#this wasn't the initial pose i had in mind

[gubsbuubs]

Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

[dixons-sunshine]

Through The Good Times And The Bad | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: Of everything Daryl wanted to do with you, fighting certainly wasn't on that list. However, in every relationship, there was bound to be disagreements, but Daryl didn't know if you'd forgive him for what he had said. It took one night for him to realise that you weren't going anywhere.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Like one swear word, self deprecating thoughts.

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: Here's this short fic to make up in advance for the few days that it's gonna take me to write the fic that won the poll. Not gonna reveal too much about it, but it's called "I Never Lived For The Applause". I'll let your minds run wild with that.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

Stupid. That's what Daryl Dixon thought of himself. What he'd been thinking of himself for a whole week at that point. Stupid for lashing out at you. Stupid for what he called you. Stupid for not approaching you for an entire week. Stupid for not falling to his knees and apologising, begging for your forgiveness.

Sleep eluded him completely that night. How could he let that happen? How could he ruin the one good thing in his life? You'd been there for him since you moved to the trailer park when you were both merely twelve years old. You were his best friend, now his girlfriend, and he'd seemingly messed it all up in a matter of minutes.

Looking back, Daryl knew that he had been in the wrong. You were simply trying to help him, to reassure him that he didn't need his brother's approval, and he'd lashed out at you. He'd said some nasty things that someone as sweet and caring as you didn't deserve, all because you told him that he didn't have to help Merle with some stupid drug deal. He had seemingly damaged your relationship, in the end only to tell Merle no anyway.

Daryl scoffed to himself and turned over, wincing at the friction it caused on his freshly wounded side. His father had been relentless the past few days, bestowing beatings on him whenever he laid his eyes on his youngest son. Daryl had grown accustomed to sneaking out to your trailer when things got too bad to handle on his own, but now he didn't know if he was allowed to. He didn't know if you'd tell him to go to hell, and he wouldn't have blamed you if you did. You had every reason to hate him.

Frustrated by the inability to fall asleep, Daryl sat up in his bed. His body screamed in protest at his movements, the beating from only a few hours prior taking its painful root in his body. Trying to ignore the pain, he reached into his nightstand to grab a few painkillers you'd bought for him to help him when you couldn't. However, as his hands fell upon the bottle, his eyes caught sight of a Polaroid picture. It was a picture you had taken of the two of you a month prior. The picture was ridiculous; you had somehow convinced him to wear a facemask with you and had him pose with you for a photo. Despite the fact that he was against the idea initially, it definitely was one of his favourite memories with you. He loved you, and he didn't ever want to lose you.

Before the thought could fully register in his mind, Daryl was climbing out of his window and sneaking away from his trailer towards yours. He didn't know if you were still awake or if you'd even want to see him, but he needed to see you. He needed to apologise to you, even if you hated him. At least he would have gotten it off his chest.

In a matter of moments, he was standing outside your window. He hesitated for a moment, flashes of your argument a week prior flooding his mind. However, he shook the thoughts from his head and knocked on your window. Almost immediately, your lamp flickered on and your footsteps could be heard approaching the window.

Your window opened and without hesitation or demanding an explanation, you extended a hand to Daryl to help him climb in to your room. Once inside, he turned to you, ready to apologise, but you cut him off by bringing him into a comforting hug. You nuzzled your face into his chest, letting out a deep sigh. Daryl was caught off guard for a moment, but he wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head before resting his chin there.

A minute of silence passed between the two of you. You simply stood there in each other's arms, basking in the comfort the hug brought the both of you. However, Daryl soon broke the silence, guilt and regret gnawing at his insides.

“M'sorry fer wha' I said. Fer lashin' out at ya,” he mumbled into your hair, closing his eyes when he felt you press a kiss against his clothed chest. “Please know tha' I didn't mean tha'. Not a single thing. Yer perfect to me.”

“It's okay,” you reassured him, pulling back slightly to gaze into the beautiful blues of his eyes. “You were just mad at your brother. I don't blame you at all.”

Daryl shook his head. “Ya should. I never shoulda said tha' in the first place. I wouldn't blame ya if ya hated me.”

“Daryl Dixon, you listen to me right now,” you started sternly, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “One little fight isn't going to scare me off. When I agreed to be your girlfriend, I didn't just sign up for the good times. I'll be here through the bad times as well. Nothing will ever change that. You're gonna have to do more than cuss me out for me to run for the hills.”

Daryl stared into your eyes for a moment, a small smile gracing his features. He nodded slowly, subconsciously leaning into your soft touch. “I love ya,” he whispered.

You smiled up at him before giving him a small kiss. When you pulled back, you rubbed his cheek with your thumb. “I love you too, you hard ass. Through thick and thin,” you assured him, before grabbing his hand and leading him over to your bed. “Now sit down while I go grab the first aid kit. By the way, you're staying over tonight. I'm not letting you go now.”

Daryl didn't mind the sound of that at all. In no time at all, you had cleaned his wounds, turned of the light and ushered him into bed. You had brought his head down to rest on your chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. You played with his hair, placing a tender kiss on his forehead, lulling him into sleep.

And for the first time that week, Daryl fell asleep without being plagued by nightmares of losing you.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[changbunnies]

Crave, Part 2 (18+)

♡ Pairing: Romantic Demon!Hyunjin x Human Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: supernatural au, demon au, age gap relationship typical in monster fucker fics, coworkers to lovers and love triangle vibes :')

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: "The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain." - Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy. In which Hyunjin, a demon from the nine circles of hell, finds himself impossibly infatuated with the very human he once set upon himself to destroy.

♡ Warnings: this is a part 2! read part 1 here, more immoral behavior and thoughts + ideas from hyunjin ofc, supernatural abilities, themes of possesiveness and jealousy, more talks of sinful acts / feelings from the perspective of a demon, reader's age is not specified but it is implied to be at least mid twenties.

♡ Notes: sorry ya'll it took longer for this to come out than i intended, i wasn't feeling well so i was resting ;v; and tbh i still don't feel well but i really wanted to keep writing so i powered thru to get this done!! this part is story focused but dw, explicit smut is coming next <3 the focus here is building up their relationship so that the smut feels like a natural development and they aren't just instantly in love lol i hope you enjoy it!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

How do you make a human fall in love? A question that is perhaps simple in theory, but Hyunjin hasn't wooed a human in centuries, and much has changed since he last blended in with society. In the modern age of technology, sin is at the most rampant it's ever been. The common man can access all manner of sin from the palm of his hand with a single device, and it has made the act of integrating into human society an unnecessary practice for demons. 

There's a plethora of human sin to feed from at any given moment, and obsolete is the need for a demon to blend in with the humans that walk the earth, no longer required to be a snake in the community garden just waiting for their moment to strike and consume. Though an outdated method to obtain their wants, integration with humans can still be done, if only the demon in question wishes to do so- and as Hyunjin has come to realize, he does if he wants to win over the object of his desire. 

Despite how long it's been since Hyunjin walked among them, he wasn't ignorant of modern human culture; he still had to be well-informed if he wanted to be effective and efficient in sowing the seeds of sin in feeble minds, after all- his work in the second circle required such knowledge, and it was also a benefit when it came to deciding which soul he would drink from to sustain himself. 

He knew perfectly well how to use most modern technology, knew how to dress in a manner that was unique to his own tastes but suited the trends of the era, and whatever "pop culture" knowledge he lacked, as it was called by humans, he could blame it on things such as "preferring to stay off social media," or "not watching much tv or playing much games," and most would take it as a fair, reasonable enough excuse, even if the person asking questions of him could not relate to his answer. 

In the last century especially, most of Hyunjin's public outings were limited to a few hours at most, spending that entire time scoping out who'd sustain his cravings the most. Nightclubs in particular were an easy place for Hyunjin to get a quick fix of the lust he needed, sustaining him well enough when his preferred love-drenched lust was still being built to its peak. 

Despite all his experience in human matters, there was something that posed a problem for him initially. Since moving into your lavish suite, you worked from home- a luxury Hyunjin assumes you have from a high ranking position within whatever company you work for (especially if this is the kind of place you can afford to live in on a single salary.) But if you only ever left the house long enough to run errands, how was he supposed to meet you organically? And further still, how does he meet you in such a way that makes contact with you consistent, that makes you want to talk with him and be in his presence? 

He could, theoretically, stage a meeting, pretend to be a neighbor entering the building at the same time or "accidentally" bump into you while shopping for something he has absolutely no use for, only to then charm you the moment your eyes lock with his. The problem with that approach is that charming you defeats the purpose of what he wants; for you to have genuine, real love for him, and only him. And asking you out after meeting you just once, in a situation where you have no reason to connect with him further, could be uncomfortable or off-putting in the eyes of women. What woman likes to be hit on by a stranger while she's grocery shopping? 

Hyunjin's human form is attractive, sure, but looks can only carry him so far when it comes to making a woman fall for him. His appearance is useful for one night stands, but he needs to show you more substance than that if he wants you to desire him beyond the physical- and he was sure based on his observations of your character that you weren't vain or superficial enough to fall for him based on looks alone. 

Thankfully, he didn't have to ponder on these questions for much longer, because only a few short days after you finished all your unpacking and decorated your apartment to your liking, you returned to work. He could tell easily enough what your destination was when your routine suddenly deviated; for the first time since moving in, you had turned on a repeating alarm for 6 A.M, and your choice of business casual clothing and subtle, office appropriate makeup told him all he needed to know. 

Hyunjin followed you there, naturally; presence hidden, lingering in the shadows with the intent to best establish how to infiltrate your work environment. As he expected, you held a high ranking position inside a corporate office- head of human resources for one of the many subsidiaries of some conglomerate Hyunjin had never heard of, as typically there is no need or reason for him to be well versed in human's business dealings. 

Becoming someone you work with directly would be the best route, he was sure. Whether on equal ground or as someone answering to you on a team, it was the option that gave him the most opportunity to create a connection with you, and maybe be the start of one of those sappy office romances that humans seem to enjoy in their media. 

It was fine if there were no employment openings- it'd be simple for Hyunjin to create one by exerting his influence over a human's mind. He'd pick out whomever you liked the least, someone who bothered you either overtly or simply by being an inefficient worker, and he'd take their place. He could plant the idea of a career change, a desire to move across the country, or simply get them fired should the gentler, subtle approach be deemed too time consuming for Hyunjin's taste. 

Of course, Hyunjin knew jack fucking shit about how your job truly works or what would be required of him if he was on your team, but that was fine too- it would be easy for him to fake his performance when necessary, and charm any who questioned his work abilities. He wouldn't enjoy lying to you directly if there was ever a need for it but, well.. The ends justify the means, don't they? And while he wouldn't charm you for love, certainly it wouldn't hurt to do so to make him appear a better worker than what he would be in reality, right? 

No matter what his hypocritical justifications were, he’d do anything necessary to make you his, even if it meant having to lie at times. It was a foreign feeling, being conflicted about lying when typically lying came second nature to a demon, but he supposed his infatuation for you is what makes it feel different. Is that why truth was considered a godly virtue? It was the first time in his life that just the thought of lying, before it could even be an act done in the first place, felt.. wrong.

Maybe because on some subconscious level he recognized that love woven from lies isn’t true, no matter how much he’d wish it to be. Even if you fell sincerely in love with him, would it still satisfy him to have gotten there based on tricks and lies? When he determined that the answer to that question was a firm “no,” he vowed he would do his best to keep lies far from his lips when it came to you, even if that made his goal more difficult to achieve. Strange, how this was easily the most human he’d ever felt. 

In a way, it is almost natural to feel this way, to be met with internal conflict for the first time in ages; most demons are born directly from human sin, after all. What is he, if not the physical manifestation of a human who has fallen from perfection? More powerful than a mere human though he was, his proverbial soul still held an innate inclination towards sin, the struggle with temptation and decadence inherent to his very being, as hypocrisy and corruption went hand in hand with sin, hand in hand with the very human condition he would oft wrongfully deny he felt.

And that wasn’t the only human emotion that came to him when he watched you at work for the first time. Most of the morning was spent rather uneventfully, Hyunjin’s time dedicated entirely to scoping out the environment and determining where he’d best fit within your corporate world. He observed the people on your team, who was designated where and what their duties were, keeping track of what feelings and opinions you had for whom, looking out for who he would be able to effectively replace.

Without warning, he sensed it, felt it, tasted it- love, seeping out of your pores, heart suddenly alight and a smile that should be reserved for him lingering on your lips. Jealousy pricked Hyunjin’s skin before he could even fully process the scene before him, a deep fondness in your eyes as a man that Hyunjin could only assume was from another department approached you with a smile of his own.

Shit. It was expected that he would find out who you loved eventually, but he didn’t anticipate that it would be here, in the very environment he was setting up to be the stage for your romance with him. The man asked you questions and talked in ways you’d expect to hear between friends or coworkers- “how’d the move go?”, “are you settling in well?”, and “you should invite me over sometime!”

It was the last statement that made Hyunjin’s eye twitch with suppressed anger, not much liking the idea of the person you’re in love with being alone with you in your apartment. Every time you giggled at something he said or blushed when the man held your gaze, it nearly made him sick with envy. Fuck him, he didn’t deserve you, Hyunjin thought, I'm better than him in every conceivable way, that should be me.

This man didn’t love you the way you loved him; Hyunjin could tell, could feel the platonic affection that radiated from him. And instead of being happy about the implication that Hyunjin would have no rival for your affection when he pursued you in earnest, it almost made him more pissed off. This guy didn’t even know how fucking perfect you were, didn’t seem to notice the way your eyes sparkled with affection, how your heart raced when he hugged you, or the bashful smile that lingered when he invited you to share your lunch hour with him.

He’s a complete fucking idiot for not being head over hells for you- you, who’s only sin is lust, who is beautiful, intelligent, humble, and positively radiant in presence without even realizing just how much value she truly has. It’s okay, he has to remind himself, it’s a good thing his one-sided rival doesn’t share your sentiment; because when Hyunjin shows you how beautiful you are, treats you with the reverence you deserve, your heart would surely shift to beat for him instead. He’ll make sure of it.

You let out a sigh as you comb through the next resume that found its way to your desk, exhausted from the amount of interviews you've conducted today. This was probably your least favorite aspect of your job if you were being honest; being the head of human resources put you in charge of all recruiting efforts, scanning through countless applications to determine who was the best fit for the company, but you never enjoyed doing it. 

It always makes you feel guilty to determine someone else's worth based on a flimsy piece of paper and interview first impressions, where nerves are almost always at their peak as the person sitting across from you makes their best conscious effort to impress you. It is also not a job you can delegate to someone else on your team, unfortunately; your place at the top of the HR department made all hiring decisions entirely up to your own discretion. And apart from the guilt of knowing you couldn't hire everyone that walked through your door, it was so tiring to go over the same questions multiple times a day with a myriad of strangers. 

Hwang Hyunjin was the name of the last person you'd be interviewing today (much to your relief) and you hoped he'd be the person to wow you in the end, as you have lukewarm feelings to who you've met thus far. Despite the impressive credentials on most resumes you reviewed, none of the people you'd met seemed to be a good long term fit for the company; some of them would likely only be good as temps, needing to be let go unless they showed substantial improvement in the areas they were lacking in. 

It was a terrible thing to judge someone based on whether or not they were able to calm their nerves or had enough charisma, but when working for corporate conglomerates you can't afford to be meek. It was okay to be shy and reserved in your personal life, many people in the office were, but for the sake of professionalism you're required to have the ability to put meek tendencies aside. If the interviewee couldn't speak with confidence, then you had reason to believe they'd crack under the daily pressures of speaking with representatives of other departments or when handling sensitive negotiations. 

Unfortunately, you don't typically have the luxury of giving applicants the benefit of the doubt or the ability to give them the opportunity to change your first impression of them. You take a glance at the clock hanging above the door to your office, opposite of your desk; it's just a few short minutes until you meet your last applicant, and you pray he'll be the person you've been looking for. Despite how desperate you are to fill the hole in your team after Mina's extremely abrupt resignation and move out of the country, you still don't want to hire just to fill the gap she left- you want someone capable and confident on your team. 

You take one last passing glance at the man's resume, making sure you're familiar with his education and work history, not wanting to be mistaken on any of the details listed. A short succession of knocks are heard on your door a few moments later, and you look up from the resume you're rereading to see Nayeon opening the door just enough for her head to come into view. "M-Ma'am, H-Hwang Hyunjin, uh- he's here for his interview," she speaks in a timid voice, face flushed the brightest pink you'd ever seen on her. 

Your brows furrow ever so slightly in wonder and concern at her out of character demeanor; Nayeon is among the most confident and well spoken employees on your team, and you've never known her to stutter or appear so off kilter. "..Right, send him in," you say after a moment, wondering if her attitude shift is due to the stranger you'd be meeting shortly; if that is the case, you'll have to talk to her about it once the interview is over- you wouldn't want to hire someone the people on your team are uncomfortable around. 

She nods and opens the door further, the silhouette of the taller man coming into view just slightly behind her. "Right in here," she mutters, stepping to the side and motioning for Hyunjin to enter your office. It becomes immediately apparent what the reason for Nayeon's abnormal behavior is; Hwang Hyunjin is easily one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen in your entire life. 

Black hair that just begins to touch his shoulders tucked neatly behind his ears, a few strands left untouched to frame his face, accompanied by wide circle glasses that seem to further enhance his beauty. He's dressed well, his suit modern and sleek but not overly formal for the setting, his accessories tasteful and understated, as they should be in an office environment- just a simple, long chain necklace and small, almost dainty hoops on his pierced ears. 

The reason that a man this gorgeous would even be applying to work here when he could easily make a fortune being a model is beyond you. You're quick to correct the initial surprise on your face, hoping that the man you'll be interviewing didn't notice how struck by his beauty you were when he stepped in. And how could you even know that he did notice you had a reaction to him- and not because of any overtly obvious expression of attraction, but because he could hear the beating of your heart with his inhuman ears, its steady rhythm taking a sudden, erratic jump the very moment he first stepped through the door. 

Nayeon is quick to close the door behind Hyunjin once he has stepped fully inside your office, leaving you in privacy for what will likely be the most difficult interview you have ever conducted, and not for the reasons you would've otherwise expected. "Have a seat," you speak clearly, as if your heart wasn't stuttering just mere moments ago, motioning for Hyunjin to take one of the chairs sitting opposite of your desk. "Pleasure to meet you, Hyunjin," you say after he's taken a seat, politely holding out your hand to shake his.

"Likewise, ma'am. I'm grateful to be considered for this position," he responds with a smile so effortlessly charming that you have to once again remind yourself that this is a professional setting and you shouldn't be thinking about how handsome the potential new addition to your team is. If you were a worse woman with lesser morals, you'd hire him on appearance alone- his flawless skin, plush, soft, almost inviting lips, and the little mole that sits daintily under his left eye are all positively bewitching to look at. 

You collect yourself after a brief mental scolding, deciding to get straight into the most pertinent questions you have once he's settled in his seat, opting to waste no time in getting straight to the point. While this approach does make the interview more tense for the applicant, you find it best to go about it this way to make sure they're truly ready for the sort of discussions that will be expected of them should they get hired. You don't expect perfection, but more accurately determination- if they can maintain a confident air about them under pressure, that's typically a good indicator to you they'll be a good fit for your team. 

Equally, you don't mind if they stumble over their words a few times throughout the course of the interview as long as they show the ability to bounce back from any slip ups. Error is expected at some point, as we are all human- you just want to assess their ability to come back from a mistake when speaking, and to see if they are able to maintain their composure in situations that may not be the most ideal or comfortable. 

The ease at which Hyunjin answers your questions has you convinced that he's perfect. He speaks confidently, coming across as self-assured and charismatic, not at all stuttering or faltering when you ask him to speak candidly with his own words. You appreciate a well rehearsed answer of course, but you like to ascertain whether or not the person you're considering for the job is able to maintain confidence when not using an internal script or reciting their memorized resume. 

Some struggle to do so, losing confidence in themselves the moment they are expected to go off the cuff, while others find it to be a trick question of sorts, as if you're baiting them to say a flaw that would place them out of consideration for the position they're applying for. What you value most on your team is adaptability- it's okay to falter for a brief moment, as long as they are able to collect themselves quickly and continue where they left off. And Hyunjin's ability to do just that is utterly astounding. 

He has an almost effortless sort of confidence and charisma about him; something unique and special that you don't often see, a state of being that isn't learned, but rather is innate to who he is. Even when he briefly pauses or lets out a small "hmm" as he thinks about his answer to your question, it never feels like he's struggling to find his answer- more accurately, it seems that he already knows what his answer is, and is just pondering on the best way to phrase it before speaking. 

It seemed that even his unrehearsed, unfiltered answers were nearly perfect, his ability to speak leaving you almost in awe. Truly, in the year and a half it's been since you were promoted to head of human resources, you'd never conducted an interview where the person you were speaking to seemed this effortlessly natural and comfortable in what is otherwise a tense situation. Honestly, you'd be a fool not to hire him right on the spot- his ability speaks for itself, and you're confident that any weaknesses he has can be corrected quickly and easily with more experience in the work environment. 

So you congratulate him, smiling as you once again hold out your hand and welcome him as part of your team. And Hyunjin smiles too as he takes your hand in his, knowing that this is just the start of what is his grand plan to make you his.

In the months it’s been since you first hired Hyunjin, he’s come to learn so much more about you than he did just lingering around in your apartment, and with that has come an even deeper appreciation and desire to have you. Your good nature, which he knew you had from little interactions at shops and cafes, was now able to be fully seen by him- from the way you cared about your team, treated them like equals despite the fact that you were their superior in rank, and how you encouraged and fostered true friendships between everyone on your team. 

You held so much sincere care for everyone around you, and you lead with compassion and kindness at the forefront. If someone was sick, having an off day due to mental health, or simply felt the pressures of life weighing them down, you always met them with compassion, encouraged them to get better, and never made them feel bad about themselves for any small slip ups that occurred while they were struggling with something. 

Of course, in this line of work it’s vital that they show up always ready to do their utmost best and show others the best versions of themselves, but you weren’t some militant manager that expected people to always be at 100%. It’s unrealistic, and hypocritical to expect perfection, so instead you always did your best to accommodate them when they were low, and that consideration resulted in your coworkers and employees having a great deal of respect for you, and caused them to always put in their best effort. 

By extension, your care for your team resulted in equal care towards you, and it seemed they greatly missed you when you were absent due to your move. They had fine enough leadership while you were gone, sure, but it wasn’t the same without you- the one who made them feel comfortable, secure, and made them want to perform well at their jobs. What Hyunjin felt watching you was something akin to pride- and it was strange, as he had never felt pride for someone else before, usually not even for himself. 

He just liked seeing you succeed, if he had to guess; he liked knowing the woman he desired was not only beautiful in body but also in soul, just as he suspected her to be when he first came to put aside his anger and truly know her for who she is. What a happy accident it was, that he happened to be gone when you finalized your move to suite 13; because otherwise how would he ever have known what it was like to care about someone other than himself? To understand what it is that makes a human God’s greatest creation? 

He gets it now, he thinks- why God prioritized humanity, why he loves them despite how flawed and drenched with sin they are. And again, it occurs to Hyunjin how hypocritical he was before, and continues to be even now, how foolish it is for him, the very embodiment of sin, a being who is supposed to uphold depravity and ruin, to be infatuated with you, who is the very image of benevolence.

Hyunjin got to see so many new sides of you, sides that didn’t make themselves known within the 4 walls of your apartment, sides that made him fall for you more and more. A demon can’t experience love the way a human does, but he thinks this is the closest to love a creature like him will ever have. Obsession, longing, desire.. Isn’t that all a manifestation of love? Perhaps one does not need a true heart and soul to experience what love is, maybe all that one really requires is feeling. 

Most sins are a feeling- lust, pride, envy; all are an emotion you feel strongly within your gut, a natural reaction that cannot be prevented from pricking your skin or making your stomach twist. It’s innate, woven into the DNA of every creature with higher understanding. With all that mind, who is to say a demon can’t love? Maybe it won’t be felt in the same way a human feels it, but if love is a feeling, and sins are a feeling, then what truly prevents him from knowing love? 

As equally as he learned about you and himself, he also learned about the man you had developed feelings for- Yunho. According to Nayeon, who was apparently a wealth of information when it came to the subject, you met Yunho in college and have been friends with him since. You grew quite close in your time studying the same major, and as fate would have it, you both ended up working for the same conglomerate after college. 

While you ended up here, promoted to head of the department when the opening became available, Yunho worked for a different subsidiary within the same building; so while you technically worked for different companies, you shared the same CEO, and had ample opportunity to meet and talk during the company lunch hour and maintain the friendship you had in college. 

Well, he imagines you would’ve still been friends with Yunho regardless of where the two of you ended up in life after graduation, but still seeing him daily certainly didn’t help you get over the college crush you had on the man. And you had tried to move on- you’re not stupid, you know Yunho doesn’t feel the same way as you, but your relationships never worked out as you’d hoped, and you’d always be left still battling your unrequited love for your best friend. 

Though you are always professional, it was obvious, at least to the other women in the office, that you had deep feelings for Yunho. They could always tell in the way your face changed when he was near, displaying a timid smile that only ever showed up for him, the flush on your face subtle but recognizable to those who knew you well.  

And by extension, it became increasingly obvious to the rest of the office that Hyunjin was down bad for you, and hated seeing you with Yunho. His face too always changed when Yunho arrived, though in an entirely different way from you- Hyunjin would be positively seething with jealousy, always failing to mask the frown of disapproval when Yunho stepped into your office to talk and invite you out for lunch outside the building. 

And Hyunjin, who was always a gentleman anyways, was even more so when it came to you- holding open doors for you when walking somewhere together, carrying stacks upon stacks of heavy paperwork so you wouldn’t have to do it, memorizing the way you liked your coffee so he could get it for you and you could focus instead on your work. The only time Hyunjin ever wasn’t smiling, it was when you were giving your affection to Yunho, and it was painfully obvious how bad he wanted you. 

If Hyunjin was trying to keep his feelings a secret, well.. He failed to do so at every turn. Everyone in the office could tell how he felt, and while they would never admit it, most were just waiting for the day he’d ask you out, as it seemed to be more and more inevitable that he would. Some who had been your coworkers since long before you were even promoted and knew of your unrequited feelings, hoped that Hyunjin could be the person to finally give you the happiness you deserve. 

Even you yourself began to suspect that Hyunjin liked you as more than a friend or coworker, because why else would he go so out of his way for you? Why else would his face change whenever he saw Yunho? You can still remember the way his smile dropped when Yunho stepped into the room when you were having lunch with your team, how Hyunjin subtly clenched his teeth and tightened his fists, how he’d practically glare at the man before replacing his expression with the most forced smile you’d ever seen him have for the sake of professionalism. 

Were you being delusional? To say Hyunjin is fucking gorgeous is an understatement- he’s practically ethereal. And while you wanted to move on from your stupid school girl crush on Yunho that continued to grip you all these years later, wasn’t it too much to fantasize about Hyunjin being the person to finally make you happy? He could have anyone, and you couldn’t understand why he’d want you of all people when he could easily bag someone more impressive than you. 

You did well for yourself, but you didn’t consider yourself particularly desirable.. Maybe years of unrequited love and failed relationships made your confidence tank more than you realized, at least when it came to love and romance. And while there were other couples in the office, you worried it’d be unprofessional of you to date someone who you are technically the boss of.. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about the power dynamic instead of worrying about whether or not you were desirable enough for Hyunjin to want you? 

God, you really needed to get your priorities straight before you did something stupid; and certainly you were just reading too far into things. But still, while your feelings for Yunho didn’t go away, you still couldn’t deny that your heart would race whenever Hyunjin smiled at you, couldn’t ignore how goosebumps would erupt on your skin when his hand lingered on yours as he handed you a perfectly made cup of coffee, couldn’t help but linger on the the thought of what a perfect lover he must be.

As if sensing you were thinking of him, you hear a knock on your door, breaking you out of your thoughts and seeing Hyunjin crack open the door. “May I?” he asks, and you smile politely with a nod, motioning for him to enter your office. “Hey Hyunjin, what’s up? Need something?” you ask and he shakes his head, sitting on the chair in front of you. “Nothing work related, though I do want to ask you something,” he replies, and immediately your mind wanders to delusional territory again, though you quickly try to shut it down. 

“What is it?” you ask, trying your best not to fill your brain with the thought of Hyunjin making a move on you. Be professional for God’s sake. “I was wondering,” he starts, looking at you with that charming smile that is so natural to him and you always have to stop yourself from folding over, “If you don’t have any prior obligations today, would you like to have lunch with me?” 

Oh no. He’s adding fuel to your delusional fire. “Just us?” you ask, trying to mask your hope or the way your heart is picking up speed. You really want to be chill about the invite, but you really can’t help but hope the invitation means something more. He’s perfect, how could you not? You’re only human, after all. Isn’t it natural to want someone this fucking beautiful to want you? 

“Yes, just us. You don’t have to consider it a date, but.. I would be happy if you did,” he smiles, head tilting to the side in an almost playful display, and your heart jolts. He’s not just playing with you, right? He wouldn’t, would he? But you have to ask, “You make it sound as if you want me to consider it a date. Are you saying you like me?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, ma’am,” he replies without hesitation, confidence fully on display. It’s as if the possibility of you saying “no” has never crossed his mind. Well, you’d probably be confident too if you looked anything like him; you don’t imagine he’s been rejected often. And well, you certainly won’t be the person to hit him with his first rejection either; you’ll have to ask a third party to handle the necessary paperwork if things go well between you and Hyunjin, as the head of the department can’t approve and oversee her own consensual relationship agreement, but it’ll be worth it, you think. 

After all, if someone this beautiful and seemingly perfect wants you, why deny yourself the opportunity? Even if it doesn’t work out, maybe he’ll be the person to finally help you get over your stupid crush on your best friend that’s been going nowhere for years. Apart from his beauty, he’s always been chivalrous and attentive towards you, a true gentleman in every sense of the word. And even if it's only for a brief time, you think he can make you feel happy, desired, truly cared for.

You’re about to tell him you’d love to, when your door unexpectedly clicks open, your eyes moving past Hyunjin to see Yunho standing in the doorway. Hyunjin immediately scowls, having half a mind to rip him apart once the day is over, though he does his best to temper his aggravation. Can’t let himself lose face in front of the one he loves after all; he’s not sure you’d still be up for a date with him if he displayed his jealous, possessive tendencies this early on (not that he did a very good job of hiding them to begin with.)

“Shit, sorry- am I interrupting a meeting?” Yunho asks, and Hyunjin rolls his eyes, turning his gaze back to you instead. “No, nothing like that,” you answer, shifting your gaze back to Hyunjin, who for the first time looks concerned that you’ll turn him down. It’s subtle, but his eyes are softer, nearly pleading, though he tries his best to not display the desperation that lies underneath- the desperation for you to affirm that you like him too, that you want to go on a date with him, that you want to give him a chance. 

“Oh, good,” Yunho sighs in relief, knowing that sometimes your work bleeds over into the lunch hour. He glances at Hyunjin, a slight frown forming on his face. He’s never spoken to the guy, but Yunho would have to blind to not notice that Hyunjin hates him for seemingly no reason. “Well, uh- I’ll let you get back to whatever talk you’re having. I’ll see you for lunch when it's over?” Yunho asks, and you can see Hyunjin swallow, hands tensing as he waits for your reply. 

Please don’t reject me, his body practically screams, and you almost can’t believe that the confident man that you know is looking this nervous over potential rejection because of you. “Thanks, but I’m actually having lunch with Hyunjin today. Maybe next time?” you answer, smiling at Hyunjin to reassure him that yes, you are going on a date. No, you won’t be picking Yunho over him, despite the history that lies there.  

Relief instantly spreads through Hyunjin, and he returns your smile, his confidence returning as if it’d never left in the first place. “Oh,” Yunho blinks in surprise; that’s.. unexpected. You’ve never prioritized someone else over him before. Huh. He feels.. strange. Jealous..? No, that can’t be right. Why would he be jealous? Hyunjin stands, offering his hand to you, which you accept before you stand yourself. 

“Are you ready, ma’am? I know this cafe you’ll just love, but we have to hurry if we wan’t to make it back before the hour is over,” Hyunjin smiles, turning away to face the door, and subsequently, an almost bewildered looking Yunho. You miss the way Hyunjin shoots your best friend a smug, almost triumphant smirk; a smirk that says I’ve won, she’s mine. And even as Yunho watches the pair of you walk towards the elevator, hears you tell Hyunjin he can call you by your name when it’s “just the two of us,” suddenly he feels incredibly stupid. 

Even as he’s left standing there, watching the elevator doors close with just the two of you inside, he can feel his gut twist as Hyunjin shoots him one last smirk, one that affirms something Yunho is just now realizing- there was a reason Hyunjin hated him. All this time, Yunho was a rival for love, and he just lost the race without ever having actually participated. 

He scoffs, laughing at himself in near disbelief. What an idiot he’s been, and what a moment to realize it. He knew you had a crush on him, but what did he expect? That you’ll always be there, just waiting for the day he’d finally miraculously return your feelings after all these years? Of course you’d move on eventually; and maybe Yunho didn’t want to admit he found your infatuation with him to be a comfortable ego boost, now hit with the epiphany that his newfound jealousy over the loss of your affection is ugly and twisted. 

And truly, Hyunjin had him beat. Somehow, he knew that this was the end of your feelings for him. How ironic it is to lose due to his own complacency, his expectation that you’d always be there no matter what relationships you found yourselves in. How arrogant and selfish he’d been, assured that no matter whom he slept with or pursued, you’d be there just waiting for the day he’d finally ask you out. And now Hyunjin has you, and he’s certain he’ll never let you go.

[wisecreatorprofessorwolf]

Fifty Shades of Gambit

I may write fifty shades styled fics for other characters if people are interested. I just know our boy Remy would be into this, I'm going to write a Magneto one at some point thanks to the whole series of X-Men 97, he’s been so hot and slutty especially episode 8.

Series: X-Men

Gambit x dom top male reader

this could be considered a second part, or extension to In a classroom, what could go wrong, but can read it as a stand alone. I also don't know how long this may be. Also thank you and feel free to like, repost and even comment.

Remy had started to feel very pent up, since YN has been more focused on his work. Every time Remy tried to initiate something with YN, he'd be pushed off, or told later. this has been going on for weeks. did they break up and not noticed, he'd remember that surely. No, had he upset YN, had he been a naughty boy, not to his knowledge, now that got him thinking. But nothing came to mind. Absolutely nothing.

Remy was getting desperate now, would he have to resort to using the stash of toys under their bed.

it came night time and YN had yet to return to their room, alone. He begins by bringing out the purple leather case from under their bed, then strips from his clothes completely naked, looking at his reflection in the mirror, posing. Remy returns to the case to open it to reveal a range of toys the couple had used in their times.

he reaches for a tube of lube and one of the dildo's, once he was done lathering the toys in lubricant. He contemplates the position he should take. he settles on laying on his back, raising his legs as he slides the toy, it just wasn't the same. It wasn't YN, it didn't feel like anything, but he endures, he continues sliding the toy in and out. Eyes closed trying hard to imagine and replace the feeling with something more. when a moan slips.

YN outside their bedroom heard a sound, was that a moan, YN knew that sound well, but he assume Remy was with someone. No, he knew Remy would never do that to him, then YN had started thinking how long had it really been, and it hit him. he had to do something about this. opening the door to see poor Remy jamming a dildo in him

"YN, YN PLEASE" Remy whines

"AWW has my baby boy missed me ?"

Remy squeals. "YN Désolé(I'm sorry) I've been a bad boy Désolé(I'm sorry)" almost pleadingly.

"No need to apologies baby I was the one at fault I'd been to busy for you, how about I fix that, you going to be my puppy" Remy frantically nodding " S’il vous plaît (please) YN" Remy gulps nervously as he see's YN's expression harden on him, "It's not YN tonight, you know what to call me? Don't you puppy" Remy was now moaning "Oui Monsieur (yes sir)".

YN could only chuckle at the site of Remy now be a good puppy and come to me. Remy in all his excitement springs of the bed letting the toy slip out and walks towards YN once he reached YN excitedly he saw a look of disappointment flash over YN's face and all of a sudden a hand slapped him across the face and pushed him back on to the bed, causing him to moan desperately " try again puppy" Remy moaned again realising what to do he rolls off the bed and begins to crawl towards his master. Now some may thing Remy would feel humiliated and he is and he loves it so much, the sting of the slap the rough push back, he can only feel something when he's round his master YN. Once he's reached YN on his hand and knees he comes to a sitting position, hands resting on his knees right in front of his masters tented pants. "That's more like it good boy" Remy preened at the praise. "Merci, Monsieur (thank you sir)"

YN brings a hand over Remy's hair, then begins to remove his shirt and tie "hands behind your back pup" Remy places his hands behind his back with out question. YN walks around, tie in hand and binds Remy's hand together, nice and tight that the tie was biting into his wrists. "You like it tight don't you?" Remy moaned at the bite of the tie constricting against his wrists, with a nod. With that YN walked round to see the neediness in Remy's eyes, he then went to unbuckle his belt and removes it from the loops of his trousers. suddenly Remy was met with his masters crouching form. " Such a good boy, you want your collar?" Remy was salivating drooling, nodding frantically "Oui Monsieur (yes sir)". With that YN wrapped the belt around Remy's neck, YN then stands the tent still very prominent in YN's pants Remy needs it more than anything, more than he's needed it more than anything in his life, rests his face in YN's groin, the heat and musk was like a drug to Remy, one he would never quit. He begins mouthing, kissing and drooling over YN's trousers till he feels a rough tug on his collar. "You want my cock, do you?

" plus que tout (more than anything)" YN undoes the button to his trousers revealing the zipper "ok puppy lower the zip with your teeth" Remy moaned and drives his face forward sucking on the zipper, raising it with is tongue to catch it between his teeth and lowers it, the heat and smell radiating from YN's cock was much stronger once YN dropped his trousers and kicked them across the room. Remy's face buried in YN's underwear everything was heightened, so close now, so much more desperate, no longer taking the anticipation. Remy bites at the waistband and drags them down once face first with what he's been desperate for all this time. he can't stop drooling at the sight. "bad puppy I didn't give you permission to do that, what are you some mutt?" with a hard pull on the belt causing him to choke, with that Remy came on the floor moaning trying to catch his breath.

"answer me are you a mutt? another rough tug on the belt, Remy was painfully hard even after just cumming "Je suis désolé je suis désolé (I'm sorry, I'm sorry)"he was sobbing at this point. "Get on the bed mutt" YN had let go of Remy's collar, he hung his head low turning to crawl towards the bed, he then lifts himself onto the bed, his knees aching finding comfort on the bed. All Remy was met with was YN's cold predatory stare as he walked towards the bed. Remy was sweating bullets, he knew he'd been bad now, he'll take whatever punishment YN decides. YN then removes his ties from around his wrists "now lay back mutt ". Wait what's happening is this part of the punishment, but Remy does as told lying back arms and legs spread, with that YN finally smirks. moving towards the harnesses on the bed posts and starts to bind Remy's limbs. "You must be a mind reader mutt you knew what was next, maybe you wanted this, to be a naughty mutt and to be punished" Remy moaned "no sir non Monsieur" "Really look at the state of you, writhing desperately like some needy slut" Remy moaned wriggling under the restraints, cock painfully hard. Remy moaned when YN slapped his cock "look at yourself in the mirror, slut, you love this". Honestly YN knows him too well, can see right through him, he loves the feeling of being humiliated, degraded, treated like a slut, a toy solely for YN's pleasure. But he never meant to be a naughty boy for his master, he was just too excited. too eager, he wanted to please YN not disappoint or anger him. feeling his cock get slapped again and again.

"I think some extra toys are in order". YN looks through the box of toys, Remy looks over at the box to look, to see an eye mask, noise cancelling headphones, nipple clamps, a flogger and a thick purple ball gag, or as Remy likes to call it "THE JAW BREAKER", sounds bad but in all honest it's Remy's second favourite thing to suck. Remy relaxed as they get set on the bed and not getting used right away, but he's now worried more toys may get added. YN then straddles Remy feeling the weight of YN weigh on his abdomen, had him moan and writhe "I think you need claiming, don't you?, let everyone see who owns you" Remy moans as YN roughly kisses Remy Biting his lip for access, tongue slithering inside his mouth moaning as he sucks on YN's tongue and his hands roam and roughly handle his body till they reach his nipples, then Remy broke the kiss as YN harshly twists his sensitive peaks. YN kissed sloppily along his jawline leaving little bites, going down to his throat, biting leaving hickeys and licking all over, then that special spot close to his collar bone. Bite, a hard bite was left causing Remy to cry cumming all over himself. "looking pretty pup, I'm not finished though" Remy sobs as YN finally reaches his nipples, both hands roughly handling his pectoral pushing them together one hand leaves and is replaces with the wetness of YN's tongue and lips sucking and then a bite repeatedly in that order Remy's senses with overloading, over and over licking, sucking and biting his left pectoral was going to be bruised after this then with a wet pop YN's mouth retreated and replaced the hand on the right pectoral "can't neglect the other can I now pup" and hand roughly massaging his left while your mouth repeated its torturous act on his right.

With a sudden pop YN pulled away, Remy felt relief wash over him finally it was over..... It was far from over as YN lowers himself down licking, kissing, nipping at his abdomen, till he reached Remy's cock but he focused on Remy's thighs instead leaving slaps and bites all over, Remy cried thrusting up, his cock hardening, slapping against his abdomen leaving spattering of cum here and there. "Awwww does my puppy want something? Remy released a girlish scream when YN nips at his foreskin, suddenly Remy cums already lost count it sprays landing on YN's face and hair and over his own abdomen mixing with the mess already there.

YN shuffles back up Remy's body licking and kissing soothing the harsh bites he left in his wake, till he reaches Remy's blissed out tear stained face, he looked perfect like this under YN, only YN can do this to Remy. Break him down so easily reducing him to a withering pleasured out mess desperate for more. once YN's face was close enough Remy began licking and the cum off YN's face, leaning forward desperately for his master to kiss him, the kiss was hot and overwhelming as Remy sucks wontonly on YN's tongue moaning like a slut in heat. Remy suddenly gags as YN's hands wrap around his throat. Breaking the kiss, just the right amount of pressure Remy thought to himself, YN know what Remy needs before even he does, one the traits of a great master.

Remy looks up to YN, there's a hunger he hasn't seen before sudden YN shuffles up Remy's body till his hard throbbing cock is slapped against his face, Remy was lightheadedly licking, kissing worshipping YN's cock like his life depended on it, YN threw his head back groaning, muttering praises "you're such a good puppy now, my good puppy" Remy's eyes roll back like a shark as he happily suckles the precum from your tip like it was ambrosia. Remy was truly addicted to YN in every way possible. suddenly Remy gags as YN slides his thick, engorged cock down his throat with out warning. But Remy relaxed his throat and took his master like the expert he was without gagging any further, he could feel YN's cock stretching his throat, the burn and sting, caused more tears to drop down his pretty face. Then YN started to move sliding back and forth treating his poor throat like a fleshlight, Remy could feel the veins of YN's cock slowly pulse, sensing YN was close Remy tries his utmost to suck , YN threw his head back thrusting forward as he fills Remy's throat. Remy felt a sense of euphoria as he felt the thick sweet yet salty cum clog up his throat and fill his mouth, Remy tightened his lips around YN's cock not wanting YN's cum to go to waste. YN pulls Remy off by his hair still shooting painting Remy's face white with thick cum, Remy licked his lips with a moan "Merci, Monsieur" moaned brokenly with hearts in his eyes, feeling more cum land on his messy, sweaty body.

YN shuffles off Remy's body, he felt so light now. trying to even out his breathing, while he watches YN do the same. YN peers down at Remy caressing his cheek lovingly "you think you can keep going my love?". Remy nodded frantically "toute la nuit (all night long)" YN chucked at the response, seeing the hearts in Remy's eyes, he's clearly drunk on him. H kisses Remy once again Remy slobbering and moaning into the kiss even going as far as licking YN's face again "I've broken your mind, haven't I puppy?" Remy nods even more frantically even making dog like sounds. "Ok puppy, your my good boy right "

"Bark Bark" Remy really was gone now, just your good boy right?.

YN sits beside Remy stroking the hair that clings to his sweaty forehead. "Good boy" Remy just pants like a dog. one hand leaves his head causing Remy to whine, then sees the hand was hovering over the toys, their was a spark of recognition and anticipation washing over his features. YN's takes the nipple clamps, placing one on his left, Remy moans and yips and the bite of the clamp against his hard peak, then slowly placing the last clamp over his right nipple, Remy cums yet again. "Good boy, who's a good boy?" "woof woof" "That right you are, my good boy" YN then removes the restraints on Remy's limbs. Remy suddenly rolls over both hands on his ass cheeks parting them, presenting himself to his master whining feeling the drag of metal on his nipples, face buried in the duvet, YN roughly massages Remy's beautiful ass cheeks, occasionally giving them a pinch or a slap and sometimes a soft kiss, that has Remy preening contently. YN shuffles forward grinding his cock against the cleft of Remy's perfect ass, Remy grinding back, whining "Ok puppy, Ready?" "Bark woof Ba..r.r...k, ohh mon Dieu, c'est si profond (oh my so deep)" punched out of Remy as YN suddenly snaps his cock inside Remy, he begins to howl at the rough abusive pace YN was going beating his prostate brutally making his eyes roll back, tongue lapped out drooling "Bark bark " Remy rocks back meeting every one of YN's thrusts, arms aching Remy drops them and curls them around his tummy feeling the sticky mess but even more important the bulge of YN's cock so deep in his guts, the burn was euphoric, the sting were kisses to his insides, rearranging reaching even deeper, he was sure YN had to have a breeding kink or pregnancy kink with how rough and deep he'd be filling him, how after every time he'd feel his tummy fill up and bulge with his cum.

Suddenly YN stops his vicious thrusts, Remy however continues to thrust himself back moaning and panting like a dog. YN's hands roam Remy's body, searing to the touch, yet one hand leaves for a toy the eye mask the other hand pulling Remy up by his hair, with a cry Remy yelps only to see in front of his face your hand holding the eye mask, still thrusting himself back on YN's cock he licks and kisses YN's hand. YN takes that as a yes, YN then uses both hands to place the mask over Remy's eyes, it was all dark suddenly feeling hands return to his body he throws himself back on YN's cock recklessly causing the bed to creak and grind. But no one in this room cares, not one bit.

Remy begins moaning as YN rests on top of him feeling the heat wash over him, his breath against his ear as he nibbles the lobe, the arms wrap around him tightly and raise him up, Remy's cock bouncing pathetically in the air with each snap of hips as skin slaps skin.

Remy cums on the duvet as YN bites his earlobe quite harshly "Bark Bark" Remy whimpers out enjoying the sting and the snap of his body meeting YN's. One hand wraps around Remy's throat pulling the collar to keep him in place while he collected the noise cancelling headphones and slides them on Remy.

YN lets go of the collar, Remy had lost all strength long ago, flopping down head first into the soiled duvet. "BARK!!! BARK!!!!! woooof Wofffff!!!!! WOOOOOF!!!". as YN thrusts at a ruthless pace, abusing his insides, breaking him from the inside out, YN pulls on the collar again only to let go letting Remy flop again in his own mess. "WOOF!!!! BARRRRKKK!!! YIP!!!!!". Remy feels the ruthless slamming losing its rhythm, sloppy pace beating and branding Remy's insides, he could feel the pulse and convulsions of YN's cock with a final hard thrust spearing Remy "WOOFFFFF!!!!!! BaRRRRK!!!!! WooooooooF!!!" Remy is being filled to the brim with YN's cum, Remy was preening feeling himself feebly cum thin, pearly cum. All the while feeling his tummy swell with your cum, as he rubs himself, whining.

Remy mind broken, feels himself being held tightly in place, a hand carefully removing the headphones and eye mask, Remy was startled by everything around him except for the reassuring hand of YN, to keep him grounded. "How woof loud was bark I mon amour?.

"not that loud my love, you're my good boy aren't you?" Remy tiredly nods receiving a gentle kiss to his forehead then his lips would you like the JAW BREAKER now babe, Remy nodded as YN brings it over and places it in Remy's mouth as YN connects the straps . YN still inside Remy carefully shuffles so that they could sleep on their sides.

The next morning.....

Remy wakes up in YN's tight embrace feeling the wet pearly slick pooled on the duvet from his used hole. YN must have slipped out in the night he thinks to himself. Suddenly the grip tightens and YN's hard length grinding against him, Remy decides to remove the gag, to ease his aching jaw "Someone's up" Remy sleepily moans, rubbing his jaw, as YN slides his length back inside Remy's used hole the grip tighten and YN rolls Remy onto him "I want my good boy to ride me" Remy rests his hands tiredly on YN's chest as his tight grip lowers to his hips. Remy begins rolling his hips slowly, rising up and down nice and slowly for his tired body. "Like this sir" Remy purred "just like that, good boy". YN helped raise Remy's body up and pushed his thighs down roughly spearing his cock deeply inside, this continued, Remy didn't know he had tears left to cry after last night. All of a sudden with a harsh trust upwards Remy moans loudly as he came on YN's abdomen thin, watery cum, feeling YN cum inside him again. YN lets Remy droop against his shoulder kissing his hair " you're my good boy, i love you so much Remy" Je t'aime aussie monsieur(I love you too sir)" YN tilts Remy's face to kiss his lips "pouvez-vous me brancher monsieur? (can you plug me up sir?). YN nodded fumbling about till he reaches the box that had been knocked on the floor, must have been while they slept. The couple get off the messy stained bed and go through the toys on the floor till Remy found the thick purple butt plug and decides to take that inserting it himself with a moan.

the couple finally washing up and getting ready for the day. as they reach the dining room they see the tired faces of the x-men, "Hey gang how'd you sleep" "WE DIDN'T" with a resound uproar.

[merchelsea]

mastermind - charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: charles decided to rent a room in a hotel that was not associated with f1 to take girls into without causing any drama, but it turns out that asking for extreme discretion on a cheap hotel is not a great idea. PART TWO

author's note: just in case someone notices, the race schedule is NOT correct. i changed it to fit with what i wanted to write.

warnings: rushed writing

word count: 1,6k

previous part

the atmosphere was ablaze with celebrations throughout the day. the only time it felt slightly lower was when you and pierre got out of the club for you to make a call.

while your connection with pierre wasn't as tight as it was with charles, it was clear from the beginning that you both hit it off quite well. so, being alone with him wasn't uncomfortable at all.

as you hung up your phone, the french couldn't resist diving into the topic. "so, charles and you…" he began, causing an internal eye-roll that you suppressed effortlessly. "has he made a move yet?"

"a move?" you shrugged casually. "he hasn't?" he presumed, posing it rhetorically.

"ok tell me what's going on, because kika and you have been planting ideas in my head." you demanded. "what are you guys trying to tell me?"

"he's into you; I thought that was obvious," pierre replied.

"well, it's not. explain, but give me the full story, including the fact that you told kika I was the reason he didn't meet up with janne on that first night." you insisted, and could see from his features he was going to.

"yes, ma'am. so, that first day, charles was genuinely interested in you. he asked me to take you out to hang out with our friends. knowing that your initial impression of him wasn't the best, he figured that if you got along with his friends, he'd have a better chance with you," pierre explained. his strong accent made some parts a bit challenging to decipher, but you managed to piece it all together.

"he was not going to use the room anymore, so he actually met up with her to apologize and let her know he wasn't going to pursue anything with her," pierre continued, using expressive gestures as your mind raced with confusion.

"every night, he was supposed to go back to the f1 hotel, but yet, every night he was there with you; teaching you how to play games you told me you had never heard of."

your eyes widened as you realized that everything the frenchman was saying fell into place. you had forgotten most of what had happened that night, but not the conversations from the dinner when you were still sober and fully coherent.

"he schemed it like a criminal and you were his crime."

that was a lot to take in. even if not something out of this world, anyone would be taken aback if someone, especially someone like charles, put in so much effort just to catch their attention.

not only had he been doing this for a whole week, but he made it appear effortless, to the point where you didn't even notice his intentions.

you felt somewhat foolish, and above all, you felt like you had wasted all that time thinking he only wanted friendship.

of course, you still had tonight, and if he decided to stick around a bit longer, a few more days. it was time, but it felt insufficient, especially when you knew he was willing to settle for just friendship if you didn't find out of his intentions – or in this case, if pierre hadn't spilled the truth.

perhaps that's why you remained silent and contemplative for nearly half an hour. the thoughts were beginning to settle in your mind when someone finally pulled you out of your trance, offering you a drink.

"hey, are you okay?" the monegasque inquired when you accepted the drink. you managed to produce a faint "yes," but he still took a seat beside you, clearly unconvinced. "alright then. what are you doing here all alone?" you turned towards him, coming face to face.

a smile curved his lips when you met his gaze. "i'm thinking." you replied, returning the smile. "when are you going to… wherever the next race is?" you asked, leaning closer so you could speak more discreetly.

it was difficult to ear throughout the noise, and proximity helped, but it wasn't quite enough. charles drew closer, his hand resting on your lower back, his lips close to your ear, less than an inch away. "it's in england. i'll be on a plane in a few hours, but it could be a week if i choose to stay."

you switched positions, speaking into his ear, "well, do you want to stay?"

that didn't sound like a mere question, it sounded more like an invitation. you knew it was one, but you weren't entirely sure if he understood it like that. you pulled away from his ear and turned to gaze into his captivating green eyes.

"do you want me to stay?" he shot a little lower, his voice barely audible. you couldn't hear his words, but you read them from the movement of his lips and the subtle drop in his smile. "in your room or ours?" you inquired, your smile widening.

he wasn't entirely sure when he had shared the existence of the other room he had desperately tried to keep hidden from you, but he didn't dwell on it too much, as your next words held much more significance. "stay." you urged, sincerity evident in both your voice and your eyes.

you took a step forward, stopping only when you had passed him by. "that way, you can teach me more of those games I told pierre I knew nothing about." you could hear him sigh, and swore it wasn't a sigh of discontent.

navigating through the crowd, you made your way outside the club, the driver closely trailing behind.

now he knew that you were aware of all his scheming, and he also knew that you didn't mind.

"i-" he started, but you interrupted right away. "don't. i don't wanna know. i don't care." you moved closer again, your hand gently caressing his cheek."i really don't care." before you knew it, the hands that had held your waist just moments ago were now pulling you closer, your bodies drawn together and his face inching nearer.

when your lips met his, every wrong thing fell into its right place. the warmth of his beer-flavored lips against your vodka-tinged ones sent your heart racing. no one had ever kissed you like this, not even someone who professed to love you.

your skin got immediately hotter and shivers came down you spine, making this feel like a movie scene. although you were sure none of those TV kisses could even compare to his.

this was on another level, an entirely new experience for you. the passion was palpable, and you both yearned for more. his hand found its way into the back of your hair, while yours continued to cup his mesmerizing face.

his tongue entered your mouth and you both battled for space as the intensity of the kiss grew. fireworks erupted inside of you, and charles only managed to make them bigger.

you couldn’t know, but his heart race matched yours, and the feeling of you lips in his made every oscar awarded kissing scene seem stupid.

you never worried about the future, about this week being the last time you will ever see him in this life. but you worried for the fact that this didn’t seem to be a simple kiss. what you felt was everything but simple.

"come with me to silverstone." he asked, briefly parting your faces to extend an invitation. "what?" you laughed. "i am pretty sure i can convince your boss to let you come with me to the race if that means he gets an add with my face. come with me, please." he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

"ok." you replied, sealing the agreement with another kiss, this time accompanied by a wide grin. "you know, we still have a whole week to ourselves here. we'll see how the silverstone situation turns out, okay?" he hummed a yes, and you smiled at him.

looking into his eyes, you couldn't help but feel grateful for being this mastermind's masterplan.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 15

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: None

Hangovers and Hang-ups

Killer leaned against the wall of Kid's workshop while Kid took a closer look at your log pose. "What's your plan with her?" Killer had taken care of you until you passed out. He had thrown you over his shoulder and taken you to Kid's huge bathtub. He had thought about tucking you into his bed so you would be more comfortable; he knew you would have a raging hangover in the morning and Killer could always sleep in Kid's bed so you could have his room to yourself. As nice as he could be, and even after you treated him, he didn't want you to puke in his sheets, so he settled for a pillow and comforter thrown into the tub with you. It would be easier to clean if you threw up there. He felt bad about leaving you in clothes covered in now-stale beer, but he felt worse when he thought about taking them off, unable to shake the image of your mouth around his fingers while your eyes burned into his through the holes in his mask. It brought heat rushing up his neck thinking about it now.

Kid shrugged. "Wire said we have another week until we get ta the next island. Our deal was that she gets off there." He continued to tinker with the log pose. "If I still want to fuck her by then, I'll make her change her mind. We need a doctor anyway." 

"I think we need to figure out who she is before you think about keeping her on this ship, if she even wants to stay. You don't think it's odd that she won't tell anyone her name? That she can put up a fight?" Killer picked up your weapon that had been sitting on the corner of Kid's bench. It was a unique design, though he was certain he had seen something like it before. "Do you remember when we first started out, the time we got intercepted by marines?"

"Nah. Why?"

"No reason." It was fuzzy, yet the tool in his hands made Killer keep thinking back to that time. Something was there. He wanted to be sure before he brought it to Kid's attention. "If she doesn't want anyone to know her name, she must think we'll recognize it, which brings a few possibilities: she's from a rival crew, she's a marine, or she has a bounty. Maybe a combination of those. And then there's the separate matter of what she told me last night about not being able to swim. She might have a Devil Fruit." 

Kid cackled. "If Trafalgar or Strawhat had a bonnie lass like that on their crew, I would have kidnapped her in Sabaody. Those two losers haven't seen a tit in their lives. Wouldn't even know what ta do with pussy." Kid seemed pleased with himself, whether it was from his own jab or his tinkering was unclear. The log pose split into two halves in front of him. "What a shit log pose... If a marine has a name that big, they would be an admiral and she isn't one." Kid paused to think, "Don't we have some old bounty posters somewhere? Go through them with Heat and see if she's there." Kid looked at the dials more closely. "Killer, look at this." His took one off and flipped it upside down. 

Killer moved to the bench, setting your gun down. He picked up the pose's needle that Kid removed. "There's... a small piece of paper."

Kid took the other two needles off. "These too." The three needles on the table shifted, ever so slightly, in three separate directions.

"Those are vivre cards!" Killer was impressed with the ingenuity. It wasn't a real log pose at all, it was a tracker of sorts, and it seemed to be aimed at three people. Family? Friends? Or... enemies. 

"What a clever little bitch." Kid reassembled it so that you wouldn't know it had been tampered with. "No wonder she wanted it back so badly." Kid had been confused initially. He showed it to Wire, who compared it to their own log pose, and concluded that it was broken since the needles didn't point the same as theirs. 

"You mean no wonder she would tolerate fucking you for this long otherwise." Killer dodged a wrench launched in his direction.

Kid shoved the log pose in his pocket. He did say he would give it back. "DON'T BE JEALOUS!" 

"I'm not," Killer said in a teasing tone, getting ready to slip out the door.

Kid narrowed his eyes in his best friend's direction. "Did she fuck you?" He thought back to what you had said before emptying your stomach over the railing. "KILLER?!" 

The masked man left Kid's workshop with his captain's shouting trailing after him and a sly grin on his face. Killer thought it was fun to ruffle Kid's feathers and get him worked up. Killer knew Kid wouldn't be mad if he had fucked you; Kid simply liked keeping track of his playthings. And Killer also knew that Kid would have wanted to compare notes to make sure you weren't holding out on him. 

Grumbling, Kid examined your weapon. He had made some improvements to it so that it met his standards. Kid was going to present it to you at the party as a gift, but he decided at the last minute that would be lame. It didn't have anything to do with the scenarios in his head where you didn't like it that left his hands clammy. He wasn't even going to do much to it, but he ran out of things to do when Killer told him his helmet was fixed and that he didn't need a new one. That concerned Kid for two reasons: anyone but him would have to weld it back together and there were no weld marks. 

It fucking sucked waking up. You were sore from being in the hard tub all night, you were nauseated, and you had the worst headache of your life. For a while, you had turned on the hot water, still in clothes, and let it rain down on you after moving the pillow and sheets that Killer had left you out of the tub. There wasn't a lot that you remembered from last night other than winning a pair of pants, that you would be sure to collect on, and Killer holding your hair back when you got sick. How embarrassing... like a damn teenager.  You pulled yourself up with a groan, plopped the soaked dress on the floor, and washed all of last night off.

When you were drying off, you heard a soft knock from Killer's end of the bathroom. You hadn't noticed the first time, but the captain's room and the first mate's were joined by this bathroom, a door on each end. Throwing the sheets around your shoulders to cover yourself, you opened the door to Killer's towering frame. 

"You look like shit." 

You blinked at him, simultaneously offended and amused. "I feel like shit." 

He moved to let you walk past him. "You should drink some water."

You looked around. His room was more simple and less dark than Kid's. "Thank you, Dr. Massacre Soldier. I'll take that into consideration." It felt like an intrusion to sit directly on his bed. There weren't any chairs and he wasn't kicking you out though, so you sat on the floor next to the wall, bringing the sheet over your head to block the light. There was a creak as Killer's weight sank on his bed across from you.

"Wire says it'll be about a week before we reach the next island. What will you do then?"

The pounding in your head nearly drowned out his question. "Eager to get rid of me, huh?" 

"No one's making you leave."

"Not yet."

"You know, you don't have to be a smart-ass all the time. There's no need to be so defensive" Killer couldn't gauge your reaction under the sheet. "You think you're so special that we'll even give a shit who you are?" 

That made you laugh. "Well now you're just making me sound like an asshole." You uncovered your face to look Killer in the eyes, well, mask holes. "It's not about who I am. It's about who I used to be." 

"We've all done things we aren't proud of... except Kid. I don't think he has regrets." Killer offered. 

You sat up, pulling your knees in and burying your face in them. "The thing is... I was proud of it. Until I learned my career was a sham. Wasted part of my life doing..." You sighed. "Killer, I know you're trying to be sympathetic or whatever and I appreciate what you did for me, but I'm only trying to make it to land alive, so I can do what I have to do." You stood up and mumbled on your way out, "I've already been ripped apart and left for dead by a crew once. Don't need to relive it." It was impossible to be betrayed again if you had no one close enough to do so. 

Next

[meanbossart]

So, not sure if you've covered this. But I thought I'd ask. How do you feel about the durgetash subtext? Are you pro or against? How do you treat the "relationship" / "partnership" between them? I'm curious to know how their interactions would play out hahah. (Im very pro Durgetash, cause... well. Yeah.)

First of all, obviously I'm all for people interpreting subtext however they wish to interpret it, and I think there's more than enough in the game to imply a canonical romance between The Dark Urge and Gortash; some of my favorite artists on here delve into that and I think both their art and theories are brilliant. Especially as the canon stands now, I think it's more likely that they DID have something going on rather than not, though I doubt Larian will ever confirm it one way or another to allow the player freedom with their avatar's background.

That said, in the lore I decided for DU drow they did NOT have a romantic relationship, although they did have a complicated one. My first impression upon meeting Gortash at his coronation (this was long before all the dialogue Larian added) was of someone who wanted desperately to butter me up to get his plans back on track. Yes, I do think he was happy to see the drow, but that's because he knew DU drow would honor their initial agreement (had his memories not been erased, at least) and was indeed more reliable than Orin - who clearly wanted to achieve things on her own instead of entertaining their alliance even before betraying her brother.

I did a write-up a while back on what DU Drow's perception and plans for Enver were here, but I would like to make some additions!

First of all I didn't clarify this, but when I talk about "love" in that post I did not mean the romantic kind. What DU drow had for Gortash was a tenderness that he could not bring himself to entertain in earnest because of his profoundly skewed sense of empathy and emotions. He did relate to Gortash, He did admire how he had lifted himself up from nothing and how he easily brushed off DU drow's attempts to get under his skin. DU could simply never admit such a thing or even recognize it in himself - had he been a more sane man they would have been dear friends, and there would be glimpses of that could-be friendship in how they interacted before. Gortash was probably equal parts annoyed and charmed by the Bhaalspawn's high eccentricity, his gaudy style and extreme bluntness and shamelessness- he thought he was fascinating enough to put up with his attitude, not to mention that he was reliable and got things done when he set his mind to it.

(More under cut)

Alas, DU Drow wasn't raised to entertain friendship or tenderness whatsoever prior to getting a clean reset to his brain - this doesn't change the fact that he is, by nature, a very intense man, and those emotions had to come out in one way or another. Hence his weird preocuppation with Gortash and how he made him feel. He is primed to become extremely conflicted in his feelings towards anyone who sticks around in his life as anything but a pawn or a victim, and Enver constantly tried to pose himself as a friend - arguably a even more baffling concept to DU drow than if he wanted to be a lover - because then he would at least be seeking out sex from their interpersonal exchanges. This is also why a lot of DU drow's focus when insulting/trying to torment him would have been sexually charged, besides a simple desire to shock and objectify himself and others as sacks of meat to be fucked and killed.

But Gortash grew up in literal hell, I think his capacity to withstand abuse from others (and swiftly brush it off) would have been extremely well honed, especially if it will ultimately get him what he wants. He never flinched at the guy's constant allusions to perversion and cruelty, likely rolled his eyes at it even lol. This would have been very disarming to DU drow and kept him coming back for more, and fostered (along everything else I mentioned) the admiration brought up in-game in that one letter durge writes to Bhaal. That letter would have been a very rare moment of clarity and introspection between DU drow and his father - perhaps the only entity he could ever disclose this kind of conflict to, much like a man having a crisis of faith is still likely to turn to the very god he's doubting for comfort.

I haven't yet decided how Gortash felt towards him, though, besides the aforementioned fascination mixed with irritation. I do think that after being tad-poled, when DU drow shows up in his coronation room looking so dramatically different from the man he knew (hair unkempt, clothes reduced to their practicality, shell shocked stare, the absence of his usual, lecherous grin) he would have thought what a shame that was, that this relentless beast he knew would never allign himself with someone beneath his caliber, often to the point of being unreasonable, had squandered his own ambition and was now in such meager company lol like he's got this half-elf girl just short of hanging onto his arm, this squishy wizard that he would have chewed up like hide in his teeth once, and the smug little elf? That's just his type, but the man Gortash knew had eyes for no one but his sister - regardless of how often he tried to warn him of her duplicitous nature. Ohhh what a mess she made of him, he wishes he remembered anything so he could at least say I told you so.

[waywardly-we-go]

I keep turning that scene from Phantom Liberty 'round in my head, even though it's a basic ass thing that we all already knew, the one where V asks Johnny who is behind them when Reed first puts the gun to their back.

Johnny says something like "how the hell should I know, I only see what you see."

And we knew that, I knew that, it's not a surprise.

But thinking about it - when Johnny talks to V he can't see V's face, because V can't see their own face unless they get a mirror out. It's easy for my brain to default to assuming Johnny's appearances are him and his perspective is from there, but seemingly Johnny is projecting himself into our vision and his perspective must be from V's eyes. Johnny is staring at himself almost every time they talk.

Multiple thoughts on that:

1st of all, that explains why he fucking looks like that lmao - you know what I mean, the Pistis Sophia balcony strut, the manspreading, the foot against the wall lean while he dramatically looks at V from behind his glasses - the flair of it all.

Now I'm not so crazy that I think CDPR and Keanu meticulously created each and every animation with this specifically in mind, especially given Johnny is a drama queen regardless. But god it does fit? Johnny's movements and posing does have a touch of that looking at oneself in the mirror and trying to serve cunt feel.... which is fucking hilarious

2nd of all, and following from the 1st point, I am doubling down on my reading of the waking-up-post-bender scene ESPECIALLY the part where Johnny oh so casually scratches his balls right in V's face. You can't convince me that that wasn't Johnny deliberately posing for a "I don't give a fuck" effect.

That being said, I initially thought of that scene as hinging on the moment when Johnny finally looks at V's face - but that's not even possible is it? The hinge is actually Johnny seeing himself, while realizing what he's done/what V is feeling at the same time.

Which brings me to my 3rd of all thought, which is that among all the reasons that Johnny Silverhand potentially becomes a better person over the course of the game, including the fact that V's neurons are mixing with his and him observing the way his life and death turned out, is probably the fact that for the first time ever he saw himself the way other people see him. Repeatedly. Incessantly, in fact.

He had to stare at himself being a total asshole while experiencing the thoughts and emotions of another person, a person he was coming to care about, at the same time.

No wonder he started to change.

[quoththemaiden]

Hey @mrghostrat, I haven't been able to stop thinking about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems all day, so have a ficlet inspired by your struggles at properly posing an Aziraphale-and-Crowley-hover-hand selfie.

[Ficlet below cut]

"C'mon, you're acting like you've never been someone's beard before." Crowley's grin was saucy as he tried to angle the camera to get both him and Aziraphale in frame, while Aziraphale tried his best not to overthink every single statement or movement Crowley was making. Both of them were failing rather impressively at it.

"I very much have, thank you. Although this is the first time I've done it for a man."

"Ohh?" Crowley was still half-distracted by trying to work out a good pose and whether it'd be better to abandon the bench for it. Aziraphale's stiff-backed posture certainly wasn't helping matters. He considered sassing back that the "man" bit was totally optional, but he suspected that making Aziraphale feel like he'd committed a faux pas would make him close off even more, and he counted himself lucky he had a better grip on his tongue than his typing. "I sense a story there."

"Not much of one, I'm afraid. I don't think her parents liked me very much, but it went well enough for its purpose."

"You did it in front of the parents? Then this should be easy-breezy. It's just for randos." Crowley swiped to a different camera setting to see if adding background blurring would help. It did. Kind of.

"Yes, well, none of that involved immortalizing it with a camera."

Crowley drew back suddenly. "Hey. I didn't— If you aren't comfortable— Look, I said from the start this was a batty idea and I stick by that so you can call it off anytime. Okay?"

Aziraphale's face flickered through five different emotions that Crowley wasn't enough of a visual artist to be able to name before settling into a reassuring smile. "Crowley" — and the name was said like a balm — "I told you that I slept on this decision. I assure you that I thought through the consequences." All of that was even technically true. He'd said he'd sleep on it, and he had thought through the consequences, even though the latter was before he'd initiated the call to Crowley and the former was hours after he'd already made his choice.

"Yeah, but if this is gonna cost you something—"

"I assure you that it's something I am glad to be able to do for a friend."

Crowley nodded slowly, trying to take Aziraphale at his word. "I, er... Well. Sorry for making your first photo with a guy be for a totally fake date?"

Aziraphale smiled a little more warmly and purposefully opened his posture, extending an arm in invitation for Crowley to lean in towards him. "I can't say I'll mind having a little memento of the time my dear friend and I visited the park."

"Ngk..." Crowley gave in and accepted his invitation, sidling closer to him and trying to paste his confident smile back on. It was surprisingly hard when he was blanketed by Aziraphale's understated generosity like this. "Yeah. Me neither, angel."

The camera flash flickered, and a few moments later, Aziraphale's phone was the first recipient of their new photo.

[bowties8glasses]

the latest fashion right now? being a silly trickster

COOLEST THING HAPPENED THIS WEEK, as I finally got a chance to make something for my long-time friend @foreversleepingbunny, as bun commissioned me to design her a jester-like bunny sona

MAKING OF:

so I had a interest in designing bun a sona for good while, then recently she voiced interest in one, whose idea fit (or rather, completed) the vibe I had in mind for a design

so in response I sent her rough mspaint sketch of what I had in mind (I was busy with other comms). she really liked it!

fast forward to getting commissioned, I thought of making a small, simpler, more mascot-ish design, doing it before further working on the design sketched out prior

this helped with nailing down the "core features" of sorts, a base to build off of when working on the main design

plus since she's a big Sanrio fan, it gives bun a design that fit right in with those :>

you may noticed the horizontal stripes in the ears, I initially thought of intead of a jester hat, the ears would be wearing socks instead to keep the vibe, that idea got scrapped

I quickly sketched and lined one so to experiment with colors, it was basically a given that it would be pink, but I kept felling there was something missing, some spot I could include a additional color in (hazel-ish brown was the other iconic sugarbun color)

then I had a epiphany

you might notice the sketch for this was used in the ref, but not these, that's just cause I wasn't happy with the line consistency

ok! now we get to the main form

my first sketch turned out a very direct anthro-fication of the design, I really liked it! but it kinda drifted of the initial intention of having the jester look be more like a fashion style, rather than a full-on jester (a sentiment bun also felt)

second sketch was basically a recreation of the mspaint sketch, though you can see the influence of the small mode

then, at the third pose, i nailed it down

bringing attention to the skir (not just the pattern, but the cutout at the bottom) and the like, spacing of the white area in the shirt (being smaller)

the pose also turned out so nice that when I made a sketch to render I didn't like as much

so I just did a second take on the sketch, making it more sturdy against canvas flips

one last decision done when rendering things was making the shirt also have a hazel color, brought after experimenting with the skirt palette

oh also! as a warmup I drew Olivia from Animal the Crossing, we share birthdays :>

[rowaelinsdaughter]

KEEP MY HEART CHAPTER I

a/n;; everybody, this is HAPPENING OMG!!!! this is going to be my first story and this is my first fic with my OC (read the information here). this fic is written in 3rd person so there is no use of "you".

i was thinking and maybe im going to write fics using my oc, as i said in my post of the OC, i want to improve, i want to change, i want new things, new experiences... and this is my first step. so i hope u guys enjoy this. (reblogs are appreciated and this doesnt mean im not going to write character x reader, my requests are still open)

WARNINGS;; spoilers for heir of fire, mentions of death

manon blackbeak was eager to come back. she has been hunting crochans for weeks and finally, she reached a cottage in the north of fenharrow and now, she was prepared for blood. hiding in the closet, she listened to the three men that had broken in. 

she heard them open the door to the room. 

“come out, little crochan,” one of them said. 

with their backs to the closet, manon slipped out  and quietly closed the bedroom door. 

“wrong kind of witch.”

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

the moon was up in the sky when ayla moonsinger approached the cliff where a certain moon-white haired witch was waiting. she looked how her hair danced with the wind and by the pose, she knew manon was enjoying the wind. knew there were few sounds she enjoyed more than the groans of dying men, but the wind was one of them.

step by step, she got closer to her figure until her arms were hugging manons waist, feeling them a smile appeared on her face, one that never allowed to show in front of the matron… or anyone except for the thirteen. her coven. she twisted around to face ayla and took her face between her hands. 

hazel eyes and golden eyes looked at each other. looked into their souls. 

“hello witchling” manon purred. 

ayla leaned her forehead until they were touching. manon was the first one who initiated the kiss. their hands explored each other's bodies while their mouths were a mix of teeth, lips and tongues. ayla was the first one who broke the kiss first, caressing her cheek, manon left kisses on her neck making ayla laugh with delightment.

“manon, your grandmother is coming here soon…”

“let me feel you, i haven't seen you in months”

“i know… i missed you too”

a low whistle sounded from behind and manon snarled, ayla turned around and found asterin leaned on a tree, a smirk displayed on her beautiful face and her braid falled down her shoulder. 

“calm down you wolf, it's only asterin.”

manon rolled her eyes and left a kiss on her cheek. if asterin was here that meant the rest of the coven was also here… and the blackbeak matron would be here anytime soon.

they were all positioned when the matron arrived. voluminous midnight robes flowed around her with the wind. the memories flooded her mind like it was yesterday. 

her parents dead. her screaming. the matron slapping her face. “you’re coming with me”. her first day, week, month, year. the anniversary of their parents. the old houses of terrasen honoring her house, honoring the last member of the family… her. her first crochan. her first kill.

she hated her. hated the way she was and the way she treated everyone, specially manon and the thirteen. and she hated how she needed to act to survive. because that was not what she learned, she wasnt that way. she wasn't cold hearted, she wasn't cruel. there wasn't a day in which she didn't regret the person she was sometimes. what would my parents think about me?  she usually asked herself, and in the long nights where she was hunting, in the nights she couldn't sleep next to her mate, she looked to the stars and searched for the lord of the north and mourned a family, a city, long forgotten.

two hours passed until the matron got out of the caravan where she had talked with a duke.  “we are leaving now,” the matron said. manon jerked her chin to the thirteen and they fell in line, ayla between asterin and sorrel. “you two will protect her with your life, is that clear?” and that was 100 years ago. a lifetime now that the magic was gone.

ayla watched manon and her grandmother talk. about what? she didn't want to hear it.

when the matron was gone, ayla and the thirteen approached manon, the first one caressing her lovers back.

“apparently, the king needs riders. wyvern riders for his cavalry” her smile was wicked “we are traveling north”

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

tagging;; @danikamariewrites @thehighladywrites @throneofsapphics @shadowdaddies @ladybambifae

[holymaccaronii]

im sorry i absolutly love BE

I see AM as a father figure for some struggles I got and BE is sooo well writed for me I couldnt help but slowly see her as a mother figure as well,,,,UGH i love her you writed her so well pls ramble more about her(BE and AM are even divorced just like my irl parents/j)

Ou anon you don't know how happy you make me when knowing you see AM and BE that way + asking me for rambles. Of course I'll ramble comforting facts abt BE and her behavior towards AM. I might've mentioned a few things before but i dont rlly mind. Have some rambles below the cut and a doodle :P

So first an introduction shall we? We might explain some background as well despite being repeated a lot. As her lore dictates, BE was born from the materials of a much bigger ai implanted on the moon after HEL-102 (former human that was part of the mission turned into a dictator) tore it apart and built his society + kingdom. She spent a good while in there being used as a role model (with other units like her too) for lower-class units to believe that, if they worked hard enough, they could achieve to be upgraded into her type of model. This being all a big lie. She lived a life seemingly flawless and perfect... but at last, it was her own curiosity, determination and hope that got her out of that hell she realized she was in. She eventually meets AM after a series of events on earth and she gifts him the ability to be anything and do anything he wanted, their relationship eventually grows and grows...

Facts about BE herself:

-Up in the moon, she used to accompany HEL-102 to his personal theater a lot. She gained an interest for dancing in there + learned her classic "to be or not to be" phrase during a play.

-Her exposed cables showcase their current temperature thru colors. Her core/closed body is the warmest area, thus why you can see red/orange colors in there. Her hair and arms are the most stable areas, but if touched/affected they can vary on color patterns. This also means that she can give you a warm or cool hug whenever you need it c:

-BE is able to configure your body to dream about something specific, and she uses this feature to avoid any nightmares on her survivors. As long as there is not another evil ai trying to access your dreams, you'll get a guaranteed good rest.

-BE can grant you about any wish as long as it doesn't pose a threat to you, her, or anybody. Want to have a profession or be someone? Sure! Want to go somewhere and experience the place of your dreams? Of course! Want to have a cat? Have 15! Her power is limitless as long as she uses it above the surface.

-I headcanon her voice to be similar to the one of Rose Quartz (SU).

Facts about BEAM (yep that's their ship name):

-I have mentioned it many times alr but BE literally provided him anything he wished for and even things he didn't know he wanted... mainly to receive different forms of affection and the ability to shapeshift. Their relationship relies heavily on comfort from BE's part, since she believed he was abandoned and thus deserved all the affection she gave him.

-BE wasn't really allowed to be too affectionate or expressive up in the moon, but with AM, she could show as much love as she wanted.

-She was all in for physical and verbal demonstrations of affection. She LOVED to do stuff like face smooches, teeth smooches (since well yk about my AM), rubbing, scratching and cuddling.

-At some point she also started to call AM names such as dear, sweetheart or honey, and he initially had to eat these up to not give her his real-self impression, but as time passed by he got used to them.

-To comfort him she also used her abilities to create and transform matter with her code as well, allowing him to shapeshift and enjoy life not necessarily in a human body.

-Annnd you guessed it right anon, they do behave as motherly and fatherly figures towards the survivors, BE forming a bond with them ever since they proved their worth and values to her as humans, and AM forming a bond when they accepted to help him get back together with BE. The ending of that route gets even better but I won't spoil that :p

I hope these were good rambles and sorry for the wait tehee

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 8}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You're slowly getting back to a semblance of yourself after being given a life altering choice.

Word Count: 4.2k (it's a short one, apologies)

Warnings: WE GOT SHIRTLESS DIN Y'ALL, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, trauma, ptsd, nightmares, illness, reader throws up, allusions to past SA (not detailed), gun violence

A/N: this was a rather hard chapter for me to crank out, i wasn't sure how much of reader's personality would immediately show after the events of the last chapter, but i think i managed to do a decent job that doesn't make it feel like it's a different character altogether. she will come out of her shell more throughout the next couple of chapters as she gets used to traveling with our dear mandalorian as an equal

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The clearing was silent as the sun made its rise into the sky, displaying an enticing view of warm pinks and deep oranges that bled into the soft blue of the still waning night sky. Your gaze was locked with the visor across from you, so far and yet still closer than anyone had dared to approach you, with an offer no one had dared to extend to you before. But it didn’t feel real, it felt like a ploy despite the fluttering in your stomach at learning the name of the man who you had spent so much time with.

“How do I know this isn’t a trick, Din Djarin?” You spoke with more control than you truly had, voice strong despite the waning tears that now stained your face and left your eyes tinged with a telltale pinkness of their occurrence. Mind working to calculate the situation playing out, an edge of clarity to your eyes now that the high emotions had all but rushed out of your lips in outraged pleas. A new facet of who you were, of how you survived for so long, taking it in and mentally checking it, much like you were doing with the man across from you.

“My name… I have not spoken it aloud since I was a boy. I have not shared it with anyone,” Din took a step toward you, your body instinctively took a step back despite the fluttering in your middle at the confession. It was a warm feeling akin to the heat thoughts of him blazed underneath your skin in the darkness of night, but far more innocent. At the part of him he was willing to give to you, even after you threatened to kill him. “I…. want to share it with you, to prove to you that I will not harm you and give you something in return that could harm me if it were to leave the two of us.”

This was all so new, different sides of the alluring mystery you both posed to each other.

“You saved my life twice, when you had no reason to.” His words were strong, though there was a caressing of emotion in them you had only been allowed to glimpse before. “You deserve the same, you deserve to be saved, given a choice.”

It was hard to believe him, believe the words, the offering he was extending to you. You were sure he could pinpoint the conflicting emotions as they passed over your face. Positive in your very soul that he could tell you had never been handed a choice before and were confused over, especially coming from someone initially hired to capture you.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“As is this.”

“You- you want me to travel with you?”

“Yes, I would be honored to have you aboard the ship.” His tone was solid, with no hint of hesitancy or fraud in his words as they sounded in the air. “You are a strong fighter, a survivor.”

“Free?”

“You are free, I will do my best to ensure it until you wish to part ways.”

“What…what if I do something you don’t like or speak out of place?” The words you wanted to say died in your throat to allow for those ones to come to life. The confession of wanting to remain with him until he no longer wanted you around nearly slipping from your lips as the conversation continued. Because that’s what it was, a conversation. You weren’t being talked at or down to, he was talking to you, with you. He had begun to do so the second you had boarded his ship, even knowing the dynamic that he had initiated by taking you from that compound.

“I will not raise a hand to you, I’ve promised you that already.”

“I’m annoying, I say things under my breath, I-I-I…I’m selfish.”

“Then we can be so together.” A deep chuckle decorated the air of the clearing, making your heart stutter for a reason other than fear and anxiety for the several times since he entered your life. The sound was beautiful, and your selfish tendencies were already returning to you. You wanted more of it, of that sound, of being able to draw that sound out of him.

“Y-yes.”

He closed the distance of the clearing and came up toward you with his hands at his sides as he approached, the rising sun catching his amor in a mesmerizing way. He walked past your still form toward the wall of trees surrounding the space, retrieving the heavy pack he knew you had hidden in the brush. He hauled it onto his shoulder, his cloak billowing more with the weight resting along the upper part of it along his back. “Let’s get everything back on board before some food. Then we can rest after traveling all night.”

You felt a shy smile come over your lips, liking the sound of ‘we’ after being alone for so long. You reached for one of the trunks and hauled it up, following his lead back toward the ship. His steps faltered as he looked over his shoulder and saw the expression. You quietly asked him if he was alright, getting a nod from the man in response.

The hammock from your new pack was secured to the walls of the ship, off in the corner opposite of Din’s small personal quarters, near the wall that made up the back entrance to the ship. Your bag was atop it, heavier now with the other items you had purchased while in town with the villagers just yesterday. A time that felt so long ago, when you were worried about having to bide your time and make a run for it, run away from the man you could feel crossing the space of the hold toward you.

You jumped clean off the floor of the hold when a crate was set down with a loud thunk and you spun on your heels to face the sound. He was rather close as was the sound and your hand was tight around the handle of your saber, instinctually reaching for it. It should alarm you how used you were to his presence that it didn’t register how little distance was between the both of you, but you pushed that thought down to inspect at a later time.

You turned in time to see him using his right leg to scoot in neatly underneath the space below the hammock. There was enough room beneath it and the top of the storage to accommodate the weight of your body while resting.

“For you, for your…things.”

You nodded at him, aware of the weight of his visor taking in the small space you had claimed for yourself. Worry flared for a moment, worry that you had chosen a bad spot or infringed on his space in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It all tapered out of you in a shaky exhale, hands letting go of your weapon as you realized you had clenched your hand tight around it, your knuckles creaking with the effort and your fleeting, overwhelming emotion. Turning back around, you began to unload the pack into the open space of the crate with a small ‘thank you’.

“There…is a small cabin behind the flight room.” He reached out and his gloved hand gently turned you around, so you were facing him fully. You let him do so, your heart hammering in your chest at the casual contact, at his words. “We can make it your own space, more privacy than here in the hold.”

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“You wouldn’t, yours if you want it.”

Your body betrayed you at his words, at the phrasing. You felt your skin tingle as a whoosh of desire flared hot in your middle and your mind decided to recall the feel of his bare hands. You ducked your head, unable to keep a somewhat shared look with him as you pulled slowly from his light grip on your arm.  His hand lingered, brushing down the side of your arm to blossom comfort with his touch, as if he was aware of the waring emotions you were experiencing.

“I’ll…think about it.”

He leaned in close, helmet coming to rest on your forehead in another comforting action. Fingers reached out to wrap around his elbows before you realized you were even moving, reaching.

“I asked you to stay, mesh’la. Please don’t feel like you’re unwanted here.”

Lifting your eyes to gaze into the visor, you felt a shudder of something faint make its way down your spine. You were sure the man could feel the way your body reacted to it, this close to you. You could only nod in response to his words, your own too jumbled in your chest to voice.

With a slow nod in return, he was back over on the other side of the space, taking a seat at the makeshift table. The Child was atop it, exploring the food packages around him with excited gurgles. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips as you watched him, so excited with such a simple thing.

“The village packed us a lot of food, you’re welcome to any of it.”

“Oh, um, I…ate in town.” You shuffled on your feet, turning back to the small corner and began to unpack the items you had purchased in the village. “I wasn’t sure when I would get to eat next.”

It was quiet for a few heartbeats, the man focused on opening some of the wrapped bundles.

“You were going to run, even if that transmission hadn’t come through.” He wasn’t asking for confirmation, he was stating it as if he had been privy to the way your mind had been running, like it was second nature for him to know about the things that had occurred in your mind and influenced your actions. Maybe it was, to an extent. Having traveled with him for some time now.

“Yes.”

“I was going to leave a note.” You admitted, eyes falling closed as you gathered yourself. You didn’t reach for anything as you sat atop the other makeshift seat of a crate. Hands in your lap as you spoke, eyes still trained on the Child and his many noises.

Your lips quirked up when his small form turned to you with an outstretched hand. He was clutching a kebob in his little claw, cooked krill pieces skewered onto it. When you reached a hand out to take it, he fussed, shaking his head with a grumble. A soft laugh bubbled up as you opened your mouth and leaned closer to him. That seemed to be what he wanted, and he giggled freely as he watched you tear the topmost piece away with your teeth and began to chew it. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, you exaggerated a nod at him to let him know you liked the taste.

He turned his attention to Din and held his hand out once again.

A shake of the helmet made him frown, a little angry grunt sounding from his chest. He mimicked Din, shaking his head and then brandishing the kebob at him in a wave. He bumped it against the front of the helmet, right where Din’s mouth would be. And again, and again. It was making the only noise in the ship other than the odd beeping sound or so that signaled things were up and running.

With a deep sigh, one of Din’s hands came up and pressed something just underneath the front of the helmet, where it settled over his chin. The hiss of the helmet decompressing startled you and your heart thudded in your chest as froze in place across the makeshift table. Surely he wouldn’t just expose himself so casually…? The Creed of the Mandalorians forbade the removal of the helmet, and while that wasn’t the case for all of them, it was a rather important factor in the practice that Din took part in, that he was raised in. The hint of a strong jaw covered in dark scruff was visible as he quickly leaned forward and took a bite from the offered stick.

Just as quickly as the helmet had been lifted ever so slightly, it was set back in place.

The Child’s happy giggles echoed off the walls. He turned back to you with a large, toothy smile. Willing your heart to calm down, you returned the smile with a soft one of your own.

A shout ripped from your throat, and you were thrashing around as your mind was ripped from its stream of unconsciousness. Heart thudding painfully in your chest, panting with the effort to catch your breath, you sat up from the hammock, swinging your legs over the side of it. It was swinging with your harsh movements, the supports of it groaning with the actions. The door to the personal quarters across the hold slid open and Din’s form filled the doorway, a blaster in his hand.

You were shaking, body humming with adrenaline as your mind had decided to replay a rather harsh memory from your captivity. The roaring in your ears prevented you from hearing Din cross the space, moving toward you in nothing but his helmet and a pair of sleep pants. His gentle hands on your knees startled you and you kicked out at him, sending him stumbling back onto his backside and palms to catch himself.

“It’s me, mesh’la.”

You shook your head, bringing your hands up to cover your ears. Your throat constricted and the words you were trying to say warbled out incoherently.

“What do you need?” Din’s voice was dulled, as if you were hearing things through a tunnel. Your vision was blurry as you opened your eyes, blinking away the remnants of the nightmare. It was then that you realized you were crying, tears spilling over your lash line to race down your cheeks. They dripped off the end of your chin, splattering to the floor.

“W-water.” You managed to choke out, your skin feeling so caked in filth and the phantom touches from the men who had held you captive. Poor choice of words, you mused as Din moved to gather a pouch of water from atop the makeshift table. You were shaking your head as he turned back around with it in his hands. He could see the way your muscles twitched even from the short distance, your body reacting strongly to whatever your mind had decided to conjure up during your sleep.

“I need to clean. I feel- I feel their hands all over me.” You were pushing up from the hammock, holding a hand to your mouth as nausea roiled hot in your middle. Rushing across the hold toward to fresher, the door hissed shut just as Din caught sight of you crumpling to the floor in front of the toilet basin and heaving the contents of your stomach.

The sound of the shower running had Din standing in front of the door to the fresher with a change of clothes for you in his hands. He had gathered one of his shirts, recalling the way you had held the first one up to inhale his scent back on Sorgan. A small comfort he could offer you when words failed him, as they so often did, but especially in the wake of what just happened. The knock that sounded from his bare knuckles had you jumping underneath the spray of hot water raining down on your body.

Pausing in your frantic scrubbing, your head shot up and focused on the door through the frosted glass of the shower stall.

“Got you a change of clothes.” Din’s voice sounded muffled through the metal of his helmet and the shut door to the small room. “I can set the helmet to another setting and place them on the sink for you.”

“Th-thank you.” Hopefully he understood with your minimal response that what he was saying was alright with you. He seemed to understand, because the door hushed open, and his broad form filled the space of the room. You watched through the glass paneling as he placed a bundle of dark clothing down atop the sink. His helmet never turned toward you despite knowing he could feel the weight of your own gaze upon him. He left as swiftly as he had appeared, allowing you to finish your shower in privacy.

When you emerged from the fresher with damp hair and a new outfit that consisted of a baggy shirt and pants, the hold was empty. There was a single light left on the wall that held the ramp settled into while it wasn’t activated, illuminating the space in soft light. Your eyes landed on a steaming cup of something left on the table, watching the wafts of heat climb into the air. Smiling to yourself, you moved to take a seat and reached to cradle the hot ceramic in your hands.

You were nestled back in the hammock after finishing the warm broth, the liquid helping to sooth your settling stomach. Despite the comfort of an added blanket and the relaxing residual warmth from your shower, you couldn’t help but wring your hands where they rested atop your middle. Din had checked on the ship’s course before returning to his own space. The hush of his door nearly shutting closed the space off and left a weighted silence in its wake.

Settling down further into the blankets, a muffled sob made its way through your body, and you quickly clamped a hand down over your mouth to stifle it. Eyes darting to the small sliver of space that Din had left his door open to see if it traveled across the space toward him. Nothing akin to fear or worry or the instinct to run washed over you as a bulb lit up and his hand bare hand suddenly appeared and was shoving the door open with swift motions. He was across the space in a few long strides, the fabric of his sleep pants swishing around his legs with the speedy, tempered movement.

As soon as he was close enough, he was leaning over to place his hands underneath the curve of your knees and along your upper back, your hands going up around his neck as if they were made just for that. The blanket fell away from you as he lifted you into his arms, turning away from the set up you had made for yourself.

He carried you across the space back toward the door and it shut behind him as he settled you both into the small bed atop the cot that took up a majority of the space. His body was a warm line beside you, your arms loosening from around his neck to fill the space between your bodies atop the mattress. His hands busy pulling the discarded blanket up around you both, letting it settle around your hips.

Eyes trained on him across from you, breath labored as you took in the bare expanse of his chest. Nearly all of his bronze skin was on display in the dull light that probably needed replacing. Fingers twitching in an effort to not cross the space and run them over the temptation that was so close. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closing to shield yourself from the want. As he spoke lowly to you, the rumbling timber of his voice caressed over you in a muffled sound.

When you opened your eyes back up from a long blink, the confusion in them let him know you had no clue as to what he had just said. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath and deflated as he let it out in a sigh.

“San,” The sound of your name had you focusing on the visor of the helmet looking down at you as he sat partially up on his elbow. His other arm reached out for you, hand encompassing your cheek as he repeated his soft-spoken words. You leaned into his touch, something you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed of or embarrassed about at the moment. It just was, it was right, there was no thinking about it. “Do you want me to turn the light out?”

You reached out tentatively, fingers still twitching with the effort it was taking to restrain yourself from lunging at the man and wrapped your arms around the broad expanse of his bare chest. Fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. Nodding in an answer to his careful question as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. His body moved around and underneath you to turn the light out, shrouding you both in darkness.

The helmet hushed against the fabric of his pillow as he laid down completely beside you. His strong arms came around you and pulled you flush against him, his legs tangling with your own beneath the blanket. Eyes already fluttering shut, you let out long exhale that faltered near the end. You were feeling completely at ease in the wake of that horrible nightmare, safe in this enclosed space, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the scent you associated with him.

The feeling of his even, steady pulse humming through his skin where your face was pressed into his neck lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

“I’ve got you.”  

The next morning, or what you assumed was the morning, due to time being hard to keep track during long space travel. It was something you weren’t sure you would ever get a handle on, not having much experience with longer space travel with the focus of seeking out hideaways. The ship had just dropped out of hyperspace, Din having set a random location in order to rest for the night with less threats. He was currently in the cockpit and you quelled the minor nerves at seeking him out after the breakfast you had made an effort to down alongside the Child.

You were cradling him on a hip as you climbed the ladder leading to the partial upper floor, his happy babbling announcing your arrival to the armored man before you physically entered the room. Setting him down in the chair to the right of the door, you turned your attention to the front of the room.

“I chose Tatooine, a few years ago.” Your voice was quiet, nearly a whisper as you walked up behind the pilot’s chair. Eyes trained on the hologram display of nearby planets. “My hideout should still be intact if the sands haven’t swallowed it. I had just installed new moisture farming equipment before…”

Tatooine looked much the same way as it did all those years ago when you picked it out of all the options you had assembled for a good hideout. Washed out and pale as you gazed at the display of the planet before you.

“That’s where….I thought we were when you took me from that compound.”

“Its an easy mistake to make, both are mostly open desert.” He was watching you as you flipped through the rest of the planets displayed as possible locations for the ship to land next, though he had already programmed it for Tatooine. The ships settings displaying as much when you checked the flight path. You could feel the weight of his visor on you as you boldly did so, not having asked to enter the control room let alone mess with the things he was organizing. You turned to face him with a deadpan look, punctuated by a single raised brow and mouth tight in a firm line.

“A fool’s mistake.”

“You’re not a fool, those kriffng bandits were.”

“Landscape here is more limestone, red rock more prominent on Arvala-7.” You gestured to the display with a wave of your hand.

Any other conversation to be had was put on hold the second a warning alarm trilled from the control panel. It was only a second’s notice before blaster shots landed on the starboard side of the ship. Your legs tensed as you tried to keep your balance through the turbulence, hands going out to grip onto anything within reach. It happened to be the armrest of the pilot’s chair. Your head swiveled around to see the Child’s frantic look, eyes wide and sounds of upset falling from him in a steady stream.

“Dank ferrick, we got someone on our tail. Sit down and buckle up, mesh’la.”

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taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

[13eyond13]

23 + 25 for GriffGuts!

Omg thank you @ofdemonsandangels !! I'm v excited to get Berserk asks ♥︎

I'm not sure if the request is for the individual characters or just the ship or both, so I'm going to cover all my bases and answer for ALL THREE.

GUTS + favourite picture of them:

First thing that came to mind was his sword + moon pose! I just feel v fond of and oddly protective of and affectionate of him when I look at it. I just love when he's being all pensieve and secretly sentimental about stuff by himself...

GRIFFITH + favourite picture of them:

Hmmm. There's just something about the way Griffith's drawn in the later part of the Golden Age that I like the most. Def the biggest fan of his design when he looks like this:

His scary blazing eyes during the second swordfight in the snow really stuck in my head, and are some of the first panels I picture whenever I'm picturing Griffy!

GRIFFGUTS + favourite picture of them:

This fanart is pretty fantastic... if I didn't already know the pairing and saw it I'd probably be like damn, this looks compelling, who is that? 👀

https://www.tumblr.com/13eyond13/742518174586748928?source=share

BUT also so is this fanart (got those scary blazing Griffith eyes down perfect, and also ahhh the wings and the scratches on Guts' back!!)

--

GUTS + what was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I first started reading Berserk at the end of 2023 without knowing much of anything about it other than it had a character named Guts with a huge sword, that some fans shipped him with a character named Griffith, and I had heard that the art style was apparently pretty amazing and crazy as well. I fully did not expect to like Guts that much or relate to him that much going into things, and assumed he'd be a super boring edgy hyper-violent macho 80s meathead muscleman without much personality. And upon reading the first few chapters I certainly wasn't feeling extremely fond of him yet (especially during stuff like the very opening scene where he's banging some demon lady and then killing her, which once you actually get to know him is like one of the most odd and out-of-character things for him to do, and I think shows Miura hadn't really figured Guts as a character out totally yet). It actually didn't take THAT long for me to realize that there was more to him than that and to warm up to him a lot, though. Even partway through the Black Swordsman Arc I feel he started intriguing me with some of the more unexpected stuff he was doing and the mysterious hints about whatever had taken place in his past that was currently haunting him so much. And certainly by the time you start seeing his childhood memories and the Golden Age and getting to know why he is the way he is I was feeling very attached to him and invested in him emotionally! He's by far my fave of the bunch, and he just feels very much like a living breathing being to me in canon much of the time. One of my all-time fave characters now.

GRIFFITH + what was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I knew basically nothing about Griffith going into things initially. He came off pretty goofy as Femto to me initially, so at the start of the Golden Age I remember just being like, omg so how does this pretty femboy guy become that weird bitchy Batman in the labyrinth that Guts ends up hating so much? 😅 I also did not expect him to be so outright gay for Guts as he is in the manga, and had previously assumed the fandom's shipping of these two was probably based mostly on your typical barely there homoerotic subtext or whatever. Very surprised to find there was just so much blatantly going on there in the text and that it was basically directly discussed by the characters and almost written like a straight-up romance, and all of this stuff seemed very intentional and deliberate on Miura's part to me too. I remember especially being impressed by how bold Griffith was about just straight-up announcing his interest in/attraction to Guts to his face (and how much Guts actually seemed to be into him back too, even if he's a bit slower and more shy and furtive about it – which to me is much more unusual than having a queer-coded villain guy expressing obsessive interest in the male protagonist – he usually isn't also equally interested back like that!). I think Griffith is at his most interesting to me during those early parts when he's being very upfront about his emotions with other characters and a bit vulnerable like that, especially because we spend so much of the rest of the story only ever seeing him from a very guarded and emotionally closed-off dead-inside sort of distance as a character. He maybe isn't my favourite because I don't relate to his personality that much, and sometimes his ethereal otherworldliness and mysteriousness made it harder for him to feel as real to me as the others do – Guts and Casca often felt a bit more human and down-to-earth and easier to emotionally attach myself to and to know things about for sure, so I found myself caring about those two the most whenever I was reading it. And then of course there was a long stretch of the story there where Griffith genuinely shocked and appalled me with what he did to everyone (I had zero spoilers for what was actually going to happen during the Eclipse and did not expect it to be anything nearly as bad as what happened lol). At times I really loathed him and got super angry at him as a character, but I also appreciated that he drew such strong emotional reactions from me and was always making the most interesting things in the plot that I actually care about happen, too. Whenever I was super mad at him I would be furious every time he showed up and did literally anything onscreen, yet also would get so frustrated and bored and antsy whenever he would disappear for hundreds of chapters at a time, too 😅 I feel like that made it much easier to understand why he drove Guts so crazy, because I was being driven a bit crazy by him too... Can't live with him and can't live without him! I remember finding Guts the most interesting character in canon when I was actually reading the story, but I find that Griffith is the most fun one to think and talk and speculate about with the other people in the fandom after the fact. I appreciate him a lot now as an interesting character and an antagonist, but he isn't exactly a beloved blorbo to me the way Guts is so much as he is the guy I like to rotate on a spit in my mind and listen to other fans talk about and to contemplate the most, maybe?

GRIFFGUTS + what was your first impression of this ship? How about now?

All I knew is that a few of my DN mutuals who I think have good taste liked the ship, which made me mildly interested to see what I thought about it myself going in, though I didn't really expect to be that into it myself. Then I was taken aback by how strongly the story seemed to be actually based around the relationship between these two and how actually gay it was between them both, haha. I was conflicted a bit about it and whether or not I actually cared to ship it as I was reading it, particularly because of the grosser stuff that Griffith does during the Eclipse really putting me off him for a good chunk of time. But I think after I finished the manga and sat chewing on it a bit longer I kept wondering how the story might have changed if those two had been able to communicate a little better with each other and make some different choices and have some important realizations pre-Eclipse. It's one of my absolute fave tropes as well, the codependent besties that maybe actually both secretly have feelings for each other that then turn into enemies, when you can also see that maybe they probably actually could've easily turned into lovers instead. And I just feel like at the end of the day even though it's clearly never going to be a happily ever after or whatever at this point that I think they both still kinda love each other too, whether or not they admit it or whether anybody approves lol. It's one of those ships that to me is just like, why do I ship them? IDK bro, because they ship themselves... ask THEM why they're still into each other even now and even despite everything... I feel like I'm just simply sitting here listening to what they're saying and picking up what they're putting down lol

[character ask meme]

[my-hyperfixation-hell]

anyone else notice Jingliu was considerably gentle with Yanqing considering her training methods with Blade? (1.2 spoilers for late players)

first thing i need to say here is gentle is a very RELATIVE term. we're comparing her methods with Yanqing to literally (cw for canontypical violence here) fatally wounding Blade over and over again, knowing his immortality wouldn't let him actually die, just suffer, and taking into consideration the fact that she is Marastruck, hindering her ability to behave rationally. We're talking "gentle" for someone like that.

Her initial challenge to him is to kill more enemies, not to actually fight each other. when she DID fight him. her reasoning (or so she says) was because if she let him fight Blade, Blade would kill him, and there is a pretty big chance imo that would've happened if Kafka hadn't stepped in, and if he hadn't been preoccupied with Dan Heng, especially considering despite knowing he's outclassed, Yanqing refused to yield to either Jingliu or Dan Heng and Blade, Jingliu just disappeared on him and Kafka stepped in. Instead, she gives him the option to fight her instead, stating that she'll kill him with mercy, but it seems like she's giving him a choice, especially because she doesn't attack until Yanqing steps forward and accepts. She even praises his courage, and I may just not be detecting the tone properly, but it sounded like genuine approval to me.

Which leaves the question; would she have let Yanqing go if he backed down from fighting her, and stopped pursuing Blade?

In the end, she does get what she wants from him, some records. But she also leaves him alive, even saying her final move was "a token of her appreciation."

Yanqing himself seems surprised he was able to deflect it, and while I think there are a few reasons she left him alive, that was probably what earned her his respect and was the foremost reason why she decided to let him go; he proved himself to her.

I have a few thoughts on the other, perhaps more sentimental reasons. For starters, their shared connection to Jing Yuan. If any part of her still cares about him, which I believe she does, I think sparing Yanqing for him was a big factor in her mind.

On a similar note, I wonder if Yanqing reminds Jingliu of Jing Yuan when he was younger. Jing Yuan, in the trailer The Animated Flash, seems like he was just a little younger than Yanqing is now when Jingliu began training him.

Thirdly, while Yanqing clearly wasn't on her level, I believe he did impress her. If nothing else, killing him would be a waste of talent. I'm not just talking about the deflecting of her final move. I think his persistence and courage impressed her, too. I think she recognized Yanqing's decision to fight her didn't come from him arrogantly assuming he could win, but from his sense of duty (and, admittedly, his recklessness.)

Fourth, Jingliu nowadays seems to have considerable control over herself for someone Marastruck. I've already posted a theory on why that might be, but tl;dr without 1.3 spoilers, I think a certain someone might be helping her, similar to how Kafka helps Blade. That said, unlike our usual marastruck victims, Jingliu is able to somewhat rein herself in nowadays, whereas when she trained Blade, she might've had less self control. This may lend itself to the idea that enough of the person Jingliu was before the Mara was left to realize killing Yanqing would be senseless. After all, he poses no real threat to her. The worst he can do is let Jing Yuan know she's out there, considering she did give Yanqing her real name.

And fifth, Blade was someone Jingliu possibly projected her own feelings on being Marastruck onto. Whatever hatred she has for herself becoming an abomination, she may see in him, too, though this is largely speculation. I also think she went harder on him because unlike Yanqing, still under Jing Yuan's wing, Blade had no one else to protect him at that time. Blade had to be self sufficient, had to learn to endure pain and survive on his own. In her own, Marastruck way, I think there's a possibility that may have been Jingliu's attempt to take care of Blade.

This is a lot of rambling for someone who doesn't look at leaks or read a lot of the collectable books lying around, so I could have missed the mark entirely, but I wanted to brainstorm some reasons for fun, and they give me hope for Jingliu in the future.

She does mention at the end of their fight, after disappearing, that she suspects she'll see Yanqing again, so I hope we get to see that play out and get some more of the grand mentor and grand apprentice dynamic. It really fascinates me to see Jingliu interact with someone so much younger from the Xianzhou. Yanqing is brave and talented, but still young and in training. There's still a part of him in canon that's almost naive and still has a lot to learn, and his quest with Jingliu really highlights that. I think they make really good foils to each other because of that, and I like the idea that any mentorly (or dare my found family loving brain say maternal) affection Jingliu once had for Jing Yuan, in her own way, carries down to her treatment of Yanqing.

But who knows. As always I'd love to hear if anyone else has thoughts, but please avoid anything based on leaked content! I try to dodge that stuff like the plague.

[justrainandcoffee]

“Have you ever fallen in love?” (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc)

Alfie x Rose Modern masterlist. || Classic masterlist

Summary: He's not used to be loved. She's not used to love. Rose believes, she knows, that's something wrong with her. Alfie is determined to prove her wrong. What she is only makes her feelings more valuable.

Warnings: LGBTQ+ themes. || Aromantism. || Modern!AU.|| A bit of angst and hurt/comfort.

Words: 1.6k || Based on this moodboard.

Alfie can see the love in her eyes, in her actions. He can see the way she smiles at him before kissing him or the way she's always touching a part of him, his hands, his beard or arms, like trying to be sure that he's real.

June 2020.

"What?" Alfie asks, looking at her before caressing her nose with one of his fingers. His girlfriend is next to him in bed. Rose is looking at him as well, so she smiles.

And it's scary and beautiful at the same time feeling that love. Alfie was used to be the one seeking affection, he still is, only that this time is reciprocal.

Tommy was always colder. Alfie was the one initiating the affection. It doesn't mean that Tommy never sought comfort in Alfie because that wasn't true. In those three years they were together, Tommy always found comfort in him after a tough day. But statistically speaking, the seeker was Alfie.

It's beautiful because he can see that she loves him. And it's scary because that's something new for him. He's not used to be loved.

"Nothing," she replies, before snuggling up against his chest.

What Alfie doesn't know is that for her is scarier than it is for him. Because Rose really never loved the way she loves him.

.

She always felt that there was something wrong with her. When she was a teen girl and she and her friends started dating, they were always talking about how much they loved their partners and Rose only smiled and agreed. But it wasn't true. She cared about her first boyfriend, he was a good guy and also a good classmate. They met when both were 17 and Lucian loved her but…

Countless nights after they broke up, she felt like a bitch. It was her fault, clearly, her mind said.

When she finished school and started to study fashion design, during those years she met a couple of men, but it wasn't serious.

In 2010, when Rose was 22, she met James Thorn two years older than her. There and only there, everything felt different.

James was photographer and she saw him for the first time when he was taking pictures to a model posing with a dress made by her. A smile here, a smile there ended with him inviting her to a bar.

Rose never knew why with James everything felt different but it was. Months after that first date she found herself thinking about him like she never thought about anyone else before. The idea of spending time with him even if it was just for drink a coffee caused her to smile stupidly. She loved the way he called her "Sita" a short for "Rosita". Rose loved the way he made her feel. James was the first one to whom Rose said a sincere "I love you."

But when that love was tested, it failed.

It was over two years later, when her mother received an offer to work in New York. Working and living there it was going to be beneficial for her and her youngest son. She offered Rose the chance to go with her. New York could give her more opportunities and she knew she was good doing her job so she'd success. But James could never accept to move to another country. He had a good job there in London. So for the first time she had to make a difficult choice: it was him or it was her family and her future.

The second option, painful as it was, won the battle.

.

"Do you think some people is broken, Al?" she asks when she stops thinking about her past for a moment. Rose leaves her spot on his chest to look at him again.

"It depends, luv. Some people are broken, yes but no one of them was born broken. "

"Sometimes I think I was born broken."

"But it's not true."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"Have you ever fallen in love?" she asks.

"Yes. You know, I told you. I promised myself not to feel that again after what happened with Tommy and then you appeared. And life, and you, give me another chance."

"And before him?"

"Yes. Not so important but I did love them. You don't?" Alfie wants to know. She remains in silence.

.

"I thought you loved me, Rose."

"I do love you, James. But I love my family too and it's a good opportunity for her in America and for me too."

"That's it, then."

"Jamie, you still can come with me. That talk we had months ago…"

Both James and Rose had a conversation about their future. He was 26 and she was 24 when they talked about living together. It was a huge step but both of them agreed that they were ready to do it.

"No, I can't. Sita, I'm not going to stopped you because I know that even if I try, you're going to follow your instincts. You're that kind of person and I love you for that. I can't go with you, babe. I can't. This is my place, but if you decide that you want to return, I'm here."

People around them used to joke with them because of her name, Rose, and his last name, Thorn. Technically there's no roses without thorns. They seemed destined to be. But it happens that when the rose dies, only the thorns remain. And something similar happened here: Rose flew far away and Thorn stayed there.

.

"There's something wrong with me," she says "so don't ask me if I loved before because I don't know. I tend to ruin every relationship I'm in."

Alfie narrows his eyes "shit happens, luv, but I don't think it's your fault. Relationships not always work. I'm the one to blame for breaking up with some of my partners, too and…"

"But you did love them! I don't! I tried, so hard! I cried a lot of nights, thinking why! If they were good guys, then why I didn't love them, Alfie! I only succeeded once and yet, I ruined too when I went to New York. And it terrifies me that can happen again but this time with you. I love you. I love you the way normal people talk about love and maybe more… and I… if I lose you-"

"You're not going to lose me. I'm not going to let that happen, sweetheart," Alfie pushes her against his body and she hides her head on his neck. His fingers caresses her scalp softly. "You need to hear me now, Rosie. Because I'm starting to understand what's going on. You're not broken, luv. You, like me, are built different from what society expect from people. So, let me ask you: Did you hear about aromantic people?"

"A bit, maybe, in media."

"Mmm, okay, let me-" Alfie stretches his left arm to grab his phone and quickly he Googles something. The man offers his device to her. "Tell me if this is how you feel or felt in the past."

For the first in her life she reads the word "demiromantic". At her 32 years old Rose understands that she was never broken or anormal. She was simply different.

"That's me," she says reading the article for third time "that's me. Oh god… there's nothing wrong with me, then?"

Alfie smiles at her before wiping her tears away "No, Rosie. You're perfect."

"I love you. I really do."

"I know and now, knowing this," he says tapping the phoned where the article is still open "that makes your love even more valuable because you're not giving it to random people but truly to the person you really love. And Rosie, I don't know if I deserve it."

"You do."

"Look at us," he says kissing her forehead briefly "we're the stupid who promised himself not to fall in love again and the one who thought that was too broken to love. How wrong can a person be?"

Her answer is to kiss him until the clothes start to be a nuisance.

She did love James. A lot. But it didn't work. Would it have worked if she had stayed? Impossible to know. Same way it's impossible to know if his relationship with Tommy would've worked if he had given his ex that second chance.

Only one thing it's true: That afternoon while rain starts to fall all over London, inside that empty Inn, Alfie and Rose love at each other. And deep down inside them, they know it's working. And they know it'll work out in the future, too.

It's scary, yes. But also beautiful. And as far as they know that's what love is made of.