#i have no basis for whether this is too much or not enough

[tamberrio]

Any antiform au tidbits 👀? The designs look so cool I’m curious!

oh ho HO I am so glad you asked

For the au I had sort of two branching ideas. The first was to keep it mostly canon compliant with the exception that everyone now has access to antiforms

The second, which was the original idea, was to have this be a full on au in a completely different world where the antiforms are actually everyone's main forms and they all just Look Like That.

Since it was the original idea, here are things I've been thinking for the latter:

Org XIII (which is actually 13 this time since Roxas isn't in it) are these wanderers with dark cloaks and glowy eyes, and they basically travel across the world doing... something. Very mysterious (absolutely not the creator drawing a blank, of course not, why--why would you even think--)

To those who caught the reference, yes! Xion is based off of *deep sigh* Anti Black Coat Nightmare (aka boss with long name, aka the one that took me hours to beat in ddd (still a wicked design tho))

My idea with the nobodies and their somebodies (Sora and Roxas, and Namine and Kairi) was that twins can sometimes take extra light or darkness from one another before they're born, possibly leaving one side with more concentrated power while the other is left as an unstable malleable wisp. This is why Sora has more concentrated darkness on his arms while Roxas' are more like a ghost (which can sometimes change size and still hold things)

Kairi took basically ALL of Namine's light, which left Namine a frail ghost. She has to be kept in a tower so that she doesn't float away or whatever Ansem the Wise believes (Kairi feels guilty about this) (Also I like to make Ansem the Wise a terrible person in all of my aus <3)

I like to think that Ventus and Vanitas each had perfectly even halves of light and dark, both of which were already incredibly strong, but Ven got both lights and Van got both darks

To this end I also like to think that Van ran away and is just this being of pure darkness that hides in the woods and Sora sometimes brings him lunch because beings of darkness still have to eat ya know and befriending the feral creature in the woods seems like something Sora would do

As for the former I have NO clue how things would go down in that one, like how everyone would discover their antiforms, but if you guys have any ideas for either take lemme know!

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐍𝐨 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 ♡

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐈'𝐦 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Spencer Reid x f!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Main masterlist || can also be read on ao3 || Next chapter

summary: After having worked for the BAU for two years, you have seen and experienced a lot, but after a series of murders of young married couples, you’re asked to do something that you never had thought you would have to do; going undercover, as an expecting, married couple, with Spencer Reid.

word count: 5.8k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Undercover as a married couple. Pretend pregnancy. Language. Drinking. Angst and fluff. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Coworkers to lovers. Not set at a specific time, but definitely somewhere in the early seasons. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Mention of canon-typical violence.

The table is a bit sticky, and the music could be better, but the drinks are decent and you’re just so happy to finally be out with your friends after what feels like forever. Your job is demanding, and being an FBI agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit means that your work-life balance is almost non-existent. But tonight, you don’t want to think about the gruesome crime scenes or the long hours spent profiling and investigating violent crimes, all you want to do is have a good time and catch up with your friends. And finally having an occasion to dress up and feel cute isn’t bad either.  

Closing your glossed lips around the straw of your Strawberry Daiquiri, you take a long sip and let the sweet, icy drink cool your throat as you sit back in your chair, listening to the lively chatter of your friends. Michaela and Piper are going back and forth about some new movie that you haven’t had the time to watch yet, and you and Janelle, who is sitting across from you, are laughing at their antics as you listen to their debate with half an ear, but you focus shifts as Janelle gently nudge your shin under the table.

“That guy is totally checking you out,” Janelle says with a playful raise of her eyebrow, gesturing towards the bar with her eyes, as she takes a sip of her Mai Tai, while Michaela and Piper continue their discussion about whether the final plot twist of the movie was too predictable or an actual  genius twist.

You can’t help but let out a tired giggle and roll your eyes as you follow Janelle’s gaze, glancing over to the bar and catch the eye of a man who is indeed looking in your direction, but you quickly turn back towards your friend again. “I thought we had decided to just focus on having a girls’ night out tonight, no boys allowed?” you say, giving her a knowing look. She shrugs her shoulders and smiles jestingly.

“You can still appreciate the view, even if you’re not looking to buy,” she teases, taking another sip of her drink. You shake your head, laughing at her antics, but you can’t help but look over in the direction of the guy at the bar again. He catches your eye and flashes you a charming smile. He is cute, sure, but not cute enough for you to want to do anything about it. 

But to be fair, he could be the cutest guy in all of  D. C. and you probably still wouldn’t do anything about it. You don’t really have the time or energy for dating right now and you are not really currently in the mood for meaningless sex with a stranger either. 

Your job consumes so much of your life already, and you’re content with just focusing on your career, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Sure, it would be nice to have someone to share your life with, but what you’ve learned over the last few years is that most guys don’t understand the demands and emotional toll of your job. They either can’t handle the long hours, and all the time you have to spend on cases, or the gruesome details of your work, or they simply can’t comprehend the darkness that you have to face on a daily basis. And so, you’ve built up walls to protect yourself, to shield yourself from potential heartbreak or disappointment.

“You sure it’s not you who he’s checking out?” you ask, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from your lack of interest in dating. Janelle laughs and shakes her head. 

“No, I think he’s definitely into you,” she says, nudging you playfully. 

“Well, I’m not interested, so he is all yours, Nell,” you reply, taking another sip of your drink as you give her a playful wink. Janelle just laughs and shakes her head.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just here to have a good time with my girlies,” she says, raising her glass in a toast, making Machaela and Piper forget their never-ending debate and cheerfully join in. 

Just as you’re about to raise your glass and join in the toast, your phone buzzes in your purse, interrupting the moment. You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, seeing Hotch’s familiar number flash across the tiny screen. 

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you say with a sigh, standing up from the table giving your friends an apologetic smile. Your friends nod understandingly, knowing that your job always comes first as you excuse yourself from the table and head to a quieter corner of the bar to take the call. You feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you, knowing that your night out with your friends is about to be cut short. 

“Yeah?” you answer, putting the phone to your ear, not bothering with any formalities as you know that Hotch is going straight to the point when he calls you outside of office hours.

“Sorry to interrupt your Friday night, but we’ve got a new case, high priority,” Hotch’s voice comes through the line, his tone serious and professional, but you can also hear the tired edge in his voice. It can’t be easy being the Unit Chief and always having to be on call, but you respect him for his dedication to the job. “I’m afraid I need you and the team back at the office ASAP.” 

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” you say, already mentally preparing yourself to switch back into work mode.

“Great, thank you, agent,” Hotch says, and you can hear the gratitude in his voice before he hangs up. You can only imagine how shitty it must feel to have to call in your team on a Friday night only a few hours after everyone has left the office. But that’s the nature of the job, and you have accepted it a long time ago, even though it means sacrificing your personal life and plans at a moment’s notice. 

With a deep breath you take a moment to collect yourself, trying to shake off the disappointment of having to leave your friends behind. As you head back to the table to break the news to your friends, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for having to leave them hanging. They all look up at you expectantly, sensing the change in your demeanor. “I’m sorry guys, I have to go. Work…” you trail off, your voice apologetic, you hate having to disappoint them.

Michaela and Piper exchange sympathetic looks, while Janelle just nods understandingly. “It’s okay, we understand,” Janelle says, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“I’m sorry I have to cut the night short,” you say, feeling the weight of disappointment settling in your chest. 

“Hey, your job’s important, we’ll catch up another time,” Michaela says, standing up to give you a supportive hug. “And we are really proud of you, just so you know,” she adds, giving you a reassuring smile as she pulls back from the hug.

Suddenly you almost feel like you could cry. You spend so much time burying your emotions and focusing on the job that it almost feels overwhelming to be reminded that you have people outside of work who love and care about you. “Thank you, Kay,” you say, smiling back at her. You hug the others and say your goodbyes, before you quickly gather your things and prepare to head out and find a cab. 

· · · · ·

Spencer is abruptly pulled out of his slumber by the sound of his phone ringing. The book he had been reading sprawled open in his lap. The softness of the armchair and the long week of work finally caught up to him, and he must have dozed off. He blinks groggily as he fumbles to grab his phone. He squints at the screen, momentarily disoriented from being woken up so suddenly. Seeing it’s a call from Hotch, he quickly answers, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Hello?” Spencer mumbles, trying his hardest to sound awake and alert despite his groggy state.

“Reid, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a new case, high priority. I need you and the others back at the office ASAP, we will have a briefing as soon as you’re all here,” Hotch’s voice comes through the line, terse and serious, but also tinged with exhaustion. 

Spencer’s heart sinks at the news, knowing that his plans of spending a quiet Friday night at home, recovering after a hard work week is now dashed, but he quickly pushes the book aside, already mentally preparing himself to switch into work mode.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replies, removing his glasses that he had swapped his contacts out for earlier in the evening. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight, the sense of urgency now kicking in.

“Thank you, Reid,” Hotch says before ending the call, leaving Spencer to gather his things and head out to Quantico without delay.

As he makes his way out of his apartment and towards his car, he can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment at having his night disrupted once again by work. He had really been looking forward to a quiet night in, and finally enjoy a break. 

Spencer watches the city lights pass by in a blur as he begins to make his way out of D. C., the reality of his job sinking in once again. He knows that as a part of the BAU, his work is never truly done. The cases are always waiting, the criminals are always out there, and the demands of his job are always pressing. And while he loves what he does and finds fulfillment in helping to catch the most dangerous offenders, and having his mind challenged, there are days when he longs for a sense of normalcy, for a break from the darkness that seems to follow him everywhere he goes.

With a deep breath, he steels himself for the long night of driving and work ahead, knowing that he may not see his bed again for a while. 

· · · · ·

As you arrive back to Quantico, you rush into the FBI building, quickly making it through the security check. The heels of your stilettos click loudly against the floor as you hastily make your way to the conference room. The short, tight dress that had made you feel so confident just a few hours ago now makes you feel exposed and vulnerable as you walk through the sterile hallways of the building. 

You try to pull down the short hemline of your dress, as you push open the heavy door to the conference room, but it doesn’t change the fact that most of your thighs are on display and that your tits are almost spilling out of the low-cut neckline. It is so rare that you get the opportunity to dress up and feel sexy, so you might have gone a little overboard with your choice of outfit for a simple girls night, or at least that is how you feel now as you’re about to walk into a room full of your colleagues, who aren’t that used to see this side of you, and are about to hear about the details of a violent crime case.

As you step into the room, you see that Derek and Spencer are already sitting at the big round table, waiting for the rest of the team to show up, Hotch is probably in his office getting more details for the briefing before the entire team is here. They turn their heads in your direction as you enter, and you can feel their eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary, seemingly surprised to see you in such attire.

“Damn, princess, you clean up well,” Derek says with a smirk, giving you a once-over. “You had a hot date tonight or something?” 

You roll your eyes at his comment, knowing that he always loves to tease you about your personal life. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Morgan,” you reply with a raised brown and a playful smile, taking a seat at the table and crossing your legs and adjusting your dress as you sit down. 

“Of course, I would like to know, that’s why I asked,” Derek chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “You come in here looking like that, and you expect us not to ask questions? I just need to know, is he more handsome than me, should I be worried?” he teases, earning another playful eye roll from you.

“Can’t a girl just want to look good for a change, without it having to be for a man?” you shoot back.

“What do you mean, for a change? You always look good,” Derek counters with a charming smile, before he turns to Spencer, who has been awfully quiet this entire time. “Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

Spencer looks up at Derek and then at you, a faint blush rising to his pale cheeks. His hair is slightly tousled and he is wearing his glasses, making him look even more adorable than usual. You don’t know if it is wrong of you to think of your colleague as adorable, he is a grown man and exceptionally capable of his job, you respect him a lot, but you just can’t help but find Spencer extremely endearing. 

“You don’t have to answer that, Spence,” you quickly interject, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. You know that Spencer can be a bit awkward when it comes to social interactions and you don’t want Derek’s teasing to make him feel even more self-conscious.

You and Spencer have become good friends over the two years that have passed since you joined the BAU team, you and him are the youngest agents in the unit. You have always admired Spencer’s brilliant mind and his ability to remember almost everything he reads as well as his sweet, quirky personality. You have a mutual respect for each other’s intelligence and dedication to the job. You have also noticed the way he sometimes gets lost in his thoughts or stumbles over his words when he’s nervous, and you have always tried to support him and make him feel comfortable in social situations.

But despite being friends and good colleagues, there’s also always been a slightly awkward tension between you and Spencer, at least on your end, it’s not like it’s there all the time, but you do feel it from time to time. You are not even sure where it comes from or why it’s there, but there’s something about Spencer that can make you feel slightly flustered and unsure of yourself, if you ever stop to think about it. It’s probably just because you admire him so much and don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone you respect so deeply.

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer says, his usual rambling tone coming through as he speaks. “You do look very nice, tonight. Wait, no, I mean, Morgan is right you always look nice, but you also look real nice tonight,” he stammers, stumbling over his words as he tries to explain himself. 

You can’t help but smile at his adorable awkwardness, grateful that Derek’s teasing didn’t faze him too much. “Thank you, Spence,” you say, giving him a kind smile and reaching out to pat his arm reassuringly, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I appreciate it.”

“Oh, so when it is him you appreciate it, I see how it is,” Derek jokes, earning a playful shove from you. 

“Shut up, Morgan, you know that I love you,” you say with a laugh, playfully rolling your eyes at him, which makes him laugh, but you don’t get to continue your banter as the rest of the team starts to filter in, Hotch enters the room with a stack of case files in hand, his usual stoic expression in place as he takes his seat at the head of the table to begin the briefing. 

“Thank you all for coming with such short notice,” Hotch starts, his voice authoritative and commanding. “We have a new case that just came in and it’s classified as high priority. A series of brutal murders have been reported in Northern California. Local police have finally reached out to us for assistance after multiple cases after two new victims were found earlier in the day. They have all been double murders, with the assumption that the victims have been stalked for a while beforehand, and are then killed in a very specific and violent manner. All have been young married couples, all under thirty, and in all of the cases, the female victim has been between five and nine months pregnant.”

As Hotch continues to outline the details of the case, you can feel the weight of the seriousness of the situation settle in the room. You are usually able to compartmentalize your emotions and focus on the task at hand, but the thought of innocent lives being taken in such a violent manner always hits a nerve and you feel a chill run down your spine as Hotch describes the details of the case, the gravity of the situation sinking in. This is a disturbing and horrific case, one that hits close to home for you as a woman. 

As Hotch finishes the briefing he turns to Spencer. “Reid, I would like to have a word with you in my office. The rest of you, start looking into the evidence and see if we can find any leads or patterns that may help us track down the unsub.”

You watch as Spencer nods in acknowledgment, it’s clear that he is a bit confused about being called into Hotch’s office alone, as he follows Hotch out of the room, leaving you and the rest of the team to start digging into the case files and evidence.

· · · · ·

“Please take a seat,” Hotch says as he gestures towards the chair in front of his desk, as Spencer follows him into his office. Spencer feels slightly anxious as he takes a seat, his eyes searching Hotch’s face for any clues as to why he’s been called into his office while Hotch takes his seat behind the desk. Hotch clears his throat before speaking, his tone serious and professional. “I have something to ask you to do, and it’s not a small thing,” Hotch begins, his eyes fixed on Spencer. “I need you to think carefully before you answer.” 

Spencer can feel how his heart starts to race, his mind already trying to anticipate what Hotch is about to ask him. “What is it?” he asks, his voice steady despite his growing nerves. Hotch takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks again. 

“I’ve spoken with the local authorities in California, as well as our own expert and with the circumstances of the case and lack of leads, we have decided that the best way to proceed is to send in two undercover agents that fits the profile of the victims, and I want to ask you to be one of those agents.” 

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise, his mind racing with the implications of such a task. Going undercover in a case like this would be incredibly risky, not to mention emotionally taxing and it is not something he has much expertise in.

“I understand that this is a big ask, but you fit the profile of the victims and your ability to think on your feet and adapt in high-pressure situations makes you the best candidate for this job,”  Hotch explains, his eyes searching Spencer’s face for any sign of hesitation.

Spencer takes a moment to process Hotch’s words. He can see the logic in Hotch’s reasoning with the specific details of the case and the lack of leads; it might be the best way to proceed, and Spencer knows that it is only done when absolutely necessary. “And you’re sure I’m the best agent for the job, I don’t have much experience with undercover work,” Spencer says, keeping his voice as steady as he can while feeling the uncertainty within himself. 

“You’re more than capable, Reid. Your intelligence and quick thinking are your strongest assets, and we have full confidence in your abilities. I would never ask this of you if I was not fully convinced that you are fit for this job. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I also know that you have it in you to handle it,” Hotch reassures him, his tone firm and unwavering. 

Spencer nods, taking a deep breath as he processes the weight of the task that has been given to him. This is a very serious assignment, one he knows is crucial to solving the case and bringing justice to the victims. “If you believe I can do it, then I’ll do it,” Spencer says finally, his voice resolute. 

Hotch nods, a sense of relief crossing his features. “Thank you, Reid. This means a lot to the case, and I know you will do a great job,” he says, his voice showing his appreciation. 

Spencer reciprocates the nod, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him. It’s a lot to take in, and it takes his usually so fast thinking mind a second to realize that he won’t be going undercover alone. “Who will be the other agent going undercover with me?” Spencer asks, wanting to know who he will be partnering with.

“I have someone in mind, but I want to make sure that she is on board before we move forward.” 

“Is it, Y/L/N?” Spencer can’t help but ask, his mind already considering the possibilities of who he is going to work undercover with, and you are the person in the unit that would fit the profile of the victim the best. He really hopes it’s gonna be you, even though a part of him also doesn’t want you to be put in a potentially dangerous position. Spencer knows that your skills and intelligence would complement his own in such a high-stakes situation. And most importantly he just really likes being around you. You are always so kind to him and you never fail to make him feel included and supported. 

Hotch nods. “Yes, she fits the profile as well and I believe that she has the expertise for this kind of operation. I will speak with her and see if she is willing to take on this assignment. I trust that the two of you will work well together on this case and you seem to get along well, and that’ll be important in this case. I’ll have to be sure that the agents I’m sending in can deliver a believable performance.”

And that is when it really dawns on Spencer, the two of you are not just going into a dangerous situation together, you will also have to pretend to be a couple, a young married couple expecting a child. He had been so caught up in the seriousness of the assignment and the potential risks involved that he hadn’t even considered that part of going undercover with you. 

The thought of pretending to be a married couple with you, even if it’s just for the sake of the operation, sends a wave of feelings and thoughts through him, too many at once for him to fully process. Sure, it’s all part of the job, but the idea of being so close to you and having to maintain that facade is a challenge he’s not sure he’s fully prepared for. The idea of playing the role of your husband, even if it’s just for work, is both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying at the same time. 

But as Spencer looks into Hotch’s eyes, he sees the trust and confidence that his boss has in him, and he knows that he can’t back down now. He has a job to do, and he will do it to the best of his abilities, alongside you. 

· · · · ·

After Hotch and Spencer left the conference room, you and the other agents moved back to your desks to go through the evidence and case files. You are now wrapped in the cardigan that usually hangs from the back of your desk chair and you feel a little more office appropriate. 

“Damn, this is a tough one,” Derek says, shaking his head as he scans through the crime scene photos. “The level of violence in these murders is just brutal.” 

You nod in agreement as you flip through your own stack of evidence, looking up from the file in your hand as Spencer and Hotch emerge from Hotch’s office, Spencer walking down the stairs to join the team, but Hotch stays back, his expression serious and you get a little surprised when he addresses you.

“Can I have a word with you in my office?” Hotch says, his tone somber before he steps back into his office. 

You can’t help but feel a sense of urgency as you put down the file in your hand and get up from your desk. You pass Spencer at the foot of the stairs, his eyes flicking down to meet yours. “Everything okay?” you ask, a hint of concern in your voice. Spencer nods, but there is something in his eyes you can’t quite read. 

“Yeah, uh… yeah, Hotch will explain,” he says, his voice slightly tense, and a slight crease is formed between his brows  but the look in his brown eyes are soft as they meet yours. 

“Okay,” you whisper, giving him a small smile, before  you quickly step up the stairs, or at least as quickly as you can in your five inch heels. You feel a small knot of anxiety starting to form in your stomach as you step into the office, wondering what this is about.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you feel the weight of Hotch’s gaze on you as you stand in front of his desk. “Please, sit down,” Hotch says, his tone grave as he gestures towards the chair in front of him. You take a seat, feeling a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

Hotch’s expression is unreadable as he looks at you, and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder what all of this is about.

“I have a very big thing to ask from you, agent, and I want you to know that I’m asking this of you because I trust you can handle it. It’s a request, but the choice is fully up to you,” Hotch starts, his voice steady but filled with seriousness. “Due to the lack of leads and the nature of these murders, we have come to the decision to send in two undercover agents who fit the profile of the victims to try and draw out the unsub, and I would like to ask you to be one of those agents. Agent Reid has already agreed to take on the assignment, the two of you match the victim profiles, and I truly believe that with your skills and expertise, you would be the perfect choice for this task.” 

You lean back in your chair as you let Hotch’s words sink in. So this is why Hotch wanted to talk with Spencer. Going undercover on a case as gruesome and high stakes as this is not something to take lightly, but with the circumstances of the case and the lack of current leads you can see the logic in it. It’s a risky move, but you know that sometimes risky moves are necessary in order to catch the unsub and bring justice to the victims. 

“I know that this is a very big thing for me to ask of you, and I want you to know that I fully understand if you have any reservations or concerns,” Hotch continues, his tone earnest. “But I also believe that you have what it takes to handle this assignment, and your dedication to the job is unparalleled. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I wasn’t convinced that you could handle it.” 

“I understand the gravity of this assignment, Hotch,” you say, your voice calm and steady, wanting to reassure him that you are aware of the importance of the task at hand. “I am aware of the risks involved, and if you think I’m the right person for the job, then I’ll do it.” 

Hotch nods, his features softening. “Thank you, agent. I know this is a lot to ask, but I have full confidence in your abilities and I truly believe that you and Reid will be able to handle this assignment with the utmost professionalism.” 

You nod in acknowledgment, a surge of determination coursing through you by your decision. You also can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the fact that Spencer will be the person going undercover with you. You trust him implicitly and that makes you feel a sense of ease.

“I will arrange for a briefing with you and Agent Reid to go over the details of the assignment. You’ll also have to go through a training course while we set up a location for the undercover operation, and you will of course be given your undercover identities. I’ll inform the rest of the team about the assignment,” Hotch’s words are firm and decisive, and you can see the weight of responsibility in his expression. “But you better get home and get some rest. You have a long and intense process ahead of you, agent,” he adds, a softer tone creeping into his voice.

“Copy that,” you reply as you stand up from your chair. Soon you’re back down in the bullpen, standing at your desk as you gather your belongings and start to make your way out of the office. Just as you’re about to close your purse, you catch Spencer’s eye from where he’s standing over at his own desk, and as you give him a tired smile, which he mirrors, you swing your purse over your shoulder and walk over to his desk. 

“So, Hotch asked you?” Spencer says as you approach him, his brown eyes meeting yours. You nod, the weight of the assignment settling in as you face each other. 

“Yeah, he did. Looks like we’re partners in this one,” you reply, smiling at him once again.

Spencer nods, a small smile of his own tugging at the corners of his lips. You both stand there for a short moment, the weight of the assignment hanging heavily between you, before Spencer breaks the silence. “Do you need me to walk you to your car? I know the parking lot is just outside and that we have security, but still.”

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for his offer, and you can see the concern in his eyes as he looks at you, but that is also when you remember that you didn’t drive here yourself.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you,” you say, feeling touched by his concern. “But I actually didn’t drive here tonight, I took a cab.”

“You took a cab all the way from D. C.?!”

You laugh at his surprised expression. “Yeah, I was out, I didn’t have my car and I also had had a few drinks.”

“You should have called me, I could have picked you up and we could have driven together,” he says, his tone filled with genuine concern. You can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“I appreciate that, Spence. Maybe next time,” you say, giving him a grateful smile. You know that Spencer is always willing to go above and beyond to help his friends and colleagues, and you can’t help but feel extra lucky to have him as a partner in this assignment. 

“Well, you have a ride back home now,” he says, offering you a gentle smile.

“That’s nice,” you reply, with a bright smile, feeling very grateful for his offer. You had expected to get a lift from one of your colleagues when you drove out here, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get hold of a cab this late out here, but it feels really nice that you didn’t even have to ask for one. 

“Of course,” Spencer replies, his smile growing wider. Soon the two of you are stepping out of the FBI building and are met with the brisk night air, your feet are hurting and the cool air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. But almost before you get to register it, Spencer has removed his jacket and offers it to you. “You must be cold,” he says, giving you a kind look. You try to protest, but he insists, draping the jacket over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you mumble, not feeling like protesting further as soon as the warm feeling of the jacket engulfs you. 

Once you reach his car, he opens the door for you and you slide into the passenger seat, feeling a sense of gratitude for his kindness. “You want this back?” you ask, removing the jacket from your shoulder. You don’t really feel ready to give up the warm garment, but you also don’t want to assume that he offered it for more than just the walk to the car. 

Spencer shakes his head as he settles into the driver’s seat and you watch him start the engine. “No, you just keep it.” You smile happily as you toe off your shoes and curl up in the seat draping the jacket over your bare legs, feeling like it is enveloping you in a comfortable cocoon of warmth and safety as Spencer starts the car and begins the drive back towards D. C.

The landscape passes by in a blur outside the window as the two of you drive in comfortable silence, the both of you seemingly getting lost in your own thoughts for a little while. The weight of the assignment in front of you settles heavily between you.

“I’m really grateful that you’re going to be my partner on this assignment,” Spencer breaks the silence eventually, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. 

“Me too,” you reply, turning to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

Another comfortable stretch of silence fills the car as you continue on your way back to the city. Despite trying to fight it, your eyes start to feel immensely heavy. Fatigue from a long day and the weight of the impending assignment finally catching up to you, and with the gentle lull of the car you never really stood a chance and soon you are starting to doze off, slowly sliding into the sweet embrace of sleep as you sink deeper into the soft car seat.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡ edit: it would especially be nice if you reblog when you ask to be added to the tag list ♡

Taglist: @luivisa @babyspiderling @reidsdaisies @eddioto @sadroses98 @lovelyygirl8

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii I was looking to see if your request is open but couldn’t find it so I’ll just drop it here and feel free to write it :) I love your writings! 🌸

May I ask for batboys reacting to shy reader who wants them to lie down on her lap after their long day. She wants to praise them, play with their hair and shower them with kisses :0 thank you!

Dick:

Would rest his head on your lap regardless of whether you asked him to do not, your lap was the perfect pillow for him and he will not have it any other way.

‘Hi baby.’ He greets as he beams up at you from the comfort of your lap.

‘Hi honey, long day?’ You greeted back, your hands already finding their way into his hair and began to comb through it slowly as he hums, burrowing himself closer to you as a means to feel more of you against him.

‘Yeah but it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ Dick replied and smiled wide when you kissed his cheek before kissing his nose, and felt his heart melt upon giggling you giggling when he scrunched up his face.

‘Is there nothing that my handsome man can’t do?’ You asked sarcastically as you pressed a kiss to his other cheek. ‘Or is he just the most perfect man in existence?’

Dick made a face at this. ‘Have you maybe considered that this handsome man of yours has an amazing, wonderful and beautifully cute spouse waiting at home for him as inspiration?’ He looks at you with a raised brow.

‘I’m the one who’s meant to be praising you tonight, not you praising me.’ You chuckled as you peppered his face in small, quick kisses that had Dick reaching a hand to the back of your head, holding you close so he could give you a plethora of kisses of his own.

‘Well what if we could just both praise the other tonight.’ Dick said against your lips.

‘I can deal with that.’ You replied as you spent the rest of the night whispering sweet nothings to one another and trading kisses.

Jason:

Your lap was his save haven after a long and tiresome day from having to listen to Bruce critique his way of ridding crime out of Gotham. So he wasn’t going to refuse your affection, not when you shyly patted your lap as an invite to rest his head and looking cute whilst doing so.

God had his permission to smite him to his second death should he actually refuses your requests to coddle him and shower him in all your love and adoration.

If anything the days where you offered up your lap to him were the best days of his entire life as he got to spend it looking up at an absolute angel that he was lucky enough to call his own.

‘How’s my gorgeous jay birdie feeling today?’ You asked as you kissed his along his jaw and stopping when you got to his chin.

‘I’m feeling fantastic now that I’m with you sweetheart. How about you.’ He replied back as he looked up at you with his pretty eyes that he knew made you weak. Jason only wanted to give you back the love and support that you give him on a daily basis tenfold, for it’s what you truly deserved in his eyes.

He loved you too much to allow you to settle for mediocrity.

‘I’m feeling much better now my strong, brave boy has come home to me safe and one less bruise to ice.’ You responded with a lighthearted chuckle as you lifted up one of his large hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before resting your cheek against it to commemorate his warmth and callouses to memory.

‘Don’t come at me with that sweetheart, I know you love icing my bruises, especially when they’re on my abdomen.’ Jason cheeked as he winked at you, taking pure enjoyment out of seeing your flustered face. It was a much needed breath of fresh air coming home to sweet, caring you from the cold, unforgiving outside and he cherished every bit of it for as long as he could.

‘Meanie.’ You murmur, booping him on the nose.

‘Meanie? How am I being mean chipmunk, I know how much you love my abs and my thighs.’ Jason chuckled as he booped your nose in retaliation. ‘Why do you think I never skip leg day?’

‘You’re more than perfect the way you are Jason,’ you countered, ‘perfect body or not you’re still my jay birdie. Forever and always.’ You whispered the last part as you pressed a sweet tender kiss to his lips as he smiled in response.

Tim:

He always finds himself perpetually tired from working himself to the bone, so when you offered up your lap for him to rest, the poor man practically sighed in relief, almost as if he were a man dying of thirst in the desert; finally having found the oasis he had been wandering aimlessly for.

‘You don’t know how much I needed this.’ Tim groans as he made himself comfortable in your lap, trying his hardest to not to close his eyes right then and there from the prepping of light kisses you were scattering across his forehead and under his eyes.

Gosh he hates how weak he gets from your little kisses but would die a little on the inside if you didn’t.

‘I’m sure I can take a guess.’ You said sweetly as you ran your hand through his hair. ‘You’ve been overworking yourself so much lately that I rarely see you as much,’ Tim’s stomach dropped upon hearing this but let you finish speaking, ‘but when I do see you it always makes me happy knowing that you’re okay.’ You then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

‘I’m sorry for-‘ you cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips, muttering a soft ‘don’t. Don’t blame yourself for things you can’t control.’

‘But I can control it!’ Tim exclaimed. ‘It’s not fair on you to exhaust yourself on me every night after patrol and still find it within yourself to take care of me…I don’t deserve any of it as it feels as though I’m taking advantage of you somehow.’ Tim trailed off as he looked away for you as guilt are away at him.

‘Tim,’ you called, ‘my sweet Tim as long as I know your okay and come home to me every night, then I don’t care how long I have to stay up just catch a glimpse of your handsome face.’ You reassured him as you kissed his jawline softly, and Tim felt himself weaken under your words and affection as he looked back up at you.

‘You really mean that?’ He asked almost quietly.

‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it with all my heart my sweet, smart boy.’ You said while pressing a singular kiss to his forehead.

[watatsumiis]

Sitting in their lap (part 1)

Exactly what it says on the tin, how various Genshin characters would react to a reader who just decides to sit on their lap randomly!

Content: Gender neutral reader (referred to as 'you'), described/implied to be physically smaller than most of the characters (simply because I am and that's how I project, but if you'd like an alternate version, send me an ask and I'll whip it up!), pre-established platonic relationships (though this may border into romantic if you consider physical affection to be that way, so be warned).

Characters: Albedo, Al Haitham, Ayato, Arlecchino, Capitano, Childe.

Albedo just sort of... lets it happen. He's got no qualms about you making yourself comfortable in his lap - unless you start to get in the way, in which case he might just politely try and redirect you elsewhere. He isn't particularly fidgety or squirmy, and he finds that the pressure of your weight in his lap actually helps him concentrate a little better, and sometimes he'll let you stay, even long after he's finished up whatever he might be working on. Be warned, though, he may rope you into holding art or writing supplies for him! He doesn't care if others see, he's never really been one to care all that much about what others think or say. If it's benefiting you both, there's no real reason to stop it.

Al Haitham gets pretty irritated the first time you plonk down in his lap like you have every right to sit there. He's almost downright rude about it, making snide little remarks and grumbling to himself about how you're in the way - you may find that he just outright boots you off if you're somewhere where others might see you (especially Kaveh). As long as you stand your ground, though, he'll eventually settle for it, and he may deny it but sometimes he sits a little further out from his desk, just so you have space to slip into his lap and snuggle up to him if you so desire. If you ask him about the sudden change of heart, he'll quote something about how pressure can help the parasympathetic nervous system kick in, and how humans are a social species and how he's read that physical closeness every once in a while is good for physical and mental health. Damn know-it-all.

Ayato openly adores it. He has a lot of paperwork to do on a day-to-day basis, and any excuse to have some silent company is good enough for him. He can be absently fidgety, twirling your hair around his fingers or rubbing a loose part of your clothing gently - he hardly even seems to notice that he's doing it at all. He's ambidextrous, so you have a lot of freedom in how you decide to sit, he's happy to work around you, so long as you aren't too loud or distracting. You may even find that every once in a while when he knows he'll be swamped with paperwork, he might call you into his office and subtly try to goad you into sitting with him (while making it seem as if it was your own idea all along, cheeky thing he is). The pressure and physical closeness of someone else helps him concentrate on the tedious, repetitive papers he works on.

Arlecchino can be... finicky. It largely depends on her mood and what sort of day she's had whether or not she'll allow you to sit on her lap. She's pretty touchy on the days she allows you to sit in her lap, constantly adjusting your position and tugging you closer to herself - if you didn't know any better, you'd say she was actually enjoying this, but she vehemently denies it, citing the fact that she figured you were in need of comfort and she was just trying to provide it, or that she just hadn't switched out of 'working with the children at the orphanage' mode. She may scold you if you wriggle around too much, or boot you off with very little rhyme or reason, so it's a bit of a gamble if you decide to try and settle in with her for the long run.

Capitano silently takes it. No protests, no comment, nothing, he just leans back in his chair and adjusts his position so it's as comfortable for you as it could possibly be (which is surprisingly nice, considering all the armour he wears). He won't complain, even if you won't stop wriggling around or chattering or playing with his hair or the chains that hang off of his plate mail. He quickly gets very good at reading your intent, and eventually he seems to realise what you want the moment you step in the room, and he'll just silently push his chair back and give his thigh a pat like an open invitation. He may occasionally use you as a chin-rest, or wrap his big arms gently around you if you seem to be getting restless, but otherwise he's silent and hands-off.

Childe is a little all over the place. He loves the idea of you sitting in his lap, he loves physical affection, but in practice, he can't stay still for more than a few minutes without his senses going haywire, and it won't be long until he's bothering you, asking you a million questions or fidgeting with your clothes or accessories in a manner that's downright disconcerting. He never gets any paperwork or anything done when anyone else is in the room, let alone so close to him, but he loves it anyways. He'll chatter away excitedly about anything and everything that comes to mind as he snuggles up to you and smiles, glad that you came to him, of all people, in your quest for affection.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

[burningvelvet]

being a romantic era poet: a quick how-to guide

walk around in nature contemplating Things. start hiking, swimming, sailing, rowing, shooting, riding, etc. for inspiration

be obsessed with the french revolution and related enlightenment-era figures like rousseau, voltaire, mary wollstonecraft, and madame de staël. be more disappointed by napoleon bonaparte than you are by your own father. 

speaking of fathers, your parents and most of your other relatives are all either dying or dead or emotionally abusive. if you have any siblings (full, half, step, or adopted) who DIDN'T die tragically already, then you may choose to be close to them. you also may end up being much TOO close to them. various circumstances may also ban you from seeing them. 

be at least slightly touched by madness and/or some other severe illness(es) including but not limited to: consumption, horrors, syphilis, deformities, lameness, terrors, piles, boils, pox, allergies, coughing, sleep abnormalities, gonorrhea, etc. — for which you must take frequent bed rest and copious amounts of Laudanum (opium derivation)

consider foregoing meat and adopting a vegetable diet instead to purify the spirits. you may also abstain from alcohol for the same reasons. alternatively, you may attempt the veggie diet, end up rejecting it, and becoming a rampant alcoholic instead. in romanticism there is no healthy medium between abstinence and excess.

reject, or at least heavily criticize, christianity. refuse to get married in a church and consider becoming a fervent champion of atheism. alternatively, you may embrace catholicism, but only on an aesthetic basis. eastern religions and minority religions are also acceptable, only because they piss off the christians. 

if you’re not a self-hating member of the aristocracy and instead have to work for a living, do something that allows you to benefit society, be creative, and/or contemplate life. viable options include, but are not limited to: apothecarist, doctor, teacher, preacher, lawyer, farmer, printmaker, publisher, editor. there is also the possibility of earning a few coins from your art. if you were cursed to be born a She, no worries. we believe in equality. you may choose from these occupations: wife, nanny, housekeeper, spinster, amanuensis (copy writer for a man), lady’s companion, divorced wife, singer/actress/escort, widow, regular escort, tutor, or housewife. 

speaking of sexist institutions, try rejecting marriage entirely. Declare your eternal devotion to your lover by having sex with them on your mother’s grave instead.

if you do get married — elope, and only let it be for necessary financial reasons, or to try and save a teenage girl from her controlling family, or out of true love with someone you view as your intellectual equal, or because your life is so racked with scandals and debt that you can only clear your name by matrimony to a wealthy religious woman as your last resort before fleeing the country.

After marriage, quickly assert your belief in the powers of free love and bisexuality by taking extramarital lovers and suggesting your spouse follow suit. If they cannot keep up with your intellectual escapades then consider leaving them. Later on, propose a platonic friendship with them following the separation, or beg them for reconciliation.

If your marriage is happy, try moving in with another bohemian couple to shake things up. Alternatively, you may die before the wedding for dramatic effect.

If you beget children (whether in or out of marriage, makes no matter), do society a favor by choosing to raise them with your beliefs. Consider adopting orphan children, or even non-orphan children. If their parents are poor enough they probably won’t mind. Try kidnapp— I mean adopting — children off the side of the road if you can. 

DIE but do it creatively. ideally young. ideas: prophecy your own death, lead an army into war and then die right before your first battle and on your deathbed curse everyone and demand to see a witch, write a will leaving money to your mistresses or some random young man you have an unrequited romantic obsession with, carry a copy of your dead friend's poetry and read it right before you drown so that your washed up corpse can only be identified by his book in your pocket, die while staring at your lover's shriveled up heart that you keep wrapped up in a copy of his own poetry and then be buried with it, die of the poet's illness (consumption) while your artist friend draws you and then be buried with your lover's writing, get mysteriously poisoned (by yourself) after a series of scandals and accidents and then have your family announce that you were killed by god, die from romanticizing poverty or receiving bad reviews from literary critics, die from walking or horseback riding in the cold and the rain while poeticizing, etc.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

The Type of Yandere König Is

Warnings: 18+, Toxic Behaviour, Manipulative Behaviour, Gaslighting, Possessiveness, Implied Smut, Non-Explicit Implications of Smut, Toys Mentioned, Degradation, Slut-Shaming, Submissive König, Dominant König, Aftercare, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

SFW

Insanely loyal and loving – wolfishly puppyish in his temperament.

For you, and only you, he shows his soft side; acts of domesticity and kindness are his love language.

Though, he tells you he loves you on a nigh-hourly basis.

“I just can’t seem to stop saying it – I love you !”

He knows you better than you know yourself, and he uses this knowledge to his advantage.

He’ll all but read your mind through subtle physical cues – changes in posture, a shift in the atmosphere, the dilation of your pupils – to do for you what you haven’t even thought of doing yet.

Passing you your drink, cooking you a meal, performing your chores for you – anything you can possibly think of doing or needing, König handles it before you can.

Of course this insatiable need to perform is rooted in love. But it runs much deeper than that.

König needs you – so utterly and unequivocally that it frightens him. And the thought of you leaving and taking his heart with you is infinitely more terrifying to him than having to put his life on the line and indulge in his occupation whenever he’s taken off leave.

König wants you to see that you need him as much as he does you, that you should (and will be) dependent on him not just for your happiness, but for your survival.

This desire to be all that you need becomes especially evident a good year into your relationship; when you trust König more than anyone – more than yourself – he takes that trust and runs with it.

He absolutely gaslights you into believing you’ve misplaced things, done things you haven’t done. While this is a good enough excuse to keep you in the house, he’s not above resorting to most outlandish tales to isolate you further, no matter how ludicrous his ‘reasoning’ may seem.

“You want to go out ? Now ?” he’ll say. “But–” he peeks behind the curtain, looks out the window, “Darling, it’s raining.”

“König, I can hear the sun shining, Köni; it’s not raining.”

And all to keep you dependent on him.

Whether or not you take to König’s lies is up to how much you love him, how well you believe you can live without him.

But just know that, if you ever try to leave him – when you are immune to his persuasion and elusion – König has made people disappear before. And he’ll do it again.

NSFW

This man will be anything you want him to be – it doesn’t matter how demeaning it is.

Whatever mood you’re in, he has something to cater to it.

Cat ears, maid outfit, gags, rope, nipple clamps, whips – you name it, he’s let you use it on him.

So long as you’re enjoying yourself, so is he. 

He literally can’t finish until you do. So for both love and sanity’s sake, he’s a very proficient lover.

Definitely a moaner when he’s subbing – his whines and whimpers are so pretty and breathless that you can hardly believe they come from such a behemoth of a military princess.

This paints König out as a rather submissive breed of boyfriend, which, to the untrained eye, would be a fair observation.

However, you know better. Much better.

But that doesn’t stop you from making ‘mistakes’; little slips of the tongue – or the hand – that make his blood simmer and his eyes narrow, a jagged anger building in the periphery of your day-to-day.

Building and building, a monument that could touch God with the faux patience this man grants you – “One last chance, Engel,” to hold back the monster clawing its way out of König’s body.

Making König jealous or angering him ensures you’re the target of his reprehensible rage for the stretch of night ahead.

And when König snaps, he gets dominant.

Everything you’ve used on him, he uses on you, too.

And he does so without mercy.

Every time he’s topping, he’s got you weeping, sobbing, screaming, begging for more and less at the same time – and more often than not absolutely speechless for the fact that your mind is completely empty by the time he’s halfway through with you.

Definitely degrades you. And he is not gentle with it at all.

“Stupid little whore – filthy fucking slut –” things of that nature.

Treats you as his personal cum dumpster; he just fills you and fills you until you look or sound as if you’re about to burst.

But alas, it matters little how much you tell König you “Can’t take anymore–” because he’ll always find a way to make you take more of him.

“Oh no, Sweetheart, you will take more,” he’ll tell you.

“After all, what good are you to me if you can’t handle my load ?”

The night usually ends with you being bruised and sore and swollen after your excursion with König; marks which hurt to the touch for days afterwards. A deterrent.

However, no matter how badly he roughs you up during your time together, he always makes sure to take care of you afterwards – of any needs, no matter how niche.

And as he’s tucking you into bed, your body unconscious, König hopes that nights like these remind you that you belong to him. And he to you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[destinysbounty]

Ranking the DR kids based on how well they'd handle getting time-traveled to the beginning of the OG series:

Euphrasia - she lives in the Cloud Kingdom and has been with the Writers of Destiny long enough to have at least a functional understanding of everything that's happened and is supposed to happen. She would also be willing and capable of ensuring the original timeline remains preserved to the best of her ability. Any errors she makes are minor and get quickly resolved.

Arin - is a massive nerd with a near encyclopedic knowledge of the ninjas' pasts, but even he doesn't know everything. He'd probably drop a bunch of lore/spoilers purely on accident and feel really anxious/awkward about it afterwards. This does not stop him from accidentally dropping spoilers in the future, though. As excited as he is to be trained by Master Wu himself, seeing Lloyd as a twerpy little brat is more than a little disturbing and he's not sure he likes this. At one point he realizes his parents are still alive/present in this point in time and has an emotional crisis about whether or not to visit them. Eventually decides that if he can use his knowledge to fix the past and perhaps prevent all sorts of bad things from ever happening, then he should go for it. But he's also constantly second-guessing himself and questioning what changes will "fix" the past and what changes will absolutely destroy everything.

Sora - only kind of pays attention to Arin's ninja fan rants, and also isn't Ninjagian and therefore has no basis of understanding for their history, so she has a very incomplete understanding of things. Why does Zane look human? She is having so much stress over whether or not she can preserve the original timeline because she really loves her life as it is now, and is scared that if she changes too much then everything she currently has will be torn from her. But if she doesn't know how things originally happened, how can she make sure she's not changing too much? Needless to say Sora would have such a bad time and is seriously regretting not paying more attention to Arin.

Wyldfyre - I don't even need to explain this one. You all know exactly what would happen.

[greenandsorrow]

~Her man child~

Headcanons 📺

Vox is the definition of a manchild and I think it's kinda obvious.

He's the mean kind, acting with so much spite, sometimes without it being necessary or justified.

He NEEDS to be taken seriously. He tries so hard, blurring the lines between respect, fear and tolerance.

But when you two are alone... the telly-head man is a whiny boy.

He complains like it's a form of art. You can't help but roll your eyes playfully when he lets out a too loud sigh, but after doing so you're always ready to give him all the reassurance and attention he desperately craves.

Your man prefers being the little spoon. He's like a lap cat.

If anyone finds out about his cuddly nature, he's gonna die a second time...

Vox feels the need to constantly prove himself to Velvette and Valentino, but with you he feels safe. He can be overly emotional. And weak. And needy.

Very needy.

If you're not somewhere behind the camera admiring him and boosting his confidence, his day is ruined.

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.

In the mornings he doesn't even turn on his screen... settling for the protection setting instead.

You have to be patient with him.

Bring him a steaming cup of coffee and hug him from behind and he might as well start giggling like a schoolgirl.

He's too sensitive for harsh jokes. Being in Hell means ONLY dark and cruel humour, but Vox can't take it sometimes.

His ego is fragile.

In order to feel loved, Vox has to be showered in extravagant compliments on a daily basis. Whether it's about his appearance, his job, his amazing and very interesting personality... He needs them.

When you tell him he's better than the radio demon.... he literally gets rock hard.

Vox is in a constant dilemma between showing you off for all Pentagram City to know you're his, or keeping you secret.

It's the same as a boy with his favourite toy. If other kids see his toy, he's gonna have to share.

What if someone steals his favourite toy?! Or even worse... BREAK IT?!

That being said, he doesn't objectify you, but he's terrible at showing affection or appreciation.

He's gonna be there for you, help you with anything you need, laugh with you, spend quality time with you. Still, deep communication is a difficult subject for him.

Thank god you're observant enough to catch all the messages he tries to pass to you.

Such an attention seeker though.

Have you ever seen a six year old trying to impress his crush?

Just look at Vox trying to woo you. It's the same thing.

But he's not that bad... His self-esteem is an obstacle alright, but he becomes a rug for you to step on and use as you wish most of the time.

Vox would definitely go out of his way if you asked something from him. You're his rock. It's the least he can do.

The guy even whimpers in his sleep.

Vox loves to fill his hands with your thighs when it's bed time. They're warm and soothing to him, like stress toys. Being a walking television has its disadvantages temperature wise.

He would bend you over and take you in front of a mirror so he could see himself while at it, but he hasn't done so yet. He wants to ask you beforehand and make sure it won't make you feel weird.

Vox is easy to rile up. A breathy compliment and a squeeze of his thigh and he's more than ready to go.

He doesn't actually feel dominant, but he tries to act like it. This Vee member has the stereotype man = dominance engraved in his subconsciousness and so he fights to live up to it.

But between you and me... Treat him like an inexperienced and innocent boy and he'll be crying out in pleasure.

Aka... be a femdom. Even a soft one. You won't even have to try that much.

Another thing. Vox is loud. (Like his name implies 🫣)

He also pants a lot. Almost like he's hyperventilating.

Unlike Alastor, this man is very insecure about both his performance and... size.

I'm not saying he's lacking in either though. It's just how his mind works. Always comparing himself to his opponents and in this case, his opponents are other men that could perhaps satisfy you more thoroughly than him.

Allow me to say that he fucks in an anxious way. Hands shaking and his mantra "Does that feel good to you darling?"

You just need to praise him a little. (A lot)

He doesn't last that long but he'll be sure to rub your clit so you don't either.

When it gets too real, he tears up at the end, like a baby that's holding back from crying. But you're there to hold him until he calms down.

He's usually too tired (and still nervous) afterwards for proper aftercare. Vox likes to be babied though. It's more personal attention after all.

Oh to be cleaned up and tucked to bed! Only then will he feel comfortable enough to run his fingers through your hair and mumble a faint thank you.

Vox's head has a bit of an awkward shape for cunnilingus. However, he has a surprisingly long tongue that can reach more than enough to have you moaning out how good of a boy he's being.

He usually cums in his pants while eating you out.

And when you return the favour it's usually to relieve his stress at work. He feels like a teenager when you do it. It's an act of service, really.

He low-key fucks your face, not enough to choke you but you do gag around him. It makes him feel in control. It makes him feel like a man.

To sum up, Vox is a bit dependent on you and on your validation, but he would never hurt you or become too overbearing.

He's needy, but not stupid.

He is the definition of a manchild and I think I proved my point.

But he's your manchild sis!

Support a struggling university student! Thank you so so much🫶 CLICK HERE (PayPal link)

~~~

my masterlist || Hazbin Hotel masterlist 🦷

Vox divider by @rubra-wav

Support divider by @cafekitsune

The explicit content one... I don't remember :(

~~~

[lordoftherazzles]

My takeaway from the past 24+ hours...

There are so many of us that rely on ao3, whether you're a reader or writer. It brings us joy, it gives us an escape from the real world, and it lets us come together as a community to share stories and scenarios about our favorite fandoms and characters. The amount of posts I have seen on multiple platforms lamenting over the DDoS attacks is overwhelming - but with most of them comes a delightful cheer to the volunteers working to resolve this issue.

I've seen so many statements of praise for those volunteers, which is exactly what they deserve, and more. Can you imagine working for over 24 hours straight, on a volunteer basis, against something like this? They're the real MVPs, and I think our appreciation for them gets lost until moments like this rise.

With that said, here is my first real takeaway...

Don't bitch when ao3 does a donation drive. They work hard to keep the archive up and running, and with that costs money. Every server, every new addition or feature you want to see added to help make the site better, it costs money. The legal team that is defending fanfic authors??? MONEY. SO! DON'T! COMPLAIN!

I'm not saying you have to go out and donate your paycheck to ao3 - but I will say that, especially with this situation, if you can donate even a little bit to show your support, it means more than you probably realize, and even if you can't donate (which is totally okay), be kind to those who work on the archive. Send them kind words of encouragement, rather than flaming the archive because it's under attack - because yeah, I've seen people bitching AT ao3 for not working fast enough, or for it still being down. STOP IT.

My second takeaway...

Don't believe everything you see on the internet. Ao3 themselves have advised that the group claiming to take credit for this attack is to be treated with skepticism. And not only that, let's NOT automatically make assumptions about who is responsible just because of an organization's name. It's just a NAME, it doesn't identify a person's origin, background, etc. But I'm not here to dive into that much further. Point: I better not see any Sudanese hatred on my dash, or I will bite you.

My third takeaway...

Treat your fanfic writers with respect. We all now see first hand how much we depend on these stories. As I said above, for some it's an escape, a creative release, and a way to communicate with other people through similar interests. It's a beautiful creation, neither above nor below any other kind of literature.

Consider commenting, reblogging, kudos, anything you can to let the authors know you enjoyed and appreciate their works. Everyone is free to communicate in the way that suits them best, but every little bit is appreciated - as a fanfic writer myself, I can tell you that even a little heart emoji has made my day. It's like receiving a second kudos, and tells me that someone appreciated my efforts enough to give me a double thumbs up.

Any form of communication with the authors is appreciated. It lets them know that people are genuinely interested. We live in a world where INSTANT GRATIFICATION is taking over, but creations such as this take time. Talk with the authors, ask them about their wips, tell them they're doing a great job. Do NOT pester about "when are you updating next?" or the dreaded AI option - again, I will BITE PEOPLE if I see you doing this. Just...have some respect, show your appreciation, it's more than JUST FANFIC.

At the end of the day I guess this post is about being kind. Not pointing fingers or slandering people due to a name. It's about appreciating the things we do have, and not taking them for granted. Whether it's the brave cyber warriors currently fighting these DDoS attacks on the frontline, or the authors writing for not only their enjoyment, but for others too. Let's all respect one another, and show our support when and where we can.

HUGE THANK YOU TO THE VOLUNTEERS AT AO3, YOU ARE THE REAL MVPS!!!

[zuyoo]

linger, one-shot. ﹙ nagi & gn!reader ﹚ 비애

CONTENT WARNING — clueless nagi, (open-ended) angst, misleading actions, images used are not face claims but rather used as a reference to visualize a scenario. enjoy reading !!!! :D

SYNOPSIS — you’re in love with your best friend, nagi seishiro, who is oblivious of your feelings but treats you well more than just a friend

ZUYOO’S NOTES — noOOoO 10 images limit on tumblr mobile app ( ꒦ິ ཀ ꒦ິ ) word count is probably a little over 1000 if not more than that.. ok ily enjoy reading MWAAA

p.s. i love u, everyone who leaves feedback and/or reactions with all my life :DD it just makes me feel so motivated in writing, thank you all sm!!

it started with one message, which lead to another… then another… then more. you two instantly clicked right after being attending the same club in your university. you’ve seen him before, and thought that he looked hard to approach—since he’s always on his phone, barely talks, and is always either practicing, in class, or out of reach (in his dorm)

you two grew close after talking about similar interests, and it didn’t take too long for you to develop feelings for him. i mean… how could you not when he has treated you way better than any other man who’s walked out of you life?

he messages you on a daily basis, doesn’t hesitate to come over and take care of you when you tell him that you aren’t feeling well, treats you to meals, drives you home, tries new hobbies because you told him you like those.

nagi has the looks, the talent, the brain, the skill, the body that a girl could ask for. you’re simply lucky enough to be near his presence—and oh boy how all the girls that see you two together makes you feel it.

their glares and side glances sharp as a knife, it gave you goosebumps all over. but you eventually paid no mind to their stares, the only thing that mattered at the moment is how you’d spend your day with nagi!

it’s been three years since your first interaction with him, and you two haven’t changed a thing. take it with a grain of salt. yes, you two still teach each other the way you think, and no, he is not your anything—just a friend.

he’s such a fish to catch that you’re surprised why he’s still not seeing anyone at this point. maybe there was some point that you’ve thought about how there could be possibility that he could like you the way you like him, which is stopping him from seeing anyone else.

or maybe his actions has raised your hopes up and made you delusional. how could you know? you’ve been friends for three whole years now, yet you still can’t read him.

he left you on delivered? that’s new. well- it was bound to happen. it’s not like he’s obligated to reply or at least leave a reaction… right? right. you’re his best friend. nothing more, nothing less.

but what could he be doing? it’s a sunday. he doesn’t have practice, and the term just started. he couldn’t have had any assessments he needed to finish.

your questions were quickly answered once you’ve opened up your twitter app and found someone unfamiliar in your timeline.

“pfft—this happens all the time.” you say. “and they’re always fake.”

and how you wished you were right.

“oh.” was everything you could let out, as if that one tweet didn’t break your heart into pieces. you were glad he’s finally seeing someone—but at the same time, you had hoped that it was just a misunderstanding, that he’s actually maggy’s cousin… or something! just not her suitor. even though the signs are as clear a day.

it was petty, and this- this will hurt you, and it’ll hurt bad. so you had no other choice but to try and distance yourself away from him as much as possible, to save yourself and to respect who he’s been seeing. it was for the better… but—he was making it hard.

nagi’s completely clueless!

you didn’t know whether to laugh it out because of how oblivious he is. does he not realize what he’s doing to you?

at this point, you start to realize how none of it was your fault in the first place. you couldn’t control you feelings, and it certainly didn’t help that nagi treats you way too well.

even so, you could never blame him. it could just be in his nature, to be kind, lovable, and to be the pinnacle of a girl’s dream. and you were the one at fault because you’re taking advantage of his kindness to satisfy your curiosity regarding what it felt like being handled with genuine care, only for it to backfire—seeing that you actually fell for him big time.

still, that wasn’t your first train of thought when you met him. you genuinely wanted to be friends because he seemed like a cool guy. it just so happens that your heart begun to agitate more and more everyday when you’re with him.

or maybe it was maggy’s fau—oh my god, make up your mind, yn!!

“let’s not put the blame on everyone. whatever happened, happened. none of it matters now. i just have to get myself out of this mess… then i’ll be back to same, old me. right.” you thought to yourself.

you have been ignoring nagi for the past three days, leaving him on delivered, and practically scrambling away when you see him in the hallways—or everywhere, actually.

did you tell him why you’re doing this? no, why would you?

does he care? a lot, as a friend, most likely.

he’s been trying to reach you for the past 3 days, while you were off running everywhere but to the places you and nagi went to together, which is hard because you’ve both been to every cafe, every movie theater, every arcade, every mall your city could offer.

there was this one place you two haven’t been in yet. it was perfect for admiring the view below, or simply a place to just clear your mind.

you planned on going there after classes were over, and it made you quite excited. you were supposed to go here with nagi but… you know, things happened. nonetheless, you wanted to enjoy this, even if it meant not being able to bring nagi with you.

after class ended, you bid your farewell to your friends before getting into a cab and going to the rooftop lounge that recently just opened.

you opened the door that leads to the lounge and was surprised by what greeted you at the door.

it was nagi, with maggy. their hands intertwined as they admire the city.

ouch. seeing them like that felt like ten thousand trains running me over.

you were about to leave when you heard her call for your name. you froze on the spot, a course of thoughts ran through your brain on whether to run for it, or play a good face and not ignore her calls.

“y/n! come join us.”

you made the decision to turn around and approach them instead… she waved and smiled at you. god—how can you make such a lovely woman?!

it was too late to run anyways, you felt their eyes on you when you froze by the door, it would be far too embarrassing to just leave with them knowing that you heard maggy call for you.

“hey, i couldn’t reach you.”

nagi greeted. you briefly glanced into his eyes and gave him a smile before breaking eye contact. you could barely look into his eyes—you might burst out crying if you stare any longer.

“i was busy.”

you replied, dryly. you really were busy; busy with assessments, busy distracting yourself from your feelings, busy doing whatever it takes to forget about nagi… but if you two keep meeting like this—and if he keeps trying to talk to you, it will pose a challenge for you to fully move on.

why do you have to let it linger? you ask him in your mind as if he could read it. his constant concern for your wellbeing, his actions towards you, his daily messages checking up on whether you’ve eaten your meals yet—why does he have to let your feelings for him linger?

unknowingly, sure. but has he have not a single clue on why you’ve been distancing yourself? on why you haven’t been hanging around much?

you missed him, really. but this was the perfect distance for you both. he can keep reaching out until the day he gets sick of it; but as much as you want to respond to him, you can’t—you shouldn’t.

the following months were practically the hell. you’ve completely cut off contact with him (you ghosted him, basically) and was buried in a never-ending cycle of homework and projects, leaving no time for anything else.

when the semester ended, your friend, bachira, invited you to his party. he noticed that you were completely restless and said that you needed to loosen up a little.

it was 12 in the evening but the party has just begun—you could consider yourself a fan of staying at home in my comfy pajamas and old indie movies, rather than a party ‘til sunrise & drink ‘til you drop type of person… which lead you to excusing yourself out of the room with flashing lights and booming music to find somewhere else more peaceful to drink.

you found yourself on a huge balcony with a red cup on your hand. thank the gods that the doors muffles out the noise coming from the inside.

this was just right. and honestly what you needed. all that workload from the past few weeks has been killing you.

what you didn’t expect was for someone to break the silence you gave yourself.

“it was about time i saw you again. and out of all the places i thought i would see you in, a party was not one of them.”

nagi spoke nonchalantly. his sudden interjection jolted you out of your own thoughts. it’s been about six months since you’ve broke off contact with him. hell, you could barely remember his voice.

“oh fuc-… ah. i’m sorry- i should find another place.”

“no. stay. you owe me an explanation.”

maybe it was just you, but given where this conversation is headed… he sounded intimidating. his voice didn’t change much, perhaps it didn’t change at all, but you heard the sharpness of his words and felt the need to comply to whatever he says.

“sorry.”

“sorry doesn’t cut it, y’know?”

he lightly chuckled before mixing his drink around his own red cup that he brought.

“right… sorry. but, how are you? how’s maggy?”

“ah. it didn’t work out. she’s nice but it really isn’t working out for us.”

“oh. sorry.”

that was a surprise. you thought they’d still be all lovey-dovey with each other. maggy is a lovely girl, what could’ve gotten wrong?

“another apology and i’ll keep bothering you. you wouldn’t like that won’t you? considering how you’ve completely ghosted me for 6 months without an explanation or even a subtle hint of why you did it? right?”

“hey-!”

okay… maybe he hasn’t changed that much. he still holds his grudges. nagi broke eye contact and looked up to the moon with this… yearning look on his face—he looked so pretty, it was pathetic!!

a sigh left your lips before nervously starting to explain you side, since you felt like he really needed to know why. plus, it was a good chance to let go of that burden.

maybe a confession was nagi’s needed closure, and your way of letting go of the guilt of knowing you’ve randomly disappeared in his life without him even knowing anything.

“i like… liked. you, nagi. more than a friend should’ve.”

“what?”

his actions came to a halt. oh, he was THAT clueless

“aha—yeah… but then there came maggy. she was such a lovely person, and i know you deserved to be loved like that. i should’ve been happy for you, but i really couldn’t bring myself to. it hurts seeing my best friend whom i’ve liked for the longest time smile because of a person they’re romantically involved with, y’know?”

you weren’t able to find the strength to look at him as you explained, but it felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders after.

“i-”

“no, don’t say anything. i just really needed to let that out… for your sake, and mine. i also wanted to thank you. y’know—for everything. you’ve been a great best friend, nagi.”

“okay but-”

he didn’t get to say whatever he wanted to say because the door that leads to the party suddenly opened, revealing a tipsy bachira.

“y/n!! here you are~ and nagi too!!”

bachira gleefully said before dragging y/n back inside, leaving nagi alone in the balcony.

he watched your figure get lost in the crowd of people partying without end, saying:

“ah-… i liked you…too?”

© zuyoo — do not copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission. i only upload my work in tumblr.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Guess

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: PG13, fluff

Word count:

Summary: A game of guessing goes right in every way for you and Din, your kind of friend, sort of boss.

A/N: Day 1 of my fic advent calendar and my first Din Djarin fic on here! Credits to my friend @lokislittlevalkyrie for co-creating the reader character and for our long conversations about her and Din. Keep checking the advent calendar Masterlist for more fics dropping this month. And leave me a little comment to encourage me to keep the fics going 💜💜💜

“Stop scowling.”

“I’m not scowling,” he lied, trying his best to keep his tone neutral even though he was surprised that she knew he was scowling. Lucky guess, he told himself. But how many lucky guesses could one person have about his facial expressions?

“You so were!” She insisted, sinking further back into the novelty ‘chair’ she bought on their last stop. It was a sphere half filled with tiny soft particles that molded itself to the user’s shape. She slouched on it as she continued watching one of her holodramas, something with a murder or speeders (or both) at the heart of the story.

“I was not.”

“If you say so, Din Can,” she said, using her nickname for him. He chuckled reflexively, unable to control his responses to her. Thankfully, his helmet filtered the sound out, saving him the embarrassment of finding humor in the humiliating nickname. He smiled, glad she didn’t know just how many times she’d made him laugh whether by mocking him or making clever remarks in general.

“I do say so.”

She was beautiful. Taking up the creed meant hiding one’s own face from others. To hide what would serve as the basis of others’ first impression of you so that your valor and your character would serve as your defining features. Vanity was not something he was raised with. Yet he knew beauty when it stared him in the eye and called him Din Can everyday. Or Tin Djarin. Buckethead when he really pissed her off.

Dinny Bear when she was intoxicated.

Blood rushed to his cheek when he thought of the last time she did that. She’d gotten very comfortable around him in the months they’d been crew mates. All her initial jitters and jumpiness around him had gone and been replaced with her stubbornness, strange sense of humour, and a level of confidence she didn’t have with him before.

He had to chase her down to even get her to accept the job he was offering her as a travelling mechanic. He’d never heard of one before. And she was quite frightened of him after the kind of interaction they had at Peli’s shop. But he needed a mechanic on board. With the kid in his hands now, it became hard to juggle a failing ship with hunting bounties and caring for a mischievous kid who waited for the moment he took his eyes off him to cause chaos.

It helped to have a mechanic on board at all times. She was wonderful and came approved by Peli. Over time, she became more than his mechanic. A friend, he would be brave enough to say. If he were braver with women, he would say that he’s caught her sneaking glances at him. That he felt her twinkling eyes rove over his armor every now and then. Sometimes he was confident of it. At others, he convinced himself that his mind was clouded by his desire for her. By his desire for her to desire him too.

The matter of his expressions came up once again later after dinner.

“Stop looking so grumpy.”

“You cannot see my face.”

“Yeah but you look grumpy.”

He grunted, turning away from her to focus on the controls. They were on hyperspeed. There was nothing he needed to do with the controls. But to come face to face with her when she told him exactly what he did underneath his helmet was…too much.

“Heyy! Let’s play a game?” She asked, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Play with Grogu.”

“He’s asleep. And this is not a game for little potatoes.”

He chuckled softly at the nickname and looked up at her again, awaiting her proposal. “What would that be?” He asked.

“A drinking game.”

“Drinking is a game now?”

“Dank farrik! I missed when you used to be quiet. Just listen to me. I’ll guess what your face looks like under your helmet and if I get it right, you should take a sip of your drink. And if I get it wrong, I take a sip. Let’s do it with the Silver Elixir,” she said, getting up from her seat to fetch the bottle from their liquor cabinet they kept locked to keep away from wandering little womp rats.

She returned with the bottle, two glasses and straws. They’d recently taken to drinking together. She bought him a straw a begged him to join her, using her sweet eyes and her adorable pout to convince him. She said she only had drinks with friends and that drinking alone on the razor crest made her feel lonely.

He gave in to her, just like he gave in to their little green crewmate.

She didn’t need to use a straw, of course. Yet she did. When he asked, she said it was so that he didn’t feel lonely drinking through a straw like a kid. Even in her insults, she managed to be sweet.

“Start guessing,” he said impatiently as she sat next to him and looked intently at their glasses to see if they were filled equally.

“Sure, sure… You have dark hair,” she said, passing his drink to him. “Dark brown.”

“A little too obvious, isn’t it?” He asked, knowing she had definitely seen his hair in the trash after he gave himself haircuts and shaved his facial hair.

“Drink up, old man!” She said, lips wide in a grin as she knew already that she was right.

He snorted, but followed through, taking a sip of the strong liquor. “Alright. Next.”

“You have….big green ears.”

“Wrong,” he huffed, smiling nevertheless at her sense of humour.

“Damn it! I should’ve known they wouldn’t fit inside the helmet,” she said, taking a sip. She was smiling too, and unlike his, it was out in the open and as bright as the stars around them.

“Those were two descriptors. Big and green. Take one more sip,” he argued. He didn’t particularly want to get her drunk, but he liked how adorable she was when intoxicated. One of their drinking sessions ended with her snuggling up to him because she couldn’t find the kid to snuggle like a children’s stuffed animal.

“What? No! It was one guess, so it’s one sip.”

“Again, you guessed the size and color of my ears and they were both wrong. Take a sip.”

She rolled her eyes, but complained, taking another sip. She leaned close and narrowed her eyes at him, as though focusing on his helmet would reveal what was underneath. He smiled unconsciously, taking in the beauty of her from up close. The light in her eyes, the way her eyebrows knit together when she was in deep thought, lips that impressed him with the wittiest remarks… Lips he wanted desperately to pull to his, to devour and make moan his name.

“No moustache.”

“Hmmm….” He hummed, thinking of how he could sort the point for this. He *did* have a moustache, but that was only now. There were times when he shaved it off completely. “It’s complicated. I have a moustache now, but I change it quite frequently. So, half a sip.”

“If I have to take half a sip, so should you.”

“No, I don’t,” he scoffed at her warped logic. Here he was, being nice and giving her some credit even though she was wrong. But she was trying to take advantage of it.

“Yeah you should. If I’m taking half a sip because I was half right and half wrong, you should also take a sip because you’re half right and half wrong.”

“No. That’s not how it works. I have facial hair now, which means you are wrong. I should’ve made you take a full sip, but I decided to make a concession because I am sometimes fully shaven.”

“Dank Farrik! You’re such a lightweight. Just say you can’t handle your liquor and I’ll let you go,” she taunted, a smirk plying at her lips.

“Oh please, I can handle my liquor much better than you can. Here,” he said, drinking the strong undiluted alcohol like it was water in a few big sips. He slammed the glass against the control panel surface and shrugged. “See, I’m good. You are the one who gets drunk after one portion of the Silver Elixir and terrorizes the kid.”

She gasped, as though he made a much bigger accusation. “I don’t terrorize the kid! I just give him extra cuddles and kisses. He enjoys them very much. It’s called affection, Tin Can. Ever heard of it?”

He tilted his head at her in the way that sometimes made her swallow audibly. “So you think that because of my way of life, I have never experienced affection?”

She opened and closed her mouth quickly, as though her mind and lips were in disagreement about whether or not what they were about to say was appropriate. He smiled under his helmet, proud of himself for stumping her. She talked a lot. Since he was a quiet man, everyone else was talkative in comparison. But she was the voice he heard the most as they lived together on the Razor Crest and their other occupant communicated mostly in coos and squeals.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Say what. Since the drinking thing was already disproportionate anyway because I’m not guessing your features and I can handle my liquor much better than you do….lets change the rules.” He took a deep breath, afraid of the consequences of his words but unable to miss this opportunity. “For each correct guess you make, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“You’re kidding,” she said, scoffing.

“I’m not known for my humor.”

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes, making his heart skip a beat. Kriff, the things she did without even knowing! He thought he could die from the anticipation of hearing her next guess. Would she guess something ridiculous like big green ears to make sure she doesn’t have to kiss him? Or would she make a very obviously correct guess?

“You have…” she trailed in a softer voice, looking at him almost coyly. “…pink lips.”

Not the most obvious guess. Not all humans had pink lips. And he could easily not be human. He didn’t remember telling her he was… But if she was going for something for a higher likelihood of being correct… Kriff he hoped she was. “Do you want me to turn the lights off or blindfold you?” He asked, conveying indirectly that she was right.

“Wh-whaaat? Why?” She sputtered, looking at him with those pretty eyes, vulnerability brimming in her expressions.

Did he get the wrong idea? Maybe her obvious guesses weren’t because she wanted to be right so she could kiss him… Maybe it was just the product of her usual playful nature.

“Because I will have to take my helmet off when I kiss you,” he proceeded to say, even as his heart beat faster with the anxiety of how this could go. They were adults. It it was a misunderstanding, he would simply get over it and do his best to not make it awkward between them. “And you cannot see me.”

“I…” she trailed off before letting out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Again. Not known for my humor,” he said, letting a smile seep into his words. She was so kriffing adorable, looking all nervous like a blurrg stuck in a doorway. “You don’t have to, of course. I can give you something else. Ten credits, perhaps?”

“What, no. A deal is a deal.”

“Then tell me, my dear mechanic. Lights out or blindfold?”

“Lights out.”

Pity. He was hoping to see her pretty face when he kissed her. Not moving from where he was, he pressed the buttons on the control panel, turning all the lights out. In the pitch black of outer space, he could see nothing. Perfect.

“What can you see?” He asked, just to be sure.

“Nothing,” she said, in her voice so low and soft that it was swallowed up by the darkness. What entity wouldn’t want to swallow up something his pretty mechanic put out? Every word she said, every touch of her fingers against the trees and rocks and flowers. If he were air, he would luxuriate in her scent. If he were water, he would caress her skin and play with her hair as he cleansed her. If he were fire, he would creep into her skin, warm her up when she needed. But he was nothing but man. So, he would have to satisfy himself with a kiss from her lips.

“Are you sure?” She asked as he stepped forward to her.

“I am. Are *you* sure?”

There was silent for a moment before she said, “Yes. Kiss me.”

Needing nothing else, he took his helmet off and placed it carefully on his seat. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his breaths grew labored. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

In all his years, he had never kissed anyone. It was not part of the culture of his people what with the metal barriers that kept them from it. He remembered the sweet kisses on his forehead and cheeks from before he took the creed. But that was not what his heart desired. He wanted the kind of thing she watched on her holopad, all the holodramas with characters who showed their desire through an intense kiss that left their partner speechless.

He reached forward and found her hand. She gasped softly, the quietness of the ship letting him in on her soft sounds. He caressed up her arm, enjoying the slight tremble of her skin beneath the tips of his fingers. He stopped at her neck and allowed himself to cradle it in his hand. He felt her lean closer and he reciprocated, taking the final step. He tilted his head to his right feeling that she tilted to her right.

As he closed the gap between them, he felt her warm breath on his skin. He swallowed, his lips parting from how nervous he was. What if he was no good? What if he didn’t have good breath? What if he’s such a bad kisser that she— he gasped softly as she pressed her lips against his. In an instant, she quietened the sounds his head. The fast beating of his heart, he realized was now from the effect of proximity to her more than his insecurities.

She placed one hand on his shoulder and wrapped her other arm around his waist. He let out a shaky breath at the intimacy of their contact and let his other hand trail down her back. She pressed herself closer against his beskar clad chest, making him wish he had the forethought to toss that bit of his armor too. He wanted to feel her. Every bit of her that she was offering up to him like she truly believed he was deserving.

Her lips were soft, just as he’d dreamt them to be. He’d never kissed before. It was an act saved for married couples in the covert, as only your spouse could see you with your helmet off. He had married friends who waxed poetry about the magic of kissing. How they felt like nothing and nobody mattered other than your partner. How it turned you into putty in their hands. He thought it was exaggerated… Until now.

He cupped her cheek, her face fitting in his hand and making him feel a new sense of protectiveness towards her. He’d protected her before, sure, but this felt different. This was something to do with a need to be gentle with her. To cherish her and treasure her. She licked his lips and he parted them instinctively, letting her tongue between his lips. He shuddered as her fingers threaded through his hair. He whimpered and pulled her closer to himself in the moment of vulnerability, using her as a crutch to support him. He’d never been touched like that before…

Her fingers explored his hair and he allowed himself to relax in his arms, even letting himself give her comforting caresses of her back. He felt her melt into his arms as their kiss deepened. She tasted of the silver elixir first, but when they were both a little along the way, he began to taste something that was distinctly her. Something sweet, mixing with the fragrance of her citrusy perfume to further dull his senses.

It was soft, but electrifying. He poured his passions into the kiss, exploring her with his tongue and luxuriating in the sweet little whimpers she let out. The technicalities stopped mattering. He was here, holding the girl he’d been pining for, lips connected as the unlikely result of a stupid game. That moment was all that mattered and her sounds of satisfaction told him that he wasn’t doing so bad after all.

She pulled back in a while and they let out the breaths they’d be holding. She let out a laugh and he smiled, comforted by her job. He didn’t even know he’d been holding his breath. He’d forgetting the necessity for breathing as he found her lips.

“You have…a big nose,” she said, confusing him.

“Huh?” He asked, his mind still clouded from her kiss.

“I get another kiss if I’m right, Dim Djarin,” she teased, pointing to his obliviousness when it came to things of this nature.

“Right,” he said, grinning as he kissed her again. He needed to play games with her more often.

[lightlycareless]

I always wonder what naoya would act like if he had a new born baby? Would he be very soft towards his child? Akxjjzsbizzjj my heart needs y/n and naoya fluff😭😭😭😭

HI ANON YES THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK AAAAHGHAHAHAGH you've come to the right place!! Literally, the more asks I get of Naoya and Y/N with their newborn baby the more ideas I get I want to write (doing one already, xmas themed, idc if I'm late lol)

Anyways, here is the good stuff you asked for 😏 warnings: none. just fluff.

I hope it's to your liking! Happy reading ❤️

Naoya is obsessed with the baby as soon as you tell him you’re pregnant, and soon, his days are filled with nothing but the pregnancy: from wanting to know if you’re alright, if you’ve had any nausea, if there were any specific cravings that needed to be satisfied, or his all-time favorite—if the baby was kicking.

You’d have to remind him that it’s too early for that, but when it’s finally time, his hands never leave your stomach, whether asleep or fully awake; he always must always be touching you, he needs to—as if he wasn’t already highly overprotective of you!

So, one can only imagine how this escalates when the baby finally arrives. (I’m still going with the idea that their first child is a girl)

When Naomi is born, all that Naoya desires is to stay by her side, her being the first thing he sees in the morning and the last in the night.

Naoya wants to be there as soon as the baby wakes up, hear her adorable coos and gurgles which he somehow always understands, as well as selecting her clothes for the day (they have to match. Non-negotiable) feed her (although that’s more like accompanying you while doing so.) and on and so forth.

And although there is nothing he loves more than being with his baby, his favorite thing in the world is seeing you bond with her.

Naoya just… melts when he sees you gush at their daughter, talk to her in that baby voice that always makes Naomi giggle, the occasional pinch of her chubby cheeks (which he likes to say she got from you—you, of course, deny it.) or how you seem to take her wherever you go, unable to peel away from her, not even a second! As if doing so would cause your immediate death!

I don't think I'll be able to convey just how overprotective the two are with Naomi.

Like, you and Naoya would be the type of parents to overdress her as soon as temperature drops the slightest for the simple fear that she’d get sick or something—obviously this didn’t last long because the doctor (alongside family members) would immediately remind them that being this way is only detrimental in the long term.

Rest assured, you and Naoya would find a way to compensate for that, specifically through toys, and outings when she's a bit older. Weekly trips to Tokyo Disneyland become the norm by that point (hell, if Naoya truly wanted to, he'd take Naomi to each worldwide Disney Park on a weekly basis, if only she didn't get crampy by flights—and if that wasn’t too much, of course.) which again, had to be stopped thanks to your dad advising both to take it easy, or she'll grow spoiled… the wrong way, that is.

I think out of the two, Naoya is the one that would struggle the hardest to not buy every single thing that reminds him of Naomi. But can we blame him? The nature of his work often keeps him away from you and the baby, which makes him very, very sad and resentful that it does.

He literally tried to get some time off so he’d be able to stay with you and the baby… but he wasn’t able to get much; so, he looks for all possible ways to make up for his absence, as well as reassure her that his career is not more important than her, or that he isn’t trying hard enough to be there.

Because of this, you make your best effort for Naomi's first word to be papa; it might not be much, but it’s your way to reassure him that he’s a good father and that she loves him very, very much. (The one deciding to name their children after him is your idea, because you want Naoya to feel included, loved. Like he deserves a family after all that he went through 🥺)

Going back to Naomi’s first word, this feat is easier said than done, but you do your best either way, and when it finally happens…. Oh my god is Naoya over the moon.

He literally died when Naomi cheerfully yelled “papa!” upon seeing him return one day from a mission, with that toothy grin he loves so much and those chubby little hands reaching out for him that immediately melt away all his stresses and anxieties away.

And we haven't even spoken of nicknames yet!!! He already had the habit of calling you all kinds of pet names, and that, alongside his tendency to pinch your cheeks, is something that Naomi will also inherit from him.

He'd call her all kinds of cute things, however, his favorite ones are the ones he associates with you, but adding a small differentiation, for example:

“Princess” and “little princess”

“Little mochi” and “littlest mochi”—this one you tell Naoya not to use just because of how silly it sounds, not that it works but hey, you tried.

“Pumpkin” and “little pumpkin”—this one was mostly used by your dad, which Naoya later adopted upon finding out about it—and if you already felt embarrassed by it, this sentiment just grew when Naoya began to endlessly tease you with it.

But now that it’s being used on Naomi, you finally began to appreciate it and subsequently, find it adorable!

So, yes. Naoya loves his baby very, very much, for Naomi represents a combination of all the things that make him happy: you, his love for you, and now, a family.

He'd go above and beyond to make them happy and keep them safe; when it comes to this, the sky is the limit.

wow ngl. I want to write more. ajgajgjsaajgkja specifically the "Naoya placing his hands over your stomach to feel the baby kicking" or how he'd react to tiring nights where baby Naomi just can't sleep 🥺 if anyone wants to indulge me by sending in an ask of what you'd like me to write, you know where to find me 😏

thank you for this lovely ask!! Take care and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️

[calypso707]

hey i adore your writing!

i was wondering how astarion would take care of his s/o who suffers from migraines and severe photosensitivity. my friends always call me a vampire because of it so i thought it’d be a funny dynamic 😆

this one is actually funny because i suffer from migraines as well, so here we are! I don't know if I'm proud of what I've written, but it was fun to do! enjoy! ❤

OS - Astarion x gn drow reader : Simple things.

Living on the surface had proved more complicated than the Underdark. Being born, growing up and spending a significant part of your life in the darkness had certainly had its advantages, but now that you were living on the surface, you realised just how different things were. Whether it was people's lifestyles or all those bright colours. So yes, there were bright colours in the Underdark, but they were often signs of danger, such as explosive mushrooms or plants releasing deadly spores.

You may have been used to the dark and could see in the night better than your companions, but constant exposure to the sun had its drawbacks. So, sure, it was nice to feel the light warming your skin, you could now appreciate things like the colour of the sky, listen to birdsong or even hear the sound of the wind, but your eyes still couldn't handle so much brightness. And on top of that, you had a tadpole in your skull that was not only making its own little nest but was also giving you migraines on a regular basis.

But you still tried to stay positive, because thanks to all the adventures you'd been through, however farfetched, you'd met your current companions, who had turned out to be loyal allies and faithful friends.

And above all, you had met Astarion.

A magnificient two-century-old vampire.

It was almost poetic, two beings of darkness who found themselves having to survive under the sun. So what was it between you two? It was a tricky question, but you cared about him as much as he cared about you, and knowing that was more than enough. Though, Astarion was handling the conditions and opportunities this adventure offered him better than you were. He had always loved sunbathing as soon as the first lights appeared. You enjoyed them too, but in small doses.

While you were enjoying a moment's respite from this chaotic and probably deadly mission, you had given yourselves a break and were strolling through the alleys of Baldur's Gate. Astarion was describing the things his former master, Cazador Szarr, had made him do, a certain bitterness in his voice. You tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but the sun was at its zenith, there were no clouds in the sky to dim its brightness and you felt as if your eyes were burning and your skull was splitting in two.

"Are you even listening when I am talking to you?", grumbled Astarion.

"Sorry… Can we take a short break?" you asked, using your hand to shade your eyes as you looked at him.

"My dear, are you sure that you are not a vampire?" said Astarion with a smirk.

"Hilarious" you sighed.

You took a few steps into the shadow under a stall on the main street leading to the Wyrm's Rock fortress. Astarion was looking at you with a slightly concerned expression; he seemed to be thinking.

"Hm.. I think I have an idea. Stay put." It was almost an order.

Before you could reply, he was heading off into "Carm's Garm" shop. You wondered what had gone through his mind. You decided to wait for him and you leaned against the stone wall behind you, watching the passers-by go about their business, carefree. You listened the trout seller shouting about how fresh his fish were and the wholesaler who was delighted with his harvest.

Long minutes passed, during which you examined everyone who passed in the street. You didn't hear Astarion come back, and you were startled when he cleared his throat once he was beside you. You looked at him and noticed that he was holding several hats under his arms. You tried to hide your smile but it was complicated.

"Let's see…" He put the pile of accessories at his feet and picked up a first hat and placed it on your head. It was a sort of pointy wizard's hat with hideous embroidery that went all the way around, and before you could even give your opinion, Astarion took it off, shaking his head and frowning. "Awful"

He then picked up a sort of adjustable steel helmet, and didn't even take the time to let you try it on before he tossed it aside, doing the same with a brightly coloured top hat. Finally, he took a simple brown hat with silver wings embroidered on the stiff leather and placed it on your head as gently as possible. The brim of the hat was wide enough to keep your face in the shade.

He stood back and examined you for a few seconds, his index finger resting on his chin: "Hm.. I think this one will do, darling. Of course, I still am the fashion icon of our group, but I can assure you you are not far from it now."

You readjusted your hat slightly and took a long look at him, biting your lower lip to hold back your smile. You were pleasantly surprised by his gesture and his words made you chuckle. Astarion moved closer to you and put his hands on your shoulders, pressing them lightly as you put yours against his chest.

"I am impressed, so you are able to do sweet things." you said.

"Sweet? What an idea" He grinned before tilting his head to the side, a thin smile on his lips. "It just should not be so unbearable to enjoy the simple things of life."

And he was right.

═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═

thanks for reading this OS, i hope you liked it!

don't hesitate to read my other writings on Astarion! ❤

Astarion x gn druid tav : On your skin.

Astarion x gn tav : No place for love.

Astarion x gn tav : A thousand thanks.

Fiction - Astation x fem!tav bard : Fruit of The Poisonned Tree

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 12/∞

SHEN QINGQIU WAS BANNED FROM XIAN SHU PEAK

Rating: FANON - NEUTRAL

It is very common in fanfics for Shen (Jiu) Qingqiu to have been banned from visiting Xian Shu Peak due to his habit of visiting brothels.

This does not have basis in canon, however, it is not necessarily unlikely.

The only passage that directly mentions the relationship between the original Shen Qingqiu and Qi Qingqi is the following:

In the original work, Qi Qingqi and Shen Qingqiu had no real relationship and very few interactions. (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

While one reading of this may suggest that there was no relationship between them at all, another reading could say that there was no relationship between them that was discussed in PIDW.

It's known that Qi Qingqi doesn't have a high opinion of Shen (Jiu) Qingqiu:

Qi Qingqi wrinkled her nose. “Zhangmen-shixiong, do you actually hope he’ll remember and recover his previous…character and conduct?” (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

but her opinion of him doesn't seem to be too different than any of the other peak lords.

However, it would not be out of character for her to ban someone considered lecherous from Xian Shu Peak. Qi Qingqi is known to take protective measures, such as suggesting the following during a meeting:

Fourth, Xian Shu Peak requests permission to fortify and increase the height of their fences, and petitions for their fences to be electrified. (7 Seas, Ch. 28)

Despite this, Shen Qingqiu is still her senior so it would be unlikely for her to ban him directly or formally. Nor would Xian Shu Peak's disciples be forbidden from speaking or interacting with him. However, it may be possible that she requested he not visit, and that he agreed to this, thus creating an informal ban. It is also possible that Qi Qingqi, with her fierce and direct personality, may have instituted a ban regardless of seniority.

The only other thing we know is that Shen (Yuan) Qingqiu does not often visit Xian Shu Peak himself, instead sending Luo Binghe:

In the past, Shen Qingqiu had given Luo Binghe quite a few miscellaneous errands. Thus, one could often have found him on Xian Shu Peak. From time to time he’d gone there to deliver a letter, distribute a notice, invite someone over, or borrow something. (7 Seas, Ch. 22 - worth noting that this is from Bing-ge's perspective, so it is unsure whether this refers to Shen (Yuan) Qingqiu, or the original Shen Qingqiu. However, the characteristic of "giving LBH errands" seems much more in line with SY!QQ, so that is how I am interpreting it)

However, this isn't really support for a potential ban. It could be due to Shen Qingqiu wishing to avoid any potential accusations and/or distancing himself from that reputation, or it could be because he wishes to facilitate interactions between Luo Binghe and the members of his future harem, or just because he liked to send Luo Binghe to complete as many tasks as possible. There are any number of reasons for this.

Post canon, it is clear that there is no ban, as Qi Qingqi herself suggests that Shen Qingqiu visit Xian Shu Peak:

“What do you mean buy?” Qi Qingqi asked. “Do you not know how to use what we have? Just go to Xian Shu Peak and ask a few jiejie and meimei to make some outfits for him.” (7 Seas, Ch. 28)

But by this point, enough time has passed that it doesn't mean much, and if a ban existed, it may have been lifted.

While this is something Shen Qingqiu would have likely mentioned if true, it is possible that it wasn't mentioned in PIDW, or was only mentioned as a one-off like that Shen Qingqiu forgot about-- there are many different possibilities that could be used to argue in favor or against this headcanon.

In the end, there is not enough information to say whether or not something like this would be possible-- however, it is never mentioned in canon, so any relationship between Shen (Jiu) Qingqiu and Xian Shu Peak is up to speculation and headcanon.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Aiden

Words: 5.1k+ Type: Smut (brief) & Angst Summary: When going to a party, you get to see someone you haven't seen in a while. Warnings: Fem!Reader. SMUT {very quick and brief; both of them are intoxicated; piv (no protection)} VIOLENCE (yes, the gif is a hint), MENTIONS OF BLOOD, DESCRIPTION OF FIGHTING, mentions of alcohol, mentions of exes and not-so-nice name-calling.

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should REALLY read chapter "Sunbathing" <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

And thank you so much for the 6.6k+ followers!!!

Saying that you needed to come to this party is both a shock to your past self and the truest sentence you’ve ever said. Not that you’ve come to enjoy parties, far from it, but you do need to be in a place where everything is loud and chaotic enough to completely muffle your mind. You need noise and maybe a little alcohol.

You’ve been dealing with a ridiculous amount of work from school, Wheezie is beginning to fall back in her studies, and, the worst of all, the girls.

Whatever happened with them on Monday carried on for the whole rest of the week. The lack of conversation towards you whenever they’re all together and the looks you’ve noticed them give you while they talk between themselves during class. You have no idea what could be going on, and it is only leading you to overthink. 

You’ve been thinking on a daily basis of the possibility of the girls knowing about Rafe, but, each time, your thoughts were calmed down with Kristy herself. She has been the one that talked the most with you these days, even though it’s a lot less than she used to. And she acts natural. As if nothing ever annoyed the girls or hurt them to the point of… doing this. Therefore, it only leaves you to think that you might have done something before Monday.

Was it because of Alex? Maybe they liked him a bit too much, and Kristy is the only one that accepts that you don’t think you could be anything with him. Maybe you said something bad? But when? You didn’t spend any more time with them which could’ve led to an argument. If anything, they were happier prior to the date because you were going on the damned date.

Thinking it could be you and Rafe is something that goes through your mind at the worst times, even when you’re with him. You’ve talked to him about it, but Rafe can’t help but feel a little helpless in all of this. He has never met your friends. All he knows about them is what you’ve told him, and that is nowhere near enough to make conclusions, only assumptions.

There was something he said that eased your mind, “Isn’t Kristy who dislikes me the most? Then wouldn’t she be the one acting like a bitch?” And it makes sense, even when you felt like the insult was unnecessary. If it had been about you two, Kristy would’ve probably never looked you in the eyes. Let alone still talked, smiled, or hugged you like before.

And the cure for all your stress, said Rafe, is partying and alcohol. There was a time this week when all your worries regarding the number of people at the party completely evaporated, and all you wanted was to hang out with more people and forget all about these girls. Even when it still hurt. So, you decided to go by his advice.

Once you stepped inside the warm house where the party is taking place, you were pulled into a hug by Patty right as your foot touched the hardwood flooring. You laughed with her as she squeezed you into her arms, while, at the same time, making sure to curse Rafe out for never taking you to more parties so that the two of you could hang out.

And, whether you like it or not, Patty did separate you from Rafe almost instantly. She wanted to get you a drink. So, as soon as your bodies were disconnected from the hug, her hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you into the direction of the sea of people who seemed to not have the courage to jump into the pool just yet.

It’s been maybe an hour since you got to this party, and you haven’t seen Rafe since you came in. It stays like that for, possibly, an hour, but, at some point, Patty decides to walk elsewhere which only leads you to go find Rafe.

When you find him, he’s by the sliding doors that lead to the outside, amongst other guys from his usual group, and when you stand near him, it only takes a slight look down at you for Rafe to welcome you by his side.

To no one’s surprise, the conversation you get to listen to is very much boring, so the music outside and watching the people jumping into the pool is much better for entertainment. People are more than drunk already, and they’re jumping from all sorts of places into the pool. Other people just dance by it, and others sit at the chairs, deep in conversation.

The breeze that hits you from the open door you’re looking out of is just chlorine and some miss of alcohol, not exactly the best of smells. 

By the time you and Rafe are left alone and happen to have a conversation on the most random of topics, your eyes are going from his face to the outside, finding people extremely interesting. His friends have begun to go outside as well.

Your hands are resting on his torso. Whereas for his, they go from holding your waist, so that you can stand still and close to him, to sometimes squeezing it to get your attention.

“No, that is dumb.” You tell him with a big smile on your face when you see him smile just as much. “How do they get home if he does that?”

“Soaking wet, probably.” He tells you, “It happens more times than you think.”

“But why? Where’s the fun in pushing people in the pool?” You continue to discuss Topper’s favorite activity whenever he’s very drunk at a pool party.

“Want to find out?”

Rafe is already pulling you off of him so that you can start making your way outside, but he can’t even hold back his smile when your eyes widen at his statement and even more at his actions.

There is absolutely no way that he’s offering to bring you into the fun of coming up behind a random person and just pushing them into the pool. In drunk-Topper’s philosophy, why would anyone come to this party and not expect to go in the pool? But, thankfully, you do not share the same philosophy.

You pull at Rafe’s wrist to hold him back from continuing to tease you about the whole thing, and he does. But, now that you two stand outside, you can tell his next step from a mile away. It's all from the way Rafe's smile changes from a playful one to a malicious one.

It’s by record time that you let go of his wrist and take a step back to escape him. Your heart has begun to beat faster as you look at your boyfriend, the same one that just stands handsomely in front of you as if he isn’t threatening to get you soaked to the bone in cold water.

“No.” You say to him as a warning, and he takes a step closer to you.

You dumbly hold out your hand as if that can ever stop him from getting to you, and every time he takes a step closer to you, you take one back. You, thankfully, notice that you’re getting backed up into a corner before you don’t have enough space to escape.

Once escaping from being backed up into the sliding door, you look around for some sort of backup. Specifically, one shaped like Patricia herself, even if that means sacrificing her. She is nowhere to be seen.

That slight distraction makes Rafe get closer to you, and you let out a sound that resembles a giggle and a scream, but not quite when you feel his hand just graze you. The two of you laugh together as you take another step back and find the sound that came out of you extremely interesting.

“Don’t, please.” You try to plead your way out of this, but Rafe only seems more entertained once you do it.

“I’m not trying to do anything, you’re just running away for no reason.” Rafe tries to tell you as his smile continues to stretch and tries to grab you yet again.

“Rafe,” You start, but you are very much interrupted when he gets yet too close again.

Over the sound of your voice, not too far from you, comes a cheer of someone’s name. A name that is familiar to you. As you look up to see for a few seconds, you are solely focused on him. He’s wearing normal clothes, ones typical for a warmer night. His hair could be a little longer, but he looks the same since the last time you’ve seen him. Aiden looks the same since the night you broke up with him.

Before you know it, your back hits the side railing of the porch, and your attention is brought back to Rafe, who happily gets a hold of you, having no idea who stands behind him. Rafe’s hands hold you and pick you up, and the sudden panic of being thrown into the pool comes back.

You try to get away from him by moving around and pushing him away from you, but as you now try the technique of holding him closer so that he can’t throw you anywhere, you notice how much he’s smiling at all of this. The bastard.

“Please, don’t do it.” You say to him.

Rafe’s response is to turn around to go in the direction of the pool, and you swear that you had no control of your body when you let out a certain shriek of panic. 

“What do I get in return?”

“A non-wet girlfriend.” You tell him, making him laugh in your face. “That’s not enough?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

You fake a shocked expression and a clear look of disbelief, and Rafe just takes a step closer to the crowd.

“I will pull you in with me.”

“I have your phone in my pocket.” He reminds you

“I don’t care.” You say seriously, but with a chuckle following your words right away, breaking your character.

As Rafe continues to walk towards the pool, you simply hold him tighter, and you’re not sure how many times you tell him ‘please’ and ‘don’t’ as he makes his way to it. You make purely fake promises of how you will do anything he wants if he just doesn’t do this, or how you will buy him whatever he needs, but those promises fall on deaf ears.

“I will hate you forever.” You try your last resource.

He doesn’t even flinch at the words. You have no idea how distant from the pool you are at this point, but you only hold onto him tighter. If he really wants to throw you in, he’ll have to jump in himself, you are not about to surrender.

Knowing exactly how you have no idea of your surroundings, Rafe simply pauses and pretends to let you fall. And that is probably the funniest thing he could’ve ever done, because you let out one of those screams again and, when noticing that you’re still in his arms, you begin to repeat your previous promises while kissing his cheek.

Rafe only lets this torture last for a few more seconds before he actually lets go, which only leads you to believe that you’re being dropped into the pool again. You granted him a great smack in the arm right as your feet touched perfectly solid ground.

As you scowled at him, obviously mad at what he did to you just now, Rafe only smiles, holding your face as you do a frown that he can’t take seriously ever. He kisses you a few times, and that is what makes Aiden stand up straighter. 

Aiden hasn’t seen you in a while, nor did he wish to. The heartache you gave him had been enough for him to want to stay away from you for the rest of eternity. All the missed calls or ignored texts after you two had broken up. It all hurts like the ache of a scar formed from a deep wound. A pain that never leaves, it just changes. 

It has been more than a year, and he hasn’t seen you. You’re still absolutely beautiful, and you haven’t changed much, except for the fact that you have started dating again, by the looks of it.

Aiden has tried to pull his eyes away from you more than once, but his curiosity happens to be his worst enemy. He wants to keep looking. He wants to see if you’ve changed in the slightest bit, and he might even want to see the face of the person you’ve begun dating. He has looked away everytime the guy turned around and showed his face. Aiden only wanted to see you.

“Who are you looking at?” His friend asks, noticing how he has spaced out for a minute or two.

Aiden watches as you pull away from the kiss and how the frown is gone from your face. Your eyes are glued to the guy you kissed. His hand is on your face, holding it in place, thumb on one cheek as the other fingers hold the other. Your boyfriend kisses your pouty lips before saying something, Aiden assumes, teasingly, which leads to you smacking his arm and making the guy laugh.

He can read your lips when you pull away from his hold on your face and say “I will throw you in” with a serious expression on your face. The guy says something, and Aiden watches while you pursue your lips and look away to not laugh.

When the guy turns around this time, Aiden doesn’t look away. Someone must have called your boyfriend to get his attention away from you because he had moved so quickly. But Aiden wasn’t exactly expecting to see Rafe. Nothing would've prepared Aiden to see him.

Rafe brings his attention back to you when answering whatever someone had just asked him, and you had just started taking steps away. You tell him something that Aiden doesn’t understand, and Rafe reacts instantly to your words. He moves over to you and throws you over his shoulder, making you almost squeal your words while laughing at the same time.

“Aiden!” Aiden’s other friend calls out, “Come get drinks with us.”

Didn’t even need to tell him twice.

(...)

You’ve had a lot more to drink than you first planned to. You haven’t become completely out of control, but you are very much tipsy. You will trip if you walk by yourself for too long, and you will laugh at everything someone will tell you. With that, Rafe decided not too long ago that it was a better idea to have you seated somewhere and not having you walk around a pool.

As the night grew colder, everyone began to slowly go into the house and continue to party inside as well. Rafe has been sitting next to you on the couch ever since then, in a conversation with his friends.

Your legs are over his lap, and his hand has been smoothing over your skin and playing with the ends of your dress. And because of that, his attention is faulty. He is nowhere near sober either. Whenever your friends got distracted, the two of you shared kisses, and that led to a lot more. Which doesn’t surprise you. 

You don’t blame yourself for what happened. Rafe had been laying distracting kisses over your shoulder and neck, and they were always so soft and slow. It got your attention. And it only took one more of your kisses for Rafe to pull himself up from the couch and take you with him.

You giggled your way through the empty hallways while the music continued to bounce off the walls. You found it funny to jump around, but also to have Rafe practically dragging you through the house, all while you can just hug his neck and rest your face on his chest.

One thing led to another, and you were in a bathroom on the other side of the house. The music was distant, but you could still feel its vibration on the door behind you. Your lips haven’t exactly disconnected from Rafe’s since you came in, and due to the presence of the music, your drunk mind found it more than okay for you to relax and not be as silent as always. Rafe was more than okay with that decision throughout the whole thing.

Rafe picked you up and trapped you between the door and him with your legs by his hips. His hands were lost underneath your dress, while yours eventually began to pull his shirt upwards so he could take it off. Once it hits the ground, the two of you were back to kissing like nothing had ever separated you.

You lose track of what Rafe does with all the stimulation of his hands on you and your foggy mind, and he holds you tighter to him when you moan against his lips, and he lets out a grunt against yours. You separate from the kiss as, for you, the pleasure has magically begun to burn at the bottom of your stomach. 

Rafe watches you lean your head on the door as try to adjust to the position and to him, who has just slid inside you. And in seconds you were back to it. Rafe chuckles when you kiss him and lays his hand on the cold wood beside you. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you in place, and your hand grips his forearm.

Your moans start with his movements, feeling more sensitive than ever before, and that only seems to motivate Rafe. He separates his lips from yours and begins a trail of kisses down your neck. You hold onto his shoulders tightly and seem to lose complete control of what you say or do. One of your hands holds onto the back of his head, pulling at the strands of his hair.

The sudden pull makes Rafe’s hand drag soundly through the door to detach you from the door and hold you in his arms. Your eyes are closed when he moves, and you hiss at the cold of the counter. The discomfort only lasts seconds since pleasure completely substitutes it.

As Rafe thrust into you, some of the things that were once neatly on top of the counter fall on themselves or onto the ground. You leaned back on the stone counter, finding the cold on your burning skin awfully satisfying. Rafe’s eyes left your face, eyeing down at the two of you, where you connect, letting the fact of what the two of you are doing at a party rest on his mind. Your underwear had been pushed to the side, and he hadn’t even pulled his shorts completely down. Your dress was simply held up by your waist, and your skin has begun to glisten as he keeps on going. Sliding his cock in and out of you as you moan at every movement.

Your sounds aren’t too loud, but Rafe knows that people could hear it if they ever walked close enough to the door. He isn’t even sure if he locked it when he came in with you. Your eyes stay on him half closed as you bite in your lips to be quieter, and Rafe brings his hand down to your clit, leaving you in a complete puddle, and lose all control of the noise you make.

Rafe knows he says things to you throughout the whole thing, but he isn’t sure what exactly. And the same goes for you. Whatever it was, both of you responded to it, to each other. Even when you aren’t quite sure how because you cannot even bring yourself to think.

When it ends, Rafe does pull you closer and puts his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans. And as you two are left with ringing ears, heavy breathing, and with eyes half-closed, you can only kiss again and again. Completely drunk out of each other. 

Your hands are lost in the strands of his hair, and Rafe’s holding you closer and closer to him. It takes you a good few minutes to walk out of the bathroom like nothing had happened, and, once you do it, you notice how no one noticed you were even gone.

(...)

Time went by and the alcohol eventually deemed its effects on you, which could only mean that it was time to go home. You weren’t alone on this. Patricia had very much fallen asleep on the couch in an awkward position, and you knew that taking her home would be better. Yet, for the minutes that you watched her asleep, you silently wished that were you. 

It took you yawning mid-sentence in a conversation with Rafe about 5 times before he decided that the two of you were done for the night. Topper did the waking up of Patricia and helped her with grabbing her things while some of the guys helped with other things.

You leaned on Rafe as if he was a wall as they did it. Patricia, half-asleep and drunk, eventually got to you and began to tell you with slurred words how tired she felt, which made you agree with her with a nod. 

“Are- are you going home?” Patricia asks you before hiccuping, “Like, really home? Or Rafe’s?”

Before you can answer, she continues with a gasp. “You could spend the night in mine.”

“I’m going home.” You tell her, blinking slowly.

She sassily side glances at you and then at Rafe as well, who isn’t even paying attention to her, but to Topper, who is drunkenly looking for one of his friend’s shoes under the couch. 

Patricia, forgetting her hate towards you, grabs your hands and holds them as she swings your arms to the beat of the loud music. You smile at her and swing them with hers. Patty dances a little, as many moves as her tired and drunk body could pull off.

The two of you giggle after a few of her dance moves, and then you stop abruptly. A girl has just collided her shoulder with yours, hard, and it catches you off guard more than anything.

Due to that, Patricia loses her smile and faces the person right away. As you go to look at them and say the usual ‘it’s okay’, you see a girl. But a girl you’re sure you know from somewhere, which only makes you pause and reflect on who it could be.

“I’m sorry.” She tells you with a big drunken smile.

“You better be,” Patricia says before you can say anything back. You send her a glare as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You tell the girl, looking away to look at Patty again.

The girl doesn’t seem to walk away right away, and you feel Rafe lay his hand on your, still a little sore, shoulder. He smooths the skin, and right when you go to hold Patricia’s hand again, Rafe’s chest vibrates as he speaks.

“Got a problem?”

You eye him confused, but he isn’t talking to you. You look in the opposite direction, and your hands stop playing with Patricia’s, much to her confusion. Aiden stands beside you, eyeing you both, and then Rafe. And it suddenly clicks, that same girl had been Aiden’s friend when the two of you dated, and seemingly still is.

He eyes Rafe weirdly and then looks back at you.

“No problem, bro. Just wanted to say hi to an old friend,” He says while looking you in the eyes. “Hope you still remember me.”

You open your mouth to answer, but it is not needed. Aiden stretches his hand toward Rafe to introduce himself, “I’m Aiden.”

It doesn’t take long for Rafe to remember the day you said that same name, and because of it, Aiden’s hand stays untouched. Rafe continues to look down at him and bites his own tongue.

Aiden lets his hand awkwardly fall and offers Rafe a fake grin, which only grants him one back.

“Doesn’t look like she remembers you.” Rafe says, reinforcing his fake grin, “Keep it moving.”

“Oh, come on.” Aiden looks back at you. “You remember me, right, Y/N?”

Patricia lets go of your hands and holds your wrist instead. You don’t really understand her actions, and continue to only stare at Aiden in shock. You have absolutely no words to say to him.

“No?” Aiden asks you while spontaneously leaning closer to you so you could hear him better over the music, which only made you take that space back by leaning closer to Rafe.

Aiden looks at the two of you and doesn’t appear to get the hint.

“Are you two dating?” He asks, a smile appearing on his face as if he found his own words humorous. 

“Yes.” You break your silence.

“That is so interesting.” He says to you, “I would never see someone like you with someone like him…” His eyes lift to Rafe, “No offense to you, bro. You just, you know, are very different from her type.”

His eyes do not leave you after he says that. His words make the air thicker. He fortifies the idea that he knows you and that he has known you for a while. He has a past with you.

“You must remember me. We used to have so much fun together.” You shake your head right away.

“Just leave, Aiden.” You tell him, growing tired of his pushing.

“Why?” He chuckles, “Because your big boyfriend is going to hit me?” 

That confuses you and only leads you to notice how Rafe has, indeed, gone silent and instantly tense. You don’t look at Rafe to not give Aiden any satisfaction, and simply repeat your words.

“I’m serious.” You tell him. “Leave.”

He stays quiet and then takes a step back. Your lungs fill with air as a sign of relief, even when you know it won’t last for too long. Aiden stands before you still, and his eyes move all over your face, examining you. And then his eyes go down, down and down, and suddenly up. Disgust is the first thing that hits you, but you don’t let it show.

“Hopefully she won’t get as tired of you as she got of me,” He looks at Rafe. “You know how they are. Girls like her…” And then back at you. “Always looking for other guys to satisfy them, no matter who they hurt in the process. When the reality is that they will never be satisfied... Not whores like her.”

As he says it, Patricia moves quicker than you. She pulls at your wrist and away from Rafe, who simply moves forward, grabs Aiden, and slams his fist onto his face. 

The music around you muffles, and everything slows down. Aiden loses balance after the impact and struggles to strike Rafe back. Some people get out of their way, and both of them move farther for you and Patricia, but continue to be entirely visible to your widened and panicked eyes.

It seems as quick as a blink when Aiden hits the ground with an awfully loud thud. From the distance, you can tell he already has a bloodied nose, twisted in an off-angle, as well as reddened teeth and knuckles. Making it awfully obvious that he has already hit Rafe too. Patricia pulls at your arm, making you look at her for a second, but even her eyes are glued to the fight. 

More seconds go by, and people are stupidly starting to circle the men. Whenever you’re able to get another glance between everyone, the damage is worse.

Aiden's face twisted in pain, blood dripping off his mouth, punch after punch as he continues to struggle on the floor. Blow after blow, he slowly weakens. It is gruesome, to say the very least, and not something you're used to ever see.

With your feet still glued as ice to the ground and with your body stuck on the spot, you watch as Aiden does try to open his mouth to say something, and his hand lifts to stop Rafe with a plea. His hand doesn't ever lift to hit, just to hold him back. The same exact gesture you had done when playing around with your boyfriend merely hours ago.

Your heart drops to your stomach at the sight, as his pleas go unanswered. Rafe's fist collides with Aiden's face yet again and Aiden's pleas falter.

Patricia forces herself and you to move out of the house, and you cannot hear anything but your quickening heart. Your vision is faulty, making you feel as if you were blinking and holding your eyes closed for more than time then opened.

You look behind your shoulder before taking the last step down the porch only to see Aiden spread out on the floor, unmoving as Rafe begins to stand before him and letting out a breath, with his back towards you.

“Get in the car.” Patricia practically screams at you, snapping you back to reality and making you face the front.

You get in, and she closes the car door. At the lack of sound, the gruesome images suddenly consume your mind, inducing nausea and more of your shaking and uneven breaths. You cover your face with your hands as Patricia climbs into her seat beside yours and does not mutter a word. 

Aiden's face, cut and broken. His silent screams inaudible over the music, and his pleas being cut short for another and another hit.

You knew it wasn’t a lie, that Rafe fought all the time. You had seen him just before a fight. But tonight had made it real. Too real. He fights until the other person can no longer handle it, until the other person cannot say any words that could make him stop. He doesn't stop until he sees enough blood to satisfy him. He doesn't stop until the person goes unresponsive.

No one had dared to push Rafe off of Aiden, not one of his friends. Even when Patty seemed moved, she didn't look at anything like it had been news to her. Rafe always does this. You know he does.

More than a month ago, you had cleaned his hands. Those that dripped with blood, and he hadn't wanted you to see them. You had giggled, found it arousing even. Such a filthy thing it had seemed. Never had it crossed your mind how real it all was. How he hurts someone so badly simply because they dare to cross him. He didn't hold back. He doesn't hold back.

You had never seen him like this, nor do you ever wish to again.

When your hearing clears slightly, you open your eyes and pull your hands away from your face. As you stare at them in the silent and dark car, you watch as they shake violently and listen to your heart not being able to slow down. You do not dare to look up, afraid of who you might see coming out of the house.

As you let out a shaky breath, you feel only one thing ripping through you. Fear.

Didn't I say shit would hit the fan? I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER. I know this isn't my best work, but I tried my best. Love y'all <3