#DEAR A SPECIFIC BRAIN PERSON. LET HIM BE HAPPY >:-(. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!! love from ur big sister jimmy <3

[shittyclive]

clive playing ONE OF THE GAMES IN THE UPCOMING JACKBOX PARTY PACK 10

daily clive 10

hi combexperience from my discords :-) i used our own screenshot again .w.

[tac-the-unseen]

Could you write slashers with a s/o who’s an artist? You can do with all/any you want but I would specifically like maybe the Sinclairs, Billy Lenz, Brahms and maybe Pinhead?

Slashers x Artist Reader + Pinhead

Micheal Myers:

•Pretends not to care, but he's an artist at heart

•If you sculpt or blind things he will insist on watching you over your shoulders

•Will steal supplies for you whether you ask or not

•if you Draw or paint, it's going on the fridge or wall

•He truly admires your work

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•Billy and Stu really just lets you do your thing

•Stu suggest glitter no matter the work or meaning

•Billy Suggests You make a lot of gore pieces

•Both of them will go the extra mile to kill models for you, so you have a subject

•Both Jokingly propose to model nude for you

Thomas Hewitt:

•Loves it when you proudly show him your art

•if you draw/paint on paper, He'll build custom frames So he can hang it up

•If you paint on a canvas, He'll make you canvases so you can make more art

•If you sculpt/Make pottery He'll make a display case for your work

•He's very proudly flaunts it to the family

Bubba Sawyer:

•Shows you his Bone art

•Wants to make art with you

•No matter what you do, He wants to join

•Will be as happy as can be if you make crafts with him or use his supply of bones in your art

Bo Sinclair:

•His Brain immediately connects you to Vincent

•He subconsciously starts treating you like his brother, no matter your relationship with him

•When he goes to other town he grabs you and his brother some supplies

•kinda just plops you down with Vincent and expects you to to get along, especially if you sculpt

•That's about as nice as he can get

Vincent Sinclair:

•He's excited to have somebody who understands

•Will silently sit next to you well both of you work on your craft

•Feels oddly comforting to him

•His family has always been connected by art, even though they're not great people. So having you make art with him solidifies your position as family to him

•shows you his technique with wax working, and wants to teach you how to sculpt with wax

Lester Sinclair:

•pt. 3 of familial bond

•because he didn't receive much attention as a kid, He desperately tried to be an artist to gain favor of his mother

•It didn't click with him the way it clicked with Vincent so he was shoved aside for “real artists”

•If you sit down and make art with him, he will cry

•constantly seeking your validation and praise

•holds your art very dear

Billy Lenz:

•Yet another creature looking over your shoulder

•He's fascinated by your ability to create

•You have hands And he has hands, yet your creations are always different than his

•He's a little jealous

•demands you teach him how to be better

•If you already don't know he'll show you how to crochet in return

Brahms Heelshire:

•In All his time locked away He has had plenty to make art

•He focus on the more classical sides of painting and traditional drawing

•He makes stunning portraits, So if you have a different art style it confuses him

•He's lived his life very sheltered so at first he might not even consider it art

•He later learns how much time and care you put into these works and starts to appreciate your dedication

•He also steals some of them to put up in his room

Hannibal Lecter:

•Very excited

•Starts showing off his own private art collection

•Takes it upon himself to teach you “proper technique”

•Gives you random history lessons on your choice of art form

•buys you very expensive supplies

Will Graham:

•Okay dude

•Doesn’t really care

•Just happy that you're happy

•Secretly admires your work when you are away

•Always make sure your work is safe and undamaged

The Lost Boys:

•Marko is immediately grinning ear to ear

•David pretends not to care

•Dwayne silently watches you

•Paul is all up in your personal space while you work

•No matter what you make or how proud of it you are, It's going in the horde pile with all their other treasures

•Paul and Marko asking you to draw them all the time

•If you do it's being hung up on the wall

Pinhead:

•Another artist in his own way

•He prefers body modification and rigging as his art form

•Will creepy watch you work from a distance

•He’ll give you polite criticism from time to time

•Seeing you so focused and dedicated makes him think of all the other past artists he's met

•Decides fairly quickly that you are his favorite

Thanks for reading <3

[xpao-bearx]

Alrighty, my fellow Astarion fangbangers!! I've got a 🔥SPAHCY🔥 oneshot idea~

This is an idea that's been a parasite in my teeny brain for a while now and at first, I didn't wanna share it cuz I wanted it to be a surprise for when I actually write and post it. But to those who follow me, y'all know I just LOVE to ramble so I couldn't keep it a secret anymore 😂

And sooo here it is: A smutty oneshot of Spawn Astarion x Fem!Reader x Ascended Astarion!

Now you might be thinking... How the HELLS would a threesome with Spawn Astarion and Ascended Astarion ever work??? O_o

Well, lemme ramble some more! 😆

AHEM

Throughout your adventure, Astarion ascended and made his lover (you, dear reader ❤️) into his dark consort. After saving Baldur's Gate, you go to live with Astarion in his palace and start anew with your life of immortality.

At first, everything was going well. Astarion relished in the power he's craved so much and you stood by his side as his most prized treasure. And yet... There was a suffocating emptiness in your heart.

You were happy. Or...you should be. You were going to spend a wonderful eternity with your lover and you only gave Astarion what he's always wanted...right?

But as time passes, Astarion changes more and more. You still loved him, you will never stop loving him, but you couldn't deny that his dominance and possessive nature over you...unsettled you a bit.

Anyhoe, long story short, while you are just wandering around the palace one night and rethinking all your life choices that led you to this very moment, some ✨️magic✨️ happens and Astarion appeared.

Only...this was Astarion from the past. Before he ascended.

This story is still a work in progress so forgive me that this is all a mess, but basically this other Astarion is spawn Astarion! Spawn Astarion comes from another dimension where he never ascended. In that dimension, Baldur's Gate has also been saved but at the cost of spawn Astarion's lover's life--your life.

Astarion couldn't handle the tragic loss of his one true love so he became obsessed in finding something--anything--to be with you again, even at the cost of his soul. I'm still working out the details, but Astarion ended up finding something which made him transport to where you are now!

You are obviously baffled by spawn Astarion and can't quite believe it, but he's just so fucking happy to see you--to be with you--again. And maybe...just maybe...

You wanted to be with him, too.

But of course... There's ascended Astarion.

Beautiful, foolish treasure... Did you really think you could ever forsake your master?

Expect quiiite a bit of angst with this oneshot but, OF COURSE, some real nasty smut too! 😉 I plan to hopefully write and post this story after I finish the game and have experienced both spawn and ascended routes!

Also, I REALLY hope this doesn't cause any discourse! I, personally, prefer spawn Astarion but I also ADORE ascended Astarion (✨️nothing✨️ will stop me from simping for this vamp dork)! I know everyone has their own thoughts and opinions for both and which one is "better", but for me I just live and let live! Let everyone be happy with their own preferences, please 🥰

And I hope no one steals this idea of mine! Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I haven't seen anyone else have an Astarion fic like this so I would assume I would be the first to have this specific idea. If you were inspired by the premise and wanna write something similar, PLEASE credit me for the inspo but also tell me if you post it cuz I would absolutely read the SHIT out of it!! \(^o^)/ But yeah, just please don't copy the WHOLE thing cuz, like I said, I do plan on eventually writing this fic myself!

And hey, if ya wanna be tagged for when I post this fic, please don't hesitate to tell me! 💕

[lady-pug]

Copikla

Summary: Crosshair hates you, Clone Force 99’s new on-board medic. He doesn’t understand how you can be so sweet, kind and happy all the time. His brothers seem to have taken you in as one of their own quite well, but he can’t seem to let his guard down around you. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll grow on him as well.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: none, other than Crosshair being a major asshole sometimes

Notes: Okay, I loved writing this one! I really wanted to write a /Reader dynamic based on Pixie and Brutus (by @pet_foolery) and Crosshair instantly came to mind. I already have ideas for at least 2 more installments for this series, so I really hope you enjoy this (this is pre-Echo btw). Just on quick note, here’s the Mando’a translation for Cross’s nickname for the reader:

Copikla - charming, cute (babies and animals - never women unless you want your head ripped off, but c’mon we all know Crosshair is a bastard)

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

(Also, thank you so so much for the overwhelming support on all the other fics I posted here, it means the world to me!)

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Crosshair couldn’t stand it. 

It had been three standard months. Exactly 105 rotations since this nightmare started. He had been against it from the start, they had Tech, why would they need a kriffing medic in the first place?

Wrecker’s boisterous laughter, accompanied by softer, quieter giggles, reminded him exactly why. 

A mission in Mon Gazza had gone terribly wrong (well, GAR high command considered it a success, as they had managed to secure their objective, but in the eyes of the members of Clone Force 99 it had been a total failure). In an attempt to locate and secure a target who had informed the Republic they possessed vital information on the inner command of Separatist forces, things had turned sour very quickly. A run in with the Pykes had thrown a wrench in their plans of making a quick escape, and a precarious explosion too close to Wrecker (not armed nor controlled by him this time around) had almost cost him his life.

Rushing him to the closest Republic medical base, a specialist had to be called in due to the severity of his injuries. The medic, they were later told, was the same one who had operated on Commander Wolffe of the 104th after his face-off against Asajj Ventress on Khorm. Back then, although she had not managed to save his eye, which had to be replaced by a cybernetic one instead, she did manage to recuperate just enough brain tissue around the area of the injury to save him from possible decommission (as if General Koon would ever let that happen). The head surgeon on base assured the Batch that Wrecker was on the best possible hands. 

And, as it turned out, they had been right. Wrecker had woken up a few days after a soak in the bacta tank with no more than extensive scarring on the left side of his face, partial hearing loss and almost total eyesight loss in his left eye (“Nothing some tinkering with his helmet’s visor cannot fix.” Tech had said). All in all, he was as fine as one could be after such an event.

Even if the mission was a success and Wrecker was still alive (although a little uglier than before, according to Crosshair’s lighthearted teasing), their officials had decided they were too reckless (no matter how many times Hunter had emphasized on the mission’s report that the explosion was collateral and not at all Wrecker’s fault in this specific case) and should be accompanied by medical personal at all times, assigning them an on board medic. Commander Cody interceded in their favor, knowing they wouldn’t work well with a clone medic, and requested a natborn. In the end, the very same medic who had treated Wrecker had volunteered for the job.

That had been three months ago. You had adapted well to the life on board the Havoc Marauder. His brothers, the fools, had immediately been hooked on your charms, but not him. Oh, not him.

Crosshair hated you. 

You were sweet, too sweet. Sweet enough to give him cavities. It wasn’t possible for someone to be that happy and cheerful and kind all the time. You were always smiling, you always indulged in Tech’s info-dumping. Always laughed at Wrecker’s awful jokes, always let him have your sweet flavored ration as a second desert. Always took over for Hunter when his senses were overwhelming him, helping him get comfortable in the safety of his bunk and dimming the lights.

And he wasn’t an exception. Even with all his bitter words and snarky comments, you were always nice to him. No matter how rude he was to you, you were always kind in return. You smiled in his direction in the morning. You kept him company while he was on watch duty. You were, he loathed to admit, a nice person overall. 

But Crosshair didn’t believe in free-niceties. There was no way you were that sweet just out of the goodness of your heart. Surely there was something wrong about you, he just had to find out what. 

Crosshair was cleaning his rifle for the umpteenth time that day and desperately trying to ignore the sweet timber of your voice as Tech taught you how to conduct minor repairs around the ship. It had been your idea, selfless as always, as in doing so you could help him around and reduce his workload if Tech was ever tired or injured after a mission. 

Try as he might, Crosshair couldn’t ignore the endless seam of chatter coming from the two of you. Tech would go on long tangents about specific parts and their functions and you’d engage by asking questions and have him explain things further. It was enough for him to roll his eyes and grip the rag in his hand tighter.

As his mind drifted off to the mission they had just finished he almost didn’t realize that the ship had become silent. Thank the maker. He finally relaxed against the cold durasteel wall. That is until he heard footsteps approaching the crate he was currently sitting on.

“Hey Crosshair!” you greeted cheerfully, to which he sighed painfully.

You waited a few beats before addressing him again.

“So…” you smiled softly at him. Ugh. 

“What?” he answered, contempt dripping from his tone.

“Tech and I are making a quick run to the local market. We’re all out of resistors and he doesn’t like to leave the stock empty.”

“I’m busy.”

“Oh.” for a moment you sounded just a tiny bit disappointed, and he thought would finally leave him alone, but no such luck “With what?”

Instead of answering, he simply looked from you to his Firepuncher and back to you, a frown on his face that clearly meant to ask if you were stupid or something.

“But…” you smiled awkwardly “You’ve been doing that for the past hour.”  

“So?” he only kept on scrubbing his rifle, the rag no longer clean and rendered useless.

“Well, we thought you might want to come with us! You know, it’s sunny outside and that is such a rarity for us. I think it might do us all some good.”

“You thought wrong.” he spat.

“As a matter of fact,” Tech piped in from behind you, like he hadn’t been listening in to this whole conversation “it is scientifically proven that sunlight does help to stimulate the production of vitamin D. So this walk would, indeed, be beneficial for all of us, including you.”

“Come on, Cross! It’ll be fun!”

Something about the way you said his name, this little nickname you had given him, made something inside him snap.

“Haven’t you heard when I said I’m busy?!” he snapped, throwing the rag on the ground “I don’t want to go on a kriffing walk!”

You visibly deflated in response to his words, your smile falling from your face.

“I’m sorry, Crosshair.” you said, voice much quieter than before “We won’t bother you anymore.”

As you walked away, Crosshair tried to ignore the glare his brother was sending his way as he picked the rag from the floor and resumed his cleaning, even if the Firepuncher was glimmering and pristine.

Only when Tech was also out of reach did he allow the tension slip from his shoulders with a heavy sigh. 

Great.

His head was killing him. He had a splitting headache from working in the snow all day, the light reflected by the white, glimmering floor of the planet they were currently stationed for a stakeout mission hurting his already sensitive vision. If this was how Hunter felt when his senses started overwhelming him then he actually pitied his brother and sergeant. 

All he wanted was to take a sonic in the fresher and then crash on his bunk. But as he left the cockpit his nose picked up on something… different. As he sniffed the air around him he realized something smelled good around the ship. 

Whatever it was, it had a sweet smell to it. It was sugary and soft and comfortable, almost like- he shuddered as he realized where his mind was taking him. Like you , his brain filled in for him against his wishes. The sweet scent in the ship reminded him of you.

He shook his head to rid himself of those horrendous thoughts and decided to investigate. Whatever was making this smell was something new, nothing like he ever experienced before, and he’d be damned if he didn’t find out what it was. As he walked further into the hull of the ship, he came to a halt as he came face to face with you, Wrecker and Gonky.

“Hey Crosshair!” Wrecker’s booming voice called out for him “Tech modified Gonky to work as an oven and Doc here is making cookies for us!”

He took a moment to notice your appearances. Both of you were wearing matching checkered aprons, albeit Wrecker’s was a lot more covered in flour than your own. Similarly, Gonky had a few specks of brown sugar all over itself. 

“Cinnamon and chocolate chips! An authentic Alderaanian recipe.” you smiled at him, so sweetly he could bet if he were to take a bit out of you you’d taste just like those cookies “We’ve only just managed to fit one batch at a time inside of Gonky, the other one still needs kneading. Would you like to help?”

He sneered, almost offended, and started walking towards his bunk.

“I’d rather try taking an ackley in a fistfight.”

“Oh. Well, the first batch is almost ready, would you like one?” you asked, not at all unsettled by his harsh words.

“I’d rather eat shredded glass.” he answered with the most nonchalant shrug he could muster as he walked past you and into the bunk area.

Right as he was about to punch the controls and close the door, he heard the softest, quietest sniffle, followed by Wrecker’s voice, a lot quieter than it usually was, trying to console you.

“Don’t mind him, baar’ur’ika. He is like that with everyone. He’s just a grumpy, mean di’kut.”

As he finally closed the door, he couldn’t help the twinge of guilt growing in his chest.

“Let me take a look at that, Cross.”

Crosshair huffed, storming inside the Marauder, his blacks soaking underneath his glistening armor. The Batch hated missions in Donovia, its rainy nature often reminiscent of that in Kamino, an annoying reminder of the only thing they had to call home. There wasn’t a single mission there that didn’t leave them soaked to bone. 

“Crosshair!” you stormed in after him.

“What is it, Copikla?” he sneered, turning back towards you. 

Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, no matter how hard he tried to push you away, he came to terms with the fact that there was no other way than to embrace your presence instead of ignoring it all together. However, he decided to make his displeasure known to anyone who would listen, especially you. As one of his first deeds towards you, since you decided to grant him a nickname, he thought it was only fitting to give you one right back.

“Your shoulder is hurt. Let me take a look.”

Crosshair sighed, annoyed. During the mission, while he kept an eye on the scope to ensure his brothers didn’t get their shebs killed, a surveillance assassin droid managed to get a hit to his shoulder, the blaster bolt grazing his skin beneath his shoulderplates before you, who had been doing the lookout with him, got your own hit in, eliminating the droid. Great, he thought, now he was in your debt .

And since that very moment you’d been nagging his ear off about checking his injury.

“It was just a graze,” he dismissed “nothing to worry about.”

You huffed back at him, chest puffed in indignance.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” you waved the medkit, the one you always carried around, at him “Now take your armor off.”

He smirked, his mean grin full of mirth.

“If you wanted to see me naked, Copikla, all you had to do was ask.”

Your back straightened, stiffer than a board, as you pursed your lips. Gotcha. He could bet your cheeks were flaming, maybe even your neck and ears too. You were way too easy to toy with.

But something he didn’t expect was for you to laugh. Out of all the things he was expecting, hoping, you’d do giggling was not one of them.

“You’re all bark and no bite, right, Cross?” you chuckled, your eyes gleaming at him “Now come on, let me take a look.”

When he didn’t budge, it was your turn to sigh, so softly he almost didn’t hear.

“Please?”

He stood up, stalking towards you one step at a time, before leaning closer to you only slightly, looking you right in the eyes.

“If you want to, come and get me, Copikla.” his voice was dripping venom as he whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

Or so he thought.

“Crosshair!” came Hunter’s booming, angry voice from the ship’s ramp. He was quickly followed by Tech and Wrecker, all three of them equally soaked as they finally caught up to the two of you.

Hunter stomped towards him, gripping his upper arm and practically ripping him away from you. As he turned to face his sergeant, he was greeted with the scowling faces of all three of his brothers.

“I know you didn’t ask for any of this, her being here, in the first place,” Hunter’s voice was low, his tone one Crosshair only heard when his brother was truly angry “but this has gone too far. She’s as much part of this squad as any of us. And you’ll treat her with the due respect.”

Crosshair’s shoulders tensed. How could his own brothers, his batchmates, disagree with him on this? Could they not see it? He huffed, vexed by this whole situation, and promptly left the ship towards the rainy outside.

After a long while (could have been minutes or hours, he couldn’t bring himself to care) of ruminating the past events, he honestly didn’t feel any better. He didn’t even like you, so why did he feel… bad? Guilty even?

As he fished inside his utility belt for a soggy toothpick to put between his lips, he heard the soft splatting sound of footsteps headed his way. He groaned, not in the mood for yet another one of Hunter’s scoldings, when the rain all of a sudden stopped pouring over his head. Looking up he noticed a rainbow-colored umbrella and, following the durasteel handle, he was surprised to find you holding it over both your heads.

“Hi.” you smiled at him, and he felt undeserving of it.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Thought you might be lonely and in need of some company.”

He averted his eyes, gazing at the rain as your words settled over him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“How come you are so nice to everyone? How are you so happy all the time?” he inquired.

It was your turn to look away from him, a small hum escaping your parted lips. 

“It’s a conscient choice, you know?” you explained “At least in my case it is.”

He didn’t say anything, but if the slight tilt of his head in your direction was anything to go by, you knew you had his attention.

“I’ve seen what constant bitterness and rage does to a person.” you elaborated “When I was a child, my planet was raided by pirates. My parents, our village’s guides, tried sending a distress call to the Republic. But no answer came.”

He now turned fully towards you, intrigued. The first thing he noticed were your eyes. Your eyes, normally so lively and full of joy, were dull and glazed over, a misty sheen of tears covering them.

“They killed them. My parents and the other members of the village’s ruling council.” you took a deep breath, trying to stabilize yourself before continuing “My brother was almost an adult at the time. With everything that was happening, he became bitter, full of anger and hatred. He gathered a small group of teens, including me, and we managed to overthrow the pirates. But that wasn’t enough to quell the rage simmering inside of him.”

For a moment, Crosshair felt compelled to lay a comforting hand on your shoulder, but refrained from doing so, thinking the gesture wouldn’t be appreciated.

“The bitterness he felt towards the Republic for not helping us was festering in his heart. He was thirsty for vengeance, just waiting for the perfect opportunity. And then the war started.” you sniffled, laughing bitterly “He made a deal with the Separatists, practically sold us over to their nefarious plans. He was blinded by his bitterness, not realizing he was trusting the wrong people.”

Your frown, something so out-of-tune with your entire personality, suddenly turned into a sad smile.

“After his death at the hands of the Seppies, I realized I was following down the same path as him, constantly bitter and angry all the time. So I decided it was time for a change. I was already studying to become a pediatrician, so I thought ‘Maybe if I help in the war effort, this war will end quicker’. Maybe it’s stupid but…” you shrugged “I also promised myself I would let my anger consume me.”

Crosshair’s eyebrows rose to his forehead.

“But how do you never get angry?”

“Who says that I don’t?” you laughed quietly “I do, many times. I just- let myself feel it. All of it, for just one moment. Then I let it all go. And I think of all the things that make me happy. Like Wrecker’s hugs. Or Tech’s love for nature and science. Or Hunter’s calming presence. Or-” you smiled at him, so brightly it was almost infectious “or you.”

He felt like he was doused in cold water.

“I’m sorry,” he looked away again, head hanging in shame “for the way I’ve been treating you.”

“It’s alright, Cross-”

“No, it isn’t!” he snapped, then took a moment to calm down “It’s just-” 

You smiled at him, a hand laying softly over one of his and squeezing his fingers encouragingly.

“As cadets, we never knew kindness.” he explained “The Kaminoans were cold by nature and didn’t really care about us to begin with. And the regs…”

“I know. Hunter told me about that.”

He sighed. He could bet Hunter didn’t tell you everything.

“They were mean to us. Especially Wrecker and Tech. But also to me and, less often, Hunter.” he laughed, somewhat bitterly “But they could be kind when they wanted to. When they wanted something from us. Or when they were up for a good laugh.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, worried.

“They would pretend to be our friends, apologize for the things they had said and done, only to stab us in the back.” he sighed “Let’s just say the regs are known for pulling the best pranks.”

You gasped softly and squeezed his fingers once again.

“Cross, that’s horrible!”

“You’re telling me.” he turned back towards you “And now-”

“You no longer allow yourself to trust anyone who shows you kindness without thinking they have hidden intentions?” you smiled knowingly.

His shoulders dropped as he looked at his feet. No matter how horrible he had been, you seemed to know him so well.

“Cross, look at me.” he glanced at you, he realized your eyes were soft and your smile, reassuring “I promise you, with all my heart, that all I want is for you, the four of you, to be happy.” you shook your head, a mirthful scowl on your face “Well, that and that you’re all healthy and uninjured.”

He grimaced, sheepishly.

“You’re one of a kind, Copikla.” he said, the nickname coming out not as a sneer, like previous times he used it, but more lighthearted, teasingly. 

“Hunter also told me what that means.” you smirked at him.

Crosshair winced. 

“Would you like me to stop?”

You pretended to think for a moment, even going as far as scratching your chin.

“Nah, I think it suits me. Don’t you think, Cross?”

For once since a long time, long before he started cadet training, he smiled, a full soft smile.

“Yeah, Copikla,” he agreed “I think it does.”

[princelylove]

Your Highness, I have something I'd like to share with you!

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🍰🍰🍰 (￣︶￣*)

Happy (early) Valentine's Day~! I hope you like the flowers and cake slices~ May today be a lovely day for you~ I'm sending you my love all the way over here!

Do you have any Valentine's Day thoughts for characters you like, Your Highness? if it would be okay to ask, of course!

On a side note, your interactions with your anons are nice to see. :> I thought I'd mention that ~

~ 🩹 anon~

Oooh, cake. I'll accept that. Why do you mention that, dear? Did I say something in particular? You should be more specific. 

I do not have a valentine this year, so at least I get to sleep in. It snowed today, too, so I’m simply elated. 

My favorites are sooo funny next to each other. Hotpants, Guido, Vanilla, Santana, and Narciso walk into a bar… Put them all in the same room and it’s dead quiet. Guido stands around a bit desperate to talk to someone who won’t side eye him like crazy, Narciso files his nails in the corner, Santana just squints at Hotpants, who is trying to ignore the fact that she’s the most modestly dressed individual there…

Guido is big on the holiday. He’s a hopeless romantic at heart, years of consuming only romcoms and mushy songs about love will do that to you. Now that he actually has a special someone, he’s thrilled. He’s a rose petals leading to his sofa bed kind of guy, maybe even a gondola and dinner kind of date. Never mind the fact that the gondolier is Narancia. Or the fact that Guido hasn't let go of you once.

Narciso prison drawings go HARD for valentine’s day. They let him have glitter and use scissors. Safety scissors, but still scissors. If his darling isn’t in prison jail with him, they receive a card every single year. You’ll get a card if you’re in there, too, but if you’re not in jail it’s more gaudy. He has to make sure everyone knows you’re spoken for. Tons of hearts, lots of lace he most certainly stole from the art room, and it sort of smells like him! Because he slept with it for a week. He wrote all over it, but his handwriting slowly gets messier and messier, and a bit more out of line. Who says something like “Think of me!!!” and “I wish I could eat your dead skin cells” in the same paragraph…?

Hotpants might do something special. Maybe bring a special dinner home, and some fresh flowers. She doesn’t ask her darling to be her valentine, since she’s… really the only person her darling is able to talk to. It’s not that she assumes you want to be valentines or anything, it’s just that in her head you’re her spouse already and she’s willing to just dance around it. For dinners, she normally brings back game she caught… you don’t have to eat it, but you do need to cook it for her. Hotpants is capable of cooking for herself, but she likes to make sure her darling is doing chores so their brain won’t melt. That, and it’s nice. If you don’t eat meat, she’ll try fish, and if that still isn’t to your liking, she’ll bring back more options for you. For holidays and your birthday, you don’t have to cook at all. You may be left alone for a few days, if she needs to get any special ingredients… but not for long. 

[nobecausecheese]

Janaya

MY GIRLIES!! wild and some possibly out-there headcannons ahead :) I don't think anything fully aligns with cannon but it's my little brain and it does what it wants to

LONG POST! VERY LONG POST!

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - til death do they part

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - fell for each other fairly quickly :)

How was their first kiss? - steamy but they were both debating if it was worth it or not. They didn't get officially together for a while after that. (first kiss after the final battle of season 3 while they patch each other's wounds up)

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Janai. Amaya would worry too much about violating Sunfire traditions and customs when it comes to their relationship

Who is the best man/men? - Gren for Amaya and Kazi for Janai

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Despite what everyone assumed, Rayla! Amaya asks her and Rayla gets super happy :) (Ezran is the flower kid, Bait is the ring bearer, Callum is in charge of post-wedding fireworks) (gren cried too much though)

Who did the most planning? - Amaya :) you know full well girlie wants her wife to be as unstressed as possible

Who stressed the most? - Janai stressed the most outwardly, but Amaya was secretly the most stressed. She didn't let it show, staying strong for her wifey :) But she's a hot mess inside, trying to make sure everything is perfect and fit for her queen :)

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big. (they're literally the queens)

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Karim was on the guest list, but then he fucked around a little too hard and now he's to be shot on sight. Amaya will PERSONALLY deal with him.

Sex:

Who is on top? - Most of their partners have assumed they'd be tops (yadayada big scary lesbians) but they're actually switches. Janai prefers to bottom because she feels so safe and secure with Amaya, and Amaya loves to take care of her. But she loves to be the bottom too because Janai NEVER treats her like she's a burden or a hinderance and won't do anything without asking numerous times for consent. (she has a list of things Amaya does/doesn't like. She's kept it since she captured Amaya)

Who is the one to instigate things? - Amaya is 100% a horny bastard and we love that for her.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (or at least they would be if running everything didn't come first)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off (the first few times. They're very careful with each other)| 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head (depends on the day ofc but dear god Janai is secretly a freak and Amaya loves that for her)

How long do they normally last? - Babes they can go all night if they feel like it

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms- It's actually a competition. They're very competitive. If Amaya "wins", Janai has to eat breakfast with her in the morning (culturally, breakfast isn't super big but Janai indulges her wife with at least a peice of fruit every day now) And if Janai "wins", Amaya has to allow herself to be pampered at the hands of Janai or her handmaidens. (Amaya HATES letting herself rest or relax unless she's forced and Janai's love language is acts of service and gifts lol)

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. It's simultaneous. VERY VERY gentle with each other, but the Sun herself blushes at what she hears

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. they love physical affection. Snuggling is mandatory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - if they can conceive though magic, one. Janai would carry, as she would believe it her duty as queen to carry the heir. Amaya would do most of the early childcare though, to allow Janai to reclaim her strength and her queenly duties :)

How many children will they adopt? - They formally adopt Callum and Ezran after their wedding, not forcing them to live with them or anything but to solidify the unity between their kingdoms and to ensure Callum and Ezran can always have motherly figures. (Amaya basically adopted them after Sarai's death and loves them like her own, they just make it official.) They also, while informally, adopt Soren. He isn't technically their son, but he's much younger than either of them and never really had stable parents, so they assume that role :) He accidentally called Janai "mom" once and she cried to Amaya about it for hours because she was so grateful he looked up to her.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Again, Amaya does most of the early childcare, so her. But she's a firm believer in early potty-training because she dealt with Callum and Ezran when they were little and no way in hell she's doing that again

Who is the stricter parent? - Amaya seems scary, but she's such a caring mom. Janai tries to enforce rules, but doesn't believe in punishments, just corrective behavior. Both of them have the mental development of kiddo in mind, and they collaborate on everything :) the worst punishments for their daughter are NEVER more than a reprimand and some very thoughtful discussion.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Big bro Soren! Once kiddo's old enough to do school, Mum is back to being full-time Queen, and Mom is back to being the head General! So Soren babysits and teaches them how to properly do dangerous shit, and stops them from doing anything that will seriously hurt her

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Amaya would actually chuck somebody out the window if her kid doesn't eat all 3 meals, so either SHE does it, or she instructs a handmaiden to do so (if her and Janai can't make it home on very rare occasions)

Who is the more loved parent? - Both have pros and cons :) Amaya is the "fun one" and she loves to joke around, but Janai is the queen of pep-talks and really well-needed hugs. (janai is a better hugger, but only ever hugs her family so everybody assumes amaya's the more physically affectionate)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?- ... Soren. Amaya would get frustrated ith not being able to properly read lips froma a distance / not having an interpretor, and Janai can't sit through those meetings without getting pissed that her kid isn't getting the accommodations she needs. Soren's used to doing PTA stuff because he (secretly) volunteered at the school to get out of his house as a kid (viren is a shitty dad)

Who cried the most at graduation? - Amaya would UGLY CRY at anybody's graduation, especially her kid's or nephews' or Soren's. Janai would be proud, and make sure the kid knows this, while Amaya just fuckin sobs

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Janai's the queen, so she'd get them out of trouble but make them do community service and help with whatever they did. Unless it was completely justified, in which case, she'd be a proud mum. Amaya would commit a crime for her kids, so. She'd be the one in trouble. Getting her kids out of trouble. And Janai would just sigh and let her go because that's her wife right there.

Cooking: 

Who does the most cooking? - The handmaidens, Janai never really learned because she was busy and always had somebody to do it for her, and Amaya can't cook for shit. She'll eat just about anything from her army days, so she doesn't care to make it taste good. And no way Janai will allow her wife to eat terrible food. Plus the Sunfire elves use more spices and have different cultural ways to eat it than members of Katolis, so she shows her traditional Sunfire cuisine and Amaya goes NUTS because it tastes so good :) Amaya can make a mean sandwich though

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Janai. She's used to being catered to, and has specific things she likes and doesn't. And Amaya would eat a stick of butter covered in dirt if it was what she got served

Who does the grocery shopping? - Handmaidens shop for all the dinner/formal meal food, because they do the cooking, but Amaya shops for fresh produce for snacks and informal meals, and goes to the baker's once or twice a week for fresh bread :) she actually secretly loves domestic errands

How often do they bake desserts? - Amaya loves sweets, so she usually gets a few pastries when she's at the baker's. And if her nephews are home, it's jelly tarts every day

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Both love a good chunk of meat. Janai doesn't eat some due to cultural reasons, but isn't a huge fan of vegetables. Amaya likes the textures in salads and vegetables in general. She's a happy girl if she has any food though

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Janai is the hopeless romantic in the relationship, so she goes all-out for anniversaries. Sunfire elves don't traditionally celebrate those, but her years with Amaya are precious and will eventually draw to a close. (elves live much longer than humans usually. janai tries not to think about that though)

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Amaya is more likely to suggest going out for food, she wants to try as much traditional food as she can, and EVERY family's way to make it. She loves learning about her wife's culture. But for dates, Janai is more likely to invite Amaya anywhere.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - Amaya would burn the food (or leave it totally raw), but Janai would get frustrated and could accidentally go into heat-being mode

Chores: 

Who cleans the room? - Amaya HATES cleaning, but she spent years in the military and so it stays in tip-top shape. Janai usually just gets the handmaids to do it though.

Who is really against chores? - Janai doesn't like chores if she's by herself, but loves to help her wife with them. Amaya loves doing domestic tasks (except for cleaning. That can go fuck itself) (she does it anyway)

Who cleans up after the pets? - Handmaidens clean up after Embertail and Aegis, and Amaya cleans up after the kids usually. Soren tries to do his part with a little stray cat that he brought home though

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Amaya would do it in a pinch, but would also HATE doing it

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Amaya. She's never fully sure if the Sunfire elves accept her as Queen Regent, and worries about making everything perfect for her nephews.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Amaya. Janai doesn't clean. Amaya is also more likely to lose cash though

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Amaya loves feeling clean. Janai takes long baths only if she's really tired or taking one with Amaya.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Janai loves spending time with the pets, and Amaya loves going for walks, so they do that together

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - EVERY SINGLE HOLIDAY. Amaya goes all-out for all of them, Sunfire aand Katolis holidays alike.

What are their goals for the relationship? - No goals. They don't need them. They're the only people they can NOT have goals with. And that's the best they could ever have

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Amaya hates mornings with a passion, but wakes at 5am sharp every day (military habit). Janai wakes when her body wants to, but never after 7am. Unless she's sick. Amaya is the most likely to STAY in bed, though, if she doesn't have any reason to leave, she'll just lay there and enjoy the fact that she's alive.

Who plays the most pranks? - Amaya is a little shit. We all know this. Janai almost never sees it coming. She tries to pull pranks sometimes but Amaya always sees them coming.

that's all!! :) hope you enjoyed if you read this far!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

1. 2. & 15. from the ask game for any of the “It’s Never Too Late” series please!!

also, i have a personal question… how did you come up with the nickname “osita”? it’s one of my favorite nicknames any author has givin their reader and it brings me so much joy hahah.

Heheheh hello friend!!! 🥰

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Okay so after watching Narcos for the 47th time (specifically S3E1) I was like, this man is actually such a sweet softie and he deserves happiness and peace in his life after leaving the DEA. I love 💕 love 💕 and sweet, sappy domesticity and I feel like Javi doesn’t get that a lot so my lil brain went “it’s time to give him everything he always wanted and never thought he deserved” 🥺 I also love romantic comedy so I wanted him to fall in love with someone who was just as equally stubborn and sarcastic as him, but shows him what it’s like to really be loved and cared for because he deserves it 😭

2: What scene did you first put down?

In chapter 1 where Javi and Osita first meet each other at the presentation in the gym!! I probably wrote that first chapter 17 times before finalizing on what I wanted to happen but that was my starting point!!!

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

The last time I had really written anything was years ago in college, and even then, when I wrote, it wasn’t really for me. I’ve always loved writing, and when I started NTL, I had no idea just how much it would make me fall in love with writing again 🥺 I’ve never written fan fic before, so when I started I was so nervous to post anything and genuinely thought no one would ever read it, but at least I could say that I tried. Never ever EVER in a million years did I think that this many people would have written what I’ve wrote, let alone be invested in it and want to hear what I have to say. It’s honestly crazy to me, like to this day I still can’t really comprehend it and it has made me so appreciate all of the love and support it has gotten from the wonderful people on here 💕

Where did Osita’s nickname come from?

Dude… you have NO idea how long I spent looking up Spanish nicknames when I first started writing this…. 💀 I know you can’t really claim a nickname as your own, but I didn’t want to use ones that other authors used and kind of held near and dear to their heart, and wanted something that fit with Osita’s spunky personality. My nickname was Mad Dog growing up (bc I refuse to go by Maddy) and I was okay, animal name could be cute, but even then, I couldn’t really find anything I liked. Until I was thinking about Chicago sports, and they have the Bears and the Cubs and I was like WAIT. I didn’t love osa, but add that little -ita to the end, and Osita was born 🥹🤪

Thanks for your asks!!! 😙💕

[mavsaviators]

cliché | pete mitchell - 1

Summary - You and Maverick are friends. But what if you’re ready to be more?

Content - Pete Mitchell x Reader, reader’s callsign is Dash, set during original Top Gun, eventually friends to lovers (if I continue this), angsty, pining, unrequited love-ish, f! reader

Word Count - 1226

Part 2

-

It was cliché, you couldn’t deny it.

Falling in love with Pete Mitchell, one of your closest friends and the person with whom you had enjoyed a strictly platonic relationship since flight school…

It sounded like a badly written movie.

Your feelings didn’t appear quickly, resembling more of a slow descent than the steep cliff that many described falling in love as. Slowly you started to notice things about him, like that specific grin he gave after a particularly witty comment to a superior, or how criminally good those glasses look on him…

“Now Dash, if I hadn’t known already, it’s obvious now.”

You scoffed, although the edge of it was barely there.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Carole.”

Your friend took the spot next to you and let out a small sigh.

“C’mon Y/N. You and Mav, It’s clear as day to anyone with half a brain.” She said, nudging you with her elbow. “You've seemed down ever since he started dating Charlie.

But your attention was elsewhere, now focused on the happy couple in front of you. Mav and Charlie were now at the piano, with his arm around her waist, laughing at Goose’s musical skills.

Carole followed your gaze and realized what you were looking at.

“He doesn’t love her, you know?” she whispered, snapping you out of your delirium. “He likes her, but doesn’t love her. It’s always been you for him, you must know that by now.”

You smiled sadly, casting your gaze down to your beer that you’d been working on since you arrived at the diner.

“As much as I’d like to believe that, he looks at her in a way that he’s never looked at me, Carole. And they're good together. What kind of friend would I be if I’m not happy for him?”

Carole gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your hand, a small wave of comfort flowing through you at the gesture.

“Well If Pete doesn’t see what’s in front of him then he is an absolute fool. And if you ever need a distraction from him, I happen to know someone who has a weak spot for pilots.” She whispered, as a sly smirk spread across her face.

“Make our dear Maverick realize what he’s missing.”

This made you laugh. Carol had been trying to set you up with a friend of hers for a while now. but you had refused because you were too busy pining over Mav.

But as you turned to your aforementioned best friend, who was now leaving with his girlfriend (with whom he looked absolutely smitten with) you turned back to Carol.

“Tell me more.”

-

It had been ages since you dressed up like this. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, satisfied as you finished the last few touches of your makeup. You had decided to meet up with Mark at a local restaurant that you frequented.

For the occasion, you had elected to wear a pale blue sundress, adorned with a simple white pattern. It had been sitting in your closet, collecting dust and now was a perfect opportunity to finally use it.

Mark Jacobs was a friend of Carole’s from school and a family doctor in a nearby practice. Initially, he wanted to be a pilot, but later decided that he lacked the nerve. According to her, he was an absolute dream back in university and had looks that were on-parre with Maverick’s.

You could do worse right?

You did a small twirl in front of the bathroom mirror. Although you were never quick to compliment yourself, you had to admit you looked good.

Alright. As Carole put it, time to make Pete realize what he’s missing, you half joked.

The hours passed by quickly, with not much to note. Mark was a pleasant, funny person, and you could understand why Carol had thought he might be a good fit.

However, both of you could tell pretty early on that the spark between you wasn’t there. You then confessed why that was, giving him a simplified version of what was occurring with you and Maverick. He took it surprisingly well, which started a budding friendship between the two of you.

For the next month or so you continued meeting up with Mark, enjoying being able to talk to someone who wasn’t in the Navy for once. He proved to be an amazing listener, and you were genuinely excited to spend time with him.

Mark even agreed to be your “date” to an upcoming get-together at the beach you had planned with Goose, Carole, Maverick, and Charlie. After hearing you mention jokingly the fact that you’d be the third wheel for not one, but two couples, he immediately offered to accompany you.

“You know Dash, I could come with you. To take an edge off the awkwardness?” He said one night, looking at you from across the table.

“Mark, I’d love for you to come, but we might be sending the wrong impression to them." You replied.

You paused.

“What if they think we’re together?” You continued, tone slightly lowered.

Mark laughed at this.

“Is that the worst thing that could happen?” He said, shrugging as he slurped his noodles.

You gave him a pointed look.

“Mark.. Is there some other reason why you want to go with me this weekend?”

He then proceeded to give you a look of a deer caught in headlights.

“I’m just saying. From what you told me about your relationship with Maverick, I have a small feeling that he won’t be the happiest about me being there with you. That’s it.” Mark postulated.

After another one of your sharp looks, he raised his hands in defeat. But then after thinking it over for a while, you hesitated. You had been looking for some form of closure when it came to you and Mav. Having Mark tag-along wouldn’t be so bad would it?

Maybe it’d help getting rid of that tiny sliver of hope you got whenever Pete would smile or laugh with you. And when you remembered the amount of sleepless nights that were the byproduct of that hope?

Well.

How bad could it be?

-

Both you and Mark had arrived early, and he acted the perfect gentleman, offering to take you on a walk on the beach before heading to the bar. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't been considering forgetting about Pete altogether and just focusing your attention on him instead.

But alas, what you saw next nipped any potential fantasies about Mark in the bud. You spotted Maverick playing volleyball, with Goose, and a couple other people whom you couldn't quite recognize.

You stopped for a second to admire his form, before scolding yourself. This meeting was supposed to give you closure on the crush you had developed on him, not make it ten-times worse!

Mark, who noticed what was happening, grabbed your hand and directed you away from the scene.

“You’re going to have to stop gawking at him like that.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“Do you think I meant to?”

Little did you know, at the same time a certain pilot had spotted you, and was now wondering who the man accompanying you was.

And why he no longer was in the mood to play volleyball..

[saphirered]

I’m Home With You (pt2.)

Part 2 to this request 😘

Percy finds your chambers. He knows exactly where they are since he insisted you’d get these specific ones. He knows how much you admire the sunrise, despite it being an ungodly hour to be awake at, he knows it’s your happy place and the windows of these chambers give the best view in Whitestone. Nevermind the balcony, a table and two chairs set up where he’d sit with you after he’d have had a late night- or lied about having had one so you wouldn’t scold him for further messing up his sleep schedule, to spend it in your company, the two of you enjoying breakfast as you watch that sunrise. He only needs to close his eyes to see you bask in the glow, that smile on your face, so carefree, so at peace. Were he a painter he’d have eternalised that image a long time ago. What is he blabbering on about? His brain is trying to distract him yet again. How long has he been standing in front of your door looking like a fool? 

Knuckles rap against the wood. He waits. No answer. Perhaps you’d gone to sleep already? Or you’d still be out wandering somewhere? Percy knocks again but still no answer. He tries again, calling your name, third time’s the charm, right? Still nothing. You ought to have woken by now. You’re a light sleeper, after all. Percy, getting worried slowly and quietly opens the door and peers inside. 

The room is dark, dark and empty. No trace of you upon first glance so he lights a candle you keep on the side table. As per usual your room is clean and properly organised but something feels off. It almost feels like it’s devoid of your presence. Were it not for your evening wear neatly placed on the bed, jewellery on the end-table, Percy might not have noticed your second pair of boots missing, as well as some of the trinkets you kept around for decoration. He feels wrong doing so but opens your armoire and it confirms his fears. Your travel gear is gone, as well as your spare clothes. With a sigh he closes the door and in the mirror he’s faced with, he sees your desk, crumpled up papers, some of them thrown into the smouldering embers of your fireplace, quill discarded and ink stains on the paper beneath it. Percy walks over, inspecting the discarded letters, puts the quill back in its proper stand as he unfurls one. 

“Dear friends,

It regrets me to say goodbye to you like this. 

My sincere apologies for my abrupt departure. I only wished not to complicate things.”

Percy goes through a multitude of the drafts left behind until he finds one not crossed out but instead circled. A rough draft perhaps but approved by you apparently.

“Farewell my friends, 

It feels strange to start a letter like so but I think it is the only appropriate way to do so, if only to get it over with. It saddens me I do not have the courage to say my goodbyes in person but I fear something might compel to stay when my heart is telling me to wander. Worry not. I will be well but our ways part here, for a while. You have made me who I am and I will be forever grateful. Now it is my turn to find my place in this world. I love you always. 

May we meet again.”

Percy’s heart beats in his ears. Dread sets in as mind just blanks out, trying to process what he just read. You left- are leaving. The writing is still fresh as are the embers of the partially burned notes. If you have, you’ve not gone far. Percy knows he won’t change your mind once you’ve set yourself to do something. He doesn’t want to. If you wish to travel, find your place then he won’t stand in your way but he can’t let you go without finally telling you the truth. Perhaps it is selfish of him to think that maybe, just maybe you’ll reconsider leaving, should you feel the same. Maybe you’d find Whitestone worthy enough of a place to call home. He can hope but he’d be a fool to claim such things with certainty. You’re free to do as you please when you please, be that with your friends-with him in Whitestone, or off somewhere far away on your own.

Like any sane person would, Percy rushes down the halls, grabbing the nearest guard by the shoulders and demanding if they’d seen you. They have not so he moves on not wanting to waste more time. After a solid fifteen minutes of scouring the castle grounds he’s lucky to stumble upon a tipsy Pike who thankfully saw you slip up the stairs. Pike also noted she thought you’d looked quite upset about something but Percy was gone before she could ask him if he knew anything, the man having rushed up the stairs Pike had pointed out, leaving the gnome confused in the empty hallway. He’d bigger things on his mind. Percy goes up, stopping at every level to check if you’re there, if there’s guards on patrol, ask them if they’ve seen you come by. He’s ready to give up considering you might have taken one of the other passages down and away from the castle. Percy passes by his own chambers to see a faint orange light come from between the cracks of the door. Cautiously he pushes it open. A few candles around the room burn and flicker in the cold night’s air. The balcony doors are open. He inspects the room, but all seems clear and in place, as usual, save for a new addition; a pristine letter on his pillow. He goes over to it. 

You take a deep breath bracing yourself on the balcony, fingers digging into the stone, head low and eyes squeezed shut. You fight that lump in your throat, the burning in your eyes and every fibre in your body telling you you’re making a huge mistake. You take this brief moment of respite to collect yourself. You’ve made up your mind, you keep repeating. Perhaps it was a mistake to go to Percy’s room and leave the message for him to find first. Perhaps you’d been better off sliding it beneath his door but you didn’t and now you’re here standing on his balcony overlooking  the city he’d grown up in, the city he calls home. He’s found his place. Now it’s your turn to find yours. ‘But what if it is right here, in Whitestone’, your own mind argues but you shoot it down. Just in time for you to hear the approaching footsteps. Quickly you hide behind a pillar. It’s almost childish, almost pathetic but you can’t face him. You know it’s Percy. The footsteps stop and you don’t dare look around the corner, through those paned glass windows. 

Taking a peak forward, you catch a glimpse. How far down would it be? Could you perhaps reach another balcony or roof, or would you be doomed to a death drop you might yet survive? How willing were you to take your chances? Not that willing. You’d wait him out and pray to all the gods watching, Percy would leave or go to sleep quickly so you could sneak away. The gods did not favour you this night, it seems as a black bird-a raven lands on the balcony, chirping happily. You try to shush it, wave your hand as much as you can in attempt to scare it off but it only attracts the little ball of feathers more. The raven hops over in the mind you have food or something else. You hear footsteps again, looking to your side you see your travel pack is right around the corner, in view. You can’t get to it and that stupid bird keeps bugging you. You swear, you’ll walk to the Raven Queen’s domain yourself if it turns out this bloody one happens to be one of her messengers and you’ll raise hell if it’s who you think it is. You glare at the bird and the look it gives you back, the tilt of its head-his head. You know. You bloody know. 

“Isn’t it a bit early to watch the sunrise?” Your heart drops when you hear Percy’s voice. So casual but with a hint of burden. Did he read your letter yet? You narrow your eyes at the raven as if signalling you’re not done with him yet but the raven just caws. Then you turn to face Percy, usual smile there, albeit a bit forced. You don’t know if it’s better or worse when you notice the folded letter between his fingers. Either way, it’s exactly what you’d hoped to avoid. 

“Going somewhere?” Okay now Percy’s just messing with you. Does he have to torture you while he’s at it? The raven caws and nods towards your traveling gear. Percy looks over his shoulder and notices it against the pillar before his attention turns back to you. 

“Yes, actually.” There’s no point in lying, is there. 

“Oh. Anywhere in particular?” This is so awkward. So terribly awkward and Percy keeps hitting himself mentally. Why is he procrastinating yet again? He thought he was ready but here he is avoiding the subject like avoiding his mother’s stern gaze like a child when he got caught doing something he shouldn't have. Come on, Percy. You got this. Just a bit of bravery. You’ve fought monsters and evils. Then again, no enemy is greater than one’s own mind… No, he can’t think like that. Not now. Not again. 

“I thought Marquet would be nice this time of year. The stories from Gilmore do give it some level of intrigue after all. I’m curious to see what more it has to offer. We didn’t exactly get to see much.” You ramble on looking for any and all excuse to move from your spot, and work your way back into the room so you can make your exit but every attempt you make that damned raven knows what you’re up to and caws every time spooking you into staying where you are. Percy looks somewhat conflicted, as he takes in your words. Like something is on his mind. You have half the thought to ask him but refrain. You just want to go. You feel your resilience slide away already. Doubt sets in. Was this truly the right path? What if Percy needs you? Of course he doesn’t. He has Vex. He doesn’t need you. You’ll never be able to be what he needs you to be. You bite your tongue. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s been on my mind for a long time now. I’ve just been too caught up in everything going on- no, no more excuses; I’ve been too cowardly to tell you. Know I’ve done so only out of fear I might lose you forever. It’s a poor reason I know and I think it’s unfair to say this to you now, before you depart. While I have my own selfish reasons and perhaps even hopes, I cannot with good conscious leave this unsaid.” Percy looks you in the eye, the same way he’s looks at you before; a sense of pride and admiration. You’ve dreamed sometimes there’d be something more in there, imagined there was in the past too, imagine there is still now. Percy is not yours to love. Don’t pretend he looks at you with love. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for my selfishness. Not only should I have told you this a long time ago but I shouldn’t have brushed you off or ignored you when my own feelings got in the way. It was entirely unfair to you. You are my friend. You are my family. And I value you so much more than some feelings I might hold for you-“

“Feelings?” You cut him off. You don’t dare to take another breath, entirely surprised you could even get the word across your lips. Though, the shock in your eyes does little to hold your further responses at bay. 

“I shouldn’t have kept this a secret from you. You have my affection and while I am quite certain my feelings for you run deeper than some fling or crush, I would not want to push that upon you. However, for the sake of our friendship and it lasting, this is not something I think can go undiscussed-“

“Percy?” You cut him off once more before this tirade continues and Percy talks himself down once more. You can’t stand the man you know to be so confident, to the point of arrogance even, be so uncertain of himself, or rather his ability to read you. 

“Yes, dear?” The corners of his mouth turn upward when yours do at the small terms of endearment you’d grown accustomed to. The first sign of normalcy in this whole conversation. That felt good. 

“You’re rambling.” The raven on the ledge caws in agreement but your force yourself back to the matter at hand. You take a hesitant step forward, taking Percy’s hands in yours. Your brow furrows. 

“I-uh. I can’t- shouldn’t. We shouldn’t.” You take a deep breath. “What about Vex?”

“Vex?” Percy frowns confused. “Vex is my friend.”

“And so was I- am I. I should be. I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way you talk to her, and she does too. I know she walks and talks like a proper lady. She’s loved by the people of Whitestone. Respected too. She’ll make a great Lady of Whitestone one day.” You try and Percy’s features sadden. You just close your eyes, if only not to have to face him directly. 

“You’re right. She would make a great Lady of Whitestone. But she won’t be. Vex will always be my friend. She’ll be part of my family but I won’t love her like I love you. You are everything I need. If that means some stick-up-the-arse nobles disapprove then so be it. I’d much rather have you than please them.” 

“Percy, you can’t say those thing-“

“Yes I can. The perks of being a lord, dear. I don’t need some uptight Lady of Whitestone to smile and wave and play house with the other nobles when I have you. I want you. If you’ll have me, that is.” Percy awaits your answer but your eyes remain closed. He squeezes at your intertwined hands and you bite your lip in response. So many things flowing through your brain. So many impulses your heart wants to act on but you don’t let it.

“People depend on you. You have a responsibility to them.” With that Percy tears away from you, stepping back and your eyes open, watching him go back into the room, open the dressers and chests digging though for things and throwing them onto the bed. You look on in confusion until he’s satisfied and grumbles to himself, stuffing the things he’s gathered into a bag.

“To hell with my responsibilities. Cassandra has been handling them. She can handle them a while longer. Preferably for the rest of my life if it means I’ll get to spend it with you. I don’t need someone raised with a silver spoon, or trained from birth in the customs of high society. I don’t need someone like Vex to hold my hand. I need someone like you. Someone carefree and unburdened. I need someone who doesn’t feel the need to fit in, force a persona to please but most of all I need someone who can knock me off my high horse whenever I go too far.” You can’t help but chuckle in memory of the times you’ve knocked Percy down a peg, much to the surprise of some of Vox Machina who had not achieved that feat in a long time. 

“I’ve given up this life before. It wasn’t my choice back then. But it was never my choice to become Lord of Whitestone. Nor did I ever want to be. So excuse me while I get us passage on a ship to Marquet because unless you tell me you don’t want me there, I’ll be at your side.” Your heart skips a beat.

“You’d really do that? For me?” All Percy does is give you a look as if he has to tell you twice. He walks around the bed back to you. You stand toe to toe and Percy waits for any further response as you process. Your eyes scan his features for any doubt, any sense of insincerity but find none. You don’t know why your mind found it reasonable to question the truth of Percy’s confessions but what you saw that disproved any and all demons whispering in your head, you allowed yourself to accept it. Hesitantly your hands slide up his chest until they grasp his shoulders. Your fingers brush against his neck and Percy just looks at you, waiting for your next move. 

“May I?” You ask. 

“Please do.” With that you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. It’s a soft and sweet kiss at first but quickly becomes more heated. Pent up affections, downplayed feelings and a whole lot to catch up on fuels the desire until you’re out of breath. The caw of a raven from the balcony comes right on time and makes you both jump, forgetting the creature was there in the first place. 

“I don’t care what wrath I’ll invoke but I swear, I will shoot you.” Percy threatens the bird and you repress a laugh. He gives you look; you deal with it. But instead of answering you just wrap an arm around his neck and pull him close into another kiss. The raven caws once more before the flutter of wings is audible, signaling its departure. You’ve got your whole lives ahead of you but leave it to an old friend, a messenger from beyond to take credit for you two ending up together after all. 

You’ve found your home and it was right here all along. In Whitestone. You’re home. 

[eluxcastar]

Meeting their s/o's reincarnation in the next life, but on the enemy's side

── ୨୧：ky luc, chess belle, crowley eusford x reader (separate)

୨୧﹑synopsis :: a past lover departed all too soon, never supposed to meet them again, though immortality will make that possible. it was never how they expect it to end up.

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, mentions of violence, brief mentions of suicide (staged), implied kidnapping, stockholm syndrome if you squint, 90% of these are for chess, she may be ooc, crowley's past s/o is amab, also not explicitly his s/o (historians say they were roommates)

୨୧﹑words :: 4.5k

ky luc apparently WASN'T IN THE FIRST ONE??? 🤨 so anyway our catboy gets put here, Chess' deleted because I fell asleep writing it and istg I could cry Idk hers was an idea that tickled my brain. I was gonna include Horn but then I saw the word count at just Ky and Chess and withered away

part one | part two

─ ୨୧： ky luc

He always knew that at some point, you must leave this world before him.

Ky can remember the times he used to watch his dear lover, his still very Human lover from his very Human life, yet as he leaves that life behind in order to pursue the thing that interests him next he finds that he can not yet stray too far. Even when Sika Madu will scold him for sneaking out he ignores the many warnings in order to see you, watch you more like. It comes from a place of good in his heart.

The person he watches day to day to ensure your health and happiness. As far as you knew, Ky had passed in a tragic accident, though you never were fond of hearing the specifics, and your life goes on with a hole where he used to be. He begins to notice when you come out of your shell again and slowly cheer back up, it's visible in your demeanour and the spring back in your step. Your beautiful smile, your warmth is back for the first time in a while.

It's also very visible when you begin to grow ill, first just a minute cough here and there that began to grow into full-blown fits, you told the Doctor you couldn't breathe at times, and that these fits were beginning to make you dizzy. He could see you deteriorate more and more with each day, and none of the treatments you were trying were working and it frustrated him to no end. Ky rarely knows the specifics of how sick you are, having to wait for you to mention it to someone and only then, it had to be one of the times he was in earshot to hear it, because in your mind he was long dead. You start making the odd jokes every so often that this is 'just Ky becoming impatient', and something tells him you're worse off than you're letting on.

"God, now I'm imagining my dead husband." is your response when he first breaks his deal with Sika Madu not to get too close. Ky doesn't deviate from that narrative, using it as his leeway to take your hand and shush you, telling you to just rest. "Things were finally starting to look up again." You have done nothing but worry him, and now you seem to enjoy that more than ever as you talk to what you still believe is a mirage. "They say that there's nothing they can do, just to arrange my affairs and pray. Perhaps we will be together again sooner than we thought."

And just like that he snaps from his thoughts, staring at one of the soldiers who had arrived on the bus with the gang of teenagers, one who looks so eerily similar to a string of memories he has that it's impossible to shake. Ky could take a picture of that one, travel back in time and hold it up to his lover and he'd see two of the same people staring back at him. It's almost scary, thinking about how easy it would be to break that little soldier even when he wouldn't dream of laying a finger on the person he mistook them for at first.

Just as quickly as you appeared you're running off with those kids telling them not to cause a fuss, like they were little children you're hopelessly trying to parent, and it clicks with him your uniform is different. It's not so drastic you look like you're in a different army but the adornments it holds say enough—the reason you're scolding those five are because you are like their parent. You're one of their superiors. Feasibly any curiosity he may have held would've been much easier to indulge with a standard private rather than an established higher up.

It feels as if it all went too fast, as an innocent little assignment from Lord Urd leads to him getting chased around by this very strong, very angry 'little soldier' who he thought would be so easy to crush between even his fingers like a pesky little insect. Ky thought sacrificing Ferid would be enough, but you ran after him after his retreat like you had a death wish. Indeed, as he manages to grab you by the throat and slam you against the ground where you will stay put, he does finally get to see you closely.

It's as if he looks down at his lover, sleepy and at peace, reaching up to caress his cheek and murmur something to him; he can't quite remember word for word, but he remembers enough. Everything down to the smell of the room ingrains itself within his mind and etched out a clear picture, even the smell is there as he swears he can pick up the faint scent of smoke and wax from the candle he recalls living at your bedside where you would light every night. The feeling of your hand touching his skin and leaving a pleasant ringing in the wake of your fingertips as you stroke his cheek to ask if he's tired yet, all before Ky leans down to place a gentle kiss against your forehead.

Then he realises he has you pinned to the ground, and he's choking the life out of you as you claw at his face after giving up on his hands which had reddened due to how vicious your nails were scratching him. Ky eases up his grip on your neck and you immediately gasp for air, your chest heaving just to try and pull yourself together. He realises he's killing the only trace of you left on this earth, a little soldier who shares your face, and who hates him in just the way you must for what he's done to you.

He can't bring himself to squeeze any harder, he releases you completely and stands from where he had crouched by your side. Ky watches as you roll yourself over and cough on seemingly nothing a couple of times, barely even reacting as he practically scurries away knowing you'll be better off if he leaves while you're stuck in a state you can't possibly chase anymore.

The third time you meet is the middle of your newest battlefield, a mess of blood, fire and the smell of death as you're both standing in the remnants of countless of your comrades. He's far too close, inspecting your neck closely, and his thumb brushes over the deep purple marks imprinted in your skin, the bruises yet to fade. You shove Ky away almost the second he touches you, and he allows it. He's watching you be sent flying within seconds, a chain far too recognisable coming down between you and flicking at you with what looked like barely any force. You had been relatively passive until now, but it must've taken you from observer to fighter. Offence fighter. It's what tips you from tolerant, and he can only assume you saw it as a breach of this relatively peaceful interaction. You launch yourself at him, weapon in hand, and he's forced to weigh his opinions in the few seconds he has to decide whether or not to strike. It feels as if time stops just for this decision, and he wonders, if he couldn't kill you before what changed?

Even if he wanted to, Ky knows he could never hurt you, the you he loved that is, but you look so much like that person…you look so much like that person he can't take the thought.

He wonders if you ever once hesitated in your decision the way he has every time he's tried to hurt you, but contrary to how he imagined it, he doesn't feel even a hint of pain. If he wasn't watching his body collapse to his knees and begin to deteriorate into the air, he wouldn't even know you'd cut his head off. It feels peaceful. It feels peaceful to think of what life could've been if he had never left you in the first place. He certainly wouldn't be watching Lest Karr charge at you in a fit of childish anger, nor would he have seen what became of you as he is now. Perhaps he could've gone with you, to the place where you found your peace, your family. He can only think back again, back to what you last said to him, about seeing him again…at the time you couldn't wait.

"At last, we'll be together again, love. I'm sorry I made you wait so long."

─ ୨୧： chess belle

The turn of the century offers you just about everything you could ever ask for in a life of crime and con artistry — an atmosphere, clothes, the people, the places, the boom in the economy that was making you richer and richer — and you both cash your cheques with a laugh knowing you'll be set for a while now, this will tide you over even if you decide to have a little fun and drink together like you don't have a limit.

Many people look at the way you look at each other and scowl, but it's never stopped you before. The thing that would stop you sounds closer to a bad con, or more like cheating. You suspect one of the players is observing the cards of the people around the table through a third party, the one serving you drinks, so you slip an unwanted card away under your clothes where it's out of sight while nobody is looking too closely. You thought it was fine, until you win the round now with more than a few cards tucked away and suddenly he explodes. It's so unreasonable it completely ruins the mood, but nobody wants to stand against him.

He obviously knows you're a 'damn con artist' as he puts it, but playing dumb and collecting Chess from the other table insisting to her you have to leave now doesn't get you far. You both decide to get out of town and move on before the whole ordeal is blown out of proportion. It already is as he's got his panties in a twist over the money you just made him lose, valuable time he could've spent playing someone who wasn't a cheating bitch. You know it's safer not to loiter just because there's profit to be made, there's so many better places you can run to with your darling girlfriend that one place will mean nothing in the grand scheme of things, and you'll find some place where you can happily marry whether or not deception may be necessary.

You're not exactly sure how a card game where you returned the notion of cheating to win ended this way, with a gun to your head in a place where Chess would find you. A pen in your hand and a piece of paper in front of you, writing exactly what you're told word by word as it evolves into what looks like a suicide note. You're not in love with her anymore, and you won't live a loveless life. You can't fathom those things let alone writing them for her to read and blame herself for your death. You try to work things in under his nose, stupid pet names you've never called her before, or that she heard and laughed uncontrollably because you were intentionally being embarrassing or some event that never happened as you're told to 'give an explanation'. The last thing you write is how you can't stand her abuse anymore, and you know that she'll know you don't have a say in this, you know she's never actually raised a hand to you or chewed you out when you didn't do something to deserve it.

Chess finds you some hours later, taking your body in her arms even when she hears the gun fall to the ground, you're staining her clothes with blood and she's covering her hands in it just to cradle you in her arms begging you to come back.

You find yourself bound and restrained, laying on the bed you'd been sleeping in in a daze where the little purple-haired Vampire has you held down with her own body straddling your waist and pressing you into the mattress. It feels like she's draining you, and you can't push her away when your arms are tied. You feel light-headed. You aren't even sure how you ended up here, vaguely recalling her asking if she can keep 'this one' in reference to you. You think you were ambushed by her. At some point she decided to keep you more than ever, and had taken you home with her where you had been for a few days now. Sometimes Horn watches you to see exactly what she's has been doing with her new toy, sometimes you're alone with Chess and she's oddly tender.

It's one of the times you're alone, and you're trying to think of how many days it's been since she began this. "I thought I would never see you again." She says it suddenly, like you're supposed to know what she's talking about as she lays down beside you, "We made that guy so mad he got us kicked out, but we had lots of fun in that place." You turn your head to look at her, and she reaches up to stroke your cheek.

"Can…Can I be untied yet…" You almost don't want to interrupt her, but there's an ache in your joints from how uncomfortable it is and you wonder if catching her at this moment will make her comply.

"Hmph!" She pushes herself back up and sits back on top of you, her thighs squeezing you tightly, "Are you gonna run away?" You vigorously shake your head, a noise something like a whimper escaping you. "You're not much like you used to be y'know, or maybe you just aren't like that for me anymore… Are you always this much of a fraidy cat?"

She shuffles back to make room for you to sit up, reaching behind you to untie you as she said she would. "You've been keeping me as livestock after killing all of my friends." The amount of relief you feel having your arms freed is indescribable, "Sorry I'm not all over you."

"Hm. It's just like we were when we first met, except you thought I was a fraidy cat. The police wouldn't investigate your death, they were glad one of us was gone."

"My what?" You can't quite follow what she's saying, though you can piece some things together. She seems to have mistaken you for someone she used to know, and she loves that person enough to be delusional to the fact that if they're dead and you're supposedly them, you can't be under her 'care' right now. She is so unimaginably gentle towards you that you allow it when she wants to curl up in your arms, partly out of fear and partly just so she'll think twice about hurting you again if she thinks you're warming up to her.

On and off for months she comes to you, allowing you minimal freedom but slowly providing you more trust. She let's you wander, but not too far, keeping you mostly in the one room where she visits you and feeds you, she tells you a lot about who you used to be. You understand now, and you're so grateful she found you again. It's a pity you don't have any memories of that but she never spares a detail in telling you all about it. You used to think she was keeping you something like her pet, but you start to grow more and more fond of her.

You let her have you, now that you know she's just trying to help her misguided lover break away from how much the Humans brainwashed you. You can't ask for more, even when people are starting to question why she devotes so much attention to a Human, even Horn wants to know. She especially wants to know whether Chess is just dancing about the rather glaring issue: your body will not remain this way forever, you'll grow out of looking the way she remembers you very soon. She insists Chess must give you her blood, right in front of the both of you, and Chess initially brushes it off.

Then she starts thinking, the best way to keep you by her side is to never be able to be killed by the likes of Humans ever again. Besides, if she does that, then you'll finally be safe. The Humans won't even want you back let alone try brainwashing you into believing Vampires are unruly monsters again. Yes, this way, you will truly be safe from them and all their lies.

"Will you let me give you my blood now? You never have to die again, we'll always be together."

─ ୨୧： crowley eusford

There is a semblance of repose he finds in speaking to you, a crusader still in training just under him, and Crowley finds your antics rather amusing if not a little out of line sometimes. It isn't easy to reign you in until he's more practised at the 'skill', but something about just how carefree you can manage to be is a relief to him, a breath of fresh air he isn't used to. He likes listening to you laugh about something childish and possibly quite stupid in his eyes, not because he completely shares your idea of humour but just because he likes your look of joy. He likes seeing you try to run away to escape the children who have decided you're the coolest person in the world all for their entertainment, so they can 'catch' you and brag about it.

Most of all, Crowley likes that you'll come visit him if and when you please, not because of any particular obligation to do so or because someone asks. Sometimes he just likes hearing about what you have to say, even if you just came to him bubbling with excitement about something you absolutely had to tell anyone right this second. He's flattered you choose him for that all the time. Of course you listen to him, and you have made remarks that you feel like more than just friends, ending it with 'like brothers'.

He doesn't think of you that way, something more than friends, but not brothers, it just…doesn't feel right. He wants more from you, but that seems to be more you can't provide, especially not in your current position, not when you want to be a holy knight so badly. You may be a bit of a goof ball, but you try to take your oaths seriously. You try to ease his mind with a promise that you'll keep coming to him for your bouts of energy. Crowley treats that as a vow, a silly vow and rather innocent but a vow no less.

He knew that one day it would happen, and you'd find yourself out in the world at war. What he didn't expect was for you to end up on the ground in a heap, a pool of blood forming around you. A hand is desperately trying to cover the wound and stop the bleeding. There's so much blood that even if he did stop it your vision is already waning, your consciousness wearing thin. He tries to take hold of your hand, though you can't seem to find where his hand is as you grab at the air, then finally he takes your hand. The frustration that had been building on your face dissipates as you manage to relax and almost melt into the arm that's holding you up. You slur your words when you try to speak to him, feeling him hold you tighter than he had been before the hand that you had been leaning on was at your head, holding you close to him.

Neither of you pay attention to the battle raging on around you, the screams and bloodshed, not to the body that falls right in front of you or at the metallic sound of swords clashing, a harsh sound. Suddenly you can't feel the ground beneath you, and Crowley fumbles in place trying to keep you steady. "You have to keep fighting, Sir Crowley."

"No! No, we're going home." He tries to insist that, but you know you'd never make it close to home, nor will you as he falters and is forced to drop back to his knees and lower you down. "Let's go home." He says.

"We can't go home. Don't leave everyone else just for me, they need you." He doesn't want to listen, trying to convince you to save your strength. It won't help anything and he knows that, but he's clinging to your life more than you are, until he knows he's holding nothing but an empty shell in his arms. He still doesn't want to let go, but one of his comrades is urging him to get up and fight. Avenge him.

He notices one of the Demon Army uniforms pass by him out of the corner of his eye, and as soon as he looks over he sees you sitting beside him in the passenger seat where Ferid had wandered off from. It's not unwelcome but he finds it odd that you'd be so comfortable, or maybe just choosing his company over Ferid's pestering. He likes having company, but he doesn't like company that talks as much as his dearest friend, something about it sounds…different. It's not as enjoyable when they don't seem to have a lot of enthusiasm, he can't make their eyes light up with questions, they just speak for the sake of speaking.

"We saved a Mother and child, from the horsemen, just before we spotted you guys actually. It makes me wonder if we'll run into more but since we haven't spotted any so far, I think we should be fine. Spotting them has never really been my strong suit, and I'm kinda tired so I'm not 100% right now— Oh, but uh, anyway, getting ahead of myself again. Do you always have to deal with that?" You ask, glancing over away from the road, unable to deal with how awkward it was after spilling every thought you'd had in the past house while you were just trying to find a comfortable spot to sleep. "With him, I mean."

He's noticed you tucked away in the corner of the group the whole time, never having much to say and none of them really seemed to know what to say to you either. You seem more like an outlier who just so happened to be there as well, not well known enough to be instantly part of conversation but too important to be left behind. He's starting to take a liking to you, or at least a liking to the way you talk, it's strangely familiar like you've known him for years and can talk to him so casually. He has next to no idea who you ever are.

"It's all he's done since the day we met. I take it that deserting the army wasn't exactly what you had in mind?"

"My team died, it was my fault." You confess, turning your eyes to the floor, shifting your feet, "I turned my back for a second and suddenly all hell broke loose. I saw Narumi and followed." Despite that you don't sound distraught, just inconvenienced, but maybe you'd adopted the mentality that crying about it won't bring them back.

"What were you supposed to do? Fight off all the danger they were in by yourself?"

"I should've coordinated them better, and maybe then they wouldn't have died." Your smile fades, but your mind quickly starts to wander. "Do you mind if I sleep here for a while? I don't think I've slept in days."

"We're almost there, so it probably won't be very long. Sleep when we get there instead."

One scare later and you're so exhausted you could collapse any second, Crowley himself notices as much when you decline a test of skill and pass right by him. He comes to see you later, to ask if you'd like to go see what's downstairs and see what's down there now that everyone's chatting amongst themselves and has moved on from it. You decline again, but you're in the mood to talk again, and he wants to hear you talk, so he sits on the edge of the bed you took up and are laying in.

Crowley begins to pick up on things, little things, even in the way he's heard about you from asking around. Apparently the kids in the town you took refuge in liked you, their awesome and very respected Lieutenant who ran around with them playing their games to keep them entertained. Apparently you're easy enough to get along with. He agrees with that, finding you interesting just to listen to, it's a strange thing. He forgot what is was like to have someone so excited to talk, and with you bring a soldier…no, that's a whimsical thought. You have no idea who he is, just that he's more than happy to listen.

You're just so welcoming toward him, so reminiscent of that person he knew and who he held in his arms. Crowley knows that man is dead, he felt him still in his arms, and he felt his breath stop, the blood that coated his hands and the dull look in his eyes uncharacteristic of him. He looks at you in the same way he looked at him and he sees someone that isn't you staring back at him. He doesn't have the same kind of feeling, but give it enough time and he'll find himself head over heels for that memory you ignite in him. The memory of him listening to you talk, and the memory of losing you.

He likes to listen to you, he likes your company. He spends more time around you, and you accept him as the closest person you have in this new circle. You are becoming an object of his affections, and he welcomes you as you stray from your group to follow him. He knows how to protect you this time, from anything, as your title is returned to nothing in the face of millennia old monsters he will be there to fix it. Even if he's a little too late, having a Vampire by your side means a little stab wound would never be enough to kill you.

He doesn't quite believe the fact you may very well be his dear friend reincarnated, but that will hardly keep him from protecting you all the same.

[velvetcloxds]

MEET THE MIKAELSONS| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x Fem! Reader, Teen Wolf x The Originals (requested) 

Word count: 1962 words

Warning: none, just fluff

Summary: Reader takes her friends and her boyfriend, Derek to visit her family home where they find out that she’s related to the infamous Mikaelson vampires.

“Just don’t touch anything,” I command calmly, Stiles pausing mid air as his hand hovers over one of Klaus’s paintings and everyone allows for a soft laugh, Derek kissing the side of my head as his hand remains inside my back pocket.

“This place is beautiful,” Lydia notes, looking around slowly as her eyes move over the various features of the compound.

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug, walking deeper into the compound as I mimic her actions, mentally comparing the way it looks to the pictures Rebekah sent me with her letters and I can’t help but smile when my eyes settle on the Mikaelson crest, fingers reaching out mindlessly as I trace the carved wall numbly.

“What does it stand for?” Derek asks, moving behind me where he wraps his hands around my waist, face resting on my shoulder. My smile grows due to the gesture, free hand finding one of his.

“Mikaelson,” I note softly, memories of our family suddenly speeding through my mind like a slideshow, things I’d told myself I’d forgotten completely proving to be embedded into my brain.

“Like the ancient vampire family?” Scott asks, having disappeared to the bathroom for a minute as soon as we got here.

“More vampires?” Stiles asks from behind me, and I nod.

“Yeah, they’re the first of their kind,” I explain, though my attention is far from this conversation, a feeling similar to the one I felt when I explained this to Derek, him being the only one knowing not only who I truly am and where I come from, but whom I was running from. “The Originals,” I add, and Derek gives me a slight squeeze, turning me around in his arms, probably picking up on my dazed state.

“Cool,” Is all Stiles offers as a reply, taking Lydia’s hand as Scott follows them to explore more of the house.

“You okay?” He whispers, leaning towards me. I nod in his hold, hands moving to his arms.

“Just a little weird being here, I guess.” I look up to him, smiling slightly when our eyes meet. “I thought that when I finally got to see this place in all its glory, they’d be here with me, waiting maybe,” Derek nods with understanding, smiling sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” He loosens his grip, leaning back to get a better look at me. “We can leave if you’re not comfortable,” He offers sweetly and I shake my head with a smile, kissing his lips quickly.

“No,” I tell him though I can’t hide the slight rise in my tone, his brows furrowing as a result. “We need to let things cool down in Beacon Hills and no one will bother us here,” I pause, sighing softly as I move my hands over his bare arms. “Besides, there’s a literal coffin around here somewhere with my name on it.”

“Wait really?” Derek asks intrigued as he looks around the room pointlessly. I nod, not fighting against the smile on my lips.

“Yeah, a dagger too, but I doubt we’ll find that just laying around,” I pull away from him briefly, taking his hand in mine as I guide him towards the hallway by the staircase where Stiles’ is excitedly gesturing towards the wall.

“It’s her!” He announces loudly, eyes moving over the painting that Klaus painted of our family, and I subconsciously tighten my grip on Derek’s hand, his thumb moving up and down against my skin to soothe me.

“It’s not her,” Lydia argues with a roll of her eyes, arms folded as Scott simply watches the scene unfold. “It’s far more likely to be a relative that looks remarkably a lot like her,” She reasons and Derek bites back a grin at my side.

“She’s a vampire, right?” Stiles ask, looking to me for conformation and I nod, seeing no need for the question as he literally walked in on me sipping from a blood bag a few months ago. “And she’s been annoyingly vague about her family and her history, right?” He asks, question directed at Scott and Lydia this time, they both nod. “And she brought us to her family home, which has paintings of the Mikaelson family which Scott saw in the bestiary, where he also read that the Mikaelson family also have a long-lost hybrid sister who hasn’t been spotted in years…” Stiles nods eagerly as he waits for the pieces to fall together, Scott and Lydia looking to me as it does.

“Are you a Mikaelson?” Scott asks, hands in his pockets as he shifts on his feet, I release a shaky breath before offering a mere nod as reply, Stiles almost jumping up and down with the conformation of him being correct.

“Holy shit,” Stiles begins and turns to me, eyes sparkling with excitement. “That is so cool, like literally the coolest thing you’ve ever told us about yourself,” He informs me, and Derek shakes his head at my side, glaring at the boy as he continues to grow more excited.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Scott asks hesitantly, ignoring Stiles who is fiddling with his jacket sleeves as he takes a closer look at my specific painting. “Didn’t you trust us?” He adds as well, and I shake my head quickly.

“Of course I trust you,” I begin, and Derek squeezes my hand again, reminding me to breathe as I think of the best way to explain this. “I wanted to tell you all, truly I did, but our family has enemies around every corner, and I didn’t want to bring you guys into that,” I look over all of them quickly before turning to meet Derek’s gaze. “I love you all too much to create unnecessary collateral damage.“

“So why tell us now?” Lydia questions with a raised brow and I notice the added heartbeats filling the room behind us before I could fathom a reply, the gushing wind of their entrance still swirling around us.

“Because you’re in need of our assistance,” A familiar voice explains, and I close my eyes for a second in preparation before turning to face my older brother.

“Elijah,” I whisper in acknowledgement, the words barely leaving my lips before he’s picking me up into his arms, twirling me around in a welcoming hug that causes a childlike giggle to erupt from my lips. “I’ve missed you too,” I confirm, hands on his shoulders as he sets my feet back on the ground and I take a moment to center myself. “And you,” I say when my eyes meet with Rebekah’s, happy tears tugging at her eyes and I release myself from Elijah’s presence to pull her into my arms, her arms folding around my neck as she holds me close.

“It has been far too long, Y/n ,” She whispers, laughing lightly through her tears. She squeezes me tightly before pulling away, hands moving to comb back the hair that’s been ruffled through our hug and her hands still on my cheeks as she takes me in. “My little sister, even more beautiful than I remember,” She notes, which earns a scoff from both my lips and Elijah’s.

“I look exactly the same, Bekah and you know it,” I muse, taking the handkerchief from Elijah’s hands to hold it out for Rebekah . “Though, I’d never turn down the compliment from the beauty of the family.”

“Oh, I take great offense by your insinuation, love, ” Klaus announces, and everyone turns to the entrance, where he leans against the wall, watching the interaction. “Welcome home, Y/n,” He notes with a large smile, and I know as far as greeting go, that’s quite the scene from the hybrid.

“Thank you, Niklaus,” I offer in the same and my cheeks practically hurt form the pure excitement rushing through me at seeing them all again, the nerves and discomfort from earlier slipping away almost completely, until Klaus’ eyes meet Derek’s and suddenly reality sinks back in. I take a few steps back, smiling up at Derek before rejoining our hands, my other hand snaking around his upper arm to keep him close. “I should introduce everyone,” I note with a nervous smile and Derek simply nods reassuringly.

“I’d begin with the creature you’re so eagerly latching onto,” Klaus announces, happy tone from earlier replaced with the all so familiar big brother voice.

“Play nice, Niklaus,” Elijah instructs, accepting my grateful smile before silently commanding me to continue.

“This is my boyfriend, Derek,” I begin, looking up at the man as he extends a hand towards Elijah inducing the longest handshake I’ve ever had to endure until Rebekah clears her throat, the two men pulling away from each other. “Then there’s Lydia, Stiles and Scott,” I add, releasing a small huff of air as I gesture to each of them individually.

“It’s good to meet all of,” Rebekah speaks up, catching my gaze with a warm smile before she looks to my guests. “We’re the Mikaelsons,” She explains, and I nod lightly. “Elijah, Klaus and I’m Y/n’s personal favorite, Rebekah,” She declares simply, mimicking my gesture until everyone has extended an acknowledging nod.

“We should talk business,” Klaus commands suddenly, standing from his leaning position to walk towards us. “You bunch are here for a reason, aren’t you?” He muses with a slight wink my way and I roll my eyes at the remark, knowing that only he would take this opportunity to take a jab at my decision to leave them.

“Don’t start, Niklaus,” Elijah offers with a tight tone and I would’ve laughed if the room wasn’t so tense, a sense of familiarity filling me at the little group dynamic that’s remained the same through all these years.

“I’m not starting anything, Elijah,” Klaus replies, hurriedly pulling his leather jacket straight. “I’m simply trying to remind our dear sister that she is here on what she called a family favor and that we wouldn’t want to waste her precious time,” I’m too late to stop the soft laugh that escapes my lips, Klaus turning towards be in slight shock.

"Honestly Klaus, it has been centuries and you're telling me that no one has yet to remove that stick from your ass?” I mock and Elijah steps forward, fully prepared to stop the interaction when a smile traces the hybrids lips.

“Little sister,” He muses and then shakes his head, pointing at me. “You have booked yourself a long dinner,” He announces and pats Elijah on the shoulder to invite him to leave the room with him. Elijah spares me a brief smile before following.

“That went better than expected,” Rebekah notes and I smile at her, nodding with relief as Klaus and Elijah begin discussing the diner plans on their climb up the stairs. “Why don’t I show you three your rooms,” she says and motions for Scott, Stiles and Lydia to follow them, pausing to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before leading them away as well. I turn to Derek with a smile, his eyes already waiting for mine as I do.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he tells me, making my heart swell as I lean into him. “I’m very proud of you,” He adds, and I feel a blush creeps onto my cheeks.

“I couldn’t have done it without you at my side,” I say simply, resting my chin against his chest as I look up at him. He hums lightly, shaking his head as he lifts his free hand to gently push the hair behind my ear.

“You definitely could have,” He muses and gently kisses my forehead, sending a welcome rush of pure bliss through my veins, I smile as he lingers close. “My brave girl.”

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad.  Mxx.

Masterlist

[mellifluous-skz]

Lovers in the night

~Prologue~

Word Count: 1.1k

Genre: Angst, Mystery, enemies (kinda) to lovers

Song: Lovers in the Night by Seori

"Before ending the class,I would like to make a quick announcement," Ms. Wilson smiled, her usually green eyes darkening to a sensual brown, "For your last project,our department would like you to submit a detailed analysis of toxic relationships in fictional literature. You will have to do it with your pre-chosen partners,and the team with the best interpretation will have their thesis published as the cover of our monthly magazine. Rest of the details shall be mailed to you. Happy holidays!"

A series of poorly disguised groans were released the moment Ms. Wilson left the hall.

Felix,your bestfriend hurried over to you,and screamed, "Pre-Chosen? How are we supposed to complete a task without mutual understanding and interest? Let's be very honest,our partner could be dumb. They could be nasty. They could be-"

"Shut up,dickhead," you snigger,booping his nose lightly, "Come to the point. How are we getting to know who our partner is?"

"That's the whole thrill of the situation," Hyunjin chirped in,placing his laptop on your desk for you to see, "They'll be using our secret student codes,and the mail will be sent through school generated email ids. The plan is just fabulous."

"I hate my life," Felix grumbled,slumping down next to you, "Out of all projects we have an analysis, and that topic is fucking sensual."

"I like that," you smiled,as Felix buried his head into the crook of your neck,"Sensual topics have more interpretations and we can get more work done through that."

"I wanted you as my partner," Felix cried,flailing his arms like a newborn child,"Analyses of events have a lifelong grudge against me."

"I am rather glad then," you smiled,standing up,"Your rusted brain needs to start working for your own good."

"Hey y/n," Hyunjin whispered, as you rushed out of the hall with a mischievous glint playing across your eyes, "Do you want to pair up with anyone specific? You seem to be,spare me,too excited for a terminal project."

Hyunjin's confused eyes drifted to your shirt,which had slowly turned into a giddy shade of yellow. He shook his head,bewildered at your sudden excitement. 

"The person I want as my partner," you giggled,tapping Hyunjin fondly on the shoulder, "Will be assigned as my partner. And that's something I am sure of."

With this,you walked away towards the staff room,leaving Hyunjin to doubt his life choices.

"You would like to submit two analyses instead of one?" Ms. Wilson asked,eyes widening in sheer disbelief. 

"Yes. I'll convince my partner as well,so all I need now is your permission, Professor," you mumbled,blinking softly.

"As you wish y/n. Just try not to over-exert yourself," Ms. Wilson smiled,patting your head warmly,"Have a nice vacation."

You grinned,and ran out of the office,heart brimming with excitement. 

As you picked up your bag from the lecture hall,your eyes found a certain brunette, sitting alone at the end of the hall. As if he had sensed your gaze, your arch nemesis looked up,locking his eyes with yours.

Poor Lee Minho,he was in for a rough ride.

The vacation was over in no time,and you found yourself walking to your university with a fluttery heart. You had managed to convince your partner,and had submitted two analyses on two different relationships. 

All these sudden boldness thrilled you and filled you with unwavering joy. You expected to be questioned and interrogated by your prey,but lord,was he your prey after this?

Just as you had expected,a strong hand pulled you inside one of the dusty classrooms just before the first bell rang.

You turned around lazily,grinning at the fuming figure,who had you backed up against the door,and to your surprise, was blushing.

"Oh dear,are you going to kiss me now?" You snickered,pulling him towards one of the seats, "Go on darling,I am all yours."

"Shut up," He snapped, thrusting a file in your hands, "Are you nuts?"

"How adorable," you cooed,eyes dancing on your own words, "Why this sudden sweetness,darling?"

"You are my partner,aren't you?, he glared,gripping your wrist tightly, "I should have backed out on the first day."

"Oh dear," you sighed, turning the pages delicately, "Did you like my little interpretations?"

"The Tunnel and Wuthering Heights? Seriously, Y/n?" He snatched the file and turned to the last page,as you cracked a wicked grin, "And,by God,what the fucking hell is this?"

You closed your eyes, and the memorised lines tumbled from your lips like innocent euphoria, 

"According to the world,boundaries of such forbidden and toxic relationships act as a tether in between the lovers. But according to me, the tension is highly addictive. The idea of sneaky glances,constricted touches and anonymous love letters sent by the secret lover entrances me,and I wish to have all of this to myself. I wish to have Lee Minho beside me,as an enemy during the day,and as a lover in the night."

"This confession," Minho said,blushing red,"As the project? Were you out of your mind?"

"Do you accept?" You asked,taking his hands in yours.

"Do you want to be my lover,Minho? Do you want to experience the thrill,and travel through this ride full of ups and downs? Do you want to experience the two ends of a human relationship at the same time,Minho?"

"That's not a relationship, Y/n," He smiled,eyes turning to a disappointed Grey, "This has no meaning, has no label."

"Every relationship doesn't have a label, Minho," you said,pressing your lips to his hands, "Some relationships are about love,thrill and adrenaline. Love doesn't need a label,it needs a wanting,something which is mutual between us."

You looked up at him, a comfortable warmth spreading across your chest, "Once again Minho, do you want to join me,or do I leave alone?"

"I'll join you, Y/n. And I hope this journey never ends," He smiled,cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours.

To your happiness,you were in for a rough ride as well,but now,you had Minho right beside you, not as your nemesis,but as your secret lover.

And as you saw the analysis titled "Lovers in the night" published as the front page of the monthly magazine, you knew that this ride was really worth a lifetime.

[floraltypes]

Old Beginning Pt. 2

pairings - aaron hotchner x reader, jethro gibbs x reader

chapters - one 

summary - the news of a dinner party arrises, but there are some little challenges before the actually night

wc - 3k

an - sorry this took awhile, my summer is over and my writing schedule will be a little wonky now. i’m taking a break from answering requests, so I apologize if I haven’t answered yours, but i eventually will

Penelope and you both looked back at Aaron, taken back by his repeating of the word ‘boyfriend’. You didn’t plan on telling people so soon, considering he was your boss from your old line of work.

“I want to know everything about him, you have to invite him!” Penelope quickly went back into her loud chatting, attracting other faces at her comment. “I also may have mentioned to some of the team that you do have a boyfriend, it just slipped! You know I can’t keep secrets!”

“It’s okay, Pene,” You smiled softly. “I can’t invite him though, you know, since I’m not the one holding the dinner event.”

“You can invite your partner, everyone else can as well, considering it is a catch up,” Dave walked over, a cup of coffee in his own hand as he used the other to scratch at his stubble. “I’ll even invite the woman I’ve been seeing. Feel free to all bring a plus one, I have enough room and everyone deserves a taste of my Italian dishes, will change their lives.”

“Thank you, Rossi, but I simply can’t. It’s so soon, and he’s such a busy man,” You laughed, waving your hand. “It was a kind gesture though.”

“L/n, don’t tell us you’re embarrassed to show your new boyfriend to us?” Derek walked back over, poking your shoulder. “Penelope told all of us down here, just wanted to wait and see when you would tell us.”

“I’m not embarrassed, that’s absurd. He’s truly busy.”

“Invite him, I’ll make sure Will comes and hire a babysitter for Henry, so that we can truly have a adult night,” JJ chuckled. “Everyone is bringing a date, so it would be odd if you didn’t.”

“Actually, I don’t have a partner at the moment due to how invested I am in my studies and the factors of that many young woman my age only focus on the factor of conventional attractiveness rather then the complexity of brains and deep-”

“Don’t worry, Spencer, if you don’t have a date, then I’ll just bring two,” Emily joked. “You don’t need a date, I’m not bringing one either, but Y/n is for sure.”

“I’ll be like the tw-”

“You are dating someone, we aren’t, so you’ll bring that someone. Come on, L/n,” Emily continued on, grabbing your hand and pulling you away. “I’ll walk you out,” She turned back to wink at her coworkers, leading you to the elevator and soon the parking lot.

“Aaron,” Rossi looked towards his friend, a man who had his glare fixated on your exiting figure. “Will you bring Beth, the more the merrier.”

“Yeah, I suppose I will,” He answered, retrieving his cellphone from his pocket, pulling up her contact picture, thumb hovering over the call button. “Let’s finish up this work, so we call all get home.” He shoved it back in his pocket, commanding everyone else while moving back up the stairs to his office.

Meanwhile, you were outside of your car, looking at Emily still was right by your side.

“Bring your boyfriend,” She commented, watching as you fished for your keys and unlocked your car. “I want to meet him, I haven’t really talked to you in a long time.”

“We’re both so busy. Him as well.”

“Seriously, Y/n, I’m not gonna ease up on you. I’ve noticed the new tint in your eye, new considering the last time it was severely dulled. It’s amazing to see your real smile again, you closer to your old self despite the past losses. He really has helped you, so I want to meet the man who helped my dear friend so much.”

You contemplated her kind words, getting down to the point that everyone probably was happy to see you again, yourself physically and mentally.

“I’ll call him, see if he can come. Can’t promise anything, his work is very important to him, so if it needs him he’s there.”

Emily smiled widely, leaning over to kiss your cheek before you moved to open the front door and start your car.

“Great, I’m actually bringing someone. Poor Spencer might be the only one.”

“Aaron is as well?”

“Hotch, yeah,” She laughed. “Meet her at some track meet he had, Jack really likes her.”

“That’s good, I’ll see you soon then,” You smiled, shutting the door as Emily watched you back out, waving a small goodbye.

Leaving the facility, while at a stop light, you found your flip phone, finding the contact of Jethro and quickly dialing the number.

“Gibbs,” He answered.

“Hey, are you on a case?”

“No, are you driving?”

“Yes, safely. What are you doing? Building a boat,” You chuckled, imagining him in the basement with the tool and sweaty shirt.

“Yeah. Did you meet up with your old team today?”

“Mhm, all surprised to see me today. It was humorous in a sense. But, Rossi invited me and everyone to a dinner, telling us to bring a partner.”

“Who are you planning on bringing?”

“You.”

“So, we’re being more public with our relationship?”

“Just with the old team, my old team, they don’t have contact with anyone apart of NCIS, or at least not personal only professional.”

“I thought you were going to come and see me, instead of making me drive,” You could almost sense his smile on the other line, a mocking one.

Gibbs would obviously accept the offer, the man truly holding a strong affection for you, a soft spot personally for you, so he would agree to drive the hour or two.

But just because he would, it doesn’t mean he didn’t have to mess around a bit, act like he wouldn’t.

“I know, but then you can see my new apartment. And after this weekend, who knows when we’ll be able to see each other again. Both of our jobs involved sporadic cases that start and end at no specific time, hard to plan around. And, everyone is pressuring me to meet you.”

“I’m already popular, huh?”

“I suppose,” You huffed, rubbing your temple, exhaustion starting to take over you, wanting to get some rest, a calming bath to combat earlier feelings that seemed as if they were creeping up once again.

“I’ll come, don’t worry. Get home safe, call me when you have the address and date.”

“Okay, bye.” You hung up, tossing the phone onto the empty seat as you continued to drive, playing the music from the CD already inserted in your car.

Time leading up to the dinner seemed to fly by, especially considering that it wasn’t much time and you weren’t having to work. You decided to take the free time to get fully settled in, figure out your nerves, make a phone call to your therapist, and even read. Trying to get prepared for all the days that are to come.

Your hair was now being changed from its normal du to a new one, fancier in a sense. Applying a nice coat of makeup, new lip color, trying a new pallet and the old eyelash curler that hasn’t been used in a while, you finished ‘upgrading’ your face. A outfit was simple, considering you didn’t have many fancy ones, so with not much to choose, it was a quick decision.

Sliding that on and fixing the straps to be a bit tighter, messing with the bra to fit correctly, and pulling it down a bit, you grabbed your go to purse, shoving needed materials a into it as you moved to the kitchen.

Within the kitchen, there was a certain door within the wall of the pantry with a password. Quickly typing in the combination the door swung open, choosing between a small but handy knife, you put in the pocket of your bag.

You weren’t too worried about dangers at the dinner, but with years of catching/fighting murders, specific people after you, and even very powerful assassins, you carried certain weapons for safety.

Hearing the sturdy knock of someone’s knuckles on your front door, you rushed to shut the the secret door in the pantry, heading to your front door where someone was waiting.

A quick peak through the hole, your eyes widened in surprise and opened the door, allowing the man to walk in.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you, till uh, later tonight,” You mentioned, looking him up and down to see him more dressed up. “Are you not able to attend anymore?”

“No, I’m still going,” Hotch denied, sliding off his shoes and following you to the couch. “I just wanted to chat before than, a chance for just the two of us.”

“Is something wrong?” You walked over to your teapot, filling it with water, and placing it on your stove, heating up the water. “This is very unexpected.”

“Nothing is wrong. I just want to talk to you, see the apartment, hear what’s new with you.”

“Things,” You shrugged. “Obviously I’ve had a new job experience, similar in ways and also not. Grew closer with a new group of teammates, people, lost a few. Yeah, lost a few,” You repeated, remembering Jenny Shepard, even Kate, both amazing women, who did amazing things.

“That’s always hard, I guess my most recent loss was Haley,” Aaron hummed, soon the kettle making a high pitched noise, you rushing to take it off and grab some tea bags.

“She was also a amazing woman. Wonderful mother, cared so much for that little boy.”

“She really was.”

“Did you come to chat about her, it’s been a while since we had. Last time we really talked was five months after she passed, after the funeral.”

“It really has been that long?” Aaron questioned, taking the tea that you time handed him. “But it’s not the reason I came. I should have made more of a effort to keep in touch, after your transfer, after your loss.”

“You stayed with me for three months, allowing to lose some time with your son so you could change my dirty sheets and pick up all my snotty tissues,” You laughed, sitting down across from him with your own cup. “You had to get back to your family, make up for loss time.”

“You still helped me with my divorce during that time, and I still saw Jack,” He reminded you.

“I could’ve moved in with my father, but you allowed me not to do that.”

“Your father is a good man, but might not be the best to live with,” He laughed, a deep chuckle, something you didn’t see much. “You look nice.”

“Now you just notice,” You chuckle, taking another sip. “Thank you, you look nice as well. I was actually just going to call Jethro and tell him to meet me there, a bit of a drive and he isn’t happy about having to find a new team,” You spoke freely, feeling comfortable with the old friend, one you used to spill everything to years ago, him ranting to you too.

“Jethro? He has his own team? Sounds like a boss of some type.”

“Uh, technically. It’s complicated. I need to get going, to make it to the dinner on time and, finish, um, cleaning up my room before leaving.”

“I could take you there.”

“No thanks, I’ll see you there, bye.” You helped guide him to the door, a curt wave before he exited and shut it, locking it in a rush and moving back to the dining room table to clean the mugs.

You didn’t want to tell him all that, always insecure due to Gibbs being the prior boss of you and how people looked at that. Rumors were always spread about your and Aaron’s relationship, mostly about it being romantic.

Joining the team, you two easily hit it off due to your personalities. Always being filled with determination and stubbornness, refusing to give up till everything was done and right, even with files. Eventually you joined together, talked, spent most days with each other due to cases, and truly gained a very close friendship.

When rumors were getting around, glares were thrown your way, comments, left out by members who weren’t your immediate teams. People thought you were the cause of Haley and Aaron’s divorce, somehow word got around quickly, drama always does.

It was frustrating, already dealing with many different things at home, and even being in a relationship, it put so much unneeded stress and anxiety onto you.

So, getting into a relationship with Gibbs was a very reluctant thing on your part, he expressed his feelings first, but it was hard to accept them, despite the nerves he faced to do it.

Locking up the apartment, having all of your items with you, you made your way out the door and too your car, starting the drive to David’s house.

Upon arriving, you could hear light chatter in the home, lights on, and soothing music playing in the background. It sounded like everyone was having their fun, you couldn’t make out all the shadows of everyone indoors, just waiting outside for Jethro to arrive.

“Y/n?” You turned around at the sound of his voice, keys jingling in his hands as he walked up to you with a sly smile, shoving them in his pockets to place his arms around your waist. “What’s wrong, love?” Be snaked them around, a kiss to your somewhat clothed shoulder.

“Nothing, just a bit nervous to introduce you to everyone,” You smiled back at him, he squeezed a little tighter, catching your lips in a quick kiss. “Looking at your team, yet?”

“Nevermind that,” He grumbled, removing his hands to now interlace your left one with his right. “We should go in, right?”

“Maybe we could head back, to my place, say you are sick or something?” You looked back at him with a pleading look, to which he just chuckled at, starting to move to the front door, pressing the doorbell as you groaned a little.

“You’ll be fine,” He looked back at you as Rossi answered the door, cheerful smile on his lips, glass of scotch in hand as he moved out of the way to let you in.

“Ah! Y/n!” He cheered, leaning over to kiss your cheek and then pulled back. “Glad you made it! This must be…”

“Y/n! Oh where is the man?” Penelope rushed in, coming right by you with her own fruity drink, then leaning to whisper in your ear. “Is this him, oo!”

“Uh, Jethro that’s David,” You pointed to the man who first greeted you, him and Jethro shaking hands. “This is Penelope, the one kind of like Abby,” You smiled, as she gave you a little look, turning back and enveloping him in a little hug. She quickly turned back to you.

“He looks a little intimidating,” She whispered as you just laughed.

“For sure,” You nodded.

“Can I offer you a drink?” David turned to you two, gesturing to the one in his hand. “Something like Garcia for you Y/n, and what about you Jethro?”

“Just call me Gibbs, and yeah that’s fine,” He corrected Rossi, taking your hand as the two of you walked more inside of the magnificent house.

It truly was so well designed, very expensive, and the appetizers adorning the oak wood table looked very delicious. You wanted to go and grab a bite, before you were actually led to the living room where everyone was currently sitting.

“L/n, finally made it,” Derek laughed, beer in his hand as he pointed at you with a little chuckle. “You always know how to be a bit late.”

“Fashionably late, I believe that’s what it’s called,” JJ corrected them with her own wine glass in hand, Will sat right besides her on one of the couch as most of them in that room joined in laughter.

“What can I say?” You laughed, walking over, feeling less nervous with the factor of introducing your boyfriend, taking a seat on another couch in the large room, Jethro automatically sitting right besides you.

“So, introduce us,” Emily motioned over to Jethro, sly smile playing on her lips.

“This is Jethro, but he goes by Gibbs, and, uh, this is the team,” You started to name everyone off while pointing to them, leaving off a few names due to your members introducing their own partners to you.

Emily, Derek, and JJ had all brought partners. Spencer and Penelope decided to ‘go together’ as if they were partners, and Hotch hadn’t arrived yet. Rossi also had his girlfriend helping him cook in the kitchen, making drinks for you and Gibbs now.

“So, you work at NCIS, right?” Spencer questioned. “The Naval Criminal Investigative Service, very interesting considering the type of crimes you investigate. I would love to hear more about some of your cases and how you went about it,” Spencer smiled, a small notebook being pulled out of his pocket with a pen.

“Yeah,” Gibbs just nodded, looking at you a little questioning, which you just chuckled at.

“Why should we talk so much about work, it’s something we all do too much of,” You joked, everyone laughing, as Dave came back out, handing some drinks.

“Fine, fine, what do you do for fun Mr. Gibbs?” Derek asked, putting a arm over the couch and pulling his girl closer to his side, the woman just on her phone.

“I like to build boats, a type of hobbie I’ve been doing for years.”

“Building boats? Where?” Will wondered, intertwining his fingers with JJ.

“My basement, a private workspace.”

“How do you get it out then?” Penelope inquired, now back by Spencer and her face in her hand, leaning closer to show her interest in Gibbs statement.

“I’d be no fun if you knew that,” He shrugged, taking a drink with a small smile as Penelope gasped, Emily mouthing how ‘I like him’. It was sweet how everything was going well.

They all continued to converse with Gibbs, easily accepting him apart of the conversation, it was sweet and you were now on your second drink, practically all nerves gone.

“Sorry we’re late,” A voice mentioned in the hallway, dressed in a fine suit with a beautiful woman standing besides him. He shrugged off the last of his coat as he hung it up, taking her hand and walking into the hallway a little.

“This is such a nice place, Aaron. Oh! Your friend, wow, so grand,” The woman admired, now truly getting in your line of sight.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, eyes interlocking with yours before falling onto Gibbs. “I’m Aaron, call me Hotch.”

“I’m Gibbs,” Your boyfriend stood up, moving over to the other man with his hand stuck out. “Call me that.”

You had a feeling this evening wouldn’t be as smooth as you hoped.

——————

taglist - @wolviesbabes @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

(comment to be added, or a tag list for all my gibbs post)

[spencersawkward]

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

[aminiatureworld]

Spotlight

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,707

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Modern AU in which the reader’s s/o is famous.

Author’s Note: My first crack at a modern AU and I enjoyed it immensely! My personal media of choice definitely came through in this prompt. I would now kill for Albedo to read Shakespeare. Also streamer Kazuha is an inspired idea, thank you anon for that! Not to mention musician Xiao, truly chef’s kiss.

Albedo

Albedo was a stage actor, both by education and by trade. Starting in high school he began in local productions, before entering into the Mondstadt Theateracademie. After appearing as Estragon in a filmed version of Waiting for Godot, he began to be scouted for various television miniseries, eventually becoming a well-respected film actor.

You arrived somewhere in the middle of his career. Working as a costume assistant at the Academie you had quickly fallen for the inquisitive and deceptively intense soul that exuded every color of emotion onstage, from raging anger to soft sorrow, before stepping into the wings and resuming an aura of utter calm. He had captivated you, both as an actor and as a human being; and when you learned that he had also become slightly infatuated with you, well, it was hard not to feel like you had stepped into a wonderful play, or perhaps simply a wonderful play had been brought to life.

The switch from theatre to screen was certainly a jarring one for both of you. When the first film contract was offered Albedo had stared at it for a long time, rereading it over and over again as the coffee in front of him quickly turned cold.

“Is there something wrong with the contract?” You had asked.

“No, it’s not that. It’s only…”

“Only?”

“Only on stage there is a single audience. You can feel their reactions, can measure their response. There is nothing nebulous about the people around you. But on film you cannot do that. You cannot adjust for time of day, or whether it’s a weekend or a Friday performance. You must let your lines out and hope that they land without even being able to calculate it.”

“It’s not a science experiment my darling,” you had teased.

“Maybe not,” Albedo admitted. Still he continued to read and reread, and it was only until the next afternoon that he had told you his answer.

Still, you had to admit that he made a fantastic actor. The naturally inward part of your partner’s personality, the part that always seemed to jump out the moment he left the stage, worked well to balance with the camera’s need for subtlety, unlike the projection required for stage plays. It was little surprise then that he should grow so popular. Despite all the worries about measuring audience response, there was no doubting the success of Albedo’s acting career.

Being a naturally withdrawn person Albedo mostly stayed off of social media. He had one private Instagram for friends – he didn’t post anything; one private Facebook for family – the only picture was one of you two in the mountains next to a particularly weird looking rock; and WhatsApp – which could barely be counted. Thus when he started blowing up on Twitter – a platform you had a mostly unused account on – the reaction was mostly one of “why are they talking about me?”

Not that Albedo minded fan enthusiasm, indeed when people started showing up in droves at the stage door for him he was always careful to thank everyone collectively and talk to as many people as possible, it just sort of confused him that so many people should take a vested interest in the actor and not just the character.

“It’s because they want to show you how wonderful they think your performances are,” you’d explained.

“I don’t have Twitter,” Albedo deadpanned.

Despite his protests though you sometimes caught him scrolling on your account, face slightly red at all the positive attention. His habit of internal self-deprecation had never truly gone away. That fact became slightly unfortunate in the face of hate comments. It was hard for Albedo not to take things personally. If someone said his acting was shit then you would catch Albedo reading the same line over and over again, as if to achieve mathematical perfection. It was a difficult urge to fight, and you were always careful to give Albedo plenty of reassurance when these things popped up, as well as surreptitiously blocking the trolls that wandered their way onto your dash.

This habit to take things at face value did not apply when you entered the mix. As far as Albedo was concerned you were his partner and no amount of complaining online would make him second guess that or second guess your worth. Even if you thought that you had a better hold on social media assholerly than he did Albedo would still make sure that for every hate comment that floated your way there were at least three compliments on his part. Mentioning you off-handedly in press interviews, saying that he had to go home to his partner, leaving small sketches on post-it notes scattered throughout your apartment, there were no lengths that Albedo wouldn’t go to assure you. And, if you had to admit, these things truly did make you feel better on the days when the small part of your brain said that this wasn’t mindless social media harassment.

Being an actor Albedo had an incredibly fine-tuned sense of the way that people responded to emotions, as if he were performing some grand sort of scientific experiment to see how many people he could sway with his gift. As of such he was always careful that, regardless of his success, things between you were never upturned. You were with him before he was really famous, and you would be there during and after. Albedo loved you deeply; though he often said that he hated romance plays for how sappy they were in his mind your relationship was the one, glowing exception – regardless of the other happy couples in the world. Though it was slightly idealistic, it was the kind of intensity that comprised Albedo’s personality, was the thing that had garnered him so much success.

Albedo loved you deeply, and no amount of surprise movie contracts would change that.

 Kazuha

You had to admit that when you had met Kazuha you had no idea about his double life as a streamer. He was merely one of the many singers that came and went to the recording studios, all people eager to unleash their talent on the world. But unlike the rest of them, Kazuha could make you laugh.

Perhaps then it was unsurprising that Kazuha should be a popular streamer. Though his often florid talking style might seem on paper like it would be too grating for streaming, in reality his soft cadence combined with a dry sense of humor made him wildly popular. He rarely lost his temper, making him palatable to those who wanted to have a fun time without blowing their ears out, and when he did lose it his hyper-specific, often nonsensical insults were the stuff of memes. No, in retrospect it was not all that surprising that Kazuha was a beloved streamer.

At heart though, Kazuha had told you over coffee, the enthusiastic and earnest internet sensation was a poet.

“When you’ve had a life as dissonant as mine, how can you not be?” He’d joked. And indeed perhaps he was right, for Kazuha was as wonderful a poet as you had ever read. He was born to be a writer, you had told him.

You were also an aspiring singer, as well as a friend of the studio owner where you did your recordings. As such you had made it a habit to help around the studio when you weren’t also working or studying. As you and Kazuha were both students with intense side jobs, the good natured complaining of overworked students also made their way into you rapport, a friendship that grew day-by-day. Eventually it sprouted into love.

Though you knew that Kazuha was a streamer when your relationship started, in reality you hadn’t realized how truly popular he had become. The first time you watched one of his streams you were blown away by his popularity. Watching your first livestream only cemented that. It was hard to believe that your down-to-earth, slightly self-effacing, partner could have garnered such a large fanbase. Not that you didn’t think he deserved it. He absolutely did. However after seeing that you admitted you were a bit awestruck.

“Why? Am I not the same person on screen and off?”

“Of course you are! It’s just, well, my partner’s a celebrity!”

“I would go that far,” Kazuha laughed.

“Well you certainly are to me!”

Nevertheless your dynamic didn’t change much afterwards, besides the occasional teasing on both of your parts. Kazuha was after all Kazuha at the end of the day.

At the beginning Kazuha didn’t mention you much on stream, certainly not by name, you had to admit you were a bit intimidated by the idea of being recognizable on the internet, even if it was just by name.

“This is also my partner’s favorite map.” Had been his first mention, during a game of Mario Kart.

Despite this offhanded remark however the chat had almost immediately exploded, followed by the rest of the fanbase. Though there was, of course, some disappointed buzz – isn’t there always – the reaction was immensely positive. Positive, and curious.

After a while Kazuha started mentioning you more often in streams, especially after the two fo you moved in. Sometimes you would hear him as you passed him room – Kazuha liked to keep the door open – other times you would watch it on stream yourself.

“My partner hates this character. Too bad you can’t throw evidence.”

“Nobody tell my partner that I’m afraid of basements. I don’t need them to know that when laundry day rolls around.”

“Hey if you’re watching this dear, I promise that it’s not that much money. You don’t need to look at the bank account. Who am I kidding, this is why we don’t share one.”

“Hey, darling I know you’re watching this. Can you check and make sure I left my keys on the coffee table, they aren’t on my desk. Also can you make tea?”

Despite fans knowing very little about you, you were surprised by the amount of positive comments that flooded the streams. You had to admit that your initial expectations had been “people are going to find me annoying”. Instead funny comics of your voice drifting in from the other room popped up, along with a lot of waving and “tell your partner not to trust you with the keys” after Kazuha fell off a cliff one too many times. It was an odd experience, to be so happy about the comments of faceless people, people to whom you were also faceless.

Eventually Kazuha’s hardwork in singing paid off and his first single was recorded and given a deal. On the evening of the release livestream Kazuha set up in the living room, angling the camera so that you could sit on the chair just out of frame. You had talked about the release for months now, and a few weeks ago Kazuha had brought up the idea of a pseudo-stream reveal.

“I was wondering if you’d like to say hello to the audience or wave when my song is released. I understand that you’re hesitant about those sort of things, and I would never ask of you something that would make you uncomfortable. This relationship is the most precious thing to me, and I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or exploited in any ways.”

“Thank you for being so considerate Kazuha. I’ll think about it.”

Now you sat in the chair, fidgeting slightly, waiting as the countdown on his laptop reached one. You excitement certainly seemed matched by that of the fans, who were typing wildly in the chat.

Eventually the screen faded to black and the chatting quieted down. The first few notes of a wooden flute emerged, combined with the strumming of a guitar. As the familiar words began to echo through the laptop speaker you found yourself washed away. Kazuha was always enthralling when he sang. At the end of the song was a dedication, and though Kazuha had already alluded to it, the sincerity still took your breath away.

To my dearest partner. My compass and my guiding star throughout this realization of my dream. You are my sun and my stars, and I’m forever devoted to you. Thank you for sharing in this project, and thank you for giving me such love.

Perhaps it was slightly saccharine. Regardless you felt the sudden, uninhibited urge to cry.

“So, what did everyone think?” Kazuha asked into the mic, face reappearing on screen. He was slightly giddy, and you watched as his hand tugged on the fabric of his linen belt.

Immediately the chat exploded, as waves of “that was amazing”, “I’m crying now”, and “the end was so sweet!” flooded the screen.

“Thank you all for the encouragement!” Kazuha let out a laugh, one that you could tell was one of utter euphoria, and no little relief. “There’s someone else I think who would like to thank you.”

Who knew that a small sentence could cause such a splash?

You barely had time to let out a tentative “Hello,” before an immediate wave of excited screaming covered the bottom left of Kazuha’s stream. “Thank you for supporting Kazuha’s song. And thank you for always being nice to me.” With a tentative wave of the hand you collapsed back on your chair, slightly hysterical laughter rising inside you out of the relief that flooded through you upon seeing the enthused fan reaction.

Afterwards your voice became the occasional guest on Kazuha’s streams, always greeted with enthusiasm. Kazuha continued to grow in popularity, and his music continued to capture a larger and larger audience.

All throughout this you never felt a snag in your relationship. Kazuha may have been a big streaming personality, but he was also a kind and considerate partner, the best that one could ask for in a significant other. Kazuha’s love was never in question. And neither was yours.

 Xiao

Sometimes you were a little self-conscious about the way that you met Xiao.

Though Xiao had definitely grown a following by the time you met – being the main pianist for a popular singer and a classical pseudo-prodigy in both piano and flute his own right certainly had roped him an enthusiastic fanbase – you had simply known him as “the guy who hogs the practice room”.

“I swear to the gods, how long can that bastard take to practice!” You texted angrily at your friend one day. Qixing Conservatory was the premiere music place in Liyue, but what should’ve been an amazing opportunity was being overshadowed by a practice room partner who appeared to not have a life, one who also had the obnoxious habit of playing the same damn thing over, and over, and over again.

“Playing the same piece as before?”

“Yes! Ugh I don’t even know what it’s called but I’ve heard it enough times to last a lifetime, maybe five!”

“Damn I’m sorry, what time does he usually end?”

“I don’t even know. Some time in the early evening. It’s obviously never gotten through to his brain that other people also need to practice. Or that hearing the same notes over and over while waiting makes me want to chuck my binder against a wall.”

“Lol. I kinda want to hear it now. Can you send a video, will the sound pick up?”

“I don’t know how it wouldn’t.”

“…”

“Holy shit! Okay, I need you to watch this video and tell me if you recognize the pianist.”

Safe to say you nearly fell out of your chair upon figuring out Xiao’s identity. Not that you weren’t already about to out of pure exasperation. Still, there was something much more intimidating about shaming a successful musician, and you no longer had the urge to glare at Xiao every time he left the practice room. Honestly, you would have been perfectly happy keeping your head down and never interacting with him at all.

Fate, however, has a sense of humor.

To be fair, some of it was your fault. You knew that Erlkonig was a massively difficult piece. You knew that you should’ve picked something else, knew that even Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata mvt. Three had to be less painful than the non-vocal arrangement you’d placed in front of your eyes. You were never trusting your music taste with your piece choices again. This was a terrible mistake.

“These stupid fucking running notes!” You let out, a groan of exasperation racing through you. Half slamming (you weren’t crazy) the piano cover down you swung the door of the practice room open. You didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Trying to ignore the embarrassment that rose up seeing Xiao waiting on a chair next to the door you went to walk down the hallway.

“You should work on it with a dotted sixteenth note pattern.”

It was the first time that Xiao had ever spoken to you.

Afterwards a rapport slowly grew between the two of you. Often Xiao said nothing as you passed, rarely you made a gesture of recognition when he finally reappeared from the practice room. However soon the occasional word or phrase of advice grew into longer sentences, later these sentences evolved into pieces of conversation. Soon enough you discovered, to your slight horror, that you found yourself yearning for Xiao’s company.

Almost as soon as you’d finally figured out your feelings you were hit with a wave of denial. You weren’t falling for Xiao? How could you fall for someone who got on your nerves so much? Sure he gave you advice, but what about it? You deserved it after having to hear him over and over again while waiting. Certainly Xiao didn’t seem interested in you, he barely talked to you! Yeah he was getting more talkative, but it’s easier to talk to people when you’re giving them advice. There’s no way you were in love with Xiao. And there was no way he was in love with you.

To say that Xiao’s career as a musician, never mind his genuine technical talent at two instruments, was a barrier would be an understatement. The moment you thought you were making some progress, finally admitting to yourself that this crush was, in fact, real, a wave of anxiety would pass over you. Xiao was too good for you, he was too important. Here was a man who had a successful musical career already up in the air while you banged frustratedly on the keys. Why would someone that successful be interested in you? Not to mention the fact that he didn’t seem interested.

Because, you had to admit, you did like Xiao’s music. Not just his classical repertoire, but his pop music as well. It was slightly jazzy, mellow and playful and utterly unlike the scowling musician behind it – something you secretly thought extremely cute and surprisingly charming. To him you were just a practice roommate, and you were sure he’d find the idea of dating someone who was more familiar with his public persona irritating.

So you buried your feelings, or tried to. Unfortunately like sometimes attracts like, and just as Xiao secretly had the emotional understanding of a teaspoon, you weren’t nearly as clever about things as you would like.

“Is there something on my face?” Xiao asked, his voice gruff and slightly reluctant.

“No, why would there be?”

“Because you’re staring at it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You let your head drop, looking intently at the ivories in front of you. Eventually there was a sigh.

“You don’t have to do that. I… I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! You staring down is weird too. Let’s, let’s just hurry up and do this passage.”

After that you became more aware of your staring habit. You also became more aware of Xiao’s own habit, leaning towards you. Sometimes you swore that you could feel the tips of his hair tickling your neck, light and feathery and stealing all your attention.

“Hey, Xiao, do you need glasses?”

“Why would you asked that!” Xiao flared up, face reddening. By this time you’d become more accustomed to these flareups of grumpiness, and ignoring it you pressed on.

“It’s just, you seem to be leaning forward.”

“I’m not!” Immediately Xiao shifted back, almost stepping away. Without thinking about it you reached to grab his hand.

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing!” You got out, before becoming aware of your hand grasping Xiao’s. The touch felt electric, and you were suddenly so very aware of everything, yet unable to focus at all.

“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Xiao grumbled.

Slowly the musician leaned closer to you once more. You had already half stood up and now you found yourself stepping closer to Xiao. The world continued to shrink until you were almost pressed together. Xiao was leaning forward, as were you, and the longer tufts of his hair were tickling your cheek, helped by the fan whirring away in the corner. Your hand was still in his, but all your thoughts appeared to have died away.

“Xiao?”

“Is this, too close?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Xiao?”

“What?”

“I like your music. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Why would it?”

“I don’t know. I just, I also like you, not just your music. But I also like your music.”

“I also like yours too.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic of confessions, but at that point you were far too carried away by the moment, or maybe by the fact that was the most sentences Xiao had strung together that weren’t about triplets. Regardless of the fact, you were suddenly seized by incredible happiness, as all appeared to right itself.

Afterwards initially little changed, Xiao was a gruff as ever, you were still itching to play in the practice room more. Nevertheless when you went to a concert of his for the first time and he let out a small, almost imperceptible, smile your way you knew things had changed. They would keep changing perhaps, or maybe they wouldn’t. After all, this moment was beautiful.

So much that you didn’t even mind the hours spent waiting for the practice room.

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #1

Prompts: 

19. Elegant

12. “I gotta admit I’m a little surprised”

(Mafia AU) Vil x Reader

Summery: Vil takes you with him on a “business trip” and you talk to Cater Diamond about the names of alcohol. Specifically, the drink you ordered.

TW: Alcohol; suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 2,508

A note from Fel:  I don’t speak a lick of French, so I apologize if the French translations are wrong (I used Google Translate)! So, I hope you can forgive me and that you’ll still have a good time reading it! Enjoy!

“I gotta admit, I’m a little surprised. I never thought someone like Vil would bring… someone like you.” 

Your nose crinkled, eyebrows furrowing into an angry v. Your gaze shot from your drink to the man sitting across from you, a lazy smirk on his face as he widened the spread of his legs in front of him. He took a sip from his drink (a beautiful electric blue drink where a slice of lemon was wedged on the lip of the cup). “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

His eyebrows raised and a chuckle shook his chest. “No offense meant-” he leaned his elbows on his knees- “I just meant you’re much more of…” he nodded his head back and forth, seemingly trying to find the word he was looking for. “Of the innocent sort I suppose? Though, I don’t think innocent fits you properly. Not with what you're drinking.”

“Drinking? What’s wrong with my drink?” You look down at the whip cream topped drink that you had ordered after Vil and Rook went inside a VIP room with a man (you honestly thought he was a child at first, he had such a cute baby face and the way his red hair framed his face made him almost look angelic- though your view of him was shattered when he had opened his mouth to reveal quite the no-nonsense tone dripping off of each of his words). You had a feeling that the meeting wasn’t going to end anytime soon and Vil had, afterall, given you free reign to enjoy yourself at the fancy club that this meeting was taking place at; so you got the first drink you saw another patron had that caught your interest. It just happened to be the one that you thought might have something sweet in it. 

The man- Cater, you recall- tilted his head to the side, his green eyes shining under the bright lights of the club. “You know what it’s called don’t you?”

You looked at it and back at him, your eyes squinting at him.

“Oh, dear, maybe you are more innocent than I thought.” Cater placed a finger against his lips, a smile threatening to break out on his face. “It’s called a Blow Job, darling.”

Your startled expression throws him into a fit of laughter. You feel your cheeks flush as you grip your drink closer to your chest, eyes darting around the room. “I- it still tastes good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” His shoulders are still shaking from chuckles and he wipes a tear from his eye before that annoying smirk crosses his face and he picks up the drink he placed on the table somewhere in the midst of your conversation. You frown when he stands up and makes his way around the table to sit next to you. “You know what this drink is called, Sweetie?”

You lean back from how close his face is- you can smell his cologne, something mellow yet expensive. You shake your head.

You realize too late that you have no more couch to scoot away on when your back hits the arm of the couch. You feel sweat pool at the small of your back when his smooth lips brush against your ear. “Sex in the Driveway.”

The tips of your ears burn in a blush. “Oh, fuck off.”

Cater throws his head back and another round of laughter leaves him.  

“Why do drinks have to have such weird names,” you mumble. Looking away from him and taking a sip from your drink.

“I don’t know-” he throws an arm over the back of the couch where you’re squished against the arm of it- “but they’re good conversation starters, no?”

You sigh. “I guess.”

Cater hums, drinking from his Sex in the Driveway before asking: “so, why did Vil bring you, anyway?”

I don’t know either. You scowled, tapping your nails against the side of the glass. “Didn’t have a babysitter, I guess.”

“Babysitter?”

“Yeah, Vil usually has these two guys watch over me for whatever reason- probably because I’m friends with him or something-” you suddenly stopped talking when you realized where you were and who you were talking with: a really fancy club, that had velvet red seats and a corner for rich old white men to play croquet, that was owned by one of the seven most influential mob bosses in Twisted Wonderland- Riddle Rosehearts- and you were currently sitting with one of said mob bosses cronies. You glared at him, scowling. 

He raised his hands shaking his head. “Hey, now, I’m not gonna go snooping for any dirt on Vil- they’re talking about a pseudo-partnership in there currently-” he nods his head to the heart-shaped doors that the three disappeared to earlier- “I don’t want to do anything to- ah- jeopardize that. Riddle’ll have my head, you know?”

“Good.” You say, taking another drink before continuing, “I don’t know anything anyway.”

“Oh? Aren’t you part of the Pomefior group though? They don’t let just anyone in without some sort of knowledge, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that. Might be because I’m one of the only people he trusts with helping him get ready.”

“Oh,” Cater’s eyes shined at that, leaning against your side. “So, you’re like his personal stylist?”

“Something like that. He always comes to my shop when he has time.”

“You have a shop?”

“Yeah, I own a boutique,” you smile. “Vil usually comes and commissions me for his clothes- always so elegant, you know? Really fun to work on and they just fit him. One of my favorite ones to work on was-” you blink, realization hitting you- “the one he’s wearing tonight, actually.”

Cater gasps, he places his drink down on the table, grabbing both of your hands and shuffling so close to you that your chests almost touch. “You’re telling me that you made that suit he’s wearing today?”

You nod, your cheeks warming once again. 

“He’s worn that suit more than once you know? I would do anything to get my hands on a suit like that- it complements his waist so well and the colors-” an almost squeal slips from Cater’s throat as he squeezes your hands- “divine. No one can take their eyes off of him when he wears that thing- well, even without the suit people don’t really take their eyes off of him, but- you get what I mean, don’t you?”

A small drop of pride blossomed in your chest, happy that convincing Vil to let you alter the color pallet had paid off. You nod, “yeah.” There’s a brief moment where you tug your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth before you say, “you know I do take commissions- I can always make you one for the right price.”

“Really?” He reminded you of a puppy in that moment he was practically vibrating with excitement as he half situates himself in your lap. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Well- again- for the right price-”

“No, they wouldn’t. This suit is one of a kind and I do hope it will stay one of a kind. Isn’t that right, my Sweet Potato?”

“I- Vil! I- the meeting! How’d it go?” You feel the blush creep down your neck and over your chest- Cater whining and pressing against you, lamenting the fact that he’d have to commission you something else. 

“Incroyable!” Rook declared from behind Vil (who was still glaring down at you and Cater). “Roi des Roses and Roi du Poison have settled upon an agreement-” Rook wiped an invisible tear away with one hand while he placed the other on his chest- “Belle harmonie.”

“That’s great!” You smile at the small group of men. “That means you guys’ll be friends for a bit, huh? How neat!”

Vil’s brow creased and his lips tugged into a frown- expression caught between concern and frustration. “Who told you-”

“Ah, you’re so cute, (Y/N)-chan!” Cater suddenly wrapped his arms around you causing you to yelp, your face flushing a deeper shade of red. His cheek pressed against yours as he began to chatter: “Did you guys know that they didn’t realize they ordered a Blow Job? I thought they were going to be all hardcore and sexy, but no- they’re so innocent- look at them! Blushing because of a hug!” He laughed squeezing you tighter. “You should really try a Sex in the Driveway next! It’s super yummy, also it’s so aesthetic for pictures.” Cater's voice dropped to a whisper when he added: “even special types of pictures- I have a really nice driveway we can take those pictures at, you know?”

You can feel a scream build in your throat when Vil’s voice- too even, too calm- suddenly cuts in: “I do believe it’s time for us to go. I would appreciate it if you would let my Potato go, Mr. Diamond.”

Cater looks up at him from underneath his eyelashes. “Ah, yes, apologies, Don Schoenhiet.” He lets you go but not before leaving a kiss on your cheek as he grabs his drink and skips away with a wave. “Bye-bye, (Y/N)-chan! See you later!”

You sputtered, feeling like you were going to overheat as you stood on wobbly legs and staggered to Vil’s side. Rook’s fighting the urge to giggle at the situation as the two Dons talk between themselves to wrap up a few loose ends before they nod at one another and Vil is dragging you out the door by your elbow. 

The blast of cool air that blasted against your face as the doors opened pulled a quiet gasp from you. Vil still dragging you by the elbow, his expression fixed on the sleek, black limo that waited in front, a boy with purple hair leaning against the side of it. Rook waves to Epel and he nods, opening the door for the three of you. Well, you thought it was going to be for the three of you, instead you watched as Rook waved at you through the tinted window once the door shut and followed Epel up to the front of the car. 

You chewed on your lip, patting your lap as silence took up the space between you and Vil. He had his legs cross as well as his arms, glaring down at you. You looked up, with a sheepish smile. “So, the meeting went good, right?”

“It went amazing.”

“That’s good.”

The silence was beginning to seep back in again and you went back to chewing on your lip when you heard Vil click his tongue. “Stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” You felt your face flush.

“What were you and Diamond talking about?”

“I- huh?”

“My Sweet Potato, you know I don’t like repeating myself.” His eyes were unwavering and the sound of wind blowing across the frame of the limo seemed to be so much louder with the way the blood rushed to your ears.

You shrugged. “Nothing too interesting, honestly. He told me what my drink was called- which, I will have you know, was a complete accident that I ordered that thing, ok? I saw some guy had one and it had whip cream, that is it.” You rested your chin in your hand as you slouched to lean against your knee, a happy smile on your face, “and then I got to talk about my shop, so that was really nice.” You blink sitting straight again and looking at him: your eyebrows slightly knitted together and an honest shine in your eyes. “If you're worried that he tried to get some info from me about you guys, I didn’t tell him anything! It wouldn’t have worked anyway-” you look almost proud of yourself as you cross your arms over your chest- “I don’t know anything about what you guys do and I told him that to his face.”

“Anything else?”

You looked at Vil, tilting your head. He didn’t seem angry, more like… mildly annoyed? You weren’t completely positive, but the loosening of his eyebrows said that he was at least calming down from whatever set him off. “He… he asked me why you brought me if I didn’t know anything.”

“Oh? And what did you say?”

“I- I said I didn’t know either, probably because I’m your friend and that you couldn’t find my babysitters,” You chuckle to yourself, patting at your lap again. 

Vil blinks at you, before leaning back and covering his eyes with an arm. He sighs. 

You look up at Vil, concern suddenly tickling the bottom of your heart. “Vil?”

“What a silly potato you are.” You feel your face burst into flames as Vil shows you his face once again: his expression is raw- pure adoration and something that you never expected him to show you; the smile on his face is not one that is beautiful and perfectly maintained- it didn’t have a purpose- instead, it was soft, something so vulnerable that you could feel your breath catching in your throat. He leaned towards you, his hands finding your cheeks, he gently rested his forehead against yours. You feel your eyes flutter as you smell his perfume: apples and cinnamon. “I brought you with me because I remember you mentioning you wanted to go there.”

You gasp, an excited glint in your eyes. “I did, didn’t I?”

The smile stayed on his face as he leaned back. “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod. “It was just as pretty as I thought it was going to be- but I like your club a lot more. It’s just so much more…” you scrunch your nose and giggle when you feel him begin to play with your hair. “More you.” You nod, proud that you finally found the words you wanted to say. 

He pauses in twirling your hair, he breaths a laugh. “‘More me’, hm?”

“Yeah! It makes me feel safe,” you laugh, “It’s like being surrounded by your muse you know?” You smile at him. 

Vil pulls you into his arms. You feel him shivering and you wrap your arms around, being mindful not to rumple his suit too much. “Never change, my Sweet Potato.”

“I’m not planning to!”

Another breathy laugh as he brushes his nose against the skin of your neck. Your skin warm with a building blush. You two stay like that: happy, content in each other's arms before he speaks again: “you’re not allowed to converse with Diamond ever again, do you understand me?”

“He’s a potential customer though! I have to talk to him! Also, he seemed like an alright guy-”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

You pull away from the hug crossing your arms, forcing your cheeks to cool down as Vil stares at you with sweet eyes. “That’s not fair. You’re not even my boyfriend.”

“I can change that very easily, Sweet Potato.”

Your cheeks begin to burn as you let out the most pitiful yet happy noise out of your throat. 

<The Next Chosen Characters>

Thank you for reading!