#case in point i was supposed to answer this two hours ago but ended up pacing for all those hours instead （；´д｀）

[todayisafridaynight]

YEAH totally understandable, I have a zillion WIPs lying around for the same reason... I of course eagerly await whatever you decide on though! Also I have actually read it like four or five times lol it is a huge comfort and I was feeling down + still trying to write something at length about both fics so have to revisit them at least on occasion

AT LEAST FOUR TIMES i aint got any words other than thanky ou fro enjoyin the fic so much !! ♪(´▽｀)♪(´▽｀)

[two-white-butterflies]

love by listening | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen goes rogue after his wedding to Lady Rhea Royce, unwilling to consummate the marriage. He finds peace in a Dornish tavern. You meet him in said tavern, and quickly become close friends. You share an adventure. Both unaware that the other person is nobility.

graphics from @saradika-graphics

Pairing: princess of dorne!reader/daemon targaryen

Warning: brief making love (not sex, making love)

A/N: I wanted it to give Dunk and Egg vibes. Reader is bubbly and talkative/has her own ambitions. She does what she wants bcs she's all about that high life. Set in Dorne + young daemon targaryen. open ending.

Daemon didn't believe in gods. He doesn't care about the punishment he'll be given after this. A few hours ago, he was forced to go through the wedding with Lady Rhea Royce. In his opinion, she was not an attractive bride. She was lucky to have come from nobility for she had a basic peasant bitch face.

Despite her odd looks, benevolent Daemon still went through with the marriage. He held his tongue, wanted to make his brother proud - but then they started talking about the bedding ceremony, and Daemon knew that he had to get the hell away from there.

Where did that bring him?

To Caraxes, to flying towards Dorne - and drinking inside of a tavern.

"It's the first time I've seen a foreigner in these parts." your voice breaks him free from his thoughts. He was about to swat you away, but a single look at your face changed his mind.

Beautiful.

There were a lot of pretty maidens in Dorne - but you were one of the most beautiful ones so far. "I did not bring any gold." he warned, under the impression that you were a whore. "Gods, I have no intention of fucking you." you lied, quickly sitting beside him.

"The first time I saw a cock. It was disgusting. I actually vowed to only fuck women after that." you smiled at the memory. Reaching for his ale, and taking a drink of it. "- I suppose I never upheld that promise. Women are beautiful but we are too wet for my taste. Men are just lovely and dry, and they are easier to toy with." you giggle.

He could smell the alcohol on your breath.

You were the first maiden he's seen to speak in that manner. He wonders if the maidens back home are like this too, if it weren't for archaic beliefs silencing their true thoughts. Dorne was a magical fucking place. It was how the rest of the six kingdoms needed to be.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asks, his face stoic just in case you had some tricks up your sleeve.

"Well, you are alone." you pointed out. "- and I am alone. Shouldn't two vagabonds protect each other?" you tilted your head.

"What makes you think that I am alone?" he inquires.

"I've been watching you for quite some time now, love. Are you going to give me your name?" you asked in return, continuing to stare deep into his purple eyes - drawing him closer like a siren to the waves. "I'd like to remain an enigma." he answers, matching your mysteriousness.

He finds himself hypnotized by your eyes. Eyes that were lined with kohl. "I won't share my name too, to be fair." you smiled, and now his attention was drawn towards your lips. Stained red with rouge.

The tension between you was palpable. He felt like a moth to a flame. Allured by this beautiful fire. Leaving only one question in his head: will he burn? Fire cannot harm a dragon. He reminds.

His hands reached for the small of your waist. A sudden boldness. He plays with the textured embroidery of your tunic. Pulling you closer to his body, until you were almost sitting on his lap.

"What will I call you?" he frowned, teasing you.

"Think of something witty." you insisted, fingers dancing along the details of his clothed tunic.

"Gevives, then." he settles on a suitable name. "I am relieved that you find me beautiful, love." you laugh, hands trailing upwards to his collar - pulling him closer until your lips were bridged together.

He melts into the kiss, hands firmly wrapped around your waist. He'd be so easy to poison. But alas, you weren't here to kill him.

He presses you against your bed - the first time he's felt lust in a while. If this was going to be a one-time thing, then he'll be thinking about you until the day he died. He's already placed this encounter in his three best fucks. The way that you looked beneath him, he can almost see himself thirty years later still jerking off to you.

You are fucking beautiful.

Naked - and vulnerable against him.

His hands danced along the curve of your waist, delighted at the smoothness of your skin. You reach for his face, cupping his cheek tenderly - staring at him with fascination. "You are so beautiful, like an illusion." you whispered in a voice that makes him want to sleep.

He positions his member at the entrance of your core.

"So good," you cooed - feeling him begin to thrust. You continued staring at each other, that connection remained unbreakable. "Keep going," you whispered, he couldn't help but smile. So talkative, even when making sweet love. "Gevie," he smiles.

Daemon wakes up to the feeling of light on his exposed skin. He lets out a yawn, rubbing his eyes so it adjusts to the brightness of the room quicker. He takes a deep breath - as he remembers what happened last night.

Last night, he fucked a goddess.

He turns to look at your sleeping form.

Beautiful even when sleeping, he thought.

He was thankful that he commanded Caraxes to return to the Red Keep.

He had no responsibility. None but you.

"Good morrow," you greeted, voice still hoarse from last night. "Good morrow," he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist. This type of touch was foreign to him. He's never wrapped his arms around someone after making love.

It felt domestic. Like how marriage was supposed to be.

"I suppose this is where our paths diverge." he says, unwilling to sound needy. But in actuality, he never wants to leave. He wants to stay like this forever. Inside of an inn, with his arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Not so soon. I think we should still walk together." you hum, pulling him closer to your body until he was laying on your chest.

"I've made the observation that you have a lot of time on your hands." you breathed, his ears pressed against your chest - listening to your heartbeat.

"Your observation is correct." he confirms.

He had the face of a dangerous man. It was a risk to be in a stranger's company, but your heart told you that he could be trusted. He felt like you - exactly like you.

You kept staring at his body. His toned muscles and broad shoulder. "Are you a knight?" you asked, reminded of the tourney in Starfall.

"I am," he answers truthfully, praying that it was something that you liked about men.

"There is a tournament in Starfall. The prize is a dragon egg." you informed, mind already focused towards the next adventure.

"I shall win a dragon egg for you, then." he announces. He finds no harm in having a little adventure with a maiden. He has won all the tourneys he's attended, after all. "Really? I wanted to steal it." you say.

He responds with a chuckle, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. How dare you steal his heart. "Why steal it when you can have it fair and square?" he asked teasingly.

You continued staring at his face, a look that was indescribable. "I like the sound of that," you smile - pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Ashara's lips pressed into a thin line. "What god has possessed you to bring a man inside of Starfall?" she scolded, leading you and Daemon towards a secluded part of the tourney. "He is my paramour." you announce, your grip remains firm on his hand.

"Your father will kill him." she says plainly. "- a Targaryen bastard, a scandal waiting to emerge." she scoffs.

Daemon's expression softens, quickly turning into amusement.

Do they all believe me to be a bastard? Apologies, I am legitimate, he thinks, but he decides to bite those words back, lest he be sent back to the Red Keep.

"I did not come here as my father's daughter. I came here under a disguise." you reminded, pulling the grey hood up until it was hiding your face. "You shouldn't have come here, anyways. You'll get me into trouble with mine own father." she glared at you.

"I'm sorry Ashara but we won't be bothering you. We merely want to join the tourney and win the dragon-egg." you say out loud, but she silences you with a finger to your lips.

"The prize remains a mystery to those in the audience. Only the competitors truly know. The Targaryens will be furious, we will be answered with fire and blood." Ashara reminds and you nod silently.

"- I'm sorry, I'll stay out of your way. I promise. Now, can you please lead us to the tents?" you ask and the other woman nods, pointing at the white tents in the far distance.

"Thank you," you smile politely - still holding his hand and dragging him to the direction of the other knights.

You paid a squire a decent amount of money to use their armor. Daemon was quick to wear it, but he still missed his sword. The Dark Sister, previously wielded by Queen Visenya. "I've never fought against this much Dornish men before." he breathes.

He had his experience fighting a few of them. They were good warriors, though not good enough to defeat him. "We fight like rattlesnakes, that's what my father always says." you say, placing the last piece of his armor on his body.

"You haven't been here for that long, huh?" you made another observation, and he nods. Though he still keeps his identity a secret.

"I grew up in Kingslanding. My mother died giving birth, and my father died of a burst belly." he chuckles - laughing his sorrows away.

"Prince Baelon is your father." you say with certainty, piecing the information together. "- he would've made a wonderful King." you add, basing off the stories that your father shared.

"I think it is your turn to speak about your past, gevives. And I've spent enough time around you to understand that you aren't lowborn." he urges while adjusting his straps.

"How did you come to that understanding?" you inquired, curious of his way of thinking.

His hands danced along your exposed arm.

"Your skin is smooth like silk." he says, like he was praying. His hands trailed upwards, until his fingers were on your chin. "- and you take good care of your beauty." he finishes - and he stops touching you.

"My father is a nobleman. I am his youngest child, the only daughter after six boys. Which means that I've been exposed to leeches using me ever since I was born. I ran away from them. I can't trust anyone, but I think I can trust you." you reveal pieces of your past to him, unwilling to give him the full information.

He was the first person that called you beautiful without knowledge of your vast fortune. And now he was here, promising to win a tourney just so you'd see a dragon-egg for the first time.

"Six brothers, like the princess of dorne." he teases.

"Mhm," you hummed - freezing.

"Ser, get ready." a squire peeks his head through the tent. Daemon stands up, and offers his hand for you take - helping you stand up.

"Thank you," you smile, regaining your composure.

"I promise to win, my lady." he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

Daemon won the tourney with ease, any knight that dared to fight against him didn't even last five minutes. All of his fights ended the same. He'd strike them down, the opponent would be on the ground and Daemon would only look to the next competitor.

You continued watching him.

Observing every little thing that he's doing. It was evident that there was a piece of the puzzle that you haven't solved yet. A knight as skilled as him should be renowned, and yet the only information you have on him - is that he is the bastard son of Prince Baelon.

He was an interesting mystery.

"The winner of our tourney, Ser..." Ashara rises, only beginning to realize that none of them knew the name of this skilled knight. Your best friend turns to look at you, but you answer with a shrug. It was a little game between you and Daemon - neither one knowing that the other one's real name is.

"Ser Daemon," he opened his mouth - meeting your gaze.

He added the last piece of the puzzle, and your face was struck with eureka. Prince Daemon Targaryen, you thought immediately. "Congratulations, Ser Daemon. Please claim your prize behind the tents." Ashara nodded.

"The audience was complaining, the tourney wasn't entertaining for them." you open the conversation, stepping foot inside of the tent. "I suppose it isn't entertaining when only one person wins." you smirk.

He holds the dragon-egg in his hands. "I promised that I'd win." he answers, patting the empty space beside him. "Here's your dragon-egg, my lady." he chuckles. You gladly sit beside him, laying your head on his shoulder and marveling at the beauty of the egg.

"You are Prince Daemon Targaryen." you announced, confirming your previous suspicions. "I am," he finds himself unable to lie.

"- I think it is only fair that I know your name too, my lady." he adds.

An amused smile paints your lips.

"I am Princess (Your Name) Martell. I can't believe that we meet under these circumstances." you laugh.

A prince and a princess meeting inside of a tavern instead of a castle. Even beginning to fall in love without the pressure of their respective kingdoms. It was something out of a fable.

Daemon reaches for your hand, placing it on top of the dragon-egg. "It is an honor to meet you, my princess." he acknowledges.

[macabr3-barbi3]

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed. 

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh. 

Right over his head. 

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring. 

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you. 

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of. 

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him. 

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed  Val coming into a room. 

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants. 

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with. 

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“ 

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. 

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

[avaf00rd]

Behind the scenes

Leah Williamson x matildas!reader

Tiny little blurb I wrote last minute as I rewatched the show

“Hello you” you grinned as you opened the front door, a smiley Leah behind it with her large suitcase and England hoodie on. The Disney plus camera crew behind you. Pretending as if Leah had just gotten home from England camp and you hadn’t seen her yet. Well she had, about an hour ago though.

You grabbed the suitcase from her hand, and pulled her in from her other free wrist, placing a short kiss on her lips and hugging her tight. “How was it?” You asked excitedly whilst you both made your way to your living room.

“Yeah really good, great to see everyone” your girlfriend explained to you leaning against the large book case near your couch. “Plane was quicker than I thought though, only like an hour and a half”

The camera still following both of you “oh yeah wow that’s not bad at all”

“Suppose I had it a bit better than you travel wise” she chuckled, folding her arms now. Nothing to your 20 hours of travel to and from Australia for your own international camp.

“Certainly” you laughed back with Leah.

“Ladies that was actually really great for a first take so we probably won’t need to do that again. We’ll now just get you both on the couch so we can talk to you both” one of the members of the camera said, holding a clip board and directing his crew to your living room

Leah sat down on the shared couch with you following suit behind. Plopping down next to your girlfriend as she put an arm around you, legs intertwined at the end of the couch.

“You guys wanna stay like this for the clips?-“

“Yes” you nodded fast, as people in the room laughed at your certainty.

“Leah can you tell me a bit about y/n. Like how she is as a person but also a teammate?” The same man asked from behind the camera. They would get her answers and these shots for the docu-series.

It be out on Disney plus just months before the World Cup begins, to help Australia get more of an insight into their team and the players

Leah looked down at you, as you shot her a smile before she started “y/n is such a hard worker. I’ve never met anyone like her. Very funny person to have a laugh with…or laugh at” she nodded

You rolled your eyes “saw that coming”

Leah did one of her wide smiles where her cheeks would go so high and her nose would scrunch up which made you melt completely, “so leading onto that she’s a bit clumsy”

“Not all the time” you mumbled

“Everyone at Arsenal calls her the princess though. Because she’s just the sweetheart of the team, who cares about her team so so much and we get to see that every day here in London” you smiled to yourself as you looked down at the couch while Leah spoke about you to the cameras

“Do you just completely hate this?” Leah laughed

“No keep going” you nodded, making her laugh. Leah often got the sense you got all flustered and embarrassed when she spoke about you so well, to other people when you are in the room.

“Y/n what’s it like getting to train each day and play games with your partner?” The producer asked me

“Yeah I’m extremely blessed, I would say, to be able to basically spend every hour of the day with her. And to put on the Arsenal badge and play for our fans with my favourite person is a bit of a win each weekend for me”

“We’re assuming you two meet through Arsenal?” He asked

“Yeah we met at Arsenal when I transferred back in 2019. And then I went on loan to Barca for a season, but then…yeah I came back-“

“And then y/n asked me out!” Leah cut you off with a grin

“Um okay it was kind of you” you looked up at her with a shake of your head.

“Kinda both of us in a way?” Leah shrugged to camera. Which you just shook your head, to said camera.

“They aren’t gonna understand that” you pointed with both arms to the camera, you and Leah now giggling. You both said a few more things they had asked you before the filming stopped.

“Thanks girls! We will see you tomorrow afternoon for more shots, have a great night, hope we didn’t take up too much of your time” a different lady had said now, as she helped her crew pack up some small equipment.

“Not at all!”

————————————————————————

Being one of the few people in your Matilda’s squad who had been apart of the team for over 11 years, you had been in quite a few scenes in the docu-series. Alongside Steph Catley, Sam Kerr, Caitlin Foord, and more. You got the opportunity to talk about your family’s background in the sport and growing up with the Matilda’s, as well as preparations to win the World Cup.

This morning you had done some scenes at the training centre for your club, along with Cait and Steph as you all talked about playing for Arsenal.

The cameras were with you once again, as Now Leah sat on a small picnic blanket in your local park, late afternoon, where you would often bring your dog, Denny, you were trying to get him to run with the ball at his fist like he was about to shoot.

Leah threw her head back laughing hysterically as you fell over your feet once again, tripping on your own dog, in another attempt to get him to play football. “It’s not going to work” she shouted

“He’ll do it Leah just wait!” You shouted back laughing as you kept trying. When you made it back to the picnic blanket, you did what you were asked to do by the crew which was talk about playing each other in the World Cup.

“I always say it but I really really hope both our teams make it to the final, but I don’t think I could handle versing you in a heated game like that”

“You do it all the time though. We’ve had so many heated games against each other”

“Yeah but a World Cup final though…Hopefully one of us will be out by then” Leah shrugged, looking at you from her position on the rug with her knees tucked to her chest

“Hopefully England” you shrugged back

“No I was joking. I hope both teams are” she laughed once again.

“I think the friendly coming up against England just before the World Cup should be good.” You said as Leah nodded “Most players who will be in the World Cup squad should hopefully be in there so we get a full feel of not just the other team but hopefully our own squads”

“Yeah for sure” Leah said

“I can sense you two have a small rivalry in your own house hold” someone’s behind the camera commented

“Mm I don’t know” Leah grinned as you just laughed

“You know it’s true”

———————————

I’m pretty negative about fics like these that I write. Cause I hate this. But honestly it’s due to some of the recent think about my writing my inbox🫠🫠

So please. If you’re not a fan of it, click out of it!

Luv u all

[midnightbluebells03]

Ellie x easily distracted reader ><

DISTRACTED

Ellie pic from here

CW - oral (r receving)

WC - about 1.3k

Readers physical appearance isn't described (I think)

I think this went a lil left field, so sorry about that!! Leave me any Abby or Ellie requests x

I wrote this super quick cause I've got a concert to get ready for but hope yall like it

When you had asked Ellie to come over and help you study you were fully convinced that it would be a good idea. Afterall she was the smartest person you knew, majoring in astrophysics and being genuinely good with math. But now it seems like it was anything but.

Your girlfriend is sitting so close to you, your thighs are grazing together, those glasses you love perched on her nose and her veiny hands point to the pages in your text book.

How were you supposed to pay attention?

"So just take x, which in this case is 57" she starts to walk you through another question. Even though just ten minutes ago she had to pause because you had lost focus. Starting to doodle on the margins of your notebook and look around your room. Hands restleslly fidgeting with the sheets underneath you. Now your focus was on the textbook. Well on the hands running across the text book anyway. Close enough right?

You had to fight every urge to trace your fingers over her tattoo, to pull two of her fingers into your mouth and just-

"Hey" Ellie's voice snaps you out your trace. "Babe are you listening?" Her eyebrows furrowed slightly and you can't help but feel guilty. The heat rushing to your cheeks as you nod timidly, knowing full well you have no idea how to do this. "What's the answer then?".

"Umm...12?" Ellie shakes her head and closes the book over.

"39" she sounds defeated and you sigh softly, covering your face with your hands. A frustrated groan leaves your lips.

"I'm sorry Els I just...I don't get it"

Ellie's hands come to your wrists, pulling them down softly. You look at her and she just smiles. You're a little shocked. You had expected her to be at least a little annoyed, you two had been at it for hours and you still couldn't keep focused. But no she's as soft as ever.

"Think you're just distracted baby" her eyes dart down from your own to your chest, making you swallow hard. Your tight tanktop letting her see a peak of your cleavage, your skin that's just begging for her to mark it. "Want me to make it better?" Her tone has switched, to that cocky, teasing one that makes you weak. You nod and reach for her cheeks but she stops you. "Words babe"

"Please?" You say quietly, Ellie moves closer to you. Cupping one of your cheeks in her hand as she starts to close the gap between you two. Only pausing when she's an inch away from your lips.

"But right after-"

"I'll keep studying, promise" you inturput, running your hands up her thighs. Feeling the rough denim of her jeans under your fingertips. Your lips connect and your melt into her touch. Your hand coming to the back of her head to deepen the kiss. When you two pull back her glasses fall onto the bed and make you giggle. Picking them up to place them on your bedside. "Don't wanna break them again"

One of the first times you had made out Ellie's glasses were an unfortunate victim. Ending with her needing to tape them together until she could buy a new pair, refusing to let you help her pay.

But once you place the glasses down you can't help but glance at your phone. Noticing all the notifications that had been piling up since you started studying. "Baby?" Ellie's hand on your thigh makes you whip your head back around.

"Hmm?"

She tilts her head towards your desk just across the room. "Go sit" you open your mouth to question her but she cuts you off with a peck. "Just do it"

You do as she asks and seat yourself down on your desk chair. Swiveling in at as you watch Ellie move your notebook, pen and textbook infront of you. "Els I thought we were gonna....yknow" you pout, feeling her hand rest on your shoulder.

"We are baby" she picks up the pen and scribbles down some numbers, you watch as she does and frown when you reliase shes writing you an equation. "Just need you to solve this problem okay?" You groan but nod, watching as Ellie drops to her knees infront of you. Her hands spreading your thighs apart. "I'm just gonna go down here" she plucks at the waistband of your sleep shorts. Signaling you to pull them off, along with your panties. You feel your face get hot as she pulls you closer. "Once you solve it, then you can cum"

You look at the problem and you just sigh. "Els I cant"

"Yes you can baby" she starts to trail soft kisses up your inner thighs. "Cmon you know this" she licks a strip from your hole to your clit. Making you grip the desk hard. You can practically feel her smiling into you as her tounge starts to circle your clit in slow circles.

Instead of fighting it you pick up your pen and try to tackle the problem. Hoping to get it done soon because all you want is to grab onto Ellie's hair and grinding yourself down onto her. But you know better than to test her. She was soft sure but she could be mean when she wanted.

It's almost painful how slow her tounge is moving, purposely not trying to distract you. Just enough to make you drip. Your eyebrows are knitted as you stare at the mess of numbers infront of you but after a few more minutes you give up. Scribbling down the answer you got to before tapping Ellie's head. "Done" you say softly, chewing on your lip as Ellie moves back. Sticking her hand out for you to give her the paper. You can't help but pick at your nails as you watch her read it over.

"Babe"

"I know it's wrong but Ellie plea-"

"You got it" she cuts you off, looking up at you with a huge smile. "X equals 16" the paper gets dropped to the floor as Ellie wraps her arms around your thighs. Burrying herself in your pussy like she was the one being teased. She always did treat it like her last meal. "So fucking smart baby" she mumbles between borderline making out with your pussy. Making you moan loudly as your back arches off the chair.

"Fuck Ellie" your hand gets wrapped in her hair. Messing up the bun she had thrown it into this morning. You hadn't realised how close you were, how worked up her teasing had gotten you. Not until your thighs were shaking around her head and threaning to close. Only stopped by her strong grip keeping you open. "Can I cum? Ellie please?" You start to whine, hips jerking up when she pulls back. Trying to chase her mouth.

"Yeah baby make a fucking mess on my face" she kisses your clit "you earned it, such a good girl for me". She barley gives you time to thank her before diving back between your legs. Tounge swirling around you clit when her nails dig into your thighs. Making you moan so loud you're worried about your neighbours. But the knot in your stomach is building, your eyes starting to roll back.

"Ellie!" You moan loudly as your orgasm rushes through you. Nothing but the sounds of you babbling her name echoing in the room. She let's you ride it out. Only stopping when you slump back into the chair with heavy breaths.

"Think you can go again baby?" Ellie looks up at you, your cum dripping down her chin "we gotta get you prepared for the test"

After a few seconds of catching your breath you nod, watching her scribble another problem down. You were going to past this test, even if it meant you were going to be so fucked out you can't think straight.

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Guilt

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Y/n lies unconscious in a hospital bed while Spencer drowns in guilt. You had felt that Spencer was cheating on you with Maeve and were going to stay with someone else before you got shot. Finding this out causes Spencer to snap and lash out at one of his closest friends.

Part 2

Word Count: 2,866

A/N: This has been a WIP for years! It was apart of a series with my own OC but I decided to change it to a Reader fic. The amount of WIPs I have is ridiculous!!!!!

Spencer sat at Y/n's hospital bed in silence. Tears were continuously streaming down his face, his breaths were shaky and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your unmoving face. 

There was a tube coming out of your mouth to help your breathing. So many different wires were coming out of your body and attached to multiple beeping machines. 

He was holding your right hand in both of his, your skin wasn’t freezing cold but it was colder than he prefers it to be. 

You had only came out of surgery half an hour ago but they won’t know if it was successful until you wake up. Which could be between the next few seconds and never.  

Never was something Spencer was trying his hardest not to think about. 

There was so much he needed to tell you. So many things he had to say. 

The last time you were together you had fought. You told him that he’s been speaking to Maeve too much and that he's been ignoring you. Spending more time with this woman. 

Spencer had told you that you were being ridiculous and then you had to go on a case and Spencer never got the chance to talk anymore about it. 

You had been furious at him and now Spencer was angry at himself as well. 

He had called you ridiculous for coming to him about your feelings. This resulted in you refusing to be his partner in the field. Which led to you going with Morgan. Which ended in you getting shot. 

This is when Spencer’s brain began connecting things that didn’t match up. 

If he had listened to you he could’ve gotten you out of harm’s way. 

Not speaking to Maeve meant you wouldn’t have fought and you never would’ve been shot. 

He was supposed to protect you. 

It should be him lying there. Not his sweet girl. 

There was a knock on the door and Spencer barely reacted as Garcia and Emily came in. 

“Hey, how is she doin’?” Emily asked softly. 

Spencer turned his head a little towards them, “She... uh.” His voice cracked and he cleared it before trying again, “They said everything went well but we won’t know the damage until she wakes up.” 

Garcia's eyes watered as she stared at your body. “When will she wake up?” 

Spencer's eyes filled with tears, a sad smile forming as he squeezed your hand, “When she’s ready.” 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to see that it was Maeve. 

Again.  

Along with the twenty missed calls from Maeve.  

He rubbed his eyes before pressing answer, “Spencer Reid.” 

“Oh my God. Spencer, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Are you alright?” 

This statement didn’t sit well in his stomach.  

If you miss an appointment with your doctor, they don’t leave twenty missed calls on your phone.  

They wait for you to reschedule. 

He glanced at the other two women who were trying their best not to listen in. Although Garcia was looking particularly peeved about something.  

Then he glanced down at you and any words he was going to say to Maeve turned to ash in his mouth. He felt sick.  

Now he understood what you meant. 

“Now, isn’t a good time. I’ll call you next week.” He didn’t wait for a response before he ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. 

Garcia shifted uncomfortably, “Was... was that her?” 

“Who?” Spencer’s brain wasn’t even functioning at 20%. He couldn’t think things through clearly. 

“Doctor Maeve.” Garcia mocked. 

Spencer frowned, “Yes. Why?” 

Emily gave Penelope a pointed look. 

A look that did not go unnoticed by Spencer, “What? What is it?” 

Emily put her hands up in a calming gesture, as if trying to approach a cornered animal. “Spencer. You must understand, we don’t mean to pry but Y/n spoke to Morgan and he didn’t know what to do so he told Garcia, who told me.” 

Spencer rubbed his eyes for the fourth time in ten minutes, he did not have the energy for this, “Told you what? What are you talking about?” Spencer was getting agitated now. Why can’t they just tell him? He hated not getting to the point. 

“Well, Y/n came to Morgan two weeks ago and was quite upset.” 

Spencer frowned as he looked at you again. Two weeks ago? You didn’t seem upset two weeks ago. 

“She had some concerns about this doctor that you’ve been speaking to.” Emily explained. 

Garcia huffed, “She told Derek that she had suspicions that you were cheating on her.” She spoke with daggers in her eyes. 

Spencer froze.  

What?!  

He stiffened in his seat as he stared at his unconscious fiancé in shock.  

You thought he was cheating on you?  

You might never wake up again and your last thoughts of him would be the fight and thoughts of his, supposed, adultery.  

How?! How could you think that he could even look at anyone that wasn’t you? 

“I. Would. Never.” He punctuated every damn word so they got his point, trying to blink away the fresh batch of tears that filled his eyes. 

“She planned to stay with Morgan and Savannah for a couple of days-" Garcia told him. 

Spencer tore his eyes away from the bed to gawk at Garcia, “She what?” 

Emily placed her hand on Garcia’s arm and spoke next, “Yesterday, Derek had... overheard one of your conversations with the doctor and he spoke to Y/n about it. So, she decided she would go and stay with him for a few days to sort out her head before coming to you about it.” 

Spencer was furious. Not only did you think he was cheating on you, half of the team now suspected him of it too and no one even had the decency to ask him. And what was this phone call that was so damning that Derek had to run and tell his fiancé? Why didn’t Derek just ask him instead of almost ruining his relationship without him even knowing about it! 

Spencer was shaking with rage. He stood abruptly from his chair and turned to the girls, pointing to Y/n’s bed he ordered out, “Stay with her.” before he stormed outside to head to the waiting room. 

He saw red. He couldn’t think of anything except for the anger he felt. 

Quickly turning the corner he saw the rest of the team sitting and talking as if nothing was wrong. 

J.J noticed him first and stood up, Hotch, Rossi and Morgan following suit. 

“Spence, any news?” she asked gently. 

Spencer didn’t even hear her; never slowed his pace either. As soon as Morgan was within arm’s reach he clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and swung as hard as he could.  

His fist made connection with Morgan’s cheek and from the shock of Spencer’s actions it knocked Morgan off kilter. Morgan stumbled and placed his hand to his cheek. 

The punch clearly did more harm to Spencer than Morgan, but he didn’t care. The pain in his hand was welcomed. It cut through the hurt that was clutched around his heart. 

The others cried out in shock as they tried to digest what just happened. 

“What the hell, kid?!” Morgan yelled at him. 

“’What the hell’ is right!” Spencer growled back as he stepped up to the other man and pushed his shoulders, “Sneaking behind my back? Telling my fiancé that I had some secret affair because of some phone call you didn’t hear the entirety of!” 

Spencer was seething, the rest of the team gaping at him never having seen him so furious before, “You could’ve just asked! But no, the whole team had to get involved. And now I hear she was planning on living with you for a few days?!” Spencer clenched his possibly broken fist again. “She’s in a coma and may never wake up again and her last thoughts of me will be the thought that I was getting with someone else.” 

Spencer inhaled sharply as his rage at Morgan turned to rage at himself. 

“Spencer!” J.J shouted, “Stop!” 

His sharp inhales quickly turned to hyperventilation, his brain was in overdrive, a million thoughts and memories were spinning around his head and he just wanted it to stop. 

So he stopped it the only way he knew how.  

Instead of hitting Morgan, Spencer turned at the last second and hit the wall. 

He fell to his knees and cried as he hit the wall again and again and again and again. 

Blood smeared across the white wall as he broke the skin on the knuckles. The physical pain overrode his senses and he chased the feeling. 

That was until Hotch grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away from the wall causing Spencer to lose his balance and fall back into Hotch's arms which quickly locked around him. 

“Stop! Get off of me! Hotch, let go!” Spencer squirmed as he tried to fight against his boss. His back was pressed tightly against Hotch’s chest, his legs bent in front of him and he kept slapping at Hotch’s arms to let go. 

Hotch just shushed him and held him tighter. Completely understanding his anger. He’s been there and the best thing for Spencer is to calm down enough so he can go back and sit with Y/n instead of giving in to his anger and doing something else that he will regret. 

Once Spencer figured out that he wasn’t going anywhere the fight drained out of him and he stopped slapping at the arms circled around him.  

While Spencer was hunched over Hotch gave the rest of the team a nod to clear the area and give the two some space. 

Hotch pulled one Spencer’s shoulders to shift his position so that Spencer curled into his chest. 

Once Hotch placed a comforting hand over Spencer’s head a sob broke past his lips and the entire dam broke. Spencer cried his heart out.  

He could barely breathe, inhaling only made him choke on his sobs and made him feel worse. 

“What if I never get to speak to her again?” he whispered between sobs. “Never get to tell her that she’s the only one for me.” 

“Spencer you need to breathe.” Hotch told him gently, “You need to calm down. Breathe with me.” 

Spencer felt Hotch’s chest rising and falling against him. He closed his eyes and tried to follow his boss’ actions. 

After a moment, Spencer was finally able to take a deep breath. The oxygen flooded his brain and the fog cleared. His entire body shivered before he came to his senses. 

Blinking hard he realised he was curled into Hotch’s chest, cocooned in his arms.  

He shouldn’t be here.  

He was sitting on the hospital floor instead of in with Y/n. He slowly sat up and Hotch let his arms fall from around him. 

“You alright?” 

Spencer wiped his left hand over his face, “Fine. Fine. Yeah. I need to uh, I need to go to Y/n.” 

He put his right hand behind him to support his weight, but an agonising pain shot through his hand and he fell onto his elbow with a grunt. 

“Here, let me see.” Hotch knelt over him and held out his hand. 

Spencer shook his head and used his other hand to support his weight as he got off the floor, dusting himself off as best he could, “I’m fine.” He held his right arm close to him as he stood up straight.  

He looked around and noticed that J.J, Rossi and Morgan are nowhere to be seen… which is probably for the best. 

The shame of what he’s done washed over him like a bucket of ice water. He just punched his best friend in front of his team then proceeded to have a break down in his boss’ arms. 

“Spencer.” Hotch called out. “You’re not fine, let me see your hand.” 

Spencer shook his head and walked out of the waiting room without saying anything. 

Stopping just outside Y/n’s room he looked in the window, you hadn’t moved a muscle.  

Emily was sat by your bedside holding your hand. 

The pain of the possibility of losing her was too much for him. His only relief was the slow rise and fall of your chest.  

His eyes were already puffy and sore, and he felt dehydrated. He sighed as he raised his left hand to wipe the tears away, cursing himself for his behaviour. 

“Spencer.” Hotch stood at his side, “You need to get your hand looked at, and I’m sure the nurse wouldn’t mind doing it by Y/n’s bedside.” He knew Spencer probably doesn’t want his hand looked at for at least three reasons; he doesn’t want to leave Y/n’s side for much longer, he feels embarrassed or shameful or he feels the need to punish himself. 

He agreed as long as he can stay beside Y/n, “Okay.” He opened the door and the bleeps of the machine’s filled his ears.  

That was your heartbeat.  

He lowered himself into the chair at your right side and raised his left hand to hold hers. His right hand was tucked into his chest. The throbbing was excruciating but he welcomed it. 

He pointedly avoided Emily’s worried expression before she smiled at him and left the room without word. 

A nurse came bustling into the room a few moments later with a tray of equipment, clearly fetched by Hotch. She stood next to him and Spencer raised his hand to let her do what she needed to do. Hissing as she cleaned the cuts on his knuckles. 

The nurse didn’t mind his silence and talked calmly to him as she worked, “You did quite the number on your hand.” She wiped away the blood and inspected his fingers, “You’ve definitely broken a few knuckles, I’m going to wrap your fingers in a splint and then bandage you up, okay?” 

Spencer nodded, “Okay.” He said quietly. 

She taped his middle and ring finger together and then bandaged his entire hand down to his wrist. “Now, keep this on for the next two weeks and then come back in so we can give you an x-ray and review the damage.” 

Spencer nodded, “Thank you.” 

The nurse left and Spencer was alone with Y/n once more. He stared at his right hand that was now resting on the bed.  

How could he do this? Throw a tantrum while the love of his life lies in bed fighting for her life. 

He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bed. 

“Hi.” His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. He hasn’t been this nervous to talk to you since you first met. “You always told me that I needed to talk more, but I- I have no words for what I’ve done. I’ve done something terrible. Actually, I’ve done a few terrible things.” The tears formed once more, and his head pounded from the pressure. “I may never get the chance to say this to you but I am so, so, sorry. I made you feel that you weren’t special to me anymore, that I don’t love you which is the furthest thing from the truth.” 

Spencer played with a strand of your hair that was laying on your shoulder. 

“How could I ever be with someone else? No one could ever, ever take your place in my heart.” 

He gently lifted your hand in both of his, his head felt heavy, so he bent over and placed his forehead on the back of her hand. “I love you more than anything in this world. When you wake up I’m going to spend every second of the rest of my life making it up to you. And I know you wouldn’t want to miss that. So, please wake up. Please.” 

He had been talking when it happened so he never heard it. 

You weren’t breathing in the same rhythm as before. 

When he finally noticed, he frowned as he looked you over. He slowly got to his feet as he scanned the machines. Right before his eyes some of the numbers began to climb as others started to fall. 

Spencer scrambled past the chair and ripped open the door to your room, “Doctor! I need a doctor here now!” He yelled out before running back to your side, “Y/n, sweetheart if you can hear me; don’t give up. Please.” 

Two doctors and a nurse sprinted into the room. 

“Sir, sir!” The nurse grabbed Spencer’s shoulder, “We need you to leave.” 

Spencer shook his head frantically, trying to keep up with everything that the doctors were saying to each other, “I can’t.” he whispered to himself. 

“Sir! Please!” The nurse pushed at Spencer’s shoulders until he was outside the room and the door was shut in his face. 

The rest of the team had heard the commotion and had run to the room as well. 

Rossi placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder as the entire team watched the doctors place paddles on your chest and shock you. 

Again. 

And again. 

And again. 

[bitchinbarzal]

Disappear | S Reid

summary: how does a child, the daughter of a federal agent go missing from a police station.

-

Spencer took his eye off her for five minutes, just to help deliver the profile.

When he got back to the room, Violet was gone. Spencer was checking everywhere for her screaming her name repeatedly, praying she was just playing games.

Everyone was searching for her, until the woman from the front desk walked in holding a letter

“Someone just dropped this off for Doctor Reid?”

He grabbed it, a little too roughly but understandable for the moment.

“Reid, what does it say?” Hotch asked from across the room.

Spencer shakily held up a pink bow, the one Violet was wearing only an hour ago “He has her”

“Who?”

“The unsub”

Spencer didn’t want to call you, it somehow made it more real. You’d left her with him for an afternoon while you were in court, it was only supposed to be a couple hours.

“How do you think Y/N is going to-“

“You lost my daughter?!” Derek was interrupted by your screaming from the bullpen, hopping off his chair

“I think that answers my question”

The team stepped out of the board room to find you storming over to Spencer’s desk, pounding on his chest, sobbing

“Spence, you better be lying! She better be in there and this is some twisted prank! I can’t lose her, we can’t lose our babygirl-“

He shoves your face into his chest, hushing you “I know, I know I’m so sorry we’re gonna get this guy”

You whimper as you pull back “Why would he take her, what does he want with her?”

He strokes your hair as he whispers “I’m gonna find out”

Days turned over as the team worked the case, constantly hitting brick walls. They couldn’t find this guy.

The team, Spencer specifically had been chasing him for days on end. Constantly showing up to locations just to be let down.

Neither yourself nor Spencer had slept since the day Violet disappeared and with everyday the two of you began to turn against one another.

“We see this with every couple who lose a child, they’re not different because they work with these cases often” Rossi explained as Garcia spilled her worries to the group.

She pouted “they’re so perfect though and, and I don’t want them to fight because we’re going to find Vi, right?”

The team all shared a silent look around the room and Penelope asked again “right?”

JJ sighed and rubbed Penelope’s arm “the first twenty four hours are the most crucial in child kidnappings. They know that. We’re on day three, it’s not unlikely they’re losing hope”

“But, but Violet was the only child-“

Before Garcia could say anything else, your shouting interrupted her. The team looked out the conference room window to find the two of you standing around your desk fighting.

“You lost her! You had one job Spencer!”

“She shouldn’t have even been there, if you had just planned your day instead of tossing her around like a toy like a real mom-“

“Oh so now I’m a bad mom?” You growled, arms crossed over your chest.

Spencer sighed “I didn’t say that, but-“

“But what Spence? But you were supposed to be watching our daughter, but he only took her because of you! He said in his note this was revenge because you shot his girlfriend!” You shouted, now prodding at his chest with every point “This is all you-“

The door to the BAU room swung open, a very disheveled intern from the front desk holding a phone up “Reid?”

“Yes?” Both of you said in unison, ultimately confusing the poor kid.

“Um there’s a little girl on the phone, she says she’s looking for her mommy at the BAU… I don’t know if it’s a prank or-“

He couldn’t finish the sentence before you grabbed the phone “Vi?”

“Mommy…” she whimpered “I got the phone”

You smiled through your tears, so relieved she was alive “You did baby, you did what we told you to. You’re such a good girl”

From a young age you’d both instilled in her what were to happen if she was taken by a stranger - morbid to some but you two had seen your fair share of horrors. Being Liaison you’d seen the countless children in your files.

You’d made her rehearse the number and to ask for the BAU. Her brain similar to her father’s made ingraining this into her somewhat easy.

Behind the phone Spencer was pulling you to the conference room and instructing Penelope to trace the call.

You put her on speaker “Violet, baby we’re all here looking for you sweetheart”

“Why hasn’t daddy found me yet? Is he coming?” She sounded so tired, so defeated.

“I’m here sweetheart, I promise I’m coming to get you” he jumped in, his voice full of emotion.

Spencer stepped back from the table, taking a second to collect himself. His little girl sounded so hurt, so sure he wasn’t coming to save her.

“Auntie Penelope is finding where you are right now baby, don’t hang up” you added, bringing to conversation back to her.

“But what if he comes back? ‘Nelope be quick”

“Don’t hang up sunshine, don’t hang up I’m working as quick as I can” she says, her eyes also full of tears. You’d always wondered why she did this job, everything getting to her.

“I can hear him” she mumbles “I gotta go”

“No!” You all yell at once, before you add “Vi baby, hide the phone but do not hang up!”

Her voice trembled “Mommy I’m scared, please-“

The line ended, the beeping sound of the disconnected call pounding in your ears.

“Got it!” Penelope’s exclamation has your knees weak, you can’t even hear the address she recites. You just follow everyone out the room and to the car.

You don’t end up in with Spencer as usual, instead you’re beside Emily as she drives.

Your knee is jerking up and down, your anxiety tick.

“We’re almost there, we are like three minutes out” she reassured you.

You bit your lip “I just want my babygirl back, I- If I lose her I lose Reid and -“

“That is not going to happen” she assured, voice stern “We heard her, she’s smart you guys have taught her well!”

By the time you had arrived the rest of the team had already entered the house, you could hear the yelling before gunshots.

You gasped, moving faster into the house. You guys found them in the basement, Reid desperately kicking in doors and yelling out Violets name.

You turned to the other corridor, the basement resembling a prison and began doing the same

“Violet?!”

Behind the second door you burst through you heard her before you saw her “Mommy!”

She was laying in the arms of a woman, the latest victim prior to Violet. She had Violet shielded from the door.

Violet threw herself across the room into your arms “You came for me!”

“I did baby, we did. We told you we’d come find you” you held her head in the crook of your neck.

She pulled back to look at the woman, now being helped by Emily “I told you they’d find us, they’re so good”

She smiled softly at Violet, even though she was visibly in pain “You’re a lucky girl”

With Violet’s head nestled in your neck again you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the woman, a silent way of saying I know you protected my baby

Carrying Violet out into the hallway you saw Spencer, heading towards you stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Violet in your arms.

“Vi, look” you whispered, her head lifting to look at him. She smiled widely, as tired as she was.

“Daddy! You came to save me!” Spencer enclosed his arms around you both, peppering kisses all over Violets face “We’ll always come save you Angel”

There was a mutual look of relief between you both when you looked at him, finally holding your girl again.

On route to the hospital to get Violet checked out she wouldn’t stop babbling “And I wasn’t even scared!”

“You’re so strong sweet girl!” You exclaim, hand gripping her leg from the passenger seat. Your subconscious not wanting to let her go.

When she was taken into the doctors bay to be checked out, you were asked to wait outside; so she could answer some questions without parental pressure.

The second you were alone you looked at Spencer and began to cry, tears running down his cheeks already.

“I thought we lost her” he mumbled “It was all my fault”

“No! No, spence I didn’t mean that-“

“No it was! I was supposed to care for her-“ you stopped him by putting your hand over his mouth

“We’ve got our girl, we’re good parents Spence! We taught her everything she needs to know in these situations. I love you, I love Violet. We’ve got this”

You were basking in the silence together for one moment before you heard Violet yelling “Mommy come find me again!”

You chuckled “coming babygirl! As funny as this moment is with her, she’s gonna need therapy”

Spencer, so seriously replied “oh definitely I’ve already called someone”

[kalimarinus]

offerings from the unnamed.

[ summary : a mystery person is leaving gifts for 141? ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 3rd person & 2nd-ish pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , unedited & not proofread , i know nothing about the military once again ]

[ word count : 2,392 ]

[ notes : back after another long while , yeah!!! this was fun <3 i can't believe this is 2k words what ?!@?!>@/ that's longer than my previous fic & this was just like a spitball idk..., also the 141 might just have memory loss why is everyone forgetting everything!! (y'all idk why i got so into it w gaz and price's section like why is it so long and soap and ghost's are so short???. but more the merrier, right...?) ]

John Price:

he was pretty surprised at first, he did not expect to see a bouquet of roses on his desk. though, he doesn't question it? 

—until he walks up closer to examine the flowers, just to see a little tag with a note on it that reads: 'for my favorite captain. -a/n.'

now he's a little confused. could it be one of his sergeants? his lieutenant? hell, it could be so many other people.

the only hint is the handwriting. he swears he can recognize it. 

but suddenly price reminds himself he actually has work, so never mind the flowers, for now, he needs to get back to doing his paperwork and such. 

as he works away and whatnot, the thought of the roses is lingering in the back of his mind and slowly creeping up to the front, and he can't seem to ignore the questions.

"why roses?" "whose handwriting is that? i swear i know it." "for me? why not anybody else?"

he's utterly perplexed at this point, so he quickly finishes up whatever he needs to do and turns to the bouquet he left sitting on the other side of the desk long ago.

after many, many minutes of just trying to grasp the mysterious person whose handwriting looks the same as on the tag, he gives up.

gives up on trying to figure out this anonymous roses bullshit by himself, anyway. the captain goes to his two closest buddies, unsurprisingly nikolai and laswell.

he questions them, he tells them everything. to the point he walked through the door and saw the bouquet and to the point where he was now asking them for 'help'. but it just ends up being just a lot more questions and inevitably no answers.

he goes to his lieutenant. his two sergeants. nothing.

now he gives up fully. nobody knows anything about this or who it might be. not him, his best friends, or his own task force.

time passes quickly until it's the end of the day (and he's surprised he's almost spent hours trying to figure this puzzling gift out), and he's trying to come to terms with this.

'it's intended to be anonymous, he shouldn't be trying to figure this out, and he shouldn't lose sleep over this.' is what he tells himself when he gets back to his barracks.

he looks down at the mysterious bouquet in his hand that never had left him alone since he'd come across it, like a fungus that had grown on a damp and and won't let go, and he lets out a sigh.

but john supposes he doesn't mind keeping it. if it really is someone he's friends with (which he's sure), he shouldn't just throw it away. he'll keep it.

which is what he does. preparing and cleaning a random glass jar big enough to fit the flowers, found somewhere around his barracks. it's now put to better use instead of just collecting dust, now filled up with water, the stems of the roses inside.

he sets it on the nightstand next to his bed, and for some reason the room feels a little more homey. oh and don't forget the tag, which he sets next to the jar of blossoms, just in case he does remember who's handwriting that is, he'll be 100% sure who it is and won't be doubting himself if he checks it.

he has come to terms with it now. he's comfortable in bed and he won't be asking himself or anyone else questions that'll lead to nothing. he's sure the one who gave him the bouquet will reveal themselves soon enough. like he told himself, 'he won't lose sleep over this.'

and he is about to drift off into sleep— until suddenly he remembers, and he jolts, sitting up.

he turns his head to look at the roses as his brain is overwhelmed with inquiry. price knows who it is. it's c/n. it's y/n. and now he just has more questions, some the same as previous ones but with the added confusion that it's you that got the flowers for him.

he is going to lose sleep over this after all.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish:

when soap first heard about the captain's situation, he thought it was hilarious. he got roses from an unknown individual? that's silly. he almost even started laughing seeing price so frustrated and baffled over a bouquet of plants.

though, after he said he didn't know anything about any flowers and price walked away in disappointment to go question his other sergeant, perhaps he was a little jealous. don't look at him like that. what's so wrong about maybe wanting a secret admirer?

unbeknownst to him, he would get a gift of his own in no time. when he got to the mess hall, he immediately spotted a box of something right on his table. he quickly went to the seat he always sits at, because of course he has a specific place to eat every day— and he hopes it isn't too obvious to the other soldiers nearby that he's resisting the urge to dash over and admire the supposed present.

when he finally gets to see the gift up close, he practically has stars in his eyes. the note on top of the box catches his eyes first before anything, a simple sentence of 'heard you had a sweet tooth.' typed on the printed out paper.

he has to resist a giddy grin creeping onto his face as he carefully slides the note aside, looking at the box of assorted chocolates in front of him. ultimately, he breaks, and a smile is instantly plastered on his face, already taking one of the sweets and plopping it into his mouth, humming contentedly.

he has the urge to dig into all of them because the candy is remarkably delicious and has his body tingling with dopamine, but fights it and chooses on savoring the gift, taking time to relish in each pieces' flavor.

he enjoys the way the first layers of chocolate slowly melts on his tongue and the taste of the equally chocolate-y syrup inside hits him like a freight train— it makes him appreciate the person who gave him this even more so.

don't worry though, johnny isn't too greedy. he saves the other half of the box for later.

eventually, he does lift his glued-on gaze from the gift to around the mess hall. though, he's met with the other soldiers giving him weird looks. and it does look kind of odd to be fair. a grown man, another soldier, in the mess hall eating a randomly fancy box of chocolates by himself.

despite the little awkward situation and the slightly unpleasant, silent walk out of the mess hall with the box in hand, you know he's walking around with a broad grin on his face for probably the next few days.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

to him, the similar occurrence between his captain and sergeant friend was strange. he'd heard identical stories from both of them now— the same concept of a mysterious offering given to them by a mysterious person.

he was wondering if the lieutenant got one too, and just hadn't told anyone. he was also questioning if he would get one as well. was this individual giving gifts to everyone in the task force?

well, he'd find out soon enough. the answer is most definitely yes.

he'd been dragged away by soap just right after a briefing, into a mostly empty hallway. and after a measly, short conversation and or slight argument about why gaz had been dragged here in the first place, and also why soap looked like he was holding in a giggle fit, the latter pulled out a box from his pocket. so he is getting a gift as well— same note and everything.

soap explains that he'd been requested by this 'anonymous person' to deliver him one as well, like a damn messenger pigeon.

so gaz takes the container carefully in hand before soap snickers and scurries away to do whatever.

he's pretty interested in what's inside as he properly takes a look at it. the box is flatter than your average box, black and sleek with of course, a small, yellow sticky note taped on top. 'this is one of our favourite memories. -unknown.'

he glances around the empty hallway for a moment, feeling a bit weird standing in a quiet hallway, opening a present by himself, alone. but nevermind that— he opens it, and kyle is met with.. a necklace. a silver necklace with a heart locket attached to the bottom.

he moderately cocks his head at the sight of the locket, then picks the necklace up with his right hand, the box still resting on the surface of the other. he opens the heart and squints, a mini photograph of himself and.. another recruit, wearing a mask, so he couldn't see their face. his hand was slung over their shoulder and they were doing the same to his, and despite them covering their face, he could still see a small smile on their face and his own.

he can remember this. he thinks he knows this. it was a group photo of the whole task force. there's the other soldiers in this photo too, but the photo is cropped in a way that you can only see him and the other comrade.

but he doesn't seem to.. remember who he was next to? something in his memory is bugged, like when you forget that one word but you also somewhat remember at the same time, or you forget what you were going to say while having a conversation with somebody.

it almost makes him as frustrated as price when he got his gift, but he wants to push those other emotions aside and just focus on the gratefulness he feels. to be honest he adores the necklace. he's sure he would think it suits him if he wore it and looked in the mirror.

and the picture.. he's still thinking about it. still looking at it. he finds the memory charming and sweet, even if he can't remember this soldier properly. he likes the way he can still see both of the happiness and smile in their eyes despite how tiny the image is. he likes the way he can see the shine and colour in their eyes in the dim light where the photo was taken.

the more he admires the jewelry the more he falls in love with it. the more he wants to cherish it and the mysterious fella who has gifted it to him.

after a lot of staring, and smiling at the present in hand, he finally closes the locket and slips the necklace on, briefly feeling the cold silver around his neck before it turns warm from his body heat.

and then he just walks off casually just like soap, who's probably waiting around the corner to ask "what'd you get?"

he now holds the box close to his chest as if he might keep that too, nearing the end of the hallway.

kyle's mind goes to the photo again, and his brain starts whirring with the thoughts of who it is.

but he's sure he'll remember later. he'll know who the person is soon enough, maybe if he sees them walking through the halls with that same mask. but either way, he knows he'll remember, and he'll thank them for this gift.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

now, he already knew he was going to get a gift as well, seeing as everyone in the task force but him has gotten at least something. he's heard price's predicament, johnny entering a briefing a little too happily with small bits of chocolate syrup near his lips, and kyle proudly walking around base wearing a necklace.

but he has some assumptions that the person didn't get anything for him. he's.. well, simon 'ghost' riley, after all. spooky, intimidating to most, tall dude.

but it seems his assumptions were incorrect, because he came back to his barracks after somewhat of a rough mission just to notice a a small, dark box oddly left on top of one of the shelves near his bed.

after easily retrieving the container, he examines it— and there's the typical 'note' from them, a few words written on top of the lid with a white marker. it reads, 'saw this and it reminded me of you. from a soldier friend of yours.'

.. but what if this 'soldier friend' has actually left a bomb inside of this? will it explode right now? a spy camera? is anybody watching?

you can't blame him for the skepticism. a strange box randomly appearing on one of your shelves? you would be hesitant to open it too.

after a few shakes he gives to the box to hear if anything suspicious is inside, he decides that it isn't a miniscule explosive or a secret camera or any other funky gadget.

simon opens it, and one of his eyebrows raises as an automatic response. a bracelet? specifically, a bracelet made of small, shiny, white pearls with a single flower charm.

but he's not ungrateful or doesn't like it, per se, he's just.. confused. as everyone else was.

confused that somebody thought to get him a gift. bought something for him that he never asked for or mentioned or even thought of himself.

it's not what he was expecting at all. a bracelet. really? for him? but why? he stands in that spot for a good minute, trying to make sense of this. but he's also trying to tell himself he doesn't care about this.

but there's a little creature in his heart or in his brain or something whispering to him that he actually kind of likes it.

he won't admit any of this— but he does end up keeping it, box and all. and he does like the gorgeous glossiness of the pearls and the intricate details and carvings of the charm.

he likes the way it feels on his wrist when he slides it on. it has a nice, cool feeling, but not cold enough for it to be uncomfortable. like the way a cold pillow feels nice against your head.

and from that day forward, if you look closely enough, you can always see a glimpse of a shiny piece of jewelry peeking through the bottom of ghost's sleeve.

[toomuchracket]

love potion (sweetheart!george x reader fluff)

george's gf gets a new perfume and he's obsessed. short and sweet. day 2 of valentine's week. enjoy <3

you drop your bag onto the desk before you slide into your seat. yawning, you pull your textbooks and pencil case from the bag, taking out a pen and tapping it against the front of your exercise book while you wait for the rest of the class and the teacher to file in.

well, while you wait for one specific person to walk in. it doesn't turn out to be a long one, though; luckily - and characteristically, you suppose - he's on time.

“i recognise that rhythm, you little thief,” george's smile is audible as he walks behind you to get to his own seat, and a big one appears on your own face at the sound of his voice. he winks at you as he stands and pulls his books from his bag, and you can't help but grin. “sorry for making you sit through band practice for so long on saturday that you memorised my drum part, baby.”

“s'ok. i like watching you play,” you turn in your chair as george sits next to you, leaning on the back of your seat and looking adoringly at him. “i think it's hot.”

your boyfriend smirks at you, shuffling his chair closer to yours and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “i think you're hot. morning, angel,” he leans in to kiss your cheek, but snaps back to look at you almost as soon as his lips meet your skin, eyes wide. “what is that?”

“what's what? have i gone patchy?” your brow furrows, and you rifle in your blazer pocket for the compact mirror you know you picked up before you left for school. strange - you thought you'd done a decent job with your makeup, for a monday morning. “seriously, g, is there something weird going on with my face? tell me, please.”

he doesn't answer, just closes his eyes slowly and lightly nods the way he does when he's processing.

it makes you panic. “george!”

your boyfriend jumps. “hmm? nah, you're gorgeous. sorry, angel, what i mean is… what's that smell?” george practically shoves his whole face into your neck and inhales deeply. you giggle, slightly nervous of being caught engaging in pda, and gently shove him off you; he sits back and smiles at you, eyes dazed. “did you get new perfume, or something?”

“oh,” you touch your neck almost self-consciously, nails grazing the pulse point you'd spritzed onto just under an hour ago. “yeah, when i went into manchester with mum yesterday. gucci.”

“ooh, posh,” he smirks, laughing when you elbow him and leaning back in his seat quite attractively. “smells amazing, though. i really like it.”

“yeah?”

george nods. “yeah,” he sits up again, nuzzling into you and inhaling the fragrance a second time. “gonna stay like this for the rest of the day, thanks. maybe for the rest of time, in fact.”

you giggle. “you're an idiot, babe.”

“only cos you're irresistible,” george takes a final sniff of your perfume before moving to sit properly. “you and that perfume. gonna be a struggle keeping my hands off you all day.”

“nah,” you ruffle his hair. “ the novelty'll wear off soon. you’ll be fine.”

oh, how wrong you are.

that first class - the only one you actually have with george today - is fine, albeit your boyfriend constantly leaning closer to you “just so i can see the board without that guy’s massive head in the way, babe”, despite him never having complained about an obstructed view before. you don't say anything, just nod and bite back your grin and do your best to focus on your work; easier said than done, when george’s lips are only inches from your own. if you just turned your head…

jesus. what is up with the two of you?

he does kiss you, though, when the bell rings at the end of class. that in itself isn't unusual - despite your aversion to pda, you know everyone's too busy rushing to shove everything back in their schoolbags and make it to next period to be looking at you and george - but you do let yourself linger against his lips for a little bit longer than usual before pulling away. 

actually, it's george who breaks the kiss first. “you're trying to kill me, aren't you?” he breathes, helping you up from your seat and wrapping you into a hug. “wearing that perfume, kissing me like that. and here i thought you were a nice girl.”

you laugh, leading him towards the door. “well, babe, you know what they say - always the quiet ones.”

“yeah,” george hugs you again when you reach the corridor; you giggle when he, yet again, deliberately takes a breath of your perfume. “see you later, angel. don't miss me too much.”

“i should be saying that to you!” you scoff, ruffling his hair. “bye, baby.”

you pass your boyfriend again an hour later, on opposite sides of the art corridor. a cheeky grin appears on his face when he spots you from a few feet away, and judging by the warmth in your cheeks you reckon there's a flush forming on yours. it's busy, two parallel currents of people coursing up and down to their respective next classes, but george still takes a second to lean over and kiss your head when you get near enough to each other. “you smell amazing!” he shouts, as you separate again.

“oh my god, stop it!” you call back, elbowing your suddenly-hysterical friends and turning to walk even faster towards the languages department. george’s laugh is audible, even as you move; he shuts up abruptly, though, and you hear (in quick succession) a bashing noise, your friends’ giggles turning to gasps, and the stern voice of the head of art. you're too far away to hear what she’s saying, but it can't be anything good. you wince. “someone tell me what just happened. i can't look.”

“i think,” jodie's shoulders are shaking, a telltale sign of her trying to keep from laughing. “george might have just walked straight into the door because he was too distracted by you, and miss malone's giving him shit for it.”

“what?!”

“and yet,” saira smirks. “he's still trying to look back at you.”

you shake your head, trying your best not to smile. “idiot boy.”

and you're sure to call george that to his only slightly bruised face at 3pm, when he swans out of the music corridor doors towards you, waiting with folded arms, cocked hip, and knowing smirk. you pull him into a hug. “i can't believe you walked into a fucking door.”

“don't you fucking start,” george groans, doing his best to lean down and hide his face in your hair for a second, before leading you towards the gates. “s'your fault i did it, anyway. and also that i fucked up in double music.”

“oh, piss off, it was not my- wait,” you stop dead in your tracks, turning round to gawk at your boyfriend. “did you just say you fucked up in music?”

he frowns, only speeding up his walking to the point he's less holding your hand than dragging you behind him down the street. your jaw drops. “you fucked up in music. you? george daniel? you fucked up?”

“if you mention it to literally anyone, i'm never giving you a lift anywhere ever again.”

you kiss his cheek. “alright. i'm sorry, baby. but… how?”

george sighs. “kept falling out of time because i got distracted thinking about your new perfume.”

“you being serious?”

“dead,” he nods. a tiny smile appears on his pretty face. “teacher kept asking me if i was ill. that's how bad it was.”

“oh my god,” you sling his arm over your shoulder, looking up at him with a grin. “maybe you are. maybe you're having some weird allergic reaction to it, and it's giving you brain fog.”

“but then why would i want to keep snuggling with you?”

you shrug. “seeking comfort because you're poorly? i don't know.”

“hmm, you could be right. maybe i am ill,” george ponders. without warning, he turns you in towards him and begins pressing kisses all over your face and making you giggle. “i think i'm lovesick.”

you shove your bag further up your shoulder and wrap your arms around george's neck. “god, how awful. what's the cure?” you sigh dramatically.

he grins, one of the shit-eating variety. “a snog from my girl.”

“oh, i think we can manage that,” you lean up on your tiptoes and press your lips to your boyfriend's, sighing into his mouth when his tongue traces your lower lip. george’s kisses always leave you dazed, and this is no exception - he has to hold your hips to keep you from wobbling too much when you break apart, breathing heavily. “wow. you cured?”

“nah, think i need a second dose when we get back to mine,” george smiles. “once my homework's done, that is.”

your eyes widen. “ok, maybe you are actually genuinely ill.”

“i'm serious!” george tugs you onto his street. “get all the distractions out the way first, so i can focus on what really matters: snogging you.”

“right,” you nod, biting your lip so you don't laugh, as george digs around his pockets for his house key. he kisses your cheek as he ushers you inside, and you preen at the sweet gesture. “well, we'll see how much we get done, babe.”

“all of it. i'm determined. even chemistry.”

you kiss his head as he bends to unlace his shoes, unconvinced he’ll have the willpower. “sure, sweetheart, whatever you say.”

for the second time in a day, though, you're proven wrong. george powers through his work in a couple of hours, sliding everything off his bed once he's finished with the most smug face you think you've ever seen. “time for my lovesick meds, i think.”

“alright. but you better not be thinking about me in one of those slutty nurse halloween costumes,” you say, getting up from the bed to grab something from your bag.

there's a muffled noise from behind you, which you figure is george face-planting into a pillow. “well, i am now,” he sighs, leaning round to look at you, and sits bolt upright when he sees you spritzing perfume onto your wrists and neck. “is that…?”

“it is,” you wander back over to the bed, climbing onto your boyfriend's lap and resting your arms on his shoulders. his make do with rubbing your thighs through your tights. “your favourite.”

george smiles. “nah,” before you can even react, he flips the two of you so you're lying beneath him. “you're my favourite. i love you.”

“i love you,” you pout your lips, and george takes the hint. he kisses you, long and slow and sloppy, teeth pulling at each other's lips, tongues licking into each other's mouths, hands trailing and cupping and squeezing and caressing, brains getting hazier by the second as the oxygen leaves and the dopamine sets in. you gasp when you feel his lips move across your jaw and down your neck, pressing soft kisses before settling on a recently-discovered spot that drives you mad, while his deft fingers work to remove your tie and unbutton the top buttons of your blouse - he pulls the fabric aside slightly and continues to trail kisses down, soaking up the drip trail of your perfume and gently biting when he reaches the edge of your bra. softly moaning, you card your fingers through his hair. “george.”

quick as a flash, he's hovering over you again, stroking your cheek. “you alright, angel? is there something you want?”

“yeah,” you breathe, twisting to kiss the tip of his thumb - and savouring the way his breath catches in his throat - before smiling your sexiest smile. “close the door.”

[reidbae]

DAY 30: Scream — costumes w/dom!spencer reid & dom!aaron hotchner

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

PART 2

summary: After vaguely mentioning your attraction to the Scream character, Ghostface, your two boyfriends decide to dress as him for Halloween. And, needless to say, they aren't afraid to make you scream.

pairing: dom!spencer reid and dom!aaron hotchner x sub!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: use of pet names for reader (princess, honey, angel, baby, love, doll [sry i went crazy]), reader is fairly shy, spencer is more soft!dom and hotch is more rough/hard!dom, obv use of masks and veryyy heavily implied mask kink, loads of degradation and a lot of praise, hair pulling, blowjob, vaginal sex, unprotected piv sex (pls do not do this <3), choking, teasing, small implication of hotch being a little older than reader, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.5k

a/n: this took me so long PLSSS and i'm not even that crazy about it, but i think i will be posting the second part of this for halloween tmr so i hope that will be better <3 i hope y'all enjoy and have a good halloween tmr/had a good halloweekend!

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1 @mrs-ssa-hotch @boimlers-gonna-boim

You were walking through the doors of the the bullpen of the BAU, large bags of candy in your hand as you waved hello to various coworkers of yours.

The BAU, thanks to Derek Morgan, was having a Halloween party to celebrate the spooky holiday. Work had ended a few hours ago at this point, so everyone had finished most of their case files and papers of the like.

To your surprise, a lot of your coworkers were here, and a lot of them were dressed up. It was surprising to see, considering that it was a Tuesday, but it wasn’t an issue, really. As for yourself, you were dressed up as a princess this year.

Well, kind of.

You didn’t feel like going out to get a Halloween costume, so you decided to wear a dress and heels, some jewelry, and call it a day.

“Hey, Y/N. Cute fit,” Derek teased you the second you reached your desk, wrapping his arms around you in a friendly hug. You smiled, rolling your eyes at him.

You pulled back to look him up and down, observing his simple attire, that looked very similar to the henley and jeans combo that he wore on a daily basis. “Thanks, Derek. And what are you supposed to be?” you smiled..

“I’m me, obviously. Can’t get much better than that,” Derek chuckled, taking a sip from the glass that he was holding. You shook your head, giggling.

“Of course,” you said. “Um, where’s Hotch? A- And Spencer?” you then asked Derek, curious as to why you had yet to see the two of them.

It had been common knowledge among your team that you, Aaron, and Spencer all had something going on, but none of you had ever specified what that was.

It would be a simple answer, but you never felt the need to explain your business nonetheless. Aaron and Spencer were both your boyfriends, and while not romantically involved with each other, they were incredibly enamored with you.

So when you noticed neither of them were there, you felt not only concerned, but also suspicious.

“They just went up to Hotch’s office, I think,” Derek said, shrugging his shoulders.

You nodded, setting the bags of candy that you had down on your desk before saying, “Thanks, Derek.”

The blinds in Aaron’s office were shut as you approached it, causing you to raise even more of an eyebrow.

What the hell were the two of them up to?

Throughout the week hat Derek had been raving about this party, Aaron and Spencer had refused to tell you who they were dressing up as, or if they were even dressed up at all. You figured the two men would want to confide in you about their costume choices, but apparently, your help wasn't required.

Which only made you more sure that the two of them had something up their sleeve.

You knocked on the office door and put your ear to it, wondering if you could hear the two of them talking. You found that you could, but all of their dialogue was inaudible. Sighing, you decided to just open the door, let yourself in, and see what they were up to.

You turned the knob and pushed open the door. The view you were met with was one of Aaron and Spencer stood next to Aaron’s desk. Aaron had his arms crossed, and there looked to be a mask of some sort in his hand.

And from what you could see, Spencer was holding the very same mask.

The two men’s eyes met yours when you walked inside of the room, and their appearances sent a quick rush of butterflies to your abdomen.

Spencer was in a white button-up, black vest and tie, along with black slacks and belt. Aaron was wearing the same attire, except he was only wearing a collared shirt, slacks, and belt. While you were unable to tell who the two of them were supposed to be just yet, you grew nervous nonetheless.

They had to be doing this on purpose.

“Hey, princess,” Spencer smiled at you, taking a second to look you up and down and turn his body to face you. “You look amazing in that dress.”

You smiled shyly over at Spencer, a cheesy smile across your face. “Thank you. Um, so—What are you guys supposed to be? You—You never told me,” you didn't fail to remind them, crossing your arms.

“Oh, well…” Spencer 's voice trailed off, gazing over at Aaron and beckoning for him to say something.

Aaron cleared his throat and held up the mask he was holding so you could get a better view of what it was, smiling. “We’re not really resembling the original, but this is what we came up with.”

Aaron was showing you a mask that made your heart flutter; It was a Ghostface mask, the mask of a killer from a franchise of horror movies that you thoroughly enjoyed.

A killed that, despite your role as an FBI profiler, found very attractive.

You remembered vaguely saying a word or two about the masked man when the three of you sat down to watch Halloween movies a week or so ago. You made a brief, dismissible joke about the killer being attractive, and how you wouldn’t be afraid of getting injured if either Aaron or Spencer was wearing the mask.

Needless to say, though that wasn’t really true. Your pulse was going like crazy, and it was no doubt because of the nervousness that you were feeling.

You seemed to short circuit as you stood there, your eyes widening in response to the two men's choice of attire. Finally, when you didn’t speak up, Spencer smirked at you and asked, “Something wrong, love?”

You shook your head a little too quickly, looking down at the floor. “No, n- no!” you defended, giving a heavy sigh. “Nothing’s wrong. Um—You guys look—Really good," you barely managed to get out.

“Do you want to see them on?” Aaron asked as he smirked at you, holding his mask up as he spoke in reference to it.

If your pulse was high before, it was through the roof now.

“Um, su- sure?” you said a little anxiously, finding yourself annoyed at the fact that all words were failing you all because of a mask.

But, God, you couldn’t help it.

The two men gave each other a knowing smirk, one that you couldn't miss, before putting the masks on their faces and securing them in place. They both turned to look at you, waiting for some sort of answer from you.

But, unlike they were probably expecting, your response was physical, not verbal.

You were damn near weak in the knees at the view before you, your face, neck, and ears all growing warmer by the second. They could probably assume your look was one of unease, if it weren’t for the fact that they knew you, and they knew what you were feeling.

“Wow, you look—Good. Um, great, even,” you stuttered out, rubbing the back of your neck in a nervous manner. Before you could even think it through, your next words were gushing from your lips. “I’m going back to the party now,” you said in a muddled rush.

You were squealing as you walked out of the room, blushing as you replayed the scene of your two masked boyfriends in your head. You could hear Aaron and Spencer laughing as you left the room in a hurry.

You knew they liked to tease you, but, damn, really? You didn't think they would do this, of all the things.

They just didn’t have a care in the world about making you feel this way.

And if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you’d be a mess by the end of this party.

—

You were sitting in an abandoned office in the BAU, doing your best to relax and calm yourself down with the way the last hour had just enfolded.

Your boyfriends were dicks. Assholes. Whatever you wanted to call them, that's just what they were,

They’d been walking around the place for the last hour like they owned it, knowing just what they were doing to you as they did.

You both hated and loved how grand of an effect such a simple action, such a simple costume could have on you, all because it was them who were doing it, and them who were wearing it.

You ran your hands through your hair as you stood in the room, trying to slow down the pace of your breath.

And trying to ignore the needy feeling between your legs.

Just then, as if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, causing you to jump out of your own head to pay attention to it.

And, of course, who could it be but the two men on your mind?

“Y/N, honey? Are you in here?” a calm male voice called out for you, opening the door to the office you were in.

Spencer, whose mask was perched above his head, walking in, Aaron behind him. Your eyes flickered between the two of them for a second, before you spoke.

“Hi,” you said shyly, crossing your arms the same exact way that you had earlier on in the evening. “What’s up?” you asked, attempting to make your voice sound as casual as possible

“You kind of ran off there, princess. We got worried,” said Spencer, a sly smile over his face as the two of them approached you. “Everything okay?” he asked, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You looked down as he did so, feeling your cheeks flare up with heat. “No, yeah, I’m—Okay. You guys can go back to the party,” you muttered to them, avoiding their eyes.

From the corner of your eye, you could see your boyfriends throw that same knowing smirk at each other, the same look they'd given each other earlier, before Aaron spoke up. “Alright, stop with the shyness and spit it out, honey. What’s on your mind?”

You looked up at him, and then quickly looked away as you again saw his mask, which was in the same place as Spencer’s was. “Nothing. I told you guys, it’s nothing,” you said to them again, sighing.

Spencer walked up to you, his tall appearance causing a lump to form in your larynx. “Well, obviously, something's the matter, princess,” Spencer cooed, bringing his thumb to rest under your chin. Deciding to get to the root of the issue, Spencer asked, “Is it the masks, honey?”

That was when your nervous gaze finally met Spencer’s eyes, and you nodded, feeling like a little girl being forced to admit to misbehaving.

That’s sure as hell what it felt like.

Spencer smiled down at you, and looked back once at Aaron before asking, “You like them, huh?” his tone somehow caring yet coy all at once.

Again, you nodded.

“We figured you would,” smirked Aaron from behind Spencer, moving closer to you himself. “That was why we got them, really," Aaron shrugged.

“Yeah,” Spencer laughed in response, grinning at the two of you. Spencer’s eyes then softened as he looked down at you as he noiced the shyness of your demeanor. “We’re glad that worked.”

You gave a small, nervous giggle, too, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen now.

No doubt, whatever it was, it wouldn’t be able to leave this room.

“Well, uh, we’ll be happy to put them back on for you, princess,” Spencer smiled at you, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “Is that something you’d like?”

Your words fell quickly from your lips as soon as the query was spoken. “Y- Yes, please,” you eagerly said to the two of them, suddenly finding a voice as soon as Spencer promised you that they’d put their masks back on.

You couldn’t dream of anything better.

“Mmhm. Just do us a favor, okay?” said Aaron lazily as he moved closer, running his fingers over your hips as Spencer backed up a little. Aaron then put his mask back on, looking down at you. "Don't scream."

Spencer followed through and put his mask back on as well, and your eyes widened at the view of your boyfriends, dressed as one of your all-time favorite horror roles. They were so, so close to you as they looked down at you.

It was a wonder you didn’t pass out on the spot.

Aaron backed you into the wall of the office as Spencer walked away to close and lock the door, leaning his arm on the wall next to you. Spencer joined the two of you seconds later, positioned next to Aaron.

You felt yourself grow weak in the knees as the two men hovered above you, closing your eyes as a fiery blush filled your cheeks. Aaron cupped your cheek, and if you could see his face, you’d be sure that he was smirking, gazing down at you as you shyly slid down the wall.

“Aw, what’s the matter, princess? What’re you so nervous for?” Aaron chuckled in a jeering tone, holding your face in a soothing manner as he smoothed his thumb under your cheek.

“Give her a break. She’s just shy,” said Spencer in response. Spencer reached his hands out to grip your hips, chuckling. “Aren’t you, honey?”

“You guys are such teases,” you murmured more to yourself than them, earning chuckles from both of them.

“We just love to play with you, honey. You’re so easy to mess with,” said Aaron, like that fact was common knowledge. “How do we look?”

You looked up at him, like that fact was common knowledge. But, “G- Good,” was the only word stuttered you could get out of your mouth without your tongue slurring the words.

“Glad you think so,” smiled Spencer, running his hands over your body.

"But we'd look better with you between us," said Aaron in a sly tone, pulling you closer, so that you were flush against his front.

You couldn’t get a word out as Aaron picked you up from the ground, walking you to the couch that was in the room. He put you down on it, and, just like he’d said, put you onto all fours, so that you were bent over for the two of them to see.

Spencer had his arms crossed as Aaron ran his hand over your back, looking down at you. “Oh, look at you, honey. Fucking adorable,” Aaron groaned. He turned back to look at Spencer. “What do you think, Reid? What should we do with her?”

Spencer chuckled behind his mask and sat down in front of you on the couch, cupping your cheek with his hand. “I think our princess here needs some attention of her own. Wouldn’t you agree, angel?” Spencer cooed.

You were eager to nod, feeling your pulse quicken at Spencer’s teasing. “Y- Yes, please,” you whimpered.

Aaron obliged, moving himself behind you and grabbing your hips to keep himself steady. You could hear his belt unbuckling from behind, followed by the sound of it clattering to the ground.

Aaron lifted your dress up, and didn’t misuse even a second as he yanked down your underwear. The older man thumbed your thighs, and then your clit, causing you to let out a low mewl.

“Fuck, doll, you’re dripping. Eager, aren’t we?” Aaron laughed at you, rubbing your clit more, just to get you going.

You let out small whines and whimpers as Aaron touched you, and from what you could see, Spencer was hardening in his slacks from the sound of your moans alone.

That only made you want the two of them more.

“There you go, honey. Let me hear those pretty moans of yours,” Aaron encouraged you, moving his thumb at a quicker pace over your clit.

Spencer, eager to be engaged in some way, began to tease your nipples through the fabric of your dress. Your bra wasn’t doing all that much to stop him from doing so, and, it was then and there that you knew you were done for.

You looked back to see Aaron pulling his boxers down, revealing his aching cock, that was just as hard as Spencer’s was. He let out a low grunt as he moved his hand up and down on himself for a few seconds, readying himself for you.

Meanwhile, Spencer’s attention was fully on you, and he chuckled as he cupped your cheek again. His other hand fumbled with his belt, and he tilted his head at you, his mask being what was gazing back at you.

“You don’t mind me using that pretty mouth of yours, do you, princess?” Spencer cooed to you. You quickly shook your head.

“That’s a good girl,” Spencer whispered back to you, smoothing his thumb under your cheek.

You moaned as Aaron then suddenly, very suddenly, pushed himself inside of you from behind, slowly inching his cock inside of your cunt. Your hand almost immediately went to cover your mouth while Spencer yanked down his pants.

“Ready, angel?” Spencer cooed like nothing else was happening, like you weren’t getting fucked goddamn senseless by Aaron, even if it'd only been a couple seconds of sex thus far. Nevertheless, you nodded, and did just what Spencer asked of you.

Spencer’s size concerned you only a bit as you went down on the brunette genius, bobbing your head up and down on his dick as Aaron pounded into you from behind, and maybe you’d gag, or choke, or cough.

But it didn’t matter, just as long as you got to have them.

“Fuck, doll—You feel so fucking good,” Aaron muttered to you from behind, fucking you at a pace that should be considered illegal for how quick it was.

And how good it felt.

“Such a good girl,” Spencer whispered to you, petting and pulling your hair as a means of pulling you down more onto his dick. “You’re taking us so well, angel,” he cooed.

“Mmhm,” Aaron hummed in response. He moves both of his hands from your hips to your ass and grabbed you by it, pulling you closer to him, and thus pushing himself further into you. You let out a loud mewl in response.

Aaron covered your mouth, letting out a chuckle from behind you. “Didn’t we tell you not to scream, honey?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with flushed cheeks, pulling back from Spencer for a moment to not only speak, but to also catch your breath. “I’m—Trying.”

“Try harder,” Aaron said roughly as you reattached your lips to Spencer’s cock. “We’re the only ones who get to hear how much of a whore you are," your boyfriend shamelessly degraded you.

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you whined for more pleasure, feeling overwhelmed by the two men in front of you.

Or, well, behind you.

“Fuck, just like that, love,” Spencer groaned, not paying too much attention to what Aaron was saying. “You’re doing so good for me. So, so good," Spencer praised.

You moved your head up to get a better view of Spencer as you sucked him off. He looked so hot like this, as he did each time that you blew him.

That mask only magnified that fact.

“You should see how much of a slut you look like, honey,” Aaron chuckled. He ran his fingers through your hair and grabbed a handful of it, pulling your head down and guiding you as you sucked Spencer’s dick. “Fucking whore.”

Your cheeks were warm with arousal as your brain did the best it could to keep up with Aaron’s degradation, mixed in with Spencer’s praise.

Your eyes were rolling back into your head as the scene unfolded before you: Aaron pounding into you from behind, you gagging around Spencer’s cock, and you knew it was going to send you to the edge so fucking quick.

And just when you believed it couldn’t get any better, you were quickly proven wrong.

Aaron, like he’d done so many times before when the two of you were having sex, used a hand to grab a hold of your neck, and squeezed down with force. You found yourself coughing at the sudden, but arousing action, causing both Aaron and Spencer to chuckle.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Aaron chuckled, administering a small slap to your ass with his free hand. “You want it harder, doll?”

You did what you could to nod, and even pulled away from Spencer’s dick again just to get the words out. “Please, I—I want more, A- Aaron.”

“You’re going to have to beg me better than that,” Aaron said cruelly, beginning to slow his pace down as well. You whimpered in response, ready to give some bratty remark back to him.

But your body needed him too much.

“No, please—Please don’t stop. I’m—I’m begging you. Please,” you whined, feeling utterly helpless to him.

“Please, what, honey?” Aaron teased you anyways, as if this couldn’t get any worse for you, as if you weren't already in the most vulnerable place you could be, begging you for his mercy.

Like you’d said earlier: You were done for.

You let out a small groan at your boyfriend’s continued teasing, but were quick to concede, sighing. “Keep going, please. A- And, harder, rougher, fuck, please," you whined aimlessly, hardly sure of the words coming out of your mouth at this point.

Aaron, knowing that when you began to become incoherent, that you were close to the edge, smirked as he obliged your needs. He began to pound back into you again, and, out of habit, you began to suck Spencer’s dick once more.

Spencer was letting out groans of his own as you sucked him off, pushing your head down as much as be could without making you gag. “Fuck, baby, fuck, I’m so close. You’re doing so good,” Spencer whispered to you, running his fingers through your hair for the millionth time as he praised you again and again. “Good girl, just like that."

Spencer moved his hand over to your back, caressing you slowly for a few seconds before moving his hand down to your clit, just as Aaron had done before. Reflexively, you whined out in pleasure.

The mix of Aaron’s cock, Spencer’s fingers, and both of their moans, was building a pleasure inside of you that you didn’t think humanly possible until now. Spencer thumbed over your clit as quickly as he could, rubbing you in fast circles as the scene before you enfolded.

“You gonna cum for us, honey? Show us how much of a whore you are?” Aaron said in a malicious tone of voice, still squeezing down on your neck. Again, you did what you could to nod.

“That’s it, baby. Go ahead,” Aaron finally encouraged.

You didn’t need much more than that.

You were climaxing in seconds upon Aaron’s command, the room smelling of sex as the three of you filled it with your moans. You could taste Spencer’s seed as ropes of it made their way into your mouth, while relishing in the pleasure of Aaron filling you with his own release at the same time.

Aaron chuckled as he pulled out of you, getting up from where he was on the couch. You whined at the sudden exit, your thighs shaking as you moved your head off of Spencer’s tip and sat up on the couch. You then pouted when you saw Spencer getting up, too.

“Where are you guys going?” you asked with a sad face, already feeling incredibly bare without the two of them next to you. They had never been ones to have sex without aftercare, so the fact that they were getting up was worth raising an eyebrow over.

Spencer put his thumb under your chin and finally removed his mask, just to kiss the top of your head. “Giving you some time to come back down to earth, princess. You probably need it.”

“And we’re sure you’ll need us again before the party’s over. And after the party’s over,” Aaron chuckled, removing his mask as well.

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone of voice, your cheeks warm from the unneeded jeering. All you could do was cross your arms in response.

Spencer smiled down at you. “Don’t worry, princess. There’ll be more fun later on, okay? Just as long as you’re good for us. Can you be good for us, angel?” Spencer asked you genuinely.

You looked up at Spencer in a pout, but, at some point, you sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“There’s our girl,” Spencer cooed. Then,  Spencer turned to face Aaron, smirking at him. “Shall we?”

Aaron, mirroring Spencer’s expression, nodded, and the two of them walked out of the office, leaving you there to think about all that had just happened.

Your dress was ruffled, and your thighs were a messy, shaking mess in the aftermath of what had just occurred with your two boyfriends.

You wanted to hate them so bad for this. How were you supposed to go back to the party now?

It didn’t even matter. You heard what they said.

"After the party’s over…"

You couldn’t even conjure up the image of what was going to happen then.

All you knew was that it was going to be a hell of a Halloween.

—

reblogs are very much appreciated <3

—

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[hurpdurpburps]

Otherside Picnic Manga Yuri Club Special Story 3 English Translation

SPOILER WARNING: Takes place immediately after the events of File 1 - Kunekune Hunting in Vol 1 of the novels.

Written by: Miyazawa Iori

Translated by: @hurpdurpburps

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Chapter 3: Ochanomizu, The First Afterparty

"Hey… Earth to Toriko, you okay?"

I waved my hand in Toriko’s face, who was staring into space with her chin propped on her hand.

"Mnnnnnnmm… I'm okaaaaaaay…" Toriko answered fuzzily.

Her eyes were only halfway open, or perhaps just a quarter-way.

"You look like you’re gonna fall asleep though."

"No I’m nooot…"

Liar. It was obvious she'd already reached her breaking point.

As I watched her while taking small sips of beer from my glass, Toriko's eyes finally closed completely. With a droop of her head, she completely stopped moving.

Alright, that's all, folks. Toriko-san has closed up for the day. Great work today. [1]

… What the hell am I supposed to do?

On the table were three empty Tsingtao beer bottles. They were small in size, which should’ve been a reasonable amount for two drinkers, so I was surprised to see Toriko wiped out so early into the night. I’d assumed that she could hold her liquor well, judging from the way she went wild with our drink orders as soon as we were seated.

She’d applied the same heavy hand to our food orders as well. I'd thought that she could finish all of it but that wasn’t the case either. Our plates of cashew chicken (delicious), cumin lamb (spicy & delicious) and water spinach (perfect with beer) sat on the table, mostly untouched.

I don’t think this lass can eat any more…

Toriko was dozing off soundly, so the prospect of depending on her for help seemed unlikely in the near future.

I guess I don’t have a choice.

Resigned to my fate, I picked up my chopsticks and began eating the leftovers.

I wasn’t a glutton, I just simply didn’t like the idea of not clearing my plate. But I suppose it was also because I’d picked up the habit of eating whenever I was able to.

Just an hour ago, Toriko and I had entered the “Other World” [2] via an old building in Jinbocho, encountered the kunekune, fended it off somehow, then fled in a mindboggling state of excitement and fear. In order to return to the real world, we had to take the exhausting route of climbing ten floors on a ladder attached to the exterior of the skeletal building. We’d both been laughing and screaming the entire time, which in hindsight, painted a rather unhinged picture of us.

Isn’t that way too scary from an objective point of view? I think something was probably wrong with us.

After our return, Toriko had kicked up a fuss about holding an afterparty for whatever reason, so we made our way to the station and entered the first Chinese restaurant we saw.

We made a toast and… ended up in this situation before we knew it.

Toriko's chin fell from her hands, and she collapsed onto the table, burying her face in her arms. Sending pieces of shredded lamb into my mouth from the plate that I had moved away so that her beautiful golden locks wouldn't get dirty, I stared intently at the crown of her head, which was facing me.

There’s no sign of black around her roots. Seems like it's not a dye job, but her natural hair colour. Huh…

I continued eating while staring at the head of a woman I didn't know well.

As if on cue, Toriko began to stir just as I was about to finish eating.

"Are you awake?"

"Hmmm…"

"You're sleepy after all."

"I'm not sleepyyyyy…" Toriko replied, her tone foggy and with her eyes still closed.

It seemed like it would take her a while to reboot.

"I thought about leaving you behind."

"Why would you say that…"

"You were the one who said you wanted to have dinner, then you went ahead and fell asleep anyway."

"You can’t do that… Don't leave me behind…" Toriko mumbled apologetically. "It's weird… I'm usually a lot stronger than this…"

"You're kidding."

"I’m serious, usually my face doesn’t even flush when I get like this."

"It's probably the exhaustion. I heard that alcohol tolerance can vary quite a bit depending on your condition."

"Hmm…" Toriko said, rubbing her eyes with both hands. "I guess it's because I met you, Sorawo."

"… Me?"

"Hmm… I guess you make me feel at ease."

"Huh?"

I had no idea what she was talking about. It was a good thing Toriko felt at ease, but I didn't think that had anything to do with me.

Wishing for Toriko to wake up soon, I scarfed down the last of the chicken and cashew.

TL Notes

General note: I adopted a more 'literary' prose style to match the tone of the novels. Hence, the translation in this series will be significantly more liberal than my usual analytical posts. Feel free to ask me anything.

[1] This line in Japanese is "はい終了。鳥子さん閉店ー。おつかれさまでしたー。", which conveys a humourous tone by using a business/shop metaphor for Toriko.

[2] A fun fact about the OP series name is that 裏世界 (urasekai - lit. "Other World") does not translate to "Otherside" exactly. 裏世界 is the term first used by Satsuki, Kozakura and Toriko, and was only adopted later by Sorawo.

The name for the UBL that Sorawo came up with on her own was 裏側 (uragawa - lit. "Other Side"). In fact, Sorawo continued using 裏側 until her first meeting (and briefing about the UBL) with Kozakura in Chapter 3 of File 2 - Hasshaku-sama Survival.

This bonus story takes place before that, which is why Sorawo is still using 裏側 here. I essentially flipped the translations of 裏世界 and 裏側 so that it makes a little more sense contextually.

PS. While I use the term "real world" for the reality in which our characters are from, the Japanese word used in the novels is in fact 表世界 (omotesekai - lit. "surface world"). This is because 表 ("surface" or side facing up) and 裏 ("back" or other-facing side) are antonyms.

The English localisation of the novels follows this terminology ("surface world") but the wordplay gets lost in translation due to the lack of context.

List of Yuri Club's Otherside Picnic Short Stories [my translations]:

1. Shinjuku, The First Meet-Up (新宿、初めての待ち合わせ)

2. Hasshaku-sama Epilogue (八尺様エピローグ)

3. Ochanomizu, The First Afterparty (お茶の水、初めての打ち上げ)

4. Ikebukuro, Cafe Meal For One (池袋、ひとりカフェ飯)

5. Naha, After The Big Job (那覇、大仕事の後)

6. Ishigaki Island, A Dazed Vacation (石垣島、呆然のリゾート)

7. Mercedes AMG, The Backseat (メルセデスAMG、後部座席)

8. Otherworldly Elevator, On The Way Back (異世界エレベーター、帰路)

9. Kozakura Mansion, Pizza Party (小桜屋敷、ピザパーティー)

10. TBD

11. TBD

[saradika]

— WASTELAND, BABY

ii. the stench of the sea, and the absence of green

[masterlist] | [part i]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 3.2k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, canon-typical violence & death, mentions and use of guns/weapons, corpse-looting

a/n: thank you so much for all the kindness on part i! It is so appreciated! 💖

As your first real taste of life outside the vault comes to an end, you find out just who your savior is.

The figure leaves you retching into the wasteland - empty stomach heaving as he moves to look through the doorway of the farmhouse.

An ache thudding in your hip, the back of your head where it had collided against the wooden steps on the way down. Fingers pressing into the packed earth as you try to look anywhere except the steaming, oozing pile of ash.

You can hear him returning - the hiss of the hydraulics, the weight of his steps. The dark shadow falling across where your eyes are cast downward. Waiting - but for what, you do not know.

"This where you live, girl?" The voice crackles again, the creak as his helmet tips down towards you.

You don't know how to answer.

Not knowing what he wants - not wanting to reveal where your family is sleeping. Not necessarily wanting to stay here either, not with the ground littered with charred corpses.

The lack of a response is an answer within itself, silence filling the space until he speaks again.

"There's a settlement, a few hours from here. I could take you there."

At this offer, you finally look up. Traveling up the miles of forest-green armor, meeting the dark shine of his visor.

And slowly, you nod.

Pushing yourself to shaky feet, your hand touching gingerly at your head - checking for bleeding. Your voice is no more than a rough rasp when you finally try to speak, weak after not talking for so long.

"My stuff is inside. Can I get it?"

There's another moment of silence, and then you see his helmet dip again in a nod. You give the bodies a wide berth as you take the steps back inside.

You'd have to go with him.

Most of your jars of food were shattered in the firefight, only two remain on the broken counter.

Belatedly realizing you should have kept everything together in your pack, but it was hard to forget the old habits. Your things were tucked around the home as if you actually lived there.

They are quickly packed up. The remaining jars, each of your precious books. A spare vault suit, your few small trinkets from your home - the blanket that stopped smelling like the vault days ago.

He's still waiting outside as you approach him. A shift in the broad, armored shoulders as he gives you a once-over.

He's bigger than you thought, now that you're close. Your head barely level with his wide chestplate, his metal boots twice as wide and long as yours. There's a jerk of his arm, the point of a glove in your direction.

"This all you have?”

Your fingers twist together. What else are you supposed to be carrying with you? The pack on your back carried as much as you dared - not wanting to take too many supplies in case someone else had woken.

There's a hum that sounds like a sigh, before he's gesturing at the figures on the ground, "You're going to need more protection than that on our journey. Take his coat, and his weapons."

His words travel through one ear, and then out the other side. Unable to help the look of confusion and disgust you throw his way.

He wants you to what?

Touch a dead body?

Loot a corpse for your own gain?

You can't wrap your head around how he says it so easily, even with those old public service announcements playing in the back of your mind.

There may be times when you must engage in questionable activities.

In the wasteland, essential supplies will be scarce. When an item of value is found, keep it close, and away from bullies.

You hadn't thought that advice was real - hadn't taken it seriously. Childish propaganda, with its blaring music, the radio-voice overlay.

"I can't. I'm not a-," You protest, search for a word that conveys your intense distaste. "A scavenger.”

The barrel of his rifle swings in his grip as he shifts, moving a few steps close to you.

"No, you're not. You really are from the vaults, aren't you?” His voice a low rumble from beneath his helmet - curiosity tinging his words. "I thought you had stripped that suit off someone else."

You shoot him a wild look, worry souring your stomach. At the thought of your vault - and then at the idea of such a deception.

“I don’t want-” You start, shaking your head, but he cuts you off, his words clipped and firm.

"There could be worse things than Raiders on our journey. I can't protect someone who won't protect themself."

His words cut into you. You know he’s right - that things has not gone well for you earlier.

That you had only survived because of him.

That you should probably listen.

Slowly, you approach the body on the steps. It’s hard to look at him, the crumpled form - the charred blast in his chest.

You hesitate, fingers reaching out towards the tattered jacket he wears - long enough to twist around his knees, the sleeves hacked off at the shoulders. Stopping, as you glance back towards him.

"You won't get anything off the other one." He comments darkly, and you resist the urge to look at the pile of ash, starting to scatter in the wind.

You still can’t bring yourself to do it.

He sighs, slow steps taking him over to your side. Making quick work of things - stripping the jacket from the body, scooping up a pistol from where it lays in the dirt.

Pressing them both into your hands, the grip heavy in your fingers.

“I don’t know how to use this.” You admit, holding the gun gingerly, slipping the jacket on. It covers a good portion of your suit, even with the tears and holes that rip through the back.

He makes a low sound, and you think his patience must be wearing thin, “Keep it. If you stick close, perhaps you won’t need to use it.”

At that, he turns - leaving the choice up to you as he sets off, away from the farmhouse. You give the body one last look - seeing the tire iron hanging from the holster around his waist.

The jingle plays in your mind, again.

There are other situations where you may find yourself in close proximity to unfriendly neighbors. For such cases, you must learn to defend yourself using your natural strength.

Use anything sharp, or sturdy enough to swing. Get creative with your implement, but stay reasonable, and look for anything that can further enhance your innate vigor.

You take it - the metal cool in your grip, much more comforting than a gun. The holster fitting around your waist, the gun tucking neatly into it.

When you look up again, your savior has started to look small against the horizon, moving down the path that continued past the Farmhouse.

"Wait," You call, jogging after him. "What is your name?"

The sun glints off the painted metal as his head turns fractionally to the side. Slowing, allowing you to catch up with him.

"My name is Boba Fett."

Your neck cranes up - despite everything, you want him to know. Eyes sweeping across the dark visor as you tell him, "Thank you, Boba Fett."

He nods - and then you find yourself following him into the wasteland.

You stick to the wake of his shadow, tripping after him across the open plane. Silent except for the rhythmic hiss of his steps - you take three for each one of his - and the high whistle of the wind.

Beneath crumbling overpasses that tower above you, around piles of abandoned cars - the glass blown out, rusted beyond belief. You're unable to help thinking about how they've been there since the blast, unmoved for centuries.

The worst is the scattering of houses - strewn out every couple miles you pass. Boba's steps slowing, the unspoken command to stick close as he stands still.

The clicking of his helmet as he watches for movements, checking for heat signatures. Only moving on when there's nothing.

You wonder if everyone in this world are like the men - the Raiders, as he called them. If the massive loss and sorrow had twisted everyone beyond repair, had created a life where only cruelty kept you alive.

But then - you wonder why Boba helped you. Had disintegrated a man that was about to kill you.

Now that you've had time to think about it, it had been very impressive. How he had arrived, just in the nick of time.

How he'd walked away with barely more than a scorch blast on his armor.

How he had offered to take you to the settlement.

The settlement.

Your thoughts loop back to before.

Wondering if he was taking you somewhere worse. Wondering - if he was - if you'd have any chance of escaping. Not with the open fields, you think. Not with his long steps, the rifle now slung across his back.

Eventually, you're unable to help asking. Wanting to know what's in store instead of waiting. You've been doing enough of that, lately.

"What is the settlement like?" Your voice breaks the silence, though he does not slow, "Are the people like... like them?"

Boba makes a low sound of contempt, "Mos Espa has all kinds of types. Bounty Hunters, smugglers, and mercenaries. But none of them are like the Raiders. Lawless sacks of bantha fodder."

A beat, as your legs slow to a stop. His head turns.

"They won't hurt you there, girl."

You're not so sure, but it's a relief that he seems to understand your worry. The journey begins again in silence - through a section of bare trees, the grass rustling beneath your feet.

Finally plucking up the courage to ask, "Can you tell me about it? I don't - I don't know what settlements are like, now."

After a long moment, he does.

Telling you, under the heat of the sun, about the city. An old town, built from brick and stone. Sections that have crumbled - some rebuilt, others laying in waste. The marketplace that curls throughout the circular town square, centered around the old capitol building.

It sounds beautiful, in a way. That the city had been rebuilt. Hasn’t sat empty - filled with the skeletons of before.

You’ve seen a lot of those, lately.

“You seem to know a lot about it.” You comment, your boot catching on a rock - sending it skittering across the packed earth.

“I do.”

A new worry fills you, worming it’s way into your thoughts. Your words quiet over the hiss of his steps, each one hesitant, “Do you think they'll let me stay?”

He doesn’t slow, his answer seeming to come without thought.

“Aye, girl. They will.”

You can’t help but wonder how he can be so certain.

Finally, after hours had passed - the sun creeping across the gold-tinged sky - you see it. The cluster of buildings on the horizon, starting small until they begin to loom like a cracked range of mountains.

Finally back on a road, a real one. The asphalt cracked and crumbling, but it’s mostly flat under your feet - far more easy than some of the terrain you had crossed.

Because the journey hadn’t been all easy.

A crash-course in wandering the wasteland.

Beginning with a shimmer on the horizon, his steps slowing until you almost crashed into him. The rifle on his back swung around, peering down the sight so he could see what was approaching.

“Tuskens,” he had said.

As if you knew who or what that was - but the low edge to his voice had you sticking close again, as his did a slow sweep. Waiting for them to come to you, the figures slowly growing.

People clothed in wraps and robes, their faces covered. Traveling together, the first riding a large, ox-like beast with a thick pelt and curling horns.

Banthas, you found out later. Mutated by the radiation from the fallout, like the Brahmin at the Farmhouse.

His voice, as it broke through your careful watch, “Might not want to meet them alone, but you’ll be fine with me.”

They had halted, when they saw your small party. The rifle slung back over his back, as they signed back in forth - Boba’s slow and exaggerated, with the weight of his armor. The gestures punctuated with calls, carrying with the wind.

You understood none of it - feeling on edge, with their numbers. A little over a half-dozen, armed with carved, tall spears.

“I warned them about the Raiders,” He told you, when your paths finally diverged. “They might use what was left behind. And we’ll need to take a different way back.”

“Why is that?” You asked, though you didn’t have another choice - already throwing a leg over the low fence that he cleared with a step.

The noise he makes buzzed in his helmet. Was he laughing at you?

“You not ready for super mutants, little one.” A sigh, as he added, “They shouldn’t wander this close, I will come back for them later.”

Leaving you to wonder what they were - and certainly not going to push sticking to the path if Boba seemed uncertain - as you followed him over the rough terrain.

Not wanting to think about the bodies being picked over - but you think you understood. That supplies could be scarce, better to take it for yourself than for someone to use it against you.

“Did you know them?” You has asked, once the figures were out of sight again.

“Some.” He has replied.

He told you a little a bit about them. That they lived in nomadic tribes, that he had stayed with one, some years ago. A weight his words that told you that he carried something - regret, grief - that you don’t ask about.

The story interrupted by the sound of scrabbling - the ground shifting beneath your feet. Creatures climbing out of holes - large mole rats with pink, mottled skin and biting teeth.

Another pair of those large roaches, like you had seen after you first left.

Your breath in your throat, they clicked and lunged, the tire iron cool in your fumbling, heated grasp.

A metal hand closing around your wrist as he tugged you behind him. The other reaching for a pistol at his own waist - a kindness, in the way he had fired first.

Even if his words made heat bloom in your chest, embarrassment rising at being so utterly unprepared again.

Definitely not ready.

The rest of the journey, made in silence.

But now - the city looms. You’re grateful to see it, your feet and aching from the hours of walking.

Passing the broken street signs on the side of the old highway. Some things starting to make sense - the edges of them torn off, peppered with bullet holes.

You hadn’t remembered a Mos Espa when you lived here. But there it was now - something new born in the remains of before.

The old name transforming, becoming something else as the sign decayed, letters faded and lost over time.

It’s a skeleton of a town, padded and expanded with hand-made additions. Layers of wood and metal, stacked together with webs of scaffolding connecting them together.

Miles of high fences surrounding the buildings like an embrace, keeping everyone tucked safely inside.

It was impressive. It was a community, and for the first time - there's a relief easing the weight in your chest.

He leads you to the center of the town. A tall rotunda with a dark brick dome, a flight of cracked stone steps cut into the hill to meet it. You wonder where he's taking you - confused by the way people in the streets call to him.

When he had talked before, he had made it seem like he would be passing by. But, he knows people, here.

There's a way that they speak to him that you pick up on, as you still follow close at his heels.

A sort of respect, a reverance.

The wide double doors open for him, bringing you both inside of the old capitol. Inside, it almost feels familiar. Like a moment from your life, before.

Neat floors that are swept clean. A string of actual lights, flickering with electricity. Framing a raised platform that sits between the branches of the ornate, bifurcated staircase. A large seat sits in the middle, pieced together with carved bits of stone and concrete.

A woman lounges on it, lifting up as the doors close behind you. Hair pulled back in a complicated braid, above sharp eyes and an even sharper smile.

"You're back," She calls - as Boba moves to a bright yellow rack, set into the wall of the stairs. "I was thinking about sending Djarin out to look for you."

"Funny." He answers dryly, lining himself up between the metal arms.

And then, there's a hiss. The suit opens.

You watch a man step out, clothed in a dark flight suit. Older than you, powerfully built with a broad chest and broader shoulders. The skin you could see was scarred, but it didn't take away from the depth in his pretty, brown eyes - his handsome face.

A part of you had known, had remembered the power armor advertisements and propaganda from before the Great War. Giant suits of metal, created to carry soldiers.

But you had met him in it - and it had felt like they were one. You hadn't really thought too much about who was beneath.

"I had to track the Raiders further than I anticipated," He comments as he stretches, rolling his shoulders.

Stepping over to an armor stand right next to the rack. Carefully slipping on pieces of a smaller, more compact set - still painted that pretty, dark green, "Ran into a little more than I bargained for."

"I see that." The woman glances you way, where you were left to hover in the doorway, "Who are you, little bluebird?"

You blink at that, glancing down at the bright blue of your Vault suit, before you answer - giving her your name. She smiles, stepping down elegantly from the seat, taking your hand in hers.

Fennec Shand.

She carries herself like a queen - beautifully intimidating, a fighter and a survivor in this new world. You don't know what you could offer her, but you tell yourself to be brave, to try.

"I don't have much, but I will work hard. Would there be room for me to stay?" You ask, hands clasped in front of you.

Terrified this woman will tell you to go - to turn you out after you had come all this way.

Fennec grins, her arms folding over her chest, "Boba Fett is the Daimyo here, sweet girl. Not me. Didn’t he tell you?"

Daimyo.

You remember the word from history classes. Ruler.

Not a mercenary, not an ordinary man. You'd been traveling with the lord of this settlement. All the lands around it - his.

You gape at Boba and he smiles - with a sly curve of his lips, his eyes crinkling with amusement. The rasp of his voice - clearer without the helmet, but still deep and smooth.

"Welcome to Mos Espa, sen'ika"

sen'ika - little bird

thank you for reading! 💚 part iii will be out thursday, the 15th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

(0-pressure tags 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights, @wingofshadow, @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force, @valentine-tx, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved, @dukeoftheblackstar, @writeforfandoms, @winchestershiresauce, @monada43, @rescuethewretched, @thegalaxys-edge, @honeydjarin, @ri-a-rose )

[fancyfeathers]

The Games We Play of Dust and Ash (Yandere Moriarty the Patriot Masterlist)

(A/N- I started writing this one and it ended up giving Anthony and Kate energy from Bridgerton and I am here for it)

The first time Mycroft Holmes met his darling was at a ball, he was only attending because he had a meeting with the master of the hours house at midnight and it just so happened that Albert and his darling were in attendance that night. The two men talk for a short while before Albert’s wife points out her sister who had just arrived. Looking at the young lady who was pointed out, she did not seem like much, a shy thing, a little closed off to the suitors who approached her. Then he hears the voice of Albert’s darling chime in again…

“Things have been hard for her since our parents died a few weeks ago, she has been more distant. She used to come over to visit but now it feels like she is avoiding Albert’s family like the plague.”

“I see… please excuse me.”

He approached the young lady breaking through the people who attempted to approach her, saving her from the other gentleman like a knight in shining armor.

“Care for a walk, my lady.”

With not much of a choice she takes his arm and the two excuse themselves from the commotion of the party into the garden. There is only a bit of light conversation between the two of them, more so just a moment of calm from the evening’s commotion. He asks about her family and she answers, always sounding a bit wary about speaking of her brother in law’s family.

“I suggest you stay out of the Moriarty family’s affairs, women like yourself should not be getting involved with such weighty affairs.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

She wasted no time biting back at his statement leaving Mycroft a bit shocked at her response but before he could respond she scoffed and waved him off, marching back through the party and calling for her carriage driver. Meanwhile Mycroft passes by Albert and his darling, and she just chuckles…

“I forgot to tell you that she cannot stand… controlling men like yourself so I will take a guess that you said something she did not like.”

Four weeks after that He keeps on seeing her, but every time she turns up nose and walks away, not wishing to speak to him, but he shouldn’t care after all, there’s no real reason to speak to her besides a small desire to do so.

Then, one day when he’s visiting his brother, he knows from reading over a piece of paper and then he asked about it. He tells his older brother that it’s about a murder case of two nobles that a report he fanc- works with was commissioned to look into.

Take the paper from the younger brother, and find out the doctor who performed the autopsy found out that they were poison, Why are you have a doctors and the commissioner went missing a few days after, and the name of the commissioner is his darling.

She was looking into the death of her parents despite him telling her to stay out of it!

He gets up and leaves right then and there to her home and finds her sitting in the garden. He scolds her for getting involved and-

“Why cannot you leave me alone?! It is like you are obsessed with me!”

She storms off back into her home.

Obsessed with her? He was not obsessed with her!

She was brash, hot headed, unladylike, reckless! He would never wish to court someone like her!

After that he feels like he keeps on seeing her everywhere!

He went to the news bureau to meet with the owner of the paper and he sees her walking down the hall with the same reporter his brother mentioned!

After a meeting in a more unsavory part of town he spots her in an alley with that same blasted reporter talking to a night club singer who he had heard rumors about being an information broker.

Then when he was at the headquarters of Scotland Yard, meeting with an inspector about a drug dealer ring spreading through London, she is there! He spots her leaving the record archive with the doctor who preformed the autopsy and that same reporter!

Why can’t she realize that she is throwing herself into more and more danger the more she investigates this case….

He needs to get her to stop.

He asks for any bit of information about her, anything that can be used as leverage to drag her out of this case. But then when he gets the files on her and her family, he knew all of it already…

He knew that she had punched a Duke on her eighteenth birthday after he tried to propose to her.

He knew that she tried to drown her family’s cat when she was a child because she wanted to see what would happen but did her understand the concept of other people’s pain or the concept of life and death, but now she does of course.

He knows that she would sneak out of her family’s estate and still does to meet with friends who are of a lower standing of hers and how her parents tried to cover it up, afraid of the scandal that it would cause.

He already knew everything about her.

Was he obsessed?

No that couldn’t be.

He just wanted to protect her.

But the way she talked to him in the garden at that party before his final comment that set her off, it felt so kind, so genuine, so real.

He was in love with her.

In love sight the woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

God what was he going to do?

“You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires.”

[wrenwinchester]

Happy birthday to Millie Wren Winchester, she’s 43 today, and she truly deserves the world. Also, this is fairly raw writing, haven’t had a chance to edit or anything, just a heads up. But without further ado, here is the

Fourth of July 1996

Dean went out for a bit, I honestly had no idea what he was doing, Dad was off hunting who knows what in southern Michigan, hadn't heard from him in like a week. And Sam was being a bratty 13 year old. Dean and I had tried everything, taking him to the local pool, taking him shopping, finding his favorite anything really, and nothing helped. He was mad at Dad because he missed his birthday, and mad at Dad for about 1,000 other reasons. And now. I was dealing with it alone. "Great."

Sam looks up from whatever book he was reading, Oliver Twist maybe. "What's wrong?" He asks, sitting up on the bed. And I mentally curse. I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Nothing, I'm just tired and frustrated about stuff at the convenience store." I say, not entirely inaccurate, but definitely not what had me going.

"I can't believe you've already made assistant manager. I mean you just started what, a month ago?" He asks. Even though he knows the answer.

"Yeah, but think of all the different experience I have, and the fact that I actually have a work ethic." I say, and he nods looking over at me.

"That's true. Still, I'm proud of you." He smiles at me, and it feels like the first time he's smiled in weeks.

"Thanks, Sammy." I look at the time, it's 7:30. "Hey have you eaten yet?" I ask him.

"No, I wasn't really hungry earlier," his stomach growls. "Apparently that's not so true now."

"What do you want to eat?" Sam's not necessarily picky, but he is particular.

"Whatever you want is fine. I don't care." Ahh, there's the attitude I was expecting.

"Okay, well, I'm just doing cereal because it's easier, and right now cheaper." I say and Sam just shrugs. "By the way, do you know where Dean ran off to earlier? He didn't say anything to me." I say, and Sam shrugs again, putting his headphones on for the Walkman Dean and I pulled money together for his birthday, and goes back to reading. "Okay then."

Sam and I eat our cereal, basically ignoring each other, though it's more like he's ignoring me. I'm just respecting that.

Sam continues his reading when we're done, and I clean up our bowls and add milk to the shopping list. When that's done, I look over the newspaper for any possible cases.

Then, I pick up one of my books, something about protective sigils from the library in town, and I get to work on cleaning the weapons. Granted, all the ones that are here have already been cleaned, but I can engrave protective sigils into the handles, anything to help keep my family safe. When I look up it's 9:30, and I glance over towards the bed Sam's been reading on, and notice he's fast asleep. Book closed on his chest, headphones still playing whatever music he chose. (It's probably one of Dean's cassettes, but I'm not supposed to know that Sam likes Dean's music.)

I walk over to the bed and pick the book up, careful not to lose his spot, and place a bookmark in it before setting it on the nightstand. Dean's been gone for hours at this point, and I'm starting to worry. He should have called or something.

I move across the room, grabbing one of the spare blankets off the couch, and bring it over to lay across Sam. He shifts like he's going to wake up, but doesn't. "Nice to know I haven't lost my touch." I whisper to myself with a smile across my face.

I glance at the door, worrying about Dean again, and I shake my head. He's seventeen, he can handle himself. I repeat the thought over and over again trying to find some comfort in it, but the truth is it ends up making me pissed at Dad. Dean and I have been able to "handle" ourselves since we were 7 years old. We shouldn't have had to.

"Great. Now I'm thinking about Dad and what might have gone wrong on the hunt. And now I'm worried about two Winchesters. I pick up another one of my knives, it's one I don't use often, but it was a gift from an older lady, couldn't tell you much more than she was a redhead, I got it, oh it had to be 6 years ago now. She was nice, saw that I liked knives, and offered it to me. I haven't seen her since. Bobby said that this one was just a normal dagger, but I'm not sure I believe him. So, I keep it in the bag he and I made when I was really in my sewing phase, before I was constantly sewing up skin instead of cloth. Bobby helped me put some sigils on it to keep whatever mystical knives somehow ended up in my possession. (After a witch hunt, dad would let me go through the witches belongings for things that seemed useful. I almost always grabbed at least one knife, but occasionally, they were gifts, that later turned out to be from witches, but more knives meant more ways and more things I could protect my family from.) I set the knife down, not needing protection sigils on it since I never use it, and continue going through everything. A couple hours later, I decide to practice my knife throwing. Not that I really needed practice, I'd been throwing knives since before I started school, and they're my favorite weapon.

I don't leave the room, leaving Sammy alone never ends well. I already know something will happen, and we won't get our deposit back, so it might as well be this, I find a spot on the wall, and make a little x, that's my target. I decide to only use this specific knife, I don't know why, but it just feels right, and as a hunter, I've learned to trust my gut. Just as I'm about to through it, get out some of my frustration and worry about my family, the door swings open, I guess someone else is my target tonight.

My arms already poised to throw the knife before it registers who is at the door, I miss hitting Dean by a fraction of an inch, almost cutting his ear off.

"You nicked me!" He yells, his hand coming away from his ear, and looking at me bewilderedly.

"Dude, you're lucky it didn't go through your eyeball." I reply, going to grab the knife from where it stuck in the wall. It was meant to be funny, but it comes off snarkier than I meant it to, and Dean looks a little taken aback. I don't really have words for why or any idea what to say, really, I just shrug, and say, "Keep it down would you, Sam's sleeping."

Dean looks apologetically towards the bed where Sam is sleeping, he's moved since I closed his book, he's now curled up, practically in the fetal position curling in on himself. "Sorry. And Sorry I was gone so long. My errand had me running around for a while to find the stuff." He smiles gleefully, "but I did find it."

"What is "it", Dean?" I ask perturbed. Walking to put my knife away, obviously I didn't mean to hit my brother, but I figured he was an intruder or monster. "Oh, and sorry about your ear, want me to patch it up?" I ask, it's as good an apology as he's gonna get, besides he knows my frustrations aren't with him. Entirely.

"'It' is a surprise." He smiles, but it fades when I don't smile back. "How's Sam doing?" He asks, probably hoping that's all that's bothering me.

"Moody as ever. One minute he's telling me how proud he is of me for being promoted at the convenience store, and the next he's not talking to me again, and ignoring me." I sigh, as Dean nods along. "We were never that bad." I pause. "Were we?" It comes out quieter than I meant it to. But it's all just hitting me right now.

Dean just gives a wry laugh. "We never had the opportunity. Dad kept us moving, and we were taking turns taking care of Sammy." He says, and he's right. I'm surprised he said it, but he's right.

"So, what you're saying is if Dad had been a better parent, we would have been as bad as Sam?" I ask, mostly because u feel like pushing his buttons.

"Dad's not a bad parent, he just has a lot going on, just leave him alone will you." Dean says, and I realize that nerve is tighter than it usually is.

"I know, I'm just worried that we haven't heard from him. Usually he calls by now." Dean nods. "Not to mention we don't even know what or exactly where he's hunting. How're we supposed to help him if something comes up?"

Dean just shakes his head. "It's Dad. He'll be fine. He's always fine." I nod, still not reassured. And Dean shakes his head. "You know what, we need to get out of here. We need to just relax a little, have fun. It's the Fourth of July after all." He says and goes to put his coat back on.

"Dean, we can't just leave Sam, especially not to galavant around town—"

"We're not," He says pointing at Sam as he continues. "Wake him up, I have a surprise." I stare at him.

"We're not waking up Sam, we can do the surprise in the morning." I say, trying to put my foot down. And then I laugh a little, you'd think we were grown adults parenting our kid, and reality is we're 17 and 15.

"Come on, Wrennie, let's just go have some fun, act our ages for once. I promise it'll be worth it. Besides, it has to happen tonight." Dean would never know, but he has puppy dog eyes just like Sam. And for once. I agree.

"Okay, fine. But you're waking him up, it's almost midnight, and I'm not gonna be at the receiving end of a Winchester cold shoulder right now." I point at him, and go to put shoes on.

"Fine by me." He says recrossing the room to get to Sam's bed. He always sleeps on the bed furthest from the door. Old habits and all that.

Dean starts shaking him. "Sam.Sammy.Sam. Wake up!" Dean practically yells, and I through a pillow at him. We aren't the only ones in the motel.

Of course, the pillow misses and hits Sam in the face, he groans.

"What's wrong." He says, throwing the pillow off his face.

"Get up, I've got a surprise for you." Dean says and I roll my eyes. It shouldn't really surprise me anymore the leeway Sam has for Dean. I mean. I have it too, but still it irks me that I'm not granted the same courtesy by Sam. But because of it, Sam gets up looking for where his book fell, and finding it placed neatly on the side table.

I sit in the back of the impala on the drive to wherever we're going. It's supposed to be special for Sam, and frankly, Sam is mad at me for hitting him with a pillow, and for whatever else he convinced himself to be mad about. I should have just stayed at the motel, let them have a boys night doing whatever it is Dean has planned, but Dean's right. We should just act our age for once.

After 20 minutes of driving, where Sam and Dean are talking and anytime I try to say something Sam gives the cold shoulder, and Dean gives an apologetic look, before they continue talking, we finally arrived wherever Dean wanted to take us, and...

It was an empty field. "Dean, what are we doing here?" I ask, as we get out of the car and he pops the trunk.

"Sam, you wanna see what I've got in the trunk?" He says, and Sam eagerly goes to see what we're doing. I hear his excited squeals, and I'm already getting confused about it, but then Sam comes around the corner, a crate of fireworks in hand.

"Seriously, Dee?" I ask incredulously, but I can't help the smile spreading across my face.

"Yeah, like I said, it's the Fourth of July." He smiles back and I just shake my head.

"Come on! Let's go," Sam says, the biggest smile he's worn in a while across his face. And Dean and I follow closely behind as he brings them along.

Sam sets the crate down in the middle of the field, far enough away from any trees, and the car, but still close enough to the car just in case, we are still a hunter's kids.

Dean gestures to a couple of thinner fireworks for Sammy to grab, and pass between the three of us.

"You got your lighter, Dean?" I ask and he pats his pockets checking for it. It takes him a minute, before he pulls it out with a winning grin on his face.

"Always." The smug bastard. But I smile anyway. And Sam looks at me with glee.

"Light 'em up!" He says, and so Dean lights all three of our fireworks, and we hold them up into the air. Watching as they go off. And Sam looks at Dean, "Dad would never let us do anything like this. Thanks, Dean. This is great." And hugs Dean.

When they're done hugging, Dean slips Sam his lighter, and gives him a nod, letting him light all the other fireworks. Sam comes running back, the biggest smile on his face as he yells, "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" And stands by Dean turning around to watch the fireworks go off.

As they continue going off, all of us laughing and smiling, Sam turns to dance under the sparks, and I turn to Dean. "You're right Dean, we really needed this. To act our own age for once." I smile up at him, before resting my head on his shoulder, and we continue watching Sam dance under the sparks and he gives both of us a smile. And of course, we smile back. And just enjoy our time just the three of us as the fireworks continue going off.

After the last of the fireworks explodes, and the sparks die down, we clean up most of our mess, and bring it back to the Impala. Sam sits in between Dean and I in the front, as he's still a little shorter than me. And the three of us ride back to our motel in a comfortable silence.

Sam falls asleep on my shoulder, and I revel in it, he's my baby brother, and I'd die right now if it meant getting could get out of this life, get Dean out. When I look over at Dean, he's got the biggest smile I've seen in a while on his face, just pure unfiltered joy.

"Dee," I whisper and he turns to look at me. I nod my head towards Sam, his body slumped over in a way that seems like it'd be uncomfortable, but he needs the sleep, and he's out cold.

Dean's smile grows soft, full of love, and admiration for our little brother, before his gaze slides back up to me. And he shrugs.

"I swear, you'd better be the one to carry him in, his getting too big for me to carry." I say jokingly as my left arm clutches Sammy closer to me, as if somehow I could just keep him this small, and protect him from all the pain in the world.

"I didn't say anything!" Dean whisper yells, and I just eyeball him. "Fine. I'll carry him in, but you know he's getting old enough where we could start waking him up when we get places." Dean says and I smack his arm. "I'm just saying, you and I were getting woken up when we arrived somewhere years before we hit double digits."

Of course, Dean is right. Sam is getting to be too big for either of us to carry, but the longer we do, the longer we can keep him little and safe. Even if it's not what Sam wants. It just means we have to work out more, build our muscles so we can carry him, especially if he's gonna be hunting more than just helping with the research.

I ignore the thought, because the truth is it terrifies me, ever since that wendigo incident a few years ago, the idea of Sam hunting isn't a comfortable one. I switch my focus back to tonight and look back at Dean.

"Hey, Dee?" I say, voice still quite so as not to wake Sam. He glances over at me in acknowledgement, "thank you, for tonight. I know it was mostly for Sam, but I really needed it too. The reminder that we are just kids." I smile at him. "And, I really needed to get out of the motel room, I think I'd been in there too long." I say, "and I know Sam needed it, to get his mind of off of Dad, and the fact he missed his birthday. I think you made up for it." Dean just shrugs me off, he's never been great at receiving praise, and I let him minimize what it meant to Sam and I, it's just easier. "I do mean it." Is all I say, and he just silently nods.

When we get to the motel, I help Dean get Sam, who turns into Dean and just holds onto his neck as he carries him up to our room. And I get the fireworks garbage out of the trunk, and toss it in the dumpster. Let someone else deal with the mess. When I make it into the room, Sam is still asleep, and Dean is being held down by him on the bed.

I lock the door as I glance between them, and I just shake my head before crawling into the bed and squishing Sam in the middle of us. It's a little small, but the three of us still fit, and we still need each other.

For the first time since we last saw Dad, I sleep completely peacefully without any nightmares. Because even if something does happen to Dad, I'll always have my brothers.

[prentissvest]

last minuets of quiet- Emily Prentiss x female/ reader

words- 1.1k

warnings- homophobia, death, case stuff, not great writing,I think that's it

you wake up to the feeling of your girlfriends warm hands moving up and down your arm in a sleepy state. Hotch has been giving everyone a lot more paperwork then usual recently and the hours you get at home have been minimal so you and Emily had decided to spend as much time together as possible out of work as you and Em have yet to tell the team about the relationship between the two of you.

its not that either of you are embarrassed or ashamed but privacy is not something you have a lot of, especially in your line of work. you have been together for almost two years now, not long after the second date Emily asked you to be her girlfriend and around the seventh date you moved into Emily's apartment.

an obnoxious ringing took you both out of your sleepy states, "prentiss." Emily says into the phone. "yes sir, ill be there soon" already knowing what the phone call was about you begin to get dresses when you feel two arms snake around your waist and Emilys head shuffle into the crook of your neck. "I don't want to go, its so nice here with you" Emily groans "me either Em but its our job" you said giggling Emily mumbling something incoherent then places a kiss to your jawline as she begins to get up and get ready herself.

the ride to the bau was short, Emilys apartment isnt far away as it is more convenient because Hotch often calls everyone in at random hours of the night.

Emilys hand shifts between the gearstick and your thigh for the entirety of the journey. you get out of the car around the corner of the bau so that it wasn't obvious that you had come here with Emily, with a team full of profilers your not sure how they had yet to figure out what was going o between the raven haired woman and yourself yet.

the team had gathered in the bullpen with tiered looks on their faces "in sorry to call you all in at such an early hour but we have a case"

the case was on six people whom had died and 1 who had gone missing more then seven hours ago the victims were found with large amounts of stab wounds, enough to class as overkill, and a cross carved into their hands, the team had information on the victims but they were trying to find the one thing that connects them all as the unsub didn't have a preference for gender nor race. "what If the unsub is targeting homosexuals" Reid suggests, Hotch turns to Garcia as she begins to do some digging for info. the tea, sits in silence while waiting for an answer "right on the money Reid, and each of the 6 victims have gone to the same gay bar within the last 4 months" Garcia says while still searching for more information like who they could have spoken to. "thank you Garcia, wheels up in 30" Hotch says nodding towards everyone.

you and Emily give each other the same knowing, pained look, you quickly speed off and get your stuff ready and head to the bathrooms as you know Emily will want to briefly talk to you before you all leave and its the one place where there is slight privacy.

Emily is not one to show emotion around people but with you she is an open book, yes you both have certain things that you prefer to keep to yourself but inevitably you end up telling each other.

you stand in the woman's restroom next to the bland shade of grey that the walls had been painted many years ago. Emily walks in a pained smile on her face as she walks closer to you. you open your welcoming arms and she gladly walks into your warm embrace. "how are we supposed to do it?" she says sniffling. it was obvious to you that she had been crying at this point with the growing wetness of you shirt.

"I don't know Em, but ill be there the whole way" yes you were struggling too but with Emilys past living with her mother the homophobia hit her hard. her mother was and most likely will never be supportive of her daughter and Emily had learned to accept that but she could never accept the sadness and anger that it fuelled.

the two of you slowly headed out to the jet slightly later then everyone else which was surprising as the two of you were usually the first ones there. the team shared a worried look when they saw the redness in Emilys eyes but they had each learned not to push her to talk.

the case moved excruciatingly slowly, it solved fast as the unsub had a clear motive and a raging signature which helped to find him fast yet every second was full of anger and pain.

Emily had decided that you both needed the last few hours before you had to leave to go on the jet to calm down and spend some much needed time together. you decided to order in Emilys favourite restaurant and watch the current series you both had been bingeing whenever you both had the chance to watch it.

as the series continued on you both began to get progressively closer to each other although you both had been together for two years you still made each others hearts race. by the end of the third episode you had your head in the crook of Emilys neck and she was running her hand up and down your arm.

the steady calmness was quickly disturbed by Reid running in shouting "HEY YN DO YOU KNOW WHERE EMILY I-" the both of you jumped apart. "Reid.. " the look of shock was evident of the younger agents face, and if there's one thing that everyone knew about Reid its that he can not keep a secret. "Reid please keep this quiet"

he backed away slowly nodding obnoxiously. "Reid-" before you could continue the rest of your sentence he bolted out of the room.

"well, you ready for our last moments of quiet" Emily said with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, "yeah, I think its time they knew now anyway" as you both leaned forward a ecstatic Derek ran into the room "I KNEW IT, ROSSI YOU OWE ME $50!!"

[hel-phoenyx]

Oli is @thal-ent's character and Kaizarz @corneille-but-not-the-author's

Wing cleaning duty is quite the mandatory task when you know Oli these many years. It can happen very quickly, because of unexpected rain, some beastmenphobic idiots throwing them mud on their face or just some teasing remark earning them a little seawater shower.

In the last case, I'm often the one in charge of the very important duty. Really, the situation is ironic. Shutting down vicious mockery takes you like ten seconds, to earn a dozen or two minutes of calm, and then you need to spend four hours on preening bullshit.

You're lucky you mean a lot to me, Oli. Genuinely.

I sit down, and starts cleaning the feathers. They're soft under all the salt and the water, even if it doesn't stop me to litteraly feel them itch. While they're drenched, Oli is still kinda in my domain, so my senses toward her own sensations are heightened.

I really gotta control this.

Close my heart to everything outside so I can't let myself hurt or be hurt again.

Oli's wings shudder when I go to the primaries. Sensitive part, I guess.

"Hey, you're better at this than I thought."

I sigh.

"Be careful, Oli, I just started. Nothing is stopping me to drench you again."

"Com'on, Tyr, that was a compliment."

I once regretted letting them, all of them, use that nickname. It was not theirs. I thought it will never be. Today, it's somewhat comforting.

I let myself smile a little bit.

"You're not the only beastperson I know..."

Knew.

"So I had experience. My hand is not too much of a handicap in this situation."

"Good, good. Wouldn't want you to spend the day preening my feathers, you wingwetting bully."

They stick their tongue toward me, enough so I can see the tattoo. I always wondered why so many marking on their skins, but I never asked. I'm not much of a curious person anyway.

Me, at least. I can see Oli has something on their mind. Their wings are shivering in some emotion I can't itnerpret, and their face is crisped in pensive worry. I have an idea of the question she's gonna ask, and of course, I'm not dissapointed.

"I never asked you how you lost it ?"

"Because you knew I wasn't gonna answer."

They laugh.

"Good point. But seriously, Tyr, only thing I know from that day is Kaizarz fetching the doctors. I'll never forget his expression. I thought... I thought someone died."

"Maybe someone did, who knows ?"

"Com'on, don't joke with that, it's not funny."

I'm not joking, Oli.

But those are words I am not able to say. Not yet. Not while I have to endure the shame and the pain. My honor, shattered in pieces. My childhood, drowned in sorrow. Everything I believed in, tainted in blood.

The silence is enough of an answer for my dearest rukkorn friend. They shrug, let me move onto the wingpit. This place always accumulate a lot of dirt and salt, I'd better be careful.

My peace and quiet do not last long, however. Oli may ended up getting tired of the silence, or they just want to talk to me, while I can align more than three consecutive words. I've never been a talker, but ever since that event, it's been so hard just saying hello to them. I couldn't even look Kaizarz in the eyes up until not too long ago.

And then it was too late.

"Hey, Tyr, there's something else I wanted to ask you."

"Hm ?"

"You went to the Tournament for Glory, right , How was it ?"

I don't think they're asking that question without any hidden thought. Out of all of us, I am the only one that could go. And it was because I regained some fighting ability, enough to defend my sovereign, even if my former level was the one of a genius.

I could have reach death battles and all of them know it. So, I suppose they're several reasons behind that question, and not all of them are about Kaizarz.

Still, it is too personal to answer.

"It was... Something."

"Aw. Nothing else ?"

"You're on dangerous grounds, Oli."

They laugh again.

"Look at him being all-mysterious. Come oooooooon, Tyr, I had Kaizarz' point of view but he doesn't talk much these days, he's too occupied with the war and you're always free since you lost your hand, I want your point of view, please tell meeee~"

My point of view ?

Mine ?

I could tell you everything about how I saw a man vanquish a dozen enemies in a fraction of second before laughing with me at the festival. I could tell you the story of how a double-sided axe almost killed the Khan of Khans before the wielder, the victor shook his hand in respect. I could tell you about a god's might and the one that never yielded, that landed a hit on the Herald of End of Times.

What's so interesting about my point of view ?

What so interesting about a pile of books with taboo subjects, laughs inbetween battles and the warmth of two hands taking mine at different times. Harmless jokes and alcohol that loosen up my tongue and the sun in my eyes and a back turned towards me. My throat hurting and the sun kissing my burning cheeks and words I never deserved, I'll never deserve. A hug behind a tent and words that would forever mark me because I hold them true in my heart there's no world we I can ever be happy.

What's so interesting

About me ?