#i apologize if none of this makes sense my mind is so scrambled

[violettever]

OMG!!

okay let me tell you guys about my hajime headcanons! (i say ‘you guys’ as if anyone actually sees these posts LMAO)

but anyway, hajime.

after the simulation hajime wasn’t just magically himself. sure, somewhere in there hajime existed, but he couldn’t pull himself to the surface for months. we’re led to believe that hajime and izuru now share a body, right? but after having his emotions removed and his body enhanced he couldn’t force himself to feel for the longest time.

how do i put this.. hm… some people like to think that hajime now suffers from DID or that izuru is just gone but i think they physically share a body. hajime is more in control but izuru still exists in the mind. (izuru is originally more in control but as time progressed hajime gained more authority) so not exactly like DID more like two people in one. two for one sale, that’s a hell of an offer! (sorry bad joke) i feel like his body would be more like a vessel then a person, y’know? anyway when they wake up from the simulation his hair is still long, he’s wearing the suit, all that jazz. the others are pretty terrified at first, hajime isn’t like he was in the neo program at all. he’s silent, barely talks. his eyes are a dark red, his glare is deadly. even the future foundation is hesitant. but he shows no hostility, despite his horde glare he keeps calm. while izuru shows no signs of danger or violence, hajime does. mostly out of fear. i mean how would you feel if you were trapped inside a body, unable to surface, to feel or express anything. it’s difficult for anyone to decipher who is in control for the first few months, they both show no expression. izuru doesn’t feel like it and hajime physically can’t. the only indication they have that hajime is still there is if the body either harms itself or others.

occasionally, hajime would have these freak outs. he’d harm himself in many ways in order to feel something. izuru would put no work into stopping him even though future foundation begged. he said he found no use for it, that the others actions were meaningless. once hajime had walked out to the Hotel Restaurant where they usually meet in the mornings. the others say he looked deadly pale, his eyes opened wide, blankly staring forward. it was frightening. saying nothing, he sat down at the table, motionless. not wanting to interact too much with the man, they served him breakfast while the others chatted mindlessly, hoping to free up the tension in the air. that was until hajime picked up a knife and slammed it straight through into his hand, still staring at nothing, no indication of pain on his face. the others went silent in shock for a few moments before the room erupted in screaming. mikan was still in her pod, they had been relying on izurus nurse abilities but with him out of commission they were lost with what to do.

another time, he had collapsed on the walkway due to starvation. other times due to blood loss. in conclusion, hajime was incredibly unstable.

it took months for him to express properly. he had to completely relearn emotions and feelings. he lacked empathy and proper etiquette. they were worried he would never recover..

eventually that one eye turned green again and it felt like he could finally breathe. he had been watching everything from the back, as if he watching a movie of his own life play on the big screen. but now he was there. he was actually there, it wasn’t just izuru. after that, the outbursts started to slowly stop. he started working with the future foundation directly instead of giving instruction from the sidelines. people started to wake up. first mahiru, then hiyoko, then gundham, and so on..

the ones who were able were sent out to the fight monokumas in towa city. hajime, having a completely reconstructed body was obviously sent out first. actually let’s talk about that!

the izuru kamukura project wasn’t just a simple procedure. this was months of torture. his brain was picked apart and put back together. so we’re his legs, his arms, his feet, his hands.. all were reconstructed to be better then a regular humans abilities. he was stronger, faster, trained in hand to hand combat, his reflexes were enhanced. they tried everything. (a part of me wants to say he had like psychic abilities but i feel like that would be silly. they’re talented, not magical. although that would be super cool) they didn’t care about hajime hinata, they wanted to create something inhuman. a creature able to showcase true hope. their experiments were risky, inhumane. they hadn’t killed his pain tolerance until later in the procedures, he was forced to withstand it all. he desperately hung onto his hope of obtaining a talent, it was the only thing keeping him sane. how they didn’t end up kill him is a miracle. ah, but i suppose in a way they did. hajime was erased. they had gotten rid of any trace of what hajime hinata is, of who he was. it’s not like anyone knew him, and if they did they wouldn’t care. he was a reserve course student after all. many had died or gone missing, all was covered up. he didn’t have a talent, no friends, no job, and his parents were “taken care of” by the school. it was almost like hajime hinata hadn’t existed at all.

ahaha okay, i could rant more but this is getting too long. soo ima stop it here! i love hajimes character sm, i feel like everyone ignores his trauma and story. ESPECIALLY in fanfics omg. like i get it, nagito is fucked up BUT LIKE SO IS HAJIME??? if anything, they’re both fucking insane at this point. like there’s so much to work withhh! omg okay pause i might get hate for this but does anyone know zakikos work?? you probably know him from that limbless hajime meme thing that went around for a while. i hate to say it but his stories are SO FUCKING GOOD. PLUS THE ART STYLE?!! UGHH!!! ITS AMAZING. i don’t even read it for the porn, the ideas and angst this man creates are right up my alley. i’m such a fucking whore for angst istg. I STARTED RANTING AGAIN SHIT. OKAY IM DONE IM SORRY

[jungkooksrealgirlfriend]

Eggs Breakfast 🍳🫦

🥚pairing: jungkook x fem reader

🥚word count: 3.5k

🥚genre: really filthy smut 😭

🥚summary: while cooking breakfast for jungkook one morning, his mind cracks an idea. what if he were the one making the scrambled eggs today?

🥚warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex, anal sex, food play, fingering, explicit language, oral sex, dirty talk, creampie, crack (🤣🍳) fic, idfk what else but this shit is dirty  

🥚disclaimer (with the notion that only a small group of my friends will read this): i am not a writer by any means and i just wrote this for fun because my friend requested a fic based on an inside joke our friend group has and i wanted to take a crack (pun intended) at it. for that reason, i apologize if certain things don’t make sense. it’s also got other random inside jokes sprinkled in so if something seems weirdly mentioned, random, or goofy then that’s probably why. also, i did write this the best i could but it’s also a joke fic so don’t take it seriously. and no, i don’t have a kink of jungkook fucking eggs into my booty hole 😭💀 but if any of u do i don’t kink shame and i hope u enjoy fr 🤝 and to my friends DON’T FUCKING ROAST ME LMFAOAOAOO i wrote this out of the kindness in my heart for a friend who was in (really) desperate need. also!! i am a tumblr noob and don’t know much about formatting, but i’ve found this is easier to read when it’s not on my xxx.tumblr.com page but instead on the normal tumblr.com/xxx page (at the time of posting this in dec 2022) because the spacing doesn’t carry over for some reason? bro idk if it’s the theme i chose or it’s something fixable on tumblr but like i said i’m not a writer nor tumblr savvy 💀 so bear with me

Jungkook leans on the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you standing across from him, back turned his way. He hated the way his cock stirred in his sweats at the sight of you cooking breakfast in those sleeping shorts you liked to wear. If it wasn’t your exposed legs that got him going, it was definitely the way half your ass was peeking out from under the cloth.

Yet you simply continued your activities, being none the wiser to the man standing behind you. You reached for the carton of fresh eggs sitting on the counter, grabbing one before cracking it into the pan. You didn't need to ask Jungkook how he liked his eggs in the morning, because after being in a three year long relationship, you knew all too well that he preferred them over easy, just as he knew you preferred yours scrambled and with ketchup.

He also knew that you preferred iced coffee over hot coffee, and that you liked warmer weather over colder weather. But one of his favorite things he knew about you was how you were ever so willing to try new things, whether that be hesitantly tasting a new food at his favorite restaurant or agreeing to try something crazy in the bedroom.

You two were no strangers to spicing it up during naughty time, and you both have always been open and communicated about the things you’ve wanted to try. That thought alone caused Jungkook’s mind to wander, truly wondering if you really were willing to try anything at all. Because the sight of you in those shorts, cracking eggs into a pan set his imagination on fire.

He gingerly pushes himself off the counter and walks towards you, arms swaying briefly at his sides before he pushes himself against your back and snakes his hands around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. You giggle, flipping the egg in the pan. 

“Getting impatient? It’s almost done, baby.”

“I think I’m hungry for something else now,” he rasps out, morning voice still present as he pushes his clothed dick against your ass. “Don’t know how you expect me to behave when you're leaving little to the imagination.”

At that you smirk, and Jungkook thinks maybe you did it on purpose to get a rise out of him. His suspicion turns out to be true when you turn off the stove, slide his egg onto a plate, and turn around with a look in your eyes that he knows all too well. 

“But baby,” you say, feigning innocence as you travel your hand up his exposed chest, “don’t you want to eat your breakfast? It’s over easy, just how you like it. And eggs are good for stamina.” you tease.

“You’re a little motherfucking stinker,” he snickers. “I want you to know that.”

“Hmmm, am I?” you muse, “You’re the one talking nonsense at 9 in the morning. Maybe you’re the motherfucking stinker.”

There is no serious weight to either of your words at the obvious joke, yet he still clenches his jaw and moves his face only inches from yours, eyes meeting eyes. 

He lets out a small breath, “You’re going to regret saying that. You have no idea what I wanna do to you right now.”

You can’t help but laugh, not missing the lustful glint in his eyes. You love the back and forth that often happens between you two. It causes your stomach to bubble with anticipation because it doesn’t take long for him to get you wet and in the mood. 

“I never regret anything.”

“Oh baby,” he rests his forehead against yours, “you will this time.”

Suddenly you’re pulled from your spot of being pinned against the stove and are shoved front-forward against the breakfast bar, hands sprawled out on the granite countertop. You can’t help but smile like an idiot because pushing his buttons is your favorite thing to do, and what tends to follow soon after leaves you breathless.

You feel him slide his hands up and down your sides, this action alone sending shivers through your spine. But when he begins to push you down onto the counter with his naked chest against your back, hands following down your arms and intertwining with your own, you find yourself holding your breath before your cheek meets the cold surface with hands on either side of your head.

He’s almost laying on top of you, squishing your body between his own and the breakfast bar. You can only imagine how erotic the scene must look and you wish you had a mirror nearby so you could look into it and see how his body fit against yours like a puzzle piece. You feel his now fully hard dick poking your ass, his chest against your back, and his hands on top of yours. You feel him everywhere, yet not in the places you’re craving him the most right now. 

He leans down to your ear and nibbles on it. “I’m not going to be nice this time. I know you did all this to intentionally provoke me. Is this fun for you?” he chuckles, “Pushing my buttons to get me riled up?”

His voice comes out raspier than you expect and it sends a shiver throughout your whole body causing you to rub your thighs together. He cocks his head to the side a bit, eyes meeting yours and you know he’s waiting for an answer, so you nod your head and smirk up at him. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking hot.”

This causes him to smirk back at you as he licks his bottom lip. You slightly lift your head and allow your eyes to follow the movement before looking back up into his own in an unspoken request. He understands what you want and grants your wish by connecting your lips together.

This kiss is rough and needy, but his lips feel so good against yours that you moan in satisfaction. Bodies on fire, tongues dancing together, and with the need to feel more you push your ass harder against his length in an attempt to gain some friction earning a grunt from the man who, of course, isn’t wearing any underwear. 

Jungkook, knowing you better than you know yourself, grants you your silent plea as he begins to grind your covered heat with his knee. He grinds, and grinds. You feel your adrenaline pick up and you can’t take it anymore. 

“Jungkook,” you gasp out, “need to feel you.”

He chuckles before pulling away, pushing himself off your back and leaving you flat against the counter. His breathing is heavy as he lifts his tattooed arm to brush his hair back, his other arm grabbing firm hold of your waist. Your eyes drop to his abs as they flex at the action, and you swear you could hear purring at this point because of how much your pussy gushed with anticipation. 

He shakes his head, “Look at you, begging for my cock. Is this what you wanted all along? For me to bend you over the counter and fuck you so well like you know I can?”

His voice was low and sultry and fuck, he sounded so hot it made you automatically clench around nothing. He always knew what to say to make your knees weak. 

“Yes” you say, voice coming out whinier than you expected. “Need you so bad right now, baby.”

He knew you went crazy over his dirty words, and you knew he went crazy when you begged for him. 

“Then spread your legs for me, love.”

He tucks his fingers under your waistband slowly tugging them down your legs along with your panties that were now soaked with your arousal. You felt the cold air hit your core and you let out a shaky breath, stepping out of the two articles of clothing once they were by your ankles. 

Without waiting for instruction, you momentarily lift yourself off of the counter to pull your shirt over your head, being left completely nude and vulnerable to Jungkook’s eyes. However, you didn’t feel embarrassed or insecure. You felt the opposite actually, since Jungkook always made you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world who had the sexiest body, and he often showed you how much he loved it.

Laying back down on the counter, Jungkook places his hands back on your now naked waist, kicking your legs open with his own, wide enough for him to stand in between. He slides his long fingers through your slick folds causing you to quickly shut your eyes and moan at the contact. The combination of his fingers and the cold counter underneath your bare chest makes you shiver and you spread your legs even wider.

Jungkook snickers and retrieves his fingers, earning a protesting whine from you. Sneaking a glance back, you see him pulling his gray sweats down his hips, letting them fall to his ankles before he steps out of them and kicks them somewhere to the side along with your clothes too. 

Seeing his bare dick practically makes your mouth water and you wish you could drop to your knees and pleasure him, however his hold on you is tight and you know whatever he has planned will please both of you. 

Momentarily locking eyes with him, you both smirk at each other before you lay your cheek back on the surface, eagerly awaiting him to part your folds. However, the intrusion doesn’t come and you instead feel him lean to reach for something. Once again, you lift your head to look over your shoulder, seeing him grab an egg from the open carton you left by the stove.

“Jungkook… what are you doing?” you question.

He returns to his previous position, egg in hand and knowing smirk on his face. Your eyes move between the egg and his eyes, until he leans down, nose almost touching yours. You can feel his warm breath on your face and the close proximity makes you clench again. He’s staring deep into your eyes and you feel like he’s staring straight into your soul.

“I’m going to crack this egg into your ass and fuck you so hard that I scramble it. Then, I’m gonna enjoy my breakfast.”

You tense at his words. He wants to what? The idea sounds crazy but you’d be lying if you said you weren��t considering it, imagining him fucking you, using the slippery egg as your lube until you’re screaming his name. However, you’re hesitant because this is new territory for the both of you.

“You’re joking right? You can’t be serious about that. About fucking it in my ass. About… scrambling it.” you question.

Was he joking? Jungkook didn’t know. He was sure that the heat radiating off your bodies was enough to fry an egg, so why not scramble it?

“You should know more than anyone when I am and am not fucking around.” he rasps out.

You gulp, getting more turned on by his words. Were you really about to let him crack an egg in your booty hole? In other circumstances you’d probably laugh in his face and tell him he’s being ridiculous, but in this moment the raw sex appeal he’s radiating has you considering it. Really considering it.

Staring back into his eyes you slowly nod your head, your lips slightly turning upwards. 

“Okay big boy. Show me exactly what you mean. Show me how well you can fuck me with that egg.”

At this he backs away and stands tall, smirking to himself before he takes a deep breath. 

“Spread yourself for me.” he commands.

You lay your cheek on the counter and reach behind you, grabbing your ass and spreading it open.

Jungkook knew in order for the egg to make it into your hole he was going to have to stretch you out, so he took his his index and middle fingers and began rubbing them through your folds to gather some of your arousal. 

The touch came as a shock to you and you jerked forward, mewling at the feeling. His fingers felt so good and you thought if he kept on you would’ve came before he even entered you. 

He continues to gather your slick and moves it to your ass, rubbing it over your puckered hole to allow for easier penetration. 

He begins to push one finger in, a deep moan ripping out of your throat. He used his other hand to caress the small of your back as he kept slowly pushing in until he was a knuckle deep. He then slowly pulled out, repeating the process until he was pumping you. The pace wasn’t anything drastic, and the feel of his single finger was definitely not enough for you to reach your high, but that didn’t stop the quiet whimpers that escaped your lips.

After deciding you needed more, you pushed your ass back and he took that as a sign to add a second finger, fingering you faster and deeper than before. 

With each pump, you moaned out at the feeling, cursing under your breath when he adds a third finger. Jungkook wanted to make sure you were stretched enough, so he took his time, gradually quickening his pace. 

All that could be heard in the tiny kitchen was your whimpers and the soft wet sounds of your arousal coating his fingers. 

Suddenly his fingers were gone from your hole and you felt like crying, missing his touch already. A moment passes before you hear the sound of him cracking the egg onto the counter with enough force for the shell to break but not enough for anything to leak out. 

Your body felt like it was on fire, your hair sticking to your forehead and you were sure Jungkook’s was doing the same. You could hardly think at this moment, barely registering the words that came from his mouth.

“You ready?” he asks, licking his lips.

You immediately nodded, eager to feel anything. 

But you knew Jungkook needed to hear you voice it, so you whispered out a small “Please.”

“So needy.” he mumbles as he slightly lowers down and uses both hands to begin opening the egg, watching as the clear mucus begins to seep into your hole as you still hold your ass open.

The feeling was strange, but not unwelcome. The egg was cold, but not cold enough to feel uncomfortable. Instead, the feeling made you tense and shiver with anticipation, and the thought of Jungkook fucking it into you was the only thing on your mind right now.

He opened it wider, watching as the remainder of egg was sucked into your hole. “I’m glad this went over easy.” he amusingly remarks. 

“Fuck you,” you curse, irritation hinting because of how impatient you were. Was he really making puns right now?

“You’re about to,” he smirks, pushing two fingers into your hole to spread the egg. It’s slick and if even possible, it turns him on more, especially from the way you jerk forward and loudly moan. 

However, he’s brief and removes his egg-slicked fingers to take his dick into his hand, groaning at the feeling of giving himself a few pumps, coating it with a thin layer of egg white. He grabs your waist before he situates himself at your back entrance, pausing for a second before he begins to push himself in.

He was easily able to bottom out, the slimy texture of the egg being the clear reason for that. He barely gives you any time to adjust before he pulls out and slams his hips forward all over again.

You moan uncontrollably, mouth agape in pleasure and eyes tightly shut. He was pumping in and out of you with ease, further coating his dick with your arousal and the egg that was now surely beginning to froth inside your body the quicker his pace became. 

The slick sounds and the way his balls slapped against your pussy made your head spin, and Jungkook was surely enjoying this just as much as you were from the way his head was tilted back and he was groaning, hands holding your hips so tight that you were sure there would be bruises later.

“Fuck!” you screamed out, tears beginning to prick your eyes as your moans began to mix with sobs at how fucking good it felt. The temperature of the egg in your body was now matching your own, a contrast to the cold plated eggs you had cooked earlier that were long forgotten on the counter.

“Jungkook,” you stuttered out, “so…so good” you sobbed. 

Hearing you sound so vulnerable, saying his name while he was balls deep inside of you made his cock twitch and a moan escape his lips. He loved you so much and would do anything for you. He would get on his hands and knees and wash your feet as Jesus did for Judas, simply doing it out of his love and obsession for you.

You felt your stomach begin to tighten, a sign that you were close to your high. Jungkook was close too, but he wanted you to cum first so he let go of your hip with one of his hands and began to circle your sensitive bud as you shuddered underneath him. He then moved his fingers from your clit to your entrance, pushing in and pumping his fingers fast.

“I am go-go-go-gonna cum.” you stutter, seemingly not able to even say that simple sentence as you screw your eyes shut tighter.

The combination of his dick pumping in your ass and his fingers in your cunt brings a whole new wave of pleasure. You feel so full of him and without warning, you tense and feel the knot snap in your stomach as you cum on his fingers and uncontrollably clench around them. Your ass convulses as you’re clenching hard around his dick, seeming to involuntarily suck it in deeper with ease pulse. 

Your entire body tingles as you let out a guttoral moan and say his name over and over like a chant. Tears are rolling down your cheeks as you begin to feel the start of overstimulation.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, removing his fingers from your cunt before he shoves them into your mouth and uses his other hand to hold you down by your neck, the pressure making your eyes roll back into your head as you suck his fingers and taste yourself, moaning as you do.

He then starts pumping at an even more animalistic pace than before, trying to reach his own high as you start whimpering from the overstimulation. 

“I know baby, I know.” he soothes, keeping the same pace before his hips begin stuttering and he cums inside your ass, a loud moan ripping from his throat as well.

He doesn’t move, you both breathing heavily as he curses and lays his head on your back, intertwining his hands with your own. You feel content at having just been properly fucked and could really go for a shower right now.

However, he’s not done as he gives you a final pump, further mixing his semen with the raw egg before he removes his softening cock, crouches down, and lifts you up higher by your thighs. 

You’re too fucked out to immediately react, but you widen your eyes when you realize what he’s about to do.

He licks a stripe through your pussy, tasting your arousal on his tongue. “You taste so fucking good.” he moans.

“What are you doing?” you question, using the little strength you have left to look behind you, meeting his eyes. 

He can see the look in your eyes, see you’re surprised because you know what he’s about to do. So he smirks. That fucker smirks. 

“I’m about to enjoy my breakfast.”

He takes his two fingers and gathers up the cum and egg dripping out of your hole, shoving it back in and pumping a few times before removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. 

You gasp out, not believing he was actually eating your ass hole right after fucking an egg into you.

“Mmmm,” he hums into your backside. 

Uncontrollable moans leave your mouth as he licks you clean, standing up shortly after and lightly slapping your ass.

You stand up, legs wobbly, and you have to grib the edge of the breakfast bar to stop your knees from giving out. 

Jungkook felt good seeing you like this, knowing he was the cause and reason. It boosted his ego and he felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

“You’re nasty as shit,” you spit, turning around to face him while your hands still gripped the counter. However, you had a smirk on your lips showing Jungkook that you didn’t really mean it.

He chuckles, giving you a raise of his eyebrow.

“Well you didn’t seem to think so when you were begging for me to touch you.”

You roll your eyes, “You know that I love the way you fuck me.”

He walks up to you, hands sliding over your arms leaving goosebumps on your skin. He looks down at you and you look up, staring into each other’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind having my breakfast like that again in the future,” he smirks, “because I think scrambled eggs just became my new favorite.”

[universallydestinytaco]

Drowning My Sorrows (ONE-SHOT)

I felt like making a vent-y hurt/comfort one shot where after Charlie, Alan and Glep get into a fight, Pim fails to resolve it and sends strange texts over the group chat that have the gang scrambling to get there. Ends with an happy ending, I promise.

TW: PTSD, P*nic Att**k, Mentions of Ab*se + Victim Bl*m*ng, The Ab*se of Alcohol as an Unhealthy Coping Mechanism and an all-to relatable nightmare sequence. Read at your own risk.

The sun began to set for the day as Pim came inside his house after work as he usually did, turning on the lights and evoking a warm, cozy vibe for he was trying to feel for a sense of comfort, but he felt so drained after that bungled attempt to peacefully resolve that nasty argument between his co-workers ended on a sour, defeated note. He tried to take his mind off of it with a curling up on the couch with a blanket, a cup of warm tea and turning on one of his favorite shows with the little boy and his pastel-colored alien family…but on nights like this, it failed to break him of his shaking palms and his beating heart which was getting worse and worse as he ignored it.

“What do you know about it, squirt?! Keep your goddamn nose-er, whatever you have between your eyes out of it!”

The memory of the irritated Charlie telling Pim to back off reminded him of another memory that plagued him for years, when he finally forgot about it and began to heal it seemed to finally come back to haunt him after all this time. Whenever his mom would hear he got into yet another “fight” with another family member, he would be punished even if he did nothing of note to make them angry in the first place. Whether it be a long lecture that could be boiled down to “It’s your fault for being unhappy.” or among those lines, she would cherry pick anything to somehow make the connection that it was Pim’s fault and he deserved it all while hammering it over his head that it was immature to not be positive over even the worst things that happened to him. Did he really deserve all of that to happen to him merely for telling any of them to leave him alone when they started it? Pim tried to think of happy memories he had with his friends, taking yet another note from his mom…but always came back to what happened before he left work…..

Pim couldn’t take it anymore, he needed something to soothe the pain by making him forget. Pim promised himself he wouldn’t do it again, over and over, but the feeling of spacing out with alcohol was (even if temporary) a wash over of relief, simply forgetting about everything bothering him even if it would leave him throwing up with a hangover the next day. No wonder his mom loved her wine so much.

….

Charlie was playing Rust on his PC, accompanied by a bag of chips and his second ice-cold can of Monster, tuning reality out best he could in his crappy studio apartment…his flow got disrupted after he started hearing his phone blow up he tried to ignore it, but knowing the exact extent of his friends’ irreverence it had to be the funniest obscure meme from 2005 or something. He picked up the phone and opened up the group chat to be greeted to a wall of texts, where he started reading the first two initially figuring it was just going to be Pim apologizing for butting in him that verbal smackdown he and his other two coworkers had….the rest of the text, on the other hand, started to startle the yellow critter as it progressively got more personal. The last text was sent as he was reading the rest, and when Charlie read the last one, it sent him in a panic. He started spamming the chat begging Pim to respond, apologizing for his behavior earlier but despite Pim being marked as active, none of the texts that Charlie had been desperately beaming out from his fingertips were marked as read…after waiting five minutes or so, Charlie who was anxious with sweat finally received a message, but it wasn’t the one he was expecting.

Alan: The hell are y’all in the chat doing waking me up at this hour for? >:(

Charlie’s hopes of reaching out to his best friend were dramatically dashed, as tears pricked in his eyes. Charlie wasn’t the touchy-feely-type of guy, as he hid his emotions like a “true” alpha male but in this particular case, how could he not? He really screwed up this time, leaving Alan and Glep furious at him and Pim….he really shouldn’t have lashed out at the sensitive little guy. Sure he butt-in while he was trying to make a point but at least he was trying to peacefully bring him back to earth. Charlie felt the tense vibration of anxiety in his palm when texting Alan, typos and all.

Charlie: Sc r ol hp noq scroll yup noq shit scroll up now Alan: FUCK Glep: (=3=) zzzz (>0<) !! ???? Alan: EVERYONE MEET ME AT PIM’S HOUSE ON THE DOUBLE.

Charlie shoved his phone in his pocket, trying to hold back tears as he ran out of his apartment and zoomed out the door as he almost felt as if his world was crashing down right in front of him. Pim was the first true friend he ever had, if it weren’t for him he wouldn’t have gotten out of unemployment and while he never showed it all that much, he was deeply touched by all the thoughtful little messages Pim would leave for Charlie on a daily basis letting him know he was loved. He could have spent all that time an energy keeping up his stoic image to return the favor, then again he always had trouble communicating with meaningful words to those he cared about.

….

Sometime after his erratic breakdown, Pim blacked out. Everything prior was a blur to him, not that his memory was all that clear to begin with. His eyes were shut, but he could visualize how he felt: tied up in vines of roses and dangling upside down as the thorns pierced his skin and the blooms snickered, laughing and repeating in echoey siren calls reciting all the worst memories he had and the more he struggled while swinging to-and-fro, the thorns dug deeper and the siren calls spewing from the blooms got more colorful. Pim was in absolute agony, but as he would come to think of it, it’s always been this way. Even when he left that wretched household, he still couldn’t escape. The siren calls turned into his mother’s voice, chiding him for being so “immature” as to let all the negativity get to him, and why Amy or his brother Damien where far more grown up for repressing all their issues and not pushing them on anyone else and that Pim was just the spoiled baby of the family who had it easier than everyone else and was the last to be upset about anything. Pim felt his shattered heart pierce through his chest like broken glass and dripping all over the place. No matter how hard he tried with every trick in the book he could think of, he couldn’t stop feeling this way…his family was right, he wasn’t a normal functioning person, therefor he was a problem for everyone else. Who would want a mistake like him around anyway? If his own family saw him as lesser why would anybody give him the time of day?

….

Pim was in that weird stage between being awake and asleep, his eyes were closed while vaguely hearing all-too familiar voices whispering. For some reason he felt cold and damp, shivering on the floor…just what on earth did he get himself into this time? Once he opened his eyes he found himself wrapped up in a familiar red hoodie like a blanket, he found himself surrounded by unexpected company. Not only were two of his co-workers and a Mr. Boss where there and displaying worried looks, Pim looked up and witnessed the most emotional guest of all…he never saw Charlie this devastated before, tears flooded his eyes like a faucet as his stoic “alpha male” facade crumbled before his very eyes. Then Pim suddenly remembered everything that lead to this and once again Guilt, being the legendarily confrontational bitch it’s been long-fabled as, struck him in the heart with her shiny golden dagger. He was scared to say a word, knowing from experience he would be harshly scolded for acting out like that, but considering the people here where showing more genuine care for him, he knew they’d at least understand.

“…I’m incredibly sorry, I was being very selfish upsetting you all like that, you all deserve better and I won’t ever scare you like that again.” Pim sheepishly spat out while starting to cry…. just then all four of the guests immediately burst into tears with Charlie’s being the loudest and most pained in the room as the other four all rushed towards him in support for a rare group hug. Pim and Charlie cried themselves to sleep as the other three stayed at the formers’ place all night to comfort him. ….

That morning while Charlie and Pim where still asleep on the couch, the bigger critter still cradling the smaller, Alan whipped up a hearty breakfast variant of his iconic grilled cheese sandwiches as Mr. Boss was making cowboy coffee all while Glep was helping in-between. The two were awaken by the delicious aroma permeating the house. Everyone sat down in the living room to enjoy breakfast as more cheerful conversations recalling humorous past events lit up the room like a candle to a lamp, Pim wriggled out of Charlie’s hoodie feeling like a butterfly releasing from it’s isolating chrysalis to feast upon the meal of which was lovingly cooked up and served. “Feeling better?” asked Mr. Boss in a warm, Grandfatherly tone. It wasn’t like how his mother used to ask that same question, since it was less-so making Pim “back to normal” so that her mood wouldn’t be soured but rather out of genuine care and concern. For once Pim was aware how loved he was, and while it was normal for people to fight and have misunderstandings, unlike certain people Pim was aware he and his merry group where actually committed to listening to each other.

“I never felt better.”

[pedroscurls]

Title: The Teacher (Part 1).

CHAPTER TITLE: Welcome to Jackson

Character(s): Joel Miller, Reader (female, first person POV), Tommy Miller, Maria Miller Summary: You have been on your own for over a year and after Maria saves you and brings you to Jackson, you try and settle in, doing your best to contribute to the community. Though, it doesn’t help that your neighbor, Joel Miller, reminds you of a special person from before the outbreak.  Word Count: 3,872 Author's Note: I’m still getting used to writing Joel Miller (and Pedro Pascal stories in general), but this idea has been on my mind for weeks now and I hope you all enjoy. Thanks for reading!  Warning: None.

You were dirty, exhausted, and starving when you arrived in Jackson. A woman named Maria found you, passed out in the middle of a field; she was sure that you were dead, but when your eyes opened and you scrambled to grab your gun, she knew that you were very much alive. 

You didn’t know if you were dead or dreaming, but you were sure this wasn’t real. Jackson was a real community, a resemblance of the old world, and you were in utter disbelief. 

Maria must have taken notice of the look on your face because she let out a soft chuckle and looked over at you.

“Welcome to Jackson.”

“T–This is real?” Your throat felt dry and your voice came out as a whisper. Being alone for over a year meant you rarely spoke. Your voice sounded foreign to you, almost as if it didn’t belong to you.

“Very real. My father and I built this community, trying to bring back some semblance of the old world.” Maria smiled. “My husband helps me run this community and you’ll meet him later. As of right now, how about we get you showered, some clean clothes, and then some food?”

Your eyes widened.

“You have water? Food?”

Maria just smiled. She would never get tired of that expression on people’s faces when they see Jackson for the first time. She took pride in it, being able to restore what once was. 

“Yes, we do.”

“I’m not dead, right?”

Maria chuckled. “I can assure you that you aren’t. Come. Follow me.”

You felt out of place as she walked you through the community. Everyone was polite, nodding in Maria’s direction and flashing you a smile once they saw that you were with her. 

You almost bumped into Maria once she stopped walking, your eyes taking in all of Jackson. You muttered an apology and she simply just smiled, nodding her head.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re here.”

“Here? It’s a house.”

Maria chuckled, leading her inside. You noticed two men sitting on a couch in the living room. One had slightly longer hair while the other man had shorter hair, however, both men had a beard and when the longer haired man stood, you immediately went to stand behind Maria. You had encountered plenty of men since the outbreak and not all of them were pleasant. 

“Hi baby,” he said, leaning over to kiss Maria’s cheek. He gave you a polite smile and you noticed the way Maria leaned against him. This was her husband. “Who’s this?”

She said your name and stepped to the side so that you could face Tommy. You didn’t meet his eyes though, staring down at your feet as you tried to make sense of what this was. 

Were they just putting up a facade of being nice? 

Was this place too good to be true? 

“Well, nice to meet ya. I’m Tommy,” he smiled. He pointed over his shoulder and referred to the other man on the couch. “That old man over there is my older brother, Joel. Be a gentleman and say hello.”

Joel grunted, waving a hand in the air. “Howdy.”

“He’s a grouch,” Tommy teased. 

You actually giggled, a smile lining your lips. It had been a long time since you heard that sound escape your lips. You finally looked up at him, noticing the friendly look behind his eyes and then looked over his shoulder at Joel. 

“You’re okay,” Maria said, noticing your timidness. “I promise you, you’re safe here.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just– It’s all overwhelming,” you admitted. 

“That’s understandable. Well, you’re in good hands with Maria and I’m not only sayin’ that because she’s my wife,” he winked. 

Joel finally stood from the couch and walked over to the trio. He looked down at you and tilted his head, pocketing a hand in his jeans. 

“Welcome to Jackson,” he said.

You looked up at him, getting a good look at the other man. There was something about him that reminded you of someone you knew, of your old world, and it broke your heart. You just nodded in his direction before looking over at Maria, pleading with your eyes to bring you elsewhere but here. She noticed the look on your face and cleared her throat, motioning towards the stairs. 

“Come on. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” 

Joel looked over at Tommy, furrowing a brow. “I say somethin’ wrong?”

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t think so, but you gotta admit… Jackson is pretty overwhelming for someone who has been out there for too long and from the looks of it, she seems like she’s been on her own for a while.”

Joel sighed. “Sure.” He knew what Tommy was referring to; when he and Ellie first arrived at Jackson, it was all so surprising to him too. “Makes sense.”

Both men moved back to the living room, sitting on the couch and each grabbing their beers. They glanced in the direction of the stairs when they saw Maria descending them. She walked over to the couch and sat next to Tommy, taking a deep breath. 

“She okay?” Joel asked.

Maria and Tommy looked at him. Normally Joel didn’t really care or bother to ask about a newcomer’s wellbeing. 

“What?” he asked, taking note of the couple’s looks. 

“Nothin’.” Tommy replied.

Maria cracked a smile before looking over at Tommy. “She’s in rough shape.”

“Where’d ya find her?”

“On one of my routes. I thought she was dead,” Maria sighed. “She was alone and looks like she’s been alone for a while.”

“That’s what I assumed too,” Tommy replied. “Know anythin’ about her?”

“She used to be a teacher,” Maria answered. “But that’s all I know.” 

“A teacher, huh?” Tommy asked. “That might be useful here in Jackson since we got little ones runnin’ around. Could be good to start a school.”

Maria nodded. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Sounded like she loved teaching and getting her to talk about it helped her understand that I wasn’t a threat.”

“You? A threat?” Tommy scoffed. “Please.”

Maria narrowed her eyes, gently slapping his arm which caused a snicker to come from Joel. 

“Y’all are sure entertainin’,” he commented.

“By the way, there’s one house available that I was thinking she could move into…” Maria began, glancing between the Miller brothers. 

Tommy arched a brow in her direction. “And where’s that?”

“Next to Joel. I was noticing the way she was looking around and how overwhelmed she looked… Plus, she’s alone and she don’t need a big house. The one next to Joel’s is perfect for a single person.”

Joel shrugged. “I don’t really get a say in this, do I?”

Maria shook her head. “Nope, but I figure I let you know.”

“Well, thanks, that’s kind of you,” he teased playfully. 

“You just gotta promise to be a good neighbor,” Tommy laughed. “You know, be nice and… Well, neighborly.” 

Joel rolled his eyes. “I am nice.”

“You come off as a bit of a grouch.”

“I gotta agree,” Maria chimed.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be on my best behavior,” he scoffed. 

Before the trio could start talking again, you descended the stairs after the much needed shower. Your hair had grown and you pulled it into a single braid, strands of hair falling from your face. You were dressed in clothes that Maria had given you, thankful that they fit and actually felt quite comfortable. 

You were dressed in dark jeans with a dark t-shirt underneath a flannel. The boots, however, felt like clouds on your feet. It had been a long time since you felt this comfortable and this good. You tried to tell yourself that this was too good to be true, to not let your guard down, but it was difficult. This place had running water, food, clothes, and people who seemed genuinely nice. 

Joel immediately looked in your direction. Even before the shower, he had felt an immediate pull to you and he couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason why. Instead, he told himself to keep his distance, even now that he knew you would be his new next door neighbor. He didn’t need for his small circle to get bigger, so when you descended the stairs and met his gaze, he stood and pointed towards the front door. 

“I’m gonna get goin’,” he muttered, turning on his heel. “It was nice meetin’ ya.” He called out before leaving Tommy and Maria’s house in a hurry. The couple looked between each other and shared a knowing look before their attention was shifted to you. 

“You hungry?” Tommy was the first to break the silence once Joel left. “I can make a really good omelet,” he smiled.

Maria nodded in agreement. “He’s right. His omelets are pretty good.” 

“Sure,” you replied, looking between the couple. “I just feel like I’m imposing and–”

“Not at all,” Maria reassured. “We just wanna get to know you first before we show you where you’ll be staying.”

“Staying?”

Tommy stood and walked into the kitchen and you decided to take a seat next to Maria on the couch, looking over at the other woman. 

“There’s a small house nearby. It’s perfect,” she replied. 

“I’m fine with just a bed and–”

Maria nodded, saying your name to interrupt you. “Listen, Jackson is… We strive to provide a safe haven. All of us here have seen and encountered some very difficult situations. I promise you, you will be fine here.”

“Well, I have to contribute somehow.” You replied. 

“Of course. Tommy and I were already talking about the perfect job for you.”

“You have?”

Maria nodded. “We’ve been meaning to open up a school since we have lots of kids here, but could never find the right teacher.”

Your eyes lit up. Before the outbreak, you had been a teacher of all ages; elementary, middle, and high school generally. You loved being a teacher, enjoyed seeing your students and helping them succeed. So, when the world ended, it pained you to even think about where your students might be or what could have happened to them. You had such a big heart; you weren’t cut out for this new world, but you learned how to survive and how to protect yourself. 

“Really?” You finally replied. “I– I would be honored to teach the kiddos.”

“I remember seeing your face light up when we talked about what you used to do before Outbreak Day and well, it seems like the perfect job for you.” 

“Is there a catch?” You asked hesitantly. Again, it seemed too good to be true. 

Maria shook her head. “No catch, just avoid getting into trouble, contribute to the community, be civil with everyone… It’s basic–”

“Common sense,” you finished. “I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

“Like I said, Jackson’s a safe haven. We’re glad to have you.” 

Tommy interrupted the conversation to bring you a plate. The aroma of food filled your senses and once you received the plate, you didn’t hesitate to scarf down the contents, not even bothering to savor the taste.

“Whoa,” Tommy chuckled. “You might wanna slow down there or else you’ll get sick.”

You felt slightly embarrassed, nodding your head and swallowing the food in your mouth. “Sorry. It’s just– It’s been a while. I can’t believe you have eggs.”

“Yeah, it’s quite amazing actually. We’ve got a farm here in Jackson. We even have a butcher shop, a bar…”

You couldn’t believe it. You looked between Tommy and Maria before continuing to eat. “Thank you,” you repeated. “Thank you both.”

Tommy nodded, looking over at you. “So, Maria tells me you were a teacher.”

“Yeah. I loved teaching,” you smiled to yourself. “Each day was always different.” 

“You must have a lot of patience,” he chuckled.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“You married?” Tommy asked.

You choked on your food, looking up at him and back at Maria who looked to be scolding him with her eyes. 

“Damn, I’m sorry,” Tommy said. “Listen, you ain’t gotta–”

“Yes, I was married,” you interrupted him. You figure they wanted to know more about your life, about how you had survived this long; they didn’t only want to know what your line of work was before the world ended.

Maria looked over at you with soft eyes. “We’re so sorry…”

You sighed. “It’s okay, really.”

“Do you mind if I ask–”

“He died before Outbreak day, if that’s what you both are wondering.” You bit your lower lip, looking down at your plate and suddenly not feeling very hungry. You had dedicated yourself to your work when your husband unexpectedly passed. 

Maria sighed. “How long before Outbreak day?”

“Five years before,” you sighed. 

Tommy cursed under his breath and looked over at Maria. He had never thought he would settle down and to think that losing Maria only made him reach out to her and rest a hand protectively on her thigh.

“What–”

“Car accident,” you interrupted Tommy. “My husband was on his way back home from getting dinner. It was just– It was a terrible accident.” 

“How long were you two together?” Maria asked.

You smiled sadly. You could still remember the sound of his voice, the scent of his cologne every morning, the feel of his strong arms around you and the feel of his lips. He was truly your soulmate, your partner and losing him hurt just as much. 

“We met in high school. He was a couple of years older than me. We were high school sweethearts,” you replied with a sad smile. “We got married very young.”

Tommy immediately reached for Maria’s hand, lacing his fingers with hers instantly. It definitely made him grateful for the woman who was sitting next to him and Maria instinctively leaned against him. 

“We had a good life together,” you added. “It wasn’t long enough, but I was still grateful for the amount of time and the memories we shared.” 

“Did you both have any kids?” Maria asked.

You shook your head. “We tried, for a long time, but we found out I couldn’t get pregnant and so, being a teacher kind of filled that void. My students were my children,” you smiled sadly, bringing a hand to wipe your tears. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I talked about my old life. Seems like a very distant memory now.”

“Looks like you’ve been a fighter from the beginning,” Maria said. 

You shrugged. You never considered yourself a fighter, instead, you were just the type of person to just keep pushing forward, take it day by day. It didn’t make it any easier, but you were grateful that your husband wasn’t around to see what this world had become. 

Tommy nodded in agreement, glancing over at the front door as his mind drifted to Joel, the childhood they shared, and his life before Outbreak day. 

“You ready to go see where you’ll be staying?” Tommy asked.

You nodded. “Sure, but like I said, I’m fine with–”

Maria interrupted with a smile. “You ain’t winning this argument. Come on.”

You set your plate aside and followed Maria and Tommy out of their house. Once again, you were taken aback by your surroundings. Jackson did genuinely seem like a good place to be at and you internally decided to give this place a chance. You knew what it was like outside of these walls and you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, so you decided it would be nice to just… Not fight anymore. Not unless you had to. 

Once your house came to view, you noticed Joel sitting on his porch with a guitar and a cup at a small table nearby. He set the guitar down and nodded in your direction before going into his home. 

“Wait, he’s my neighbor?” You asked.

“Will that be a problem? I promise, he’s a big softie inside.” Tommy chuckled. 

You shook your head. You glanced over at the house next door and bit your lower lip; you knew there was just something about Joel that reminded you of your husband, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

“No, not at all. I was just wondering. He just– It didn’t seem like he liked me.”

Maria chuckled, “That’s just Joel, but I promise you, he’s a really good man.” 

Tommy nodded in agreement. “He also lives with a young girl named Ellie, so you might see her around as well.”

“I’m just grateful to be here,” you replied. “Thank you again.”

They led you into the home and you were overwhelmed once more. You looked around and let tears fill your eyes at the sight. It was small and cozy, already furnished with the necessary furniture and decorations. 

“You’re surprised,” Tommy noticed. 

“I just– It’s like this isn’t real,” you replied. “Like I’ve died and this is what the afterlife is.”

Maria chuckled, “Well, I think that’s quite the compliment.”

Tommy smiled, “Maria and her father worked hard to build this community and we’re just trying to resemble life before the outbreak.”

You bit your lower lip. “How do you know who to take in and who to push away?”

Maria and Tommy looked at each other. “Let’s just say we follow our gut feeling.”

You shook your head, looking between the couple. “And your gut is always right?”

Maria shrugged, “Everyone deserves a second chance. This new world has caused all of us to do things we would never do, but we honestly believe that people’s morality is still there… Somewhere.”

You sighed in relief, looking at Maria. You didn’t know what you deserved to have been saved by her, to be here in Jackson, but you were grateful. It sounded like the people of this community were genuinely nice people and it was a change of pace from the groups you had been in before. 

Maybe you would be able to develop friendships, let your guard down, allow yourself to live again. 

“I don’t think I can ever thank you enough,” you told Maria. “I’m so grateful…”

Maria gently placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “We were meant to meet and I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason.”

“Me too,” you smiled. “And I can’t wait to start teaching.”

Tommy grinned, “That’s great to hear. I’m sure the other families will be excited too. For now, how about you take a couple of days to get yourself settled and we can discuss everything later?”

Maria nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I agree. We’ll get things settled on our end and meet back with you so that we’re all on the same page.”

“That sounds great, thank you.”

“And if you need anything, you know where we live,” Tommy said. “And Joel’s right next door also.”

You bit your lower lip. 

Joel.

“Thank you,” you repeated. 

When the couple left your home, you looked around and sighed to yourself. It was hard to relax, but you used this time to walk around and get yourself acquainted with your new house. In the living room, there was a bookcase attached to the wall with a loveseat and sofa seated in the middle. To the left of your living room was a small, rounded dining table with a cozy looking kitchen. You imagined yourself cooking again and it brought you such excitement. Then, down the hall, you noticed the bathroom to the left and right across was a bedroom. Stepping inside, your eyes widened at the large bed in the middle with two nightstands on either side. There was also a large dresser facing the bed with a mirror attached. 

It was truly cozy and perfect for just one person. 

You immediately went to the bed and fell back onto it, feeling the softness of the mattress bring you immediate comfort. It had been so long since you had fallen asleep on a mattress and you curled into a ball, finding yourself drifting. 

You were exhausted and now that you felt safe, you had fallen into a deep slumber. Though, you were only asleep for a couple of hours before you jolted awake. You glanced around the bedroom, blinking away the sleep as you remembered where you were. The sun was peering through your window, showcasing that it was near sunset, so you walked to your kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. You found a glass and filled it with water from the sink, downing the contents. 

Then, you walked out onto your porch and smiled at the sight of the sky. It was beautiful. There was a hint of orange and red in the blue sky, noticing the sun slowly beginning to set. Before you could look around, you heard his voice. 

“Hey,” Joel called out. 

You walked over to the end of your porch near his house and saw him lean against his railing with a cup in his hand.

“Hi.”

Joel cleared his throat, bringing his cup to his lips. He was staring at you and he didn’t know exactly what else to say. He didn’t even know why he started a conversation in the first place, but once again, when he saw you, he felt himself wanting to get closer, to get to know you, and he didn’t know why.

“Sorry,” he started. “Um, how d’ya like your place?”

You glanced over your shoulder and smiled to yourself. “It’s cozy. I still can’t believe this place exists, if I’m being honest with you.”

Joel let the corner of his lips turn upwards, glancing over at the sky and noticing how there was a glow around you that he found himself captivated by. It had been such a long time since he had felt this way and it was as if he didn’t know how to act. 

“Yeah. Jackson can be a bit overwhelming,” Joel replied. “Maria mentioned you were a teacher?”

You smiled over at him. Joel found himself biting his lower lip at the sight of your smile. “I was, yeah. Maria and Tommy mentioned starting a school for the kids in this community and wanted me to teach, so I guess I’m gonna be teaching again.”

“Oh?” Joel tilted his head. “You excited?”

“Very,” you replied. 

Joel nodded, dropping his eyes down to his boots. He wanted to invite you over to his porch, so you both could talk more, to be closer, rather than at a distance. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, noticing his quiet demeanor and how he looked to be in deep thought. You bit your lower lip, finding yourself wanting to talk to him more. 

“Have you seen all of Jackson yet?” Joel asked. 

You shook your head. “I feel like I could get lost,” you teased.

Joel smiled. “Well, would ya like a tour?”

“Are you gonna be my tour guide?” You teased. 

Joel nodded, “I’ll make sure you won’t get lost.”

You felt butterflies in your tummy and your cheeks heating up at the offer. You couldn’t help but allow the smile to line your lips once more. “You promise?” 

“With me, you’ll be in good hands, darlin’.”

---

Part 2.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

All Clones Go To Heaven

Crosshair & Mayday

Summary: The aftermath of the avalanche on Barton IV from Mayday’s perspective. (written in third person limited)

Pairings: None

Characters: Crosshair, Mayday, Mayday's Squad

Tags & Warnings: angst, hurt, comfort, death, afterlife, may also cause uncontrollable crying, apologies in advance

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Notes: A companion piece to this post. I don’t know anything about the lore behind the Star Wars afterlife, so if you do, please no hate! It’s just fanfiction. As always, please enjoy 💚

It’s cold. It’s dark. It’s heavy. These and numerous other thoughts floated around Mayday’s mind as he laid motionless under the frigid snow. The pressure and weight of the icy precipitation crushed his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He was fully engulfed in a tundra prison.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, just as he was taught in training as a cadet. Never panicking for even a moment. He flexed his muscles to move his arms and legs in an attempt to escape, but they wouldn’t budge. The weight and angles of the pressurized snow were too great to overcome. 

This is it. He resigned. I’m finally going to die here on this mountain, just like my squad. Can’t say I didn’t see it coming. He wrestled with his mind, trying to not think about death by suffocation, until his thoughts finally landed somewhere else. I hope that clone got out. I can’t have another one die on me.

It didn’t take much longer for his senses to begin fading away. The asphyxiation was taking its toll on him. He lingered in and out of consciousness, hoping at any moment that death would stop toying with him and just take him. Death was such a tease, and not the kind he liked. Much unlike his former men, who were chronic pranksters.  

However, as he lay there, nearing death’s edge and reminiscing the days when his squad was together, he heard a muffled sound coming from above. One by one, small fragments of light pierced through his snowy covering. Just as hope of a rescue brimmed from the surface, he passed out. 

Mayday started to crawl back into consciousness as he felt hands lifting his torso. He grunted as his lungs began to fill with oxygen once again. He felt a hard object behind his back and could hear someone speaking, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. His brain was still scrambled from lack of oxygen and the pain around his torso slowly increased.

“Come on,” Crosshair prompted as he attempted to lift the commander out of the snow. “We have to move.”

Mayday grunted again, this time from the pain of his crushed chest. Each breath was an excruciating endeavor as his lungs attempted to expand inside his broken ribcage. He knew he had no chance of surviving in his condition and all the pulling was not helping. 

Through forced breaths, he spoke to the young clone. “Go, I won’t make it.”

Not missing a beat, Crosshair put the Commander’s helmet on his head and shivered out a soft. “We don’t leave our own behind.” 

The old and worn helmet wasn’t much protection from the elements, but it was better than nothing. At the minimum, it kept the howling wind out of his ears and made his already labored breathing a bit easier. Nonetheless, the journey back to the outpost would be a perilous one and neither clone was promised survival.

Still moving in and out of consciousness, Mayday could feel his body being pulled out of the snow. The blunt movements were painful, but he didn’t have enough energy to fight the young clone’s efforts. He felt his left arm wrap around Crosshair’s shoulder as he was lifted to his feet. 

They moved along the mountainside slowly. The air was gusting and frigid, but his chest burned like fire. He knew he was critically injured, and most likely bleeding internally, but that didn’t stop the young clone from dragging him along through the deep snow. 

They stopped every so often to catch their breaths and reposition themselves, even though no position was comfortable. As they trudged along through the night, the wind began to howl and the snow stung like daggers against their prone bodies. A blizzard was coming and they needed to find shelter quickly. 

Crosshair led the limping pair to a small outcropping on the side of the mountain, with barely any protection from the storm. Mayday could feel the young clone’s body pressed tightly up against his, huddling them together as best he could while they waited it out. He could barely open his eyes, but he would never forget the fear on Crosshair’s face.  

Come morning light, the duo started again towards the outpost. This time Crosshair gave Mayday his sniper rifle as a walking stick. The make-shift crutch did help a little, but Mayday knew it wasn’t going to be enough. He wasn’t making it out of this situation alive, even if they did make it back to the outpost.

They marched forward, both clones breathing ragged, half frost-bitten, and on the verge of death. As they crested the last hill, Mayday, through glazed vision, could see the outposts' platform. Maybe they were going to make it. Maybe they would survive this. Maybe they live to fight another day. 

“About time you two returned,” the Lieutenant sneered as the two ragged clones staggered forward and fell to the ground.

“He needs a medic,” Crosshair exasperated as he removed Mayday’s helmet.

Mayday coughed as the blood pooling in his chest crushed his lungs. It’s alright, son. He wanted to say to reassure the young clone. 

“I see you didn’t retrieve the crates,” the lieutenant huffed in disappointment. “Which means you failed your mission.”

You mean we failed our suicide mission. Mayday jested to himself.

“Did you hear what I said?” Crosshair pleaded. “Help him!”

Once again, wishing to convey his thoughts to the young clone, but unable to, he let the words loose in his mind. It’s going to be okay, kid. Clones die all the time. I’ll be fine.

“Certainly not,” the lieutenant sneered. “That would be a waste of the Empire’s resources.”

A resource. That’s all we are to them. Things. He wished he could muster the strength to convey his thoughts out loud, but his breath was gone. I hope you remember this, Crosshair. Don’t become a tool of the Empire like me. You’re worth more than that.

“You...,” Crosshair breathed out in desperation, “he’ll die.”

Mayday coughed again, more forceful than before. He could feel his life slipping away second by second. This was it. His breath was leaving his body one last time. Goodbye, kid. He thought one last time before drifting into death’s arms.

It was dark once more, but this time, it wasn't cold. No, this time was different. Mayday found himself standing alone in pitch black. He swiveled his head but couldn’t see anything. It was an endless void as he turned around in circles, trying to gather intel on his new surroundings. 

However, like any good soldier, he started marching forward. To where, he did not know. To find what, he was uncertain. But he knew he had to start moving. There was an internal compass somewhere deep inside his soul that guided his footsteps along an invisible pathway.

As he continued his journey through the darkness, he began to feel warm. It was an odd feeling and contrasted what he had known for the past year on Barton IV. Nevertheless, it was inviting, calming, and effortless. His body felt lighter and his skin began to tingle. He was being lulled.

Without warning, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he sensed a presence ahead of him. His first instinct was to grab at his weapon, but there was nothing there. The shocking realization that he had nothing and was nothing set in. All his gear was gone and he was vulnerable. 

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to the presence. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it was definitely other-worldly and not something he had run into before. He cocked his head to the side and squinted at a tall figure outlined in a dull silvery light. He stepped closer to investigate.

“Welcome, Mayday,” the looming figure spoke with a booming voice.

The clone commander was taken aback as his hands started to tremble in front of the presence. “Who are you?” he asked. 

“I am the Maker,” the tall figure answered as it bowed its head low to meet Mayday’s gaze.

“Is… Is this death?” Mayday asked with hesitation. He didn’t know how he knew to ask, but something inside him prompted it.

“Yes, it is,” the Maker answered.

“I see,” Mayday said as he brought a hand up to pull at his beard in thought. “Are… Are my men here?”

“Yes, they are,” the Maker answered again.

“Sir, can I see them?” Mayday asked with excitement and expectation in his voice.

“Perhaps,” the Maker answered. “It depends.”

“Depends on what, sir?” Mayday asked.

“On your judgment,” the Maker answered deeply.

“Judgment?” Mayday rhetorized in confusion.

“Yes,” the Maker continued. “All who pass through my domain must be judged. So tell me, Mayday, why should I let you pass on?”

The clone commander thought about what to say. It was a tough question and not one that any clone ever thought about in their lifetime. Clones were lab creations, made to be disposable. Did they deserve to live a happy afterlife as much as any other lifeform? 

“I didn’t do much to deserve much, sir,” Mayday began. He shook his head and sighed. “I was bred to kill and created to die. And I… I lost my entire squad. My brothers followed every order I gave them and died. Their deaths are on my shoulders. So, perhaps, I don’t deserve anything.”

The Maker shifted its fluid form into a pondering posture as it looked into the depths of the clone commander’s soul. “But were you a good soldier?” the Maker asked.

“I’d like to think so, sir,” Mayday answered semi-confidently.

The Maker straightened its posture and once again loomed its large silvery figure over Mayday’s tiny frame. Mayday took a few steps back, in awe of the enormity of the Maker’s presence.

“Commander Mayday,” the Maker’s voice boomed as the clone flinched. “A clone you were created, a life-form you are no less. You followed your orders and served your men well. They gladly laid down their lives under your command as each one spoke highly of your leadership.”

Mayday cracked a small sad smile. “They did?”

“Yes,” the Maker answered softly.

Mayday let out an anguished sigh. “They were good men. Some of the best.”

“As are you,” the Maker pointed out. The Maker paused and let silence fill the room as it peered further into the soul of the clone standing before it. “I will now pass my judgment upon you.”

Mayday straightened up at attention, ready and willing to accept whatever judgment the Maker had for him. All he hoped for was to be reunited with his men, wherever they were. Or if not, then at least be at peace knowing they were safe from any further harm.

“Mayday,” the Maker boomed. “I judge you as a good soldier. Loyal, brave, strong, and true. You did well in your short life and you earned the love and respect of many around you. I now grant you access to Paradise. Enter and join your brothers in peace.”

Mayday smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to see his men again. Before his thoughts could trail off any farther, a vertical light in the middle of the dark void showed forth. He put his hands up to shield his eyes at the brightness, as the light grew wide, like doors swinging open.

He slowly put his hands down and looked into the bright light. He hesitated for a moment, but the Maker prodded the clone to move forward. As Mayday came closer to the light, he could see a group of figures standing together, bathed in the golden light from where they stood. It was his squad.

Mayday ran forward, eager to greet his men that he missed so much. Tears brimming in his eyes. It really was the most glorious sight and all he could have ever asked for. It was them. All of them. They were there waiting for him, their leader. 

“Commander!” one of the clones yelled in excitement as they waved their hand in the air. “What took you so long?” The clone beamed with joy.

“You’re late!” another clone yelled. “Uh, I mean, you’re late sir!” The squad laughed.

“Thank goodness,” one of his men breathed out in a sigh of relief. “We were getting bored without you and these four idiots have been such a handful.”

“Come on in and join us!” another one of his men shouted in excitement. “Hexx and Veetch are already here and getting way too comfortable.”

“Aw, yes!” the last of his men cheered. “The squad is finally back together again!”

Mayday chuckled and without even trying to keep his composure, cried. His squad, his brothers, his family, were back together again. Finally, they were home. Mayday lunged forward and brought his entire squad into a big group hug, toppling them over like bowling pins. 

“Hey boys,” Mayday smiled and leaned into the embrace. Desperately clinging to each one as tight as he could. “Glad I could make it.”

As the group got up and walked back into the bright light of Paradise, each crying, laughing, and falling over the other, Mayday took one last look into the void and remembered a certain clone. I hope you find your squad too, Crosshair. Then, turning with a big smile, he followed his brothers into bliss.

Masterlist

A03

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[the-moon-in-the-gutter]

Undiscovered, Underground

A/n: this was supposed to be a short thoughts post, now it's fic length so enjoy lol. A special thank you to @sovaghoul for fueling my thoughts about Delta.

TW: brief discussions of death, brief allusion to animal death (none depicted), excessive prayer, vague descriptions of an infirmary stay

Word Count: 2,075

Thinking about Delta returning from his transition and they can tell something's not entirely right about him, but the ghouls still love him and care for him all the same. Until he starts saying things that are a bit... off. At first they chalked it up to the after affects of going through such a drastic change, a shift in magick types that would scramble anyone's brain.

Until his strangeness continues, the ghoul effectively isolating himself from his loved ones simply by saying what he sees in the stars. What he feels in the streams. What the tea leaves at the bottom of his mug spell out. His pack had abandoned him, the ghoul becoming a shut in, a recluse. All until one of the earth ghouls returns from town with that year's Farmer's Almanac, proving everything he said to be true, albeit still strange.

It's the way the now quintessence ghoul seems to stare through them as they apologize. Even though his pack feels guilt for their actions, they do not embrace him how they used to when he was water. Their touch runs cold, even Alpha's hands are hesitant when they find his shoulder, the grip weak.

Only Pebble looks on at the changed ghoul with a reverence, the same love behind his eyes that used to be mirrored by the ghoul. His calloused palm resting atop Delta's hand, the quintessence ghoul's claws curled around the skull of a jackdaw. He knew Pebble was the ghoul who brought the Almanac back from town, the one who tried to clear Delta's name. Yet he withdraws his hand from Pebble's grip, watching as the light fades from the earth ghoul's eyes.

"Delta, you have to trust me. I know none of us have given you a reason to do so, but please." Pebble sighed before rising from his position across the table, "I'm going into the garden, you can find me if you want. But you're not obligated to."

Delta sat alone in the kitchen, his pack had left him once again. The ghouls had scattered like animals at the sense of an impending landslide. The air hung heavy in the den, tainted by the ghoul's new strange aura. It wasn't his fault that he had come back wrong. He had no control of what horrors he had seen throughout his transition. Returning from death is apt to make anyone the slightest bit crazy, but they didn't understand it. Maybe Alpha did, the pitying hand laid weakly on his shoulder. But even then, their pity and guilt wasn't enough. He wanted remorse, a sign that they still had a shred of love for their family member.

____________

Pebble figured his offer, like everything else he felt for the ghoul was a lost cause. The earth ghoul was knelt down in the mud of the strawberry patch, fussing over the slow ripening fruits. There was no rhyme or reason to his actions, just an effort to keep his hands busy and his mind off the loss of his companion. That was until he felt a presence, a strong rush of quintessence the ghoul was still learning to control. The earth ghoul kept his eyes down, examining the leaves of a worsening plant and attempting to make a mental note to consult his mentor about it in the morning. The sun was too high to change the care routine now.

"The winter was too dry, berries will fail this year" Delta spoke softly, almost hoping that Pebble's hearing aids didn't catch the frequency at which he spoke. The ghoul feebly searching for an excuse to leave until the small earth ghoul's eyes met his.

"I told Gamma it was foolish to plant, but he insisted. At least the birds and the bugs will get a treat, we might be living off the stash of canned fruits from last season" Pebble spoke, the soft emerald green eyes searching the other ghoul's face. There it was. That spark, a glimmer of the ghoul who once was. Trust. Compassion. Hope. It was all still there, under the swirling surface of stardust and horrors, water was still there. Rushing below the surface, like an underground river that was previously unknown to mankind.

The quintessence ghoul watched his companion, his demeanor slowly softening and allowing the earth ghoul in. "I'm sorry, I know I've said some off-putting things. Made myself untrustworthy, a pariah. I never intend to say them, it just rushes out of me" he tries to explain, feeling those emerald eyes boring into his soul.

"I understand, you've seen things that none of us are still yet to comprehend. Things that would drive any one a little nuts to know, but you had no right to shut me out" Pebble sighed, turning back towards the dirt as a caterpillar began to cross over his hand. The earth ghoul rose slowly, taking the caterpillar towards the stalks of milkweed that grew wild along the side of the planters shed.

Delta didn't say anything, he didn't follow, he didn't attempt to beg for forgiveness. Why would Pebble forgive him? When he was rejected despite spending his every waking moment defending the quintessence ghoul, clinging to imagery of the water he once loved effortlessly. He was at a loss, no one had told him that this would happen when he faced his transition between elements. Maybe no one knew of the effects, a transition to quintessence had never been successfully completed before Delta.

"Pebble, I..." The quintessence ghoul started and then stopped, his words failing him "Why do you still care?"

The earth ghoul stood over him once again, his body language defensive and fearful. It was foolish to show fear in the face of such an unpredictable ghoul, especially when the part of himself that was clinging onto the hope he would find himself again was rapidly waning like the moon. Like the tide receding far into the ocean before a tsunami.

"Maybe you should go play in the creek bed or whatever it is you do now. If you don't find the answer there then I can't help you."

The voice that came out of him was foreign, lacking the adoration and tact that the earth ghoul typically spoke to his pack with. The words dripping in a venom reserved only for those who have committed acts of harm too great to forgive. His voice shook, the weight of the words too great for such a small ghoul to bear.

Delta found himself alone for the third time that day, watching the last vestiges of his home walk down the hillside towards the chapel. A part of him knew that Pebble had a point, that if he couldn't find the answer then he was hopeless. The venom that soaked his words hung in the quintessence ghoul's system, like a neurotoxin laced spear driven into his abdomen. Even when hurt, when terrified and broken, the earth ghoul still showed others a mercy they didn't deserve. Delta sat on the hillside until the earth ghoul was nothing but a speck, yet he could still feel the emotions afflicting the ghoul through their bond. Something he regrets not having broken before the ceremony.

___________

It was sunset by the time he reached the creek bed, finding it had dried from the weeks they've gone without rain. Yet the quintessence ghoul found himself kneeling amongst the jagged stones, the pain radiating through his joints was well deserved. The ghoul knelt in prayer for hours, the feeling his lower extremities faded into a dull ache before giving way to total numbness.

His gesticulations never faltered through the sensations, believing he was deserving of the pain and more. If only he had declined the transition. If only he had backed out of the ceremony. Then his pack would still be there, they would still love him. It wasn't until the moon reached it's peak in the night sky when he stopped praying, exhaustion curling it's dark fingers around the ghouls mind.

He crawled weakly from the creek bed, finding cramped shelter under a collection of bushes. Comfort was not something the ghoul deserved, a menace like him should not feel safety or satisfaction knowing what he has done. A dreamless sleep rapidly took over the ghoul, keeping him under the brush for a few days.

Delta only awoke when familiar voices cut through the sleep that had engulfed his weakened form. He wanted to bury himself further into the bushes, but two of the voices wouldn't allow him to do so. Slowly pulling the ghoul from the bush, lifting his weak, hunger addled body from the ground. He didn't feel the touch of the third voice until they had lain him on an infirmary cot, the antiseptic scent awakening his senses like a jolt of electricity.

The third voice stayed by his bedside for an unknown amount of time, it could've been a few days or even weeks. Delta knew nothing of the time that passed, delirium and fear gripping his body and soul like a vice. Yet that presence was always next to him, the soft scent of honeysuckle, the calloused hand that held onto his in a death grip, the gentle pressure of a cool damp towel across his brow. The tears spilled, the voice going from watery when pleading for something to be done for the quintessence ghoul, to hoarse from the choked sobs that left it. Soft, loving eyes that caressed the quintessence ghoul when hands could not.

When the fever broke, the delirium began to fade. Once again Delta had passed through the shadow of death and survived, albeit this time he was not concerned if he would come out of it to tell the tale. It was then when he learned that the presence alongside him was Pebble, that he had organized the search party for him. That he spent those nights in the chapel, sleeping in the pews only when the exhaustion was too overwhelming to continue his pleas to the Dark Lord for Delta's safety.

"Why did you stay all this time?" Delta asked softly, his voice gravely and rough from the days spent screaming himself mute.

He felt Pebble's fingers gently pry open his clenched fist, before he felt an all too familiar sign pressed into his palm. I love you. It was repeated over and over until Delta closed his hand around Pebble's, holding onto the earth ghoul tighter than he ever had before.

"That's my one flaw on this Earth, that I will stay. No matter how much pain it will cause for me, because I love you and I refuse to let you break that bond" Pebble spoke, voice quivering with emotion as tears threatened to spill over yet again.

Delta knew he was right, that was the reason he found when he was knelt in the creek bed, crying out for answers. The pain he had felt in those hours and in the weeks in the infirmary were nothing compared to the aching chasm he had left in the earth ghoul's chest. The chasm widening each day he forced the only one who cared away.

"You can't bear all of this alone Delta, you've got to let us help" he said, tears spilling from the emerald eyes that never left his.

"I don't want to be a burden, I've already driven you all away. Why would anyone help now?" Delta spoke coarsely, tears brimming in his own eyes.

Pebble drew in a shuddering sigh before speaking, a hand coming up to card through the few untangled strands of silver hair on Delta's head. "You're not a burden, not to me. Not to us. We always wanted to help, but you didn't allow anyone the grace to face the horrors with you"

Delta's eyes shifted from the earth ghoul's face, forcing the tears down. Attempting to swallow down the pain he felt, the fear that constantly grips his mind. "I don't deserve that, I was barely strong enough to survive the ceremony. Why would anyone care to be saddled with the weight of my mind?"

"It's simple, the same reason I'll come back each time. We love you, truly, we still do despite it all" Pebble cupped his face in his hands, as if pleading him wordlessly to look into his eyes "because I love you. And I dont want you to ever forget that"

[viscardiac]

A season left of summer - XII

𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐗 𝐎𝐂

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: “But know this,” she rose an eyebrow. “I think Ceryse Hightower a poor match for the prince.” “And should Aella, a babe, suit him better?” He shook his head with a smile, pulling Visenya closer. “She just might.” “Let her be. Soon, Lady Ceryse shall give him an heir to care for, and this shall be long forgotten.” “I do hope you’re right,” Visenya sighed, leaning on his chest. But I don’t think you are, she thought.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.869

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: childbirth

𝐗𝐈𝐈 - 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

It was odd for Queen Visenya to see her son pacing about the garden of the manse without his wife in tow. She often walked with him, using him to steady herself. She was sure he thought the same, but her room has no place for men right now, and it was best he stayed there. He wouldn’t stop pacing, pausing only to pick apart some plant impatiently. Patience had never been his virtue, after all, and he would only make Aella more nervous. 

She’d decided it was best to keep him away. Busy was too strong a word, she wouldn’t call that busy, but away. His humours would only sour the room where he was, and none of them needed that in the moment. The midwives had been called in the early morning, before the dawn, though the queen was surprised it wasn’t needed before that. When the dark moon had set in, she knew it would be soon, though not as soon as she expected. Aella had been restless for a day or two, already, when her water broke.

Now it was an hour past noon, and there was nothing new to report. She heard no screams, no rushes, and so, she assumed everything to be fine. If there was any trouble, she was to be called at once. It hurt to wait, but that was all that could be done. To everyone who wasn’t personally bringing the child to this world, it was nothing but a wait.

“Why is this taking so long?” Maegor complained, stopping for a moment to cross his arms and stare up at the general direction of the princess’ rooms. He had been making faces all day, as if it would solve anything 

“It’s only been a few hours. It’ll take longer,” she huffed, trying to actually get something done and read while they waited. “There’s no telling how much. Try to busy yourself.”

“This is absurd!” Maegor insisted, throwing his hands up.

“Absurd is my lack of patience in this moment. Insisting about it will not make anything go any faster. Aella is fine. Let nature do its work in peace.”

He only moved further away, complaining under his breath about things neither of them had any control over, and resumed his pacing and the mindless destroying of plants. Queen Visenya minded her book, trying to ignore the incessant mumbling. But then she heard something break faintly in the distance, followed by screaming, and then a long scream. She raised her eyebrows at it, and even more so when Maegor stopped his pacing to pay attention. They couldn’t make sense of what was said, but she continued her read on the presumption they would be warned of anything new. Queen Visenya heard no further screaming, taking that as a sign that the babe would be born soon.

A while later, however, one of the maids showed up, apologizing shyly for disturbing her. She got up and moved further away with her, hoping Maegor hadn’t seen anything. It could not be anything to worry about. It was best not to provoke Maegor unless necessary.

“Is there anything wrong?” She asked, maintaining her composure. The maid scrambled around before answering.

“No, Your Grace, but… yes.” She stumbled upon her words, but she didn’t seem grave, just worried. Maybe it was something minor.

“What happened?”

“Her Grace has locked herself in her rooms. She allows none of the maids or the midwife in. The midwife says she was progressing well, but in the turn of a moment, her grace has took hold of the sword,” the maid answered, looking down.

Queen Visenya frowned, looking from the maid to her son with the corner of her eyes. Of course. He had to find a sword to make everything difficult. She took a deep breath in.

“What sword.”

“The smaller valyrian one, Your Grace. The one His Grace keeps in the princess’ rooms.”

She ran a hand through her face, annoyed, and approached her son with a shigh. Maegor could cause trouble even when he had no idea how, and he could find a way to resolve it too. That was his wife and his son and his mess. Queen Visneya had her arms crossed, a stern look directed at him.

“Your presence is required.”

“Is it done?” He seemed to light up for a moment, and she sighed in response. Maegor took it as a no.

“Your wife has locked herself with Dark Sister. I believe not.”

***

“She can’t be serious.”

“Aella is in labor. It doesn’t need to be senseful to be serious.” Queen Visenya had the midwife in tow, and Maegor stared from her to the double doors between them and the princess.

The midwife said the princess had decided that the broth brought to her was "evil". Maegor was inclined to believe it was indeed evil, because it seemed absurd that his wife would just lose her marbles like that. Aella had then proceeded to shun everyone out of the room, livid. When they insisted at least a maid should stay, she had pulled the sword out of its sheathe and pointed it at them all, threatening to open them neck to navel. Maegor ran a hand through his face, the other on his waist, trying not to laugh at it. None of the women knew she had no idea of how to actually use the sword. Of course.

"We tried to convince her to open the door, to no use, Your Grace. Her Grace insists no one will be let in."

"How far along is she?" Queen Visenya sighed, shaking her head whil Maegor tried very hard not to laugh.

"She was just short of the pushing stage, Your Grace. It should take no more than a couple of hours until she is done. But it’s been a while now. There’s a possibility she is already in it."

Maegor took a deep breath and knocked on the door, swallowing the laugh. Apparently, someone had to talk sense into his wife. Apparently, him. He leaned against the door, knocking again when there was no response. But there was still no answer. He could hear her pacing on the floor some times.

"Aella, I know you're inside!" He called out, only to be welcomed with another scream.

"GO AWAY!"

Oh. So she really was out of her right mind.

"If you don't open this door for the midwife I am going to be forced to break it open."

"LEAVE OR I WILL GUT YOU UP LIKE A FISH!" She screamed back. Visenya laughed through her nose. He looked at his mother from the corner of his eye, thinking it very unfair she could laugh and not him.

"That is a colorful one," she shrugged.

"Aella, you have thirty seconds before I break this door open and take Dark Sister from you."

There was no response as Maegor counter down the seconds in silence, raising and lowering his fingers to keep the right track. At the end of thirty, there was still no response, no unlock, nothing. He had no habit of making empty threats, though, and the door was replaceable. The lock was old, it wouldn't take much. He slammed against the double doors once, with all his weight, that wasn’t little. Then again. And once more. They then burst open.

He didn't think he'd be seeing his little wife actually point a sword at him in anger anytime soon, and if that was any other moment, he would have had her where she stood, if not for his own lust, to remind her of who was in control. Her grip was shaky. Poor. Decent enough to convince the maids she had any clue of what she was doing, holding in the right places, but she wouldn't have lasted thirty seconds were it a real fight. Her arms were overextended in front of her, her posture was wrong. Maegor stepped closer.

"Leave!" She ordered, as if she could order him. "I will cut you."

He stepped closer once more, and once again until the tip of the sword touched his stomach.

"Cut me then. Go on."

She pressed the blade further onto him, cutting through the layers of cloth to reach and pierce his skin. And she continued to press it further on. Maybe she required blood to appease her. His gods would approve. But that was no time to shed her more blood. He grabbed the hilt, pulling it from her hands and tossing it aside with a loud noise while the maids watched.

“This is quite enough, now,” Maegor bent down, to face her at eye level. He could see fear, he could see anger, he could see something primal and twisting under the surface. “Why are you terrorizing your maids?” Not that he was opposed to terrorizing maids, but that was a terrible time to do that. His son needed to be birthed.

“I don’t want them. I want to be alone. They only bring me bad things. I don’t want them.” Aella stepped back, to which he stepped foward, raising a hand to cup her face. She seemed to relax mildly.

“You need them.”

“I don’t need them, I can do it alone.” She stated, both her hands on his forearm, her eyes pleading. “I don’t want them.”

“The midwife, then,” he sighed. “I want to know everything is fine with my son.”

“Only the midwife.” Aella gripped harder at his arm, nails digging on his skin, the same primal thing moving just under the surface present in the way her face hardened, her lips pursed. “Only one.”

He nodded, moving away, but Aella held him in place, nails breaking his skin slightly. Maegor ran a hand through his hair, looking down at his wife as she winced, breathing hard and gripping at him even harder. It seemed he wasn’t going anywhere. It was better not to disrupt her even more. He turned his head to the door call the midwife with the hand she wasn’t holding, taking a deep breath. It seemed like he was staying there.

“Close the door,” he ordered when she came in. Aella laid her forehead on his arm, breathing in, breathing out, and he turned back to her. She seemed to be pushing, and he looked from her to the midwife with some measure of panic. It was safe to say he had no idea what he was doing. Labor was no thing for men, he was out of place standing in the middle of her room, being held in place. “The midwife is going to see you.”

She nodded, breathing in. It was strange enough. He expected screaming as she pushed, something resembling the unfathomable pain he had been told about. There was none of it. There was a long moan as she winced, though, using him as support.

“Help her to the bed, Your Grace,” the midwife asked, but Aella shook her head fast, face sill down.

“No. No, no bed. I hate the bed. No bed.”

“A chair, then?” She frowned, her eyebrows knit together. Aella nodded again, though not as enthusiastically, and not letting go of Maegor's arm.

He put his other arm over her shoulders, half helping her, half carrying her to the same pretty chair she had been on most of the time. Aella sat on the edge, letting go of him to bundle her silver-gold hair in a messy bun. It went down her back again, messy and wet at the hairline. He swallowed when he saw the blood dripping down her legs, staining the fabric or her nightgown the same as he did months before. But now, the blood was hers. There was too much more at stake.

The midwife knelt between her legs, and Aella pulled the fabric up to her hips so she could see what was happening. She touched her belly, parted her legs further to expose what looked like the top of a head. Aella winced again, breathing hard in effort.

"Push, your grace," she instructed, calmly, looking up at her. The long moan was back, and Aella gripped at the edges of the chair. "Push every time the contraction comes, you understand?"

Aella nodded, still pushing. Maegor stood watching, just as out of place as he'd felt moments before. There should be maids there, not him. He couldn’t do anything there, and feeling useless wasn’t something he was use to. It was unnerving. The midwife got up and turned to pick up the cloths she had laid out to be used next to the bed, as they would be necessary soon and the maids were outside. Aella sank on the chair, slipping willingly and slowly to kneel on the floor, looking for whetever the most comfortable position was.

He could do nothing but watch as the minutes flew by, and even so, the time seemed to go by too slow as the labor progressed. Every inch of movement seemed to last hours, in expectation, in worry. He allowed himself to be relieved when the midwife informed him the bleeding was within the expected. Soon a head came out, and as his wife kept pushing, a shoulder followed, and then the other onto the clean white cloth and into the midwife’s hold. As if the child was being made on the spot, some ritual he had never been meant to see. 

"Another push, Your Grace," she instructed, and Aella did as told, breathing fast as the last of the child left its mother into the world. She was tired, but her resolve wouldn’t fade, and nor would whatever it was that crept underneath her skin. Sorcery. It had to be sorcery, he decided, trying to make sense of the scene. Nothing could cross between the world of the living and whatever lied beyond like that, in blood, in effort. He had seen what sorcery looked like on his mother’s hands, and that should be what sorcery would look like on his wife’s.

Maegor never got to see his child fully. The midwife held them, and the view was obstructed, but he didn’t dare move. Aella knew full well the babe was out of her when it did. When the child was fully out, still connected to her by the umbilical cord, she took a deep breath in, and the child seemed to do the same, in a cry he could only describe as lazy. But before anything could be said, Aella practically tore the child from the midwife's hands, hands like claws pulling the large babe to her chest. She pressed the child against her skin, looking too relieved to feel it against herself, as if separated from her babe for too long. Against her breast, the child slowly ceased crying, and she held it closer. Maegor could see the small fingers move to grab at her hair.

"A boy, your grace," the midwife turned to him at last.

He made his way to Aella, who sat down on the floor with the babe, one step at a time. Maegor knelt beside where she now sat, seeing no further than the bundle of fabric and the hands that grabbed at her. He could hear his wife shush the boy softly, eyes half-lidded, and seemed to retract when he approached, but softened once again when he moved the cloth to see the child's head laying against her nightgown. He ran his thumb on the delicate skin on his cheek, asking himself if getting exactly what he wanted would always feel like that when it happened. Dangerous. The babe sighed, and so did his mother in mirror.

"What are we to call him?" He asked, turning Aella's face to him with the tip of his fingers, as if she would break. He had thought of every name available, and yet, none seemed to come to him. She looked from him back to the babe on top of her, holding him tighter. The boy looked even bigger when next to her small frame.

"Viserion. After the Queen," she decided, placing a kiss atop her son's head, and feeling the same kiss on her head.

"Viserion, then." He nodded, then turned to the midwife. “Send for me when it’s finished.”

The midwife nodded, and Maegor turned to leave, one step at the time, as if still waiting for something to happen. When he left, closing the door behind him again, he was faced with a dozen expectant faces, from his mother to the maids. It felt even more out of place. He should be the one receiving news, not giving them.

“All is well,” he sighed, turning to his mother, who still waited for more details he wasn’t even sure how to word. All he knew is that he had a son, and both him and his wife were alive. “My son will be called Viserion as per his mother’s wish.”

Queen Visenya nodded approvingly, watching as Maegor walked away with her eyebrows up. That was not the reaction she expected.

“Are you not staying?” She asked. Maegor shook his head, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Let her be. She wanted to be alone.”

[pigeonwhumps]

Brynn and Gemma

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

@extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @actress4him

Brynn and Gemma's relationship over the years.

Brynn's supervillain whumper is now called Sovereign.

2.3k

CWs: mentioned controlling whumper, broken ankle, muzzle, touch-starved, implied abusive parental figure/child abuse (no explicit minor whump), past parental death, mentioned betrayal, self-esteem issues, internalised ableism (courtesy of Sovereign)

"I am–am B–b–black D–d–d–death, and I wu–will r–r–raze your city to–to the g-g-ground an-and ru-ru-rebuild it as-as m-m-my n-new p-p-palace!" shouts the small figure squeakily, and Gemma bites back a laugh, grateful that the kid can't see her face properly. They have a mask made from black sugar paper and a black tablecloth as a cape. A hawk is hovering just above them.

"Isn't that Sovereign's line?"

The kid puffs out their chest. "It-it's m-m-mine n-n-now. I w-work w-w-with him. An-and y-y-you'll n-n-never d-d-defeat us!"

They kick forward sloppily, and Gemma backs up, dodging the blows easily. The hawk swoops forward, and Gemma pretends to fall.

"You're right, kid. You're very strong. I can't defeat you."

"Ha-ha! M-m-me an-and Ho-ho-horus are st-stronger th-than you!" The kids holds out their hand. "H-h-h-however, I-I am a b-b-benevolent v-v-v-villain an-and wu-wu-will not k-k-k-kill you."

Gemma takes their hand and pulls herself up, pushing off the ground slightly so they don't try and take all her weight. Well, that line isn't from Sovereign.

Speaking of the supervillain...

"Br- kid, what are you doing out here? Home, now. It's well past your bedtime."

"B-b-b-but–"

"No buts. I'll play tomorrow."

Gemma can almost see the kid's pout under their mask as they stomp off. She has a million questions, none of which her nemesis will ever answer.

"My apologies for the child. Shall we get on with it?"

_

Brynn digs her hand between the bricks, scrambling to find enough purchase to keep herself upright. It doesn't work, and she can't put any weight on her ankle, dropping to the floor of the dingy back alley.

She needs to get back, but she doesn't want to crawl the whole way.

"Hey there. I saw your fall earlier. Do you need help?"

Bryan turns around to see a woman standing at the end of the alley, silouhetted by sodium-yellow streetlights. She narrows her eyes as the woman takes a step closer, hands in the air.

'Horus,' she thinks in her hawk's mind, 'investigate.'

Horus swoops forward, circling the woman, who watches him calmly. Brynn doesn't get any sense of imminent danger from him, and she doesn't really react, even when he perches on her head. Horus thinks she's no threat. A civilian, then?

"Can I help you?" asks the woman, and Brynn nods, watching warily as the woman approaches. She crouches in front of Brynn and pulls out a torch. In the light of it, she can see the woman putting the pieces together, realising who she is. Will she leave now? Swipe out in disgust and try to arrest or kill her?

To Brynn's surprise, she does nothing of the sort.

"You're Black Death, huh? Nice mask." Brynn flinches internally. It is certainly not a nice mask, but Sovereign doesn't trust her to stay silent without it. She can't correct the woman though, not without cutting her mouth open on the spikes – and even then, sound probably wouldn't come out. "I'm Gemma. What have you injured?"

Brynn points at her ankle, and Gemma examines it, wincing. "That's a nasty break. I'll splint it for you, but make sure you get it treated properly later, yeah?" Brynn nods, already knowing she won't. Gemma pulls out a first aid kit and cleans Brynn's ankle with antibacterial wipes, her touch gentle as she splints it.

The care brings tears to Brynn's eyes. The last time someone was this soft with her, she was much younger, Sovereign had just taken her in. He's not like that anymore, though, when he even bothers to treat her. And no-one else ever comes near.

She doesn't need care, she's not a baby anymore, but it's nice.

"I'm just going to find you something to use as a walking stick. Take some painkillers from the first aid kit if you need them." Brynn nods, and as Gemma strides off, pops two pills out of the packet, swallowing them dry.

She leans against the wall and watches Gemma for a while, stroking Horus absently. Who is this woman? Why is she so willing to help? Brynn's done terrible things, not at her own behest, sure, but nobody knows that. She still did them. Why's Gemma helping?

"Alright, this should do. Try it out."

Brynn takes the stick and levers herself to her feet, putting all her weight on the stick and her good foot. She doesn't fall this time.

She signs a quick, "Thank you." Gemma smiles.

"Glad I could help. Anything else?" Brynn shakes her head. "Okay. Well, take this, in case you ever need anything."

Gemma hands her a slip of paper, with an address and phone number on it. Her address? Why would she trust a villain with her address?

Brynn thanks her again and stows the paper in a secure pocket. She'll just have to make sure Sovereign doesn't find it.

It seems to burn a hole in her pocket as she limps off, and all through her meeting with Sovereign. As she collapses onto her bed, splint gone and a new pain in her ankle, she knows she can't leave. Sovereign would be sure to hunt her down if she did. So there's no point in keeping Gemma's address.

She does, though, slipping the little piece of paper under the mattress. She's not sure why she doesn't just throw it in the fireplace, let it go up in smoke, but for some reason she can't bring herself to get rid of the one piece of evidence she has that people will, occasionally, be kind.

_

Gemma resists the urge to get up as the kitchen window slides open further and a person drops inside with a small thud.

The little thief's back.

She hears rustling outside her bedroom, and knows that when she goes out in the morning, she'll see an empty plastic box that held snackd from last time they 'burgled' her, slightly rumpled bed clothes on the sofabed, and a wide-open window. Possibly a few feathers too.

She worries about Black Death, sometimes. They've gone from an excitable, dramatic small child to a wary young adult who barely talks. And who sometimes ends up in a near-stranger's house for food and sleep. She thinks Sovereign probably has something to do with it, given that they're his sidekick. It's worrying.

But she can't confront Black Death. She doesn't think they're ready to leave him, and she doesn't want to accidentally chase them out of the only place they're definitely getting food and rest from.

She just hopes they get the courage to ask for help sometime.

_

Brynn bites her lip as she hears the key turn in the lock. Gemma's here.

She was nervous enough about tonight anyway, but now she thinks this might be the same Gemma she's been stealing food from for years. The woman who helped her out, before she'd realised it was a bad idea to let anyone except Sovereign help. And now... she has to own up, right? To stealing? But what if Gemma hates her for it? The team all look up to Gemma, what would happen to her then?

"Hi Gemma," says Lian, out in the hallway. "Kai told you we have someone new, right?"

"Yeah. He and Aaron are still buying snacks, by the way, I came on ahead. She used to be a villain's sidekick?"

There's a glimmer of hope in Gemma's voice, and Brynn wonders who she's hoping to find. Can't be her. She feels a little guilty, for not being the person Gemma clearly wants.

"Yep. Sovereign's, as a matter of fact. Her alias used to be Black Death."

Gemma gasps. "She's here?"

Morfydd gives Brynn a knowing smile, and she squeezes further into Phoenix's side. She's not scared, far from it, she just... wants Phoenix. On Phoenix's other side, Santhiya groans as they fall onto her.

Oops.

Gemma enters the room then, and Morfydd gets up, running to her and throwing their arms around the retired hero. Gemma chuckles lightly, stroking Morfydd's hair.

"Missed you too. Been a hell of a fortnight, I'm guessing?" Morfydd nods. "Do you and Lian want to come and stay over soon? Get away from it all." They nod again, clutching Gemma tightly. Brynn looks away guiltily, aware that it's her sudden move that's caused all this. And what Sovereign wants her to do will make everything worse.

Eventually, Morfydd pulls away and sits on Lian's lap, where she originally was before Gemma arrived.

"Why does no-one here ever use furniture?" she asks, sounding faintly amused, before turning to Phoenix and Santhiya. "Hey Phoenix, Santhiya. How are you?"

"I'm controlling my powers well, and me and Phoenix went on another date!" replies Santhiya excitedly.

"Finally," mutters Lian. Santhiya flips him off cheerfully, contentedly sitting partially under Phoenix.

Phoenix kisses the top of Santhiya's head, then gives Gemma an exhausted smile. "It was a good date. I think I understand why everyone was so concerned when they first met me now. I'm good, though. Kai says having someone to look after is good for me, and I agree. This is Brynn."

Brynn shies away as Gemma focuses on her. "H-h-h-hi."

"Hey there. You're the newbie then, I take it?" Brynn nods. "Please say you're the same little thief whose ankle I treated a few years ago."

"Y-y-y-yes. Y-y-y-you wwwww w-w-want me to-to be?" Brynn's perplexed. Why would Gemma want to see her again?

Gemma shrugs. "You vanished, I was worried about you. Did I have a good reason to be?"

Brynn shakes her head. "I-I-I'm f-f-f-fine. I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry I st-st-stole f-f-from you."

"It's fine. I wouldn't have left the window half-open and snacks packed into tupperware if I didn't want you taking them, would I?"

Oh. Oh. Brynn's heart swoops. Sovereign was right. She really is thicker than two short planks.

"Oh. Of c-c-course. Sh-sh-sh-should've known I'm-I'm to-too stupid t-t-to b-b-b-break in." She takes a deep breath, trying to stop the incessant babble that comes out whenever she's upset. If she can't even speak properly she's not fit to speak at all.

"Hey. That wasn't what I meant, little thief. You broke in successfully the first time. The sofa was slept on and some food gone, and there were hawk feathers left behind. Deductive reasoning. It was only after that that I started leaving the window open for you. You're not stupid, far from it. You're just very brave."

"D-d-desperate," she corrects, heart in her throat. "I wu-wu-was d-d-desperate, n-n-not brave."

"Mm. You were both, I think. Do you want a hug?"

Brynn nods, ensconcing herself in Gemma's arms. She hasn't been hugged like this since her parents died, and she finds herself relaxing involuntarily.

That is, until Morfydd speaks, soft but amused.

"Does this mean that Brynn's the child you told us tried to fight you dressed in a sugar paper mask and a tablecloth?"

Brynn goes bright red as the others giggle, pressing closer to Gemma to hide her face. Damnit.

"Yep. That's Brynn."

_

Gemma looks up and covers Brynn's old mask with a tea towel when she walks into the room, wrapped in a green fuzzy dressing gown. Now Sovereign's in jail, Brynn's finally had a chance to collect the rest of her old things, and the mask is frankly horrifying. Gemma's not sure why she chose to keep it, given the obvious fear it inspires in her, but she doesn't plan on bringing it up unless Brynn does.

"Hey. Come and have some food." Brynn pours herself a small bowl of coco pops and takes a seat, the overlarge dressing gown making her look tiny. "How are you doing?"

Brynn nods. "Ffffff f–f-f-fine. I–I–I llllike th-th-the bu-bu-bu-bed." She inhales a spoonful of cereal. "Wu-wu-wu-when you ff-f-fixed m-m-my an-an-ankle, Ssssssss Sovereign re-re-re-rebroke it. I-I sh-sh-sh-shouldn't have g-g-got help f-f-from an-anyone bu-bu-but him. So-so I d-d-d-didn't kn-know h-h-h-how to-to lu-lu-lu-leave. I'm-I'm s-s-s-sorry."

Oh, god. She should've gotten Brynn out of there years ago, damn letting her make her own choices.

"Hey. It's okay, Brynn. Sovereign was my nemesis for years, and although I didn't know just how awful he was, I know you didn't have a choice. In fact, you're the one who defeated him in the end."

"It-it wu-wu-wu-wouldn't have b-b-been necessary if-if I w-w-wasn't a-a c-c-coward. C-c-can't I j-j-j-just h-h-hand m-myself in-in?"

"No. That's why you're staying with me, to stop you from doing that. It's why Phoenix tied you down at first. You're not going to prison, I don't care how much you think you deserve it."

Brynn squeezes her eyes shut, tears spilling out from under her eyelids. Gemma squeezes her hand gently.

"I m-m-miss them. Ph-ph-phoenix th-the m-m-most."

"You can call them if you like. You won't be disturbing them, if they're busy they just won't answer."

"I'm sc-scared," she whispers. "Y-y-y-you d-d-d-didn't see th-the others' ffff f-f-faces. Th-the b-b-betrayal. Wu-what if th-they– wu-what if Ph-ph-phoenix an-and San-santhiya are-are are-are-are-are–"

Gemma waits, but Brynn just slams her mouth shut and shakes her head, unable to go on. "You won't know until you speak to them, and you have to speak eventually. If it helps, I don't think Phoenix has it in them to hate you."

Brynn picks her phone up and unlocks it with shaking fingers. She stares at the screen, unmoving.

"Do you want me to give you some privacy while you call?" asks Gemma quietly. Brynn shakes her head, squeezing Gemma's hand in a death grip.

Eventually, she presses call, then puts it on speaker. The phone barely has a chance to ring before Phoenix picks up.

"Hello? Brynn?"

"H-h-h-hey."

"Oh, thank god, you're okay. You haven't handed yourself in. How, um, how are you doing?"

Phoenix sounds exhausted but happy to hear from one of their partners, and Brynn smiles tentatively, loosening her hold on Gemma.

Gemma's relieved, and not just for the regaining of feeling in her fingers. It's good to see Brynn smile and talk. Gemma hasn't seen enough of that.

[everyonesfavoritepipecleaner]

Found

Summary: in which Spencer finds a whole lot more than a book

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2500 on the dot!

Genre: fluff, fluff, fluff ☁️

Content Warning: none!

A/N: this is the first piece of writing I’ve ever released from my drafts and into the light of day and I’m slightly terrified so bear with me!! when I wrote this I was picturing baby Spence, just so awkward in the absolute cutest way where you can’t help but fall in love with him, but there’s nothing that ties it to a specific time in the show

tagging @notanotherreidgirl - finally posting this a whole two days later, yay!

please feel free to let me know your thoughts and feedback! alright, that’s enough from me. I hope you enjoy!!

There are some people who fall in love with strangers they pass on the sidewalk, who take the long way home in search of adventure, who are predisposed to peer through the rough edges of the world in search of the beauty between the cracks.

Spencer Reid has never been the type.

He’s sitting on the metro, heading home after a long day. The team hasn’t been called on a case in almost two weeks, though there’s still the ever-present backlog of paperwork to trudge through. While Spencer normally doesn’t mind the more mundane parts of the job, it’s gotten to the point where even he has to admit he’s ready for a change of pace.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

The question cuts through the noise of the metro and Spencer snaps to attention. He looks around in a split second of confusion before he realizes his satchel is taking up the last empty seat.

“Oh. Oh! No, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes as he scrambles to pull the bag onto his lap. He had been so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice the train had grown so crowded.

“No, that’s okay!” you assure him and plop down with a small sigh of relief, resting your own bag on the floor under your seat.

Spencer, who in his flurry of movement had really only looked at your torso and your shoes, casts a curious glance to the side.

He almost wishes he hadn’t, because he’s not prepared for what he sees—sitting next to him is quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Not beautiful in a purely physical way, though he certainly thinks you are, but more so in the way that he can tell you’re wholly, unapologetically yourself. That you’re comfortable with who you are and your place in the world.

You’re a breathtaking, captivating presence, and his typically over-active mind is devoid of all thoughts but these: he wants to say hello, he feels like your paths were supposed to cross, and it doesn’t make any sense that he’s thinking this way about a complete stranger who’s spoken a total of nine words to him. Your mere existence and subsequent proximity to him have caused something to short-circuit in his brain. As he’s trying desperately to work up the courage to introduce himself the train comes to a stop—yours evidently, because just like that, you’re gone.

Disappointment settles hard into his chest. Why can’t he be more confident, more outgoing? It shouldn’t have taken him four stops to decide to strike up a conversation. He stares intently at the spot where you had been, hoping to solidify your presence in his mind, when it catches his eye: the well-worn cover of a book peeking out from below the seat. He thinks it must have slipped from your bag and leans down to grasp it, turning it over gently in his hands to be met with the title. Anna Karenina. Tolstoy.

A smile tugs at his lips as he recalls the story. He’s read it countless times, and judging by the condition of the book, so have you. His heart rate increases at the thought that you have something in common. It increases further still when it crosses his mind that there might be something identifiable in the book…something that could help him return it to you, to see you again.

He cracks open the front cover and as luck would have it, finds your name — Y/N Y/L/N — scrawled out in sweeping letters. However, that’s all he finds. No phone number, no other means of contacting you. Just your name.

His tongue pokes out to run over his bottom lip as he considers asking Garcia to find your information. But would that be crossing a line, having the FBI’s technical analyst look you up, just so he can return your book? Probably…definitely. He resigns himself to the fact that it makes more sense to turn it into the transit authority lost and found and hope it makes its way back to you.

That can wait for tomorrow, he decides, and tucks your book into his satchel where it sits among his own. Some selfish part of him wants to keep it for a while longer, if only to prolong that connection he felt. It was such an innocent moment, an everyday interaction between strangers, and yet he can't stop thinking about it.

About you.

When he arrives home, he settles onto his couch and pulls your book back out, handling it delicately like it might shatter in his hands. He opens it up to find it’s marked with annotations and doodles in the margins, sticky notes folded over the pages, and your favorite lines highlighted in a myriad of colors. Intrigued, he flips back the pages and starts from the beginning, allowing himself to be immersed in your world of thought. He almost feels guilty for peering into this window of your life you surely weren’t planning on sharing with a stranger on the metro, analyzing your handwriting and trying (but ultimately failing) not to profile you through the lens of your observations.

Almost being the operative word here. He’s too wrapped up in the honesty of your commentary, the optimistic openness your handwriting conveys, the thought-provoking questions in the margins, and the highlighted quotes that are all of his favorites, too, to feel truly guilty about anything. In fact, it only serves to heighten the inexplicable way he feels drawn to you. He wonders how it’s possible to feel this strong of a connection solely through a fleeting glance, a few words spoken, and thoughts written on a page.

He huffs out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. For someone who touts the cold hard facts of science all day, he often forgets how much of a romantic he is at heart. He can practically hear Morgan teasing him for believing, even for a millisecond, that finding this book was part of the universe’s cosmic plan, set in motion eons ago to bring two strangers together. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought, but continues exploring the notes you left in the margins anyway.

It’s the early hours of the morning before Spencer finally manages to tear himself away from your book. He simply couldn’t find the willpower to put it down, memorizing the looping curves of your handwriting as he re-lived the story through your perspective. He can’t help but laugh to himself, because of course the most brilliantly annotated book also belongs to the most mesmerizing girl he’s ever laid eyes on. After spending the night engrossed in your thoughts, he has to remind himself that he doesn’t actually know you.

But he wants to.

God, how he wants to.

At work the next day, Spencer walks into the break room with Anna Karenina still in hand. While it’s far from unusual for him to be preoccupied by a book, it’s the dreamy smile on his face that catches the attention of his teammates.

“Morning, Spence,” JJ chirps from her spot at the table with Penelope.

He doesn’t respond, too focused on the quote in front of him, ‘I always loved you, and if one loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be.’ It’s been highlighted so many times that the color has bled through the page and the words have taken on a subtle fade, their ink lifting ever so slightly with each pass of the highlighter. In all the times you’ve re-read the book, this is the line that stood out to you every single time, and the thought fills him with an unexpected sense of warmth.

The girls exchange a knowing look, and JJ elbows Penelope when she notices Spencer almost pour salt into his coffee instead of sugar.

Never one to exemplify patience when she feels there's gossip to uncover, the tech analyst strides over to him and plucks the book from his hands before he can object. She studies him, an uncontrollable grin breaking out on her face as he grows progressively more red under her discerning gaze. Penelope Garcia may not be a profiler, but she’s second to none when it comes to sniffing out potential romance.

“Spencer Reid! Who’s Y/N?!” She squeals gleefully as she opens the front cover and sees your name.

“Um...no one?” he says, well aware of the fact that there’s no way Garcia will drop the subject until she gets an explanation. Her raised eyebrow and crossed arms prove this, and that’s all it takes for him to cave.

“Really, I don’t know her. She sat next to me on the metro yesterday and it must have slipped out of her bag. I read it and all of her annotations last night and she just—she seems so smart, and witty, and sweet!” He rushes, hardly stopping for a breath between words. “And maybe it’s all in my head—or my heart, I don’t know —but I feel like I’m supposed to see her again.”

“You want me to look her up?” Penelope asks, all too eager at the chance to play matchmaker.

Spencer’s face changes from scarlet to a deep vermillion, “The thought did cross my mind, but, uh…it just feels like an overstep? Like I said, I don’t even know her.”

“You’re overthinking things, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “I mean, everyone’s so easy to find on social media nowadays that I don’t think—”

“I’m not on social media,” Spencer’s quick to remind her.

“Well, you’re a special circumstance,” she laughs at his interruption, “But my point is, looking someone up online to return a lost book is not as weird as you’re making it out to be.”

He considers it, about to ask his friends exactly how one goes about contacting the person who could quite possibly be the love of their life on the internet, when Derek walks over and delivers the words that signify the end of their two-week paperwork streak.

“Hotch needs us in the conference room.”

__________

Spencer steps onto the metro, ready to head home after an exhausting case. He’s staring blankly ahead, his mind running over all the things that went well and all the things that should have gone better, when a familiar face catches his attention. You look up and catch him at the exact moment he’s noticed you, the flicker of recognition shining behind your eyes. His mouth goes dry and he can hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He’s been able to think of little else than this moment since he missed his chance to say hello six days ago, but now that it’s here he has no idea what to do.

“It’s you,” he finally manages to murmur, cringing the second the words leave his mouth. Miraculously, his reaction doesn’t phase you, a laugh tumbling from your lips that threatens to melt his heart.

“It’s me,” you answer with a warm smile as he settles down into the seat next to you. “I’ve been hoping I’d run into you again.”

“You have?” he asks, incredulous. It never crossed his mind that you might have been thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you.

“Mmhmm,” you nod eagerly, and he’s sure he’s never seen anything so adorable, “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid, but just Spencer — Spencer is fine!” he rushes, his face heating up when you giggle.

“Well it’s nice to officially meet you, just Spencer,” you say, a teasing smile tugging at your features.

“It’s nice to meet you too. Oh! I, actually—“ he clears his throat as he reaches into his satchel to retrieve your book, “I actually think I have something of yours. It was on the ground under your seat the other night.”

“Oh my God! I’ve been looking everywhere for this, it’s my favorite book! I was so upset when I thought I’d lost it. Thank you!”

“I planned on taking it to the lost and found,” he insists, “but then I read it and read your annotations—which were incredibly insightful, by the way—and I…I think I held onto it hoping I’d see you again, too.”

“Well, lucky us,” you marvel at him, “I guess some things are just meant to be.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “yeah, I guess they are.”

“Wait. Hold on.” You pause, circling back to something he glossed over. “You read all of Anna Karenina in less than a week?”

“One night, actually,” he blushes.

“Wow, who are you Dr. Reid?” you ask, and there’s your laugh again, the lilting sound that makes him feel lightheaded as he smiles back at you.

The train begins to slow and you start gathering your belongings. “This is me,” you say reluctantly. “Listen, um, I know this is a bit forward, but would you want to go out sometime? Dinner, maybe?”

He’s fully beaming now, “Yeah — yes! I’d love that.” The way your face lights up when you hear his answer makes him certain he’d be willing to do absolutely anything to make you happy.

“Great!” You take out a pen and scribble something under your name on the inside cover, then hand the book over to him. “Here’s my number.” He opens his mouth to protest that he can’t take your favorite book, but you grin and shake your head as if you can read his mind.

“Add your own annotations and give it back to me on our date. I’d love to hear your thoughts. I think it’s only fair since you’ve already read mine,” you say with a wink. You wrap your hands on top of his to solidify his grip on the book and he’s quite literally shocked by the lightning he feels chase through his veins at your touch.

He blinks back, awestruck. At a loss for words for maybe the first time in his life, all he can manage to stammer out is a soft, “okay.”

“I’m really glad we met, Spencer. I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely! I’ll call you,” he says, standing up to follow you to the door as you step out onto the platform.

“Looking forward to it,” you reply with a giddy smile. You turning to wave to him as the doors close and the train pulls away, leaving you silhouetted in the fluorescent lights. He stares after you like he’s been waiting in the dark his whole life and you’re the first light on the horizon—the dawn of a new day, a promise of good to come.

There are some people who fall in love with strangers they pass on the sidewalk, who take the long way home in search of adventure, who are predisposed to peer through the rough edges of the world in search of the beauty between the cracks.

Spencer Reid has never been the type.

But with you, he feels like he could be.

[yanderenightmare]

How would the yanderes react if their darling was the one to initiate intimacy/sex for the first time, and how do you think their darling would come to that point? (stockholm syndrome? being touch starved/deprived as punishment? etc.)

thirsty ! BNHA imagines

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon/dubcon, abuse, profanity, anxiety, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mind control

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

-ADDICTION

She was riding for dear life, chasing that light at the end of the tunnel.

Eyes tightly squeezed shut as she hopped up and down, sliding upon Bakugo’s impressive girth, moaning each time his tip poked into her cervix as she clapped down onto his lap again and again and again and again, harder and harder, deeper and deeper, hitting knew spots upon new spots, messaging uncharted territory, rearranging her organs, poking and prodding and fitting so snuggly and perfectly inside her she could all but start crying from the bliss of it all.

She was crying. Hot tears streaming down her cheeks, numb with how warm she was, feverish and febrile and growing madder with pleasure, drunk and drowning in euphoria.

“Fuck.” He stuttered out his gruff moan, barely holding onto her hips anymore.

He'd been inspired and insured that it would be fine to let her move on her own now, knowing he’d made it clear enough she wouldn’t be going anywhere without him being satisfied first, thinking she was showing so much enthusiasm simply to make him come quicker.

He hadn't yet sensed how desperately she was chasing the same release he was, especially since he’d already made sure she came twice before they even started. Once on fingers, once on his tongue. He wasn’t at all thinking she was preparing herself for a third time, especially not on his cock.

Having left her to do all the work for a while now, having been rendered completely blissed-out and awestruck with feeling her eager movements on top of him, he couldn’t really care much for how pathetic a mess he must have looked beneath her.

His eyes scrunched together to hold onto every sharp movement of her hips, lips pursed out and puckered with his grit-teeth, his cock standing proudly, pushing into her again and again at such a fast pace he was barely able to feel his climax coming dangerously close, too numb with pleasure to part it from his release, but as his balls were emptying inside her he shot up into a sitting position in favor of lying down, needing to hold her still so he could pump his load without it spilling, arms reaching around her to keep her pushed down and impaled on him.

She tried humping for more friction even in the tight secured lock, rocking into him, kept snug against his chest, trying so desperately to reach with his cock what was screaming inside her.

He made some indication he was done. His thick arms losing their grip around her torso, head resting on her shoulder as he panted, not yet understanding what hell or heaven he was in for, taken by surprise, by overwhelming panicked surprise.

“No!” She roared out her little whine. Her smaller hands protruding nails digging into his chest to push him back down on the bed, then continuing to ride despite feeling him tense beneath her. 

He tried moving again, fearing, panicking because of his overstimulated cock being continuously pleased almost enough for it to be painful. The hunger already quenched being kept fed, drowning the thirst, so much he felt as though something might burst.

Her hands moved to yank his hair, pulling him back to rest on the pillow, her other hand pushing, seizing around his throat, violating his Adam’s apple, forcing him to gasp as he choked both on the action itself but also at the sheer controversy of it all.

Her mouth hovering above his own as he groaned from the pain of having his hairs ripped from his scalp and his vocal cords abused, whereas she only moaned in return, too concerned with feeling every inch of her being on fire to care.

“Oh fuck, please, Katsuki, please, more.”

Something tight tugged in his pelvis at the same time awe blossomed in his chest at the sight of her and those pretty eyes looking at him with tears and that sweet crinkle of plead between her brows.

His name dripping from her tongue like honey as she continued going up and down the length of his oversensitive cock, slipping even easier in now when coated in his cum. Her thighs sticking to his in juices as her head dipped to lay against his chest while she continued slapping, jumping on his cock with an unrelenting, unsatisfied determination.

His cock throbbed inside her, nearly crying, screaming with something playfully akin to aching, a pressure building again even as he thought it impossible.

She was stabbing herself with his cock, squeezing and seizing and fluttering around the blade, driving him mad.

But as soon as he got over the feeling of bursting, could he pull himself back.

Grabbing her waist and hoisting her off him, she nearly sobbed at the loss of contact.

He pouted in mimic, condescendingly. “Is the little slut begging for more?”

He grinned maniacally as he mounted her, surprised to see and feel her desperately trying to get closer as he pushed her down into the sheets beneath him, lining himself up with her sopping greedy cute little cunt.

He only teased for about a moment more before impaling her on his length once again, pushing all the way into her in a mere swift second, dragging a real pornstar-beautiful moan from her, gleeful to see her squeal with pleasure as he began thrusting into her sharply, angled to hit that sweet blissful spot inside her.

“Be a good girl and cum for me again.” He growled and she swore she felt it like thunder in her stomach, like explosions, like lightning striking. “That’s what you want isn’t it?” The frenzy in his voice, once only terrifying, now made her toes curl and her head feel like cotton. “You want me to make you cum? You want to cum on my cock like a good slut? My slut? Come on, cum for me.”

She was being fucked completely silly.

Tongue falling from her mouth along with a string of wet moans and drool and his name. Her eyes swimming with tears as she tried focusing on his and the gut-churning look of feral dominant lust in the heat of them that had her pussy clenching around him, yet was barely able to hold his gaze as she was being fucked into a cross-eyed mess, feeling the pressure build and build and build and getting so close to bursting she was crying with how she was being kept from her climax by some unknown cruelty.

She just needed him to go harder, go faster.

She just needed more, she just needed him, needed him and his glorious cock to help her.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

-APOLOGY

“I hate you!”

It slipped before she was able to stop it, before she could reconsider, before she could save herself.

She watched with terror-wide eyes locked on his, awaiting whatever awful murderous intent he chose fit for her punishment, and was at once trembling.

Knees growing weak, apologies falling broken on her tongue as her fear’s need to cry outweighed her wish for recovery, resulting in simply blubbering on her sobs. Small frail hands reached out in protection, in a timid means of making him give her a second to gather herself as she fell apart with the painful fear that clenched around her heart, making it hard to breath, making it hard to see, hard to stand, hard to think, hard to do anything except for gasp for air, air that seemed to not want to enter her lungs quick enough.

“Hey, hey… breathe.”

She hadn’t even realised she’d collapsed, nor that Izuku had come to catch her fall, rocking her back and forth in his arms, head resting in his palm. Her eyes wide and frantic as she looked up at him for help, helpless in her crippling anxiety, anxiety he was the trigger of and seemingly the only source of comfort as well.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, please, forgive me, forgive me!” She gulped on shuddering breaths, sobbing, hysterical in her scrambling, so completely panicked, so utterly destroyed by her fear of him, knowing how those hands of his could hold the world just as easy as her head and her heart, where despite knowing that through and through she still sought out the comfort in how his fingers stroked through her locks, petting her calm.

Her hands, retrieving more and more mobility, reached up to fold across his back.

“I don’t hate you, I’m sorry, I’m just stupid, forgive me, I’m just ungrateful and spoiled and stupid.”

Tears rolled down her face as she propped herself up in his lap, hands desperate as she intertwined them in his locks, fervently trying to make up for her mistake, trying to prove she was able to correct herself, that she didn’t need another lesson, another one of his mind-shattering bone-crushing lessons. 

The fact that he’d forced her into a perverted set of lingerie had fallen to waste, the fact that he’d been lecturing her about how she belonged to him, how she had no right to disobey him, how she was just a dumb little girl in a world too big for her to ever possibly understand, how she was good for nothing but being stress-relief for him. None of that mattered anymore.

What mattered was persuading him into taking enough pity on her to let her indiscretion slide.

She just needed to beg enough, she just needed to grovel and plead and cry enough.

“Sweetie…” He hummed, no anger present in his voice, but then again, there never was. Tone always laced or dripping with honey, giving no hint as to where his mindset was or what he was about to do.

And all it managed to do was make her cry harder, hold onto him tighter, fear climbing higher.

“It’s okay, Sweetie… I know you didn’t mean it.”

His words were all but reassuring, as she was waiting for the other side of the coin to show its face, waiting to hear his but’s and if’s and punishments and corrections, waiting for those hands of his to show her, to prove to her what she already knew yet let herself forget, that she was a small helpless stupid girl and he was nothing short of god.

“But…”

And there it was, her worst fear, her worst nightmare, all sounded in one word.

She couldn’t let him continue, and by god she couldn’t let him finish.

Wet soft bloated lips met, or rather pushed, forced themselves upon his stiff ones, suffocating all reprimanding comments, all and everything he was about to say.

She shuffled into a cradling position on his lap, body and chest glued tightly in his embrace, hands running, tangling, gripping desperately onto the emerald locks at the nape of his neck, lips whimpering upon his ones, as though begging them to kiss back.

That desperation tasted delicious on his tongue. How she sat on his lap like some wounded animal, begging for the kind and nurturing hand of their master to help soothe the pain away.

He wasn’t about to discourage that type of behavior, that form of apology.

She wasn’t ready to take his cock, but then again, she never was with how gifted he was and how cursed she were. His cock being so threateningly huge, just like the rest of him.

But given the rest of him was just as threatening, she could manage, she could survive taking but one of his limbs rather than having all his brutal strength take care of her.

So she buttoned up his pants, trembling fingers working hurriedly, spiked by fear of both what was to come and what would come were she to stop. Her mouth still laying sloppy tearful kisses onto his lips, as he didn’t seem to mind just how much she was sobbing to please him.

She was at once stroking him when he was out, her other hand rushing to save her own life as it messaged her clit, trying to warn her of what was to come, what needed to come.

Still he hadn’t said anything, still let her slave for him. Though that might be for the best in this case.

His large hands placed palms down on the floor, simply supporting him as he leaned on them.

When she broke off the kiss, he was about to correct her, yet she ducked quicker, wrapping her warm and wet lips around his cock and giving th head a swirl with her tongue before pushing down as far as she could, glucking on him so eagerly and desperately, rendering what reprimanding movement was to come of his hand to an encouraging petting of her head instead.

She only sucked for a brief moment, leaving the proudly bobbing spit-slicked pole cold once she parted with only strings of drool connecting them. She shuffling back up to align him with her entrance hurriedly.

Her lip quivered as she looked at him to search his stoic features, her body frozen, left to simply hover and sway above his impatient member, as she tried her best to quickly brace herself for the pain she was about to feel.

But then his patience wavered, and strong hands griped her hips and forced her down to take the cock, impaling her as he sheathed himself fully, earning a high-pitched screaming whimper from her.

She fell to his chest, hands tugging his shirt to steady herself as she winced at the feel of him tearing her apart.

“Silly me…” He chuckled, the sound cold and gut-wrenching. “Rewarding you when I should be punishing you.”

She breathed sporadically, hitched and hiccupping.

“I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it-”

Agreeing was the only course of action for her, the only thing she could afford.

“That’s right, you don’t deserve it.”

But the world is far from fair.

TODOROKI SHOTO

-DISTRACTION

He was coming.

He was coming and nothing could stop him, nothing could change his mind, nothing could help and nothing could save her, except maybe the next worst thing.

Bargaining pain with unwanted pleasure, the price being her pride, her dignity, her strength.

It would happen anyway after he was done making pretty artwork of her flesh, after he’d tampered with her limits long enough.

She had the chance to skip to the end. But the price remained her spirit, steep like her fear and heavy like her mind, heart and soul scaled together.

And yet, she made the gamble.

It was either she let him bite, chew and swallow her heart and spirit and soul on repeat or she bit back.

This was her biting back.

This was survival of the fittest.

This was her surviving.

She needed to take her aim now or never, before he did it first. So, she barreled the arrow, struck the bow, leveled her hawkeye and took the shot.

“I love you, Shoto.” She proclaimed.

Arrow flying, hands smooth in receiving his chest before he could tug her towards him. Meeting his hungry approach with a focused desperation of her own, dedicated as she pushed him back so that he was the one sitting and she was the one on top for once.

Hands gentle, without much pressure, drumming up the bruises and scars of his chiseled stomach, one side cold, the other hot.

“Will you let me show you how much I love you?” She questioned.

Time to see if the arrow had hit, lips pressed firmly to his forehead a short second later, before pressing one against his temple, careful to not hurt him where the skin was scarred and sensitive around his eye, then one against his jaw, and neck, and shoulder, and chest, trailing down further and further.

He stirred once she kissed on a particular cut, his hands coming to hold her back as he began sitting up.

Yet she was firm in her resolution, her own hands pushing his shoulders down.

“No, no...” She tutted, tone still soft. Not at all as though she was giving him a demand. Not at all like how he thought a command should sound, what he’d learned his mistakes would grant him from those people he trusted.

Not at all like his father’s voice of tyranny and terror.

“Let me take care of you.” She whispered it, and his heart clenched with memories of how his mother would patch him up after training.

The arrow well planted in his chest now.

“You just lie back...”

She kissed his cheek then, adamant she’d make him cry, make him become soft, help him, to save herself.

“Relax....”

She kissed his lips then and she swore she heard him whimper like a kicked pup, all fragile beneath her, broken and just a boy rather than the cruel man she knew him to be.

And then he was crying. Softly and quietly, but crying nonetheless. Thin streams of saltwater running down the corners of his pretty eyes.

He looked so vulnerable then. Vulnerable like glass, no… like ice melting.

And when the ice had finally melted she could either swim or drown in what ocean was left behind, all depended on how softly she handled him, where one wrong word would make him sharp like bladed icicles again, and the right words would keep him like this. Small, weak, needy, tame. You can only kiss storms when you’re right in the eye of them, where one misstep will send you flying, falling, to your despair, to your death.

She could make no mistakes.

She aligned her naked sex up with his. The steam in the room layered thick with dew on their naked bodies, alongside nervous sweat.

“You and I are the only ones that matter in this entire world, Shoto…”

She sat down, hungrily ripping a groan from his chest at her almost brutal pace, and she moaned as she dipped down to lay herself on his chest, feeling him sink and twitch inside her, fill her up so perfectly, like two things falling into sync, like yin and yang, like balance.

“It’s only you and me between heaven and hell.”

She whispered the words like a chant, like witchcraft, the breath of them tickling his skin as she kissed down his pelvis, still firmly planted on top of him, hand trailing after, running over him smoothly and precisely, careful in their venture, before dropping down from the loft of his hips to entangle her small breakable finger in his destructive hands

“And everything else is just falling snow…”

She rocked her hips, like a smooth wave rolling into shore, thighs cradling his torso snugly, keeping him safe and trapped beneath her as she continued lolling forward on repeat, tentatively feeling after the pressure his hands gave hers, how tightly he squeezed, if it were a form of encouragement or discomfort, their wrists laid on the warmth of her thighs.

“I love you, Snow-Angel.” He cried, voice jagged and so far away from anything she’d ever heard.

And though this was what she’d been aiming for, having it enrol before her was a frightening type of uncharted waters she hadn’t at all any knowledge of how to tackle.

And that fear, the fear of drowning, increased so spectacularly when he sat up.

His fingers slipping from hers, leaving her control and wrapping around her torso instead, tightly, so tightly she feared he’d break her spine.

And then the heat followed, the blistering heat.

And then the cold, the promise of frostbite.

But then… he was still crying...

Crying like a toddler into her shoulder, nuzzling in her neck and all those terrifying and painful promises seemed to mellow, leaving her unscathed yet panicked, as without the pain she had no way of knowing when or where to go, resulting to her simply sitting there, comforting her captor, speared on his cock of her own choosing, with his tears running down her back.

Her heart beating painfully rapid in her chest as she slowly and unsurely raising her freed fingers to wrap into his dual-coloured locks, petting his head and hoping, praying she wasn’t falling prey to any false sense of safety.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

-HABIT

They were doing what they always did.

Simply lounging.

Slugged on the bed, in each-other’s arms. Sickly sweet fumes in the dank room. Air thick like a cloud, dark and grey and matt.

The walls having been erased or rather blurred out into nothing, leaving them there, floating in and about nothing, each-other’s warmth the only constant.

Where in the complete lack of scheduling it had become like schedule, like ritual to simply lay and do nothing, then do something that threw them back into exhaustion which in turn resulted in yet again doing nothing, except maybe sleep.

The day lacked much, and in its lacking there were certain expectations, certain instincts and impulses that had arisen inside her.

She knew something was coming, anticipation, she knew something was supposed to come, and yet they still laid there and did nothing, when they were supposed to be doing… well… something, so that they yet again could go back to doing nothing.

It was safe to say her head had become rather empty at this point.

“Are we forgetting something?” She felt the need to ask, felt the need to hear Dabi tell her, give orders in where she should go and what she should say, something not allowing her to feel the terror of why those necessasties had become second nature or why she found refuge in them.

He mumbled in return, tone dark and scratchy like gravel or coal, evoking something to twist in her lower abdomen and purr with pleasure. “And what would that be?”

Dabi’s hand still fingered a rolled blunt, perfect with his expertise and nimble lanky fingers. Hand dragged to his mouth to take the final blow, smoke puffed out into the small space of the bedroom, layered thickly in the air.

Her eyes puffy and watery and red yet remaining open out of habit. Her lips burned, or rather stung, prickled from the after affects, her mouth dry as though full of ash, and as she breathed she felt the scratchy raw feeling of her throat by how much she’d been coughing earlier.

Dabi was always certain she didn’t take proper drags, therefore resulting in taking the drag for her, locking his lips painfully tight around hers, blowing until her face turned red and he could be sure the smoke reached her lungs. He was never satisfied before her eyes glossed over, blank and stupid, blinking at him so softly, as all off her became softer and softer, both her gaze, her voice, her words, her actions, her thoughts, her resistance.

“I don’t know…” She honestly didn’t, all she felt was that something was missing, that she required something, or that something was required of her, the feeling that she was supposed to be doing something or have something done to her. 

Dabi turned his head to look at her, inspecting her features, the cute confusion warping her face into a feeble timid expression, brows softly scrunched together, eyes focusing on nothing yet something as she raked through her empty head, her foggy ditzy subdued head.

A look of near endearment present on his face as he watched on for a second for the sake of amusement.

He cupped her cheek, her eyes quickly skittering to meet his, as though on command, knowing by instinct that was what she was supposed to do.

“Are you waiting for something, doll?”

Her lips quivered, and he could already spot the brimming of bubbling tears that came flooding to the surface. Soon to be spluttering out hopeless mumbles if he didn’t save her from the fall first. He was almost tempted not to, if only to scoop up what was left afterwards, put the pieces back together in whatever order he so wished, but he was feeling benevolent tonight.

His smile was soft as it neared her, deceptively so, kind and well-wishing, as his lips met with hers.

It felt like salvation, it felt like peace, it felt like all was falling into place, the way they should be, and she felt safe, no… she felt saved. From what? She did not know, as she had not the mind to care. All she had the mind for was to kiss back.

She moved more on her own now, with the reminder of his tongue in her mouth, the taste making her feel like she was being welcomed home.

Leg sweeping over his to plant herself in his lap, in her rightful place, feeling the all too familiar poking of his hard cock kept bulged beneath the comfort or discomfort of his briefs and jeans, brushing into and past the thin fabric of her cotton laced panties, soon to be drenched, as on cue, as though she’d been taught that would be best.

Her eyes were wide, wide with falling, with being lost, with wanting him to catch her, to save her, wide with waiting, hanging onto his every movement, as though incapable of doing anything on her own, as though only capable of taking orders. Just as he’d shaped her.

His finger drummed alongside her thighs where she knelt on his cock. His other hand doing the same, meeting where his jeans were kept on, unbuttoning, then zipping down, all so slowly, all to watch her features turn even more lost, into something that looked so adorably like hope.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He pulled his stiff dick out of his boxers, having it spring and stand proudly in the air, curved and pierced with all sorts of fun.

She licked her lips mindlessly, eyeing the pole, wanting, no, needing, no… compelled to pull her underwear aside, revealing what dripping drooling well-trained mess had pooled from her.

Feeling so utterly fulfilled, it feeling so positively right, as though what she’d lost was now returned, was she’d been missing she’d found, and what more, what she’d been missing had been missing her as well, hungrily so, painfully so. It was all she could think of when she eased down onto the towering pole until she was filled up to the brim, only to push down some more to envelope him entirely, feel him stretch and curve inside her.

More after that, she didn’t know what she needed to do, but she was sure she’d know once she got there, she was sure Dabi would be a saint and tell.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

-BOREDOM

She was losing her mind.

It was a horrendous type of silence. Silence that wasn’t really silence at all as it was cut and sliced and murdered and bled out into the tactless endless mocking clicking of Tomura’s consoler.

Sharp aggressive smacks where he thumbed the joysticks, quick slaps with his long veiny bony fingers slamming with unneeded force into fragile buttons. 

She felt the sting in her temple, eyes squeezed so impossibly tight to a close as her ears sung with irritation.

“I’m done.”

She only barely recognised her own voice. Though she knew she mouthed the words and she knew she added timber and tone to sound them, but that whine, that sickly sweet defeat that laced the syllables, as though she were crying, as though she were begging, that wasn’t her, but that was who she’d become.

“You win.”

And she wasn’t at all sure if she cared anymore about her defeat.

“No… I’m about to.” He mumbled, eyes glancing to her briefly, split-secondly, before they swiftly, with lightning speed, stuck back to watch the bright screen a foot in front of him, the clicking made by his ruthless fingers never once stopping.

She wondered how such force was even possible, given he had to lift one digit on each hand in order not to destroy what he held so preciously. How he had the grip, the agility, the mobility and speed and precision was something that spurred through her mind each time she watched him go on, winning more so than losing. She guessed it was practice. Sometimes it would amaze her, somedays she would watch mindlessly as he sped through all levels, all ranks, all challenges, all side quests, win after win, wondering if it even posed any challenge, any stimulation when he seemed to complete them all with such ease and finesse, effortlessly.

Sometimes it would amaze her, but this was not one of those times.

She swore her ears were bleeding, they were screaming and crying and strangling all wishes she had of sleep. The bed was too soft and everything was too soft, too quiet, yet not quiet at all and she was so fucking bored, so fucking drained of everything and anything except irritation and the need for something and anything, something loud, something sharp to wake her up, something terrifying or something anything everything that could make her feel something anything everything.

She needed it, and she needed it desperately, all things aside, fuck who she was, and especially fuck that shitty fucking game he was playing.

“Fuck! Your stupid! Game! Tomura!”

She hadn’t even realized she’d slid off the bed and was standing on her numb feet, game controller snatched from him in one second and smashed to smithereens on the wall in the next.

She looked more shook than him, if he was being honest.

Nonetheless.

“What the fuck?!”

He was mad, no, he was fuming.

And she lived for it.

“I swear, you’re gonna pay-”

He hadn’t even reached her before her lips split into a grin, eyes like lightning awaiting the thunder.

“Gladly, punish me, do something, do anything!”

She wasn’t proud with her playful hinting, but you aren’t supposed to live your life without doing things you regret. And though she was playing spoiled brat for a notorious villain, the most dangerous individual she’d ever met, he also had a cock crafted by monsters that seemed to hit every spot it needed to, finding and creating new ones as it filled her up to the brim and she was salivating just by the thought of being split open on it, especially by seeing what mood she’d conjured from him.

But, even though her pride dripped from between her thighs, she was not too eager to plainly say that she desired his dick balls-deep within her needy cunt.

“What?”

He’d stopped in his tracks, eyeing her. And though some part of him wanted to believe what disgusting depraved thoughts he had regarding why she was seeking his attention, he knew better, rendering her annoyance to simply picking a fight with her captor, quite like a how child throws tantrums at their parents or prisoners riot.

Turns out her playful words did little to sway his thoughts regarding the situation.

“You’ve been playing your dumb videogames all week!” She whined, almost screeching. Eyes angry and lips pouty.

He wanted nothing more but to show her what bad behaviour would give her, but seeing how punishment would be giving her what she had requested, he wasn’t too quick to fold to his desires.

“It feels like I’m dying, make me feel something, anything…”

She was pleading he realized, and stopped in wonder at the revelation.

She was pleading with him, begging for him, for anything of him, anything meaning anything…

Yet… surely not what he wanted it to mean.

“No.” He forced on a nonchalant tone. “You smashed my controller, I’m not rewarding you for that, there are nicer ways of asking…” He drawled and turned casually to get back in his chair, pondering his need to purchase another custom-made console, thinking he had a couple things he wanted to fix anyway.

Was she really going to have to be so literal? Was she really going to have to bend over and beg for him to take her? Was she really going to have to serve him her heart, her spirit, her mind, and soul and body on a silver platter for him to take it?

She thought he was greedy. She thought he was depraved enough to hear what she was asking of him.

No way he was ignoring the invitation, right?

If that were the case, he could at least mock her for her begging, but he barely seemed to even recognise her change in attitude at all. Granted, she couldn’t really see much of his expression beneath that mop of hair.

She wanted to scream, pull her hair out of her head, yet as her knees hit the floor and Tomura sat back down in his chair, she realized she had but one thing to do.

Crawl.

She was silent, shuffling under the table, taking one gluttonous drag through her nose, mouth watering at the reek of male musk, his musk, Tomura’s musk, a smell so undeniably him.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to let him know she was there yet, but decided to be a tease and better prepare him for what she was about to do.

Experienced and confident fingers pressed a woman’s touch to his ankles, running skilled tender touches over the flexing of his calves’ muscles, despite feeling him tense beneath her. Undiscouraged as they went smoothly over his thighs to reach the hem of his boxers, reaching inside them to pull out what she was proud to feel thick and stiff and just as needy as her, warm and pulsating in her tiny palm.

Handling him delicately. First she licked her lips wet and gave the head a pretty popping kiss, before producing her tongue like a pillow for the cap and flicking the pink muscle from side to side under the sensitive skin that was already oozing with precum onto her tastebuds.

She her his breath stifle, but allowed him no rest as she closed her warm wet mouth around him.

He broke instantly.

Now knowing it wasn’t his mind playing tricks.

“Fuck! You win, you win!” He hissed, hand wrapping around her throat to pull her up from her conquering. “If I’d known what a needy little slut you were I'd have given you cock earlier. You should’ve just said so...”

They both giggled ludically as he threw her down on the bed, Thrill already bubbling up a storm on her insides with such lust to be fucked out of her bloody mind she was quaking from head to toe and screaming out her moan when he pushed perfectly into her wetness in one fell swoop.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

-NECESSITY

He heard the padding of her approach. Soft footed and gentle. Not at all like how she would usually stomp around in rage of being trapped.

He didn’t look up at first, thinking she didn’t want anything to do with him, as per usual, yet in his blurry unfocused vision he could spot she’d stopped in front of him, waiting for his acknowledgement, where he sat on the coach, undisturbed and undisturbing until now, scrolling through his phone.

He decided to ignore her, testing to see if she’d speak up and announce her demands, yet was surprised to see she stood there patiently, no words, no screams.

Curiosity getting the better of him he looked up, finding her standing there bare-footed, skin wet, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping, eyes leaking, though not from shower-water, but from brimming with tears.

His instincts kicked in then at the sight of her.

“Are you okay?”

He sprung from the coach, expecting her to push him away once he reached for her, yet was surprised to feel her attach to him, latch around him, welcome his warmth and his offered condolence instead of her usual rejection and snarling.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, why are you crying?”

He realized then that her body was quaking, seemingly febrile, so much plead knotted between her brows he’d never seen anything like it.

It made him concerned to say the least, eyes searching her body for any possible explanation in the form of bruises, thinking maybe she’d hurt herself, already scolding himself for having left her alone.

“Baby? What's going-”

He didn’t smell it at first, what with the scent being washed off and all at the hands of her shower, but the aroma was soon layered thick in the room, growing alongside her desperation.

A scent so heavenly, so lavish and sweet and ambrosial, already making water pool in his mouth.

Her shaking made sense then, so did the tears, and the desperation and the potent adorable look of despair written all over her pitiful little cute face.

“Oh… I see.”

He was going to take advantage of this.

He was going to ring it for every drop it was worth.

“Does my little angel need me?” His voice shed its concern swiftly, curling into something sweetly sadistic and salacious.

His fingers hung onto her chin, or rather, her chin hung off his fingers.

“If you ask nicely perhaps I’ll-”

“You’re being cruel.” She stated, voice so sweet, so vulnerable, breaking as she sniffled, bottom lip trembling so preciously, as he wasn’t sure the shower-water was instead not indeed sweat. Knees weak, arms heavy, head pounding, stomach hurting, eating her from the inside in desperate need to feed the bottomless hunger that was growing and weeping in her lower abdomen.

Her hand held loosely over her stomach, visibly shaking.

He ignored her statement. “That was a long shower…” It was an insinuating observation, cocky in its nature. “Were you trying to help yourself on the showerhead?”

He quirked a brow at him, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

“Trying to get out of grovelling for me, hm? Despite knowing how my cock is the only thing that can save you.”

He was gleeful, sadistic bliss tickling through his body, sending pleasure through every nerve, because he knew, he knew he was right and he knew what was coming. He knew she would fold, surrender, succumb, and he knew how grateful she’d be afterwards, dripping with his cum, eyes opium-blown, euphoric and fluttering, and looking at him with such wholehearted, such won-over love.

Though, know all that filled her eyes were glistening tears and swirling suffering.

“It hurts…”

His heart clenched at that.

She looked like a toddler, small and weak and helpless and innocent, as though if it weren’t for her predicament she wouldn’t be abusing every ounce of energy in her being to make him miserable.

How ironic, she being the miserable one now, all dependent on him.

“It hurts, please, please help me, help me, Keigo.”

She was aching. Her small needy hands coming to grab at him, to pull him closer as she sobbed, whining so beautifully for him.

“I need you, Keigo.”

He was getting wrapped up in it, hanging onto every perfect needy jerking she did to try and get closer, to try and help herself against him, licking it up as though he was parched

And he was, he truly was, she’d drained him dry, rejecting each and every proclamation of his love. She’d laughed at it, waged war against it, and here she was, finally, embracing it, begging for it.

He realized, he needed this just as much as she did.

He didn’t need anything weightless like a stupid apology, he just needed to hear her say those pretty words.

“I need Hawks.”

Her eyes grew dark, pupils blown wide with lust as her words were laced with such feral carnality.

His hands grabbed ahold of her ample hips, grinding her into himself, where she met his attack by effortlessly maneuvering her legs to wrap around his torso, hands cupping his face as she peered into his eyes, wanting to drown herself in the gold.

“I need you deep inside me, filling me up, wreaking me…”

Her lips hovered above his own as she clutched tightly onto him, begging with every inch of her body, clinging to him as though it were for her very life.

“I need your cum, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk or talk or think or feel, until I’m numb and all I can see is you, all I can think is you, all I am is you and yours.”

He was left awestruck by the way she looked at him, as though he were the world, or her god, with so much love and so much desperate desire and fear.

A fear he’d come to know all too much chasing her. A fear of rejection, a fear of having her heart broken, a feeling that’s all too much like dying.

“I need your love, please, please love me, Keigo.”

He couldn’t refuse, despite wanting to have used this opportunity as a lesson, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her suffering and he most definitely couldn’t leave himself suffering now that his cock was hungry for the attention she was all too eager to give him.

SHINSO HITOSHI

-SUBMITANCE

She knew she should be disgusted, she knew she should be angry, she should be fighting it.

If she were the feral creature quite alike the lioness or tigress or any other wild cat, she should by law be scratching and clawing and snarling. She should revolt, reject, uproar at the feel of a collar around her throat.

But here she was, big wide glossy opium-soaked eyes staring up at her Master and his compelling lilac orbs, feeling her stomach curl at the feel of his big fist tugging her leash as he hovers above her, purring like a little kitten, like the little kitten she was, at the feel of his swollen thick cock filling her up so snuggly, breeding her good, while she drools at the collar put, not just on her throat, but on her mind, panting over the thought of having his commands lick every nerve of her body, making her twist and bend and bow all to his wishes.

Fluffy tail wrapped around his leg, holding onto him in the softest form of embrace as her hands are otherwise occupied with being tied to the bed-post.

She whimpered, aching fingers wanting to touch, to run smooth soft fingertips over his skin, his scars, tangle in his wild lavish purple locks.

She bit her lip and clenched around the member inside her, making him groan as he bottomed-out and pulled back again.

“Could- could Master… untie me?” She needed to ask, voice timid and hopeful, again feeling him slowly inch into her core, messaging her insides, her walls kissing alongside his girth, sucking on him gratefully.

He quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask why, or to tell her why he couldn’t do that.

“I want to touch you…” She pleaded, a confession so sweet and voice anything but brazen or wanton, blinking shamefully, guilty of her lust, even though in the light of what he’d done to her and made her do to him, it sounded like mere child’s play, something she shouldn’t even be allowed to be embarrassed about.

His eyes scanned her, curious, doubting her, yet having felt how her legs wrapped around his torso, and the ever-playful cuddling tail that had slithered between his thighs and latched itself around his ankle, tugging on him like such a clingy little devoted kitty.

His lips curled up into a smile, looking down at his little bashful housebroken pet, thrilled to see her look up at him too, eyes full of awe on both sides, lustful, loving.

He pushed himself fully into her, cockhead kissing her cervix, and she gave a mew, moaning while he bowed down to meet her lips with his.

His hands danced up her arms, drumming alongside her limbs before they met with the knots around her wrists, tugging them loose.

Once she was free she hesitated. Eyes still so wide, as though asking for permission, as though asking for guidance, or… as though she were waiting for him to tell her what to do, and then, as though a question was burning at her lips.

“Master… ask me a question?” She requested, slowly bringing her hands down from their position, placing them around the back of his neck, fingers playing with his soft wild hair.

He needed to take a second or two to really fathom what she’d just said, where his mind seemed to leap once he did.

“Something you don’t want the answer to.”

He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a rush of blood pool in his cheeks. His breathe grew heavy and eyes intense.

“Do you know what you’re asking?”

He needed to be sure, he needed to hear her say it, admit to it

His doubts were answered as she blinked, biting her lips, looking away shyly, clearly knowing how wrong it was of her to request him entering and playing with her mind like that.

“Yes…”

He couldn’t help but smile at her timidity, how she blushed under his gaze. But still, he needed her to give him the entirety of her desire.

“Tell me…”

He rested his forehead on her hers, happy with butterflies in his stomach at the feel of her affectionate hands running through his locks.

“What do you want from me, Kitten?”

Her breath shuddered, legs climbing higher up his back, pulling him closer. Their eyes so adamant on looking, drowning in the other. His storm of lilac so dominant and dangerous, making her mouth water and toes curl and head flutter with knowing how she was completely trapped, completely where he wanted her, loving it all the same, finding refuge in the fact, finding safety and belonging and peace.

“I want…”

Her eyes where only wide, wide with hope and searching for if he’d catch her when she now jumped, leaped into his arms.

“I want you. I want your- your teeth in my mind, marking me, making me yours, making me… feel…”

All of her was clinging to him now, her tail so neatly and snuggly slithered around his ankle, as though chaining him to her, her hands as well entangled with the unruly hair at the nape of his neck, her legs wrapped around him so tightly and desperately, pussy clenching around his cock like a vice, and her eyes hanging off of all and everything of what was giving her.

“Making you feel what?” He pushed, giving another thrust where he barely pulled out only to rock into her again.

“Safe.”

That was such an innocent word, such a sweet wish it made his heart hurt with something he couldn’t quite place, whether it was guilt or satisfaction he couldn’t tell.

“Will you do that? For me?”

He could get lost in those eyes of hers forever, those moon-big round eyes, opium-black and blown pupils so wide he thought he was falling through space with how much they reflected the limited light inside their room.

“Do you love me?” He asked then, fearing the answer.

“Yes.”

A word can be so many things, a vow, a promise, an echo, a welcome.

Her eyes went blank then, but not before she gave the softest hum as though to say thank you as she felt his presence seep into her mind. Her limbs losing all types of stress, becoming numb and soft. All her worries blanketed, where all she dreamt of was velvet lilac-tinted oceans, getting drunk on grapes and the smell of lavender and all things purple like those great godlike eyes staring down at her, the ones keeping her spellbound and tethered in a deadlock, the ones she belonged to.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

-COMFORT

The slamming shut of the apartment door, followed by the digital clicking of the lock being closed is how she knew he was home.

He hadn’t said anything.

Where usually he would at least greet her as she quickly sprung across the marble floors to welcome him home, take his jacket, kiss his cheek, all so perfectly like he’d taught her.

He hadn’t said anything.

No ‘I missed you’ or ‘thank you, princess’.

He hadn’t said anything at all.

But most things with Kai weren’t verbal anyway.

She’d learned to pick up cues, analyze a raised brow, or a slight shift in posture, or the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes.

He hadn’t said anything, but the scowl that accompanied his aura spoke volumes to the girl. Finding his state of mind, concerned with what she found, as it was not his usual nonchalance nor his occasional contempt, but bitter.

He groaned then, once she’d helped him out of his jacket, green and tacky, purple faux fluff, something so out-of-place on Kai, yet also serving as one of his key recognizable traits.

He kicked off his shoes, also something so very out of character it brought her concern, followed by him shuffling, feet dragging on the floors in complete opposition to how he would usually walk, with his head held high, regarding the floor as though it should be grateful to be gifted by him walking on it.

Now though, he slumped, still without a word, up the stairs, sauntering without haste, without enthusiasm, all in goal of reaching the bed, which he laid out flat on once he got to it.

“Are you okay?” She asked timidly, having followed him and standing unsurely on the threshold of the door, not knowing whether she was welcome or not.

He simply pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, giving her the answer she’d guessed already.

“Can I do anything to help?” Again, she kept her voice soft and tender, hopeful; cheerful in hopes of cheering him up.

“I doubt it.” His answer was curt and bitter as he sat up on the bed, tugging loose his tie with an exhausted growl of irritation.

She padded around the bed then, not exactly having been given an invitation to stay, but not exactly having been given any indication to leave either.

Careful as she climbed up behind him, like a cat easing in on its prey, gracious and soft and focused on not alarming or disturbing the goal.

“Surely there must be something I can do?”

His ears picked up on the play in her voice, the thin hairs at the back of his neck rising, yet his curiosity was stifled as her hands, once so small and insignificant, became the hands of God.

Fingers kneading into his back, thorough and forceful yet welcomed by him through a breathy guttural groan, closing his eyes with much needed rest as he let himself fall completely to the feeling of her messaging all his tense stress right out of his shoulders, seemingly sucking all the bad out of him.

He gave yet another throaty groan as her fingers rubbed and dug into his back, her hand stopping his head from slugging forward, cupping him tenderly and guided him to rest against the softness of her chest instead.

“Do you feel better now?”

She spoke like how a mother should, sweet like summer breeze, just above a whisper, eager to please, affectionate, without ill-will, without anything to gain, selfless and beautiful, and something he was in desperate need of.

He moaned, a long dragged out breathy moan, one filled with such potent gratitude it made her smile.

“Getting there...”

She hummed, her hands like absolution handling his back like dough, thumbs rubbing the stiffness into tender soft flesh once again, working through the knots, before climbing, mounting his shoulders and ensnaring his neck, gentle fingers running smoothly to unbutton his shirt, her face nuzzling in his neck as it was exposed to her, soft plump lips kissing the sensitive skin found there, knowing exactly where to focus, hearing him moan in relief as she zeroed in on his soft-spot.

Her hands running, dancing down his chest, unbuttoning the last of his buttons, helping him slide out of it.

Quick to take her bra off, still while kissing his neck, before pushing her warm soft mounds into his back, hugging herself against him.

“How about now?” Her voice like honey as her words tickled on his neck.

“Almost…”

She slithered around to seat herself in his lap, hands cupping his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss him, naked chest rubbing up against naked chest, warm and soft, homey and safe. 

Her hand drummed playfully down his stomach, reaching his pants, moving skillfully on its own to undo the belt-buckle, then the button, then pulling down the zipper.

He shuffled them down his thighs on his own, still keeping his chin lifted to receive her kisses. His clothed erection bumping up into the thin protection of her panties.

Her hand, still so smoothly, reached under the band of his boxers to pull him out. Though his rough way of ripping her lacy underwear off managed to break through her calm demeanor as she yelped a bit and flinched.

However the surprise was quickly followed by giggles as she continued to kiss him, feeling his smirk against her lips and soon his hand cupping her ass before running hungry pressured fingertips around her thigh to play with her slit, thumb roughly pushing into her clit as other reckless digits ran though her folds to test the waters, quite parallel to how carefully she handled his cock with her own elegant hand, rubbing him up and down ever so gently, with the tenderness he carved.

He hissed once her thumb rubbed over his sensitive head, biting into her lip, and though his beastly impulses used to alarm her, now she could only think of them as an invitation.

Holding his cock up to her entrance, giving him time to remove his fingers from her now soaking folds. 

She sunk down on him slowly, moaning softly against his lips as he groaned upon hers. 

“Better now?” She asked, without giving way to the cockiness her question carried, but he deciphered it with ease nonetheless, giving her ass a playful squeeze before guiding her to lay down on her back, nibbling on her neck as he chuckled at how she disguised her devilish naughty humour as being innocent, wanting to make her choke on that haughtiness as he gave a quick sharp thrust up into her.

Her moan rung throughout the massive penthouse where no doors were kept closed, as he licked the sin right off her expression with one needy hungry kiss and a promise as well as a threat.

“I will be once I hear you scream my name, princess.”

TIP-JAR

[sweetdreamsofgelato]

Master Chef

Pairing: Henry x Reader (You)

Summary: (see prompt below)

Rating: FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF; E for Everyone

Word Count: 2055

Warnings/Content: None

A/N:

lostinafictionaluniverse asked:

Okay, you got me with that last one, I'm a fan for life! I never dreamed I'd send in an rpf request :). But I would love to read something in which Henry cooks an ethnic dish for his lady - brownie points if it's an Indian dish, and the girl is Indian too - since I'm an Indian! :), makes a complete mess of it, and then orders the dish from a local restaurant trying to pass it off as his own effort (and gets caught out or not- however you want it to go!)

Okay, this prompt has been in my inbox for a shamefully long time, so huge apologies for that, but it's finally finished! I've restarted and rewritten this so many times and it just never seemed quite right, but with a little help from a four-legged friend, I think it finally works. Should've known Kal would fix everything.

Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own.

Reposting my works on any other sites or platforms is strictly prohibited (my official AO3 is linked in my master list). Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

The sink overflowed, the dishwasher whirred away fully loaded, and a tower of freshly washed pots and pans dripped in the drying rack. It wobbled precariously as Henry set yet another bowl on top. Kal immediately looked up from his post next to him, where he’d stationed himself in hopes of snagging an errant piece of food on its way to the floor.

Nothing fell; Kal let out such a pathetic sound of disappointment that Henry had to laugh. “Sorry, buddy.”

There was a loud pop behind him and he immediately scrambled toward the hob. A fresh splat painted the inside of the glass lid covering the pot. Henry gingerly cracked the top, keeping it at an arm’s distance so as to avoid being spattered with molten sauce, and gave it a sniff. Not that anything registered; with all the aromas mingling in the air, he’d succumb to olfactory overload long ago.

He set the lid back and turned down the flame and let it simmer. Kal moved closer, ever hopeful, and Henry patted him with one hand whilst he scratched the back of his head with the other as he surveyed the kitchen: covered dishes and remnants of his overzealous ambition littered every inch of flat surface available. The hob was maxed, the oven cranked, the fridge very well might burst at any second, and Henry finally admitted that he might’ve gone overboard.

Regrets: he had many and no more counter space to hold them.

In hindsight, marathoning Gordon Ramsay’s entire catalogue was a mistake. He should’ve known it’d only inspire hubris, and if the perpetually outraged chef materialised next to him and berated him for being an idiot sandwich, he wouldn’t disagree.

There was no doubt that Henry tended toward overambition. He could usually keep it in check, but when it came to you, he had absolutely no restraint. It’d all been well-intentioned in the beginning when he insisted on treating you to a home-cooked meal, the original plan being to make something tried and true. Something he could do well and with ease to show off his skills in the best light.

In some sense he’d stuck to his plan, being sure to make several things you always enjoyed, but then ego got the best of him, and he watched too many cooking shows and took a deep dive into the depths of online culinary blogs only to resurface with the bright idea to try a new and far more complicated recipe for the main. The photos were impressive and the tutorial video made it look fairly simple despite the laundry list of ingredients and a method a mile long. With a little mindful planning, it was just a matter of following a recipe, right?

Well, following a lot of recipes. He had a veritable buffet on his hands and hoped you arrived ready to eat.

Whilst his curry bubbled away, Henry made a valiant attempt at bringing some order to the chaos surrounding him, but it didn’t take long to realise that it was a fool’s errand. Sighing with resignation, he returned to the hob and took the pot off the heat.

Quickly snagging a spoon from the drying rack, he dipped it in the pot, blew gingerly over the sauce, and took a tentative taste.

He immediately choked.

“Oh God,” Henry coughed as the overwhelming, acrid sharpness decimated his tastebuds. For the briefest moment, he forgot how to breathe. He groped for a glass of water next to the sink and chugged it desperately. It didn’t help, and his poor attempt at curry scorched down his throat. His eyes watered and he coughed again. “Good lord, that’s vile.”

His whole body gave an involuntary shudder. Henry was no stranger to the odd kitchen disaster, but this was a whole new level of revolting. His sense of taste may never return out of sheer protest.

It had to be user error. He had no idea where he’d gone wrong, and he’d gone so wrong, but there was absolutely no saving it.

He held the pot away from him and grimaced, looking between the bin and the noxious substance masquerading as food. If he dumped it, there was a very real possibility it may burn a hole clear through to the foundation.

Henry smacked the lid back on the pot, lest it produced toxic fumes, and shoved it across the counter with a silent prayer that it didn’t corrode his cookware. After a contemplative pause, he cracked the window for good measure.

Okay. With a sigh, he gripped the edge of the counter in front of the sink as he gathered his thoughts. Plan B.

Arrogantly, he had no Plan B, so instead, he frantically dished up and arranged everything else he’d made on the dining table, saying another silent prayer that legs didn’t buckle under the strain.

Henry frowned, casting a critical eye over the table. There was enough to feed a small army and the main dish was wholly unnecessary, but there was a gaping hole in the centre where it should sit, displayed in all its glory, and the whole presentation felt incomplete.

Glaringly imperfect, and he really wanted it to be perfect.

He glanced furtively at the clock and mulled over his options. You were expected in less than an hour. He didn’t have enough ingredients to start over, and there was no time to run to the shop.

At some point, he began pacing. Henry scrubbed a hand over his face; willing himself to stop agonising over some small, insignificant detail. As it stood, he would already have to buy a separate freezer to store the leftovers, and he knew that you wouldn’t care that one dish out of many was an unmitigated disaster.

Still, his pride–the little devil on his shoulder, kept coming back to one option. It wasn’t ideal; it was downright deceitful and went against every fibre of his being.

Now was not the time to worry about personal ethics, he thought as he yanked open a drawer, pulled out a takeaway menu, and snatched up his phone. If this was the most dishonest thing he’d ever done, was he truly a horrible person?

Moral crisis aside, Henry was committed now, though regret had washed over him as soon as he hung up. Pressing his phone to his forehead, he muttered harshly to himself. One taste and you would know he hadn’t made it. How could you not? In his panic, he’d ordered from your favourite local restaurant. The same one you ordered from every time takeaway night was your choice.

He’d paid a king’s ransom in advance for them to deliver in under half an hour, and he hoped his shameless bribe was not made in vain. Time passed at an agonising pace: too fast and too slow all at the same time. Kal hot on his heels, Henry was pacing again across the length of the open, airy space that made up his kitchen and dining room, stopping only to occasionally fiddle with the table setting.

Another second in the room would drive him mad, so he forced himself into the living room. Kal padded behind him whilst Henry refolded a blanket and tucked away the books and scripts scattered across his coffee table. He gently kicked a few dog toys toward to corner near Kal’s bed before he dropped onto the sofa. He checked his watch again, his hand tapping impatiently against his thigh as he watched the seconds tick away.

Homing in on the movement, Kal immediately bounded over and nosed insistently at Henry’s hands.

“Still don’t have anything,” he said, “Besides, you’ve already had your dinner.”

Kal let out another plaintive whine, finally admitted defeat, and disappeared down the hall.

His phone dinged: food was on its way. Inexplicably this only churned the waters (guilt, most likely), so in one last-ditch attempt to regain control of himself, he put some music on through the room speakers. It would either relax him or distract him, but either way, he needed something to break the constant, anxious whirr of his mind.

Henry dropped his head onto the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the music. His heart rate ticked down and his breathing became steadier. It wasn’t until he’d stopped moving did he realise how tired he was from all the effort of his marathon cooking.

Some immeasurable minutes later, Henry was nearly knocked clear off the sofa by a large, furry wrecking ball. With some semblance of relaxation in his grasp, he didn’t dare crack an eye. “What in the blazes has gotten into—”

“Hello Henry.”

He let out an utterly undignified yelp of surprise when he jolted of the couch. Kal shoved past, trampling Henry’s feet as he rounded another lap around the living room, practically bowling him over to get back to the doorway where you stood, a bottle of wine in hand.

“Smells amazing in here,” you smiled as Kal danced circles around you. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”

Shit. He should’ve given the damn dog a treat. The traitor hadn’t even barked a warning of your arrival. Of all nights for the both of you to be stealthy.

“Of course not,” he replied, and he truly meant it. “I’m glad you’re making use of your key.” He smiled, albeit awkwardly from the shock. Henry hastily crossed the room, leaning in when you moved to drop a quick peck on his lips.

You let out a reluctant hum when you stepped back, and Henry’s eyes widened immediately on the takeaway bag you pulled from behind your back. “Delivery.”

He let out a slightly nervous laugh, though it was drowned out by Kal’s playful barking. Now he barks.

You handed the wine to Henry and immediately reached into your pocket. “For my best fella,” you crooned as you held out the dog biscuit.

Kal sat dutifully, his haunches trembling with barely-contained elation. Upon command, he very gently took the treat from your fingers, despite his eagerness, but as soon as he had it he bolted off to his bed to enjoy the fruits of his patience.

“I will forever be second in his heart.” Henry sighed.

“But first in mine.”

He turned to you; a soppy smile tugged at Henry’s mouth, but his eyes remained trained on the takeaway bag swinging gently in your hand. He tried to clear the awkward lump in his throat. “You’re early.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” you replied teasingly.

“I am always excited to see you.”

“Mmhmm.” There was a playful spark in your eye when you indicated the bag in your hand. “Not as much as I am for a homecooked meal.”

Ah yes, he was going to get mercilessly teased for this. It was no less than he deserved, really. What sort of deception he’d tried to pull, Henry still wasn’t sure. He’d be the first to admit that it was a poor attempt and doomed to failure, but he was oddly okay with that.

Truth be told, he actively disliked and was never good at lying (positive traits, surely) and though he was a bit chagrined with his momentary lapse in judgement, he mostly felt relieved.

Following you toward the kitchen, he edged around you when you stopped abruptly at the sight of the dining table.

“Are you expecting more guests?” You gaped at the heavily laden table, then your gaze shifted over debris scattered on the counters. You twisted around curiously, making a grand display of searching the room. When you turned back to him, your face lit with amusement. “Perhaps the entire roster of England Rugby?”

Henry laughed, heartily and mostly at himself, as he pulled some wine glasses out. “I...ah, might’ve gotten a tad carried away.”

You raised an eyebrow, and your lips flattened with a suppressed laugh. “Just a tad?”

“I can explain.” He made a wide gesture toward, well, everything. “Just ignore this.”

“Ignore what?” you asked with a surreptitious smile.

Henry’s heart did a funny flip in his chest as he watched you plopped the bag in the middle of the table, an oil-stained paper shrine to his pride, and he couldn’t hold back a grin. “I love you.”

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[notanotherreidgirl]

idk if this is too intense for you, if it is feel free to ignore but i wanted to send in a request :)

Catching perv spence looking in elles bag somehow and then bringing elle in to punish him together and you make him wear the panties while degrading tf outta him and slapping his ass and pulling his hair and all that good stuff! if you want to add or take anything out that works too btw! have fun with this :)

Three's Company

Summary: Reader catches Spencer stealing a pair of Elle's panties

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Elle Greenaway x Reader

Warnings: sub!spence, perv!spence, threesome, spencer wearing panties and a skirt, oral sex (female receiving), degradation, spanking, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, face riding

Word Count: 1374

A/N: This is straight porn. I could not look my mother in the eye for hours after I wrote this. This is part 1 of the Mommy & Ma'am series.

Elle’s door opened silently and you smiled to yourself, excited to be surprising her for once. Neither of you was too keen on labels but at some point after a month of covert glances and late-night calls and hands not-so-innocently brushing against each other, Hotch had the good sense to make you share a room. That was three weeks ago. Three weeks of mind-blowing sex and maybe - just maybe - the beginning of something more.

So imagine your surprise when you found Spencer in her room instead. Shy, adorable Spencer who could barely look at you for 5 minutes without flushing a deep scarlet and stumbling all over his words. You often caught him blatantly staring at your chest and it would be a lie to say that he didn’t prompt you to introduce more low-cut blouses into your work attire. Just the other night Elle had teased you about him, saying that you should put him out of his misery before he had an aneurysm in the bullpen. He was crouched by the foot of her bed and you took a cautious step forward to see what he was looking at.

You sucked in a sharp breath. It was a pair of Elle’s panties, delicate black lace that fit her like a second skin. They were a gift and you couldn’t help the heat that pooled between your thighs when you recalled how Elle thanked you. Unfortunately, you had alerted Spencer to your presence and he whirled around in shock, still clutching the underwear in one hand. “Y/N, shit! I’m not - This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Oh really? Because it looks like you’re stealing Elle’s panties.” You tried to look mad but an amused smile pulled at the corner of your mouth. He scrambled to find an excuse, some explanation that would exonerate him but he came up empty. What could he say? Instead, he opted for a pleading look. Those puppy dog eyes nearly persuaded you to be merciful but Spencer always had the worst luck.

“Put them on.” Elle’s voice took both of you by surprise.

She kicked the door closed behind her and cocked her head to the side, a telltale sign of growing impatience. Spencer’s eyes widened and he looked between you and Elle in disbelief. He tried to seem reluctant but the truth was that he was incredibly turned on which was quickly revealed as he undressed. His hands trembled as he pulled the panties up, gasping slightly as the coarse material scraped over his leaking sex.

“You like playing dress-up, don’t you?” Elle crossed the room with three long strides. Spencer gave a weak nod but she didn’t bother to look, already rooting around in her bag and unearthing a little red skirt. “Put this on too. If you’re gonna act like a slut, you better look the part.”

He complied without hesitation, much too excited to be living out one of his biggest fantasies to be concerned with his ego. The air was knocked from your lungs when Spencer managed to squeeze the skirt up to his hips. He was so pretty, you had to sit down to stop yourself from pouncing on him.

Elle lifted the front of the skirt with a finger. “Look how cute his little cock is in my panties. I should make you wear them all the time.” But her mood darkened when she saw that they were already soaked with precum. “Y/N bought me these panties and now you’ve ruined them”

“No, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to” he looked at her with pure desperation but Elle was not known for her forgiveness. “Get on your knees”

He dropped so quickly it gave you whiplash and you hardly had time to process the fact that Elle was guiding him in front of your parted legs. “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Y/N”

He started to stammer out an apology but Elle shut him up by grabbing his chin harshly. “No. None of this ‘I’m sorry’ bullshit. Apologize properly”

He looked up at you frantically as you gathered your wits about you and quickly shimmied out of your underwear and sleep shorts, unwilling to incur Elle’s wrath. Spencer nearly fainted at the sight of your glistening core and he didn’t waste any time pushing himself up on his hands and knees to lap at your folds. He explored you fervently, barely pausing to breathe. Just as he began to relax, Elle bunched up the back of the skirt and brought a hand down hard. You felt him jump, moaning into your cunt as she laid three more blows in quick succession. He whimpered at the harsh sting and the vibrations sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine. “I’ll stop when you make her cum”

That was all the encouragement he needed, doubling his efforts. He flattened his tongue and licked a stripe up your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. A strangled cry left your lips and you threw your head back, relishing in the sound of Elle ceaselessly slapping Spencer’s raw flesh. It was all too much and you were tumbling over the edge in no time, moaning out a string of obscenities as the force of your orgasm wracked through your body. As promised, Elle stopped but she immediately grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back so he was looking up at you. “What do you think, Y/N? Does he deserve to cum? Was he as good as me?”

She smiled wickedly as she asked her last question, already anticipating your answer. “No one’s as good as you.”

Spencer was incredible. At one point, you were convinced he had transported you from this earthly realm to another of pure, unadulterated pleasure but Elle was on a whole other level. She could have you shaking in seconds, drawing out one climax after another until you couldn’t see straight, much less think.

“That’s just too bad” she shook her head in disapproval as she pulled him up by his hair. “No, no, please. I can do better. I swear. I’ll do anything you want”

“You’re so fucking pathetic, Dr. Reid. Begging for it like a whore” she pushed him onto the bed and gestured for you to straddle him. She pushed the panties to the side and drew her hand up his length. “Do you know how to use this?”

He nodded vigorously, desperate to please. “Prove it then.”

Elle’s free hand settled onto your lower back and you leaned into her touch as she guided you down his length. You let out a little gasp when you were fully seated, feeling impossibly full. Spencer wasn’t doing much better, head thrown back against the pillows and eyes screwed shut in an attempt to hold back his release. But Elle wasn’t done. She joined you on the bed, swinging a leg over Spencer’s face and bracing her hands on his chest so she could watch you ride him. “I don’t care how good it feels, you don’t come until we do”

Feeling bold, Spencer grabbed onto Elle’s thighs and brought her down closer with no regard for his respiratory needs. As far as he was concerned, if this was how he went he would die a happy man. He pulled out all the stops, circling her entrance with his tongue before delving inside and tipping his head forward so his chin brushed against her clit. All the while you were bouncing on his cock in search of your release, letting out soft moans each time he bottomed out. You were so close, needing just a little more to reach your climax. Elle was lost in the paradise that was Spencer’s tongue but she managed to make out your pleading look and brought a hand to your clit. “Come for me, darling.”

It was like you set off a chain reaction. Your release propelling Elle to come on Spencer’s face which was all the permission he needed to flood you with warmth. With uncoordinated movements, Elle reached forward to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss as the three of you were swept up in each other.

[ragingbookdragon]

Time Stops When I Look At You

Barry Allen x Wondersis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Based on the ask I received! Love this pairing now! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

When he opened the door at seven AM after getting in at three that morning, he wasn’t happy. And Hal Jordan certainly wasn’t happy to see her with a bright smile on her face as she greeted, “My dearest friend! What a blessed morning we are having, yes!”

He blinked blearily at her. “It was a blessed morning…when I was still sleeping.”

“Are you telling me you do not rise with the sun and train?” she asked. “I thought that was standard for the warriors of the United of American States.”

“United States of America, (Y/N),” he corrected, opening the door. “And to answer your question, I haven’t been in the military for a few years now. I get to sleep in before I go to work.”

(Y/N) hummed as she stepped inside. “That seems like a waste of valuable time.” She glanced back at him. “I have something important to discuss with you.”

Hal merely made a noise low in his throat and lumbered down the hall, her on his heels, into his bedroom; he collapsed back onto the bed and pulled the covers up to his ears. “What’s on your mind, Princess?”

She quickly unhooked her greaves before climbing onto the bed, laying across his body. “I am unsure of how to show affections for someone.”

He adjusted his body so that her head was on his stomach. “Really? The Princess gifted by Aphrodite doesn’t know how to show you’ve got a crush on somebody? Who woulda thought?”

(Y/N) dug her chin into his gut. “You mock me, my dearest friend.” She let out a sigh. “I was going to offer him a blade forged by my mother and sisters and recite Sappho’s Ode to Aphrodite to win his favor.” Her eyes drifted to his. “But I do not know if he likes poetry.”

“Who is ‘he’?” Hal asked.

“Bartholomew.”

He blinked. “Wait…you mean Barry? Like…our Barry?”

She nodded. “Yes.” (Y/N) stared at him. “Does Bartholomew enjoy poetry, Harold? I have more pieces prepared. The Iliad for example.”

“Please, God, don’t call me Harold.” He shuddered. “Makes me think my mom is scolding me.” He sighed, laying his head back. “Barry’s…not exactly a poetry guy. He’s more the ‘take me to a science museum’ type of guy.”

(Y/N) hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting! What is a science museum?”

“Big building with a bunch of things that make lovers of science all tingly inside.”

“And you think Barry would like that better than a sword and poetry?”

Hal snorted. “(Y/N), let’s get one thing clear. You could give Barry a dowry of a million dollars, and he’d still not get the hint.” He glanced down at her. “You’ve literally gotta tell him you like him or he’s not going to get it. Hell, probably though a science line. That’s one way to get through to him. Actually, that’s probably the only way to get through to him.”

“Hmm…and to think I had a dowry prepared back home.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Of course. Many animals and a great deal of gold.” She turned over onto her back, resting the back of her head on his stomach. “Where is a science museum I can take him to? I do not know if there is one in the city I live in.”

“There’s a really cool one in Chicago,” he offered. “I know Barry’d get a hard-on for that place.”

“A hard-on?” (Y/N)’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“Uh…”

“Is that another euphemism for arousal?”

“…Yeah.”

“You are such a man.”

“Thank you for noticing,” he chirped, glancing out the window. “Well…you woke me up and since I’m awake…wanna get pancakes?”

(Y/N) jumped up, excitement crossing her face. “YES! I LOVE THE CAKES OF PAN! THEY ARE DELICIOUS!”

Hal chuckled, tossing the covers from his body. “Lemme shower really quickly. Hey, and make sure you text Barry about going so he can put it in his schedule.”

She pointed at him. “That is a wonderful idea.”

***

(Y/N) glanced at the watch on her wrist for what seemed like the millionth time, holding the umbrella with her other. The rain poured around her, thunder rumbling above, but she stood hopeful that the Scarlet Speedster would eventually show. They had talked about the museum for days and she’d been anticipating it ever since they agreed to meet up.

Barry had texted that he would be there in the morning, but that had been hours ago, and he hadn’t answered his phone after she’d last called. (Y/N) pursed her lips as the sky darkened, and not from the storm, wondering if he had forgotten.

Perhaps I should have given him the sword and recited the poem? She frowned and looked around, seeing couples walking around, sharing umbrellas and laughing, joy etched onto their faces. No, I must wait. He said he would be here.

But as the hours dwindled and the day turned into evening, she realized he wasn’t going to make it in time. With a sigh, she turned to the doors of the museum; most of the lights were being shut off and the workers were leaving to go home for the evening.

(Y/N) smiled sadly and gripped her umbrella, turning to walk down the street. There was always tomorrow.

***

Barry rushed back to his house, speeding into his bedroom to yank out a dress shirt, a pullover sweater, and a pair of khakis that he hadn’t yet ruined. He’d completely forgotten all about the museum trip (Y/N)’d invited him on, getting so caught up in cases and running around Central, that by the time he remembered, it was already a quarter to six.

He changed and sped through his door, the streets of Central City turning into a blur as he headed for the museum in the next state. He skidded to a stop outside the museum, eyes widening when he saw the doors shut and the lights off.

“Oh no,” he whispered, looking around for (Y/N); she was nowhere to be seen. “Oh no.”

He sprinted down the street, trying to remember if she’d said she was wearing a blue dress or a red one. He should’ve remembered earlier. He should’ve sent a text. He should’ve called. He should’ve—

WHAM!

Barry went barreling to the ground, landing atop something warm and soft. The scent of flowers and metal oil flooded his senses, and after he caught his bearings, he looked up, cheeks flushing when he realized he’d landed on a woman and more importantly, face first into her chest.

“Good evening, Bartholomew.” His eyes darted to the woman’s face, and he saw (Y/N) smiling at him. “You are late.”

He floundered. His mouth opened and closed but nothing came out except a pitiful burst of air as he scrambled off her, face as red as his suit. He bent down, hauling her up. “I’msosorryIdidn’tseewhereIwasgoingandIlandedonyouandIputmyfaceinyourchestandI’msosrry!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “I…I did not catch that, Bartholomew. Can you repeat that? Slower, perhaps?”

He raised his hands to his face, covering them as he apologized profusely, “I am so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to be late or land on you or—or stick my face in your—I’m really sorry!”

She giggled. “I am not offended.” She reached out and took his hand, pressing it to her chest. “Many friends have rested their heads on my bosom. They are comfortable, are they not? Like the finest cushions.”

Barry’s jaw dropped and this time all that came out of him was strangled noise. “I can’t feel my face,” he whispered, and she pressed her free hand to his cheeks.

“Hmm, your face is very hot. Shall we go find somewhere cool to rest?” she asked, taking the hand still pressed against her chest; she laced their fingers. “I saw an ice cream store down the street here.”

He let himself be tugged along. Every circuit in his brain had been burned out and his heart was fluttering way too fast for him to think about anything other than calming it down. But it was impossible. Barry could feel the warmth from (Y/N)’s body, could smell the delicate fragrance of roses, could see the beauty that threatened to blind him.

(Y/N) led him around for a few moments, then stopped in front of an ice cream parlor that had a big blue sign. “Here we are.” She led them inside and glanced at the menu. “Do you want anything?”

Barry blinked, looking up, though it was all a blur, still shell-shocked. “I, uh, a milkshake? Chocolate?”

She smiled. “I will order for us. Please, go sit.”

He did as she said, collapsing into one of the seats in the corner, immediately rubbing vigorously at his face to will the blush away.

After a few moments, (Y/N) sat down across from him and placed a frozen drink down. “Here you are, Bartholomew.”

Barry glanced up to see her with her own straw in her mouth, eyes shut, face drawn in joy as she sipped her milkshake. “Thank you,” he replied. “How much was this?”

“Please do not worry about repayment. I do not need one.” She looked at him with a smile. “You came.”

Suddenly he remembered how late he was. The entire day had gone by; Barry lowered his head. “(Y/N)…I’m so sorry about not making it here earlier. I never meant to leave you here all alone.”

“You are a busy man and I understand, Bartholomew. You need not apologize to me.”

He looked up and gazed at her. “You weren’t there. I thought you’d left and gone home.”

“Of course not,” she said, eyes wide. “We said we were going to meet. I was waiting for you.” She coughed slightly. “But I had to use the restroom, so that is the reason you did not see me immediately.”

“Wait,” Barry said. “Were you…were you waiting here all day?”

(Y/N) blinked. “Yes?”

Now Barry felt like a bigger jerk, and he let his head drop again. “I feel terrible, (Y/N). I’m so sorry.”

She merely stared at him, heart beating against her rib cage and the words of her people’s poetry came back to her, but so did Hal’s words. You have to tell him.

Reaching out, she rested her hand on his, urging, “Bartholomew, will you look at me, please?”

He did as she asked, meeting her eyes. “Yeah?”

(Y/N) smiled. “You must be the speed of light, because time stops when I look at you.”

For what felt like the millionth time, Barry’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t know if that was a good or a bad sign. “I…figured you would like, a line as Harold calls it, that was scientific.” (Y/N) smiled awkwardly. “I care for you, Barry. More than the bonds of battle have forged between us and…I would like to spend more time with you. Intimate…close time with you. Just us.”

Barry nodded dumbly, turning his hand over so his palm touched hers; he brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “I would love to, (Y/N).”

“Oh, you would?” she inquired, face full of joy and he nodded, a smile crossing his own lips.

“Absolutely. But I have one request.”

“Yes?”

Barry smiled at her. “Call me Barry.”

[thefanficmonster]

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

I

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them. 

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

II

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out. 

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

IV

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

V

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

                                                            ~  ~  ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter two

kirigan wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t care for appearance and reputation. he supposed he would have to tiptoe around you until you showed your cards. until then, he’d have you play new recruit.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] general kirigan (the darkling/aleksander) x reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: slight suggestive theme (mentioned in passing)

note: wow. i’m absolutely astonished with the enthusiasm the first chapter had. thank you guys so much! i have two exams next week so i’m not entirely sure if i’ll be able to update. i will try my best :)

here’s the masterlist

“here’s your room.” aleksander gestured to a room that was vaguely familiar.

brows furrowed, you turned to him. “your room is next to this one.”

his eyes rounded in mock innocence. “really? i hadn’t noticed.”

your nose crinkled in distaste as you glimpsed down the hall. “what of my old bedroom?”

“someone else is staying in there,” his arms folded across his chest. “alina starkov, the sun summoner.”

“oh? it’s to be expected, i suppose,” you bobbed your head, stepping to explore the room. “why create another staged cage when you already have one ready?”

“what?”

you observed the flowers by the bedside and plucked one out to tuck it behind your ear. “you like to give your prized cattle the very best so they may feel important, no? it makes it so much easier to subdue them.”

“what? prized cattle? alina’s not— you were never—”

while he wrestled for a response, you continued to inspect the room before happening upon a locked door. “where does this door lead to?”

“my room,” aleksander cleared his throat, recovering from your accusations.

you froze, your hands twitching, before you tore away from the door. “your room?”

“my bedroom, specifically,” he clarified. in that moment, he looked like the cat that ate the canary.

“why would anyone want to have a room connected to yours?”

looking into a mirror, aleksander fixed his appearance. “well, i assume these rooms were designed with my future lover in mind,” he replied.

bitterness rang throughout your body as you barked out a laugh. “your lover? to think you wouldn’t jump at the chance to house your precious sun summoner here. what? was there a snag in your plan to seduce her? a boyfriend back home?”

at his silent admission, your jaw dropped. then, genuine laughter erupted from you, causing you to lean on the bedpost. your knees nearly gave in until you saw his glare. you took deep breaths and tried to stifle your amusement behind your hand.

“i’m sorry. it’s rude to laugh,” you surrendered. while your giggles subdued, he remained silent. aleksander’s reflection was eerily still, his eyes far away from reality. when you stepped towards him, he broke from his stupor and made for the door.

“rest up. you have a full day ahead of you tomorrow.” he began closing the door when he paused just before it shut. “goodnight, [y/n].”

well, that was odd.

���✵✵

with the sun high in the sky, aleksander walked with you to the training grounds.

“do all new recruits get escorted by you or is this arrangement special?” you walked beside him with your hands linked in front of you. you sported your new deep blue kefta with white detailing.

“i can’t risk you disrupting alina’s training with your spitefulness. whatever i may or may not be planning for her, she’s still ravka’s only hope of banishing the fold,” he said. “my accompanying you is a precaution as well as your formal introduction to the second army.”

as you approached your destination, you spotted multiple grisha huddled in a ring. two of them were fighting in the middle.

“you teach them physical combat now?”

“you’d be surprised how often we lose grisha to drüskelle because they’ve tied their hands. they cannot always rely on their powers,” he droned.

off to the side, you spotted a burly man. “you have a shu training them?”

aleksander looked down at you, “he used to be a mercenary. i think you’ll find him adequate.”

“i think you’ll find i’m already above your training,” you whispered as everyone turned their attention to you or, rather, aleksander.

the shu made his way over and bowed, “general kirigan, i had no idea you would be joining us today.”

you see a girl peek her head out from the corner of your eye, her face lighting up at the darkling’s entrance.

alina starkov. i see she already holds some sort of affection for him.

the general raised his hand, “please, botkin. i am only here to introduce everyone to our newest member, [y/n]. they’re a gravity summoner.”

at the sound of your name, you reverted your attention to the crowd and gave a small smile. placing a hand on the small of your back, aleksander guided you to the center. 

“actually, i was hoping you could evaluate their combat skills.”

you whipped your head around, staring at him incredulously. he didn’t change his diplomatic smile when he met your eyes.

“that is no problem, general.” botkin faced you and gestured to the crowd. “please, choose your opponent.”

your eyes scanned the crowd before you smirked inwardly. “if it’s no trouble to the general, i would like to fight him,” you requested. “i’ve only ever heard how powerful general kirigan is and, well, if he is the standard…”

the grisha around you looked at you as if you were insane. you peeked through your lashes at aleksander whose eye was ever so slightly twitching. before botkin could voice his disapproval, aleksander shrugged his kefta off.

“why not? i can’t remember the last time someone challenged me so bravely.”

you grinned as you threw off your own kefta. out of the corner of your eye, you saw the sun summoner pushing her way into the circle with a dazzled look. botkin warily lifted his hand. “no using your powers. only your fists and wits.”

you nodded and took an offensive position. botkin threw his hand down, “fight!”

you dropped down, doing a low spinning kick, and swept aleksander off his feet. he landed on his back with shock evident on his face. you then pressed your knee onto his diaphragm and gripped his sleeve. grinning, you gave him a cheeky smile.

“i don’t think i’ve ever had you on your back,” you said in a hushed voice.

with annoyance written on his face, he grabbed the lapel of your shirt and pulled you off him. he trapped your arms by your sides as he straddled you.

“because you always liked it when i was in control,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes. you thrusted your left hip up, effectively throwing him off balance and freeing you. you both scrambled to stand. aleksander crept closer to you and threw a punch. before his fist made contact, you blocked it and gripped his arm. you threw him over your shoulder and stepped on his shoulder joint. he groaned under the pressure when you leaned down.

“it’s a good thing i came to my senses then,” you said. “yield.”

he narrowed his eyes before you shifted your weight onto your foot. with the discomfort and pain rising, he quickly tapped your calf. you moved off him and offered a hand. he begrudgingly took it, allowing you to pull him up. the grisha stared with open mouths. you sheepishly smiled and hurriedly put your hands behind your back.

“i apologize, general kirigan. it seems i didn’t know my own strength,” you said in deceiving shyness.

he smiled tensely and slipped his kefta back on. “no, i am glad you are so advanced. it makes it all the more assuring that you are with us for the war effort.”

you bowed your head and brushed the dirt off your kefta, shrugging it back on. without another word, he left, alina following in his wake.

botkin clapped his hand on your shoulder. “you are an impressive fighter. where did you learn?”

“shu han. i lived there until hearing about the sun summoner.”

the man looked surprised before nodding. “your fighting style did appear familiar.” after that, he left you to be greeted by the others.

they were mostly friendly, some talking nonstop about how you defeated general kirigan. you just brushed it off as him going easy on a new recruit. you noticed another girl, a squaller judging by her kefta, glaring at you before stalking off.

“don’t worry about her,” a voice said. you turned to see none other than alina starkov herself. “apparently, she hates anyone that’s a threat to her spot as general kirigan’s favorite.”

“she must be delusional because there was nothing about that interaction that hinted at favoritism,” you snorted as you held a hand out. “[y/n].”

“i heard. i’m alina starkov.” she shook your hand with a bright smile. “it’s nice not to be the only new person.”

you returned her smile, “it all does feel rather isolating, doesn’t it?”

she laughed and nodded. “my friend, mal, and i never really liked grisha. they acted like they were the elite.”

ah, is mal the boyfriend?

“if i’m honest, i don’t like them either. i actually ran from ravka when i found out i was grisha,” you said honestly. “i guess i couldn’t run far enough.”

her eyebrows lifted, “oh? where did you run?”

“shu han. a nice place once the villagers get to know you.”

she tilted her head with confusion etching her face. “don’t they, you know, kill grisha?”

you scrunched your nose, “not as much on the outskirts. but, it gave me more reasons to hide my powers.”

“does that mean you’ll have to take lessons with baghra too?”

your shoulders tensed at the mention of the older grisha. you put on a grimacing smile, “i suppose so.”

oh, baghra’s going to kill me when she sees me.

with knowing eyes, alina grabbed your hands. “don’t worry. she’s a bit mean, but she does help you control your powers. 100% success rate, i hear.”

you nodded, patting alina’s hands, before withdrawing yours to your sides.

“alina!” two girls called. they waved their hands to usher her over.

alina looked at you apologetically. “sorry, i’ve got to go. lessons with baghra, actually.”

you sent her off with a wave. “it’s fine. it’s not like we won’t see each other again.”

she grinned, “right. i’d really like to be your friend, [y/n].”

you couldn’t help but soften at her words. “we already are, alina.”

her grin grew wider before she departed with her other friends, leaving you with your thoughts.

so full of life, that one. no wonder aleksander’s drawn to her. the brighter the light, the darker the shadows. let’s just hope he doesn’t snuff her out.

taglist: @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott​

continue to chapter three? yes

[accioxreparo]

entranced | f.w.

synopsis: Fred finds himself taking a different approach to get your attention. Little does he know he already has it. 

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

warnings: none!

a/n: This idea is straight from the discord chat earlier with my babes! This concept is honestly so amazing and completely inspired by @levylovegood​ and also this picture so hopefully I did it justice 😭💖

The Gryffindor table was uncharacteristically silent as Fred Weasley approached late for breakfast. That was typical though. More often than not he was rushing in right before classes started and just as quickly rushing back out.

What was unusual though, and the source of everybody’s shock, was the pair of glasses framing his face. Glasses he didn’t need. Glasses nobody was sure even belonged to him.

“What?” Fred barely acknowledged them as he started putting food on his plate. “What’s with the staring?”

“What’s with -” Ginny let out a heavy sigh as she shared a glance with her siblings, every one of which was just as confused as she was. “What are you wearing those for?”

“Wearing what for?”

“Those obviously!” George reached across the table and flicked the frame of the glasses, skewing them sideways on Fred’s face. He ducked out of the way before he could retaliate. “Didn’t even know you owned any glasses.”

“Well I do,” Fred answered easily. Now that he was looking up he couldn’t help himself. His eyes scanned the Great Hall until he found you hunched over a book and scribbling something on some parchment.

“Well yeah but what for?” Ron frowned through a mouthful of food.

“To see, Ronniekins,” Fred looked away from you quickly when you glanced up abruptly, almost immediately looking right at him. “That’s what most people use them for.”

“Yeah but that’s not what you need them for,” Ron was oblivious to the fact that Fred wasn’t paying him any attention. His gaze had gone back to you the second you went back to your reading. “Think one of us would’ve noticed if you really needed them.”

“Spill it,” Ginny leaned forward while narrowing her eyes. “I can almost guarantee you didn’t own those before last night. Now why do you need them?”

“Need what?”

A groan resounded between the three siblings, each of them coming to the realization that Fred was paying absolutely zero attention to their conversation.

“Okay new question,” George kicked Fred underneath the table, forcing him to look their way again. “What’s got you so -”

But before he could get the question all the way out Fred threw back his goblet of pumpkin juice and practically tripped over himself getting up from the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Well that was something.” Ron shook his head, staring at the empty spot his brother had just left.

Ginny nodded towards the entrance of the Great Hall where Fred had stopped, apparently finding one of the suits of armor very interesting. “Look at that.”

“Makes sense now,” George only shook his head as the three of them watched Fred wait a few seconds after you had left the Great Hall to follow you. “McGonagall changed our seats in Transfiguration the other day and since then our dear Freddie’s been infatuated with none other than Y/N Y/L/N. Has a perfect view of her from where he sits now.”

“You’re kidding,” Ron couldn’t help but scoff at the revelation. “She’s top of her class, always in the library. There’s no way she’d even give Fred the time of day.”

“Maybe that’s why he likes her,” Ginny shrugged, going back to her own breakfast. “Or why he’s intrigued at the very least.”

George hummed before a smirk flashed on his face, leaning in towards his younger siblings a little more. “Place your bets, kids. Do we think Fred’s little glasses plan is going to work or not?”

*

You tried your hardest not to stare, you really did.

Of course you’d noticed Fred Weasley of all people hanging around you for the past week or so, who wouldn’t? The fact that he happened to go out of his way a little to talk to you meant absolutely nothing at all though, you’d convinced yourself of that. Especially not when you knew you’d stuttered through practically every conversation you’d had with him so far.

Finally you thought maybe, just maybe, you were getting somewhere. Maybe you could work up the courage to say more than a few words to him next time you spoke. But then you caught sight of the glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of Fred’s nose. They framed his face perfectly and it really wasn’t fair how they somehow made his eyes shine more than they usually did.

Any kind of coherent thought you were able to form left your brain when you laid eyes on him from across the classroom.

This really wasn’t you. You were smart, you knew that for a fact. Sure you mostly kept to yourself but there wasn’t a single time you hadn’t been able to think of a quick comeback, even if it was only muttered to yourself underneath your breath. That was how all of this had started after all.

He’d overheard a particularly hilarious quip during Potions one day and his burst of laughter had earned him a detention. He had promised you he didn’t mind when you fumbled your way through a quick apology the next day.

Now, though, you were speechless at the mere sight of him because how was it possible for one human to look that good? It didn’t help that you quite literally had the perfect view of him from across the transfiguration room. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him in his glasses before. Had he even worn them before?

Just as you were about to search your memories for any kind of recollection of Fred and his glasses you were interrupted. It was then you realized that you were openly staring at him, and apparently not very subtly.

“Would you like to tell the class what it is you find so interesting, Miss Y/L/N?”

You weren’t sure how long Professor McGonagall had been standing there or what answer she expected of you. Before you could say anything she turned around and took a few steps, effectively blocking your site of the very person you’d been distracted by.

“What about you, Mr. Weasley? You seem to be just as distracted.”

Fred, for once, seemed to also be at a loss for words. He’d barely managed to blink owlishly and start with the beginning of an excuse before he was shushed again. McGonagall looked between the two of you for a moment before pursing her lips. “Detention tonight, both of you.”

Frankly, you were too scared to argue. So instead you turned back towards the very thing that had been the cause of your distraction only to find him already looking at you. You could feel the heat rush to your face when Fred offered you a smile as he pushed the glasses up his face a little and mouthed, this should be fun.

*

Much to your surprise, you were in fact not the first one to reach the transfiguration room at exactly seven o’clock that night. Fred pushed himself off the wall immediately upon seeing you walking his way, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read.

“And here I was thinking you were going to ditch me.”

“I think,” You gulped as you looked anywhere but at him. He was still wearing his glasses and you were positive you’d get distracted again if you looked at him for too long. “I think I’d just get another detention if I did that.”

Fred, on the other hand, was looking right at you with a small smile playing on his lips. This detention was more than worth it in his eyes, especially if it meant getting to spend an hour alone with you. Well almost alone anyway. You were fidgeting a little too much though, something he noticed rather easily. “Is this your first one?”

“First what?”

“Detention.”

You frowned then, stopping your nervous movements and looking up at his towering figure. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know really,” Fred shrugged and couldn’t but smile at the sight of you looking at him curiously, head tipped to the side and arms crossed in front of you. “Maybe it’s just cause you’re always so quiet.” The memory of you cursing at Snape under your breath a couple weeks ago made him laugh suddenly. “You do have a mouth on you, though, don’t you?”

You knew what he was referring to immediately and a flush spread across your face once more. “I’m sorry about that, again”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred leaned against the wall again and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. “So is it?”

“No,” With a sigh you followed his movements and sat down cross legged next to him. “Though I guarantee my reasons probably aren’t as fun as yours.”

“Try me,” Fred turned then so he was facing you, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “You first.”

Slowly your nerves started fading away. Your gaze however stayed focused on the wall in front of you. “Fine, One was for ditching History of Magic to read in one of the broom cupboards.”

“Well aren’t you a little rebel.”

“Oh always,” That comment made you laugh. You could hear the grin in his voice and finally worked up the nerve to look at him, trying your hardest to focus on the conversation and not on the way his school robes had been abandoned and the sleeves of his button up shirt rolled up his arms. “Now your turn.”

Talking to Fred came easier than you thought it would. A couple well timed jokes had you relaxing completely and soon enough the two of you were laughing together right there, sitting on the floor in a random hallway.

The reason behind you being there had slipped your mind completely. That is until you noticed Professor McGonagall walking down the hallway. Both of you scrambled up from the floor, simultaneously recalling the fact that you had detention.

“Professor,” You nodded and quickly straightened out your clothes.

Fred, meanwhile, gave a smirk as he leaned against the wall once more. “You know I think we ought to give you detention for keeping us waiting, Professor.”  

“Did neither of you get my owl?” McGonagall ignored the comment as she moved to unlock the door to her office.

You turned to look at Fred, both of you sharing a confused look. “Owl?”

“Your detention was cancelled,” Once the door was unlocked she stood in the doorway and glanced between the two of you. You didn’t miss the ghost of a smile that flashed on her face. “Though I suppose it’s just as well. The two of you two certainly got to know each other better. Perhaps you can now find it in yourselves to keep the staring to a minimum in my class.”

Then without another word she walked into the room and shut the door behind her.

Your stare was blank as you glanced quickly between the office, Fred, and the spot Professor McGonagall once stood. “Did she -”

Fred chuckled again and followed as you started walking down the hallway towards your common room. “Did she what? Trick us into going on a first date? I think so.”

You weren’t able to keep the grin off your face as you shook your head a little. “It was not a first date. It was talking.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well in that case how about this weekend? We can try not to get ourselves another detention while sneaking out to Hogsmeade.” Fred stopped when you did and couldn’t help but notice the surprised look on your face, one that faded quickly. “How about it?”

“I’ll agree if you tell me one thing, first.” You challenged, eyes narrowing and arms crossing as you stared directly at him for the first time.

“Anything.” Fred’s answer was just as confident.

Your eyes flickered across his face, taking in the sight of him wearing those glasses just as you had earlier. “You’ve never worn those before have you?”

A beat passed and Fred knew he’d been caught. You could see right through him. “Yes I have.”

“No you haven’t,” Your arms fell to your sides, being able to see his hesitation clearly. “I’d remember.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you look good in them.”

“Do I?” Fred chuckled when your eyes widened at your own comment. One you evidently you hadn’t meant to actually tell him. “Since we’re confessing I suppose I should tell you that you’re right.”

“I knew it!” You were quick to respond and nod in satisfaction. “What are you wearing those for then?”

For a moment Fred only looked at you. This wasn’t where he’d seen his day going. Maybe some more pining, wondering if you’d noticed him at all. Now that he was here beside you, both of you apparently smitten enough with each other for one of your professors to meddle, he was ecstatic. “I’ll tell you but you’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Fine,” Fred started walking down the hall again but stayed focused on you to see what your reaction would be. “I thought they’d make you notice me more since you always seemed to be avoiding me.”

You tried not to smile, you really did. But the corners of your mouth started turning upwards and Fred stopped again, not being able to resist grinning along with you. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not!” A laugh really did escape you then and you quickly put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. You looked up at him then, a little more serious. “I swear I’m not laughing at you. I just think it’s cute.”

“Well I’m glad you think so cause I quite like these. Think I look rather dashing.” Fred pushed the glasses up a little bit from where they’d slipped and smirked. “And apparently you agree since the whole reason we’re here is your staring.”

“Hey, both of us were staring, thank you very much.”

“Well I couldn’t help myself, darling. You’re entrancing, you know.”

“Entrancing,” You repeated the word and your grin softened, looking away as butterflies formed in your stomach. “Is that right?”

“It is,” Fred gave a firm nod, giving you no room to argue. “You’re beautiful, love, you must know that.”

When you dared to look at him he was smiling at you, a completely genuine sparkle in his eyes as he looked only at you. You weren’t sure yet what the warm feeling that erupted in your chest and fluttered through your body at the sight of his gaze trained on you was. He was looking at you like you were the world and it overwhelmed you with emotions you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Fred on the other hand? You were positive he was definitely somebody you could get used to. Him and his smile that never faded. Him and his laugh that was practically infectious. Him and his eyes that were full of life, showed you entire worlds, and sat behind a pair of glasses he didn’t need.

“Thank you,” You couldn’t help but beam back at him, a flash of confidence suddenly coursing through your veins. “So are you.”