#looking at pretty dresses for hours and hours cures all :)

[the-californicationist]

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted. 

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was. 

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush. 

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you. 

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure. 

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve. 

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy. 

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day. 

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night. 

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch. 

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign. 

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.” 

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face. 

You pitied him, winking cheekily, 

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action. 

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it. 

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought. 

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future. 

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it. 

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds. 

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have. 

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep. 

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you. 

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own. 

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution. 

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge, 

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment. 

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance, 

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock. 

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh. 

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further. 

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss. 

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure. 

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center. 

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot. 

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you. 

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly. 

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again. 

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together. 

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks, 

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy. 

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull. 

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your  throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize. 

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white. 

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone, 

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup. 

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be. 

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples, 

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more. 

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall. 

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good. 

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

[mimiatmidnight]

I love your new layout <3 so pretty! Any fashion prediction on Meghan's appearance in NY in DEC?

Aw thank you! 🥰 I figured, hell it's been long enough, time to grow up and finally install an actual theme lol.

For the gala, what I predict and what I want are two very different things haha. I tried to flip through some photos from this event's previous years to get a vibe, and it seems there is quite a range in the dress code of the attendees. Some of the women are in full formal evening wear and some are in, like, barely business casual. However, Meghan has proved in the past that she's not afraid of being the most overdressed person in the room, so let's cross our fingers that she holds true to that this year! (And promise that if you read through this long post full of evening gowns, and then she shows up in a pantsuit, none of you will make fun of me for dreaming 😭)

So let's start with the more boring, safe options. Meg has mostly not been one for extravagant appliques or patterns or textures. Especially in recent years, she seems to have favored simple, solid swathes of fabric that instead bring their interest with rich, vibrant colors, and occasionally a unique tailoring detail. If she follows this same path next month, I hope at least she shakes things up with a color we haven't seen on her yet, like the options I've got here from a mix of brands, including both Meg-fave brands and new-to-Meg brands.

Starting with Safiyaa, we've got this fun hot pink Barbie moment; a very regal periwinkle; a lovely pale yellow; this soft pink that she's worn several times before in a warmish beige tone, but instead in this cooler-toned variety that I'd be curious to see her in; and this lush mint look that is certainly a well-worn silhouette for her, but with an interesting new neckline paneling.

Here are more options with the same idea as above, just from other brands outside Safiyaa. There's a Zuhair Murad in a brilliant orange, which she's never worn before; a Romona Keveza in royal purple; a Carolina Herrera in yellow-gold; a sort of Little Mermaid-esque ombré moment from The Danes New York; a Halston in bubblegum pink that I think would be so flattering on her; and finally, another dress from Carolina Herrera, that I'm pretty sure I picked just because it fondly reminds me of her famous 2019 red and purple look.

Now for the more fun, day-dreamer options. I'm hoping for GLITZ. It's been sooooooooo long since we've seen her in something sparkly, so here are some exciting pieces that I could still sOmEwHaT realistically see her picking out to wear herself. My top pick is this glittering dream (with my favorite, PLEATS!!) from Paolo Sebastian AW22-23. I could also easily see her in this silver-rooted look from Georges Hobeika FW22-23. (I think it's reminding me of something she wore in the past, but I'm not sure what. Maybe a mixture of her ODLR bird dress and the Safiyaa halter she wore to Royal Variety? Idk)

I'll admit that these next two are less about realistic expectations, and more about squealing "OOH SPARKLY!!!" First, a column of pure glitter gold from Naeem Khan F22. Next, a festive emerald JUMPSUIT (!) from Elie Saab FW22-23.

Bringing this back a bit closer to earthly expectations, I've got these options in descending order of formality, so it depends on how dressy Meg is feeling. We've got an elegant splattered gown, again from Naeem Khan F22; a lovely pleated dress with gold foil detailing from Marchesa Notte; and last but not least, if she absolutely must revert to her favorite look of all-black pants, why not jazz it up with some fun sleeve paneling, like this jumpsuit from Safiyaa.

And to finish this whole thing off, just because I'm so charmed by the idea of predicting these two side-by-side, a blazing flame by Elie Saab and a mesmerizing ripple of water from Rene Ruiz.

And that's my list! Anyways, see y'all next month when, with my luck, Meg shows up in slacks.

[strawberrynightmare]

Mikey, Baji & Inupi getting whacked while they're trying to wake you up

Content warning: These take place during/after a sleepover! Tickling, something awful happens in Mikey's fic

Mikey

~Modern problems require modern solutions 🤠

~Late, late in the night, you were playing all kinds of games. Cards, truth or dare, illuminati, board games, video games, fire boy and water girl, you name it. Mikey was reaching the peak of competitiveness and you were not far behind.  

~And you would have been long knocked out had it not been for the sugar rush the two of you were on. Needless to say… the two of you were more than a bit hyperactive. 

~It was good after two am that a blood-curling crisis made its way into your blissful playtime. 

The two of you looked at each other in horror, as if to make sure you were not imagining things. But this dreadful situation went beyond human imagination. After a few minutes of deadly silence, your lover spoke in a quiet, shaky voice. 

“We ran out of snacks.”

~Even though the two of you stocked up so well beforehand, it was all gone now. After some good 15 minutes of crying about it, a rock paper scissors match began. Of course, the loser had to go through the hardships of getting their ass up, dressing up, going to the nearest 24/7 convenience store and buying some more food. 

~And he lost.

~As he dragged himself through the room, you could swear it looked like he was going to his own execution. He mumbled under his breath but the two of you were so out of it, you didn’t care and he didn’t even know what he was mumbling in the first place.

~He was back pretty soon but still found you passed out on the floor of his room. Your boyfriend didn’t think much about it when he began to gently kick your side. 

“Wake up, y/n I’ve got your favourite cookies.” ~Guy who looked and sounded like a zombie

~He knelt down to unpack the two bags of snacks while continuing to nudge you with his hand. And next thing he knew was a kick to his jaw as you shifted from laying on your back to your side. 

~He blinked a few times, instinctively touched his chin, sat there for a while, then stood up to turn off the light and fell asleep next to you. 

~Via the two of you trying to figure out how he got a bruise on his jaw after you woke up. 

Baji

~Aaand he took that personally 🙄

~It was definitely not a great idea to have a sleepover at his house on a Wednesday, but he got a bit impatient. For three whole days, you listened to him complaining about not sleeping well and insisting that the cure would be you sleeping over. 

~”What is it? I’m telling you, my mom likes you anyways. And if I sleep well, my grades will be better too!”

You’ve slept well for so many years, and the good grades were never in sight.”

”That’s foul, y/n!”

~In the end you settled for a study sleepover. Instead of messing around, the plan was to study together for some time and then go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Yeah, the plan was all it was.

~You were able to go through two pages of your textbooks before getting utterly distracted and doing whatever the hell you wanted. You ended up sneaking out even before the clock struck midnight and enjoyed the city basked in the night to your heart’s content. It was heavily past 2am when you came back and it was only because it started raining.

~Soon afterwards you fell asleep cuddling into his chest with his arm around your shoulder.

~And he recklessly followed you into the land of dreams without any awareness of what was going to happen in the morning. 

~He was woken up by his mother at the usual hour. Mrs. Baji brought you two breakfast straight into his room and as he was half awake, she urged him to wake you up as well. In a half-awake state, he barely began to complain and tell her to wake you up herself before she cut him off with “I tried”.

~In his defence, he thought that shaking your arms lightly and calling out your name would be enough to wake you up. Jokes on him, you didn’t even budge. He tried everything his mother ever used on him, taking away your blanket, rubbing your back, hell, he even tried to wake you up with a kiss - nothing worked.

~He was absentmindedly poking your cheek while trying to come up with something else. All he could think of was a glass of cold water or calling his friends. It was then that he suddenly got smacked in the face with a pillow. The force of the hit was enough to have him rolling out of the bed. His traitor pillow was dropped right next to him. All you did was roll onto your side. Still asleep. 

~If his loud ‘HAA????’ didn’t manage to wake you up, you might as well have been dead. Anyways, prepare because he took that as a declaration of war. How does a sleeping person prepare for anything

~He climbed back, pushed you onto your back and began to mercilessly tickle you in all the weak spots he was aware of. He even took a feather out of his pillow and began tickling your feet and that was the final straw, for you to wake up completely disoriented, fall from the bed and instinctively kick your boyfriend off the bed. Both of you ended up on the floor, but Baji didn’t even notice that. He was too busy patting himself on the back and praising his genius for managing to wake you up.

~All while he existed there in a half-conscious state, trying to comprehend the whole situation. 

~And then he dragged you to school. You were late because waking you up almost took him a whole hour. 

~Surprisingly, he managed to take the test and actually answer enough questions for you to consider him passing it. 

~So now he has an excuse to invite you in more often. Although he did learn to only do this on weekends so that you can sleep for as long as you wish, Sleeping y/n is the one person he’s too afraid to face again.

Inupi

~Bro gave up 💀

~It happened during a sleepover. The two of you were on the couch and watching a movie late in the night. He excused himself for a while when he noticed someone koko calling him. The call lasted longer than expected and when he came back, you were already asleep.

~All he wanted was to gently wake you up by rubbing your cheek so that you could move to his bigger and more comfortable bed. Totally not because he wanted to cuddle you. Not at all. 

~But then he got smacked with a pillow you  were clutching to your chest so hard, the force made him fall backwards and land on his ass. You were still asleep as he sat there, trying to comprehend what just happened. 

~He wasn’t even sure whether you were just pretending to sleep to take the sofa or it was really just you reacting to unwanted stimuli. 

~He sighed and simply went back to his room to gather the blankets and cushions. Then, he slipped a cushion under your head, gently fixed it into a more comfortable position and wrapped you up in a blanket. After that, he just made some adjustments for himself and sat next to you, leaning his body on yours.

~This fixed the issue the two of you always had. The issue was called ‘Who takes the bed?!’. While he insisted that you should take it, you insisted that it was his bed and you were fine with the couch. But he was also fine with the couch and he couldn’t just- sleep comfortably in his warm bed and make you sleep out there. Sharing the bed felt so intimate that none of you dared to suggest it although i know some of ya simps would jump at the first gotten chance to share a bed with him

~...So the two of you are now sharing a couch, but he swore that the next time, you’re taking the bed even if he has to drag you in there himself.

[reiderwriter]

Hey lovely! Hope you’re doing good! I was listening to bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo and thought it would be a good idea for a Spencer fic, was thinking something something with a little angst, smut and possibly a fluffy ending! ♥️

Ps love your writing 🖤

A/N: Most relatable song released this year, if we're being totally honest with ourselves, right 💀 I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: (Munch Spencer Truthers, I'm throwing yourself another bone here), Oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), slight hand job at the end, penetrative sex, cum play, etc. Minors DNI 18+

Your fling with Spencer Reid from the BAU ended abruptly when he fell off the face of the earth.

You weren't sure how someone who had described himself as technophobic had managed to perfect the art of ghosting someone, but boy had he, and you were still a little bit angry about it.

Even angrier when you saw him plastered over the local news out on a case, explaining to the people how fake tips to the FBI hindered cases more than helped them.

You were angry because he looked so good. His hair was shorter, displaying his all too pretty features prominently, and pissing you off to no end as you still felt your heart beat out of your chest until he'd disappeared into a crime scene again.

You brushed it off and berated yourself until the text came.

It wasn't much, just a quick hello, but you waited for a few minutes anyway to see if he'd say anything else.

When he didn't, you grew frustrated and text him a response.

“Who is this?”

It was petty, but four months of radio silence deserved less, in all honesty.

You weren't expecting the phone to vibrate out of your hand as you waited for a response, but it lit up with his call and you scrambled to wait enough time to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It's Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, from the Behavioural Analysis Unit, this is Y/N right?”

“Yes, Spencer, it's me. My number didn't change after four months.”

“Okay, that was deserved.”

“Why are you calling Spencer?”

“Because I'm a burnt out child prodigy who didn't cure schizophrenia by age 25 and my friends missed my birthday. And because I really wanted to see you.”

The line went quiet as you contemplated what the hell you would say to that.

“It would be stupid to ask if you remembered my address, right?”

“Y/N, I remember what you taste like, and I'll never forget it.”

“Good. I'm locking the door in half an hour.” You didn't give him time to respond before exiting the call and running to your bathroom.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea entertaining a fling from months ago on a whim at 7pm on a Wednesday evening, but you had nothing else to be doing with your time.

It wasn't illegal for people to reconnect, and you were not going to mention this to any close or mutual friends of yours, so one conversation (or whatever this was) probably wouldn't have any consequences anyway.

Caution blown to the wind, you replaced your work clothes with a comfortable dress, fixed your hair and poured a glass of wine and waited.

As if on queue, 27 minutes later, Spencer was at your door. Or more accurately in your house.

Your threat to lock the doors had obviously spurred him on, and you heard the door handle twist as he stepped into the space.

“Spencer. How lovely, to what do I owe the honor?”

The adrenaline of making sure the door was unlocked had obviously worn off for him, as you saw him shift awkwardly in the doorway of your living room, sat comfortably on your couch, your skirt just riding high enough to distract.

“I was thinking. Well, I suppose the correct term would be overthinking. Emily had to snap me out of it, because I was kicking myself and doubting myself and worrying so much that we almost lost the unsub…”

“What I’m trying to say is I’ve regretted not doing too many things to think coming to beg you to kiss me again is a bad idea. It’s not a bad idea, right?”

“That depends, Spencer.” You replied, setting your glass of wine down and standing up. You took a wobbly step towards him, eager to blame your hesitancy on the wine rather than the things his gaze, his words and his simple presence was doing to your body.

“On if you only want a kiss.” Your hand gingerly slipped up his chest until it was hooked into his hair, exploring the shorter locks as he grabbed you by the waist.

“Or if you aren't satisfied with just that.”

“I can't seem to come up with an answer. Perhaps you should kiss me and it'll jog my memory.”

You finally cracked a smile, and saw his face instantly bloom into ot as well.

“Nu-uh Spencer. I think you have to take that chance this time.”

He hesitated only a second before his hands were cradling your face, tipping your chin up to him as he bent to kiss you. You immediately responded, letting your hands grab fistfuls of his shirt as you pulled each other closer.

It sent you off balance, but you let yourself follow the motion of you tipping backwards, letting him catch you as you began moving in the direction of your bed.

“Not a bad idea,” he mumbled between deep kisses, letting loose a stray moan when your hands trailed down to his belt and below. “Definitely not a bad idea.”

Somehow in the clash of lips and hands, you managed to make it back to your bed, his hands already managing to find themselves under your dress as his lips diverted your attention.

“Four months, Spencer.” You growled the words into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. “Four months without this. I thought I'd go insane.”

You felt him smile as he lifted you, and grinned too as you wrapped your legs around him just as he began climbing onto the bed, softly lowering you down until he was on top of you.

His tongue travelled down your neck, making his way back up towards your ear.

“I did go a bit insane, you know?”

His hands flipped up your skirt as he ground his dick against your crotch, pushing it up further until the bottoms of your breasts were peaking out of the scraps of material as well.

“Let me make it up to you?” It was phrased like a question he didn't care about the answer to, as he pushed off of you and completely rid your body of the material that was hindering it completely.

“That's better.” You swore you heard a sigh of contentment as he held your thighs apart and lowered his head, one kiss at a time, to your neglected pussy.

He hooked a ginger under your panties, and pushed them off to the side, but he'd never been the most patient, and he'd already spread your legs. He'd just work around the impediment, you knew.

And he did, starting with a casual flick of the tongue as he looked up at you from his place at your cunt, smiling at you as he began to feast.

You'd never thought of yourself as a pillow princess before Spencer, enjoying giving love as much as receiving but he gave you the perfect royal treatment, and enjoying it so much it was impossible to deny.

After getting so spoiled, it was a wonder that you even knew how to adapt to life without him, nothing compared to the care and attention he showed you in bed.

Your thoughts blended together as he pressed a finger into you, already sneaked with his spit and your wetness, collected from between his lips and your soaked cunt. His pace was steady, repetitive, and driving you fucking insane.

Never a demanding lover, before you would have simply let him enjoy his time between your legs, enjoying just how much he enjoyed it himself as he lapped up all of your juices.

But four months clean from your addiction to Spencer Reid and you were snapping.

Your hands gripped at his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt than he'd been before, enjoying the muffled moans and the sound of his tongue generously lapping up all you had to offer.

You started humping his mouth, holding his head still as you used him as a tool to get yourself off, finally cumming on his mouth with a shudder and an unfiltered moan.

It would've been embarrassing if it wa anyone else, just how loud you'd been for your ex-boyfriend.

“You taste the same.” He said, wiping the remainders of your cum from his lips as he stroked himself, having loosed his cock from his pants sometime between you moaning like a wanton whore and using his face as a sex toy.

A single glance at him over you pleasuring himself was enough to get you ready for round two.

He had sat up on his knees, head and torso tilted slightly back to give you a better view of his cock being pumped hard and fast.

“Spencer Reid, don't you dare make yourself cum.” You thought the words were joking, light even but even you were shocked by the sheer lust dripping from your throat.

Wrapping your legs around him again, you pulled yourself up into his lap, holding yourself still as you quickly unfastened each of his shirt buttons, pushing it away and chucking it so far that he wouldn't be able to use it to cover up anything else.

It took you a minute more to properly situate yourself, but soon you were sinking down onto his cock and allowing the stretch to rule your mind and movements for a minute.

You gently started riding him, letting each gasp and moan reach your ears and spur you on, not holding back on your side either, telling him just how good it felt to have him in you raw once again.

Your stamina wasn't great though especially after having had one powerful orgasm already, and your movements soon became sloppy.

He kissed you softly on the lips, and you let go of the tension in your body as he pushed you onto your back, made sure you were comfortable, and started beating his cock into you with such a force that you were sure the bed was going to break.

It was this intensity that you craved, this complete change from his insistence on putting you first so to speak, and then using you as a human sexton when it suited him, allowing his cock to push you to your limits and beyond.

It wasn't like you could protest anyway, mouth hanging limply open in a scream of pleasure as sparks shot up your spine.

Entertaining Spencer Reid was never a bad idea. You decided then and there that if he left you again for whatever reason, you'd hunt him to the ends of the earth and beg for another chance at this feeling of pleasure.

You came again, of course, not sure if it was his cock or his exploring hands that was tethering you to the moment as you died a little death.

His own orgasm wasn't far behind your own, but he'd always been a bit messy. You weren't surprised when he gave a small panicked moan, pulling out at the last second as his cum spurted out. You helped him ride it out, wrapping a hand around him to stroke him until his dick was drained, the contents sprayed across your chest and breasts, a single drop even making it to the side of your mouth, but that was quickly lapped up.

His aftercare was almost as good as his foreplay, as he took pains to wash you diligently, even as all you wished to do was sleep well into the night directly after feeling his hot cum pour onto you.

He'd gathered a wash cloth, fresh set of pyjamas and an extra blanket to cocoon you both in before you could even lift a finger, and climbed into bed before you could even think of asking if he was staying the night.

With the satisfaction of multiple orgasms finally catching you, you fell asleep in his arms, a grin plastered on your lips, his hands possessively surrounding you.

Needless to say, when you woke in the morning, he was still there.

[callsign-venus]

Just Our Luck | Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Description: Despite how hard the universe tries to ruin it, you and Bradley have the perfect night.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: fluff, nudity (in a PG-13 way), bradley being protective, unwanted touching (from a stranger), swearing

a/n: this is my first fic that I've published (both on this blog and also in, like, years), but I'm ready to get back into fic writing! hope you enjoy x

Lately, work has been hard for you and Bradley both. Though your version of “hard” is mounting pressure to meet ridiculously short deadlines, and his version is more like two near-death experiences, you both acknowledged you deserve a nice night out. Bradley made a reservation at an Italian restaurant on the other side of town, and you splurged on a dress you’d been eying for months. It clings to your frame deliciously, and you spend a moment longer than usual in front of the mirror, admiring yourself. It was even a good hair day, you couldn’t believe your luck.

“You ready?” Bradley walks into your bedroom, momentarily fiddling with a button on his blazer. But when he looks up and catches sight of you, it loses his attention. He’s on you in a few quick strides, one hand finding its rightful place between your ass and lower back, the other near the nape of your neck, his fingers skimming the skin where it meets your shoulder.

“Gorgeous girl,” he says as he breathes in your freshly applied perfume.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself.” It’s true – you love when he gets dressed up for date nights. You would happily take him in sweaty fatigues or – better yet – nothing at all, but it makes your heart swell knowing he planned a nice outfit with you in mind.

He fingers the low back of your dress. “Can’t wait to come back home to this.”

“I’ll be all yours,” you seal your promise with a kiss. “But only after you get me a nice glass of pinot noir and a heaping serving of fettuccine alfredo.”

“You’re the boss.” He squeezes your ass before letting you go.

You gather your purse and your phone, feeling the warmth of his eyes as they follow you across the room. Then, you two are out the door, his arm around you once more.

He opens the door to the Bronco, and you slide in. 

As Bradley pulls out of the driveway, you feel the tension of last week begin to melt away. When his hand finds your bare thigh, you can’t even remember what was stressing you out to begin with. Driving with Bradley was a cure for everything. His smell (something salty and a little woodsy) and his dad music envelope you, his assured grip on your thigh one of your favorite ways to be touched. And if you get sick of the view outside the windshield, you can always look to your left to get a better one – one that comes with a mustache, aviators, and more-often-than-not, a cocky smile because he catches you looking from the corner of his vision. 

“Fuck.” Bradley slams on the breaks as the car ahead of him comes to a near complete stop. His arm flies up to your chest to cushion you as you jolt forward. “You ok?”

“I’m ok.” You chuckle. You’ve had time to get used to his aggressive driving by now.

His hand falls back to your thigh.

“Fuck me,” he says.

Gleaming taillights welcome you into the bumper to bumper traffic that packs the highway.

“I’m sure it will clear up,” you say, but you don’t believe it yourself.

It didn’t clear up. In the end, you two make it to the restaurant. Unfortunately, you’re almost an hour late.

“Sorry,” the hostess says more to Bradley than to you, “our next available seating won’t be for another two hours.”

“There’s nothing you can do?” He asks because he knows you’ve been looking forward to this reservation since he made it a week ago.

“I’m sorry, but no,” she responds.

You grab his elbow with your hand and steer him out of the restaurant.

“Jesus, I am so sorry,” he says you walk out the door and trade the smell of roasted garlic for the secondhand smoke of someone’s cigarette.

“It’s ok,” you say despite your rumbling stomach. “Neither of us even thought to check traffic.”

“Yeah, but I should’ve. Now our night’s ruined.”

“Don’t say that, silly boy.” You peck a quick kiss on his jawline. “At least now we get to see the sunset.”

You’ve made it back to the Bronco, and from this vantage point, you can see the ocean across the street. It is awash with a reflection of the red and pink clouds above. You two stand for a moment, soaking in the view.

“Hey, what about seafood for dinner?” Bradley points across the street to a squat blue building with large windows and a neon sign reading Uncle Mo’s. 

You scan the parking lot. Not very many cars. You could probably get seated right away. “Sure, sounds good to me.”

You and Bradley stare at each other from across the lopsided table, making a shared mental note: if a restaurant is not busy on a Friday night, do not eat there.

But by the time you had realized your shared mistake, you were already being sat down at a sticky vinyl booth. Despite the great views of the beach (which Bradley let you face), it was clear that Uncle Mo’s had little to offer in terms of comfort and cuisine. A slightly fishy smell permeated the restaurant, you had to ignore a suspicious puddle on the table, and the food in front of the few other patrons didn’t exactly look edible.

When you order a glass of red to make yourself feel better, you expect it to be less than stellar. You expect to be not-so-pleased with it. However, you don’t expect to end up with it splashed all over your lap — and your new dress.

“Fuck.” It seems to be Bradley’s favorite word of the night. He knows how much you were looking forward to this evening, he knows how much time and effort you put into looking flawless, how much you both deserved a nice evening after the last couple weeks. And now you were looking at him, your eyes shining with unwept tears, a wine stain bleeding across your chest and your lap.

Before you can react, the waiter is on you – dabbing your lap with paper napkins. He smushes around the wet mash of napkin, making the stain worse. You want to shove him away. Mistakes happen, but you don't need a late twenty-something’s hands all over your lap. But the whole thing is already an ordeal, and you don’t want to cause a scene.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, “the glass just slipped, I’ll —”

“Stop touching her.”

Thank god Bradley is always willing to make a scene for you.

Your eyes meet his with a silent thank you, even though the waiter is too overcome with the napkins and babbled apologies to hear the quietly rumbled threat.

An uncharacteristic frown darken’s Bradley’s features. He stands up, all muscle and golden skin and perfectly ruffled hair. “I said: stop touching her.”

The waiter takes one look at Bradley Bradshaw and scurries away, hands full of damp napkins.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley coos as he takes your hands in his. “We can’t catch a break tonight, huh?”

You shake your head.

“Wanna get out of here?” His eyes are so deep, searching yours for a way to make it up to you — even though nothing has been his fault.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He pulls you gently to your feet and immediately his arm is around you like a shield. Though the night has been disastrous, you’re so glad you’ve been able to spend it with him. Even now, reeling from a stranger’s unwanted touch and the ruin of your new dress, you feel perfectly safe in his arms.

Once you are settled in the car, Bradley turns to you, his finger rubbing a sweet circle against your wrist. “Want to get ice cream?”

Normally you would never turn him down for ice cream. But nothing tonight has gone to plan, and you don’t want to risk another mishap. Besides, you already know exactly what you want.

“I just want to go home and be with you.”

“Can do, pretty girl.” He pulls your wrist to his mouth and gives it a kiss before pulling out of the parking spot. Luckily, traffic isn’t so bad on the way home.

But the rain comes fast.

Angry clouds roll in from over the ocean, splashing torrents of rain across the streets of your neighborhood. The windshield wipers whine with effort, but they can’t clear the rain fast enough. Bradley slows down to about 10 miles per hour — the slowest you’d ever seen him drive.

“Just our luck,” you groan.

“The price of a beautiful sunset.” Bradley pulls into the driveway. “We can try to wait it out.”

You shake your head. “The stain on my dress is already setting.”

“Ok, give me a second.” Before you can even shout his full name, he wrestles himself out of his blazer, tosses it on your lap, and slips out of the car. He races to your side.

Already, he’s soaked.

You shriek as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you out of your seat. You raise his blazer to cover you both as he makes a mad dash to the front door, but even so you are both drenched by the time you cross the threshold.

He stands on your welcome mat, which absorbs all the water dripping off the both of you. The rain had cooled his skin, draining it of its usual warmth, but you don’t mind. You drop the sopping blazer and plant your palms on his cheeks.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you say, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

You share a rain-chilled kiss that sends a shiver across your skin. As if he can feel the goosebumps on your arms, he slowly walks you to your bathroom. Inside, the rain is nice. It sends a lively hum through the house, and tap dances across your bathroom skylight.

He sets you down on the tile, then turns the taps of the bathtub. You watch amused as he holds his hand under the water until the temperature is just right, then he turns back to you.

“Sweet girl.” He brushes a strand of wet hair off your cheek.

You pull him in for another kiss.

When you finally pull apart, he lifts your dress up over your head. Then, he unclasps your bra, and hangs it up on a towel hook to dry. Then he kneels on the cool tile and pulls your panties down so you can step out of them.

“Not how I pictured getting naked at the end of tonight,” you laugh.

“There will be other nights.” Bradley smiles as he stands and takes you in – not lustfully, just appreciative of your body, of you. “Believe me, tomorrow will be a fresh day.”

“It better be.”

He kisses your forehead. “I promise.”

You take a deep breath, knowing that he’s right.

“Ah,” he straightens suddenly. “I almost forgot.”

He opens a cabinet under the sink and retrieves a bright pink bottle — it’s the bubble bath you had pestered him to get at the store the last time you went.

“It’s time we put this to good use.” He dumps nearly half the bottle under the still running spout. Almost immediately, the bath swells with pearly-white bubbles.

He scoops you up and lays you down gently in the tub. The water immediately brings warmth back to your bones.

“I’ll be right back.” Bradley scoops your dress off the floor, and pads off to tend to the stain. Though you appreciate him trying to save your dress, you wish he was sharing this bath with you instead.

You drag your hand through the fast-growing mountains of bubbles. After a minute, you turn off the tap, then sink lower in the tub.

How did the night go so wrong, but end up so lovely?

Your answer walks through the door, lit candle in hand. The subtle scent of lavender bleeds into the room.

“And there you go.” He sets the candle on the counter, looking mighty proud of himself. “Need anything else?”

“Join me?” You hold out your hand to him. 

A giant smile cracks across his face. In a second, he rips off his clothes and is gingerly stepping behind you in the tub. Slowly, slowly, he sinks down, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder and peppering small kisses while his hands massage your lower back. You lean back against him, a small sigh escaping your lips.

“Can my dress be saved?” You ask.

He smiles against your soapy skin. “If the detergent and hydrogen peroxide have anything to say about it.”

“Thank god,” you say as the last of your tension dissolves in the bath water around you. “If I couldn’t wear that dress again, I would just die.”

“You would die? How do you think I would go on living knowing you could never wear that again?”

“I did look good in that dress, huh?”

“Good?” Bradley wraps one arm around your stomach. “Darling, you looked beautiful. So beautiful.”

The rain dances on the rooftop, the storm not having lessened in the slightest. You don’t mind because it sent you to this bath with Bradley, brought his thumbed circles to your lower back, his sweetened whispers to your ears. If this evening’s disappointments had all led you to a bath shared with Bradley Bradshaw at the end of the night, you thought it was more than a fair trade.

[elliesmainhoe]

Hi babe

I was on pinterest and I found this pics and they reminded me of your vampire!ellie x reader headcanons... like imagine the reader wearing white pearls and Ellie bites her and they become all red just like this

Ellie Williams Headcanons: Vampire!Ellie

Part 1 here • also hi babes- this has cured my writers block so tysm😭

This woman ughhhhh

The absolute DEFINITION of a gentle woman!!!!

Holds your hand constantly, kneels down to tie your shoelaces up for you, kisses your hand and cheek etc etc etc.

Buys you the most beautiful clothes, jewels, purses and shoes.

Purposely buys you low cut tops to expose your neck.

And loves when you wear necklaces sm!!! Adores how it decorates and shows of your beautiful collarbones.

It was a pretty hectic day for you and Ellie- she had to socialize with other vampires and it was not something Ellie talked highly of, especially in the form of a ball.

She did however, love the look of you in your new black silk floor length dress she'd bought for you, the sleeves were off the shoulder showing off your pearl covered neck and your lips were painted blood red.

Every vampire in the room was looking at you like they would eat you whole, Ellie included. The hungry stares of immortal beings used to freak you out- but with Ellie by your side, her hand never leaving the small of your back you had never felt safer.

After the twelve hour long ceremony, feast and ball you and Ellie were finally alone for the first time, sitting in the back of her favorite classic car- the driver enclosed in their own section, giving you both privacy.

No words were exchanged between the two of you before her lips were on your neck, kissing and licking on the skin. "Can I bite you, little mouse?" She whispered her mouth ceasing the assault of kisses waiting for your signal.

"please Ells..." You whined gripping at her desperately and who was she to deny her little mouse...?

Her teeth pierced your skin drawing blood and sucking slowly- her teeth nipped at your neck harder at the sound of a sharp intake of breath.

Blood dripped out of her mouth, running down your neck and onto the multiple string of white pearls. Tainting the clean colour crimson. She pulled away licking the open wound and lapping up the mess of her your neck. Your eyes were glazed over- eyes sleepy and head now resting in her shoulder.

"Go to sleep darling, you did so well for mistress..."

Oh yeah did I mention vampire!Ellie likes calling herself mistress?

Yeah she does. It's hot asf.

Teaches you how to ride a horse. Sitting infront of her, arms wrapped around you as she holds the reins

It's very very cute.

Unlike a lot of her kind, she really enjoys technology.

It's so much easier to communicate, all knowledge is at her fingertips, you can send her nudes.

You forced Ellie to take you to build a bear and you got a bat with her voice in it- you sleep with it when she's not there. ❤️

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

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NOT PROOFREAD

[darkwolf989]

Outside the office Part Three

Hi all! I'm so glad folks are enjoying this series! Let me know in the comments if there is a particular scene you would like expanded on- I am happy to obilige!

That following Sunday morning breakfast also proved mandatory. Snuggled tight in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows, I was sound asleep when a loud knocking rudely startled me awake. A brief moment of panic settled over me and it took a heartbeat for me to remember where I was. Unfortunately, I once again couldn’t remember exactly how I had gotten here, or how I had come to be dressed in fuzzy pajamas. 

“Reader! Wake up! Val made pancakes and they’re getting cold!” Velvette’s screech broke through the silence of the morning. 

I groaned but sat up, pulling a robe over my body as I made my way to the door. “What is going on?”

Velvette was dressed in a deep black robe covered with red fuzzy hearts- her typical morning attire. “I said, Val made pancakes and they’re getting cold. Com’on sleepy head. Val’s pancakes are the best cure for a hangover.” She turned and practically skipped down the hallway. 

I followed her, my head still fuzzy from the night before. We had spent Saturday night out at another one of Valentino’s clubs, dancing and drinking- and I guess once again I sipped too much too fast. 

“And pancakes for you.” Vox handed me a plate as soon as I entered the kitchen. “How’s that head feel, hm? Grab a bottle of Sweet Sixteen from the fridge and drink it down.”

I grabbed a bottle of the orange drink from the fridge. Why Velvette and Valentino had named it Sweet Sixteen was beyond me, but whatever was in it helped tremendously.

“I don’t understand why I get knocked on my ass each time I go out.” I complained, sitting down on one of the chairs at the table, my back to the window. “I swear, angels drink. Some of them pretty heavily, might I add.”

“Did you dance at the club while drinking?” Velvette asked, taking a bit of her breakfast. “In heaven, I mean?”

I shook my head vehemently. “Angels do not partake in such behavior.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, good thing you’re only half Angel, because last night showed you certainly do. Anyway, there's your answer- you dance, you drink. It’s simple math.”

“And that simple math is why my clubs are so successful.” Valentino slid into the seat next to me. He reached across and opened the bottle of Sweet Sixteen for me. “Drink. You’ll feel better.” 

“What’s in it anyway?” I asked, taking a sip before taking a bite of my pancakes. “Oh, these are yummy.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Vox bowed before taking his own seat. “I am, after all, the best chef in this household.”

“I don’t think so. I’ll get you back next Sunday.” Valentino said lightly. “And to answer your question Princessa- salt, water, sugar, electrolytes. Everything your body lacks after a night out.”

“Speaking of, can I tell you about fucking Hugo last night? That absolute dumb fuck….” Vox interrupted as he launched into a tirade about his current assistant. I listened patiently. Velvette seemed to tune him out and Valentino rolled his eyes. 

After breakfast it was back to work for the three of them and I found my place wherever I could make myself useful. Being in such close proximity to them made it almost easy to forget they were demons- especially with Velvette and Vox. 

“Are you joining me in the studio today, Princess?” Vox asked when I stood up. “Or will Velvette be hogging you once again?”

I looked at Velvette and she shrugged. “Your choice, but I absolutely need you back tomorrow. I have a new line of workwear that absolutely require your features.” 

“Alright, I guess I’m yours then, Vox.” I replied, then quickly corrected. “Not yours I mean, I can go with you to the studio.”

“Relax, babe. We all know what you meant.” Valentino said gently. 

I flushed. “Just making sure. I better go get ready.”

“My studio after your shower! I have a killer outfit for you.” Velvette hollered as I skittered down the hall. 

An hour and a half later I stepped out of the elevator and into Vox’s studio. True to her word, Velvette had me dressed in the height of what hell considered fashion, heavy on the blacks and the reds. I made my way to Vox’s office, stepping down the long hallway that led to his chair, surrounded by monitors. 

To my surprise, he wasn’t in his usual spot. I pulled out my phone and sent him a message. He replied back instantly. 

I see you. Look to the left. Black door. Just come in. 

I followed his directions and pushed open the door. He stood up when I walked in and handed me a laptop. 

“Go find a quiet place to work. I don’t particularly care where, but if you could read through and edit the documents on your email that would be great. Text me when you’re done- I’ll come to you.” 

I accepted the laptop and went to find an empty cubicle. When Vox initially asked where my skill sets lie, and the topic of editing came up, I didn't expect him to take me up on it. Or to value my input as much as he appeared to. But truth be told, it was something I enjoyed and, well, it was something to keep me busy. 

Several hours later I emailed him the edits, closed my laptop, and sent him a text message that I was finished. I heard the zap of electricity behind me and he appeared. 

“Ah. Good timing, I’m almost done for the day as well. Why don’t you head down to see Velvette? Have lunch down there and get ready for dinner tonight?” He picked up my laptop. “Come, I’ll walk you to the elevator.” 

“Okay, Vox.” 

I followed him and waited quietly next to him when he pushed the button. A few seconds later, I stepped in. 

He gave me a grin as the door closed. “See you tonight Princess.” 

I stepped into Velvette’s studio and one of her employees greeted me, whisking me to the back. She chattered at me about outfit changes, nail color changes, what was trending at the moment, and what wasn’t. 

“Wait,” I interrupted. “What is a sinstergram?”

Her eyes widened. “Omgomgomg.” she pulled her phone out and showed me an icon. She clicked on it and a website full of pictures appeared. “You don’t have one?” 

I hadn’t actually explored my phone that much- beyond texting. Typing on a laptop was easy- other than its more ergonomic design, it was basically the same as the one I was used to. But my phone was a big mystery I just hadn’t solved yet.  I unlocked my phone and saw the icon she was talking about. I clicked it.

Pictures flooded my screen- a photo of Lucifer and I when we first arrived in the lobby of the V tower. Pictures of the four of us on our night out. Captions I didn’t remember writing. 

“See your handle? It’s Princess.Reader. Morningstar . Not the most original, but I’m sure you wanted to keep it simple and straight to the point.” 

“Keep what simple?” Velvette’s voice came from behind me. 

“Sinstergram?” I showed Velvette my phone. 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh. You don’t need to worry about that darling, I control the social media for the four of us. You couldn’t post if you tried- Vox has it blocked. You can scroll through, however. See yourself how the world sees you.”

I scrolled down through the pictures. I almost didn’t recognize myself. In every photo I looked perfect, stunning. Almost too perfect. I expressed my concern to Velvette and she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s the image you show the world, not the truth behind it. But like I said, don’t worry your pretty blonde head about it.” She reached over and clicked off the app. “I got it covered. You just focus on being pretty.” She looked at her employee. “Veronica, take Chelsea’s place. I need you in my office.”

Wordlessly, they switched places and I watched as Chelsea followed Velvette. 

“Velvette wanted bubblegum pink nails?” Veronica asked, reaching across the table. “Let me see those hands. We’ll make them perfect.” 

The rest of the night went by in a blur. And then again. The more time passed, the more my comfort level with the three of them grew. I wouldn’t say I forgot about where I came from, or who I left behind. But the more hours spent together, the more normal our weekly routine became. Occasionally, Velvette or Vox would excuse themselves for the night for a work event, or a fashion show- and just the three left went out. It wasn’t very often, but the disruption didn’t break the rest of the routine. They would simply rejoin the next night, or sometimes find us later on that same night. 

Spending the time alone with Vox and Velvette in particular made them seem- well, safe. More like friends than demons. And although I didn’t spend any time alone with him, the more Wednesdays that passed, I found myself settling into Valentino’s arms as the movies played, craving the comfort and safety he freely offered. Even as I started to figure out my limits and  I didn’t always drink too much at the club, at the end of the night, my head fell into his lap, his hand stroking my hair. Something about the way he held me relieved the worry that even the time we spent together couldn’t fully shake.

It wasn’t until Vox and Velvette both bowed out of dinner one night that I first got to spend alone time with Valentino.

[sanjisblackasswife]

Law Consumes an Aphrodisiac (NSFW)

CW: 2.1k

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Bad Summary: He lost a bet and drunk an aphrodisiac. @owlight sorry for the lateness🤦🏽‍♀️💕

CW: SlightlyDrunk!Law, Teasing, Slight Edging, Overstimulation, Needy!Law, Spitting, Thighjob(?), Fucking on A Desk, OOC!Law, Vaginal Sex, Slightly Sub!Law

He knew he shouldn’t have played these dumbass games with you.

He gets so irritated

He isn’t naturally a touchy type, but when he consumes the drink he begins to CRAVE the touch from you

Uses stupid ass excuses to have your hands on him as opposed to you having his hands on you

Law swears up and down to you that he doesn’t get stressed out easily, and you obviously wanted to prove him wrong so you bet him that he wouldn’t yell at Luffy the entire day.

Loss within the first hour.

“I don’t like alcohol.”

“Well then why did you bet—“

“BECAUSEITHOUGHTIWOULDNTLOSE”

“Yeah yeah thought like lick—“

"OKAY! FINE!"

Law was unfortunately a man of his word so of course he took the drink from your hands. He stared hesitant on taking the first sip, the ice cubes dancing, around almost feeling like he’s being mocked and he finally decided to shove it all down to get it over with.

"Daaayuumm, Cap'mn..." You gasped teasingly, watching his face scrunch up in disgust from the harsh, sting of the beverage, "I ain't think you was a hard hitta like that---"

"What did I---blech" Law shook his head, putting down the shot glass before walking away from you, "tell you about calling me Captain..I'm your boyfriend."

"Yeah, but also my captain...Captain." You fake salute the last part causing him to roll his eyes.

"What was in that drink anyways? It had a weird after taste." Law asked, sitting back at his desk chair. You turned to search for the bottle, and upon reading it your eyes widen and Law immediately perked up from watching you, "Y/n."

"...uh..um.." You hand him the bottle with hesitation, somewhat afraid of handing him to read the so so unfortunate ingredients.

“Shit.”

and there it was, a big red and bold a warning label of said drink having an aphrodisiac.

You and him both stared blankly at each other , dumbfounded on what exactly were to happen next.

“WELP GATTA GO—“

“Room!”

Suddenly the blue hue surrounds you and you and him were sent to his office.

“Law i have to work—“

“Sit your ass down. Please.”

He wasn’t angry with you, he knew it wasn’t it your end goal was to “drug” him so he wasn’t completely upset. It was his fault for trusting you with the alcohol choice in the first place.

...

"Baby I'm boredddddd I wanna go out--oh."

You look up from the couch you were laying on lazily in his office to see a shirtless, slightly sweaty Law sitting at his desk with his head thrown back. His breaths were shallow as he started to grit his teeth, jawline beginning to clench.

Dammit.

He's going through hot flashes already yet he makes it look so attractive.

"Baby..." You slowly approach him, eyes widen for a moment seeing he unbottoned his pants, his pretty trimmed happy trail just teasing you above his underwear band, "Law--!"

His movements were so quick you didn't even have time to control the situation of his hand pulling you forward from the back of your head to kiss him. Usually, he was more of a shy guy, when you initiated to make out with Law his movements were sweet yet, not so confident for the first few seconds, but now it's as if he were trying to suck your lips whole.

Law just couldn't take it anymore, the past 2 hours he stayed at his desk, reading, looking at you, studying, looking back at you, trying to find a cure from the drug in his drink, but his eyes stayed back on you. Oh how pretty you looked, your body was so tantalizing now, Your figure on display in your long skin tight dress he allowed you to wear since it was a slow day on the sub.

How your entire body jiggled with each toss and turn as you read your book. The small moans from when you got up to stretch, the way you playfully winked at him when you caught him staring at you, all of it was just a tease to him. He hated looking at you as some kind of sex object especially since he isn't a very sexual guy, but because he knew this wasn't anything above from the effects of that stupid ass bottle.

And you both knew it, so why not take advantage of it?

"Take this off. I need to see them—" It was like Law was just speaking out loud, already removing your clothes from you with a sweep of each movement leaving you with nothing but your thong on he grunts to quickly stand and wiggle out of his pants and underwear.

You do a small gasp, sure you’ve seen his dick plenty of times, but you still are shocked by his size, especially when it’s only SOFT, yet leaking just a little.

That’s when you had an idea.

“aw.” You tease, pushing him on his chest with the tips of your fingers so he can sit back down, “Here I am naked and you’re not hard for me? I’m wounded.”

Law smacks his teeth, but it soon turns into a groan of shock feeling your weight on his lap as you grab him by his cheeks and kiss him. Your tongue swipes his bottom lip to pry inside his mouth, Law could have sworn he got light headed by your kisses.

His body and hands moved on their own as you hoth engaged in a passionate makeout session in the nude, him caressing your neck gliding all the way down to break from your lips to nibble and suck on your teasing breast, you hum in delight.

“I…ha..taught you well, baby…” You praise his tongue skills on your nipples. He used to be so afraid to pleasure you, his mouth always so shy on your tits, but now he’s hungry and you are the only one to satisfy him.

You sit sideways on his lap, adjusting your legs so his half soft cock rest between your plush thighs and you begin to bounce up and down earning your a firm suck and groan against your skin.

You’ve never let Law fuck your thighs before, especially not in this particular position, but from the look on his flustered face you knew you had to do it more.

“Fuck—!” Law huffed seeing his brown tip begin to straighten up in between your legs as you bounced a little, also grazing against your clothed cunt.

Well.

Clothed is a loose way to put it when in reality the only thing that fabric is really covering is ur clit.

You felt his cock harden as you slowed down, you mentally pout after getting an late idea that it probably would have felt better to have him grow hard inside you.

Oh well. Maybe next time.

Law was so close to reaching his first orgasm for the night when you stop, his eyes widening losing focus of cumming for you, he looks at you with dark eyes and all you do is smirk.

“Common….” You get up from his grasp and take off the rest of your panties to then lay back, legs spread on his desk, “I know that drink is driving you mad. So. Use me.”

“Wh—?”

“I owe you. And you need to relieve yourself somehow—-what. Did you just wanna look at me naked all night?”

You had a point, especially with how your kept swinging your legs back in fourth, waving your pussy around like it’s a prize for him, and in this case it most definitely was.

Law pushes his scruffy hair back a little, walking towards you not looking away from your pussy as he sits on his knees to rub your labia with his middle and index finger, admiring the glistening of your pussy under his desk light.

He groans at the sight, giving a small stripe of a lick from the bottom up and latch his lips on your clit, your back immediately arches, causing your to throw your hands on his damped hair.

“Hmmmmmm…Law….S’good…”

You couldn’t contain the voices spilling out of your lips as you felt Law pull apart your lips to suck harder on your clit. Of course, your pretty hot boyfriend didn’t stop at adding to his pleasure either . Without missing a beat he groaned inside you, vibrations causing your back to arch as he stroked his cock as the same pace of your hip movements.

“S-so! SO CLOSE AH!—“ Your moans bounced off his walls which was a signal for Law to pick up the pace. He knew he needed you to cum at least once before he got selfish. “L-LAW! OH!”

Your eyes rolled back, mouth agape, spasming and twitching your thighs around his head, too weak from your harsh tear jerking orgasm to squeeze him tighter. In an instant Law got up, still rubbing his shaft, mushroom tip so wet and dripping of his own cum down his knuckles.

“Well…” You huffed, body limp, almost mentally anticipating on him to slide inside you because your body is still shaking. “Use me.”

Your boyfriend wiped his sweaty face, Nothing about this seemed right, his eyes were blurry as well as his kind, but his body started to move on its own, “Fuck—-Im…I love you, Y/n.”

“Hah…I love you t—-ah!”

Almost as if his words of affection was a form of apology, he spat on your sopping wet clit , and slid himself inside, with each inch you felt in your gummy walls was a louder moan to his ears as Law moved his sticky hot body over yours.

“Oh my—-fuck!”

Maybe it was the aphrodisiac but your velvet like pussy made him melt. Law held both your arms over your head, making sure you stayed still and latched his lips on yours as you began to feel yourself move up and down on the cold wooden desk.

It was nothing like he had before; your legs closing him in, hip balls slapping under your ass with each snap of his hips drove you both insane and though the paij of overstimulation was just too much for your pretty little head you couldn’t help but to cry out,

“Please! Please more! Please!”

It was so erotic to him hearing your stuttering words with each thrust form words of begging in his ear, Law begins to breathe even harder out his mouth and into yours, tryjng to kiss your again but the quickened pace of his pumps just left him to graze your lips.

“You feel so fucking good i cant stop! i—i wont stop i need more!”

“Then…ah! Take it….!”

In a moment Law gets his first orgasm with you, and as tired as he already was, he was still hard and throbbing, especially seeing the beautiful sight of his cum oosing out of your cunt, making a mess of his desks and your thighs.

“Turn over.” He says as he moves you on your stomach anyways. Though he was impatient to go another round he still made sure not to be too rough with moving your inevitable sore body.

Your legs just barely dangling off the desk he pulls back one cheek, cursing under his breath at both holes, nibbling at his lip of an idea that may get him fucked up, so…

he doesn’t and proceeds to prod at the CORRECT hole.

“Law…please…just…AHH!”

There wasn’t anytime for teasing, the wet sounds your body was making from just playing with the hood of your clit was stimulation enough to get him to tightly grab your ass and guide them back and fourth to bounce on his pelvis.

Damn it was a pretty view for him.

“Fuck! FUCK! IM CU—“

Like clockwork Law’s pace gets erratic, hips stuttering as he then puts his knee on the desk to feel more of you as well as creeping his hand to your neck to choke you a little. Causing you to bend your back more.

“LA-LAW BABY —“

Didn’t take long for your eyes to be unfocused with swelling tears. The pain was too much, but so addictive you hoped in the back of your head he wasn’t finished.

And almost as if he read your mind; you both still coming down of the last high he applies pressure to your throat to whisper in your ear

“I need more, baby.”

Any normal person could hear the loud screams and “Fuck”’s you both shared as well as the desk scratching up the floors but that was something Law will deal with later.

As of tonight

It was just you, Law, and the aphrodisiac in his blood stream.

[matty-bear]

Curing Dysphoria [N.S]

type: fic !

pairing: nick sturniolo x trans ftm!reader

warnings: SFW, fluff, angst (???), mentions and talk of dysphoria, going on testosterone

summary: you have always struggled heavily with dysphoria ever since you came out as trans. You tried your best to cure it but nothing seemed to work, despite all of your efforts. When you're having another spiral about your dysphoria, nick decides to call up a friend of his who ends up giving you advice that would eventually rid all of your dysphoria and help you pass. 

notes: decided we needed more nick x trans ftm fics in this community so i cooked smth up ;3 dont be shy to send in requests that include a trans reader for nick fics ! i am a trans guy myself so writing some will most likely help me feel better abt myself .  also its so over for you mfs when i go on t 

WC: 4151

previous events will be in italics !

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Your journey with being a trans male was always difficult for you. It was never easy for anyone, so why would you expect it to be easy for you? You constantly struggled with gender expression and dysphoria ever since you came to terms with your gender in your early years of middle school. You often spent hours upon hours sobbing on the floor of your bathroom because you didn’t feel like you were passing enough or simply didn’t like how you looked in general. 

Ever since you started dating Nick, who knew of you being trans way before you guys started dating due to you coming out to him when you two became very close friends, he always gave you constant support when you felt shitty about yourself. He often held you close to him when you were having an episode and whispered sweet words that consisted of “You’re such a pretty boy,” “My precious boy,” and “You're so handsome, baby.” 

His reassurance never failed to calm you down for the time being. However as you continued to date Nick and your dysphoria grew worse, you knew you had to do something about it. However, since you weren’t friends or aware of other trans people in the community, you didn’t know who to turn to for help. 

The most you were doing to try to help with your dysphoria was cutting your hair short, binding with either a binder or tape, and dressing yourself in the most masculine way possible. (This was the least you could do or rather think of to try to make yourself pass as a guy) If you wanted to try extra hard to pass, you would put some makeup on to make certain features pop out more, like your sideburns and cheekbones.

However, you felt that this wasn’t doing enough for you and didn’t feel like you were passing enough despite the constant reassurance from Nick, his brothers, and your friends. You still hated your voice, (which seemed too high for your liking) the thinness of your limbs, and just how feminine you felt and looked as a whole. 

When you were spiraling and sobbing profusely in the bathroom one afternoon with Nick holding you tightly against him, the boy knew he had to figure out a way to help you. 

After a while, your cries eventually subside to soft sniffles. Even though your eyes seemingly ran out of tears to shed, you still felt the need to cry more. You slowly open your eyes and take in the minimal light in the bathroom, the main light source being Nick’s single candle resting on the counter in front of you. Simply looking at the light causes your eyes to strain and you soon find yourself shutting them again with a soft hiss.

As you rest your head back on Nick’s chest with a heavy exhale and gaze down at your body, you feel the male shift underneath you. You quickly lift your head at the small move and watch as your boyfriend takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls it to his face, a focused expression clear on his face. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice coming out hoarse due to all the crying you just did. 

“Trying to call a friend of mine,” Nick replies, his gaze staying fixed on his cell as his eyes scan the screen. 

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you continue to gaze at the male. “Can I ask for what?” 

“I’m asking them for advice on your behalf.” 

“Advice? Like for being trans?” 

“Yup.” 

Your eyebrows kit together even more at Nick’s statement. A few beats of silence flow between the two of you, the only sound being the soft tapping Nick draws from his cell as he taps on his screen. After a moment, you speak up again, “You know someone that’s trans?” 

“Yeah, he’s the coolest mother fucker I know. After you of course. You have to meet him sometime.” Nick momentarily looks down at you to send you a warm smile before diverting his eyes back to his phone. “Anyways, he came out as trans about six years ago and I'm sure he’ll know how to help you with your dysphoria and stuff. I would give you advice on this myself but I'm not trans and don’t want to misguide you or anything.” 

You softly nod your head and sit up a little to peer down at Nick’s phone, your eyes intently watching his fingers flex as they diligently work on tapping and scrolling on his screen. After a few moments, Nick pulls up a contact and hits the call button. 

“Would you like to talk to him yourself?” Nick asks gently, the hand that’s resting on your side gently caressing your clothed skin. “I can put it on speaker if you’d like. If not, that’s perfectly fine and I can do the speaking for you.” 

You force your lips together as you ponder for a moment. “I can talk to him.” You reply with a small head nod. “Can you help me through? Like, talk to him?” 

“Of course.” Just as Nick lands a soft peck on your temple, the muffled sound of shuffling runs through your ears. You quickly whip your head around at the sudden sound, your eyes soon landing on Nick’s phone. At the sight of the ongoing call screen, you relax a little and gaze up at Nick, waiting for him to make the first move. 

“Kit?” Nick calls after a few moments. Immediately, the muffling sounds come to a quick halt and silence can be heard on the other line. 

“Nick?” Kit calls back, the deep and smoothness of his voice causing your eyes to widen ever so slightly. 

The male simply uttered a reply and you’re already intimidated. 

“Are you busy right now?” Nick asks. 

“No?..” Kit’s voice trails off, pure and utter confusion laced in his tone. “Wait, did I call you or did you call me?” 

“I called you. Did you think it was the other way around?” 

“To be honest, yeah.” Kit chuckles softly, “What’s up though?” 

“You know y/n right?” 

“Yeah, of course I do. You won’t shut the fuck up about him.” Your jaw slacks at the comment and you slowly turn your head to look over at Nick, the sight of the red tint dusting over his cheeks and tips of his ears causing you to smile cheekily. When Nick doesn’t reply after a few seconds, the sound of Kit laughing softly sounds in your ears. “Sorry, had to. But what about him? Is everything alright?” 

“Not necessarily. His dysphoria has been getting bad lately and I have no idea how to help him.” 

“Oh, I see. Is he with you right now? I want to ask him some stuff if that’s alright with you.” 

“He’s right here with me actually.” 

“Oh, sweet. Hey, y/n!” Kit greets, his tone nothing but friendly. You could sense that the boy was smiling on the other end just by how cheerful he sounded. “I wasn’t lying about Nick yapping about you. I swear to God that kid does not have an off button when it comes to you.” 

“Kit, I swear to God. Shut the hell up. I called you for help not to be called out.” Nick grumbles through gritted teeth. 

“Sorry, I’m stopping. Anyways, y/n do you mind telling me what you’re struggling with the most right now? You could tell me everything. I just want to know what’s going on in that head of yours right now so I can give you the best advice.” 

After glancing over at Nick with an anxious expression and gaining an encouraging kiss on the lips from him, you begin to open up to Kit about everything. During your small rant, Kit listened intently and only hummed here and there to let you know he was listening. When you’re finished, you exhale heavily and wipe away the few tears that managed to escape your irises with the back of your hand. 

“I think I know what you need,” Kit says, the soft and quick pattering of footsteps sounding from his end. 

“You do?” You ask, your eyebrows knitting together as you gaze down at Nick’s phone. 

“Yup. There’s this thing that the majority of trans people use called Testosterone. Or better known as ‘T.’ It helps our body go get rid of the feminine traits that we have and practically replace them with masculine ones. I’ve been taking ‘T’ for about five years now and it’s helped cure all of my dysphoria. Shits a life changer I'm telling you.” 

“What are the effects of it? Like what are the changes exactly?” 

“Well for starters, they vary between trans guys but it makes them taller, helps with hair and public hair growth, muscle gain, voice changes, and they develop a higher…” Kit's voice trails off at the end of his sentence, tension suddenly filling the air as silence sounds from his end. 

“Higher what?” You ask, worry and panic filling your veins as your hand raises to your mouth. Just as you begin to bite your nails out of anxiousness, Kit clears his throat before he continues. 

“Sex drive. You have a higher sex drive. I would go into more depth about it but I assume you haven’t gone through a bottom surgery and still have your area so I won't get into it. Also, a very important thing, if you continue to take ‘T,’ your period will eventually stop.” 

“Are you serious?” Your mouth opens slightly in shock at Kit’s last statement. “Like the period thing.” 

“Dead serious. I'm telling you this shit is a fucking live saver. Anyways, you think you're up to taking it?” 

“It sounds heavenly so absolutely. How do I get it?” 

“Well, you need to get it prescribed to you by a doctor. I can send you to mine so you won’t have to be as anxious going to the office. I promise you, they’re the sweetest person ever and will be so patient with you during the first few weeks or so of you taking it.” 

“I’d appreciate that, actually. I have a lot of anxiety when it comes to doctors and shit so going to see someone that you are accustomed to seeing will help ease me a bit.” 

“Word. I’ll text them here in a minute to let them know I'm sending you their way before I text Nick the office’s number.”

“Alright, thank you, Kit. I really appreciate it.” 

“Don’t sweat it! If you ever need help, don’t be shy to tell Nick. Hell, he can even send you my number so we can chat one-on-one if you’re up to it. All your call though! Don’t want to push you out of your comfort zone or anything.” 

“I’ll have Nick send me your number. I think it’d be easier texting you myself than talking to you through Nick.” 

“Sounds good. Well, if that’s all I'm going to dip now. Text or call me if anything comes up! Nice talking to you, y/n! Oh, and Nick too I guess.” 

Nick rolls his eyes, an unamused expression clear on his face as his thumb hovers over the end call button. “Goodbye Kit,” Nick states, his monotone voice drawing a small chuckle from the male on the other line. 

“Goodbye Nick.” The moment Kit voices his reply,  Nick ends the call and stuffs his phone back in the planet of his pants. After he huffs softly and gazes down at you, he watches as a small smile creeps onto your lips. Feeling his eyes on you, you pick your head up and lock eyes with Nick, a soft red hue immediately taking over the tips of your ears and cheeks. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, a hand coming up to cover your flushed face. 

“You look so happy it’s so cute,” Nick replies with a small chuckle. Before you get to add to the conversation, Nick cups your face with both his hands and begins peppering your face with small pecks. The action immediately draws soft laughter from your lips, your eyes shutting and the blush on your cheeks deepening a shade or two. 

“Nick!” You exclaim through giggles. You set both your hands on Nick’s shoulders and begin to softly shove him away. After a few moments, the male finally pulls away and gives you the largest and cheesiest smile. 

“I love you so much, you know that?” Nick gushes as he sets his forehead against yours. 

“I love you more.” You reply softly, a shy chuckle escaping your lips. The moment Nick lands another tender kiss on your cheek, the sound of his phone dinging alerts the both of you. 

“God, that’s kids fast as hell,” Nick mumbles. You pull back from Nick’s grasp to allow him to grab his phone out of his pocket again. After turning the device on and scanning his eyes over the screen for a few seconds, he flips the phone towards you. You blink a few times to get your eyes to adjust to the bright light drawing from Nick’s phone and when you’re finally able to see his screen properly, your eyes skim over the single message resting on the lock screen. 

KIT

Just texted Remi. Here’s their number xxx-xxx-xxxx txt them when you want! 

Your eyes light up at the text and you quickly lift your head to meet Nick’s gaze. “Text them!” You exclaim as you latch onto the boy’s shoulders. As you begin to shake him, Nick chuckles softly and rests his hands on your arms. 

“Alright, alright. I won’t be able to text them if you keep shaking me.” Nick says through soft laughter. You immediately stop your actions and drop your hands onto your lap at the male’s statement.

“My bad.” As you rub your nape and gaze down at the floor, Nick smiles softly and sets a hand in your hair to ruffle it. The action draws a small surprised exclamation from you however you don’t lean away and rather you simply smile widely. 

“You gotta stop apologizing kid” Nick scolds gently with a small shake of the head. You smile innocently at the boy and lean into his palm when he begins to card his fingers through your hair. “I'm gonna give Remi a text, alright?”

You eagerly nod your head and look up at Nick through your lashes, the large smile on your lips not faltering. As you quietly watch the male type away on his phone, you begin to feel the excitement build up inside you. If ‘T’ was just as good as Kit said it'd be, you could kiss all of your dysphoria away and finally live a worry-free life. You would finally be happy if everything worked out like you hoped it would.

You wouldn't have to spend hours upon hours on the bathroom floor spiraling and sobbing about your appearance and wouldn't have to feel the need to hide out in your and Nick’s place. You'd be content with your life and God knew you were in desperate need of some happiness in your life. 

_______

TIME SKIP

It's been about three and a half months since you've been taking testosterone. It took about a week to see results but when you started to see some bodily changes, you were over the moon. The first change you took notice of was your skin texture. Your skin started to become very oily and thick and you had to make a few changes in your skincare routine to help fix it. Nothing too major.

The next change was your odor. Now, you were plenty aware of males carrying a natural and unpleasant scent but you weren't quite prepared to develop it yourself. When you noticed this, you made sure to change your cologne to a stronger smelling one in hopes of making your newfound ‘stench.’

The next change, which was the one you were looking forward to the most, was your voice. You slowly but surely started to develop a deeper voice as you continued to take your dosages. When this change started occurring, you felt as though you were going through puberty again. (Which was fine by you. If it took you going through puberty a hundred more times just to pass and get rid of your dysphoria, you were more than willing to do it.)

As your voice started to change, the number of voice cracks you developed was embarrassing, to say the least. When Nick took notice of this, the usual teasing he did seemed to increase significantly. 

EXHIBIT A

You silently watched some supernatural series you stumbled upon on your TikTok feed as you lay down on the sofa at Nick’s place. The Sturniolo household was awfully quiet with both Matt and Chris being out with their friends. This ultimately left you and Nick to do whatever y'all want without being interrupted by the two males, You were so absorbed in the show that played rather loudly on your phone that you failed to notice Nick walk downstairs and enter the living room.

Noticing that you weren't aware of his presence yet, the male quietly made his way over to you. Upon arriving at the sofa where your frame lay comfortably, he peered over the back of the sofa to make sure he wasn't in your line of sight before loudly shouting and grabbing both of your arms. At the sudden exclamation, you scream loudly, your voice cracking in the progress, and you soon find yourself stumbling off the sofa and falling to the floor. 

The moment your back collides with the floorboards with a soft thud, the sound of Nick’s loud laughter runs through your ears. 

“You sound like a fucking elementary school boy!” Nick exclaims through hard laughter. As you boost yourself up into a sitting position, you roll your eyes. The moment you shift your gaze up, you watch Nick stumble around the sofa and walk up to you, soft giggles still escaping his lips. The moment he takes in the harsh glare you're sending him, he begins laughing hard again. 

“Nick.. It's never that funny.” You grumble, your voice low as you try to bite back the smile threatening to creep onto your lips. 

“It's so funny!” As you sigh heavily, Nick falls to the floor as more laughs rack his body. 

“I can't with you.” You boost yourself up to your feet and leave the living room to go to the kitchen, leaving Nick laughing his heart out on the floor in the living room. 

You were hoping that these voice cracks of yours would decrease the more that took testosterone but that was the least of your concerns at this point. The final change you took notice of (as of right now) was the muscle building up on your arms. Your once-thin limbs started to gain quite a few muscles as you continued to take the medication and you didn't have to do very much to keep it up.

You were quite happy with the sleeper build you had going on considering how you always wanted one but you wanted to attempt to build more muscle. When you began to work on your physique, Nick immediately took notice of it. 

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you stood in front of Nick’s front door. The winter wind was harshly hitting your face and the only thing that covered your body and provided you with a little warmth was the hoodie loosely hugging your frame. You would let yourself in the house however you left the spare key Nick gave you in his room. As you shut your eyes and heavily exhale, the sound of the door unlocking rings through your ears. Upon the door opening with a soft creek, you open your eyes and you’re immediately greeted by Nick who has a large blanket tucked around him. 

“What the hell are you doing in sweatpants and a hoodie?” Nick asks as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“This is all I had in my closet. Everything else was in the washer or dryer.” You reply with a frown. Nick huffs softly and grabs your bicep to pull you inside, the warm air filling the house immediately drawing a content sigh from your lips. “God, it feels amazing in here.” 

As you turn around to face Nick, a bewildered expression paints your features at the sight of the male intently staring at your arm, specifically the area he is currently grasping. 

“You good? Do I have something on me?” 

“No, no, you don't have anything on you.” 

“Then what's wrong?”

Silence drifts between the two of you as Nick continues to wordlessly stare at your arm. Feeling rather uneasy with the silence, you open your mouth to say something however are interrupted by Nick saying, “Did you start working out?” 

 Your face immediately flushes as Nick finally shifts his gaze up to you. After locking eyes with the boy, you slowly nod your head and reply, “Yeah.”

“SINCE WHEN?? LOOK AT YOUR FUCKING ARMS!”

You hold back a chuckle when Nick begins to feel your bicep, his eyes wide in pure shock. “Since like last week. As much as I liked my sleeper build I had to work on my physique a little more.”

“Holy fuck y/n…” Nick mutters under his breath as he takes his other hand and begins to squeeze your other arm. As the male continues his actions, you can't help but notice the subtle shade of blush dusting over the tips of his ears and cheeks. Your eyebrows furrow slightly at the sight and a mischievous smile soon overtakes your lips as you continue to gaze at the boy. 

“You know what else I've been working on?

“What?” When you gently grasp Nick’s wrist and remove it from your bicep, he silently watches as you rest his palm on your stomach. The moment you set his hand against your clothed torso, his face flushes a deep red color, followed by his eyes widening. You can't help but laugh at the sight of the hard blushing boy in front of you and you pull his hand away as you double over in laughter.

“You want me dead, don't you?” Nick mumbles, his free hand quickly coming up to cover his face. 

“Maybe.” As you stand upright again, you send Nick a teasing smile before you grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss, the feeling of the male melting into the affection bringing a small smile to your lips. 

Since you were only a few months into taking testosterone, you knew that you would experience more changes. Remi, the doctor that Kit suggested you see, filled you in on what those changes would be and when you would most likely experience each of them. They were very supportive on your entire journey of being on ‘T’ and didn’t hesitate to answer any questions that you have regarding it.

When you were beginning to run out of gel, (they suggested you take this type of testosterone considering your great fear of needles. You tried to take it through the injections but even with Nick’s help, it never went well.) you immediately notified them and they sent you another dosage.

Kit was also very supportive and encouraging during this whole process. He often texted you every week or so to ask how you were holding up and such. When you told him about the changes you were experiencing or if he caught onto them himself, he showed a lot of excitement for you. 

The most encouraging person however was obviously Nick. He always reminded you to apply your gel if it slipped your mind and often suggested that he put it on you himself. Every time you notice a subtle change in your body, you don’t hesitate to call the boy and inform him of it. At times, you felt as though he was more excited by your accomplishments than you were.

Every time you came over and your voice had gone through a slight change or you were starting to gain a little more height, he would be smiling widely and devouring you in pecks all over your face. (This would often lead to a small make-out session in his room but no one’s gotta know that) He was always so happy for you and showed you nothing but love and support and you would be forever grateful for him. 

You were plenty aware of the fact that your journey as a trans male was far from over however you knew that Nick would be by your side every step of the way. 

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @thenickgirl @patscorner @frankdelreyy @sturnsann @kileybankzz @robins-scoop @miloisdone1 @rootbeerworshiper @rubyperic-09 @teenagetrash00 @maryx2xx

[verai-marcel]

A Curse and A Blessing (Astarion x Hearth Witch, AU, BG3 Drabble)

(I wrote this and realized there was no where it would fit in the current timeline of the fic, so it lives here as an AU)

"Welcome back—"

You put down your cutting knife and went over to the group, brushing your hands on your pants as you walked. Concern wrinkled your brow as you came closer.

Astarion was missing.

"What happened?"

"He's right here," Karlach said, pulling off her backpack and opening the flap.

A small white bat lay curled up on a pile of Astarion's clothes.

"What in the hells happened?"

The bat looked up at you and shrieked in a high pitched tone. You scooped up the small creature along with his clothes, and cradled them close to your chest.

Gale shrugged. "He rung that little feywild bell and talked to the pixie. Next thing we knew, he had been turned into this fluffy little thing."

The bat, ostensibly Astarion, hissed furiously.

"I'll take care of him," you said, wincing on your last word as the little bat clambered onto your chest and bit your collarbone.

Karlach raised an eyebrow.

"He's lapping at my neck, isn't he," you muttered.

She nodded, trying to hold back a laugh.

You waved them all off. "I'll handle this." You walked away, ignoring their snickers.

Entering Astarion's tent, you sat down. Letting the little fluffball lick your wound with his itty bitty tongue, you couldn't help yourself. You petted his soft fur. His body was a little bigger than the size of your hand, so you used two fingers to gently stroke him.

He suddenly stopped drinking and crawled down, resting on your bosom, and looked up at you.

"I'm pretty sure you're still aware of what you're doing," you said. "But since you make such a cute little bat, I'll allow it."

He made a soft squeaking sound and, settling himself on your chest, lay his head down and stared at you expectantly. After a few moments while you tried to figure out what he wanted, he reached out with one wing and flapped it.

"You want me to pet you again?"

He nodded.

Chuckling, you pet the little bat until his eyes slowly closed and he seemed to have fallen asleep.

Well, I can't go anywhere now that he's all cozy.

Then it occurred to you that pixie tricks only lasted an hour at most.

Wait, how long did it take them to get back—

Suddenly Astarion transformed back into his normal body, his weight crushing you.

And he was very, very, naked.

"Um."

"Oh." He let out a high pitched giggle. "Well, I suppose we don't need to look for a cure then."

"Um."

"Yes?"

"Could you... get off me?"

"Right, of course." He pushed himself up and rolled over. "You know, most people would have begged for the pleasure of having my naked body upon them."

"I'm not most people."

His expression changed from the flirty rake to something softer, more sincere. He reached and touched your cheek fondly. "I know, darling."

There was something a little melancholy in both his tone and his touch, and you wondered what it could mean as he put his clothes back on. You turned around as quickly as you could, but you still got an eyefull.

Well, that's going to haunt my dreams at some point.

When he was dressed, he held his hand out to you. "Shall we, my dear?"

You took his hand and let him lead you back out to the others.

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 2 Group A Match 4

expand for propaganda ↓ (major wall-of-text warning. don't say I didn't warn you) (nazi reference has been removed)

KD Lang:

"She's a lesbian (+100 points) and she was just really hot back then (+10000 points)"

"incredibly clear, sensual mezzo soprano voice -- kd lang's music literally transports you into the narrative of the song. they have a very charismatic appeal that makes them very attractive amazing bone structure and i love the short, choppy hair on top of that their fashion sense is peak, from the 1992 miss chatelaine ballroom dress to the suit on the august 1993 vanity fair cover to the shoulder-length hair and orange jacket on 1995's "all you can eat" i would literally give my life for kd lang i'm obsessed"

"VOTE KD LANG IF YOU LOVE LESBIANS. (AND YOU SHOULD LOVE LESBIANS)"

Jarvis Cocker:

"if jarvis wins I'm mailing him my underwear"

"I just want to tuck him in bed and read to him fairytales while he sips a cup of cocoa please is that to much"

"Jarvis Cocker and Jesus Christ share the same initials so that means that they are one flesh meaning that if you love Jesus you love Jarvis and vice versa"

"jarvision the best division 🫡"

"if jarvis wins I'll read The Hobbit in latin"

"I flew to London a couple of weeks ago and the first thing that I did was take the tube to waterstones picadilly and spend there about an hour looking for jarvis' book that they didn't have. Then I made my way (in the rain without an umbrella) to Foyles to see if they had it there and, again, they didn't have it."

"he's 6'3"

"I have never been more sexually attracted to a man than Jarvis cocker in the this is hardcore mv. I want to flatten him out with a rolling pin like pizza dough and then smack him against the wall. I am so horny I should be shot."

"Everytime I see jarvis cocker videos or pics I twirl my hair, kick my legs and giggle uncontrollably. Or I bite my arm and scream. I'm so mesmerised by his beautiful doe eyes and his weird dances that often lean very sexual. He's everything"

"the way jarvis' body is built is just extraordinary yknow like his spindly buglike legs"

"all I want in life is to take a shower with him and wash that greasy ass lice looking hair for once"

"Jarvis Cocker's last name is Cocker = he should win cuz cock haha"

"I want to spoon-feed him my grandma's chicken soup"

"I want to cock you jarvis <3333333"

"hottest most delicious looking man on earth"

"I didn't rant about him in English lang for him not to win"

"I love him a lot he looks like an insect ♥️"

"Jarvis cocker this is hardcore mv. No guillotine could take away the sloppy, disgusting, throbbing, dripping head I would give that man"

"never wanted a man so bad in my life, he looks like a pretty girl whilst having such a nice deep northern sheffield voice, i want him so bad i'm gonna be genuinely upset if my future bf doesn't look like him"

"apparently a girl he had slept with noted that he made sure that he satisfied all her needs in bed IM JUST GONNA LEAVE THIS INFO HERE AND YOU DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH THAT CUZ"

"need to have car sex with him whilst moving his greasy bangs out the way with my fingers"

"i went all the way to ireland to cure my hyperfixation but im still dreaming about the insect man 😍 i want to do the dishes with him"

"Jarvis is the kind of man that will tell you in explicit detail how much he likes to be pegged"

"currently smashing his sheffildian buttocks"

"I'd like to put my head on his shoulder right by his neck and just stay there, with his somewhat shaved beard making contact with my face and some strands of his hair coming loose and caressing me"

"is it zoophilic of me to say that I'm attracted to his insect looking way"

"Jarvis is everything! 90s Jarvis is a sarcastic smart bitter horny devil. 2000s Jarvis is a romantic fool. Current Jarvis? Lyrically, he is still both the horniest and most romantic and imho has the sexiest speaking voice of his generation. I used to listen to his BBC 6 radio show and when he said my name on air during their listener special I lost my goddamn mind. Celebrate the anniversary of it annually."

[dellalyra]

FAMILY FORMATIONS - THE PROPOSAL

Summary: The proposal.

CW: fluffy, fem!reader, nsfw but not like badlyyyy like a lil smutty

A/N: imma do the wedding too and all of the requests but this gave me brain ro

Recommended Listening:

Wasteland, Baby! - Hozier

Bartender - Lana Del Rey

After Hours - The Weeknd

Masterlist

Satoru walks back inside the door to the cottage and closes it behind him. He had a bag of all of your favourite snacks hiding a bottle of champagne and a box with your favourite cake from the small patisserie you both loved.

He had planned this ‘stay at home date night’ down to the very last detail, even having bought a new picnic blanket. He laid everything out on the blanket outside in the middle of the garden you oh-so-carefully tended. It was your pride and joy (second to Satoru and the kids of course), so it was the ideal setting for the evening. With it being only 7pm and mid-summer, the sun was still gently shining over the scene and the air was warm and balmy – he wondered briefly if Mother Nature knew of his plans for tonight and decided to help him out by making it perfect.

He knows you’re upstairs, getting ready for your date and he swallows his nerves and takes a deep breath. He wasn’t used to being nervous, he’d never had to be before. But fuck, was he nervous now. He heard Nanami’s sharp but reassuring voice from earlier echoing in his mind.

“Of course, she’ll say yes, Gojo.”

He patted his jacket pocket to make sure the blue velvet box was still there, double checked the blanket and food and the bottle of champagne hidden in one of your flower patches (are they lilies? Lobelia? No – lilacs. Yeah, lilacs. Hey he remembered!) and then found a pebble and tossed it at your bedroom window.

“Rapunzel, rapunzel let down your hair!” He shouted upwards.

The window flung open and a true, real life princess, his princess, poked her upper body out.

“With your height, I’m sure I don’t need to, can probably just crawl in.” You joked down at him.

He then sees you disappear and seconds later you appear at the back door, and god you were perfect.

Wearing a floral sundress, with a corset style top and falling just below your knees – the white dress was covered in tiny pink delicate flowers and Jesus did it fit you just right. As you strolled toward him, checking your flowers along the way – he noticed the swell of your breasts as they fell from the top of your dress and the slope of your neck, your hips swaying with the dress and the curve of your ass accented by the corset top of the dress when you bent to pick a rose. He shook his head; he’d entertain those thoughts and the tightness of the front of his trousers later on – fuck, he wanted to cage you and that delectable fucking body underneath him and make you squirm.

You smile as you reach him and he notices, as usual, you’re barefoot. The evening sun is illuminating how unbelievably bright you are and for a moment his breath is stolen from a chest because you have to be an angel to glow that much, surely?

You lean on your toes, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hi, ‘toru.”

“Hi princess. Take a seat.” He says as he gestures behind him.

You gasp in shock at the spread in front of you. All your favourites, strawberries, jam tarts, fairy cakes, some cheeses and cured meats and ooh the white chocolate and cherry cake you love along with a big jug of pink lemonade.

“Oh my god ‘toru! What’s all this for?! What’s the occasion?” You squeal, excitedly plopping down on the blanket and looking at everything.

“What? Can’t I just spoil my pretty princess for no reason?” He smirks, taking his spot beside you and popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“You always spoil me ‘toru, but this is extra spoiling!” You giggle, gripping his jaw to turn him to you so you can kiss his strawberry stained lips. He looked so fucking handsome shining under the sun, surrounded by colours and flowers and he was just so breathtakingly beautiful you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. His jacket was beside him, and the short sleeved white button down was unbuttoned a few buttons at the neck exposing the milky expanse of his chest and collarbone, and you spotted a dribble of lemonade making it’s way down the column of his throat and you just couldn’t help yourself – so you leaned in and kitten licked the droplet away, eyes coy looking at him through those fluttery lashes.

He couldn’t give in yet, even though he was sure he was tenting his trousers by now – he had to do this now, the timing was far too perfect.

This was exactly what was planned, not by him, but by you. 6 years ago, sipping vodka lemonades on the moonlit roof with all four of you together – long, semi tipsy conversations about hopes and dreams being shared with giggles and far-in-the-future promises. You had said as Geto asked (with a sly wink towards Satoru) how you’d want to be proposed to. Only just in your second year, you and him had been pining for each other for a year – but were still nothing but best friends. You’d talked about how you wouldn’t want anything over the top, no photographer or audience (you fake gagged at this), just you and whoever (in your head, it was Satoru), you’d want to be outside, isolated, you’d want a unique ring, nothing outlandish or gaudy and you didn’t want overdrawn, long winded speeches or declarations of love – just the simple question. That was your dream proposal, and he memorised the details right there and then – determined to be the one who made it reality.

After 20 minutes of snacking and chatting away and giggling about everything and nothing, you started telling him about your plans for your butterfly garden at the back corner, and the moment came as you turned to look in that direction and he knew in that moment that you were everything and more to him, alight with happiness and passion.

He softly said your name, then poked you in the ribs.

You turned to poke him back but froze.

He was leaning toward you, broad shoulders turned to you and celestial eyes staring into your very soul and in those long, elegant, powerful hands was a tiny open blue velvet box, the gold clasp sat atop the lid. On a matching cushion inside it – sat the most beautiful piece of jewellery you had ever seen, like something from a magic fairytale. Tiny filigree gold housed a shiny marquise diamond and two dainty sapphires on either side.

You froze and sucked in air in shock.

You looked up to his eyes again, seeing nothing but sheer love, sincerity and pure adoration reflected back at you.

“Marry me?” He said, boyish smile lighting up his face at your reaction.

You shook out a breath, you didn’t need a second to think so you just lunged at him and wrapped your hands around his smooth cheeks and crashed your lips into his, you felt his arms around your waist pulling you onto his lap and you couldn’t pull yourself away, tears beginning to wet your cheeks.

He pulls away first, hand firm on your waist.

“Is that a yes, then?” He smirked, very proud of himself.

“It’s infinite yes’s, ‘toru. It’s yes in every universe, yes forever.” You giggle out through tears, peppering his face with tiny kisses.

He grabs your hand and then slides the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit. Was that why Shoko insisted on borrowing some of your jewellery last weekend?

He smiles up at you, bright and blinding.

He cradles your face in his hands.

“My beautiful, incredible, amazing, sexy princess, my angel forest fairy – I can’t wait to call you my pretty little wife.” He says, pressing kisses into your neck and sucking marks into your exposed décolletage.

“I can’t wait to introduce you as my devilishly handsome, kind and loving husband Satoru.” You reply, hands gripping his hair and pulling slightly, making him growl into your chest. His hands grow firmer on your hips and your centre is guided to move along his solid length beneath you.

“Fuck, my little wife, so fucking pretty. God, and you’re all mine.”

“All yours, ‘toru, and I always have been. Aa-ah, fuck baby, more – please, upstairs.” You whimper, breathless and full of love.

At that, he scoops you up bridal style and begins to stride back to the house, stopping to tell you to reach into you lilac bush, you pull out a bottle of champagne and throw your head back laughing at him, to which he just lets out a chuckle and a cheeky smirk takes over his face.

“It’s hydration, gotta practise for our wedding night, the house is all ours and I’m not letting my fiancée leave the bed for at least two days.”

[chiiyuuvv]

[DAY 14] XIKERS VER masterlist ᡣ𐭩 !

✄ songs for.. ⋆

♡list : @yzerpoz , @imthisclosetokms , @rizzkisworld , @hyvelxve , @dogyunslover , @starryriize

➹ junmin : buzz love - andteam

➹ minjae : unplugged boy - tws

It was only a funny little joke when you first told your friend that he’ll never be able to get rid of you. He huffed and puffed in the past but now in the present, he's grateful that you actually stuck around. He’s grateful you lended your shoulder without a second thought, he's grateful that you’re willing to keep an eye on yechan.

➹ sumin : but i like you - bnd

His mind was too fuzzy to comprehend anything as he scanned the object, finding something that yet again reminded him of you. Everything reminded him of you: the pretty colors of pink painted onto the walls, to the softness of the grocery bags. As he walked out of the store with pride, he couldn’t help but feel a little buzz running throughout his body

➹ jinsik : die for you - dean

He lays in his bed confused, frustrated on how he's so fixated on you – the one who he teases about your height although he’s not that tall himself. His hands go up to grip his hair and he closes his eyes with a sigh when he remembers your feather-like touch, his heart pounding at just the thought of it. Hes troubled and in love, and he wonders if you're feeling the same

➹ hyunwoo : love you twice - huh yunjin

He swore to himself that he would never fall for you, that he’d only see you as a friend, as a little sister. But he hates how you cloud his mind with your effortless smile, how he replays every little thing you’ve said to him that made his heart beat a little faster. He hates how he gathers his things and slides into his shoes, finding his way to your front door. He hates how he’ll die for you

➹ junghoon : tell me it is love - ha hyunsang

Comforts you for the first time, a little shock seeing you cry but cuddles you nevertheless. He lays kisses on the spots where you hide your insecurities, before laying a kiss on the crown of your head, reassuring that his eyes will always stay on you, that he'll love you twice

➹ seeun : need you - vvon

Leaning against his window as it quietly rains, the weather dark and gloomy but his heart is bright and alive. He smiles at his computer monitor at the sight of your smile, telling another joke into the mic to make him laugh, the words slipping out of his mouth on its own: “I've been waiting for you.”

➹ yechan : blue hour - txt

Seeun whose confused and pondering to himself once he gets home, lost on how you’re the solution to all his problems, that you and only you could cure the hole in his heart. He spends time yearning for your love, for your attention as he thinks of new ways to make you laugh, to make you fall for him like you did for him.

➹ yujun : memories - riize

Besides the humid heat, yujun enjoyed the time spent with you this summer, able to learn about your identity as he does the same in return, happy to catch up when your schedules were getting cloudy. These happy memories was something he wanted to treasure

➹ hunter : promise - junny

It’s the thought behind each and every gift that leaves you in shock, your mouth agape as you discover the hidden meaning in all of his objects. No matter if it's the expensive dress you’ve been eyeing for a while or the simple bracelet that looks cute around your wrist, you could tell that hunter was thinking about you, that the only thing on his mind was you.

Awkward laughter filled the room as yechan told one of his horrible jokes, but it was only bearable since you were there instead of anyone else; his smile more genuine when you pushed his shoulders with a scoff. When he’s looks at you it feels like everythings changed, the time moving slow yet still sending a rush down his veins, a sudden wish of a time machine so he could always replay the moment

[csprslvt]

you and i, and her. pt 5

Chapter four

Summary: The journey to the WLF begins, Ellie and reader learn to communicate but still, their conversations are tainted with lies. Determined to find Abby, reader thinks back onto her memories. Where could she be? Readers dark past becomes clear to Ellie, still Ellie loves her best friend regardless.

Warnings: IMPLIED ATTEMPTED PAST SA, IMPLIED PAST GROOMING (reader is a victim of childhood grooming and attempted CSA) I am projecting, violence, first wlw heartbreaks, reader is lowkey a liar and a manipulator but whateva, Ellie is falling in love, but the burn is still slow. DESCRIPTIONS OF DEATH, DESPRICTIONS OF MURDER, sexual jokes and references lol, Ellie's sexy ass playing guitar ( I want her), reader wants her gf back, fuck that bitch owen!!! Ellies been in complicated relationships, foreshadowing fr

When Ellie had woken up you were gone. It was the early hours of the morning, sunlight creeping through the darkness. The air was dense and she felt anxious. 

Had you changed your mind already?

Her anxiety was relieved when you stepped through the door, holding breakfast sandwiches, already dressed and ready to go but with dark circles and slightly puffy eyes adorning your face.

“Hey Els”

“Hey.” Ellie spoke, fidgeting with her fingers. “Where did you go?”

“Breakfast for the road” You’d told her, holding up the food.

“Im really glad you slept”

“I was worried you changed your mind” Ellie blurted out, You set the sandwiches down, walking to Ellie and sitting on her bed once again,

“I'd never change my mind about you” 

Ellie flushed, all of this felt so…intimate, so romantic but she knew you didnt mean it in the way it sounded out of context.

“Okay.” Ellie responded, setting down her shaking hands on her lap. For now, her anxiety was soothed. 

You got up, stretching, a tired expression on your face.

“Did you wake up a while ago?”

“Yea, but it's okay, I’ll be fine. I promise”

Ellie nodded, getting up to prepare herself she walked away from you into the restroom.

When she was out of sight, your shoulders dropped, rubbing your weary eyes. Perhaps getting up and exploring so late at night and so early in the morning was a bad idea. But you had to find Abby before Ellie got to her first.

You knew you were spewing a load of bullshit to Ellie’s face. And maybe, if you were a better person, you would have felt guilty. But as every day passed, the more memories came back. Memories of what you had done, the faults of your distance past, the crimes you had committed. First was escaping the QZ at the ripe age of 14, killing the guards in your way without much guilt for your actions, then stealing from raiders and families to survive on the journey to the WLF. When you joined the group, you had met Abby, who trained you in swiftly ending lives and attacking the infected. You remembered when she had first lost her father, who was a doctor looking for a miracle cure.  She never talked about it much, she refused to bring back that traumatic memory, so you never got a name for who had killed him or why. But she knew, you wondered if she was still seeking revenge on that man. You had promised you would help her find him.

Just like how you promised Ellie the same thing.

Then you had gotten separated. Those memories were still fuzzy, but you guessed that you had been kidnapped, maybe kept hostage. Obviously you had escaped and were found by Ellie and Joel. 

Abby must think you were dead. Otherwise she would have found you by now. Right?

You shook yourself out of that headspace, you had a facade to keep up and thinking of Abby would break you down again.

Ellie returned from the bathroom, and it was just now that you noticed how beautiful she was. Pretty eyes, messy hair, freckles and toned arms. One of which was decorated with a tattoo.

As you had walked out the door together, in the break of the morning, you had asked,

“Where did you get a tattoo?”

“My ex-girlfriend Cat gave it to me a long time ago.”

“What made you want to get one?”

“Uhmm well, I had a chemical burn scar. It needed to be covered up, shit was ugly.

You didn't press any further, Ellie was visibly uncomfortable.

“Hm. Well the tattoo is cool”

Ellie smiled, “Thanks y/n”

You made your way to the horse stables once again. No one was really around and Ellie already gathered supplies. You didn't know how she had gotten your gun and axe back. But you didn't question it when she handed them to you.

“Here, so you're safe”

You gladly took your weapons back, rubbing the cool metal of the pistol, it had sentimental value as the first thing you had ever stolen years ago on the run from the QZ.

Carrying the axe on your tool belt, you slide the pistol into a leather holster section.

You got onto a horse, deciding to share one with Ellie so that two weren't suspiciously missing. Ellie was in the front, you gripped her waist, holding on pressed to her back.

The journey began. 

The first mile in was a silent ride, no commotion or infected so far. Eventually Ellie spoke up.

“y/n?” 

“Yea?”

“How did you…you never tell me much about yourself. I…would like to know more about you”

“Oh, hmm” you thought for a second, surely some information was okay to disclose, it was only Ellie. You could just avoid the entire ‘Abby is the love of my life and I grew up with her’ part

“Well. I was in a QZ my entire childhood. I escaped when I was 14.”

“Really? What made you want to leave?”

“I mean FEDRA was so oppressive, I was kind of super misbehaved in school and got sick of it. I impulsively ran away after an incident with a guard.

Ellie nodded in sympathy, she knew exactly what that felt like, your story was so similar to hers so far.

“How did you escape?”

“There was this one guard, he was really sweet on me, it was kind of creepy. He would give me things I wanted, magazines, candy, gifts. He treated me like I was special. I wasn't stupid, this man was a full adult, and he wasn't innocent. He clearly wanted things from me back. I kind of used it to my advantage, he would invite me to his home. He had no wife and no kids, so I figured he was a weirdo. I refused. He took me out of my dorm one night. But I didn't plan on allowing him to take advantage of me.” 

Ellie was tense, enraptured in your story

“What happened then?”

“So we went back to his room and he locked the door. He tried making a move on me. So I grabbed a knife that was conveniently next to the bed and stabbed the shit out of him.”  

Ellie froze, looking back at you.

“Wow. At 14? I'm so sorry that he was such a creep and that he tried assaulting you. That's disgusting. I'm glad he's dead.” 

“So, he obviously was screaming, and it alerted other people in the building. I decided that was my chance. I took a bunch of his shit, like the pistol I have now and ran.”

“You left? Just like that?” 

“Yea I was so pumped with adrenaline that I can't even remember how I managed to do that. But I made it”

“ Where did you go then?”

“I kind of just wandered.”

That was a half lie

“Wow, fending for yourself at just 14? That's crazy. Were you alone?”

“No, I met some friends along the way”

A half truth.

“Tell me about them”

Fuck.

“I met my ex girlfriend”

“Oh?”

“Yea”

“What was her name?”

Lie lie lie

Come up with a random fucking name.

“Alison”

“Hm, why did you break up?”

“Oh you know, we just went our separate ways.”

Literally. 

“So you aren't seeing anybody.” 

“No ones caught my eye I guess”

I'm still hung up on the person that murdered Joel. Oops.

Ellie nodded. She wasn't really sure why she was interested in your single status but she was happy with your response.

The rest of the ride continued with playful banter, Ellie was feeling like she could finally breathe when it was just the two of you joking around. As if for just a few moments she could allow herself to smile before her mind brought her back to the things that haunted her the most. She was getting attached, but that's okay. You promised you'd never leave her. 

Right? 

Arriving in a deserted city the two of you found a music shop. 

“Valiant music shop”

“Should we check for supplies?”

 You both got off the horse, Ellie first, holding your hand and helping you jump down.

“Man. Imagine this place when everything was intact… you could just goof off playing some instruments” 

“We should totally start a band Els”

Ellie laughed, it was the first laugh you've heard from her in a while, it brought you joy. You couldn't deny it, you had an urge to make her laugh. When she first smiled at you, breaking down her awkward exterior it was like you'd suddenly do anything to see it again. But there were certain limits to that, with Abby planted firmly in your heart, there was only so much you'd do for your best friend. 

“No we actually should, I’ll play guitar.”

“I call drums”

“Oh? Didnt take you for a drums player”

“I like banging on random objects it relieves my stress”

Ellie smirked.

“What type of banging we talkin?”

You gave her a shove, she tripped.

“Hey! I could’ve fallen and died from that!”

“You asked for it making stupid jokes like that you freak”

“Freak? Oh i'm totally a freak.” She smirked again, you gave her a disgusted face.

“Ellie oh my god”

“What? Just being honest”

“You can go take your honestly and shove it up your ass,I dont wanna hear it”

“Ass play? Didn't expect that from you either”

This fucking girl.

“Oh my god. Shut the fuck up!” 

“Okay okay, I’ll stop!”

You sighed in relief, glad her teasing was over.

The pair of you went to the second floor of the shop, Ellie found a guitar, preserved in its case.

“Hey! No way!” Ellie jumped excitedly

“Cool! Can you play?”

“Joel taught me…”

“Could you play me a song? I'd love to hear it”

“Yea, yea of course”

Ellie began to strum on the guitar, she sang and if she was anyone else you would have gotten second hand embarrassment. But this was Ellie, and she sang beautifully.

“If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.

Everything I've found here, 

I've not found myself…”

You watched Ellie’s hand as they moved on the strings, fascinated. 

“It's been a long time since i've heard music” you spoke, reminiscing.

“When was the last time?” Ellie questioned after her song was over

“Hmmm” You thought back

“I had a record player. It was a gift from Alison when we first started going out. I had like two records and i'm pretty sure she regretted getting it for me since I started playing them non stop” a happy, shy expression settled on your face and Ellie watched it with adoration.

“What songs were they?”

“Head over heels by ummm Tears for Fears, and the other one is embarrassing”

Ellie caught your eye

“No, tell me! I promise I'll keep it a secret!”

“It's called Love Fool by The Cardigans, came out in like 1996?”

“Never heard of that. What are the lyrics?”

“Hmm something like, love me love me say that you love me? It was embarrassing. The entire song is kind of depressing. It's basically begging to be loved no matter the cost”

Ellie pauses for a moment, lost in thought.

“Sounds like me to be honest” Ellie said in a self-deprecating voice.

You almost laughed, Ellie noticed how you held it in and grinned

“No it's okay, you can laugh.”

You giggled

“Sounds like you?”

“Yea I have this issue where I fall in love and it ends up so complicated. I kind of end up sounding like that.”

You made an awkward expression not exactly sure how to respond

“How many times have you fallen in love, Ellie?”

“Three times”

Your expression changed to a shocked one, for some reason you didnt think Ellie would answer with such ease.

“Was one of them Dina?” 

Ellie cracked her knuckles, a nervous habit.

“Mhm”

“Im sorry, that heartbreak must've been very difficult”

“It was but I don't think anything beats my first heartbreak” Ellie mumbled, thinking of Riley

“Yea, me neither” You only thought of Abby.

“How about you? How many times have you been in love?”

“Once” The answer came naturally, Ellie was surprised

“Just Alison?”

“Mhm, just Alison.”

“I'm shocked I thought you would have been more experienced”

“No one else loved me like she did, and I have never loved anyone else like I loved her”

“Do you…still love her?” Ellie looked away, the question itself, for some reason, hurt a little bit. But you were her best friend. 

“y/n’s love life is none of my business.” She thought to herself

Oh, what to say in this situation?  You pondered 

“No. No I dont”

Big fat  fucking lie.

Somehow, Ellie trusted your response and didn't push it any further.

You both headed back, Ellie once again, holding your hand to get back on the horse.

And as you gripped her waist, gently you rested your forehead on her shoulder. 

Ellie on the other hand, was much too satisfied with these touches.

“Fuck”

“Not this again.”

[slothquisitor]

What Moves in the Dark: Chapter Three

A Post-Campaign Baldur's Gate 3 eldritch horror AU.

Chapter Summary: Liv enlists Astarion's help to solve the mystery of the blood disease. Of course, he's less than thrilled about it.

Read from the beginning.

Also on AO3.

In the days that follow Iona’s death, Liv and Kharis don’t talk much. It’s not that there’s anything wrong between them, but more that there just simply isn’t anything to say. They’re both sorry, they both feel responsible, and they both keep the shop going in their quiet steady way. Liv waits, granting them both time and space, but she watches to see if Kharis ever does what he promised. He never tells anyone about the blood though she does catch him toying with the vials, watching the way the blood branches and reaches.

But Liv has spent far too much of her life waiting and hoping for other people to do the right thing, so she intends to take matters into her own hands. 

The night is the same as any other: Kharis bids her goodnight at his usual time, and she goes about closing the shop up for the evening. But when she flips the sign to closed, she leaves the door unlocked. It’s been a tenday since Astarion was here, and she’s expecting him back tonight. She already knows that he’ll be frustrated with her at the lack of progress on his particular problem, but she hopes it won’t matter once she shows him the blood. 

She’s out of all other ideas, and he’s one of the heroes who had saved the city from a mind flayer invasion, so the chances he can help her feel pretty high. Still, she’s not exactly looking forward to telling him his problem hasn’t been her priority, and she rehearses the conversation in her head as she works. 

About an hour after the sun sets, the bell over the door cheerily announces his arrival. The last time he was here, he was dressed casually, his clothes finely made if a little threadbare. Tonight, he’s dressed in light, expensive-looking armor and armed to the teeth. 

“Expecting trouble in my humble shop?” she asks by way of greeting. 

“Well hello to you too,” he replies with a hint of admonishment. “Our little meeting is not the only thing on my to-do list for tonight.”

“Oh?”

“I got a job.” There’s a hint of pride as he says it. “It’s murder. Government sanctioned.”

The glee startles an uncomfortable laugh out of her. “Should I be concerned?”

He shakes his head. “There’s some Bhaalists still on the loose. I’ve been contracted to bring them to justice or whatever it is the Fist do these days. I don’t really care. I get to drain them dry and deliver them to the Constable.”

It makes a certain sort of sense. He’s a vampire after all, so he would need to eat. Murder cultists seem like a fairly solid choice. “I was going to ask about your diet, actually, but now I think you’ve answered my question.”

“Well, I do aim to be proactive, darling.” He says, leaning toward her conspiratorily. He claps his hands. “Now, how have you fared this past tenday? Any progress on a cure for my condition?”

Oh, right to it then? Shit. “Unfortunately, no. I haven’t had quite as much time as I would have liked to devote to it-”

His face falls into something that looks like disappointment before very quickly twisting into disdain. “Well, what exactly have you been doing then? This shop can’t get that busy. Honestly, I debated coming back here at all, but you seemed quite capable. Shows me.”

She almost tells him about Iona then and there. Almost tells him that his problem isn’t the only one in the whole damn world, just to smack the contemptuous look off his face. But she doesn’t because she needs his help. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to work on your problem, but something more pressing has come up. There’s something I need you to see.” She beckons him into the workroom. She can hear him sputtering a bit behind her, his frustration palpable. But he does follow, so she walks over to the lead-lined safe where Kharis has been keeping the vials of blood.

“This had better be worth my time,” he says, a hand on his hip and still standing in the doorway. 

“Remember that blood disease I mentioned?” 

“....Yes?”

She pulls the vials from the safe. “I didn’t tell you everything.” She turns and sets the vials down in front of him on the workbench. The blood inside the vials presses up against the glass wall, as if they are desperate to touch, to reach each other. 

Astarion’s brow furrows. “What in the hells is that?” he asks, approaching the bench, already bent down to look at the vials more closely. 

“Blood I pulled from two separate people.”

He looks up at her, all annoyance and exasperation gone. “I know blood, and it doesn’t do this.”

“The first Kharis pulled from a boy who had died, and the second I pulled a woman just a few days ago,” Liv replies. 

“Where’s the woman? What did she have to say?” Astarion asks, carefully shifting the vials around, watching the way the blood branches and reaches for the other.

“She died. We couldn’t help her.” 

He looks up at her, there’s understanding in his crimson gaze and something that looks like regret. “I’m sorry.”

“This is why I haven’t made more headway on your problem. Last time you were here, only Alfran had died, but we had several people complaining of the same symptoms. Kharis convinced his mother to let us do an autopsy. When we cut him open, his blood grew out of him. We thought it was a one-off, whatever it was that killed him. But then Iona…”

“You think it’s spreading?” 

She’s so relieved to see he understands. “Yes, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

“Help you with what exactly?” 

“Help me figure it out…you solved the mind flayer problem, defeated a giant brain…I thought you’d help me with this.”

His answering laugh isn’t comforting. “Darling, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I think you’re misunderstanding my role in all of that.”

Is he really refusing to help? Can’t he see what a big fucking deal this is? “You were part of the group that stopped the mind flayer invasion, right?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“You’re a hero. Isn’t this what you do ?”

He stands there, staring at her as if she’s someone he’s never seen before. “I…it’s not…” he fumbles with a series of beginnings, shifting uncomfortably. “It wasn’t like we just knew what we were doing from the outset…there was a lot of stumbling around.” 

She doesn’t see what the problem is. “Okay. Let’s stumble around together then. Something is infecting people’s blood and killing them, and I’m going to try to do something about it. I hoped that you would want to help too.”

“And what about my problem? You agreed to help me first; I gave you my blood.”

Is he being serious right now? “People are dying…right now. You…You’re immortal, right?” 

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Great. Then what’s the rush? Look, Astarion, I want to help you, and I will help you. But people are dying, and I need to solve this first. Will you help me or not?”

He’s staring at her with a look of utter disbelief on his face. There’s something here she’s missing, she’s sure of it, but she doesn’t know what that might be. Eventually, he rolls his eyes. “I suppose that if you have my help then you’ll be available to solve my problem sooner.”

Good enough. “Thank you.” She means it. The last few days have felt…heavy. Utterly devoid of hope. They’d taken blood from every other person who had come to see them with similar symptoms to Alfran and Iona, but nothing had been odd about their blood. They had no answers, and she simply kept replaying the night Iona’s sons had brought her in, filtering through what other things they might have tried. Something, anything that might have changed the outcome. 

He nods and waves her gratitude away. “So, where do you propose we start?”

Liv picks up a vial and holds it out to him. “Besides all of the…weird movement. Neither Kharis nor I can find something strange about this blood. But you mentioned last time we spoke that you can smell blood. Could you smell this?” 

He takes the vial from her hand, grimacing. “It’s not going to…leap out at me the second I take the lid off, is it?”

She shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t move very quickly. But…don’t touch it? And definitely don’t drink it.”

“The thought hadn’t even entered my mind.” He says with disgust as he pulls the lid off the vial, and takes a big whiff of it as if it were a glass of wine and not a vial of weird, moving blood. His face immediately twists in disgust. “Oh, gods, that’s terrible.” He replaces the lid. 

“Not like normal blood?”

He hands the vial back to her. “Not at all. It’s…utterly rank. Gods, it…lingers. You really can’t smell anything?”

“No.”

“Ugh.” He gags and begins to pace away from her. 

Well, this is at least something. “If you’re going to retch, please do it in the basin.”

He turns and glares at her. “I’m fine.” But he is somehow even paler than before. 

“Have you ever encountered blood like this before?” Liv asks. 

“Once..but it was different. A drow woman...but even her blood didn’t smell that bad. This is…far worse.” He pauses, suddenly thoughtful. “Except…there was a man a few days ago at the Blade and Stars. He smelled like this…”

“Really?” It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a lead. Maybe if they can find this man, he can tell them where he’s been, what he came into contact with that would have done this. If they can find the source, perhaps she can find a cure. “Do you think we might be able to find him again?”

Astarion looks at her in confusion. “I suppose?”

“We could go see if he’s at The Blade and Stars. Then maybe we could get some more information.”

Astarion sighs and looks less than enthused with the turn his even has taken. “Well, why the hells not?”

***

Astarion is utterly confounded by the woman who walks beside him through the dark streets of the Lower City. He’s still not sure why he agreed to join her little investigation, only that the way she had looked at him, the way she’d casually called him a hero, it had reminded him of how everyone had looked at Tavren. When he’d first met Tavren, he’d hated the way they so quickly handed out help and hope as if those were things that could exist in this cruel world. At first, Astarion had disapproved of Tavren’s kindness, and of the solemn promises they’d made to every person with a sad story they met. But then, Tavern had always kept their promises, and later, Astarion had realized that hope they inspired in others, the brightness that lit up their eyes…they’d earned every bit of that. 

Astarion has never wanted to be the reason for that sort of hope, but then Liv had looked at him with that same hope. She’d called him a hero. And it had felt…good. He’s not sure there are many people in the world who would look at a vampire and call them a hero, but she had. He’s not sure why, but some part of him wants to be whatever she’s seen in him.

“So, are you from Baldur’s Gate?” he asks. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer, but they’ve been walking in silence long enough that it’s making his fingers twitch. 

She glances at him, a soft smile on her lips as if he’s being amusing. “Born and raised. You?”

“If I’ve ever lived anywhere else, I don’t remember it.” And then when she looks confused he explains, “I don’t remember much about my life before I was turned.”

“Is that typical for someone who becomes a vampire spawn?”

He shifts a little uncomfortably, eyes fixed ahead. “No, I believe my experience was rather singular.”

“I’m sorry.”

He scoffs and glances back at her. “Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.”

If his reaction catches her off guard, she’s infuriatingly good at hiding it. “That just seems really hard. To become something else and then lose who you were…” Her words are soft, there’s a gentle quality to them he can’t stand. It feels too much like pity.

“I didn’t lose anything,” he retorts, suddenly defensive, unwilling to admit any potential weakness. The words are harsher than he intends, but he doesn’t apologize. 

“Well, it sounds like you wouldn’t remember if you did, would you?” she says. There’s a hint of challenge in her gaze and a frank sort of appraisal. He’s suddenly very sorry he broke the silence at all. 

Thankfully, they’ve nearly arrived at The Blade and Stars. “So, what’s your grand plan once we arrive?”

“Well, how close do you need to be to people to smell their blood?” 

No one’s ever asked him this. It takes him a moment to consider. “Not terribly near, though the scents get muddied in a place as busy as a tavern. Now that I’ve had a solid whiff of the blood, I doubt I’ll be able to be in the same room without identifying it. Thank you for that by the way.”

She shrugs. “It’s not as if I knew it would smell bad. Does everyone’s blood smell different?”

“Most people smell the same or close enough to the same. It’s only when I drink their blood that I can really parse the nuances, but people do taste very different.”

“So if you had some of my blood, for example, would you be able to recognize it as mine if you encountered it again?” she asks. The question is so earnest, she’s doing that thing where she’s thinking out loud, working something out. 

The opening is too easy, he can’t resist taking it. “Darling, are you inviting me for a bite?” 

Her cheeks immediately redden as she realizes the implications of what she’s asked, but that’s the only tell. “Not at all. Just academic curiosity.”

“Mmmm. Pity.”

They’ve arrived at The Blade and Stars and Liv has opened the door to the bustling tavern. Music and laughter pour out into the street like starlight. “But you didn’t answer the question.”

“You never answered mine,” he replies as he steps around her to get inside. 

“Grab a drink, make the rounds, let me know if you recognize the man?”

He presses past her to the bar to order and smirks at her while they wait for the barkeep to turn his attention to them. It’s crowded tonight up near the bar, and she gets edged out by a man leaning over to talk to a friend and nearly pushed into him. He expects her to tell the man off, but instead, she just steps closer to him and seems like she’s trying to take up less space. He leans down close, so she’ll be the only one who might hear. “Yes, I’d recognize it.” 

He’s not really sure why he’s flirting with her, just that it’s instinctive, easy. He’s pretty sure he’s going to regret it if she flirts back at all, but so far she hasn’t. She just keeps blushing prettily and ignoring his jabs. It’s delightful.

When their drinks do arrive, wine for him and a Mermaid Whiskey for her, she glances about the place, avoiding an elbow as someone pushes around them. “I’m going to go find a quiet table if there is one to be found. Come find me after you’ve made your rounds?”

“Sure,” he replies and watches her wend her way through the crowd. For someone who seems so self-assured, she moves through a crowd rather meekly. As if she can’t stand to be in anyone’s way, inconvenience anyone. She’s an enigma he can’t quite puzzle out. But that’s not why he’s here. He takes his drink and works the room, this is at least, familiar territory. It’s something he knows how to do and do it well. But after a half hour of flirting and making acquaintances throughout the bar, he sits down at her table. 

“Not a whiff of any strange blood.”

She sighs. “That…is disappointing.” She’s hardly touched her drink, but she keeps toying with the glass as if she needs something to do with her hands. 

He drains what’s left of his drink. “So…what now? Do you expect to traipse around to every bar and tavern in the city looking for him?”

“I mean…maybe? He’s the only lead we have. Everyone else with this condition is dead…and well, I sort of thought if we questioned him that we might be able to find whatever it is they all had in common. Track the source.”

He laughs. That’s her grand plan? Nothing else. “Oh…you’re being serious. That’s it?” 

“I mean we could also walk you through every crowded place we can find to see if someone else’s blood just randomly smells awful.”

“I’m not a fucking bloodhound,” he snaps. 

She doesn’t rise to his level. If anything, she’s calmer when she replies. “Alright then, do you have a better idea?”

He wants to tell her this whole thing is ridiculous, but that blood in those jars scared him. The way they reached for each other, the way it had shifted and moved. Something is very, very wrong in Baldur’s Gate. “The Wide is still busy, right after sunset. We could meet there tomorrow, walk the crowds, see if anyone turns up?”

She looks around the bar like she doesn’t want to leave. Like she could through sheer will alone pinpoint someone in this place to help. She sighs, her shoulders sagging a bit. “Yeah, alright. Tomorrow.” She stands up, and so he follows. 

“I’ll walk you home.”

She glances at him, surprised. “It’s alright. Stay if you’d like.”

He gestures to his armor. “I have a job to do, remember? It’s practically on the way. While I could avoid you the whole way there, it would be annoying.”

She laughs, the first genuine laugh he’s managed to coax from her all evening. “Alright then.” 

Together, they leave the tavern and begin retracing their steps back towards the shop. “So, where does one find Bhaalists in Baldur’s Gate?”

“The sewers, mainly.”

“Charming.”

“Quite. The Netherbrain was kept below the city, so we spent quite a bit of time wandering the sewers in order to track it down,” he explains. 

“I’ve lived here my whole life, and it’s still hard to imagine that it happened at all. Even though I saw it with my own eyes.”

“You’d be surprised what’s lurking in the dark shadows of this city. Bhaalists, hags, there was even an undead mummy lord we killed,” Astarion laughs. It sounds so ridiculous strung together like that.

“Really?” she asks, but she looks properly impressed, and some part of him wants to go on and keep telling her about the adventures he’s had, the good deeds done. If only to keep that look in her eyes. 

He’s about to go on bragging when out of the corner of his eye, he catches movement in the shadows. Someone is following them. He notes it but keeps talking as if he hasn’t noticed. “Tavren never met a lost cause they weren’t desperate to right.” The shadow moves closer, and when it lunges out of the dark, he’s ready, even as it goes right for Liv. 

He darts forward, knocking the blade aiming right for her away while using one arm to press her behind him. As he turns, three more figures emerge from the dark. They are all armed with serrated knives and murderous glares. The one who had aimed for Liv steps forward with a smile. “My Lord Bhaal will rejoice when I offer up your soul to him.”

He’s a little impressed. He must have really left an impression on the last Bhaalists he’d tangled with for them to come seeking him. “Well, it seems as though I won’t have to go wandering the sewers tonight after all,” Astarion says, unsheathing his daggers. He glances Liv’s direction. “You aren’t one of those wizards who doesn’t know any actually useful spells, are you?”

She immediately backs up away from him, and for a moment he’s worried she’s going to abandon him, and make a run for it, but instead, she just glares at him. “Why don’t you find out?” A tiny mote of flame snakes its way through the street, stopping in the middle of the group of Bhaalists. 

And then the world explodes in flame. 

He’s lucky that he’s able to dodge out of the way of the fireball. The Bhaalists are not, and he hears their screams, smells their burnt flesh. As the flames dissipate, he rushes in, daggers drawn, taking advantage of their surprise and cutting one of them down. He hears more than sees the Bhaalist leaping for him, teeth bared, and he braces for the blow, and readies himself to slip away. But the collision never comes. Instead, a bolt of magic arcs through him, and the man lies dead, but still convulsing on the ground. 

There are two Bhaalists left, and now he’s sure Liv can handle herself he turns his attention to the one that had jumped out at them first. Not only will he not have to spend his evening stalking the sewers for Bhaalists, but he’ll also get to eat tonight. He’s not starving, yet. But he doesn’t encounter nearly the same number of criminals and vagrants to feed from, so he takes the blood where he can get it these days. 

He lunges for the man’s throat, sinking his fangs into the soft flesh and burying a dagger into his heart. The man fights for a moment and then goes limp, and Astarion drinks, and drinks, and drinks. The blood is warm and fresh and spiked with a heady mix of adrenaline and fear. It fills up a void within him, the empty chasm where his hunger lives. He can feel the man slipping away, and it’s nice to not care about that, to drain him dry, to feel the last vestiges of life slipping away. Perhaps it makes him a monster to enjoy it, but he does. But, all too soon, the blood runs dry and then Astarion lets go of the man and the body collapses to the cobblestones with a sickening thud. 

It is only then that he lifts his eyes to where Liv stands. The last Bhaalist is dead, Liv has seen to that with some other fire spell from the smell of things. She stands up the street a bit, breathing hard, eyes filled with alarm as she stares at him, at the destruction they’ve wrought. She abruptly looks away from him, and he realizes how this must look. He’s just drained a man dry without a thought. He wipes his mouth with the back of his glove, and it comes away stained with blood. 

He must look properly like a monster to her. He’s not sure how he feels about that.

Liv has gone pale, her gaze fixed on the cobblestones. He doesn’t dare step forward. “My apologies, you are in fact a useful wizard. You’re alright?” 

It takes her a moment to respond, a moment to look back at him. He sees the hard set of her jaw as she straightens. “Of course. I’m fine. You?”

“Despite your best attempts to light me aflame,” he accuses. 

He expects a joke or a quip from her, but instead, she glances at the alleyway, as if she might dart into it. She doesn’t and slowly brings her gaze back to him. “What now?”

He sighs. “Now, I need to alert the Fist so they can clean this up. Or you can. I don’t much care.”

“I’ll go,” she volunteers immediately and is already walking up the street as quickly as she can. She’s clearly eager to get away from him. He sighs and then bends to pick the pockets of each one of the Bhaalists for gold or weapons or anything else of use. 

It would have probably been polite to have warned her first or waited now that the bodies are dead and cooling. Even once his companions had known about his condition, he still remembers the strained looks that had been leveled his way the first few times he’d drained an enemy in battle. But Liv had looked truly distraught, and that’s a disappointment because he’d rather preferred when she’d thought of him as a hero. 

He doesn’t expect her to come back, but she does. She looks steadier when she returns too, less pale, but still not talkative. The bureaucratic red tape of it all only takes about twenty minutes to sort out because these Fists are aware of his contract with Davella. Four Bhaalists are worth a good amount of gold, but that’s something he’ll have to take care of another night. 

When the Fists finally release them, he steps as close to Liv as he dares. She’s been quiet since returning with the Fists, almost as if she’d retreated into herself. She’s barely looking at him, and he curses his stupidity. He doesn’t want to apologize though, he won’t apologize for what he is.

“Let’s get you home.”

“It’s alright. I can manage.”

“And what if any other Bhaalists leap out from the shadows, hmm?”

“Seemed to me that they were here for you,” she says. The words are strained. 

“True. I’ve got a contract on them, fifty or gold a piece. Half is yours if you want it.”

Somehow, she manages to look even more alarmed at the mention of money. “No. It’s yours.”

“And you helped. You killed two of them. That entitles you to half.” Even if she hadn’t dealt the final blow to two of them, she’d still deserve half. Tavern had taught him that much. 

She hugs herself, gaze set straight ahead. “I don’t want it.”

Her reluctance makes no sense to him. She stops in front of The Shadowed Quill and takes out her keys. She seems like she’s in a hurry to get inside. He doesn’t stop her. He’s pretty sure that whatever this is…whatever they were doing, it’s over now. He reminds himself that he shouldn’t care. He didn’t really want to be doing this anyway. 

With the door open, she pauses at the threshold and looks back at him. Well, she's not quite looking at him, but close enough. “Tomorrow night at the Wide?”

He stares at her dumbfounded for a moment but recovers quickly. “See you there.”

And then she closes the door and disappears into the darkness of the shop without so much as a goodbye. He stays there an extra moment, though he’s not sure what he expects. Out of the corner of his eye, there’s movement, a figure receding in the darkened alleyway across from the shop. He approaches the space cautiously, on silent feet, but whatever was there, whatever was watching, it’s gone now. 

He’s alone.

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Lady and the Tramp. “You make me brave.” Hurricane.

Group: D

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Lacey and the Tramp

Woof! Grr-uff! Ruff! Ruff! Woof!

Gold rouses slowly. The obnoxious baying of the dog sounds like it could be coming from right outside their bedroom window. He groans, groping for the clock on the bedside table. He brings it an inch away from his face, the electric green numbers burning into his retinas. Half past two. Lovely. He has three hours before his wife forces him to enjoy yet another sunrise at gunpoint. He squints into the darkness, finding Belle’s silhouette on the other side of the bed.

No, not Belle. His bleary vision is yanked into sharp focus.

Lacey is face first in her pillow, breathing deep and even, her legs entwined with his beneath the bed linens. She is as unbothered by the incessant barking as she is by him wrenching back the sliver of blanket that is rightfully his. He only shuts his eyes for a moment, but hours must slip past. When he opens them again, the night sky has sweetened to the muted blue of dawn and the mattress beside him is vacant. Belle – Lacey, damn it – is a tiny furnace, and the entire bed feels cold without her in it.

“You must dream a lot,” he’d told her once, as he warmed his hands against her bare back. They lay in a drowsy tangle on the settee in the Dark Castle’s library.

She’d given him a bemused look.

“You’ve never heard that? I suppose it was just something my aunts told me,” he said, and she’d giggled as his talons tickled up her spine. “Dreaming keeps you warm at night.”

Belle had grinned. “Certain types of dreams, at least.”

This memory bleeds into a dream of his own; a bittersweet dream of blue linen dresses, and silver slippers, and a hurricane of slobber dripping, dripping, drip– wait, what?

Gold’s eyes snap open. He is looking directly into the wiry grey muzzle of a scruffy, slavering mutt. Lacey’s head pokes up into his line of sight.

“Look what I found in the backyard. I think he tunneled under the fence.”

The dog hops off the bed, leaving a trail of muddy paw prints over the paisley bedspread. Gold jolts upright, swiping at his damp face. His mind has informed his body that it is awake and annoyed, and very little else.

“Lacey, the mud,” he moans, agonized.

“Oh, whatever. That will wash out,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Why would you bring that thing in here? You don’t know where it’s been!”

“I do know where he’s been. He’s been wandering the streets, freezing and starving.”

Gold swings his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing when the dog’s wet, whiskery snout bumps against his knee. Flecks of dirt fly from its tail with every wag. He rubs at one eye with the heel of his hand. His lids feel like someone has poured treacle on them. And then, like the tuning of a radio dial, the background noise of Lacey’s voice becomes discernible.

“– does look pretty scrawny. Nothing a little fattening up won’t cure. I’ll phone the animal clinic and schedule an appointment, just to be safe.” She strokes beneath the mutt’s chin with two fingers. “What should we name him?”

“Name him?” Gold sneers. “We’re not keeping it.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’m allergic,” he says, without missing a beat.

She looks less than convinced. “That’s very convenient. You’ve never mentioned that before.”

“It never came up.”

“What about the first time I cooked you dinner? I asked if you had any allergies and all you said was that shellfish gives you hives.”

…is he being bloody cross-examined?

“I hadn’t any cause to expect roasted labrador on the menu.”

Lacey folds her arms over her chest. “You’re such a rotten liar.”

“I am not.”

“Are so. You haven’t had so much as a sniffle since I brought him in.”

“That’s because he’s kept his distance.”

“Get a little closer, then,” she says, casually, but her eyes flash with challenge.

“I’m not going to touch it. Do you want to see me get sick?”

“I want you to prove it to me.”

Gold entertains the idea of faking a sneezing fit, but figures that’s a shred of dignity he isn’t willing to part with. Yet.

“I’m not allergic,” he admits, after a long moment.

“Thought so. There’s no real reason we can’t keep him.”

Belle grins – no, not Belle, not Belle. But it is Belle’s smile; tart with the confidence of someone who believes every debate is hers to take. Not Belle, not Belle, not Be–

He vaults off the bed to shoo the mutt away from the expensive pair of leather oxfords he’s begun to nose at. He gives Lacey a weary glare.

“It’ll scratch up my furniture.”

She looks even less impressed by this change of tactic. “And? Your furniture is hideous.”

“It’s our furniture,” he quickly backpedals.

“You just said ‘my’.”

“I’ve had half of this longer than your grandparents have been alive!”

“And it looks it,” she says, pointing an accusatory finger at a chair upholstered with purple and teal palmettes. “That must predate the fall of the Ottoman Empire.”

How can he explain to her that she picked out that very armchair at a bazaar in Agrabah?

Gold throws up his hands. “Fine! We’ll get rid of the dog and the chair!”

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous. For Christ's sake, Lacey, put some pants on. I can’t argue with someone while they’re pants-less.”

In all fairness, he thinks the pajama top she’s currently swimming in might be longer than some of her favorite dresses.

She snorts a laugh. “Find yourself in that position a lot, do you?”

“Since you moved in? Yes.”

“Stop picking fights first thing in the morning, then.”

She fetches his dressing gown from the wardrobe and shimmies it on. The mutt nips and dances around her feet like an overeager boxer, engaged in a fierce showdown with her fuzzy pink house slippers.

“I mean it, dearie. I’m putting my foot down.”

“About whether or not I wear pants to bed?”

“About the dog.”

She kneels down and sinks her hands into the mutt’s coarse, pewter coat. He immediately burrows under her dressing gown, like a small child hiding behind his mother’s skirt.

Gold pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you want a dog, I will get you a dog. But you’re not keeping this one. This thing is loud, and filthy, and doesn’t know how to behave. It can’t stay here.”

She simpers up at him, nuzzling her face against the mutt’s ruff. “I’m not well-behaved and you let me stay.”

His lips twitch in a way that most would mistake as the precipice of a scowl. But he knows Lacey can see the truth in the soft pull of his laughter lines. He’s trying not to smile.

“Yes, but you’re housebroken.”

Lacey’s smug expression gives way to a wheedling pout, sensing weakness. “Let him stay for one week. Like a trial run. And if he’s more trouble than he’s worth, he’ll be David Nolan’s problem. Just one week. Please, Gold.”

And, with those two little words, he’s in a different time and world. Belle stands before him, a litter of squirming puppies bundled to her breast, her cloak dripping puddles onto the flagstone of the great hall. Please, Rumple. Can’t they stay just one night? Just until this wretched storm passes…

He heaves a sigh. “You’re intolerable.”

“Is that a yes?”

“A tentative one.”

Lacey launches up and catches him by the collar of his pajama shirt, drawing him into a kiss. By the time she releases him, any remaining irritation has melted into a sweet, dazed smile.

“Tell you what, give me an hour to raid the pet supply store and then I’ll spend the rest of the morning thanking you properly.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll drive you.”

“Are you being gentlemanly, or do you still not trust me with the Cadillac?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

Lacey swats playfully at his chest. She huffs when she notices how his eyes keep returning to the muddy splotches on the blanket.

“It’s a bedspread, Gold. Stiff upper lip. You can put on a brave face.”

“I have no choice but to be brave. You would run roughshod over a weaker man.”

Lacey rolls her eyes, but a fond smile softens her features. She returns to the wardrobe, in search of a skirt that will give every man in PetSmart an aneurysm.

The mutt gives a high, keening whine and butts his mud-caked head against Gold’s leg again. He manages an indulgent smile, scratching gently behind one floppy ear. The mutt cocks his head to the side, his tongue lolling in a broad, goofy grin.

“Belle will love you when she comes back,” Gold murmurs.

He swallows down a lump in his throat when the darkness within him retorts, “If she comes back."

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