’t!”

But Kami did, grabbing his hip, pressing his thumb into the hollow, and lighting up his tickle-shocks once more. He couldn’t help but laugh along with his friend when Deku tossed his head back and screamed with hysterical laughter, his struggling growing wild. It was all he could do to hang onto him with his free arm.

“Heh! Tickle, tickle, little Deku~”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, STAHAHAHAHAHAP!! IT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!! IT TICKLES – GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Kaminari laughed, finally releasing him and ruffling his hair. “All right, I suppose that’s enough for one day.”

Deku clutched his stomach as he bent over with leftover giggles, gasping for breath, smiling so big as to blind the world with its brilliance. “T-Thank you…”

*

83) Switches Todoroki and Kirishima

“Nothing better to get your mind off of it than a good old-fashioned tickle fight!” Kirishima declared, tackling Todoroki to the couch and going straight for his thighs, which he knew was a hot spot.

“WHAHAHAHAHAT?!” Todoroki squealed, grabbing Kiri’s shoulders and pushing uselessly, head thrown back in surprised laughter. “HEHEHEHEHEHEY!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Tickle fight!” Kiri replied with a laugh of his own, not straddling his friend on purpose so he had a chance to fight back. “Unless you want me to just tickle it out of your mind instead?”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Todoroki plunged his fingers into Kiri’s ribs. “TAHAHAHAKE THIHIHIHIHIS!!”

Kiri screeched, instantly bringing his arms to his sides defensively, toppling onto Todoroki’s chest as he laughed and kicked. “NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE, YOU MEHEHEANIE!!”

“Meanie?” Todoroki laughed. “What are we, five?” He managed to push Kiri onto the floor beside the couch, still standing but leaning over to get a good grip on his ribs and underarms. “You started it. Tickle, tickle!”

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Kiri indulged himself for a few moments openly before desperately scrambling to grab onto any part of Todoroki that he could. Unfortunately for the half-and-half hero, that meant his ankle was the closest thing he could reach, and after using his hardening quirk to make himself immune to tickles, Kiri pulled on his leg to knock him off balance.

Todoroki yelped and stumbled to the ground, falling onto his back in the same moment that Kirishima ripped off his sock and started scribbling over his bare foot. “Ha! Who’s getting tickle-tickled now, Todoroki?”

“CRAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Todoroki collapsed weakly onto the floor, too overcome by the ticklish feeling to do much more than lay there and take it. “NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!”

“Not where? Not here?” Kiri scratched his finger up and down his arch, enjoying how his usually stoic friend completely exploded with laughter, flopping on the ground like a fish out of water. “Ooh, your foot seems to be really ticklish! I wonder what would happen if I tickled the other one, too…?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO—!!”

*

84) Lees Deku and Bakugou, Ler All Might

“AIIEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! ALL MIHIHIHIHIHIGHT!!” Deku screamed with laughter, desperately trying to dislodge his mentor’s firm grip on his hip.

Bakugou lay to his left, also roaring with laughter, legs kicking wildly. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP YOU IHIHIHIHIHIHIDIOT!!”

All Might knelt easily on one each of their legs, keeping them pinned in place while he tickled each of their worst spots. They’d been fighting all morning, and he’d had just about enough of it. “I’m not stopping until you two can get along.”

“I’M SOHOHOHOHOHOHORRY!!” Deku pleaded immediately.

Bakugou growled around his hysterics. “I’M NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT!! FRICKING STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!!”

All Might considered for a moment, then said, “You both need to learn to work together. You, especially, young Bakugou. So when the two of you can break away from me by working together, I’ll let you go.”

“NO WAHAHAHAHAHAHAY!!” Bakugou yelled.

Deku squealed when All Might found the hollow that really got him hysterical, pounding his fist on the ground in submission. “KAHAHAHAHAHAHACCHAN, PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“WHY AHAHAHAHARE YOU BEHEHEHEHEGGING ME?! I’M NOHOHOHOT TIHIHICKLING YOU!!”

“WE HAHAHAHAHAHAVE TO WORK TOGEHEHEHEHEHETHER!!”

“FORGEHEHEHEHEHET IT!!” Bakugou’s laughter suddenly went silent when both of his sweet spots were attacked at once, and Deku’s cackling died down to breathless giggles at the brief respite. All Might used both of his hands to focus on tickling the angry blonde into submission, which didn’t take long thanks to his ruthless plan of attack. “OKAYOKAYOKAY I’M SORRY TOO JUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Deku weakly sat up and used One For All to jerk one of All Might’s arms off of Bakugou. “L-Leheheave him alone, he said he’s sorry…”

“Oh? Back for more, young Midoriya?”

“Nonono – GAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” It was Deku’s turn to go berserk while Bakugou recovered. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, ALL MIHIHIHIGHT!! KACCHAHAHAHAN!!”

Bakugou groaned, igniting sparks in his palm. “S-Stop it – we both apologized, now let us go!”

“Not until you learn to work together.” All Might held firm, but decided to give them a chance by tickling both of their stomachs in tandem, which he knew were lesser spots on them both. “Fight me off as a team, and I’ll let you go.”

Deku and Bakugou learned a very important – albeit silly – lesson that day.

*

85) Lee Iida, Ler Todoroki

“It feheheels nice, okay?” Iida admitted through a couple of choked giggles, clenching his fists in his lap as Todoroki gently prodded into his side.

Todoroki stared at him in surprise. “It – it does? Really?”

“Yehehes.”

Hesitant but curious, Todoroki applied more pressure by adding more fingers than just his pointer to the mix, gently squeezing Iida’s side. The class rep squeaked and brought a knee up instinctively, but still didn’t move to fight him back at all. “I thought you didn’t really like being tickled. And I wasn’t even trying to tickle you just now.”

“I knohohohow.” Iida put a hand over his mouth to cover up his snickers and his blush at the same time.

Todoroki quirked a brow. “None of that. I’m the dorm’s resident tickle monster, you know. If I see you covering up I’ll just make it worse.”

Iida’s hand shot back down to his lap.

All Todoroki had tried to do was practice his anatomy homework by seeking out the vertebrae in Iida’s spine and each of his ribs. He’d intended to do it as lightly as possible so as not to cause his friend any discomfort, since he knew – or at least, thought he knew – that Iida hated being tickled. But now the class rep was giggling up a storm and not even fighting him back.

“I – I guehehehess even I neheheed a lahahahaugh once in a whihihihile…” Iida managed, turning his face away from Todoroki, arms shaking from the effort to hold still.

Todoroki smiled gently. “Well, you know I’m always happy to oblige. Just let me know when you really want me to stop, though, okay?”

“Okahahahay.”

Todoroki kept practicing and – by extension – kept tickling for another couple of minutes before Iida finally asked him to stop, having had enough for now. Neither of them said as much out loud, but they still agreed to keep this anatomy practice session between them for the time being.

*

86) Lee Todoroki, Lers Kirishima and Bakugou

“Relax, baby, just enjoy it~” Kiri purred into Todoroki’s ear, lazily scribbling his fingers over his boyfriend’s bare ribs.

On the other side of him, Bakugou chuckled. “Yeah. You love it, don’t you, icy-hot?”

Todoroki was absolutely melting under their double tickle treatment. He was lying between them on the bed, and they were each snuggled up to one side of him, leaning on his arms to pin them above his head as they scraped and scribbled and teased the skin of his bare torso. He whined through his giggles, blushing hard but loving the attention.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle~” Kiri teased, gradually beginning to circle his belly button. “Poor, ticklish little Shoto~”

“Can’t take a few light tickles, huh, baby?” Bakugou added, kissing the shell of his ear for extra tickly emphasis. “Poor thing~”

Todoroki couldn’t even speak at this point; he was far too flustered to do anything but lay there and giggle and squirm and enjoy every second of this impromptu, loving tickle torture.

Kiri dipped his finger into his navel at the same time that Bakugou sat up, gripping his arm to keep it above his head while tracing the outline of his underarm with a fingernail. Todoroki squealed and arched his back, pushing himself further into Kiri’s tickly embrace while trying to escape Bakugou’s. Both of his boyfriends were being completely ruthless tonight, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely love it.

“Plehehehehease,” he finally begged after several moments, after Bakugou finally began scribbling in his underarm with purpose. “No mohohohohohore…”

“You don’t really mean that, do you, Sho?” Kiri asked, kissing his cheek and raking his nails along his waistline in tandem. “You don’t want us to stop~”

“Nohohohohohoho…”

Bakugou shot Kiri a smirk, and both of them suddenly pulled a necktie out of their back pockets, beginning to bind Todoroki’s wrists to the headboard of the bed. Todoroki’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement.

“Good thing, babe,” the blonde said, finishing up his handiwork with a flourish. “Because we’re not even close to done with you yet.”

*

87) Lee Todoroki, Ler Momo

“You’re just so ticklish, I can’t stand it!” Momo grinned.

Todoroki clutched his shirt with one hand, giggling so hard he could barely speak. “You cahahahahan’t stahahahahand it?! H-How do you thihihihihihink I feel?!”

“I think you’re having fun with it,” she replied, gently trailing the paintbrush along the lines in his palm. “You haven’t tried to pull away once.”

“Gah!” Todoroki grabbed onto the nearest thing he could find – a throw pillow – and pulled it to him, hugging it tight against his chest. The soft bristles of the brush against his palm were driving him completely insane. How could one person have such ticklish hands?! “Y-You cohohohohohould stohohop anytime you wahahahahant to, you knohohohohow!”

“I know.” She began trailing the brush across the heel of his hand, over his wrist, gradually up his inner forearm. “But this is more fun, don’t you think?”

“Ehehehehehehehehe!” Todoroki couldn’t help the high-pitched, happy giggles pouring from his mouth at this point. He kicked his legs, doing everything in his power to stay still and take it. “Momohohohohoho!”

She giggled at his ticklish reactions, dragging the brush back down to his palm, then ditching it entirely and replacing it with her nails. This seemed to get an even stronger reaction, as he actually struggled against her for the first time, his giggles turning to laughter as she neared his elbow again.

“Plehehehehehease, stahahahahahap!” He begged. “It tihihihihihickles so bahahahahad! Momo!”

Momo beamed but stopped as requested, picking up the paintbrush to twirl it in her fingers with ease. “You’re cute, you know? You must really love it if you can stay still for so long.”

He blushed so hard his whole face matched his scar. “Shush.”

“What do you say we try your ears next? I bet they’re pretty ticklish, too~”

“F-Fine,” he stammered, lifting his gaze to meet hers with a confident – if a bit wobbly – smirk. “Bring it on.”

*

88) Lee Bakugou, Ler Kirishima

“I’m going to count down from one minute,” Kirishima said as he settled himself on his boyfriend’s hips, grinning. “And during that time I’m not going to let up on your sweet spot. Not one little bit.” He placed his hands on his upper ribs. “Ready?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened. In a blind panic, he stammered, “W-What – no! No, I’m not ready! Ei – NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” He tossed his head back and screeched, clamping his arms to his sides, kicking his legs violently. None of it helped him; he was still just as stuck and just as ticklish. “FRICK, NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! EIJIROU, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Kirishima was beaming, counting slowly backwards from sixty. “Fifty-five…fifty-four…”

“COUNT FASTER YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERK!! KIRI I CAN’T – PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Fifty-one…fiiiiifty…”

Bakugou screamed through his laughter, already feeling hoarse and on the verge of mirthful tears, and it hadn’t even been ten seconds yet.

Kirishima kept his word, curling his fingers into his boyfriend’s ultimate ticklish spot with relentless precision, never stopping or letting up once no matter how loud he shrieked or laughed or begged for mercy. By the time he got to thirty seconds poor Bakugou was red in the face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he laughed himself into a kind of ticklish stupor. He was too far gone to even protest at this point; all he could do was endure it.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GOD, PLEHEHEHEASE – FRIHIHIHIHICK – AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Kirishima couldn’t help but giggle along with him, tickling just as hard and just as fast as he got down to the twenties, the tens, and finally the last five.

“Five,” he said, really going for it now.

Bakugou was screaming bloody murder at this point, his kicking weakened but just as frantic. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Four…”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, EIJIROU!!”

“Three…two…”

Bakugou let out what sounded like a wail of distress when his boyfriend didn’t immediately say one – the final number that would end this ticklish torture. “ONE!! ONE, ONE, OHOHOHOHONE!! KIRISHIMAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“One!” Kiri finally let up, removing his hands from Bakugou entirely, letting his poor boyfriend gasp for breath and shakily try to wipe the mirthful tears from his eyes, his face dark red. He chuckled. “Good job, baby~”

“Shut up…you f-fricking…s-sadist…” Bakugou tensed when Kiri grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head. “N-No, wait! No more, please! Eiji—mmph!” He was cut off with a kiss that made his heart race in an entirely different way.

Kiri chuckled. “Maybe I am, but you didn’t say the safe word, now did you?”

*

89) Lee Todoroki, Ler Iida

“I…I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Todoroki hedged. He sat on the couch in the living room of the Class 1-A dorms, averting his eyes from his class rep as he spoke.

“Why? If you let them go untreated it’ll only take longer to heal,” Iida insisted gently. “Perhaps it’s a bit odd, but I’m very well-versed in massage therapy. I’m confident I can help you.”

Todoroki hesitated. After a long day of training, he’d complained that his feet were killing him, and Iida had offered to massage them to help him feel better. The peppermint-colored boy knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to handle a massage of almost any kind. He was far too ticklish. But at the same time, he didn’t want to disappoint his friend. He was stuck.

“Fine,” he finally mumbled, cringing a little as he placed his feet in Iida’s waiting lap. “But…the socks stay on.”

“Of course.” Iida nodded, assuming Todoroki simply didn’t want his bare feet touched. He could understand that. He got to work pressing his thumbs into his arches, massaging small circles up and down the sole. He was so focused on his task it took him a moment to realize that rather than relaxing, his friend only seemed more tense. “Is something wrong?”

“C-Can’t…I d-don’t think I can…hrk!” Todoroki slapped a hand over his mouth to hide the growing smile threatening to give him away. He said his next words all in a rush. “I don’t think I can do this!”

“I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“N-No, it – aiieee!” Todoroki squealed, yanking his right foot away from Iida’s grip. The class rep had lightened his touch, thinking perhaps he was applying too much pressure, but the softer strokes only made his friend burst into giggles, finally revealing what exactly was bothering him about this whole situation.

“Ah, I see. You’re fairly ticklish, then?” Iida asked, unable to help but scribble his fingers over Todoroki’s other foot. He got his answer when said foot was also jerked out of his reach. He laughed. “You could have just said so, you know.”

*

90) Lee Deku, Ler Kaminari

“Izuku, stohohohop,” Kaminari whined, hugging his boyfriend close even as the greenette kissed and nuzzled his neck, tickling him.

“Don’t wanna.” Deku smirked into yet another kiss.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll make you stop,” Kami shot back, chuckling as he rolled over, quickly switching their positions so he was on top. Before Deku could fight back, he plunged his fingers into his ribs. “Tickle, tickle, little Deku~”

“Aiehehehehehehehe! Kamiehehehehehe!” Deku squealed, his face lighting up in a huge smile as giggles poured out of him. He squirmed but didn’t entirely try to get away; both of them knew he rather enjoyed being tickled, especially gently like this. “Ehehehehehehehe!”

Kaminari chuckled, leaning down to do exactly what Deku had been doing to him moments before. He nuzzled and kissed along his neck, making his boyfriend shriek and kick his legs. His neck and ears were far more sensitive than Kami’s were.

“Denki, plehehehehehehease!” Deku begged, but it was obvious he was having a ton of fun. “Not my neheheheheheheck!”

“Aww, is someone a little ticklish here?” Kami teased, switching from kissing to nibbling. Deku spasmed beneath him, but the blonde merely let his body weight pin his poor, giggly boyfriend to the mattress as he continued his ticklish treatment. “Seems like you are~ Poor, sensitive little Izuku~”

“Stohohohohop teheheheheasing me!”

“Never.”

“Ehehehehehe! Dehehehenki – WAIT NO NOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!” Suddenly a loud screech ripped from Deku’s throat and he started thrashing in earnest. Kaminari had snuck one hand down to pinch at his hip, making him really laugh. “DENKI, NOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“Denki, yes~” Kaminari teased into his ear, kissing and squeezing in tandem, making his boyfriend go crazy with hysterical giggles and laughter. “I’ve got you right where I want you now, baby.”

[sageinacage]

ok retry because tumblr deleted the prompt from your askbox >:( how about a fic with lee!eret and ler!foolish where foolish knew that eret was ticklish in the past, and now in present day, he wants to know if that fact is still true and tries to discover it for himself? i love ur fics btw!!! :D

Old Pal summary: foolish is curious if his old friend eret is still ticklish. a/n: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING THEIR DYNAMIC I APOLOGIZE THAT ITS PROBABLY A BIT OOC BAHAHA warnings: n/a w/c: 1.6k DSMP, Platonic

~

‘Was the sun always this bright?!’ Foolish squinted in thought, looking up at the clear sky as he raised his hand to block the rays of light aimed right at his face. He huffed, lowering his hand and leaning against the furnaces he set up in his construction area.

It was a sunny afternoon, a light breeze brushing through the leaves on the trees scattered around the area. Foolish was busy today, working on the mansion he was commissioned to build for his friends Ranboo and Tubbo. It was a beautiful building so far, so much done but so much to do still.

“What time is it?” The shark-totem hybrid asked himself, opening his inventory to grab ahold of his clock. He smiled to himself. It was only one in the afternoon, a perfect time for a lunch break.

He walked down the path, going back to town. As Foolish walked, he took the time to look around, looking at the buildings around him. He smiled as nostalgia filled his heart, then filling at a newfound speed when he saw the castle.

Arriving at the gates of the castle after a swift speed-walk, he walked in. You see, his old pal Eret lived in the walls of the gorgeous castle, and Foolish was one loving guy and just wanted to see his friend.

“Eret- King Eret? Are you hooome?!” He called out, chuckling at the echo he heard. Amused by the echo, Foolish kept on yelling. “Yoo-hoo, Eret! Your pal is here!” He continued to shout, laughing at each echo he heard back. About to shout again, he heard a chuckle; one that didn’t belong to himself. Foolish whipped around, seeing a person wearing the signature sunglasses of his friend.

“Eret!”

“How’s my friend doing?” They smiled, opening his arms for a hug. Foolish, being much taller than the monarch, bent down to surround them in a tight hug, lifting them up with him as he stood up straight. “Alrihight, put me down, Foolish!” Eret laughed warmly, being put back down on their feet only after a dramatic whine from the hybrid.

“Still a big softie, I see?” The monarch chuckled, fixing their shades which got tilted from the big hug Foolish gave. “Eret, you’re talking like I haven’t seen you in years. Well- I mean, it has been a while…” He rubbed the back of his head, bashfully smiling at the light chortles Eret produced. “It has been a while, you goof.”

The two had some good laughs as they ate lunch together, catching up on what has been going on in each other's lives; but also talking about memories they remember. One really stuck with Foolish, a memory of when they used to playfully fight all the time. By ‘playfully fight,’ I mean tickle each other.

“Foolish, do you remember our old tickle fights? Those were always so fun.”

Did they just read his mind? Foolish’s eyes widened before he composed himself, smiling. “Yeah, I usually won them as well.” He sniggered, earning an exaggerated gasp from his friend. “You did not! I was usually the victor, don’t lie to yourself!” Eret laughed, picking up Foolish’s and their plates to bring them to the kitchen.

Foolish smiled to himself, then looked up in thought. ‘Were they still ticklish? Could someone even lose ticklishness? Am I still ticklish?’ The hybrid hummed as thoughts played in his mind, not noticing Eret’s fond smile at the doorway of the living room. “Whatcha thinking about there, pal?” They smiled, Foolish cowered sheepishly at the sudden voice.

“Oh- Eret! I didn’t notice you were b- back already!”

“You’re nervous. What’s on your mind?”

“N… Nothing!”

“I don’t believe that, Foolish.” The monarch sighed, sitting on the soft couch near the table. “Why don’t you sit down?” Eret offered, Foolish slowly making his way to sit next to them on the pillow-filled couch.

“Are you sick? You’re quite red.” They furrowed their eyebrows, placing the back of their palm on Foolish’s forehead. “I’m fine, I promise!” Foolish smiled, snickering to himself at how Eret really never changed. They’ve always been so kind and caring, always taking care of their friends and people who mean loads to them.

“You’re lost in thought again, friend.” Eret smiled, the other crossing his arms. “You can tell me what’s on your mind, you know I wouldn’t judge you for anything.”

“Are you ticklish, Eret?” Foolish blurted out, Eret’s raising their eyebrows in surprise, but melting into a soft smile. “Why were you so nervous to ask that, you goof? Though I don’t know if I am… maybe? Who knows.” Eret thought, before chuckling at Foolish’s sudden expression: it was a mix of surprise and happiness. It was a quiet moment- until Foolish’s little smirk turned into a wide, toothy grin.

“Let’s test it. I think it’s fair if I reclaim a few victories of my own, yeah?” Foolish giggled evilly before diving his fingers down to squeeze their waist. The sudden jerk the monarch produced exposed the truth. Yes, Eret was still ticklish. Definitely.

“Fooholihish!” Eret laughed playfully, holding Foolish’s wrists; but not pushing him away. “Aha! So you are still ticklish!” Foolish excitedly announced, his squeezing fingers turning into fluttering fingertips up Eret’s ribs over their dress shirt. “Nihihice obsehervation!” The sassiness is definitely still there as well, apparently.

Foolish hummed in thought, trying to remember any sweet spots. You could practically see a lightbulb appear over his head as his face lit up. “Whahat are you plahanni-IHIHAHAHA- FOOLISH!” Eret squealed, throwing themself back on the couch. Foolish’s hands gently squeezed up and down their thighs, eventually settling on the spot right above their kneecap.

Laughing at the sudden cackle, Foolish stopped his squeezing to just rake his slight claws up and down their thighs instead. “It looks like getting a victory will be easier than I thought, huh?”

Eret shook their head. “You neheed to t- try haharder than thahat, paha-AHAHAL, NOHOT THEHERE!” They threw their head back, glasses almost flying off as the squeezing started up again, moving to the under-sides of their thighs. The mix of squeezes and raking on the backs of their thighs was driving Eret mad, the feeling nearly unbearable.

“Fiiine, it would be fun to figure out your tickle spots allll over again, don’t you think?” Foolish sniggered, slipping his hands out from under them, only to wiggle his fingers over Eret’s stomach. They immediately sucked their stomach in on reflex, squirming gently to get away from the impending claws over his belly.

“Oh? What’s wroooong, Eret? You think you can get away from my tickles? Is that it?” Foolish raised an eyebrow, lowering his hands before Eret could get a word of retaliation out. The monarch kicked their legs, arms crashing down to weakly shove at the attacking hands. “F- FOOHOLISH! SHUHUSH!” Eret let out more high-pitched giggles, a few hiccups peppering through their laughing fit.

“No, I don’t think I will. It’s fun to talk about how ticklish you are, and how much I’m gonna tickle tickle tickle you! Laugh for me!” The hybrid teased, cooing little noises at the monarch as he wagged a single claw over their ribs, as his other hand prodded on the side of their belly. “Oooh, maybe instead of the ‘King of the SMP,’ you could be the ‘King of Giggles!’ I like that better. What do you think about that, King?”

Eret shook their head, face growing red and warm at the new title bestowed onto them. “STOHOP T- TAHALKING!” They playfully rebuttal, earning a head shake from Foolish. “That wasn’t very nice, King of Giggles! I think I should humble you a little bit, yeah?” Before Eret could retaliate, their words evaporated into nervous giggles as they felt the bottom buttons of their dress shirt come undone.

“Y’know Eret, a while ago when we had these tickle fights, you always did something that made me lose every time. Do you remember what that was?” Foolish started, then smirked. “I believe the technique is called a ‘raspberry.’ Does that ring a bell, Eret? I bet it does, you’re blushing right now.” He smiled, pushing the bottom of their shirt aside.

As they felt cold air brush over their belly, shivers rushed over them and butterflies erupted in their stomach, now excited giggles bubbling up from their throat. “Juhust do ihit!” Eret complained, digging their heels into the couch behind Foolish.

He laughed, leaning down. “Alriiight, you technically asked for it, though!” Foolish smirked at Eret before planting a large raspberry right underneath their navel. Screw Foolish and his strong shark lungs. “F- FOOLIHISH- YOHOHOU WIHIHIHIN- I GIHIVE! PLEHEHASE!” Eret managed to get out through their laughter, grabbing a pillow to protect themselves with as they caught their breath.

“One win for Foolish, let’s go! Looks like I’m in the lead now.” Foolish crossed his arms triumphantly, a proud smile plastered on his face. “Wehe’re tahallying up wihins now?” Eret asked, fixing their crooked glasses. The hybrid nodded at them, putting his hands on his hips as he stood up.

“Hmm, I better get my lead back then.” Eret smirked, Foolish’s proud grin shifting into a skittish smile. “Wh- what? Wait, Erehet. Yohou don’t need toho!” He shook his head, putting his arms out in front of him as a ‘defensive mechanism.’

“Watch yourself, old pal. I think it’s time I discover your tickle spots now.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

He Was a Sk8r Boi

Happiest of Birthdays and best wishes to one of my most beloved and darling friends on this earth, the fantastical @hailhailsatan ! May your sass never cease.

modern au - college student Jaskier - the Kaer Morons are all skater punks

tw: mild injury (scraped arm)

---

Jaskier took a seat on what remained of a crumbling stone bench and pulled his black-and-white composition notebook onto his lap, opening it to the closest blank page. He tugged his favorite pen out from its place of honor behind his ear and waited for inspiration to strike.

And waited.

And waited.

After half an hour of staring into space and getting absolutely nothing written, the frustrated college student stood from his seat and jammed his headphones into his ears. If nature wasn’t going to help finish this stupid poetry assignment then maybe he could find a person or two to observe for inspiration instead. Glancing around the otherwise empty benches and pathways of the public park, Jaskier sighed and shook his head. “Fuck this, I’ll try the other side.”

He pulled his MP3 player out from the pocket of his light autumn jacket and painstakingly scrolled through every song available until finally giving up and pressing the “Shuffle” button. As a heavy, angry guitar riff began to filter through his headphones and lighten the load of the world from his shoulders, Jaskier found himself approaching a half-hearted attempt at a skatepark.

There was one cement half-pipe to his left and a few rails and quarter-pipes scattered around the vicinity, bolted into the ground in a seemingly random pattern. Several oddly shaped cement bowls were sunk into the earth, obviously made to work like ramps but with a larger and less predictable surface area.

There were only three skaters enjoying the park on this particularly grey afternoon, zipping back and forth from one piece of equipment to the next like emo hummingbirds. Jaskier took out his headphones again as he made his way to a nearby bench - wood this time - and casually sat himself down. The skater dudes were yelling back and forth to each other as they swanned over and around the equipment on their boards, mostly insults from what the student could hear.

The loudest of the three had springy orange hair that he wore pulled back into a small, messy half-bun at the top of his head. The rest fell down against the back of his neck in an equally messy sheet, reaching nearly all the way to his shoulders but not quite touching them. He was wearing a bright red t-shirt with a catchphrase that Jaskier couldn’t read and plain denim jeans.

“What the fuck are you doing, Eskel?” he laughed, pointing to the tallest of the group and pulling a face.

“Shut up, Bert,” the brunette shouted back at the redhead, doing a quick kick-flip over the far end of a metal railing. “You can’t skate for shit.”

“I’m better than you!”

The third member of their little gang was the quietest so far and, in Jaskier’s personal opinion, also the prettiest. He had a mass of long white hair that fell all the way to the bottom of his shoulder blades, pointed and stiff in a way that meant it had been straightened and sprayed into submission. The silvery strands were being held out of the stranger’s eyes by a baggy black beanie and Jaskier desperately wanted to know whether or not that hair color was natural (though he heavily suspected that it was not).

The white-haired guy was also the most talented of the three gathered skaters, flying from one end of the half-pipe to the other and landing a few flips in between as if risking his life was as simple as breathing. He wore no knee pads over his ripped black skinny jeans and no elbow pads either; Jaskier noted with a little zing through his nervous system that the skater’s arms were muscled like a Greek statue’s and equally pale.

He was fucking hot.

“Geralt, do a three-sixty!” the redhead jeered, chucking something at the pretty one.

“I can’t land one yet and you know it,” the white-haired guy, Geralt apparently, replied. His voice was low and sonorous and Jaskier nearly fell off his bench in surprise. The student hadn’t realized how far forward he had been leaning in order to listen to their conversation and he scooted back again with a self-conscious little blush. In the distance, Geralt continued. “Why don’t you get up here and try it yourself, asshole?”

“I just fucking might, White Wolf,” Lambert huffed, turning his board back toward the half-pipe and picking up speed. The dark-haired one, Eskel, caught Jaskier’s eye from across the park; the student blushed an even darker shade of red and looked down at his lap to avoid any sort of confrontation. If any of these guys wanted to start a fight with him, Jaskier would surely lose.

By the time the anxious student worked up the nerve to look at them again, Lambert had already climbed to the top of the half-pipe and taken a defensive stance. His eyebrows were furrowed and his arms were crossed over his chest in a projection of almost childish anger. As Geralt came up the cement incline, Lambert lashed out with his foot and kicked the other man’s board out from beneath his feet.

Eskel gave a wordless cry of alarm.

Geralt wavered in the air for a moment - cartoonishly, Jaskier thought, almost like Wile E. Coyote - before plunging to the pavement and rolling limply down the inside of the half-pipe. Eskel chucked a rock at the redhead and started screaming, “Fuck off, dude! You could have cracked his fucking skull! You could have killed Geralt, you absolute cock-toboggan!”

“Fuck! Shit, I didn't-,” Lambert fell on his butt and slid down the ramp to Geralt’s side, kneeling over him with concern written all over his face. “Are you alright, man!?”

Jaskier couldn’t hear if Geralt replied or not, but he suddenly remembered the first-aid kit sitting right there in his bag. Jaskier was a total klutz and tried to keep a handful of bandages and a tube of disinfectant on him at all times just in case he ever needed them. Thank goodness they would be able to come in handy, and for a far nobler purpose than patching up yet another one of his table-smacked knees.

Without thinking any further ahead, Jaskier grabbed the strap of his bag and took off running towards the site of the accident.

“Hey!” he shouted, coming to a stop a few feet away. “I have - uh, I have a first-aid kit if you want to use it.”

“Cool, thanks,” Eskel said, glancing over his shoulder with a curt nod. “Come on over, we don’t bite. Well, I don’t.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Lambert apologized to Geralt once again. When Jaskier glanced over at him, the redhead looked legitimately upset and guilty. Geralt looked up at the newcomer from the pavement, his silver hair spread out around him in mimicry of a halo - the black beanie was lying a few feet away, forgotten or ignored.

Up close like this, the stranger stole the breath out of Jaskier’s very lungs. The man's eyes… His fucking eyes were a gorgeous molten gold in the late afternoon sun, sparking and shining like gemstones. Holding Geralt’s gaze made Jaskier feel as if his very soul was catching fire.

“Do you need a band-aid?” Jaskier asked rather stupidly, holding out the little cardboard box. Geralt nodded stoically.

“I think I scraped my arm.”

“Let me help,” Jaskier said. The student knelt beside Geralt and set the box of band-aids down. He flung open the kit and retrieved some ‘pain-free’ disinfectant, then returned to the box of bandages in search of one without a Disney princess on it. “Do you guys always do this without wearing any protective gear?”

“I’ve got a helmet,” Geralt said. He pointed towards three mismatched backpacks piled near the edge of the pavement; a bright red helmet with several semi-familiar logos stuck to it sat atop one of them.

“It’s very useful over there, keeping your backpack from cracking its skull open,” Jaskier chastised lightly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He was feeling oddly protective of a guy he’d never even met before and it was very fucking weird.

“Sorry,” Geralt shrugged. He was still laying on his back, his topaz eyes flickering between Jaskier’s hands and face. The student applied a thin layer of medical cream to the shallow scrape with shaking fingers and then wiped the remaining goo on his shirt, uncaring of the damage it may have done. He bandaged the minor wound quickly and leaned back, glancing between Lambert and Eskel as if just noticing their presence on either side of Geralt's head.

“Thanks,” Eskel grinned, holding out his hand. “I’m Eskel.”

“Jaskier,” Jaskier replied shyly. “And the loud one is Lambert, right?”

Geralt chuckled from his place on the ground and Jaskier’s heart seized painfully in his chest. What a laugh, ye gods. “Yeah, that’s Lambert. I’m Geralt.”

“Nice to meet you, Geralt,” Jaskier could practically taste the name as it melted across his tongue. “Well, not the nicest way to meet you, but I’m glad I met you all the same. Anyway.”

He stood up with a little grimace and took a step back.

“Where are you going?” Eskel asked. “You came to Geralt’s rescue so I think that means he owes you like, at least an ice cream, or something.”

“Yeah,” Lambert piped up. He smirked at the man on the ground and then turned back to Jaskier, mischief clear in his expression, “Let him take you to get an ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Jaskier squeaked. Then he realized he’d sounded rude and held up his hands as if offering surrender (surrender for what, he wasn't exactly sure), “Not that I wouldn’t like to hang out with you more but I’ve got an assignment due and I’m sure you’re very busy doing skater things and I-”

“Am I not good enough for you?” Geralt asked, finally sitting up. He straightened his arms out behind him and rested there, reclined comfortable, a god in his temple.

Jaskier shot the older man a half-annoyed look, beating back his anxiety with a stick. “I listen to Avril Lavigne. I know not to underestimate pretty skater punks.”

“Pretty?” Geralt raised his eyebrows. Jaskier hid his face behind his hands and turned on his heel.

“Anyway, nice meeting you!” Jaskier shouted, hoping they could hear even if he was facing the opposite direction. He took off toward the edge of the park at a brisk walk, verging on a jog. He needed to go hide behind a tree and cry. What the fuck!? He was terrible at flirting and now he’d gone and ruined his chances with the guy he’d… literally just met. Chill out, he told himself - just before a strong hand clamped down over his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

“So not ice cream,” Geralt said. Jaskier slowly turned back to face the mostly-stranger. His lip was caught fast between his teeth and Geralt lifted one large hand to gently thumb it free again. “Maybe a boarding lesson, instead? It would give me an excuse to put my hands around your waist and you could put yours on my shoulders.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Jaskier asked. He fluttered his eyelashes and took half a step into Geralt's space.

The broad-shouldered punk smiled down at the Little Mermaid band-aid on his arm and then turned that smile to Jaskier. “Yeah.”

[manias-wordcount]

Forget Me Nots (Ren x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵 𝟭𝟰𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗺 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟭!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

A soft knock at your door rouses you from your sleep. 

It was early. Way too early for you or anyone to be up, you decided as you turned your head and eyed the alarm clock that sat on your nightstand. Even with blurry vision, you could make out the time- 5:08 am. You weren’t due to be up for another four hours. You frowned. 

The knocking sounded again.

With a quiet sigh, you sat up in your bed and pushed the covers off your tired body. You swung your legs to the side, letting your feet rest on your carpeted floors. A shiver passed through you as your body was exposed to the chilly atmosphere. Your body had already begun to miss the warm bundle you had wrapped yourself in while asleep. A large, white t-shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts were hardly a defense against the cold.

Huffing, you reached for one of the blankets you left at the end of your bed with slow, sluggish movements. You fist enclosed around a soft, cantaloupe-colored throw blanket- one of your favorites. You tugged closer to your sitting form and gently draped it around your shoulders. Instantly, you were starting to feel better as you swaddled yourself up and secured a fist full of the material in your hands. You breathed in the silence of your room, tempting yourself with the idea of just going back to bed. 

The sound of a third knock, slightly louder than the others, makes you turn to the door with heavy-lidded eyes. Soon enough, you find yourself shuffling across the carpet and closer to the noise. 

When you’re finally close enough, your hand reaches for the doorknob in a lazy grip. It’s too late to turn back now. It’s too late to pretend you were in too deep of a sleep to even stir. All that’s left to do is open the door. Say a greeting, entertain a little chatter, send them on their way, and crawl back into bed, you say to yourself as you finally succeed in opening the door on your third try.

But all thoughts escape you as you pull the door open. 

The light is the first thing you notice. Naturally, your head turns in the opposite direction in an attempt to escape it. Streaming in from the large, elegant windows that line the hallway leading up to your room is the faded colors of a twilight-painted sky. It’s not bright. It’s not in the slightest bit bright, yet you couldn’t help but squint as the light proves to be a huge contrast between your dark dorm room with its curtain-covered windows. 

A smooth chuckle fills your ears as a hand grabs your chin with a delicate grip. A soft noise of confusion escapes your lips as your door opens further, and you’re led a step back into your room. The hand on your chin tilts your head up as you blink sleepily, watching a tall figure suddenly take up almost your whole doorway and block out for most of the light.

Half-open eyes trail the stranger hovering over you, trying to make out who it is. You take them in silence with furrowed eyebrows and a small pout. Your tired mind wasn’t used to being used in the early morning but luckily for you, you didn’t have to think too hard. A white button-down that left the top two buttons open. A head full of strawberry blonde hair. Gentle blue eyes.

“Ren?” You mumble out. His thumb grazes over your cheek, drawing a small circle into your skin as he smiles. 

“Good morning,” He hums in response, sleep pulling at his voice to make it sound deeper. You let out a shiver at his rich, velvety voice. Instantly feeling embarrassed, you pull the blanket around your shoulders even tighter, hoping to mask the involuntary movement. It’s a long shot, but it seems to have worked as his eyes follow the blanket temporarily before landing back on your face with that same beautiful smile from before. “Happy White Day, my dear.” 

It takes a moment for his words to register, yet he stands there, letting you process them with all the patience in the world. The gears in your head turn and turn at his sudden revelation, never fully making sense of it until he pulls up the bouquet that he had been hiding from behind his back. Only then do you realize what he had said. 

“Oh,” You whispered dumbly, reaching for the flowers. He passes them to you gently, eyeing your slow movements with a fondness you couldn’t see. The bouquet shares your grip with the blanket, but your focus is on the vibrant colored flora that demands attention. “Thank you so much, Ren…”

A smile of your own graces your face as you trail off dreamily and stare down. You vaguely remember Valentine’s Day from a month ago. It was an early day for all the boys, you recalled. Both ST☆RISH and QUARTET NIGHT had a special to film for the love-filled holiday that was supposed to premiere later that same day. Everyone was up, showered, and leaving the dorms before seven in the morning. Though, you couldn’t let your boys go without leaving them a little present for Valentine’s Day. For everyone else, it was nothing special- a small, handwritten note of encouragement and a box of homemade chocolates.

But for Ren, you had to go a little overboard. It was his birthday after all. So you sent him off with a bundle of freshly baked cookies, a dark amber-colored teddy bear with a letter explaining how much he means to you, and a dozen orange roses. In the moment, you couldn’t help but feel riddled with nervousness and embarrassment as you gave him his gifts. But seeing his face light up with happiness as you approached him with the presents was worth every single moment you spent fretting.

With closed eyes, you brought the flowers to your nose and sniffed. They smell wonderful. 

“I leave in an hour for an interview across Japan. I won’t be back until late tomorrow...” He murmurs, moving the hand on your chin to tangle long fingers in your hair. “But I had to make sure you got these today. I had to make sure you know how I feel.”

You tilt your head in confusion, leaning into the warmth of his hands as you prompt him to explain. He holds you trapped in his adoring gaze as his fingers thread through your hair once. Twice. Three times in a thoughtful silence before his blue eyes narrow in on a specific flower.

“Forget-Me-Nots.” He draws your attention to a cluster of small blue flowers before meeting your eyes once more. “Do you know what they symbolize, my dear?”

Maybe you do know what they mean. And then again- maybe you don’t. But as you watched him glance down at your lips and lick his own, you found yourself opting for silence. 

Silence and leaning closer and closer and closer and- 

You may have made the first move, but... Jinguuji Ren will not be beaten that easily. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he tugs you closer and kisses you. And kisses you, and kisses, and kisses you. Still caught in your hands, the flowers are pressed against the side of his head, but he doesn’t seem to mind it. Instead, he let out a quiet groan as he steals all the air in your lungs and kisses you like he’s starving. You throw your arms around his neck, blanket dropping off your shoulders and halfway down your arm from the sudden movement. The hand on your hip and the hand in your hair work with each other- tilting you in a position that leaves you begging for more. 

You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you can only feel as Ren has his way with you. It’s passion in every sense of the word as he holds you close and draws out gasp after gasp and moan after moan. You don’t know how long you wanted this, but all you can think about is savoring this. Savoring him as he holds you tightly- memorizing his touch, his voice, his lips, and his heart.

And when he pulls away, you feel that it’s too soon. Even as you struggle to catch your breath, you feel yourself craving more. His hands on your body and his breath against your lips leaves you feeling dizzier and dizzier as second after second passes by in his presence. This kiss has left you feeling desperate and needy for him yet with no way to hide it. 

Your feelings and his are out there in the open- yet only for you two to see. Held in between yours and his beating hearts. Wrapped up like the blanket that now holds him too as you keep your arms around his shoulder and stare up into his eyes. A feeling of warmth that comes from a secret passion, now shared. A new romance, now in bloom. And just a tad bit of anger.

Because it’s kiss you one minute and have to leave you the next.

Always such a tease.

“Forget-Me-Nots,” He repeats, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes drink in the breathless state he had left you in. “So you’ll always think of me…so you’ll only think of me…”

The hand in your hair trails down to cup your chin again, drawing you in with that intoxicating touch of his. You couldn’t help but smile as you swayed dazedly on your feet. 

You’re glad you opened the door for him. 

“...even when I’m away from you~”

As if you could ever forget someone like him. 

[cyoc49]

HIMBO Magazine: Changing Departments

*click! click! click! click!*

Derek listened to the camera flash as he sat on the side of the bed. He was currently doing a photo shoot for HIMBO magazine, a fashion and lifestyle magazine “for the modern gay male™”. Fake blood dripped against his chest - they were doing some Halloween type of shoot. But let’s be honest, the blood wasn’t the focus of the shot: it was his body. Derek had never been the best student - and his attitude certainly didn’t help - but if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was make his body look as sexy as humanly possible. Derek scoured nutrition blogs to make sure he stayed up to date on everything related to fitness, and the dedication showed itself in his beautiful, sculpted body. Sitting here with no shirt on and wearing a pair of lethally tight skinny jeans, he looked like every gay man’s wet dream. To put it simply, Derek was hot as hell; problem is, he knew he was hot at hell.

“Alright, that’s good. I think we have what we need, thank you Mr. Hale” the director said. Derek stood up and two twinkish looking assistants came over to remove the blood. Derek stood still and tried to ignore the two obviously gay men putting their hands all over his body. Derek was the kind of guy who thought all gay men were jumping at the bit for any man they can find. Doing a photo shoot for a gay magazine was certainly not his dream, but hey: a paycheck is a paycheck.

After he was cleaned off, Derek put on a t shirt and enjoyed the feeing of it stretched tight against his pecs. He slung a Louis Vuitton backpack over his shoulders. All he had to do was collect his check and he could be done with this homo magazine. Derek headed towards the doorway connecting the studio space to the rest of the offices. He turned the corner into the hallway, only to immediately crash into someone coming from the opposite direction. Papers went flying.

Derek hesitated, then reluctantly crouched down to help the man pick up his papers. As he did, the man spoke to him in a deep voice “You know, you should really watch where you’re going. People are busy around here.”

This was the remark that set Derek off. It was enough that he had done a photo shoot outside his comfort zone, and ran into someone while he was leaving, but now he was being sassed by some worker who couldn’t slow down enough to watch out for passers. Derek had had enough of this magazine. “You know,” he said, “I’m surprised. I thought you fags would be more excited to slam into other guys.”

Derek could sense the shift in mood immediately. All the workers around him who had been buzzing about immediately stopped and looked at th scene. The office had gone dead silent. As Derek looked around at all the men staring at them, the man he had bumped into finished collecting his papers and stood up, allowing Derek to finally look at him properly. Woah, this was a fine looking man. Strappingly tall and ruggedly handsome. He filled out his expensive-looking three-piece suit perfectly. His whole demeanor was one of absolute confidence. Finally, Derek realized what had happened. He hadn’t bumped into some random employee. He had knocked over and subsequently cussed out the boss of the whole place.

*Well*, Derek said to himself, *I fucked up bad this time*.

The boss was surprisingly well-composed for someone who had just been called a slur, Derek thought. As if to prove this point, the boss suddenly started laughing. It was a good, deep laugh. And when he laughed, everyone else in the building laughed along with him. Derek stared at everyone in the office in confusion. Why did they find this so funny? Was it because he’s their boss? And they were all looking at the boss with such admiration. Derek just hoped this meant the issue would blow over and he could leave before embarrassing himself sooner.

But before he could step away, he was spoken to. “I used to get really angry when people said stuff like that to me,” the boss explained in a rich, inviting voice, “now it just makes me sad, because I see all the failed potential hiding behind that language.”

Derek took a little offense to that last statement, but he knew he was in no position to argue right now. It seemed like the laughter was the all-clear the rest of the office needed to know their boss was okay, because the normal hum of voices and keyboards had returned. Now it was just him and the extremely powerful man he had pissed off. Derek broke the silence. “Look, Mr...”

“Christian Le Maítre” the gorgeous boss informed him, “Editor in Chief of HIMBO magazine. But everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.”

“Right. Well, uh, Mr. M, I’m really sorry about-“

“No you’re not.” Christian cut him off without missing a beat. “I’ve seen so many models like you come and go through these halls. You think you’re hot shit, and take pity on all of my boys in this office who had to take desk jobs because their bodies weren’t nice enough to let them get by on looks alone. But you know, we’re hard workers here. And we’re a close knit family.”

Derek objected to being interrupted, but as Christian talked, he felt his defenses melt away with every word. Mr. M was right, Derek realized. I am a narcissistic asshole who holds myself above others. He had never felt like this before. But everything Mr. M said just seemed right. When this gorgeous, confident man spoke, Derek realized he was speaking the truth.

“What’s your name, son?” Mr. M asked him.

“D-Derek, sir. Derek Hale.” Derek was never one stutter, but how else could he feel right now?

“Well Derek, I’m sure our lame little office doesn’t fit your macho man swagger persona, but I think you’d find that working here is pretty great.”

Was that an offer? Derek didn’t know. He had completely forgotten the context of their conversation, and indeed his reason for being in this office in the first place was slowly becoming a distant memory. All Derek knew in this moment was that he HAD to work at HIMBO. In fact, he couldn’t imagine life without working here.

Derek tried to compose a response, but was increasingly timid in the presence of this incredible man. “Well, uh, Mr. M. Perhaps if you have any opening I might be able to, uh-”

Mr. M just laughed again, and this time Derek laughed right along with him.

“Well I’m shocked to hear you change your tune so quickly, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Working here is kind of a dream job, if I do say so myself. But there’s no need to submit your CV and go through the traditional channels. I am actually prepared to offer you a job on the spot.”

Derek felt his ears burning. How lucky was he! To be offered a job at the best company on earth. He would take it immediately!

“Mr. M, it would be an honor to work for you” Derek bowed his head as he said this. Respect was important, especially for the man who was giving him a job no questions asked.

“Glad to hear it, sport! Now full disclosure, it’s a clerking position. I know, not the most exciting stuff, but here at HIMBO we believe even the most mundane work can be made magical! Of course, you would have to change a few of your behaviors to *best* fit the position. Your ego, your hot-headedness. Do you think those are things good for a clerk to have?”

“No, sir” Derek said with convocation. “Anything you want me to change, I will change.”

Christian cracked a smile, as if Derek had said something unintentionally funny. “Well I admire your commitment. It’s just, clerks are so straight-laced and serious, and you are such a character, Derek. Mr. Macho Man with a great body. Actually, I do like this body.” Christian looked Derek up and down, “I think that can stay. But as for everything else, well, I can take care of that.”

Christian stopped talking and instead just looked at Derek. The hopeful employee stood there silently, unsure of what to do. Just then, he suddenly felt a draining feeling. It wasn’t his muscles or his IQ or any of that stuff that he felt fading away, it was more like he was losing... his personality? All the pride Derek felt over his hot body and great life was disappearing. All the anger he get towards people not like him, slipping away. But it wasn’t replaced by new emotions, it wasn’t replaced by anything. Derek stopped feeling strong feelings about much of anything. He liked his job, he followed the news, but he had never had any opinions of his own. Never tried to be individual or stand out. Derek was becoming like his new favorite flavor of ice cream: vanilla.

As Derek’s personality slowly morphed him into a contender for the World’s Most Dull Man, his wardrobe changed to follow suit. His designer t shirt loosened out a bit. The sleeves grew down his arms before spouting buttons and cuffs. Buttons also sprouted down the middle, and the shirt gained a collar, becoming a basic button-up shirt. A white plaid pattern spread across the shir. At the same time, Derek felt his skinny jeans go “pah” as all the tightness shrugged out of them, changing them into (gag) regular fit pants. They lightened to gray and changed material to thin cotton, becoming work slacks. His new plaid shirt automatically tucked itself into the pants, and a brown leather belt formed around his waist, with his expensive designer sneakers morphing into brown leather dress shoes to match. The LV backpack he wore fell as one of the straps broke off, before disappearing altogether. The remaining strap lengthened and slung itself over his shoulder, and the bag itself shifted into a basic messenger bag, holding plenty of important documents and paperwork.

For a brief moment, Derek felt confusion and fear. Why were these changes happening to him? Where did his nice stuff go, and what were these boring-ass clothes replacing them? These thoughts only lasted for half a second, before Derek realized how right this was. This was his style, or more accurately his *lack* of style. Derek had never cared about trends, or getting fancy new clothes. As long as they fit him well and looked professional enough for work, that was all that mattered in Derek’s eyes. A Ross Membership Card popped into his wallet to cement this change.

Derek felt something in his pocket, and pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. These were the glasses he needed to see, of course. Derek opened them up and put them on. To follow suit, his hair parted itself to the side and became thick with gel holding his new professional haircut in place.

As promised, Christian had left Derek his body, but had taken basically everything else from him. Where there had once stood an arrogant, trendy mode, there was now a walking turtleneck. Normally in cases like this, Derek would sprout new memories of his new life. But no memories came, because Derek didn’t really *have* a life. He was now a total office drone. From 9-5 he worked faithfully for HIMBO, and after that he went home and solved jigsaw puzzles until it was time for bed... except on the nights where Mr. M invited Derek to his house. Derek truly wanted nothing more from life.

Christian smiled at the new corporate boy that stood before him. “Okay I think you’ve handled the onboarding process well, Dirk. Dirk, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” Dirk replied matter of factly. Dirk Kent. Filing clerk for HIMBO magazine.

“Great! But there’s actually one more thing I need from you. I’m still a little raw about that comment of yours earlier, and I would hate for it to taint our working relationship with each other, so allow me to bury this hatchet.”

Christian snapped his fingers, and Dirk felt his impressive manhood shrink, and shrink, and shrink, until he heard a “pop!” sound and knew that it was no more. Poor Dirk was smooth as could be in his private areas. But he didn’t mind: being unable to orgasm helped him focus on his work. And besides, if Mr. M needed help Dirk still had two perfectly serviceable holes on him.

Christian laughed again, eliciting another laugh from Dirk. “Dirk, pal, I don’t think I have ever been happier with one of my new hires. But you know, I do seal my deals with a kiss.”

“Why thank you sir!” Dirk replied with enthusiasm, as he allowed Christian to walk over, turn up his chin, and plant a kiss on his lips. And it was the greatest kiss Dirk had ever felt. Indeed, it was the only kiss he had ever felt, but as far as kisses go it was still pretty spectacular. As Dirk stood there with his lips pressed against those of his incredivle boss, he knew there was nothing more he would want from life.

As they parted, Derek looked hopefully up at his boss “Where should I start with my work, sir?” He lived to work.

Christian smiled again. “I’ll film you in on that in a minute, but let me take you to your desk. You’ll be down in the accounting department. In fact, I think you’ll be desk neighbors with our other new hire Bartholomew! You’ll love him. A total nerd but a sweet kid regardless.” Without warning, Christian turned and walked down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything. Dirk instinctively followed him, just as he instinctively obeyed every command Mr. M gave him. Life was easier that way.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part One)

Summary: a secret relationship was enough, being with rafael was enough. and it was. until it wasn’t (one of three parts) 

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader (more in next parts) 

Word Count: 3,417

Song:  I'm begging for you to take my hand / Wreck my plans, that's my man (willow by taylor swift) 

Warnings: T, implied sex, some sexual situations (but just kissing and touching, nothing explicit), fwb relationship essentially, rafael’s commitment issues, 

A/N: thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera​ and @qvid-pro-qvo​ for letting me bounce ideas off and not annoy you (hopefully) with my incessant obsession with this mini-series. 

“Barba, it’s time to go home,” the illustrious A.D.A. didn’t bother to look up from your brief he was revising, the margins bloodied with red ink and edits, as you watched, pressed against his doorframe, “you can tear my work to shreds tomorrow.” 

“Since when did you become my keeper?” he murmurs, his brow wrinkled much like the carpet that lined his floor —- and the rest of his office wasn’t much better — dimmed and dark much like the bags under his eyes, takeout containers from Forlini’s stacked in his trash can, printed briefs and case files stacked like a wall around the perimeter of his desk, some even stacked up on the larger conference table, a few scattered on the floor. 

“Oh it was in the job description,” you step forward, picking up the files that had jumped ship, likely to escape your boss, “assistant district attorney needed to assure SVU’s lead ADA is not found buried in an avalanche of cases that decided to take their revenge.” 

He snorts, still flipping pages through the memo, his tie loosened around his neck, sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, “I didn’t know you were a comedian before law school,” 

And for once you’re grateful that he doesn’t bother to look up — it means he  doesn’t notice your eyes lingering on his forearms, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Barba,” 

And you expect a biting response, a quick retort, but instead you get honest reply, “Well I’d like to, if you’d let me,” you blink a moment, as he glances up for a moment, his look nearly earnest, “you know you do have a habit of keeping people at arm’s length.” 

“This isn’t about me,” and he smiles, looking back down at his work. 

“And the deflection begins,” you huff, scowling at him, though he still paid no mind.  

“Well my office doesn’t look like the aftermath of a legal aid implosion, and I’ve actually been sleeping 6 hours a night, can you say the same?” 

He frowns, lips pursed, “I can take care of myself,” 

“Clearly,” you crossed your arms, straightening the rug with the heel of your shoe, rounding his desk, “this case was impossible today, it will be impossible tomorrow.” 

“Well maybe if I worked a little harder it wouldn’t be so impossible, maybe we’d even get a little justice,” he sighs, lips pressed to the knuckles of his fist. 

You tilt your head, “You know this system is not always getting justice — sometimes it’s just about closure, and that’s all we can do sometimes.” 

“I want to do more— I—” he breaks off, knuckles white against clutching his pen, “I knew the system was full of grays, I know but—” 

“It’s different when it’s SVU, I know, but,” your fingers reach for his tentatively, easing the pen from his fingers, “you can only do what the system lets you — it’s not our job to legislate — it’s our jobs to advocate, to let the people’s voice be heard in court. But you can’t do that if you work yourself right into the ground.” 

“I know, I just—” 

“Barba, you know there’s no point of self-flagellating, no matter how tempting it might be,” 

He lets out a bitter chuckle, “It’s one of my many talents,” before rubbing his hands up and down his face, as if that would erase the exhaustion pressed upon his shoulders. 

“Oh I know,” you say with a sigh, “but you have other talents, don’t you?” and he finally looks up at you — most times you didn’t know what to make of his looks — sometimes it was easy — amusement when the defense counsel tripped up or frustration when the detectives kept pressing him to take the case further when it already sprung a leak — but other times it was a glimmer, a hint at something you could barely grasp onto before it disappeared between your fingers. But now, it lingered, his gaze raked over you until it left your skin blaringly raw under his steady look. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” and now, you barely remember to breathe, the air sucked from the room, instead replaced with a heat — thicker as it settles, but still he sends shivers down your spine, your eyes barely flickering over his lips. 

“I do,” the words falling from your lips, a rushed, thoughtless whisper.

His eyes molten, he leans forward, he mutters your name, barely a whisper — an ask for permission, as his palm dares to rest on your cheek, carefully, as if you would recoil from his touch — but you didn’t. You leaned into his palm, basking in his affection. 

His hand slips down, thumb brushing your lips and then resting on your chin, tilting it downwards, “Are you sure you want to know me this well?” he asks, as you lean forward, your backside pressed against the edge of his desk. 

“I do, if you’ll let me,” his breath warms your lips, “Rafael,” you whisper right before his lips brush yours. 

It’s chaste at first, tentative and gentle, but when your fingers find purchase on the back of his neck, you chase his lips. You taste coffee — bitter and rich, as rich as the passion and urgency of his kisses. Soon he’s standing, and you’re sitting at the edge of the desk, his body between your legs. His hands trail down your body, and his lips follow — pressing fervent kisses to your neck. And your hand grasps at the edge of his to keep yourself steady, the other on his shoulder, digging into his crisp button down. 

“Someone could walk in,” you gasp, hissing as his teeth gently graze your neck, “Raf—” 

He pauses, leaning back, “You’re right,” and you bite your lip, as he steps back, grabbing his jacket, glancing between you and the door, “it’s late, we should—” 

“Right,” your face burns, you round the desk towards the door, fuck, what if he thinks this is a huge mistake? What if he doesn’t— 

He grabs you by the wrist gently, smiling as he brushes past you, holding his office door open for you, “Your place or mine?” 

“You have to make our case, counselors, so what are you going to do about it?” Liv crossed her arms, looking between you and Rafael. 

“We need more evidence Liv, there’s no way around it,” you sigh, “we go in guns ablazing and odds are we don’t get it because a) he destroys it, or b) fruit of the poisonous tree. He’s smart and his lawyers are smart, we need this by the book.” 

“I agree, we need more — have you managed to get into contact with his ex-wife?”  

“Only many unreturned phone calls,” Amanda shakes her head, “I’ll try again, but she retired to Florida—” 

“Do one better, fly down there and talk to her,” Rafael replied, sliding the divorce proceedings across the table, “I think she may be the key to our case, and the warrants we need.” 

Rafael walks them to the elevator, chatting about the case, as you glance at the stacks of motions you needed to get through still. The door clicking shut behind him,  he slides next to you, as you slink down, sighing, “Thanks for backing me up on the case,” 

“Of course,” he replies, “we need more evidence — taking a half baked case against someone like Rita? It’s like begging to be ripped apart in front of an audience.” 

“Well, I know you dabble in masochism,” and he shot you a glare, his thigh pressed against your own, “How long do we have before you think we’ll have a case?” 

“A while — it will take them some time to get down to Florida and get something usable,” he flipped through more packets, before tossing them flippantly onto the coffee table, leaning back, his eyes flickering to the door, and he leans over, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, “which gives us more time to ourselves.” 

“Rafael—” he swallowed your protests with a kiss, and it was enough for your worries to fall away — he was enough to make everything fall away for you, your eyes flickered to the door, “the door—” “I locked it,” the words reverberate against your skin, “I wouldn’t be so careless, counselor,” his use of your title sent a shiver down your spine, “now are you going to let me take you home?”  

It had been a few weeks of this — sneaking kisses in between work, stolen glances across rooms, small smiles that quickly melted away under another's look, and many nights spent in the other's arms — but still you didn't know what this was. 

"Let's go," you smiled, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

But you didn't care. 

As the two of you stepped into the elevator, his hand brushed yours, because you didn't want to lose it. 

"Yes sir, I understand. I'll be there," your eyes flicker up to see Rafael standing in the doorway, "okay goodbye." 

"Was that McCoy—" 

"Chewing me out for not attending yet another gala, unfortunately yes, and it looks like I'm being shanghaied into attending," you shake your head, groaning, "doesn't he have better things to do than force me to schmooze with the affluent and influential?" 

"So close to his re-election? No," he sits down, checking his phone, "he needs to have his best and brightest there, and that's why he wants us there." 

"'Us?'" the corner of his lip tilts upwards. 

"You're not the only one who got an irate phone call," he locks his phone, tucking it away, "we should both leave the office early so we can arrive on time," 

You check the time, cursing, "I have to get my outfit dry cleaned, but I have to write a motion—" 

"I can do it— my suit is ready and I told Liv I wouldn't pick her up until closer to the start—" 

You blink, your chest squeezing, "Liv?" 

He frowns, "Yeah I'm taking her tonight — as a favor — there's a case—" 

You waved him off, “You don’t have to explain, it’s fine,” you grab your coat and your bag, “I should go now and drop off my clothes—” 

He says your name, “You know I would want to go with you if we didn’t—” 

If you didn’t work together, if your hypocrite of a boss didn’t have a chip on his shoulder for workplace relationships— “I know,”  you reply, offering a small smile, if this was something more than what you knew it was— “I’ll see you tonight.” 

But it wasn’t. 

This was a nightmare. 

Truly. 

Forced to attend a gala alone with people you didn’t know very well, stuck in the corner by the bar, forced to watch the one person you wanted be with someone else. But you didn’t want to want him — you downed your drink, asking for a refill — the alcohol wasn’t the only thing bitter on your lips. 

“Glad to see you could make it, counselor,” Jack McCoy greeted you with a grin, offering you his hand in a firm handshake, “you look lovely.” 

“Well, my boss didn’t give me much of a choice,” you purse your lips, “something about my future at the District Attorney’s office and if I wished to have his support,” 

He chuckles, ordering his drink from the bartender (“a scotch, neat”), “I sense good things in your future. You have been a great addition to SVU — you challenge the detectives to bring better cases and you’re giving Barba a run for his money.” 

You spotted Rafael out of the corner of your eye, Liv on his arm, and you glanced away, sipping at your drink, tucking away your frustration behind a mask of boredom— “I suppose I am,” —albeit, maybe not fast enough. 

McCoy followed your gaze. He doesn’t say anything, instead offering his hand to you, “May I have this dance?” you raised an eyebrow, leaning against the bar. 

“You’re not trying to make me one of your famous work affairs, are you, Jack?” and he laughs, shaking his head, tilting his head. 

“I think I know better than that, counselor,” your eyes find Rafael again — dancing with Liv, quietly talking, and you take Jack’s hand. 

“I’d love to,” you follow him onto the dance floor, his hands resting respectfully above your waist just a new song began, “I should warn you I’m not the best dancer,” 

“Just follow my lead,” he assured you, a smile playing on his lips,  “and if you step on my feet, well I’ll have a good case for assault.” 

You rolled your eyes, before pursing your lips, “What’s this about, Jack?” 

“What do you mean?” it’s your turn to tilt your head, your arms resting on his shoulders, “I just wanted to say, I’ve been down that road before,” he spares a discreet glance at Rafael, “and it never ends well.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you keep your voice steady and confused, but Jack only raises an eyebrow, “There’s nothing going on—” 

“A whole of lot of nothing is what I’m worried about,” He kept the friendly smile, “I’ve done this enough times to know when nothing is actually nothing — and I know the look you had wasn’t nothing—” 

“Jack—” 

“I’m not speaking to you as your boss, for now,” his words were careful, a sharp edge of warning that slid harmlessly across your cheek, but you knew it wouldn’t again, “but I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“I don’t want to either, but I know what I’m doing,” and Jack nods. 

“I know you do, and I’m not telling you how to live your life, but-- “ he shakes his head, “you deserve better than someone who hides you — take it from an old man who lost someone they loved when they were too busy hiding them.” 

You frown, “I—” and you felt a tap on your shoulder, Rafael standing between you two. 

“May I cut in?” he offers Jack a smile, who steps back. 

“Remember what I said, counselor,” Jack shakes Rafael’s hand, keeping his eyes on you,  “a bright future.” 

A slow waltz begins to play, and he grins at you, “Are you going to keep me waiting?” 

“What about Liv?” he jerks his head and you see her dancing with that attorney, Trevor Langan. 

“She’s busy, and she’s not the one I want to dance with,” and his smile falters, raising his eyebrows, “unless you don’t want to—” 

You deserve more, Jack’s words echo in your ears, and you wanted more — you wanted him, more than you wanted to admit — more than he wanted you to want him. 

“Of course I do,” you take his hand, a soft smile on his lips, his palm warm against your back, pulling you close. 

“You look so amazing,” he remarks, murmuring in your ear, his dulcet tones sending a shiver down your spine,  “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” 

“Really?” his fingers tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. 

“Yes, because I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to take off,” his voice liquid heat, and your breath stuttered in your chest — his hands on your body were no longer enough, “what do you do to me, mi amor?”

“I could say the same to you,” you mutter, as he tugs you a little closer, blurring the line between professional and personal, “Do you think it’s a good idea that we’re dancing this close?” 

“What do you mean?” and you look around, scanning for any sight of Jack. 

“Our jobs — people could talk,” and he just shrugs, emerald eyes shining, as his lips quirk upward, as he dips you, pulling you back up with ease — the same ease he did everything with — the same ease he always put you at. 

“Then let them.” 

And you bite your lip, a small smile on your lips. Maybe this was enough. You knew what you were doing. You glance at Jack, who now stands at the bar, his brow wrinkled. 

Right? 

“Rafael,” you can’t catch your breath with him, his lips insistent and plying, as he presses you into the soft cushions of the mattress, “we have motions in—” you gasp as he sucks your skin above your pulse, “an hour and half.” 

But really you didn’t care about the motions — you didn’t care about being late —- you wanted to talk to him, about you — about the both of you — but he didn’t want to talk. 

“That means we have at least half an hour,” his hands squeezed your hips, and your body responded in kind, head tilting back, exposing your neck for his lips, “that means I can do what i was planning to do more than once.” 

“You’re awfully confident,” you sigh, your fingers knotted in his soft hairs at the base of his neck, and he presses a kiss right between your collarbone, his lips smiling against you. 

“I have an impressive track record, no?” he grins, “I don’t recall you complaining last night,” you rolled your eyes, tugging him higher, so his hair brushed your forehead. 

“You do, so much so that,” and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding against your chest, “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

He raises an eyebrow, pressing a kiss to your lips, “What about?” 

“What are we doing, Raf?” the words leave your mouth in a whisper — a single, gentle step onto a frozen lake, waiting for the ice to give way beneath you, “what is this to you?” 

He hesitates — the first crack resonates through the still morning, “I don’t know, what is it to you? What do you want?” 

I want more than just this, I want to be able to take you to galas, to kiss you outside of dark corners and corner booths— “I don’t know either—” 

“Then let’s not waste time by defining it,” his hand cups your cheek — the cracks splintered under your feet, the water erupting from the fissures, “Mi amor, I’ve had relationships before, I’ve seen them fall apart, I’ve watched people who love each other hurt each other, over and over again. I don’t want to do that to you,” he sighs, “I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I don’t want to either, but don’t you want more than this?” He holds your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the length of your cheeks. 

“I just need you — no more, no less than just this,” Rafael presses a kiss to your palm, “can we keep it this way for a little longer?” 

You deserve more. You want more. You need more. 

He says your name again, and you offer a small smile, as you sink beneath the emerald colored water of his eyes. 

“Of course, Raf.” 

There’s a knock at your office, and you glance over at the call of your name, “Hey, I’m from SVU, I’m looking for Barba,” his lanky figure is standing in your doorframe, his dirty blond hair slicked back, “I’m here to pick up a—” 

“A warrant?” you nod, rifling through your files, “I got it right here for you, Detective…?” 

He offers a hand, “Dominick Carisi, but you can call me Sonny,” you shake his outstretched hand, “You’re Barba’s number two, right? I heard about you from the squad.” 

“Not how I’d like to be remembered, but essentially yes,” you shrug, before handing him the warrant, “just make sure to keep your search restricted to the places in that warrant and catalog everything properly— we don’t need to need to deal any issues—” 

“Chain of custody, yeah I know. I’m actually in law school right now,” he adds, “Fordham.” 

“That’s a great school,” you raise your eyebrows, “I’m sure it’s tough balancing it with your work as a detective — I barely survived my first year and that was without a full time job.”

“Well, what can I say, I’m determined,” he nods, holding up the warrant, “it was nice meeting you, counselor.” 

“You too, Detective Carisi—” 

“I told ya, call me Sonny,” he smiles from the doorway, and you chuckle, a warm smile blooming on your face. 

“Only if you call me by my name too, Sonny.”