#i can’t just wait for genius to strike me i need to work hard on this

[tparker48]

Request for anonymous

"Let's see..add a few fine tuning on the stitches, tighten up the bells…" Merkeo muttered as he faced his computer desk, threading a needle through his jester suit. "Just a little bit of tugging and..There!”

He took a step back to admire his handy work. The black and red spandex glistened beneath his lamp, slumping from the miniature desk to the wooden board of the one beneath. It took him weeks to find a suit customizable, he could hardly count the shops he visited that sold suits for people his size. He took the suit from the desk, reminiscing its silky texture as it glided between his fingertips.

"Wait until the the peeps get a load of this, I can already tell this DnD session will be-"

A beep rang from the magnet on the front door, a hard thud striking the panel as a spiked cleat forced it to the wall. "Hey nerd! Guess who's home!" A voice boomed as the rest of their body lowered into the frame, the metal borders of the door screaming as they made their way passed. "I swear this damn door needs an adjustment. Hey nerd! Nerd!"

"I'm right here, Fervin!" Merkeo shouted, rubbing his ears from the vibrations in his ear drums. "Must you shout so loud? We're in a dormitory."

"What can I say? when I make an entrance, I make an entrance."

He slumped his duffel bag from his shoulder, tossing it against the wall as its weight sent a pulse through the floor. Merkel watched as his form strolled closer, like a looming storm cloud about to pour upon a landscape. The computer chair rushed back, Fervin's hide forcing the cushion down as it raced eagerly to support him.

He crossed his arms behind his back. "Oh it feels good to be out of that lecture room. The professor really cracked down on that essay, even double checked to ensure it was mine. Guess some pencil necks can’t handle such great genius."

"You mean my work. My whole sleep schedule’s out of whack because of your pestering."

the desk shook as spikes prodded upon the table. Merkel nearly yelped at its prickling touch, his hands casting to the air. "And it worked like a charm." He kicked his other foot upon the table. But he paused as he gazed at the slim ware hanging from his foot. “Huh, what are those? pajamas?”

The footwear wagged as Merkeo raced to retrieve his suit, cautiously eying the coned steel as they swiped from side to side. “If you must know, It’s my jester suit. And I would very much like it without holes for DnD.”

"That nerd shit? Pfft, lame. You can’t expect to get babes with a thing like that. Now that spring break party tonight, that’s where it’s really at. And guess who’s cohost? This guy!”

Merkeo managed to grab ahold of his suit, sliding it from the cold pedestal as he tumbled back to the desk. "You? Cohost? I don’t think they chose wisely on that."

“Cute, can’t be surprised to hear that from a bookworm. But If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to party.” He said. “The drinks, the babes, I can already imagine it now. And by the end of the night, I’m gonna bang me a cheerleader."

He raised his palms to the air, his fingers swaying to trace an hourglass shape. His hips slowly began to thrust, his junk pushing through from its pouch as it slithered to the leg hole of his shorts. Merkeo caught a glimpse as the phallus peeked out, shielding his eyes as his face flushed red.

"Ay Ay! TMI man, I don't want to see all that!"

"Aww is the nerd getting flustered?" His legs stretching over the desk, the hefty package between his legs gyrating against the wooden furniture. "I bet you wish you could be all over this."

"I’d rather do quizzes than be that close to you." he replied, "Will you put that away already?!"

"Hah, that's what I like about you nerds, always so squeamish." he slid his waist back to the chair, groping at the bulky outline. "Luckily for you, this bad boy has its eyes set on the ladies tonight. It can't waste time on small fries like you. Though it might give that thin noodle of yours some pointers."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Peh, suit yourself."

He grabbed a few beer bottles, hoisting them over his broad shoulders as he walked out of the room. Merkeo sighed, taking back to his suit as he checked for punctured points. Aside from dust particles, the fabric was unscaved. Thank goodness, he didn't know what he’d do if it became damaged.

He returned to his desk to tend to the rest of his props, organizing the board and creatures he was ready to unleash upon his members. Another hour ticked by in a flash, his notes piling over one another from his practice sessions. He yawned as he checked the clock on the wall, a quarter past 7:00 PM.

“Time for a break.” he leaned into his chair.

He took to his computer as he looked into his group chat for the group. Many online were already talking about the upcoming session, sharing new lores while roleplaying in their own channels. What a treat it was to indulge in fantasy, he thought, may he could give them a taste of the jester magic. He reached for his cards to select to share, but paused as he eyed his costume. He eyed the group chat as many shared their costumes, it sent an urge through his body, his fingers wiggling at the temptation of trying it on. He didn’t want to spoil the magic with a picture, but to send a picture of their grad DM, it may just make them excited, if not himself.

“Oh.. why not, I still have to make sure it fits anyway.”

He picked up the costume as he held it on his shoulder, stripping himself as the cool conditioning washed over him like a wave. He slipped his limbs inside, his hairs standing on end as they brushed against the elastic spandex. He soon put on his Cap n Bells as they dangled from the sides of his head, its little chimes sending a giggle from inside as he tapped at the round spheres.

“I think a quick selfie might do the trick. ‘The crowned jester and his future pawns’. Oo, that kinda has a ring to it.

He hovered his phone to get a better angle for himself, shifting the filter as sparkles boarded the frame. But the ground shook beneath as he caught himself, the water bottle on the desk rippling. An earthquake? It can’t be, the tectonic plate wasn’t near the university. Heavy thumps slowly overwhelmed the silent rumbles, traveling through the walls before it stopped at the front door.

The magnet chimed, but the handle didn’t turn as grumbling lingered behind it. The magnet reactivated, and pounds struck the door, as if a wild beast was trying to force its way in. Merkeo eyed the door as its pounds became aggressive, the green lighting of the magnet flickering before another strike snuffed out its light. The door slammed open, and wallowing filled the room.

Fervin loomed inside as he entered. One of his shoes were missing, and his "Damn it all..who do they think I am?! I'm a fuckin'.. Football player!"

His weight leaned as his feet stomped forward, like a drunk T-rex trying to run as he staggered to couch. He tripped over his own feet as he hurled toward the cushion, knocking the couch from its sliders as his head wedged into the soft gaps.

Merkeo used the railing in the room to make it over to the couch, standing upon the armchair. "The hell happened to you?"

"It's horrible..I go all that way to seek her out..An.. the hag blue balled me. Me!" He groaned into the cushions, scraping from its soft crevice. “You know how many want to..to.. Fuck me?!"

Fervin turned his head, his roaring breath flowing out like a dragon. Merkeo fanned the air as the smell of alcohol polluted the once clean air, holding the collar of his suit over his mouth to deter himself from passing out.

“You went and got yourself again! Didn’t you learn from the last party you went to.”

“Screw you!.. I don’t take orders from you! Why I..I” tears slowly sleeping through his eyes, a whimper escaping. “Damn it all..why do they have to make it so hard?”

Merkeo palmed himself. He must’ve drank too much if he’s already at his wallowing state. He sighed before hopping to the side of the lughead's face, caressing his cheek as its warmth filled his palm. "Hey now..you. There's no need to fuss about one girl." He said to him, wincing at the drool wetting his pants. "There's many out there in the sea, and I'm sure there's some out there waiting for him."

"Yeah right!" He blurted, knocking Merkeo onto his butt. " That's not gonna solve my aching cock right now!"

Fervin dug a finger through his waistband, the jock’s musk mixing with the tainted air as flesh squeaked against the sofa’s rubbery surface. The forearm above Steamrolled Merkeo as it traversed toward the bulging phallus, answering its wet call as his stubby fingers pampered its side. It throbbed it wedged itself between the crevice of the cushions, the jock’s hips flexing as he shuttered.

“Oh Yeah..that’s the stuff.” He muttered, his hips pumping into the couch.

"Dude! Not in the living room! Do that somewhere else."

"Sue me..I'm too pissed and horny to move."

His strokes increased as his hips moved like a wave, the wet slap of flesh overwhelming the silence in the room. Merkeo raced to comfort his ears as he moved to a cubard, searching through his supplies. He flipped over towels stashed in the corner, and found a plastic bottle of water sticking out from its packet. He wrapped his arms around the slender bottle and dragged it out, heaving it toward his drunken roommate on the couch.

“Alright, let’s get you sober so you don’t break the wall again?” Merkeo said.

Fervin grumbled as his knees slumped beneath him, thrusting him upward as his wait trailed backwards. Merkeo eyed cautiously at his blundering, backtracking as the stumbling feet trailed closer.

“I didn’t say move!” he yelped, rolling the bottle the opposite way.

But he wasn’t fast enough to outrun Fervin, his feet kicking in front of the other as he tilted like a chopped tree. The floor darkened before a wall of mass crashed at his back, burly arms planting the ground with a thunderous thump.

“That lady’s cheeks were cold… I’m barely s..satisfied.” He pawed the ground. “I need more!”

“Well you’re not getting one when you're on top of me! Now get off!”

His glassy eyes opened as he glared at him. "Piss off, man! I don’t need your..” he paused as he stared at the small roommate, his eyes blinking before they widened.

Merkeo met his gaze, looking at the marbled floor before looking back. "What?"

"Hey..where’d this toy come? Ho..How long have you been there?"

“Toy?" He blinked, tugging at his suit. "No, this is my suit, remember?"

"And it talks!..oh man..This must be my lucky day.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about. All that booze has gotten to your head. Why don't you go lay down and-" A palm wrapped around his body, plucking him from underneath. "Hey!"

His hand gripped like a vice, Fervin hauling him away as he returned to the couch with a drunken waltz. He was hurled into the closed fist as his back met with the soft cushion. He strung themselves to to the floor, a signal that rushed to the titanic cock as it pointed from his body. Merkeo pounded a hand at the sides of the jock’s fingers, the other covering his nose as the smell of rubber and jizz invaded his nostrils.

The phallus loomed closer, stamping at the gap between the middle fingers as it struck his chest. "A perfect fit..awesome." He slurred beneath his breath, his palms lifting as Merkeo plunged into the cavern of the couch, the bulbous head stamping his chin as it ensnared between his walls.

As the cock reached the bottom of the gap, it was a catalyst for Fervin’s arousal as hips began to pump. Flesh skidded against the silky suit, the phallus ramming into a pocket above Merkeo as the little bells were swallowed by the slit. Its warmth was overwhelming, his nostrils filling with a sour aroma as it stuck to his suit like cologne..

Merkeo raised his arms to shield himself. "Wait!…I'm not!.."

"Just a little more..a little more."

Fervin doubled his efforts as his hips twisted in place. The sweat that once dried between the cushions humidified as it loosened its restraints upon the tender skin, joined by the drizzling pre as it lathered into his roommate’s skin like lotion. The phallus scooped higher as it smashed Merkeo’s defense, the puffed edges moving like a wave as it stamped at his face.

He was stamped firmly as seed dressed his head, but unsatisfied puffs echoed above, a palm dragging him from underneath the bulging member. "Nrgh..that's not enough!" Fervin slurred from his lips. "How are you going to be a toy if you can't even get me off?"

"That's because I'm not a toy you lughead!"

His eyes squinted, eying the little roommates as strands of his own pre dripped to the couch. "Wha?..sure you are..I'm looking right at you." His fingers stamped across his body, the lonely bell on his right tuft jangling at his prods. "You look like a toy..feel like a toy. You are one…I'm just not using it right."

Gravity shifted as the palm tilted on its side, hovering over the hairy crotch. His other pinched eagerly at the drooling slit, pinching it open as its seed flowed down its underbelly like lava.

"What..what are you doing? No, hell no! You're not putting' me in there!"

"You better make this work..toy!"

"I told you I'm not a-!" his stomach dropped as the palm rushed toward the cock, a wet belch erupting from the cream filled phallus as it opened wide. Murky white fluid filled his vision as the orifice encircled his head. His shouts muffled from the bulging head, his palms slipping from the sides of phallus

Fervin's cock throbbed as it suckled at its meal. "Yeah…yeah that's the stuff. Get..right in there."

The palm loosed as fingers climbed over his feet, feeding more of Merkeo inside as its underbelly bulged with his body. With a giddish chuckle, he corkscrewed the rest of his feet inside as the slit closed. Wads of pre rushed into his body as it blinded him of the trip ahead, the muscular tube getting thickening as a suction pulled at his body.

A mere lump cast itself upon the jock's shaft, pulse after pulse dragging him down as it squeezed into the base of the shaft and into his prostate. More seed flooded the tender bean as the valve closed behind him, leaving him at the mercy of the muscular waves as it tenderized his body. He struggled to hold them back, his limbs sinking into their surface as he tried to find a way out. Pressure tugged at his feet, yanking him into the source of the musky fluid as he was dragged through the labyrinth swirling in the Jock's waist.

He held his breath as he was dragged through its loops, before he found him at its ridge as he slid through a long tube. He was deposited inside an enclosed sac, the walls forcing him to lay straight as if he were in an airtight compartment.

"Damn it Fervin, this has gotten way too far!!" he scowled, Worming himself toward the valve that winked out of reach, taunting at his predicament before it vanished behind a fold of seed coated flesh.

His calls were left unanswered, drowned out by the jock's beastly grunts as it reverberated through the walls.

wet slaps came from outside, jostling the testicle as if it were a fish bag. "That's the job..right there!" Fervin huffed louder.

The jock roared as the walls shrank around Merkeo’s body, the valve above him slurping the pool from the chamber as climbed through the tubes. The ceiling spasmed as spurts muffled the walls, Merkeo took the chance to breathe, but shriveled as his lungs filled with the ripe aroma of salt and bodily fluids. He squirmed along the walls to follow the fluid out, but his fingers wouldn't register as the stiff folds pucker in place.

Droplets of the lukewarm substance dripped at his back, and he groaned. "There, you had your little release. Now get me out of this thing!" He paused to hear the outside, the heavy wet thumps shaking the chamber as he swayed in place. "Hey! Are you listening?"

"Oh man..you are a good toy." He muttered, his voice distorted as if he were a broken speaker. "Ah really…good one."

"Yeah yeah, great, now get me out!"

Fervin’s words slowed as they traveled through his body. Gravity flicked as a heavy mass compressed the ceiling. The layer of flesh surrounding the testicle squashed at his torso.. The jock's breath grew heavy, rattling the muscles like rusted gears. He's kidding, he thought to himself, he sends him down his cock and now he's taking a snooze?

"You’re not sleeping with me in here!." He shouted. "Wake your ass up!"

He rattled the sac like an ape in a cage, thrashing himself in the compressed space to disrupt Fervin’s sound slumber. It was only when his knees cushioned into the round testicle did he get a reaction, the jock's body springing to life as a moan howled through the environment. Gravity shifted again, and the flesh barricading the orb pinned him down as the round lump cushioned his face.

He groaned as it tucked him against the corner wall, singing its whale songs of gurgles and churns to its captive audience. "Damn it.."

The hours ticked by since the events of that evening. Fervin tossed in his slumber, snarling from his nostrils as he rocked over the arms of the sofa. He stretched his limbs to scratch himself, but fell backwards as gravity pulled him to the floor. Sunlight erupted from the winder, burning into his eyes like a flashbang as he groggily got up.

He picked himself up from the floor, his balance tumbling to the cushion as he caught himself.. "Fuck what a night, all that partying really tired me out.." He scratched absently at his crotch, warm skin sticking to his fingers as he cocked it back, His barreled cock resting between his legs. “Where the fuck did my shorts go?..”

He stretched before getting up from the couch, giving one last yawn as he fetched a protein shake from the fridge. He looked at his roommates' things, his props scattered along the tabletop as his cotton bed was toppled from the windowsill. The nerd’s already gone, he thought, guess he decided to leave early for spring break. That’s good, he didn’t have to worry about underwear then. He drank at his shake and moved onto his side of the room, kicking his suitcase between his legs. He crumpled his clothes, tossing them inside as a hill slowly formed.

He scratched at himself once more, reminiscing at his fingers touch as his nut flexed over them. But he squinted as he gazed at the round sphere. Something was different about them, his right testicle sagged lower than the other. He fondled beneath its weight as his cock throbbed. It might just be his imagination, he did hold a lot of his seed in there last evening.

"I’m sorry big boy, I got too drunk to enjoy you properly.” He massaged his shaft. “But I bet you got plenty of rest after you had your fun."

"Absolutely not?"

He blinked at the sudden voice, looking at his Cock. He poked at its pudgy surface for a response, but it only throbbed. "Heh..hehe, I must have had way too many shots last night. Thought I just heard my cock talking."

"Not the cock you idiot!" The voice echoed again.

He cocked a brow as he stared at his member, movement rising beneath the sagging right testicle. He scooped his sac into his palm, pinching at the active orb as he rotated it. A squirming lump curled along its edge, a soft imprint appearing before a flex pulled it down.

His palm flung from his ball, letting them swing between his legs as his heart pounded. "What the hell did I drink last night?! My ball's coming alive!"

"No, It's me! Merkeo!"

"Merkeo?" He paused, looking back at the wiggling lump. He poked at its side, a pathetic whimper escaping from it. "It is you, nerd! The hell are you doing in my balls!"

"Take a guess! You shoved me in here on another one of your drunk sprees."

"Drunk spree? I don't know what the hell you're talking about." He said. “As far as I can remember I was alone..then again, there was this talking toy. Don’t remember much but it kept squawking about not being a..toy. Huh, well that explains all the whining.”

“You fucked me into the couch.”

He groaned upon the nerd’s response "Yeah well..you should’ve been more careful. It’s not my fault you’re in there.”

“It literally is!"

"Potato, Potato."

He moved toward the glass mirror along the wall, reaching , putting on his underwear as he got dressed. He pulled the back as the thin fabric saddled his glutes, letting his cock spill over the pouch as he took to his suitcase.

His nuts jangled together like wind chimes, crashing into his thighs. "What are you doing now?"

"What do you think I’m doing? I’m packing for the weekend. I’ve got shit to do back at home, and since you're stuck with me, you'll just have to tag along until we get back."

"What?! I'm not staying in here! DnD is this weekend!" Merkel said, pressure climbed through his epididymis to the valve connecting to the rest of the cock. The right nut sway passively, flexing as the sensation of fingers prodded at the tight folds. "Gotta get..out of this thing!"

The jock snorted at the attempt. "Oh boy, aren't you nerds supposed to be smart or something? My cock doesn't take orders from nerds, it listens to one that has the oomph to shake it. And that's yours truly."

"Then get on with it already."

"You’d love that wouldn’t you? To see yourself ejected from a real cock." he fondled his nuts between his fingers. "Unfortunately I’m still spent. It's gonna be a long while before these babies are ready for another round."

“And how long would that take.”

“Hell if I know, 3 hours or so.” “Three hours?!”

“Yup, so might as well get comfy until I fetch for you.”

He raised his cock over the flap, sealing it inside the pouch as he tied his shorts. He reeled his luggage into the hallway, following the narrow passageway toward the elevator in the crossway. Movement shifted as Merke tried to adjust in the compact space, the bulk of Fervin’s nuts dog piling his lump as it jostled in the pouch of his jockstrap. That nerd really knows how to get under his skin. Literally. Though he'll give him one thing, it felt good to have his balls stimulated, like a hot girl playing with his balls. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside. As they closed, he groped at his crotch, humping at the air.

He picked up a soft whimper from beneath the fabric, pressure building at his testicle as soft kneads rested upon it. He still didn’t know how to feel above having the nerd in there,but at least he’ll help filling him up back home..

The ride with Fervin was a long and bumpy trip. Every passing moment was filled with flesh jumbling Merkeo around, marinating him in the little puddle that climbed at his ankles as the testicular wall shriveled and compressed. He didn't know how far they traveled, the outside was too muffled to depth the surrounding environment except for the purrs of jock’s vehicle. After another eternity of stewing in the jock's balls, inertia pulled ahead as his face was wrapped in a sheet of muscle.

His steps boomed as a door creaked open, the sound of a zipper being undone as the sac rolled on its side. "Ah, it's good to be back home." Fervin’s voice distorted through the walls..

Merkeo padded at the soft tissue to get the jock's attention, the testicle spooning into his torso. His palms were pinned by the protruding bulge, only managing to use his ankles as he bucked weakly as the ridge of the testicle.

A heavy thud struck the balls, the soft curvature of fingers pressing at his back. "Eh? oh yeah, forgot you were in there."

Not a surprise. "It's been hours since I've been here. Can you get me out now?"

“I told you that’s not how my nuts work, nerd. They need the energy to get them started.”

“You said you needed three hours!”

Fervin laughed heartily. “I said It’d take me three hours to fill them, I never said I’d be ready to release it.”

The sac shook as its contents plonked around, the seed secreting from the wall spreading out as they washed over Merkeo’s body. His stomach dropped as the fingers let go, the nuts beginning to sway as steps boomed outside. A soft pressure cushion at the walls, tight leather scrunching beneath him.

“Been a while since I checked on the game” Fervin said. “I wonder if my K/D is still intact.”

The jock’s weight shifted as the sac tilted, forcing Merkeo to spoon beneath the rough lump as seed polled at his shoulders. Fervin's voice could be heard beyond the walls, blurting comments as a controller clunked high above. His obnoxious bantering went on for another hour, his balls rocking periodically as a finger scratched at the testicular layer. Merkeo tried again to get him to answer, splashing at the pool of seed that splashed beneath his chin. But he only received a brush from one of the thighs, followed by cursing as he shouted at someone in the game.

Outside the sun loomed past the hill in the window, the crimson sky slowly turning blue as the moon rose from the horizon. Merkeo tilted his neck as he faced the quivering sphincter above, counting its flexes as seed drooled from its lips. It’s all he could do, with his limbs bathed into the milky pool as the muscle flexed in place.

“Fuck yeah!” Fervin’s voice blurted,the testicles thrusting forward before snagged. “Hope you like that grenade yas wuss! That’ll teach ya to steal my kill!”

“Fervin!” Merkeo called out, thrashing against the tender wall. “Fervin!”

The chamber shifted, pressure applying to his back. “What now nerd?”

“Are you ready yet? It’s getting kind of full in here.”

“Hmm..They are kinda heavy…” the pressure behind him pushed at his body, a thrust sending a wave over the little roommate. “And I’m already pumped as it is, why not.”

“Yes! Finally!”

A rumble boomed above, a bubbling torrent shaking the walls as pressure melted behind him. “Shit, I forgot all about dinner. Can’t wank one out on an empty stomach.”

Merkeo swayed as Fervin traversed the household, his steps hardening as it traveled through his body. Wrappers muffled from above as the jock giggled to himself, followed by a meaty crunch as he chewed on his food. He listened to symphony of crumpled wrappers and munching for moments, and still he had yet finished his feast. The fluid climbed higher, dosing his ears as if they dipping sauce.

The walls flexed, and he raced to force them back. “It's getting a little cramped in here, are you ready to release yet?” “Eh? Release what?”

“Your seed!”

“Oh yeah yeah, I’ll get right on it. Just..” an announcer muffled from outside, followed by bells as cheer muttered in the background. “Oo, the playoffs! I forgot that aired today.” He walked over as the sounds came closer, springs creaking beneath him.

“Wait a second, get me out first.”

“Don’t sweat it, it won’t be long. I’ll have you out by halftime, jock’s promise.”

Merkeo groaned at the response, working his limbs close to deter the walls from overtaking the pocket. He didn’t know if he could bear the salty aroma, each whiff was like intaking smelling salt, forcing him to buck at the round testicle that threatened to submerge him without hesitation. Buzzing rang from beneath him as a bubbled climbed into the pocket, his phone emerging from the pool as a notification was plastered upon it.

It was from one of the members, sending a message about the meet for tomorrow. He fiddled a finger toward its direction, its angled edge taping at his fingertips, before a fold greedily dragged it out of sight. He sighed as he faced the wall, thrashing it about to get Fervin’s attention. This time there was no response, all except his goofish giggling as he mocked the game. He couldn’t do anything but wait, tugging into the soggy fold as he closed his eyes.

A few minutes passed as he opened his eyes, once chaotic background softening as snores followed behind it. He was still in his balls, and he was fast asleep. In rage, he thrashed about the chamber to cause discomfort, swiping at the lump at his torso despite how weakly his limbs slipped off.

A roaring ocean filled his ears, as the side of his hear were submerged in milky pool. In shriveled defeat, he closed his eyes, awaiting for the jock to wake up once more. DnD was tomorrow, and he couldn’t stand being trapped in his nuts for a moment more. —-------------------------------------- Throughout the next day, he slept to conserve his energy, listening to Fervin’s wandering as carried out his activities. When waved of seed flowed into his nostrils, he shot awake, kicking the testicle as a jolt shook the walls. A groan escaped from the jock as fingers took to his balls, forcing him to adjust as the chamber tilted it’s side.

“Watch where you’re kicking in there will ya?” Ferman demanded. “These babies are to be treated with care!”

“These babies are a nightmare, I’ve been stewing in here for god now’s how long!”

“Oh please, you barely move in there, it can’t be that bad.” “You’re not the one neck deep in side!” He bent his knees to open more space, driving his feet into the sides of the testicular wall.

Its flesh raced to subdue, contracting its muscle around him like a snake. But he refused to let himself cave under its pressures, prying at the opposite wall.

Fervin’s body twisted. “What are you doing?”

“DnD is tonight, I can’t stay in your balls any longer. And if I have to cause a ruckus, then so be it!”

His body lit ablaze as he took to the lump, kneading into the tender walls as the testicle throbbed beneath its layer. Fervin’s fingers raced to subdue his efforts, but the sac was too full to add enough pressure, Merkeo using it as a shield as battered the walls with his own body.

After moments of struggling, a roar of defeat erupted from Fervin." Fuck it! Fine I’ll get you out.” he announced. “Was getting tired of hauling you around anyway."

The testicles swayed as he wandered outside. It wasn't long before pressure built beneath, the opposite testicle shifting before it dropped off a ledge. The sound of wet slaps returned from above, sending ripples in the chamber as the testicular sac compressed Merkeo's face.

"Ugh, my suit is so ruined, can't you pump faster?"

"Don't get your tidy widdies in bunch ya nerd, I'm almost there."

The walls flexed harder, compressing his feet as he squeezed along the hump like paste in a canister. The valve slowly began to quiver, widening slowly a seed rushed through its mouth. It flowed into its tubes like a pipeline, gulping periodically at the substance as he himself was pulled close to its lips.

Strands of his own hair were plucked between the soggy lips, crowning his head as seed piled his shoulder. But flex ceased as the narrow tube dried up, clamping at his head as seed disappeared into the abyss above. "What the? What's the hold up?"

A muffled ring vibrated the walls, the pounds halting as the jock shifted slowly. "Got a call." Fervin said, answering the device. "Bandi, my boy, what's up? Yeah I’ve been in town, just letting out some steam."

"Hey! Don't stop, keep going!"

"Give me a fucking minute, I'll get there…no no, just talking to a nerd is all I-…wait seriously?! Oh shit, count me in!"

The sac rattled from the jock’s excitement. "What are you doing out there?"

"The boys found a goldmine for some chicks from the cheerleading squad at the university. Looks we're heading to the bar."

"What?! What about me?! You still have to take me out!"

"I'll fetcha ya later, Right now I gotta fetch old faithful from the drawers. I'm gonna catch me a big one tonight"

The chamber thrashed as he braced himself for another tide, the thick goop dragging down his body like syrup. He stretched his limbs to pierce the tender muscle, but pouted at the meat pocket. Unbelievable, he was about to be free from this hellhole before that phone call. He couldn’t bear more of Fervin’s antiques for god knows how, but it appears he didn’t have much choice.. Before he knew it, the chamber moved as steps trailed outside, a door muffling open as the purrs of the truck returned.

And so began the trip to the bar. Voices muffled from the walls as Fervin greeted his friends, softer tones following them as he assumed they were women. His hips gyrating was the confirmation he needed, if not rhythmic throbbing from the shaft.

The minutes felt like an eternity as jazz played from the bar, glasses clanging together as the jock’s obnoxious chattering filled the void. His ears submerged in seed was a mercy compared to listening to the awful pick up lines he spewed from his mouth.

"This is so humiliating." he groaned.

"Hey baby, there's no need to take a seat on these raggedy old chairs, come take a gander at this one" Fervin said, heavy thumps causing the sac to dip.

Pressure ensued as the testicle rolled at his back. His torso sunk like an island landscape, dipping beneath the murky fluid as it climbed to his chin. He struggled beneath the titanic weight above, the thigh outside bouncing as it jostled the chamber..

"Oh my, you make a pretty good seat." A woman's voice said above.

"Oh ho baby, I can do more than just cushion."

"Oh for fuck sake." Merkeo covered his ears, hoping to drown out the conversation.

Another hour drew by as he listened to the oaf's bantering. At one point, chattering dwindled before the nutsack spilled forward, and the crushing weight was relieved. Fervin was on the move, the sounds of the bar growing distant until it became white noise in the background.

He scraped the wall before placing his ear against it, curiosity overwhelming him as he listened to the jock’s steps. The zipper of the pants were undone, and he spilled forward as flesh caught his fall.

"Here they are my dear, my pride and enjoy in all its glory."

"You weren't lying, it certainly is thick."

“He’s with a girl, of course he is.” his side cramp as a lump fondled his back, He squirmed to ease its protrusion, elbowing the testicle as the jock released a grunt.

"Is everything all alright?" The woman asked.

"Oh yeah sure, everything is just fine. Just a little..excited is all." Fervin replied. "Afterall, how can a guy not melt for a hot doll like yourself."

The chamber shook as the lump flattened, seed rushing from the other end like a dam as it splashed into Merkeo. Slow wet pounds filled the void, the testicle compressing before it squashed into his body. A disgruntled moan pierced the air as the sac swayed forward, a dulled edge separating the balls as softer moans echoed ahead..

God, She's sucking him off, as if his problem weren't already wacky enough. He fought the testicle to plug his ears, but its ridge forced them away, allowing the demented display to continuing as it intensified. The pressure returned as digits cupped behind him, thinner than the ones before as their pointy ends prodded his back.

The pool increased as it climbed over his head, a current seeping into the valve as it widened closer. Muscle contraptions echoed beyond the thick walls, glurking as the women's moan grew fierce. The sac pulse, and the valve widened as it guzzled seed to the surface..

"Hope you're thirsty, cause I'm gonna unleash my load inside."

"Like hell you are!" Merkeo blurted, thrashing from the chamber.

The lump prodding at his back vanished beneath murky waves, the balls dropping as they bashed against the jock’s thigh. "Did your balls just talk?!" The woman squealed.

"N..no? Did you hear them talking? I..I didn't hear them talking."

"Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting."

The sound of boots muffled from the outside, growing softer as the chamber thrashed about. "No! Come on babe, Come back!" Fervin called desperately for her, the door slamming shut. A vice grip wrapped the testicle, and Merkeo was smothered into the walls. "Damn it you nerd, you scared her off!"

"I scared her off?! I was nearly protein for her! I'm trying to get out from inside you, not end up in another."

"Well congratulations cause now I'm fucking limp, thanks for that." A bang sounded from outside as the jock began to walk. "Can't believe I got cock blocked by a nerd."

The sac rocked between his legs as the creaking door lingered from overhead, trailing off somewhere behind them as the sound of the roaring crowd returned. Merkeo tucked himself against the corner pocket of the chamber, it was the only place he could manage to breath without intaking the salty seed. He heard the jock's friend talking, reminiscing over the cheerleader storming out of the bar. His response wasn't pleasant, a squeeze smother the eager testicle against his head as if to point the blame upon him. but it relented as he relaxed, his balls drooping at the thigh.

He curled against the opposite wall, before a buzz rumbled from above, his phone squeezing from the compressed fold as it slid in front of him.

a photo appeared from beneath the milky substance, a group photo with his friends dressed in their fictional costumes. Speak of the devil, he thought, here comes the fruits of his labor reminding him of his failed attempt. What he would give to be there right now. He focused on the group photo, admiring the designs each of them chose to wear. but his eyes furrowed as he caught a glimpse of one of the members, his eyes widening.

"No way.."

That late night dragged into Sunday morning, as Fervin drove back into the dorm room as he tossed his backpack. Merkeo eyed the quivering sphincter above as its lips expanded, the walls compress as he catapulted into the tight tube. The ride up was rigid and slow, but fast enough to wipe seed clean from his skin before he squeezed back into the embrace of the jock's prostate. In a firm push he climbed up the urethral tube, skyrocketing into a tupperware container as he collided against the plastic wall.

The jock scorned above, the milky stream pouring faster as he shielded his face. "Alright that's enough!"

"Not yet it's not." Fervin said grumpily.

the stream pushed at his palms, piercing their way through as he slid into the smooth corner, it was only until his palm remained uncovered did it finally stop, and the slit sealed shut.

"Now it's finished” Fervin sneered at his handy work, shaking the drizzle from his cock before turning toward his stuff.

"Hold it!" Merkeo muttered, rising from the gunk. "We're.. we're not done."

"oh we're not huh? and what makes you say that?"

"You cost me the whole weekend! you have to make up for it!"

"Wha?.." the jock burst from laughter. "What are you on about, you're the nerd who got stuck in there in the first place."

"Only because you put me there. and nearly got me swallowed."

He rolled his eyes, fanning at the remark as Merkeo climbed out of the container. In a slippery leap, the little roommate lunged as he clung to the tufts of his jersey. It was like holding onto a moving vehicle, seed soaking his suit fanned to the luggage on the floor. Fervin drew closer to the computer desk, and jumped as he followed him to the tissue box, stomping at its opening as the giant palmed reached for it..

the jock's face soured. " You're really starting to get on my nerves."

"Likewise, but I'm not letting you off the hook. you’re going to pay up, right here, right now."

"Oh you gotta be shitting me." he chuckled. "Fuck it, I'll bite. What? What could a little nerd like you do to force me to pay you back."

He dug into the soggy pouch of his pocket of his suit, taking out his phone. He clicked at the photo, holding it to the air as Fervin's face loomed closer. "This is how!"

"Hah! What more nerds? Get over yourself."

"They may look like mere nerds to you. But one of them I'm sure you know quite well." he zoomed the photo closer, focusing on a woman dressed as a witch. "That lady right there is Cindy, the lead cheerleader of our university. I wonder what she might think if she finds out about our little mishap. I'm sure she'd love to share the adventure with the football captain."

The jock’s eyes widened before narrowing. "You don't have the balls to go through with that."

"Oh yeah? One already think's you have talking balls, I'm sure they can puzzle the rest if I speak up."

The jock growled, reaching a palm as the thick digits twitched in rage. it lunged forward, yanking a tissue from beneath Merkeo’s feet as it crumpled into a withered mess. "What do you have in mind?.."

"Heh."

"It's so good to see you again, Merkeo” Cindy greeted him, lowering a finger as he shook her hand. We missed you last night’s session. You’re wearing your night costume again?”

He scratched at his head, adjusting his cape. "Yeah, the other suit kinda got stuck in a rut. Fashion crisis am I right? But hey, we at least got time to catch up on a session. I even brought a plus one."

Heavy thuds came from the hallway, sharp squeaks lingering as a silhouette peered through the frame. An inflated dragon loomed in, Fervin’s soured face tucked beneath its chin as the rest of the rubbery suit hauled inside, he grumbled as he wrestled his tail inside, bumping it against the door.

"I'm sure you two know each other."

"We sure do.” Cindy said, “I didn't think he took part in DnD."

"You could say he had a change of heart." He replied, sharing glances with Fervin as his fiery gaze overshadowed the derpy expression of the inflatable.

They prepared the table as they all encircled it, Merkeo taking out the dice as many took their roles. scattered the props along the props behind the bordered sheet, he cleared his throat. "Alright ladies and gents, let’s begin. The adventurers set out upon the request of the king, a dragon has been spotted in a cave near the kingdom. You find the entrance and travel through its catacombs. There, surrounded by shimmering gold and diamonds, lay the beast. Sprawled upon its haunches as it snarled at your intrusion.”

Merkeo paused as he scooped the dice in hand, lending them to one of the members dressed as a wizard. “Care to start us off.”

"Oh Oh! I roll to ride the ride dragon"

"Try it and I'll flatten you like a crumpcake, pinhead!" Fervin snarled.

"Ah ah, not without a roll you're not." Merkeo assorted, nodding toward the little wizard.

The wizard squeed as they shook their hands in place, the dice jumbling like ice cubes as they rolled them to the thin sheet crossing the table. both dices toppled themselves, number nine marking the both of them.

"ooo, Nat 18. the wizard casts a construct to cast himself atop the dragon."

The wizard let out a high pitched squeal as They climbed aboard the inflatable forearm. Fervin eyed in disgust as the little one stood atop of him. the googly eyes of the dragon jangled as they clung to one of the ears, pulling it from one side of his body to the other.

the dragon squeaked as it smothered Fervin’s face, his neck jerking from side to side. "Hey! what the-?!"

“Wow, you really are pulling your weight." Merkeo said. I figured you'd make a good dragon.”

"Get them the fuck off me!"

"mm, not how it works. you gotta announce it, then roll."

"Oh for the-" he reached for the dice at the end of the table, fingers denting the barrier as they rattled. "The dragon attempts to throw the nuisance off."

He flung the dice forward, their forms streaking across the table like cannons as they pushed the barrier back. The dice came to a standstill, number one marking them both.

"Ooo two, the dragon failed to throw the wizard off. bummer."

"The hell?! what kind of bullshit is that I-"

"Our rodeo isn't over yet, dragon!" the wizard yelled, heaving at the inflated ears like reins. "Your hide will be a fine reward for my potions!"

"Crushing you is still on the table you damn pest!"

Merkeo watched as the two of them bicker, admiring the jock's flailing as he walked sluggishly against the walls. but he turned his head as Cindy whispered for his attention, lending an ear toward her.

"He seems pretty aggressive for a DnD player, Are you sure he's here to play?" She asked.

He looked toward the two once more, the wizard yanking backward as Fervin pivoted like a horse on a hill. He smiled as he placed a hand on his cheek. "Oh yeah, I'm sure."

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Feud

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1k

Summary: Wanda betrays you.

A/N: Some domestic fluff

Warnings: Fluff

“I thought you loved me, Wanda.”

You’re scowling at your wife because this is honestly something you don’t think you’ll be able to get over easily. She’s never done something like this before, and you don’t know why she’s decided to betray you in quite possibly the worst way imaginable. You tighten your hold around the prickly piece in your hand as you throw a hard stare in your wife’s direction.

Wanda just smirks at you before her gaze follows yours with a satisfied hum.

“I like to win, detka. You know this.”

You tap the red checker on the table and consider chucking it across the room in a fit of rage, but you hold off. You’re a very sore loser, but you don’t need to prove that point tonight. Wanda is very aware of it.

“I’ll get you for this.”

Wanda just smiles smugly as she watches you move your piece to the top of the board to the only available place for you to play in order to keep her from winning. You stare at the three black pieces that you’re about to block, and then the other three right beside it that Wanda will be able to win with right after your next move. To be fair, you’d been talking about your day and not super attentive to the game in the beginning. You weren’t as good of a strategist as your wife anyway, and right from the start she’d planned out her moves to try and win this first game.

Sometimes when the two of you were stressed and too tired to go out or make dinner, you sat down and played a game together. First it started with cards when you taught Wanda how to play a few games you’d learned when you were a kid. Those were fun, but as these nights became more frequent, Wanda suggested branching out a little. The next day you had off from work, you took your wife, disguise and all, to a store to buy a few board games. Little did you know, you were encouraging your overly competitive nature by choosing your favorite games that you claimed to be ‘amazing’ at.

Much to your disappointment, Connect 4 had been one of the games you’d thought you were unbeatable at. You barely took comfort in the fact that Wanda was only bad a Mario kart as she beats you at this game for the third time in a row. You sigh as you finally drop your red piece through the slots to stack on top of Wanda’s three black checkers. You’ve lost again and you just lie back and sigh dramatically as you wait for Wanda to make the last move. You turn to your side to see where Boone’s lying on the couch, and you smile as you reach out to scratch his head.

“This is what I get, huh bud? I should have known that marrying a genius would mean losing all of the time.”

You miss Wanda roll her eyes as she quickly ends the game before moving around the coffee table between the two of you. You don’t notice her come sit beside you until Boone looks up from licking your hand. You turn toward your wife when she speaks up, and you can’t help but smile evilly.

“You’re so dramatic, detka.”

You strike before Wanda gets a chance to reach out for you, and she jumps in surprise before screaming as you grab her sides. She’s squirming and trying to escape as you tickle her mercilessly as payback. You’d found out that Wanda was ticklish during your first sleepover. You’d had a sitcom marathon one night when her work hadn’t finished until after 1 in the morning. You’d insisted that Wanda spend the night at your apartment. She’d slept better with you than she had in years, but when she woke up to you squeezing her waist she’d almost immediately started laughing. It was a secret that you kept for the most part. Pietro knew, so the entire family knew Wanda was ticklish, but you wouldn’t dare tell anyone else for fear of retaliation. You were also painfully ticklish and Wanda’s revenge to you outing her would be horrendous.

“N-no stop! Y/n!”

Boone just watches as you continue to assault Wanda’s sides until she’s flushed and breathless. You give your wife a break, and you just hold onto her so she can catch her breath. You smile at her before raising your eyebrow in question. The game has been forgotten for now because you’re focused on Wanda’s very true statement that you’re still going to argue against.

“Me, dramatic? That’s ridiculous. I am so reasonable.”

Wanda’s still panting but she opens up her mouth to argue when she feels your fingers flex where they rest on her sides. She decides not to try her luck because if you keep tickling her, she’s probably going to end up screaming loudly enough for Steve and Bucky to hear her down the street. Wanda just sighs before she puts her hands on yours and pulls them into her lap with a smile. You meet her lips with a hum before you’re pulling Wanda further so she’s practically in your lap.

“Fine, I guess you can be reasonable, Y/n.”

You smile victoriously at this before you release Wanda’s hands so you can hold her close. She goes to stop you thinking you’re going to start tickling her again, but you shake your head before kissing her cheek. You look behind Wanda, ignoring the game as your set your sights on the television.

“Thank you. Now let’s forget the game, love. Want to watch something?”

Masterlist

[valetparking]

i truly am my own worst enemy

[hotwings0203]

Thinking thots about bully/teasing bakugo and kirishima who gang up on you 24/7

Tw: noncon, bullying

Kiri would be the middleman, trying to act as your savior (even tho he acts just as bad as bakugo sometimes) and bakugo would ofc be the instigator at all times

They constantly harass you, sometimes kiri will playfully snatch up your homework which you were so diligently working on and hold it behind his back, just so you can lunge your arms around his middle and try to grasp it behind him. But it’s too late, he’s already dropped the paper and grabbed your wrists so you’re trapped with your arms around him. Bakugo sees the opportunity to cop a feel, snickering when you squeal and thrash against kiri’s bulky body (much to kiris delight ofc)

“Come on bakugo, don’t tease her so much. Look at how nervous you’re making the poor thing!”

“Shut the hell up shitty hair, if she really hated this she’d call for help.”

But something tells you they wouldn’t give you a chance even if you wanted to call out, based on the way they bare their fangs at you and tighten their hold on your body.

If they feel like you’re ignoring them and not giving them the attention they want, you’ll soon feel erasers bounced off your head from the back of the class, and various catcalls. When you whip your head around to glare at them, you’re met with an innocent smile from the redhead and a disgusting leer from the hothead.

“The fuck are you looking at princess? See something you like?”

“Don’t be so harsh on her man. But hey, Y/N, if you’ve already got your attention on us, could you come over here for a sec? We need some help on this assignment.”

You can’t say no after seeing Bakugo’s hand glow a fiery orange under the table, his show of quirk scaring you into scuttling over to their table.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re not really struggling at all on the assignment, bakugo especially. Kiri was the only one who had legitimate questions, but you knew bakugo could always help him without your presence.

They pressure you into coming to their dorms later in the evening to aid their studies, giving half assed excuses for the choice of time with grunts of “we have trainings the afternoon, wouldn’t expect your weak ass to understand,” followed by an arm swat from Kiri.

You make it into their dorm, wishing they had picked a library instead (that idea was shut down when kirishima sheepishly rubbed the back of his head and gave you puppy eyes, whining about how he can’t focus in public settings)

The boys have cleaned up nicely, surprisingly. It takes no time to settle down onto their couch and opening up your projects, going over the problems they concocted. It almost seems too perfect, both are shockingly mute in their usual abuse, even though they sit a little too close for comfort. You brush it off in favor of focusing on explaining various formulas that even bakugo himself doesn’t quite understand.

But your ease is short lived when you feel two pairs of hands wandering up to your thighs.

You try to subtly push kiri’s big hands away from the juncture of your legs, but he merely activates his quirk and grips your skin tighter.

Abruptly trying to stand up fails too, as bakugo yanks your arm towards himself, causing you to stumble and fall back against his heavy chest. His own meaty fingers trail down the valley of your shirt, pulling down your V-neck shirt. You cry out for them to stop, that you want to go home, but you’re silenced when a hand claps over your mouth so hard that you’re sure you’ll have bruises the next day.

Your hands flail around, trying to hit whatever they come in contact with but are promptly seized as well.

You can feel kiri grab your chin with his hardened hands, and he yanks your head to look at him

He doesn’t have puppy dog eyes anymore. Bakugo chuckles as he hears your muffled whimpers, the rumbling of his chest vibrating against your back.

“We’ve tried being nice and patient with you babe, okay? You were the one who came here at your own will, so don’t try and fight us now. Be a good girl for me and bakugo, and I promise we’ll make you feel good.”

Nice? Coming at your own will? They truly were crazy, you thought as you felt the jagged edges of the hardened hand make small cuts and scraped against your jaw.

To prove his point, bakugo activated his quirk to heat up at the same time kirishima went halfway hard on his hand. You wail against your makeshift gag, but refuse to fight back any further, opting for their mercy instead.

They get the idea, and they deactivate their quirks in favor of striking various parts of your body, hands creeping in and out of your clothes, dipping into tight crevices across your figure.

“Well look at that. What’s wrong slut, don’t wanna fight your big, bad bullies anymore? That’s cute. I’m honestly not surprised a weak little fuck like you gave up so easily, I’m almost disappointed in how predictable you are.”

He removes his hand and starts to rub the undersides of your tits, relishing at how soft they are.

“Please, please don’t-I have to...to meet up with Mina and Jirou later! They’re gonna wonder where I am!” You make up some bullshit excuse as a last resort to salvation, but your heart drops as their ministrations merely gain aggression.

“Yeah? At this time of the night? Wow, I knew you were weak but after helping us with all that schoolwork I wouldn’t have suspected you’re brain dead also. Better luck next time with a more believable excuse, little bitch.” You yelp as the blond ducks his head down and sinks his teeth into your neck.

“We’ll just have to show you that you belong here, with and under us. Your friends can wait until later...unless you think they’re more important than us?” Kiri glares at you from between your legs.

You meekly shake your head, and he lets out a happy hum as he rips off your pants.

At least you had the right mind to not mention hanging out with other boys, too.

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

I love modern au. Or any “everything is fine, no one died, it’s just a fever dream” au. Half of me is thinking, damn maybe I should answer this serious- LOL HAHA no. That’s not happening. Time to crack my knuckles and let my brainworms take over again.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. I want to switch up my characters from the last brainworm post but I included Kaeya and Diluc.

---

Today’s appreciation post goes to twistedwishes. Hey! I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot lately and thanks for the support 💕💕 I hope things are going better for you and you’re doing alright^^ I feel kinda bad for making appreciation posts on crack fics but hopefully this is somewhat funny haha. 

---

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

  @mikeysbike @hanniejji@unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife  @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​

---

Diluc

Absolute pretty boy who has braincells, but only if Kaeya is not there. In his mind, Kaeya’s presence makes his room loose 40% of their common sense. He can’t prove it just yet but he’s working on it. He majors in accounting but also has a minor in marketing, logistics’ management, fia- he majors everything business related. He’s going to become the next Elon Musk through smarts or by getting the competition drunk. There can be no contest if he’s the only candidate. He’s actually a hard working guy that overworks and stresses way too much. You have daily “Diluc recharge” evenings where he just hangs onto you while you go through your day.

“Don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” except there is no coffee - he drinks grape juice out of juice boxes and his only energy boost is when he meets up with you - and that’s his constant mood. So he usually only hangs around you and Jean, since she has childhood friend status and is actually an angel. By default, Lisa is added and Diluc doesn’t mind her but if he see’s Kaeya, it’s full on war paint mode. If he's not busy with work or studies, he's usually with you either in your dorm or his apartment.

He has a fanclub and he seriously hates it and tries to do everything in his power to get Ningguang to take it down. Shouldn’t this be against his rights? But she refuses for whatever reason and makes a whole speech about free will. No matter what he does, someone manages to take a picture and it get’s printed in the university’s newspaper. The only bonding time he has with Kaeya is every Monday, where they collect and burn all the universities newspapers before anyone can get their hands on it. You always bring marshmallows to make smores during their arson activities.

“When I graduate I’m going to burn this school down to the ground. That’s not a threat it’s a promise.”

Ningguang

Is secretly the leader of the Diluc fanclub - not that she likes Diluc, she’s in a questionable platonic poly marriage with you and Beidou - but it was the easiest way to gain funds for the student council. Which she is the president of, so rip Diluc the fanclub stays. Ruthless business woman I tell you. But she can run in heels so her danger factor rises by at least 20%.

Majors in social sciences and law but more specifically the political science & government. She saw the Imperial State Crown that the Queen of England wears and says yes, that’s mine now. If she’s not with Beidou and you planning on “how to infiltrate the state government just for lols”, then she’s with Keqing, Ganyu, and Zhongli discussing student council things. Should they or should they not tell the student body that they can see everyone’s search results? Sit back and relax as the school goes into chaos. 

She’s probably the scariest person on campus No, she is the scariest person on campus. She’s the scariest person on campus. But secretly she’s popping 20 aspirins just to make it through a night. She has the digestive system of steel. She still holds the title of "seriously do not try and beat her in a drinking game it's never going to happen" and that's her proudest achievement in life but sadly she can’t put it on her resume. Kaeya is still trying to beat her out of spite but so far it hasn't been working. You’re seriously concerned for her when she get’s challenged but Beidou gives you a way-to-hard slap on the back and cheers her on. If Ninngguang somehow get’s alcohol poisonings she’ll somehow find away to make a profit out of it.

"I'll let him die, I'll get the insurance money."

Kaeya

One day he chugged too much mouth wash, passed out, and somehow woke up in university majoring in law. His idea is that if he is apart of the law, he can therefore stand above it. To be fair, his only goal in life is to say “I am the manager” and he can go live the rest of his life in bliss or as a hermit. He’s secret best friends with you but wouldn't be caught dead beside you. He will stab a bitch if you ever get hurt but will still trip you on the way home. Seriously, you have no idea why people find him attractive. Your guess is it’s the eye patch or the clap of his ass cheeks that keeps alerting everyone.  

He’s apart of the newspaper club and if anyone asks: No, he has no idea who keeps taking all the newspapers and burns them in the back of the campus. Originally, he joined because he was nosy and needed to join some type of club for his resume. He sometimes feels bad for his junior assistant Amber because he keeps tricking her and says that Diluc is secretly a demon that is trying to steal all the jobs and is apart of the lizard government hell bent on eradicating the human race. He even brought out a whiteboard for this joke, he’s dedicated to his job ok? 

The type of guy to try and be humble and say his work is “okay” but will choke a bitch if anyone agrees. He tends to leave everything last minute and says that it’s his drug since actual drugs could land you one year in prison and a maximum penalty of $2,000. You have to awkwardly hold in your concerned mother head shake when you see him speed running his assignment literally right when the professor is walking around to check if students finished. 

“I was taught how to lead not to read.”

Mona

Broke wallet #2. Zhongli is broke wallet #1 but Childe simps for him so is he really a broke wallet at this point? In this essay, I Mona Megistus, will explain why I have the rights to the title “Broke Wallet #1″...

Believes that astrology should be an actual career path but refuses to take astronomy as her major. I can read the stars not a textbook that tells me how to calculate the mass of the sun divided by the fucks I give. Instead she went into Philosophy and cries to Albedo, who is an actual prodigy genius- sir lend some braincells to everyone else please?, that her professor keep turning her paper down because “star reading” is not an academic source.

Fischl wants her to join the occult club because, surprisingly, Mona is very good at telling people’s fates through her crayon sketch ouija board. She thinks first year Fischl is cute but is put off by the cosplay roleplay that she has going on. She would join except that stupid hat wearing gremlin in her lit class would make fun of her if he found out.

You gave her half your lunch one day and bought her a doughnut "because she seemed upset" and "out of the goodness of your heart" whatever the hell that means. She thinks you pensioned it but once that thought comes she takes a bite. Poison from a doughnut is not the worst way to go out, classes are hard enough. She’s waiting for the lord to strike her down anyways. 

“Its not about passing, its about doing better than everyone else.”

Venti

Slept through most of highschool and people question how he got into university. He’s a music major (wow how fucking original is that), and if anyone asks him to serenade someone or just do anything, he’ll do it for the right price. Or if you buy him alcohol because he still keeps getting ID checked. He’s banking on Kaeya actually becoming a lawyer or being on good terms with Diluc so he can finally stop being arrested for looking like a toddler.

Takes one step into classes and quickly nopes out and goes back to bed. Professors have no idea how he hasn't dropped out or failed. He just has some god given talent. He does whine at you to pretty pretty please with a cherry on top tutor him because you're such an angel and would never leave your poor but awesome best friend hanging right? He needs to get this essay down but how he is suppose to explain how the number 10 is symbolic and connects to the universe or the meaning of life. Do you think he can just say it’s apart of his culture and make up some random myth to pretend it looks like he knows what he’s doing? 

He’s honestly going with the flow and put his brain on the back burner all of highschool and only now realizes wait, I actually have to use my brain?

He’s been banned from most club chats since Venti has the no chill card. Someone says “lol I look ugly today.” and he’ll respond "yup, you look like a cow." and he get’s banned. Zhongli keeps a speed run timer on his phone just to document these occasions.

"Sad spelled backwards is das and das how it be sometimes."

Childe

An actual dumbass that somehow does well. He eats sandwiches with the crust off, this heathen. Surprisingly he’s studying to become a physical therapist but most of his experience has come from breaking his own bones. You’re scared how he's going to be if he actually becomes a therapist. If he'll make bets with his patients or try to one up whatever crazy injury they get into. Everything is a challenge to him that sometimes the best way to deal with Childe is to knock him out. 

This man really knows the way to a Zhongli’s woman's heart. Through micro transactions. Mona saw him accidently drop $20 and just shrugged and walked off. She has never been both spiritually and physically offended in her life. She did take the $20 though. As much as you hate leeching on Chile when he’s basically a walking wallet that probably uses bills as tissue paper, you can’t help but give him puppy eyes while planning on how to get into his will. If he even plans on having one, he might honestly write “whoever wins in a gladiator style duel in my funeral’s tournament, they will get my fortune.”. 

Any sport the university offers Childe is probably in it. Which is how he met Zhongli, challenged him to a fight, proceeded to have his ass handed to him, got a backhanded compliment, and screamed to you he was in love and how he found his soulmate. He's secretly very sappy and has cried and watched every Disney and Pixar movie at least 28 times.

"IM NOT TOO SPICY! I’M A TINY BIT ABOVE MILD IF ANYTHING!”

---

God if it isn’t Scaramouche, it’s Childe that ruins the aesthetic. This is why I hate you. Why do you people enable me like this, it isn’t even good. This is pretty much a @ yourself moment and I vibe hard with Venti. This entire post was just to make a joke about the clap of Kaeya’s ass cheeks alerting the guards.

This week might slow down since I have classes and assignments. My reply’s are gonna be late too, sorry;; (oh and thank you to everyone that was so supportive and nice when I mentioned it. All of you. Beautiful 💕💕 )

[crazycookiecrumbles]

The Rescue Mission

A/N: This is a prequel series to my Stark!Readerverse series. Those are all my stories that start with “A” and have some other shit following it.

Masterlist

Stark!Verse Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader,; Pre Shang-Chi x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, heads blowing up

Summary: All you wanted to do was enjoy your day off.

W/C: 2,618

Why was it so hard for you to have even a day to yourself? Honestly. you weren’t the most active field person for the Avengers. A lot of your work was behind the computer. While your father was an engineering genius, the things you could do with programming, the speed at which you could do it, it was impressive. You constantly ran the behind-the-scenes operations for everyone, and you were usually very on top of it for everyone’s missions. You went out in the field, usually, when it was so specific to your particular skill sets.

Or, whenever your dad specifically tried to keep you out, you always found your way back in because that usually meant he knew you were needed, but just didn’t want to risk you.

For now, you were in Beijing, hot off of a tech conference, enjoying the one day you had for yourself before it was time to get going back home. You had been ignoring calls for the entire day, both due to business and for the fact that when you  weren’t working, you just wanted to be left alone.

“Boss,” Your AI, Wednesday, began to say. “Your notification override code is being used by Agent Romanoff. It is urgent.”

You groaned, “Fine, fine. Put her through.”

After a few seconds, you could hear Natasha’s first sharp breath, “Stark —“

“What couldn’t wait, Nat?” You said as you leaned against the window in your car. “I’m in good-food heaven, and you’re interrupting my time to get good food.”

“We need your help,” She said quickly. “We’re in a mission. We’re separated and pinned down. You are the closest person available.”

You frowned and sat up, “What do you mean?  There were no missions scheduled. I didn’t —“ you paused. “What happened?”

“Rogers found out Hydra was planning an abduction, something about you getting on their nerves trying to find Bucky. He wanted to strike first, the facility closest to you was supposed to be low in population but our intel was bad. Clint’s hurt. I can’t get in touch with Sam, and they got Steve.”

They got Steve.

“Give me the coordinates and stay hidden,” you told her before ending the call. “Okay, innocent civilians trying to walk around, I am so sorry.”

You gunned it. You pulled out of your spot in traffic, honked the horn, and started speeding out of there as fast as possible towards the coordinates Natasha had messaged you.

“Wednesday, get me the fastest route possible,” you explained as you started to move out of your seat and into the back. “And take the wheel. I need to get changed.”

“You got it, boss.”

~*~

With a soft thud, you gazed out the mountainside. The coordinates Natasha had sent you were straight ahead. It took a moment, but after squinting you could see a compound in the distance. Near the compound, you were able to spot, with the help of Wednesday’s helpful gaze through your glasses, a small cave opening.

You made your way over. You felt around for a moment until you noticed how much the moss gave in at one location. You ripped it open, went inside, and after a few twists and turns you saw Natasha running her fingers through Clint’s hair as the man rested on the ground, head in her lap, broken leg on top of Sam’s lap.

“You found Sam, that’s good,” You remarked as you walked in.

“Hey, Starkest,” Clint weakly raised a very broken hand. “Nice to see you.”

“I’m so disappointed and angry at you all right now, but that can wait,” You walked over to them and dropped a duffel bag, “Antibiotics, some snacks. We’re out in 20. Start moving in about five minutes to the jet.”

“We can make that easily,” Natasha said as she started to patch up Clint. “If you can give us enough cover.”

“Oh, you’re gonna be fine,” You nodded as you took a protein bar out and ate half of it in one bite. “I got this, easy.”

“I’ll go with you, give you some support —“ Sam started to get up, but Clint used his good leg to kick at Sam and keep him from getting up.

“With what? That broken wing?” Clint scoffed as he forced himself to sit up. He laughed at the situation and held his ribs in pain, “You’ll throw her off.”

“You think I’m gonna let Steve’s girl walk in there by herself?” Sam looked at Clint like the man was insane. “You must be in pain because there’s no way you think that’s a good idea.”

“Here we go,” Natasha looked to you and rolled her eyes. You sighed heavily and finished your protein bar.

“Listen, Wingette, I was with this girl before you even got your wings. She’s crazy, and her man’s inside,” Clint said. “Stark’s got this.”

You wiggled your fingers to them as you started walking backwards, “Five minute head start. You’ll have a clean way to get to the jet, Steve and I will see you soon.”

Natasha smiled to herself as she watched you walk out, “Going in hard or soft, Stark?”

“You’ll see, Red!”

~*~

You went in hard. Very, very hard.

You landed directly in front of the compound. A stomp to the left, a stomp to the right, almost like a popular wedding song, and you were breaking the two watchtowers that had snipers on it which could potentially hinder the escape of the other three Avengers.

You waltzed right through the front doors. You raised your hand and bullets that were flying at you were dead in midair. You would use both hands to force your power out in front of you, various henchmen slamming into the stone walls, backs snapping at the sheer impact and force behind your powers.

In the compound there were alarms going off and red, flashing lights. You stood tall down one end of a long, narrow hallway. Down the other end of it, eight men were rushing towards you with guns ready to go on the offensive against you. You raised an eyebrow as your eyes began to glow a bright, beautiful golden color.

“Oh, this is just too easy,” you sighed to yourself.

~*~

Steve swished around the blood in his mouth and spit it at the ground. He could feel the facility rumble, and that act alone had him looking up at the ceiling. He knew what was coming: a rescue party, and, if it was who he was thinking of, a serious scolding.

“Why are you smiling?” The man holding the electric baton asked as he glared at Steve. “There is no one here to save you. There is no way out for you, Captain America.”

Steve openly laughed in his face. True, at the moment, he was stuck. The bindings on his wrists and ankles were magnetized, thick, and incredibly difficult to break out of with the addition of the drugs they kept him on with an IV to keep him weak.

“I think you’re wrong,” Steve smiled, a bloody grin that had him lifting his head from his chest after taken a moment to gather his thoughts. “I think you’re in trouble.”

Just as he said that alarms went off. His room was flashing red and he could hear the sirens that went all around the compound. His torturer in front of him looked around in a panic before looking at Steve, “Who did you send for?”

“No one. I’ve been here the whole time. I’ve got no way of getting help,” Steve answered casually. “You okay? Ya lookin’ scared.”

The man looked at Steve like he wanted to kill him. Angry, he jabbed the baton into Steve’s neck, causing him to scream out in pain.  As he was doing this, more men flooded the room Steve was in. They were intent on keeping their prize here. They couldn’t lose something as valuable as Captain America.

“Where is Y/N Stark?” The man shouted as he continuously held the baton to his neck. “Where is the Soldier?”

Another rumble ripped through the compound, and Steve could hear chunks of walls falling around him and people screaming in pain.

“I think you’re gonna find out,” he rasped with a knowing smirk on his face.

The door to his cell was blown open. It ripped off the hinges and slammed through all the way into the other wall, crushing a man beneath it. You stepped through the opening, looked around the room until your eyes landed on Steve, “You are in so much trouble.”

Steve smiled at you, “Hey, doll.”

You sighed heavily. One of them shouted a command in Chinese.  You whipped your head around and saw a baton heading right for your head. You quickly side-stepped it and their incoming attacks. You blocked a few punches, kicked one of them in the gut and smashed his nose with your knee. You performed a drop kick on another before getting back up and blasting the rest with your powers, the wall coming down and crushing all of them.

You exhaled slowly and looked around the room to make sure they were down before you looked to Steve, “Where’s the control?”

“Room next door,” he replied.

Nodding, you blasted a hole through the wall, which coincidentally made someone’s head blow up on the other side of the wall. You stepped through, hit the release button, and ran back into the other room. Steve was leaning against the wall for support while ripping the IV out of his arm.

“Did I say you were in trouble?” You asked him as you approached. “Because I don’t know if I said that you were in trouble. Because, Steve, you’re in trouble.”

You were scolding him. He knew you were upset. But he thought you looked so cute when you were angry, and the way your eyes looked when they glowed with power?

He was smitten.

“To be fair,” he began very quickly, “I was trying to keep you safe.”

“By keeping me in the dark,” you sighed as you helped him leave the room. “My dad does it enough. Why do you think I want you to do that?”

“So you can enjoy your one day of vacation in peace.”

“Does this look like peace to you, Steve?” you retorted.

He shrugged a shoulder, “Does it help if I say you bring me peace?”

“No, idiot.” You rolled your eyes and looked up at Steve who was staring down at you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you do when you’re about to watch me use my powers.”

“I’m sorry you amaze me every single chance you get, doll.”

“God, you are so cheesy,” you laughed and looked around. “I’m going to get you out, and then I’m bringing the house down.”

He frowned slightly as he let you lead him out of the basement, “Do you have enough strength for that?”

“Just enough,” you explained as you two started to evacuate. “I’m counting on you to get me to the jet. Those drugs will be out of your system in no time — where the fuck is your shield?”

The two of you stopped walking when you heard footsteps. You both quickly turned around on the staircase and saw one of the Hydra agents running towards you with Steve’s shield. You both tilted your head to the side at the same moment to see this man try to throw his shield.

The shield fell two feet away from him.

The man stared down at the shield, then at the two of you. You quickly ran forward as he started to turn around and run away. You slid across the floor, grabbed the shield, and hurled it at Steve. He caught it, then flung it down the corridor to hit the man right on the back of his head. The shield bounced between the walls and landed back in Steve’s grasp.

“You’re feeling better,” you remarked as you raced back up the steps to meet him.

“And that was a good throw,” Steve winked at you and took the lead. “Come on, stay behind me. You’ve got to keep your strength if you’re going to take it down.”

“How noble of you, Rogers.”

Steve led the charge to get out of the compound. When you two were a safe distance away, Steve kept a watchful eye out while you  focused on the compound. The ground beneath the two of you shook for a moment before it shifted towards the compound. Steve watched in awe as the entire facility began to shake and rattle before it all collapsed in an instant in front of his very eyes like a bomb went off. 

His awe turned to concern when he saw your arms drop in front of you and your shoulders slump. Before you could fall, he quickly caught you and lifted you up in his arms while you draped an arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks for the save, doll,” He murmured as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your lips as he walked to where the quinjet was waiting.

“Always, boy scout,” you mumbled as you leaned into him. “That was more than I expected.”

“You did really well,” he praised you as he spotted the jet in the distance. “You’re getting stronger, you know that, right?”

“Maybe a little.”

He chuckled, “We’ve got to work more on your hand-to-hand. You rely on your powers too much.”

“Clint and Nat have trained me.”

“And you don’t use it,” he admonished you. “You’ll lose it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off. He scoffed and pinched your side playful as he entered the jet. He set you down on one of the seats and took the spot behind you as Natasha closed up the platform and prepared for takeoff.

You looked around and spotted Sam. You waited until he was staring at you, then you grinned and gave him the middle finger.

“Oh, fuck off, Stark.” Sam sighed.

“Never doubt the princess, Wilson,” Clint teased. “You good Cap?”

“Better shape than you, thanks to Y/N,” Steve smiled and wrapped an arm around you to pull you into his side. “You okay, Barton?”

“Eh, nothing I haven’t had before,” Clint waved it off as he lay there in the middle of the jet.

“Oh, before I forget,” you cleared your throat. “If any of you ever try to pull some shit like this ever again, I will kick all of you asses. I’m not a baby. Stop treating me as such.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Clint added.

“Fuck off, Clint. You knew.”

“Yeah, but I say we should tell you.”

“It’s true, he did,” Natasha sang from the front.

“Yeah, Cap over here just wanted to keep you safe,” Sam added. “How precious.”

“And how’d that work out for you, Cap?” You looked up at Steve who pretended to mull it over.

“Well, I’ve got you back in my arms, so I can’t say it went all that bad. Can you?”

“Yeah, no. I definitely can. Ruined my food tour I was going to take myself on. Sheesh, acting like it would’ve been my first time getting kidnapped. It won’t be the last, you know,” you sighed dramatically. “Next time, give me a head’s up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said with a firm nod. “Thank you for rescuing me, honey.”

“All in a day’s work being the coolest, strongest Avenger to ever exist in the history of ever,” you sighed dramatically. “And you’re getting me dinner.”

“Done.”

“No… making me dinner. I want steak.”

“As you wish, doll.”

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - February 6

 Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories! 

And for my friends on Twitter--STW is there now, with the weekly list and daily spotlights! 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time by MemoryDragon

After their plane went down, Steve and Tony only just barely managed to find a cave for shelter. If only it weren't always the wrong place and the wrong time for Tony.

Yippie ki-yay.

trinkets of your affection by starklystar 

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written. 

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

Ambigram by magicasen

Steve's lost the serum. Steve's not an Avenger anymore. Steve's supposed to be past these types of missions, even if he'll never say no to punching Hydra goons in the face. But if the Avengers need him, Steve will answer their call.

But then an unexpected visitor from the past joins the fray. Steve's past self has lots of things to say: about the future, the team, and Steve's relationship with Tony.

In Wolf's Clothing by laireshi

Tony gets kidnapped, but breaking out of his cell isn't a problem. Except then he runs into a werewolf, and things stop looking so good.

a moment in the sun by mistymountainking

“—I mean it’s crazy right? It’s crazy, Tony Stark, Tony Stark calls us up out of the blue one day and says ‘You’ll be waiting six months to a year for a decent repair job, let alone a complete replacement, and I owe you guys, come on by Avengers Tower—”

***

a prompt fill for an anon on tumblr, who asked for Steve/Tony + Tony designing prosthetics for wounded vets

breathe with me by mistymountainking

“If footage from my sweet sixteen made it into this lineup, we’re watching all three Die Hards."

It’s Wednesday, and Wednesday means movie night at the mansion.

***

a prompt fill for lovingcookiemonsterblog on tumblr, who asked for Steve/Tony + "You're not worth it."

only a kiss by mistymountainking

Tony wouldn’t be the first to admit it—he wouldn’t be the third or the fifth or the fiftieth, even—but he’s a very physically affectionate person. For a man who doesn’t like being handed things, he loves using his hands to show his fondness for others. He has his little touches, arm pats, shoulder squeezes, handshakes; hugs are almost exclusively reserved for Rhodey and Pepper (Happy, Steve’s learned, isn’t a hugger), but no one is exempt from being kissed when the mood strikes Tony Stark.

No one except Steve, apparently.

fall for you by ohjustpeachy

Tony trips over a dog in the park on his way to work. As if that isn't bad enough, the dog's owner is, like, absurdly perfect.

A meet cute ft. Dodger and love at first sight.

Man is a Wolf to Man by Sineala

When Antonius is falsely accused and convicted of murdering an ambassador, he is condemned to death by the wild beasts of the arena. But the wolf sent to kill him is something rather more than he ever expected.

can't help it if it's true by allourheroes

Tony thinks he's finally caught on to the big secret of Steve and Bucky, but he might not be the genius he's always thought himself to be. In fact, he might be the biggest idiot in the tower if the way Steve eyes him--which just so happens to be the same way Bucky and Sam eye each other--is anything to go by.

even if you don't by nightwalker

Steve’s known Tony Stark for fifteen years and he’s intimately acquainted with the desire to strangle the man and kiss him at the same time.

Showdown by shatteredhourglass

Bucky was happy for Steve, he was. But did he and Tony have to be so disgustingly romantic all the time? // In which Bucky is tired of Steve and Tony's antics and Clint suggests revenge, which turns out with an additional bonus.

like i don't even know who you are by nightwalker

The divorce papers were just as unsigned as they had been an hour ago.

Safety by CSHfic, VSfic 

The suit needs repairs, and Tony thinks he's being clever when he tells the Avengers that Iron Man is away on personal business...until Steve helpfully volunteers to be Tony's bodyguard in his place.

Break my Baby by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday)

Failure after failure weighs heavy on Steve, tearing him up inside till he's ready to scream. He fights so goddamn hard and yet nothing he does is right; he fails a mission, he fails to protect Sam, fails to find Bucky, fails to do what he knows he needs to and he's so angry he could fight a platoon of HYDRA and not break a sweat. Knotted up and all wrong, what he needs is something he can't afford to do; break down.

Good thing Tony knows exactly how to give him what he needs.

The Phoenix Project by geekymoviemom

Langaran scientist Tony Stark believed he had created a solution that would not only solve Langara's energy crisis and potentially bring peace to a world decimated by decades of unrelenting war, but also save the life of his young son.

There were only two problems: convincing the Langaran Military Government to agree to his plan, and finding a pilot brave enough to accept the challenge.

Enter Steve Rogers, one of the best fighter pilots the Langaran Air Corps had ever seen, who while on the outside seemed to be a poster boy for the perfect soldier, on the inside harboured so much bitterness and regret that it left very little room for anything else.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Kidnapped Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt.5

Summary: You feel emotions other than rage and sarcasm oh my god 

A/N: The reason I took a break from this series was because I had no idea where to take it from that cliff hanger, and I felt that character development needed to be done before we dive head first into the plot. This is part of that, but keep in mind it’s not filler like Chapter 2 became. I think it’s funny that this was SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING ONE SHOT BUT APPARENTLY FUCKING NOT. I’ll be posting another chapter for this series soon. Also feel free to send me asks about this series. I’ve been getting comments on my ao3 that are a) genius b)hilarious and c)heartwarming. Talk to me. Please! Ask and anon should be open right now let me know if they aren’t!

Masterlist link for previous parts:

Link to this chapter on AO3:

Taglist: @localdepressedvampire​ and one person recieving updates via email

The fresh cold late-autumn air made your lungs sting. And the layers of clothes didn’t help fight the chill you didn’t know you were facing. Has it been that long since you’ve been outside, to see the sun? You stick your arms in your armpits under your outercoat. Well, Heisenberg’s spare trench coat. It was much too big, the cuffs of the sleeves going well past your fingertips and the bottom half an inch from the ground.

You were so used to the fluorescent lighting and the warm dry air of the factory, that your body went into some type of culture shock. It felt like an allergic reaction to the outside world itself. Adjusting to it once you escaped would be hard.

“You’ve clearly become less fit since you started living with me,” Karl says in a matter-of-fact tone. You’d be insulted if you didn’t hear him say weird stuff about the other lords or the occasional brain-washed villager who brought up offerings. One had sewed you a wool and fox-fur dress and brought it up in September, in preparation for the winter. He’d thought it dumb at the time, but it protected you from the November chill better than anything you’ve ever worn.

Did they think you were a woman? Whether they were right or wrong, it didn’t change the fact that it was comfortable, warm, and made you feel better than the clothes you’d been wearing before in the factory or even before. You felt safe.

“Of course, I have, I’ve been sitting on my ass,” you retort.

“Still see that sass is intact.”

“It’s something that’ll never leave me.”

“You’d make a terrible house-spouse.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh hard, and you can see the cold air in front of your face, “I had a whole ass college degree before I came here and got my ass kidnapped.”

Karl whips around and looks at you, tilting his head down to peer at you from above his glasses. “You have a college degree?”

“Why are you surprised? Did you think I was that stupid?” Even if the question is sarcastic and witty, you felt a pang of hurt reverberate in your heart. Did he really think you were that stupid? Apparently so.

“I have two masters. One in aerospace engineering and one in mechanical engineering. Double majored in those fields for my bachelors at Oxford on a full-ride scholarship of robotic engineering.”

His mouth drops open. “And I didn’t know about this because?”

“It never came up.”

He pinches his nose, “you could have been helping me this whole time in the shop, and I let you sit on your ass and play care-taker.”

“More like forced me.” At this point, you’ve stopped walking, and you’d be able to see the manor of Benviento if it weren’t for the fog.

“Besides the point.” He looks stressed. His eyebrows are furrowed, a deep frown is on his face and his whole disposition makes him look genuinely conflicted and upset. “Let’s just go.” He gestures for you to follow him and stomps up the path.

You follow him, trying not to slip in the mud. Converse doesn’t have great traction, you realized. Maybe you should have worn hiking boots. “Listen, dirty Dr. Doofenschmirtz-“

“I don’t want to listen to your dumb nick-names right now.”

You stop again, and your fists ball up at your side around the fabric of the sleeves of his coat. Your coat. The coat you’re wearing.

“Why the hell are you so mad at me!” It’s not a question. It’s an exclamation of emotion. For some reason, it hurts. Even if you despised him, hated him with all your being, having someone love you unconditionally felt nice. He was toxic at best, sociopathic at worst, and yet he loved you so strongly it tore the both of you so part. To feel that admiration has gone missing, even if for a second, sent you reeling. You can’t explain why you softened towards him.

“I’m not.” He keeps walking before he realized you stopped. He turned around to look at you. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just…” He looks for the words. He’d never been good at expressing himself, you realized. Better through actions than words. But you didn’t want him to act on whatever he was feeling.

You wait in silence, eye-watering, trying not to cry.

He sees and rushes over to you. His left arm wraps around you and his right hand gently grabs your chin, his index finger underneath to lift your chin up to look at him. “Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.”

You struggle to take a deep breath, choke on it, and the world feels so much more dangerous. A million malicious eyes gazing into your soul, whispers of panic fill your brain, and flashing thoughts of running right now, of hurting him or you flash through like lightning in a foggy storm. Every damn thing feels hazy and thick and you’re choking on the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to. I don’t want you to be mad at me, I don’t want-“

“Take a deep goddamn breath.” You feel his tobacco-scented breath on your face. You can see panic flash through his eyes for a moment. You hate the smell, and it suffocates you even more. “You need to breath.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, and your breath shakes like a wasp nest about to fall from the highest branch. “Why are you mad at me?” This time you genuinely ask. You don’t want a reason, but rather a reassurance that he isn’t at all.

His lips form into a snarl that doesn’t come out before he presses them in a tight line. As he thinks. It makes you even more nervous. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the fact that I had an opportunity that went to waste.”

You look up at him. “Okay.”

He wraps his other arm around you and places his chin on your forehead. “Let me know when you’ve calmed down.”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and breathe.

In. Out.

In.          Out.

In. OUT.

In… out

In.

Out.

 In.

 … out.

“Do you feel any better?”

You wait a moment. “Yeah, I think so.” You ponder for a moment. “I think I had a lot of pent-up anxiety from everything.”

He stays quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He places a kiss on the crown of your head, his beard ruffling your hair. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. It’s…” How do I phrase this? “I worked hard for this anger. This anger to love me, to know I didn’t deserve this, to be kidnapped, to have my head ready to be mounted on a stick.” You continue, “if I stop feeling angry, if I forgive you, I’m afraid I’m losing that. That’s why I tried to escape because I loved myself, I wanted better for myself.”

“Was I… Was I not providing enough for you?” His question strikes you like an arrow.

“I-“ You stumble on you’re thoughts for a moment. “It’s less of you not doing enough, but more of the rough foot we started on.” You sniffle. “When I gave up, I felt like I lost a part of myself, all that I worked for. That degree included. I felt all my efforts, all my struggles that I faced outside this goddamn village had gone to waste. That it wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth it.”

You had promised yourself to keep him at arm’s length, to not give him clues to manipulate you. But you poured your heart out into his. You felt him shake and squeeze you tighter.

“Never. Ever. Feel like you aren’t worth it.” You feel something wet on your scalp. “You deserved better than each challenge that you faced, and each bit of hurt you felt along the way.” It’s his turn to choke on his words. He takes a shaky breath above you, and you can feel his heart pound faster. “You, darling, are worth everything.”

Something small inside you breaks. He’s just as human as you are, you realize. In this desperate attempt to escape, to fuel this hatred that’s worn you down, you’ve villainized a man that’s felt even more pain than you. A broken man, who thinks you’re the glue to put him back together. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to, but you do, because you’ve felt a fraction of the pain he’s felt, that he’s currently feeling, and it’s made your mind and bones ache far after the situation ended.

“And so are you, Karl.”

He unwraps his arms from around you. “Come one butter-cup, let’s go. Ugly-ass-psycho-doll is waiting for you. Says she wants you for a fitting and some tea party with her demented child, Angie.”

“Angie? Who’s she.”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

[vvienne]

TODOBAKUDEKU FIC RECS

Curse of Baytown by surveycorpsjean

With the last of his hope, Shouto stumbles into a strange town. Be it destiny, or be it fate; his life will change forever.

two whole dicks for a half and half bitch by Ascend

Todoroki stumbles his way into a threesome, Midoriya cries into his pants, and Bakugou gets cockblocked no less than twice, but eventually, they all get laid.

Of Respite and Odyssey, Balm and Halcyon, Rapture and Godot, Lear and Pierrot by JayJEx

Aizawa and All Might’s Forever Squad of Problem Children

(8:47 AM) Midorito: @/everyone this is an official callout post for @/Discount IcyHot Patch, who is returning to musutafu tomorrow and DIDN’T EVEN TELL ANY OF US!!!!! ლ(ಠ益ಠ)ლ

Shouto groans in despair. Predictably, the group chat immediately explodes.

-or-

Todoroki returns to Musutafu after six years away and his tragic inability to keep up with all of the people in his life catches up to him in the worst, most irritating ways possible.

(Though he might at least get a boyfriend or two out of the matter. That’s a plus.)

if it was only a distraction (how come I can't stay away) by Voulezvous_79

He scrolls down and his heart stops - shit, shit, shit, no. Bad Izuku. You are over this. Completely, totally, definitely over any high school crushes that were going nowhere - because it’s the photo.

The one he surreptitiously had as his phone background for his entire first year in America. The one he cried over when he got on the plane. The one he jerked himself off to - once, okay!? It was one time, and he panic-deleted it after he came, and then cried about that, so he’s not proud, okay?

---

Or: Izuku's back in Japan, and he's definitely, totally, 100% coping with his friends' new relationship.

Biology for Assholes by fruiticle

Bakugou, an omega with Pseudo Alpha Syndrome, was content to live with his heatless, smoke-scented, absolutely-not-soft condition.

Really. He wouldn’t change a thing.

JUMP!!! by cxlmberry

Izuku grew up watching Superhero Legend, the iconic, generation-defining anime series featuring the invincible crimefighter All Might. Now, he is ready to become a professional manga author himself, to inspire thousands of people with his own series for decades to come – if only things were that simple.

Weekly Shounen Jump picked up Shouto’s series when he was only sixteen, and since then, he has become one of the most accomplished authors in the magazine. He’s a teenage prodigy. A genius. Jump’s main attraction. Sometimes the stress of it is too much.

Katsuki is talented – extremely, rudely so, and he knows it. An incredible artist and master storyteller, he’s out to become the one and only, undisputed King of Shounen Jump. Now, he only needs to get published.

A story of passions and careers, talent and hard work, second, third and fourth chances, as well as recovery and growth.

---

Alternatively, a budding manga artists AU.

Fire in the Mountains by EllaBesmirched (El_Bell)

“I’ll do it.”

Enji froze, fingers curling into a fist at his side, and didn’t turn around.

Shouto froze too, feeling his own eyes widen in shock at the words that had come out of his mouth, at the fact that he had actually stood up, followed his father out of the room, and dashed after him all just to say… he’d do it? He would do it? Him. Shouto Todoroki. He would--

Enji finally turned around and fixed Shouto with an expression so scathing, Shouto had to fight to keep his chin raised. “You’ll marry the Barbarian King.”

Shouto blinked. “Yes.”

How (Not) to Bribe a Human Sacrifice by maxisnotokay

"You want to kill me?" Katsuki asked, brows raised. He suddenly looked a little less like a king and more like a man, peering at Izuku through the moonlight. "You help me make this cure, and you kill me."

"Those are my conditions," Izuku said. He didn't break his gaze. "A deal's a deal, Kacchan, and I'm trying to be a hero."

+++

[fantasy au. midoriya literally falls from the sky and strikes up a deal with an unlikely candidate. things do not go as planned.]

Guildy Pleasures by Mysecretfanmoments

As the only son of a powerful politician, Todoroki Shouto's life is just one big boring cutscene—except when he logs on to Land of Heroes, where he plays as ShoutO, slaying foes and keeping his fellow guildmates alive. It's enough fun that it almost distracts him from the fact that he's falling for two of those guildmates. Almost. But he's got to stay in stealth mode, because Bakugou and Midoriya are mega-popular streamer duo ZeroDeku… and they're already dating each other.

Shouto has managed to keep his real identity a secret from them all this time, but when he's caught on live television watching one of their streams he ends up not only pulling aggro from the whole country, but catching the attention of ZeroDeku themselves. To his shock, they actually want to meet Shouto, the politician's son—and this time there's no avatar to hide behind.

the universe must have my back, you fell from the sky into my lap by lelex

The picture looks like it was taken in a cafe, Todoroki in a light blue sweater that even from a distance looks wildly soft, seated at a baby grand piano with his short hair effortlessly tousled. It’s one of those photos where it’s obvious Todoroki wasn’t expecting it to be taken—he’s in the middle of looking up at whoever is behind the camera, a smile small on his face but delight evident in the curve of his mouth.

He’s stupidly beautiful. Looking at him for too long makes Izuku kind of sweaty.

They both sit there staring at this one picture for almost three full minutes. In complete silence. Eventually, Kacchan sighs a little bit and tips his head backwards to rest on the couch. Staring up at the ceiling, he murmurs, “Well, shit.”

Izuku can’t stop the lightly hysterical laugh that explodes from his mouth in response.

“We’re fucked.”

*

Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto fuck up a meet-cute, twice. But everyone wins in the end.

Cinderoki, the Sweaty Prince, and the Furious Fairy by Esselle

"I wish I could go to the royal ball for Prince Izuku," Shouto finally told the fairy.

Katsuki screwed up his face. "That's it?" Shouto nodded. "Why?"

"It seems fun."

"It's not going to be fun." Katsuki scowled. "It's going to be terrible. You have to have a better wish."

"I want that one," Shouto said.

--

Todoroki Shouto is cursed. Since he was five years old, he's been locked away from the rest of the world to keep his out of control magic a secret. He thought he could be content with his storybooks—until an invitation comes from the royal palace, inviting his family to attend a ball for Crown Prince Izuku.

Shouto wants to go; he wants to be normal; he wants to leave his cage. Most of all, he wants to know what it's like to live in a fairy tale, even if it's only for one night. Fortunately, he's about to meet one pissed off fairy named Katsuki, who's been watching Shouto his whole life and waiting to make his wish come true.

Powder Keg by Ajaxthegreat

Bakugou really, really, really didn’t want to be trapped in an elevator with Todoroki and a fireproof dildo.

Sensory Input by Esselle

"Captain," Shouto says, clearing his throat. "You put in a request?"

Midoriya stands in front of the window now, staring out at the endless expanse of stars. He turns when Shouto enters. Like Bakugou, he's dressed casually, in a simple grey shirt that stretches over his chest. His green eyes blink wide as though in surprise, before he smiles. It's sheepish and shy. In front of the window, the vastness of space flung out behind him, he's as stunning as a supernova.

"I did, right," he says. "The, um, the thermostat… seems to be, maybe—"

Bakugou cuts him off with a loud sigh. "Quit wastin' his time and tell him why he's really here."

--

Shouto is a remote crew member of a spaceship—his real body is stationed on a world far away, but his consciousness is housed in a maintenance bot on board the ship. When he manages to attract the attention of the ship's gorgeous captain and fiery first officer, it doesn't take long to discover that the bot's adjustable sensitivity levels have more enjoyable applications than repair work.

[jerryb2]

I mean….you all knew this was coming ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ : the Star Wars Art of one Mr. Drew Struzan. 

And look, the man has done so much and has such a diverse portfolio that Star Wars is only one very small part of his career. If you want to explore some of his other works, then might I suggest that you check out his website. 

As for me here, we’ll be sticking strictly to his SW art. Now, with that out of the way, here we go…

*cracks knuckles*

I have to admit that before I really started to dig into this, I didn’t realize just how many Bantam Era (and beyond) Star Wars books this man has illustrated. Nearly 50 titles, ranging from novels to comics, short stories & even an RPG supplement. 🤯 

And so, after much consideration, I decided to just pull all the titles that feature his art off my bookshelf and take a few pics for you guys:

First off, I just want to point out that I don’t have every book he’s ever illustrated. Some of them are just harder than hard to find, are hilariously expensive, or I just don’t have an edition that features his art prominently - you’ll see what I mean. Right off the bat though, you can see that he was really hitting his stride in the mid-90′s, with all but a handful of these coming out between ‘94 & ‘99. One of the highlights from this time for me, is The Callista Trilogy.

I just want to stress that The Callista Trilogy is a highlight for me only because of its gorgeous cover art. 🤣 Other than that, this book series needs to go lay down. 

Anyway, the designs are all really striking and even after all these years, absolutely iconic. And you can really see Struzan’s distinct visual style at play here; not a painting in the same vein as something from Dave Doorman, and not a simple trace. Rather, something that is stylized in a very particular, very subtle way, almost to the point where it appears photo-realistic at first glance. Beautiful.

Next up is this trio of trilogies (good use of words, me), collected in these Science Fiction Book Club (SFBC) hardcovers: 

Once again, these covers are just striking, particularly The Black Fleet Crisis. This is actually what I was referring to when I said that I don’t always have the best editions for a Drew Struzan appreciation post. 😅 

Because these are hardcover collections of paperback books, we actually miss out on a good bit of the art. For these SFBC special editions, the publisher just took all three and basically photoshopped the best bits of each one together. The one that suffers the most here is obviously The Corellian Trilogy, where they didn’t even try to blend everything together, and instead just separated everything into columns. I don’t personally mind it (and I do love having the hardcover editions of these books) but if you want to see the covers as they were originally intended, just pickup those mass market paperbacks. 🙂

There’s a lot more to get through, so I’ll just hit the highlights here; even though he didn’t illustrate The Thrawn Trilogy (that was Tom Jung, who I personally think did an okay-ish job at best), he did an absolutely amazing job with the follow-up, The Hand of Thrawn Duology in ‘98 & ‘99:

I’ve always loved these covers. And narratively speaking, they really do serve as one last hurrah on the Bantam Era. Oh, and also please note, Mara Jade on the cover of Vision of the Future, just as Zahn originally described her. ❤❤❤

If you step back and look at Struzan’s work as a whole, it’s all incredibly unified. I bring this up here because even though some of these are books relatively ‘meh’ worthy, Struzan maintained a level of quality that belied the mediocrity contained within. And also to say that he was definitely busy, particularly in 1994:

That’s right - all of these released in ‘94, within a few months of one another. These covers man… *chef’s kiss*

And look I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself: The Crystal Star was a hilarious joke until we all realized they were serious about it. 😳

Alright, that’s a little on the harsh side; it’s not nearly as bad as most make it out to be, and Waru as a source for unlimited power (citation needed 👀😉) isn’t any more ridiculous than the 50 other post-Palpy, hair-brained Imperial schemes that everybody else cooked up, so I guess it fits. And besides, I really wanna be nice to Vonda McIntyre here, but this book was just so so boring. 😴

*clears throat* Moving on, here we have a couple Barnes & Noble hardcover collections of The Jedi Prince Series:

The same thing applies here; cover art photoshopped from across 6 different YA novels to get these. They don’t look bad, far from it. But rather this series has some things that people would rather forget about, namely a supposed son of Palpatine (spoiler: he wasn’t) named Triclops who had - wait for it - 3 eyes. 

Like Tien. From DBZ. Yep. 🤦‍♂️

Moving further down the list, we have yet another pair of iconic cover designs, being I, Jedi (the only Star Wars novel written in the first person, and an appropriate riff on Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot - yes ladies & gentlemen, that is as clever as Star Wars gets) and The New Rebellion.

Classics, no doubt….but for reals, did anybody else ever wonder why the X-Wing on the cover of I, Jedi is missing an S-Foil? Or how that one slipped through??? 👀

Ah, at last we arrive at what is arguably Struzan’s most famous work; the covers for Shadows of the Empire & The Star Wars Trilogy: Special Edition.

It’s hard to overstate just how important Shadows of the Empire really was for Star Wars as a brand. In an era where SW books were already extremely popular, the Shadows of the Empire Multimedia Project basically served as a breakout hit and reignited interest in SW media across the board. This was in no small part due to the striking imagery captured on its cover - are you seeing a pattern here?

This success actually renewed Lucas’ interest in a theatrical re-release of the OT in 1997….which of course, feature more beautiful art from Drew Struzan:

These are my OG Special Edition VHS tapes from back in the day. I watched these so damn much as a kid. In fact, they’re basically the whole reason that I’m here, annoying the shit out of everybody today. 😁

After the Bantam Era concluded & the Star Wars publishing license went to Del Rey, Struzan did progressively fewer pieces for SW media. Here we see his contribution for the latter half of the Last of the Jedi YA series, and his kick-ass cover art for the Darth Maul comic: 

And when I say that Struzan did progressively fewer pieces for Star Wars, I am of course omitting his turn as the poster artist for the freaking Prequel Trilogy: 

Say what you will about the films, but these poster designs are nothing short of genius. 

Look guys, it would be pretty easy for me to downplay Struzan’s Star Wars portfolio as just one small part of his incredible career. But my dudes, this is literally just the tip of the iceberg. The man has been a professional illustrator for over 50 years, and his art has delighted and inspired generations. From Star Wars to Indian Jones, and from Back to the Future to Blade Runner - Drew Struzan has played an integral part in shaping popular culture. 

Here’s to you, sir. 🍻

[theoswriting]

lavender, honey and coconut (e.p. x fem!r)

summary:  Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs. y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning. That had been her first mistake.

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: okay, this is my first time writing for cm and emily prentiss, so I hope it isn’t too ooc! this is definitely a different vibe to the show lmao, i mostly wrote this to amuse myself, and then decided it might be worth sharing. I hope you’lll enjoy it xo (tell me if u do, i’m nervous)

warnings: some alcohol is consumed, light swearing

ao3

Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs.

It's a well-known fact that if you want to keep something hidden, one, you don't tell Garcia because she's incapable of keeping anything secret and two, don't breathe near her because she will be able to figure out that you're hiding something, and she will know which buttons to push to get you to spill everything.

Penelope likes to think that in another life, she would've made a great interrogator. In this life though, she uses her powers to get what she wants out of her friends.

This was one of the first things y/n found out when she joined the BAU. Derek spoke about the tech goddess' powers with reverence while the rest of them spoke of it with fear. Even Hotch seemed a little disconcerted by the whole thing.

y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning.

That had been her first mistake.

***

Paperwork days were the worst.

y/n should probably love them more because if she's stuck behind her desk, it means that no one is out there getting brutally murdered. Still, it's a lot less exciting. It doesn't help that the bullpen is oddly quiet, everyone focused on their files. Spencer is going through his about a mile a minute, stopping from time to time to rewrite something or to look up some kind of information. Derek is slower and y/n can almost see the boredom oozing out of him. Yet, he doesn't look up when she looks over at him and keeps diligently going through his notes.

Finally, her eyes land on Emily. Her head is propped up on her left hand as she writes with the right. Occasionally, she will bite her nails as she focuses hard on part of her notes. y/n thinks she looks extra cute when she frowns, trying to understand her own writing. It makes y/n smile before refocusing on her own work.

y/n is almost done with one of her reports when she notices some missing information. She could easily look it up herself, but she's bored and this is the perfect excuse to get away from her desk for a bit. So she stands up, gathers her papers and walks to her favourite tech genius' lair.

y/n opens the door and sees Penelope's back turned to her. Before she can say anything, Garcia's voice rings out.

"Well if it isn't my favourite ray of sunshine, what can I do for you, y/n?"

y/n smiles at the blonde's greeting, as she sits down next to her, "Are you busy?"

"Not at all!"

"Great, I'm missing some information on this file, but most importantly, I'm in dire need of entertainment."

Garcia happily grabs the file from y/n and starts tapping away at her computer, putting up the information she needs on her screen in no time. She prints it all out and hands it to y/n with a flourish.

"Here's the info you need," She starts, but her eyes quickly turn regretful, "Sadly, I have no recent office gossip to entertain you with."

y/n pouts at that, "Damn, not even from Slutty David?"

Penelope shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak when she suddenly frowns at y/n. She pulls back slightly and y/n wonders if she'd forgotten to put on deodorant that morning. Penelope says nothing, just watches her.

"What?" y/n finally asks, unnerved by the staring.

"What are you not telling me?" Garcia asks simply and it's y/n's turn to frown. She can't think of anything that she might be hiding from her friend.

"Nothing?"

y/n is pretty sure that's the wrong answer and that Penelope is going to keep asking her questions until she confesses to something she didn't even know she was hiding. To her surprise though, Garcia only stares at her for a few more seconds before dropping it. As quick as it disappeared, her bright smile is back on her face and she goes back to telling a story.

It turns out that yes, she did have something to tell y/n about Slutty David.

y/n leaves Penelope about twenty minutes later with a refreshed brain, ready to get back to work. When she gets back to her desk, Emily looks up to give her a smile. y/n smiles back and winks at her as she sits down. Emily's smile broadens before she turns her focus back to the file in front of her.

y/n does the same, her smile staying even while going through an autopsy report. It's only hours later when y/n is almost done with paperwork that she freezes. She looks up at Emily and realizes.

That's what she's been hiding.

She frowns. There's no way Garcia knows that though, she and Emily have made sure, they've been careful.

Yeah, it was probably a fluke.

***

Mornings where she gets to wake up next to Emily are y/n's favourites. Even the early ones, when they get called in for a case, having Emily next to her makes it all easier.

That's what happens that morning, both of their phones going off at 5:45 am. Emily is the one to reach for her phone while y/n latches onto her and drops a kiss on her girlfriend's shoulder.

"It's JJ. We have to go in."

y/n nods and painstakingly opens her eyes. She drops another kiss on Emily's shoulder and turns away from her to get up, but before she can go too far, Emily reaches for her and kisses her. y/n scrunches up her nose even though she's smiling into the kiss.

"Morning breath. Gross," She manages to mutter against Emily's lips.

"Don't care."

y/n had wondered when they started dating if it would get to a point where it'd be too much to be together and then work together as well. Now, six months into their relationship, y/n knows she had worried over nothing. They have a system and boundaries. They keep the PDA to a minimum at work, which isn't a problem considering they had decided to keep their relationship a secret from the team. It's not that Prentiss and y/l/n don't trust their coworkers, it's more than they don't want to screw up the group's dynamics.

And it's also ridiculously funny to see how long it's taking a whole group of profilers to figure out that two members of their team are dating.

After getting dressed, y/n starts packing a new bag, taking clothes from the one drawer Emily had emptied out and gifted to her on their 2 months anniversary. Emily had a similar one at y/n's place. Considering their jobs and the amount of time they spent at each other's place, they figured it was smart to always have enough clothes at each other's place for instances like these.

Not even 10 minutes later, they're out of the door. They kiss one last time before Emily gets into her car and y/n gets into hers. As usual, y/n takes the long way to work, her place being famously further away than Emily's. So when she finally gets to the conference room, everyone is already there and waiting for Hotch.

y/n sits in between Derek and Spencer, "Good morning, my people!"

"It certainly is not," Hotch deadpans as he enters the room. y/n closes her mouth and nods to herself. She should've seen that one coming.

The others chuckle quietly, but the laughter quickly dies. Hotch was right. This is far from a good morning.

The murders are gruesome, the victims are all women which bear a striking resemblance to Emily. y/n doesn't bring attention to it, it wouldn't bring anything to the case except worry over a detail that isn't of much importance, at least not right now. Instead, she watches her girlfriend look at the pictures, and by the way her jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly, she's come to the same realization.

"Alright everyone, wheels up in 20." Hotch dismisses them, and almost everyone rushes out of the room to get their bags. Garcia stays behind though, and so does Emily. y/n gathers her stuff slowly then, waiting for Garcia to leave the room so she can have a moment alone with her girlfriend.

Garcia doesn't leave, though.

She's staring at y/n ominously. She's missing a furry cat to be petting and she'd look like a supervillain from a cheesy action movie. y/n tries smiling at her, but the blonde doesn't respond in the slightest.

y/n leaves the room. She'll check up on Emily before take-off. She is big enough to admit that she was a little freaked out by Garcia.

She thinks nothing of it until hours later, when she's setting up their evidence board in a small town in buttfuck, Texas. JJ is standing next to her, writing the name of the second victim.

"Garcia has been asking about you."

It's such a weird thing to say that y/n is a bit taken aback. She pauses and slowly turns to look at JJ, "Uhm… Okay?"

JJ puts the cap on the pen and turns to y/n, her face probably too serious for whatever this is about.

"Remember when we told you about Garcia's weird ability to tell when someone is hiding something juicy?" y/n nods, still confused as to where this is going, "Well, she's smelt whatever it is that you're hiding."

y/n briefly wonders if no one is bothered by the constant comparison of Garcia to a literal hound dog, but apparently not. She lets out a small chuckle and nods at JJ, clearly not believing the warning tone the blonde had used, "Yeah, okay, I'll sleep with one eye open."

"y/n, I'm serious," JJ lowers her voice and looks around before confiding, "Penelope is the reason the whole team knows I had a one night stand with Slutty David."

"You had sex with Slutty David?"

JJ shudders, "Everybody makes mistakes."

***

y/n tells Emily about JJ's warning as they cuddle into bed that same night, exhausted from a day of leads getting them nowhere. To her surprise, Emily agrees with JJ.

"Garcia has a way of getting you to admit to things you thought you'd never say out loud."

The way she talks about it has y/n looking up from her very comfortable spot on Emily's shoulder to her girlfriend's face. She's staring off in the distance as if haunted by whatever it is that Garcia had dug up on her.

"What the hell did she find out about you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

***

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

It's Saturday night and they're out at a club for a Girl's night. After the case they'd had, they deserved a night to unwind. They've chosen a bar where the music is loud, but not loud enough to drown out Penelope's question. JJ and Emily are gone, lost somewhere in the crowd fighting for the bartender's attention, in search of more drinks. As y/n's brain finally processes what Garcia has just asked, she fights the urge to smile and look for Emily.

y/n has drunk enough to be on the dumb side of gay.

"Why do you ask?"

"Answering a question with another question, very telling," Garcia smirks.

Penelope seems oddly composed for someone who is two cocktails and three shots deep into the party. Usually, a drunk Garcia means sloppy kisses on the cheek and getting her away from attractive strangers before she can say anything overtly sexual or inappropriate. So something doesn't add up. y/n squints her eyes at the blonde in front of her, like that will somehow help her see things clearer.

It doesn't. Everything looks fuzzy and she probably should stop drinking.

"I'm not."

The lie tastes gross in y/n's mouth and if there's one thing that could make her feel better, it would be kissing Emily. Before she can stop it, a smitten smile makes its way onto her face. Garcia slams a hand on the table, making y/n jump. She focuses her eyes on Penelope who's pointing an accusing finger at her.

"There! Who did you just think about?"

y/n sputters, racking her brain for a more convincing lie but she can't stop smiling so she gives in. Damn her inability to lie when she's drunk.

"Okay, fine" y/n amends, "I am seeing someone, but please keep it quiet."

Penelope obviously does not keep quiet. Instead, she squeals loud enough that she startles a few people passing by their table. Of course, that's also the moment JJ and Emily pick to come back.

So when Garcia basically yells, "I knew it!" for the whole bar to hear, there's no way y/n is getting out of this one.

"Knew what?" Emily asks with a smile as she puts down a drink in front of y/n. She immediately grabs it, thinking that maybe if she blacks out, this conversation will also be erased from the history of the universe.

"y/n is seeing someone!" Penelope happily informs the two recently arrived. JJ whips her head, excitement filling her eyes, about a million questions fighting to be asked first. Emily, for her part, chokes on her drink.

"Why haven't you told us anything?" JJ says, her blue eyes even more glassy than usual, "Who is it?"

y/n shrugs, going for a nonchalant vibe. She goes with something vague.

"You don't know her."

Penelope's smile widens, "Oh, so it's a her."

Shit. Not vague enough.

What follows are a series of questions that y/n refuses to answer and thankfully, with Emily there to mediate, they manage to change the subject. Seriously, y/n could kiss her right then and there. Instead, she takes a sip of her drink and glances towards Emily. They decide to leave less than an hour later. JJ is about one sip away from taking her top off while y/n is just about ready to throw caution to the wind and start making out with Emily. To hell with consequences.

Penelope is still suspiciously acting sane.

"Oh, Pen, be careful, someone dropped their drinks right behind your chair."

JJ's heads up makes y/n glare at Garcia who looks a little too guilty.

***

When they get back to Emily's place, y/n barely waits until the front door is closed before kissing Emily. Emily welcomes it, blindly throwing away the keys to wrap both hands around her girlfriend's neck. The kissing is sweet, the taste of their last drinks still sticking to their mouths. It's a little messy due to the fact they're both smiling like two goddamn idiots in love. When they stop, Emily grabs y/n by the hand and drags her to the kitchen so they can both drink water to make their hangovers hopefully less painful in the morning.

They're almost done when Emily speaks.

"We have a problem."

y/n stops moving. She should've known this moment would come.

"Listen, if this is about the burnt toaster, I've already ordered a new one."

"Garcia- What?" Emily turns around to look at the spot where her toaster usually rests, "What happened?"

Realizing her mistake, y/n puts her empty glass of water down and wraps her arms around Emily's waist, "Nothing you need to worry about," Emily looks back at her girlfriend who looks too innocent, "What were you going to say?"

"Garcia knows you're with someone."

y/n nods slowly, wondering where Emily is going with this. She doesn't see any problems. Sure, Penelope knows that she might be sort of taken by a woman, but that's it. Even in her drunken state, she'd managed to keep any other incriminating details to herself.

"Garcia has a way of finding things out, it's only a matter of time until she puts two and two together."

Emily looks genuinely fearful and y/n wonders again, what kind of dirt Penelope had gotten Emily to disclose. She thinks back to JJ's warning as well. y/n turns it over in her head, but in the end, she scoffs and leans up to kiss Emily.

"Don't worry, babe. I'll make up a fake break up or something and we'll be fine."

Thinking she could fool Penelope Garcia so easily was y/n's second mistake.

***

Derek is getting himself coffee when y/n swiftly approaches him from the side.

"What secret did Garcia get out of Emily?"

"Which time?"

"There's more than one?"

"Oh yeah."

***

The whole thing with Garcia does make y/n and Emily reconsider telling the team, or at the very least, Hotch and HR.

They hadn't at first because of team dynamics, but mostly because they themselves were figuring out how they worked as a couple. It turns out they worked great, and hiding each other from their coworkers and best friends was getting a bit much for the both of them.

They wanted to show up at Rossi's dinner parties together without worrying about what their friends would think. y/n wanted to hold Emily's hand after a rough case on the jet without it being questioned, just as much as Emily wanted to drive with y/n to work every morning and walk into the building together.

So the next morning, Emily and y/n get to work before anyone else and walk into Hotch's office.

He doesn't have much of a reaction, not that they were expecting anything more.

What does surprise them is that, after giving them the whole speech about professionalism and whatnot, he smiles at them and says, "I'm happy for you both."

Aaron Hotchner smiles at them and y/n feels like her relationship has just been blessed by the angels from above.

***

"Hey, Spence? Do you know what Garcia dug up on Emily?"

"Emily sprained her wrist a few years back and told us that it had happened at the range. It turns out that she'd sprained it falling from her skateboard."

"Her skate- What?"

***

When y/n had told Emily they'd be fine, she wasn't being cocky, but she just knew that there was no way Garcia would suspect something with how careful they had been.

They never showed up together at work. At first, they always timed their arrivals carefully, until it became second nature. They were never overly affectionate with each other. If they needed to be comforted during a particularly hard case, they'd wait to be behind the closed doors of the hotel room they shared on most trips. As much as y/n wanted to, she never showed up to work wearing one of her girlfriend's sweaters, no matter how warm and comfortable they were.

Bottom line was, there was no reason for Garcia to suspect anything when their teammates who were literal profilers hadn't caught onto anything.

No one except Hotch knew. And only because they'd told him, so.

y/n should've known though, from being a profiler herself, that being too confident meant she was bound to slip up and make a mistake sooner rather than later.

It all happens very quickly.

JJ asks y/n if she can grab a couple of files she had left with Garcia and bring them back to her because she was waiting for someone to call and she couldn't go too far. y/n, of course, accepts, always happy to get away from her desk and the paperwork begging for her attention. She quickly knocks on Garcia's door before entering and the tech doesn't turn around as she greets her.

"Bonjour, Emily, what brings you to Casa Garcia today?"

y/n chuckles at the blonde's eccentricities, "Sorry, but you got it wrong, it's me."

Penelope rolls her chair around to face her and she looks truly distraught to have gotten it wrong, "But I always get it right. I'm the all-knowing Penelope Garcia."

y/n gently pats her shoulder as she reaches past her to some files she sees on the desk, "Are these JJ's? She asked me to get them for her."

Garcia nods, but she still looks defeated at having failed to guess her visitor's identity, so y/n tells her she'll come by later with some coffee for a chat. Penelope nods and turns her attention back to her computer and so she leaves.

It's funny, y/n thinks, that of all the people Penelope could have confused her with, it was Emily. Maybe some of Emily's fears had planted themselves into her brain unbeknownst to her because y/n suddenly feels very uneasy. Why did Pen think it was Emily walking in? Had she unconsciously started walking like her girlfriend? No, no, that was ridiculous. Emily had a very distinctive gate that was very different from y/n's.

Still, something is off. y/n trusts her gut, it has never failed her, and her gut is telling her something is off.

She doesn't know what though. She had woken up with Emily that morning and they'd actually had time to enjoy a nice breakfast together and had plenty of time to get ready together. In fact, they had even gotten to enjoy a very pleasant shower together. y/n smiles at that particularly good memory until she realizes.

"Shit," she mutters, but not quietly enough. She's standing in the middle of the bullpen, her coworkers' eyes on her. Before she can tell herself that it's fine, that she was just paranoid and that there was no way Penelope had noticed, she hears a familiar but hurried clicking of heels approach the bullpen. y/n turns around to see Penelope standing on the other side of the glass window and one look at her is all y/n needs.

She knows.

Before Garcia can make her way inside the bullpen and bring mayhem with her, y/n hastily makes her way to her. She drops JJ's files on her desk haphazardly under Derek, Emily and Spencer's bewildered eyes. When she gets to Penelope, she gently grabs her by the arm and urgently leads her away.

"You smell like lavender!" Penelope exclaims with no preamble, "You usually don't smell like lavender, you smell of honey and coconut, but never lavender and that's why I got confused!"

y/n confidently nods in greeting at an agent passing by Garcia's office as y/n shoves her inside. He looks unsettled but only smiles in return, preferring to ignore whatever is going on. Smart man.

"That's why I thought you were Emily! Because Emily is the one who smells of lavender!" Penelope is pacing while y/n stands with her back to the door.

"Okay, Pen, I need you to breathe," She says when the techie is still going on about lavender, honey and coconut.

"Breathe? How can I breathe when you and Emily are dating."

y/n thinks that's a bit dramatic, but Garcia has finally stopped pacing and talking. y/n slowly steps towards the blonde and puts both of her hands on her shoulders. She debates for a few seconds, wonders if she'd get away with a lie but at this point, y/n's pretty sure the cat is out of the bag.

"Yeah, Emily and I are together."

y/n should've been prepared for it, but when Garcia lets out a high pitched squeal, it still gets her by surprise. Her pained grimace is quickly chased away by laughter when Penelope hugs her with all the strength and excitement caffeine was providing her.

"This is so great, I'm so happy for you two!" She lets you go long enough to see the smile that's made its way onto her face. It's the same smitten smile she always gets whenever she thinks about Emily and Garcia honest to god pinches her cheeks, "Aww, look at that smile!"

y/n laughs and tries to get her cheeks away from anymore pinching. That's when the door opens enough for Emily to sneak her head in, "Hey you two, is everything okay?"

She looks at Penelope first, but her eyes end on y/n. Before she can say anything though, Penelope smirks, "Why yes, lover, everything is just fine."

At that, Emily gets in and closes the door behind her. She looks at y/n for confirmation.

y/n just nods, "Yeah, she knows."

"You bet your sweet ass I know!"

And with no further warning, Penelope tackles Emily in a hug much as she'd done with y/n minutes prior. When she lets her go, Emily steps closer to y/n, and with a hand on her lower back, she says, "I told you she'd find out."

y/n ignores the I told you so her girlfriend apparently couldn't wait to give her, but yeah, she's not wrong.

It'll teach her to ever doubt the abilities of the all-knowing Penelope Garcia.

***

Months and months later, y/n meets up with Penelope for brunch on a Sunday morning. Before she can even greet her, the blonde fixes her with a stare that is both strange but oh so very familiar.

"What are you planning?"

This time, y/n grins and tells Garcia not to worry, that she'll know in due time. After all, she can only hide the little velvet box in her coat pocket and its content for so long.

***

[eggtoasties]

dazed bees to honey

Pairing: Shisui Uchiha/Sakura Haruno

Rating: T

Word Count: 6.3k

Better on AO3

Chapter 2

______________________________________

Getting Sakura’s attention had been…difficult at best. Trying to work around his erratic schedule was near impossible given Sakura’s equally hectic schedule and Shisui wasn’t sure how to approach the Hokage and demand that she rearrange his missions to better accommodate his dating schemes.

But, he had never met anyone more alluring—the sway of Sakura’s hips, the creaminess of her skin, the way her eyes lit up when he brought little trinkets he acquired from far away missions. She makes the blood rush to his cheeks when she makes fun of him and he had never known that getting his bones crushed would make him feel like he was the luckiest man on Earth.

She was the sun—bringing him light and warmth like he had never before experienced, and he was the moon orbiting around her. He needed to be closer; he wanted to be consumed by her. She could crack his chest open in two and carve her name in the ribs protecting his heart and it still wouldn’t be close enough.

He just didn’t know how to tell her.

___

Shisui had been idly sharpening kunai at his dining room table waiting for his bread to proof, when he received a summons. Tapping at the balcony door, a small crow was impatiently waiting for Shisui to retrieve the message tied at its foot. Wondering why Itachi sent a crow instead of making the short trip to his apartment, Shisui set his weapon down and ambled towards the sliding glass door, making sure to grab seeds for the summons.

Letting out a squawk, the crow started pecking at his door faster. Alarmed that Itachi was possibly in danger, Shisui shunshined to the balcony and grabbed the crow to get to the message. Puffing its feathers and pecking at Shisui’s hands, the summons squawked indignantly and Shisui offhandedly wondered when Itachi had kept such poorly behaved crows.

Gently releasing it into the air and unfurling the message, Shisui read:

Came back from the mission a few days ago. At training ground 7 if you’d like to join. -S. Haruno

His heart pounded. Sakura was back in the village and she contacted him promptly afterwards to ask to spar? Dough be damned he was sprinting to training ground 7, he thought giddily. He looked down at himself—green fuzzy socks, loose gray sweats, and an old t-shirt—he had to get ready! His cheeks warmed. Wait, he mentally stammered. How did she know where he lived? How did she know where to send the summons to? Did she snoop around his medical files to find his address because for some reason, that made his throat dry.

Running to his bedroom while haphazardly throwing his clothes off, he suddenly stilled again. She had sent him a crow? She had a crow summons? There were a few crow summoners in the village, Shisui reasoned. She could have gotten a contract from Aoba or someone else. But, the thought of Itachi presenting the summoning contract that he had bestowed as a sign of trust and friendship made Shisui frown. As the elder, and the first contract holder, he should have been the one to give her the contract to sign. Or, Itachi should have gone to him and inform Shisui of his intentions.

Nodding to himself, Shisui made a note to stop by Itachi’s house later and question him.

___

Arriving at the edge of training ground 7 in record time, Shisui paused as he saw Sakura and Itachi in their uniforms warming up together. Sakura was in standard uniform sans the flak jacket and Itachi was in his ANBU uniform as always. Shisui fidgeted uncomfortably. He had worn what Itachi rudely called “the douchebag” shirt—a loose black sleeveless top where the arm holes were cut down to the bottom of his ribs. The tank top, Itachi always lectured, could hardly be defined as a shirt since it was so open. Itachi had questioned the practicality of a training top that would leave one so vulnerable to weapons and Shisui at the time, had retorted that he would understand when he was older.

Beginning to wonder if he should discreetly go back home to change, Sakura and Itachi called Shisui over.

“Oh, you came!” Sakura shouted excitedly as she beckoned him towards the middle of the training field.

As he walked slowly towards the pair, Itachi assessed Shisui.

“I see you got my summons,” he said, raising his eyebrow when he took in Shisui’s clothes. “Nice pants.”

Shisui flushed. He had chosen his tightest black training pants. Pants that he knew made his ass look good, thank you very much, but at the moment he was wondering if Sakura would think he was trying too hard. Or worse, he mentally shuddered, a douchebag.

“I was excited when Itachi told me you were in the village. I wanted to work on my response times with you,” Sakura started, interrupting Shisui’s mental torture. His heart fluttered at the thought of her wanting to spar with him and he let out a little breath of relief realizing that the crow was indeed Itachi’s. He crossed his arms in a poor attempt to cover the long slits in his shirt.

“I can dodge pretty much anything,” Sakura continued, beginning to sway on the balls of her feet, pink pony tail swinging with the motion. “But I wanna see how I’ll do against an opponent I can’t hit—or at least that’s what Itachi says,” she said, smiling at him prettily.

The early morning sun illuminated her face and made her green eyes impossibly bright. The faint ring of gold around her pupils winked at him and he swore he could feel his pulse reverberate in his skull. He realized she was waiting for a response. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, and all he could muster out was a weak, “Sounds good.”

Sakura nodded happily and walked a few paces away from him, wringing out her arms. Suddenly pulling out kunai from her holster and twirling them around her forefingers, she faced him.

“Taijutsu only. Ready whenever you are, Shisui-san.”

___

She was fast, Shisui noted. He had expected as much given the way she took him by surprise in her office, cutting his shunshin off. He also factored in the fact that she regularly trained with Itachi, Sasuke, and Kakashi who were notoriously quick on their feet. But, not as fast as him.

Flickering in and out of her reach, he studied her movements with his sharingan. He knew that Itachi was on the sidelines, similarly monitoring her, but Shisui wanted to brand the image of her looking at him like he was prey for the rest of his life. Sakura was an incredibly flexible fighter, he noted. Depending on the type of attack, weapon, and opening he left, she would quickly and seamlessly recalibrate.

There were times her movements reflected Tsunade-sama’s—sharp and fast and meant to obliterate. Other times, Shisui realized, she would adopt Might Guy’s Strong Fist technique, Asuma’s melee style, or most surprisingly, the graceful but precise movements of the Gentle Fist technique.

Bracing a chakra enforced forearm against a kick to his head he asked, “Who taught you the Gentle Fist?”

Grunting and trying to strike his open stomach she responded, “My graduating class has two Hyuugas.” He side stepped away from her punch and flickered behind her. Ducking when she swung a kunai to his head and dodging the knee about to pummel his face, he shunshined a little farther away.

“Hyuuga don’t hide their techniques because no one can use it without the Byakugan, but someone would have had to teach you those movements,” he said breathing heavily.

“Kakashi copies them to piss people off and I was—am close to them,” Sakura said catching her breath. He watched as she pressed the back of her hand to her sweaty forehead and picked the hem of her shirt up to wipe at the rest of her face. Her toned stomach glistened with sweat. Little rivulets of perspiration rolled down her abs and Shisui cursed, damn.

“Was it the little Hyuuga genius? Neji-kun?” Shisui asked, remembering Sasuke’s clear distaste for the boy.

Itachi chose then to materialize in Shisui’s line of vision, cutting his view of Sakura. Pouting, Shisui flash stepped in front of Sakura, startling her while Itachi began his commentary on what and how Sakura could improve as well as ideas for them to try out.

The rest of their morning session consisted of Itachi valiantly trying to train while Shisui cast low level genjutsus of himself telling Itachi to leave. Itachi dispelled the genjutsus, but Shisui relentlessly recast them, sometimes conjuring up little dancing animals or mini Sasukes berating him to leave. Tiring of Shisui’s antics, Itachi dejectedly sat on the ground and began his stretches, saying that they should call it a day.

“Are you alright? You seemed distracted today—I definitely hit you more than usual,” Sakura said kneeling in front of him, raising a glowing green hand to his chest.

“Thank you—I’m fine,” Itachi responded tiredly. “It’s just that Shisui,” he said harshly, glaring at him over Sakura’s shoulder, kept telling me to leave.”

Alarm bells started ringing in Shisui’s head and he looked incredulously at his cousin. His cousin who sold him out. His decidedly, least favorite cousin. He glared back at Itachi. Shisui flashed his dimples which made Itachi narrow his eyes further.

“Sorry, cousin,” Shisui started. “I’m just absolutely starving and wanted to eat—you know how I am when I want something,” he said, throwing his arms behind his head and wiggling his eyebrows at his cousin.

“Annoying? Irritating? Childish?” Itachi grumbled, causing Sakura to giggle. “Sakura,” Itachi started. “Would you want to go to that new bakery in the North District? I’ve only heard incredible things about their rhubarb ice cream,” Itachi said excitedly, ignoring the way Shisui was pouting and lightly kicking at the ground.

Sakura finished healing Itachi and slowly rose, dusting the dirt from her knees and wiping her hands against her thighs. “Ooh, that sounds really nice, but I should probably get real food before I start on desserts,” Sakura laughed.

Not to be outdone, Shisui stepped beside Sakura. “I agree, let’s get lunch Sakura-sensei,” he chirped while resting his hand against Itachi’s head, who was still sitting down. Scowling, Itachi yanked on Shisui’s arm, making his older cousin stumble, and jabbed the back of his knee. Pleased that Shisui was now sprawled in the dirt, Itachi rose and said, “Well, I’m also going to get sesame cookies,” he sniffed. “Good luck with this,” Itachi said to Sakura, poking an incensed Shisui with his sandal. “And thank you for the coconut oil.”

With that, Itachi gracefully straightened himself out and walked towards the edge of the clearing, waving back at Sakura.

___

Shisui and Sakura made their way towards the main hub of Konoha. Excited to be alone with her, Shisui asked her questions about her last mission and her work at the hospital. He listened intently as she recalled the mission details, chuckling when she complained about the humidity in Waterfall, telling her he completely understood while pointing to his curly hair. She talked animatedly about her research project at the hospital. Although he didn’t understand about seventy five percent of what she was explaining, he nodded dutifully, lips quirking as he watched her excited hand movements as she discussed…molecular interventions through pathogenic mechanisms of neurocristopathies—he thinks.

Humming at the right times and throwing in a “oh, really—what does that mean?” every so often, he basked in her voice. Her voice, Shisui decided, was his favorite sound in the entire universe. Wanting to sit down together, he interrupted her briefly to point at the first restaurant he saw.

“How’s ramen sound, Sakura-sensei?” he asked.

“And that’s why normal and pathological neural crest cells—” Sakura, paused. “Oh, Ichiraku’s is fine. Did you know this is Team 7’s spot?” she asked, heading towards the shop. “We used to eat at Ichiraku’s a few times a week,” she scrunched her nose in distaste, “when we were genin,” she finished.

“Itachi says Sasu-chan always complains about Naruto-kun’s ramen eating habits but I didn’t realize this was your guys’ place of choice,” Shisui chuckled. “Does he know that the stand two streets over also does a killer ramen? A gal needs variety if I recall correctly,” he threw in cheekily. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he continued. “There’s also this other place that has great ambience and incredible food—you should come some time?” he voice rising in speed and pitch at the end of the sentence.

Her step faltering, Sakura looked up at Shisui. “Huh?” she questioned at his word choice, “What is it?”

“My place,” he responded quickly, smiling sunnily at her and ignoring the rush of blood to his face.

Shisui’s heart thundered at the way her mouth opened in surprise and he felt his bones reverberate when the tips of her ears turned pink. While she scrunched her nose at the cheesy line, she couldn’t help the way her lips quirked up.

“Well—”

“SAKURA-CHAN!” Naruto screamed, running towards her from down the street, waving both hands excitedly. Behind Naruto, walking at a leisurely pace, was Itachi and Sasuke. Sending Shisui an apologetic smile, Sakura faced Naruto as he spun her around in a hug.

Exasperated, Shisui watched Itachi amble towards him and sent him a mental middle finger. Looking pleased with himself, Itachi didn’t even try to hide his smirk behind his massive ice cream cone.

“Me and teme ran into Itachi-nii and he said you and Shisui-nii were around here somewhere,” Naruto exclaimed. Turning to acknowledge Shisui he said, “Oh, dude nice pants, your ass looks great in them—let’s all get Ichiraku!” he shouted, grabbing Sakura’s wrist and running towards a waving Teuchi.

Shisui stood alone in the middle of the street with his mouth slightly open. Itachi joined his side while Sasuke trailed after his two teammates, not before assessing Shisui’s shirt and pants and throwing him a grimace.

“Tch,” Sasuke said dismissively.

“You love this don’t you, Itachi.”

“Ah,” he responded. Itachi angled his ice cream towards Shisui and raised a brow.

“No.”

Itachi pouted.

___

Bounding ahead to Ichiraku’s, Naruto pulled the chair against the wall with a flourish, exaggerating a bow and extending his hand towards Sakura. Easily following the mimicry of their genin days, she giggled and pretended to ignore him. Sakura took the seat at the middle of the bar which Sasuke quietly pulled out for her.

Pouting, Naruto complained, “Aw, c’mon Sakura-chan, you don’t actually want to sit next to teme, do you? He asked, easing in the seat to her left.

“It’s so she can mediate when you eventually say something stupid to piss me off,” Sasuke said, distributing the menus.

Sakura punched him in the arm in response and turned to chat about the menu with Naruto. When Shisui and Itachi settled into the wooden seats next to Sasuke, Sakura asked,

“How long are you two in the village for?” leaning towards Shisui and Itachi.

“We’ll both be local for about a week.” Itachi offered, now nibbling delicately at his cone.

“They’ve both been easing back on their ANBU duties and are doing more stuff for the clan,” Sasuke supplied, absentmindedly picking at a paint chip on the counter.

Whooping in response Naruto added, “Hell, yeah!” he threw a fist into the air. “Now you guys can train with us more! And Itachi-nii,” he started, leaning back in his chair to look at Itachi, “if you could bring more of those rice balls you made last time, they were incredible, dattebayo!”

Smiling, Itachi leaned back to discuss snacks with Naruto.

“And what about you, Sakura-sensei,” Shisui asked, completely pushing Sasuke out of the way.

Grumbling, Sasuke pushed back at Shisui, which the elder responded by trapping a hissing Sasuke in a headlock.

Rubbing Sasuke’s head placatingly, Sakura said, “I should be staying in the village for the next week too—there’s a lot of hospital stuff I’ve got to do.” Nodding to Teuchi as he placed her order in front of her, she added, “I’m glad you’ll be in the village this week, we should train together again—if you want,” she fiddled with her wooden chopsticks. “It was great to spar with you and watch you, I learned a lot.”

Jealous that he wasn’t invited to the spar, Sasuke wrenched himself from Shisui’s grasp and aggressively ripped his chopsticks apart. Noting his little brother’s behavior, Itachi chuckled and said, “I just told Naruto I’d stop by your training this week, otouto.”

“Tch,” Sasuke responded. But, the way his shoulders relaxed and he smiled gently into his bowl made it clear he was pleased.

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto started. “I feel like I never see you anymore!” he said between bites of ramen. “Let’s do a Team 7 get together—you, me, teme, Kaka-sensei, Yamato Taichou, and Sai too!” he slurped noisily.

“Yeah you’re right,” Sakura sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “With all my projects, the hospital, and,” she waved her hands distractedly, “we haven’t hung out in a while.” Frowning lightly she said, “We could do it at my place, but I don’t know if I could fit everyone…” she trailed off.

Sensing the opportunity, Shisui swooped in. “You should invite your friends over, Sasu-chan,” he mockingly admonished.

Ignoring Shisui’s baiting and staring down at his bowl, Sasuke grumbled.

“Absolutely no-“

“Your friends are coming over?” Itachi asked excitedly.

“No-“

“Yes!” chorused Naruto, Sakura, and Shisui.

“They’re,” Sasuke started, pointing his chopsticks at Naruto, “going to make a mess.”

Ignoring Sasuke’s continued rumblings, Itachi started to list off different food and dessert ideas to Naruto who grew more and more excited by his suggestions if his hand waving was anything to go by. Glancing sharply to his right at an extremely pleased Shisui, Sasuke scowled.

“I know you just took advantage of nii-san’s househusband fantasies,” Sasuke whispered sharply. In the background, Itachi was dreamily listing the various courses he thought would best suit Team 7’s tastes while Naruto and Sakura egged him on with ideas of their own.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Shisui responded smugly, leisurely slurping his noodles.

Irritated, Sasuke leaned across Shisui to talk some sense into his brother, but Itachi was staring serenely into space, using his full genius brain to plan out dinner. Huffing, Sasuke hunched in his seat and poked dejectedly at his noodles, missing the way Sakura peered past him.

___

Dinner at the Uchiha household was scheduled that Friday—a few days after lunch at Ichiraku’s. Shisui, conscious to not make another questionable fashion choice, opted for black training pants and a traditional Uchiha top—short sleeved and high collared with the Uchiha fan embroidered on the back.

Arriving at the head family’s home, he was greeted by a tired looking Fugaku who wearily told Shisui that everyone was in the kitchen. Laughing to himself, Shisui figured that Itachi and Mikoto had ran Fugaku to the ground with dinner preparations. Trailing after his uncle towards the kitchen, he saw Sasuke tending to a flower bouquet.

“Why are you here?” Sasuke asked, incensed.

He ignored the venom in his younger cousin’s eyes since he didn’t look very intimidating with carnations in hand. Shisui presented a tin-foil covered pan.

“He made shokupan,” Itachi said breezily.

“They should be here any minute! Sasuke, Fugaku, go set the table and get the plum wine out of the fridge,” Mikoto ordered, putting last minute touches on the pastries she and Itachi were decorating.

In a few minutes, there was knocking at the front door and Itachi went out to greet Sakura and Naruto.

“Come on in,” Itachi said happily. Leading them inside he said, “I ran to the store earlier today and got everyone slippers,” pointing to the neat row along the wall.

“Wow, Itachi-nii. You really got this mom thing down,” Naruto noted, nodding to himself.

“You think?” Itachi smiled serenely and Sakura giggled at his pastel yellow apron with white trimming.

“No one else could make it today,” Sakura said frowning. Handing a wrapped plant to Itachi she said, “Yamato Taichou and Sai are out on a mission, Kakashi said he was…busy…” she trailed off.

Humming to himself while inspecting the healthy green leaves of the plant and the tasteful wrapping, Itachi said, “Sakura, you really didn’t have to.” But the pleased look on his face said otherwise.

“Hey! I helped too!” Naruto interrupted loudly.

___

Settling himself at the low dining room table, Fugaku sat at the head of the table. To his right was Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke. To his left sat Mikoto, Itachi, and Shisui.

“Wow, everything looks incredible,” Sakura gushed at the spread.

Naruto nodded enthusiastically, eyes gleaming. “Mikoto oba-chan, Itachi-nii, you guys really out did yourselves!”

“I helped too, dobe,” Sasuke grumbled.

“I made the shokupan!” Shisui chirruped.

It was a little too much food for the seven of them, Shisui noted. He looked down to the heaping bowl of white rice in front of him with a hearty serving of stew to its right—steam still emanating from both. Each person also had an individual portion of teriyaki salmon, its sweet glaze reflecting the dining room light above them. Sat on the middle of the traditional table, Itachi and Mikoto also prepared stir fried vegetables, soba salad, fried tonkatsu, mapo tofu, and tempura on large serving plates. The dishes took every space of the dining room table, some of it teetering dangerously close to an edge—the table overflowed with intermingling spices and glistening sauces.

Shisui blanched knowing that dessert was bound to be a similarly overwhelming experience.

Saying a brief thanks to his guests, Fugaku uttered a brief, “Itadakimasu,” and began eating.

___

Between the passing of dishes, clinking of chopsticks, and hums of pleasure, easy chatter filled the room.

“Thank you for the coconut oil dear, it works so well,” Mikoto smiled at Sakura over her glass of wine.

Dabbing her lips delicately after devouring several slices of tofu, Sakura shook her head.

“It was no problem—thank you,” she said, looking at Mikoto and Itachi, “for the dumplings. I ate them all in one sitting they were incredible,” she gushed.

Sasuke grumbled beside her, saying he had helped too and that it shouldn’t be physically possible to consume that many dumplings at once, but his mother cut him off.

“I heard we have Hyuuga Neji-kun to thank for the hair tips?” Mikoto teased.

At the mention of Neji, Shisui slowed his chewing and conceded defeat to Naruto, who was not-so-subtly trying to eat all of the tempura as quickly as possible. Shisui looked discreetly at Sakura to see how she would respond.

Sakura was caught by surprise at the comment and her spoon hovered in midair for a millisecond. Processing the joke, her shoulders shook lightly as she giggled and playfully rolled her eyes.

Naruto, with a mouthful of food said, “Neji does have nice hair, ‘ttebayo.”

Choking a little when Sasuke elbowed him in the stomach he stuttered, “A-ah, not as nice as yours, Sakura-chan!” The table laughed at the duo in response.

“Itachi-nii, you should quit ANBU and become a cook, this is the best food I’ve had in forever,” Naruto said dreamily.

Fugaku frowned deeply into his wine. “Yes, Itachi, when will you quit ANBU and fully take on your duties as clan head?”

Fugaku’s shoulder length brown hair had streaks of gray in it, which Mikoto lovingly said made him look refined although she had hardly aged in the past five years. His face showed years of exhaustion and responsibilities with his heavy brow and fine lines at the side of his mouth. His hands were still rough and battle worn despite it being years since his active duty days. Despite it all, his eyes were still keen, sharp as flint, and just as dark.

The rest of the table stilled with Fugaku’s displeasure—the Uchihas either frowning at Fugaku or throwing Itachi an apologetic glance. Sakura and Naruto ate impossibly quicker.

“Well Father,” Itachi started breezily, taking a languid sip of his glass. “You still have life in you yet.”

Preparing for an even more disgruntled Fugaku, Naruto and Sakura nervously chattered about the incredible food, piling each other’s plates even higher, and Shisui off handedly wondered if Sasuke had ever mentioned that Sakura’s appetite matched Naruto’s.

Surprising his guests, Fugaku wearily sighed into his rice bowl. “Son, please put me out of my misery so I can spend time with my wife.”

Over Mikoto’s pleased giggles and Sasuke’s embarrassed choke, Sakura and Naruto stopped their babbling to stare openly at Fugaku. Realizing that their surprise was obvious, they busied themselves again with food, ignoring Sasuke’s second-hand disgust.

“And Shisui,” Fugaku said sharply, cutting off whatever sly retort he had prepared on the tip of his tongue, “when will you fully accept the mantle as the police force commander?” he questioned.

Ignoring Shisui’s attempt at a response, Fugaku braced his hands on the floor behind his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Why Itachi and Sasuke don’t want to take over the police force is beyond me,” he muttered to himself as Mikoto gently consoled him.

Laughing at his uncle’s tiredness Shisui joked, “Well oji-san, given that Itachi’s biggest dream is being a full-time househusband—” Naruto looked incredibly interested at this prospect. “—and mine is living on oba-san’s food for the rest of my life,” Sasuke rolled his eyes at this. “Maybe we’ll make you suffer a little longer.”

Shisui raised his glass to Itachi, who clinked his glass in return, happily sipping the plum wine at the expense of an entirely spent Fugaku who mumbled to himself about shattered retirement dreams.

___

After dinner, Naruto and Sakura helped clear out the dishes despite Mikoto and Itachi’s protests. While Sasuke and Fugaku were relegated to cleaning the dishes, Shisui prepared the tea while Mikoto and Itachi set the table with dessert.

Surprisingly, dessert wasn’t as overwhelming as Shisui thought it would be. There was sakuramochi at the center of the table, elegantly plated in a neat line on a porcelain plate, the pickled blossom leaf folded meticulously over each cake. Itachi’s eyes crinkled towards Sakura while setting it down. Mikoto placed the higashi towards the end of the table, near Sasuke’s seat. The biscuit-like sweet, Shisui noticed amusedly, had uzumaki swirls pressed onto each biscuit. Shisui’s shokupan was also set down alongside a small pot of honey and jam. The last dessert was Fugaku’s favorite: butter cookies. Each cookie was a perfect circle and slightly browned at the edges. But to Shisui’s increased amusement, a black, three-tomoe sharingan was stenciled in icing on each cookie.

Settling back at the table, Sasuke looked at each dessert in growing exasperation before taking in the sharingan butter cookies. He glanced at Itachi in thinly veiled disbelief, but Itachi was intently staring at his guests’ reactions.

Sakura and Naruto had expressions of awe on their face. Naruto, with one hand on his protruding stomach looked a little nauseous when he said, “Wow…you really went all out on this team dinner…it looks so good dattebayo,” he finished weakly.

Sakura, trying to make up for her teammate’s lack of gusto quickly chirped, “I’m SO impressed with your icing skills,” she gushed, “I tried once and it was a complete failure,” she pouted, running a hand through her ponytail. “I’m so full from that incredible dinner but we’ll,” she quickly darted her eyes to Naruto, “make sure and try everything,” she finished, silencing Naruto’s protests.

As Itachi went prattled on the fine details of piping, not icing, because they’re obviously very different, Shisui idly wondered if Sasuke never hosted team dinners because of Itachi.

___

As everyone forced themselves to eat as much dessert as possible for Itachi’s sake, at the head of the table, Mikoto was cajoling her husband in hushed tones and nudging him with her shoulder.

“Sakura dear,” Mikoto started, which silenced the rest of the table. Mikoto turned her head to her husband. He responded by straightening his back and clearing his throat a few times.

“Sakura,” he started stiffly, not quite looking her in the eye. “Thank you,” Fugaku said, “for your work with the clan medics.

Shisui looked at his uncle, then Sakura in surprise—he hadn’t known just how close she was to the Uchiha clan. Looking around the table, no one else seemed to be surprised with her work, more so surprised at Fugaku’s thanks.

Sakura smiled kindly at Fugaku and Mikoto. “You’re welcome, the sharingans a tricky kekkai genkai and the blockages in the delicate blood vessels are definitely hard to work with, but working with Sasuke and Kakashi gave me a leg up. I’m just happy you allowed me to treat your clan members and train your clan medics.”

“With your instruction, Sakura-chan,” Mikoto began, “nearly every clan member has noted a mental and physical improvement. The Uchiha owe you a life debt.” Fugaku, Itachi, and Sasuke nodded in agreement.

Blushing at the compliment, Sakura shook her head. “Thank you, but you all don’t owe me anything. The payment, as agreed, was fully enough.”

Shisui paused. He hadn’t realized that Sakura had found a way to ease the pain the sharingan brought. Having awoken his mangekyo at an extremely young age, he was used to the near perpetual eyestrain and frequent migraines that came with overuse. He had given up on his clan medics’ treatment for his eyes since they’d been ineffective over the years. Incredibly interested at the prospect of relieving his pain he quickly turned to Sakura.

She was still talking to Fugaku and Mikoto, trying to convince them that they didn’t have to commit to any favors for her, and all of his thoughts stilled. She was talking with her hands, trying to explain that she was just glad to be of service to her teammate’s family, and by extension, the village. That no one should be in chronic pain if there was anything she could do about it. Her cheeks were flushed with the wine, and he was taken by the fullness of her lips. Wet with the plum wine, they glistened in the soft overhead light. Every so often, he could see a glint of her pink tongue as she laughed, or caught the corner of her lip.

Noticing that Itachi was staring at him with amusement, Shisui mentally shook himself out of his stupor.

“Ne, Sakura-sensei, I hadn’t realized you figured out the sharingan. Any chance I could schedule a doctor’s appointment with you?” He smiled cheekily at her, ignoring the way Sasuke and Naruto threw daggers at him.

“See, Sakura-chan,” Mikoto said, “you take such good care of our boys—no matter what you say, we’ll always be in you debt.”

“Mikoto-san—” Sakura looked down at her shirt—a standard issue jounin top—which now had a dark wine stain blooming at her stomach.

Naruto looked sheepishly at her, grabbing his napkin. “Sorry…at least it wasn’t your kimono this time?” Naruto said as he dabbed.

“Aw man,” Sakura complained, “this is one of my last good ones too.” While it was customary for shinobi to keep one or two sets of pristine uniforms for show—if they were on guard duty for a prestigious client, or to maintain appearances for foreign dignitaries—the reality was that most shinobi were running around in repeatedly stained, slightly tattered, hole riddled uniforms until they were unwearable.

Getting up to rinse her shirt in the sink, Mikoto stopped her. “Let me get you something to change into,” she said, rising from her seat. At the same time, Sasuke stood up, saying he’d get something of his, and missed the way Shisui had grabbed the back of his own shirt collar and started to undress. Itachi yanked the hem of Shisui’s shirt down and Fugaku stared at Shisui like he was stupid.

“No, no, sit back down Sasuke,” Mikoto said quickly, “look how pretty Sakura’s hair is today,” gesturing at her pink locks, “I’ll have to get her something of mine.” Mikoto placed a hand at Sakura’s upper back and ushered her along.

Sitting back down, Sasuke stared after his mom and teammate in silent confusion over the correlation of Sakura’s everyday pony tail and clothes.

After a few minutes, Mikoto and Sakura shuffled back into the main dining area. Mikoto walked slightly behind Sakura, staring intently at her sons’ and nephew’s faces. Catching the glint in her eye, Fugaku sighed.

Sakura changed into a loose black sweater with an Uchiha fan stitched on the breast. The sweater itself had a similar cut to the jounin top, and was slightly loose on Sakura’s frame. Seeing his teammate, Sasuke furrowed his brow. He had several shirts exactly like that. Sakura also probably had several shirts like that—it wasn’t particularly nice even—why did it have to be his mother’s, he wondered. What does it have to do with her hair—did ponytails have some significance he hadn’t known about? Deep in thought, he continued to scrutinize while Itachi happily munched on butter cookies. Glancing nonchalantly at Sakura he offered a “Hm,” and went back to cajoling Naruto into eating more.

Shisui was gone. The thought of Sakura wearing his clothes with the Uchiha fan would be forever branded in memory. He imagined quiet mornings with her as he made her coffee as she got ready in the mornings. He imagined how she’d look wearing one of his t-shirts—the oversized fit exposing the cream of her shoulder and him kissing the open space.

He watched her as she spoke. The slender curve of her neck, the peach fuzz on her cheeks, and the irresistible plumpness of her lips mesmerized him. Shisui felt the rush of chakra to his eyes, activating his sharingan, and quickly turned his head.

“Thank you for the meal,” Sakura said, rising from her seat, bowing to Mikoto and Itachi.

“Yeah, dinner was great thank you so much!” Naruto chimed in. “Ne, ne, Sakura-chan,” leaning towards her with a glint in his eyes, “why don’t you stay and sleepover! It’ll be like our genin days!” Naruto cheered.

Lightly grimacing, Sakura responded, “I have a shift at the hospital at six in the morning—maybe next time,” she apologized, although she didn’t look sorry at all.

“It must be exhausting having multiple full time jobs,” Itachi said sagely, still munching on butter cookies.

“Yes.” Fugaku deadpanned. “I wonder.”

Completely ignoring his father, Sasuke got up and heaved Naruto with him as well. Nodding to his mother, he jutted his chin to Sakura then jerked his head at the door.

“God, teme—use your words!” Naruto yelled, swatting the back of Sasuke’s head. Ducking before Naruto could hit him, Sasuke jabbed the side of Naruto’s stomach, grinning when he doubled over and wheezed. “W-we’re gonna walk S-Sakura-chan home,” he managed to get out, glaring at Sasuke from his hunched over position.

Seeing his chance, Shisui shot up from his seat and clapped a heavy hand onto Naruto’s back, forcing the blonde to stay hunched over. Cheerfully he said, “I’ll do it! My apartment’s on the way anyways and you’re staying here!” Squeezing Sasuke’s shoulder forcefully, Shisui grinned at his younger cousin trying not to flinch in his vice grip.

Raising a brow, Sakura looked at Shisui unimpressed, although the corner of her lip was curling. Itachi mirrored Sakura, except he was actually unimpressed. Fugaku massaged his nose bridge and his wife hid her smile behind her hand.

“Sasuke, Naruto, come help with the dishes,” Mikoto said.

Sakura gave once last bow to Sasuke’s parents and waved at her friends before heading out.

___

Sakura’s apartment was not on the way to Shisui’s. In fact, it was on the opposite side of the village.

But, there was no way he’d miss the opportunity to talk to her one-on-one without the intrusion of pesky teammates or baby cousins. They walked leisurely side by side, shoulders occasionally bumping, as he basked in her undivided attention. The walk to her apartment was made in quiet tones, careful not to break the stillness that surrounded them.

Crickets chirping in the background and the moon softly illuminating their way, Shisui, for the first time with Sakura, felt at ease. He wondered if maybe they were meant for this—quiet conversations under the moonlight, with her wearing the Uchiha crest.

[peach-the-owl]

Exu crew and an artificer kid? The crew enters the kids home town and they don't seem that happy about it but doesn't say anything, everyone goes different ways to shop/explore/etc and while everyone goes their own ways the kids old bullies pull them into an alleyway and just bully them breaking anything kid made/name calling/pulling hair just being unbelievable mean. The bullies all freeze, then kid looks over their shoulders and sees the whole group behind them looking intimidating, the bullies run away while the other ask what's going on and try to comfort their child.

Wow this was longer then I expected SORRY!! I hope you have a wonderful day ❤️

There’s no need to be sorry for an idea 😁 I hope this turned out good

(Second piece to deal with a bullying theme, dang)

Fine Craftsmanship

ExU Crew & Child!Artificer!Reader

The trip to Byroden was a longer one then you first thought, having to make a few pit stops to rest and restock on food, but it did have its perks, giving you time to work on some projects while on the road. They weren’t anything huge, you wanted to surprise everyone in the group with a personally crafted item, everything was fine at first until you recognized the town you were currently approaching.

"Are you alright (y/n)? You seem a bit jumpy." Dorian comments, having noticed your fidgeting hands. You take a quick second to calm yourself before replying.

"I’m fine, this is actually my hometown. I haven’t seen it in awhile, you know." He gives you a small nod and gets himself a better look out the window.

"If you’re from here that means you know where all the good stops are right?" Dariax asks excitedly.

"I’m still a kid, I wouldn’t know what’s 'good' in your opinion." You stare blankly, it was a bit strange sometimes to be one of the smartest people in the group.

"Right, right. No drinking for you." Dariax says, as if he already knew all this. You playfully roll your eyes at him and smile a little, maybe this wouldn’t so bad after all, so long as you stayed close to everyone. You enter the town and find a good place to park the Glitter-Shitter (I can’t even write the word with a straight face) before making your way into the marketplace and instantly Opal is off browsing the different shops and stalls of the market, dragging Fearne along with her and Fy'ra Rai trailing behind them, telling everyone to meetup in an hour. Dorian heads over to the tavern hoping to sweet talk the folk there for some food for the road, Dariax tagging along most likely to grab some drinks and test his luck with some gambling. Orym had disappeared from your sight entirely, heading off to do his own thing if you had to take a guess. You sigh unsure of where to go, now just hoping things go by quickly and without trouble as you sit by the wagon pull out some tools and continue to tinker away at a small gift you were making for Fearne for a while, placing your mind into a false sense of security.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to come home." You hear a chillingly familiar voice spite at you and look over at the three people you were hoping not to see. There was Marty, Hamna, and their self proclaimed leader Fion (I just made up some names here, idk), they used to terrorize you relentlessly until you’d finally had enough and snuck on that cart to Emon, which lead to the adventure you were on now, a story come full circle in the worst way to you. You get up quickly hoping to dash over to where Opal and Fearne where looking at some sparkling necklaces for protection, you don’t move quick enough as you’re yanked back by your hair by either Marty or Hamna as Fion covers your mouth to avoid you shouting for help. Once pulled into a nearby alleyway, away from public view, Marty and Hamna each restrain one of your arms. You thrash and struggle to try and free yourself, managing to loosen their grip slightly only to get socked in the jaw by Fion giving the other two the chance to readjust their grip into a more secure position, trapping you.

"Let go! Leave me alone!" You shout as you continue to squirm to try and free yourself.

"Awww, and what are you going to do if we don’t?" Marty teases. You wanted to cast something to no avail with their tight grip preventing you of freeing yourself and grabbing your tools.

"Look at them," Hamna laughs, "they’re too weak to even break free." You glare at them. Fion walks over to you and starts rummaging around your bag, mindlessly throwing around the various items you’ve worked on for a long time to make.

"What’s this supposed to be?" They ask, holding up a hair clip you had intended to give to Opal.

"That’s for my friend! Put it back!" You shout a little too loud for their liking and the two holding your arms use their free hands to cover your mouth, muffling your words or cry’s for help. The one holding the hair clip looks it over in their hand before looking you in the eyes and snapping the item in half.

"Oops, sorry. My hand slipped." Their voice dripped with sarcasm. They continue to rummage through your bag, or look through the small pile of items they threw out of it, pulling out items you wanted to give to everyone as gifts. Every time they’d inspect one item, they'd just as quickly break it, smashing it on the ground or snapping it in their hands. You struggled and tugged against the two still holding you back and muffling out your voice, but it was no use, you were restrained, unable to call for help and left to helplessly watch as they destroyed your hard work. As if things couldn’t get worse, they pull out your tools, the literal lifeblood for your magic, look you straight in your eyes and while struggling a bit manage to break them too.

"Awww, they’re crying like a baby." Hamna laughs.

"That’s because they are a baby." Marty continues.

"If you really want to cry like a baby, we’ll give a reason to cry." Fion eggs on, getting the other two to harshly shove you to the ground. You curl into a ball preparing for the worst, you wait a moment and when nothing happens you peek up to see the three of them frozen in place with fear in their eyes. You adjust yourself to have a look over your shoulder and see everyone standing with intimidating looks on their faces.

Dorian stared daggers at the bullies, while also subtly fiddling with his handaxe. Opal twirled her knives in her hands, magic sparking at her fingertips, and if you looked closely enough you could see a faint glow emit from her necklace. Fearne stood tall, her snake staff coming to life and hissing at the three, Mister well perched on her shoulder screeches, purposely showing the fiery interior of his mouth. Orym takes a step in front of you, acting as a shield for you while placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, you knew well enough he wouldn’t actually draw his sword on the other kids, but they didn’t know that. Dariax on the other hand looked very ready to strike at the three, holding a tight grip on his spear.

"Are you hurt bad?" Orym asks quietly, looking over to you. You shake your head giving an equally quiet "no".

"I’m not a fan of people hurting my little friend here." You hear Dariax say, now fulling pointing his spear at the others, the three each take step back. You finch at the feeling of being suddenly lifted off the ground, finding yourself in Dorian's arms, he gives you a concerned but reassuring smile.

"Let’s get out of here!" Fion commands and the three turn to leave but are stopped when Fy'ra Rai blocks their exit, her eyes burning into them with fury.

"You’re unjust actions should not be left unpunished. You dare to put down this child as if they are weak, when it is you three that are the weaklings. Knowing you would never stand a chance alone you group together and single out the ones you see as vulnerable. It is sad and pathetic, now leave while we still show you mercy." Her voice held such a powerful tone to it, it almost felt like the ground itself shook at her words. Fion, Marty and Hamna scramble over each other before running off, one of them crying for their mommy.

"Who where those children? Do you know?" Dorian asks. You let out a long sigh and explain to everyone a bit about your life when you still lived in the town.

"What’s all this stuff here?" Opal speaks up, staring at the broken pile of items.

"I wanted to surprise you all with some gifts I made, but now their all broken." You sigh sadly.

"You made theses for us?"

"I tried to, I know they aren’t that good but you’ve all been so nice and carding to me, I wanted to retune the favour."

"That’s really sweet of you." Fearne smiles, giving you a pat on the head, you smile a little at this.

"Why don’t you just fix them? I’ve seen ya do stuff like that before." Dariax butts in.

"I would, but they broke my tools too." You pout.

"Well that’s easy, we'll just buy you some new tools." Dorian states, shuffling you in his grip a bit to have a better hold on you. You look up at him with big hopeful eyes.

"Really? I don’t want to bother you."

"It’s no bother at all, your our little genius, the last thing we’d want are some small town jerks preventing you from ever thinking that." He proudly proclaims, getting affirmation from the others. Fy'ra Rai walks over and gently lifts your chin up to look at her.

"Listen to me little one, you are much stronger then you'd ever believe, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise." You give her a small nod, not entirely sure what she means but finding her words encouraging nonetheless.

"You know what? I do remember seeing these really awesome looking tools, while searching for a cloths shop. Here I’ll show you." Opal brightens up a bit, grabbing and dragging Dorian and by extension you off into the market again.

"Opal!" Dorian calls in surprise, holding tighter to you so you wouldn’t fall. You just giggle at the two, looking over your shoulder to see the others hurrying to catch up.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Butterbeer and BonBons // S.B. (celebration fic)

Request: C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S ON 1.25K 🥳🥳🥳 You deserve this and I love your fics so much! I’m not sure if this is right but, may I please have Sirius with Misc. 2, 3, and 4 in Hogsmeade? Thank youu! 💙 - @inkhearthes

Misc 2: “I wasn't sure which flavour you liked so I got all of them.”

Misc 3: “What happened?”

Misc 4: “You’re giving me a headache.”

A/N: I cannot apologise enough for how long this has taken me. Honestly, there aren't enough words to tell you how sorry I am, but thank you for your sweet words. This is honestly self indulgent fluff that has more pining in it than any form of a plot but it’s been a long week so forgive me please.

Warnings: THIS FOCUSES A LOT ON CHOCOLATE AND SWEETS. BE AWARE OF MENTIONS OF FOOD. Some swearing, pining, mutual pining, so much fluff your teeth will rot, teenagers in love, teenage angst

Word count: 3.5k

It wasn’t often that the long haired Marauder offered his services as a tutor; it wasn’t often for the fact that he simply didn’t want to help anyone outside of his friends. For you, however, he would drop all his plans to spend an evening with you recalling the events of the Gargoyle Strike of 1911.

For you, Sirius would happily accept the teasing and the jokes from his friends. For you, Sirius would happily sit through the dullest of lectures. It hadn’t been long since Sirius realised his feelings for you; his affection for you taking him by surprise but soon settling deep within him, becoming part of his very being as he watched and admired you from afar.

The library had long since emptied; the last two students being you and Sirius this close to curfew. It had been hours since you had stepped outside the large, cavernous room, wanting nothing more than to overcome the troublesome essay that had been set by Professor Binns. It had been hours since you started; hours since you had taken your designated seat next to Sirius and began your work.

This long in, a headache was starting to form behind your eyes, making it increasingly hard to focus. “You’re giving me a headache, Sirius,” You moan, rubbing your temples with two fingers as Sirius pauses his mini-lecture to take a breath.

Sirius laughs, closing his books, “That’s enough studying then.”

You smile gratefully at the long haired marauder, “Thank you for helping me, I know you aren’t the biggest fan of this subject.”

“No,” He states dryly, “I can’t say I’m Professor Binn’s biggest fan.”

“Still,” You sigh, “You didn’t have to help, but you did, so thank you.”

Sirius shakes his head, dismissing your gratitude. He would have helped you regardless; he didn’t need to extra credit for being a tutor nor did he care much for it. He just wanted to help you; he would always help you.

You roll your eyes, smiling at him as you begin to close the masses of leather bound books surrounding you. Book after book had been pulled from the shelves as you started to get to the crux of your essay, and now you wanted to groan at the task of putting them back in their rightful place.

“Fancy a trip?” Sirius asks suddenly; mischief shining bright in his eyes, personified further by the growing smirk on his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, placing the last book on its correct shelf. “That depends,” You state warily, “What did you have in mind?”

His smirk grows larger; he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, “Shall we go to Hogsmeade?”

You immediate reaction is to laugh. It wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend, and it wouldn’t be for another two weeks. “How are we going to Hogsmeade when it isn’t a Hogsmeade weekend, Sirius?”

Sirius shakes his head; refusing to answer your question. Instead, he stands, holding out a hand for you to take. “Do you trust me?” He asks; voice full of sincerity.

Wordlessly, you nod, taking his hand and letting him lead you from the library. He doesn’t let loose as he leads you to the staircase; stepping onto one and letting it lead the way.

“What?” You smile; leaning closer to him on instinct, wanting to know the joke that has him grinning like a fool.

Sirius shakes his head, “I just can’t believe I got you to sneak about the castle with me. You’ve never done something this bad.”

“Sirius!” You shout; tapping his shoulder gently, “I can be bad.”

Sirius doubles over; laughter pouring out of him almost uncontrollably. You stand next to him, waiting with crossed arms and an even crosser facial expression. “Sirius!” You shout once more; this time with anger lacing your tone, “What’s so funny?”

Sirius straightens up; dramatically wiping away any and all non-existent tears, “Just the idea that you can be bad, love. How many house points have you lost in our seven years of Hogwarts?”

You purse your lips, not enjoying having the fun picked out of you. “None,” You confirm, “Unlike some people.”

Sirius quirks an eyebrow at your pointed words. He shouldn’t, but he likes how easily he gets under your skin. He enjoys riling you up, getting you worked up. It gives him hope that he affects you just as much as you affect him; that perhaps his feelings for you are not unrequited after all, that you do in fact harbour some romantic feelings for him after all. He would think it a miracle, but he thinks it, nonetheless.

“This way,” He murmurs, pulling you in the direction of the one-eyed witch statue.

You repress the urge to slow your steps, holding nothing but blind faith in Sirius that he isn’t going to lead you on a path that could cause trouble. You begin to frown as you approach the one-eyed witch statue; her stance and eerie gaze enough to make you uncomfortable in the daytime. However, as evening descends, her gaze becomes close to terrifying.

“Why are we here, Sirius? I thought we were going to Hogsmeade?”

He nods towards the statues, another smile breaking across his face, “That’s how we’re getting to Hogsmeade.”

You eye the statues; the size of it compared to the size of you both has you doubting Sirius’ sanity somewhat. “How exactly?”

Sirius nudges your shoulder with his before dropping your hand, “Are you ready?”

You nod eagerly; desperate to know just how this statue would be your key to the small village outside of the grounds of the school. Sirius steps towards the statue with the air of someone who had done this a thousand times before, if not more.

Straining your hearing, you just about make out the word whispered by Sirius, “Dissendium.”

There’s a creaking noise first; then the grinding noise of stone against stone as you watch the back of the one-eyed witch open, revealing a passageway big enough for two. Sirius turns to you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he takes in your gobsmacked expression. He gestures to the hole in the back of the witch, “After you.”

--------

Popping up out of the floor, you recognise your location by scent alone. The overwhelming scent of sugar and chocolate had you guessing you were underneath Honeyduke’s sweet shop. Brushing down your robes, you turn to the teenager who waits for your reaction, “Honeyduke’s?”

“Honeyduke’s,” He confirms, striding confidently towards the door. A nervous whimper leaving your mouth has him freezing in place. “Love?” He asks.

“We can’t just go out there!” You argue, “What if we’re seen? What if we’re caught and marched back to the castle? We could get expelled for this!”

“I doubt it,” Sirius states, a smile in his voice, “I’ve been coming here for years and haven’t been caught since.”

You fold your arms; glaring at the long haired Marauder, “Gee, thanks, that fills me with so much confidence.”

Sirius marches back to you. He places both hands gently on either side of your face, “Love, would I have risked bringing you here if I thought we were going to get caught?”

“No?” You state, but your voice raises at the end, making it more of a question.

“No,” Sirius confirms, “I would never risk you, so let’s have a nice evening and some fun. What do you think?”

You hesitate; teeth worrying your bottom lip as you glance between the teenager who has nothing but sincerity in his eyes and smile, and the hole in the ground that would lead you to sure safety but boredom.

“Love?” Sirius prompts, “If you don’t want to do this, we can head straight back.”

You shake your head; the continued use of that term of endearment combined with your want and need to spend time with him has your heart winning over your mind. You step past him, facing him over your shoulder, “Are you coming or what?”

His answering grin is enough for you to know you’ve made the right decision.

-----

Despite the sickly sweet scent that often gave you a headache, Honeyduke’s was one of your favourite shops in Hogsmeade. It had such a wonderful atmosphere and the sweets created were nothing short of genius. It had become tradition after your third visit to the shop in your Third Year to stock up on Chocolate Frogs and Fizzing Whizzbees, however, this time you didn’t have your stash of sugary treats in mind.

A floor to ceiling shelf was dedicated to the craft of Honeyduke’s. The chocolate created by the owner being famous across the wizarding world for its creaminess but also its extent of flavours. Heading immediately there, you fix your gaze on the brightly coloured labels, pondering the best tasting flavours.

Sirius joins you; eyes pouring over the countless bars of chocolate. “What shall we do now that we’re here?”

You tap a finger to your cheek as you continue to read the labels, admitting shyly, “I’m not too sure. I’m surprised I’m here.”

Sirius laughs, “It’s surprised me too.”

You nod towards the door, “I’ll meet you outside? I just want to buy something.”

Sirius smiles down at you as he nods, “I’ll be out by the bench across the street.”

You don’t take very long once Sirius leaves; the bell above the door chiming as he goes. You grab a handful of bars from the shelves; making sure to pick an array of flavours and drop them on the counter. The worker eyes your robes but doesn’t say anything as he rings you up, placing the delicious sweets in a paper bag and handing it to you.

Spying Sirius where he said he would be, you rush to his side, already feeling the harshness of the howling wind. “I wasn’t sure what flavour you liked so I got all of them,” You comment lightly, hoping not to make a big deal over what you had done for the teenager you had a crush on.

Sirius laughs – his real laugh; a happy sound that brings a grin to your face as it was a sound so few heard and those that did, treasured. You felt fortunate that you could now be included in the select few.

He takes the bag from you, already smelling the sweet scent of the chocolate in the bag. “What have you bought?” He asks, voice teasing.

You grin up at him; wishing you had a camera in this moment to capture the curious look on his face. All his expressions should be captured, you think, everything about him should be immortalised on film. You shake your head, “I splurged a little.”

He opens the bag; curiosity getting the better of him as his mouth begins to water at the rich scent of dark chocolate. “Honeyduke’s chocolate?”

You nod your head, “I overheard you and Remus saying you had finished your stash. I thought it would be an apt opportunity to start that stash back up when you brought me here.”

Unexpectedly, Sirius surges forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your face heats immediately, unable to truly comprehend the way it feels. It feels too good; it feels like something you want him to do again, over and over for however long possible.

He clears his throat, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at his sudden show of affection, “Thank you. I didn’t expect that.”

You wave away his gratitude as he had done earlier with you. “I wish we had time to grab warmer robes,” You shiver; rubbing your arms to warm up some as you trundle through the ankle deep snow. You bite your bottom lip, looking down at your snow covered feet, thinking that by the time you return to the castle with Sirius in tow, there was a very good chance that the snowfall will have increased.

Sirius snorts, throwing an arm around your shoulders and tugging you to his side. The simple, unthought action has you warming up considerably; not expecting this form of affection from Sirius in the slightest. His hand rubs your upper arm; the friction and his proximity warming you up faster that you realise.

“Come on,” He starts; nodding his head towards the popular meet up for Hogwarts students, “Let’s grab you a butterbeer and warm up slightly.”

“My saviour,” You comment; a wry smile on your slips as you let him usher you into The Three Broomsticks. Like the gentleman he has been raised to be, Sirius holds the door open to the tavern open for you, his cheeks aflame as he realises how much he likes being called your saviour even if it was said sarcastically.

Grabbing a booth close to the roaring fire, Sirius leaves you with a warm smile as he heads to the bar. Madame Rosmerta had spotted him when he walked in; she had smiled at him broadly before her eyes widened when she saw you. Sirius is immediately dragged into an interrogation at the bar whilst you’re left at the booth, warming your hands by the flames of the large fire.

The longer Sirius remains at the bar, the louder the whispers get from the booth next to you. Filled with students from your year but ones you had never spoken to before, you shuffled down in your seat, close to burying your face in your robes and wishing to melt away like the snow. Their laughter rings in your ears, and you know it isn’t from a joke freshly told but rather at your expense.

Their laughter makes some sense. The evening so far hadn’t made any sense. Sirius had been tutoring you in History of Magic for weeks; happily volunteering to the task when asked by Professor Binns. However, his sudden want to spend time with you outside of school wasn’t wholly understandable, and it did very little to help you curb your growing feelings for the long haired Marauder.

They weren’t the sort of feelings that crept up on you overnight; surprising you and leaving you breathless. No – these feelings had been there a long time, simmering away in the recesses of your mind where Sirius often featured as the main character of your daydreams. Not long after the start of your tutoring sessions did you come to see how easy it was to fall for the charms of the Marauder. His easy smile and his bright eyes; his charming personality and his sharp wit. All perfect contributors for a gut wrenching, heart clenching crush.

Two steins of butterbeer land on the table, snapping you out of your ponderings; foam splashing down the sides, creating a small puddle on the age old wooden table. Sirius swears lightly; rushing to grab napkins to sop up the mess before sitting down across from you, taking a large swig of his drink.

“What happened? You’re quieter now than before I left,” Sirius asks; a note of concern in his voice as he glances between you and the group of teenagers now watching you two. He furrows his eyebrows as you shake your head, refusing to answer. Instead, you focus your attention on the cinnamon stick poking out of your butterbeer. Sirius had bought the flavour on a whim; Madame Rosmerta wanting to try out her new festive flavour on the patron who visits her the most. How could Sirius say no to such an offer? Besides, Madame Rosmerta had let him stay late in the tavern when things at Hogwarts and things at home became too much. She kept an eye on him, and for that, he would happily and gratefully try out every new flavour of butterbeer she concocted.

Sirius reaches across the table; gently taking your hand in his. His thumb rubs across the back of your hand in such a comforting motion that tears burn the back of your throat as you shake your head. “You know,” He mumbles, head tilted to you, “Keeping it all in doesn’t help. You can tell me anything.”

You sigh, plucking the cinnamon stick from your drink and placing it on the napkin next to it. Shrugging your shoulders in what you hope is a nonchalant manner, you answer, “They were just rude to me, that’s all.”

Sirius’ frown deepens, “There’s no ‘that’s all’ about it – no-one should be rude to you full stop.”

You smile, flipping your hand to squeeze his fingers, “Thank you, but it’s fine, really.”

His frown loosens, and you know he doesn’t believe you. However, he doesn’t push, and he doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in a tight hold as he takes a sip of his butterbeer, smacking his lips at the sugary taste of butterscotch and cinnamon.

“How are you feeling about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911 now?” He asks; wanting to get your mind off of whatever had brought your mood down.

You smile smally, sitting up in your seat, “A lot better now. I don’t know why I find History of Magic so hard.”

Sirius chuckles: a finger tapping the stein of his butterbeer, “We don’t have the most entertaining of teachers, love.”

“You’re right,” You snort, “Binns is a bit of a bore, isn’t he?”

Sirius leans back in his chair; eyes wide as he gasps dramatically. He drops your hand somewhat reluctantly to press it to his chest. “What’s this?” He all but shouts, “(Y/N) sneaking out of the castle and chatting shit about a teacher all in one night? Am I in a parallel universe or something?”

You laugh, flicking your cinnamon stick at him which he catches with ease. “Not in a parallel universe,” You reassure, shrugging, “Just the realisation that I can have fun sometimes.”

Sirius grins: smile wide and straight, white teeth on show as he realises the extent to which you’ve relaxed over your evening with him.

It isn’t long before butterbeers are finished and muffled yawns are leaving your mouth. You do your best to stay alert, but the sugar crash from the overly sweet drink is imminent. The evening had felt like something out of a dream; never in your wildest imagining did you think you would be spending a night outside of the castle with Sirius Black. You never imagined that he would be the one to make your heart feel like it is about to beat right out of your chest, yet he does.

Biting your lip, you begin to realise just how much you don’t want this evening to end. The very thought of turning away from him to return to your room has sadness pooling in your stomach. It dampens your mood and ruins your sugar high. It hits you all at once; the strength of your want to spend every evening with him. It knocks you breathless; eyes wide as you rake your gaze over the intent expression on Sirius’ face.

There is so much more he wants to say; so much more he wants to find out about you. He wants to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He wants to know your favourite book and why; he wants to be the one to read to you from it, watching your reactions to moments you long knew were coming. He wants to be the one you do everything with, and it all starts with cinnamon flavoured butterbeer and bags of chocolate.

“Shall we head back?” Sirius asks, standing from his seat and waiting for you.

You nod silently, gathering your wits and steeling yourself for the bitter winter wind waiting for you.

You inhale sharply as the first gust of wind travels over your body. You long of nothing more than Sirius’ arm around your shoulders; the action he showed earlier that warmed you up better than any blanket and any fire could.

Walking back to the castle, neither of you bother with the secret tunnel under Honeyduke’s cellar. Instead, even though neither of you dare utter the words, the both of you don’t want the evening to end. Between you both, it felt like the start of something more. It felt like the start of a closer friendship and a deeper relationship, but neither were ready to confront the feelings that were quite obviously there.

Your hands brush repeatedly as you amble back to the castle. The sky has long since darkened, and the both of you know that the caretaker will be prowling the castle, searching for students out past curfew. However, as Sirius’ hand brushes yours, fingers reaching out for yours, the jolt of electricity sent up your arm has you not caring about the caretaker and the consequences or the weather that threatens a chest cold. All you care about as the turret of Gryffindor tower is illuminated by the moon is the teenager walking beside you, wondering what the future could possibly hold with him by your side.

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @birdie-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @chaoticgirl04 @teheharrypotter @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95​ @acciotwinz​ @kashishwrites​ @slytherinsunrise​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @remmyswritings​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @ria-rests-here​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @inglourious-imagines​ @ithilwen-lionheart​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @ilovejjmaybank​

Sirius Black taglist: @approved-by-dentists @fific7 @susceptible-but-siriusexual @just-a-belgian-girl

[thelemmerpie]

You look at your watch, and the same question since the beginning of the school year crosses your mind.

Why having classes on saturday morning?

Everyone is tired, except the teacher. Everyone will have to work this weekend. Students never have a vacation, only stolen time paid from sleepless nights.

Whatever. Since you know Mandy, your saturdays to you two are as free as possible and almost nothing prevents you from seeing each other. Every week, you end up in your favorite italian restaurant for a dinner, often accompanied by a night of pleasure in your flat, or hers. Even if it's still impossible for you to live with each other, spending the weekends together is not uncommon. So much that she has clothes and toilet stuff in your appartment, and vice versa.

You thought about her face floating above a table, lit by candles. It perfumes your spirit and you quickly forget the courses. Gracious, her smile revealing so cute dimples, her long and willowy hair tumbling down like a waterfall made of the most sleeked mirror on her oppulent chest, more or less revealed according to her mood...You're already on a cloud only by thinking about her. The day is beautiful, your eyes closes while you're smiling, and nothing can lift you out of your contemplation.

-Mr. Johnson seems already on weekend. Unless he's still in dreamland?

Almost nothing. The comment is as striking as a bucket of iced water. You turn your head to the old vulture who serves as a teacher. The bun as tight as her thin pinched lips, she looks at you with eyes ready to throw lightning. You stutt.

-Sorry mam'. Tiredness.

-Think about sleeping at night, young man.

As if you could afford it...This first year of master's degree in plastic arts, sculpture course, is more exhausting than expected.You wish you could rest your head every night on Mandy, which is impossible. Since she obtained a bachelor's degree and works on the other side of the city, she had to take a flat. You, you stayed on the campus. Life is good inside it, but not as much as with her.

The rest of the class is deadly boring, but you strive to make as many notes as you can. Finally, after what seems like hours, the old harpy frees you by asking you to return a project for the next time.

You turn on your phone and the notifications appears. Mandy sent you a text. You open it right away, hoping for a soft message to wait until tonight.

"I'm sorry, I have to cancel dinner tonight"

A fleeting moment passes, then an immense disappointment falls like a hawk on his prey (and on your heart. And on your libido). This is not the first time that one of you cancels at the last moment, but it's always unpleasant. Nevertheless, you decide to not hold it against her, even if it saddens you.

"Too bad :'(  All you alright? I miss you so much ".

The answer doesn't take long to arrive.

"Yes, I'm fine, but I really cannot go out yet."

She doesn't give you more details, which worries you a bit. Usually, you immediately tell to the other the reasons for the cancellation. You are puzzled, but you trust her and don't insist.

"If you need anything, I can go to your house tonight. Shop, or anything else. What about pizzas and a movie on the TV ?"

"Yes ! That would be wonderful, and much better ! If I can't go out right now, I can at least let you in ~~ I'm sending you a list."

It's autumn, but the heat persists and the blue sky makes you want a sandwich. You would like her to be there, by your side, lying in the still soft green grass, but she never liked the heat for a simple reason : finding suitable clothes to go out in such heat is almost impossible. Not because of being overweight, no. At least, not all over her body. It's a very local overweight: a macromastia.

As a teenager, her chest was already growing at an impossible rate. At 17, she was competing with the most buxom models you'd ever seen. Since then, her chest continues to grow steadily. Every four months, she is forced to buy new bras. Whole boxes of old underwear hang around her house.

She learned to do with it. As soon as she's back home, she unravels the torture instrument to free her chest. If it excited you at first, it fast becomed as common as taking off your shoes. Ignoring her chest is clearly impossible, especially when it jumps in all directions. But the moments you prefer are those quite ones where you are together to the couch, watching TV while behaving and more if you're in the mood. These moments are still too rare. You hope this will change one day. In such a big city, your respective obligations separates you and if you get closer, it would be your obligations that would be too far from you.

You sigh. In just over a year, you'll be able to live together. Her father has promised you a job in his molding company, and he already considers you two as married. Maybe you'll even be able to take up his business later. A clear path, a good job, a dream girlfriend, and a lovely family in law. It's well worth it to endure on saturday mornings with the vulture and work like a madman.

You finish your sandwich when your phone vibrates again. It's Mandy. A short list is displayed. She doesn't need much : food, some medicine...And new bras.

There, you frown.

She bought some two weeks ago, and they were already costing a fortune, in addition to being horribly uncomfortable. Having a big chest is considered as chance, but the bad sides can be counted easily : besides the expensive and inconvenient underwears, you can cite the look of others and the lustful solicitations from complete strangers when you go out in the street.

And yet, you've never seen her complain. No back pain, a body of foolproof flexibility, and an amused satisfaction when she surprises the eyes of others dive into her deep cleavage. She likes to seduce as well, but has always looked for someone who would consider her as something much than a toy for a titfuck. Her breasts didn't leave you indifferent, but you quickly became interested about her to the point that even naked, you can discuss with her as when she wears a triple layer of thick clothes, in autumn and winter, the only seasons where she can go out without problems. Her two favorite seasons have quickly become yours as she feels comfortable.

And yet, what a pair !

You could carve it from memory on pink marble, with all the details that her body offers. Round, no, a little oval. Glossy, smooth, plumped in her clothes, looking like a silicon bag that other women implant themselves. Except that she's natural. It's so unlikely that many people find it hard to believe, at the point that "fake boobs" yeled loudly always been an insult. Harassment, she knows that. But she has always been proud of her body, and you have always been proud of her. People talk, you live your love, that's enough for you two.

You keep thinking about your sculpture. Her tits would be nothing without gravity, of course. A challenge, to account for a chest so beautiful, so full, but that falls so little. Languid into the lustiness of her own pleasure, as she is after love. She's like her chest: proud, but so smoochy when she loves...

And the nipples, of course ! Small, discreet, as cute and innocent as infants. Two small chicks hatched by two aerolas, soft hen mums. Everytime, you vacillate between kissing them softly or sucking them. Everything in her is so perfect that to soil her would be a crime, if she wern't agree to welcome you near her and into her.

Nevertheless. New bras just two weeks after buying other is strange. Have they broke ? With a chest like hers, nothing surprises you anymore.Those before were worse than grandmother's bras. Thick sackcloths, oversized sports bras, with braces stretching out day after day, until her breasts overflowed and compressed her too much. A sexy photo later, you left to buy others. Shopping with her is always a pleasure, even if shops providing sizes at her convenience are increasingly rare.

You call her, and her voice soon rings in your ears.

-Hello, Danny ?

-Mandy, sweetie, I got your list. Had you not...already bought new bras recently?

It still gets you to be embarrassed to talk about her breasts, sometimes, and you must carefully prepare your words in order to not blush. You prefer to look at them and touch them, in silence, without any other noise than her pleasure moans.

-Sorryyyyyyyy ~~ . But I can't do otherwise. I can't go out with the old ones, it's getting worse and worse.

-Better and better, you mean ?

-For you, yes.

-And for you too. I know you love your breasts.

-Stop, she said, laughing. Or I could cancel the pizza tonight.

-You wouldn't dare !

The indignation in your voice is falsely exaggerated, which makes her laugh once again.

-If the handsome and brave knight carries out his mission and goes shopping, maybe the princess will send him a foretaste of what awaits him...

-An antipasti before the pizza, hm? I'll be curious to see what you're making...

-First, shop. I will prepare everything for tonight.

You're about to say goodbye to her, when a genius idea comes to you.

- What if I buy candles?

- What for?

- You know...candlelit dinner?

- For delivery pizzas ? No thanks. And then, I'm lazy to do the dishes. They have grown so much that I start having back pain...

-Really? In this case, prepare your oils for a long and good massage.

You hear hear murmuring with satisfaction.

-Very well, brave knight. If you manage to kill the hunchbacked dragon, the princess will offer you more than an antipasti.

-It's a great honor you give me, my lady.

-Come on, hang up. The shop will not make it himself.

- See ya, sweetie.

-See ya, cutie.

You hang up, a smile on your lips. Never in your life had you had such spars with anyone before. Each of her words brings you joy. Hurry the day you move in with her : your happiness will be complete.

But now, groceries. Your phone is vibrating again. It's a text sent by Mandy.

"I called Georgina this morning, you just have to take the package and pay. It's a huge lucky break, she has just renewed her supplies and agreed to take back those of two weeks ago. I will repay you".

The advantage of being a loyal and regular customer for out-of-the-ordinary clothing is that the ladies around the globe forms a small private club where they can discuss and exchange advice and services. The shop she usually goes to is far away, but it's a warm one and the woman who holds it is super great. Georgina, the manager, is a little old woman as wrinkled as an apple and had the same chest problems. She quickly decided to help women like her. If the bras remaines expensive, she gladly takes over the old ones to retouch them. She's even made customized tailor-made. But as long as Mandy's breasts will continue to grow at a breakneck pace, it will be useless and she clearly told you that : "I should take new measurements immediately after my work is done. I'd never seen that ! Go on like this, my little one, and congratulations, young man ! "

The shop bell tolls when you enter into it. Some times later, Georgina comes out of the back shop and greets you, delighted as you go forward the sale desk.

-Ah, Daniel ! I received Mandy's message. This girl beats all records, I made a new storpile just for her ! Only two weeks, and you'd think she took six months all at once !

-Thank you, Georgina, this is the first time that happens ...

-Tell me about it ! I've never seen that ! Fortunately, I have a good contact in England. Tell her to slow down, she never listened to me! It's not like you're not already happy with what she have, huh?

You try to show a neutral face, as every time Georgina talks about your relationship. Some grandmothers are discreet, but the old seamstress would be able to collapse buildings just by talking. Like every time, you fail and can only display a shy smile.

- I'll tell him, thanks. How much do I owe you?

The old woman sweeps the air with her hand and rejects the imaginary money.

-Nothing ! We'll see that when she returns the others. Knowing her, she didn't even touch it. She made her measurements, but I put her several sizes just in case. She will only have to bring me back as soon as possible.

-Thank you so much for your generosity. Without you, we don't know what she would do.

-Bah, we have to stick together! It was even worse when I was young.. Corsets that choked you even more than the things I'm selling today ! I say, I can't wait the day we can go out without it, half naked, like you men, without being attacked at every street corner! It's not Mandy that would bother ! Beautiful melons as big and as firm as the pectorals of my late husband !

You agree, but you don't know what to say. You may have an empty look, because Georgina allows you to leave.

-Ah, you men ! Go find your beauty and make us beautiful children, it will make my pleasure !

-Yes Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am.

You leave the shop, a second opaque plastic bag in your hands. Even through it, you can feel the fabric of the cup. The more Mandy's breasts grow, the less they seems thick, padded, comfortable. As for the shoulder's straps, they must be tight to cut off her skin. You can't wait the day she'll be able to wear custom made bras for her ease. You send her a text.

"I have groceries and bras, Georgina didn't charge me and she added several sizes just in case."

The answer is quick to arrive.

"Really ? Wonderful ! I'm gonna jump on her neck when I see her. How long before you get in?"

"An hour, I just went out"

"Too looooong..."

You strat to write, but another one appears.

"Here's a little something that will make you want to come even more faster..."

A few seconds later, your reward appears on your screen. It's been a while since you're used to her chest, but your mouth is opening and it takes little to make you drool.

She never sent photos of her completely naked, preferring provocation in exciting clothes. Sometimes she sends you her pretty face. Sometimes full body in a simple, wise, accompanied by her long hair that always makes you fall in love with her when you gaze at them. This time, they are tied over her head, revealing her neck, shoulders and thin arms. She seems to come out of the shower, a few drops still bead of her soft skin A new pair of diving breasts, with monstrous cleavage, overflowing beyond a towel about to explode.

You totally understand the need for new bras. At sight of the nose, only the widest will fit.

And sh's only 21 years old. And she has not finished her growth yet.

In size, yes. Not in cup size.

A new text appears.

"Have you choosed your pizza yet ?"

"I don't know, I'm in a mood for a snack right now. A stuffed sandwich, if you know what I mean ;-)"

“I thought you was in a romantic mood ? Candles of for lightning, not for BDSM, we agrée ?”

"You're impossible, as your jokes"

"No, I'm real. Why don't you touch me, if you don't believe ? I'm still waiting for my brave bra knight ;-) ".

The bus is here. You close your phone, ranks right at the bottom of your pocket so that no one can suspect your activities, and you sit down in a quiet corner. 

Something tells you that you will not have time for eating tonight.

__________

Model is MandaDawn, on Patreon and Onlyfans. That photo is clearly not the best, from two or three years ago when she was on tumblr, but I don’t know why, it inspired me with the force of a train. I barely touched her story since her breasts are effectively still growing, for an actual X cup.

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 1

Summary: You’re new to the BAU and get along well with everyone, almost. You can’t figure out why the infuriatingly handsome Dr. Spencer Reid seems to hate you so much.

Word Count: 2222

Reader: Trans man, he/him pronouns, no physical description.

Warnings: Alcohol, brief description of a case and therefore murder. Nothing graphic.

(Part two)

~~~~~~~~~~

It was your first day at the BAU, and you were so excited. It took all of your willpower not to skip from the elevator to your new boss' office. You definitely caught a sideways glance from an incredibly handsome man with very expressive eyebrows, but you didn't let it concern you; you'd worked too damn hard for too damn long to let anyone bring you down today. You got to the door and knocked sharply. 

"Agent L/N, please, come in," came a voice from inside the room. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

You'd heard stories about Aaron Hotchner and the BAU- everyone had. Most people only heard the good parts- the heroic tales, the happy endings. But you liked to be prepared, to know the truth of what you were going after, so you'd also paid attention to the quieter whispers. The imposing boss who never smiles, the weird and maybe-pseudo-sexual relationship between the exuberant tech analyst and one of the profilers, the betting pool on whether or not the two female profilers were secretly gay for each other, true crime writer extraordinaire and profiling legend David Rossi leaving retirement to mostly be snarky, and the young agent with multiple doctorates who is smarter than seems humanly possible. You would never admit it, but you were particularly eager to meet the genius. He guest lectured once in your friend's linguistics class your last semester before graduating, and xe wouldn't shut up about him for an entire week. When you told xem that your transfer was approved, xe begged for "a full rundown on what he's like up close and personal" after your first case. But first, you needed to meet with SSA Hotchner.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. 

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You thanked your lucky star that your voice didn't shake.

"It's a pleasure to have you. I heard nothing but the best about you from your previous supervisor. Officially, all the paperwork has gone through for your transfer, but I would like to ask a couple of questions before we get started." 

"Of course, sir. What would you like to know?" One corner of his mouth ticked up slightly for a fraction of a second, and you counted that as a major victory.

"First and foremost, why are you interested in the BAU?" You relaxed slightly; you'd prepared for this question.

"Human behavior is nothing short of fascinating. Everyone is shaped by a unique set of experiences, but at the end of the day, we all behave in documented patterns. Everything matters, because it shapes who we are, but also nothing does, because we all end up in one of a finite number of 'shapes', so to speak. No one is the same, but we all exhibit set behavioral patterns. No matter what someone's gone through, at the end of the day, they are still understandable and predictable. I find that absolutely fascinating, and the work that the BAU does with that is incredible. I want to be a part of it, and I have the skill and drive to do so. After all, the BAU essentially wrote the handbook for Crisis Negotiation."

"That is a very interesting perspective, agent." His face was neutral, but you detected approval in his tone. "I only had one other matter to bring up- I see two different first names in your paperwork, and two of your references refer to you with different pronouns. Which name do you prefer, and what are your pronouns?"

You were floored; you'd never had a supervisor so casually look past paperwork outing you. "Y/N, sir, and he/him/his."

"Wonderful. Well, Y/N, welcome to the BAU. Let's go meet the team, shall we?" You nodded and followed him out his door into the meeting room, where the rest of the team was assembled.

"Everyone, this is Special Agent Y/N L/N. He has just transferred from Crisis Negotiation."

"Oh! New guy! Hi hi hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, just call me Penelope, and I do all the tech-y, research-y stuff." She made her way across the room to you as she spoke, talking with her hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Penelope! I love the look you're rocking, by the way. Those shoes in particular are magnificent." You knew you were being the gay sterotype that you'd spent your career trying to avoid, but shoes that good could not go uncomplimented.

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" she said to you before stage-whispering to the rest of the team, "I like him! Let's keep him." The team laughed, and you blushed. It seemed that Hotchner had wordlessly passed on the duties of making the introductions to her, because she pointed to the agent closest to her, handsome-guy-with-the-eyebrows from earlier, and continued on. 

"Okay, so, this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, but we all call her JJ, David Rossi, and Dr Spencer Reid." They all nodded, smiled, and/or waved slightly when they were introduced, with the exception of Dr Reid, who looked almost like he was looking at a puzzle. You chalked the feeling in your gut it gave you to first-day nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, and I look forward to getting to know you all better as time goes on." You were addressing everyone, but something about the way Dr. Reid was staring at you made it difficult to look away from him for too long.

"Wonderful! Now, as much as I wish we could all chit-chat and get to know Y/N better, we do have a case. Last night, a body was found in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park."

The case was interesting, twin injustice collectors, one more mission oriented, the other interested almost entirely on experimenting with different forms of torture on the victims. The former, over the weeks between kills, had started dating one of the local detectives, neither of them knowing of the other's involvement in the case. You were there when that information came to light at the killer's arrest, and you were able to diffuse the situation, ensuring that no one was harmed.

On the flight back, Prentiss insisted on the whole team going out for drinks to welcome you to the team. Hotchner declined, because he needed to get back to Jack, and Rossi said he had "plans with Tony Bennett", but everyone else agreed, mostly enthusiastically. It took significant persuasion from JJ to get Reid to agree to go out with you all. For the whole case, he was abrupt and distant with you, despite your best efforts. You knew it was silly, but you really wanted your coworkers to like you, so you decided you were going to do your absolute best to get him to like you by the end of the night.

-

"Hey, doc, first round's on me. What'll it be?" You'd noticed during the case that he shrugged off all of your attempts to start a conversation, but you figured that even he wouldn't ignore you under these circumstances.

"Uh, white wine would be great, thanks."

"White wine? At a dive bar? Does this bar even have white wine?" You'd intended to be charming, but, seriously, white wine? Who was this guy?

He opened his mouth, clearly indignant, but he was interrupted by Morgan chuckling from behind you both.

"That's why we go to this dump, newbie. It's the only bar in the area that serves white wine, which is all Pretty Boy here drinks." He winked at you and playfully elbowed Reid in the ribs.

You threw your hands up in mock surrender and chuckled. "Okay, okay, white wine for the good doctor it is. What's your poison? I'm sure word's gotten around that the first round is on me."

"You know, I might have heard something about that, and I most definitely wouldn't say no to a dirty martini." He winked at you, and your chuckle turned into full-on laughter.

You got the bartender's attention and ordered their drinks and a Jack and Coke for yourself. "It's a damn shame you're straight, Derek. Truly a crime against queer men everywhere, although I'm not so proud I can't admit that I'm a bit glad you're not competition."

"Wait wait wait, how do you know I don't like a little meat on the side?"

"So, sidestepping the fact that not all men have penises and some women do, you are so hetero that it's almost painful. Look around; men of all shapes and sizes outnumber women 2 to 1 at least. But you've spent the whole night making eyes at those women over there." You pointed to a table on the other side of the room. "Plus, I may or may not have received a very detailed string of texts from Penelope that essentially amounted to a crash course on all of y'all. I get a feeling that she might like me a little bit."

"My bad on the meat comment- I'll definitely fix that. And speaking of Penelope being a font of information, she's been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. What's your big secret, new guy?"

You raised an eyebrow and sipped your drink. "All you need to know is that Hotch, who strikes me as even more protective of this team than he lets on, which is really saying something, knows, and he cares less than any brass I've ever met. And I know for a fact that if Penelope thought it was concerning, she'd have at least voiced some suspicions about me, if not told you outright. I'm not ashamed of it, it's just none of y'alls business. Anyway, the blonde from the table you were eyeing earlier is coming over to see if we've been flirting this whole time so she knows whether to flirt with you or gush about how she's always wanted a Gay Best Friend oh my god. If I'm still here, it'll be both, and I'm allergic to that particular brand of cishet nonsense. Have fun, good-lookin'." You chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as you left, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Reid roll his eyes, down his drink, and walk in the other direction. What is his deal? Whatever. I'm not about to let him wet blanket all over tonight. You took out your phone and sent out a couple of quick texts.

[To: Penelope]: Thank you for not outing me. It means the world to me. Let's get brunch sometime?

[To: Nerd <3]: you sure Reid seemed pleasant when he lectured? that has Not been my experience with him so far. you were right about him being Cute cute, though, damn. a Gay could get lost in those big brown eyes, and in different circumstances I'd climb him like a tree. shame he's Like That lmao

Looking up from your phone, you saw Emily and JJ nearby, so you went over to join them. 

"Oh em gee Y/N you're gay? I had, like, no idea! We should, like, totally get brunch and then go shopping! This is gonna be so much fun; I've always wanted a gay best friend!" You rolled your eyes and laughed at Emily's terrible Valley Girl accent. "Unfortunately, I did not spend my time in the closet learning anything about clothes. I only dress halfway decently for work because my friend dragged me to the mall and updated my wardrobe when I applied for this position. It's all xir doing."

"Well, xe has excellent taste." You mentally filed away JJ's effortless use of neopronouns.

"I'll be sure to let xem know! I'm so down for brunch, though." You checked your phone. "Looks like Garcia is too!"

"Damn, you work fast. You'll fit right in here," Emily laughed.

"Honestly, I'm a little bit blown away by how awesome and welcoming you all are. Well, mostly. Is Spencer like this with every new person, or did I somehow do something to offend him?" Emily and JJ shared a look you couldn't quite read before JJ answered.

"Spencer…" she hesitated, "He's going through something right now. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon, and things will smooth out." 

So you waited. Weeks passed, and you fit in well with the team. You ended up getting close to Derek and Penelope in particular, and you kept trying to make nice with Spencer. Weeks of cold shoulder and as few words as possible to you while being his normal, verbose self with everyone else. So, three weeks into your new job, on a night out with Derek and Penelope you made a decision.

"Look. It's been weeks, and the guy still won't say more than 5 words to me. I'm done trying to… I don't know what I was even trying to do," you slurred, you’d probably had one drink too many. "Make a friend, maybe? I don't even know. But I'm done. He wants to give taciturn bordering on rude? Then that's what he'll receive. Let's see how Pretty Boy likes a taste of his own medicine. No more Mister Nice Guy." You wouldn't remember the look they shared until much later.

And so, your silent war with Spencer truly began.