#he cuts it in a heart shaped landing strip so that when you go down on him it's like he's thanking you every time ur nose hits it

[oh-katsuki]

still thinking abt gojo and his heart shaped pubic hair

-throaty

gojo and his WHAT?????

[saucyjothoughts]

Okay uuhhh there's something I'm into but feel weird about. So if you delete this bc you don't wanna poke that particular hornet's nest I completely understand!!

But sometimes I imagine that the guys I'm into have pussies. I just prefer to eat people out but am more attracted to guys.

So yeah if you could.......maybe......... Make out headcanons part two: the lips down under

Brb, beating the JO manpussy hornets' nest with a stick.

(also please do not feel weird about wanting this. This is the queerest fandom ever, we can love whatever genitals we want, attached to whatever people we want and 'man x pussy' is an A+ combination.)

(nsfw under the cut)

Bojan: Wears boxers and uses a realistic packer every day. Keeps his hair natural. Fat mound and prominent clit with symmetrical lips (bigger on the right). Will top with a strap but prefers to get fucked. Is desperate to get pregnant by the right person. Squirts and loves a partner who knows how to milk his g-spot.

Jure: shaves his pubic hair into fun shapes - a lightning bolt, a heart, a Christmas tree... the letter 'J'. Wears boxers and doesn't have a packer but will use household objects for the purpose. Prefers to top with a strap (or just his fingers/tongue) and prefers anal to vaginal sex if he's bottoming. Desperately does not ever want to be pregnant. Has a little beauty spot on his lower lips as well as on the ones on his face.

Nace: keeps a fluffy mound but shaves his lips. Gets very wet very easily - the juiciest of the five. Big clit, dark handsome lips. Mostly wears boxers and has a couple of packers. Generally prefers to top but will go wild for being eaten out or having his pussy fucked by someone he trusts. Would like to be pregnant at some point in the future, when the time is right.

Kris: isn't very hairy and styles a neat landing strip. Hair is more red between his legs than on his head. Prominent inner lips and a subtle little clit. Mostly prefers boxers outside and something lacey at home. Only packs when the outfit calls for it. Prefers to bottom, and vaginal feels better than anal. Doesn't want to be pregnant any time soon but might be persuaded to consider it in the future.

Jan: has a lot of dark hair but keeps it trimmed short. Tidy little lips, very pink. Can occasionally squirt if he's touched in the right way. Wears men's and women's underwear equally and occasionally packs - has a couple of interesting styles. Loves to be eaten out and have all of his holes used but will occasionally wear a strap if his partner wants it. Would parent but doesn't think his mental health is good enough to get through a pregnancy. Has his clitoral hood pierced.

[rogueshadow1124]

"What do you mean transformation?"

Vampire¡OC!Astaroth Lameirèz x Reader

Summary: when the reader wakes up in a place unknown and is met with an unfamiliar man who claims he only wants to help...[Astaroth speech in red.]

Word count: 1632

Warning: mentions of sharp objects,(not proof read)

A light hum rang within the proximity of the room, the room itself was dark and musky, ashy stone walls glistening as a strip of moonlight seeped through the gap between the jhett curtains. In the back centre of the room was placed a king sized bed, maroon covers neatly tucked into the edges, looking as If it had just been made but a small scuffle  could be seen at the far left corner that was molded into a silhouette.

A groan echoed through the silence, along with a rustling as the figure squirmed slightly beneath the covers. A hand poked out from the sheets near the pillows, grasping onto the edge so tightly it made the knuckles of what looked to be a pale, dainty hand, turn into a even whiter ashy shade. The sheet was pushed down to reveal a head of messy Y/H/C locks that splayed around a perfectly shaped feminine face, the features being sharp but so soft at the same time- arched eyebrows layed above closed almond eyes, I little button nose and cheeks that looked chubby but held a significant shape for cheekbones which looked oddly adorable.

The girls eyes opened revealing a set of unmistakable piercing orbs, in the middle they held the bright colour of Y/E/C but the outskirts were intruded by a deep bloody red that was seemingly seeping into the original colour. Her eyes scanned around the room, still only half open and feigning a drowsy stare but she soon came to notice that this wasnt at all her room, but somewhere unfathomably unfamiliar to her.

"Oh I see your awake..." her head snapped up, landing on a ravern haired male who saunted into the room with an outwardly sense of confidence and elegance that wasnt at all hard to miss. The girl opened her mouth as if trying to speak but was immediately stopped by the man who had suddenly appeared by her side within the blink of an eye. "Now I know what you're thinking little one. I am not in anyway going to harm you...again, but may you refrain from speaking for a few moments it might just strain you a little."

From this angle, with him standing above her at the side of The bed and her staring up at him, she had noticed how his eyes were a deep red, shining as the light was cast against them. She swallowed dryly, eyes shuttering as a feeling of nervousness crept over her. "W-ho. A-are you?"

"Me? My name is Astaroth Lameirèz but you may call me Astar." He replied coyly, not holding very much emotion within his tone. He placed a hand on her chin, nimble fingers coming to grasp at her jaw and turn her head up and to the side, his other hand hovering above his own and her face as he used his thumb to lift her top lip to which she tried reconciling at but his hold was far from weak. He hummed to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he let her go and walked over to a desk that was on the opposite side of the room, she hardly heard the whisper he let out "I dont think it will be long now.."

"W-what ar-" the rest of her words were cut short by a sharp pain that shot through her gums, a stinging sensation spreading theough her eyes and her mouth beginning to grow even drying than before. "H-hurts..."

"Its all apart of the process darling." She blinked and again he was at her side, this time he held three objects; a pen light, a mini scalpel and some tweezers. His heightened senses picked up on the sound of her heart beat speeding ever so slightly from what was left for it to beat anyway, a sigh passed his plump pink lips as he rolled his eyes. "I assure you that I am only trying to help, trust me."

"T-trust you?!" The girl screeched, scrambling back on the bed, her back making contact with the dark oak headboard. She peered at him, wide eyed and puffs of air repeatedly catching in her throat and then releasing.  "W-hats happening t-to me?"

"I will explain when you calm down, just let me help you." He placed the objects on the nightstand beside the bed, slowly taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to her legs that shook as she watched his every movement from now, eyes racing from his face to his hands, waiting for any sudden movements that were to come. "Now let's start with your name little one."

"M-my name?" She stuttered, puffing out air when she saw him nod stoicly. "Y/N. Y-Y/N Y/L/N."

"Ah lovely, well since I've already introduced myself I guess I should give you an explanation." He offered a tiny smile, one which didnt look at all comforting but more awkward and in an attempt to show some source of hostility. "You are how do I say- urmhmm- transforming."

"T-transforming? I-I dont understand."

"I see you dont recall." His voice wavered, eyes setting on hers Intently. "Your memories should come back soon but in the meantime I have other matters to attend to."

He reached out and grabbed the pen light, clicking it so the white flash shone through the pointed end. His hand cupped Y/N's cheek, the touch being alot gentler than the first time, his thumb swept under her right eye, pulling down as he lifted the light to shine in her eye, causing her to flinch back for a second as she accommodated to the uncomfortable sensation. He switched to the other eye just as quickly examining how the pupils dilated and retracted as they should be doing.

"The red is becoming more prominent which means it's only a matter of time before you fangs come in." He stated, placing the pen light down, next taking a hold of the tweezers and scalpel.

"F-fangs? What do you mean fangs?"

"Correct, I did say fangs. I'm going to be blunt here sweetheart, you're transitioning and soon you will be one of my kind, a creature of the night if you will, a nighwalker, a vampire, however you would like to put it." The girls face looked to pale even more than it already had, eyes vibrating as she breathed a heavy breath through her nose. "Everything will make sense, all in good time."

"B-but..." she started to tear up, hands fisting the maroon sheets. "I-I dont understand."

"It will all make sense when your memories return in only a few hours, I promise you." His tone held sincerety, a soft one that was soothing and calming. She looked up to meet his eyes again, biting at her lip before giving a nod to let him do whatever it was he was going to do that could help her as he had claimed. "I'm going to need to remove some excess skin that sits around the fang so it will be easier when they start to grow in properly."

"W-will it hurt?!" Her voice suddenly became alarmed.

"No not at all, maybe a little pinching but it shouldnt hurt. Not one bit." His gleaming red orbs followed the girls, both locking onto each others as she heaved out a breath, giving a curt not before slipping back upright against the headboard. "I need you to stay as still as you can..."

Astaroth took hold of her chin, thumb hooking just inside her mouth by the corner of her bottom lip so he could pull down, revealing a row of shiny canines. He hummed allowing the tip of his thumb to press against the gum just beneath the tooth of her original fang that was soon to be replaced. His other hand rose, nearing the scalpel to the gum line where he flicked the sharp edge against the soft pink tissue, pulling it away from the tooth,

Y/N's eyes stayed locked on the males face, eyebrows furrowing when she felt the tweezers he now had in his hold start to tug at the loose piece of skin the had been pulled away from the gum line. She didnt exactly know why she was here, what was happening, or how she even got into this situation but the most weird thing was she didnt at all feel threatened by him, she was scared sure, but not of him. Astaroth, she wasnt at all frightened of him, more so the new atmosphere and what was to come next, what she was going to become in only a matter of time.

She couldnt help but admire the man, he looked like he was created by the gods themselves- messy brunette hair that held a slight spike at the edges, thick eyebrows that arched to perfection, deep red eyes that held so much emotion but shone so little, a chiselled nose that rounded at a soft curve fitting his face smoothly, cheekbones that raised but were grounded by the slight plump cheeks, a jawline that was sharp framing his features perfectly- he was inhumanly handsome.

"That should do for now." The girl blinked as she heard the brisk voice of Astaroth echo soundly through the air, she glanced up at him, an unreadable expression forming on her face as she squinted at him. She hasn't even noticed he had finished or how quickly the process had gone since she had been in her own head, completely and utterly enchanted by the man. "You should rest whilst you can darling, soon you wont even be able to sleep. The days will feel like a lifetime."

[billycorn]

Empathy

A fic about the Riolu post from yesterday. Had a lot of fun with this one, so thinking about a part 2. Let me know if you want it! (Fic under the cut!)

The final light of day was leeching from the sky, taking it's warmth with it, and Charizard savoured that last feeling of heat on her scales. Reaching for the sky, she flew higher and higher, chasing the sun, but it slipped from her grasp, and with a peaceful smile, she stopped flapping her mighty wings, and fell.

The wind rushed by her, the flame on her tail flaring, and slowly, she twisted, opened her wings and caught the breeze, gliding down towards their log cabin, high in the mountains.

The garden was coming along nicely, but the weeds kept creeping in. She'd have to flambe the soil and strip away all the excess moisture. It was a good thing she'd picked up those new seeds today.

The seeds! Oh, Sarah, you-

Her eyes growing wide, she breezed in to land, quickly rifling through the satchel slung over her shoulder. Thankfully, it was all still there, though his present was a little smooshed after her stunt. Muttering under her breath, Sarah tried to mould it back into shape, but with limited success.

Deciding it was good enough, she stomped up the front steps and threw the door open. "I'm home!" Met with only resounding silence, she peered down the hall, and wandered into the kitchen. "Blue, you here?"

"Hello."

Sarah jumped, smacking her head on the roof and stumbling into the countertop as she landed awkwardly. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry, are you alright?" Blue's expression was carefully neutral and she knew he was only asking to be polite.

She snorted, if only he'd laughed at her fright, that would've been better than this apparent indifference. That said, one of these day he was going to give her a heart attack, then he really wouldn't be laughing.

"'M fine,' she grumbled, rubbing her head and glaring at the rafters. "We need to raise the roof. It was fine when I was a Charmeleon but this is just getting ridiculous."

"I'll get started on it tomorrow."

Raising her brows, she looked the Riolu up and down. "I'm not sure you're really equipped for the job."

"Okay, you can do it, and I'll get to work on some bigger furniture." He jumped onto a stool, and the extra height meant his eyeline was level with the base of her neck, as if accentuating his point.

"Please, I'm really sick of the chairs giving way under me." She poked at her round belly, her wings drooping.

His head tilting, Blue pointed at satchel still hanging from her shoulder. "Did you get the blankets?"

"The blankets?" Her face clearing, she dropped her head into her hands. "The blankets!"

Blue nodded patiently, as if completely unsurprised. "You know, the sole thing you went to town for."

"Hey, that wasn't the only reason!"

Blue merely rose his brows in an unspoken question.

Her face flushing, Sarah dug into the satchel, pulling out his gift and sliding it across the countertop. "I also went to get this."

Slowly, Blue took it, turning it over in his hands. "It's a Glaceon plushie?"

The tail was a different colour from the rest of it, the crystal on it's head was lopsided and one of the ears was missing. The stuffing had been pushed forwards, so it had a massive head and spindly legs, but it was indeed a Glaceon plushie.

She crossed her arms, puffed her chest and, raising her head, tried, and failed, to keep the smile from her face. "Yep! Just like the one you had as a kid, remember, you told me?"

"You remembered?"

"Of course! So, what do you think?"

Glancing at the monstrosity in his hands, Blue nodded and placed it aside. "It's very sweet, thank you. Getting back on topic, did you purposely forget the blankets so I'd have to sleep next to you to keep warm?"

Her face fell and her arms dropped limply to her sides. "Seriously?"

Blue shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past you."

Muttering under her breath, Sarah stormed from the house, slamming the door shut behind her. Blue's head tilted as he watched her through the window, disappearing amongst the trees. Eventually, he shrugged and began working on dinner, occasionally glancing at the deformed Glaceon, smiling at him from where it sat abandoned.

As the night dragged on, and stars appeared in the sky, Blue waited, sitting at the table with a steaming bowl of stew before him. By the time Sarah returned, the meal was cold and she silently reheated it. They ate together, only exchanging a few words, before promptly going to bed.

Once upon a time, they'd had two small nests, now she barely fit in the one large one. So, after she'd climbed onto the bed of moss and soft grass, Blue jumped in, curling against her side. She laid her tail over his chest and partially covered him with a wing. There, his eyes closed and mind quiet, head resting against her side, he could hear her heartbeat; it was his favourite sound.

It was his own little cocoon, and he'd never felt so safe. Well, apart from when they'd first met. Even now he remembered it clearly, despite, or perhaps because of, how miserable it had been.

He'd woken up in this strange world, in a new body, with nothing but amnesia, and an aching sense of loss. Cautiously, he'd wandered into town, scared and amazed by everything around him. Then, as someone bumped into him, it all came crashing down.

With that first contact he'd felt something strange, a flash of colour and a trickle of emotions that weren't his. Curiously, he reached for the light, and grabbed it, but it slipped through his fingers and poured outwards. In an instant, he'd been able to feel it all, the townsfolk's every emotion. Happiness, love, excitement, loneliness, anxiety, grief.

He'd dropped to his knees, clutching at his head and screaming brokenly. It was as if he'd been dropped into the ocean's depths, endless black on every side, the pressure was crushing him. Please, please, make it stop.

That was when she appeared, a little Charmander, swinging her tail with reckless abandon, she slammed him in the head, knocking him unconscious.

When he came to, they were in the forest, and it was quiet. Sarah was sitting nearby, a mix of concern and guilt clear on her face. She went to apologise, but he felt it before she could get the words out.

He started sobbing, and she hovered just out of reach, her arms waving frantically. Eventually, she settled for sitting beside him, rubbing his back. Feeling her concern and warmth, Blue had cried until he had nothing left, until he was empty. She became the only person he could touch, and they retreated to the mountains. After that, he never reached for the light again, but at night, curled against her side, he thought he could feel just a piece of it. In the rough edge of her scales, in the warmth of her tail, in the beat of her heart, he could know a fragment of everything he was missing out on.

So, he couldn't help but frown when Sarah groaned and pulled herself from the nest.

"Follow me, now," she demanded, voice thick with sleep.

Blue whined, but did as he was told, following her out into the cold night. The mountain air raced through his fur, sending shivers down his spine, and the stars sparkled radiantly in the heavens above.

She lowered herself and gestured with her head. "Climb on."

Fiddling with his hands, Blue took a half-step back. "Why?"

"If I drop you I'll never hear the end of it. This way, it's not totally my fault."

"Yeah, that's a really poor reason to-ugh!"

Rolling her eyes, Sarah snatched his shoulders, pulled him close and launched into the air. Beating her mighty wings, she climbed higher into the air, catching a gale and riding it upwards. Blue wanted to scream but settled for latching onto her arms, eyes shut tight.

Sarah yelled over the roar of the wind, "do you trust me?"

"Absolutely not!"

She smirked. "Wrong answer."

Gripping him tighter, she spun, dove, and rose, her tail tracing their path through the sky.

His ears pinned back, Blue screamed, "thank you for nothing, you useless reptile!"

Laughing to herself, Sarah pulled him away from her chest and flew a loop-de-loop, dropping him in the roll and catching him on her back when she was right way up again.

Blue yelped and wrapped his arms around her neck, his quiet whimpers torn away by the wind.

Sarah levelled out and glided above the mountain range, unable to keep the smile from her face."I'm not landing till you open your eyes."

"This is cruel and unusual punishment!"

"And it will continue until you open your eyes!"

Gripping her neck tighter, Blue slowly opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. The mountains raced by far below, their tree covered slopes bathed in moonlight.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Look up, dummy."

Turning his gaze to the heavens, Blue opened his eyes once more, and it took his breath away. Above them, countless stars shimmered, an ocean of jewels against a sea of black.

"It's... beautiful."

"Duh," Sarah said, chuckling. "I could stay up here forever, but I could never reach the stars. Though, if they reached out their hand, I would take it in an instant."

Leaning over, Blue glanced around, and couldn't help but notice the starlight glinting off her amber eyes, and she smiled back at him.

"If they could hear me, I would tell them, that they don't have to be afraid. That they don't have to keep hiding. They could come down from the sky, and I would hold them close, and listen to it all. Even if their spark faded, I would still love them."

There, amidst that sprawling sky, with all those glittering stars, there was only one piece of light Blue cared about. Closing his eyes, he reached out, and grabbed it. In that instant, it was like seeing her for the first time, all over again. She was filled with laughter, and worry, but there was something new as well, something that hadn't been there before.

Instantly, tears sprung to his eyes and Blue began to bawl, his cries seeping out into the night like ghostly howls. He could never have imagined he was so loved.

[geometropolis]

grt3D episode 5: poly-gone 

the indifferent light of dawn began to illuminate the plain, making everything a paler shade of gray. the grid was not entirely monochromatic at this time of morning, however.

square was sitting outside of his cabin; he had been unable to sleep, his thoughts stormy and tumultuous. 

primes, what is wrong with everyone? he thought. with triangle, with heart, with star?

he replayed the scene in his mind of heart shooting star with the color gun. of friend turning upon friend.

everything is going downhill. 

“everything is getting messed up–” he was now saying this aloud “–because of this stupid show! whether they want to go to the third dimension or not, everyone’s tearing each other apart over it!”

square sighed and shook his head. “i don’t want to do this anymore. but y’know, we have to stay on show premises or whatever.” he got up and started walking. “that sucks.”

he made his way into the forest for a stroll, and saw a flash of pink.

“heart?” 

but it was star, still pink from the day before.

“oh!” star gasped. “did you see heart?”

“no.”

“oh. thanks anyway...”

how long had star been out here? how long had heart?

square left the forest. this was going to be a long day.

…

“okay,” möbius strip started, “before doing ANYTHING ELSE, could you please just make the challenge stuff?”

“sure, sir.”

origin manifested 11 chairs, which he gave to möbius. he then disappeared into the paradox.

“YOU’RE A TERRIBLE CO-HOST!” möbius yelled into thin air. “DID YOU KNOW THAT?? ugh.”

“ohhh möbius strip~!” hexagon sang.

“WHAT IS IT.”

“what’s today’s challenge?”

“YOU’LL SEE IN A MOMENT. HEY, WHY ARE YOU THREE UP SO EARLY?”

hexagon was accompanied by trapezoid and pentagon. “we were taking a little morning jog.”

“SCREW YOU. ANYWAY… WAKE UP SLEEPYHEADS!!! IT’S TIME!!!!!!!”

octagon came with the other contestants, groggy. she perked up upon seeing the rest of her team. 

“hey, why are you all out here?”

“we were taking a little morning jog :)” hexagon repeated. “sorry we didn’t invite you to join us. you said you didn’t like to be woken up early.”

octagon sighed. “yeah, i guess i did say that…”

star soon arrived from the forest, dejected. “everything sucks now!” he sobbed.

“YEAH, OKAY. WELL, IT’S PARADOX TIME FOR ONE OF YOU PARTY PEOPLE!!!!”

möbius strip did some strange little victory dance; this only made him appear to glitch even farther out of perceptible reality. he finished, then paused.

“FOR THE LOVE OF – OKAY. GUESS WE’RE DOING THIS WITHOUT TWINKLE. SO… THE MEMBER OF THE COOL KIDS ELIMINATED IS… HEART!”

droplet frowned. star sobbed again. rhombus rolled their eyes.

“HE’S NOT HERE EITHER, IS HE? I SWEAR…”

“he’s–” star choked out, “he’s still in the forest somewhere.”

“OKAY, WELL, TWINKLE CAN SEND HIM TO THE PARADOX WHEN HE GETS HERE. WHENEVER THAT IS…” möbius let out a long sigh. a very long sigh, in fact, lasting approximately 3 minutes.

“so what’s today’s challenge?” triangle asked.

“MUSICAL CHAIRS.” and with that, möbius threw down the chairs he’d been holding. they did not all land face up, which octagon promptly fixed. “YOU KNOW THE RULES. WALK AROUND WHEN THE MUSIC IS PLAYING. SIT DOWN IN A CHAIR WHEN IT STOPS. IF YOU CAN’T FIND A CHAIR YOU’RE OUT. A CHAIR GETS TAKEN AWAY EACH ROUND. THE FIRST TEAM TO HAVE ALL OF THEIR MEMBERS OUT IS UP FOR ELIMINATION.”

“but what about the teams with only 3 members…?” kite asked.

“YEAH YEAH, SOMEBODY WILL SIT OUT OF THE TEAM WITH 4. WHATEVER.”

helvetica discussed among themselves who should sit out, but they couldn’t decide – all of them wanted to participate!

“IF YOU CAN’T CHOOSE I’LL JUST PICK!!! UM… PENTAGON.”

“aw man!” the little shape exclaimed. “but i love musical chairs.”

“oh, i can sit out instead!” trapezoid and hexagon both offered in unison. they glanced at each other.

“y’know what? i’ll sit out,” octagon grumbled. “just get it over with already.”

“thank you octagon!” her three teammates smiled sweetly, hand in hand, as she sat down and sighed.

“OKAY,” möbius cut back in, “TIME TO BEGIN! BUT SINCE TWINKY ISN’T HERE, I’LL HAVE TO PLAY THE MUSIC.”

by “play” möbius meant sing; in a shrill voice he began to sing an old pop song, as the contestants began to walk around the chairs.

“thank the primes heptagon is bothering to participate,” parallelogram said in a hushed voice to kite. “if he didn’t we’d be doomed.”

“yeah. but we can’t guarantee he’ll actually sit down when the music stops…”

“don’t worry. i’ll make him sit if he won’t do it himself.”

kite looked uneasy, but nodded.

square walked around the chairs slowly, narrowing his eyes as his brother walked with triangle.

meanwhile, star was walking with rhombus, who was fiddling with the remote, as droplet trailed behind. 

“i can’t do this without him!” star wailed. “we’ve always been together! but i ruined everything… i just wanna go home!”

“but you can’t,” rhombus snapped. “so knock it off.”

“but i don’t want to play musical chairs…”

“listen.” rhombus stopped and grabbed him by the shoulder. “you never participate as it is. i don’t care about your fight, i don’t care about how you’re feeling – just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on.” they let go of him and continued walking. “no, you haven’t ruined everything. yet. keep your whining up and you just might.”

star sniffed and stood still.

suddenly, möbius stopped singing. everyone rushed to a chair – except heptagon, who was dragged into one by parallelogram anyway… and square.

“oh well,” square retorted, “guess i’m out.” he went and sat down next to octagon, closing his eyes.

triangle shook her head.

“OKAY, NEXT ROUND.” möbius removed a chair and started singing again.

“y’know, that song sounds familiar…” trapezoid noted to himself as he walked.

“okay, grandpa!” pentagon chuckled, sitting above him.

“hey! i’m not that old.”

“this song is, like, from 40 years ago,” hexagon playfully noted. 

“i like to listen to classics! it’s not like i was alive back then.”

“sure,” hexagon and pentagon teased in unison.

triangle looked over her shoulder at rectangle, who was walking behind her. “pick up the pace, tango!” she called. “if you walk as slowly as your brother you’re never gonna get a seat in time.”

rectangle furrowed his brow.

“c’mon, slowpoke!”

“fine!” rectangle started running – bumping into triangle and knocking her over. 

“whoa-hoa!” she laughed.

rectangle looked back at her and grinned.

“star! star!” droplet exclaimed.

“what is it…?”

“would you please tell me what happened?”

star turned to her. “what are you talking about?”

“yesterday, something happened… is everything okay?”

“ugh…”

“i saw you talking to rhombus about it and i–”

“...uhhhh didn’t you hear what rhombus said? we have to move on. yeah. not talking about it anymore. case closed.”

“but you told them–”

“yeah. whatever.”

droplet frowned and sighed, letting star walk past her again.

then möbius strip stopped singing.

rectangle dashed for the nearest chair, knocking into rhombus on the way. they bumped into their limb remote, which let out a beam hitting möbius.

it didn’t do anything.

“that felt funny,” möbius strip said to himself. “ANYWAY, RHOMBUS, YOU ARE OUT.”

rhombus looked daggers at star. “don’t ruin it.” he gulped.

suddenly origin appeared again. “s-sorry!” he began. “i just–”

“YEAH, OKAY. COME WITH ME.” there was an edge of frustration to möbius’s voice as he began to drag origin towards the forest.

the contestants remained seated.

parallelogram loosened his hand from heptagon’s arm.

and heptagon bolted.

“heptagon!” kite yelled, violently pushing the chair out from under her and chasing after him.

she never knew he had it in him to run like that; he was usually so stationary. now it was as if he were running for his life, he was so frantic.

as they were waiting, the rest of the contestants chatted amongst themselves.

“what do you call a lying trapezoid?” trapezoid asked.

“i dunno,” pentagon replied, “what?”

“a fraud-rilateral!”

pentagon started laughing.

“that was so bad!” hexagon giggled. 

“why, do you have a better one?” trapezoid challenged.

“okay… what do you call a shape who left?”

“what?”

“poly-gone!”

pentagon laughed again.

“shut up…” parallelogram muttered.

octagon sighed as she gazed at her teammates. “how are they so good at this?” she asked herself.

“at what?” square asked.

“being friends.”

“how is anyone?”

octagon chewed her pacifier. “hell if i know…”

suddenly, a voice called out. “heyyy octagon!”

“yeah, hexagon?”

“come over here and chat while the game’s paused!”

“if you insist…!”

octagon stood up and looked back at square. he shrugged.

meanwhile, kite was in hot pursuit of heptagon.

“come back here!” she huffed.

but he did not come back, or slow down, or anything – he just kept running. faster. faster. faster. faster –

until kite grabbed his arm, wrenching him backwards.

“heptagon,” she started, in a low voice.

he stared at her with wide eyes, but said nothing.

“i can’t believe i ever trusted you… you don’t care about any of us, do you?”

he blinked, but said nothing.

“you don’t want to be here, i get it. but can’t you see what you’re doing? can’t you see how you’re screwing up parallelogram’s chances? my chances??”

his eyes wavered, but he said nothing.

“it’s your fault we’ve been doing terribly this whole time!” kite cried. “it’s your fault oval is gone! why was he eliminated anyway? why wasn’t it you?”

she let go of him, but he didn’t run away. 

“it should’ve been you…” she whispered.

heptagon started to move his hand but kite hit it away.

“we’re gonna lose again today because of you! you know you can’t just run away, right? you’re stuck here! we’re all stuck here!”

tears formed in heptagon’s blank eyes. 

“you’re a jerk, heptagon.” 

and she ran back the way she came.

möbius had finally returned with origin. 

“NOW THAT TWINKLE HAS FINALLY ELIMINATED HEART, WE MAY CONTINUE. WHERE WERE WE? OH… NEITHER KITE OR HEPTAGON IS SITTING DOWN…”

parallelogram’s eyes widened.

“SO THEY’RE BOTH OUT.”

“what?” kite cried, finally making it back to the game that very moment. “that’s not fair! it’s heptagon’s fault!”

“yeah!” parallelogram agreed.

“OH WELL. YOU GOT A BONUS LAST CHALLENGE, SO I GUESS IT’S ONLY FAIR YOU HAVE TO SUFFER NOW. LOL!!”

kite stormed off to the side and sat down.

möbius had intended for origin to play the music on his speaker, but as origin had his camera lens, that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

“CAN’T YOU MULTITASK?”

“i could sing myself if you’d like, sir.”

“FINE, WHATEVER.”

origin was in fact much better at singing than möbius strip; he had similar taste in music, though, as every song he sang was one only trapezoid could recognize.

“i swear i’m not that old!!!” trapezoid shook his fists in the air.

“grampezoid! grampezoid!!” pentagon said, skipping around him.

hexagon chuckled. “now that’s a good joke!”

as the shapes continued to walk around, parallelogram kept a special watch on rectangle. since when was he so fast? but then, since when had heptagon been so fast?

unfortunately, parallelogram was lost in thought when origin stopped singing; he was about to sit down when rectangle rushed into the seat closest to him. grumbling, parallelogram looked around for an empty seat… and there were none.

“AND THERE GOES THE LAST OF YIM YUM!!!!!!” möbius announced. “OH HI, HEPTAGON. THERE YOU ARE.”

heptagon had just returned. everyone was staring at him.

“YOU LOSE.”

…

“hey, heart.”

heart didn’t reply.

circle had slowly approached him after he was finally brought to the paradox; oval was keeping his distance.

“are you okay?”

“i don’t know.”

“do you want to talk?”

“i don’t know.”

“hey,” oval piped up, “the challenge is finally on.”

circle and oval moved towards the 10x10 video from origin.

“aw man, we missed part of it,” circle said.

“is anything interesting happening?” heart asked softly. he was still sitting a ways away.

“not really. it’s just musical chairs.”

“if only we could’ve played musical chairs yesterday…”

“yeah. darn.” circle cleared his throat. “...you saw how my team was a few days ago, heart… sorry you had to go through a similar thing with star. it really sucks.”

“...mhm.”

“at least you have all the time in the world to just… relax here, right?”

“relax… i can finally relax like he wanted me to…”

the shapes continued to watch the challenge. heart joined them, though his mind was still elsewhere.

“it isn’t as bad here as i thought it would be,” he said to himself. “at least i’m not dead. or am i? it’s so calm here… if i did die, it isn’t so bad…”

origin eventually reappeared. 

“it keeps getting crazier, folks. now it’s yim yum getting put through the wringer…”

“who do you think’s getting eliminated?” oval asked.

“i don’t know.”

“where was heptagon going?”

“i don’t–”

“he was trying to escape,” heart answered. 

“what?”

“he doesn’t want to win, but he doesn’t want to be eliminated either.”

“heart…” circle started.

“he’ll be right at home here, i’m sure.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 133: Married

"Look at him," Draco said to Pansy, tipping slightly further than he'd intended to when he was trying to get a better look at the ridiculously hot bloke leaning against the bar.

"Who?" Pansy asked, whipping her head around to follow Draco's gaze.

"Him," Draco said, extending his arm and bumping his finger into Pansy's nose because his inebriation had apparently affected his gross motor control. "The one with the arse," he said, admiring the lovely, round shape wrapped in tight denim. "Don't you just want to sink your teeth into it?" he asked.

"Draco, wh-"

"And that hair," he added, imagining what it would look like if you released those dark curls from the elastic currently binding them. "Imagine sinking your fingers into that long thick hair, maybe pulling it a little while you-"

"Draco-" she started again.

"Shush," he chastised, "Don't interrupt a good day dream," he said, glaring at her. He returned his eyes to the man at the bar once more, "And look at his shoulder muscles," he added, admiring the way his t-shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders. The man reached back and scratched his neck, forearm flexing, and Draco might have drooled a bit.

"Draco," she tried again, "How drunk are you?"

He glanced at her before hearing the man laugh and looking back over to see his head tilt back, exposing his throat. He was too distracted to even wonder why he knew that the laugh belonged to the man in the first place. "I'm going to talk to him," he said resolutely before throwing back the shot that remained in front of him and shoving his chair back.

(Read more below the cut)

He smoothed his hair and blew out a nervous breath as he made his way over to the bar, sidling up next to the handsome stranger, "Hello," he said.

The man turned impossibly beautiful green eyes on him, an eye brow rose as his eyes drifted over Draco's face. "Hi," he replied in a voice that felt like honey in Draco's veins as the corner of his mouth ticked up, exposing a dimple.

He swallowed and the man's eyes dropped to his throat. "I'm Draco," he said, holding out a hand.

The man's smile widened, "Harry," he replied, clasping Draco's hand in his.

The name was a bit plain, but Draco could imagine the way it would feel in his mouth as he neared an orgasm, open and delicious. A shiver traced it's way up his spine. "Nice to meet you," Draco replied. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'm just drinking soda tonight," he said, nodding toward his cup.

Draco frowned, "Then why are you here?"

"Waiting for someone."

Jealously burned hot and bright in his stomach. "Well where are they?" he demanded. Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco continued, "It seems pretty rude if you ask me."

"Does it?" Harry asked, his voice warm and amused, and almost fond.

"Yes. Is it a friend?"

"More than a friend," the other man replied, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"A lover?" he asked.

"Closer."

He felt nauseous, "Are you married?" he asked.

"I am," the man replied, holding up his left hand so Draco could see the ring.

"Oh," he whispered, why did that make him feel so sad? "Right," he said, sniffling and blinking against the stinging wetness in his eyes.

"Draco," Harry said, reaching toward him.

"No, it's okay," he said, nodding to himself. "It's fine. You're very kind but-"

"Draco," he repeated, taking Draco's left hand and holding it up, "It's you, you nut," he said with a laugh, "You're my husband," he added, pointing to the matching wedding band on his finger.

"I'm your husband?" he asked incredulously, looking between his ring and the man's face.

Harry nodded, laughing softly at whatever expression was painted on Draco's face.

"Wait a minute," he said, pointing a finger at Harry. The other man held his hand up in surrender and Draco spun around and made his way back to Pansy. "That is my husband?" he hissed.

She took a sip of her martini and turned her gaze from the woman a few tables over. "Yes, darling. I tried to tell you."

"He's my husband?" Draco asked, his eyes feeling suspiciously misty again.

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Yes. This happens every time you drink Frangelico. We need to stop letting you drink those birthday cake shots."

"It's my birthday?"

She shook her head, "No," she said in exasperation. "You just like the way those shots taste."

"Oh," he said, frowning again.

"Tell Harry it's time to take you home."

He glanced back over to see that Harry was leaning a hip against the bar as he watched Draco talk to Pansy. Harry gave him a little smile and Draco's insides turned to goo. "Alright," he replied, smiling helplessly back. "Night, Pans."

"Good night, you lush," she replied fondly but Draco was already half way back to Harry.

"Hey," Harry said, giving him a little smile. "Ready to go home?"

Draco nodded and Harry held out an arm for him. He slipped his arm through the other man's and he apparated them home.

"This way, love," Harry called once they landed and Draco got his bearings.

He followed the other man back into a cozy bedroom and watched as Harry stripped out of his shirt. "Oh sweet Merlin," he murmured as his eyes traced the defined musculature of Harry's back.

"What?" Harry asked, turning around and revealing an equally defined front. Draco's jaw dropped and Harry grinned at him, "I always forget how gratifying this is."

"You," Draco said, completely missing whatever it was that Harry said, "You are gorgeous."

"Thank you," Harry replied, stepping closer.

"Can I?" Draco asked, reaching out a hand toward the other man's chest.

He huffed a laugh but nodded.

Draco reached out and trailed his fingers over Harry's clavicles and down his chest, brushing over his lightly defined abs before tracing his way back up once more.

"Draco," Harry breathed, eyes closed as he stood perfectly still, letting Draco's fingers dance along his skin.

"You are unfairly pretty."

Harry's eyes fluttered open.

But before he could say anything Draco asked, "Can I kiss you?"

"If you want to," Harry replied.

He leaned in and pressed his lips softly to the other man's and it was like slipping into a dream he'd had a hundred times. He knew these lips, he knew this body; Draco groaned, pressing into Harry and melding their bodies together.

"There you are," Harry said when Draco drew back far enough to trail kisses along Harry's jaw.

"Love you," he murmured.

"Love you, too," Harry said, tipping his head so he could brush his nose over Draco's.

He sighed and pulled Harry closer, resting his head on his shoulder and hugging him tight.

"Alright?" Harry asked, hands stroking soothingly over Draco's spine.

"Tired," he replied.

Harry pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Time for bed, then."

They went through the familiar motions of getting ready and climbing into bed together. "Harry?" he asked, once they were settled in under the covers and Draco was resting with his ear over Harry's heart. "Thanks for always indulging me."

Harry hummed and Draco could hear the smile in his voice, "It's no hardship," he said. "It's tremendously good for my ego," he added with a little laugh.

"You know you're the only one for me, right?" Draco asked.

He kissed the top of Draco's head, "Of course," he said. "It's not like you don't recognize me, you know. Your conscious mind may forget but your body always knows me. It's why you always cry when I tell you I'm married," he teased.

"I do not," Draco protested.

"You do," Harry argued, "Every time. It's one of my favorite things."

"You like to see me cry?" he asked, vaguely insulted.

He felt Harry shake his head, "No, I love to see the look of wonder on your face when I tell you that we're married," he replied.

"I always feel that way, you know," he confessed, "Even when I'm completely sober. It's incomprehensible to me that you would want this life with me."

Harry held him a little tighter, dropping another kiss to the top of his head, "The feeling is quite mutual my love," he replied.

And they spent the rest of their lives feeling the same; beyond lucky and amazed that a love like this could belong to them.

------------------

Day 132: Tinder Date Gone Wrong | Day 134: Break Up

[rotworld]

31: Wild Hunt

few would be so foolish as to seek out the wild hunt, but you’re no fool. the lord of the hunt and his riders eagerly welcome you.

->explicit. contains gangbang, polyamory, mild feral behavior, mild gore, implied murder.

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.

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They come at midnight, riding blood red auroras from the Land of the Fae. You hear the galloping first, the low drone of the war horn. You see their silhouettes race across the night sky. Their approach is heralded by the toll of church bells, a slow and solemn death knell. Much of the village has long since fled for the nearest shelter, extinguishing glimmering candle lights and leaving no trace of life behind barricaded doors, but there are always a few unlucky stragglers and those with more boldness than sense. There is always you, slipping silently out the door and going where no one should go.

Like all beings from the Land of the Fae, the Wild Hunt is mercurial. They are ruled by their whims and by forgotten accords. You follow a path of conquest and bloodshed through farmland, through a village, through ancient ruins in the forest. There’s no way of knowing what the Hunt will do when they come across someone.

Some are of no interest. You see the twisted bodies of those who did not clear the road fast enough, bludgeoned to death by a procession of spectral horses. Some are taken, tossed over the backs of the riders as they pass. They may be riders themselves next year, changed by their journey through the Land of the Fae, or they may not survive.

It’s instinct that slows your steps, the inherited fears of your ancestors. The Wild Hunt leaves ghostly fire in its wake, green and unburning, and everywhere it touches blooms with thorns and fae flowers. You see the same ghostly glow through the trees. You hear the bustling war camp, the laughter, the revelry at the end of a hunt. Something buried deep within you recognizes the danger. It sees a wolf den or a pit of snakes. But you press on, peering through the tangles of foliage and winding vines growing up all around you.

There are at least a dozen riders scattered around an emerald campfire. The twisting flames are neither hot nor cold, but there is an eerie feeling of strange magic in the air. Ales and meads are passed around in drinking horns as they tend to the wounded and compare trophies. There are still-beating lich hearts, sparkling dragon scales, and gruesome relics of creatures you can’t even guess at. 

One of the riders, stripped down to his breeches as another applies salve to a brutal, claw-like wound, rests his boot on the decapitated head of a hydra. There’s something familiar about him, the shape of his face, the curve of his nose, but you aren’t sure until one of the other riders comes over and calls him “Rory.” You knew Rory. He lived in your village. The two of you snuck out on moonlit nights to kiss beneath the sheltering boughs of ancient trees. The Hunt took him years ago and you’d feared the worst. It’s strange to see him again after you’d already mourned him and it makes you hesitate. Would he remember you? Would it be more painful if he did? 

“Not bad for your first hunt,” one of the other riders tells Rory, bandaging his shoulder.

“Not bad? You wouldn’t have a head if I hadn’t jumped in when I did,” he says, grinning. He’s not the same scrawny boy he was when they took him. He’s big like they are, taller and more fearsome than any mortal. He’s grown his hair out, tying back long curls in a high ponytail that reaches the middle of his back. His soft brown eyes have turned burning gold. There are painful-looking notches in his ears, the flesh snipped away to make them look more like the pointed ears of his companions.

“He’s right, Glavra, you had a poor showing tonight,” another rider teases the one beside Rory, smirking over his drink. “It would’ve been a pain to have to cut the beast open and fish you out a piece at a time. Might’ve just left you there.” 

“And what were you doing, hm?” Glavra snaps. “Watching? Twirling your sword around? Don’t come on a hunt if you have no intention of actually hunting.”

A third voice joins in with hard finality. “That’s enough. If you have a disagreement, do not squabble like children. Fight like riders. You embarrass yourselves before an offering.” 

You swallow hard as all eyes turn to you. Cernunnos, Lord of the Hunt, rises from where he sits cross-legged by the fire. He beckons you into the clearing with one raised hand. “I didn’t want to interrupt,” you say, embarrassed. 

“We look forward to your interruption,” he says smoothly. The Lord of the Hunt has antlers for every phase of life; the small nubs of a fawn, the branch-like protrusions of a young buck, and the sprawling crown of an elder. He knew you would come and he’s already peeled off his light armor and leathers, wearing only a loose and dangling loincloth. You feel the other riders watching intently as you cross the clearing to him. They stare hungrily but they remain a respectful distance away. Those who remember you from years past call your name with warmth and affection. 

You feel Rory’s stare burning into your back, but Cernunnos demands your attention, pulling you into a searing kiss. He cups your chin and licks into your mouth, waiting for you to let him in before he tangles his tongue with yours. You’re panting, saliva dripping down your chin, when he pulls away, acutely aware of the heavy silence draped over the camp.

“An offering?” Glavra says slowly, a twinge of suspicion in his voice.

Cernunnos chuckles but doesn’t answer, letting you explain yourself. He savors being able to see and touch you again, caressing you as you speak. “Cernunnos and I met several years ago. I’ve been visiting him at the end of these hunts ever since.” For you, it was a near-death experience. For Cernunnos, it was love at first sight. The whirlwind romance has been anything but typical, but you find that you don’t mind that much. Sharing you with his riders seemed natural to him, a logical next step in your relationship. You’d been embarrassed initially, but the riders were rather open about skinship and desire. This group, to your delight, seems little different.

“Glavra. Tirun,” Cernunnos calls, causing two riders to shoot to their feet. They’re complete opposites. Glavra is wide and broad-shouldered, his skin unnaturally pale and his long, black hair blending into the crow feathers adorning his cloak. Tirun is smaller with a healthier complexion, his hair silver and tied into one long braid tossed over his shoulder. He’s smirking as he looks you up and down, in stark contrast to Glavra’s more cautious gaze. “You two have a score to settle. Why not raise the stakes?” You know that look. The Lord of the Hunt smiles serenely, but there’s mischief in his eyes. “If you lose, you can only watch tonight.” 

The fire crackles quietly, filling the silence. Tirun must be something of a troublemaker. He looks enticed by the challenge, eyeing you with undisguised lust. “Now there’s an idea,” he purrs. He glances at Glavra, head tilted. “I hope your pride’s not too bruised from the hydra, because it’s about to take another beating.” You don’t know either of them very well, but you assume Glavra won’t take the bait. You’re an oddity. Not every rider trusts you, and some simply aren’t interested. 

But the look Glavra gives you is absolutely feral. Heat rises to your face and arousal pools in your stomach from his gaze alone. “Bold words for a coward,” Glavra growls. He throws off his armor, unlatching his gauntlets and throwing off his cloak, leaving him in only his softer leathers. The other riders begin to laugh and egg them on, making space in the clearing for the two to circle each other like wolves. 

“They’re not going to really hurt each other, are they?” you ask nervously. Cernunnos smiles at you, endeared by your concern.

“Don’t worry, my fawn,” he says, wrapping an arm around you to pull you into his side. “This is how we settle petty disputes. They fight bare-handed, you see? The greatest harm will be to one’s pride, but it’s good to be humbled from time to time.” His hand slides down, shamelessly cupping your ass and squeezing. “I’d like you to watch them fight for you,” he murmurs, “but it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you last.” 

You meet his searing gaze, feeling lightheaded with want. “I can multitask,” you say coyly. Cernunnos grins. You yelp when you’re lifted onto his shoulder, carried like a sack of grain. He carries you across the clearing to a pile of furs and discarded cloaks. All his; you can tell by that particular scent of pine and petrichor. He lays you down gently and joins you, capturing your lips with his. He undresses you with deft, firm fingers, tugging your tunic over your head and exposing your chest to the cool, night air. When you’re bare before him, he pauses, leaning back to take in the sight of you. 

“It’s as if every meeting is our first,” he says, caressing your cheek. “I’m charmed by you all over again.” Cernunnos is in awe of you, urging you to open yourself, to discard your shyness with him. He trails his lips down your chest and over your stomach, his hands moving restlessly over your skin. He can’t decide where to touch you. He settles on the places that bring out your neediest noises, massaging your thighs and using his talented fingers on your sex. He’s so focused on you’re pleasure that you think he must not notice the sounds of someone approaching, the footsteps that stop right behind you, but the Lord of the Hunt misses nothing. 

“Rory,” he addresses the rider without looking up from your body. Your heartbeat quickens. Cernunnos allows you to turn away and gaze up at your old lover. You feel so vulnerable, naked on the ground in front of him, but you see no judgment in his eyes. Rory’s expression is complicated, numerous emotions flickering across his gaze; happiness. Anxiety. Desire.

“I know you,” he says quietly. “I knew you in a past life.” You nod, glancing at Cernunnos. You’re not sure if you should say anything. You don’t need to, because Rory kneels, carefully keeping himself in the grass and not trespassing on the soft pile of furs. “May I?” 

You think he’s talking to Cernunnos, but Cernunnos turns to you. “May you what?” you ask, your heart racing.

“May I touch you?” Rory asks without hesitation. He looks at the ground, as though he has no right to even meet your eyes. “May I please you?” 

It’s not unusual for other riders to approach once Cernunnos has laid with you, but he’s barely touched you. You’re unsure of what to do. Cernunnos senses this and squeezes your shoulder. “What do you want, my fawn?” 

You know what you want. You reach out to Rory, framing his face with your hands. You raise his head, urging  him to look at you. “Yes,” you tell him, “you may.” He’s kissing you before the words even leave your lips, kissing you feverishly. Rory’s body collides with yours and you fall back into the furs. He follows you, blankets your body with his and his hands are all over you. He kisses like Cernunnos, with passion kindled over many moons spent apart. He nips at your lower lip, pulling gently with his teeth, and shivers at the whine he drags out of you. You have so many questions for him. Where has he been? What has he seen? But the time for words will come later. Now you just have to feel him. 

“Rory,” Cernunnos says, his voice low and growling with need. “I know I have waited far too long already. Haven’t you?” 

Rory reluctantly parts from you, his lips flushed and glistening with your combined saliva. “Yes,” he says with a shaky breath. “Yes, I have.” He slides his hand between your legs and strokes you, wetting his fingers in your arousal. “Are you ready?” he asks you.

You are. You always prepare before you leave for the camp and now you’re achingly empty. “Please,” you say. Rory and Cernunnos exchange a glance, something unspoken passing between them. They stand suddenly, lifting you without difficulty. Rory stands in front of you, quickly stripping away the last of his clothing and wrapping your legs around his waist. Cernunnos presses in close behind you and you’re pinned between their bodies, warmed by their heat.

“Eager for us, are you, my darling fawn?” Cernunnos drawls against your ear. He slips two fingers into your entrance easily, finding you wonderfully stretched. You sink down onto his fingers and it’s not nearly enough. 

They don’t leave you waiting. Rory brushes his fingers beneath your chin and pulls you into a kiss as Cernunnos enters you, his hands grasping your hips. The thickness of his cock pushes you to your very limits and you sigh shakily as he fills you with a single thrust. His breath warms your neck and he groans, lifting you halfway up his length before dropping you back down. You’re just starting to adjust and remember how it feels to be stuffed full of him when you feel Rory, hot and hard, brush against your thigh. 

“I thought I would never see you again,” Rory says hoarsely. He rubs against you when you sink down on Cernunnos’ cock. “But you’re here. You’re real. It’s not a trick.” He sounds as though he might cry.

“Take them, Rory,” Cernunnos says softly. “They want you.” He clutches the meat of your thighs, relishing in your tight heat all around him. Rory’s grasp brushes his when he takes your hips, steadying you as he nudges the head of his cock against you. You thought you knew what it was to be full, but you didn’t. Rory might break you, but you’d let him. You cling to his shoulders, whispering his name as he moves his hips and slowly, carefully enters you, mindful of your every gasp.

“You’re perfect,” Rory says breathlessly. He hilts himself inside of you and the pressure is almost unbearable. He falls into a rough rhythm with Cernunnos, thrusting up into you whenever Cernunnos pulls out, leaving you constantly full. The friction is maddening, the hot pulse of their cocks inside of you sending you over the edge far too early. You cum with a cry that’s halfway between their names, slumping in their hold. 

“Oh, my fawn,” Cernunnos sighs fondly. Rory stills briefly inside of you, uncertain, but Cernunnos never stops moving. He kisses the nape of your neck, licking and nipping, making you whine as he grinds into you. “The night is still young. We have so much more pleasure to give you.”

It’s then that you notice the other riders gathered around you, even the newcomers you’ve never met emboldened by Rory’s forwardness. They circle Cernunnos’ nest in various states of undress, some merely watching, some palming their cocks. Over Rory’s shoulder, you see the battle of Glavra and Tirun still rages. Glavra is clearly the stronger of the two but Turin is much quicker on his feet, dancing away from Glavra’s strikes. They clash like beasts, growling and snarling. 

“They fight for you, my fawn,” Cernunnos purrs. “For the right to mate with you.” 

Rory begins to move again and your attention is torn from the fight, looking down at where your bodies join. His grip moves to your backside, kneading at your flesh in time with his thrusts. Your thighs are starting to ache but it’s satisfying, the kind of pain you’ll savor with the memories in the morning. “I’m jealous,” he admits, grunting when you squeeze around him. “Cernunnos has had you all this time and I never even knew.”

“Jealousy has no place in the Hunt,” Cernunnos chides him. “We share the spoils, the joys and the sorrows. I gladly share my fawn, so long as they wish to be shared.”

The ache in your legs grows too great to bear and Cernunnos is the first to notice. He and Rory share another glance and you’re lowered back into the nest. “Rest, and let us please you,” Cernunnos murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He looks back, cocks his head, and the riders are upon you. 

You lie back and eagerly take what they offer. One of the riders, flaxen-haired and heavily scarred, kisses your inner thigh, trailing his lips up to your sex. You arch your back with a cry when his mouth engulfs you, tongue swirling around your sensitive flesh. Another kneels beside you, offering a jutting cock with a bead of precum on the tip. You wrap your hand around it, pumping lazily, rewarded with a hand in your hair and fevered praise.

“Beautiful,” the riders murmur, caressing you, teasing your nipples and massaging the soreness from your thighs. You feel debauched and divine, worshipped by these fearless hunters who take and give in equal measure. The rider with his head between your legs slides his hands beneath you, cupping your ass and urging you to grind against him. You cum on his tongue, shaking as he hums around you and teasingly licks your slit. He fills you with his cock while you’re still shivering, his hands roaming your chest. 

Somewhere nearby, Cernunnos murmurs, “Go on.” You can hear the smile in his voice. Hands are on your face, tilting your head back. You look up and Rory is there, his knees resting on either side of your head. He looks almost wounded, his hands trembling. He’s still hard, his cock bobbing against his chest. 

“This is alright?” he asks. “You want this? We aren’t hurting you?” 

You smile and reach out to him. Rory leans down and kisses you. The angle is awkward but he’s so earnest, so hungry for you. “I’m ok,” you assure him. “I want this. I come here every hunt just to see Cernunnos and his riders. And now,” you stroke his cheek, “to see you, too.” 

Rory looks like he wants to say something else, something even more vulnerable, but he doesn’t. Not yet. Maybe later, when you’re tangled together, a heap of satisfaction. But for now, he gently caresses your chin, tilting your head back, and presses his cock against your lips. You let him in, tasting his lust for you. He moans as he slides down your throat. He wraps his hand around your neck, feeling the bulge of his length sliding into you.

“Don’t forget about me, my fawn,” Cernunnos says. You feel his enormous length against your free hand, grinding against your palm. You stroke him just the way he likes, twisting your hand around his head, and he rumbles in pleasure. The rider fucking you cums with a long moan and you writhe as he fills you, slipping out with a rush of cum. You’re exhausted, unable to do anything but lay there, reveling in the affections of the riders. 

There’s a crash as a body hits the forest floor and a snarl, an animalistic growl. “Oh? Those two are finally done?” one of the riders muses. “Come on, Tirun. Take your prize.” 

The pleasure is blinding but you’re aware of someone new touching you, slender, firm hands spreading your legs. You choke around Rory’s cock. Tirun teases you, rubbing his leaking head all around your entrance. “To the victor go the spoils,” he purrs. “Get a good look, Glavra. Don’t want you to miss how this sweet fawn takes my cock.” You feel lightheaded when he thrusts into you, your eyes rolling back in your head. 

Cernunnos is right. The night is just beginning, and you are just as ravenous as his riders. You give yourself to the pleasure of the hunt’s end, taking and being taken until the sun rises.

[youarejesting]

Hope in the sheets.10

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 5k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: Implied sex, pregnancy, implied reader has baby.

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Hoseok and the others were eventually led into the birthing suite; the entire place had been cleaned and only the bare minimum of staff stayed behind. They were sorting out equipment and monitoring your current state. When his eyes landed on yours he felt emotions bloom in his chest. There you were laying in the bed, a small bundle of soft blankets nestled delicately in your arms. You had showered and dressed in a nightdress that had been packed in your hospital bag. 

Hoseok’s lip curled. He was trying to hold his expression, giving you a forced smile before he broke out into tears. Holding your free arm out to him, he stumbled into your embrace kissing your forehead and telling you how much he loved you. 

His words were broken by the force of each sob. “Are you going to hold her, or do we have to hold you?” Yoongi playfully teased. Hoseok wiped his eyes taking a few shakey deep breaths trying to calm his emotions. 

When you moved the blanket to show your daughter laying gently against your chest, he was a mess once more. “Hobi, you want to hold her?”

“I can hold her?” He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. He could hold this baby, his daughter, he could hold her in his arms and she was real. 

“Of course you can hold her.” You laughed, reaching up to wipe his tears away. Hoseok remembered everything he was taught from the birthing classes, practically reciting them out loud. You placed his daughter in his arms and his bottom lip fell. 

Tears were his automatic response. There was nothing else, this miracle, this symbol of his love for you, his best and longest friend. This was his child, his flesh and blood and he couldn’t thank you enough for giving him such a gift. 

“You have to stop crying Hobi, we need a nice picture for your family.” You smiled and he tilted his head back sniffing. 

“I love you so much, and I love her, I just can’t stop crying.” The words broke again Hoseok turned to show off his daughter to his friends. They were some of the people he was closest to and when he looked at them they were all crying. Jungkook’s wet cheeks and red nose, Jimin’s sweet puffy eyes bubbling with tears, even Yoongi let out a stray sniff. 

By far it was a sight to see big burly Namjoon openly weeping like Hoseok and cooing over how precious she was. 

“Look how little she is,” Namjoon whimpered

“Her hands are so tiny too,” Hoseok said back. The two were just making it worse for each other, a back and forth of doting comments of your newborn each statement causing a fresh cycle of tears. 

The nurse who had been checking your vitals waiting to take you back to the ward rolled her eyes. “I have seen some sappy fathers but you brought a whole troop.”

“Gentleman it’s time to let mum and her baby get some sleep, the father can come back tomorrow morning any other guests can come two at a time during visiting hours.” She ushered the other six males from the room, Hoseok kissed you his cheeks were wet. 

“I don’t want to go.”

“Get some sleep Hobi, get the house ready. If all goes well I will be out of the hospital soon.” The nurse took your daughter from Hoseok’s arms. 

“Wait, can I give her a kiss?” You whispered. The nurse nodded bringing your daughter over allowing you to kiss her goodnight before she was wheeled down to the nursery. 

“Are you ready to go back to the ward? You should get some sleep. Your body will be exhausted. We will bring the child in when she is hungry.”

“Okay Hobi, I have to go rest now you head home and make the house all ready for when we come home okay.” You waved goodbye to him and watched as Jimin took his hand leading him from the room. He seemed reluctant to take his eyes off of you, his hand coming to lay flat under his heart. 

You touched your collar bone watching him mouth the words 'baseline'. It was like everything you ever wanted but such a weird and obscure way you got there. You wanted to be with Hoseok and cherish him and be loved in return, but you never thought you would get there by completely derailing your relationship and almost ruining your life. 

It was like you had to destroy what you had to build something better. It seems counterproductive and a step in the wrong direction but somehow you were able to shape the rubble of your friendship into a relationship stronger than before. 

You love Hoseok with all your heart and he only has eyes for you. It seems you were both delusional to believe that you weren’t in love. Everyone could see it except the two of you and now it was painfully obvious. 

Being a mother was kind of a shock. Scared when you woke up to cramps, only to remember you had already given birth, you were also woken throughout the night to feed your daughter. A part of you worried about taking care of someone, the responsibility setting in as being a mother was a full-time job.

“You are doing wonderful.” The nurse gave you some pain killers for your cramps, your uterus was slowly shrinking back to its regular size and you were uncomfortable. “Would you like me to get you anything?”

“I would love something to drink.” Voice hoarse from sleep, she nodded before setting off for you. You sat up watching the sunrise, your daughter sleeping soundly on the bed in front of you. She was so precious. Even with closed eyes she still wiggled and stretched her hands out to the warm glowing orb.

“Seonhee, do you like that name?” You whispered, taking out a small outfit: a white onesie with sunflowers and bright yellow footed pants with soft yellow ruffles on the butt. “Jung Seonhee.”

“Ah, is that her name?” The nurse smiled, placing some apple juice and water on the small bedside table. She sanitized her hands and began helping you with the baby's clothes and diaper, bagging the old clothes and disposing of the soiled diaper. She smiled down at the little girl in her bright outfit. “I think it suits her, Seonhee”

The doctor came by on her round, her hair pulled into a tight bun and her scrubs pastel blue with stalks. “You are looking better, how are you feeling?” There was no messing around, she was straight to business, checking for any concerns or pain. Your stomach was being palpated while she brought up things to look out for. “Ultimately if anything happens that you are unsure about, even if it is something silly like, should I have coffee while breastfeeding, call this number here, they are a great service and they will help you.”

“Thank you so much.” Taking the card you were handed and a little care package from the hospital, the nurse placed the card into the baby book which had accompanied you throughout pregnancy and after. “Am I okay to go home today?”

“You are all clear. Let us know what time you want to leave and we can have all the paperwork ready.” Pausing in the doorway, a young nurse almost bumping into her, she spun around, her coat swishing with her. “After giving birth a lot of women become a little moody, fatigued, or cry. This is totally normal as your hormones will be dropping back to a normal level. It is perfectly normal to feel these things during this time.”

“Ah, that’s good to know.” You replied while searching through the care package, glancing at some of the booklets and information sheets. There was a number for a community service where mothers take their babies to be weighed and receive checkups. The nurses had few information sessions on feeding techniques and developmental leaps. 

Looking forward to being a part of a group of new mothers, you knew you would have a lot of questions eventually. It would be nice to know if other mothers have similar concerns or effective tips for any future problems.

Hoseok arrived with a big smile, kissing you sweetly before heading over to scoop up his daughter. “Wait Hobi,” you stopped him, “I need to talk to you before you get all teary-eyed again.”

“Okay,” serious expression on his face he gave you all his attention.

“We need to agree on her name and sign the birth certificate.” The smile returned to his face, the twinkle in his eyes never dwindling since the moment he stepped into the room. “I like the name 선희 (Seonhee) written as 善 meaning Good or nice and 希 as in Hope”

Hoseok watched you write an example on a scrap piece of paper, and began nodding enthusiastically. Hands shaking the two of you eyed one another passing secret smiles, the taste of giggles on the tip of your tongue. Once the document was completed Hoseok’s hand swooped up into your hair, cradling your nape as he kissed you.

Neither lazy nor heated, the kiss was full and romantic, his lips telling a story against yours. The world stopped and only Hoseok existed. Until a shrill cry broke through the silence and the two of you apart. The cry brought with it the sound of machines and nurses walking down the hall.

“You want to go home,” Hoseok raced around the hospital bed towards your daughter, wiggling in the tiny hospital portable bassinet. His style was honestly amusing. Strips of fabric hanging from a graffitied shirt with a cargo jacket and sneakers. Strange to see him holding a baby but you loved it so much. 

Just because you were parents didn’t mean you had to get rid of everything you love. Sure you had to grow up and it was extreme. The transition you made while pregnant felt like your life was ending. That you would live to serve a tiny being. But seeing Hoseok still smiling the same, still wearing the same street hip hop style reassured you that you still had a life outside of being a mother and that would never change.

Of course, the two of you probably wouldn’t club anymore. It would be unfair if either of you went out without the other and unfair on your daughter if you were not there for her. Not to mention the cost of babysitting and the trust you would need in order to leave Seonhee with someone who wasn’t you or Hoseok.

Hoseok helped you with your bags packing the car, he had borrowed Jin’s for a smoother drive. Always thoughtful even on the littlest details. Sitting by the baby's car seat while Hoseok drove you home apologizing for every speed bump and every turn.

“Hoseok, I would like to go home before it is dark. You don’t have to drive that slow.” You laughed, he was being so serious like a knight or warrior preparing for battle to protect those he loves. In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you saw his lips twitch in amusement, the sun shining on his shaggy hair. “I love you.”

“Babe,” He whined, “you can’t say that when I am driving, I want to kiss you and then we really won’t get home before dark.”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours in the mirror before concentrating diligently once more on the road. He was singing softly to the radio as he crossed town, you must have fallen asleep as you were woken by his sweet laugh and some kisses on your cheek.

“We are home Lil darling.”

Breathing deeply trying to clear your head from your nap, as the fog in your mind disappeared your hands were secured in Hoseok’s as he helped you out of the car. Standing patiently for your body to catch up, the tender sensations in your stomach leaving you stiff.

“Seonhee, time to see your new home.” Hoseok scooped up the infant holding her to his chest as if it was the most natural thing like he had several years of experience. As opposed to this child being his firstborn. He took the soft yellow muslin wrap and covered her protecting her eyes from the afternoon sun.

Opening the door, you weren’t surprised, (mostly because you had spotted their cars on the curb) to see the boys sitting on your couch equally as excited to see you as they had been the day before in the birthing suite. Hoseok was placing your bag on the table when Seonhee started crying.

“Hey, sweetheart what’s wrong?” Hoseok patted her bottom to a steady rhythm hoping it would lull her back to sleep. Her crying continued and you felt your shirt grow damp, taking a seat you held out your hands for your daughter and nursed her while the boys kept their eyes firm on one another to respect your privacy.

“Are you drinking or are you sleeping?” You giggled at your daughter who was milk drunk. Burping her gently she wiggled releasing a few loud burps and spitting up a little onto the back of your hand and the small burp cloth you had been holding to her clothes.

“Let me take her while you clean up.” Yoongi smiled, scooping up your daughter, holding her so her head was supported, her arms and legs draped over either side of his arm. His other hand rubbed and patted her back gently as he swayed.

“You look like a squashed pie.” He smiled cheekily talking to the baby in his arms. “Cute bow shape lip from your mum, and your nose is very cute like Hoseok’s.”

“How dare you call her a squashed pie.” Namjoon tried to defend but when Yoongi turned he showed the infant, her cheek squished up against his arm, her drool slowly seeping between parted lips. “Okay, maybe a little but she is also adorable.”

“All babies look like aliens when they are born,” you grinned.

“But do you love her, more than anything else in the world?” Jungkook giggled trying to make small talk while also projecting his newfound love for such a tiny being.

“We just met, I need some time to get to know her some more.” You joke playfully curled up on the couch Seokjin handing you some dinner and a cup of tea while the boys took turns meeting your daughter.

“It says in the paperwork she can have a bath tomorrow, and that her first poo might be really yucky.” Hoseok read the take-home leaflets from the hospital and constantly checked on his two girls making sure they were both safe and sound.

“Put her in outfits you don’t care if they get destroyed,” Yoongi was singing something to the child. It was low and rough. He was talking about dreams, freestyling about how your daughter didn’t need to go to university and that she didn’t have to know everything right at this moment.  

Placing the little girl into Jimin’s waiting arms. His eyes sparkled and his lip dropped as he turned soft for the little girl.

“Hello, I am Uncle Jimin and I am going to spoil you so much.” His sweet voice gasped. He practically wiggled on the spot when she brought her fists up to her closed eyes and yawned. Taehyung was quietly snapping photos, careful not to use the flash as he didn’t want to hurt the baby's sensitive eyes, even while they were closed. He assured you, that he would get photos of everyone holding Seonhee. He had already captured Yoongi and was taking a few extra of Jimin with the small bundle.

It was honestly nice to see them all so supportive and there for your daughter. Images in your mind blooming of her first Christmas and birthday and all that would follow. Namjoon would buy her a green bike with flowers and tassels on the handles and Yoongi, helping assemble it before she woke up, attaching the training wheels for her safety.

Learning how to wrap people around her finger from her Uncle Jimin and then using it against them. She would be a dancer like her father and would light up the room. You could see her performing on a stage with the eight of you waiting with flowers to throw on stage. Maybe she wouldn’t win the first prize at her first show but they would still take her out for pizza and celebrate. Her skills would improve and the day she wins the trophy she would be lifted onto Seokjin’s shoulders. 

Not noticing you had started crying until Namjoon pulled you into a hug.  “Hey what’s got you so upset.”

“No, I am not upset, I was told that as my hormones go back to normal, I might cry and be more tired and moody and upset and I just,” Sniffing Jungkook handed over some tissues and hugging your back. The newer of the group Taehyung and Jungkook had just fit perfectly into the group, it was like they were always meant to be.

“Hey love,” Hoseok said, coming over to kneel at your feet holding your knees softly. "Tell me what made you so upset."

“I was thinking about her first Christmas and her first birthday and how you would all be here and she would be loved and…” Taking a sniff and pushing the tears from your eyes you looked up at them seriously. “You can never leave now, we are going to be one big family. I hope you know you are now each my daughter's uncles and therefore responsible to attend events. If you didn’t want to be a part of the family, I am sorry you are now my family.”

More tears shook your form. “You're the only family I have, I wasn’t exactly disowned more than I left when my mother told me not to have my sweet daughter. My precious baby deserves a big happy family and so I am sorry you are stuck with me. 

“And don’t even think you are getting out of it.” You pointed at Taehyung and Jungkook, “You are my family now. Seonhee needs lots of uncles to protect her.”

“We aren’t leaving,” Seokjin grinned, taking a turn holding the wiggling bundle, smiling for a picture, and looking at her. “She will be a heartbreaker.”

~

The first couple of weeks were a learning curve filled with broken sleep, reheated meals courtesy of Seokjin, and constant fatigue looming over your head. Jimin appeared one-afternoon Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi apprehended your daughter. Settling her into a baby carrier strapped to Namjoon’s chest. The thick bodyguard looked a little silly with a tiny child nestled against his pecs.

Seonhee was wearing a new outfit from her uncle Jimin. It was a sweet-footed onesie with bear ears warm enough for a day out in the park. Kicked out of the house by Jimin who stressed how much you needed a break. Hoseok was at work while you were still on leave which meant you took the larger portion of the home and baby duties.

Mostly because you were at home all day, but also not wanting to interfere with his sleep schedule seeing as he was going to an actual job that needed proper attention. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation from Jimin as he dragged you into the bathroom and started the bath filling it with a generous amount of bubble bath. It was the sleepy-time product you had chosen for your baby, emitting a soft lavender scent.

“You relax and I will wash your hair.” He smiled and he massaged your scalp to help relieve any tension, after washing out all your hair products he took your skincare products letting you lay in the bubbles as he pampered you. “You are such a good mum, you are doing amazing.”

“I hope so,” you yawned.

You stepped out of the tub, quickly wrapping yourself into the fluffy robe you hadn’t used in a while. Then sat down on your bed whilst Jimin dried and styled your hair. The others had returned, poking their heads into the room and smiling at your new refreshed look. You quickly fed your daughter while Jimin braided your hair securely.

“You rest okay, we will watch her until Hoseok comes home. Don’t worry we will come to you if we are unsure about anything and for food times.” Yoongi said playing some soft tranquil music on the small speaker by your bed. 

It seemed pointless. Laying there believing it impossible to fall asleep. As you walked past the clock reading half-past one, your stomach rumbled in a gentle protest. Before you could even think of the food you wanted to get dressed, pulling on a white crop top and a baggy overall dress. Something easy to breastfeed in. It was definitely time as your breasts were heavier with milk.

Walking out you poured yourself a glass of juice and scooped up your fussing daughter, stomach growling again. Yoongi stood up marching into the kitchen, rapidly chopping ingredients. Soon the house was filled with a savory aroma and the glorious sound of oil sizzling. 

~

Hoseok was having his first afternoon with Seonhee. You were going for a checkup. Jungkook was free and agreed to accompany you to your appointment, he almost paled when he saw the equipment on the table for your checkup. It made for a good laugh and endless teasing during your small coffee date afterward.

Jungkook’s phone buzzed and he grinned texting back quickly. “Ooh, what or who is making you smile so big?”

“Uh, I just got a funny text from Namjoon. Apparently, Hoseok asked for company so Namjoon and Yoongi stopped by the house after their errands.” He laughed, nose scrunching showing off his front teeth. “And well, your daughter may have accidentally had a poo explosion. So far from the pictures I have seen, Yoongi and Hoseok are covered in it. And while trying to help Namjoon dropped a whole bottle of baby powder and they are vacuuming the carpet.”

“Jimin and Taehyung agreed to pick up some more and I have been asked to keep you busy,” Your smile growing the more you heard, of course, they would make a mess on your first day out. Expecting something chaotic to happen but never something as funny as this. 

“I am just glad it is something like this and not that someone is sick or hurt,” You smiled while eating a strawberry cheesecake and sipping coffee. Not making any move of leaving early and relieving them of their duty. It was a right of passage and showed just how much you trusted them. Hearing that something happened and not jumping to take over.

“They said not to tell you, but how could I not?” Jungkook turned his phone showing you some photos worthy of scrapbooking, the kind you would take out for Seonhee’s twenty-first and a story she would get sick of hearing at every family gathering. “Look at them.”

“Well while they are busy, how about we go grocery shopping? I think perhaps we can make something delicious for dinner,” Standing and collecting your jacket from your chair, and leading the way. Jungkook followed listening to your concerns about your weight and figure, he assured you how good you were looking and even offered to personally train you at 21, the gym.

~

Seonhee was growing steadily. Each milestone leading into the next, she would roll over and had started to crawl. Finding herself putting things she shouldn’t in her mouth. Going back to work was hard for the first few days, leaving Seonhee at the daycare was easy but she became more clingy when she came home. It was her way of coping with the separation that came with daycare and full-time work but eventually, Seonhee got into a routine.

Understanding that her parents were always coming back made everything in the house run a lot smoother. She had a small handful of sounds, mostly eomma, appa. 

Work was a lot more tolerable and dare you to say fun. Jimin had quit his sugar baby gig and joined the company working alongside you. Sure he had broken a few hearts by canceling his service but he was happier. He never explicitly said it but you believed he was trying to be more independent and above everything else make himself more approachable to Taehyung.

Taehyung however left for a while, he had been away working with a few celebrities and luxury brands, photographing concepts, photos, and more. He had been pushing and working harder and harder as the days passed until he traveled away for his latest project. 

It was a little sad that they weren’t together but you could see the longing in Jimin’s eyes whenever he replayed Taehyung’s Instagram story. Dragging him from his desk to have lunch together and distract him from the thoughts spinning around in his head.

~

December marked eleven months since Seonhee was born. Cruising against the couch and cabinets opening things she shouldn’t. You had invested in baby locks and a small playpen. Neither really did much as she knew how to push the whole contraption across carpet and tiles to get into things. 

Mostly she would follow you to the kitchen hoping to get teething biscuits or any other treats her father would sneak her. He was never able to say no and you often found them sneaking snacks together where he would give you his big eyes and pouty lips claiming that she deserved a snack.

Christmas had your house filled to the brim with presents and boys, Seokjin was cooking in the kitchen with Yoongi’s help while Jimin and Jungkook were playing with Seonhee. Hoseok was helping Namjoon into a Santa costume in the backyard. No one had heard from Taehyung. You assumed he was busy with work and that he would be unable to make it.

There was a knock and Jungkook raced to answer it and laughed, “Finally, I thought you were skipping out on the family Christmas.”

“I wouldn’t skip out on the family Christmas, you are my favorite family,” Taehyung said handing over a suitcase to Jungkook and carrying in some bags of wrapped gifts, placing them under the tree. “Look at you, you have gotten so big!”

Namjoon Santa came in and delivered gifts and ran off getting changed only to come back and watch the gift unwrapping. Jungkook went to collect the two eldest from the kitchen, pushing Seokjin before dragging Yoongi out the two stopping in the archway.

“Hey, you are under the mistletoe!” Jimin giggled, proud that his trap had worked, he was hoping that some people would get stuck under it. “You are going to have to kiss.”

“We don’t have to, we are watching Seonhee open her gifts,” Jungkook said only to be grabbed by Yoongi who kissed the younger male and pulled away.

“Satisfied.” Yoongi turned back to the young girl opening her presents, Namjoon got her some picture books and a few educational toys. Seokjin had wrapped a small toy kitchen that was her size. Yoongi brought her to everyone’s surprise a little clam pool and some plastic toys to play with.

Jimin brought her a whole lot of princess dresses, tiaras, and fairy wings. Jungkook got her a cozy coupe red and yellow plastic car that she could push around with her legs. Taehyung handed her the small gift bag and inside was a night light that made the roof look like a galaxy and played soft music.

After Seonhee’s gifts from the boys, Hoseok brought out a box. He was struggling with it but when he opened it out popped a little dog who began licking her cheeks and wagging his tail intensely amongst the large group. “His name is Mickey.” Hoseok grinned watching Taehyung taking pictures and smiling fondly as she giggled.

Other gifts were exchanged, the most notable was Seokjin giving everyone matching sweaters with his face on it, and Taehyung’s gift to Jimin. It was a small bag and inside was the signature Tiffany blue colored box.

“You didn’t have to,” Jimin said softly and Taehyung smiled.

“I told myself I would support you, and I know you didn’t want to be treated like a sugar baby, I just told myself that I wouldn’t allow myself to date until I got you those earrings you really wanted. I wanted to give you something you could be proud of.” Taehyung explained, “And it was so hard to resist you when you kept inviting me over.”

Opening the box Jimin saw the earrings he had once mentioned ages back, the exact earrings Taehyung had handmade for him. “Now you can get rid of the ones I made you, they look horrible compared to these.

“I still love the ones you made and I will keep them forever.”

“I won’t treat you like a sugar baby anymore, I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go on a date.”

“Well, these earrings will get you about five dates.” Jimin giggled cheekily

“Five I thought for sure it would be five and a half?”

“Five and a free butt grab?”

“Deal!”

~

The nine of you were walking through the kid's attractions at the theme park seeing some familiar faces, you were having lunch when some music started playing. It was the theme park's dance parade and Hoseok was dragged into the dance by Taeyong.

You were giggling when WinWin dragged you up dancing with you and turned to see Hoseok on one knee, a ring box opened in his hands. You felt your chest about to explode as you tackled him to the ground sobbing in his chest. “Hoseok really, you mean it?”

“Of course, I mean it, I have loved you for years.”

“I love you so much, hell freaking yes put that ring on me, quick quick.” You kissed his face nonstop giggling between your tears. He was finally able to get the ring onto the designated finger standing and pulling you onto your feet. He kissed you passionately, you pulled back burying your face in his chest squealing.

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[whirlybirbs]

"can you stop moving?" w/ cullen? i loved your other piece 🥺

;   MAULING    —

summary: the hunting party returns.

pairing: cullen rutherford  /  mage ! inquisitor (lavellan)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: i nearly scrapped this but the dialogue was too much fun, and i strongly enjoy cullen being reduced to a worried ball of anxiety over the herald so,,, y’know...... the other great feat in da:i beside corypheus....... bears

It’s Dorian’s voice that Cullen hears first — it’s a curt shout that cuts through the early spring air. Winter has lingered, and as Cullen pushes up from his bed and through the large doors to his quarters, he hears the desperate call for the healers. 

The air is cold against his face. Bitterly so.

It’s early — the sun is just rising over the horizon and as he jumps into his boots, dressed in nothing more than his leathers and tunic, he can hear Sera trying desperately to keep someone’s attention. 

Ser Cullen Rutherford can’t help the way his heart sinks.

You had set out with Dorian, Sera, and Bull two days prior — with the supply lines stretched thin after the battle at Haven, a ride through the Frostbacks may provide some game with spring slowing crawling into the days. There’d been chatter of some rams, fennec, and elk being spotted by scouting parties a week earlier. The entire Council had been thankful for this news — Cullen reasoned full bellies may result in an uptick in morale. 

You’d been eager to take up the task, and... 

“Sure, we can handle it, you said,” comes Bull’s voice, rising above the early morning fray that’s spilling into the courtyard, “Be enough meat for twenty men, you’d said!”

It’s dripping with sarcasm, the angry sort that works itself out of the Qunari under pressure — and as Cullen barrels down the battlements, into the cold air, he finds there’s plenty reason for it.

You’re slipping from the back of Dorian’s mount, into the arms of the healers, when he stumbles upon the scene.

“Oh good,” Dorian croaks, “Now, Cullen is here to witness the height of your stupidity, your worship. Isn’t that nice?”

Cullen’s eyes are wide — and almost immediately Sera has narrowed in on the flash of terrified concern at the gruesome scene before him. She notes that Cullen looks rather disheveled; that tunic of his leaves little to the imagination. Tight in all the right places as Dorian would say. Hm. He’s worried. Cully-wully looks a bit scared. 

The trickster is laughing sheepishly, trying to step into the Commander’s view, when you speak up from the spot on the canvas stretcher. A bloodied finger waggles in the air as the healers shush you.

Maker, there’s mirth in your voice. “Worth it.”

“Was it, Inquisitor?” barks Dorian, moving to hand off the reigns of his horse as he rounds Cullen’s side, “Was it, really?”

“What in Andraste’s name happened?” comes Cullen’s voice, finally, as he spurs into action, pushing past Bull and Sera and Dorian to crouch by the healers. His hands are rasied, as if to silence the fray long enough to wrap his head around just why the Herald of Andraste is now laying amongst the mud. 

You’re in horrid shape, and the amount of blood painting your robes is not lost on the Knight.

You, suddenly, find your pride has run off — and you feel  small under Ser Cullen’s eyes for the first time ever. His hair, all wild blonde tresses that have been muddled with sleep, curls in the morning air. There’s worry etched into his expression and guilt is all that lands on your tongue in reply. It’s like cotton, and suddenly you feel sick. 

(...Has he always been this handsome?)

You’re thankful Dorian is the one to respond in your stead.

“Her ‘holiness’ thought that a black bear might be a worthy opponent this morning,” he waves his hands, dark eyes looking incredulously at the woman he considers to be one of his closest friends — it would be almost laughable, the entire scenario, if the carnage wasn’t so horrible, “Something about pelts! And meat! And Maker knows what else!”

You cry out in pain — and Cullen’s gaze snaps quickly at the sight the peeled away bandages reveal. Bull or Sera or Dorian had done a good enough job patching you up, seeing as somehow you hadn’t bled out. The four long drags of a black bear’s claws run down your jaw, along the curve of your neck and shoulder. They’re deep. They’ve painted your tunic crimson. 

You shiver. Bitterly, you avert your eyes from the lot of them hovering over you. “I hadn’t anticipated the mother —”

“The...!” Cullen’s mouth snaps shut, “Maker, just how many bears were there?” 

At once, the whole party speaks. “Three.”

Cullen, really, can only shake his head and close his eyes. Maker preserve him. “I wish I hadn’t asked.”

“We have,” you inhale sharply as a healer, whose hands glow a warm orange, passes the magic over your cheek, “enough meat to feed the entire camp now.”

Bull tsks. “You almost became a kebab, kid. No use in serving up Inquisitor stew.”

“I —!” 

Your voice drowns in the sudden flash of pain. This is a lesson. A rather nasty one. One that you’re hoping doesn’t scar, but... with the way the healers are chattering in hushed tones in Elvish has you imagining just how gnarly the wound is. It certainly felt like a lesson that would lay etched into your skin for months to come. 

“Just rest, Inquisitor,” Cullen sighs, and you wonder how hard you’d hit your head on the way down — he looks nothing like his usual part, stripped of armor and furs. Now, in the morning sun, he’s no Knights Templar, no war-born Keeper of Mages, no lion crested Commander of the Second Inquisition. 

He’s simply Cullen. 

Exhausted, worried, and freezing Cullen.

“You’re going to need your beauty sleep now, my dear,” Dorian chirps, shaking his head, “Gone and ruined your beauty this has.”

Cullen frowns at that. You see it. It’s gone in a blink.

The tension you two had been playing upon for the last month is gone. Evaporated. In its stead, concern lingers. It snatches your breath. 

Guilt, still, sits on your tongue.

“The meat...” 

Your voice wanders off, finger hanging in the air — but, Cullen catches the meaning. He’ll have requisitions see to it. Sure enough, there’s an obscene amount being towed by Bull’s stead. In a make-shift, stick sled lay three enormous pelts and enough meat to keep everyone’s bellies full for the night.

Then this was not for nothing.

Cullen stands and you both avert your gazes.

“I’ll see to it that it’s cleaned and prepared, your worship,” and then, as he leans from one boot to the other and props his hands upon his hips, he speaks a bit amusedly, “And do get some beauty sleep.”

In the cold morning air, you sense a thaw. Not only of the ground but perhaps between the Knight-Commander and yourself.

And it’s not entirely unwelcome.

[verse50]

Heat

It was the first weekend over 80F and we took full advantage of it on our six acres. Friday night we let the kids loose on the rock pile, loading up the trailer for the dump, then packed them off early Saturday for soccer camp. All morning he bush-hogged the treeline while I wrestled the sunken raised beds into shape. This house had been so neglected when we bought it two years ago. Finally we had the time and money to make it nice again.

I was pulling weeds when he tromped out in chaps and ear protection. Chainsaw hanging from his belt. That and the sweaty dirt on his face made me look a bit longer.

“I’m gonna saw up that alder and then get to the stairs,” he half shouted. Bush hogging will do that to you. He grinned and took out his ear plugs. “The beds are coming along, maybe-” I was on my knees and gazed up at him quizzically.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, at the perfect angle to peer down my shirt.

“Nope!” I agreed, and swung myself back and forth. It looked and felt like two water balloons bumping in a pillowcase. Then stuck out my tongue.

His mouth set. “I gotta get the stairs done today.” Then he was gone into the brush, chainsaw revving. I bent down again to the weeds, trying to drown my frustration with deep breaths. 

He was so hard to read. I was a free spirit, a spitfire, and he was a calm, methodical engineer with a heart of gold. There was no better man on the planet, I was convinced, but gosh sex was tough with him! It took him so long to adjust to change. A toe ring. The tiniest gold nose ring. A tattoo on my ankle. Introducing him to my vibrator. I had to pace everything at six month intervals or it was too much.

 But once he got used to it...holy fucking shit. He basically dissected that vibrator and and studied the user manual. Found similar ones, tested them on me like I was a guinea pig. Even took me to a toy store in Dallas then fucked the daylights out of me until 3am. And then...it all petered out like a spent firework. I would try to keep the energy going, keep him interested, but I could never tell what worked. He was pretty shy about sex, almost embarrassed. He wasn’t comfortable with dirty talk. We couldn’t really sext because his job required cellphones be lockered except at lunch. We could go months on once a week then he would surprise me with a two day fuckfest, like a volcano erupting. I lived for those times but could never figure out how to make them happen more often. All it did was make me ramp up with excitement, feel more free, then try to cram myself in a box again. He was such a good man, though. I just needed to be more patient, less wild. I ripped up the weeds angrily.

The sun was high when he came in for lunch. I had sandwiches, chips, and his favorite tea ready. There was even more dirt on his face and I sat there awkwardly, trying to equate my silent chip-crunching husband with the dirty woodsman I wanted to pounce on.

“I think I’ll build out the landing a bit from the stairs, maybe put in a new handrail,” he said. I sipped my tea and nodded. “The driveway could use some gravel.”

“The trailer has all the rocks in it still,” I pointed out.

“Mmm. I’ll go to the dump first, then hit Home Depot and Brother’s Fieldstone.” He looked at me as if I had just appeared at the table. “You’re wearing a bra now.”

“Uh-huh.” I cut off a smart-ass retort and became very busy fishing pickles from their jar. “I’m gonna work on the petunia baskets.”

After the peck on my cheek he would be gone for at least two hours. I ripped off my bra, blasted Slayer on my bluetooth speaker, and delved into the hanging baskets. By the time I had repotted everything and cleaned up the cobwebby  lounge chairs I was a filthy mess. Shower time.

You couldn’t see our house from the road. I went out on the deck in just a towel, then threw it off and lay naked on a chair, basking like a lizard. Big fluffy clouds blocked the sun momentarily, then shooed away when I spread my legs wide. Everything needed to dry. My hair would need a serious flatiron session. Idly I thought of him coming out of the forest...rushing home...making a beeline for me...a naked woman tanning herself alone...so easy to take advantage...helpless...but there was a shotgun behind the door...

Damn it, I thought. Can’t even have a fantasy and it gets all practical. He’s wearing off on me. I looked at my phone. About 30 minutes of naked freedom left- I should water the baskets again. I picked up the hose and my phone rang.

“Hey baby,” I said, working up the cheerful wife tone. He really was wonderful. I just needed to...not need so much.

“Baby, guess how much the lumber cost for the deck, right now?”

I thought for a minute. It has been awhile since we did a major project. “Um, I think we did the brown house for under $600?”

“Yeah, well, I priced it all out. It’s gonna be over $2000! We can’t swing that now. It’s insane, the prices. Never seen anything like it. And Brother’s is out of pea gravel!” He was worked up. This man stuck to budgets religiously.

“O my God! No, you’re right. We can’t do that now. The deck will be fine for awhile, definitely. It’s sturdy at least.” The sun was so hot on my back. I stared at my shadow, waving the limp hose to and fro.

“So I emptied the trailer and uh, checked everything out. Since we can’t do anything more on that today I, um....” he coughed. I waited, cautiously easing on the water. “I went to that new little toy store in the strip mall.”

Water spurted out onto my shadow. “I see. What kind of toys?”

“The only kind!” His voice rose. The hose engorged and gurgled. “I found one like your pink one, you know that does the swirly thing, too? But this seems to be a softer material, a better grade of silicone, I think this company merged with a big distributor and, uh...”

My mouth twisted. It was just like him to get carried away on technical aspects. “That’s so sweet, baby. What are you wanting to do with that?”

“I want to use it on you.” He was almost whispering, as if there were seven other people in his F-250. “Like Dallas.” It was such a distant memory. I couldn’t work myself all up again, it was too exhausting. But he went to the store, my dear husband...he wants something.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” I said sincerely. “Just come home and we can hang out the rest of the day.”

“I don’t want to hang out. I want- I want you to not wear a bra again. I don’t want you to feel, uh, like you have to put it back on? Around me?”

I aimed the water where my shadow’s pussy would be. Cool drops sprayed up onto my flushed skin.

“I’m not wearing a bra right now.”

“What?”

“I’m naked out on the deck. Been tanning after I took a shower.”

Silence. He was gunning the truck, I could hear the roar.

“I hope you’re bringing some wood home for me.” VVVBBBBRBbbbbRRRRrr.

“Baby, if you can just let me plan stuff. It’s easier for me. I’m sorry I’m slow and I disappoint you. I wanted to tear your shirt off there but I’m just never sure...I don’t want to do anything you don’t like, I don’t want to hurt you- really- just let me plan sometimes and maybe try to go along? I promise I’ll do better, you are so sexy-” sfhkhfffffppp. His phone cut out. I stood there, dumb, watching the water drip my shadow off the edge of the deck. He had never talked to me so much at one time. “-if I can plan and know in advance that you like it we can do more, you drive me crazy you know that, right?”

I took a deep breath. My legs were shaking into the damp, hot wood. “How do you want me to be, when you get home?”

Pause. More gunning. “On the deck chair, doggy. Ass in the air. Wait- I need to shower first.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sexy with the dirt on you. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I love my sexy, dirty husband.”

“Ok.” He was firm. The blinker was on, he was at the intersection ten minutes away. “Ass up, doggy. Hands by your side. Face turned away from the stairs. I don’t want you to see me. I have-have- a special delivery.”

I turned off the water. The whole deck was soaked. Not one basket had gotten a drop. “Ass up ready to receive. I’ll be waiting for you, baby.” I was so excited my words came out slowly, bouncing through a lump in my throat. The sun was cold and hot at the same time.

“If you respond well there will be future appointments.” His voice was full of confidence before the phone shut off.

I almost tripped on my way over to the lounge chair. Fortunately my towel was there in case things got really wet.

Thank you to @daily-esprit-descalier for sharing the photo that inspired this story.

Linktree

[terzos-edibles]

Silver Linings

1. Gotta Keep On, Keepin' On

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

Words: 1.8k

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

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

Ibaar-

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

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

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

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

And that left Trudy on the fifth planet - Ibaar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made things dangerous.

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

[illyaana]

Tags: Angst (like a lot), Fluff (like a lot), Kaminari Denki x Reader (shoulder-length hair pls, tq), Binaural

Synopsis: You and Denki are childhood friends. When you were young, you two found this little meadow filled with wildflowers. Who'd thought your safe haven would bring back such painful feelings?

Word Count: 2812

Dont forget to check out the main masterlist of the event hosted by @kuroos-babygirl over here!

⋯⋯ ⫍ Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

The meadow you both crouched on glowed a gold hue as your fingers grazed the soft petals of the tall wildflowers, its stems rubbing against your sides. You eyed how the soft colour dusted itself on the peach skin of the boy before you, his entranced gaze stuck on the yellow and black-coloured butterfly fluttering its wings on the white-coloured flower. You enjoyed the bright smile adorned on the innocent male as he saw the now flying butterfly dance in the pale blue sky.

When’s the last time you both did this? - just walking around this little haven you both found together a year back?

Your six-year-old self reflected on all the memories they made with the seven-year-old in front of them.

It all began here - this little prairie.

Your first friend, your first wound, your first fight, your first day-out; it all took place in this land of vast greenery dusted yellow by blackeyed susans, corn marigold and bird's-foot trefoil.

It is all thanks to the adventurous, little blonde boy in front of you.

“Why are you staring, Y/N?” Denki said, nudging you.

“Just looking at the flowers, that’s all.”

A good lie, Y/N - a skilful lie.

He looked at your finger, eyeing it. Soon your hands were in his, the soft pad of his fingers trailing on the small lines of your hands. Each crevice was examined by that soft gaze of his, playing with your soft skin. His finger stopped at the scar painted on the fleshy part of your palm, a sulk forming on his lips.

“Was this from that time I dared you to jump from that tree?” He asked, guilt laced in his whispers.

It was, but you didn’t want him to know.

“Don’t worry, Denks - it wasn’t from that dare,” you say as you take your hands away from his grip, “I picked up a rock and there was a sharp end and it cut through my skin.”

He pulled your hand back into his, stretching the skin around the scar. He tried looking for clues to make sure you weren’t lying, a stressed look evident on his face.

You chuckled, gripping the side of his cheek and pinching it.

He looked at your radiant smile and all his worries washed away.

He let go of your hand and gripped your cheek in his left hand. His thumb began to rub small circles on your cheek, admiring how you leaned into his touch.

He loved how you were so at peace and calm when you were with him. You had no qualms in wasting hours listening to his dreams and aspirations, intervening once in a while to expand on his little ideas.

But you - right now, like this - is his favourite of it all.

You looked like an angel, the light from the Sun lighting your soft skin. The flowers and the very ends of your hair softly swished against the wind, forming such beautiful scenery as he took in the view unravelling in front of him.

He wondered how those flowers would look against your fingers, your hair, your ears…

He wondered how you’d look dripping in flowers.

“Sit down.”

Denki eyed the ground beneath him, looking for flowers that reminded him of you. The softness you brought, the light mood you formed whenever you were around him, the warmth you radiated whenever you were with him - he kept it all in his head as he saw the flowerbeds filled with flowers of different species.

His eyes stopped at the Black-eyed Susans that swished with the wind.

He instantly grabbed handfuls of the dainty-looking flower, hoping he had enough for the idea he had in his head.

Using his long nails, he cut the stem of the flower right down in the middle. He split one of the sections again, making three strips out of a stem. He then slowly began to braid the stems together, weaving them into a long strip.

“Stick your ring finger out, Y/N.”

You let him wrap that small strap around your finger, a determined gaze focused on the base of it.

He then inserted the end of the weaved strip into a section of the strip, securing its shape.

He took the rest of the flowers he collected and put them in his pocket as he walked behind you.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Let me do this! I have an idea,” he said, happiness lacing his words.

In a huff of annoyance, you agreed.

He began to braid the two front pieces of your hair, slowly adding the flowers he collected. He made sure that the stems were hidden behind your luscious hair. Once he finished braiding them both, he brought them to the back of your head, tying them together with the hair tie on your wrist.

“Are you finally done?” You ask, turning to face him.

You stared at his eyes focused on you, a small blush dusting his cheeks.

Angel.

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me do this, Y/N,” he replied, covering his cheeks with his arm.

You looked like an angel to him. The way your eyes twinkled, your soft lips, your cute nose, your soft skin, your gaze - it was all so perfect to him.

“Y/N,” he started, “Promise me when we get older, we’ll marry each other?”

Your eyes widen as you quickly stand up in shock.

“The hell, Denki?!” You felt blood rushing to your cheeks, “You just can’t say that!”

“I think you’re the only one that can handle me - after all, you’re still here,” he says as he rubs his chin.

“Denki, life doesn’t work like that.”

“And you know how my life is going to work? Knowing me, I’d be single until I’m 23-years old if we don’t make this promise. I’d most probably have a sugar baby-”

“Stop,” you say, holding back your laughter, “Is that your plan if you don’t get into a relationship by 23?”

“...maybe.”

You began laughing, clutching onto your stomach as you stared at him.

“Stop laughing, okay!” he says, annoyed.

“Well, at least you have goals-”

“Y/N!” He says, hitting your back.

You take a deep breath as you recollect your thoughts.

Maybe a life with him won’t be so bad.

“If I can prevent you from thinking of being a sugar daddy that early in life, then sure; we can get married.”

He smiled, grabbing your hands.

“Thank you, Y/N!”

You both hold hands as you walk out of the meadow.

“I’m picturing you with a college girl at 65-year-”

“Stop.”

.

.

.

“You’re finally back!” said Denki as he jumped into your arms.

“Yeah, I am.”

You looked at the now pro-hero in your hands. You chuckled when you felt his small grip on the back of your loosely fit university hoodie. He pressed his head against your chest, nuzzling into the soft cotton. A small hum left his lips as you ruffled his blonde hair - signalling how comfortable he felt in your hands.

God, you missed him - it felt so wrong to leave him right after graduating from UA.

However, you have become a skilled inventor - no one could doubt that. Thanks to the guidance of David Shield, you’ve made your name in the inventing world. You came back to Mustafu to build your brand - hopefully alongside your childhood friend.

“So, Chargebolt,” you teased, “Congrats on getting into the top 10 of the Hero chart! I was shocked when I found out that you - of all people - got in.”

“Hey,” He hit the back of your head, “I’m a good hero, okay?”

“I sense favouritism but okay,” you teased again.

“Not very good of you as an up and coming inventor to tease a pro-hero.”

“So the friend label is gone? Understood, sir. Have a great day,” you say as you push him off of you.

“Fine, fine, fine. Come in.”

You walk into Denki’s new apartment and a flush of memories come.

You eyed the small pictures he hung on the wall, the little trinkets he kept on his coffee table and the way he arranged his kitchen. It all reminded you of his former home - the home near that little meadow.

You miss it - you both did.

You took out the little flower ring he made all those years ago and placed it in his hands.

“Remember this?” You ask.

“You kept it?” He said, smiling, “I can’t believe you did!”

“Yeah. I book-pressed it the minute I went back,” you say, chuckling, “Y’know, I still think about that little promise we made in that meadow from now and then.”

“What promise?”

You eyed the metal band around his ring finger.

He remembers - he definitely remembers. After all, he was the one who made you agree to it.

“You didn’t tell me we were having guests, Denki.”

Your eyes fell to Jirou walking out of a room and wrapping her arms around his waist from the back. She pressed her head against his neck, her hair brushing against it. He smiled, leaning into the newfound warmth she gave.

You saw the same metal ring around her left ring finger. The same gem, the same design, the same shape - everything.

“I forgot to tell you, didn’t I? I’m engaged to Jirou! - We’re getting married later this year.”

Of course, he forgot. It was just a simple promise you both made when you were kids. It meant nothing - nothing at all.

“I’m happy for you, Denki - I really am.”

You really were.

You are happy that he finally met someone who loved him despite seeing all his flaws.

You are happy Jirou managed to see what you saw in Denki - a loveable, amazing soul with a heart of gold.

You just wished you didn’t hold onto that promise.

You wish you threw away that rotting ring when you had the chance.

You wish you never went to that meadow.

You wish you never met Denki - not like that.

You wish you never fell in love with him.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Denki said as he hugged you again.

You don’t want him to hug you.

You wanted distance - you wanted to go back to I-Island.

You don’t want to be here.

You tried to pry Denki off of you, but you couldn’t - his grip on you was too strong.

“Denki, you’re choking me,” you say whilst fake-laughing.

You looked at Jirou who smiled at his display of affection towards you.

She trusts you - she knows how much you mean to him.

You don’t deserve it - her trust is wasted on you.

You are in love with her future husband - the very person who is hugging you as tight as they can.

“Denki, they look so uncomfortable - get off,” she said, patting her shoulder.

You want to get out of here.

You need to.

“I think I’ll head to my hotel room, Denks,” you say as you grab your bags.

“But-”

“Denki,” you say as you push him off of you angrily, “I need to go, ok?”

You look at his torn expression and guilt hits you.

But it was his fault - all of this was.

He isn’t meant to cry - you are.

And here he is, tearing just at the sight of your angry expression.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Did something happen? You seemed okay when you came earlier…”

Stop crying, Denki.

“There’s nothing wrong, Kaminari. I just need to check into my hotel room, that’s all.”

Kaminari.

“Do you want me to drive you there? I-”

“It’s okay, Kaminari. I’ll get a cab.”

Kaminari.

“Y/N, we’re good, right?”

“Why would you think we aren’t, Kaminari?”

Kaminari.

You walked out of their apartment, tears trailing down your eyes.

.

.

.

You stood in the meadow you met Kaminari, eyes closed. You took in the fresh air brushing against your skin as the smell of fresh flowers invades your nose. Your now long hair felt weightless as the wind lifted it, giving you wings.

“How do I look, Y/N?”

You stared at Denki in his black tux and smiled.

He looked amazing, as usual.

His skin looked amazing against the obsidian-coloured suit. The sunlight hit his skin so well it looked like it was glowing. His hair was tousled, giving you a full view of his undercut. You chuckled when you saw the black streak of his hair hidden under his natural yellow hair - it looked as if he was trying to hide his foolish mistakes when he was a kid. You looked at his small piercing now adorned with a purple gem, reminding you of his fiance.

He’s finally getting married.

He’s getting married in the meadow where you both spent your younger years.

He’s getting married to someone else in the meadow where you both spent your younger years.

“You look good, Kaminari.”

“Why are you calling me Kaminari? Call me Denki.”

“I can’t, Kaminari.”

It would bring back too many memories.

Painful memories.

“I don’t know why you can’t, though?”

“It doesn’t feel right…”

“You’ve been calling me Denki or Denks ever since we were kids, Y/N! Hearing you call me Kaminari sounds wrong…”

“Leave it, Kaminari,” you say, hiding your feelings behind a laugh.

“No, I won’t. Call me Denks, Y/N.”

Stop.

“Later, Kaminari.”

“Not Kaminari - Denki.”

Stop.

“I promise I’ll call you that later, now go get ready.”

“I am not leaving until you call me Denki.”

Stop.

“Kaminari, just go.”

“I don’t know why you stopped calling me Denki ever since you saw Jirou that day - it doesn’t make sense. You were my first friend that called me Denks, you made that nickname - Why are you calling me by the nickname you made?”

Stop talking about it, please.

“Please, Kaminari - let it go.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

“I won’t until you tell me why. Did I do something wrong? Just tell me, Y/N. You know I won’t hate you no matter what happens.”

“Just drop it, ok?” You say, anger lacing your words.

“Oh my god, Y/N! Just tell me-”

“Fine.”

You forced your wrist out of his grip, making him fall on the couch.

“You wanna know why? It’s because I thought you remembered the promise we made as kids. I hoped you felt the way I did about it; I hoped you knew why I never got into a relationship.”

You gripped your phone tightly, not wanting to lash out at him anymore.

Why did you do that? Why today?

He’s supposed to be happy today.

“What promise, Y/N?”

A dark smile graced your lips.

What were you thinking? Shouting at him won’t make him remember.

Tears began to fall from your eyes as you lifted your face to see his worried face.

“It’s okay, Kaminari - don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not? You’re crying in front of me,” he said, tears forming in his eyes, “You weren’t meant to cry today.”

You weren’t either, Denki.

He got off the couch and began to hug you tightly. He pressed your head against his shoulder as he rubbed your back.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N.”

You gently push Denki and cup his face in your hands. You rub the tears from his eyes as he pressed his cheek onto your left hand.

“You okay, Denks?”

Just for today, you’ll give what he wants.

Just today.

“There it is!” He said, jumping on you, “Don’t you dare call me anything but Denks again.”

“Mhmm.”

You hugged him one last time before heading to your seat, waiting for the ceremony to commence.

.

.

.

You saw how happy he stood at the altar with Kirishima by his side. You chuckled as you looked at the small banter happening between the two of them, pissing off the priest slightly. Bakugo snapped at the two of them very often, telling them to keep quiet.

Still the mother of the group.

Soon after, Jirou walked in.

She wore a white dress that tugged on her amazing figure, surrounded by lace. Dandelions surrounded her, flying in the air, encasing her in pure beauty. They danced around her as her orchestra of young kids sang and played instruments for her.

You saw how tears formed in both of their eyes as they stared at each other.

Tears of joy encapsulating how much they’ve dreamed of this moment.

While yours that showed joy hid everlasting longing.

You feel cheated - not by Denki, but the black-eyed Susans that tickled your feet.

You feel cheated by the black-eyed Susans that cleared a path for Jirou to meet her beloved.

You feel cheated by the black-eyed Susans Denki used when he was young to make you that damn ring.

Your tears watered the devilish flowers painted yellow and black that stood beneath you, taking in your pain as a drug.

[kiyoomichan]

i saw that fem dom! reader is a favorite of yours to write so i thought i would request a favorite of mine. could do a little smth about reader like railing into sub kenma or oikawa (you can choose) with their strap on and like reader is a hard dom who degrades and likes to inflict pain during sex

MAKING HIM WEAR LINGERIE | KENMA X FEMDOM!SO

warnings: degradation, light feminization, spanking, pegging

A/N: all characters are strictly 18+.

i’m sorry it got a bit rushed at the end, i just wanted to hurry and finish it hhh ;;

you had just come home from a long day of work—you ran a successful fashion brand, and spent grueling hours over a sewing machine every week; so needless to say, you were tired. very tired, and very much in the need of something—or rather, someone, to take your frustrations out on.

kenma was in his gaming room, probably messing around on league with hinata and lev, as today was his day off—so you didn’t care about interrupting him.

your heels clicked on the tile floors as you made your way to him, swinging open the door with a dark expression on your face.

“baby,” you say. “turn off your game.”

he spins around in his chair, lowering his headphones. his facial expression showed he knew where this was going.

“okay, just give me 5–“

you cut him off with a dark look. “now.”

he bites his lip and nods, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends and letting you pull him up from his seat.

you place your hands on his waist, fingers gripping bruises into his soft hips. you press kisses into his neck as he wraps his arms around yours, slowly sinking into submission.

“are you alright, miss?” kenma asks in a sweet voice.

“mistress had a very hard day at work today,” you whisper in his ear. “and she needs her boy to make her feel good.” you lean back up, running your hands through his silky hair, pulling it roughly.

“can you do that for me, baby? can you be a good slut for mistress?”

he nods feverishly, a blush coating his cheeks. “yes, miss, i’ll do whatever you want—“

you cut him off as kenma begins to whine, arousal taking over his body.

“of course you will. you’re such a whore, aren’t you?” your hand runs over his tummy to grope him through his sweatpants, where you can feel the lack of underwear.

“no briefs, hmm?” you tease as he moans from the contact. “was baby touching himself?” you ask slyly, already knowing the answer.

“no,” he whispers. his hands fist in your blouse, trying to hold back from giving himself away—but you can always tell when he’s lying.

“you were, doll,” you yank down his sweats and give his ass a few slaps, squeezing the flesh tight. “you know better than to lie to me.”

your finger moves between the cleft of his ass, rubbing over his puffy, wet hole, a clear mark of evidence of his disobedience.

“a-ah!” he moans, hips bucking against you. “i’m sorry, miss, i couldn’t help it, i just...”

“you just what, baby? you were too horny, too much of a little cockslut to wait for mistress to get home and fuck you?”

“n-no, i’m not, i missed you—i missed you so much, i’m sorry, miss, please, let me make it up to you—“

you slap his face, pushing him onto the sectional in his game room. “don’t lie to me, sugar. i don’t like liars, so tell me—tell me what you are.”

“i’m...i’m a cockslut,” he whispers, flushing crimson, embarrassed at the filthy words coming from his mouth.

“speak up, now.” you say, straddling his waist and holding his hands above his head. “or your pretty little dick won’t be coming at all tonight.”

kenma squeezes his eyes shut. “i’m a cockslut, mistress! i’m your cockslut, i’m such a whore for you, miss, please—please fuck me.”

you smirk, letting go of his hands and getting off him. “go put this on, then.” you command, shoving a pink bag with your logo on it to his chest.

he blushes and peeks in the bag, looking back up at you. “mistress, i—“

you tsk, putting your hands on your hips. “kenma.”

he relents and goes to make his way to the bathroom before you cut him off, stepping in front of him. “i don’t think so, baby,” you smile sadistically. “you’re gonna change right. here.” you whisper in his ear.

“o-okay,” he mumbles, stumbling back and beginning to pull his sweats down.

you sit back on the couch, arms resting over the back in a display of dominance. “don’t be shy, doll,” you say, licking your cherry-red lips. “strip for me.”

he tentatively takes his sweats off the rest of the way, and he shivers at the cold air hitting his little cock.

kenma averts his eyes after taking off his shirt, embarrassed at being completely naked in front of you, still fully clothed.

he has to bend over to reach inside the bag, displaying his cute bottom to you as he retrieves the lingerie you’ve picked out for him.

it’s a pretty little set, white lace with pink embellishments in the form of frills and bows.

he fumbles with the bralette and garter, and soon enough he’s finished dressing, looking like an absolute dream in front of you.

kenma looks to the floor bashfully as you walk towards him. “oh, baby doll,” you say seductively, arousal evident in your tone. “i’m going to ruin you.” you slap his cheek, roughly squeezing his face.

“go get in bed—i want your legs spread and ready for me by the time i’m done picking what i’m going to torture you with.”

he quickly takes off towards the bedroom, not wanting to get in any more trouble than he already is.

you smile as you find the box you’ve stashed away under the couch in kenma’s game room—special toys you’ve been saving just for a night like this.

your hands find their way to a pink, heart shaped paddle, some silky rope, a cock ring, and of course—the thickest strap-on you have in your collection.

when you cross over the threshold to the bedroom, your eyes meet kenma’s. he’s splayed out on the bed, the city lights from the window and the yellow glow of the lamp illuminating him in all the right ways, contouring his body to make him look so small and fragile—like he would crumble under your stare.

“mistress,” he says meekly. “did you get what you needed?”

you sit on the bed next to him, placing your toys on the sheets. you look down at him, a fox like grin spreading across your face.

“yeah, baby,” you brush his hair away from his face. “what’re your safe words?”

“green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.” he replies, just as he’s done many times before. you know you’ll get rough with him, and with this type of play it’s important to have a way to tap out.

“good boy.” you can see the way his chest heaves at the praise, nipples peaking under the thin lace of the bralette.

you get to work by tying his wrists above his head, making your way down to slap his cock through the panties. he yells in surprise, an embarrassed look crossing his face.

“m-miss,” kenma shudders. you smirk at him, grabbing your harness and slipping it into place—you won’t fuck him yet, but you like the way the strap on makes you feel and look dominant.

“so dirty, doll. you’re so hard and yet all i’ve done was slap your pathetic little dick.”

he squeezes his eyes shut as you pick up the flogger, giving tough taps to his thigh.

“look at me, baby boy. look at your mistress.”

he opens his eyes again just as you land the flogger across his dick, and he screams at the contact.

“mistress, please!” he cries, and all you do is strike him again and again and again.

“oh, sweet boy,” you tease. “i’ve just gotten started, and you’re already in tears?” you lean over him, looking into his glossy eyes. “sit up for me.”

he obeys, and you maneuver him to sit on your lap, back to chest. from this position he can see himself in the full body mirror you have hanging on the closet door, and he flushes at the realization.

“oh, honey,” you run manicured fingernails over his lace covered cock. “you’re so wet, you’ve gotten your panties all messy.”

kenma squirms in your lap, feeling your strap against his bottom. “...’m sorry, miss, i couldn’t help it..” he whispers pathetically.

you tsk and pick up the cock ring, pulling the panties down just enough to slide it over his aching dick. his legs tremble and his lip quivers. “please no, mistress, please not the ring, please...” he whines, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and looking down at where his red cock is hitting his stomach, balls pulled tight against the silicone.

“shh, love—it’s okay. you know babies who disobey get punished, yeah? stupid baby boys who cum without their mistresses permission have to be taught a lesson.”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, miss, please,” he moans. you press kisses into his neck. “it’s okay. mistress is gonna fuck you now, ok? she’s gonna ruin your little hole, make you unable to walk for weeks. you’re gonna have to get carried around everywhere, and everyone will know that you’re a bad boy who got his ass punished by his girlfriend.”

kenma’s eyes fill with tears, humiliated at the thought of people knowing what you’re doing to him.

you lift him up, slowly positioning the thick head of the dildo into his tight hole before snapping your hips up, making him scream out in both pleasure and pain.

“m—mistress!”

“you like that, babydoll? you like me fucking you?” you groan, pulling his hair back. “tell me what you are, ken.”

his breath hitches, and his fingernails leave crescent marks on your thighs.

“i-i’m—i’m your cockslut, i’m a dirty boy who can’t cum by himself, i tried so hard but i need mistress’s cock—need her to make me feel good,”

you click your tongue and thrust harder up into him, watching as his ass bounces from the movement. you use the hand not pulling his hair to slap him, making him drop his head, hands fisting in the cum-covered sheets in front of him.

“how disgusting. you’re such a dumb little baby, aren’t you? your little dick is so drippy, making a such a big mess all over our sheets. i have half a mind to make you clean it up with your tongue—but you’d like that, wouldnt you?”

“please, please, miss, please let me cum, i need it so bad,” he sobs, trying to rock himself back on your strap.

“shh, shh, i’ve got you,” you smile, pressing a kiss to his neck and slipping off the ring. “such a sweet boy for me—let go.”

he whines and whines and whines, chasing after his orgasm and digging his nails into your back. “c’mon, dollface, cum for mistress.”

kenma screams as his vision whites out, seed shooting out in thick spurts across the already messy sheets. tears stream down his face as you lay him down gently, kissing his temple and cleaning up around him, rubbing a washcloth over his thighs and face.

once the sheets have been changed and his tears dried, you hold him close to your chest as he drifts off, while you whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

[primalsouls]

white rabbit pt 3

langa hasegawa x gn! reader (pt 1 - pt 2)

anon: omg is there going to be a part three of the white rabbit ?? i liked it a lot but its ok if you dont want to write a 3rd part :D

⚠️ : mentions of blood (like from small cuts??)

theme: general

note: sorry if the part where they skated is badly written lol. ive not good with "action" scenes. 💀 anyway, here is part 3! i hope you like it, enjoy it, and thank you for reading! no proofread, sorry for any mistake. let me know what you think. :)

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Skateboards were lined up beside each other. Their owner stood on them with ease, readying themselves once the horns go off. The crowd watched with anticipating gazes. Whispers were thrown among themselves on who would beat who. Bets were placed. All eyes set on the young pair. Excitement and anxiety swim around the atmosphere.

Langa took a deep breath. His baby blue eyes looked over to his group of friends. Reki sent him a wink, mouthing "good luck" toward him. Miya and Shadow talked among themselves what the White Rabbit would do to Langa. Said boy was nervous, for the time during a beef. He was nervous. Going up against his crush. Was probably not the best way for first impressions. Maybe, just maybe a beef wasn't a good way to talk to his crush. At all.

Before the race start off, Langa turned to the other skater.

"[Y/N], good luck." Langa said, surprising them with a kind smile. [Y/N] blinked, repeating his words through their head before a click of the tongue was heard and their eyes narrowed.

"I don't need your well wishes." They started quietly, voice low and steady. "I'm gonna win and you'll be the one leaving S. Not me." Langa was taken back by their words. He picked up the broken tone on their last two words. "And it's White Rabbit to you and everyone else. We're not friends and we'll never be." As they spoke, the traffic lights above them, went on one by one. When it reached the third light and the horn went off at the same time [Y/N] said those last three words, they dashed away from the crowd and Langa, already starting to get ahead of him. Langa froze a bit, watching them skated away. His head repeated their words over and over. It made his heart stirred uncomfortably inside, a heavy feeling settled inside his chest.

"Langa! What are you doing!?" Miya called out, bringing the boy out of his thoughts. He glanced over to them. Miya's face scrunched in a pissed manner as Shadow and Reki stared at him confused.

"Ah... Sorry..." Langa mumbled before he prepared himself shortly and took off with ease speed. Reki watched with a frown on his face.

"What's up with him?" Shadow asked as they all watched the bluenette disappeared from their sights. Reki shrugged, turning to the other two.

"I don't know... He look upset for a moment there." Reki said, scratching the back of his head. "Langa," he started off, catching their attention. "He has a crush on [Y/N]." His voice was low, wanting to keep it between the three of them but Shadow was shock at the confess he repeatedly the sentence loud enough for the small crowd surrounding them to hear but Reki and Miya shut him off, whispers being thrown at him to quiet down. "You guys heard me right." Reki continued, pulling them away from the crowd and headed to the large screen displaying Langa and [Y/N] racing down the old mine. Langa was still a bit far from them it made the watchers believed he won't be able to catch up.

"A crush? On [Y/N]?" Miya started slowly.

"aka the White Rabbit of S?" Shadow chimed in.

"Adam's sibling!?" Reki jumped when they both yelled at him in unison, causing him to take a step back and held his arms up to defend himself. He nodded rapidly to answer their three-part questions.

Miya shook his head, disbelief written all over their face. Shadow crossed his arms, head shaking as he disapproved of Langa's crush on the other skater.

"That's absurd. Of all people, this slime likes [Y/N]!? Did he hit his head or something!? Not only that, what makes him think beefing them would get them to like him back?" Miya paced back and forth, hands moving everywhere as he rambled on.

"Heh. He probably wants to see if they were compatible. I mean, it's such a uncool way to talk to your crush. If it were me, I would have just show them my awesome tricks!" Shadow exclaimed but when he turned to the boys, he received nothing but deadpan looks. "Why are you looking at me like that!?" Shadow glared, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, please, you wouldn't have the guts to do that in front of the pretty florist manager. Much less talk without looking like a fool." Miya taunted, smirking. Shadow splurted out insults at the youngest. Reki chuckled awkwardly. The redhead turned to the screen, the camera set on Langa. His brows knitted down. Reki could see he focused on something else than on winning.

"Langa..." Reki muttered, fists clenched by his sides.

Langa turned a corner, catching up to [Y/N] and the skaters that watched by the sidelines down the narrowed racetrack cheered for him and the White Rabbit. Most of them demanding the skater in front of him to guide him through their thorned pit. Langa didn't want this. He realized that now. This won't get him anywhere aside skating against them. And from the way they spoke to him in that little time between them, it sounded like anger flowed through their voice. He wondered why. Has he said something wrong to them? Has he spoke to them in the past and pissed them off in any sort of way? Langa couldn't recall any moment approaching them. So, why did they acted cold towards him? Why did he felt hatred from them? It bothered him. It upset him.

[Y/N] clicked their tongue. They glanced over their shoulder and noticed the boy catch up to them with great speed. They won't lose. They won't leave S. They won't be strip off their title. Off their everything they built. [Y/N] won't allow Langa to win. They had to win. Their life was on the line. Just the thoughts of it eagered them to speed up. They lowered their stance, picking up speed. As another corner came to view, the rabbit swirled side by side a bit, bend slightly and turned the sharp corner. Their breathing quickened. They were anxious for the race to come to an end. They know they be should careful but they wanted to end the beef already and prove to Adam what they were capable of being S's White Rabbit.

Langa. It was all they heard from their older brother. It disgusted them. Made their skin crawled. When their eyes first landed on the bluenette and the way he skate, it left them stunned. [Y/N] never saw anyone skate like him before. And when they saw Langa go up against their brother that one night. The way he avoided his signature move, Love Hug had left them astonished. [Y/N] only got hurt terribly when his brother practiced Love Hug on them and when their aunts questioned the bandages and injuries on them, they lied by saying they fell down somewhere. Bruises were always left on their body from that move. And it envies them that Langa found a way to avoid it.

[Y/N]'s handa clutched into fists. They reached into their single pocket on the front of their hoodie. They pulled out a long rope. Small, yet thick enough to hurl it at someone. It was littered with small sharp pointers that resembled thorns. The rabbit turned half their body a little towards Langa. As he came up behind them, a few feet away, they threw the rope with great force at him.

"Argh!" Langa covered his face when the object was thrown at him. He felt small thugs on his sleeves. He ended up taking a step back, making him lose his footing on the board but Langa forced his body to calm down and steady itself. When he tried to shoved the object away from him, it scrapped small cuts on his cheeks. He pulled down his arms down, looking around. Due to his small step back, he slowed his speed down, creating distance between them. The boy looked down at his arms and noticed small tears on his sleeves. No cuts created on his skin, though. But he did felt a hint of liquid streamed down his cheeks. Langa figured he got some cuts on his face and blood trickled down but he was scared to see it. He didn't have time to faint at the sight of blood.

A smirk was visibled on their face. With Langa's fall back, there would be no way for him to catch up. They were nearing the factory after all. Where the tracks narrowed down with no room to move or do tricks. The thought of reaching the winning line clouded their mind, [Y/N] forgotten what Langa was capable of doing.

And speaking of the young man, Langa made a couple of shortcuts to reach the rabbit.

It was beginning to look more of a chase now.

A bluenette skater chasing a white rabbit with crimson eyes. The factory being their thorns of pit.

[Y/N] looked around. Their eyes widen when they spotted Langa once again catching up to them. "What the hell!? How!?" They exclaimed. Cheers were heard from around them in the factory. It pained them. They were supposed to cheer for the White Rabbit. Not a pathetic boy who followed the rabbit down the hole. With teeth gritted, [Y/N] faced the boy completely, a deep frown on their face. "I won't lose." They whispered, coming to a halt by the stairs the narrowed catwalk led to.

Langa frowned slightly, looking around and trying to come up with a way to avoid the rabbit. Yet the same moment, he wanted to see what they would do.

"Oh no..." Miya said. Reki watched with mouth gaped.

"They're gonna hurt him. Real bad." Shadow added in.

"Langa... Langa, careful!" Reki shouted out with both hands around his mouth.

[Y/N] reached behind their back pocket and pulled out two black containers the sized of their palm and shaped like the spade. A single outlined white rabbit drawn in the middle of the spade container. As Langa neared them, [Y/N] raised their hands and like the stopwatch the white rabbit carries, time seemed to slow down around the both of them. Langa's eyes widen as the arms were pulled down, fingers releasing the containers, watching them aimed down at the space between them both. Shouts were heard from around them. Langa looked down at the ground once the containers hit the floor. Right before his eyes and [Y/N]'s, who still stood by the stairs, off the board, glaring directly at Langa with hatred, the containers exploded. Langa squinted when he noticed black like-vines popped out of the containers. They were thick like the rope from earlier, covered in thorns-like pointers as well. But this time, they were a little bigger that it looked like a tangled mess around the catwalk.

The thorned vines decorated the rails. From a far, it looked like an arch entrance was created. Langa closed his eyes and covered himself as he skated through the vines. His clothes getting caught on the thorns that looked like were getting closer. They were shrinking. When Langa glanced up, [Y/N] was already skating down the track, more arched vines coming life around the rails. They were spreading like they had a mind of their own. Langa bit his lower lip back. If he keeps going through the narrowed path, he would be cover in cuts, badly. And once wrong move would leave him blind.

He was determined. He would catch the rabbit.

Langa picked up his speed, deciding to go through the vines until he could figure out what to do. Blood spilled around his clothes from the cuts that covered his exposed skin but he didn't care at the moment. His eyes spotted an opening through the vines. Langa took a deep breath and jumped with his skateboard on that opening, a part of the rails that wasn't cover by the vines and swiftly rotated on the rail. A breeze going through his hair. [Y/N] glanced at their side and watched in shock as Langa clicked the front of his board on the rail that hasn't been decorated with their vines and moved once again with the other side of his board and jumped to land in front of the rabbit, a few feet away from them. The vines behind them both now, still spreading but with no one caught in their webs.

The White Rabbit was in rage. Langa escaped their hole. Despite the damage he received, he managed to crawled his way out and get ahead of them. They couldn't do anything else. The finishline was up ahead. Langa and [Y/N] tried to gather as much speed as they can.

"No. No, no, no, no...." [Y/N] whispered, pushing forward.

Reki, Miya, and Shadow were at the finishline, cheered for Langa to keep going.

Friends. It must be nice to have them. The support one gets. Having fun with them. They didn't had many friends growing up. Always isolated to their bedroom. They weren't allow to attend school like their brother had. No even oversea school. [Y/N] was stuck doing homeschool. No one ever knew about the child who came from another mother. Their father made sure no information about them were leaked out. Their father only paid attention to Ainosuke, after all. Neglecting only [Y/N]. Their aunts' so-called love hurts them. They didn't like the way they disciplined them. It traumatized them. A "love" like theirs was no love. Images was all they care about.

It sucks. And it wasn't fair.

Life wasn't fair.

"No..." [Y/N] stopped right on the finishline. Hands limped by their sides. Cheers grew louder around them.

But they didn't cheer for them, the White Rabbit.

"You did it! Langa!" Reki yelled excited, running up to his friend and threw himself at him. Langa huffed as he catched him but winced in pain.

"Careful, Reki! He's hurt." Miya pointed out, running up to them with Shadow. Langa waved a hand dismissively.

"I'm fine..." He said, resisting the urge to look at the cuts. His friends sighed at his response, shaking their head in disagreement.

Langa only smile before he looked around, looking for the other skater. He glanced back at the finishline and spotted them standing them, skateboard still on the ground, one foot to keep it from slipping away. Their head hanged low. Langa picked up his brother and walked up to them, believing he could possibly talk to them properly.

"[Y/N]-"

"It's not fair..." Langa heard them, yet their voice was barely above a whisper.

"[Y/N]... Wha-"

"Congratulations, my SNOW!" a familiar voice announced, cutting Langa off. Said boy looked at the source of the voice. From the entrance behind the crowd, Adam waltzed in on his board. Like the first time they met. "You did it! You defeated the White Rabbit! How wonderful." Adam applauded, stopping in front of the two young skaters. "You finally caught the rabbit and dragged it out of its hole." Langa frowned. "And I'm sure that rabbit knows what happens when its loses." Adam glanced at his sibling. Their fists clenched together.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Reki called out, taking one step forward.

"The white rabbit leaves Wonderland. Forever."

[sarcasmandships]

how to save a life part 2︱spencer reid

word count: 8.7k

spencer reid x slight oc

spencer and veronica argue over him keeping their relationship from the team, but when spencer sustains a life-threatening gun shot wound it puts everything into perspective

angst + hurt/comfort with a n eventual happy ending 

this is not an x reader because i hate writing y/n in place of a character name and it often forces you into writing in second person which i also hate - however I have avoided giving specific descriptions of hair/eye/skin colour, height and body shape so feel free to imagine it like an x reader

this is also heavily inspired by greys anatomy and ive taken characters from the show to be side characters, however you do not need to have watched a single episode of greys to follow the story

warnings: spencer being shot, descriptions of blood, descriptions of surgery

read part one here! 

Veronica readjusted her dress for what felt like the 100th time that evening. The green, silk bodice was too restrictive; her feet ached from the stiletto heels April had picked out for her. She grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

"That is for the guests!" April hissed, smacking her arm with her tiny clutch bag.

"And the hostages," Veronica said, raising her glass to an imaginary toast.

"Amen to that," Cristina agreed, taking a long sip of champagne from her own glass.

"You two are hopeless," April said, shaking her head before storming off.

"I like angry Kepner," Cristina chuckled.

"God, I can't breathe in this thing," Veronica gasped, pulling at the top of her dress again, "I think I've got a tension pneumothorax."

"Unfortunately, if I had a needle big enough to help you, I'd have stabbed myself in the eye hours ago," Cristina said, deadpan.

Veronica gave her a shaky laugh.

"Ooo, is that Kevin Gibbs?" Cristina said, suddenly filled with a burst of newfound energy as she spied a man at the next table, "oh, he is rich rich, I'm so getting a donation from him," she grinned before dashing off to take Kevin Gibbs' arm.

Veronica rolled her eyes as she watched Cristina twirl her hair and flutter her eyelashes; she was far too good at this. Veronica was left alone at the table, tired of pretending she was interested in anything these rich, old men had to say; she pulled her phone out to scroll through Twitter.

However, as she unlocked it, Spencer's name popped up on her screen, and her shrill ringtone cut through the low-level chatter and ambient music in the room. She hastily switched the phone to silent after receiving a few pointed glares but continued to stare blankly at the screen as it rang.

She did not want to speak to him.

But she had told him to keep in touch.

Via text, not a phone call.

But what if something was wrong.

Eventually, she clicked 'accept'.

"Spencer, I told you-"

"Hi, Veronica," the voice on the other end cracked, "it's Derek Morgan. We met earlier today..."

Veronica's blood ran cold as Derek spoke to her through the phone. She could hear the piercing wail of the sirens; it harmonised with Cristina's shrill laughter as she flirted with Kevin at the next table.

Blood was pounding in her ears. Her entire body was in free fall like she was being hurled down the drop of a rollercoaster that seemed to never end.

"... they're taking him to Stafford Grace Mercy West Hospital, meet us there when you can - I gotta go."

Derek hung up the phone.

Veronica stood frozen, her body trembling and mind spinning.

"Veronica!" Jackson snapped as he strutted towards her, "you're supposed to be getting donations, not standing in a corner drinking all the champagne…."

Veronica was staring straight at Jackson's face as he ranted, but she couldn't focus her eyes enough to see his furrowed brows or flared nostrils. Her mind was spinning at hyper speed, but everything around her moved in slow motion; she gripped onto the edge of the table.

"…are you even listening to me?" he snapped his fingers in front of Veronica's glazed eyes.

"Spencer was shot. In the chest, he's on the way to the hospital now," she said in a monotone, "I have to...I have to go...I..." Veronica clutched her head in her hands; the room would not stop spinning.

"Oh my god," Jackson gulped, "of course, go, go. Do you want me to come?"

Veronica stumbled away from him and towards the door. Why was the floor moving like that?

"No," she called back to him, "this is your event you can't leave, I just- I need to go," she turned on her heel and dashed out of the door.

The hospital was just up the street. Jackson had picked a venue close by so the doctors who didn't have the day off could get there quickly after work. Veronica pushed people out of the way as she staggered up the street; her feet didn't hurt anymore. Her whole body was just pins and needles.

She burst through the doors of the ER, in her floor-length, green dress and dazzling emerald necklace, with tears streaming down her face. Sections of her neatly pinned hair had broken free; she clutched her chest as she gasped for air. It was only a matter of time before someone called for a psychiatric consult.

With most of the other attendings at the gala, the interns and residents had swarmed like locusts to get their hands on a surgical case. Veronica pushed through the sea people, looking for someone she knew – why did all the residents look the same?

Veronica scanned the trauma rooms, hoping to catch sight of his messy hair. They were full of bloodied and beaten-up people, but none of them were Spencer. She had just stumbled through the double doors to the waiting area when she heard someone call her name.

"Veronica?"

She whipped her head around to see Derek Morgan standing in front of her. Several steps behind him, she noticed Penelope Garcia, who she recognised from this morning, and several other anxious FBI agents.

"Derek," she gasped, gripping onto his outreached hands, allowing herself to stabilise slightly, "w-what happened?"

"We were chasing down the unsub and Reid...he fell and just when he was getting back up, he got hit. It was bad luck. It caught him just above his vest."

"And he's in surgery now? I didn't see him in any of the trauma rooms?"

"They just took him up; come with us. You need to sit down," he said kindly, and Veronica allowed him to guide her over to the seats.

"Hi again," Garcia squeaked, but Veronica stared straight ahead and didn't answer her.

The others tried to introduce themselves, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. They were names she knew well from Spencer's last night rants about work, but she couldn't bring herself to look at any of them long enough to put a face to the name. Derek was trying to reassure her when Veronica caught sight of a familiar resident walking past with a tablet in her hand.

"Murphy!" she barked, "get over here."

Murphy's head snapped up, and she looked around rapidly to see where the voice had come from; when her eyes finally landed on Veronica, she looked at her quizzically but shuffled over.

"Dr Grey, I thought you were at the gala-"

"I need you to look up a patient for me, Spencer Reid - came in with a GSW to the chest and should be in surgery now."

"Dr Grey, what's going on?" Murphy said slowly, her eyes darting between Veronica and the team of agents behind her.

"Just do it, Murphy!" she ordered, and Spencer's teammates looked slightly taken aback.

"Okay, okay!" she said, typing rapidly on her tablet, "he's in surgery with Dr Hunt and Dr Altman for an exploratory thoracotomy...chest x-ray showed a GSW to the chest with the bullet lodged near the thoracic aorta...he was tachycardic and hypotensive when he came in, with substantial blood loss-"

Bile bubbled up in her throat, "what OR are they in?"

"Dr Grey, I can't-"

"What O.R, Murphy?" she snapped; she gripped the edge of the plastic chair to prevent herself from strangling the resident.

"OR one!"

"Okay... OR one. OR one has a gallery," Veronica mumbled to herself, she tapped her foot against the floor and her stiletto clacked against the linoleum.

"Dr Grey, you know you can't go up there when you aren't working-"

"Murphy, do you want a medical career?"

"Y-yes," she stammered.

"Then you'll get out of my way before I have the AMA strip your medical license," Veronica snapped; she stood up and gathered up the skirt of her dress as she began to power walk towards the elevator.

"Wait, where are you going?" Derek called after her.

"Spencer's in OR one, that OR has a viewing gallery... I'm going to watch his surgery," she said flatly before turning away and continuing along the hallway.

It wasn't until she was in the elevator and ready to push the OR floor button that she realised that Spencer's team was directly behind her.

"What are you guys doing?" she sighed as they piled into the elevator after her.

"He's one of us. We aren't gonna hang around a waiting room if we can be there with him," the blonde woman that Veronica thought was called Jennifer, retorted.

She was ready to argue. To protest that they weren't allowed in the gallery, that surgery wasn't for the faint-hearted. But then she looked at all their faces, desperate and distressed; they looked how she felt.

So, she closed her mouth and jabbed the button for the fifth floor.

The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the fifth floor. It stopped on three, and a huddle of surgical interns tried to cram in, but Veronica snapped at them before they had the chance.

"No. You get the next one," she glowered at them, and they could only give her nervous stammers and shaky head nods in response.

Veronica rolled her eyes at them as the doors crept shut again, with her arms folded tightly across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor.

"You seem to have a lot of authority here," Hotch commented.

"I'm an attending," she said bluntly, "they're interns - bottom of the surgical food chain, their only job is to stay out of our way and try not to kill anyone."

"That seems...harsh," Garcia whispered to Derek.

Veronica whipped her head around, "a hospital like this doesn't work without a hierarchy; it's how we learn. If we don't treat them that way, then they get too confident. Would you rather have an intern perform Spencer's exploratory thoracotomy or two surgeons with years of experience who are chiefs of their respective departments?"

Garcia gaped at her, but the elevator doors creaked open, saving her from trying to respond to Veronica's scathing comment.

"The gallery is this way," Veronica grunted under her breath as she exited the elevator and crept up a short flight of stairs.

"That wasn't very nice; Garcia was only making an observation," JJ whispered to Emily as they followed Veronica.

"Who is this woman?" Emily responded, equally as confused as to why they were following this random woman around a hospital.

Derek turned round to face them, "she's Spencer's girlfriend-"

"Girlfriend!" Emily gasped, "did he ever mention a girlfriend to any of you?" she asked, looking between JJ and Derek.

"No, not once…." JJ frowned.

"He didn't tell me as much as he was forced to, that's why he's been acting so off recently, but I couldn't really get many details from him about her, so don't ask me anything - she's just worried about him like we are, she's on edge too."

Veronica burst into the gallery, which was thankfully empty. She pressed her forehead up against the viewing window and saw Spencer lying on the table. The glass was cool against her forehead, which seemed to somewhat soothe her pounding headache.

Spencer's face was draped, she couldn't see his eyes, but she could see his half of his rib cage. That unsettled her; she wasn't supposed to be able to see into her boyfriend's chest cavity. Veronica clung to the glass as she staggered to the intercom on the wall; she pushed the button that allowed them to hear what was being said in the OR.

"... there's a lot of bleeding here, more suction!" Dr Altman demanded.

"Right away, doctor."

Veronica flicked the switch that allowed her to be heard in the OR, "Owen," she said slowly, and he looked up at her in shock, "I need you to save him."

"Veronica, you're supposed to be at the fundraiser. What are you doing here?"

"Owen, listen to me," she pleaded, her voice cracking, "I need you to save him."

"Well, of course, I'm gonna try and save him, Veronica I don't understand-"

"Oh god," Dr Altman said as she suddenly realised what was happening, "Spencer Reid... he's your Spencer. I met him at Owen and Cristina's wedding; we talked so much about the Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction I thought he was a surgeon too…."

Veronica nodded silently.

Her Spencer.

She couldn't control the sob that wracked her body. She was vaguely aware of Garcia placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, so I need you to save him," she sniffed, "because if he dies, I will literally go out of my fucking mind, and I won't be much of a neurosurgeon from the psych floor."

"Veronica, you should be up here," Owen said as he forced another clamp into Spencer's chest, "how did you even know where he was?"

"Murphy told me," she said, "but it wasn't her fault, so don't go and yell at her; I told her I'd have her medical licence taken away."

Owen paused, "you can't do that, though."

"She doesn't know that! Please just save him. I need you to save him."

"I-" Dr Altman hesitated, "we'll do everything we can, V, I promise you."

"Thank you, Teddy," she whispered through her tears; she flicked the button off again so they wouldn't be distracted by her sobs.

Veronica collapsed into a chair in the middle of the front row and kicked her heels off. Spencer's team had shuffled into the rows behind her and sat, whispering quietly among themselves and clutching onto each other.

"V-veronica," Garcia finally spoke after around an hour of near silence, "I know you're a different kind of doctor, but what are they doing? I don't understand any of these medical terms. Can you explain it?"

Veronica twisted slowly in her seat to face her, revealing her mascara coated cheeks and puffy eyes. She nodded slowly.

"They're doing a surgery called an exploratory thoracotomy; they're trying to remove all the bullet fragments from his chest cavity. Their main concern is that the bullet hit very close to the thoracic aorta, which is a major vessel that carries blood from the heart to the rest of the body."

"B-but it didn't hit his aorta, so that's good, right?"

"Right, cos' if it had, then he'd have bled out seconds after he was hit," Veronica paused to swallow the vomit creeping up her throat as she imagined Spencer's bloodless body lying in the morgue, "but the impact of the bullet creates shock waves when it enters the body. Considering the proximity to the thoracic aorta, it could weaken it and cause an aortic dissection."

"And that's bad?"

Veronica nodded gravely, "they're almost always fatal, the blood loss becomes too uncontrollable, and even the best surgeons, like Dr Altman and Dr Hunt, can't do anything," she turned back around to face the OR as a fresh set of tears threatened to spill over.

"Oh," was all Garcia could muster up.

"Those doctors, are they really the best?" Emily asked.

Veronica nodded, "Owen, Dr Hunt is head of trauma surgery, and Teddy, Dr Altman, is head of cardiothoracic surgery. They served together in Iraq; they've put soldiers half blown apart by bombs back together, if anyone can save Spencer - it's them," she reassured.

"Good to know..." Emily said in uncertainty, wrapping a comforting arm around JJ, who was silently sobbing into a tissue.

"What you need to understand is that every GSW is different, which is what makes them so difficult to fix, and when a bullet enters the body, it not only tears through structures, but the transfer of kinetic energy can cause damage to nearby tissues, like what I was saying about his thoracic aorta," she explained slowly, "that's why GSWs are so dangerous because the damaged area can ripple out around the entry wound."

"But you think he'll be okay, right?" JJ sniffed.

Veronica hesitated; she glanced back at Spencer's motionless body on the table. Her eyes scanning the monitors he was hooked up to, the constant stream of O neg he was being replenished with, the rip spreaders and clamps in his chest…

She felt sick again and had to turn away.

"I don't know. He hasn't been in surgery very long… it's just too early to say."

"There isn't anything more we can do for him now," Hotch spoke gravely, "he's in the hands of the people who are best trained to help him; we just need to trust that they are doing everything they can to save him."

Hotch's words had a sense of finality, and the room fell close to silent again with only Veronica, Garcia and JJ's sniffles and sobs echoing around the dimly lit room. Derek help Garcia's hand tightly in his own, JJ rested her head on Emily's shoulder, Hotch and Rossi sat next to each other, their faces stoic and stony. Veronica sat alone, tugging at the restrictive bodice of her dress every few seconds.

They sat like that for at least another two hours.

Suddenly, the monitors attached to Spencer began beeping rapidly, Veronica's heart seized, and she jumped to her feet to get a better view.

"What's happening to him?" Garcia whimpered; she clung onto Derek's arm as he also stood up and strained his neck to see.

"He's in DIC!" Teddy's voice echoed through the intercom, "push heparin," she ordered.

"Veronica, what's going on?" Derek asked; he tried to keep his voice steady, but it wavered slightly.

"He's in DIC, disseminated intravascular coagulation - it means that proteins in the blood that cause clotting go into overdrive, which actually causes excessive bleeding. If they don't control the blood loss, it's fatal."

"Lap pads! And more suction! I can't see a thing," Owen demanded as he packed Spencer's chest cavity to absorb the excess blood.

"And hang another unit of O neg, he's losing too much blood," Teddy added, "there was nothing in his medical history that indicated he was at risk of DIC...Veronica! Is he on blood thinners?"

Veronica dragged herself over to the intercom and pushed in on the button, "n-no, nothing like that, he takes zolpidem sometimes, but that wouldn't cause DIC..." she muttered.

Something clicked in her brain, and she spun round to face Derek, "you said he fell before he got shot."

Derek nodded, "that's right, the woman the unsub had abducted pushed past him to escape, and he fell down the full flight of stairs. That distracted me long enough for the unsub to get a shot in at him...."

"Teddy! He fell before he was shot, he fell down a flight of stairs, he could have a splenic injury or a laceration on the portal vein or hepatic artery- it wouldn't have been picked up on a chest x-ray. You have to do an ex-lap!"

"Veronica, we've already cracked his chest-" Owen began to protest.

"Pressures dropping, doctor!"

Veronica banged on the glass, "he'd rather be alive with two incisions than dead with one."

"Dr Hunt, you're the trauma surgeon this your call," Teddy said calmly, "but we need to do something and fast."

"We don't even know if he has a splenic injury! We can't take medical suggestions from our patient's hysterical girlfriend; that isn't how it works-"

"He's dying," Veronica wailed, "and he's going to die if you don't do something. If it were Cristina on my table, you would be begging me to do whatever it takes to save her. Teddy – you promised me you would do everything you could, and you're not doing anything! He's bleeding to death, and you aren't helping him," she sobbed against the glass.

Teddy and Owen exchanged a look.

"10 blade," Owen grimaced, and Veronica breathed a sigh of relief, "you better be right about this Grey – convert drapes for an ex-lap!"

"Oh God, I can't watch this," JJ said; she flopped back into her seat as Owen made a deep incision into Spencer's abdomen.

Despite dealing with horrific crime scenes daily, everyone else in the team had to follow JJ's lead as floods of blood gushed from the incision site. Garcia, who had screwed her eyes shut the minute the monitors started beeping, was rocking herself back and forth and mumbling under her breath.

"Okay, I need more suction! I'm seeing some damage to the hepatic artery," Teddy said, "can you ligate it from your side?"

"Yeah, I think so, clamp!"

Veronica wished she could be like Spencer's team. She wished she didn't have a medical degree; she wished she didn't know every possible thing that could go wrong from this point forward. She wished she could close her eyes or at least tear them away from the scene that would plague her nightmares for years to come.

She could hardly believe it when his pressure finally stabilised; she embraced the smile that crept onto her face as she watched the readings on the monitor slowly begin to climb up.

"You can open your eyes now; they ligated the artery and stopped the bleeding, combined with the heparin that should be enough to keep him stable for now."

"For now?" JJ questioned.

"He's doing well; that injury could've been fatal, but he pulled through, and that's good; it's just that I don't want to tell you he's out of the woods when he's far from it."

"It's been hours," JJ said, "how much longer before we know if he'll be okay?"

Veronica shrugged, "probably a couple more hours; they need to make sure the wall of the thoracic aorta is strong enough before they close and remove all the bullet fragments; they need to take their time."

"You'll have to forgive us, Dr Grey," Hotch spoke quietly, "we don't have the patience for this kind of thing like you do."

"It's okay, and you can call me Veronica," she smiled nervously and picked at her nails.

This was what she'd wanted all along, to meet Spencer's team. But now, she was standing in front of them and couldn't think of a single thing to say. She had imagined this moment every night for months, but never in her wildest dreams did it go like this.

"Veronica then," he said stiffly, "so you said you're a neurosurgeon?"

"Yeah," she said, tearing her eyes away from the surgery in front of her to face him, "that's how Spencer and I met; he came to a lecture I gave on the Endoscopic Fenestration of Arachnoid Cysts Through Lateral Pontomesencephalic Membranotomy, cos' that's just the kind of things he does for fun," she snorted.

"Sounds like him," Hotch said, smiling fondly.

"I just can't believe he never told us about you," Emily commented, "and I can't believe we never figured it out; I mean, come on, guys, we're meant to be profilers."

Veronica gritted her teeth, "Yeah, me neither..."

"Veronica!" Jackson said, bursting through the door to the gallery, "I just got away from the gala; how's he doing?" he asked, rushing over to embrace her in a tight hug.

"He's stable for now; his temp has come up a lot since he got here, but he did go into DIC, and they had to convert to an ex-lap..."

"Owen and Teddy will be doing everything they can; he'll be okay."

She nodded, "I know...I just want it to be over; even if he was in the CCU, I could handle it, but he's lying open on an operating table, and I can't help him."

He rubbed circles on her back soothingly, "it'll be over soon. Can I get you anything?"

"Something to change into. I don't think I have any clothes in my locker, but just grab me some scrubs... I'd take a patient gown if it meant I could get out of this dress," she said, tugging again at the restrictive top.

"You got it," he said, breaking away from their hug, "April wanted to come and be with you, but Harriett's with the sitter and she had to-"

"Don't worry about it, just get me something to wear. I can't breathe in this thing."

"Yeah, I'm on it," he said, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, "Cristina's on her way; she'll be here soon."

Jackson shuffled out of the gallery, giving a nod and a tight-lipped smile to the others as he passed them. Veronica retook a seat.

"That was Jackson," Veronica explained, noting the confused faces of the BAU team members, "Dr Jackson Avery, he works here too, but he was stuck at the gala - we were having this fundraiser for this hospital...stupid...."

"V! I just heard; why didn't you tell me?" Cristina burst into the gallery in a similar fashion to Jackson, "I had to hear from freaking Avery that your sexy FBI boyfriend got shot?" she berated as she sat down next to Veronica.

Veronica shrugged, "Jackson was there when I got the call. You were busy turning up the charm for that rich old sleaze."

Cristina shoved her lightly, "I'll have you know that rich old sleaze donated 1.5 million dollars to this hospital," she said smugly.

"Show off," Veronica grunted, folding her arms over her chest.

Cristina stood up to peer through the glass, "supervisory sexy agent, has Owen and Teddy working on him? You need to calm down and stop chewing your nails; he'll be fine."

Veronica rolled her eyes, "you need to stop calling my boyfriend supervisory sexy agent, or you'll be the one on the table."

"Aw, come on, I'm kidding! My husband is right down there...oh my god, my husband saves your boyfriend from a GSW? That'll be such a good story for me to tell your kids."

"Can we wait to see if he makes it off the table before we start discussing our hypothetical children?"

"Boring."

Jackson returned at that moment, "sorry, I didn't know your scrub size, so I just guessed. And you didn't have any shoes in your locker, so I stole some sneakers from April, you're the same size, and she won't mind - I also brought you some of her makeup wipes," he rambled, handing her the pile of clothes.

"Stealing shoes from your ex-wife now?" Cristina teased as Jackson sat down on the other side of Veronica, "I thought pretty boy Avery was rich enough to buy his own," she cooed.

Veronica stood up and slid the scrub pants on under her dress, and pulled the scrub top over the top. Cristina unzipped her dress, and she let out a deep breath as the pressure on her rib cage was released; she shimmied the dress off and threw it over an empty chair.

"Shut up, Yang," Jackson grunted.

"Children, behave," Veronica said warningly as she slipped on the socks and shoes she was borrowing from April.

Veronica sat back down and finished wiping off the makeup that hadn't been flushed away by her tears. Jackson gripped her hand tight in his, and she smiled appreciatively at him; Cristina gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Guys, what if he dies?" she whispered as they watched Teddy and Owen work away on Spencer.

"He won't," Jackson protested, "he didn't code in the field, and the majority of GSW victims without penetrating vascular injuries survive if they get to a hospital on time."

"There is a bullet in his chest cavity! That is a penetrating injury," she blubbered.

"But it didn't directly damage his heart or any major arteries; yes, they could be weakened by force, but he's been in surgery for hours, and nothing has ruptured – plus after they close him up, we'll monitor him closely, and he will be okay," he said with a squeeze of her hand.

"Avery's right. It's far more likely he'll be a vegetable or something," Cristina shrugged.

"Yang! His best friends are right behind you," Jackson hissed.

"They are?" Cristina said, whipping her head around, "oh, hi."

Cristina gave them a wave, and they stared back dumbfounded.

"Who the hell are these people?" Emily hissed.

"I don't know, but they seem to think that Spence is gonna be okay, and that's all that matters to me," JJ answered.

"He could still die; people die from GSWs all the time. There could be complications, he could get an infection-"

"Look, Veronica, if the worst happens, then we can cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? And you know we'll all be here for you, no matter what," Jackson said, and Veronica smiled appreciatively at him.

"Thank you," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Y'know, you should've married him when you had the chance - cos' if he dies and you were his wife, you'd get that life insurance. If he dies now, you'll just be poor and sad."

"Cristina!"

"No, it's okay," Veronica said with a slight smile, "it helps."

"God, talk about a dark sense of humour...."

"I think I'm just still drunk," Cristina shrugged.

"I think I'm hungover already; my head is killing me," Veronica groaned, massaging her temples.

"Want me to get you a banana bag?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, why not."

Jackson stood up and made his way across the gallery and to the door; he turned back to face the BAU team members, "can I get anything for you guys? Coffee, water…I wouldn't recommend the food, but we got vending machines."

"No, thank you," Hotch answered politely, "anyone else?"

The rest of the team shook their heads or mumbled no thank-yous in response. Jackson gave them a sympathetic smile before leaving; JJ's stare was still firmly fixed on Veronica.

"What did she mean? You should've married him when you had the chance?" she asked.

"It means that supervisory sexy agent-"

"Cristina!"

"Fine, Spencer, asked V to marry him, and she said no cos' she can't let herself be happy."

"That isn't why I said no, and you know it."

"Well, no. But your real reason is stupid, so I'm gonna say it's your self-destructive tendencies instead. Do you know what I've give to never have to interact with Owen's dumb work friends? You're getting the best of both worlds here."

"You work in the same hospital! Owen's dumb work friends are your colleagues."

"Ugh, whatever."

"You turned Reid down because of us?" Rossi questioned, speaking for the first time since they had entered the gallery.

"It's a bit more complicated than that-"

"What's wrong with us? You didn't even meet us until today?" JJ snapped.

Veronica sighed and picked at her nails; her first interaction with Spencer's friends already wasn't going very well, and now she had to tread lightly as to not offend anyone.

"That's the problem; it took Spencer getting shot in the chest for us to meet because he refused to tell you about me; how could I marry someone when I'd never even met his friends? It's what we argue about more than anything else. We argued about it this morning actually...."

The blood drained away from Veronica's face as the events of the day flashed through her mind.

She turned to face Cristina, "oh God, we were arguing this morning about it, and again when I dropped his phone off at work - the last conversation we ever had was about that stupid argument. What if he dies thinking that I'm pissed off at him? I didn't even tell him I loved him before I stormed off," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Well, he's a profiler, right? Even if you didn't say it, he would be able to tell...."

"He's a genius, not a psychic, Cristina."

"She's right," Derek interjected, "before he lost consciousness, he told me to call you and tried to say something else; he kept saying tell her... he never got to finish, but I'm sure it was just that he loved you."

"He really said that?"

 Derek nodded, and a weight was lifted from Veronica's shoulders, although she quickly felt uneasy again when Jackson returned, IV kit and banana bag in hand.

 "Okay, I know you don't like needles, but it'll make you feel better, so give me your arm," he demanded.

 Veronica huffed and begrudgingly gave him her arm; she winced as he pushed the needle through her skin, "ow! I thought plastic surgeons were supposed to have a gentle touch."

 "Plastics is barely even a real speciality; Avery gives boob jobs on the daily – we do real surgeries and save lives."

 "Hey! I'm also a qualified ENT, and I practically run the burn unit-"

 "Guys," Veronica groaned, "can you have your little dick-measuring-contest another time? Maybe like when my boyfriend isn't lying open on an operating table?" she said, gently massaging the tender skin around her IV.

 "You said you liked my dark humour!"

 "Only when it's funny," she sat down again and massaged her temples "hey, I think they're nearly done," Veronica cheered.

 She dashed over to the intercom, "Are you guys closing him up?"

 Teddy nodded, "yeah, and then we'll be taking him up to the CCU. You should get some rest before he wakes up," she advised.

 "He's going to be okay, Veronica," Owen said; she couldn't see his face under his mask, but she could tell he was smiling.

 Veronica couldn't fight the grin spreading across her own face; Spencer was going to live. He was going to make it off the table. Now all she had to do was pray that he woke up because Veronica didn't know how she would cope if she never saw his eyes again.

 "He's really going to be okay?" JJ whispered; she held her hands up to her lips in a prayer formation as fresh tears spilt over onto her cheeks.

 Emily pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair, "Hey, don't cry. The doctor said he's going to be okay."

 She nodded against Emily's chest, "I know, these are happy tears – it's just I've been sitting here for the past four hours wondering what I would tell Henry if his Uncle Spence died and now, he's going to be okay, and I'm crying more than when I thought he was going to die…stupid," she mumbled.

 "It's not stupid," Veronica offered kindly, "your body has been in panic mode and how that you're finally able to relax a bit, you get an emotional outburst that makes you cry – it's totally normal," she said, tentatively reaching out her hand to take JJ's.

 She nodded and gave Veronica's hand a squeeze, smiling at her for the first time since they had met. The mood in the room had shifted as the BAU members slowly began to accept that their teammate was going to live, and the nervous tension began to dissipate.

 "Teddy's going to close him up and then wheel him up to the CCU, Cristina are you staying or coming home?" Owen's voice echoed through the intercom.

"I'm staying obviously!" she said indignantly.

Veronica shook her head, "no, it's okay, you go home."

"V, I can't leave you here-"

"It's fine, Cristina. You're working in the morning, and you'll need to be here for rounds at 6am, and you won't be any use to anyone if you're sleep-deprived. So, go home. Besides, I've got Avery to keep me company."

Cristina gave her an appreciative smile and squeezed her hand one last time before she left the room. A wave of jealousy surged in Veronica's chest as Cristina disappeared from her line of sight; it wasn't her fault that she was going home with her husband whilst Spencer was being stitched back together. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

 "I'm so sorry, V," Jackson said, holding up his phone, "it's one of my burn patients, she's got an infection, and I think I'm the only sober attending after the gala…I can send a resident-"

 "No, no, it's okay," she smiled sadly, "go and help your patient; she needs you more than I do."

 "Page me if you need anything," he said, kissing her forehead gently before leaving her alone with the BAU team.

 She was in a room with seven other people, but she had never felt more alone. They were clutching onto each other, whispering amongst themselves and smiling; Veronica didn't have anyone.

She shuffled away from the displays of affection and picked up her dress and shoes, "I'm going to put this stuff in the attending's lounge, there's coffee in there if you want anything – and on-call room seven is always empty if any of you need to sleep. He won't be awake for a while; you should get some rest," she said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

 "Thank you, Veronica," Derek said; he nodded over Garcia's head as he held her in his arms, "I don't think any of us will get much sleep until pretty boy wakes up, though."

 Veronica laughed, "pretty boy, I always thought he was exaggerating when he said you called him that. If you don't want to sleep, that's fine, but you can't stay in here – the interns like to hang out in here before pre-rounds, and they'll be here soon," she said before gripping onto her IV pole and swiftly exiting the gallery.

 Tears burned in her eyes as she made her way to the attending's lounge, grabbing a replacement banana bag from the nurse's station on her way; Spencer was going to be okay. He was going to wake up and have his team to comfort him, fetch him jello, keep him company through the recovery and bring homemade meals to his apartment. What else could she do for him that they couldn't?

 She burst into the attending's lounge and slammed the door shut behind her. She let out a heart-wrenching sob as she shoved the dress into her locker, growing frustrated and kicking it when the poufy, underlayers of the skirt wouldn't fit.

Maybe that's why he had never introduced her to the team because he already had seven people who loved him unconditionally and could give him all the love he needed. And Spencer didn't want her to know that; what could she do for him that they couldn't?

Veronica darted into the bathroom and held her own hair bag as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Maybe she was just a fuck to Spencer, an outlet to release his frustrations after a hard day. Assuming he wasn't fucking any of his teammates, that was the only thing she was good for that they couldn't give.

 Derek said that his last words before he passed out were about her; he asked him to call her. He tried to give her a message – why did Veronica not share Derek's confidence that the message was I love you?

She flushed the toilet and washed her mouth out with water from the tap. Her headache was beginning to subside, but she still switched out her banana bag before she limped out of the bathroom, using the IV pole as a support.

Veronica threw herself onto the couch. She wanted to scream, or kick something else or rip her own hair out, but she simply didn't have the energy to do anything except shut her eyes and drift off to sleep. The image of Spencer's open chest cavity and the knowledge that his team were everything she was and more burned into her brain.

 ***

Spencer's brain was awake before his body was. He was acutely aware of people moving around his room, but their voices were muffled, and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes to see who they were.

 There was a tight sensation in his throat, and suddenly, Spencer started gagging violently.

 "He's fighting the intubation!" a voice called out, "page Dr Altman."

 Dr Altman. He knew that name, he thought to himself. But his brain was still too hazy from the anaesthesia to think straight. Dr Altman…something to do with cardiothoracic surgery – probably one of his doctors. But where had they met before?

 He felt hands all over him, grabbing at his neck and face; there was a horrible scraping sensation in his throat, and then he could breathe freely again. He's fighting the intubation, the voice had said. That was good; that meant he was breathing on his own.

 However, he couldn't appreciate the joy of knowing he wouldn't be hooked to a ventilator for the rest of his life whilst his throat ached like that. The tube had been removed, but he still felt his gag reflex at the threshold of triggering.

 He really needed to get Veronica more credit for that.

 His limbs were heavy, he tried to at least wriggle his fingers, but they wouldn't move. The muffled voices which echoed around him were beginning to become clearer; he could make out what sounded to be JJ's voice by his head.

 Finally, his brain allowed his eyes to flicker open. But he immediately wanted to screw them shut again when the blinding fluorescent glare of the ceiling lights shone down on him.

"Oh my god," JJ gasped, "he's awake!"

 He couldn't move his head to see her, but her worried face quickly appeared in front of his, "Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?" she asked frantically.

"Ow," he mumbled in response.

 "Thank God you're okay," she said, stroking his hair as tears streamed down her cheeks.

 "You gave us a scare, pretty boy."

 Spencer strained his eyes enough to see Derek standing in the corner; he leant against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest, but Spencer could clearly see the grin he was fighting.

 "What happened?" he groaned, trying to readjust his body into a more comfortable position.

 "Hey, don't try and move," JJ scolded lightly, "the nurse said that you'll be groggy from the anaesthesia for a while," she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

 "Did we get him? The unsub?"

 "Yeah, don't you worry about him, kid, he's going away for a long time," Derek reassured, "he got a shot in at you before we could take him down… I'm so sorry, kid, you fell, and it distracted me long enough for him to shot you before I could shoot him."

 "Hey, it's not your fault," JJ said, "it could've happened to any of us."

Spencer nodded in agreement but didn't try and speak again; his head was throbbing, and he closed her eyes again, the darkness providing some brief relief from the brilliant light above his head. But with every passing second, Spencer became increasingly aware of the dull aches in his chest and abdomen, the pain growing sharper with each intake of breath.

 "How many times did I get shot?" he groaned, "I can't remember anything…but my whole body hurts."

 JJ bit her lip as she continued to stroke his hair, "just once, Spence, but you fell down the stairs just before you got him and it injured…something, I don't know what – I can't remember what she said," JJ looked over to Derek for a prompt, but he shook his head in response.

 "Hey, don't look at me; I didn't understand a single word any of those doctors said," Derek shrugged, "Dr Altman is coming to check on you, though, kid. I'm sure she'll explain it all to you."

 Dr Teddy Altman!

They met at Cristina and Owen's wedding; Spencer could tell she was in love with the groom and distracted her with a rant on Mechanical Complications of Acute Myocardial Infarction. She was Veronica's friend.

 Oh god, Veronica. She must be so worried – if Derek had even called her that was, she might be oblivious to his condition. Spencer was ready to open his mouth to as about her, but JJ was already speaking again before he had the chance.

 "…and our resident genius will definitely be able to understand better than us," she said, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead, "I've never been so nervous as when we were sitting in that gallery, thank god those doctors fixed you up."

 "Wait, what gallery?" Spencer asked, opening his eyes to squint at her, her words distracting him long enough to forget to ask about Veronica.

 JJ paused and exchanged a look with Derek, "we hoped you wouldn't mind – we were in the OR gallery during your surgery, but we didn't actually see anything," she reassured, "none of us could actually bring ourselves to watch, but we just wanted to be there, in case anything happened to you."

 "Not that we'd have been much help," Derek chuckled, "but I got you to the hospital in one piece. I wasn't about to let you out of my sight until you were stable."

 Spencer nodded slowly, "how did you even get in there?" he mumbled.

"Veronica," Derek said, "you asked me to call her, and she came straight over, but she wasn't about to sit around in any waiting room, so she found out where you were…we just followed her up there."

 Spencer tugged on his blanket, "so…you met her then?"

 JJ nodded stiffly, "we did."

 "Oh. Suppose I did ask you to call her, I don't know what I expected…."

 "We didn't get a chance to talk much," Derek said carefully, "you were touch-and-go a bit in surgery, so it was a bit too tense for small talk."

 JJ moved away from him and sat back in the chair next to his bed; she picked at her nails, "I don't get why you never told us about her, Spence?"

Spencer didn't answer her. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go; in fact, he was hoping he'd never have to have this conversation at all. The rational part of his brain knew that was unrealistic, but the rational part of his brain didn't seem to exist when it came to protecting Veronica.

 He shrugged, "I didn't think you guys needed to know."

 Derek unfolded his arms and moved out of the corner, coming to rest at the end of Spencer's bed, "didn't need to know? You've been making excuses about this to me all day, kid. And I'm not buying the - you wanted to have something to yourself - bullshit anymore-"

 "You asked her to marry you," JJ said, her voice cracking slightly, "you wanted her to be your wife, but you didn't even tell us about her? Were you just going to get married without any of us there?"

 "She told you that?"

 Spencer had the strength to ball one of his fists; this was going horribly. The tension he had created in his hand spread up his arm and along to his chest. He grimaced as another sharp stab of pain rippled across his body.

 JJ shook her head, "no, her friend mentioned it, and we overheard. I don't get it, Spence, we're supposed to be like family, and she…we didn't get to talk, but she seems nice. And she's a doctor – she's smart like you, and she obviously loves you. Did you think we wouldn't like her?"

 "No, and she said no to me anyway, so it doesn't matter…."

 "She only said no because you wouldn't introduce her to us," Derek stated bluntly, "that's what she said when we asked her about it and considering I didn't even know she existed till this morning, I can't say that I blame her."

 "Guys, I will explain later, I promise," Spencer began as he tried to sit up in the bed, "but I need to talk to Veronica. Right now – where is she?"

 "She is in a patient room down the hall," Dr Altman said as she waltzed into the room and picked up Spencer's chart from the end of his bed, "nice to see you awake, Dr Reid."

 "A patient room – i-is she okay?" Spencer stammered.

 Teddy peered over the chart to look at his concerned face, "she'll be fine, she's just dehydrated and a bit hungover – we've got her on an IV. Besides, the couch in the attending's lounge is not the place you want to sleep unless you want to give yourself scoliosis."

 Spencer tried to move one of his legs, "I need to go see her, I need to explain everything, I-"

 "You need to lay back down," Teddy said as she moved over to his bedside and pressed her stethoscope against his chest, "I need to listen to your chest, take a deep breath for me-"

Spencer begrudgingly breathed in.

"-breath sounds are clear and equal, that's a good sign," Teddy said, hanging the stethoscope back around her neck, "and your latest round of labs are all within normal limits. Dr Hunt and I were able to remove all the bullet fragments during surgery, we were concerned that the impact could've weakened the wall of your thoracic aorta, but it seems unaffected."

 Spencer nodded, "okay."

“We had to convert to an exploratory laparotomy mid-surgery; you had some bleeding in your abdomen which we needed to repair; that's why you have two incision sites. They will likely leave scars, I'm afraid, but the abdominal bleeding triggered a condition called DIC and would have been fatal had we not caught the bleeders."

 Spencer's brain was spinning. He knew he had been in bad shape, but he really nearly died. He needed to talk to Veronica, and fast.

 "…it was actually Veronica who made the connection between your fall and the bleeding. She wasn't even operating, and she saved your life," Teddy smiled at him, "I just need to take a peek at your incision sites, and then I'll be out of your hair."

 Spencer winced as she lifted up his bandages to take a closer look.

 "Okay, they look all good and no signs of infection. You will need at least another day for observation; I'll get the nurse to administer your post-op antibiotics, so let her know if there's anything else you need."

 "He won't admit it, but he's in pain. Can he get any more morphine or something?" JJ asked, biting her nail.

 "What? No, I'm fine. I don't need any more painkillers; I'm all good!"

Teddy raised an eyebrow at him, "you just had major surgery, but you don't want more pain meds?" she asked sceptically, "you aren't maxed out on anything; I can order more-"

 "No," Spencer snapped, "I mean…no thank you, Dr Altman. They make me too disoriented, and I need to be clear-headed when I talk to Veronica," he said, adjusting his tone.

 Teddy gave him one last suspicious look before she moved back towards the door, "okay, no more pain meds. I'll let Veronica know you're awake," she said before exiting the room, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

 Spencer let out a deep sigh of relief and relaxed back into his pillows slightly. Even the brief conversation with Dr Altman had left him exhausted, so he wasn't sure how he would manage when the rest of the team flocked to his bedside to question him about his condition and Veronica.

 Veronica.

That was going to be a long conversation.

JJ and Derek stayed by his side as the nurse came in to administer his antibiotics, just as Dr Altman had said.

 "Hotch and Rossi had to go sort some things out with the arrest," Derek had informed him, "they said they'll stop by later when they can."

 "And Emily and Garcia are in the cafeteria, we've let them know you're awake, but we didn't want to overwhelm you with too many visitors at once," JJ explained, "and Garcia really needed some sugar. She's been freaking out, Emily's trying to get her to eat something," she chuckled.

 "I feel bad I caused all this stress…." Spencer mumbled.

 "Course we're worried about you, Spence; we're a family. But you didn't cause us stress; it's not your fault," JJ reassured; she leaned closer to Spencer to grip his hand in hers.

"Exactly, it's the unsub's fault. You didn't choose to get shot," Derek added; he shuffled over to the bed from his corner and took hold of Spencer's other hand.

 The three of them sat in comfortable and heartfelt silence for a few moments with their hands intertwined until they were interrupted by a hesitant voice in the doorway.

"Uh, sorry, I did mean to interrupt. I'll come back later…."

part 3 coming soon

sorry there’s not too much spencer in this part, i promise there will be more in part 3 when veronica and spencer have their confrontation 

if you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment as it really keeps me motivated, and reblogging! i really appreciate likes but on the tumblr reblogs are the only way to get my work out there x

tagging anyone who commented on part 1, message me/ comment if you want to be tagged for part 3:

@dilaurantisbitch

masterlist

i also take imagine requests!

[wildlyglittering]

Good at Starting Fires

I really hated the overly sexualised way that Cassian looked at Nesta in ACOSAF and ACOSF when he commented on her drastic weight loss. Instead of being concerned that she was losing weight at a drastic pace he was more 'boobs man, great they're still there' and it wound me up no end.

I was sent a prompt by an anon that said 'angsty Nessian set in the Illyrian camp where Cassian sees Nesta in her underwear for the first time' and I found that I wanted to try and right that 'wrong' in relation to the above. Probably not quite what the requestor had in mind but hey ho.

Some mention of weight loss and concerns surrounding it.

***

The rain lashed onto Cassian’s exposed skin.

The deluge hadn’t turned into a full storm quite yet but still, this was the worst weather he had seen in a long while, the wind barrelling into him warranting his full concentration in order to continue to fly upright.

Cassian would have chanced some different manoeuvres to make flight easier but he wasn’t flying alone.

The female in his arms had said nothing to him since they left the ground, perhaps planning to ignore him for the remainder of their eternal lives. Cassian would usually provoke her into retaliating against some jibe but tonight, with thick darkness surrounding them and the harsh pelt of the cold rain against their skin, goading wasn’t suitable.

Instead, Cassian flew through the onslaught, clutching onto a shivering Nesta.

They’d exited the river house in silence. Cassian thought she would fight the decision, fight Feyre, fight him, but she hadn’t. Her lips pursed together with her spine rigid and shoulders defiant; a stubborn refusal to give any indication of defeat.

Nesta hadn’t looked at any of them, or spoken either, instead turning with clenched fists to walk out the door she’d walked in from.

“Bye then,” taunted Rhys from his place by the fireplace.

A sharp rebuke came from Feyre while Cassian rubbed his hands over his face before glaring at his High Lord. His next action was to move fast to follow Nesta.

Feyre had been on his heels but if Nesta wanted nothing to do with him she wanted less to do with her sister. Cassian reached her first and Nesta stared at him with cold eyes. “We go now,” she demanded through gritted teeth.

“Nesta!” Feyre called out from behind, half running towards them.

“Now,” she demanded again her voice thick and trembling.

For a moment it seemed like Feyre was going to shift into her wings and fly after them but maybe there was something in his expression, or Nesta’s, which stopped her.

Nesta had clung to his neck the way a child clung to their mother but he got the impression she really wanted to use her hands on his throat in a different way. The rain followed them from Velaris to the mountains; Nesta spending the entire flight with her face buried into his shoulder.

Cassian would pretend along with her that it was only raindrops falling onto her cheeks.

If the betrayal had cut her, she’d resolutely decided to not let the wound show. She’d been cornered like a wild creature by one sister and the other, the one Nesta adored with the fullness of her heart, hadn’t shown to say anything at all.

When they arrived at the cabin it was Cassian’s pity for her which made him absorb the spite spilling from her lips. The force of his landing caused mud to splash up their legs and Nesta pulled away from him the second her feet hit the dirt.

Despite the rain and with dripping hair and sodden clothes she was beautiful. The words from her mouth, decidedly not so.

“Pathetic,” she hissed at him over the roar of the thundering rain and he somehow understood her meaning underneath – how Cassian was a grovelling sycophant to his High Lord who would never place a wing out of line and never fight back.

Nesta spoke with fists clenched at her sides. Cassian wondered if there was a part of her that wanted to strike him and he wondered if there was a part of him that would let her. She turned away, her back as rigid as before, every bump of bone showing through the fabric.

Cassian frowned. The dress was drenched, clinging to her flesh in a way it hadn’t when dry, illuminating what the material would otherwise hide.

He shouldn’t have been able to see the sharpness of her spine.

“Do we have a place to go or are you reducing me to sleeping in the mud?”

Those words were small, sharp cuts which stung though Nesta had no knowledge of how Cassian’s nights as a youth were spent doing just that, with the smell of putrefying leaves on his skin and clumps of dirt under his nails.

“Well?” she snapped, turning her head to glare at him from the corner of her eye. This was a glance which said he was beneath her, that she didn’t need to turn to address him, that the sight of him offended her glorious eyes.

What Cassian saw painted a different picture; tinged pink eyes, and a red nose. The skin around her eyelids swollen.

He let the stings dissipate. Nesta had been thrown from one world into another and from that one into something new. He would hold his tongue.

“This way, sweetheart.” Well, to an extent.

They trudged across the mud, Cassian’s feet sinking into the earth as he overtook Nesta to show her the way and he didn’t bother glancing behind him to see if she followed. She had no choice, there was nowhere else for her to go.

Rain had seeped into Cassian’s clothes, his skin damp and his wet hair dripped water down the back of the neck. He was feeling wet and miserable and wondered how worse this was for Nesta in her heavy woollen dress.

His siphons emitted a soft red glow and that was all there was; them, the rain and the glow in the darkness. Not even the moon greeted them.

***

The cabin was a welcome sight.

Their belongings were there, mostly Cassian’s with some provisions Feyre had arranged for Nesta. The door creaked on the hinges as Cassian stepped into familiar, if slightly musty, surroundings.

A perfume of earth and open skies lay underneath the dust and he inhaled the scent through his nose and into his lungs. He hadn’t been here in so long with wars and commitments keeping him far away; but if Velaris was his home, this place was his sanctuary.

There was a shuffling behind him and for a moment, lost in euphoria, Cassian forgot he wasn’t alone.

Nesta stood in the entrance, surveying her new domain. Her wet hair had unravelled from her coronet braid and tendrils clung onto the side of her face. A fat raindrop travelled from her temple past her cheek and hung from her jaw before finally dripping onto her collar.

Cassian frowned again.

Nesta’s dress buttons had popped open in the flight and he saw her neck and collar bone, a strange sharpness protruding from the stark white of her skin. Shadows, he told himself, from the candle that had flamed into life. They cast shapes and make everything harsh.

Nesta’s fists were now balled into her gown as a puddle grew around her. If she noticed Cassian’s gaze she never let on and continued to sweep her eyes around the room with a bored detachment.

“This is it,” she said, “my prison for the indefinite future.” Her lips curled into a sneer. “If Feyre was going to keep me caged she should have at least made a gilded one.”

Yes, he wanted to say, because your residence was so lavish.

“Move,” but Nesta didn’t wait for Cassian to step aside before pushing past him, head high and eyes forward. She stopped in the living room, her head turning left to right as she took in more of her surroundings. Her face gave nothing away as she scrutinised the spacious open living space which branched into the enclosed kitchen.

Cassian shook his head and ground his teeth as he closed the door behind her, the wind bringing sheets of rain into the cabin. A trail of water led across the floor to where Nesta stood.

The middle of the cabin was lighter, framed by the multiple fae lights and candles, and Cassian saw so much more. Nesta’s skin was white all over but her pale hands had red, cracked knuckles and dark circles like old bruises hung underneath her eyes. A shudder rippled through her.

Rain smashed against the window panes and Cassian looked to the vast inglenook fireplace which took over one full side of the cabin.

The hearth was filled with grey ash and lumps of half burnt wood and the basket aside the fireplace held strips for kindling. There were no pieces sizable enough to get a full fire going and getting a fire burning was exactly what they needed.

“Upstairs and to the left,” he said and Nesta turned to him. “That’s where your room will be. Mine’s next to it, same side. Both will warm up quick when the fire’s lit as the floorboards heat too.” Cassian jerked his head to the stairs, “Go and get changed, I’ll grab wood for the fire.”

Her face, one of permanent indifference and as smooth as porcelain, changed. The expression lasted only seconds before Nesta schooled it into something passing for neutral.

“Fine, I shouldn’t have expected you to be prepared.”

She stormed past him, leaving enough space so not a single part of them touched, not her dress brushing against his leathers – nothing.

Cassian waited until she’d gone before releasing a sigh. He hadn’t imagined what he saw; her eyes wide in alarm, flickering to the fireplace and back, a jerk of her body like someone had slapped her with the palm of their hand.

He’d best watch for that again.

***

A sandstone path ran down the left side of the cabin which wound around a small vegetable patch, a smaller pool and down into the sloped garden. At the very bottom was an alcove of trees and the shed containing Cassian’s axe, a chopping block and, if he was lucky, some pre-cut pieces.

Through the haze of rain, the distant lights of a camp flickered beyond. Cassian was fortunate to have this place for himself, not that he didn’t reside in the centre of camp on occasion to make his presence known, but this was his slice of comfort in the otherwise endless trudge.

Now, this place was also hers, for however long deemed necessary.

The rain bounced off the paving slabs as he approached his destination. The shed was old but well-kept and thankfully, stocked with thick slabs of timber.

“Thank you, old friend,” he said with a hand to one of the trees. They were fast growing and long burning, a house warming gift from Rhys half a century prior.

Cassian gathered what he needed and turned back, the cabin an angular silhouette outlined upon the backdrop of the night sky, the mountains looming some distance away. The candles and fae lights had lit the building up from within and shone through the dark at every window.

He was halfway up the path when he noticed how bright they lit Nesta’s new room.

Cassian had never been concerned with decoration, shoving a blanket onto a bed and gossamer curtains onto the window had been enough, but now he realised how thin those curtains were, how visible the room was from the outside.

Nesta wouldn’t be able to see him, not with his leathers black against the night, but he saw everything as though she stood before him in the flesh.

She’d untied the laces that bound the stays of her dress and Cassian imagined the wet thud as it fell to the floor.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted Nesta in front of him, unrobing for him, those long, graceful fingers sliding up her collarbone and dipping down towards the ribbons of her bodice. In his dreams he would help her, his thick fingers weaving into hers, pulling at the material until it gave way to pools of silk and satin on the ground.

Imagination gave him options.

Maybe she would have been naked, with expanses of creamy skin readily available for his viewing or maybe there would have been a delicate piece of chiffon covering her like there was now, something flimsy for him to move aside.

He would have started by kneeling. His fingertips would trace the skin of her ankles before moving upwards to her calves, her knees and to her thighs which he would have kissed until she was breathless. Finally, he would have travelled upwards with his mouth, towards the apex.

This was his fantasy. Smoothing his palms over her curves, travelling up the cord of her spine, his tongue sliding over her skin, teasing with his teeth and all the while her breath would turn into pants, his name a prayer in her mouth.

This was a dream. Nothing more.

He stood alone in the dark, pounding heartbeat thundering in his ears and pouring rain saturating his hair as he spied on a female he now never hoped to hold.

By the Mother though, her body was far from what his mind had conjured and his heartbeat turned into a pain sinking between his ribs.

He’d thought he’d seen glimpses but here was the truth.

Her collarbone jutted out severely while her breasts and curves of her buttocks shrunk as her starved body ate away at whatever flesh it found. Nesta’s ribs - Cauldron her ribs – Cassian was able to count every one, the indents of her bone visible as though her skin was the thinnest paper. When she turned, he saw the same with the column of her spine.

He swallowed the lump in his throat down, a sting in his eyes that was nothing to do with the chilled wind.

***

Inside the cabin, Cassian dried out the wood and lit the fire, the red and orange flames dancing in the hearth.

Nesta might not eat but he would try and convince her, starting with something simple and small which would fill her but not make her sick. Shoving a plate of meat in front of her face was a bad idea so he decided on a light broth consisting of flavoured water and leafy vegetables and herbs grown from his garden.

Cassian was surprised she came when he called her down but was pleased when she did. Nesta stepped along the floor with bare feet, a new gown just as thick as the last covering the bones of her body.

She stayed close to the wall when she passed through the living space, the fire cracking and snapping opposite and she eyed the flames as though they would reach across the room and snatch her.

Cassian wasn’t sure where this fear had come from, tried to dredge any memory of where they’d faced fire and came up wanting. He’d ask her – not now – but when they’d reached a point of peace.

Still, she walked toward him, her throat moving as she swallowed fast.

“I’ve made us dinner,” and he gestured to the two watery bowls in front of him. Opposite each other. Face to face. Her eyes narrowed but she sat, suspicion on her face.

“What is this slop?”

He took a deep breath. Imagined her words as darts and his skin as impenetrable armour.

“An Illyrian broth; vegetables, herbs, some spices and the thinnest slices of poultry you’ll ever find.”

“It looks revolting.”

A muscle twitched in Cassian’s jaw. The dish was plain, colourless and watery but was filled with flavour and had what Nesta needed nutritionally.

He would refrain from telling her this was the staple of Illyrian’s recovering from sickness or injury, that he’d spooned this liquid into the dribbling mouths of multitudes of his brethren over the years and how he wasn’t above doing the same to her.

“Try it,” was all he said. “You might like it.”

“Doubtful.”

But she picked up the spoon, a tremor in her hand. Fear, withdrawal, or exhaustion he didn’t know. Maybe all three. Maybe rage.

Nesta bent her head forward, bringing the spoon to her lips and as she did, her dress, far too large for her frame gaped at the collar once again showing Cassian the sharpness of the bone under her skin.

Something sat heavy in his stomach, something like guilt and shame. He’d once thought of her as sharp tongued and soft curves, his mouth watering at the promise of the swell of her breasts and the shape of her backside.

His thoughts had been occupied with images of grabbing her with his hands, fingers digging into the folds of her flesh while they pounded the force of their desires onto each other. Nesta was no less beautiful now but when he thought of her body, thought of what he knew, he considered differently as to what his body would do with hers.

His fingers would likely bruise her, leaving crescent moons into her skin and the bones of her spine would be obvious to his gaze. Now, he wanted to use his build to hover over her, to envelop her with his wings and cradle the back of her skull with the palm of one hand and cup her cheek with the other.

Cassian needed to make this situation right but he didn’t know where to start other than this meagre offering of broth.

Nesta ate two spoons, possibly three, but at least she ate, her eyes fluttering closed as she savoured her meal, the shadows of her eyelashes playing on her cheekbones. He smiled at her enjoyment, however brief, feeling his heart soar.

Nesta opened her eyes and looked straight at him. Cassian dropped his smile and her eyes narrowed.

I’m happy you like the broth, he wanted to say, however little you take. I’m happy you tried. I think you’re dying. I don’t want you to die. I want you to want to live.

A log fell in the hearth and banged against the grate, popping into the air and Nesta flinched, her eyes snapping towards the sound.

The flames seemed to hypnotise her as they whirled among the wood, consuming what they needed in order to grow. Wherever she was in that moment she wasn’t in the room with him.  

The moment passed and Nesta snapped her head back to Cassian, slamming the spoon into the bowl.

“I’m not here for your entertainment.”

“I know that.”

“Then stop staring at me like I’m a festival showpiece.”

Cassian frowned, “I wasn’t staring.”

“Tell your gawping eyes that.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched again. He was exhausted, not only from the long day but from arguing with Rhys about the plan, and from convincing Feyre that he and Nesta would be fine. His blood, already on the rise, had gained extra heat when Amren made her parting comment to him and all this was before he began flying.

“I wasn’t staring,” he repeated, “believe me when I say there’s nothing worth looking at.”

His temper was still hot, irritation singing a song in his veins and this was default for him, the well-travelled road to flinging insults.

It was a road Nesta travelled herself.

“Well, believe me when I say that even if I’m nothing I’m still worth twice of you, bastard.”

“You’ve been exiled to the camps so that’s not what your sister thinks. Either of them.” He gestured around with his hand, “Do you see Elain begging to be let in the door?”

Nesta’s nostrils flared, her hands now clenched into two fists, those red cracked knuckles on display.

“Well, this shows what your ‘friends’ think of you, if I’m worth little to nothing in their eyes and they have you taking care of me?”

“You should be thankful, sweetheart. No one else volunteered to listen to your temper tantrums.”

“Let me ease your burden then.” She stood, jolting the table and the bowl moved, spilling liquid over the side. “I would hate to bore you with one of my childish tantrums.”

“By all means, take yourself off to bed. You’re obviously in need of a nap.”

Nesta bared her teeth at him and Cassian schooled his face into one of boredom. She turned, her gown brushing against the furniture and as she passed through the living room, she grabbed a thick blanket draped across one of the chairs.

There was a change to her face as she went, fleeting but not fleeting enough for his sharp eyes. Regret? Yes. What she regretted he didn’t know but the snarl had also turned into a smirk, a twist of her mouth which screamed, I am victorious.

What had she won? The prize was a night alone in an unlit room with a blanket and empty belly.

As she left, the bored expression slid from Cassian’s face to be replaced by a furrowed brow.

Nesta was playing a game, one which required her to start fights so she could flaunt from the room as though leaving were her choice. He’d seen her grip, the furrow of her own forehead and the stark whites of her eyes.

She didn’t like the fire and she didn’t want to eat - or she couldn’t eat.

All Nesta’s choices had been stripped away from her in one afternoon and her decision to exit swiftly and in outrage was all she had.

He let her. He goaded her, stoking the small flame she held burning until she felt something, even if that emotion was irritation and anger - anything as long as it wasn’t cloying fear. If Cassian told her to leave then she would have stayed in her misery to spite him.

Cassian lifted a clay pot lid, surreptitiously positioned beside him on a chair, to cover her bowl. He would leave the dish outside her door with a slab of buttered bread. Maybe she would eat if it wasn’t in front of his watchful eyes.

He would eat his own in his room, the space of the kitchen and the living area seeming too big now, too empty without Nesta’s presence.

As he passed by the hearth, he lowered the flames with his siphons, letting them burn down. As he did, he thought of another fireplace, in another home, in a time which seemed forever ago.

He would help her even if she hated him for it. Cassian would prefer her vitriol to the nothingness living inside her where even her scent had turned glacial; ice cold to the bone.

So yes, Cassian would let the embers burn low for now but he was a creature of air and flame. He was good at starting fires.

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