#but subjectively i adore both and love one more closely to my heart than the other

[thegreatyin]

upon reflection several months later i have to admit. bg3 doesn't have the greatest story ever. but is it still really good and really enjoyable and really top tier? hell yeah brother

[buttercupblu]

Studying with Choso🌱🫧🌷

Student!Choso x Reader One-Shot

the deets: Poor Cho - he's been best friends with books and binders for weeks on end with little to no time for his favorite subject; You 🥺. With his finals just around the corner, his cram sessions are in full swing... and affections absent. So, being the angel that you are, you decide to give him a helping hand. w.c: 3.8k tags: fem!reader, fem!top/switch (kinda), teasing, nipple play, breath play, choking, handjob, praise, pet names, Ph.D student Choso|mention of: rough penetration, bruising, throat fucking, 18+ MDNI a.n: what began as a daydream turned into my 1st (completed) JJK fanfic - go crazy, go stupid|don't talk to me about the latest spoilers ... pls 🥲

Sigh.

He’s been at it for hours now. 

The clock ticking against the silence in the room made that obnoxiously apparent. 

Hums of Lofi coming from the living room is your only saving grace. The peace and tranquility he needs to concentrate starkly contrasts the infectious heat growing in your lower body. 

Nibbling on your nails proves meek, as your thighs, acting as hand warmers, begin to ache. You couldn’t help but palm your pussy while trying to resist the urge to interrupt Choso’s study session.

Again.

Your cunny kept speaking to you with a raging heartbeat. Begging you to march in there and demand attention as he’d been home for hours with little to no sprinkles of affection. 

You groan, burying your face into your pillow. 

“Baaabe,” you call out, a pout forming on your lips. 

As much as you wanted to quell your growing pains, you knew this was a really important exam for Choso - one of his last hurdles before wrapping up his Ph.D program. Knowing how much it meant to Choso, you feel a twinge of guilt. 

Your little man was on his way to wearing white lab coats and curing diseases, saving lives one cure at a time. A faint smile finds your face thinking about it. You could see him clearly, donning goggles and blue gloves; his signature spiky buns (adding to the charm) are truly adorable. His little face is a picture of concentration, completely absorbed in his work while taking measurements and recording data; you could almost hear the sound of his pen scratching on the notepad. 

The image of him so absorbed in his work is both charming and impressive; it always makes your heart flutter.

You just knew that those bitches he’s going to be working with better watch themselves. 

Choso in that element alone was enough to make you fold; you could only imagine working so closely with him for multiple hours and taking more than your fair share of quick glances—clenching your thighs to steady your desires to have him bend you over the metal table just to feel the coolness against your nipples. 

“I’m sorry, babe,” Choso whines back. It breaks you out of your jealousy-filled fantasy. Yet, you find your fingertips damp from the arousal between your legs. “I just need a bit more time.” You hear the fatigue in his voice. Knowing your love is so tired and hard at work breaks your heart. 

But that’s all he’s been doing as of late, and you felt as if you hadn’t seen each other in ages. Between his hours-long sessions at the lab and catching up on sleep, you barely had time to cuddle at bedtime. You missed his warmth, his strong arms instinctively bringing you closer to him as he slept. The way your bodies formed a perfect C as he kissed into your neck.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. And you are surely suffering at the moment. 

The multiple attempts to dissuade his attention from his books were fruitless. 

Casual walk-bys in his favorite silky shorts of yours, the ones that hug above your plump undercuff, went unnoticed. You were sure he could feel the wind against his face as you swished by, making sure your cheeks lingered in his air for a second or two. 

He paid it no mind.. 

It wasn't until you stopped dead in front of him that he finally turned his attention to you, pausing to follow his wandering eyes around the wavy rim of your shorts. The design stretched around your plush thighs creating an imprint on your body, marking your velvety skin. Your arms crossed firmly on your chest push your tits into full view; the accompanying pout on your face made his dick jump.

He sighs, trailing his hands up your thighs to the small of your back, and pulls you in between his legs. A deep breath follows as he inhales your rosy scent, savoring the fragrance he wishes he could bottle and horde.

His chin rests on your lower belly as he looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. “An hour. I promise.”

He peers over the rim of his reading glasses, looking on with a furrowed brow and pouty lip, squeezing at your hips.

You couldn’t resist melting when he’s like this.

His eyes beg for patience, but his hands, wavering under the cuffs of your cheeks, say otherwise. A gentle squeeze on your inner thigh confirms it; you bite your lip at his firm grasp, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Fawk me. 

"Hmph.” you lower into his lap, perfectly molding your body against his. Resting your head on his shoulder, your hands find solace at the nape of his neck. He's so warm. His arms find home around your waist, a sensation that always makes you feel so secure, so small. So needy.

You rock into him, the smell of his hair drugging you as you try to be as close as possible, barely able to control the need to dry-hump him for relief. 

Oh, how his heavenly thighs would be a perfect candidate. 

“One hour? You promise, Cho?” your whine, coupled with the dampness of your shorts, incites a bulge between your thighs. The friction of which alone could get you off if you kept up the pace.

This doesn't go unnoticed of course, and it took all of Choso’s restraint to keep him from dragging your hips back and forth himself, letting you use him like a fucktoy against your clit.

Or better yet, take you like this. It would be so easy for him to snake his arms under your legs and prop you up to bounce on his dick. He was sure the chair was sturdy enough to handle him abusing you.

The thought was mind-numbingly irresistible. 

He tugs at his bottom lip, swallowing a moan and holding you a bit tighter.

“I promise.” pressing a kiss on your ear, his fingers float down your spine. You could stay like this for the rest of the night if it were up to you, but you knew his studies were critical. Besides, maybe your patience would come with a reward—a nice fat one. The one sitting neatly in his shorts, threatening to poke out from under you at the present moment. 

But that was almost an hour ago.

The hour he promised he would be done by. 

And lying in bed with your head hanging off of the side, picturing Choso ramming his dick down your throat, certainly wasn’t helping the throbbing in your core. You pull your hand from your shorts, marveling at the webs between your fingers. Frowning immediately after.

Fine. If he wouldn’t come to you…

You huff, sitting up to head to the living room only to be met with Choso’s back turned to you—his head buried in papers and woe. A mischievous grin plays on your face as you tiptoe behind him.

Your arms wrap lovingly around his neck and drift down his chest. He jumps a little, feeling a tug on the bottom of his shirt. Your icy hands slip underneath and palm his chest before he can argue. 

“You keep it so cold in here, Cho,” you nuzzle into his neck, “How am I supposed to stay warm?” 

Your hands snake around his torso until they brush his pink nips. The rhythmic beat of his heart picks up against your fingers. A slight tug elicits a groan from his lips. “Babe,” he winces, “What are you doing?”

You giggle, twirling them between your fingers before pulling out to caress his scalp—a certified soft spot of his and your favorite place to play.

To help him concentrate, of course. 

You tumble through his brunette locks like gentle waves. It’s almost comical how easily his head falls back against your breasts. The sensation mixed with exhaustion turns him into putty in your hands. You gaze lovingly at his bliss-ridden face and softly closed eyes. Slow, shallow breaths escape his rosy lips as if he’s lost in a peaceful dream.

His naturally dark under-eyes show signs of how busy he’s been. anyone else would assume the purple hue came from sleep deprivation (partially true), but you loved how the blush features coveted his face. To you, they only enhance his already striking features, making him all the more breathtakingly beautiful.

Even without an impossible schedule on top of it.

You were enamored with his unwavering commitment to his ambitions, aspirations, and most importantly, you. It was impressive seeing how he seamlessly balanced his pursuit of success and his affection for you, always making time for meaningful moments together. On top of caring for his younger brother Yuji, the cutest little manic dumpling in existence, you couldn’t help but awe at his ability to juggle everything and still find a way to make you feel cherished.

The thought of it all sends butterflies from your tummy to your toes.

His exposed neck begs for attention. You lean, brushing your soft lips against the skin. Careful to ghost over his collarbone, sending trimmers to his ears. The temptation to swipe his earlobe with your tongue flashes through your mind, a feat you know would send his dick through his pants. 

Instead, you slowly wrap your hand around his jaw, pulling his head back further. His eyes lock on your playful smile; his stunned face makes you nuzzle your thighs together. 

“Y/N-” he starts but your lips silence the protest. He melts into your hand feeling your tongue dip into his mouth. His feeble attempt to object fleets like seconds on a clock. 

Mint chocolate fills your mouth tasting the sweet treats he nibbles on to get him through the night. You couldn't stand the taste of chocolate-flavored toothpaste, but you would swallow a barrel full just to sample it from the lips that always took your breath away.

Quelled by your touch, Choso softens in his seat. How could he resist? Your tongue was nectar on any given day, and he was your hummingbird. 

Your hands travel down his chest, lingering on his waist and treasured v-section. Something he worked on sculpting 2 to 3 times a week, though you swore it came naturally. A waist this slutty simply could not be built in a gym. It was your favorite playground on nights when you could not resist the urge to sink your teeth into flesh.

Followed by whines from Choso.

And your knees shaking and shoved against your chest for tempting him.

You pause before his delectable thighs, capturing an involuntary mew when you glide over them. Fuck, he thinks, I’m such a slut—battling between needing to study and needing your touch. 

What began as mischief morphs into something brilliant, feeling your boyfriend writhe in his chair.

Pulling away from his pillowy lips, a smile forms on yours. He looks on, dazed, almost upset that you stole away.

“Cho..,” you breathe, “What is the central dogma of molecular biology?” His eyes pop open. Your fingers on his thigh slow. You hold a lustful stare, watching his mind search for the answers. 

“Um, the flow of genetic information within a biological system?”

You nod happily, resuming your strokes. His lips twitch in response. 

“What isss… the role of CRISPR-Cas9 in genome editing?” You inch closer to his inner thigh. His eyes flash to your hand.

“Aht aht,” tilting his chin, “Look at me when you answer.” Your fingers press deeper into his jaw, the result of which makes his dick strain against his shorts and stretch the fabric. Pulsing thumps vibrate through your other hand when you cup his length to still him. 

Heat finds your face as you palm the growing tent. The boy had been blessed with a toe-curling gift that shot stars into your eyes every time it sank into your core. Your dainty little hands paled in comparison to the massive limb - it was a wonder how he ever managed to fit inside you - let alone between your fingers. 

Yet, you still managed to take him so well, he thought. Stretching around him with ease, bringing curses to his mouth every time he bottomed out. Always so wet and ready for him at the simplest touch. It was more like your pussy always craved the challenge, sucking and swallowing him like a pure essence. 

“Cho.”

The words catch in his throat. “It-it’s a genome editing tool that comes from bacterial immune systems,” he wets his lips, clenching his fingers, “It uses a.. guide RNA to target specific DNA sequences and Cas9 enzyme to introduce precise changes, like a um, gene knockout or uh….insertion, in various organisms.” 

“Good boy,” you coo, pressing a plush kiss onto his lips again. He blushes red at the sound of praise. The words stimulating a part of his brain that makes him docile and dumb.

Raking nails and plump lips battle for his attention. He feels breathless at your touch. You barely had time to kiss each other before starting your mornings. And now, here you were, toying with him like a trinket.

The questions come with ease, a result of genuine curiosity and random peeks over his shoulder during long nights of cramming.

Difficulty increases as you rattle them off. The look of astonishment on Choso’s face says he didn’t know that you had been paying such close attention. You were no stranger to flashcards and practice quizzes yourself, having become accustomed to them during your undergrad studies. And though those four years may have driven you close to insanity, the habits proved permanent. And were being put to good use on your overworked boyfriend.

“Mmmm,” a thumb dances along the rim of his shorts, “What kind of stem cell research uses Patient-derived iPSCs?”

His brows furrow feeling the elastic stretch around his waist, “Umm, regenerative medicine, no, disease modeling and drug discovery.” skimming his hips sets his nerves on fire. A quick pop of the waistband sends him into outer space. The look of defeat is adorable, his glasses fogging a little. 

He was so cute, so easily coaxed into trembles from the slightest touch. 

You chuckle, nodding, “And if they can model human diseases, then?”

Searching for the solution sends him into a panic. His mouth gapes, but your fingers do not waver, pressing between his thighs, patiently awaiting his answer.

You can tell he’s overthinking it, second-guessing even. My poor baby, you think. Your eyes soften watching him. A gentle expression that reminds him why he tries at all.

With a soft tug of your thumb on his bottom lip, the answer is clear. 

 “...They can be used to help researchers save lives”.

The simplest answer is most often the best.

You smile, “Correct.” In one swoop, his shorts fall just enough to allow his dick to spring out. It slaps against his stomach, thumping against the cool air. A slick of arousal glistens from the head down to the shaft. You fixate on the lip-licking sight, hungry for a taste.

Choso’s hazy eyes are a close second; his struggle to keep them open is noticeably appetizing. The devil may be the most beautiful fallen angel, but it’d be a run for his money if Choso had wings.  

Your hands are careful to tease his length, lightly drawing long lines and circles. Pressing your fingertips into him on correct answers, slowing when he hesitates. Pure agony wouldn’t come close to describing the restraint Choso is using to keep himself grounded. 

Oh, how easy it would be for him to take you into his lap and fuck you senseless for being such a tease. To wrap his arms around your waist and bully you down onto his cock until you both gushed and mewed.

Truthfully, he was spurred on by your newfound dominance—each thump of his dick attesting to the ache and self-control he’s sustained over days of rigorous scheduling.

Tension had been building for weeks. Every encounter was filled with stolen glances and lingering touches. Brushing fingertips as you left in the morning. Sleepy hugs, that could’ve lasted longer, at the end of the day. The air was thick with a mix of desire and frustration as repressed affection hung heavy in the space between you. Every moment was a delicate balance of longing and limits.

You never considered taking matters into your own hands, literally. 

Choso was so lost in the sauce that you thought it would be cruel. 

But the way he folded under you like origami awakened something inside of you. Like fire to a flame, this newfound desire to take what you wanted was exhilarating. “Are you still with me, Cho-baby?”. 

Choso has always been known for his exceptional memory. Whether it was recalling a complex molecular chain in the lab or remembering your favorite order at all the eateries in town, he never had any issues with recollection.

But now, he was sure he would forget his own name if you asked him. His short-circuiting brain grew increasingly useless against your skilled hands. “Hmph,” pulling your bottom lip with your teeth, “No?”

Grazing his mushroom tip turns his words to mush. His stringy pre-cum is a delicious lubricant for the circles you draw. "Mmm," you moan, imagining sucking it down your throat.

With a gentle press, it spills over your thumbs, soaking your hand and eliciting another stifled moan from Choso. You grin. It’s music to your ears and hell on your soaked panties, fueling a primal hunger that intensifies with every gasp and tremble. 

Your throbbing cunt is an undeniable testament. Cursed with an insatiable need to be sopping and full.

It’s impossible for Choso not to arch into your hand, betraying his own body for more of your cunning touch—seeking more of the intoxicating pleasure only you can provide. Resisting was foolish—if you were a drug, Choso was an addict.

“Oh?” transfixing on his soft grind, “Does that feel good, Cho?” he blushes beet red, this time looking away, but you’re quick to bring him back, steadying his jaw between your fingers and instructing him not to move.

Fuck. He could cum just from the look on your pretty face towering over him, stern and seductive. “Answer me baby, use your words.”  

His lungs feel cloudy as you wrap your hand around his length, his mouth falling open in tandem as you stroke up and down his length with ease, increasing pressure from the base to the tip as if trying to coax the words out of him. How you wish you could straddle him and do the same with your pussy—use the desk for leverage and ride him into oblivion until you milked him dry.

His breath matches the rhythm of your strokes in a needy way, sending waves of electricity from your chest to your toes. You can't help but press your breasts closer, cradling his head between your pillows like a second home. “Does. This. Feel. Good?”

He swallows, “s-so good… so. fucking. good,” it drags out of him.

It was a sultry vice grip, swallowing him with your stroke, stealing his breath. His last cling to sanity was his grasp on the seat of the chair, almost turning his knuckles pale white.

Despite being the giver and not the receiver, your own arousal equally intensifies with each desperate moan, shudder, and gasp that escapes his lips—the wetness between your thighs becomes almost unbearable. Every sound consumes rational thought, only leaving a craving for more.

Forgetting your impromptu questionnaire, you decide you’d like to see how long he can go like this, having been days since your last quickie in the kitchen, hips roughly pushed into the counter as he fucked into you. The sight of you reaching into the fridge, exposing your pretty panties, brought on the occasion. And suddenly you were very familiar with the cabinets as he spread you open for a taste. You wore the bruises for days like a badge of honor for taking him as long as you did.

But now, as you rolled your thumb over his supple slit, you were sure he could come undone in a matter of seconds.

He groans feeling you suddenly lick and nip at his earlobe, your devilish thoughts from earlier coming true. You kiss heat into him, twisting your hand up and down; he twitches with every pump, ears growing hot. "Aww baby," you purr, listening to the wet sloshes of your hand. 

You bite the inside of your lip feeling your throbbing clit match the raging heartbeat in his dick. You'd slip your fingers into your soppy pussy and curl them until you came if they weren't so occupied with holding Choso's eyes on you. "You've been working so hard," you whine, "Are you gonna cum for me, Cho?" dipping down now and then to caress his balls, the squelching sounds battle for dominance over the serene Lofi beat. His only response being whimpers and a slight head nod lets you know that he’s close.

Your other hand slides down from his jaw to his throat, locking with a light squeeze. “Mmmph,” the restriction drives him closer, beginning to mindlessly pump himself into your hand. You squeeze at the base as if to milk him of all his worries. “I’m gonna…” 

“You’re gonna what?” your pressure increases on his neck, matching the growing knot in his stomach. His face flushes, but you wait for his tell. He fucks into your hand, following a string of silent curses, when you see it, that familiar thigh twitch.

His mouth falls wide open, sucking in air, “F-fuck i-i'm cu-” you shove your tongue down his throat making sure he tastes you completely, stealing the air from his lungs as he cums. His hand entangles in your hair, the orgasm cracking like lightning through him as his seed spills over your fingers, shuddering from his hips down. 

But you don't stop—continuing to pump, making sure to milk out every last drop. His pulsing dick provides a steady stream of hot spurts until his thrusts turn sloppy and his abs begin to ache. Your sloppy kiss silences his guttural moans until his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Finally, you pull away, a string of slick connecting your tongues, letting him breathe. The cool air soothes his heavy pants and heaving chest. You watch his spent face, his eyes following your fingers to your mouth as you lick them clean. The act stimulates his softening dick, adding a final spurt to the mess you’ve created on his lap.

You giggle, removing his glasses and setting them aside to plant a kiss on his forehead and blushing scar. A familiar ring chimes through the air. The sound you had become accustomed to on early mornings that started your day.

Hmm, he really was keeping up with the time, you think. 

You lean down, smiling against his cheek, “Looks like your hour is up, babe.” You rub his surely sore neck and peck it.

His hand, still grasping your hair, catches you before you can pull away. Your eyes widened at the sudden shift. You gasp when he pulls you back, meeting his gaze as his lips curl into a sinful smile—watching his dick slowly thump back to life from the corner of your eye. He leans closer and whispers in your ear, his voice raspy and dry but very, very clear.

“Yours is just starting.”

[tickly-tufts]

Progression

aka 2 times angel didn't tickle husk + 1 time he did (with implied timeskips to different stages of closeness)

—

“Did you just… giggle?”

Husk flushed at the question, ears folding back as soon as Angel released them. Angel had only wanted to see how they felt. Husk himself had allowed it… until he realized…

His ears were ticklish. Especially the insides, where Angel’s attention inevitably wandered. Husk had kept it together for an entire 5 seconds before Angel’s thumbs were sweeping over the hearts.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned after, scowling to cover up his embarrassment. He braced for a taunt, or a real attempt at tickling… only for Angel to back off entirely.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t meant anything by it!” Angel soothed with the offending hands raised. “Thanks for lettin’ me touch ‘em, though. They’re really soft!”

Husk blinked, bewildered.

“Uh… sure… but don’t expect this again. It was one-time deal.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

With the subject settled far more easily than expected, Husk returned to his work… oddly unsatisfied.

—

“Ears and wings?” Angel marveled, remarkably unfazed about being on the floor. Mere moments ago, he’d been on top of Husk, enjoying the purrs rumbling through his chest.

Once again, it had been an accident. Angel had meant to grab the blanket. At some point, though, Husk had spread his wings, and thus Angel’s fingers burrowed right into feathers.

Husk squealed, which was adorable, even after he flung Angel off the bed. His face betrayed both shock and confusion, which soon made way for mortification. “I didn’t- Are you-” He was clearly flustered, and Angel considered teasing him about it… but he’d promised to stop pushing Husk’s boundaries, and he didn’t want to risk whatever it was they had.

“All good here!” Angel assured, crossing his legs as he sat up. “If I swear to keep my hands off the wings, will ya let me back up there?“ He already missed the warmth.

At his question, though, Husk’s expression took a turn. Angel froze when he thought he spotted… disappointment?

Then it was gone, replaced by a frown.

“Yeah, yeah, just… no more surprises.”

—

“ANGEL YOU- FUHUHUCK!”

“Pfft, I sure do, but let’s save that for later~” It was a corny comeback even for Angel, but his captive audience couldn’t help but laugh. “Are the paws actually worse than the wings?“ He scratched the yellow center of one heart-shaped pad. Husk immediately screeched, leg nearly jerking free. “Damn! I’ll take that as a yes!”

Three times, Angel had tickled Husk. Three times, he’d stumbled on a weak-spot by accident. Two times, he’d chosen to play it safe… but by the third time, he knew what had to be done. Holding Husk’s ankles with his lower set of hands, Angel wiggled the fingers of his upper set for show. “I promised ya the full massage treatment, though, and I’d just hate to break a promise!”

“You’re the worst, you know that?!” Husk covered his face, refusing to look Angel in the eye. It didn’t escape Angel’s notice, however, that he wasn’t fighting the grip on his legs.

“Aww, don’t act like y’don’t love me,” Angel countered because he could. “And obviously I love you, so try not to kick me in the face, alright?”

Husk nearly did when Angel’s fingers made contact, squeezing and rubbing at both of his paws. The tops and sides weren’t so bad on their own, but those damned yellow hearts were unbearable. He could only cackle as Angel’s thumbs pressed in, massaging the pads in the most ticklish way possible. Hoping to both hide and muffle himself, Husk grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved it over his face.

“C’mon, Husky, no need to be shy,” Angel cooed reassuringly. When Husk simply pretended not to hear him, Angel made a decision, crawling up the bed. Husk’s furry body tensed beneath him, but only enough to indicate he’d been noticed. Once Angel was close enough, he readied his arms, waiting just a beat before he struck.

Husk jumped when he felt a hand on each wing, jolting when they started to card through his feathers. In the same moment, Angel grabbed the pillow, flinging it away before pinning Husk’s wrists.

“Wha- Shit! NohoHOHO!” Husk’s wings flapped uselessly against the bed. Angel had started tickling them in earnest, scribbling right through the layer of patterned plumage.

“Ya look so cute!” Angel gushed, admiring Husk’s helpless grin up-close. When Husk turned his head, bashful at the attention, Angel didn’t hesitate to pepper his cheek with kisses. Husk’s fur concealed the resulting blush, but the movement of his ears still gave him away. Not only that, but it reminded Angel that he still hadn’t revisited his very first discovery.

Finally extending his third pair of arms, Angel passed Husk’s wrists down as he himself climbed up. His second pair landed on either side of Husk’s head, supporting his weight and leaving his first pair free. Husk’s eyes widened at the new arrangement, gaze shooting upwards in search of Angel’s. Husk found his line of sight blocked, however, by none other than the spider’s iconic chest fluff.

Soon enough, though, he felt it. Two fingers per ear, scritching lightly and playfully over red and white fuzz. His ears twitched madly beneath Angel’s ministrations as the rest of him was seized by a fit of giggles.

“Now ya sound cute, too!” Angel teased, though it was also a statement of fact. Husk’s uncharacteristic giggling was addictively adorable. “Wonder what’ll happen if I just-“

“NEHEHEEHEEE!”

Angel had been leaning down as he spoke, mouth drawing closer to Husk’s left ear. He’d moved his hand to cup said ear from the back, and then… he’d started nibbling.

It tickled. It really tickled. It was unfair how much it tickled. Husk thought he’d combust when Angel switched ears, giving his right the exact same treatment. The spider's pointed teeth were evil, prickling gently around the edges.

“OKAY! OHOKAHAHAY!” he ultimately cried out. “S-STOHOHOP!”

And Angel did.

“Alright there, Whiskers?” he checked to be safe, releasing Husk's arms to cradle his face. It would've been easy for Husk to throw him off, but instead, Husk did the opposite. Angel oomfed when he was pulled down, falling into their usual snuggling position.

"...Thanks," Husk mumbled into Angel's hair, sensing the giddy smile he couldn't see from that angle.

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day four

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : fluff, flirting, the slightest hint of angst if you squint, some smut (nipple play, masturbation)

length : 5k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3

a/n : it's getting more smutty, my friends!! enjoy the chapter 💗

•••

day four

I woke up in the middle of the night, sleepy and confused as to why I was conscious at all. It took me a moment to blink into the darkness and realise that a figure was standing next to the bed, instead of lying next to me in it. Noah was peacefully sleeping still, turned away from me now, his back touching mine, but Oli was moving about. I reached out for him, making him jump a little when I touched his leg as he was stood next to the bed.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, careful not to wake Noah as well. Oli hesitated, then sat back down on the bed, leaning down to me so I could hear him.

“I was gonna go back to my room.”

“Why?”

I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark. I couldn’t read his face or make out his expression and it left me at a disadvantage.

“Didn’t wanna…”

He never finished the sentence. I allowed myself to softly stroke along his temple, cupping his cheek, enticing him to come back. It worked, without any words, although I still sensed some hesitation as he laid back down, my touch never leaving him.

“What’s up with you?” I asked, knowing fully well his mind was so loud that he probably wouldn’t be able to find the words right then and there. “All good flirting with me and teasing me all day, but scared of a little intimacy?”

I didn’t want to call him out, but we both knew I wasn’t entirely wrong.

“‘M not scared of anything,” he mumbled, stubborn and pouting. But he allowed me to envelop him in another hug, before I pushed at his shoulder so he would turn away from me. I knew he didn’t like being vulnerable. But sometimes he, too, needed to be the little spoon.

•••

What was meant to be a morning of sleeping in was cruelly interrupted by incessant banging on my door. As it turned out, while me and Bring Me did indeed have a late start, Noah was wanted much earlier but had successfully put his phone on silent last night after texting Nick he was having a movie night with us. At least it meant that they knew which room to disturb when they realised he hadn't returned to bed that morning.

Noah was already halfway up by the time I'd opened the door to Nick, but Oli only lifted his head for a moment, decided none of it was his problem and continued snoozing. I made quick work of ushering a sleepy, absolutely adorable looking Noah out the door. He paused, though, in the middle of the door frame, turning back to me. For a moment, we simply stared at each other, my heart going double time just from being subjected to the way he was studying every inch of my face and I was wondering, no, hoping he would kiss me, but the moment passed and Nick was shouting for him and he was down the hall before I fully realised.

Stumbling back into bed, I immediately moved under the covers, more than willing to make the best out of our late start and get some more rest. Oli, lying on his back, pulled me onto him, using me as his personal blanket, and I didn’t resist. It seemed like his securities shone a little less brightly in the approaching daylight. I melted into him, his warmth, the comfort he was providing.

“Are you happy?”

The question, uttered so softly I barely had it, caught me completely off guard. I tired lifting my head to look at Oli, but the position made it almost impossible and the way his arms held me didn’t help.

“That’s a bit of a loaded question,” I mumbled, not quite sure yet how to answer.

“Are you happy on this tour?” he rectified. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just dragging you places, again and again, like taking you on this tour and putting you in situations-”

I sat up so abruptly that Oli had no chance to keep me down anymore. But the last thing I wanted was him overthinking like this, the way I knew he could sometimes until it took him straight into the abyss, and I needed to look at him to make sure he would believe me.

“Oliver Scott Sykes, I’m very happy on this tour. I’m very happy whenever you drag me places and put me in situations. Last year was fucking bullshit and you know that but now it’s only January and I’m here, with you, being on tour like you know I love. I’m still finding myself and I don’t know where I’m going in life, but believe me. I’m happy.”

Oli sat up, his arms once again wound around my middle, keeping me in his lap, and this time I was sure he was going to kiss me, this was it, this was the moment, this was what I’d been dreaming of and thinking about for longer than I’d ever admit to him, I’d finally get him to myself, I’d finally know what his lips felt like on mine. He pushed my hair behind my ear, looking into my eyes so deeply I felt more naked than I ever could by being undressed. My breath hitched as his was hitting my face, he was so close.

My phone rang.

Oli let out the most miserable groan I’d ever heard as he let go of me, letting himself fall onto the mattress again. I couldn’t blame him. I very much felt like screaming at whoever was at the other end of that phone call. Unfortunately, it turned out to be Lia, which ruled out homicide.

“To what the fuck do I owe the pleasure?”

“Did I catch you at a bad time? Where are you?”

“Sitting on Oli,” I said before my brain could catch up with my mouth. Oli started shaking with laughter underneath me as Lia shrieked.

“And you’re answering the phone! What is wrong with you, girl!”

“Not like that,” I sighed, knowing fully well that I wasn’t going to convince her right now. “But let’s talk about why you called in the first place.”

“Right! The Manchester gig is tomorrow, isn’t it? Well, you could already guess I was going to take you out afterwards because there’s no way you’re passing through my city and not having shots with me, but also I just got confirmation that I can clock out early tomorrow so you better get me that backstage pass so we can hang.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear a little, looking down at Oli who still looked so, so delectable under me. “Backstage pass for Lia?”

“Always,” he immediately agreed. They’d known each other for years now, thanks to me, and he knew how important she was to me. Getting her a pass was probably one of the easier feats.

“Sorted,” I confirmed.

“Hell yes! Hide yo’ boys, I’m coming tomorrow!”

“Lia, you’re a married lesbain.”

“I’m not saying hide them because I’m gonna hit on them. I’m saying hide them because I will bother them with questions as to why neither has fucked you yet. Assuming you’d tell me if one of them had. Because you better. Anyway, took a double shift to get off early tomorrow so I gotta head back to work, love you, go back to pouncing Oli!”

I echoed her sentiment - the one about love, not the one about Oli -, before hanging up and chucking the phone back on the nightstand. I would have loved to stay like this a little longer. Having Oli underneath me truly was a sight to behold. But I’d seen the time and I knew we should be getting ready sooner rather than later.

“Alright loverboy, time for the day to start,” I said. Then, unable to keep myself from saying it out loud, I added, “We’ll revisit this another time.”

When I moved away to climb off him, I made sure to drag myself over his crotch with just enough pressure to underline the sentiment.

•••

Oli, for once, had assured me that he wouldn't actually need me to run for anything for a while so I did my next favourite thing apart from waiting hand and foot on him and walked out on the floor of the arena to watch Bring Me soundcheck. There was something magical about getting to see hints of the show before it actually happened. The technical side of it never failed to amaze me - figuring out how the band would sound their absolute best, tweaking every little detail for the optimal experience wherever the audience would hear it from, fixing all the little errors in communication with the artists, until it came together to an awe-inspiring show of the highest class.

Plus, there was something quite adorable about watching the band play without all their usual stage antics, wrapped in comfortable hoodies, a beanie with little pompoms on Oli's head.

Walking around the floor, it obviously didn't take long to get spotted as Becky, one of the sound techs, waved me over.

“Looking good, I dig the crop top!”

Looking down at myself, I double checked the outfit I had chosen for the day. It was one of the many options Oli had provided me with, a soft lacey top that showed a little of my midriff, a few buttons along the middle of it, paired with some dark trousers that had been adorned with a number of studs. I had also finally unpacked my make-up bag. The winged eyeliner wasn’t a major success but I figured no one would notice in the low light and I’d taken a plunge trying on a dark red lipstick I’d been carrying around with me for months but never used. Noah had given me a low whistle as I walked past earlier which had eased my nerves about it all potentially being too much.

“Thought I’d take some inspiration from you,” I grinned, motioning at her own outfit which was, once again, absolutely fabulous.

She waved me closer still until I could lean over the barrier and see what she was doing. “Want to see what makes the show really, really good?”

I nodded, eager to find out more after she’d bombarded me with a phletora of information last time. It turned out, listening to her explain her craft while the venue was blissfully empty and quiet apart from a few shouts here and there and the band arguing about something on stage was much easier and more enjoyable. By the end of her little presentation, I was pretty sure I was loving this just as much as she did.

“So what about you, you work on this tour too, right? With Oli?”

“Official title is personal assistant, but I think mainly he just likes to see me running around for his amusement.”

“Is that something you enjoy?” Becky looked a little thoughtful.

“I mean, I love being on tour. It’s one of my favourite things in the world. I get so restless when I’m just at home for too long. But… it’s barely sustainable at the moment.” I couldn’t tell why I was being so honest. There was simply something in her face that made you want to confide in her, tell her all about yourself, and I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, overall, or not, but I didn’t stop myself. In all honestly, it felt good to say it out loud. “I’ve been doing odd jobs on tour for the past… ten years now. Little unqualified jobs in between when I can’t get away. But it’s not really going anywhere.”

“What kind of jobs do you do on tour?” The fact that she posed follow-up questions simply had me word-vomiting a little more.

“Assisting, mainly. I’ve done some merch in the past, too. Worked as a stagehand sometimes. But, you know, nothing qualified. Nothing that pays all that well. I thought I’d move up from assisting tour manager to the actual tour manager at some point, but it’s not really happening. There’s always someone else first, someone with more experience or a degree or a better friend to someone in charge. So yeah, approaching the big 30 with no plan!”

There was a moment of silence between us.

“Oh god, sorry, I’ve just dumped all of this on you and we barely know each other.”

But Becky’s smile reassured me immediately. “I don’t mind at all. I’ve been in your situation, when I was younger. Took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do and how I wanted to do it. But if you-”

Our conversation was abruptly cut short by another sound tech who desperately needed her help with one thing or other. I turned back toward the stage, watching the guys do what they loved, following their passion, honing their talents, and I wondered if I’d find that place for myself, too.

Then Oli waved, enthusiastically, and grabbed his crotch in the most irritating way and I laughed so hard I briefly forgot about my worries.

•••

“You know when you’re on the verge of getting ill and it’s basically a single night’s sleep that decides whether you wake up completely fine or with the plague?”

Turning toward the voice that was obviously talking to me, I found Matt, Bad Omen’s tour manager (as far as I was aware?), looking over at the band as they got ready for the show in a few minutes with a worrisome expression on his face. I immediately knew he was talking about Noah. He did seem a little worse for wear today. Was it still the jet lag? Had he caught some sort of virus? There was no way to know for sure but, like Matt said, it seemed like he was on the edge of getting better or something worse.

“He definitely needs some rest. Do you have an early bus call tomorrow?”

“It’s not too bad. It’s only a two-hour drive to Manchester.”

Both of us looked at the singer, lost in our own thoughts.

“Maybe he shouldn’t do Antivist tonight. Get an early night.”

Matt laughed a slightly hollow laugh. “If you manage to convince him, I owe you.”

I was surely going to try, I decided.

Matt disappeared right around the time Bad Omens took the stage, but I stuck around. I’d seen their set the first night, from the sound desk, but watching it from the side of the stage was entirely different. Something about being completely hidden from the view of the audience while being so close to the band itself, able to see all their little quirks and facial expressions was simply something I couldn't miss while on tour.

The band was about to transition from Artificial Suicide into Like a Villain, when I felt an arm being slung over my shoulders. I didn’t even need to fully turn to Oli to see he was in a great mood. Being with Oli could be a mixed bag, his mood unpredictable at times, darkness always looming around the corner even when he was in a good place and working hard to stay there. So when he was as ecstatic about nothing in particular, I accepted it without question.

“They’re so fucking good,” he remarked almost jumping in place with excitement at watching Bad Omens play, silently mumbling the lyrics along with Noah. “So fucking glad we took them on tour.”

“Me too,” I said. For a number of reasons. But them being an absolutely mind-blowing opener was easily one of them.

Oli moved along to the music, awkwardly pulling me with him without any particular plan to it. It shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand, arm still resting on my shoulders, accidentally brushed against my boob.

I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath my top.

He immediately halted his movements, acutely aware of what had just happened and, holding his hand slightly away from my body, just to make sure.

“Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay.”

He looked at me for the length of a heartbeat.

“Is that an ‘it’s okay’ as in you forgive me or as in ‘I don’t mind’?”

We both knew what I was going to say before I did.

“I don’t mind.”

When given explicit permission, Oli wasn’t shy. Turning back toward the stage, he seemed every bit the innocent onlooker, simply preoccupied with the live music currently being played, but his hands gave him away. Manoeuvring me to stand at a slightly different angle, he seemed to make sure that neither the audience nor anyone walking past backstage would see, before moving his hand back to where it had been before, only with a clearer intent this time around.

His hand deftly grabbed onto my boob, making me gasp quietly at the surprise, cupping the flesh, feeling along the edges.

“No bra?” he whispered in my ear, which alone would have been enough to make the hairs on my whole body stand up. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, the feeling of his hand on me in such an intimate place with barely any fabric in between much too intense.

Changing his approach with the information that was now available to him, Oli let his fingers trail over me, softly, but finding my hardening nipple easily. He chuckled, amused, as he started flicking it, then rubbing against it softly. I was fighting a loosing battle trying to keep quiet. The fire in my belly was igniting, my back was arching ever so slightly, pushing myself into his grasp a little more. He replied by subjecting me to even more excruciating treatment. When he pinched my nipple between his fingers, my knees actually buckled. I couldn’t hold back the moan, either.

“Sensitive, doll? Very interesting.”

Just like that, he had removed his arm, stepping away from me and leaving me craving his touch. I wanted to be angry, stern at him for putting me in such a position in such a public place but I was sure that when I looked at him, all he could see was lust and silent begging for more.

“Well, this was nice,” he concluded, smiling at me as if nothing at all had just happened, “but I gotta get ready for the show.”

I was left dumbstruck, almost unable to believe he would play me like that, but as I watched him walk away I decided this game was not over.

•••

Convincing Noah to sit out on Antivist for one night and getting him back to the hotel early so he could rest was surprisingly easy. He had successfully given his all to their set, pulling through without letting anyone see how much he was struggling, but the second he stepped off stage, all energy seemed to drop off him, leaving him tired and exhausted. I made short work of getting him out of the arena and into a cab back to the hotel. The rest of the band was staying, they had decided, opting to watch Bring Me and giving Noah some space and quiet.

I allowed him to rest his head on my shoulder in the backseat, softly playing with his hair, watching how he almost fell asleep right then and there. I felt bad for shaking him out of his falling-asleep phase, but I wasn’t going to get him up into his room on my own. Somehow, with my arm around his waist as if it could be any help, we made it through the lobby, up the lift and into the room. He was halfway to the bed, quite obviously ready to simply fall into it, still in his stage clothes, when I stopped him.

“Come on, you can’t sleep like this.”

“Help me out?” Noah asked, so softly and innocently that, even though he was towering over me and could probably bench press me if he tried, I couldn’t help but melt.

Moving his top up, he just about managed to lift his arms as I struggled to get it off him, almost debating climbing onto the bed just for the height advantage, but we made it work. I ignored the way I had to desperately keep my hands to myself, not allowing myself to let my eyes roam over his skin, explore everything I’d been so curious about. Now simply wasn’t the time.

His trousers came down easily and I busied myself with taking off his shoes, getting everything that could possibly be uncomfortable off him and then turning away to chuck his clothes somewhere near his suitcase. I thanked the heavens that he had made it underneath the blanket by the time I faced him again.

Walking over to the bed, I kneeled down next to it, right where his head was, petting his hair once again as he settled, eyes already closing. He was insanely beautiful, I thought. My heart was doing double time just from looking at him. The intensity scared me a little. I leaned forward, aiming to place a kiss into his hair where my lipstick wouldn't leave a mark, completely taken by my feelings.

“You shouldn't get so close to me.”

I pulled back immediately, surprised by his remark. My hand was awkwardly lingering in the air as I tried to understand what was happening.

“No,” he immediately whined, grabbing onto my wrist and putting my hand back on his face where I carefully brushed his cheek. “Not like that. I meant… on an emotional level.”

I tried to hide the lump in my throat, thankful that his eyes had closed fully by now. “Why?”

“Gonna go wrong,” he mumbled, sleep starting to claim him. “Like always.”

My heart broke a little for him. I'd listened to his songs. I knew what he wrote about. Yet, somehow, when it was so personal, his pain hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn't managed to see so far how deep it went for him. How making out in backstage rooms could be fine. How being sweet and caring could be too much. And yet, it was so glaringly obvious that he craved it.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” I whispered, but he was already fast asleep, chest moving with his calm breathing, a peaceful look on his face despite it all.

I didn’t stop myself from pressing a kiss into his hair before tucking him in a little more, turning the lights off and leaving the room.

•••

I made it back to the arena in record time, catching Bring Me The Horizon waiting to go on stage just before the intro was starting. Oli was getting warmed up, jumping around to prepare himself for the show, but apparently our little meeting earlier hadn’t passed him by unaffected. His stage outfit was always on point - just as his trousers always seemed a little… well, tight, in spaces. Tonight, it seemed to be a little worse than usual.

It was my chance to even the score.

For a moment, I lingered, not hiding the way I was staring at his crotch. It didn’t take long for him to notice, stopping his movements. I let my gaze wander up his body, smirking at him before I, quite obnoxiously, bit my lip and raised my eyebrows, then looking back down. It summoned him immediately.

“Stop that,” he growled. The fact that he was so very much not amused just made this better. He’d been teasing me for days now. It was time for payback.

“Why? It’s pretty… hard to look away, you know.”

My hands reached out, almost managing to touch the belt, but he was quicker, wrapping his fingers around my wrists and holding them tightly. I relished the way it caused a shiver to run through me. I had always enjoyed a dominant man. Almost as much as I enjoyed being a brat in return.

“It’s not exactly helping, love.”

“Does it bother you?” I asked, sounding as innocent as I possibly could, fluttering my eyelashes at him, struggling a little against his restraints. “Knowing that I’m looking at it? Knowing that it turns me on?”

The intro was starting in the background. Oli was getting a little more restless, knowing he didn’t have much time.

“Knowing that I want to touch it?” I once again tried to reach for him, but he held me at bay. “That I want to see what it really looks like?”

He pushed me backward, not caring that I collided slightly with a few boxes, staring me down as if it did anything to me but turn me on more.

“You’re a fucking menace and-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a stagehand put his hand on his shoulder, informing him of his cue. Oli shot me one more look, angry but obviously affected, before removing his grip on my wrists and taking his place, ready to get the show started.

And what a show he was giving. The good mood returned quite easily, the audience was giving back generously, and I figured that the fact that I had riled him up so much wasn’t hurting the performance either. Yet, the problem in his pants persisted and every time he happened to walk in my direction, I was shot an accusatory look, which I only replied to via my hand casually wandering over my chest, brushing against my own breast, just to make it a little worse.

It worked like a charm.

Bring Me barely managed to finish AmEN! when a problem in the crowd became apparent. Oli made quick work of stopping the show, instructing security, telling the crowd to back away a little, to take care of each other, to get some water. An executive decision was made to give everyone a breather, let the audience calm down as the band left the stage. Everyone gathered in the space, huddling together and waiting for a sign to let the show continue, but Oli rushed past everyone.

“Gonna go piss,” he announced before disappearing into the labyrinth of corridors backstage.

I didn’t care if anyone noticed me following him. The loo break was such an obvious lie, I wasn’t surprised in the least when he bolted past the toilets and instead headed straight for his dressing room, banging the door shut behind him. Crossing the rest of the corridor, I silently opened it again, taking care not to let him hear as it closed behind me.

Oli wasn’t in the main room. But there were noises from the adjacent bathroom. Noises that I’d never thought I’d get the chance to hear in person.

He was stood in the walk-in shower, his back to the door, one hand resting on the tiled wall in front of him, head hung low, but even from his angle I could see it. His belt was undone. His fly, too. His trousers opened just enough, the underwear pushed down just a little. His hand on his dick.

Ignoring the way my heart threatened to burst out of my chest, I walked around him, squeezing myself between his body and the wall.

He looked divine. Face red, panting, his whole body tensed up under the pressure of getting some quick relief before he had to go back on stage. Even his cock was fucking beautiful. Hard and thick, a stark contrast to the colourful tattoos all around it. He was already leaking, just a little bit, as his hand continued its motion, even when I slid down the wall and got on my knees.

“Aubrey, fuck, what are you doing, I don't have time for this.”

“I know,” I whisper back, still in awe at the sight in front of me, at eye-level now. I felt like I could almost smell it, was so close to touching it. He didn't slow down his movements for a single moment. But we didn't have time to get into the finer things of this situation. “I'm helping you.”

Looking up at him, making sure his eyes were entirely on me, I started unbuttoning my top, slowly revealing more and more cleavage.

“You can finish here, if you want.”

I knew I didn't sound half as innocent as I meant to, but it didn't matter. He groaned so beautifully, I knew I had made the right call. His hand was moving even faster now, desperately chasing his release, towering over me with that raw energy. I wanted to be part of it when he let it run wild.

My top was almost entirely unbuttoned, the curve of my tits on display, heaving roughly with my own quickened breath. I played with the fabric, abandoning the plan of opening the top up all the way and instead moved it so that my nipple peeked out, allowing me to play with it a little, just to give him more of a show.

It proved to be enough. With the most primal noise I had ever heard Oli make - and that included his music -, he came, straight onto my chest, until there was nothing left in him. He almost slumped over. Impressively enough, his aim was immaculate. No traces on my clothes. I let him rest for a moment, not doing anything but indulging in getting to watch him in this state.

“You're a fucking menace,” he repeated with a sigh, still mad, but there was less bite behind it. I didn't reply. I simply watched as he tucked himself back in, fixed his outfit and stood back up properly. Without giving me any more attention, he turned around to walk out of the room. Only, predictably, he couldn't stop himself from looking back one more time. I made sure it was the exact moment I scooped up some of what he had left behind on my skin and licked it up.

The game wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

[morgana-ren]

Here, take my cheese. I’ve felt like garbage lately which means you lot get a short sap. Short and bad, just for you. 

"Merciful Gods, you wear that dress well, darling."

There's the ever playful lilt that is so signature to his tone, but the low drifting of his russet eyes denotes something far less innocent. He doesn't admire the taper that gently sways around her legs nor the flattering way it hugs her soft curves. 

Rather, his vision seems unceremoniously stuck on the low scoop where her ample cleavage lies, stuffed plump beneath the neckline— perhaps more than a little of the reason he'd acquired such a dress for her in the first place. 

Though his compliment is genuine— most evidenced by the rather conspicuous tightening of his breeches between his thighs— his beloved doesn't seem to blush or smile. Rather, she studies him through a grumpy side-eye, lips downturned in a distinctive pout and looking decidedly surly. 

"This is your fault, you know." 

He takes heed of her irritation, though doesn't faze him in the slightest. If anything, he finds it all rather adorable. She was always cute when she was angry; little nose crinkled and lips scrunched in a cranky huff. 

"I hardly can take credit for your beauty, my love," He reaches a cold, pale hand to caress her cheek and she swats him away. 

"I mean this!" She motions two angry fingers towards her swelling belly, currently hidden tastefully beneath the wispy fabric, adorned beneath a silken crimson cloth she's tied around her waist as an accent to draw attention away from it. 

He chuckles low and deep, scooting close enough to where she sits on the bed to wrap his wiry arms around her torso, squeezing enough to convey his tender affection but not enough to cause her discomfort given the circumstances. 

"Be fair, darling. It takes two to do the sinful tango, and it's hardly my fault you're so fecund," He giggles again, placing his palms face down on the rounds of her belly to feel the growing presence of life beneath her round flesh. "And in my defense, I thought it was as impossible as you did!"

"I'm not sure I believe that anymore," Her lips purse and she scowls at him. "Because here we are! You're telling me you had no idea this was possible? In two hundred years, you never heard a thing about this?" 

"Not the foggiest, my dear. Cross my unbeating heart. It wasn't a subject on the table most evenings." 

He gives her his most charming simper— one that drives her mad because she can never quite tell if he's telling the truth, even after years at his side. He doesn't let her linger long on the subject either way. The pregnancy hormones have taken root rather fast, and she is prone to moodiness— and an extreme thirst. 

"Either way, my dear, you look positively good enough to eat—"

"You're a pervert!" She wiggles and bats his hands away. "You can't talk to me like that anymore! I'm going to be some little one's mother." She straightens her spine proudly to convey a sense of austerity. 

One he immediately ruins. 

"Oh yes, you are," he giggles. "Two or three little ones judging by these alone—" 

He cups her breasts and jiggles them both in his palms as a dopey, lecherous smile spreads across his face. 

"Stop it!"

"Don't be greedy, my love. You have plenty to spare!" He laughs and shields his face from her barrage of playful slaps. 

"You're foul."

"And you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on." His expression softens ever so slightly and he places a gentle kiss on her temple. "And growing ever lovelier."

"Why did I agree to marry you?" She sighs at the sheer cheese of it all, petering out into a soft laugh as she exhales. 

"Because I'm the most handsome being on this side of Toril, quite obviously," he runs his slender fingers through his well-styled flaxen hair before tugging her close again. "And because I swept you off your feet long before they started to swell."

"Not enough."

"Because I'm the father of your future half-vampire children? I do assume that's how it works though I can't be entirely certain—"

"Nope. And I don't know. According to you, we're in uncharted territory here."

"How about because I adore you, worship the ground you walk on, and revere you as the baneful goddess you are —" He punctuates it with an elaborate, dramatic gesture, and she only blinks at him. "—and more importantly, you love me."

"I guess." She snorts. 

"The ring adorning your lovely little finger says otherwise," he intertwines his hand with hers, bringing the crimson bloodstone to light. 

"It is rather nice, isn't it?" She flexes her fingers in front of her as if to check her nails before planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

"Kept in the Szarr Family for centuries. He used to brag about it whenever he could— and I could swear it still has his blood on it in the right lighting. I suppose some stains never quite come out," A rueful smile plays across his pale-pink lips, rising just above the sharp of his fangs. "And now it's all mine— as are you." 

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

hello!!! Absolutely loved that last work or urs from my request! It was so cute!!

And umm I was wondering if u could do something with “When He Smiles.” for Monkey King Reborn as well pls? I was thinking something like reader complimenting him and just telling him how pretty his smile is? Like mans has the cutest and prettiest little smile and damn do I just wanna compliment him tell him how pretty he looks! But ya do with this what u pls also gender neutral or female reader is good 👍 whatever u prefer

I HAD STARTED THIS ONE FUCKING IMMEDIATELY AND OFC I HAD TO PUT THE GIF! LOOK AT HIM! (This is the reason I used this gif) I'm so happy that you enjoyed it so much, and I hope you love this one too. Thank you and everyone so much for all the love, support, and requests. ❤️

Had decided to make this the part 2. Here's Part 1.

“I'll probably go back to the Celestial Realm,” you sighed softly, looking at the night sky with a small frown, something that made Wukong’s subtle content turn to a deep frown. 

“Not looking forward to it?”

“No, not really,” you looked at him with an awkward smile. “But, ya know, it’s home. Such is life,”

“Come with me,” his lips moved on their own. His words caught you off guard and when you looked at him, he was looking at you with slightly wide eyes as well. He quickly looked away and cleared his throat as you did. “I mean, if you want to.”

“I thought I was a nuisance?” you teased him, looking at the view. 

“Yeah, well. A nuisance I got used to,” he glanced at you as you did the same. 

“You really think you'll miss me so much?” you couldn't help but smile, but when he laughed a bit and smiled so effortlessly at you? You felt your heart go BOOM. Your poor heart felt like it would jump out of your chest when you saw him smile at you like that.

“I guess you could say that,” his smile shrunk a bit, somehow making him look even more adorable.

“I couldn't,” you blushed and shook your head, looking down. It wasn't the problem, though, you more than could… you just-  “I don't want to be a bother.”

“I'm the one that suggested it, idiot,” he chuckled and held your chin, making you look at him. “You think I'd ask you to stay with me if I didn't want you there?”

“Um… well,” you stuttered, looking into his eyes, unable to form proper words with your blood rushing to your cheeks. “Um…” 

“Well?” he smirked a bit and raised a brow. “Forget how to talk?” he mused. 

“No!” you said a little too loudly, which resulted in you covering your mouth. You both looked to see if your shout disturbed the others in their slumber, but it luckily didn't faze any of them. Pigsy turned on his back, yes, but that was about it. You both sighed softly in relief and stared at each other for a second before quietly snickering with each other. 

That was close.

“Didn't think you could be so loud,” he taunted, which didn't help with your blush.

“Anyway,” you tried to change the subject. “How come you offered to take me with you anyway?”

“Well, no one can make you go back to the Celestial Realm if you don't want to go,” he stated with an indifferent shrug.

“But Buddha-” 

“Did he tell you to not go anywhere else when you're finished with your mission?” He raised a brow. 

He got ya there.

“I guess not,” you rubbed the back of your head before looking at him a bit more determined. “Alright then, after we get the scriptures, I’ll go with you to Flower Fruit Mountain.”

“Okay,” he said with a slight and content smile.

“Okay,” you returned the smile before your brain caught up with you and you turned away. You both looked at the night sky in silence before you moved closer to the Monkey King whilst not looking at him.

“I guess the real reason is that I wanna spend more time with you,” he said stubbornly as he stole a glance at you.

“I'd like that too,” you smiled to yourself. 

“Good to know,” he nodded slightly, a tiny blush on his usually stoic face.

“Mhm,” you gave a curt nod. 

From there, let's just say that your relationship with Wukong got… far more interesting.

[sunbearsophia]

Sorry again for how few and far in-between my Tumblr posts are, guys! I'll try and be more frequent with them!

It hit me a while back that for all I talk about my Next-Gen on Twitter, I hardly ever talk about my fan kids here on Tumblr! So, I decided to throw together a ref sheet for my main girl, Emmy, to get started on that and introduce her to y'all!

---

Her full name is Emilia Luna-Ophelia Barrabas-Darling, but almost everyone calls her Emmy for short. She was named after her late grandmother on Eduardo's side, although Laurel was actually the one who suggested it when she was born. (Eduardo absolutely cried when she suggested it, not that he wasn't already sobbing lol.) Her middle names were each chosen by one of her parents. (Luna for Eduardo, Ophelia for Laurel bc her mummy's a Shakespeare geek and we love her for it aaaaa.)

Probably 21 in the reference, definitely college-aged!

Working in retail currently to pay the bills, but saving up to attend art school when she gets the chance, wants to work as a background artist in animation.

Is generally a really friendly and outgoing person, extremely open with her personality, interests and affection, much like her mom. KNOWN for her hugs that could throw out someone's back, just generally really kind and chill, basically a big ol' puppy lady. She's also pretty stubborn and abrasive, however, and does have a temper on her, however. Aside from just generally getting grumpy when she's tired, exhausted or frustrated, she is just as willing to throw some HANDS when someone's pissed er off, just like her old man.

A pretty artsy-fartsy kinda gal, but not so much a snob about art, more like she'll happily ramble about art techniques and history when the subject is brought up. Also has a love for dancing, sports and Shakespeare.

Is extremely close with her family, she adores her Mummy Laurel and is a MASSIVE Daddy's Girl for Eduardo, she never misses the chance to see and spend time with them, and always wants to make them proud. (Her dad was her inspiration to start drawing when she was little, and always thinks of Eduardo and Laurel both as her heroes.) Also loves her little brother Leonardo, and is very protective of him, mess with him you mess with HER. >:(

Also loves her Uncle Mark and Uncle Jon with all her heart, they basically were third and fourth parents to her ever since she was a baby and she knows she can always go to them for anything. Very close to her other uncles, too, but out of all of them, she's closest to Jon and Mark. Also loves her Grandmado, and misses her terribly as an adult.

Has ADHD and dyslexia, so she often uses word processors and audio books to help with the latter and tends to plan and schedule her days in advance and stick heavily with routines to avoid losing focus with the former. Still has her struggles but knows she's supported and loved by those around her and is too stubborn to let them win.

Loves avocados, just like her dad. It was one of her first words, and to this day, her and her dad have a designated day all for eating avocados all throughout. (HC BY THE AWESOME @tamaraskabr ITS SO WHOLESOME I LOVE IT QwQ) Other than that, she loves basically anything mint chocolate, she's a simple woman lol.

---

All the tidbits I've got for now! Plan to follow up the post with some sketches of her other outfits I've worked on! For now, hope this gives some insight on who she is so I can share more art of her on here with context!

she's my goober daughter and i love her sm lol

[blueraineshadows]

Heart Song Part Four

Leander Prewett x F!MC ❤️🔞🌶 NSFW

Keeping their new found feelings behind closed doors, Leander and MC are caught up in the whirlwind of their hearts as the concert performance draws near.

"Oh, will you please hold still," Natty said, sighing. She grabbed MC's hips and gave her a stern look. "I'm going to stab you with a pin in a moment if you're not careful."

MC was standing on a stool, Natty trying to pin her dress for the adjustments that needed to be made. It was a gorgeous silk gown in deep red, and MC felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of wearing it. It was delicately low cut and extremely flattering at the waist, a romantic gown for a romantic performance.

"Sorry," she cringed. "I'm just...nervous, excited...oh, just all the feelings! The concert is a week away!" She pressed her hands to her chest in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves.

Natty grinned and released her hips, smoothing the silk down the skirt to get another look at the hem. "You are going to look so beautiful," she sighed. Her eyes flicked slyly up at MC. "Leander is a very lucky boy."

MC flushed. "It's just a song, Natty," she said.

Natty gave her a look. "Hmm, yes, just a song," she said. She adjusted the skirt and took another pin from her little cushion. "After seeing your rehearsal yesterday, I must say I am impressed with both of your acting skills. You absolutely convinced me you were utterly in love with just a song."

MC had to skip her eyes away, her flush spreading down her neck to redden her chest. Her pulse fluttered as she thought of her rehearsal sessions in private with Leander, his lips at her throat, their bodies pressed close, and the addictive sound of his quickened breaths near her ear.

They had to steal whatever private moments they could, indulging in their secret desires away from prying eyes, away from Elizabeth's eyes.

It had been a couple of weeks since Leander had broken things off with Elizabeth, but she was still very sour about it, and any classes with the Ravenclaw had been filled with tension. MC had been the subject of her icy glares and little digs, but MC had tried to brush it all off.

She was far too busy with classes, school work, and rehearsals to worry about some jealous girl. And it was easy to forget when she could lose herself in Leander's kisses.

She looked down at the dress, heart pounding, and then studied her friend, tempted to let the truth spill from her lips. She was utterly smitten with Leander Prewett, her body and soul consumed with thoughts of him. It was hard to sleep, hard to eat, and she had been prone to daydreaming in class more than once.

Sebastian knew, but he was excellent at keeping her secrets, she could trust him with her life. If other people started to find out, then it wouldn't be long before Elizabeth found out, and MC didn't really fancy another showdown like the one in Herbology.

Although, she wasn't afraid of a fight, and she would if she had to.

She cleared her throat and gave Natty a smile. "Well, I should hope we do make it look convincing, we have worked so hard on that performance, and you know how I love to give everything 110%," she said. "I would be disappointed if we had failed to showcase all our hard work to the best of our abilities."

Natty stood up and gave MC a smile. "MC, it's alright," she said, soothingly. "I'm not making fun, neither am I going to gossip. Although, I think most people in the production have already drawn their own conclusions. You and Leander have chemistry, MC. The very air crackles in the room around you."

MC's breath released with a shaky sigh. "Really?"

Natty nodded. "Yes, really," she said. "You may be the model of polite school chums in classes and in the halls, but once you get up on stage, there is no hiding it. It's rather breathtaking to witness, MC. I truly believe he adores you!"

MC pressed her hands to her flushed face. "Oh my," she breathed. "As if I wasn't nervous enough."

Natty giggled and took hold of her friend's hands to give them a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, this concert is going to blow the enchanted roof off the Great Hall. I can't wait!"

....*....

Despite the bustle of preparation around the concert, there was still school work to be getting on with, and Leander was trying to get his Charms assignment finished so he could get to a piano.

The library was quiet, almost empty, and he had found a good spot to get some work done. His books were spread out across the table and he was bent over his parchment, getting his words down with ink and quill.

He looked up as footsteps approached, halting suddenly as they rounded the bookcase, his eyes meeting with a pair of familiar blue ones. Elizabeth flushed pink at the sight of him, her fingers tightening around the book she held. For once, she didn't look angry, and she hesitated, eyes flicking over him.

Leander still felt bad about how things had played out between them, he genuinely hadn't wanted to upset her. His lips lifted into a hesitant, uncertain smile as she stared at him.

"Hello, Leander," she said. She fiddled with her book. "How...how have you been?"

His smile widened a little. "Erm, good, very busy," he replied. "You?"

"I'm getting there," she said. She looked down, chewing her lip. "I...I miss you. I was rather used to having you there beside me in class, or in Crossed Wands."

Leander shifted awkwardly in his seat, twirling his quill. He looked down at his parchment.

"Maybe we could partner up at the next Crossed Wands meeting," she suggested. "We still have to bring down the reigning champions after all. We had a pact, remember?"

He smiled and nodded. "I remember our pact," he said. "Although, Sebastian and MC are a formidable duo. I'm not sure anyone can bring them down in all fairness."

She scowled. "That's defeatist talk, Leander," she said. Her eyes gleamed with determination. "I would love nothing more than to beat those two, they're so bloody smug."

Leander frowned. "They earned their wins, Elizabeth, you shouldn't take it so personally."

She sighed and moved closer, taking the chair next to him. "Come on, Leander," she said. She reached out to put her hand over the top of his on the table top, her fingers trembling a little. "Where's that fighting talk of yours? You used to want nothing more than to put Sallow on his backside. Team up with me again. We were so good together, and we can do it. We can beat them, I know we can."

He stared down at her hand on his and wondered if this was about more than Crossed Wands. He shifted awkwardly and withdrew his hand, slowly.

"I'm not sure. I'm so busy with the concert rehearsals, I don't really have the time right now," he said.

Her shoulders dipped as he withdrew his hand and she bowed her head. "I'm sorry I got so jealous," she said, quietly. When she met his eyes, hers were shining with tears. "I pushed you away, and it was the last thing that I wanted. I...I was wrong."

He swallowed hard, his cheeks warming. The truth burned at his insides. Elizabeth had been right to be jealous. "Erm...it's alright. Let's just forget about it," he said, awkwardly. "We can still be friends."

"Friends?" She looked deflated. "So, will you partner me again in the duels? Maybe after the concert is done with."

"We'll see," he said.

She nodded. She was quiet as though thinking, and then she smiled and put her hand on his forearm. "I'm glad we had this chat. I'll see you in class."

As she walked away, Leander felt a shiver pass over him. He had the uncomfortable feeling that her friendliness was somehow worse than her being mad, and he wasn't sure why.

....*....

Leander slid the cylinder into the gramophone and set it to play. MC smiled as he moved towards her, his hands taking hold of hers. Her heart fluttered at his closeness and when the music began to play, she was taken back to the first night she had heard him playing the piano.

The first song she had played for him, Minstrels Sonnet, flowed from the gramophone, and goosebumps spread up her arms as he held her gently. He led her in a dance across Professor Florence's private music room, his gaze locked on hers.

"So, you can dance as well?" She smiled. "What a man of many talents you are."

He smiled and twirled her around, her skirt fanning outwards. "My mother had me take lessons," he said. "I hated it, but now I can't thank her enough, because now I can do this..."

He held her closer, moving her in a delicate step across the woven rug, spinning her about before dipping her backwards. She giggled in delight, her hands gripping him tightly as he bent to press a kiss to her lips.

As they straightened, he stilled and put a hand to her face, his touch as gentle as always. "I can't believe I can do this with you," he said. "Never, in a million years, could I have imagined that you would ever want to. Not with me."

"I can't imagine doing it with anyone else but you, Leander, " she whispered. Her heart thudded against her ribs, her depth of feeling for him engulfing her in delicate flame. "I want you, and only you."

The fire that was flickering to life inside of her was reflected in the depths of his gaze. Their many kisses had always been something to appreciate and crave, but this kiss felt deeper, the emotion behind it was stoked by something much more primal.

Every drawn breath was an ache, and every sigh conveyed a need that she thought might burn her up until nothing was left. When his hands moved from her waist to her hips, she didn't stop him, in fact she leaned into him.

Her lower back was resting against the solid wood of the baby grand piano, and she kept urging him closer against her body, craving the weight of him pressing on her. Their kisses became heated, desperate, and he paused, pressing his forehead to hers to catch his breath.

"Are you alright?" She whispered.

"I need a moment," he said. "I don't want to get too carried away and overstep the mark."

The gramophone had finished playing, and the room was quiet save for the sound of their fast breathing. She felt the ache low down in her belly, this new and exciting need that kept her awake at night after he had kissed her goodnight.

He felt it too, and he was being the gentleman, as always, and she adored him for it. But she craved more, needed it like she needed air. Fingers trembling, she lifted her hands to loosen her tie and release the buttons on her blouse.

His eyes widened. "MC, what are you doing?"

She met his gaze and smiled, shyly, as she opened her blouse and slipped it from her shoulders to reveal the light cotton vest she wore beneath, the delicate material draped softly over the peaks of her breasts.

Her skin tingled pleasantly as his eyes dropped to devour the exposed flesh of her shoulders and arms, the tease of skin at the neckline of her vest that hinted of the shadow between her breasts. As if in a trance, he stared as his long fingers softly traced the line of her collar bone, sliding down to her sternum before he paused, swallowing hard. "MC..."

She bit her lower lip and gently grasped his wrist, guiding his hand towards a breast, the warmth of his palm through the thin cotton making her sigh softly, her breast tightening under his touch. Her breathing hitched as he cupped her, so gentle, his thumb tracing a teasing circle.

He kissed her, hard, and she moaned into his mouth, her back arching greedily into his touch. As he kissed her neck, she tilted her head back, his tongue tracing along her collar bone, his nose nudging against the silk strap of her vest. She shifted her arm, dipping her shoulder so that the strap could slip suggestively downwards.

Leander took the hint, his fingers hooking under both straps to slide them down her arms, her vest pooling at her waist to expose her to him. His eyes burned. "Gods," he breathed. "You're so beautiful."

Her fingers slid into his hair as he bent to press kisses to her exposed skin, his mouth taking a delicate peak into a teasing suck, drawing a soft cry from her lips. His mouth was warm, wet and delicious against her flesh, making her burn and pant, utterly at his mercy.

It was everything and yet still not enough, merely throwing more fuel onto the blaze within. As his hands smoothed down her back and sides, cupping her breasts, learning her curves, she tugged at his tie and shirt, undoing the buttons so she could feel his skin under her palms.

Burning as though with a fever she kissed his chest, his skin pale and dusted with freckles, her hands smoothing over the flat plane of his stomach and around to explore the expanse of his back. His shirt hung loose from his shoulders as she pressed up close, her nipples so very sensitive against the scratch of hair on his chest.

"Leander," she said, lifting her gaze to his. "I'm yours."

He groaned and buried his face into her neck, breathing in deeply, holding her tightly. "And I am yours," he said. "But not here. Gods...MC, I want to, believe me. But not here, not like this."

He cupped her face and looked deeply into her eyes, she thought she might never be able to breathe again at the intensity burning in his gaze. "You deserve to be loved properly, in a bed, not taken up against a piece of furniture," he said.

Her lungs pulled hard to try and breathe, so overwhelmed she felt. She clung to him, the truth spilling from her lips as a low, desperate plea. "I'd let you take me on the ground if I had to, anywhere, anyhow. My body burns for you, Leander."

He gasped, surprised at the brazen way she had spoken. She blushed but knew she had spoken the truth. Half naked and trembling in his arms, she could be anywhere and it wouldn't matter, because she was with him.

Leander squeezed his eyes shut with a groan, his hands tracing her curves. "You wicked little thing," he groaned. "Don't tempt me like that."

She smiled and pressed kisses over his face, teasing his mouth with lips and tongue. "What if I carry on tempting you? What then?" She teased, her mouth moving to press her lips to his neck, finding his ear and biting gently at the lobe, relishing the moans he made. She dropped her voice to a whisper, her lips curved upwards as she spoke into his ear. "Will you give in? Will you...fuck me?"

Her pulse danced at the dirty word, anticipation making her tingle and tremble. The ache between her thighs throbbed, and she pressed her pelvis against him, needing contact.

He stilled at the word, his hand braced against the edge of the piano behind her, the other at her waist. Their eyes locked, and she begged him with her gaze. It was what she wanted. The thought of leaving this room and going to her bed alone without fulfilling the desire that burned through her was unthinkable.

So, that was how MC found herself on her back, the rug beneath her softened by their spread out robes, her body beneath his naked, utterly exposed to him. He had unpinned her hair, the locks tumbled about her head, rumpled from the way his hands had been entangled in it as he had kissed her.

The feel of his naked body against hers was a warmth she needed, her hands learning the shape of him usually hidden beneath his clothes. The stiff, swollen shaft of his arousal had stunned and intrigued her, something she had only ever heard whispers of from other girls.

Nerves had made her hesitate to touch him there, but he had guided her, and the obvious pleasure it gave him inflamed her own desire.

She kissed his hands, those talented long fingers that played the piano so beautifully. Hands that had stolen her heart with their talent and gentleness. So, when he had used those fingers to pleasure her, touching her intimately in ways that made her moans spill erotically from her mouth, she truly felt like she might actually float up from the floor and never come back down.

When the moment finally came, her release washing over her in waves, she cried out his name, clinging to him. He held her, his mouth soft as he kissed the sweat at her neck, his body shifting to settle between her thighs.

"I love you," he whispered. "Let me take you, make you mine."

"Yes," she replied. "I love you, please..."

To be joined with him was something so deeply intimate, so overwhelming, it made a tear slip from her eye. Their bodies moved together, his pleasure voiced with deep moans as his hips rolled with hers.

It did not matter that they were not in a bed, in fact, as her head tipped back, she could see the piano standing behind them. The keys they had both played, the music they created that had brought them together, right there as he made her his. It was fitting, perfect.

Afterwards, they pulled their clothes back on, sharing intimate smiles and soft kisses until she was once again held in his arms, his forehead pressed to hers, their eyes filled with what they had just shared.

"I miss the feel of your skin against mine already," she said, regretfully.

He hummed in agreement, his hands holding her against him just a bit tighter. "I know," he murmured. "We will just have to do it again."

She smiled, bringing her finger tips to his kiss swollen mouth. "Perhaps next time we can do it your way and use a bed."

He chuckled. "That sounds like a plan."

....*....

Gazing out across the grounds, not seeing anything but the memory playing out behind his eyes, Leander jumped as a fist bumped him on the shoulder. "Oi, Lee, hello? Anyone in there?"

He turned dazed eyes to a frowning Garreth. "What?"

Garreth rolled his eyes and grabbed him on the shoulder. "Come on, lover boy," he said. "We're going to be late."

Leander frowned. They were?

Garreth gave him a disbelieving look. "Dress rehearsal?"

"Shit," Leander muttered. He gave himself a mental shake, the memory of how MC had looked spread out on his dormitory bed fading into the background, as he stood up from the bench he had been sitting on. "Of course, let's go."

Garreth chuckled as they made their way into the castle. "Wow, MC has really got into your head, hasn't she?"

Leander smiled and nodded. "I appreciate you helping me sneak her into the dormitory," he said. "I owe you one."

"When are you going to make it public?" Garreth asked. "Surely Elizabeth is over it by now. It's been nearly a month, and she seemed alright the other day in class."

Leander hummed thoughtfully. Elizabeth was being too nice for his liking, standing close, giving him shy looks. It reminded him of what she had been like before they started dating. It wasn't a comfortable thought. He'd had to make a point of moving out of her reach yesterday, and the disappointment on her face had made ice trickle down his neck.

"Maybe after the concert is done, that's only a few more days," he said. "MC is really starting to suffer with nerves, and I don't want to add any extra stress on to her. I'm not convinced Elizabeth is going to take it well. Look what happened in Herbology, and she is obsessed with bringing MC and Sallow down in Crossed Wands."

Garreth gave him a look. "You dodged a hex there, mate. She's a nutter that one. MC is a million times better. I'm actually a little jealous."

Leander felt his chest swell out at that comment. He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. "Believe me, I don't understand my luck. She is amazing."

As they walked through the double doors towards the Great Hall, Natty came bursting out through the hall doors, her face one of desperate panic. "Oh, thank Merlin, there you are!" She cried. She hurried towards Leander, gripping his arm tightly. "You need to come, right now. MC... she's inconsolable."

Leander felt his heart drop. "What? Why?"

Natty's face crumbled. "We went to get her ready for the rehearsal, and someone has destroyed her dress. It's ruined! She is devastated!"

Garreth gaped. "Why would someone do that?"

Ice trickled down Leander's neck. Oh shit.

"That's not all," Natty said. "Sebastian is losing his bloody mind with rage, I nearly had to charm ropes to pin him down before he ran off to commit something heinous towards the suspected culprit, the only thing to stop him was MC's distress. You must come, now!"

Leander and Garreth exchanged a panicked look before all three of them took off at a run.

To be continued... Part Five

[sparxemberflame]

Fuckin'... Aabria Iyengar.

I am... In awe. I am delerious. I am chomping at the bit. I just... Fuck!!

So. Past two weeks/episodes Especially. Watching/listening to Burrow's End and Worlds Beyond Number back to back is an Experience. Having 2 seperate shows that contain Brennan Lee Mulligan, Erika Ishii and Aabria, in my ears telling me different stories 2 eps at a time is an absolute blast (shoutout to Lou, Jasper, Isabella, Rashawn, Siobhan and rest of cast and crew on both shows too you're awesome! Not the focus of this little outburst.)

Anyway it's GREAT. Highly recommend both shows and there are parallels I'll get into elsewhere, elsewhen. But.

This is an Aabria Iyengar specifically fucking Stan post.

You have made me feel so many overwhelmingly cool, awesome and intimate emotions and ideas that I can hardly begin to explain them. For some reason the only fucking thing that comes close is this. Silly but sorta deep thing about my favorite snack (shout out to snack gang) a Ferrero Rocher:

Aabria,

Shall I compare thee intricate weaving of characters and narratives to a Ferrero Rocher?

I shall. For this is no poem or any such writing of iambic pentameter. It is at best a floundering simile.

You have a way of creating characters and stories which much like a certain confectionary treat when unwrapped contains such an immense blend of texture and flavor. Each instance containing a wholly unique configuration of features bound together in perfectly imperfect unity. Not wholly smooth round but spherical oozing with points of uniqueness sticking out all over.

But yet if you dig just a bit deeper. There's this. Shell. Not a Barrier as it might first seem. But an Obstacle. A Challenge of sorts. Put there not to deter you but to provoke a moment of reflection. I think of Suvi and her refusal to process or be truly vulnerable in most situations. I think of the intricate power-structures of Last Bast and the Hint of this Wall that something Richer. More interesting, more honest and lovingly crafted lies Just Beneath.

This shell. Which you'll find is litterally Wafer-Thin. Should you ask the right question. Follow the right narrative thread. Bite into it with your teeth.

That curiosity is. Always and forever rewarded. With a richness of flavour and care that feels like a hug, like understanding, like being, at last: Home.

It is easy to get lost in that and yet even in this sea of what I can only call love. You find it. The Core. The hazelnut. A moral. Or a question, or a consequence. Something to once again think about and bite into.

And you realise. Once you've finally reach it that this core. This secret. Was Always Obvious. It was Sprinkled. All atop the very first layer. Litterally poking out. Each and every goddamn feature sticking out. Every chopped up uniquely distinct feature.

Was made up of the same material. Was the Core The Whole Time. Visible to the naked eye. But now having experienced the whole show. The whole treat. It is gone.

But its nourished you. The treat nourishes my body. The way Aabria tells stories nourishes my very soul.

Thinking back on many stories told that core in plain sight is often about Family or Love and the relationships between. Far from an uncommon subject in stories. But something about it. Something about the unique way Aabria does it in not just one but seemingly every story and character she creates. Its fantastic, its familiar and it... I can't describe it any other way than that it fills me with elation, jubilation and a deep sense of belonging and the implications therein drives me absolutely insane.

It's with my hat off, eyes sparkling in adoration and my heart full that I say:

Thank you Aabria Iyengar for telling these stories, for bringing these characters to life. They have changed me and many others forever and have and continue to drive me to create my own stories and campaigns for many years to come.

[solomons-poison]

As someone who had pet rats, I LOVE rats they are such sweet gentile creatures

Knowing barb tho he is terrified,, how do you think he would react if he found out mc had pet rats/likes rats? (I think he would use that to his advantage in some way) but also I wanna help him get over his fear of those lovely babies💗💗

(Idk if requests are open atm, if not you can ignore, but if you do end up doing this, thank you!)

Also good way to brighten up your day is to look at dumbo rats, cutest little fellas

Finding Out MC has Pet Rats

A/N: This is such a funny prompt, thank you for sending this in ahaha. I've always wanted to get rats, they are such funny curious creatures, but I come from a family that always had cats, and I ended up with cats of my own as well by a random rescue suggested by my roommate. One day though... 🐀

Featuring: GN reader || Barbatos x reader

Warnings: talking about pet rats ?? none

══════════════════

Upon finding out about Barbatos' great dislike of rats (hatred might really be the more appropriate word), it might seem tempting to keep quiet on the subject to prevent his discomfort. But Barbatos is perceptive, and it's easy for him to see that something is bothering you, especially when it happens right after a random discussion with the brothers about your life back in the Human Realm.

You know that, really, he is willing to learn everything and anything about you and respect it. He's an adult, he knows and is willing to put in the work to make your relationship as cohesive as possible. But when it comes to your lover's greatest enemy... it's easy to understand why you'd both be hesitant.

When you first break the news to Barbatos, he is shocked, to say the least. Utterly speechless. His brain and his heart had never battled so strongly before than when he heard that you loved, and even voluntarily owned, the very creatures he loathed.

You will have to be very patient with him. Logically, he knows that Human Realm rats and Devildom rats are two different beings. The latter is more akin to Human Realm cockroaches but without the wings, difficult to eradicate and hardy in most conditions. So it might be good to start with just going over the things you like about rats, whether it's general information or about your specific pets.

Really, the best thing to do will be to set up a date with him to introduce him to your rats. Let him see their set up in your home, tell him about their quirks, show silly photos. And once all conditions have been met and Barb has had a chance to steel himself, you can bring the rats to him.

It will take several tries for him to come anywhere close to accepting them tbh. As much as he loves you, and as adorable as your pets are, the hatred is deep-seated and very difficult to get over. But he is willing to try, for the sake of your love and relationship. He never wants to hurt you or look down on the things and creatures that you love. It's just a personal battle that he'll have to fight and win.

If you do manage to win over his heart, he's quick to get very attached. But only to your rats, mind you. Any others, even if it's someone else's pet rat, the awful feeling he gets around them will be back full force. In fact, he may even be protective of your pet rats against any other rats he encounters.

He's one of those reluctant adoptive father types, who takes forever to win over. But once you've got him in the palm of your hand, he gets along with your rats very very well, teaching them little tricks and giving them treats on occasion, maybe even holding them when he's feeling brave.

Introducing Barbatos to your pet rats is really the ultimate relationship challenge. If you two manage to surpass that, nearly nothing is standing in your way from a long-lasting relationship. But it's definitely a barrier that will need some careful consideration and lots of mutual respect.

[tothepointofinsanity]

I have a similar-ish art style to you in the sense that a lot of my art just by the way I stylize certain features makes my it look creepy. This is a huge problem for me because I do genuinely love drawing cute stuff but I can’t because of my art style. I don’t want to completely change my art style because one that would take forever but two drawing things that are scary and creepy help me cope with my agoraphobia and paranoia. I know this is more of a do you have advice than a proper question but what would you suggest I do?

(side note: I ADORE YOUR ART!!!! I especially love your Sayaka work as a massive pmmm fangirl)

Hello, firstly, thank you for taking your time out to write out a long ask. (/ _ ; ) <- Grateful. I’m not a reliable person to ask things about in terms of art given I’m not a professional or good at it, but as usual I will try my best to answer your question here.

I suppose there is a perspective that what constitutes as “cute” differs from everyone, and often I’ve noticed that things that are cute can also be creepy simultaneously depending on context, not just by changing styles alone. Kyubey is an example of this, if you must. It has all the markers of “cute animal design” - round eyes, large bushy tail, cat-like ears, and in the show it behaves like a cat hopping around and perched on the shoulders of the magical girls. Yet it’s not restricted to the interpretation that it’s just cute, since later on there are different things which make it creepy. The context of what the alien creature represents, for one, or the way shots of it are accompanied by a gloomy, industrial background which contrast its bright, supposedly cheerful colour scheme, or how there’s nothing humanly sentimental in it whenever it focuses on Kyubey’s eyes. These transitional details are what balances something that can be deemed both creepy and cute, although not everyone might share this perception.

You don’t have to change your art style, just the way you want to stylise cuteness in your own way. This could mean cutting down “realistic” details for the subject but still keeping the way the background is coloured or textured, for one. Cute things can be achieved also by being simplified. I think Kyubey would look terrifying and not cute at all had they went with a realistic cat design and not an “anime” styled one. One reference I often think about is the way Gekidan Inu Curry captures the dichotomy of Sayaka.

In this example, the highlight is the “size” or composition of the subject. Sayaka on the left is closer to the audience, so we can see her details clearly (how tall she is, how her eyes look, the shadows coloured over her heart). It makes her seem menacing because she’s so close and doing strange things. Yet it has a retain “moe” charm to it because the way it’s coloured and being sketched that it seems…cute. In its own way. Sayaka on the right is sitting further away and enjoying a drink atop a mountain of fluffy Anthony balls. It’s worth noting as well how her eyes in the second picture are more simplified, being drawn on as dots, but the style does not outright lose its creepiness [the weird, dated shading on the umbrella, her hair being textured darker, the background being a fuzzy red].

What you could do is try thinking about how something that is cute would look like in your style. If that makes sense. It is a sort of attitude that affects the approach of your art. Thus it’s strongly encouraged to experiment with what you can draw in your current art style instead of needing to change it. If a rabbit is cute, can you find a way to make it look cute in your style? What is the core appeal of the thing you like? What elements are making current results unsatisfactory by your standards? What do you have to adjust? — Those are questions you’ll venture the answer yourself, and the more you draw, the more your style changes on its own, organically, so don’t worry about it. You may not be able to draw cute things today or tomorrow, and you will likely struggle to get the process of it, but eventually you’ll certainly be able to draw the diverse things you really enjoy without having to sacrifice the personal components of your art’s identity and what it ultimately means to you. With all that said, I’m not sure how realistically useful my suggestion or advice will be, but I will nevertheless be supportive of your endeavours. Good luck!

And thank you! I love drawing Sayaka, so I’m happy people like seeing her just as much. ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶!

[writingsofwesteros]

Hi i have a request where the reader!sister and daemon used to be lovers but then she found out about what happened with baelon's egg and never forgave daemon for breaking her heart and she ends up being married to viserys instead and daemon was heartbroken when he came back and saw her children with viserys

-thank you i love your writings so much btw 🤎

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

“Are you worried?” Viserys whispered into your ear and you tried not to shiver in disgust at his closeness. It wasn’t as if you could do anything now; your fate had been sealed as soon as Daemon broke her heart. You wondered if it was even before that; the King’s eyes had always been on you but Daemon promised to protect you.

“Of course not.” You purred; speaking only what your King wanted to hear as you leaned back into him. The sight of your three children playing down below was the only source of happiness in your life. Not that anyone would notice this as you played the role so expertely that nobody suspected anything was amiss. 

“I’m glad.” The King whispered and slowly turned you around in his hold before softly smiling at you. His lips leaned closer and for one in your like you thanked whatever God was out there for Otto’s interruption. “I’ll see you soon.” You whispered to him and subtly turned around with a near sigh of relief.

Gods, what had your life become, you thought to yourself whilst slowly making your way down the steps. The golden rings adoring you were an easy distraction as your own thoughts ran wild. “Is everything fine?” Rhaenyra’s voice interrupted you from your thoughts as you slowly made your way towards your children.

“Of course.” You whispered to her and watched as a relieved smile came over her face. In eagerness to change the subject, you asked “Have you found a suitable match yet?” You giggled out. “Of course not.” Rhaenyra hummed in amusement as you slowly picked up your daughter.

You were able to smile as she burrowed into your neck and wrapped her little arms around you with a giggle. “Hmm, hopefully someone will come soon.” You smiled at her and hoped she found more happiness than you did. “How is everything with Alicent?” You whispered into her ear as you both looked over to the Hightower girl.

Rhaenyra ducked her head as a soft blush came over her cheeks. “I’ve not spoken to her yet.” She mumbled out. Her shyness was adorable, you thought to yourself as you gently rocked your daughter to sleep. “You should.” You softly pushed her, “It will all work out in the end.” You promised. 

“I’m glad my father married you.” Rhaenyra whispered and pecked your cheek with a soft kiss before running away. You knew she didn’t mean any malice but your heart couldn’t help but break at those words. There really was no way out of this, was there? Your child’s babbling brought you out of the mourning for a moment.

“Shh, my love. Let's get you out of the cold.” You whispered down at her before smiling at your boys as they fought each other. The sight warmed your heart and for a moment it reminded you of another pair of boys. Those thoughts of happiness soon turned as you made your way back into the palace.

A soft look of confusion came over your face as you heard chatter around you. A buzz seemed to be in the air. “Is something the matter?” You asked the first servant you came across whilst keeping your daughter close. “Prince Daemon has returned.” The excitement in the young girl’s voice had your eyes twitching for a moment.

You were thankful the girl left you alone with your own thoughts as you tried to calm your beating heart. Gods, what were you supposed to do now, you thought to yourself whilst turning the corner. The sight of both Viserys and Daemon at the end of the corridor had you feeling faint. 

You focused on the little girl in your arms as your heart continued to race. You kept her impossibly close when Viserys shouted out your name. “My King.” You whispered; keeping your eyes from locking onto Daemon. You weren’t sure how he or yourself would react to this surprising reunion. 

You couldn’t hold off the inevitable for long and you politely smiled up at Daemon. “Brother..you are home.” You whispered out and tried to hide the longing in your tone as his eyes never strayed from you. “Yes..my brother has allowed me back.” Daemon hummed, trying to find the words to speak as his heart was smashing to pieces.

Of course he did when you had three children with him now. He felt secure enough to bring Daemon back and it seemed your Prince was only just realising it now. “That is good news.” You whispered and your eyes brightened for a moment before the steps of your sons echoed closer as they ran to you.

“Did you see that dragon?” Your eldest exclaimed. Your heart warmed at their excitement but the sadness that flashed over Daemon’s face for no more than a second began to break your heart once more. “Yes, Caraxes is your uncle’s dragon.” You knelt down as the two boys came closer.

“Wow..” They looked up at Daemon and your heart raced for his reaction. Viserys didn’t seem to see the tension rising in front of him. His obliviousness was a bliss; for the both of you. “It’s nice to meet you.” He hummed and moved to kneel as well. His eyes looked towards your baby girl who was waking up again.

Viserys moved in as her little arms spread out and in that moment; reality set in. Anything you had with Daemon was over and ruined. You both knew that. “Isn’t she the sweetest.” Viserys looked at his brother with a large smile and Daemon had to fight against the rising lump in his throat. 

“She is.” It was all the Prince could muster as he locked eyes with you once more before you stepped away. The moment was broken as you took the hands of your son. “I should get them ready for the feast.” You whispered to Viserys and fought against turning back to Daemon as you moved down the corridor. 

The more you walked away; the more Daemon’s heart hardened. The idea that this had gone so terribly wrong had never occurred to him as he tried to listen to his brother. He desperately hoped you would look back once more; it would give him some taste of hope. But you never did and the hope never came.

“I’m glad you are back.” Viserys whispered and he couldn’t help but wonder if his brother was as stupid as he looked. Maybe they had given him too much credit, Daemon thought to himself as Viserys moved down the corridor with the little girl that looked so much like you it only shocked the Prince even more.

TAGLIST

@janelongxox

@writerslove2403

@severewobblerlightdragon 

@lettherebrelight 

@heartysworld

@opheliax98

@bshelley322 

@casualheartadorable 

@kittycatcait219 @lilyviolets

@multifndom @7minutes-tomidnight

@savage-aespa 

@kid-from-new-zealand @mypatrochilles

@thekayarlene 

@sandronebabyy 

@ivanna6026 

@bubblebuttwade

@rosesinmars

@believeinthefireflies95

[kamiversee]

SPARE AN EAR M’LADY👂🤺🤺 I came with some song suggestions:

Geto -> Partition by Beyoncé -> OKOK THIS SONG HAD BEEN FROLICKING IN MY MIND WHEN I READ CHAPTER 6 where geto was teasing the hell outta the reader in his driver’s car omfggg (also this song is fitting for the fun short lived fuck buddy relationship the two had because their tension was HIGHERRR than the temperature of my broke for shit thermostat on Monday & Thursday mornings) || Honorable mentions: Don’t Tell ‘Em by Jeremih & Like That by 1600j (This last song can also be for Sukuna cause sometimes he’s kindaaaa 😫😩)

Gojo -> Passionfruit by Drake -> Now this song.. mmm well I chose this song because its lyrics and overall tone parallel the gradually falling relationship between gojo and the reader. As the reader grows closer with choso, gojo painfully watches from afar. Yet, he lets it happen, silently remaining on the side and loving from a distance of a relationship that is slowly fading with each fleeting minute, especially with the list being finished. Fading that had been caused from the barriers placed more so by him because of his avoidance to explain his reasonings and motives with the list, refusal to remove the reader from completing the list, and the obvious distance between them as a resultant of the chaos from it all. In the end he can regret and reflect upon everything as many times as possible, but the aftermath of such actions are irrevocable. He comes to be aware of it, but it crashes down on him at once. Whatever happened, happened, and the reader went through messy time periods of pain and suffering, not to mention is still left to confusion since she never was given a proper answer to why she, out of anyone else he could’ve picked, was the one who had to clear the entire list alone. In that blurry midst is where she found choso, and he became to her the man that gojo longingly desired to be. To be the face to catch her smiles and looks, to hold her close, to kiss, to comfort, to get lost in her voice, to be the subject of her attention and adoration, to make her heart skip a beat or two, to share his life with, to be one with. God, he missed the opportunity for it all. At this point, this was his chance at liberating her… even if it killed him on both the internally and externally to let her out of his life. There’s only so much he can do. It’s bittersweet but genuine, knowing how gojo wants the best for her, seeing the damage actually done only in hindsight. What is more saddening is the fact that had he approached her normally from the beginning, he had the potential to already win her heart and affection since she liked him too. They could’ve been together and he could’ve bared his infinite love all to her in a way that didn’t have to hurt them both, but that route is may now just only left to the spiraling world of endless what ifs and imaginations. Nonetheless, his heart, unrequited or not, remains burning eternally solely for her.. even if alone. (My heart may or may not be trembling rn as a gojo girlie—fuckkk‼️⁉️💔💔💔 #STILLWANTHIMSOVERYBAD) || Honorable mentions: 3005 by Childish Gambino, Aphrodite by Rini, Because of You by Ne-Yo, Not Around by NOVA, & Is It A Crime by Sade

Choso -> Butterflies by Michael Jackson -> The love choso has for the reader had struck me as something tender yet mesmerizingly elevating. The essence of this song portrays exactly that with how smooth and catchy the tune falls on the ears of the listener. Personally with MJ being one of my favorite singers, the way he delivers this music makes me feel the same way as when I read a precious moment between choso and the reader. It’s of a sweet and passionate quality. In a way, it’s distinguishably special; essentially what choso feels whenever he is around her. His mood is almost always lifted when she’s alongside him and it shows in his words and expressions. Hell—so much so that he got a tattoo on his body to remember her by, a tangible declaration of his unwavering love towards her. He was even contemplating getting it initially on his NECK! HIS NECK I SAYYYY 🗣️ Even through stressful times, he couldn’t muster the will to not love her. Stuff he didn’t dare share with anyone (rightfully so), he was willing to tell the reader, being transparent, which means a lot to her. Now, I’m not glazing him to say he’s perfect as no one really is perfect in this story, but when put into perspective after everything and everyone, he’s ultimately well suited for the reader. He’s in love with her to the core, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. So yeah, this song naturally sprouted into mind ^^ || Honorable mentions: Raining Love by KYLE & Get You by Daniel Caesar

- 🧠

THE GASP I GASPED.

First off, I love you. Music is my heart and SOUL and istg the world is lucky I’m not a musically talented person BC IF I WAS…

Anywho, thank you for these songs & eloquently put breakdowns 🥹 the descriptions are beautiful, I agree with every song listed here AAAAND. We have a similar music taste so Ilysm.

AND PASSIONFRUIT IS MY FAV DRAKE SONG OF ALL TIME SO THTS KINDA CRAZY😭 I’ve said it before but I think a lot of what I listen to comes out in my works pretty often so the fact that you found songs tht I was listening to as I wrote majority of these chapters is just so amazing to me <3

Again, the descriptions & correlations are perfect, you’re amazing, Ily.

[latenightsimping]

You Send Me (drabble)

Heard that @mantorokk-writes needed a bit of a pick-me-up, remembered this was in my folder, so finished it for them. Song is You Send Me by Sam Cooke. Enjoy! <3 

content: slow dancing, pure fluff, just being cute n shit

You couldn’t stop smiling, your cheeks hurting from exertion as your arms tightened where they were looped around Eddie’s neck. When you had asked if he had anything more romantic, you expected him to find something from the metal genre that had some semblance of love in the lyrics. You hadn’t expected him to rifle through the small box of records that you assumed were Wayne’s collection, making small noises of consideration until he found the right one. You couldn’t quite recognise the song from the initial few notes, but it was a slow temple, perfect to sway to. He had asked you to dance with a low bow and extension of his hand, like you were a princess being courted in one of his fantasy books. You had accepted with a giggle, enjoying the feeling of his large hands nestled at your waist as he gently swayed you.

Everything fell away, creating a small bubble of serenity and love. You were no longer in the slightly cluttered living room that you’d come to call home. With your eyes closed, head resting on his chest as you listened to his steady heartbeat and the vibrations of his voice softly crooning along to the words, you were sure that this was heaven. You hoped heaven would be like this. Eddie pressing soft kisses to the top of your head, ringed hand smoothing up and down your spine. He had a knack for making you feel as loved as you ever had been before, and perhaps he didn’t realise that his small actions were acts of declaration. He thought he was just being kind, being a good boyfriend; giving you his jacket if you looked even slightly cold, making sure he had your favourite snacks stocked in the kitchen, remembering the tiniest detail of something you told him ages ago. He listened when you rambled on about subjects that meant a lot to you, and the day didn’t start or end without a kiss and his little ‘I love you’.

Thanks to the cruel students of Hawkins High, you didn’t want to go to prom. You’d spend it with the love of your life, getting high and watching horror movies. Your own little party, and ten times more fun than listening to music you knew he’d hate and having to put up with dirty looks. And now, you were having your own slow dance a few weeks later, ‘You Send Me’ by Sam Cooke being the perfect background song. One that you just know would be yet another song that’ll make it’s way onto the next ‘our song’ mix tape; God knows the last one he’d given you was at risk of crapping out with the amount you played it.

He must have seen a look cross your face, a small smile twitching at the upper corners of his lips as he paused through another verse to look down at you properly. “Doin’ okay, angel?”

You nodded, head still rested over his heart as you idly played with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Just enjoying this,” you mumbled. “Never want this to end.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling his chest underneath your ear as he stroked languid circles on the small of your back. “Doesn’t have to end, if you don’t want it to.” His hand captured your chin, tilting it up so you could see his lovesick grin. “I’m sure we can find some more sappy love songs in Wayne’s stash.”

You giggled, leaning up to capture his lips with your own. A slow, passionate kiss, hoping to convey just how much love you had for him with it. And by the way he was kissing you back, he both understood and wanted to reciprocate.

You’d dance to anything he wanted to, if it meant holding you like this. Kissing you like this. Loving you like this. The dance may end, and the music may grow quiet. But you new deep down, that the adoration you both shared would never go away. Not ever.  

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A Chuisle Mo Chroi (Pulse of My Heart) | Ralvez

A Chuisle Mo Chroi (pronounced Mu Kooish-La Mu Kree) Irish term for Pulse of my Heart.

Summary - Spencer chronicles his unrequited love for his best friend in the form of letters to his mom. But when she meets the person Spencer has detailed to her, what happens when she inadvertently confesses her son's feelings for him?

A/N - Yes I mixed up the timeline. Just pretend the episode “300” happened after the episode “Luke”. Prison arc didn’t happen but Spencer’s mom was still moved to DC and Spencer still starts teaching. Also I don’t speak Irish. I googled terms of endearment from around the world and enjoyed this one the most. Thank you my darling @sassymoon for being my beta!

Anon request - Hi! Since you opened your requests I wanted to ask if you could write a sweet fluff fic/blurb for Spencer x Luke with them confessing their feelings and maybe having their first kiss? ❤️

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Luke Alvez

Category - fluff

CW - unrequited love, pinning Spencer, references to 1406 “Luke” and 1401 “300”, a single F-bomb, case related stuff, bisexual Spencer, first kiss.

WC - 5.4K

Spencer Reid loathed the term momma’s boy. Sure, he was close to his mom, when you grew up without a dad you clung to what you had left. Even if his mom didn’t recognise him half of the time, she was the only person in the whole world who understood him. When she was lucid at least.

Throughout high school all the much older kids had always referred to him as such due to the fact he spent so much time at home. What they didn’t know was that he spent all that time at home because he was looking after his mother. But he never told them as much, he’d rather them call him that than admit the truth to them. 

When he moved to Virginia to join the BAU he wrote her a letter every single day. He told her everything, all the ins and out of the team, vague case details without getting graphic. He documented his meals, what books he’d read and everything else he could jam onto the page. 

Over time life got in the way. His letters started becoming weekly, then monthly until the point when he’d forget the last time he’d put pen to paper and sent his mother one of the letters she loved so much. 

He had to make more of an effort. She adored his letters, it allowed her to feel like she was there with him, embarking on his adventures alongside him. Spencer often thought they might be her last tangible grip on reality. So regardless of how tired he was, how busy he was, he ensured he would try to sit down at least once a week and write his mother a letter. 

As of late his letters had revolved mostly around one topic, giving Spencer the opportunity to get his feelings out on paper so as to never have to admit them out loud. He was sure he’d written research papers shorter than the letters he was penning these days, and he was sure given his moms declining mental state she wasn’t reading them and if she was, she would surely not remember anything he had to say in those pages. 

It was cathartic, almost like keeping a journal. He found the words flowed so easily when he had that particular subject matter on his mind. 

We were on a case in New York this week, as usual I won’t go into detail. We caught the guy though, you’ll be pleased to know. 

On the second day we were in the police precinct in Central Park and we both went to reach for a case file at the same time. Their hand brushed against mine and I swear I heard fireworks going off somewhere. Which is absurd because it was the middle of the day and of course there weren’t fireworks going off. But it happens a lot. 

When they look at me I’m sure I can feel my IQ level drop in half. When they smile at me it’s like the whole world lights up. And those accidental touches make my heart race and make me feel giddy. 

I know I’ve spent a lot of time in these letters talking about them recently and I’m sorry if it’s boring you. But I think I’m falling in love, mom, and I don’t know who else to talk to about it. Scratch that, I am in love and that terrifies me because they don’t look at me that way. 

They’re one of my best friends, my teammate. I don’t even know if they like…it doesn’t matter. I just know I should not be feeling this way about them and I have to get these thoughts out of my head. I’m sure you’re not even reading these so you’ll never know anyway, but I feel lighter for having written it down. But just in case you do read these, I’m too scared to say their name. 

Most letters read in the same vein. Spencer’s unrequited love was clouding his brain, causing him to be slower at making deductions and he feared it would hinder his work. Writing down his inane thoughts helped. Even if no one was reading them. 

***

Hey mom, 

Me again. We got back from a case in Ohio yesterday and Rossi invited us all over his place. 

You know me, I’m not a big drinker, I had two glasses of wine but that was enough for me. Also I don’t trust myself around them when alcohol is involved, inebriation would loosen my tongue and I’m worried about what I might say. Those kinds of confessions are only for my letters. 

They had quite a bit to drink though, I was watching them. I’m always watching them, it’s like I can’t stop myself. But I swear every time I looked up at them, they were looking right back at me smiling. 

They even found me on the back patio while I was getting some air. 

“Hey Spence, what are you doing out here?” 

That’s what they said. There’s something about people calling me by nicknames that makes my heart soar. There’s no scientific data to back that up, love is all in the brain not the heart. It’s simply my brain releasing oxytocin and vasopressin, giving me a surge of positive emotions every time I see them. 

Or hear them call me Spence. 

“Just getting some air.” I told them, trying to ignore the way they were looking at me.

I don’t know how to describe it, it was like they were seeing me for the first time, really seeing me. It was as though the alcohol actually helped them see clearer, the way they looked at me, I just can’t describe it. But for a split second, I actually believed they might feel the same about me. Of course that was completely foolish of me to think but just for a moment I allowed myself to succumb to the fantasy. 

“I uh…I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

When they said that and stepped closer to me, I’m sure I saw a hint of nerves in their eyes and my breath caught in my throat. But then it got even stranger. 

“Oh, you’ve got something…let me.” 

Then they reached forward and brushed something off of my cheek. We’ve touched accidentally before but I think that might be the first time they’ve done it deliberately. I wish I could accurately describe to you the way their fingertips felt as they brushed against my skin but I’m not sure there are enough words in the English language. Or in any of the other languages I can speak. 

There is a saying I recently learnt which comes close. It’s an Irish term “a chuisle mo chroi” which essentially translates to “pulse of my heart.” That’s what they feel like. They are a part of what keeps me alive. It’s the only thing I know how to say in Irish, but it seemed fitting. 

Anyway, they never did get to tell me what it was they wanted to say because someone else joined us on the patio and soon we all called it a night. 

I’ll never forget the look in their eyes though. 

All my love,

Spencer

***

Hey mom,

Another letter for you. I realised recently I’ve spent so much time talking to you about a certain person and I don’t remember the last time I asked you how you were doing. I’m sorry for that. How are you? How is Bennington? I hope to get time to visit you soon. 

We had a pretty rough case recently, one that affected someone on the team personally. I won’t give you a prize for guessing who. 

I’ve never seen them like this before, I was genuinely scared they would do something to jeopardise their place on the team. They lost an old friend in the process and I’m scared it might tip them over the edge, that there may be no coming back from this for them. 

It’s not my job to comfort them though, as much as I wish it was. I’m sitting here at my desk after everyone else has left for the night writing this letter so I don’t go after them. Because they already have a person to be their shoulder to cry on, and it isn’t me. 

I think I’ve failed to tell you that before and maybe I just didn’t think it was necessary or maybe it was a deliberate choice, I’m not sure. They already have their own a chuisle mo chroi which makes my feelings even more redundant. 

Thus far I’ve done a really good job at not allowing myself to dwell on these feelings except for when I write you these letters. But lately they’ve started to consume me and I don’t know how to make it stop.

They are all I think about. When I’m at home alone, I imagine what they are doing and it makes me sad. They’re probably cooking dinner for their partner, maybe cuddled up on the couch watching a movie or maybe even in bed…I won’t finish that trail of thought. 

It hurts me to see them everyday and know they will never be mine. I value our friendship too much to risk losing it all over these feelings I have for them but I worry those feelings are slowly destroying my soul. They’re right there, right in front of me and I can’t have them. I never will. They will never be mine. 

I’m sorry about this. If you’re reading these I hope my words don’t make you worry. I’m fine, really, I’m just having a hard time right now. But I’ll be ok, I always bounce back don’t I? 

I love you mom, speak soon. 

Spencer 

***

Hey mom,

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, things got really crazy. I won’t go into detail because I don’t want you to worry about me but…

…you aren’t reading these letters, I know you’re not. So I suppose it doesn’t really matter if I go into detail. 

I was abducted. Kidnapped. We arrested a cult leader and failed to see that one of his disciples worked for the FBI. She took Garcia, and I tried to save her, because you taught me to be the kind of man that does that. But it resulted in her taking me too.

If you are, on the off chance, reading these, I need you to know I’m ok. I’ve got some bruises but I’m mostly ok. If it wasn’t for the team I might not have been, the cult wanted to make me their three hundredth victim. 

For as long as I live, I will never forget the way they looked at me after I was unstrapped and helped down the steps. They ran to me, panic written all over their face and if I didn’t know any better I might actually think they had tears in their eyes. 

“Oh my god, you’re ok.” 

They sounded as worried as they looked and then their hand was on the side of my face, gently stroking my bruised cheek. 

“I thought…I didn’t think…” 

It was as though they physically couldn’t get the words out. I was so hyped on the adrenaline of coming close to death that I didn’t realise it until later. 

“I’m ok. I’m ok.” I assured them although I’m not sure why I was doing the assuring. 

And then they flung their arms around my neck and pulled me so close, held me so tightly for a moment I couldn’t breathe. I was so close I could feel their erratic heartbeat and they buried their face into my neck and panted against my skin. 

For a second I was dumbfounded. I just stood there frozen. But eventually I wrapped my arms around their waist relished in the moment because I knew it wouldn’t last. And as expected, a few seconds later we were torn apart by someone calling our names. 

Is it wrong that I’d go through that whole ordeal again just to get them to hold me like that one more time? Is it so utterly absurd to say that almost dying was worth it because having them embrace me like that erased all of the fear?

I felt safe, mom. In their arms I felt safer than I’ve ever felt before. But it only hurt worse when they let go and pretended nothing had happened, following the rest of the team away. 

Unrequited love is the worst feeling in the whole world. You’d think I could handle it given everything I’ve been through. But honestly, I think it’s worse than anything any unsub has ever done to me. I really don’t know how more I can take, mom. 

I don’t know if I can keep working with them and being in love with them. 

Love always,

Spencer 

***

Hey mom, 

You’ll be pleased to know I’m feeling a little better since my last letter. It’s been a few months I know, and I know I promised I’d write every week and I’m sorry. 

I thought my writing down my feelings was helping but it started having the opposite effect. I decided to take a little time away from the BAU after everything that happened with the cult. I came to an agreement with the bureau to split my time between case hours and teaching classes at the university. I’m doing much better, my head is clearer and I’m not pining quite as much as I was the last time I wrote to you. 

It’s still hard sometimes but I’ve learnt to live with the fact the object of my desire will never love me back. We remain friends, best friends, but that’s all it will ever be. And I’m ok with that. It’s just how it was meant to be. 

I’ll come and visit you soon, I have more free time when I’m teaching. I’ll be sure to bring you some books and there’s a great little cafe I’ve discovered near the university that sells the best…

“Hey man, what are you doing?” 

A voice snapped Spencer away from his trail of thought and he lifted the pen from the paper and looked up to see Luke Alvez standing over his desk. 

“Oh, just writing to my mom.” He quickly scrambled to hide the letter from prying eyes even though most people struggled to read his chicken scratch, as Garcia dubbed it. 

“Isn’t she living in DC now? I thought you said-“

“Yeah she is.” Spencer cut him off, stuffing the paper in his satchel. “But I uh…I forget all the things I want to say to her when I visit so I like to write it down.” 

Luke was smiling at him, the kind of smile that Spencer often found himself lost in. The kind of smile he’d spent hours writing about in great detail to his mom. 

“I’d like to meet her.” He leant against Spencer’s desk, seemingly not in a hurry to go anywhere. 

“You would? Why?” Spencer frowned which made Luke chuckle. 

“You talk about her so much I already feel like I know her. It would be nice to meet the woman behind the genius.” 

Spencer didn’t think having his mom meet Luke was a good idea. Although even if she read his letters and remembered them, he’d never specified who he was talking about. But his mom knew him so well, surely if she saw the two of them together she’d be able to tell exactly how Spencer felt about Luke. Spencer wasn’t known for his subtlety. And even in her less lucid moments, Diana Reid was extremely astute. 

But nonetheless Spencer found himself nodding. 

“Uh…ok. Sure. I guess that wouldn’t be a problem.” He frowned a little. “I’m going to see her this weekend if we don’t get pulled away somewhere.” 

“I’m in.” Luke beamed brighter than Spencer had ever seen. 

“You uh…you don’t have plans with Lisa?” 

Luke chuckled, leaning forward and patting Spencer’s shoulder. 

“I know you’re not here all the time, Doc, but have you been living under a rock? Lisa and I split up months ago.” 

Spencer hated the way his heart seemed to do somersaults in his chest at this. How had he missed that? Had he been so consumed in the overwhelming unrequited love he was feeling that he’d completely missed what was going on around him? 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Spencer hoped his voice didn’t give away how unsorry he was. 

“It’s ok, these things happen. She wasn’t a, uh, good fit for me.” His eyes seemed to sparkle as he spoke but Spencer didn’t know why. He chose to ignore it. “You heading out?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Spencer nodded, grabbing up his things and shutting off his computer before following Luke over to the elevators. 

And he only had a handful of heart palpitations in the process.

***

The weekend rolled around without a case and as promised, Luke accompanied Spencer to visit his mom. 

Spencer made a point of not hanging out with Luke outside of work, not unless the rest of the team were involved anyway. Over the years Luke had asked Spencer to grab a beer with him on multiple occasions but Spencer always made up an excuse as to why he couldn’t go. 

He knew it was only due to the fact that he was the only other guy on the team around the same age as Luke. Although that did offer up some confusion as to why he still asked even after Simmons joined the team. Maybe because Matt was married with kids, Spencer didn’t have anyone to go home to, much like Luke, until he’d met Lisa anyway. And once he met her, the invitations stopped coming. 

Luke picked Spencer up at ten am on the dot, just like they’d planned, he even brought Spencer coffee from his favourite coffee shop down the street with the perfect amount of sugar. If he wasn’t already smitten with this man, he would have been now. 

Luke drove and they listened to the radio as they travelled to Diana’s facility, giving Spencer something to focus on that wasn’t the close proximity to Luke he found himself in. They made idle chit chat, it wasn’t lost on Luke how Spencer wouldn’t look at him. 

When they pulled up in the parking lot of Diana’s facility, Luke cut the engine and turned to face the younger man. 

“Does this make you uncomfortable? If you don’t want me to meet her I can just wait in the car.” Luke questioned him. 

“No, no I can’t ask you to do that after you’ve driven me out here.” Spencer shook his head.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to actually spend some time with you outside of work.” Luke felt his cheeks burning as he spoke. 

Spencer frowned, noticing the way Luke reddened although he wasn’t sure why. 

“I’m just worried what state she might be in. I don’t want you to meet her if she’s erratic. And as of late she’s been like that quite a lot. She barely even knows who I am half of the time.” Spencer changed the subject. 

“How about I come in with you and I’ll hang back while you see how she is. If she’s not in a good state I’ll wait in the car.” Luke’s blush faded and he smiled at Spencer. 

“Yeah, I guess that works.” He nodded, quickly getting out of his seatbelt and exiting the car. 

Luke followed him across the parking lot and up the front steps of the building. He noticed the way Spencer clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides as he walked and it only then occurred to him what this must be like for him. It must take its toll, never knowing what state he would find his mother in, never knowing if his own mom would recognise him until it was too late. 

Luke prayed in his head that today his mother would know who he was. He didn’t want Spencer to suffer that embarrassment with him here to witness it. 

Spencer went on ahead into the day room while Luke hung back. He’d never been overly religious, not the way his parents were anyway, but what took place next might just make a believer out of him after all. 

He watched Spencer tentatively approach the woman Luke recognised from the photograph on his desk. She was in an armchair in the window, her head in a book so much like her son. She looked up when she heard movement, looking up at the man standing before her. A few seconds passed before she suddenly leapt to her feet, throwing her arms around Spencer.

“Spencer!” Luke heard her call. “Oh how I’ve missed you.” 

The size of the smile that broke out in Luke’s face could only be beaten by Spencer’s own. Spencer hugged his mother back while Luke watched, his heart feeling like it was floating out of his body. When the hug ended, Spencer turned to Luke with a smile and motioned him over. 

“Mom, this is my friend Luke. Luke Alvez. We work together at the BAU.” Spencer tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he introduced Luke. 

“It’s so nice to meet you Mrs Reid, I’ve heard so many things about you.” Luke held out his hand which Diana shook. 

“Luke…” she mused as the three of them took a seat. “I’m sure Spencer has told me about you but the name doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“Sure it does mom, I’ve told you about the whole team.” Spencer hated using his mothers memory loss to his advantage because she was right, he’d never mentioned Luke, not by name anyway. 

“Well if you say you have, you must have.” She gave Spencer a look that told him she didn’t believe him. 

“How are you finding it here in DC?” Luke spoke, sensing a strange tension between mother and son and trying to ease it. 

“Oh you know, dear, a nuthouse is a nuthouse, no matter the city.”

“They prefer the term psychiatric facility, mom.” Spencer rolled his eyes. 

A nurse came over and offered them drinks. Diana opted for chamomile tea, they didn’t encourage coffee drinking for the residents, while Spencer and Luke both took the caffeine route. Once the three of them were alone, Spencer spoke again. 

“This is the best I’ve seen you in a long time. You seem…clear.” He said for lack of a better word.

“I feel clear.” Diana nodded with a soft smile that Luke thought was the spitting image of her sons. “The doctors say it won’t last but it’s a nice reprieve.” 

“I can only imagine.” Spencer sniffed a little and Luke couldn’t help but reach out and place his hand on his arm. 

Spencer turned to look at him, unshed tears behind his eyes. Diana looked between them, a small smirk tugging at her lips as she watched the way her son and Luke looked at each other. 

“Friends you say?” Diana spoke up, causing Luke to quickly pull his hand away. 

“Yes.” Spencer nodded, swallowing thickly. Really good friends.”

“Some might even say best friends.” Diana shook her head in amusement. “Sorry my memory is not what it used to be. So you met at work?”

“Yeah, I’ve been at the BAU for almost three years now.” Luke answered. 

“What did you do before?” 

“Mom, it’s not the Spanish Inquisition.” Spencer scolded her. 

“It’s ok.” Luke laughed with a shake of his head. “Before the BAU I worked for the Fugitive Task Force, man hunting I suppose. And before that I was in the military, the 75th Rangers.”

“You served overseas?” 

“Yeah, I did a tour in Iraq and a couple in Afghanistan.” 

“Your father was a soldier.” Diana didn’t ask, she stated. She always had been good at reading people. 

“He was, yes.” Luke smiled, so many things about Spencer making so much sense now he’d met his mother. 

“Ok, can we stop grilling my friend now?” Spencer interjected. 

“It’s not grilling, Crash, it’s getting to know him. He’s clearly important to you.” Diana spoke like she was speaking to a small child. 

Spencer couldn’t help the blush that spread to his cheeks and he tried to hide it from Luke and looked down at his lap. 

“Yeah he’s important to me, he’s my friend.” He emphasised the last word. 

“Do you know you’re the first “friend” Spencer has ever brought to meet me?” She used air quotes around the word friend and Spencer wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Mom!” He cried in exasperation. 

“What? It’s true.” She shrugged, not perturbed by Spencer’s tone. 

Thankfully their drinks were brought over and Spencer managed to direct the conversation onto literature and what she’d been reading lately. 

Luke took a backseat just content to listen. Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with him anymore and Luke didn’t know why. He thought he was missing something but he just couldn’t pinpoint what. 

**

After a few hours of conversation with Diana she started to get tired and the boys decided to let her rest. Spencer excused himself to use the bathroom before the drive back into the city. 

Once they were alone together, Diana’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Luke. 

“So you must be the one.” She clapped her hands together in excitement. 

“The one?” Luke’s brows knitted together. 

“The one in Spencer’s letters!” She looked so pleased, not deterred by Luke’s obvious confusion. “Oh I must have hundreds of them detailing this mystery person. But it has to be you. You’re the best friend my son is in love with.” 

Luke felt his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at the older woman in shock. The combination of the schizophrenia and altzeimers often made her confused, that’s all this was. Luke just had to be delicate in how he approached this, not wanting to call her crazy to her face. 

“Uh…I don’t think so.” He tried to laugh it off. “Maybe you’re mistaken?”

“Oh no, Spencer is very clear in his letters about being in love with his best friend. A member of the team.” She leant forward, her elbows on her knees. 

“Uh…he might be talking about JJ. Definitely not me.” Luke shook his head. 

“My son is incredibly smart.”

“He is.” Luke agreed. 

“If he were talking about a woman he would have said she. But in every single letter he used gender neutral pronouns. He wouldn’t do that unless…” she trailed off, eyes sparkling at Luke. 

“Spencer isn’t…I uh, I don’t think that he’s…” he scratched the back of his neck. 

“Don’t worry, dear. He never came out to me either. But a mother always knows.” She tapped the side of her nose. 

Before Luke could reply, not that he knew how to reply, Spencer returned, offering Luke a smile. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Luke nodded, pushing himself to his feet. “It was nice to meet you Mrs Reid.” 

“Oh please,” she smirked, standing and pulling Luke into a tight embrace. “Call me Diana.” 

Spencer hugged his mom goodbye and soon the two were leaving again. They made it out to the front of the building and as Spencer was heading towards the parking lot, Luke’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“Your mom told me about your letters.” 

Spencer’s back straightened and he took a breath before he slowly turned back to face Luke. 

“Letters?” He tried to buy himself some time. 

“Yeah.” Luke took a few steps closer to him. “The ones where you told her about your best friend who you're in love with.” 

“Ah.” Spencer sighed. “Those letters.” 

“I tried to tell her it was probably just JJ.” Luke looked suddenly serious, his jaw set. 

“Uh yeah.” Spencer nodded. “You got me. I’m in love with JJ. Really awkward, please don’t tell anyone.” 

Spencer turned to leave again but then Luke’s hand was circling his wrist, keeping him in place. 

“You didn’t use gender specific pronouns.” 

“So?” 

“So why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Spencer shook his head. It was no wonder Luke was so good at getting criminals to confess to their crimes because he was making Spencer want to confess too. 

“Yeah, you do.” Luke shrugged. “You never told me you were gay.” 

“I…I’m…not?” Spencer sighed, scrunching his nose. “Bisexual maybe? I don’t really know what I’d call it, which I guess is why I’ve never told anyone.” 

“So you’re in love with a guy, who is your best friend and that you work with?” Luke clarified. 

“It would seem so.” Spencer felt his heart start to race. “And I inadvertently outed myself to my mother and then to you. So it’s a good day to be me.” 

“I mean that only leaves three people.” Luke’s brow furrowed. “You’re not that close to Matt, and I would think Rossi was too old for you.” 

“Would you believe me at all if I said it was Anderson?” 

“Your mom didn’t know my name.” Luke seemed to ignore him, stepping even closer to him. “Your mom didn’t know my name because you never mentioned it did you? You spoke about me but never said my name.” 

“Fuck,” Spencer hung his head. “Fine, the secrets out, ok? God I didn’t even think she was reading those letters!”

Luke swallowed and raised his hand to cup Spencer’s jaw, lifting his face so he would look at him. 

“What are you trying to say, Spence?” 

Spencer tried to ignore the way his heart did a cartwheel at the way Luke was touching him and the use of his nickname. 

“Please just keep in mind that I don’t want to lose you ok? You’re one of my best friends and I don’t want things to be weird between us.” Tears swam in his eyes. 

“Just say it.” Luke croaked. 

“I…goddamnit,” his first tear fell. “I’m in love with you, Luke. I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” Luke kept his hand on Spencer’s face. 

“Because I just ruined our friendship, right?” 

Luke surprised him when he laughed, moving even closer still to him. 

“You know you aren’t the only one who talks to their mom about their secret crush?” Luke chuckled with a shake of his head. “Only I’m not shy in mentioning his name.” 

“You…I…I don’t understand.” Spencer mumbled. 

“Yes you do.” Luke laughed again. “You’re a genius right?” 

“Quantifiably.” 

“Well then, what are the facts telling you, Spence? All those times I asked you out for drinks, the way I can’t keep my eyes off of you when you’re in a room. The way I can’t stop looking at your lips right now…” Luke inhaled sharply. “What do those things tell you?” 

“I…I have a theory.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Hmm.” Spencer nodded. 

“Wanna test it out?” 

“Most definitely.” 

Luke chuckled again before closing the small space between them, and still keeping his hand cupped around Spencer’s jaw, he kissed him. 

Spencer whimpered against Luke’s lips, his knees buckling beneath him. The kiss was gentle but filled with so much longing it almost took Spencer’s breath away. 

It was only brief and when Luke pulled away he was smiling at Spencer from ear to ear. 

“I love you too, by the way.” He shrugged. 

Spencer made another whimpering sound and couldn’t help himself but lean in and kiss Luke again, slightly deeper this time. Luke wrapped him in his arms and held him close. 

“A chuisle mo chroi.” Spencer mumbled against his lips. 

“What is that?” Luke replied. 

“It’s Irish. Don’t worry about it.” 

Luke chuckled, kissing him again before leaning his forehead against Spencer’s. 

“Mi vida.” Luke whispered, stroking back Spencer’s messy hair. 

“I speak Spanish, you know? Mi vida means my life, romantically speaking.” 

“Of course you do.” Luke’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

Spencer let out a small sigh, running his fingers up Luke’s strong bicep, over his shoulder blade and over the base of his neck. 

“A chuisle mo chroi. The pulse of my heart.” He confessed, causing Luke to kiss him once more, so passionately Spencer felt as though he was floating. 

From the window, Diana smiled to herself as she watched the two men on the sidewalk, her heart soaring for her son. She continued to watch for a moment or two, a warm, fuzzy feeling enveloping her as she leant against the window frame and whispered to herself, “A mother always knows.” 

[violetlunette]

Do you still like Erasermic? Is there anything you dislike about this ship?

Oh, I still adore Erasermic! I love the dynamic in canon when they’re together, and I think there’s a lot of potential and fun fanon-wise.

Notes: *Very slight Shinsou critical and Eri Critical (very slight) *A bit lengthy *All opinion based

Erasermic is my favorite pairing of BNHA (with Erasernight as a close second). I love how on the surface they’re opposites but when you look at them they have a lot in common;

They both value their loved ones more than anything and are protective of them, are more intelligent than others give them credit for, and both like cats. They are both passive (Mic more than Aizawa, as the latter will take the lead if placed in a position where he has to), and both wear black. (They also have similar smiles.)

While not often seen, the two share respect and admiration for one another. Mic admires Aizawa’s underdog tendencies and how he overcomes his weaknesses. Mic, on other hand, is the only Aizawa actively reaches out to for help, such as watching over his kids at the hospital and getting the doctor to help Oboro. (He also has a fair knowledge of Hizashi’s skills.) And the opposite traits are a good contrast like how gold stands out against black and vice versa which can be fun for conflict and whatnot.

What I don’t like? Well, petty things out of the way first;

I don’t like how, in fanon, Shinsou and Eri are always the Erasemic kids. In fact, I hate it. Shinsou is too much like Aizawa to be interesting, and I just don’t like him personality-wise. Eri is a character that I don’t like for meta reasons (she just has too many writing tropes that I hate). And on top of that, there's nothing character-wise to build on. I can buy Aizawa as an uncle to Eri, but that’s it. (Plus, big brother Mirio is superior and one of the few good things that came of the Overhaul Arc.)

The reason I like the Class 1-A kids as the Erasermic children (with a few exceptions) is they all have their own personalities and can offer far more interesting interactions with both parties. (Again, in my opinion. This is clearly a matter of different tastes.)

I also dislike how fanon seems to play up Hizashi as being a pure-hearted beam of sunshine, who is always happy and just a saint. Don’t get me wrong Mic has a good heart and is caring toward others but he’s not a saint. He plays favorites, he’s petty at times, he holds grudges, he gets bitter, and he’s willing to kill to protect the ones he loves.

And while we’re on the subject, Aizawa isn’t a saint either. Again, he has a good heart, but he’s more than willing to torture someone and—in his own words-- “deal with things quietly.” Don’t get me wrong, those things are a last resort but they are willing to do what they have to.

I also dislike it when they overpower Mic. Yes, he has a powerful quirk and can throw a mean punch, but in hand-to-hand combat, Aizawa can take him. (Also, fanfic writers screw this up, but Mic’s quirk is VOICE. This means that it’s always active, so when Aizawa uses erasure it MUTES him. It doesn't turn the volume down or force him to talk normally. A minor annoyance, but still.)

But I’m getting way off topic.

The major problem I have with the pair is that’s in canon is that Mic has to do all the legwork in their relationship. Mic is the one always reaching out, offering comfort, offering support that’s physical, emotional, and mental. Yet on the few occasions, he reaches out and wants the same support, he’s shot down. And don’t misunderstand, I’m not saying that Aizawa is a bad friend and I get why he tends to shoot Mic down at times. Mic can take care of himself most of the time, and the times he reaches out are times when Aizawa isn’t able to deal with his own pain, so he’s not able to offer the comfort Hizashi needs. I just wish we got to see more of Aizawa reaching out and being a friend to Hizashi, showing he cares. Right now we get snippets that he appreciates him, but even then Mic is lumped in with Oboro.

When he thinks about what he wants to protect he thinks of a young Hizashi with Oboro. Then the one time he reaches out to Mic he turns it to saving Oboro. Then later, when Aizawa’s talking to Mic and requests that Mic help Koda and Shoji, he’s also requesting he protect Oboro as well.

And I get it with all three, I do;

In the first scene, he’s thinking back to the time he was happiest and in the second, they had just come back from seeing Kurogiri and were talking about the hospital raid (and he makes sure to say that if Mic goes, he’ll go too). And with the third, again, it was the situation.

However, what I want is to see Aizawa caring about Mic and Mic alone, like we see Mic caring about Aizawa. Right now, he seems to be lumped with Oboro in Aizawa’s mind.

And again, Mic does more for Aizawa than the latter does for him. Seriously, if you think about it the scale is very unbalanced.

So, to sum it up;

Fanon things I don’t like about Erasermic:

*Shinsou and Eri as their kids (they don’t appeal to me as characters, and the interactions they, in canon or can have potentially, are meh with both.)

*Hizashi and Aizawa are too out of character or too saintified (or bastardized in some cases)

“Canon” things I don’t like about Erasermic:

*Mic does all the lifting in the relationship

*At times it looks like Aizawa is always mentally lumping Hizashi with Oboro. (Very minor and overthinking.)