#like you either stay silent and let your work get stolen

[chryblossomjjk]

[pixiesholloworld]

✘The tow truck driver?!✘

synopsis : Incoming text from - Toji 🛻 “i wasnt gonna tell you, but you’re fucking hot. but im honestly a hoe and only want one thing.. 🍆💦”

cw: daddy kink, fingering, head (giving/reciving), brat taming?, f!reader

the check engine light has been on for the past month, but you’ve repeatedly ignored it. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right? well, your consistent neglect of the light has landed you in this situation. 

stranded on the shoulder of the highway waiting for some shady tow truck driver to come to your rescue, he was your cheapest option, and when you saw his old beat up truck speeding towards you, you quickly understood why. he came to a stop as he approached, rolling down his passenger window to get a good look at you. 

“you [✿]?”, the brown rust corroded the hood of his car, causing flakes to peel off with the wind. you can’t even imagine what the truck could’ve looked like in it's glory, it was hard to believe years of neglect left the truck in this state— it's almost like he bought it this way. “yeah,” you answered, “are you toji?”

“what’s it look like?” you search the truck to see the faded out: ‘Toji’s Towing’. “oh”

“ya waitin’ for an invite?”

you open the car door to see crumbled-up wrappers from obscure burger joints and empty beer cans—the rubbish, let alone the smell of *sniff* *sniff*… man contorted your face. toji must’ve taken notice of this because it made him chuckle. “excuse the mess, sweetheart,” his raspy voice curling over his words, “you don’t mind, do ya?”

“not at all,” you awkwardly smile. you felt kind of bad for him, honestly. he hooked his crane up to the front of your car and, before pulling off, lit a cigarette. his shoulders were broad and his arms looked strong and heavy, he didn’t have an AC in his car, either that or it didn’t work, so the hot summer air blew in both of your faces 

his black locks stayed all but too far from his face, allowing you to get a glimpse of the scar that marks his lip, his emerald eyes focusing on the road ahead. 

you felt weird for staring at him after a while and didn’t want him to notice, so you averted your gaze to the road, watching the cars pass by you two. you wondered though, how could a hunk like him get in this position. 

“so, you grew up’round here?” He asks

“a little ways from here, i stay with my mom in a duplex”

“nice, where ya comin’ from?”

“my job, i work as a barista at the mall”

“s’ bit far for work don’t you think”

you smile at how easily he set himself up, “you drive a tow truck”

you turn towards him to see a smirk creeping up on his face, he blows out smoke and holds his cigarette out

“fair,” he pulls another drag before putting it out in what you can only assume to be a homemade ashtray, “you got anyone that can look at this for ya at home?” he says gesturing towards your car

“mm no, i was gonna take it to the shop”

he clicks his teeth and sneers, “those punks don’t know the first thing about cars”

“where do you think i should go then?”

he glances over at you before returning his attention to the road, “i’ll look at it for ya”

—

after that convo the rest of the drive was silent, though you both exchanged stolen glances here and there. you tried to tell yourself it was nothing to overthink, though the stirs in your stomach were telling you otherwise. it was hard to act like having an older man’s attention wasn’t somewhat enticing 

when he finally got to your house, he backed your car into the driveway. you couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of relief. though it was nice talking to him, you couldn’t wait to get out of that dump of a tow truck. it made you consider taking those AAA charges next time 

he steps out of the truck and walks around to let you out. when you see his full body for the first time, you’re a bit taken aback. sure he looked ok in the truck, but he looked even better out of it. he had a tall muscular build, and he had to be around 6 feet. how was his truck hiding so much height from your eyes? You shook any remaining amazement from your face and stepped out, hurrying past him to try and avert your gaze

“so what happened anyways, what’s wrong with it?” he immediately walks past you to your car and starts inspecting it

“the engine light was on but.. i thought it would just go away on its own..” you reluctantly admit

“silly girl,” the rasp in his voice making your heart jump, “you should’ve taken this’t the shop when you first saw it” he struts over to you and lays his hand out, you look at his hand and then back up to his captivating eyes, “the keys?” he says.

“oh, yeah, right, right” you hand him the keys, and he turns the car on, popping the hood. you watch as his clothes cling to him, his long, black hair hanging over his face as he inspects different parts of your engine. you notice as he reaches into the engine, his tanned hands become stained with a black substance. it’s kinda hot. when you actually get a good look at him at this angle… he isn’t a bad-looking guy, he’s a little ruff around the edges, sure, but you like that about him

“i might have’ta take this to my shop, really gotta get under there n’figure out what’s going on”

you could name something else you wanted him to get under too, but you quickly shoved that thought in your back pocket, “how much is that gonna be” 

“usually i charge a pretty penny but for you,” he says while wiping his hands on a dirty rag that was stuffed in his pocket, “i’ll do it for free”

“really? oh my god thank you so much”

“s’no problem doll, i should probably get going before it gets too dark though”

you can feel your heart pounding from anticipation not quite wanting him to leave yet

“y-yeah sure, but um… wouldn’t you like to eat first?”

he closes your car hood and smirks

“whatcha cookin?”

—

you turn the keys to your house before inviting him in, he winks at you and makes himself comfortable at the kitchen's island. you walk past him and pull out lukewarm potatoes, you can feel him stare at you as you walk back and forth between the different drawers and potatoes. you tried to focus on what you were doing and tried to think of other things, but your mind would always wonder back to the idea of him bending you over and fucking the living daylights out of you 

you try to sneak a glance at toji but it doesn't work he's still staring just as intensely as before and snickers at your futile attempt to look without him knowing. "somethin' you wanna say, sweetheart?" he asks, words laced with lust

'yeah, i want you to fuck my brains out' some request that is huh? instead, you ask something more appropriate, "could you come peel the potatoes?" so there you two are side by side peeling potatoes, weakly fighting the urge to ask if he's feeling the same way you're feeling. your thoughts suddenly come to a halt though when you realize he's old enough to be married, even so when you peep at his hand, you see no ring, but he's definitely old enough to be somebody's dad.. who are you kidding, you love DILFs 

you go on and on internally struggling on if it would be morally correct to fuck a stranger—a tow truck driver—until he makes the first move for you, his hand slithering along your back to grab your hip, "where's your bathroom at? 've gotta drain the snake" 

"yeah its uh, right around the corner over there"

"thanks doll" he whispers into your ear before squeezing your hip and moving so close past you that you can feel his bulge before he slips away. you were at a loss for words. like actually your mind had went blank, what were you even supposed to do with that?

let him come back to your sprawled out naked body on the kitchen floor? but on second thought you had an even better idea, he clearly wanted you to feel that he was hard cause he feels that you're too scary to make a move. something he didn't know though is that you loved to play the long game and you could tease him all night if you had to

when he comes back, he sees you trying to reach the very top of your cabinet. you can hear his heavy foot steps stop right behind you before he rests a hand on your hips and pulls you close to his warm pelvis. "need help?" he asks. you look up at this tall, buffed up man, and he looks right back down at you

"could you hand me the paper towels up there?"

he hands them to you, but not before pressing himself against you, letting his hard-on poke between your cheeks. you could feel your heart skipping a million miles per minute, your cunt wildly throbbing between your legs, a tiny whimper escaping your lips when he backs away, leaving the paper towels in front of you

defeated, you walk back to the potatoes. how could you tease him back? oh, the bottom cabinet! you quickly plop down, and before he could notice you tug at the bottom of his jumpsuit pants, he looks down and is obviously flustered. you sat on your knees, looking at him with such ardor in your eyes "i need to get another bowl" you say while pointing towards the cabinet, a sneaky smile spreading across your face. "hm?" he says while bending down to your level, "I let you slide the first time, but I think you're forgetting somethin'"

confusion filled your face trying to figure out what it was you could've been missing until he grabs your face pulling you a bit closer to him

"where's your manners at girl?"

oh he was good at this

"what happens if i don't use 'em?"

"might need to train that pretty little mouth of yours"

"yeah? how're you gonna do that?"

he snickers at you, standing up while still holding your face in his big, calloused hand, "whatchu think?"

so there you are, taking every inch of his thick cock in your mouth as his hand holds the back of your head, making sure to push down when he wants to hear that slutty throat struggle to take all of him in 

“so this s’what all that staring was for?” he teases, “what a nasty girl, sucking on a stranger’s cock”

you hum contently, hands lightly grazing against his thighs as saliva collects at his base, slowly dripping onto your tiled floor

he groans while picking up the pace, “such a mess, you like the taste of it? hm? yeah you do”

you gag and hum against him, letting his angry tip bully the back of your throat. you just started, and you're already cock drunk, moaning and twisting your head around while you use your mouth to grip around his length tighter. 

he sucks air through his teeth, letting barely audible ‘fucks’ escape his breath while steadily rolling his hips into your mouth. you use your tongue to  dance around one of his throbbing veins, enjoying how it interrupts his rhythm, making him thrust faster and faster until a sudden mean pop snatches his hips away from your mouth 

he bends down to slip his tongue into your mouth, stealing the taste of his precum right from your mouth. you tongue him back a bit more eagerly, feeling around his teeth and the scar on his mouth until his lips depart 

“you’re so greedy” he teases, “didn’t your throat training teach you anything?”

“please, please kiss me toji” you didn’t think your pussy could take anymore teasing, you could feel how it beat against your squished thighs longing for his touch

he must’ve felt the same cause he stands you up on your feet and moves you on top of the island, snaking your pants off and pulling your slick cunt close to him in the process. “you gotta earn it, princess”, he taunts your clothed entrance with his tip before gracing you with one more kiss 

“put it in, please put it in” you couldn’t wait any longer and started slowly grinding yourself on the tip until, of course, a mean smack to your mound caused you to freeze. you look up at toji and see annoyance plastered on his face. you ooze at the seriousness on his face, waiting for him to say something 

“just for that, i’m not fuckin’ you”

“WHAT! no, please i’m sorry please toji im-“ he covers your mouth with one hand and moves the other towards your wet, sticky folds, collecting a bit of the slick before moving it around your pulsating clit.

he made deep circular motions on it, making you whine every time he hit the peak. your eyes rolled back, and you let him completely take over. your hips stuttering to his touch, he then moved closer, leaving kisses along your ear and down your neck, nipping at the skin 

though you didn’t know your muffled moans were making it hard for toji to stay focused on teasing you, the truth is he was about to cum earlier while you were on your knees. sitting so innocently while taking all of him in you, the way your pretty eyes would flutter at his praise or how you’d scrunch your nose when you pushed your head down more, not to mention that tongue trick you did earlier, instead of thinking about it, he decided to return the favor 

he moves down to your panties and moves them aside, covetously looking up at those same eyes that made his tip leak beads of precum. “that’s it baby, keep those pretty eyes on me,"  he starts slowly at first, his pointed tongue moving up your folds, slowly moving your legs further apart while keeping eye contact. the familiar feeling of haze started filling your mind as desperate moans echoed through your kitchen 

he groans into you, knowing the vibrations will probably make you cum faster, and he gently suckles on your wet bulb, listening to how sweetly you moan out his name. grabbing a fist full of his hair, you push him in deeper, chasing an end you didn't know toji wasn't going to let you reach just yet. 

he stops sucking and instead sticks one finger inside your drenched cunt, moving it ever so slowly while he moves a pointed tongue in swirls on your clit his finger eventually picks up the pace, so he slips two in, then three. he had a merciless tempo, curing his fingers around your g-spot just to hear those pretty little moans 

"m'gonna cum toji~" you'd whine out, but he'd rapidly shake his head against your sopping wet clit and slap your mound, telling you to wait. to say you were drowning in pleasure would be an understatement. you felt hot all over, and with every thrust, you were sure you were going to break. eventually your moans became cries for a release. he turned you into a dripping wet mess, and he loved every bit of it until, of course, you said the magic words 

"please let me cum daddy— fuck!~"

he lifts his head up almost instantly though he's still drilling his fingers through your pussy, "say that again?"

"please let me cum" you whimper, you don't know how much longer you can hold back

"nah girl, the other thing" he stands up, towering over you even as you're seating on the counter. his fingers pump into you slower but deeper, taunting your g-spot

"daddy" you whisper, he brings his other hand to your face and brings you in for a sloppy kiss loving how you moan into his mouth

"atta girl," he pulls his fingers out but the fullness is instantly replaced with his fat, rock hard cock. you felt him tear though you so easily, you desperately pull him in closer while looking at him through half lidded eyes. "look at you, so desperate for daddy's dick" he'd tease

"all fucked out n'still begging f'more" he pulled you in for another kiss and left his tongue slithering in your mouth while he pumped faster, holding you tightly as you struggled to keep up with his kisses. he moved a hand up to your face and held it in place as he tongued you, you felt a smile spread across his face as you struggled to keep it together until all you could do was wail into his mouth

his pace was harsh and unrelenting he fucked you like he was angry at you, punching your cervix with such vigor and gusto, you moaned louder practically screaming but all he did was move his mouth to your ear and whisper.

"that's it princess let it out, you're making sucha mess of yourself on me," you squeeze tighter at his words feeling your body go limp at the over stimulation, "you wanna cum on me?"

you shake your head yes almost instantaneously and he moves his head to look directly at you, moving his hand down to your clit, covering it in slick before rubbing it in circles. "go ahead," he coos, "cum on daddy's dick— sh-shit"

he keeps rolling his hips into you until you finally come to your shaky finish, leaving scratches on his skin as you try to grasp your way back into reality with toji following close behind, loudly groaning and pulling out before fisting himself over your stomach releasing thin milky shoots of cum

he holds you close to him and leaves kisses on your head before helping you off the counter, it was weird feeling the ground under you again the sudden rush of blood making your legs feel like jello

"so about your car,"

right, shit he was in here to eat FOOD and go home not fuck you

"ill probably be able to fix it by tomorrow, n'maybe come drop it back off," he says while slipping his jumpsuit back on, "unless you wanna come to mine instead”

"you'd love that wouldn't you"

"think your pussy would like it more" he teases, pulling you closer to him. he was gonna turn you on all over again until you heard the front door open

[retroellie]

The Other Woman

Summary: After seeing Lila kiss spencer in the pool, all reason leaves your body and creates a jealous mess inside your head. You can thing of only one way to dull the ache of jealousy.

A/N: This lowkey sucks but it's whatever :) I'm so unmotivated and my writers block is terrible omfg. I hope y'all enjoy though <3

Warnings: NSFW, cheating(ish), L*la, Mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected sex, unexperienced spencer, normal Criminal Minds stuff

Word count: 7.6K

Of course, you knew you were acting like a teenage girl, the petty silent treatment was straight of a high school romance. Reid was just trying to do his job, he was told to do something, and he did it. So, you shouldn't be angry. He was trying to prevent another victim; he was trying to protect Lila. Fucking Lila. If it were anyone else, then maybe you would just be able to forget it, but it wasn't someone else. It was her. It was hot blonde, breakout movie star Lila. Her and her perfect body, pretty face, long legs, her beautiful smile, and her money. She was everything a man could want, so what stopped Reid from wanting it too?

It made you uncomfortable in the first place, him being the one to stay with her. You asked Gideon if maybe Elle could do it or even Hotch, but he said since Lila and Spencer were somewhat friends, it would make her more comfortable. But what about you? What about your comfort? You decided to leave your pettiness out of your work, keep your jealousy to yourself, and catch the stalker so you could get out of here, go back to your stupid life with Reid.

You were already feeling sick enough about the entire thing, she could steal Reid from you in a heartbeat and all you could do was let her... But seeing him in the pool with her, her only in a bathing suit and him soaking wet. It played with your heartstrings, wondering everything that could've happened. Spencer couldn't look you in the eye, even after you asked him if he was okay. He just let out a small hum, looking down at his gun while he tried to dry it off. You knew something had happened; did you even want to know? You asked yourself.

You had no choice since Morgan shoved the camera in your face. The pictures of Lila and Spencer, her lips on his. 'Of course, she looked pretty when she hungrily made out with someone' you thought, rolling your eyes mentally. Spencer just watched your face, as it contorted into an unknown expression to him. He was a profiler, yet he could never read you...you were completely foreign to him. It intrigued him when he first met you, it frustrated him. Spencer Reid was a genius, he knew everything. So, him not knowing your brain frustrated him. That's exactly why he fell in love with you, he had to work to understand you and he ended up falling in love with you trying to figure you out.

Spencer opened his mouth to explain himself, but you dismissed it by explaining how you didn't think that the man who took the photos was the unsub. You explain how "he was too cocky and too visible; the unsub would have been more careful than the trespassing paparazzi." You did have a new lead however and you didn't hesitate before you ran off to go follow it. You just wanted to get away from Spencer, you needed to be away from him. You should have heard him out, you would've heard him out but as said before... It was Lila. Girls like her always got what they wanted; they didn't even have to fight for it either. So, you knew how this went, Spencer would leave you for her and you would have to work with him for the rest of your life knowing... you allowed him to be stolen.

You eventually caught the unsub, well Spencer did. It was one of Lila's friends, Maggie. She was desperately in love with Lila but Lila wasn't in love with her back, she killed her victims to show her love for Lila. You somehow understood how she felt as fucked up as it sounds. You understand why people kill for the people they love, how they would do anything just for the person they love. You could see yourself doing that for Spencer, it scared you of what you were willing to do for him. After Maggie had been caught, Hotch told the team to meet back at the local police departments to make their reports. However, you headed back to the hotel, stating that you had fallen sick to Hotch. Obviously hotch knew, he wasn't stupid and he didn't need to be a profiler to know what you were feeling. You were hurt.

So here you are now, in your hotel room... alone. You were writing your reports for other cases, completely neglecting the Lila case. In the state you were in, you couldn't even think of a blonde woman without the heartbreak sensation creeping up again. You hoped to do other cases, the most gruesome cases... The cases with blood and guts would help make that feeling go away or at least dissolve the lump in your throat. You felt like you were 16 again, watching as your prom date went into the bathroom with the popular girl. Your stomach sank as you saw him holding onto her hand, leading him into the biggest stall... all you could do was watch. You suddenly felt every stitch of your dress, all your organs working together, every light molecule on your skin. It was hell.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at your door, your heart dropping as it did. You would think of years of profiling psychopaths, you would be able to handle a knock at the door. For some reason that knock was the scariest thing to you. You sighed softly, putting the paperwork that was sprawled out on the hotel bed to the side and throwing yourself over the side of the bed. You walked to the door, the cold air of the hotel room making you shiver. Your hand touched the cold doorknob, pulling the door open and seeing a figure. Your eyes adjusted and soon you were met with his brown ones.

"Hi..." He said, giving you a soft smile.

"Hi." You said coldly.

It was an awkward encounter for sure, something that happens often but it's more comfortable than this. As of now, all you could think about was Spencer's face smashed up against hers. You were now hyper-aware of everything around you, feeling as though you could hear the colors making up the room. Spencer just stood there, hands in his pockets and giving you that strange grin.

"You weren't at the police station... Hotch told me you were feeling sick." He started, trying to pick up a conversation but for the first time since you met Spencer Reid... he was at a loss for words.

You nodded, confirming Hotch's statement. You could tell what he wanted to ask, so desperately. You were a profiler, you could tell by his fidgeting hand, his eye twitch, the way he couldn't make eye contact with you for more than 4 seconds... He was holding himself back. Spencer knew he did wrong, very wrong. Not only with you but professionally. You're not supposed to kiss a civilian you are told to keep watch on as a federal agent. It's inappropriate and wrong... but Reid could care less about that fact, the kiss meant nothing to him. He was more worried about you. You hadn't talked to him since you saw him in the pool with Lila, you didn't tell him you were going back to the hotel, you didn't even kiss him goodbye before you left Lilas. You bit your lip softly, playing with the flesh as you looked down at your feet.

"Uh yeah..." You started, looking back up at him. "Must have eaten something bad or something..."

Spencer didn't believe you, not for a second. He was never good with social cues but at this moment, he could read the situation better than anyone. However, Spencer has never been in a relationship before... you were his first everything. He'd never been exposed to the petty drama that comes with having a girlfriend, so he wasn't too sure how to go with this conversation. He knew he did wrong, but how does he go about communicating that with you? He doesn't want to make it seem like you're overreacting or you are stupid for being mad... damn, maybe he's overthinking it now. If Spencer Reid is good at anything though, it's statistics.

"You know..." He starts, about to go on one of his Reid rants. "Statistically, 58% of the time people don't actually have anything wrong with their stomach. Mostly it's more psychological than it is physical. Mostly caused by anxiety, guilt or anger."

You were used to these Reid rants at this point. Being with Spencer Reid for 2 years and knowing him for even longer, you have a lot of useless information in your brain that he has nonconsensually given you. You let that information sink into the part of your brain that you will most likely not return to, not even going to attempt to comprehend what number he had just given you. Your face automatically contorted itself into a look that said "Please shut up, leave me alone, and never perceive me again.".

"You think I'm lying?" You ask, not sure whether you're actually offended or it's because you can't get the picture of her kissing him out of your head.

It wasn't Spencer's intention to make you upset, no... that's not why he came here. He just knew that it was deeper than a stomach ache, he knew that your mind was going wild with possibilities and him knowing you, he knew you wouldn't say anything about it. Spencer knew why you did the work you did, he knew you couldn't solve your own problems so you decided to solve others. That's why Spencer didn't wait for you to come to him because he knew you never would. Spencer shook his head eagerly.

"No! no... of course not." He blurted out, looking everywhere but your eyes. "I'm just saying that i think the stomach ache your feeling isn't really a stomach ache... maybe it has something to do with the thing that happened with me and Lila."

The sound of her name sliding off his tongue sounded so frictionless... so effortless. It made you wonder if your name sounded the same, suddenly you forgot what your name sounded like coming out of his mouth. You shook that feeling off real quick, hoping if you pushed it down far enough it would simply go away. You weren't stupid though, you knew what pushing things down would do. It would turn you into something not human, or maybe something that is between a human and something else... it would turn you into Maggie or maybe even the hundreds of people you catch a year. It's funny how you can figure out another person's shit so fast, yet you are still wondering what your shit even is.

You sigh softly, rolling your eyes as you step away from the door and making your way to the small hotel "kitchen". The only thing the kitchen was good for was making coffee or tea, something that you have been living on for the past couple of years. You've found yourself purposely making it bad, the BAU will ruin you like that. You poured yourself some coffee, hearing Spencer walk in and shut the door behind him.

"Or maybe I just have a stomach ache." You say softly, putting the coffee pot back and then pouring pounds of sugar into your coffee. "Besides, it doesn't really matter anymore. The unsub was caught, Lilas safe... we did our job."

Spencer bites his lip nervously, watching you bring your coffee up to your lips and take a swig. As said before, Spencer isn't good with relationships or girls... or really anything that isn't statistics and books, so he isn't sure how to tell you that he is worried about you. He likes you, he'd probably go as far as to say he loves you and he doesn't want this to end. He knows that this will not end well, that your bottled-up emotions will be the end of your relationship. Spencer notices all the case reports scattered over your bed, seeing how you haven't even started on the most recent one... lilas.

"I read in one of my books about human relationships that most relationships end due to no com..." He starts, being interrupted by your tired, jealous self.

"Please, Spencer! enough with the statistics..." You spit, almost yelling... something you've never done to read. You turn to face him, coffee cup still in your hand, burning your skin. "Just spit out what you're trying to say to me."

Spencer gulps slightly, seeing how angry you've already become and you've only bottled this much hatred for less than a day. He knows you don't mean to yell, he knows it. He knows this job does this to a person, makes them angry... messes with their head until they are only a shell of themselves. Spencer adjusts himself, not sure what he is going to say but his plan is just to speak... hoping that the words will form as he does so. He licks his lips, taking in a breath and facing you finally.

"What happened between me and Lila..." He paused, gathering all the courage and breath he had left in this moment. "It meant nothing. I mean yeah we kissed, I mean she kissed me. I told her I had a girlfriend, multiple times. She still did it and I was shocked that I let it happen... but I felt nothing. I swear. And I know you don't want to talk about it, it's uncomfortable and it hurts you too, but I want to talk about it because it hurts me when I think it hurts you. This job can take whatever it wants from me... but I can't live with myself if I let it take you from me." He rambles out.

His breath gets heavy, all the oxygen from his lungs being taken from that single rant. He could've gone on, he wanted to go on but the look on your face made him stop. You looked even more hurt... or did you look relieved... Spencer couldn't tell, you were too hard to read for him. You couldn't explain the feeling either, it was a mix of everything. It was a mix of guilt and content... but most importantly, lust. The ramble had your face heating up and your underwear dampening. You shouldn't be feeling this way at this moment, no... not when your poor boyfriend just poured his heart out to you. but the way his voice was whiny... the way he begged for you, the way his face was now flush... How could you not?

You set your coffee cup down, making your way over to his tall figure. His breathing stopped almost as he could feel your presence getting closer to him, he'd never felt this uneasy in your presence but in this moment, he was afraid of what your next move would be. You were now face to face with Spencer, looking up at him with doe eyes as you watched him nervously fidget with his bottom lip. This feeling you felt was not new, it was something you felt for Spencer when he did pretty much anything. The deep fire that sparked within your stomach was always there when around him, something you were able to control and others... Well, you had to strip him down right then. However, you had never felt this feeling be so potent, so overwhelmingly rich.

"You really mean it?" You said simply, wanting nothing more than to hear him say he wanted you more than you wanted him. Spencer cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as he nervously stood in front of you.

"Yes...I really mean it Y/N." He admitted, his voice laced with desperation. He just wanted his girlfriend, that's all he's ever wanted.

You grin softly, eyes slightly watering as you hear his confession. You knew that Spencer would do anything for you, anything. But hearing it... hearing it gave you a sudden power rush. It made your hands shake, complete dominance running through your body. Your grin caused Spencer to relax, knowing that maybe there was a chance you could forgive him. Your hand snaked its way up to his tie, playing with it. Spencer watched this action, and the sudden realization of how you were feeling crept up on his mind. You weren't the one for punishments, you believed sex should be something that is for praising the other... not punishing. However, the mere thought of you punishing Spencer made both of you weak in the knees.

"i want to believe you, Spence..." You spoke your voice slightly over a whisper. Your hands are still rubbing the soft fabric of his tie between your fingers, flicking your eyes back up to his. "But I can't when you're using that mouth to make excuses...."

You smile up at him innocently, as if you weren't teasing him. Spencer gulped down a whimper, your voice almost having him bust in his pants all ready. You yanked him down to your level by his tie, tugging on it roughly as you forced him to make eye contact with you. You took your free hand to push his hair back from his face, watching his tie rub roughly against his neck. You took your hand, leaving light touches all over his face... tracing every bump, every mole, every scar across his face. You thought he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, but so did Lila.

"What can I do..." He started, pausing his sentence as he basked in your soft touches. "to uh... to make you believe me?"

You let out a chuckle, your finger pulling down his lip and then letting it bounce back up. You bit your lip, trying to keep your dominant persona up, but something about the way he was so desperate to please you... the fire burned hotter deep within you.

"I can't tell you... guess you just have to know." You stated. You wanted to keep him on edge, make him more desperate than he already was.

Spencer moaned softly as your grip on his tie tightened, his air getting restricted now but he felt... oddly good. You two were new to having sex at this point, Spencer had just given his virginity to you not even 2 months ago. Yet you both have had sex so often that you both knew each other's bodies inside and out already. He didn't know what he liked or what he wanted, all he knew was he wanted you and only you for the rest of his existence. Spencer couldn't help himself anymore, he smashed his lips into yours. The kiss was full of desperation, his hands making their way into your hair, sometimes pulling but mostly he used it to keep you in place.

It was messy and very sloppy, it was like a normal makeout session for you. Spencer couldn't help himself but to be messy with you, he wanted so much of you that it made him claw at your skin. You didn't mind it, you let him explore your mouth with only his tongue because you fed on his desperation. Your hands made it up to his cheeks, pressing his mouth even closer to you. Your teeth clashed with his, tongues fighting with each other, squirming against each other. You both could have stayed like this for hours, probably coming undone just by kissing but you wanted more.

"Spencer..." You moaned out, pulling him away from you slightly. You looked up at him, the desperation in his eyes to keep going. His lips were kiss-bitten, his cheeks red and his eyes wet. He whimpered at the loss of your lips, breathing heavily as you examined his face. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed."

Your voice was demanding, causing Spencer to jump to what you wanted him to do. You watched him eagerly take off his shirt, his tie getting stuck and frustrating him. Then he worked his way down to his pants, taking off his shoes while he was at it. He left his boxers on, knowing that you would soon take them off anyway. He sat on the bed, waiting patiently for you, feeling your eyes bore into his skin. Spencer had a strange build, skinny and lanky but his muscles were defined. You would basically drool every time you saw it, the first time you ever saw him naked you swear you came just by the view.

"Good boy..." You said, walking over to him as he sat on the edge of the bed. You set yourself on his lap, straddling him as you watched his face turn redder than it already had been. "I have been so good to you haven't I Spencer?"

You sat down on his lap, feeling his cock rock hard against the inside of your thigh. You moved his hair from his face, his hair still reeked of chlorine which created another wave of deep jealousy. Spencer nodded rapidly, his words getting stuck into his throat as you watched his face for an answer. You grinned softly, nodding with him as he let out a little hum.

"Yeah..." You started, feeling his body shake with anticipation. You leaned down, leaving soft kisses along his cheeks as you ground down softly on him. "I let you cum when you want to, let you cum inside me, I suck your dick whenever and wherever I put up with your begging and call you a good boy..."

Spencer moans softly at your words, his hands making their way to your hips as he tries to grind you down harder on his cock. His senses are already being clouded with complete lust, his need to cum is at a peak already. You chuckle down at him, his pathetic moans already filling the room and you have not even started. You trail your kisses to his mouth, forcing the kiss to be softer this time but his lips want more.

"I mean even when I should have slammed the door in your face..." You snap your hips down harshly, watching him moan out loudly. "Here I am, still calling you a good boy."

Although Spencer's moans create a softness inside of you, wanting nothing more than to let him come undone as you praise him, the deep jealousy that has been lingering in the room is creating something inhumane inside of you. You wanted to make him cry, wanted to crave insults into his skin, wanted to push him to the brink, and then take it all away from him. It's how he made you feel, seeing him in that pool with someone like Lila. even if he didn't even mean to. You knew Spencer didn't want Lila to kiss him, part of you knew that and you wanted to slap her for even putting Spencer into that position. However, you could use this anger and jealousy in a good way, a punishment that would leave Spencer feeling like he went to heaven and back.

"y/n... god..." Spencer moaned out, grinding his hips up to meet yours. You grinned softly, moving your hand from his cheek down to his neck.

His neck was already slightly red from his tie, the soft bruise already peeking through. It looked down pretty on his skin, he looked so pretty broken down. You wrapped your hand softly around his neck, setting one last kiss to his lips before you slammed him down on the bed. He gasped softly, breathing heavily as your actions scared him. He was flat on his back now, looking up at you as you straddled his hips. You could feel him throb against your thigh, his cock wanting to free him.

You took the hand wrapped around his neck, trailing it down his chest, down his belly, down his happy trail, pulling his underwear down so only his cock could spring free. You tsked softly, looking down at him as he squirmed. His cock was flush red, dripping precum as it screamed to be touched. It never failed to amaze you just how flustered and hard you could make Dr. Spencer Reid, the genius, the boy wonder.... pretty boy. You weren't exactly what you would assume his type would be, not that you weren't attractive but completely different from Spencer Reid.

You two were like night and day, favoring different things yet being made for each other. Sometimes you would get insecure about it, especially when you two were very public about your relationship. How could someone who knew exactly what they were doing be with someone like you? You thought, sometimes it kept you up at night. How someone like Spencer could be with you, how he could look at you and see only beauty. It freaked you out to say the least and maybe that's why the two of you were in the position in the first place, your insecurities getting the best of you.

"So needy already... I've barely touched you." You tease, biting your lip at the sight of him.

You set your hand on his cock, leaving feather-light touches to it as he squirmed more. You gripped it lazily, moving your hand up and down his cock. Your free hand began unbuttoning your dress pants, zipping them down, and yanking them off your body. You teased Spencer about being the eager one, but you couldn't handle much more of him not being inside you. Spencer threw his head back as you continued to stroke his cock at a slow pace, his eyes shut tight as he was already on the verge of cumming.

"That feel good honey?" You asked him, sure that he wasn't going to be able to answer you. "feels so warm... so wet..." You teased, drawing out your words to push his buttons even more.

You leaned down, hand still pumping his cock as you started leaving soft kissing along his neck, something you knew he loved dearly. Your hand movements were sloppy now, encouraging him to grind his hips into your hand. His thrusts were sporadic, no real rhythm as he was so clouded with the thought of cumming in your hand.

"Feel so... feel so good..." He moaned out, his mind not allowing him to think of a coherent sentence.

That was all you needed to know that he was close, that in the next seconds, he was going to make a mess out of your hand. You pumped him a few more times, watching as his body shook slightly. But then as his orgasm almost washed over him... you pulled your hand away. He whimpered softly, eyes filling with tears as his overstimulated and teased cock throbbed. Spencer had never felt this pathetic, just like you said, you let Spencer cum whenever he wanted to. So you helping him to the edge just to take it away in mere seconds, made this boy into a whiny mess. He would even go as far as to say you spoiled him, always allowing him to make his messes anywhere and everywhere.

"What... why.." He stuttered, not sure what to say but he felt he had been robbed of a mindblowing orgasm. His pouting made you smile, seeing how worked up and ashamed he had become.

"Awe, I'm so sorry baby..." You teased, kissing his neck softly as he desperately tried to feel for your lips with his. "But only good boys get to cum..."

Spencer bucked his hips up into nothing, his stolen orgasm making his stomach ache. Spencer would do anything, anything... just for you to let him cum. He would beg and plead for it, he would murder for it. The mere thought of Spencer willing to do anything just for your hand, sent your body into overdrive, the power rush taking over your own senses until it felt you could only be satisfied by seeing Spencer cry. Spencer huffed and puffed roughly as you continued to lay your kisses on his neck, knowing how weak it made him. His breathing was irregular and it felt as though with every struggling breath, his air was being stolen from him.

"Fuck... please..." He whimpered out, his hands reaching up to your hips once more trying to grind your body against the aching cock. "I'm sorry okay... fuck... I'm so sorry, I'll do anything... I'll be such a good boy for you, just please... fuck please Mommy!"

The word stumped you and took you completely off guard. Spencer was very new to sex and you were new to sex with him, but Mommy?!? You would've never guessed Spencer Reid would have a mommy kink, you should've known simply because it was clear. Spencer Reid has mommy issues, so seeing you as dominant during sex was basically a given, you're a profiler for god sake. You stopped your soft kisses on his neck, bringing your head up to see his horrified reaction to his words.

He was taken aback as well, those words feeling so wrong coming out of his mouth but yet so arousing to him. He always felt the need to hold back the word when you guys had sex, out of fear and him being ashamed. He knew he was safe with you, but something about a grown man calling his lover mommy felt inappropriate to him. It might be his denial or him being sexually insecure, but it just felt weird to him so the only word on his tongue at that moment was "sorry". little did he know though, the word slipping from his mouth did wonders on you. Your face heated up, your cunt wetter than ever, and your urge to cum at a peak.

"I'm so sorry... that was really weird, I'm so..." He started but was rudely interrupted by a very annoyed you.

"Spencer... it's fine, you worry too much." You giggled, trying to reassure him that you were more than okay with his surprising kink. You leaned down once more, pecking his lips with yours to hopefully put him at ease. He eagerly kissed you back, once again pulling you into a sloppy kiss. "How about you show Mommy what you can do with that mouth huh?" You said in between kisses.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the possibility of how this night would end filling his brain. The shame he felt now was turning into something else, something enjoyable as you teased him about it. He nodded his head, agreeing to whatever you wanted him to do. You smirked, pulling your panties to the side and climbing up his body. Spencer wasn't sure what you were doing, never having been in this position before but his confusion was taken over by pure hunger when being face to face with your cunt.

"If it gets too much or you want to stop, tell me, okay honey?" You stated, looking down at him, his face already slick with your juices. He nodded, looking up at you with eyes that begged you to sit on his face.

You nodded back, getting yourself comfortable before lowering yourself down onto Spencer's face. He knew what to do almost immediately, licking your clit and nuzzling his nose straight into your cunt. Like everything Spencer when it came to sex, it was sloppy and eager. There was no real pace, just Spencer going crazy on your cunt. You couldn't help but rock your hips back and forth slightly, completely forgetting how good Spencer's tongue felt.

Spencer eating you out was no new thing, it happened quite often. He preferred when you two would use your tongues and fingers to pleasure each other. It felt more intimate to him and if he was being completely honest, he felt he was better with them than he was with his dick. He felt he had more control over you when he used his tongue, not to mention when you would touch him he would quite literally forget everything especially how to move his body. So eating you out made him feel more in control and in a career where he was always fighting for control, it was a nice change. Although this position you were in now, sitting on his face, was foreign to him, but he liked it.

You were starting to feel that coil inside you tighten, the sign that you were about to cum all over his face. You gripped the sheets, now moving your hips roughly to the movements of his tongue. Spencer had started sucking softly on your clit before teasing your opening with his tongue, he couldn't pick which he wanted to do so he tried to do both. For a minute there Spencer forgot he even had hands, his mind only on lapping at your cunt and tasting your juices flowing down his tongue.

"Spencer... fuck..." You moaned out, throwing your head back as you tried your best to stay upright. "remember your hands..." You directed him.

Spencer mentally scolded himself for that, knowing that in the past you scolded him for not using his hands. Spencer couldn't help it though, he wanted to taste all of you and his hands were the last thing he was worried about. Spencer brought one of his hands up to meet your cunt, digging his fingers into you. The feeling of his fingers exploring inside you had you grabbing at his hair, holding his face in place as you bucked your hips onto his fingers. Your movements only egged Spencer on, his fingers curling up to feel for your g-stop and his mouth latching onto your clit.

You were now the one who was a whimpering mess, curses fell from your lips and your hips forced themselves down onto Spencer. You were close, feeling that the coil became more tight as your back arched. Your thighs began to shake, your vision blurry as Spencer finally found your g-spot. It only took him only 3 curls of his fingers before that coil snapped.

"FUCK!" You screamed out, not surprised if the hotel heard you.

Spencer licked and pumped you through your orgasm, something you taught him how to do. You can remember the first time he had ever eaten you out, as soon as your cunt oozed out your juices... Spencer got scared that he had done something wrong, completely stopping his movements and cutting your orgasm short. You taught him that it was a good sign and what he should do while it was happening. You were proud to say that you taught Spencer right, you were the one who taught him how to please a woman... Can Lila say the same?

You hunched over on top of Spencer, shaking slightly as you recovered from your orgasm. Spencer slid his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth as he licked them clean. You watched as he did, the sight alone creating a new wave of horniness over your body. He wanted every little speck of you, wanting to taste everything you had and he would gladly enjoy it. You shifted yourself down Spencer's body, once again straddling his hips.

"Was I a good mommy?" He asked innocently, his voice almost a whimper. He looked innocent as ever, even with his face soaked with your cum, he just looked so heavenly. You placed your hand on his cheek, wiping off the mess you had created.

"So good my love..." You whispered, watching his face turn a bright red once more. The words "my love" echoing in his ears, making his cock throb more. "How about mommy take care of you now huh?"

Your words rushed straight to Spencer's cock, forcing himself not to cum just from your words. Spencer nodded, breathing heavily as you pecked his lips with yours. You could taste your own cum on his lips along with spencers cherry chapstick that he always seems to be wearing. You let Spencer explore your mouth once more, taking what he needed from you as you once again wrapped your hand around his cock and lined it up with yourself. Spencer bucked up to meet your hips, being the greedy little bastard he was and wanting to thrust himself into you. You chuckled at his neediness but gave into his wishes, slowly setting yourself down onto him.

"Fuc..." Spencer whined out, throwing his head back in bliss.

You didn't know what happened at first, thinking that maybe Spencer was just that excited to be inside you once again. Then you felt it, his hot cum coating your walls already. You hadn't even put him all inside you and he had already come. Spencer's face contorted into pure pleasure, nails digging into your hips as he drenched your insides with cum. He was too in the clouds to realize what he had just done, it hit him too suddenly and way too hard for him to think. but eventually, he came down and sudden embarrassment ran cold through his body.

"Shit... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just h..." He started, rapidly trying to apologize for cumming so early even if it wasn't under his control. His apologies got cut off by you fully sitting down on his cock, his cock now nestled deep inside of you.

Spencer once again through his head back, his words fading into whimpers and whining. You smiled at his reaction, your cunt feeling his dick get hard once more. Spencer never knew that he would be in this position tonight or really ever. He never knew in a hundred years he would be deep inside his coworker, a babbling mess underneath her, and basically prematurely ejaculate inside of her. but somehow this is where Spencer feels he wants to be, maybe not the cumming so soon part but being underneath you.

"No need to apologize Spence..." You moan out, shifting your hips slightly. You bring your hands up to your shirt and slowly work your way down the buttons. "You deserved to cum in mommy, you did so good with your mouth."

You yank your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra Spencer had bought you days before. Spencer's breath hitched, his memory of buying that in the first place coming back. He was at the store, buying whatever he needed for that night when he accidentally stumbled into the women's undergarments section. He attempted to cover his eyes, but for some reason, they kept landing on the black lacy bra you had right now. It was embarrassing for him to be buying it, going to the checkout, and praying the cashier didn't even think twice about it, it didn't help that the image of you in it had him rock hard.

You bucked your hips softly, feeling every single inch of Spencer nuzzling inside of you. You watched his eyes, seeing how they planted on your boobs. You chuckled softly, reaching your hands to him that were sitting on your hips and bringing them up. You placed his hands on your breast, knowing that Spencer would be too shy to do it himself. You held his hands there, feeling his hands squeeze them gently as you did.

"I wanna..." You start, being interrupted by a soft moan that escapes your mouth as Spencer starts to thrust his hips up to meet yours. "I wanna make you do it again... i want you to cum in me again..."

That is all Spencer needed to hear, his stomach already creating a tight coil that could break at any moment. Your thrust was starting to pick up, his cock being pulled almost completely out of you before you slammed your hips back down to push him all the way into you. With Spencer's cock deep inside you and his hands squeezing your tits roughly, you felt you had died and went straight to heaven, or was this hell? Because you doubted you could find sex like this in heaven, this was dirty and sinful. The curses dripping from each of your mouths and spencers moans that sounded like something straight of a porno filled the room and most likely the entire floor of the hotel.

You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, hunching over Spencer as your hips continued to thrust roughly. Spencer moved his hands back to your hips for the hundredth time tonight, helping you thrust his cock inside of you. You were both overstimulated, your clit sending shocks of electricity through your body every time it made contact with Spencer's lower stomach. The coil inside you threatened to burst, frustration filled you as you tried desperately to bust it open and make more of a mess than it already had been. You reached down in between your legs, rubbing the small bud and sending lightning through your body.

"Fuck... gonna cum...gonna cum on your cock..." You moaned out, stuttering every time Spencer's cock filled you up.

Spencer took that as a sign to thrust harder back into you, moving his hips up and forcing your hips down. You were on the edge, every single inch of your body on fire as you fucked yourself onto Spencer. and with one single hard, deep thrust from Spencer... the coil in you snapped once again. You shoved your face into the sheet next to Spencer's head, screaming into them as you came all over Spencer's cock. You felt this feeling couldn't get any better until you felt Spencer's hot cum flow through you once again.

You were too in your own world to even hear Spencer's loud scream/moan he did as he came deep inside you, you both being thrown out of your own bodies as you came. Your juices flow together to make one big mess out of the sheets, something that will be embarrassing for the housekeepers to clean in the morning. You both laid there for a minute, basking in each other's warmth and feeling spencers cum seep out of your cunt.

It was strange to you, how you would much rather Spencer's cum dripping out of you than... well anything in life. You weren't exactly the most sex-driven person, but at this moment you knew why some people were. Spencer somehow got into your head, planting himself into it and keeping it hostage. With that being said, you couldn't stay mad at Spencer, you honestly completely forgot why you had been pushing him in the first place. The name Lila is so far away from your thoughts, that you don't actually care anymore.

You slid Spencer out of you with a wince, flopping down next to him as he came down from his high. You shifted to your side so you could watch his pretty face, his eyes fluttering open, his mouth trying to steal whatever air he could get... He looked blissful. You felt oddly proud about it, knowing that you were the one to do that. However, through the pride, you felt a deep guilt. Spencer was the kindest boy you have ever met, he chose you to give his heart to. Yet you were upset with him because he kissed another girl? No, he didn't kiss her... she kissed him. You felt petty now, the regret of ever questioning Spencer's loyalty mended into your brain.

"I'm not mad at you, you know?" You're tired, worn-out voice making it sound like a whisper. Spencer sighed softly, clear that he had forgotten as well and now he's remembered it all again. "It's just...seeing her with you, it just brought me back to high school you know? It made me feel how I did when fucking Rachel Clark tongue fucked my prom date..." You let out a soft sigh, playing with Spencer's hair as you talked.

"You know it's normal to feel that way, especially when you had a similar experience," Spencer explains, going on another one of his Reid rants. "And well, anyone would feel like that whether you had a similar experience with it or not. I know I would." Spencer's eyes wandered to the ceiling, closing his eyes due to utter exhaustion.

You couldn't imagine Spencer Reid ever getting jealous, he was always so calm about everything. You wondered what it would look like. Would he pin you to the bed and fuck the shit out of you like you did him or would he just not know how to deal with those emotions. You honestly wouldn't want to put him into a situation where he would feel that, you couldn't do that to little Spencer. He was innocent, as if the world had not touched him yet even if he does look at the dark underbelly of humans every single day.

"Yeah... well you won't ever have to worry about that my love." You said softly, cuddling yourself further into his side as you closed your eyes as well. "You're stuck with me..."

Spencer chuckled softly, at complete peace that he was stuck with you. If you were the person he was stuck with for the rest of his life, he would die a happy man. You two didn't even bother wrapping up in the blankets, you just needed each other's warmth as you lulled each other to sleep. The presence of jealousy and anger nowhere to be seen, maybe y'all didn't talk it out tonight but you sure did fuck and made up. You wouldn't have it any other way. 

[b1rds3ye]

Hellooo‼️‼️I just stumbled in your blog and I saw the LED mask request thing and I suddenly have brainrot😭😭 it's such a idea idfk i just love it‼️‼️

ANYWAY🤯 reader comes back from a mission, solo or not! Is up to you :] and then they just have a bullet stuck in their mask. Just straight up a bullet stuck, very big cracks on their mask. It can still kind of work, only one side so when they see them reader simply waves while the other half of their LED mask just shows: ':D' as if there wasn't a bullet in their mask.

That's all! I hope you are having a good day, afternoon, or night‼️‼️make sure to stay hydrated because I'm a walking desert☺

THATS SUCH A BITTERSWEET IMAGE THOUGH, I LOVE YOUR BRAIN ANON!!

A part of the operation had to be done solo by you - it needed your specialised skill set and it was too risky sending others with you because stealth was crucial. You succeeded in distracting the enemy. That transmission was half an hour ago.

The 141 never leave their own behind, the extraction point is far enough from enemy territory that they can spare some time to wait for you. Price and Ghost are going through extra logistics, Soap is distracting himself by disassembling and reassembling gear and Gaz is just... watching. Watching for a sign that you are there. And soon enough, amongst the fog of dust kicked up by fallen buildings and bodies, is the silhouette of you. The faint LEDs emanate a light that refract off the dust, creating a halo-like glow where your head should be.

As you approach closer, it is silent. There are no light-hearted quips from you, just the audible crunch of your combat boots against the dry earth. If it weren't for your unmistakable stature and gait, the rest of the 141 would have thought it was an imposter who had stolen your mask.

Johnny only utters a quiet "Jesus..." as the details of your mask come into view. A bullet was now embedded in your mask where the side of your temple would be, a chilling reminder of the clutches of death you narrowly escaped from for now. It shone maliciously against your darkened mask that could only let out the occasional spark and whir of short circuiting.

Every few seconds, there would be a flicker of the LEDs working. It was hard to distinguish with the cracks that splayed across the mask like a web, all stemming from the bullet that had made itself at home millimeters away from your head. An eye was missing, that section of your mask completely disconnected from the software. Broken circuitry had the odd pixel flickering in a false positive in various colours before dying.

But despite the stakes, your mask was smiling.

"You broken?" Gaz asked tentatively.

You pause in comtemplation, perhaps the voice amplifier in your mask was fried or you're just too tired to speak - none of the 141 would blame you for either. Instead, you offer a thumbs up before trudging over to Ghost, his eyes trained on you. You rest your forehead against his shoulder and he responds with a slight grunt, but he surrenders to your tired antics. Tilting your head to the rest of the 141, your broken mask flits to a "z_z".

There's a pat on your back from John, both to comfort and to also make sure you don't fall asleep. His hand settles on your shoulder, strong and ready to haul you to the helicopter.

"Good to have you back, Sergeant. Let's get you - and your mask - patched up."

With some encouragement from Johnny and Kyle, you're coaxed to extraction. As you sit on the ride back on base, you bring a hand to probe the damage of the bullet. The metal is colder than death, so smooth it slipped from your grip like your own life had you conducted in the mission any differently. It seems the rest of the 141 knew exactly what you were thinking as your fingers traced every crack of your visor.

But before they can question you, you retract your hand and sit up straight. You're here and you're alive. Granted a little cracked, your soul a little more jaded than in the few hours prior, but for now the legend of the mask lives on.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[jadeee]

Coworker!Nanami

Because we all wish he was our coworker.

Word Count: 700

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @firefly-graphics

Get your coworker!nanami fix lol: @daisynik7 @mahirublue @sirens-singing @goddessinsweats @nanami-s-sunshine @imnotsureaboutwhatimdoing @slimlydan

⁂ Shy at first. He wants to talk to you but he doesn't want to come off as obsessed or weird.

⁂ Initial talks are work related. One time, he was bold enough to ask you what your weekend plans were and when you asked him the same, he hesitated.

"Nothing really."

"No hot date or girl to tend to?" you smirked and it made his heart leap among other things.

"I'm afraid not."

⁂ You need help? He's there. Something wrong? He's listening to you vent. Someone pissed you off? Oh, he's going to talk to them. Not in front of you of course, but they'll come back with a sudden change in attitude. Working late? He's staying to make sure you get to your car/transportation safely. If you're not comfortable with that, for wtv reason, he'd either watch you from afar or ask you to call him so he knows you're safe.

⁂ Started keeping snacks for when you don't eat or forget to take your lunch. He works up the nerve to suggest you two grab something at a cafe and tries not to blush so hard when you happily agree.

⁂ Lots of stolen glances and silent admiring. His work has never been affected until he started to get to know you. It becomes even harder after you give him a little trinket, which he keeps safe on his desk.

You folded your sticky note into an origami shape, like the fortune tellers you used to make as a kid. 

"What's that for?"

Your fingers worked at it, opening and closing, "Telling fortunes," open, close. It looked somewhat like a blossoming lotus "Go ahead, ask a question."

His lips faltered.

"Okay fine, keep it to yourself. Color?"

"Blue."

Your fingers shifted the shape, "Number?"

"2." he watched you play fortune teller then eyed you with amusement. When you glance up at him with raised brows, he tried not to look guilty for admiring your beauty seconds ago. 

Your chuckle filled the elevator as he stared at you dumbfounded, "Pick another number."

"Oh, 5."

It was silly how his anticipation built by the second, but he wanted to know the answer... he had to.

He shifted his stance as you lifted the paper to (hopefully) ease his anxieties.

"Try again later ... tsk," you handed him the fortune teller "let me know what it says."

The doors to the elevator opened but neither of you moved. No matter how he tried to conceal his smile, the light in his eyes was evidence enough. 

He quietly agreed, trying not to blush when his fingers brushed against yours as he took this silly little plaything in his hand.

The question lingered in his mind like a stubborn fly insistent on getting a taste. He readjusted himself in the chair then went back to reading. A frustrated sigh left his lips when he read the same sentenced three times. He set down the book and walked to the closet. His fingers wrapped around the fortune teller you gave him days ago. He slid his thumbs and forefingers in like he watched you do. 

Should I? he looked to the folded paper for answers.

Yellow ... 7 ... 2 ... yes.

Epilogue:

The next day he approached you before going to his own desk. Although your smile touched his heart, he couldn't bring himself to say it ... not yet.

"I'm getting a pastry from the cafe. Did you want one?"

"Sure!"

His heart thumped in his ears as he walked off. When he finally made it back, he felt tense. His muscles tight, breathing rapid, heart racing. Then, he saw your eyes light up when he walked in.

"Thank you," you reached for the box and he handed it to you with a shy smile. 

Normally, he'd say "you're welcome" or "my treat", "don't mention it", but he was looking at you with soft eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"... will you go out with me?"

His eyes landed on yours and he saw the joy in them before you said anything else.

"Is lunch too soon?"

He grinned at your eagerness. Ideally he'd suggest dinner, his place at 8 but he'd waited long enough. Yellow, 7, 2.

"Sounds perfect."

Author's Note: AAAAHHHHHH

That's all I have to say 🥲

p.s.: i lied.. originally this was scheduled to post monday but i needed to share it before going back to work 😂 i want to hear your thoughts and also mutually sob over the fact that he's not real!

[comfortless]

okay so. König in love or any thoughts rlly i need to crawl into your brain and live there. ;v; you have made me love him 10x more

i can’t decide on whether or not he would be very passive or very aggressive when in the pursuit of someone (let’s be honest with ourselves: there is no inbetween)!

in situations where you’re perhaps working together, it must kick in some sort of urgency. you’re toying with your gun, missing cues, a bit too flighty… as if it isn’t life or death here. his approach is certainly more aggressive, then: you have to be kept safe and away from all of the horrible filth in the world. a battlefield is no place for a princess, and the thought of you getting hurt or worse before you’re able to have a bunch of cute kids or live out on that vast expanse of land with the cozy cabin he’s promised you is horrifying for him.

you don’t get much of an option here. he isn’t retiring his weapons any time soon, but you must. he’s losing sleep, lashing out at any other operator who comes a hair too close. he’s heard rumors of women who sleep around the barracks and those men ogling you must have those things in mind for you. he wouldn’t allow that. he’s seen men come back from torture and he won’t allow that, either. a proposal is rushed, but it’s sincere. he’ll take you on all the nice dates you didn’t get to share prior when he’s on leave. just stay home, send him letters, call him often, and you’ll get the world and then some.

König is only passive when he’s out of his element. meeting an angel on earth in some rundown shop where he’s unprepared and feeling utterly naked without a knife or a big gun on his person is harrowing. he thinks back on those times from high school: the faked confessions, his first kiss only stolen away out of pity rather than love. he has no fucking idea how to approach a woman that he will likely never see again. so, he just doesn’t.

the beast at the corner of the shop flicking through packages of subpar snacks only offers a few subtle glances your way, silently praying you don’t detect the way he openly stares when your back is turned. he follows at a distance, innocuously pretending he’s also interested in the flour down the baking aisle you’re on. he can bake, sure, would happily spend hours in his lonely kitchen preparing you strudel or something more to your liking if you asked, but what’s the point of doing any of that for himself?

if, for some reason he can’t quite comprehend, you decide to approach him… batting your eyelashes and pointing up at something on the top shelf, requesting his assistance, he might try to shove back the thought that you’re only being kind because you need something. he’ll make small talk while passing you the package of semisweet chocolate chips, huff something akin to a laugh when you make a quip about how quiet this store is when it’s your favorite. the flirtations come naturally for you, saying that you wished he could give you an inch or two (as to not heckle anyone taller for help in the future), and damn his loose tongue because he’s quick to respond then. telling you he could give you nine, actually.

silly relationship thoughts…?

he definitely falls into the realm of men that send you the most cringy “couple goals” videos. you know the ones that are like “five reasons your man is not cheating!” followed by a slideshow of a home cooked meal, a soft looking bed, a photo of a couple holding hands and all giddy smiles, a nice clean home, then… a picture of a woman in some cute lacy lingerie. has the worst grin on his face when your expression sours, but he promises to scour the internet until he finds something lovely and strappy for you to wear for him.

sleepy König is a menace!! he snores. loudly. sometimes talks absolute nonsense. it’s impossible to push him away because he’s so big and it’s all dead weight when he’s knocked out. if you’re trying to wriggle out of bed because the birds are chirping outside and the sunlight is peeking at you through the curtains, his grip around you only tightens. he likes to hold your hand while you’re sleeping, too. even when his get a bit clammy. it’s cute until you desperately long for a shower and he still won’t wake up.

his significant other is the perfect comfort to him. even when things are bad: an argument or an entire ocean between you two. your voice whether infuriated or in love, the smell of your perfume or even your sweat, the feeling of your soft skin or the bite of your teeth, your taste whether from your mouth or skin, the view of you’re messy bedhead or dressed to utter perfection. all of you is a comfort. he isn’t just a lover, he’s a horribly obsessed devotee in every way. logs in some mental list what perfume you wear on what day, how you choose to dress depending on what you’re doing, mundane things like how you wring your hands after washing them or just how you position yourself when standing or sitting. every detail has its importance, and he wants to memorize everything about you for those long nights when he’s deployed and you can’t be there with him.

he knows what a meme is, yes, he isn’t that old, but his sense of humor more aligns with whatever is dark or perverse and historical jokes (those “me if i were in medieval Europe” videos might make him grin). if you’re sent one and it goes over your head, he’s happy to explain to you the time period, what role you and he might play in such a scenario, all in so much detail you wonder if he’s actually some sort of genius. only… he would casually tell you he wouldn’t mind going down on you even if you were some maiden from a time long past that hadn’t bathed in weeks.

probably likes to mark you up a bit when he knows he’ll be away for a while. bite marks on your inner thighs, a necklace of hickies on your neck and along your clavicle. it’s embarrassing, trying to explain why you’re wearing a scarf or a thick choker in the middle of the warmer months. he doesn’t do it out of fear that you’ll run off to another (though, maybe that is part of it), but ultimately so you won’t forget. not about the way he made you feel, about the little whines that left your mouth or the way you gripped at his hair, who you belong to just as much as he belongs to you.

[fornshinoyaz]

HOW TO: LOSE FEELINGS FOR AN IDIOT

03. HOW TO: BREATHE WHEN HE'S AROUND

series masterlist | previous | next chapter

wc: 4.5k

how to lose feelings for a CERTIFIED, government approved idiot. it should be easy right? wrong. you are absolutely, positively, done for. you have no idea why you’re writing the guide book when you can’t even get past the first step! first step, the only important step really: don’t have your best friend be kei tsukishima. then maybe, just maybe, you’d have a chance.

Something changed between you and Kei Tsukishima. You knew life wasn't static. Change was apart of life. The same way grief, pain, and happiness were too. You were constantly growing and becoming a better version of yourself. Growth was normal for you, but not really for him.

He was a rock. Forever steady, there when you needed him. You were lucky enough to see his past beliefs shake and twist, but Tsukishima himself never changed. Even during your first fight. It was so stupid. You both were stubborn middle school students (the same today, but don't tell). That fight should've broken your friendship.

But it didn't.

Your bond was unbreakable.

Things changed when you left high school. He joined university level volleyball. He had less time for things, you included. Things became absolutely fucked when he got a girlfriend who he (spoilers) also didn't have time for.

Change was normal, but not like this.

You didn't hate it. It wasn’t something you needed to fix; it wasn’t a problem. But you weren’t sure what to do about it. Ignore it? Let it happen? But you couldn't help but sit in your bed and wonder why you weren't rushing to do go after the man who had stolen your heart years ago. Was this not what you longed for years ago?

It was. It is.

But maybe you didn't want to change either.

You don't know what possess you. A demon, a ghost, a space-demon-ghost. You have work tomorrow, and you plan on taking pictures for your photography page. By any metric, you should be asleep right now. It's past midnight. How often was he up past midnight? You tap your fingers together, an anxious habit.

Fuck it.

You call him.

This is silly. This is your best friend of how many years now? Why are you nervous, and sweaty, and oh my god - why is that you can't breathe? Do they make How-To Guides on breathing? Of course they don't. Why would they? You begged your brain to just shut the fuck up.

You fully expect the ring to go on and on, until inevitability you hear his voicemail; "Go away, I don't want to talk to you." and then click. He picks up after the second ring. You blink at your phone and re-check the screen. Maybe you were hallucinating -

"Hello?" His voice is scratchy and deep.

You shiver. "Tsukki?"

"Hm?"

Silence.

"Did you call me to just sit in silence?"

Silence.

"I'm hanging up-"

You jolt upwards in your bed. "Wait, dickhead. I just - didn't know you would pick up."

Now it's his turn to be silent. But you know Tsukki, embarrassment didn't exist to him. He's thinking. You imagine what he looks like. Laying in his bed, or maybe sitting at his desk reading a book. If he's laying down, his glasses are off, maybe his hair is a little messy. You've seen it once or twice, the fluff he wakes up to.

It made you dream of waking up next to him.

"Cool. I picked up. What do you want?"

You swallow. You have no excuse, no reason. You just want to hear him talk.

"Read me a bedtime story?"

"How fucking old are you? Seriously, Y/N. How old."

"You didn't say no."

He sighs on the other line, then shuffles. "I hate you."

He tells you a story. Then another, and then one after that. Your bright screen says two hours the next you look at it. He hates long phone calls.

Yet, he stays.

The bed time stories end, and you might be delirious. It's past two a.m., maybe almost three. What comes out your mouth is no longer your own words, but whatever demons are awake right now.

"Do you believe in the universe?" You ask, voice quiet. A small yawn follows you.

He scoffs, “No, I don’t believe in the fucking universe. Are you high?”

You sigh, and manage to turn in your bed to look up at your ceiling. The low sounds of the city laid outside your windows, but the tall buildings never made seeing the stars easy. So, instead, you put the stars where you could always see them. The stars are there, and in the corner of your eye - the moonlight.

“I think I do. I think that…some things are just, made for you, y’know?”

“No.”

You shake your head, “you don’t believe in anything.”

“No,” he denied swiftly, “I believe in what’s real. Like you and me.”

Your breath stops. You hope he can’t hear that.

“Yeah, me and you."

It sounds too good to be true.

Something else real? You love breaking your own heart.

You fake a yawn this time, "Wow, it's getting late. I think I gotta cut this short. My fish probably needs a walk or something. It’s suffocating in its tiny bowl, I swear.”

A chuckle crackles through the line, a sound you’d come to recognize well. “You’re such a loser."

“You're a bigger one. Bye Tsukki.” you say, and you move back over to your side. Your eyes trace over his contact photo.

“Bye, Y/N.”

The phone clicks. You call him the next day, and he answers.

"Is this gonna be a habit?"

You're in your living room (sort of? also your bedroom, studio apartment things), flickering through the pictures you had taken today. Only thing left was to edit them and post them to your site.

"You don't wanna hear about my day?" you ask.

"Not particularly."

"Bye then-"

He cuts you off.

"Okay, okay. Tell me."

You smile. You grab onto your phone and bring it closer.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Things were definitely changing. It was more than a phone call or two. At first, it was subtle. A gaze held longer than it needed to be, a touch that he should’ve pulled away from.

The next Saturday night found you in Tsukki’s living room, surrounded by your friends in a life-or-death situation. Monopoly. Everyone in the room knew you were the very best at board games. Especially one involving stealing money from idiots.

The room fills with annoyed laughter and groans. Whoever put you and Tsukki together were begging to lose. You smirk. Oh, the taste of victory. You could taste it. You two were unstoppable (why wouldn’t you be?). Kageyama, the sore loser, mutters something about leaving after you bankrupted him. Hinata tells him to shut up, and per usual they end up yelling at each other. It's up to you to call for order.

It didn't last long. You make the winning move. All their property was yours, and so was the game. The room explodes, game pieces and money go flying. Tsukki's coffee table is almost overturned. Monopoly was serious, even for someone like Tsukki. You both jump up. A hard-fought victory deserved a hug.

You go to wrap your arms around him, but he did it first. He hugs you so tight, that you swear you can't breathe (a fatal symptom when being around Kei Tsukishima), and spins. You laugh so hard it reaches your eyes. Then, he releases, and you think it's over.

But then, he holds onto your face, and kisses your forehead—gently, purposeful, like a tall giant. A shock wave goes through you, but he doesn’t even whisper a lick of an apology.

He locks eyes with you. “You’re amazing.”

Oh. Your breath quickens.

"Thanks, I know.” You do what you do best. Deflect. But your mind can't stop hearing him. His words echo through every corner of your brain.

He was driving you mad, and you weren’t the only one noticing it.

The clock struck twelve. You should be finishing your paper. Twelve out of sixteen was your current total. It would be the right thing to sit down, lock in, and focus.

But who decides what's right and wrong?

Not you.

Your paper could have been completed, had it not been for Hinata. But he would not stop calling until you answered. If your professor asks, it's all on him.

It started like this; your sitting at your desk, playing around with your ballpoint pen, when (admittedly) you should be looking over your notes. Turns out, Kageyama and Hinata too, had a paper they should be working on, but decided the night was young and they needed to be out!

You at first, say no, like the considerate future-orientated person you pretend you are. That is, until Tsukishima (who happens to be sitting right next to you on your bed) says two magic words. Let’s go.

Now, you walk through the streets of Tokyo with your favorite people. Your eyes are set on the nearest convenience store. It’s a local beauty, dingy with front lights barely work and weird men who try to sell you things they shouldn't. The greatest place on Earth.

The front sign flickers on and off for a moment, before buzzing in a way that could definitely start a whole store-fire. You and Tsukishima are in matching plaid pajama pants, and you even have a Karasuno volleyball hoodie on. You were not on the team. Hinata smirks when he notices, and whispers (badly) to Kageyama about it.

“She was cold.” is Tsukishima’s excuse. Yeah, right. You owned millions of hoodies—couldn’t you have worn your own?

“Mine are better. Hers are ugly.” he continues.

You scoff. He didn't have to go that far. The cold excuse is enough!

“My hoodies are not ugly. You quite literally have no fashion sense.”

“You’re in denial.” he says.

“You’re lecturing me about denial? Mr. ‘It’s just a club’?” it's a burn that makes Hinata double over in laughter.

“Enough arguing,” Kageyama pushes you forward, a step ahead of the two of them with Hinata who giggles. He quickly shifts you away from the side of the cars.

You grumble, and step over your own two feet before picking up your feet. Tsukishima mumbles something about you having two left feet, and it takes everything in you not to spin around and give him a piece of your mind. He smirks, loving the way your shoulders fall and rise in anger.

He loves the way he gets to you.

“So, Kaggy,” he makes a noise of disgust at the nickname you made up on the spot, “you still texting that one girl?” Hinata’s ears perk up, and Tsukishima looks at him, trying to feign indifference. But you knew him, he wnats to hear the tea just as much you guys did.

“Ha! Kageyama? With a woman!” Hinata barks out, a howl coming out of his lips next makes it even more obnoxious. Kageyama’s face scrunches up, and his laughter is just so infectious that Tsukki can’t help but chuckle. You let out a giggle or two.

“Hinata, last time I checked, your name was NOT Kageyama," you say through a giggle.

“What! I’m not wrong!” Hinata pouted, “I’m not entirely convinced this ‘woman’ exists. I’ve never seen Kageyama talk to a woman before. And I see a lot of Kags, more than I'd like."

Your eyebrow raises. Despite his last comment, he wasn’t that far off. Kageyama was a lost cause when it came to women. He always had been. But, things always change. You saw it in real life, and was sitll shocked. Someone came up to him. She offered him her number, and he freaked out over how to message her.

'Do I just say hey? Is hey weird? Do I say hi instead? Y/N STOP LAUGHING AND HELP ME!'

It was cute, until it had been four whole days and he hadn’t even BEGUN to type a letter. At that point, you stole his phone and did the magic for him. As they texted, it got lighter and easier. Occasionally, at friend hangouts you would see him open his phone and smile, or break away for a moment to send a response back. It was cute, you liked it for him.

“We’re just friends, alright? Nothing more.” Kageyama answers finally, breaking his silence. He kicks a stray rock on the ground, anything to distract from the blood flushing to his cheeks.

“So she does exist!” Hinata’s eyes sparkle like lights on Christmas Day.

“Obviously, idiot.”

You four approach the convenience store and step through the sliding doors. Bells jingled above your head. A tired cashier lifts his eyes momentarily, but seeing you all, becomes uninterested and goes back to looking at his phone. The hum of the fridges calls out to you, ice cream. You need to stop, at this point it was an addiction.

It is as if Tsukki can read your thoughts, and looks down at you with a shake of his head.

“Don’t do it.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you hiss back.

“Fine, don’t blame me when your shitting all night.”

“I’ll shit in your mouth.”

“Guys, we’re in public,” Kageyama has to remind, but neither of you care much, and the cashier just frowns as he scrolls through his social media.

You mingle around the shelves, going from packaged ramen, to udon, to spicy and sweet chip bags, to candy filled bags. Hinata and Kageyama whisper around about something, but your eyes search for your favorite candy.

Why the hell isn’t it here?

You frown, and circle the aisle once and then twice. You do it a third time, just to make sure you haven't lost your mind. You almost give up, but then you see one package left—but of course, it's at the very top of the shelf, all the way on the back of the shelf. Great. You can't ask for help. You just can't.

But at the same exact moment, Tsukki rounds the corner and sees you in your struggle. Tsukki is made of legs, but he will not get it—not without you begging him for it, and you will not.

You hold your nose up at him and then cross your arms. “Yup, nothing I want here.”

You were a terrible liar.

“Ask me. Nicely. Then I’ll do it.” he says, that stupid smirk.

“I’m fine. I’ll starve.”

"Beg."

"No."

He sighs, "Your annoying,” he leans forward, grabs the package, and slaps it into your hand. You lurch forward and grab it before it can fall to the ground.

“If you grew more in fifth grade, you would be able to get it.” Tsukki comments before walking away.

You follow after him with a grumble, “Shut up.”

The four of you reconvene at the center of store. The fluorescent lights flicker above your heads, a cool chill flushes from the vents and you dig deeper inside Tsukki’s hoodie.

Tsukishima has a couple of things in his hands—coffee with a strong bitter smell, his favorite chips (salty like him), banana milk, and a small pack of worm shaped sour gummies. Kageyama and Hinata’s piles looked mostly the same—except that Hinata decides sugar was a great idea at this time of night, and no one can really argue. They all had a paper to finish. Except for Tsukki that is. He finished his two weeks ago.

You hated him.

“Name one girl you’ve spoken to that’s not your mother,” Tsukki says to Kageyama.

You, at the same time, approach the counter. The cashier mumbles a quiet ‘finally’ and begins scanning your items. You bend down at the counter, engrossed by a magazine’s cover. A journalist, one of the best who was an alumni of Karasuno University. You pick it up, and add it to your heap of snacks.

“Your mom.” Kageyama says back to him with a shrug. You and Hinata don’t even try to hide your laughter. The cashier glances to you four in annoyance.

“My mom hates you.” Tsukki mumbles.

You reach into your hoodie pocket, and salvage the coins you had thrown inside. Your fingers flip over the different kinds, before reaching the correct amount. The ritual happens quickly—the cashier takes your change, it’s exact like you hoped, and you tell him to keep the receipt.

“Not as much as she hates you.” Kageyama nips back.

You open your package of candy and plop a couple in your mouth. The cashier seems to lose more and more of his faith in humanity as the insults go on and on. He just wants to go home. He lets out a sigh of relief when the doors hiss close and you four are back in the midnight cool.

“Seriously, Kageyama. What does she look like? Is she pretty?” Hinata asks, as soon as they're back outside. He never lets go, and it makes you laugh. Once Hinata was curious, there was no way of shutting him down. Eventually you would have to tell him the truth, and the whole one at that.

“He’s not gonna tell you.” Tsukki says. This time, he’s walking beside you, and steals a small candy from your bag.

“Why not?!” Hinata whines.

“You talk too much, I tell you and then suddenly the whole team will know.” Kageyama answers.

You hum, been there done that. “True. Like Tsukki’s ex.”

The words come out quicker than you can realize. Shit. That was a mistake. The four of you go dead quiet, and your eyes quickly flash to the boy next to you. You expect him to shut down, maybe do that sad Tsukki thing with his eyes.

But nope. He just reaches into your bag again, another candy. He’s completely unmoving. It has been almost a whole year, but you know breakups were a touchy subject. You and Tsukki talk about it rarely, but it was in the background of everything. You saw her influence in many things he did.

How he rejects the advances of girls at your school, how his face shifts when he sees Daichi and his girlfriend after practice. It’s a sting from a wasp that just never died. But maybe, just maybe, the pain had become tolerable? You are not often wrong.

“Hinata’s a loud mouth. Always will be.” A classic Tsukki response. You grin. Tolerable. That was better than nothing.

You interject, rejoining the conversation with a playful grin. “Come on, Kageyama, give them a little hint..”

Kageyama crosses his arms defensively. “Weren’t you suppose to be on my side, Y/N?”

Tsukishima shakes his head. “Y/N’s on the side that pays her.”

“Right,” you nod.

Kageyama eyes you both dangerously. You know something slick is going to come out of his mouth. He can't help himself. “Tsukki, you pay her?”

You rub the back of your neck. Ah. Tsukki rolls his eyes.

“Please shut up."

The walk back to your apartment is quiet, a calm against Kageyama and Hinata constant push-and-pull. They leave first, they live on the opposite side of you, closer to campus. You make sure to steal one of Hinata's pretzels before he goes.

It's always you and him. Walking together, past midnight.

Your heart is pulling you towards him; your shoulders brush once, and then twice, and he says nothing. On the third time, he bumps your shoulder back. You smile. You shut your mouth, because it’s late, and you’re tired, and this isn’t the time to be saying anything you'll regret.

The paper is done. 1/2 of your project. The other half? A presentation. You hate this shit. You push through. You didn't even stutter once. You can see how proud Tsukki is. But now, it's time for closing remarks.

Your eyes dart around the room. From the clock, to your laptop, to your best friend. Tsukki wore a slight smirk on his face. You knew what that meant. But he wouldn't, the presentation is almost over, you are almost in the clear.

As your group mate say their closing remarks, you hear the dreaded phrase. You stiffen when his hand slowly rises. He sucks. You almost want to bark to your groupmate, don’t, but you imagine your teachers angry deducting points from your final grade.

“Yes, Tsukishima?” You have to force out. Suck it up. You can hear a couple of stifles of laughter in the classroom. They knew he was about to waste your time. Your fingers impatiently tap on your skin, something he notices with only a quick glance.

“Uh, yes. I think I’m still a little confused. Can you give a more in-depth example of how you would use aerodynamics in this situation, Ms. Y/N? Sorry, it’s just what you were talking way too fast, I didn't catch it all.”

He was such an ass.

You bare your teeth, and force a nod. “Of course. So, aerodynamics…”

The presentation goes on for a record seven minutes after. You want to ignore him so bad, and at first you do this successfully. You could breathe now, easily.

As class dismisses, you walk straight past his desk, and he follows you down the steps of the building, and onto the main campus. He's like a bed bug that never leaves, even if you set the whole damn building on fire.

But this is Tsukki, he's done way worse, but he knows you were hungry and needed to be in the dining hall as soon as the clock struck 10. Yet, he still chose to be the normal dickhead he is.

“You know you can’t stay mad at me forever,” he says as you round the corner to your dining hall. You turn around to meet his eye and frown, to make it known that you CAN, but then...his stupid smile. You almost crack. A strong almost.

“You wanna bet on that?” you settle for, and quickly turn around before you can change your mind.

Tsukishima sighs. He jumps into your peripheral vision and drops his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. His smell, woody and fresh, meshes well with the scent of old rain and coffee from the university students around you.

You look up at him. His jaw, his slight smile. This is too comfortable, being like this with him. You would’ve thought just from looking at you two, that you were a couple. The thought makes you want to die. In another universe maybe, or two.

For now, you didn't think about what universe you guys could've gotten together in. Instead, you enjoy the moment.

Your campus is as quiet as it gets. The large buildings, and their large glass panes should suck you both in, but you're in your own world. Several people whisper as you pass, ‘isn’t that Kei?’ they ask. It’s like they are tearing apart every part of you; the way you dress, the way you walk, the way you look. You forget sometimes that he’s ‘popular’ on campus. All of the volleyball guys were. All the eyes on you make you lean closer to him, and Tsukishima’s grip tightens.

He didn't pay any of the eyes on him any mind, he just focuses on you.

“Y/N,” he says in that annoyingly childish way that’s reserved for you. He knew how to tick you off—and if it were legal, you would’ve killed him right there, “Look, I’m sorry, but how could I resist?” he smiles and that ticks you off more, even if he's beautiful.

“I hate you, more than I hate aerodynamics.”

“Stop saying you hate me. You don’t.”

You really do hate him and you would never stop saying it; it's because of how nonchalant he is as you walk through your dining hall. How he ignores every women’s eye; every question that’s flung in his direction. You feel this way because through every bicker, every walk home, every moment he fills your life with so much happiness you know it would never amount to anything. Nothing you could see. Nothing that was real.

You and him? That wasn't real. Not in the way it was for Tsukishima. To him, you are the little girl he met at the sandbox. He would never be yours.

At the end of the night, all you can do is dream. You dream of a world where Tsukki knows, and he loves you as something more than his stupid childhood best friend.

You think about being more than his secret-holder and his unmoving rock. You want to finally know what it means to kiss the soft lips of Tsukki, to have his fingers dance around your waist and squeeze you so tight you couldn’t breathe, to wake up next to him and hug more than your own shoulders.

Fuck Kei Tsukishima.

Your lungs ache.

Monday morning is spent without him, and so is Tuesday. Then the day after that, and the day after that one. It isn’t something new, this routine. This is how you two were. But not recently. Being around him..was nice. But did you really think it was going to last forever?

The calls go from everyday, to him hearing the sound of your voicemail.

You take a sip of your latte, and try to focus on Yamaguchi’s words that are becoming harder and harder to listen to. For whatever reason, the universe, or whatever was out there likes torturing you. You can't get the guy once, and now you can't get him twice. It was like someone took the fork inside of Yamaguchi’s muffin and stabbed you right in the heart. He’s so blonde, and so stupid, and is sitting on a bench next to a water fountain with someone who looks nothing like you.

That was his type. It burns, much more than the hot coffee flowing down your throat. You down a scary amount of coffee that makes Yamaguchi stop in his tracks.

“You two make me sick. You have to tell him.” he says, and you finally look away from the scene.

“No, I don’t, actually. Can we focus on studying, please?”

You’re a hypocrite. He scoffs. You know it. Like you weren’t just staring down both of them for a solid ten minutes.

“He’s not dating her. You know? Says he doesn’t believe in love anymore.”

It hurts. You pretend it didn't.

“So, why would you tell me to tell him?”

Yamaguchi looks at you. He’s serious. Possibly the most serious you’ve ever seen him.

“You’re different. You can pretend you aren’t, but I know it and you know it. Ever since the sandbox.”

The butterflies in your chest flutter painfully.

“Focus, yeah?”

Yamaguchi sighs. “Yeah. One day, you’ll get sick of this shitty game.”

Then, that one day happens. It’s friday night. A long time ago, you guys made a tradition to spend friday nights together.

But not today, you made up some sort of excuse. Project tomorrow!

He didn’t question you the first three times, but the fourth he didn’t allow. You’re freshly out of a shower. You wipe the steam off the mirror in your bathroom, and double check your phone. A text? No, scratch that. Multiple text messages. At least twenty. Most of them are threats. Your eyes staple on the most important ones.

tsuk tsuk (lol): stop fucking ignoring me

tsuk tsuk (lol): i asked yamaguchi he said u had no project due

tsuk tsuk (lol): be straight up w/me if i did something to offend ur sensitive ass

tsuk tsuk (lol): y/n?

tsuk tsuk (lol): ur always on ur phone so ik ur reading this

tsuk tsuk (lol): did u get u a bf? is that y ur ignoring me?

tsuk tsuk (lol): nvm i don’t care. he can die too.

tsuk tsuk (lol): i’m coming over. unlock the door idiot

What the actual fuck. You’re in shock, and in his hoodie, when he appears at your front door. He’s not amused.

a/n: a bit of a cliffhanger hehehehehehhe i'm sorry i couldn't help myself :))) i enjoyed writing this even if it took the longest omg. lmk your thoughts on the chapter !!!! also yes the pic change was purposeful, colorful ver now hehe

taglist !!! @kei-tsuki21 @marga-j @xxizuchanxx @horr0rvacu1 @lavenderhotcoco @sami-stable @awkwardaardvarkforever @rorygilmoreclown @rachlubsuu @sixxze @lonelyladyghost @kurenix @nemisimp @doofusthebozo @scarred-keys @yenqa @zenilili @dani-shitting-around @carolineesnell @annonymoose

© fornshinoyaz 2023. please do not steal my work.

[spctrsgf]

Hello. I have this idea for a fic, you don't have to write ofc if don't want.

So, reader is a bounty hunter, so on a mission they run into Din, who is also on one. They help each other, and go their ways. After some time they again run into each other, and it happens a few times. But this time, they get job, but don't know much about the person they have to get, and it turns out they have to get eachother. When they realise that, they kinda start fighting but don't really want, so when one say it, they stop. They like sit and talk it through, realise that for some reason (I can't think of any) they have to kill their boss. And they start their journey together. They get into his ship and theres Grogu, and reader's like wtf is that, and he explains it, so after they deal with the boss, they kinda 'have' to take Grogu to jedi together (definitely not cuz they like eachother) so they continue to work together. Also reader kind of wears a helmet/mask to hide most of their face, and they are gn.

I'm so sorry this is so long. Idk if it even makes sense. Thank you so much if you do write this, and if not, thank you anyway.

bounties and hunters • the first encounter

next

word count: 3k

warnings: language, canon type violence, kind of slow at first im trying my best to set up the scene for the fics to progress on my apologies (i also have never written a series before!!! kind of nervous)

a/n: when i tell you, anon, that you are a genius, i mean GENIUS. i love love LOVE this idea, so i decided to make this a series!!! updates might be slow with everything i have going on in life rn, but tune in for that if you'd like:)

The first time you met Din, it was under the weirdest circumstances. The meeting was sheer coincidence, really— if you had waited one more minute in your bed, you would have missed him entirely. If Grogu hadn’t simmered as long as he did eating his soup, Din wouldn’t have bumped you either. If you both hadn’t had a bounty to catch, the interaction wouldn’t even have been possible. 

Now that you’re thinking about it, the circumstances weren’t weird at all. In fact, they were just perfect.

—------—

“How much does it pay?” You question, barely tilting your head to further accentuate the words. The man sitting in front of you, Atla Vyk, lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You always were about the credits, weren’t you?”

You opt to stay silent, holding the Vyk’s eye contact over the fabric of your mask. 

He sighs. “50 Socorran credits.” 

“What the hell am I supposed to do with Socorran credits, Vyk?”

“Use it on Socorro, I don’t know! You’re resourceful.” 

“I can’t be resourceful with Socorran credits!” You snarl at him. “Where’d you even come into contact with those?”

“Well actually—”

You hold up your hand. “I revoke my sentence. Just give me my damn pucks.”

Vyk sighs, grabbing the pucks from his pocket and sliding them across the table.

You snatch them immediately, the cold of the metal biting at your exposed fingertips. “Thank you.” You nod at him.

He chuckles drily. “Always a pleasure.”

Your loose pants boom a loud swish! as you stand up and turn around briskly, exiting the cantina as quick as you had entered it. As you walk, you flip and twist the pucks in your hand subconsciously, your brain already mapping out a way to meet all of your bounties on the least amount of fuel. 

When you reach your ship, all tuned up by the person who owns the landing dock, you toss them a few credits and walk up the ramp. The next few minutes are spent checking all of your hiding spots, just to make sure nothing was stolen. Once you satisfy that nag in your brain, you slide into the worn leather of the pilot seat, pressing buttons and flicking switches to plot coordinates to your next stop. Your ship's engine is sputtering awake in no time at all, and then you’re up and maneuvering the thing up and into hyperspace.

You settle back into your chair as soon as you're comfortable enough to take your hands off the controls, huffing out a breath and letting it settle in front of you. The heater had yet to kick in, causing you to shiver slightly in your thin attire— which was akin to the weather on Tatooine. The cushion of your chair hugs your frail body in a feeble attempt to help keep you warm, but yet you still rock with shivers. Your mind, disregarding this fact, decides to buckle up to begin its nightly wander.

Sometimes, you think, the serene silence of hyperspace is inviting. The way that the colors swirl in an insatiable, never ending twist is fascinating, and you could look at it for hours, wondering what planet you’re passing at the moment. Was that reddish brown streak Socorro? Was that icy blue one Hoth?

Other times, though, it feels as though it’s squeezing your head tight and pulling beads of sweat up and out of your skin. It’s painful to sit in the deafening silence, to even be able to hear the creak of your knee as you extend your leg to stand up. 

No matter which way you deem the endless tunnel to be swirling, it always forces you to think, to be stuck in your own head. It forces you to internalize, to feel effortlessly alone despite the epiphany of people and expanse of space to fill in front of you. 

And, just like the feeling of the silence around you, your reaction to it is also versatile. Sometimes, the silence harbors a lovely tune, rocking your tired body to sleep, but other times it’s like a mudhorn rearing its mighty horn straight into the side of your head. Which is, admittedly, not a lovely tune to fall asleep to.

Right now? It’s the latter.

The swirls of dancing light are no help to the persistent pounding in your brain, no help to the steady churn of anxiety in your stomach. The way the colors dance across your closed lids and the hum of the heater— that must’ve finally turned on— are no match for the powerful mechanics of your brain, leaving you at the mercy of nightmares in your own wicked head.

•••

When you wake, it’s not in cold sweat nor a swift jump from dream to reality in fear, no. It’s from a not so gentle jolt of the ship as it jumps from automatic hyperspace flight to manual maneuvering. Your fingers, while your brain is still groggy with sleep, leap to the controls and stabilize the ship in no time at all, the notion as natural as breathing. 

The subdued yet vibrant colors of Yavin VI’s body  greet you with a glare, shaking any lasting effects of sleep out of your head. Your grip tightens ever so slightly on the controls as you shoot through the outer atmosphere and into the puffy clouds below, mapping out a plan of action in your head. 

Get to the landing doc first. You tell yourself. One step at a time. You maneuver over to the landing pad covered partially by the dense forest, exactly where it had been when you had left it. You hum some foreign tune excitedly, happy that the bounty you’d picked up had chosen Yavin IV and inadvertently allowed you to visit an old friend. They slide out from underneath the overhang, surely after hearing the roar of your engines, a few maintenance droids barreling ahead to start with your ship as you touch down. 

You scramble to open the ramp and start walking down it before it’s even touched the ground, bouncing on your toes. Your friend stands a few feet away from the ramp, hands on their hips and a big grin hung from invisible strings on their face. “Hey— oof!” You slam into them before they can even exert the rest of their greeting, wrapping your arms around their torso.

Their body shakes with laughter, returning the gesture split seconds after you. “Nice to see you too, but did you have to toss all the air out of my lungs?”

“I missed you so much, El.”

“Missed ya too,” they release you and hold you at arm's length, doing a quick scan. “How you holdin’ up these days? It’s been a while.”

“Can’t complain. How about you?” 

“Same here,” El brushes past you, turning their expert gaze to the ship that had been swarmed by droids. “Business has been doing well, so that makes my heart happy.”

You tilt your head with a smile. “I’m glad.”

“You better n’ be smilin’ at me,” they call over their shoulder, the speech slurred from distraction. 

“Oh, I’m way too serious for that. I’m a bounty hunter, after all.”

“Even the high n’ mighty bounty hunters smile, an’ living thing does.”

“How do you know I’m alive?”

“Because if ya were dead I’d already have cried.”

“What if I’m not dead but not living,” You inquire, enjoying the banter. “What if I’m a droid?” 

“Well that's n’ true because you’d be a shit droid even if you were trying. Hand me a wrench, please.”

“Even though I’m not a droid,” you grab the said tool from El’s basket. “I think I’d be a great one. You wouldn’t even be able to tell, contrary to popular belief.”

“Oh, honey, I’ve spent too much time with you not to be able to tell.” They grab the tool from your hand with a smirk, and this time your smile reaches your eyes as they roll playfully. 

“Maker, El, that was cheeky.” 

“Shoulda expected as much from me. Though we were close, guess not.”

“We are close, first of all,” You smack the back of their head in frustration, yet a laugh shoves its way out of your mouth to counter that notion. “But yeah, I guess I should’ve.”

More doses of laughter bubble up into the crisp air of the approaching night as the booming red of Yavin Prime descends further towards the swoops of trees, piercing through the light breeze. You’d missed this. You’d missed this so much. 

It was nice to be carefree, to not be watching your six with a hand on your blaster. You spend hours, even days on edge, constantly distrusting people and tracking any sign of movement. It’d been so long since you’d been able to visit El that you’d nearly forgotten how much you ached for this easy going, stress free life. You’d even forgotten how to live it.

You’d have to leave tomorrow morning, probably before dawn to meet your bounty before they woke up. The inn you assume the bounty is hiding in is a rough four or five hour walk away, two at least if you take El’s speeder. The thought is ever present in your head as you relax into the cool evening, blinking in and out of the front of your thoughts like a strobe light. 

You’re sure El is able to tell. The tell of your hands, which are wrung together almost painfully— not that you’re able to distinguish the pain at the moment— is evident even for someone who isn’t your closest friend. With that in mind, they do their best to distract you, even getting you underneath your almighty ship to “learn how to fix this old thing so you can do it yourself.” 

It’s nice, and it works, in due time. You let your shoulders lower and the coil in your stomach unravel to let the copious amount of tension you hold flow away and into the air that is now strung with quiet music and the offbeat hum of your companion next to you. 

And it goes. And it feels wonderful. It’s like there was beskar on your shoulders, encircling your head and infiltrating your lungs, and now it’s been released, and now you’re free to taste the crisp air and smell the sway of the trees. The feeling carries you effortlessly through your evening, letting you drift easily into a restful sleep, lulling the nightmares far away from the forefront of your mind. 

Yet, when you wake the next morning, from some sort of alarm clock you must’ve installed unintentionally after all the years of hunting, the beskar was back on your shoulders again. It pulls you efficiently to full consciousness and to an upright position. You then move with vigor, gathering the few things you needed on your trip: your pulse rifle, your trusty dagger (for when thungs go south), and an ounce of the calm from the room around you to center your thoughts and get you going. 

After a quick goodbye to El— which was more of a whispered ill be back soon from you and a slurred mhm from them— plus a trip to their dusty garage to grab the speeder, you’re off. The engine is loud and dodging trees and branches is hard at first, but you soon get the hang of it. Just like at any given moment of silence, your mind starts yet another wander. 

You’re surprised you still have stuff to think about that this point.

You’re thinking about it, actually considering it. Considering what it would be like to live with El, not hunting all the time. You liked the calm that it brought, and spending time with El sounded like the best thing ever, honestly. You could wake up every morning not worrying about raiders or bounties or anything. Hell, you could even have a normal sleep schedule! But the longer you let that thought simmer, the more you realize that you like the fast pace that your life moves at, you like the adrenaline boost and the way each bounty is like a new puzzle just waiting to be cracked. 

You’d never be happy with a calm life, at least not now. You’d be bored, you’d lose interest in the midst of all of the trees and monotone days. The way you live now, every day is a new adventure, a new world to conquer and a new bounty to find. And, you’re really fucking good at it, bounty hunting. You’re not one to say stuff like that about yourself often, but hunting was the one thing that you’d honed to near perfection, so to give it up would be like starting your life over again.

The calm life? Not a fucking chance. 

You’re so caught up in the swarm of your thoughts that you fail to see someone in front of you, despite the shiny beskar updo they wear. You manage to let out a loud yell of both surprise and warning before you steer the speeder sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding the mandalorian and the floating orb next to them. The edge of your speeder scratches against the bark of a tree as you yank it sharply again to the left, slowing the speeder to a stop in the small clearing you and the warrior reside in. 

As soon as you slow, you’re hopping off the bike and over to them in an unusual notion of worry. “Are you alright?” You offer a hand, and though you can’t tell because of their helmet, you assume they’re just staring at it. You teeter awkwardly there for a second, unsure of what’s going on, before the smooth leather of their glove is sliding into your hand and you’re yanking them up. They’re surprisingly light for someone who's wearing a shit ton of beskar, but you assume they must be pulling some of their own weight.

The mandalorian tilts their helmet at you, the only show that they’re actually alive and breathing at the moment. “I’m fine.” The smooth, modulated baritone lends you to believe that it's a man underneath the beskar, and the richness of his voice surprises you. “Good,” you swallow thickly. “Sorry about that, I should've been looking.” 

The helmet bobs up and down in agreement. 

You shuffle from one foot to the other, contemplating whether you want to continue the conversation. Something about the silence of the man in front of you told you he wasn’t one for chatting, but there was a mystique about him that intrigued you, it pulled you in like a magnet. 

“Are you lost?” “Me?” You ask dumbly, his voice catching you by surprise. “Oh, no, I know where I’m going. Are you?”

“No.” The firmness of your voice lends you to believe that your question hurt his feelings a little bit. 

“Okay,” You say slowly, as if savoring each word on your tongue before it leaves your mouth. “Good luck on your adventures.” 

You turn then, not really wanting to go but hating the way it felt like you could barely breathe under his gaze– and you couldn’t even see his fucking eyes. The intrigue that simmers in the back of your brain is urging you to turn around and offer him a ride, but your natural distrust of new beings keeps you placing one foot in front of the other. 

You’re already comfortably seated on your speeder before he speaks again. “Wait.” The one line punch has your fingers pulling abruptly away from the ignition and your head whipping towards him. “Yeah?” your voice punches through the fabric of your mask, awkwardly eager. 

“I…” The modulator accentuates the puff of frustration and how adamant his tone is as his voice trails off. “I actually am a little confused about where I am.”

You smile with a tilt of the head. “Well, where are you headed?”

“I have coordinates, is that helpful?” 

“I could try. Do you really not have the name though? Most people don’t give coordinates when they tell you where to lie low–”

“This is all I have,” He cuts you off, and his natural unwillingness to engage in conversation peeking through the words. “Can you make it work?”

“Yeah, but…” Your head tilts in confusion as you put the pieces together. “Wait. Are you a bounty hunter?”

“Why?”

You snort, getting the answer even without him explicitly giving it to you. “Because I’m another bounty hunter. Let me see your fob.”

He grabs the said thing, but doesn’t move. “I'll just tell you the coordinates.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself.”

He gives them to you, and using your limited knowledge of the planet and your own coordinates, you're able to triangulate a certain direction. “Should be that way,” you point to your left, veering slightly off of your own path. “An hour or two tops, I think. I’ve been there before, but it was a long time ago.”

He nods, pressing a button on his vambrace to move the metal case closer to him. “Thank you for your help. I’ll be in your debt.”

“Don’t sweat it,” you wave him off. “Call it even. I nearly ran you over, after all.”

The way he stops and turns around, tilting his head and clenching his hands together tells you that he might not actually listen to what you just said.

“It’s even.” You reiterate without even thinking, feeling compelled to repeat yourself just so the words would actually slip underneath the thick beskar that crowded around his head and embed themselves in his head. 

He just turns around and walks away, his cape swooshing aggressively despite the lack of wind in the dense forest. 

You stand there for a long moment, just watching his figure recede into the distance, never once faltering, never one looking back. The way he holds himself, with such confidence and rippling power, tells you that he’s an excellent bounty hunter, probably even better than yourself. It’s exciting. As you turn back to your speeder, a new sort of lightning lights up your veins, a new form of adrenaline.

You really do hope you’ll see him again. 

[choism]

A Picnic In The Woods | w.jh [REUPLOADED]

Boyfriend!Junhui x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: makeout, fingering, oral (m receiving), finger sucking, public sex, other sexy implications, jun being literally the sweetest bf ever

A/N: This fic is reuoloaded from my old account @/Huiranghaes. This work is NOT stolen or plagiarized!

"Here!"

Jun runs towards a small opening off of the forest path and gestures excitedly towards the small clearing in the distance. "Look this is like the perfect place! Barely anyone can see through it." He jogs back towards you and grabs your arm.

"Yeah sure that's such a cute little spot! And we will get some privacy too, good job Junnie." He flashes you his big boxy smile and takes your hand in his, dragging you through the small path.

The short path to the clearing the Jun found was seemingly not an actual path. Your face was being battered by small twigs and branches and the dirt pathway was narrow. Jun had no care, of course.

The two of you had been planning on doing a forest picnic date for a while, but y'all could never find a nice quiet place to do so until now. After searching for nearby places for a while, you found a great forest area with trails on it that you thought would be peaceful, but it was still too public.

The both of you finally arrive at the small clearing and you take in your surroundings.

It's beautiful.

It wasn't a very big space, just enough for you to lay out the picnic blanket, and it was surrounded by gorgeous flowers. Pink and white peonies, daisies, and other pretty flowers you can't name. It was almost ethereal, the feeling you got from taking in your surroundings.

And the fact that you and your boyfriend have this secret spot all to yourselves just amps the feeling. Jun looks at you and you turn to him and smile, knowing that he has the same feeling.

You set down your backpack and start unloading all of the essentials, the picnic blanket, the drinks, and most importantly the food.

Before you guys left your apartment, the both of you had made what seemed to be the perfect picnic lunch. Jun made cute little sandwiches that he shaped into hearts and stars and he cooked some little sausages as a snack. You had packed some small bags of chips and made the sweets, just some red velvet truffles and brownies.

You lay down the blanket and Jun sits and starts unloading all of the food from containers, placing them methodically on the blanket so everything looks nice and neat. You take a seat next to him and nudge him to open the mystery container in front of you.

"What's this?" He asks picking up the container. "Open it!" He opens the container and his face lights up. "Lemon candies! When did you make these?" He picks one up and pops it into his mouth.

"I made them last night before you got to my apartment, I thought you'd like them." He pecks you on the mouth and takes your hand in his. "Thank you babe, now let's eat!"

With all of the food laid out in front of you, the both of you start to dig in. Everything tasted amazing, especially the sandwiches Jun made. And you're proud of the every reaction he has when he takes a bite out of the sweets you made.

***

After a while of goofing around and completely devouring the food you both had made, you started to pack everything up neatly back into your backpack when Jun get's an idea.

"Hey can we just stay here a bit and enjoy the scenery, I don't want to leave quite yet." You look over at him and he is staring off in the distance, presumably at the bed of flowers ahead of you.

"Yeah we can do that, I don't want to leave quite yet either." You place your head gently on his shoulder.

The both of you stay silent for a bit and just enjoy your surroundings. Behind the beautiful beds of flowers were tall strong trees whose branches swayed back and forth with the light breeze. The air surrounding y'all is crisp, nothing could be more of a perfect moment than this.

You can feel Jun start to lean back to lay down so you lift your head off of his shoulder. As he lays down you just stare at him.

Truly, nothing could be more perfect than this right here.

You lean down and place a gentle kiss upon your boyfriend's soft lips. His eyes open in surprise but he melts into the kiss. You try to pull back but he places one of his hands gently behind your neck to stop you.

He shines you a wide grin. "I love you." Your eyes melt into his. "I love you too.

He pulls your head down to meet his lips again, and he kisses you with a bit more passion this time. The kiss is simmering, slowly bubbling into a more urgent, more needy makeout.

He sits up and it gets more and more intense, his hands running all over your body, trying to remember every curve like he'll forget you later. But of course he wouldn't. He loves you too much.

He moves from your mouth to your neck, placing gentle calculated kisses all along your jaw. "Wait Jun... As much as I like this, I don't think we can do this here." You question him, worried someone might see what you are doing.

"I think we will be fine, there were barely any people nearby when we got here and this place is pretty hidden anyway." He continues kissing your collarbones and he takes off your shirt.

"Yeah I guess your right, if we get caught I'm blaming this on you though." You giggle as your shirt comes over your head and Jun tosses it on the other side of the blanket. "Yeah yeah whatever." He chuckles and take off his shirt as well.

He continues to kiss your collarbones and his hands explore your chest, gently squeezing and massaging. His other hands travels further down and he rubs your center through your pants. "Lay down for me baby." He says with a sweet tone.

You lay back on the blanket and he smiles down at your excited expression as he moves his hand to the buttons of your pants. "Lift up your hips a bit." You do as he asks and he removes your pants and underwear, fully exposing you to the forest surrounding.

Jun leans down and places another kiss on your lips as he rubs through your folds, circling back up to your clit every so often to tease. You are suppressing your small moans pretty well until he inserts a finger, curling it upwards to hit your gspot.

"Oh god Jun please....." You try to hide your moans, knowing someone could potentially be walking nearby. He adds another finger and picks up the pace, hitting the same spot over and over relentlessly and you nearly gasp before he covers your mouth with his free hand.

"Shhh baby you need to be quiet, someone could hear us and we don't want that now do we?" His once playful smirk turns mischievous as he rubs your clit with his thumb.

You can feel yourself getting closer, so close to the edge, but he can feel it to so he stops abruptly. You want to whine but the hand covering your mouth muffles your cries. When you stop whining he removes his hand and licks his fingers clean of your arousal. He is about to speak when you abruptly shove him down onto the blanket.

"If you're gonna tease me then I get to tease you, now take off your pants." His eyes widen in shock but soon fill with arousal as he quickly works to get his pants off. You lean over his fully hard cock and dribble your spit onto it.

You move your hand up and down his length slowly, savoring the look on his face before taking his tip into your mouth. "Ah y/n..." Jun groans out quietly. You work your way from his tip to the shaft, making sure to savor him as much as you can while keeping him in check.

You can feel him get close as well, and when his veins start to twitch you take your mouth off of his cock. You look down at him and his expression says it all. His face is red and he's panting, "God you're such a tease." "I could say the same for you." You flash him a quick wink and get on top of him.

"Are you okay with me riding you?"

"Fuck yes."

With those words you slowly sink onto him and lightly groan out in pleasure as he stretches your walls. You hold onto his chest as you bounce yourself up and down lightly, trying to hold back on your moans.

You start to pick up the pace more and more, and as you feel your orgasm rebuilding you feel Jun's hips start to buck upwards into you.

"Fuck Jun your so big....." The pleasure is so overwhelming. You swear your seeing stars from how deep he is hitting you in this position. You didn't think he could go any deeper until he flips you over on your back and fucks into you hard.

He shoves his fingers in your mouth so you'll be quiet which is a great idea because the position change nearly made you scream. The combination of sucking on his fingers and him pounding into you was so brain melting, then Jun rubs his thumb over your clit and you can feel your high reaching unbelievably close.

"y/n I'm so close, I'm gonna cum." He pants and takes his hand out of your mouth and interlocks his hand with one of yours. "Fuck I am too, god Jun please cum inside of me."

With a few more strokes he releases inside of you and you follow soon after. As he slows his pace he places his lips onto yours, kissing you gently as you both ride your highs down.

Jun pulls out of you and uses part of the blanket to clean you up. "Jun not the blanket!" You scold him as he continues to clean you up.

"What would you rather have me do? Eat it out of you?" He questions and you just smirk devilishly at him. He smiles back.

"My pleasure."

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you do Gary x a neurodivergent reader that he keeps trying to indoctrinate, only for them to want to be friends?

The whole "I'm a normal human, just like you" wouldn't work on me personally. I would assume he was autistic or had some form of ptsd and some very interesting interests because of it. Either way, picturing him trying to get a reader to join his cult, only for them to assume he's neurodivergent too and try to be friends with him is just extremely funny to me.

Bonus points if the reader's special interest just so happens to be demons

This is brilliant tbh,,,,just ND to ND communication hshhfhaw

.......

The Eternal Order of the Second Death (EOSD) was keeping tabs on you for a while, noting your frequent visits to the local library.

A thrall masquerading as a staff member had access to your account's checkout history and saw that you only take out books on the occult/demonology/etc.

It's a fixation you usually keep to yourself, not saying much and silently thanking them for not giving you any strange looks (although you never notice their unnerving smile as they wish you a good day).

It's not long before they let Gary know about you, mentioning your fascination with the demon Malphas and the Unspeakable.

He planned to indoctrinate you and show you all the things you could learn and experience within the Order.

Even if you don't become a vessel for the Unspeakable, he believes you'd make a good acolyte in no time.

So he invites you to a "bookclub meeting", where you're taken to a hidden chamber beneath one of the study rooms.

It has its own library with a plethora of forbidden books on demon summoning, instructions for certain rituals, and more (plus a demon who prevents them from being stolen).

Minus the stench of death and the demonic blood sigils on the walls, you're very much intrigued.

Then Gary appears before you and offers you a chance to join them, explaining how long they've been keeping an eye on you.

When he puts down his hood, you could see his flesh is scarred and glasses hiding his eyes, as well as the red eye painted on his forehead.

"...I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. Who are you, again?"

"I'm Gary, a normal human being just like you." He smiles in a way that's not-at-all human.

It only takes a second for you to connect the dots.

And not in the "oh he's a demon pretending to be human" way, but instead the "oh he's neurodivergent pretending to be Normal™" kind of way.

It just made sense. Why else would he insist on being a "normal human being"?

He was just like you fr

Again, he offers you a position in the lower ranks, believing you had potential to work your way up to a "greater purpose".

But you only express interest in being friends with him, never really getting the hint that the EOSD didn't rally "friends", but willing sacrifices and worshippers ready to throw their entire lives away for him and his cause.

Gary is fully aware of how you perceive him, but he goes along with it, finding you intriguing.

You're allowed to visit the hidden bookclub, where you might find him a few times, always ready to make his offer.

But you often distract him with long chats and infodumps of demons you've read about.

Even all the things you knew about Astaroth surprised him, and it's quite flattering.

They can go on for a while, and sometimes when he's called to attend to other matters, he abruptly leaves..but it never bothers you.

You get it. Conversations must be exhausting for him and drain his social battery. You'll note to keep them brief next time.

As far as joining the cult goes, you're not a big fan of large groups....so you always say you need "time" to consider.

Regardless, he's not gonna stop trying to convince you. But he wants you to stay interested in the demons, firmly believing you'd be a reliable asset.

[crow-stars]

Hiyaa! I read your Ace and Deuce fics and i find them so adorable! Especially Ace's like sulky Ace bc his plan fell through just adorable. Your writing too is absolutely stunning and expressive keep up the good work!!

Also I dont know if you do requests like this but if its allowed can I request the first years dealing with the aftermath of the prefect going back home like them coming in terms with the fact that they may or may not never see the prefect despite all the things they went through, i just imagine Adeuce and Grim would deal with it the hardest

hello there dear little reader~ i'm so glad you enjoyed those stories, i'm quite fond of those two troublemakers. and i accept requests like that, yes, but you always have to make sure to read the rules and, if you're not sure on anything, always ask me dear reader.

now then... let's see what we have here;

the first year characters from the stories of twisted wonderland. and the aftermath of the prefect going back home, how sad they must feel! oh, the story this will create will be wonderful! now let's see how this book turned out...

❝IF ONLY YOU HAD STAYED❞

❦summary; good things don't last forever, people don't stay the same, places change, and you can't expect everyone to stay

♪the characters in this story; ace trappola, deuce spade, jack howl, epel felmier, sebek zigvolt, grim, prefect!reader

✎word count;

❀what do the ghosts say?; reader is referred to a few times, but not solely focused on reader, format of headcanons + mini written section, angst, crying, depictions of grieving, platonic or romantic relationship (can be viewed as either), grim is also incorporated a bit in every section

☛the author's notes; i love writing sadness. it's a specialty of mine. it's also a bit of a personal headcanon of mine that the first years take care of grim once the prefect/player leaves twisted wonderland. also man, i just realised i'm talking like you died or smth. huh

☪look at the catalogue?

❛ACE TRAPPOLA❜

✧ Ace didn’t take it well

✧ He knew that it would happen eventually, they all did. But he didn’t expect it to come so soon

✧ When you had gathered everyone at Ramshackle, he didn’t assume anything was wrong. When you had told all of them, time seemed to freeze

✧ You.. you were leaving? Going back to your own world? 

✧ No, that surely wasn’t true! You were probably just messing with them all! But you weren’t, oh no, you weren’t

✧ Ace was... he felt devastated. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, no, but he felt like something important was being stolen away from him. Something important to him was getting taken away and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

✧ Ace was silent during the sendoff, what could he say? When it was his turn for a goodbye, the only thing he did was hug you tightly and wished you to be safe, to not get into any stupid trouble. And then you were gone. You stepped through the mirror and it swallowed your body 

✧ Ace missed you, life at NRC didn’t feel the same after you. Nothing did for a while.

✧ To everyone else, Ace just seemed to dismiss your leaving, sweep it under the rug and go back to being the mischievous person others knew. The rest of the group knew different. 

✧ Every so often, Deuce would find Ace sitting in the dark of their dorm, staring silently at his phone. Old pictures of you all. Sometimes he would find Ace crying, silently, shoulders shaking with every sob

✧ Ace would claim sometimes that you’d come back, come to visit. Truly, he believed that you would come back one day. But he had to come to terms with it in his junior year. 

✧ Even years later, Ace refuses to talk about you to anyone that isn’t the others of the group. It hurts to talk about someone that never really existed in his world. He feels he should talk about you to the others and only the others.

❦

A hand dragged down Ace’s face as he slumped in the chair in his living room. It was late, too late and he just wanted to knock out on this chair. 

“Oi! Ace, you’re late! Where’s my tuna?” 

Ace shook his head and huff, but there was still a faint smile on his lips as Grim hopped onto his lap, tugging at his disheveled suit. He pushed the cat monster off his lap and stood, laughing when Grim yelped in surprise. 

“At least give me some time to rest, you weasel.” 

Ignoring Grim’s agitated rambling, Ace walked to the kitchen and opened the cabinet where he kept Grim’s much desired food, placing it on the counter so that Grim could snatch it up. The cat cheered, ripping into the canned fish as Ace watched silently. 

But, unexpectedly, Grim paused. He looked up to Ace, beady sapphire eyes swirling a bit with some nostalgia. He didn’t say anything for a bit, which was uncharacteristic of him. It was silent for a few beats, Grim gripping his still open tuna can tightly in those paws of his. Ace purses his lips a bit, waiting for Grim to say something before deciding to break the silence. 

“Hey, don’t hurt yourself thinking, weasel. Spit it out!”

This got a response immediately, as expected, and Grim hissed at Ace. “Shut up!” There was a little pout on the cat’s face and Ace found it amusing. Grim’s ears pressed against his head, the flames that fluttered from his body dimming a bit and Ace knew what he was thinking. 

“Are you thinking about them?” 

The ears perked up and Ace knew he was right on the spot. Grim only nodded, ears flattening against his head again. Ace sighed heavily, placing a hand on Grim’s head. He gave the cat a few scratches behind his ear and heaved another sigh. 

“Just eat your tuna and we’ll go to sleep soon. Deuce is coming to get you tomorrow.” 

Grim nodded and began digging into the tuna, flames brightening a bit. The sight made Ace smile, despite the heavy sadness that set in his chest.

❛DEUCE SPADE❜

✧ Deuce was one of the few that took it better. Don’t get him wrong, he despaired when you told them that you were returning to your world. But he understood. Or at least he said he understood

✧ Oh, how he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to beg you to stay, you were important to him, close to him. But he also couldn’t imagine the pain of being away from family, people who cared for you as much as he and everyone else at NRC did. 

✧ So he was only silent, he only smiled as you left, wished you the best as you readied to go through the mirror

✧ Deuce cried that night, surrounded by the other first years

✧ He felt so unmotivated for months afterward, not wanting to do anything, even in track and field he was lagging behind

✧ But he eventually had to come to terms, realize that he wasn’t the only one grieving.

✧ Oh, when he first found Ace in the dark of their room, furiously wiping at the tears that rushed down his cheeks, Deuce felt so bad. That was when he finally realized that he wasn’t alone in his grief 

✧ He cried with Ace that night and the next morning, while they didn’t speak much of it, they shared a silent understanding. 

✧ From then on, Deuce made sure to periodically check on the others. If they were okay, how they were faring. 

❦

✧ Even if you had left, Deuce was determined to not let the group fall apart. He couldn’t bear the thought of it.

✧ Even in the present, he’s one of main reasons that all the (former) first years still talk with one another.

Deuce could hear his phone buzzing, subtly moving across the counter as he cooked some food for him and his companion. 

“Grim, could you check the chat for me please?” 

The cat perked his head up from his napping spot, eyes lazily roving over to the device. “Myeh? Why don’t you get it yourself?”

Deuce motioned to the cooking omelets on the stove with a pointed look. “How about it’s because I’m cooking your lunch and if you don’t want a burned omelet, then you better pick up the phone.” 

Grim glared at Deuce, even hearing a low hiss from the cat monster, before he begrudgingly picked up the phone, with a bit of trouble due to not really having opposable thumbs Deuce couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight for a bit before turning back to his cooking. 

“Nyeh, they’re talking about the picnic.” 

“Oh shoot, I almost forgot!” Deuce sighed, now remembering the event that was planned three days from now. He looked back at Grim, who was still holding the phone, staring back at Deuce. “What’re they saying?” 

Grim looked back down, squinting a bit. “Eeeh... Jack’s asking if he needs ta bring anything.” 

Deuce looked back at his cooking, wracking his brain. Ace was going to bring some patties and other meats to grill along with the coals needed, Deuce planned to bring some of the main dishes and some egg dishes, Epel was planning to bring apple pie and a few condiments, and Sebek said he would bring fish dishes. He snapped his fingers, realizing that no one had any plans to bring refreshments. 

“Tell Jack to bring some drinks. Sodas, tea, water, that stuff.” 

He heard Grim hum, then the recognizable clicking of the phone’s keyboard. Deuce placed the finished omelet on a plate and walked to Grim, placing it beside him with a fork. “Oh, also tell him to bring a snack for you to have when you leave with him.” 

“Nyeh?!” The flames in Grim’s ears burned a bit brighter as he looked at Deuce incredulously. “What am I, a baby?” 

Deuce didn’t answer and was swiftly met with Grim attempting to claw at his arm. He laughed and was quick to move out of the way. He still heard Grim typing anyway.

❛JACK HOWL❜

✧ Jack got it. He knew it would happen eventually and, now, the time has come

✧ While he wasn’t much for crying, he was much quieter than usual, tail swaying limply when you announced your leaving

✧ He was a bit clingier than usual and did as much as he could for you before you left. Jack felt sad, really he did, but he didn’t cry. If anyone asked on his thoughts, they would think he didn’t care. 

✧ Jack did care though, he did. But he also cared for you, and wanted you to be happy. If going back to your original home would make you happy, then so be it. 

✧ The hug he gave you before you left was next to bone crushing, but he poured all his care for you through that action

✧ Once you left, he worked harder to become someone you would be proud of

✧ There was a low chance of you ever coming back, but he wants you to not be worried about them while you were back home. 

✧ He was also the one to try and gently push the others towards accepted your departure. He just wanted his friends to be able to cope well. 

✧ Jack, even years after, still tries to improve. He talks about you casually, making comments about how you would have liked this certain thing, or suggests going to this one place you would have wanted to see. 

✧ He talks like you’re still there with them and that’s how he likes to remember you.

❦

His heartbeat rang in his ears as he jogged, the cold air revealing the small puffs of air he exhaled. Jack paused as he reached his doorway, lifting his wrist to check his time. He shaved off a few minutes, not enough to see good results, but it was good for the day. 

Opening the door, Jack was met with Grim, who was rummaging through the cabinets for food. The sound of the door opening made the monster turn, grinning that sharp little smile of his. 

“Jack! You’re back! Now you can feed me.” Grim laughed that little laugh of his and Jack could only smile. 

“Don’t you know where the snacks are?” Despite saying this, Jack trudged over, giving Grim a quick pat on the head as he pulled out the small baggie filled with snacks made specifically for the cat monster. 

Grim snatched it up, cackling as he rummaged through the bag and ripping into a snack. Jack, meanwhile, went into the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He was quick to open it, chugging the cold liquid and letting it cool down his hot body. 

Looking to Grim again, citrine eyes studied the sight of Grim, messily chewing on a pack of peanut butter crackers. A thought crossed his mind, wondering if you were eating well, maybe eating your favorite snack. Jack chuckled at the thought and a somber smile spread across his lips. 

Grim lifted his head from his mini feast, staring at Jack with a confused stare. “Wha’re you staring at?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just keep eating. I need to call Epel.” 

“Eh?! Is it that time already?” 

Jack nodded, walking to where he kept his phone as Grim whined about having to go with Epel the next morning and that he hadn’t packed, despite the fact he never had to in the first place.

❛EPEL FELMIER❜

✧ Oh Seven, what to say about Epel

✧ He cried. He cried a lot much to his chagrin. He didn’t mean to sniffle when you said you’d be going back home, but he did. And he felt so humiliated about it too

✧ In the upcoming days, Epel felt so disconnected. It was like he was there, but also not. He was still hanging out with the rest of you, laughing and smiling, but it all just felt like he was drifting along

✧ The day you were leaving, he was still feeling adrift, the hug Epel gave on the weaker side as his head lolled to lean against you

✧ In the aftermath, Epel had felt like a ghost or maybe undead. Only nodding along to whatever was said by Vil or just doing as he was told. It was a bit disturbing to see, if you asked any of his dorm mates

✧ It was only when Vil confronted Epel about it did he finally break down. 

✧ He allowed the tears to flow down his cheeks and he would have felt embarrassed about doing this in front of his housewarden if he wasn’t distracted by the fact that he missed you so much. 

✧ For Epel, it was a long process. He didn’t ‘bounce’ back like he wanted to, but it was still a process. 

❦

✧ Sometimes, he forgets that you’ve left too. When Epel opens his messages, expecting to see a text from you, he sees nothing. Only a dated message from you so long ago. 

✧ It’ll make that pang hit his chest again, but he’s usually fine after a bit.

The sun was beating down on him and Epel huffed as he climbed down the ladder, a basket under his arm and full of apples. He looked to where Grim was supposed to be, sighing softly once seeing that the cat monster was still in his spot. 

Grim had his tail curled up by his face, silent as he napped silently under the shade of an apple tree next to another basket. Epel was quick to pull out his phone, snapping a picture of the scene before him and opening up his messaging app. He had to stop himself, though, before he pressed on the contact he was about to click on. 

There was a pause, a brief pause as a soft ‘oh right’ slipped past Epel’s lips. His phone fell a bit in his hands and he looked down at the brown earth. He was silent as he sorted through his thoughts, that familiar tight feeling still in his chest. 

After a minute or so, Epel sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly just as he was taught. “Alright.”

Instead of clicking on the contact he had planned to, he pressed on a separate chat, the one that was much more active than the other. Sharing the picture, Epel pocketed his device and walked over to where Grim was. He sat silently next to him, sighing as he let himself relax. Epel sat with his thoughts as a hand mindlessly ran through Grim’s fur. He sat with all the good thoughts, the bad thoughts, the saddening thoughts. Epel let himself feel it all as he rested. 

But once he was finished, that tight feeling in his chest softened to a light prick and Epel sighed. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and picked it up, chuckling at the messages he was getting from the others. After sending his own contribution, Epel leaned his head against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes. 

He was supposed to meet Sebek soon, but a quick nap would do him good.

❛SEBEK ZIGVOLT❜

✧ He didn’t like it. Sebek didn’t like the thought of you leaving at all. While yes, he knew it would come someday, he also refused to acknowledge that it would ever come. But now it has. 

✧ Sebek wanted to scowl at you, scream at you, yell and shout his lungs out. How dare you leave! How could you leave, weren’t you happy here with all of them? In Twisted Wonderland? He felt betrayed.

✧ During those last few days, he didn’t want to see you or even speak to you. Maybe if he didn’t see you before you left, he’d feel better about it all. Sebek dedicated himself to being Malleus’ knight more than ever during those days. 

✧ Still, he had to confront the fact you were leaving, especially since, when you stood in front of him, arms wide, Sebek didn’t think twice to engulf you in a tight hug and not let go. 

✧ But he had to. He had to watch you leave, get swallowed up into the murky green of the Dark Mirror and leave them all behind. 

✧ Afterwards, Sebek acted like everything was fine, but he felt so numb. Or maybe he was mad, simmering with anger until it was ready to pop. 

✧ He didn’t want to talk about you, refusing to acknowledge the fact that you existed. Sebek avoided his newer friends, Grim, and places he associated with you. It was a bad way to cope, he knows, but it was better than that heavy feeling in his chest, the despair. 

✧ It was Malleus who brought him out of this grieving. Well, it was more unknowingly, but with how much the Young Master talked about you, Sebek couldn’t ignore the topic of you anymore. 

❦

✧ He got better as time went one, getting more comfortable with talking about you or coming across things that reminded him of you. 

✧ Nowadays, he’s still hesitant with the thought of bringing you up, but he won’t deny you existed, that you were a part of his formal years

“Grim! Get off of his Majesty! You were just outside in the garden.” Sebek stormed towards Grim, who was sitting in Malleus’ lap, being stroked by the fae king. He heard Malleus’ deep chuckle and bowed quickly. 

“It’s alright Sebek. I do not mind.” 

“B-But your majesty!” 

Grim cackled lightly, smirking at the distressed knight. “Yeah! He doesn’t mind.” 

Sebek felt a deep sigh escape past his lips, but he relented. “Fine... Just be sure to come to my quarters soon so I may bathe you! You can’t be disheveled for tomorrow’s meeting!” 

His footsteps echoed throughout the throne room and he left Grim to be pet by Malleus. Sebek made his way to his quarters, walking to the calendar that hung by his bed. Taking a nearby pencil, he crossed out another day on the calendar. 

One day closer. It was one day closer until he would have to make the try back to NRC and meet up with the others. He dreaded it, but he looked forward to it. 

For once, Grim did as he was told, having eventually made his way back to Sebek’s room as the knight was running the water for Grim’s bath. Though as always, it was a pain getting the cat bathed, as he would whine and yowl about the water, how it was getting in his eyes (it wasn’t) and that he wanted out. It was always a struggle to get him bathed, but Sebek somehow did it. 

Grim laid on Sebek’s lap now, dry and his tail swinging from side to side. Sebek was quietly reading and he didn’t dismiss the agitated swish of Grim’s tail. 

“Are you nervous?” Sebek’s usually booming voice had softened to fit his tone and Grim only lifted his head a bit, tail pausing. 

He mumbled out a meek ‘yes’. Sebek sighed, fingers running through Grim’s fur a few times in an attempt to soothe him. 

“We go every year and yet you always get so nervous.” Sebek chuckled. “I am too, Grim.” 

The only response Sebek got was a small ‘mrow’ and he knew that Grim had fallen asleep. He smiled softly and shut his book. Tomorrow was a big day.

❛GRIM❜

✧ Grim... oh, poor, poor Grim. 

✧ He was one of the worst out of all of them in response to you leaving

✧ He clung to you, refusing to let you leave his side

✧ When you announced you were leaving, Grim couldn’t fathom it. You were his henchman! His servant, the one that’s supposed to stay with him and serve him forever! You were... you were his first friend. 

✧ But you were set on going back home. Grim still couldn’t accept it, but could he really stop you? 

✧ The day you were leaving, the mirror chamber was filled with soft sniffling or muffled sobs, but Grim was the loudest, yowling and hissing as Jack held onto him. 

✧ You said your goodbyes to him first, but no! He didn’t want you to leave!

✧ Once you were gone, Grim was inconsolable. He was uncharacteristically quiet, he wasn’t the boisterous self anymore. No offers of his favorite can of tuna or Ace’s lunch could even get him to talk. 

✧ Grim didn’t talk, only going through the motions of school. He didn’t want to move out of Ramshackle, despite the Headmaster’s offer to have him in the care of the first years

✧ He refused to leave the first place he was able to call home. The ghosts of Ramshackle did their best to care for the cat monster, but there was only so much that a spectre could do for the living. 

✧ Once the first years graduated, Grim had been able to accept that the possibilities of you coming back were slim. He was reluctant to leave Ramshackle, but he did. 

✧ Over the years, slowly but surely, he was able to adjust to life without you. Yes, it hurt him a lot sometimes and whoever was currently taking care of Grim would hear soft whines during the night, but he got better.

❦

“Grim! Wait up!” 

He couldn’t wait for them though, excitement was running through his body and electricity was spiking through his skin. Grim was getting to go home, his first home. 

While it wasn’t truly complete, it never was without you, it was still his home. It was the closest thing he had to being near you. Grim’s little feet tipped and tapped as he waited for Ace to open the door to Ramshackle, nerves wracking his body so much that Jack had to pick the cat monster up to keep Grim still. 

When the door was finally opened, Grim scrambled to get out of Jack’s grasp, sprinting into the old home and up the stairs. He could hear the others setting their things down on the old couches, but Grim could care less. 

He scrambled to get the door open and was thankful when one of the ghosts appeared, greeting Grim before opening the door for him. Grim rushed into the room, hopping onto the only bed that was in the room.

There was a layer of dust on the sheets and Grim could see a few dust specks fly about after he had jumped onto the mattress, but it smelled like you still. He doesn’t know how but he could care. 

The curtains were open and shining warm summer light on Grim as he curled up on your old bed, comfort curling around him as he closed his eyes. He imagined the warmth was you holding him close, petting and cooing at him as you used to do before. 

It wasn’t you and Grim knew this. But right now, curled up and surrounded by something that he knew as you, for the few hours he was here, Grim could imagine that you were still here.

[sio-writes]

Kinky drider prompt. Either suspension bondage. Or Shibari. Or both *hands in the air*

Aaaand here it is! (Finally!! /avoids thrown paper balls)

This is a sequel to this piece although you don't need to have read the first to understand this one.

Tags: NSFW, shibari (it's v soft I promise), vaginal fingering and vaginal sex, and a bit of subspace experience

I hope the wait was worth it, happy reading!

“Darling,” Callum calls from your shared room, his voice timid. It’s very unlike the voice he uses to command his court, or speak to his generals. It's a voice he uses only around you, when he knows it's safe. 

You poke your head into the room and see him sitting in front of the fire. It's been getting colder the past few weeks, not quite cold enough to snow, but the staff have been bringing down the heavier garments in preparation. It's been the perfect excuse to stay in bed for a few more kisses, a quiet moment alone before his attentions are drawn elsewhere. 

Callum gestures you over with two hands, and you step into the room and sit across from him on the ornate rug. His hands are all folded in front of him, and he's staring into the fire.

"Is everything alright?" you ask, concerned. He seems anxious, fidgeting with his hands. 

He takes a deep inhale and takes your hands in his, pressing them between his four palms. "It's concerning the bedroom. I'd like to try…something new." 

Oh, that's all? You'd thought something was wrong. You quirk an amused eyebrow. "You're bored already?" 

He shakes his head like a dog. "N-no! You're wonderful! This has been the most--" 

You laugh, cutting him off. "My love, I'm joking. Tell me what you want." 

His face glows in embarrassment, a dull blue shining through the low light of the room. "I want to…tie you up." 

It takes you a moment to parse his meaning, then you drop your fist into your palm. "Oh!"

You've heard of this before! The Oni across the ocean make gorgeous configurations! You'd stolen a book of them from the library and flipped through it under torchlight. Layers upon layers of rope, criss-crossed and interwoven, hours and hours of work to make living art. You'd asked for the book out of idle curiosity, but the more you flipped the more involved you'd become. It's been a few weeks since you'd found the book in the library, but it hasn't left your mind since. 

"That sounds great!" you shout, grabbing Callum by the shoulders. A touch over-enthusiastic, but it would be a lie to say you hadn't thought about the same.

His responding smile is shy, but bright. "It's done with my silk so it's very soft, but if you don't want to I--"

You kiss him on either cheek, energy leaking out of you like steam. "Yes! I said yes! What did you have in mind?"

Leading you by the hands out of the bedroom, he brings you down the hall and to a room that neither of you frequent, and you had honestly forgotten the purpose of until Callum begins to explain.

"I mortified myself by asking for assistance setting this up. I'm surprised none of the staff let it slip to you. It's got everything we could need in here, plus more."

You smirk at your husband. "What would you have done if I refused?"

He laughs. "Never opened this door again," and then looks down at your hands, his thumbs rubbing your palms. "But I had faith in you."

The door swings open silently and he ushers you inside, two hands firm on your back as you take in the room. Everything, from the bed, to the wallpaper, to the decor are done in a deep red and gold. There's accents of silver along the wall, but your eyes are drawn to the giant four-poster bed against the far wall. It's as large as the one in your bedroom, but that one is almost delicate compared to the solid oak frame in front of you.

"Is this okay?" he asks. 

"It's wonderful," you breathe out, awed. 

The pressure on your back steers you to the bed. "Undress, please, and kneel on the bed." 

Your mouth goes dry at his stern, direct tone. He reserves this voice for you, and you only. "You haven't told me what you had in mind."

"First I'd like you to kneel on the bed. Then I will show you."

The air of the room is cool without a fireplace, but you hope you'll be warmed soon as you climb onto the bed. It's higher than a human bed to accommodate the height of a drider, bigger as well, but you've come to enjoy the size. The duvet is cotton, a deep red shot through with gold like the rest of the room, soft from laundering. 

You sit on the center of the bed, your legs tucked beneath you, and you watch as Callum makes a slow arc from one side to the other, like a predator, or a butcher appraising meat. He reaches underneath the bed and sets next to you a box, one you could easily fit an armful of books in.

"Do you know what to say to make me stop?"

You have no fucking clue. This is new territory, it's never gotten so intense that you felt the need. Callum has always made it apparent that you could pull away whenever you wish, so you've never had a specific word for it. "Uh, s-stop?"

His mandibles lift, an expression of approval. "You are a queen, say it like you mean it."

You sit up straight and pretend you're back in the court, projecting your voice. "Stop."

It feels a bit silly saying it to empty air, but Callum leans forward, pecks your lips and says, "Good girl." And you want to do it again.

He picks up a book--you realize it's the same book you'd checked out from the library, opened to one of the pages you'd absentmindedly dogeared. The figure has their hands together, held behind their head. The ropes are knotted like diamonds on the front and back, and the figure has their chest pushed out.

"If your hands go numb or start to hurt at all, you're going to tell me, understood?"

You nod absently, still staring at the book. "Okay."

"Hey," he steers your face away, firmly squeezing your cheeks between calloused fingers. "Did you hear me?"

"I did," your eyes flick down to his lips. "Sir."

"Good girl," he says with a sharp smile, and you shiver pleasantly.

Callum pulls another box out from underneath the bed, this one full of twisted rope lengths, the dark blue of his silk appearing black in the low light. He'd prepared this, spun the rope thinking of tying you up, spent time out of his day to come in here and make plans. The thought makes you rub your thighs together, a motion not unnoticed by Callum. He lays a length across your shoulders, the ends falling over your breasts and gently caressing your nipples. It's a small movement, but you suck in a breath all the same. 

One of his hands not working through the rope rests lightly on your thigh. "Get comfortable, spread your knees," and he says it casually, like a suggestion, but you know it's not. 

Callum isn't mean or forceful in the bedroom, but his commands come through firm, with clear intent behind them. If you didn't listen, there were consequences. 

The first time you'd tested his patience, had been disobedient, he'd kept you on the edge of orgasm for three hours straight, while he got to come over you all night. Only once you'd been reduced to a sobbing, incoherent mess had he let you come on his fingers alone, and you were so wound up that the scream it tore from you nearly made you hoarse. The bath he'd drawn for you afterwards and the fingers he'd combed through your hair had been heavenly, he always took care of you, but you were not up to par to do that again. You'd be good for him. 

Besides, you enjoy the approval. His smiles could be soft or sharp, and you like the idea of pleasing him as much as you can. 

Callum sits on the bed behind you, his lower legs stretching out next to yours, warmth practically radiating from his body. The chill starts to disappear as his hands smooth over your skin, over your hips, down the tops of your thighs and back up to cup your breasts. His hands are warm, it feels good exploring your body, the drag of his blunt nails over your skin makes your clit tingle. 

Bringing the rope up, Callum starts on your wrists, a knot where your hands meet that wraps around a few times. With another hand, he wiggles a digit between your skin and the ropes before knotting it, and you realize he's testing the tightness. 

He pulls your hands up, over your head, and says softly, "When I'm done with this, I will see how you feel, and then I'd like to tie your legs." He pulls a little harder, bringing your shoulders up to your ears, anchoring the ties on your hands to the rope around your chest. Brushing your hair aside with his long fingers makes another shiver work up your spine as he starts to wrap the pattern over your chest. 

He leans around you, face nuzzling the outside of your arm, a hand pushing his face into you, and he says softly, "And then I want to fuck you, my good girl."

You shudder, his voice dripping heat down to your pussy, and you pull at the restraints wanting to relieve the tension. It pulls at Callum's hands, and he pauses. 

"Are you alright?" 

You nod. "I'm fine." 

Concern laces his words, "We can stop if--" 

"N-no!" You flush, trying to turn to him and failing. 

Callum peeks around your arm, noticing the heat in your face, and the hand on your thigh slides up. 

"I see," he says. 

And as if he's reading your mind, one of Callum's hand traces over your hip, inwards over your thigh, and finally cups your sex with his long fingers. It's not quite dripping yet, but your lips still part easily under his touch as he draws a finger up the center all the way to your clit. You shiver at the touch, a small moan escaping your lips. 

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," Callum says, voice low as he rubs his finger slowly, and his other hands continuing to wrap the rope over your chest and across your back. 

Even at the slow pace, you're at Callum's complete mercy and the tightness of the ropes. His hand on you doesn't speed up, doesn't apply more pressure, only circles your clit at that same maddening pace, keeping you just on the edge, turning you into a panting mess in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Your pussy feels empty, you cant your hips with each downward movement of his fingers, hoping he gets the hint. 

His directions, like the silk in his hands, are smooth but firm. "Spine straight," he says, tracing a finger from the base of your spine to your neck. 

"Deep breath," as he tightens the rope under your breasts. 

He pulls the rope around your chest and threads it through your hands again. Your breathing picks up as you test the strength, and it locks your arms into place. 

The hand over your clit reaches lower and Callum gently presses two fingers into you. It's not quite the size you want, but the relief that comes with it has you moaning. 

"Tell me, love," Callum says behind you as he secures a knot, as if he isn't knuckle-deep inside you. "What led you to this book?"

You've been caught, but the image of Callum finding that book, knowing you'd seen it only makes you wetter. "I, uh…" You shift on the covers. "Just curious."

"Curious," he repeats around a particularly wet sound from your pussy. "Sneaking around, bookmarking pages." He brushes your G-spot and you shudder. "Did you think about me? Did you touch yourself to it?"

"...No."

"Liar." He yanks on a loose end, hard enough to thrust your chest forward and bring more color to your cheeks. 

His hand stops over your pussy as he concentrates on the last few knots, and you don't know how much time has passed, but it's too much. The warmth of his hand is nice, but it's not enough anymore. You're oversensitive, he's been going slow on purpose. You need his cock, you need him to fuck you. 

"Alright," he says. "I'm done with your arms." 

You squirm on the bed. "Would you, uh, leave my legs for tonight?"

As he rounds the corner of the bed, Callum looks to you, attentive. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, it's just…" You look down, unable to finish the sentence, and Callum flashes you a boyish grin. 

"Go on, tell me." 

Every time you try to move your arms, it pulls the connections over your chest, tightens the loops over your wrists and shoulders. You're on display like this, completely vulberable. You truly could go limp and everything would stay in place, and it's a relaxing thought. Callum has you, you're stable.

Your voice comes out shaky, "I want…I want you to fuck me." 

That never gets easier, no matter how many times you've done it. Usually you'd be embarrassed, and you feel the beginnings of it, but it's not nearly as present as the need to be filled. 

And Callum always obliges you.

The rope around you is soft, but it bites into your skin. It reminds you of the way Callum will bite your shoulder or your neck as he's deep inside you. These ropes are going to leave a mark, one that the court might see, that might be bared to the public. Bearing these marks for others to see how Callum owns you is a heady thought, and your exhales are unsteady, but you also feel light, floaty, as they set in.

There's been a few parties where you've had more than a few glasses of wine, and it's a similar feeling, this weightlessness. And your arousal is persistent, you want Callum to touch you again, it felt so good. 

You're staring at a spot on the floor when Callum gently grabs your jaw and guides your head upwards. Your head weighs a million pounds, but he's holding you, and that's nice. He's so pretty when he's serious, intensely studying your face. All four of his eyes are narrowed in suspicion, there's a light blue blush over his high cheekbones, and his dark hair has started to mat to his forhead with sweat. Was this an effort for him too? 

But he looks almost upset, so you smile at him.

"I'm okay," you say, and you are. You mean it. "This is nice. I'm very relaxed."

Callum's face relaxes, the crease in his brow disappears, and he smiles back at you, that crooked, boyish smirk that melts your heart, and he kisses your lips. You open easily to him, his split tongue sliding over yours, lazily exploring your mouth. The rope stops you from reaching out to him, but his hands wrap over your hips, across your back. They run over the rope, tracing the lines, testing the tightness. He pulls back, pecking your lips one last time. 

"And you want me to fuck you?" 

You lean forward, chasing another kiss, a smile pulling at your lips. "Yes, please." 

He pats the outside of your thigh, that boyish smile coming back. He's strong, picking you up easily so your legs can fall open from underneath you. With his other hands he grabs underneath your thighs, pulling them around his waist. Your ankles cross over his thorax, soft and bare, and you feel against your thigh the prodding of his cock, still buried behind his slit but eager to break free. 

You lazily wiggle your hips over Callum's and he moans, the arms keeping you upright squeezing you into his torso. 

Callum grabs you by the hips, positioning his cock against your entrance. His hard girth greets you, warm and wet with the lubricant his body produces. As the tip slips inside, you gasp against his shoulder, the intrusion always shocking you with the sudden size. There's only the slightest taper to his cock, with a slant at the tip and a curve upwards. Your first time together had been an experience in readying yourself for it, but after nearly every night together, you've gotten used to it. Loved it. 

You're allowed a breath's length of time before he slams you down, up to the two large bumps at the base where he says his seed is stored. The sudden heat and force pushes the breath from your lungs, sends fire up your spine, but he doesn't give you time to adjust before he lifts you up almost all the way out and slams you down again. 

His cock is huge, you feel every inch as it fills you up, and he starts a punishing rhythm that keeps him deep. The bumps along the top of his cock caress your insides and you moan against his neck, not caring if anyone outside can hear. 

"You look absolutely stunning," he says, breaths punctuated by each thrust and the smack of your skin against his. "I want to tie you up again, keep you there for hours. To watch you beg for me while you can't get away." 

You can't respond, too caught up in the feel of his cock ramming into you, wet and obscene, the lubrication of his cock making the glide feel delicious. Like he can't get enough of you. 

You pull at the ropes again, forgetting that you're tied up, and another wash of calm floods your senses. That lightheadedness is coming back, that floaty feeling. You're coasting on sensation, surrounded by Callum, his scent, and so many feelings. He's got you, he always has you, and he always will. 

Callum grunts as he thrusts into you, the sound right in your ear, and each downstroke feels so good you may come just from this. His cock hits a spot on the next thrust that has you moaning, open mouthed against his skin. 

"I want you like this all the time," Callum breathes, his voice wrecked. Sweat is beading on his skin, his hair is curling from the heat. "I want to try everything with you, you're so beautiful." 

He mumbles more into the skin of your arm, but you can't make it out. The pace of his thrusts picks up, become erratic. 

"Are you close?" he asks. "You're going to milk me dry like this." 

You can only moan an affirmative, his voice working to push you over the edge. Your thighs clench, you pull against the ropes and seize up, overcome with pleasure as you come. The world goes black as you squeeze your eyes shut, your heart beating erratically. 

Callum thrusts into you once, twice, his hips stuttering as he releases a long moan. The length of his cock shudders and you feel the wet warmth of his seed as it fills you. It pumps again anf Callum shudders, mimicked by you when you feel it start to leak out of you and drip down the curve of your bum. 

You feel incredible, like you could run up a mountain, or take a three year nap. You feel Callum's heart against your own, both beating frantically. 

Once Callum gathers his wits about him, he's petting your hair, grabbing your hands where he can. "How are you feeling, love?" 

You feel stable, back to the ground, and nod. "That was fantastic. But," you say, wiggling your fingers. "I'm starting to go numb." 

"Oh shit," Callum says, immediately but gently pulling out of you and setting you on the bed, rushing to a drawer on the bedside table. You laugh when he very seriously brandishes a pair of scissors and starts towards you. 

"No!" You say, scooting away. "I like this rope, don't cut it!" 

He pulls you in by the elbow and starts snipping anyway. Pouting, you remain still in the face of those sharp scissors. 

"Believe me, it is nothing to make more," he reassures you, running his thumb over your pushed out bottom lip. 

The first bit he cuts is the ties keeping your arms back, but he grabs your wrists before you can wrench them forward. 

"Easy," he says, his voice stern. "Easy." 

Slowly, he guides your hands down in front of you, and you're glad for it. You'd been ignoring a lot of pain in your shoulders, not through any error on Callum's part, but the intensity of the position itself. It's a good sore though, one you'd like to experience again. 

"Everything alright?" he asks. You nod. 

Callum quickly cuts the rest away, the rope falling to the blanket beneath you, and you feel his fingers skating lightly over your skin. 

He's running over the marks, the indented red lines, the texture of the rope superimposed into you. Looking at your arm and chest, you see them too. They're amazing, little bits of evidence to show what you've done. 

"Stunning," Callum says, fingers skating over your arms, so light you can barely feel it, like he doesn't want to hurt you. 

You're running your hand over the marks when a chill runs up your spine, the cold of the room setting in and making goosebumps break out over your skin. Callum presses a kiss to your freezing shoulder, and you feel the smile on his lips. 

"Let's get you warmed up." 

As he silently carries you to the washroom, his warmth presses into your side and where his arms wrap around your body. The massive bath he lowers you into is searing, perfect to gather the last fragmented pieces of your mind, to focus on the hands he runs through your hair and his firm body cradling you. 

Callum continues massaging your scalp, his other arms still running over the indented marks that are filling out, but remaining red on your skin. You heave a heavy sigh, content, ready to fall asleep in his arms, and you're definitely doing this again tomorrow. 

[dandelionpixels]

kara danvers/supergirl + reader

(platonic)

ask: Hello, could I request a supergirl platonic one where r struggles with depression and like hopelessness (in their own life and with *gestures to world events*) and supergirl/kara (who knows r in real world. If OK, could you like show both kara and supergirl?) Helps them find hope and all? Sorry for heavy subjects. Love your works!

Despite how much you loved Kara, when you had days that you couldn’t leave your bed, you always waved off her offers to come over. It was embarrassing, you didn’t need her to feel bad for you.

So you always insisted you were fine, it was just a temporary setback.

Until one time you’d been in your house for days, curled up, either watching the news or napping through the daylight. You didn’t check your phone, too tired to talk to anyone. You weren’t sure what time it was when someone started knocking at your door. Planning to ignore it, you pulled the blankets up. A familiar voice sounded through the wall, “It’s Kara, can I come in?”

You call back, voice hoarse, “I’m fine, go home!”

It’s silent for a moment before you hear the lock forced, pausing to wonder how she managed that. Before you can consider it for too long, she appears at your bedroom door, takeout bags in hand. The sight of her is enough, and you surrender, patting the bed.

She sits with you, glancing towards the news on the tv, “Can I change that?”

When you don’t answer, she grabs the remote, “I’m going to change it. No one can watch tragedy 24/7, it’s not sustainable. Even you need a break, okay?”

Flipping onto a lighthearted movie, she gets settled, pulling the food out of a bag and offering you a box. You take it, mumbling a thank you. She nods, mouth already full.

Sitting up straighter, you dive into your food. Chips and packaged sandwiches were barely enough to live on, so this is somehow the best food you’d ever had. You both stay there, watching some shitty romcom that actually gets a few giggles out of both of you. You wrestle yourself out of bed to shower, and when you come back, the trash is cleared out, replaced with a glass of water.

You guys watch another comedy and sit on the balcony, and you can feel the fresh air reluctantly making you feel better. After that, Kara almost always comes over on days you can’t get up.

—————

But a couple months later, you can feel it creeping up on you again. The awful headlines, mixed with your own predisposition. You wake up one day and can barely bring yourself to turn the light on. Kara’s out of town, she’d been gone for a couple days already. You text her to let her know you might not be on your phone, and she sends back a gentle reminder to go outside.

It’s dusk when you manage to follow her instructions, heading out to the balcony. When you get out there, you have to stifle a yelp, almost running into National City’s favorite superhero.

Supergirl sits on the edge of the balcony, turning as you walk out. You’ve met her briefly a fair amount of times, like when your bag almost got stolen, and when your old building had a fire. She seems to be always nearby when you’re in trouble.

You sit down on your chair outside, waving a gentle hello. You don’t have the energy to ask anything, if you were in trouble she would’ve said something.

She gets up and sits at the chair next to you, that feeling of familiarity never leaving, no matter how many times you see her. It’s silent for a minute before she speaks, voice gentle, but weird, like she was trying to change it, “Are you alright?”

Pausing at the question, you think for a minute, “I don’t know, everything’s just- it’s just awful all the time.”

Nodding gently, she fidgets with her hands, “Yeah, I get that. But- I dunno, it seems like at least there’s always good people.”

You scoff despite yourself.

She laughs, “I know, I know. But really, I think if there’s good people, things won’t be awful forever. They just can’t be.”

You both go silent.

Speaking softly, you feel the corners of your mouth turn upwards, “You might have a point. My best friend, she’s good. Nothing really seems all that hopeless when she’s around.”

Supergirl stills, her face turning slightly away, “That’s nice. Mine too, my best friend I mean.”

You smile softly, looking at the blond hair you’d know anywhere, “I should go in, my friend will kill me if I don’t eat something. But thanks- for being here I mean.”

She nods, turning back to flash you a smile, “I should go too, but anytime. And for what it’s worth, I think the world is good. At it’s core at least.”

[letsperaltiago]

you and all your little things | jake & amy

Based on an old prompt I received in my inbox a loooong time ago:

"this is either a fic request or just a nice thought, depending on if you like it haha! i saw a reddit post today about a woman who said she loves finding kitchen appliances in the wrong place bc she knows that means her boyfriend must have tidied up the kitchen. she said on a stressful day, coming home and finding something in the wrong place makes her feel happy that her bf is trying to do something to make her day easier - even if he messes up a little. gave me early j&a vibes, season 3ish"

Rating: G (Pure fluff <3)

Words: 1.4k

Read here or on AO3

----

She doesn’t think too much about it… Or maybe rather she tries not to think too much about it. 

Amy Santiago tries not to think too much about the fact that she really likes being in a relationship: the solid, silly, and amazing kind with Jake Peralta. She might even be loving it, if she has to be completely honest.  

It’s the smallest things she usually loves the most and it drives her that much more insane that the man does the tiniest, trivial things and she swoons as if he’s asking for her hand in marriage - not that she’s thinking about that yet… duh. Or… maybe a bit? How can a guy she’s been with for just barely 6 months mean so much to her already? Is that normal? More importantly: is it safe? 

Even during the entire (and very intense) ‘annoying and difficult to be around’-phase Jake happened to go through when she first started at the 9-9, deep (very deep at times) down,  Amy always knew she liked Jake. Even before they were dating, obviously, but now that she has him her true and completely unhinged feelings are starting to surface and show. Slowly, bit by bit like the iceberg in the horizon, threatening to come closer and crash into her. No, of course, she doesn’t think of their relationship as a fatal shipwreck but they did just watch Titanic a few days ago and the metaphor is right there. After the movie, tiredly stretching after having fallen asleep with her head resting in his lap, Jake had suddenly gone silent and looked at her through the dark with a look so intense she could’ve sworn he was about to tell her a century old secret that could change the world. 

“Ames?” he’d said so seriously that it made her heart drop to her gut.

“Y-yeah?” 

“I’m about to ask you something very important.” Even in the dimmed light of her scented candles, she could see the depth of his brown irises grow darker. What had happened to the lighthearted and never-serious boyfriend of hers? 

“W-what?” She was tired, disoriented from her mid-movie nap, and now she was supposed to sit here and just witness him breaking up with her or something. Her life was definitely a joke. Silence swallowed them as he reached over the tiny gap between them and grabbed her hands. Another few seconds snailed by. Neither moved from their seats on the couch. 

“Will you paint me like one of your french girls?” 

What? Her brain short-circuited. 

“What?”

Then she saw it. A glimt, so mischievous it couldn’t hide, ever, appeared in his eyes. Lips broke into a tight line that told her he was holding back a grin. Even in the darkness, it was clear as day that he was messing with her. 

“Jacob, you asshole!” she punched his shoulder and he finally broke, letting out a cackle. 

So yeah, no actual Titanic happening in their relationship, and Jake has totally stolen her heart, and Amy is all at once completely enamoured but also horribly scared of how quickly she’s falling… getting used to it. Mainly, as already mentioned, the little things. 

Jake utterly, obliviously and completely messes with her way of thinking logically and even worse… her love and respect for organizing. 

Example: A couple of months ago, Jake had stayed the night. Even though she was going to work the in the morning, while he had a day off, Jake had insisted on staying the night. In the morning he’d sent her off with a kiss (and a playful smack to the butt) before passing back out in her bed. Driving to work Amy couldn’t help but overthink all the mess she’d come home to because untidiness was part of her boyfriend’s DNA. Even though it took some minor controversies and time getting used to, now she didn’t mind too much. Cleaning was fun and if it meant that Jake was making himself at home and stuck around more often then she’d gladly put up with it. It was safe to say that she was both pleasantly surprised and amused upon arriving back home to her now-empty apartment. 

When she walked into her home the air was crisp, clean even, telling her that Jake had aired the apartment for her before leaving. Lucky her because she’s pretty sure that the smell of their miserably burnt popcorn from last night must’ve been hell to get rid of. Suddenly she wondered what else he’d done. She didn’t expect anything but maybe Jake Peralta had the potential of being a tidy boyfriend. After taking off her boots and coat, putting it away as per usual, Amy wandered through her apartment as if she was visiting an exhibition at a museum; curious to learn and openminded. 

The blanket from last night was folded and rested across the sofa’s armrest - just how she always did herself but she’s positive that she didn’t do that yesterday. They’d made out on the couch and Jake had carried her straight to bed to continue the horny activities. It was safe to say that neither of them had gone back to the living room after that. Sure, the blanket could’ve been folded more neatly but Amy couldn’t possibly get herself to do anything about it; she’d been too busy smiling from ear to ear at the image of her boyfriend folding the huge, black plaid to the best of his abilities. 

The kitchen had been cleaned as well but she did happen to do a double-take when her eyes wandered across the sight of their two mugs (yes, they have stupid matching couples’ mugs) standing very much washed and clean, she also noticed, on top of her coffee machine.  Following her own logic, mugs would always belong in the cupboard: above the plates, next to the glasses. 

However then, suddenly, Amy could also see it from her boyfriend’s point of view: what do you use mugs for? Coffee. Where do you make the coffee? Coffee machine. Duh. Thus they belong together. 

She’d napped a picture of it and sent it to him right away. 

Amy Santiago:

Never thought of doing this but it somehow makes sense.

A few moments later her phone pinged, notifying her of a new message.

Jake Peralta:

oh ames welcome to the wonderfully logical world of jake peralta

She’d chuckled at it before heading for further exploration of her own home. Besides it being tidy as usual (almost up to her own very high standards) she didn’t notice much. The bed was made, shower scraped clean and his dirty clothes in her laundry basket. From day one they’d made a rule: she didn’t mind washing his clothes but the least he could do was put it in the laundry basket and not leave it all over the place. Never had he broken the rule.  And for him to clothes leave behind for her to wash is okay since he always does the same for her when she leaves something behind at his place - so far he’s only turned two of her white items pink. The first time, very early on in their dating slash situationship, he'd confessed straight away.

Jake Peralta:

don’t be mad. i turned your t-shirt the color of love.

click to open attachment. 

He’d texted her the first time.

Amy Santiago:

Wow, what a unique take on messing up my white t-shirt.

Jake Peralta:

sorry :( 

Amy Santiago:

It’s okay <3 I’ll just have to steal one of yours

The second time he'd left the item on her bed, folded in something resembling a heart, with a note with 'color of love' and a tiny heart next to it. She couldn't be mad - even if it was her night shorts. The note she kept in her drawer. 

Although she hadn’t noticed earlier that day he'd stayed over on his day off, she later comes one more puzzling yet amusing surprise. One is when she’d been looking for her reading glasses and couldn’t find them, only to randomly come across them… lying next to her toothbrush. She’d been more than curious to understand the logic behind the placement and sent him a picture. 

Amy Santiago:

What is the logic behind this? 

Jake Peralta:

You always read in bed before going to sleep. You always brush your teeth right before getting into bed. I thought it was normal to pair the two? 

Wow. She’d been smiling and blushing so hard and if he had been there with her then he definitely would’ve teased her about it. 

He definitely wasn’t a titanic. He was a million things, tiny little things, that made her heart flutter and lips curl into stupid school girl smiles. What can she say? Jake Peralta has a wonderfully weird brain and she’s slowly, bit by bit, falling more and more in love with him and his logic. 

[kpopimagi]

A Flower Under The Rain [Part 3]

Characters: Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and Kang Gyuri (OC) Genre: Angst, Romance Au: Hanahaki!Au  Type: Series  Word count: 4,393

It all began with a cough and then, a subtle sting in her chest. Kang Gyuri cried, knowing that in a matter of months, she would be another figure in the death toll of the most dangerous and cruelest outbreak in human history.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8-1

Gyuri was exhausted. She felt shattered and filthy, as if there was a layer of sage and mud over her skin. She desperately needed a shower, a comb to fix the mess off her hair, and something close to bleach to wash off the sugary aftertaste of her tongue. She wanted her bed so bad, especially as she walked herself home, lost deep in her thoughts, and she came into her house to find her parents in a hug. 

It wasn't a rare sight to her. They always thought they were discreet with their displays of affection and thought she never caught them, but she did. She grew up admiring the shared and secret smiles and the stolen kisses every morning before her father left for work quite sweet. The giggles and lighthearted conversation late at night when they talked about their day were just the sign of another good day in their family. She was used to the displays of affection. However, the silent tears they were shedding were out of the ordinary.

The sound of the door shut brought their attention back to her, and no force on earth could ever help her prevent her eyes from filling with tears as well. Her father was crying and unable to contain a sob; he walked to the threshold to wrapped her in a tight hug. 

“My pumpkin.” He cried, and the tightness of his arms around her shoulders broke her into pieces again.

Gyuri cried and cried. She let the fear take over her body, her mind, and her feelings. Caving into it, she let in the dread to devastate and destroy every hint of hope and peace she ever had. As she found herself in both of her parent's embraces, she just wanted the curse to take her body away and, to be over with it. She didn’t care. She did not even want to care anymore.

Her parents barely let her go, not even stay away from their sight for a second except for when she took a shower and got ready for bed. Gyuri ended up spending that night in their room like she always did when she was a little girl and was scared about the smallest of things. Feeling minuscule in the world and lost and gone in the dark, she cried herself to sleep between them as they cried along with her.

She must have been too drained to have any dreams or nightmares, although it wasn’t a peaceful night either. Waking up around midday, feeling just as tired, Gyuri came out to the kitchen to find her parents waiting at the table. There were cups of tea served, her father was reading the newspaper, which meant he must have asked the day off, and her mother seemed lost in her thoughts. They looked disheveled and out of place, just as she felt.

“Good morning.” She whispered, coming close to the table, and their heads turned around to her, their expressions visibly relaxing.

“Finally…” Her mother breathed out in relief, standing up, “we were getting worried.”

“Are you hungry, sweet pumpkin?” Her father said, setting the newspaper down and focusing on setting up her set of dishes on the table.

In a matter of minutes, Gyuri was seated in between her parents, having a late breakfast, and she couldn’t remember that last time she had a meal. Her father had to remind her a couple of times, stifling a laugh, that she had to slow down and take it easy if she didn’t want to choke. 

As lighthearted as the atmosphere was for a moment, it turned heavy when she finished her food. Gyuri wasn’t entirely comfortable about talking about the diagnosis yet. However, she was aware that her parents needed it. They needed to have something to hold onto.

“How do you want to handle all this?” Her father asked as he poured more tea into her cup, “your mother filled me in about yesterday’s appointment and Dr. Kim’s suggestions.”

“He even gave us some pamphlets.” Her mother added, reading through one with a deep and unconvinced frown.

“I threw up petals yesterday.” She confessed, and if the house felt already heavy and stuffy, it suddenly was even quieter, still, and desolated than before. “I guess I don’t even have six months anymore.”

Both of her parents lowered their heads, probably to hide their pained expressions, but she could hear their desolation. Listening to her mother’s muffled sobs and witnessing the subtle tremble in her father’s shoulders was more heartbreaking than she could ever imagine. Gyuri had nothing else to do but stay still, gripping her cup of tea, and waited for her parents to grief as she shed her fair amount of tears in silence.

“What do you want to do?” Her father asked after a while, sniffling as he wiped his tears.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, offering a napkin to him. “Can we keep it between us? At least until I figured it out.”

“Absolutely, pumpkin,” her father beamed, forcing a smile.

“Does that include that man?” Her mother asked, and Gyuri noticed the spite in her voice.

“Do you mean Baekhyun, mom?” She retorted, amazed at how easily her sentiments towards the guy changed.

“Pumpkin...”

“He can’t know,” Gyuri stated, her voice strong and steady, despite the mess inside her.

From all the questions and doubts, the fear and anxiety, one thing was not open to debate, and that was that Baekhyun could not find out about her illness. He couldn't know about her suffering, and even less, her eventually gruesome death. If she was sure of something, it was that she could never inflict that kind of burden on him, even if he was inadvertently responsible for her pain.

“He can never know.” She decided and stood up before her parents could protest. “I’ll be in my room.”

Gyuri locked herself in her room, in turmoil and reeling with questions and doubts. Despite all she knew, she had no idea what to do next. She wasn’t even entirely sure of how she was feeling most of the time, let alone having plans for the last months of her life.

Feeling her mood somber again, she opened up her laptop to indulge herself in the arms of the internet and its fatalist disposition. She lost track of time, jumping from patients' stories forums to medical journals with the latest results on vaccine research and then to blogs with reviews on the edge technology procedures. She paid particular attention to the Gardener Ritual, which was essentially a root removal surgery developed by Japanese scientists. The more she read and dug around about it, the more convinced she felt about how hopeless her situation was.

Surgery did not work. The roots could be successfully removed, but there was proof that the recovery stage was even more painful than the actual disease. However, it only took a glance of the beloved one to make the roots grow back again, faster and more lethal than before. In a blink of an eye, all the effort and money were thrown into the garbage. Gyuri didn’t even have the small fortune needed to get the procedure done. Surgery was not an option.

Some other theories seem more feasible. Gyuri could simply confess her true feelings, but it was proven that it only triggered the disease, and people ended up dropping dead right that instant. It was like shooting herself on the chest, hoping she would miss the heart. Confessing was not an option either.

Irritated, Gyuri shut her laptop closed and sulked in her chair. Thinking about everything and anything, she realized how angry she was at herself. She was beyond annoyed for not managing to compartmentalize her fear effectively and just focus on herself to enjoy what was left of her life. So what was she supposed to do? She had heard people talk about conquering the heart of that special person, but she couldn't wrap her head around that idea.

She has always been fidgety and almost mute, fighting her anxiety most of the time. It didn’t matter how kind and sweet Baekhyun was; he would never see her as anything else other than a little sister that needed his constant help. Gyuri didn’t have the guts to just fully and head on confessing her love for her best friend. She wasn't even his type. Baekhyun liked…she didn’t know for sure, but he dated only pretty and dumb girls. He had always been attracted to outgoing people that would keep up with his antics, unlike her.

Gyuri perked up. All of a sudden, she had an idea, as though a lightbulb appeared above her head. She had been too preoccupied with her situation, worried about the pain, considering all the possible cures for the damned disease, and Baekhyun’s taste in women that she didn’t realize the implications of what the ciabatta man said. 

If he was still alive after six years of catching that nasty curse, it meant he was outliving the disease. Plain and simple. Gyuri rushed out of her room to find her purse and everything else she had with her the previous night.

“Mom, where is my purse!?” Gyuri asked out loud, skipping the last two steps of the stairs, suddenly feeling unexpectedly excited.

“I put it back in your closet.” Her mother replied from the laundry room, “and the sandwich is in the fridge.”

Gyuri halted. She didn’t order a sandwich. She barely made it out alive of that place, let alone have time to order anything. Something minuscule in her chest softened when she opened the fridge and found the same paper bag the ciabatta man placed in front of her before leaving the restaurant. She couldn’t even recall carrying it back home.

The memory of the familiarity and comfort she felt from that man only made her rush back to her room, frantically looking for the book. Gyuri found herself smiling when she finally found it on one of the shelves of her closet.  

Sitting back at her desk, she threw the bag away, and almost as if it was sacred, placed the book in front of her. After a moment, she opened it to find the man's phone number on the first page, right below the dedication, and the words filled her eyes with tears. 

“To the ones the world seems to choose as undeserving of love.”

Never such a short sentence felt as accurate as of that one. Life indeed judged her and ruled her as undeserving. That simple notion shattered her heart into pieces, and looking at the several notes she wrote down and placed all over her desk, she realized she had to give up. 

Maybe he had an answer. Perhaps he had a tiny bit of hope to share with her, but the possibilities of her beating the curse as he did, were impossibly scarce. She realized then, staring at the digits of his phone number on the page of her book, that she didn't even know his name. He was a stranger, and how could she possibly expect him to help her out of this.

The doorbell of her house rang, and Gyuri almost jumped off her chair. Neither she nor her parents were expecting any visitors, but suddenly aware of the time, a sense of fear dawned on her. On instinct, she grabbed her phone, and not only did she get a new text, but found at least a dozen of unread messages, all from the same sender.

Why are you ignoring me?

Gyuri read the text, shivering at the meaning of that question as she went downstairs because she had one valid reason that was more than enough to want to avoid him. As if the dread of her fate wasn’t enough, she noticed the house was unusually and unsettlingly quiet, and that could only mean one thing.

Baekhyun was there.

Gyuri didn't have a chance. She couldn't even prepare herself to brace the situation. The man itself, the one that had her heart in a twist, found her in the living room, and her entire body reacted. Her every cell leaped, throbbed, and exploded just to see him.

It scared Gyuri that in a blink of an eye, she took in on every small detail about Baekhyun. She could tell that he was just out of work because he was wearing sneakers, baggy pants, and an oversized hoodie, and his hair was still somehow done.

Almost as if she had forgotten about the ever-present buzz of the curse in her chest, she heard it turning up as she did the smallest thing like just staring at his face; his pretty face that was. It went even louder when she saw the stricken lines across his expression and his thin and rosy lips pressed together.

Baekhyun had known her and her parents long enough to read the room and give them space. He knew when he had to step back and let her family work it through, even if it wasn’t something that happened often. This time, he looked back to the kitchen, nervously as if he was expecting something to happen, and then looked back at her sheepishly. 

“Is there something wrong?” Baekhyun asked quietly. He sat on the couch, making himself at home as usual. Although, for the first time since forever, he looked genuinely uncomfortable. “Your parents seemed a bit shaken, especially your mom.”

“Family stuff.” She muttered, still watching him from the same spot at the stairs.

Her heart was pounding. Her head ever so slightly spinning just to see him there. The sting was acting out again, flickering a little, coming and going from one side of her chest to the other, ready to burst through her mouth. Gyuri was afraid of making the slightest movement and triggering a symptom in front of him.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, looking at her from the couch, and Gyuri had to look away.

The worry in his voice was palpable. The seriousness in his eyes and the subdued precaution in his movements were also genuine. This was the Baekhyun she fell for. The Baekhyun that took care of her. The one that worried about her wellbeing, the one that felt so close to her, she could call family.

Just to think about that, the sting buzzed harder, and Gyuri placed a hand over her chest, trying to help her heart to calm down. She still felt shattered and disgusted from the first coughing fit. She could not afford another one so soon and by no means in his presence.

Slowly and eyeing him as if he was a dangerous animal ready to attack, she walked around the couch and sat down on the other side, as far away from him as possible. In a matter of minutes, Baekhyun was sprawled over the couch as he watched a variety show. On any other day, he would have his head laying on her lap or they would simply share one of the pillows. None of that was happening that day. She was stiff and putting all of her strength in seating straight so the tip of his toes wouldn’t even brush her thigh. Gyuri couldn't dare herself to let any of that happen ever again.

Time went by, and eventually, Baekhyun moved around and was suddenly closer to her. His head was dangerously near her reach. She just stared at him and had never been that self-conscious and aware of him before. He was lost in whatever was happening on the screen, munching on sausages and cheese sticks only God knew how he produced out of nowhere. She just looked at him, chuckling at the lame jokes or mimicking the dialogues. As she kept on admiring him in silence, she remembered the first time they watched a movie together.

Gyuri wanted to slap herself on the face at her obliviousness. Now that she knew exactly what was creeping around her heart and lungs, she felt like an idiot for not noticing before.

Baekhyun had always been the one to initiate the contact aside from her parents. He was the one that hugged her for the first time and leaned into her, resting his head on her quite regularly. He was the one that pouted to her so they could snuggle on a winter movie night. She could vividly remember the way he ruffled her hair, the few drunken kisses on her cheeks, and every time he held her hand.

More than anything, she remembered her bashfulness whenever he was at her place. He would pout and throw tantrums because she never allowed him to be that close to her, let alone snuggle. At first, she told herself it was all appropriateness and decorum, even shyness, but that was all a lie. She watched him laugh loud enough to choke on one of the sausages and then realized that it was all proper infatuation. She saw a smile spreading on his features as he chuckled at himself and his dumbness, and she just knew she was already lost.

She never thought Byun Baekhyun could be the one that could have her reduced to a lame bundle of nerves and giddiness. Gyuri found herself smiling, and the longer she looked at him, the more she felt the sting softening. She could barely feel it at all, so she embraced the alleviation, as risky as it could be.

Gyuri lost herself admiring her best friend, his perfect profile, as his delicate hands kept pushing cheese sticks into his mouth. Not wanting to let her mind wander around that particular part of him, she distracted herself with his hair which looked different. She could see the highlights that weren’t there naturally and the several shades of brown perfectly done.

“Your hair is different,” Gyuri said to herself, her fingers instantly reaching out for a strand.

“Mina insisted I would rock the highlights,” He said casually, “do you like it?”

Gyuri’s arm froze just in time before she could touch his hair, and a rush of irritation spread across her body, covering her limbs and mind. The pain was back and thumping against her rib cage. She didn’t even have a clue of who Mina was, but the dreadful wave that her body fell into was enough indication that whoever that was meant soreness to her core. She had to look away and focus herself on something else other than the pain. 

“Are you sure everything is alright?” He suddenly asked without drawing his eyes off the screen, but she knew well enough that his attention was on her, “You've been weird lately.”

“I’m fine.” She retorted, suddenly annoyed and practically boring holes in the center of the screen.

“Was it the grumpy little man that upset you?” He asked, and she glared at him, rolling her eyes at the annoying smirk displayed on his face. “How was the movie?”

“What movie?”

“The one you guys went to see...” He wanted to know, and this time, the smugness was gone and replaced by something she couldn’t tell what it was, “How come you never told me about him?”

Assuming that Baekhyun’s observation had to do with something the ciabatta man mentioned the day before, Gyuri remained silent and made a mental note to ask him about it later. She played along with that, and refocusing on the screen, she shrugged innocently but deep down, her heart broke a little more. 

Just like he never mentioned he was dating again, Gyuri desperately wanted to ask the same and reproach him for keeping that piece of information from her. Just to think about it made her stomach churn and her head spin, despite her efforts. She didn't have it in her to be like that.

“How was the doctor’s appointment by the way?” He changed the subject.

Baekhyun tried to sound cool, but she could recognize the edge in his voice even with the variety show blasting through the screen. Gyuri refused to fall into that sound even if everything in her desperately wanted to look around and just stare at him and his touching interest.

“It looks like you still have that nasty cough. I hope the new meds can get rid of it.” He pointed out, “Is that why your parents look tired?” 

As if the question itself made him realize something, Baekhyun sat up. Crossing his legs, he positioned himself closer so he could look at her better and not miss a thing.

“Is everything alright?” He asked again, leaning ever so slightly to observe her intently.

Gyuri cowered under his piercing gaze as his eyes went around her face looking for the truth. While he stared at her so thoroughly, she had to gather every ounce of willpower to lie. Although she wasn’t expecting it to be so hard and even more so, so painful. If she was expecting to keep him in the dark about her impending death, she had to try really hard. 

Gulping the knot that threatened to come up her throat, Gyuri managed to nod in response, and Baekhyun simply squinted his eyes at her, not entirely convinced. She would normally try to convince him with a well-thought and articulated argument. But as things were revolving inside her chest, doing something as simple as opening her mouth meant a high risk of uncovering the truth. She couldn't afford that.

For what felt like the longest seconds in history, Baekhyun gave up, and with a nod, he laid back down on the couch again. Gyuri almost let out a sigh of relief. She managed to dodge his worried questions, but the uneasiness oozing off him was more than obvious. For starters, he wasn't comfortable anymore. His phone resting on his chest kept buzzing every few seconds, making his leg bounce more in impatience.

For the entirety of the runtime of the tv show, Baekhyun ignored the device that didn’t seem to stop buzzing. She knew he wasn’t paying attention to it nor to whatever was going on on the screen. Her best friend being there simply to watch some random variety show was only an excuse to be at her place and dig around. He was insistent, and whatever the ciabatta man told him the day before wasn’t enough to satisfy his curiosity.

“I have to go.” Baekhyun said, standing up as if the couch was on fire, “I have to pick up Mina.”

As in daze and taken aback by the abrupt end to the visit, Gyuri followed her friend as he walked back to the front door. He was leaving just as suddenly as he arrived, which was out of the ordinary. Baekhyun never missed the chance to spend as much time as he could at her place, especially if it meant staying for dinner.

“Will you ever tell me what's going on?” He suddenly asked, turning around to look straight into her eyes.

“Tell you what?” Gyuri squeaked, genuinely taken by surprise and standing on her toes as she barely managed to stop her momentum and crash against his chest. 

She heard the buzz of his phone on his hand, and that made him resume his way to the door, but Baekhyun wasn't ready to leave yet. He opened the door and halted there, looking at her. Gyuri realized then the importance of this peculiar visit.

Her efforts and the ciabatta man's lies were not enough to fool Baekhyun. She wasn't nearly as good as she thought to hide her symptoms and afflictions in front of him, and of course, he was there, ready to offer his hand and help nonetheless.

“You know you can always talk to me, do you?” He added, reluctantly stepping out of the house, just waiting for her to open up. “If you ever need help.”

Gyuri nodded, unable to do more and not wanting anything else but for him to finally leave so she could breathe again. However, everything turned for the worst when he leaned closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The world was suddenly upside down.

His fragrance. His warmth. The safety of his embrace. Gyuri felt it all just as overpowering as she felt having her face pressed so softly, so delicately, and so shielded against the crook of his neck. The sensation of his hand on her back was so steady and firm that for a split second, she forgot herself.  

"Call me if anything happens." He whispered before letting her go.

Baekhyun gave her a small and comforting smile, and just like that, as soon as he showed up, he was gone. Gyuri closed the door, and the world around her instantly seemed to collapse and crush her along with it. She heard her mother’s trembling voice calling her and her father's closeness amid her dizziness.

“I’m fine,” Gyuri replied with a croak, not realizing how hard it was to breathe, let alone talk.

Her father was holding her, barely keeping her straight and standing on her feet. Her mother showed up in front of her, tears falling down her face as she struggled to open the tin can the ciabatta man gave her the day before. 

“How are you feeling, pumpkin?” He asked, handing her a couple of candies.

“It’s fine.” She lied, her insides twisting again, “I’m fine, I just need to rest.”

Gyuri was far from alright. She needed a lot more than just rest, but she wasn't strong enough to acknowledge that yet, at least not her parents, and untangling herself from her father's grasp, she forced her legs to go to her room. Gyuri mumbled empty promises as she muted her mother's cry and ignored her father's protests. Almost blinded by the tears, she finally reached her room.

Locking the door behind her, Gyuri fell to the floor, letting the pain take over again and squash her heart until she had no more tears to shed. She dragged herself to her desk and grabbed the book. Rubbing her hands against her eyes to stop the tears from falling and the sting from spreading, she saved the number on her phone and wrote the text that hopefully could take some of her pain away. 

He cares too much.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

"She's out like a light."

"And she'll be that way for a while." Mathye harrumped. "The potion I had her take had a mild sedative. From the little I could sense from her while she was awake, she hadn't had a good night's rest for a few days. Combined with all the food she ate at supper, she'd probably sleep through even Vishap's roaring."

"How much did she eat?" Estinien asked.

"Enough to tell me that like the sleep, she needed every mouthful. She's probably going to eat us out of house and home over the next several days."

"If we can get her to stay for that long." Augustine added.

"She's staying." Mathye decreed. Seeing the grin his younger brother was sending him, he scowled.

"What?"

"Have you been able to learn anything else about her?" Estinien interjected, wanting to head off a sibling argument.

"Her armor and weapons have had some hard use." Augustine answered. "She's traveling light--nothing but what's on her back and in her bag. Her rings look like they're from a skilled jeweler. Same for her armor and weaponry, I took them to the Congregation's armorers and they said that all of it looked like the work of a skilled craftsman."

"Stolen?"

"No. Custom fit for her. The quality alone would make me think she's maybe some nobleman's daughter, but her speech, not to mention her hands and feet say otherwise." Augustine gestured with one of his palms. "Calluses on them both."

"And if your next question is about her Eikon, we have no fucking clue." Mathye continued. "I can't get a read on it's magic, and neither could Augustine." '

"I couldn't either." Estinien admitted. "I was hoping you'd be able to." Mathye shrugged.

"My experience with any other magics is extremely limited. And hers is slippery. One moment I thought I was picking up on fire, the other moment levin, the next moment wind. It's as if somebody decided to throw all the elements together and combine them into one large Halone-only-knows mess." He paused as a thought occurred to him.

"Although..."

"What?"

"...There are some dragons that can combine elements into one single...attack, so to speak." Mathye slowly began. "Something entirely new." A frown crossed his features, and he gazed over at the bed where Riven was sleeping. Estinien's gaze followed the healer's own.

"If she had draconian magics I would have sensed them at our first meeting." He said. "She wouldn't have been able to get into the city--let alone walk away from that confrontation with Chaibert!" Augustine had been silent for the past several moments, racking his memory. There had been something...

"I remember hearing a rumor...or maybe it was a story." He slowly began. "Some years back. That a Sharlayan scholar was claiming that there'd been Eikons that had been created by the Allagans. Or experimented on." Estinien and Mathye both blinked at the paladin, with his brother being the first one to speak.

"Wait. Do you think that..." He asked, pointing at Riven's bed. Augustine gave Mathye a helpless shrug.

"I don't know? I could be wrong, maybe her Eikon's from one of the other city-states. We know Ala Mhigo and the Far East have Dominants too."

"But we know the Dominants of the other city-states are already spoken for." Mathye countered. "Save for Ala Mhigo...and I don't think she's from there. The imperials wouldn't have let an Ala Mhigan Dominant escape. If they haven't already killed their Eikons." Estinien grimaced. It was hard--but it was possible--to completely kill an Eikon. Something that the Garlean Empire apparently specialized in.

"Aymeric wants her kept out of the city." He said. "If you can keep her here--then do so. Did she say anything about why she was traveling, what brought her to Coerthas?"

"Only that she was looking for someone." Augustine answered. "No specifics."