#you can see the lack of sleep settle in more and more with each page

[disc0bandit]

This scene from Hounds by @xx-vergil-xx lives in my heart forever so I drew it

[pathologicalreid]

Hii I am making a Spencer Reid x citizen! F reader. They have been dating for a really long time but for a while reader has been dealing with a stalker, suddenly the stalker becomes much more violent and maybe even kidnaps her if we want to get real cray cray. Just lots of protective reid and angst to comfort!!

don't lose your head | S.R.

a stalker uses your work as a tudor history professor to follow your every move, so you go to the only place you can think of for help - the BAU

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: professor!reader, fiance!spencer, erotomaniac stalker, lots of tudor history facts, kidnapping, decapitation, happy ending, s11 (post-maeve), guns, death, spencer feels a lot of guilt, unhelpful police, exhaustion, nausea, dry heaving word count: 3.71k a/n: yall if i wanted to make this into a series would you read it 😭 i had so much fun writing this!!! and yes the title is a reference to six! thank you sooo much for requesting!!

you

You told Spencer after the fourth note. While the first two had been near your office door – harmless enough to have been brushed off as a student prank, the third note had been left on your desk. When someone had gotten into your locked office to leave you an intense love letter, you knew you were out of your depth.

After years of hearing stories about the BAU needing to battle the chain of command, you thought the best thing to do was to first go to the campus police. You were a professor, so the natural assumption was that they’d look into it.

They didn’t even take a report. No one listened to you.

From the campus police, you went into the city police, then the county, and by the time you marched into DC Metro, you hadn’t slept in a day. Spencer was in Utah on a case, and you didn’t have anywhere else to go. Once DC Metro told you there was nothing they could do without an open investigation or further evidence, you went back to your apartment.

The fourth note was there waiting for you, covering the camera that you kept on your front door.

Since you had the first three notes already in your bag, you plucked the newest one from where it was stationed on the front door and stuffed it in with the others before making the trip down to Quantico.

You had no idea when the team would be back, but the security guards at the front desk recognized you from the times you’d come to pick Spencer up or bring him lunch and they let you up anyway.

There were no notifications on your phone from Spencer letting you know that they were flying home, but the only place you felt safe was in their headquarters. The idea of going to see Penelope crossed your mind, but as a profiler-adjacent, she’d likely see right through you. You never dropped by, especially not when Spencer was away.

Settling yourself at his desk, you pulled an empty manila folder from a drawer, placed the notes neatly inside, and left it on Spencer’s desk before sitting in his chair and waiting for something to happen.

“Hey, Reid,” you heard a familiar voice from behind you. Slowly, you spun the chair around and looked at the team as they filtered in the glass doors.

Confused, Spencer tilted his head at you, clearly wondering why you were staking out the bullpen as he approached you. As he got closer, he observed the bags under your eyes, bloodshot from your lack of sleep over the last few days, “What’s wrong?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you clutched the folder like your life depended on it – for all you knew, it did. Your eyes followed Spencer as he knelt in front of you, accepting the folder when you handed it to him, “I think I’m in trouble,” you whispered, voice raspy from lack of use.

Your fiancé flipped through the pages, reading each of them a few times while you garnered attention from other members of the BAU. Tara, Derek, and JJ all crowded around Spencer’s desk, curious on your surprise appearance.

“I…” you faltered as you tried to explain what felt inexplicable. “The first one was folded over the doorknob of my office, the second one was slid beneath the door to my office, the third one was left on my desk, and the fourth one,” you glanced nervously at Spencer, “it was on the apartment door.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, “apartment door? Our apartment door?” As he questioned you, he stood up, leaving you with four federal agents staring down at you.

Despondently, you nodded, steepling your fingers in your lap and letting your shoulders droop.

“I’ll go get Hotch,” JJ said, nodding at everyone else to confirm her intentions before turning around, making her way up the steps to Hotch’s office.

From there, you ended up in the roundtable room. Tara had personally brought the letters for the lab to be checked for prints, and the techs had sent Garcia scans that were now projected on the screen. Each member of the team had them up on tablets, but you and Spencer knew the words by heart.

Shaking her head, Tara looked up at everyone, “I mean, who writes like this anymore? ‘But if you please to do the office of a true loyal mistress and friend, and to give yourself up body and heart to me, who will be, and have been, your most loyal servant,” she shrugged, continuing to look over the letters.

“They’re love letters,” you explained, tugging the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your palms before crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “The words aren’t original, they’re all passages from the love letters of Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn.”

Pointing to something on her screen, JJ frowned, “And what does his greeting mean? He always starts with ‘my rose without a thorn’.”

Nodding dejectedly, you focused your eyes on the now-empty manila folder on the table in front of you. “That was what Henry VIII called Catherine Howard, she was his youngest wife. It’s widely accepted among scholars that she was around seventeen when they got married, but others say she could’ve been as young as fifteen,” you answered, wondering if more details would help the investigation.

“So, we have Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, which wives were those?” Rossi asked, looking around the table for someone who knew the answer.

In the middle of scrawling something on an evidence board, Spencer answered quickly, “Two and five.”

Folding your hands in your lap, you scoured your memory for anything that could be helpful. When Hotch asked if those numbers meant everything to you, you just shook your head. “Is there any significance to the two wives he chose being Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard?”

Your lips parted in surprise as the blood drained from your face, “They were the two wives who were beheaded.”

An eerie silence fell over the room, interrupted only by a chime from Penelope’s laptop, her shoulders slumped forward in abject disappointment, “The lab didn’t find anything on the letters. No prints, no hair… nothing, but uh…” her voice trailed off as she looked up at Hotch, it was almost like she was seeking permission.

Each member of the BAU looked at each other with the same concerned expression on their faces. “What do you all know that I don’t?”

“Two bodies turned up last week in the greater DC area,” Morgan was the brave soul who spoke up, “they were both missing their heads, and they were both college professors.”

Goosebumps spread over your entire body, a chill of fear causing the tip of your nose to feel cold, “Oh, I…” you fumbled over your words, standing up from your chair and rushing to leave the roundtable, nearly throwing yourself out of the bullpen on your way to the women’s restroom.

Entering one of the stalls, you haphazardly gathered your hair at the back of your head and you dry heaved into the toilet. You dropped to your knees as nothing came out.

A knock at the door barely garnered your attention, you didn’t even bother responding as Spencer was already entering the stall, “Oh, honey.”

That was it, you sat back on your heels as tears welled in your eyes, looking up at Spencer as he sat down next to you. Immediately, you turned your body to face him and leaned forward.

Welcomingly, Spencer grabbed you, firmly wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you into his lap, “I have you. I’m right here.” His voice was gentle, no more than a whisper as he kept a firm pressure around your body, “You’re safe with me,” he reassured you, using one hand to keep you upright and the other to rub your back as you cried.

Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as you wept, the sensation of fear ran through your body like electricity, and you felt content for the first time in days in the safety of Spencer’s arms. “I- I just teach. I’m n- not built for this,” you cried, words slightly muffled by his shoulder.

You were a history professor, teaching a course on the six wives of Henry VIII, this was never even in the realm of things you considered when putting together your syllabus.

Taking a shaky breath, you pulled away from Spencer, and he reached behind you for a wad of toilet paper to dry your face. “Spence,” you said, though it came out as more of a whimper.

“When’s the last time you slept?” He asked, cupping both of your cheeks in his hands while he studied your exhausted expression.

Shrugging, you shuffled off of him, dropping the wad of toilet paper in the bowl and flushing it, “A day? Two?” You weren’t entirely sure what day it currently was, the events of the last few had caused everything to sort of blend together.

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Okay,” he responded, slipping his phone out of his pocket before typing something out, “Why don’t you go lie down in Morgan’s office for a little while? He won’t mind.”

You blinked a few final tears from your eyes before affirming, “Yeah, uh. I need to grab something from my car.”

“Okay, are you parked in the garage? I’ll go down with you,” he offered, getting up and lending you a hand up, mumbling about the state of the bathroom floor as he did so.

After washing your hands, the two of you made your way through the hall and to the elevator before Garcia called out for Reid, “Hotch needs you for something, he said it’s urgent.”

Glancing back at you, he pursed his lips before selecting a lower-level special agent to go with you to the parking garage. “Be right back,” you told him as you stepped onto the elevator.

him

Once he was finished with Hotch, Spencer made his way back down the hallway, expecting to find yourself settling in Morgan’s office only to find it empty. Turning back in the hallway, he nearly bulldozed into Morgan and JJ, “Hey, what’s the rush?”

“Have either of you seen Y/N?” He asked, trying not to let panic rise in his voice, but there had been ample time for you to get to the parking garage and back. You should’ve been back by now.

The two of them shared a look, “Uh, no, I haven’t seen her since she left the roundtable room. Is she alright?” JJ asked, blue eyes filled with concern.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Spencer hit the number one on speed dial – your number – and brought the phone to his ear before rushing to the elevator and moving to the side as JJ and Morgan piled in with him. Frantically pushing the button for the parking level, he cursed as the phone went to voicemail.

“Reid, what is it?” Morgan asked as the elevator started moving down.

Redialing your number, Spencer muttered to himself, hoping you’d pick up, “I sent her down with an agent. Hotch needed my apartment key so that Tara and Rossi could go look for anything.”

As the steel doors opened, the three of them drew their firearms, each of them taking a different direction when Spencer realized he didn’t even know where you had parked your car. “We have an agent down,” Morgan called out, calling Garcia and putting the phone on speaker. “Baby girl, we need medical and crime scene techs down to the lower-level parking garage,” he said into the phone.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, garnering his attention as he made his way through the garage to where JJ and Morgan were now stood, Morgan was applying pressure on Agent Franks’ wound, and JJ was looking at a car.

The passenger door to your car was open, and the vehicle was chiming as an alert to get you to close the door. As he stepped forward, something glimmered at the edge of his vision. Crouching down, he picked up your engagement ring from the cement, “He’s got her,” he said, a wave of déjà vu nearly toppling him over.

Impatiently waiting for the elevator to take him back up to the sixth floor, Spencer trudged to the roundtable room, desperate for another look at the evidence board. The dates of each letter that you had received, the content of each letter, and the reason for all of this didn’t make any sense to him.

It had to be an erotomaniac, it was the only thing that made sense. You were an object of someone’s desires, and their delusion had to have become so strong that they took you.

Quietly, someone stepped into the roundtable room behind him, “What are you thinking about?”

Imminent death. Statistics of harm and death in cases involving erotomanic kidnappings. “Synchronicity,” he answered simply, entertaining JJ’s conversation as he continued to study the letters. The love letters were at the core of it all, so the answer needed to be written in there. Everything that had come to you was almost an exact copy of words written by Henry VIII.

“Ah, that’s Jung, right?” JJ asked, her voice was kind, and she was using the same tone she used when doing cognitive interviews with victims. He didn’t have time for her pity, they were on a clock.

Sighing, Spencer picked his dry-erase marker back up and scrawled on the board, “It’s a concept that he introduced, yes. It’s meant to describe the occurrence of events which seem like they’re significantly related but there’s no discernable causation.”

JJ nodded understandingly, taking a spot next to him and looking at the notes, “And what occurrence of events are we thinking about right now?”

“I suppose more than anything, I’m wondering if there’s an action that I took in the past that somehow caused me to find myself in this situation twice,” he answered, circling the word ‘the place chosen by yourself’ on the evidence board.

Humming, JJ turned to face him, “Does Y/N know?”

Pressing his lips together in a thin, white line, he nodded tightly, “I told her years ago, when we had first started dating, actually. I never thought…” his voice trailed off as he set down the marker, “She came to me, JJ. She came here to be safe, and he grabbed her from the parking garage.”

“You sent her down there with an agent, you thought you were doing the right thing,” JJ tried to comfort him.

Scoffing dismissively, he stepped back and took a seat in one of the chairs, “I can’t stop thinking about if it would’ve made a difference. If her asking me for help would have fixed anything, or if it would have ended the same way.”

Taking a seat near him, JJ paused for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words, before responding, “We can’t really afford to think like that though, in our line of work.”

Spencer scoffed, “No, we can’t. Especially not now, but the timing of it is weird. It’s been almost exactly four years, and now…” his voice trailed off as his eye caught on something on the paper. “The timing is off,” he muttered, picking up the first letter you had received.

“What is it, Spence?” JJ asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

Shaking his head, he read the letter again, “This letter, it’s from the first letter Henry VIII wrote to Anne Boleyn, but in this version, he says he’s been waiting for months to be with her, but they waited seven years to be together because they were waiting for his marriage to Catherine of Aragon to be annulled.”

Still confused, JJ leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, “Okay, what does that mean.”

“We ruled out a student because the crimes didn’t read as mature, but what if it’s a different kind of student?” He proposed, standing up from the chair abruptly and starting to write on the board.

Rolling her chair closer to the board, she shrugged, “I’m not sure I’m following.”

Holding up a single finger, Spencer wrote a name down on the board, “Y/N has a grad student TA, he’s been working toward his PhD for seven years. He’s been her TA for three months – that lines up with the timeline in the letters.”

“Okay,” JJ said, starting to follow along, she waved at the team members in the bullpen to get their attention before hitting the call button on the conference phone. “Penelope, what do you have on a Geoffrey Williamson? He’s a TA in Y/N’s class.”

There was typing on the other line before a sound of disgust came from the technical analyst, “He is a different kind of smarmy, it looks like he transferred programs two years ago to Y/N’s university after he… oh. It looks like he bounced from foster home to foster home as a kid, his parents never fully gave up their rights but couldn’t follow through on their case plan. He was unsuccessful in his last dissertation defense three months ago,” she continued clacking on her keyboard, “after which his mentor teacher dropped him and the school gave him one more semester before pulling his funding. He asked Y/N to be his new mentor teacher and it looks like she turned him down -very nicely, might I add.”

Scoffing, Morgan crossed his arms in front of his chest, “That sounds like a stressor and a trigger if I’ve ever heard one.

“Garcia,” Hotch spoke into the phone, “Do you have a location for Williamson?”

There was more typing as Spencer could feel his carotid pounding in his throat, “It looks like he lives in student housing, but… he recently inherited an old factory after his biological father passed away two weeks ago.”

Nodding, Hotch looked around the table, “Send us the address, and forward it to Rossi and Lewis too.”

“Done, go get her,” Penelope urged into the phone before hanging up.

He slipped your engagement ring into his pocket before adjusting the strap on his Kevlar, thrumming with nervous energy as Morgan coordinated with SWAT, waiting outside of the old textile factory as the tactical team organized themselves in front of the BAU.

Spencer and JJ took the left side, Rossi and Tara took the right, and Morgan and Hotch went through the main doors.

“No!” Your voice broke out through the steel corridors of the factory, immediately followed by a yelp.

There was an awful noise then, like metal scraping against itself, “Fucking say it!” An unfamiliar male voice broke out in a holler.

Steeling himself, Spencer had to hold himself back from rushing into the room where your voice was coming from, each one of your sobs was like another strike at his resolve. “Good Christian people,” he heard you say, your voice was strained, “I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to- to-“ Your voice broke off into a heap of wails.

“What is she saying?” JJ whispered, waiting for SWAT to clear the corridor.

All of the blood had drained from Spencer’s face, “She’s reciting Anne Boleyn’s execution speech, from right before she was beheaded.”

JJ nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation – they needed to get in there, and they needed to do it quickly. SWAT waved them over, and the two of them filtered through the open doorway. The space was dimly illuminated by candles, but the only thing Spencer could focus on was your head, bowed toward the ground as you watched the ground. Above you, Geoffrey was holding a sword, ready to cut your head off.

“Geoffrey Williamson, FBI!” JJ called out, announcing themselves to the UnSub before he could get any further in his convoluted execution, “Put the sword down! Let Y/N go.”

Spencer clocked the UnSub’s grip tightening on the sword as he zeroed in on you, “I can’t! She has to pay for this! She has to finish the speech.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but as you raised your head slightly, he found himself silenced by your gaze. Roll, he mouthed the words to you, hoping Williamson was too focused on JJ to notice what he was trying to tell you.

“And by the law I am judged to die,” you continued the speech, your voice wavering.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer watched as the UnSub raised the sword despite JJ’s instructions to set it on the ground, “Y/N, stop talking!”

Releasing another sob, you finished the execution speech, “And therefore I will speak nothing against it.”

As soon as the last word was out of your mouth, Williamson brought the sword down, and as it swung, two things happened. JJ pulled the trigger on her firearm, killing the UnSub, and you rolled out of the way, the chains that bound your hands and feet clanging on the ground as you did so.

Holstering his weapon, Spencer ran over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you, “It’s done. It’s over,” he tried to reassure you, but you had begun struggling against your restraints as Spencer tried to settle you down, “Stop, it’s me, baby. Baby, it’s me,” he said desperately.

Once you had maneuvered yourself into a sitting position, you looked at Spencer with big, watery eyes before completely breaking down. “I just wanted it to end,” you babbled as your face crumpled.

“I know, honey,” he said, reaching out to pull you close as JJ contacted the rest of the team, asking for a chain cutter to get your restraints off of you as they weren’t able to find the keys on the body. “He’s gone, you’re safe,” he urged, holding you tightly.

You weren’t seriously injured, but there were enough bumps and bruises to make Spencer insist on a trip to the hospital. Until the EMTs could make it to you, he was fine with holding you on the floor of the factory. Keeping you close. Keeping you safe with him.

[strlingsav]

Hiiii Sav 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Could I request a Ghost x reader trope that's like... love based off forced proximity/ circumstances? Can be in their line of duty, fake marriage, but please get creative🫶🏼 and smut ofc!! Thank you for reading 😸

Hellooo! 🫶🏻

You most definitely can, enjoy!

Closer

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— A months-long assignment has landed you in isolation with Ghost.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Your usual assignments were done alone. A few weeks, hunkered down in an abandoned site, surviving on MREs, cigarettes, and any alcohol you could find. They were the closest to a vacation you'd ever have, save for the uniform, guns and ammunition.

More often than not, you saved yourself from the warfare and stuck to surveillance. It was your specialty, a skill you'd turned into a career and notably so. John Price himself had requested you for the specially important recon mission, hearing talk from your past contracts about your detailed work.

In the past, you'd not opened yourself up to be recruited to a task force in hopes that you could keep some semblance of a normal life. Once you submerged yourself in your work, that went out the window. So you agreed, flew out to the location, and were dropped on a farm bordering a nearby city, of which Captain Price wanted more information. The rest was classified.

Not long after your arrival, you'd watched an armoured truck pull up the long gravel driveway. The soldier that jumped out, Ghost- as you'd learned to call him, was also assigned to your post. At first, you'd been irritated with Price for neglecting this detail, but once you'd learned that he was quiet and kept to himself, you didn't mind.

And he kept true to that fist impression. The introduction was short, hardly sweet, lacking emotion in his eyes and any effort in his voice. He towered above you, his body like that of a goddamn bear, and it made you nervous to share a house with him.

To say you didn't sleep with your pistol loaded would've been a lie- especially the first few nights alone with him. Of course, he insisted he'd keep to the first floor of the farmhouse, but you didn't trust the worn locks to keep a man his size out.

He took the night watch, often reminding you he had never been able to sleep, and was usually still awake during the day. Occasionally, he'd sneak off and rest for a few minutes, where you'd find him with his legs up on the aged sofa, hand across his face, soft snores on every exhale. It nearly made you smile the first time you saw it.

Your days were filled with quiet. Hours spent with your eyes peering through a pair of binoculars, jotting quick notes in the margins of already-full pages. Dates, times, movement, people, places. All of it, recorded, while Ghost played defence on the balcony, and lent an extra set of eyes.

You grew to enjoy the quiet. The deliberate looks while you passed each other, the knowing glances when you'd settle by the fireplace and eat your ready-made meals together. It was a silent routine that you'd perfected within the last few months. You eventually found yourself leaving the doors unlocked, putting away your pistol while you slept.

You began to nearly read each others' minds. Smooth, seamless interactions that made everyday pass with ease. Ghost was beginning to grow on you- the calming presence he offered, the endearing, mindless conversations that took place behind a bottle of bourbon. He even had a sense of humour- fucked as it was.

He was always willing to talk, to endure your mindless chatting every once-in-a-while. You'd not had an assignment with anyone else in a long time, and though your social skills were somewhat lacking, you could see Ghost becoming more comfortable. He enjoyed himself, actually.

"Price never told me, is this your first surveillance assignment?" You asked, setting the bourbon down on the table between you.

He shook his head, the skull staring back at you becoming a bit blurry under the influence. "Been other places before. Mostly infiltration, extraction, target searches, but not my first."

You sat back in your seat, your pyjama bottoms a laughable contrast to Ghost, who still sat in his uniform. You didn't think you'd seen him change, or whether he even owned civilian clothing.

You weren't usually so lax- didn't usually let your guard down after only a few months, but Ghost seemed to lure you in. You hoped it wouldn't prove to be a mistake.

"I do this a lot. Mostly alone," You replied, watching him intently as he lifted the bottle to his lips, and took a swig.

"Guess my bein' here throws you off, then." He swallowed.

"Not at all," You shook your head, your eyes watching him closely. "It's been surprisingly pleasant. I'm not as lonely as I usually am."

His gaze softened, acknowledging your compliment with a short nod. In truth, he'd grown fond of you too. Your little quirks, your sense of humour, even the way in which you organized yourself and your things day-to-day. Your appearance was just a perk. You hadn't caught him watching you, yet- he was sure you'd go back to locking your door if you had.

His watching wasn't entirely innocent, either. He'd catch glimpses of your thighs, your stomach; even your neck drove him mad. Shamefully, he'd finished to fabricated images of kneeling between those pyjama-clad thighs, watching your face contort with pleasure. Your gentle eyes and painfully inviting lips were always teasing him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to a woman, lived with a woman. Regardless of whether it was an assignment, he began to feel comfortable in the abandoned house- like it was home. And as long as you were around, he found himself entirely distracted by you- whether it be your conversation or your face. So, your allusion to finding his company pleasant made his stomach flip.

"Still lonely though?" He inquired, his thighs spreading as he made himself comfortable on the rickety chair.

"You know how it is, I'm sure," You shrugged.

He did know. Fuck, did he ever know. But he wanted to hear you say it- hear you admit how lonely you are, how badly you missed being touched, kissed, fucked. It would make his intentions much less complicated.

"Not sure I do," He shook his head.

Your lips split into a grin- he was baiting you. You decided to give in, to see where it could lead.

"There are certain parts of you that'll always be lonely. Especially in our line of work." Your eyebrows raised.

His eyes pored into yours, watching you from beneath the yellowed kitchen light. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden table, before he took another shot of bourbon. You rubbed your lips together- were you making more of his charcoal eyes staring you down, or was he imagining relieving some of the loneliness you so boldly talked about?

Your confidence had ultimately been increased with your drinking, and especially as his body language welcomed you in. Open arms, thighs spread, chest out.

"Doesn't always have to be that way," He said in return- optimism; unexpected but appreciated. His hips shifted again, sitting up straight as he subconsciously leaned in closer to you. "'M sure you've got options." Right there in front of you.

Was it an offer, or simply polite reassurance?

"Not as many as you'd think. And none as tempting as the one I shouldn't even be considering." You said, your eyes slowly lifting to his.

"What's stoppin' you?" His heart pounded in his chest as he awaited your response.

"Rules," You smiled softly.

You wondered if he had any idea you were referring to himself- surely he wasn't that oblivious. He had moved himself closer to you, watched your lips and tongue as you spoke- he was intrigued.

"Fuck the rules," He shrugged.

A deep breath in allowed you the momentary rush to stand to your feet and step toward him. You were close enough to cautiously lower yourself onto his lap, moving slowly until you were sure he was interested. His large hands flew to your waist as you planted yourself firmly. His expression- the little of which you could see, at least- remained unchanged. He wasn't oblivious.

His hands slid down your sides, gently caressing your hips before rounding your body and landing on your ass. He sighed quietly, almost unnoticeably- but his chest expanded and his grip tightened. A rough squeeze of your ass made you smile.

"Fuck the rules, then," You sighed, watching him grin.

He lifted a hand to your neck, long fingers tangling themselves in your hair, pulling your face closer to his so he could press his lips to yours. His mouth was warm and pleasant- just enough moisture on his lips to be soft to the touch. Your hands wrapped themselves around his shoulders, slowly inching closer as your kiss began to deepen.

His tongue slid against yours, forcing his way between your teeth and finding the soft, welcoming muscle of your tongue. He groaned, air exhaled from his nose fanning your cheeks. You returned the exhale, desperately sucking in air as his paw-like hands grabbed at your ass.

You couldn't help but grind forward, flinching subtly when his hands would palm your ass, or he'd so easily mould you against his body. His fingers were splayed out across your skin, calloused palms scratching the exposed flesh of your backside and thighs; his breaths became quicker with every slide of your hips over his groin.

You took note of what he seemed to enjoy- he was a bit rough, handled you with hint of carelessness and desperation, but you didn't mind. He was caught up in how your breasts felt against his chest, and how the curves of your body were so easy to glide his hands over.

Your fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, exposing your breasts. Ghost hardly blinked, his gaze falling to the supple flesh of your chest, nipples hardening with the impact of cool air.

"Christ," He mumbled to himself, especially hoarse and deep.

"Can I?" You asked softly, your hands reaching his shirt.

With a short nod, you lifted it over his head, revealing the physique of a hardened soldier- muscular, lean, bulky. Scars and burns acquired during his deployments flexed and rippled with his movements, his biceps popping up as he reached your hips with even greedier hands.

You'd stood to slide your shorts down your thighs, watching him lean forward to watch closely, to see every bit of you as best as possible. His eyes tracked from your breasts to your hips, eyeing the panties you wore, a single finger reaching out to hook beneath the fabric and tug it down.

In one fell swoop, his fingers slipped your panties off your hips. Before you could straddle him again, he stood to his feet, a hand wrapping around your waist and slowly turning you to his chest.

Goosebumps arose from your skin, his breath fanning the back of your neck, large hands holding you to his chest as his fingers crept toward your pussy.

"Been a long time?" He asked quietly, the rumble of his voice moving through his chest to your back. You shivered.

"Yeah," You nodded absently, arching your back, widening your stance when his finger reached between your folds. "A few years," You breathed, your head turning to find his eyes.

He leaned closer, his lips beside your ear as he simultaneously found your clit, applying the smallest amount of pressure to make your knees weaken.

"Stuck to doin' it yourself, yeah?"

Your cheeks flushed with heat, nodding slowly again, against his chest.

"Yes," You gulped.

"It ain't the same, is it?" He asked rhetorically, watching your nostrils flare, your tongue wet your lips as you writhed against him. "Don't get as wet when it's your own fingers?"

You shook your head.

"You're fuckin' wet now, sweetheart," He said, gruff and satisfied. "And I ain't hardly done anythin' yet."

You accepted his deduction, knowing he was right; it had been a long time, and it wasn't the same with your own fingers. Regardless, his warm body pressing against yours, his arms pinning you to him, his hard cock against your ass- he'd already done more than he even knew.

You whimpered quietly, dropping a few inches as he applied more pressure to your clit, working in circles while his lips clung to your neck. You tilted your head, allowing him more access, and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You breathed out, collapsing against his hold, letting him have his way with your pussy. You tried to hold out, to keep yourself composed, but the long, thick fingers rubbing short circles over your clit were going to cut your willpower short. His hand gripped your hip, pulling you against him, encouraging you to grind your ass over his cock.

You did- slow movements as you simultaneously ground your hips against his fingers. His breathing had picked up in your ear, harsh exhales as he held your body in his hands. You felt his breaths fan your neck, goosebumps appearing over your skin.

His consistent pace and gentle pressure made it easy to lose every other thought and focus solely on how his actions felt. Not longer after, he'd slid finger inside you, his breath hitching subtly at the feel of your insides. Warm, silky- enveloping him like a well-cushioned bed.

"Fuck, you feel good," He cursed. "You close?" He asked, feeling your thighs tremble.

You could only nod, focusing on the rough actions of his thumb, rubbing over your clit, and his fingers curling gently inside you. Your lips parted in an effort to suck in a breath, eyes shut, savouring the build-up and moments between where utter pleasure only began to spark. It didn't take much longer, your hands holding into his arms for stability as you came over his hand.

He slowly slid his fingers from you, satisfied with the trembling, weakened mess he'd made you into. His hands gently guided you against the table, pressing your chest against the cold wood.

You exhaled sharply, feeling his palm brush down your neck, then your back, before rounding your ass and leaving a gentle smack against your plush cheek.

You twitched, unsuspecting of Ghost kneeling behind you, parting your pussy to watch the liquid arousal seep out of you. You were still convulsing, when his tongue slid against you, his lips slurping against you.

A deep grumble of appreciation left his lips, vibrating through you. Your voice was hoarse, a moan squeezed out of your lungs that bounced off the table and rang loud in your ears.

"Y'alright?" He asked, accompanied by the sound of a belt buckle and zipper being undone.

You nodded, contorting your body to watch as his jeans dropped past his hips and his cock fell from his briefs. Your eyes widened when you felt him against you- he was bigger than anticipated, and you feared the consequences of being abstinent for so many years.

Surprisingly, as he slid in, your natural lubricant allowed him to enter you with ease. The stretch still stung, a quick sensation that made your body shudder. Your hands reached out before you, gripping the table as he filled you, his hips meeting your ass.

"Sorry, love," He muttered, "So goddamn tight."

"Keep going," You whispered, your body moving to watch him again as he thrusted the first few times.

His hands slid up your back, before settling on the curve of your waist. The leverage allowed him to get a better stance, and he bent down to meet your eye-line while his cock slowly penetrated you.

His other hand moved to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb on your jugular, eyes raking over your body but especially the view of his cock sliding in and out. It didn't last long, not when he reached beneath you to flick his fingers across your clit.

You sucked in a breath, letting out a short cry at the overstimulation.

"Was thinkin' about you, like this," He grunted. "Cunt spread open on my cock, that pretty face when you take it."

He was hoarse too, out of breath as his cock slipped in and out, his fingers still working at massaging your clit.

"Take it whenever you want," You pushed out, taking in a deep breath. "Just don't stop."

"Don't say that," He groaned. "Fuck- don't say that."

"I mean it-" You whispered, your eyes filling with tears, landing your cheek against the table. "'S yours," You whispered again. "All yours."

His hips stuttered, pulling his cock out of you before you felt warm liquid land on your back. You shivered again, feeling empty and exposed as he backed away.

He grabbed the nearest cloth, wiping it swiftly over your backside before you spun around to face him.

He arranged himself, doing his belt back up and adjusting the mask over the bridge of his nose.

"Get up," He said, gesturing for you to sit on the table, one hand around your waist.

"I meant it," Your eyes drifted up and down his body, your hand on his chest preventing him from lifting you. "Now that we have, we may as well take advantage."

Ghost stood quiet for a moment, as if thinking over your deal. He nodded, subtly at first, so subtle you hadn't even noticed, but then he agreed.

"Alright. Now- get on the table, 'n' spread those legs. Been wantin' t'taste you."

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

Season 2 episode 1 [What Can The Damned Really Say to the Damned] - part 4/4

- And now... Mood shift, setting change, back to Dubai, 2022, and the 77 year-long lie. And lord oh lord, we jump right into it with the shot of the bedroom being a cell and Armand selling Louis' art without even telling him the works are up for sale. Greaaaat. This is gonna be fun.

[Louis] "'Could I see the pages we removed? Of Claudia's diaries?'

[Armand] 'We made an agreement.'

[Louis] 'I don't know what else is blurred or misremembered.'

[Armand] 'My name is in some of those pages.'

[Louis] 'I sit across from him and reckon with the knowledge I don't know what other misrememberings made into it. I won't share them with him but I need to read them again.'"

Brb, need to SCREAM. Oh, the control Armand us exercising over Louis... The way he micromanages every aspect of his life. The way Louis has to bargain for everything he wants, and the way he thanks (thanks!!!) Armand for every breadcrumb thrown his way. The way Armand cares more about his image, his reputation, his grip on Louis, than Louis' well-being and peace of soul and mind. And the way the scene is shot and designed, the bars behind the bed and the skyscraper settling, the lack of any colors and any homey furniture, the huge bed with an ocean separating them, contrasting with the comfy house and room of 1132 rue Royale, and how Lestat and Louis used to sleep entwined in each other's embrace... I will go mad.

- BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THE ENTRANCE HAND IN HAND, ARE THEY SERIOUS. Oh, this is too hilarious. And how they drop the hands as soon as they're seated, yeah, real convincing, fellas.

- Oh, Devil's Minion's crumb! Armand responding to Daniel by mimicking his "Yeah" and those big eyes looking so amused and fond at that old man. Couldn't care less about the Loumand, I'm here for the Devil's Minion. What a performance, Louis rubbing Armand's shoulder, lmao.

- Daniel shutting down Armand immediately is hilarious. "Sure, sire, you're on the record, but you still haven't made an appearance in the story so for now stfu and wait for your turn". No wonder Armand goes crazy about Daniel, that guy doesn't know how to be afraid. And second shoulder pat, Lou, hon... You're enjoying this, aren't you. You are enjoying the way Daniel puts Armand back in his place, something you haven't managed to do in years, despite what you both like to pretend.

- Oh, I love that piece of music! That one is "The Whole World Was Ready to Return" and it is gorgeous. It's played here, as Claudia and Louis go to Paris, and at the end, when Louis issues his threat/warning to the vampires in Dubai. Very thematic. The music in s2 is different from the music in s1, by the way. S1 soundtrack had very folk/blues undertones, New Orleans style, while s2 is much more orchestral/symphonic, Paris style. The music adapts itself to the setting, and I adore that. It gives so much more texture to the story.

- [Louis] "The war had turned off the lights, stripped its streets of their beauty, sent its avant-garde into exile. But now, the whole world was ready to return, to remake their lives. Pilgrims, on their hopeful way."

Nah, the avant-garde, at least artistic, was there, just, waaay underground or dangerously flirting with censorship and hidden meanings. In Paris itself during the war, there were several plays written and played against fascism while the Gestapo was patrolling the streets. Notably, though conflictingly, Jean Anouilh's famous "Antigone", in 1944, Josephine Baker singing and spying , as well as Sacha Guitry, who was arrested after the Liberation and accused of collaboration without any evidence, but who managed to save a lot of Jewish artists and personalities by playing double agent, or good ol' Sartre (who hilariously makes a cameo later on in the show) who writes a lot of stuff between '40 and' 44. Anyway. There's more but I ain't have time right now to do serious research. Back to Louis.

- [Louis] "'I wanna say something to you. I don't need to hear anything back I just need you to hear me. Hard words and soft words. The hard. Our life is shit. It's been shit. It is shit. It's gonna be shit again. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. No one's watching, no one cares. A shit life beats no life. But where we're going now we can't be running away again. Doesn't mean we forget what we saw. What she did in front of us. I see you going that way I'm gonna pull you back. I don't need that from you. As long as you walk the Earth, I'll never taste the fire, you understand me? We're going to find others like us. Aind if it ain't here, cos life is shit, or I fuck it up again, or you fuck it up, we'll go to the next place. We can't be the only good ones out there. Soft words. If you were the last vampire on Earth... it would be enough. It's you and me. Me and you. You and me. Me and you. You and me.'"

And my hallucination of your dead father.

Anyway that's his child, that's her parent.

Gotta give it to Louis tho, he doesn't lie. Embellishes, obfuscates, but lying, no. As long as Claudia's alive, he's not gonna try the sun. But if she dies... All bets are off.

Also Louis is right and hey, actually needed to hear that right now, thanks bae. Now someone needs to tell him back his own words, I think he needs to hear it back.

Episode insider:

Jacob talking about the heart full of sugar and how he spent the rest of the night on a sugar high is so adorable and hilarious when the part that comes next is Dreamstat. Also hey, "Dreamstat" was coined by Jacob himself, nice!

[Jacob] "Anne Rice's vampires are so human. This is kind of a departure from these sort of beautified, glamorous vampires. It's just really fun." - yeah, I like the glam vamp, but the monstrous vampire, a bit like Mike Flanagan does in Midnight Mass, is also a thrill.

Love Delainey saying she loved doing her stunts and all the physical stuff!

[Assad] "Armand wants to protect himself, but also wants to protect his relationship with Louis, what they have. He feels he has no choice except to come in, sharing the narrative with Louis." - yep. Protecting himself. Protecting what he has with Louis, even at the expanse of Louis' own will. Because what does Armand fear above all else? To be unloved. Not necessarily alone, like most vampires, but to be considered unlovable and unworthy of people's care. So if he can't be sure that people's feelings for him are genuine, he will orchestrate and manipulate them to tie them to himself. That's Armand's schtick.

season 1 masterpost

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

episode 2 | episode 3 | episode 4 | episode 5 | episode 6 | episode 7 | episode 8

[fe-fictions]

I need my husband saizo. Can we pregnant corrin who isn’t able to sleep cause the baby is keeping her awake

(Starting 2024 with some sweet Saizo fluff!! Enjoy :'3 )

Saizo was always a light sleeper. You, the princess who bore the weight of two kingdoms and a supernatural plain of existence’s futures on your shoulders, were not. 

You could sleep through just about anything. 

Except, it seemed, your sixth month of pregnancy.

“Dammit…” You sounded incredibly upset, and rather agitated when he felt the bed shift next to him. “C’mon, why are you doing this to me now? It’s not a good time for this…”

Saizo rose slowly, quietly, checking to see what was going on. You weren’t talking to anybody else in the room…that you noticed.

“Please...I just want to sleep.”

“Corrin? Who are you talking to?” He spoke quietly so as not to frighten you. He was deeply slightly concerned.

“It’s the baby.” You replied hopelessly, tilting your head to acknowledge your awake husband. “I-I’m sorry, did I accidentally wake you up with my complaining? At least one of us should get a good night’s sleep.”

“If you do not sleep, I do not, either.” He stated simply, sitting up fully. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know…I’ve never had a living creature inside of me that won’t stop moving around. Should we summon a cleric? Sakura might be more knowledgeable, but I’d hate to wake her.”

“Hmm. Let me check the medical journals before we summon anyone. It should not be so difficult to resolve…unless you are feeling pain or discomfort.”

“No, just…can’t sleep.” You sighed, flopping back into your pillow with a groan as said baby kicked again for good measure. “It’s unnerving, feeling him move about so much.”

“Saizo. Be still.” His voice was gruff, but lacked the usual bite when pointed at others. He rose from the bed and found the journals, re-settling himself at your side with the candles lit to provide some visibility.

“Let us see…the second trimester…” He thummed through it, muttering to himself as he searched voraciously for a solution to his wife’s struggle. There were few things he hated more than being incapable of helping you, after all.

You smiled softly to yourself, watching as he was all but glaring at each word on the pages, hoping the next would hold the answer he sought. 

“Here we are.” He leaned back, gently pressing his hand to your baby bump as his reading came to a pause. “It states here that, if the patient restless or is incapable of sleep due to excessive movement…they should lie on their side.”

“All right,” You agreed, carefully shifting so that you were no longer on your back. His hand lingered, as if testing for more movement.

He clicked his tongue when he received a defiant kick. You just sighed looking up at him from the pillow. “What else does it say?”

“Hmph. It’s mostly preventative behaviors you are supposed to do before sleep; lie down an hour beforehand…drink warm tea…light stretching…”

“I already do most of that. And I did before tonight, too.” You frowned. “I suppose I’m out of options.”

Saizo looked displeased; was there truly nothing else he could do? Turning the page, there only seemed to be a few other solutions. “Perhaps it is time to take up the offer from Hayato, to sew a pregnancy pillow. This says holding one of those when sleeping helps reduce movement.”

“But you’re my pregnancy pillow.” You protested. He coughed to disguise a laugh; were you always so ridiculous?

“Don’t speak nonsense. I’ll ask him about it come morning. But I suppose for now, the only other immediate option would be to talk to him. It’s not as effective, but talking to the child apparently helps in soothing them.”

“You know…that does sound plausible. He doesn’t seem to react very much while you’re talking.”

“I doubt that's the case. He still kicks when I speak." Saizo reminded you, as if you didn’t have the little one inside yourself and couldn’t feel every single move. You shook your head, patting his hand.

"But it's only after you stop talking. We ought to test this theory...could it be that he’s just lonely?” You wondered aloud, resting your hand over Saizo’s. “Is that why you’re so restless, my dear? It’s been too quiet?”

“Preposterous.” He scoffed, but fell silent all the same. You both looked at each other, waiting to see what would happen. Hardly half a second passed after he spoke, and immediately there was a kick.

“See? Keep talking!” You ushered him to continue, smiling bright. Saizo rolled his eyes, but complied all the same.

“If you’re going to keep your mother awake just because you cannot hear me speak, we will have many problems in the future, little one.” He spoke with great warning, and he paused to test the theory once more.

A few moments passed, and sure enough, another little kick.

It was getting more difficult for Saizo to mask the joy that was filling him every time the baby reacted to his voice. To think he was not even in the world yet but he knew who his parents were.

He was a miracle. A wonder.

He just…wouldn’t stop kicking his mother.

Saizo sighed when a tiny fist pushed into his fingertips. He shifted in the bed so that his head was in your lap, a delightful change for you. Instinctively your fingers ran through his hair, stroking it softly as he tended to his son.

“You are the sixth in a prestigious, honorable legacy of royal ninja. It is unbecoming behavior, treating your mother like this. A proper ninja would never be so disrespectful of her needing rest.”

You could’ve sworn you heard him stifle a chuckle when another hand bumped his cheek. His hand gently ran over your belly, attempting to soothe him once again.

“It is all right if you do not hear our voices, sometimes. Just because you cannot hear us does not mean we aren’t here. Besides, when I am away on missions, I will not be able to tell you stories. I’m afraid you’ll have to be able to live without me every now and then.”

“But it’s never forever.” You quickly added, always nervous when he spoke in such a way. Even saying something like “living without him” in the context of a few weeks…it did bother you terribly.

Saizo glanced up at you, taking your hand in his with a soft squeeze.

“Right. I would be a fool to abandon either of you. I have no plans of leaving you behind. I promise.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. 

As if you weren’t already deeply in love.

“So rest, dear one. It is long past time for all of us to be asleep. But we will talk again come morning.” His promise led to one last pause, waiting to see if he would continue his protest.

You waited…and waited…and then…

“He’s asleep.” You breathed a sigh of relief, both of you relaxing. At last, you were rewarded with a restful sleep.

He ran his hand across your baby bump one last time, before carefully slipping away and coming back up to his side of the bed. You leaned into him, welcoming his arm coming around your shoulder and gently taking you into his side.

“At last.”

“Thank you, Saizo...you're a miracle worker.”

“Do not thank me for doing my duty as your husband, and as his father. I will always be glad to ease your burdens.”

“That is why I’m grateful.” Your hand settled on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. “And it is also why I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now hush. We may rouse him again if he hears we are still talking.” He kissed your forehead quickly, and you could feel the heat of his face against your skin. He was such fun to tease.

You were blessed with the next few nights of peace and quiet. Especially now that you had a secret weapon.

Saizo made sure to be with you come bedtime, so that he might tell the baby about his day and soothe him with his voice. 

You knew your husband took great pride and joy in the fact that he could do this for you, and that his son loved the sound of his voice.

So even on nights where he had to assist Ryoma with something late into the night, or had missions that would take him away, he made certain that he was there to help you both get a good night’s sleep.

The only thing that could have possibly made it sweeter, was when the little Saizo was born. He recognized his father’s voice and calmed without hesitation. 

Your husband already adored his newborn son…but you were certain they’d be inseparable, bonded by the love of father and son (and said father’s delightful voice).

Though to be fair, you weren’t counting on Saizo the Sixth to have an “Asugi the Rebellious Teen Ninja” phase.

[kaidynsarell]

Chapter 6-Of Honey and Pine

💛🌲💛🌲💛🌲💛🌲💛🌲💛🌲💛🌲💛

Paring- Sebastian Sallow x Female OC

Rating-This story is rated overall 🔞 (Ch 6 is SFW)

Tags-hurt/angst

The full chapter can be found below the cut (2.4k words)

Ongoing Fic

Chapters 1-9 can be found on WP and AO3

Art by the darling @ravenbronze

Saturday, 10th September 1892

It was strange what could happen to words when one read them over and over again. Stared until they melded together, flattened over one another, and lost meaning entirely.

I cured Anne of the curse.

Since the end of Fifth year, there had been two universal truths that held precedence in her mind. Two statements that had taken over the place where the threat of Ranrok's rebellion and the Keeper trials had shadowd each decision she made and every action she took. One set of anxieties traded for another.

Anne was dying, and Sebastian was gone.

Now, in the space of six words, the truths that had colored her life since Sebastian left had been flipped on its head, and beyond the shock where she'd thought she would have found solid ground, she was left unbalanced and unsteady. Trembling fingers flattened over the rough texture. Pressed against the parchment as though she might unscramble his sentence to find some other meaning behind it.

I cured Anne of the curse.

As though touching it might let the ink seep into her fingers and solidify the sentence as something more than a distant fantasy—a delicate hope they'd clung to with aching fingers—something that lived amongst shooting stars—wishes only truly hoped for in the softest of whispers lest they be snatched away with the wind.

Clara traced the words again and again until the inked symbols danced over one another on the page, twisted and swirling, her eyes bleary with strain and lack of sleep. The unspoken how traced to the edges of her fingertips but failed to grasp her quill to solidify the question into writing.

Clara folded the parchment and let it fall against the sea of green. Her quill had disappeared somewhere in the blankets. She would no doubt find it at some point, along with a mess of black ink, and she only had the vague thought that 'scourgify' ought to work to remove it before she slumped back against the mattress.

The words spun over one another behind her eyelids.

I did it,  Ara

I cured Anne of the curse.

Sleep did not grace her presence, and all thoughts of the Cherrywood box and Dreamless Sleep Draught were pushed aside. Left to the darkest corners of her mind.

Anne's owl came before the sunrise.

><><><><><><><><

The pulse of apparition saw she and Ominis outside the Sallow home as the early morning sky painted shades of palest pinks and lilac purples across the thatched roof and caressed the curling wisps of candyfloss clouds.

They'd only just reached the door when the indigo was flung open, and the scent of caramel and vanilla launched at her in a mass of gigging cinnamon waves. The abrupt force of Anne's hug nearly sent her off balance, and it was only with a careful set of oddly coordinated steps that they managed to stay upright.

Clara pulled back and tipped her nose up. Fingers tapped to the tops of Anne's shoulders, and in the pale whispers of sunlight, she could see the newfound fullness in the woman's cheeks and the rose flush that colored them. The wide grin that masked none of the pain, Clara had grown so used to seeing tucked behind the heaviness of her eyelids and hidden at the corners of her mouth where her smiles had always disclosed the lies that lay beneath.

Her fingers squeezed the woman's shoulders, pressing down the soft warmth of her arms until she settled against her hands and pulled them into her own. " Anne... you look..." Healthy? Happy? "How do you feel?"

Her grin only widened. " Brilliant, really! I'd grown so used to the pain; I'd almost forgotten what it was like not to feel it."

Clara waited for the subtle wince to crease the corner of her eyes—the slight bending in her abdomen or the minute clenching in her hand—any of the tale-tell signs she'd come to routinely search for when she knew the brunette would rather cut out her own tongue than admit she was hurting.

She was so focused on searching Anne's face that she almost didn't notice subtle movements behind her—the careful footsteps within the shadows of Sallow's home—until Anne stepped around her and launched herself toward Ominis. Clara only registered the little "ooof" as the blond caught the newly spry woman before Sebastian stepped out of the shadows.

He stopped in the doorway. Fingers clutched at the edges of his sleeve. Worried against the fabric of his cable-knit sweater and his throat bobbed once.

Eyes locked with hers.

"Hello, Sweetheart."

Whispered words echoed between splatters of ink on parchment.

Odd how time could stand still within a fraction of a moment. In the single breath his gaze found hers and held her while everything else moved around them.

He looked more different than she'd expected. Older than the almost eighteen he should have been. His hair was longer now, falling in soft cinnamon-brown curls nearly to his shoulders. His skin was tanned, sunkissed red across his cheeks and the tip of his nose, and sprinkled with more freckles than she'd ever seen on him. It did little to distract from the way his face had hardened and thinned or the shadowed darkness that folded through his eyes.

It left her the most disconcerted.

Clara knew Sebastian's eyes. He'd laughed at her when she'd said she wanted to paint them, but he'd not protested much when she'd knelt in front of him and taken his face in her hands. His cheeks had been warm and squished under her fingers. They'd been fuller back then. Still clinging to the remnants of boyhood.

"They're just brown," He'd said. " It's nothing special."

But Sebastian was never 'Just anything,' and his eyes were no different. She'd studied them intensely. Knew them perfectly. Every shade and hue. She knew the precise color of chestnut she needed to mix with the tiniest dab of dark umber. The shade of crushed pine that bled out from his pupils and the exact pattern of the swirls as two colors melted into one another. She knew if the sunlight hit them at just the right angle, she would find flecks of honeyed gold sprinkled through his iris. As though his freckles would not see themselves contained to his skin.

It was gone.

All of it.

The soft chesnut, the swirling pine, and the flecks of honey were left darkened and solid, replaced by an inpenetrable wall too tall and wide for her to see past.

She had only read briefly of occlumancy, but if one could visualize it, Clara was certain it would be found folded over Sebastian's features. She couldn't place exactly why the idea of it coiled hot inside her chest and burned at the back of her throat.

Wherever he'd gone, whatever he'd been through, the boy who'd left to save his sister was not the man who had returned.

"Sebastian?"

The sharp clip of Ominis' voice snapped Clara's attention over her shoulder to where the blond stood beside Anne. She had looped her fingers around his elbow and settled her head below his shoulder. He was the tallest of them, and even with Anne now standing at her full height, the top of her head barely reached his chin.

Clara didn't miss the heavy tension that settled between the two men.

The tapestry their childhood fingers had woven with the innocence of love and friendship had been left tattered and threadbare—a tapestry Sebastian had torn with his own bleeding fingers. Interwoven with tangled threads of hurt and betrayal, and attempting to patch it with hasty apologies would do little to mend what had started to fray long before Sebastian had ever added murder to his repertoire of sins.

"Hey, mate." Sebastian's attempt at a casual tone fluttered through the air and faltered somewhere as he made half a move to step forward and seemed to think better of it.

Ominis only narrowed his eyes. "I thought Anne said you'd cured it?"

Sebastian's brows lowered, thick and heavy over those dark, impenetrable orbs. "I did cure her."

" Then why do..." The rest of it fell away midsentence. Head tilted slightly. Something twitched between his brows and Clara only just caught the slight tension at the corner of his jaw.

" I'm fine, Ominis. I'm okay. The curse is gone. I can feel it!" Only the soft hum of Anne's voice seemed to soften the crease between his brows as she gathered his hands and lifted his fingers to her face.

The corners of his mouth tugged upward. " Yes, of course. I know, darling." He placed a kiss between her brows, to the tip of her nose, one to each of her cheeks, and Clara turned away.

It was far more affection than she was used to seeing from him in a public setting.

On her other side, Sebastian made a disgusted sort of face and mimed wretching. Under different circumstances, she might have found Sebastian's antics amusing, but the soft bubbles of laughter cowered beneath the hot anger coiled to burst at the back of her throat, and she clenched her fingernails against her palms.

It wasn't the emotion she'd expected to find here. She'd not been angry when she'd finally opened his letter and written back to him. She'd not even truly been angry with any of his responses. Amused, irritated, infuriated at times, but never angry.

Not really.

But now it burned hot and red and threatened eruption with every breath that slipped between her teeth.

" I don't understand. How did you do it?" Ominis had straightened himself from Anne's hold and turned with uncanny accuracy to where Sebastian still stood in the doorway.

He shifted slightly against the door frame, fingers fidgeting against the bottom of his sleeve.

" Potions," Anne offered simply.

"A series of potions." Sebastian started, " Came across the recipes while traveling. They're ancient, really. Nothing that would have been taught in European medicine. Which is why neither St. Mungo's nor Nurse Blainy would have known to suggest it. They're bloody difficult to brew, and you can't even find the majority of the ingredients on this continent. Hell, some ingredients have gone extinct since the recipe was invented, but I managed to find adequate substitutes and ..." He gestured vaguely toward his twin.

Clara didn't turn to the other woman. Her eyes still locked on Sebastian and the solid, dark umber wall that hid all that was him even as he stood before her.

" They actually worked," she finished. " It took a few days for the effects to register fully, but..."

" A few days?" Confusion laced through Ominis' words pulled them higher, and elongated the normally staccatoed cadene. " How long hav.."

" How long have you been here?" The hot coil snapped in an instant, and despite the heat that had burned for so long the words bit sharp and icy against Clara's tongue.

" Sebbie got here on Monday. I got his owl after you both left last week and..."

" No." She jerked her hand up and only just turned in time to see Anne's eyebrows shoot into her hairline at the dismissal. Clara was rude, and she was certain Ominis, or if she were actually unlucky, Anne herself would have choice words for her later. " How long have you fucking been here, Sebastian? Near Hogwarts? Close enough we could have apparated to you?"

"Elmore..."

"Tell me!"

He worked his jaw only a moment before his shoulders dropped, and he sagged against the door frame. " A couple of months"

" Months! And you couldn't have written to us? You couldn't have told me that? How many times did I ask you where you were?"

"I couldn't..."

" You asked him?" The icy snap of Ominis's voice tore Clara's attention from Sebastian. " I thought we weren't able to contact him? We sent owls and got nothing. How long have you two been talking behind my back?"

" Ominis, it's not the same as..."

"Is it not? Is it not the exact same? The pair of you keeping secrets again, after everything that's happened! Hurt tasted sour and traced the curves of his syllables.

She would have to deal with it later.

Clara forced her gaze away from them and back to Sebastian, who'd still not moved from his place against the doorframe. " So what happens now?"

" We've spoken to Professor Black and Professor Weasley. Arrangements have been made, and Anne and I will both be returning to Hogwarts starting on Monday." He was looking at her again. Those dark eyes solid, impenetrable and wholly unfamiliar.

" It's like that, then? You leave out of nowhere and think you can just drop in, and everything will just go back to normal?"

She didn't know when she'd started yelling or when the stinging behind her eyes had begun to pool below her lashline.

Anne's curse had been cured. She was going to be okay.

" You expect us to sit here and pretend like you didn't completely abandon us?"

Abandon her.

Anne wasn't dying, and Clara should have been happy.

She shouldn't have been screaming at Sebastian, and yet her voice was tearing as the words ripped from her throat, and she couldn't see properly because her vision had melted into blurry, unfocused haze.

" We're supposed to act like we didn't spend months. Months! More than a fucking year Sebastian! Terrified you were sick or hurt or ..."

Her voice choked and faltered, and for the first time since they'd arrived, he moved from the doorframe. Stepped forward, his fingers tipped toward her, " Ara, I'm sorry....I never..."

But whatever he was going to say was lost to the wind as she spun on her heel and sprinted through the softly waving grass, past a grove of trees, and the snap of apparition deposited her at the edge of Hogwarts grounds.

The sun's light had not burned away the glittering beads of dew, still clung to blades of subtly shifting green when Clara collapsed into the grass at the edge of the forest and scattered the delicate drops in her wake.

She buried her face into her hands and ignored the salted dampness on her cheeks and the soft tremble of her shoulders.

She wasn't crying.

Anne had been cured, and Sebastian was home. He was safe, and she was happy.

She was supposed to be happy.

[ofwrxth]

+ ISLA / ON THE ROAD / OCT. 20 – ?

ATHABASCA, AB & OCT. 21.  

"Oh, no," said Hermione, stoppin' abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't wanna talk to Moaning Myrtle -" "Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly. "She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor," said Hermione. Elliot's voice is a quiet drawl as reads to Isla on the floor of an abandoned home in Athabasca. Their third town in the two days since leaving Hollow Cove. Candles are going, and they were lucky enough to find a few comforters left in the home when night began to settle. They'd been through each building, picking off supplies as they saw them but no flashlight or pack of batteries or cans of soup were enough to make up for the lack of information.

It used to be a town that would help supernaturals. They'd get to Athabasca and be helped to other safe havens. It was more of a stopover town than a safe town itself, but they'd hoped to find more information here because of it. Transcripts. More than the two maps they'd found, which they'd taken anyway. But after hours of searching, it was clear that just like Hinton and Whitecourt before it, Athabasca was going to be a dead-end. Too late to travel to their next stop, they decided to find an empty home for the night, parking their truck close enough that they could run right out in a moment's notice. But any tire tracks through town were at least weeks old, practically faded entirely, and that alone gave them the incentive to stay inside.

With discarded bowls of soup to their side, and Elliot's back propped against a wall, he continues on. His arm rests across Isla's shoulder as she curls up beside him, head perched enough to see the words on the page, even as he hopes his voice might lull her to sleep so she can rest. He thumbs the page over, the book Rory had given him proving more entertaining than he'd thought. "She haunts a toilet?" Elliot drawls, "Yes. It's been out-of-order all year 'cause she keeps having tantrums and floodin' the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you "Look, food!" said Ron.

"I like Ron," Elliot cuts off with a wry grin, biting off a piece of jerky from the small back between them. "Seems relatable. It'd be exhausting to have Harry as a friend." Even if he hadn't read the books before, he can still recall the movies, ones he'd watch with Isla on the couch as the winter months arrived. @waterfallswords

[necrophcge]

NAME:

Lee

PRONOUNS:

he/him

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?

// Meddles here is technically my most active, but I'm doing stuff behind the scenes for my lads Brom ( @of-forossa ), and Samuel Whist ( @fishermcn ) so I'll add them here too lmao.

RP PET PEEVES?

// Ah hell man, probably a lack of progression when it comes to replies? When I'm writing a thread with someone, I do what I can to make sure they have enough from my own to continue the story we're telling together. So getting a reply in return that doesn't move things forward puts me in kind of a bind y'know? Matching or similar length comes with that as well, though I don't expect folks to match me word for word so much as giving as good as they've gotten!

Communication is also key! I know that it can be uncomfortable or a bit daunting to try to chat with folks you haven't gotten to know all that well, but with threads being something we create together we really should be on the same page. Even just a little update or the like is preferable to total radio silence rofl.

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?

// Shoot, it's probably been about twelve, maybe thirteen years now? Been on here the whole time and have bounced around to a few different fandoms before more or less settling down into the soulsborne community.

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?

// I'm definitely an angst kinda guy, though usually in the sense that things are going down or conflict is brewing rather than interpersonal drama. I live for fight-writing and the tension that comes with lives being on the line. Fluff is usually reserved for one and done replies rather than threads because I feel it's more impactful thst way, while smut is... well. I'm getting better at it, but it's definitely my weakest writing of the bunch. That, and I admittedly can get a bit nervous posting it out here in the wild for everyone to see (////-\\\\)

PLOTS OR MEMES?

// Both! Plots and plotting are my preferred go-to for our muses to get to know each other and establish what their relationship will be like going ahead, while with memes I'll usually go ham on a single reply with the intent of further fleshing out what we've pieced together for our muses.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?

// If you've known me on my other blogs you already know I tend to get long winded XD. Short replies never feel like I've said enough honestly, and by taking the time to get in depth with them I reckon it opens the door wider for potential interactions (memes) or it gives the other person more room to reply with (threads). Least amount I'll do is around two to three paragraphs.

TIME TO WRITE?

// I'd love to tell you folks that I'm a responsible, orderly guy who keeps a good sleep schedule and has a set time for writing. Unfortunately I'm little more than an animal who's as likely to bump out an ask or reply at 4:00 in the morning as I am to post something mid-afternoon. Ideally though... I prefer the evenings for it. More privacy, more time to gather my thoughts and less demands for me personally to have to address.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?

// I'm a firm believer in the notion that muns typically have something either in common with or identify strongly with their muses in some form or another, and I'm no exception. Meddles might be a conqueror, cruel and malicious, but struggling against a seemingly impossible task and not wanting to be alone in this world... yeah. Yeah, I can relate to that. It helps me put myself in their shoes and understand them better if there's something about them I identify with.

tagged by: @ferinehuntress (much obliged panda :D)

tagging: @yellowfingcr, @hexenjagd, @bcwblade, @rotten-pest, @izar-tarazed, and you!

[ilikereadingactually]

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons

I'm Afraid you've Got Dragons by Peter S. Beagle

Peter Beagle just never lets me down. i wasn't sure what to expect going into this book, because the cover gives it a slightly silly, How To Train Your Dragon feel to me, which isn't a bad thing at all but doesn't really match the vibe of the rest of Beagle's body of work. and there is humor in this book, and moments of silliness! but at its heart, as with every Beagle book I've read, it takes the characters and their emotions as seriously as it takes the magic and the danger. the stakes are high, and heartbreak is just as dangerous as dragonfire, and reluctant heroes abound.

as a reader i find that i'm very attracted to real-feeling and well-drawn characters, and that plot is (a close) second. if the plot is lacking, great characters can pull me along; if the characters are lacking, i just don't care about what's happening. this is the sort of book that's perfect for me, because we get an interesting cast of characters who consistently charmed me as they each grew and changed and revealed more of themselves like plants slowly sprouting. Robert, in the family business of dragon pest control even though he loves dragons and hates exterminating them; Princess Cerise, who's bored of hosting princes hoping for her hand and instead is teaching herself to read and write; Prince Reginald, fleeing his father's expectations and putting the "wandering" first in "wandering hero;" and a whole side cast of delightful friends, family, and various dragons only Robert can hear.

this is a world that feels like it has a deep history we don't fully get to see, which i love, and our three protagonists subvert some expectations and play into others at just the right moments to make my heart soar and break and squeeze. and we get an interesting antagonist as well! though his part in the story is actually fairly small, he's the catalyst for a lot of really compelling change and growth in the main characters.

all in all, i really loved this book. it rang the same bell that hangs in my heart for The Last Unicorn, and it's going to stay with me for a long time.

the deets

how i read it: i read it as an egalley from NetGalley, for which i am thankful as always, even though once again the book came out before i could finish reading. gotta wrestle my galley reading schedule back into shape!! anyway, i bought a hardcover copy as soon as it came out because it was clear i was going to love it, and it's sitting happily on my shelf now.

try this if you: have feelings for unlikely/unwilling heroes, ever wanted a pet dragon, love stories where the bonds of friendship are more important than the romance, or of course, if you love The Last Unicorn.

some bits i really liked: it was so hard to choose, every page of this book is wonderful

Dragon Market had grown roots but was imperfectly fitted for such permanence, twisting and turning on itself like a cat unable to settle on the right absurd posture in which to sleep.

___

The two of them stood staring at each other in a moment suddenly different from any since he had burst into her room at the age of nine. Robert felt overheated, and more than a little dizzy; but one part of him was entirely aware that in the books and ballads that had begun to take up all of his sister Rosamonde's free time—Patience being still too young to be interested in such things—at this point the boy usually swept the girl up in his arms and practically devoured her with flaming kisses. But the moment passed in mutual confusion.

___

The dragon swung away, climbing again, scaling the moon, turning to hover. So big, how does it do that? To Prince Reginald he gasped, "Move, move, get away, it's after me. Get away!" "Not bloody likely," the Prince said quietly; and in the midst of terror and confusion, Robert had to gape and stare to make sure of the man. Prince Reginald was standing almost astride him, the doppleganger still pointed unwaveringly at the golden flame wheeling high above them. He said, "You are the one who must stand away, my friend. This is the moment I was born for." "Actually, it's not," Robert said apologetically.

pub date: May 14, 2024! go forth and get a copy!

[monsterrae1]

Buddie Fanfics Masterpost

One shots:

You're not my home land anymore (so who am I defending now)

5.5k | Read on AO3

Buck thought that he and Eddie were in the same page, when Eddie starts dating Ana its very clear that they werent, so whos gonna mend Buck's broken heart?

Always taste like you

2.4k | Read on AO3

(A story about Buck and Eddie’s relationship, or lack thereof, told by Eddie)

Eddie still didn’t understand what it was that he had with Buck. Eddie and Buck start sleeping together, but they dont talk about it, Eddie wants more, Buck apparently is happy with how things are, how long can Eddie go like this?

Tis the damn season

5.2k | Read on AO3

Evan and Eddie met one night and fall into bed, for the next four years they keep coming back to each other. Would they be able to keep each other?

Eddie Diaz discovers the secrets of the universe

3.9k | Read on AO3

After leaving the 118 Eddie has too much time on his hands and comes across a book that would change his life. He finds himself dealing with all his past repression and trauma, coming the other side better, happier.

You weren't mine to lose

4.3k | Read on AO3

There's a Gallery in New York with objects from failed relationships and people that've left, it's called the "Broken Hearts Gallery" and when they open an exhibition Buck runs into a very familiar item that brings on a lot of realizations and new light on his relationship with Eddie, who he hasn't spoken to in weeks. Eddie on the other hand is trying very hard to accept that Buck's happy with someone else and move on, when he goes back to the gallery and find and item that changes it all. Could their broken hearts be mended?

Hear full of grief

1.6k | Read on AO3

Eddie's having a rough day, in a awful month, during a shitty year. Naturally he falls apart, somehow it gets worse before it gets better.

You were the only safe heaven I’ve known

12.6k | Read on AO3

Buck ran away from his pack after his parents told him they had arranged a mating for him. Years later he's finally settled and ready to take that last step with his real mate, and best friend, Eddie, when his parents show up in town demanding he honor the mating they had arranged for him, and Buck is not letting go of his happiness so easily, he's ready to fight for his happy ending.

Bound to you

4.1K | Read on AO3

At 12 years old, Eddie does a ritual to show him the person he's gonna spend the rest of his life with. At 29 he meets Evan Buckley.

*

“Alright then, I have one, it’s not an urban legend, it’s a ritual, and if goes well, you’re supposed to see the person who you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with” They all smiled excitedly at him, turning all their attention to Eddie “I heard it from our cousin”

“Which one?” Sophia interrupted.

“Marina” Eddie answered and Sophia nodded in approval “She was telling it to Andrea, and I managed to hear the entire thing”

Multichapter:

Don't let go now (somebody is lying)

44.2k | 8/8 | Read on AO3

One missundertanding let Buck's mother to belive that Eddie was his boyfriend, and Buck foolishly didn't correct her, thinking it wasn't hurting any one. When the buckleys announce they're coming for a visit Buck has to ask Eddie to pretend to date him while they're there, if Buck is hiding the fact that he's in love with his best friend that's his business. It's only for two weeks, right?

The 118 Protection Program

28.4k | 3/3 | Read on AO3

King Evan Buckley III is ready to rule his country, after finishing his preparation and coming of age he is ready for his coronation, only for it to be interrupted by General Kendall who's been after their kingdom for years. His sister has arranged a plan B for him to be safe, even if it means leaving her behind and be placed in the care of one Eddie Diaz and his team. * Or another story about King Evan falling in love with his protector Eddie Diaz, and Eddie falling in love with his charge.

Till now i always got by on my own (i never really cared until I met you)

101.8k | 19/23 | Read on AO3

After Abby packed her bags and left, Buck felt suffocated by LA and the reminders of her, so he throws himself into his work until Bobby makes him take some vacation time, Buck ends up taking a small roadtrip from Texas to LA, until his jeep breaks down in El Paso and he finds himself pulled to his mechanic and his adorable son, and somehow finds himself staying in Texas trying to help them get a surgery for Chris, when other options don´t work, Buck decides to ask Eddie to marry him so he can use his insurance. Sure things can´t get too complicated right?

Tumblr Prompts dump

16k | 19/? | Read on AO3

Collection of prompts ive answered on my tumblr, figured they could be accesible in one place.

Series:

The Love affair

Complete | Works 2

Just between us (did the love affair maim you too?)

16.4k | Read on AO3

Evan met Eddie during the summer of 2012 while they were both drifting through their lives, finding a safe place in the other, until Eddie unexpectedly walked out of Evan's life, leaving him heartbroken and disbelieveing in love. In 2018 Buck meets Eddie again, and as much as he tried not to, he falls in love with him again. Too bad Eddie moved on with his life. Or did he? (Also known as the summer fling/Exes to lovers fic, Buck's version)

What we had (sad, beautiful, tragic, love affair)

20.7k | Read on AO3

Eddie met Evan during a summer in 2012 while they were both trying to find their place in the world, and fell completely in love, but when has Eddie ever gotten to keep what we wants? After leaving Evan behind without word, he spend 7 years trying to get over him without succeeding. In 2018, Evan walks back into his life, leading to Eddie to fall in love with him again, even with the mountain of guilt and mistakes he's made in the past, too bad the universe doesn't grand second chances. Or does it? (also known as the summer fling/exes to lovers fic, Eddie's version)

Cordolia Verse (bakery AU)

On going series | Works 7

Be still my foolish heart

14.7 | 8/8 | Read on AO3

Eddie Diaz moves into his Abuela's small town, Cordolia, after she breaks her hip and needs help running the family bakery, it something he always wanted to do and now he finally has the chance to go back into the path the thought he'd follow when he was a kid. He just wasn't counting on falling in love with Evan Buck Buckley, the cute barista at the 118 café, given his track record with relationships he tries to court Buck with the one thing he's sure he can't screw up: baked goods.

State of Grace

2.9 k | Read on AO3

Buck and Eddie have been dating for a few weeks when they finally have sex for the first time.

I don't wanna wait my whole through (to say i'm in love with you)

1k | Read on AO3

They've been dating for three months when Eddie tells Buck he loves him.

I will hold you in my arms (right where you belong)

1.4k | Read on AO3

Eddie is an excellent baker, he's not the best cook, after almost giving Buck food poisoning one time, Buck decided to teach him how to cook.

You're gonna be alright kid

1.7k | Read on AO3

It's Buck's first big accident now that he's a firefighter, Eddie's freaking out a little.

I sing songs about the past

6.9k | 2/2 | Read on AO3

After his injury Buck moves in with his boyfriend, Eddie; his sister shows up back on his life and Buck's learning to trust that he get's to keep the happiness he has. What could go wrong?

This is Halloween (Halloween! Halloween!)

3.7 | Read on AO3

Buck think Eddie's bakery is haunted, Eddie's sure it's not.

*

“We have about 10 minutes, wanna make out?” Eddie told him, trying to get him to relax, his shoulders were tense and this was supposed to be the one night of the week where they both could relax.

“What if the ghost gets angry?” Buck asked seriously.

“I think I’d known if I was working in a haunted bakery for over two year”

“It could be a new ghost”

[juls-writes]

find the word: combined edition! this time tagged by @legiomiam for needle, thread, grin, and toast (no luck), and @awritingcaitlin for plan, blink, swore (no luck), small, and run

tagbacksies to those who want to play again, and also tagging @celestepens, @samplewriting, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @svpphicwrites and anyone else who sees this and wants to play!

this time it's a meta edition and your words are word, character, letter, writing, and page (feel free to sub for paper or parchment)!

needle

He’s aged since I last saw him. Dark hair has given way to salt and pepper, and his once youthful eyes have settled in – well, I wanted to say grief, but now that he’s come closer it’s clearly some sort of tragic rage. A few years post mid-life crisis is where I’d put him. Even when we were teaching together, he was an accomplished master of lightning – I imagine he’s only gotten better.

“Ivos,” I say with a smile, and he glares back at me. "Staying sharp?”

“Needle,” he replies. He hasn’t blinked this whole time. Ivos was never a particularly excitable person, but there was a time when my straightforwardness and his blunt attitude got along. In the process of growing older, however, I also gained a sense of humor, something Ivos noticeably still lacks.

thread

The sky is a spiderweb. Pieces of my spell fall like broken thread, mirroring the world around them as they rain down through a sherbet sunset. I don’t let myself feel anything as I engulf the house in flames.

“What are you doing!?” Delano yells, his voice faraway over the roaring heat. My hands are licking tendrils of fire, pulling, consuming, and grabbing. I don’t let it burn out – I take the form of the spell and swallow everything: the bookshelf, the kitchen table, the sink, my mugs. The bed we slept in. The delphiniums, the ponds, the chamomile. Every frog. Every sleeping bee. Every tree.

grin

Finally I have to catch my balance on the bannister beside the wheel. It’s spinning the opposite direction now, free-wheeling amidst an increasingly restless sea. Delano’s grin widens – he looks far more awake than moments ago – and I don’t even have time to question whether or not he’s enjoying this.

He is. All too much.

plan

“You had a plan, right?” I ask suddenly, forcing myself to maintain some sense of concern for our – my – wellbeing. “Somewhere to go?”

“I have friends everywhere,” Delano says, annoyingly cryptic.

blink

“It was a prophecy.”

For any sorcerer, anyone in the search for knowledge or trying to make something for themselves, this would be answer enough. But Delano blinks.

“A what?”

We stare at each other in mutual confusion.

small

Our quick-fire rapport has fizzled. I fumble for small talk. “Bad season?”

“Bad crop,” Nora bites back. “Petty crime bullshit. You’re the only bounty right now worth anything.”

“Ah,” I reply uselessly, and sink back into the couch. I want to throw back something sarcastic, like don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll start committing heinous crimes again, really, but I don’t have it in me today, and it’s not even something I can pretend to want.

run

His calloused hand runs over my shoulder and I flinch. My breath catches, and I remember how I sounded the night before. I can hear myself. I feel sick.

“Yero,” he says, his voice smoother than last night. Last night he’d sounded hungry, honest, present. But now I can hear the sound of bartering in his voice – the soft edge of negotiation – and I want fucking none of it.

His thumb rubs the back of my shoulder. “Are you hungry?” 

[cherrys-spice-cabinet]

A Sweet Break- Viktor x gn!Reader

Warnings: None, just some sweet fluff to start off the new year <3

Word count: 891

Note: Happy New Year!! I hope all is well for you all! This fic is a bit shorter than the other few that I have posted just as something before I get to finishing up some of the suggestions you guys gave me. I'm sick and the idea came to me at two in the morning, so here’s to hoping it sounds alright lol

As always, if there’s anything you think I can improve on or would like to see in the future, let me know! Hope you enjoy!

Traces of the setting sun found their way past linen curtains and into the kitchen, which found you reading a book. It had been getting late, and your lack of sleep was finally beginning to catch up to you. Just as you had begun to turn the page, the door to the kitchen opened. You turned around to find Viktor, leaning somewhat on his cane as usual.

"Taking a break?" You asked, a soft smile gracing your lips. You had left the lab a bit earlier, pressing a chaste kiss to Viktor's temple and giving his shoulders a squeeze before you left. It had been about half an hour from that time.

Viktor had walked over to you, laying his head on your shoulder. You recognized the silent frustration that Viktor often found himself haunted by in the late hours of the night. You slid off of the stool, looking up at the man with a soft smile.

"How about I make you some sweetmilk? A little something to get your mind off of all of those experiments," You suggested, walking towards the cupboard. Viktor took your place on the stool, sighing.

He laughed as he looked over at you. "You always seem to know what I need." You shrugged, padding over to the refrigerator.

"I try, y'know? I might not be a genius in regards to what you're doing, but I know it's really important to you. If I can help by making you sweetmilk during your break, I'm glad!" You said in between grabbing ingredients. Your eyes locked with Viktor's, causing your heart to beat a tad faster. You could tell he was tired, though such fatigue was only caused by his frustration.

The silence between the two of you grew heavy as the pot on the stove began to simmer. As you stirred the mixture, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You jumped, looking behind you quickly. Viktor was by no means one for more public displays of affection, yet here he stood. You turned, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. His lips melded with your own, returning your weary affection warmly. As you broke the kiss, you turned back to the sweetmilk, pouring the beverage into a mug.

"Be careful, okay? I was a bit preoccupied kissing you to pay much attention to the temperature," You admitted, setting the mug on the table. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a record player that hadn't been tinkered with (in the last week). A small collection of Viktor's records were placed on a nearby shelf, organized alphabetically. You hummed to yourself as your fingers danced across each of the covers, finally settling on one. With a satisfied smile, you plucked the record from the shelf, placing the vinyl carefully onto the record player. For a moment, you admired the cover, emerald green with two people dancing on the front. With a sigh, you placed the needle on the record and pressed play, a gentle smile stretching across your face as you walked back over to the table.

Viktor's features softened as the tune fell on his ears. You grinned, reapproaching your mug of sweetmilk. Your path, however, was stopped by Viktor, who seemed more lively since the music started. A goofy, lopsided grin stretched across Viktor’s lips as he held his hand out to you. Heavily accented words fell from puckered lips in a mock-refined tone. His voice sounded muddled between his own accent and that of which he tried to imitate.

“Oh, fair lady! Would you do me the honor of having this dance?” He’d requested, back arched over in a dramatic bow.

To him, your laughter was comforting. It bubbled over and filled his chest with a warmth that he believed, even sweetmilk couldn’t seem to place. His thoughts were interrupted by your equally dramatic bow and accented words coming from your mouth.

Viktor rose from his spot at the table and took your hand, pulling you closer to his body. Despite the difference, the two of you fit together perfectly. Viktor began to sway softly, holding your hand close to his chest. You smiled, leaning into his embrace and following his steps. The dance itself was rather clumsy, filling the kitchen with laughter nonetheless. Viktor's lean arm lifted to spin you about, though you found yourself tripping on your feet, and tumbling rather ungracefully back into his arms.

There was a certain beauty about Viktor in these moments. It was a side of him that only you got to see. Not Jayce, not Sky, not the hexcore. The side of Viktor that allowed him to dance in the kitchen with you, humming softly along to the melody of dreamy jazz.

The sweetmilk in your mugs had long since gone cold, but your chest never felt warmer. The night had crept in through the windows, creating an image of your lover bathed in the moonlight.

A yawn escaped those lips you loved oh so much.

"Would you accompany me to bed?" He requested, a soft smile playing on his lips. You, on the other hand, couldn't help but grin.

The corridors echoed with your fatigue-laced voices and the comforting sound of Viktor’s cane tapping against the carpet. Viktor turned to you, eyebrow raised in confusion.

"You didn't answer the question."

"Because you know the answer to it. Of course, I will, now, let's get a move on!"

[petertingle-yipyip]

SWEET HIBISCUS TEA - STEVEN GRANT

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Word Count: 3,326

Summary: A day in the museum leads to a missed date… Which leads to a second date?

Sometimes, it was easy to forget why you moved to London.

It was really nice overall and you loved the views and the rain, but the people sometimes made you want to kick yourself. They were pushy and always in a rush, short in response and rather stuck-up. But you were always kind enough, offering small conversation when at work or trying to help people that were struggling to carry too much. They tended to just shoo you away or say as few words as possible - most times without so much as a ‘thank you’ - so you spent more time to yourself than with any sort of social group.

Not that you minded that much.

You were wandering your favorite museum one afternoon by yourself. You finally had time to intently spend time at the Ancient Egyptian exhibit and you were beyond excited. It was the most interesting in your opinion, so you saved it for a day when you had nothing to do but wander the museum. Though that excitement was short-lived when you couldn’t find someone to show you around.

You walked the area four or five times, but it seemed to have no one working at the time other than the few security guards posted near exits. With a small huff, you turned to find anyone who worked at the museum for help.

“Excuse me?” You asked the man at the gift shop counter.

His head shot up quickly and you made a small noise of surprise. You took a quiet moment to see him, curly hair that was a slight mess. Wide, kind eyes that carried his lack of sleep. A jacket that seemed intended to hide him from the world.

“Hello.” He smiled slightly. “How can I help?”

“I was over at the Egypt displays but I can’t find any tour guides.” You explained with a polite smile. “It’s just..” You sighed and his brows raised slightly. “I’m kinda excited to finally have time to be over there and I don’t wanna waste it. I know it’s a little dorky but..”

“It’s not dorky at all.” He shook his head.

“You don’t think so?” You chuckled nervously.

“Not at all.” He smiled and you grinned back, feeling your nerves settle a bit at his kindness. “Egypt, yeah. Yeah, that’s my favorite exhibit, actually.” He nodded excitedly and your smile grew a little wider.

You couldn’t stop yourself from taking the opportunity.

“Maybe you could show me around then? I bet you know all the fun facts..”

His cheeks flushed slightly.

“Unless there’s someone already over there?” You tried somewhat awkwardly to recover.

“I would.” He nodded quickly, holding a hand to his chest and the other out towards you. “I would love to, but I- I can’t. I’m not a tour guide. Just-“ He picked up one of the items from the basket on the counter before dropping it. “Just work the gift shop. But if you want jelly scorpions, I’m your man.”

“As tempting as those are…” You laughed and he chuckled lightly. “I actually have some time to wait.” You offered as you leaned your palms onto the counter. “I’m not in any hurry if you want to show me around after your shift?”

“I’d love to, yeah.” He smiled widely. “Yeah, definitely. Uh-“ He looked around until he found the clock on the wall behind him. “I’m off in about half hour.”

“Perfect.” You smiled and he grinned. “I’ll be on that bench.” You pointed to one of the benches near the gift shop.

“Alright.” He nodded with a smile. “See ya in a bit.”

You gave a quick nod with a smile before heading to your chosen bench. You pulled your old sketch pad from your bag, along with your thermos. You kept stealing peaks at the man behind the counter as your pencil glided along the pages, creating a quick sketch of your soon to be personal tour guide. You sipped your tea while creating your drawing, and by time he met up with you again, your drawing and tea were done.

“Hiya.” He said gently, fingers fiddling with each other as he stood in front of you.

“Hey, perfect timing.” You smiled and you saw him light up. “This is for you.” You ripped out the drawing and handed it to him.

“Wow.” He sighed as he examined the drawing. You were tucking your pad, pencil, and cup away while he simply stared at the drawing. “It’s amazing.”

You chuckled and shifted your bag on your shoulder. “Thanks. Just something quick to pass the time.” You shrugged.

“Oh!” He said suddenly and you quirked a brow. “These are for you.”

“Wow.” You smirked as he handed you the small bag of candies. “My own bag of jelly scorpions. Thank you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s nothing.” He tried to seem casual but you could see the smile he was trying to hold back.

“Ready?”

He nodded excitedly before safely tucking the drawing into his own bag. He motioned for you to follow and you did, listening intently to every word he said. You knew it wouldn’t all stick, but maybe that’d be an excuse to come back and have him show you around again.

Your attention was caught on him more often than the exhibits. You watched his eyes light up and the expressions he made as he gestured to the displays or pointed to a small detail someone else wouldn’t have noticed. You had been snacking on the candies he gave you and you made sure to offer him one when he met your eyes every so often. It always made him trip over his words when your eyes got soft and you tilted the bag towards him.

He got particularly excited to point out an error on the promotional banner so he grabbed your hand and tugged you behind him. You let out a small shriek of surprise before you giggled as you two practically ran across the exhibit.

“Oy, Stevie!” A woman called out suddenly, interrupting his explanation of the two missing deities. “I swear if that’s you again.”

“Steven.” He muttered with a roll of his head, as if he was tired of her getting his name wrong. “Hello, Donna.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Actually, I’m glad you’re here. There’s been a major blunder on the prom-“

“You’re not a bloody tour guide.” She scolded. “How many times I gotta tell you that?”

“No, I know. But you see, I’m not wor-“

“I don’t wanna hear it.” She held a hand in front of him to silence him. He immediately stopped talking, shrinking in on himself a bit.

“Hang on.” You stepped in, squeezing his hand slightly. He looked over at you quickly as if he had forgotten your hands were intertwined. “I asked him to show me around. No one else was around and I walked the area at least five times… You can’t get mad at him when your actual tour guides are nowhere to be found.”

“I-“ She began, as if your defense was clearly unexpected. “I’m sorry, but he’s not a tour guide. Let me get you on with someone who is. He just works the gift shop.”

“And?” You shrugged and her jaw fell open a bit. “He’s not working right now, making this none of your business. Not to mention he clearly knows more about this than anyone else in this place.”

“What is this?” She chuckled in annoyance, pointing between you and him. “Some shabby excuse for a date?”

“I don’t like you.” You said plainly with a tilt of your head.

She huffed and shot him a glare before stomping off. You made a face of disdain behind her back before side stepping and standing in front of your new friend. He was still watching the lady - Donna - walking away with an annoyed expression on his face.

“Hey..” You said gently, shaking the hands that were still connected. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” His attention snapped to you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. She does that all the time.” He shrugged.

“She’s awful.” You frowned and he chuckled.

“A bit, yeah.” He nodded.

“You were telling me about the banner?” You tried, seeing if you could get his focus back on something that excited him.

“Right.” He smiled slightly before going back into his rant about the missing gods.

By the time he had walked you through the entire exhibit, it was dark out. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed but it made sense considering just how much knowledge he was able to give you. You two were walking down the steps, your arms linked together.

“That was really fun.” You smiled softly. “Thanks for taking the time.”

“Yeah, no, pleasure’s all mine. Thanks for listening.” He said nervously.

“I’m Y/N, by the way… Don’t remember if I said that already.”

“Steven.” He smiled. “With a- With a V…” He drew the letter with his free hand and it made you giggle.

“Well, Steven.” You turned to face him. “There’s a bookstore down the way that I was gonna visit tomorrow… Do you wanna come with me?”

“Are…” He chuckled nervously. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah.” You laughed and he smiled widely.”Yeah, I am.”

He nodded excitedly before clearing his throat and nodding once firmly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great.” You smiled. “Here’s my number.” You wrote your phone number on the back of his hand. “I’ll meet you here around 10am and we’ll go together. How’s that?”

“10am. Yup. Perfect.” He nodded quickly.

You giggled slightly before leaning up and putting a gentle kiss on his cheek. You didn’t really know him but something about him was so sweet and welcoming, you felt drawn to him.

“You smell like hibiscus.” He said gently, in awe almost.

“Yeah, sorry, it was my tea.” You giggled.

“It’s nice.”

“You’re very sweet.” You said softly and you saw a blush cross his cheeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next morning, you sat on the museum steps. You doodled in your sketch pad, a random tree on the other side of the street or a dog that was rummaging through the trash can. You drew the weeds that were breaking through cracks in the sidewalk and a kid with a balloon at the bus stop.

You checked your phone and saw no messages, no missed calls. The time was about half past ten so you sighed sadly. Steven had missed your date, and you were so busy getting lost in his big brown puppy dog eyes that you didn’t get his number. So you packed up and went to the bookstore on your own.

Days later, you were at work. The diner was bustling and you had finally reached a point where all your tables were taken care of. You were talking to one of the line cooks when your phone vibrated in your apron. You pulled it out and saw a call from an unknown number. You sighed to yourself and stepped away to answer it.

“Hello?” You said simply, hoping to keep the annoyance from your voice.

“Hi.. It’s uh- It’s Steven… From the museum.” He said nervously.

“Yeah, I figured…”

“I’m sorry I missed the bookstore this morning. I overslept and barely woke up and-“

“Steven?” You tried but his rambling continued.

“-and I feel terrible. If there’s anyway I can-“

“Steven.”

“-make it up to you… If you give me another chance, Y/N, I promise-“

“Steven.” You insisted.

“Yeah?”

“That was Sunday…”

“Was?”

“It’s Wednesday.” You explained gently. “Wednesday night.”

You could tell the explanation was genuine, that he was truly sorry that he didn’t show. But sleeping through four days? That didn’t make sense to you.

“What?” He asked sadly. “No, no I- I just woke up.… I- I slept through three and a half days?”

You were quiet for a moment while you thought of a response. Do you ask him on another date? What if it just happens again? He could be lying… But Steven didn’t strike you as a liar or a flake.

“How about this?” You offered. “My shift at the diner is over in about an hour… We can go to dinner after - on me - and talk about what happened. How does that sound?”

“Really?” He asked hopefully and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, that’s perfect. And it’s on me. I owe you that much at least.. What diner?”

“Peggy Sue’s, the classic American 50’s place.”

“Right, right, okay. Peggy Sue’s in an hour. See ya then, love.”

“Right.” You smiled with a quick nod before ending the call. You huffed and shoved your phone away, wondering if that was the best decision.

“Y/N! Food’s up!” The cook called.

“On it!” You replied, diving back into work.

The next hour became a nightmare very quickly. You had to cash out all of your tables at seemingly the same time while the hostess sat three more in your section. The other side of the diner was trying to flag you down and ask for things, which you only assisted with because they were small things. A refill on their soda, a new straw, extra napkins, ketchup.

“Where the hell is Sarah?” You asked the line cook when you found a second to catch your breath. A glass of water was slid to you and you offered a salute as thanks.

“Seventeenth smoke break.” He exaggerated and you groaned.

“Are we sure it’s just cigarettes? She seemed a little sniffly to me.” You tapped your nose and exaggerated a sniff as you put your glass down.

He snorted a laugh and slid your next set of plates to you. “Go do your job.” He laughed.

“And hers.” You complained. You were turning with a full tray when the hostess popped up in front of you. You were barely able to stop from dropping the plates on the both of you.

“I sat one in your section.” She said timidly.

“You double sat me?” You groaned and sidestepped her. “Carrie, I need to be out of here on time tonight. I have plans.”

“I know. He’s the last one, I promise..” She hurried as she followed behind you as you shook your head. “But he- he came in asking for you specifically and swore you wouldn’t mind. Not to mention, Sarah is nowhere to be found and her tables are yelling at me and I- I’m gonna cry.”

“Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” You stopped at the pass-out to gather silverware. “Go check on Sarah’s tables. Make sure they have drinks and all their orders are taken. If anyone who doesn’t have food asks about it, just say there was an issue with the system and we input them again. And you can ask what it was so you can ‘double check on it’. That new table- did you get a drink order?”

“I forgot.” She said sadly, her eyes glistening with tears. “But- but he has a menu!”

You sighed slightly.

“Okay, it’s fine. You go to Sarah’s section. I’ll handle mine. And when we get this under control, I’m gonna kill Sarah before I clock out.”

She nodded vigorously and you quickly began figuring out your section. You apologized for delays, nodded while people threw snippy comments at you, and made mental notes of all the new things people were asking for. You finally made your way to the new table, eyes down on your notepad and pen in hand.

“Hi.” You said with fake positivity. “So sorry it took so long. Two girls and a whole diner does not bode well for us.” You laughed weakly. “Can I get a drink started for you? We have sodas, water, tea, and beer. The beer is bottled and tea was brewed a little over an hour ago. I can put it on ice or hot. What are you thinking?”

“Hello.” He said happily, drawing out the word a bit.

You picked your eyes up and saw Steven sitting in front of you. You sighed in amusement and put your hand with your notepad on your hip while you leaned against the booth beside him. He smiled up at you innocently while you chuckled.

“What are you doing?” You asked with a playful accusation.

“I didn’t want to be late again.”

“Waitress!” The other side of the diner called.

“Looks like it’s my turn to apologize.” You sighed and pushed yourself up. “I’ll get you a drink while you wait.”

“A tea is fine.” He nodded. “And take your time. I’d hate to be the reason you rush.”

“Hello? Waitress?”

“Okay, my favorite line cook is working tonight so I can get him to brew this cup fresh.” You winked and he smiled widely. “Green, black, chamomile, or hibiscus?”

“Green.”

“Iced or hot?”

“Waitress!”

“Hot, please.. Do you need to go help them?”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw the couple waving a credit card with an expectant expression. You held a finger up and turned back to Steven.

“They can wait…” You said with a smile and he chuckled. “So hot green tea. Do you like it sweetened? My mom used to sweeten her green tea with honey.”

“Yeah?” He smiled softly and you hummed a response. “Let’s try mum’s way.”

“Perfect. I’ll be right back.”

“Can you make sure you make a hibiscus for yourself?” He added when you turned to leave. “That way you have more reason to come over here.”

“Smooth.” You chuckled before hurrying to the other side.

It took about twenty minutes for you and your hostess to get the diner back under control. You probably could’ve done it sooner if you hadn’t been making your side trips to Steven’s table. But your stops at his table where you got him to smile or he made you laugh made that nightmare of a shift that much better.

Many of the tables yelled at you. Some were understanding. A couple of Sarah’s tables tipped you instead or told you to split it with your hostess. One table even asked about the cook, and when you told them you only had one on staff, they tipped him too. Sarah finally returned and tried to argue with you about stealing her tips, but you pushed past her and flipped her off.

Finally, you were able to meet up with Steven and go out for dinner. He took you to a steak restaurant closer to his apartment and you two were able to get there just before the kitchen closed.

“I wasn’t sure about giving you a second date, yknow.” You teased after about an hour of conversation and jokes.

“Second?” His brows furrowed.

“Yeah.. Our first was the museum.” You nodded simply, answering as if it was obvious.

“Was it?” He chuckled. “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Mhmm, mhmm. I did.” You grinned.

“If I had realized this was a second date, I would’ve taken you somewhere simpler.” He made a face that made you giggle. “What?” He smiled.

“You picked this place cause you thought it was the first date.” You laughed, dropping your fork and lifting your hand to cover your mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s just- It’s cute. It’s really cute.”

“What?” He laughed with you. “I didn’t wanna look like a- a- a knob.”

“You would’ve been a cute knob.” You nodded with a wide smile still.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re lovely.” He said sweetly, reaching across the table to cover your hand with his. “Especially when you laugh.”

“You think so? Is that why you keep making jokes?” You raised your brows playfully.

“I’d be a stand-up comedian if it’d make you happy.” He smiled softly.

“You’re quite possibly the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.” You said sweetly.

“How’s about a third date then, hmm?” He asked nervously.

“You read my mind.”

[makeste]

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids​ for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

[mxchellesworld]

punk rock princess

spencer reid x reader

synopsis; where spencer’s working on the final paper for his third phd meanwhile you take on the task of making sure he takes a break.

warnings; smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, sub!spence if you squint, nipple piercings;),

a/n; i’m not saying this is my fantasy but .. this is my fantasy,, inspired by this song, y’all know the drill. you don't have to listen while reading but i always love to set the vibe. lastly y/n doesn't have any mentioned features or looks besides piercings/tattoos,, the rest is all up to you:)

pls send in feedback!

***

A shiver crawled down your spine from the first squirt of dye hitting your scalp. The bubblegum pink shade being a change from the firey red which inhabited your head a mere 24 hours prior.

The process was muscle memory at this point. Brushing out your hair then parting and sectioning it off. However that was the only methodical part. The fun was in slapping on the dye, not a single worry about staining your hands or neck.

The sounds of heavy drums and bass guitar bounced off the walls in the bathroom of the small apartment. Even though the door was shut it wasn't enough to stop the sound from flowing into the living room where your boyfriend was working.

Spencer sat at the dining table, flipping through copious amounts of folders and books. His third thesis in the process of being written. The computer screen in front of him looking back with a mocking glow. Since apparently things had to be digital now.

Your feet padding on the wooden floor made him look up from the pages. Humming to the music as you walked into your bedroom. Then back out a few seconds later holding a towel and robe.

A small smile tugged across his face. Ever since you had moved in together he loved to watch your day to day actions. The way you played your music concerningly loud, your skincare routine which included cleaning your facial piercings. What fascinated him the most was that in the 13 months you’d been together he’d seen you dye your hair 7 times.

Not including any touch ups.

He stood from his place at the table, making his way to the bathroom. Two quick rasps on the door to check if you were decent. The action made you giggle.

“Come in!” you called, “I don’t know why you knock weirdo you’ve seen me naked plenty of times.”

A blush spread across his cheeks from both your words and your state of undress. His eyes tried to focus on the splotches of color on the counter, keeping the blood flowing to the head on his shoulders.

But it was hard when the sheer bralette you had on did very little to hide the metal bars in each of your breasts.

“Spence?” you said snapping a fingers in front of him.

He cleared his throat, eyes snapping to your face which held a smirk.

“Are uh those n-new?” he questioned, hand going to scratch the nape of his neck.

The usual silver balls at the end of the bars were now tiny jewell hearts. The color was a little hard to tell due to the material of your bra but from the change in your hair he could almost bet money they were also pink.

With swift hands you unclipped your bra and threw it on the closed toilet seat before turning to face him.

“Got them when I bought the dye yesterday,” you said pushing your boobs up with your hands, “You like?”

Spencer’s eyes were as big as saucers, frantically nodding, “Y-yeah they look nice.”

You dropped your hands to your hips, tugging off the shorts you had on. The wide brown eyes before you couldn’t get any bigger, trailing down your frame stopping to admire the bar in your belly button along with the ink which littered your ribs.

He watched as you got to your knees, turning on the bath faucet. You dipped your head under the water, a stream of pink filling the tub.

The slope of your spine bent over was a sight he'd seen more than enough times. He could pinpoint the beauty marks on your left shoulder, the small sun he sketched which ended up permanently on the back of your neck. But if he let his gaze drift a little further south he could see how deliciously the dark lace looked barley covering up your most intimate parts.

A smack to his calf got his attention.

“Earth to Spencer! Can you hand me the shampoo,” you asked which came out sounding a bit muffled.

He quickly scurried to the tub and reached over to grab the bottle, squeezing a bit of gel onto your open palm.

"I'm gonna go work on my thesis some more," Spencer said slowly shutting the door behind him.

Making his way back to the living room, he pulled a few files and sat down on the couch. Glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and red pen between his teeth and he stared in concentration.

They were the same words he had read over and over again. The lack of sleep causing a dull ache in his skull.

"You need to take a break love," you said walking over and sitting next to Spencer on the couch.

"I did take one," he argued back flipping through the file.

"Gawking at me before I shower for 2 minutes isn't a break," you said with a giggle, the warmth flooding back to his cheeks, "Cmon 25 minutes at least without a file in your hand. "

When he didn't respond you took matters into your own hands. Ripping the file from his grasp, earning a grumble of disapproval before you straddled his hips. Your arms circled his neck and your hands went straight to the back of his scalp, fingertips running in soothing motions.

"Isn't this so much better baby," you asked whispering in his ear.

He nodded quickly, staying silent as he let his actions speak louder. His large palms went right to your plush hips. Bucking up as he led you to grind yourself on his lap.

Letting his hands explore the material of your satin rope he could feel the lack of undergarments on your frame. Spencer dared to let his hands dip under the black fabric and take each one of your cheeks in the palm of your hand with a gentle squeeze.

You could feel his cock stiffening under you. If you looked down you'd probably be able to see a wet spot on his sweats, most likely a mix of your arousals.

Leaning forward you let your lips attack his neck, placing sloppy kisses sure to leave marks. The process of licking and biting making Spencer hold onto you tighter, almost as if he had his very own vampire to mark him up.

Trailing up to his ear you bit on the lobe before whispering, "Tell me what you need baby."

Lust filled brown orbs met your own as you each continued your steady grind.

"Please fuck me," he pleaded.

If only he knew how wrapped around his finger you were. As pretty as he sounded begging you'd give him anything.

You pulled the metal frames off his face, tossing them to the other side of the couch. He had complained one too many times about foggy glasses during sex. No matter how cute you thought he looked.

Your hands slid down his torso and reached to pull down his sweats. His precum soaked length was heavy in your hands. Pretty pink tip leaky and throbbing already. The first few pumps had whiny moans slipping from his lips, red from biting so hard.

"Unwrap me baby, it's all for you," you said tilting your head down, motioning to the strings holding your robe together.

Quickly he let his slender fingers go to the ends, a swift tug and it was like opening a gift on Christmas. Leaning forward he let his lips wrap around one of your nipples. A strangled moan leaving your mouth from the stimulation.

With a raise of your hips you lined his cock with your opening before sliding down. You both sighed at the same time, the feeling of him stretching you out and your warm walls hugging his length was just too good.

Slowly you rocked your hips testing the waters, soft gasps and curses left your lips. You could feel very vein and inch stuffed inside you.

Spencer on the other hand was having an out of body experience, there wasn't an inch of your skin which was left untouched. Unkissed. After you were settled he raised his hips meeting you halfway with each thrust.

"You're doing so well baby," you cooed down at him, "You love when I ride you hm? Best fucking seat in the house."

His eyes shut closed in pleasure as your pace quickened, "Love it so much. So so pretty," he mumbled out.

His arms pulled you close again. Chest to chest as you continued your movements. Your lips met in a lazy kiss, panting in each others mouths when you ran out of air.

You could feel him pulsating inside you. The iron grip he had on your hips as he helped drive you up and down on his cock was sure to feel sore the next day. His shoulders were sure to have corresponding crescent marks from your nails digging in.

"Touch me Spence m'so close love," you said breathlessly.

One of his hands fell down to the space where you both connected. Skilled fingers rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves in quick circular motions.

Loud moans escaped your lips. Your head fell back to the familiar junction of his neck and shoulder, biting the skin in order to stifle your noises of pleasure.

"Y/n I can't hold it any longer, please cum with me," he whimpered out.

Nodding your head you grabbed onto the back of his neck, "Right behind you baby. Let go for me, I got you."

With a few more upward thrusts you felt him pull you down onto his cock, warmth spreading in your tummy. The feeling of his seed filling you up and his euphoric groans sent you over the edge.

You both rode out your orgasms, swiveling hips and satisfactory sighs of release leaving your lips.

After a few minutes of content silence listening to the music still flowing through the hall you moved to get up, the sticky mess between your thighs less than comfortable.

Warm arms kept you in place, denying your movement.

"Spence I gotta clean up," you said trying to push yourself off his chest.

"If I remember correctly you said at least 25 minutes and from my calculations I have 3 minutes and 38 seconds left of cuddle time," the lanky man under you said matter of factly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing but resting your head back on his shoulder, "If I get a UTI thats 3 minutes and 38 seconds of me playing screamo in your ear at full volume."

With one last squeeze he kissed the side of your head, the scent of ammonia only sightly bothering him, "Worth it."

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝘼𝙐𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩

i wanted to use this picture so badly but I knew it would ruin the mood.

∘ request(s):

"ayo? they’re not sleeping with anyone else??? does that mean???? raw??? w edgy karl????????

"ooooo i’m lacking in edgy karl content😩 for the next one could you do one where maybe the reader is being a brat and karl puts them in their place? if that makes sense?"

"Ever since I read your edgy Karl x reader I been getting massive brainrot where reader is just questioning their relationship and Karl is just dismissive about it. It feels great to get that off my chest. 😭"

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, prostitution (sort of), drinking, Todd the frat boy, crude/suggestive language, degradation, asphyxiation, spitting, angst

∘ word count: ~5k

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

∘ song recommendation: Come Here by Dominic Fike

a/n: y'all really drive this series oml. thank you to all your requests! should I do song recs on these or is that dumb? happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You adjusted your dress, attempting to not look as unkempt as you felt. Your hair had luckily survived the bus ride to Karl’s, yet your clothing was wrinkled from being smashed against various girls with the same destination in mind. You scoffed to yourself as you leaned against the side of the house, tugging your heel into a more comfortable position as one of the women in the group knocked on the large door.

It felt like there was always some random party blaring out of the windows, so you were surprised to be mixed into an excited group of girls waiting to be invited in by one of the Brothers. The only time when you’d been over to visit Karl and there wasn’t some kind of celebration of a random event was directly before spring break.

A nameless member dressed in a tux answered the door and you bit back a laugh as he welcomed everyone into the foyer. As you scanned the crowd for Karl, you noticed the number of older people lounging about in formal attire. You furrowed your brows slightly, knowing that Todd was probably behind whatever cultist bullshit was about to happen.

You wracked your brain trying to remember if Karl had mentioned anything about the importance tonight, but knowing the two of you, he’d probably begun to tell you only for him to get distracted.

A familiar laugh drew your attention to one corner of the living room where a man who looked dangerously like Karl playfully shrugged out of the grasp of another frat member. His nails were bare and he lacked any piercings, his hair even tamed so it fell just right over his forehead. You couldn’t deny the way your mind ran absolutely feral at the view of him, as if you’d stepped into some strange alternate universe where Karl was actually Carl.

As someone else struck up the conversation in his group, he turned to look over the crowd, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. His eyes brightened as he spotted you in the mix of the group. Whoever had let you into the house handed you and the rest of the people a brochure, something you then realized most of the room was holding.

You snorted slightly as you read, “46th ANNUAL MEMBER AUCTION,” printed boldly across the front page in elegant script. Your stomach twisted slightly at the discovery. You flipped open the pamphlet, seeing a list of numbers and the names of corresponding Brothers.

Karl was 23.

“I didn’t even sign up, honestly,” a voice called in your ear as Karl leaned over your shoulder, peering at the page in your hands. His cologne was more expensive than he usually wore, made obvious by the way it complemented his natural scent with a fuller smell.

You turned slightly, nearly leaning into his warm breath above you as you moved to look at him. “Come on, let them pimp you out,” you joked, your finger underlining one of the details on the back. “It’s for the frat Karl,” you mocked, making him roll his eyes playfully. “You look awfully pretty to not have signed up,” you chided, a small amount of jealousy tugging in your chest.

He ran his tongue across his teeth, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked down at you. “Do you want me to?”

You shrugged. “You know how loyal I am to this frat. I think it’s only right,” you continued to josh, eliciting a low chuckle from him. The smell of his whiskey hung beautifully on him. You’d be damned not to acknowledge what a catch he was.

He pulled his hand from his pocket and settled it on the small of your back, the two of you mumbling to each other as you headed towards the kitchen so he could pour you a drink. As he explained the process of the auction, your nerves started to change drastically. Luckily, your exterior kept this from Karl because you weren’t even sure yourself why you could be feeling so strongly about the event. “... Really, only the married guys get out of it without being heckled all night. It’s… I don’t know. It’s pretty lame.”

“So basically, it’s an event where the guys objectify themselves in the name of the frat." You jested, your eyes glued on his pinky ring, the only symbol of the Karl you knew. "Have you done this before?”

Karl shook his head. “I wasn’t old enough, thank God.” He leaned against the counter beside you, his back to the circulating groups of people so he was only looking at you. As he slouched, he matched your height.

You reached forward, taking the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt between your finger pads. “I’m trying to decide if I’m scared or aroused by this version of you,” you tittered, wanting so badly to feel his teeth against your skin. He smirked at you. “It’s like Wonderbread you. Like you’d have to sign a contract with me before you gave me a hug,” you teased further, making the smug look on his face twist into a laugh.

He leaned closer to you, his hand brushing to lay against the curve of your hip. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I can still rip you in half.”

You took a sip of the Brandy in your glass to hide the moan wanting to rip through your throat at the closeness of him. His lips brushed against your skin before pressing a kiss behind your ear subtly. You nudged him away from you reluctantly as Todd strolled into the kitchen, arms raised slightly as if he’d been searching the high heavens for Karl.

He moved to stand between the two of you, reaching for a decanter of a liquid you couldn’t place. Karl crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Karl, I have been looking everywhere for you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pin with Karl’s number on it and nudging it towards him on the counter. “You know, it’s kind of fun that partners can’t bid because-” he paused before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his side. You let out a laugh, resting your hand against his chest as Karl’s eyes darkened at the two of you. “-Your lovebug can have me tonight then, huh?” He mocked, smirking.

“Well, technically, I’m not his partner…” you added, pretending to touch Todd flirtatiously.

Todd’s arms pulled you closer. “You know what I mean, Princess.” You snickered, pushing him off of you as he moved to lean against the sink behind you. “Come on, Karl. I’m practically handing you the opportunity to hook up with MILFs, random TAs, and sorority girls,” he begged, making Karl pinch the bridge of his nose.

“That does sound intriguing,” you chimed, making Karl giggle mildly.

Todd’s eyes lit up with a sarcasticness as if you were actually promoting the idea. “You can go instead if you want to, babygirl,” he offered, tilting his head in an action to resemble a car salesman.

You looked to Karl with raised eyebrows and he shook his head in disbelief at the stupidity of whatever banter you and Todd were striking up. “That would be fun! Please, illegally pimp me out instead. I want to be solicited-”

Todd’s hand reached out to clamp over your mouth. “Okay stop.” He straightened his tie and the pin on his lapel in the shape of a number 12. You quietly wondered who were in the top places and what they were doing to be in those spots. “Karl, you’re a legacy dick. Most of those women out there probably hooked up with your family members and are back for more of that sweet sweet Jacobs-”

Karl cut him off gruffly. “-I’ll do it if you don’t finish that sentence and never bring that to my attention again.” Todd pretended to zip his lips before pointing to the pin and walking off. You took the pin in your hands, trying to ignore the shakiness of your fingers as you pinned it onto his jacket. “You know his name is actually Mark, right? He pretended to be a Romney for his first two years here.”

You snorted. “Don’t feed me that information right now.” You wet your lips, feeling his eyes on you as you brushed your hands down his lapels. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to… I was just joking.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Like, we can leave if you want,” you offered softly.

Karl chuckled, moving his hands up to rest over yours. “Someone’ll pay fifty bucks to take me to some dodgy hotel for ten minutes. It’ll be okay,” he assured. “Maybe I'll have fun, who knows.” He drew you closer once again. You swore you could get drunk off the intoxicating allure of his breath. “I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

You furrowed your brows, suddenly worried about having that conversation with him. “If you’re okay with it, I am,” you answered quietly, sending him a small shrug.

He popped a piece of gum in his mouth, shrugging back at you.

Everyone began to gather around the grand piano in one corner of the living room. You could suddenly feel the heat of the massive fireplace against your bare legs as Karl rested an arm against the wall above you, leaning over you slightly. “How much would you bid on me, if you could?” He whispered as Todd explained some rules to the bidders.

You looked up at him reaching up to play with his lot number. You hummed slightly in mock thought. “Maybe a packet of ramen, a Speedway rewards card, and…” you trailed off before digging into your purse and grabbing a handful of quarters, “five dollars in linty coins?” You joked, sending him an innocent smile.

He bit back a laugh. “I feel like you’re the only one that knows my true value,” he quipped sarcastically.

As the auction began to kick off, men were being bought for various currencies, from picnics in the park to gala dates and etcetera. The tension in your shoulders began to cool as there were fewer ambiguous payments. The women and men that paid sums of money were the ones that worried you the most. Karl’s hand slithered up your back until he reached the back of your neck, pressing his fingers into your skin almost possessively.

You focused on the crowd, trying to notice any peering eyes cutting into Karl, but no one seemed to have the slightest clue. Karl’s fingers worked at a knot in your neck, making you want to moan at his touch. You hated being this close to him and unable to mark him as your own. He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to the skin on your shoulder that wasn’t covered by your dress. “Relax,” he whispered, heat raking through your body at the sound of his voice.

Finally, his number came up. Before the auctioneer could finish introducing him, a handful of sorority girls sparked up with heavy numbers in the air. Your eyes widened and you could feel Karl stiffen behind you at their urgency. As their bids began to grow and add zeros, your heart began to beat in your ears.

“$5000.” Your mouth grew dry as the number halted the noise in the room. Bewilderedly, you searched the room until your eyes landed on a woman in her early-50s. You couldn’t help your mouth slightly fall open. “I’d like to bid $5000,” she repeated. You downed the rest of your Brandy, letting the alcohol sting your throat and warm your stomach. As Karl’s turn closed, your mind went blank. What did I expect to happen? You scorned.

After about an hour, the bidding was over. You plastered on a smile after everyone exited the room, standing before Karl and spending the time you had left letting your mind race with emotion. “What’s wrong?” Karl asked, nudging your arm with his elbow.

You swatted him off. “You excited to spend time with your new mommy?” You chided, making him raise his eyebrows. Your voice came out a bit more condescending than you’d intended.

Something dark flitted across his expression. “Definitely.” He pressed closer to your ear again. “I bet she cums on the slow stroke,” he leered, making you inch away from him. He giggled slightly at his own joke, before noticing your quietness. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, unable to explain just how you were feeling about the situation. It was as if reality had seeped into your bones at what had happened.

Karl ran his fingers against his bottom lip as he looked at you, the skin flushing a deeper red. You’d seen the color too many times to count, but it was usually due to stimulation from you. “Don’t be like that. What’s going on?” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms softly. This seemed to only further allure him. “If you’re gonna act like a brat, I’ll start treating you like a brat,” he whispered, perking your attention. You let your eyes wander back to the ground. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. His calm expression added arousal to your swimming cauldron of feelings.

You pulled out of his grasp. You bit your tongue, grasping at your thoughts and searching for what you wanted to tell him. His grey irises swirled with some kind of worry and what you could only describe as fondness. Instead, you chickened out. “Just use protection, okay?” You faltered.

His features remained quiet as if in thought. In one swift movement, his hand brushed against your jaw, pressing his lips against yours. Your whole body relaxed into his touch, your eyes closing to relish in the feeling of silent loyalty to you. As his tongue brushed against your lips, it was as if he was stating just what you meant to him. If you weren’t in the right mind, you’d moan a gracious pledge of your mutual devotion into his mouth.

He pulled away shortly, leaving you flushed and winded as he reached his thumb up to swipe away the smearing of your lipstick. “I’m in your fuckin’ pocket, remember?” He acquiesced almost emotionlessly, before dropping his hands and letting you stumble. You had to will your body not to grin at what he’d said as the woman who bid on him approached the two of you.

She shook hands with both of you talking about the thrill of the event and how she’s gone for the last couple of years. “Ma’am, he’s a virgin. Please be careful,” you noted as Karl helped her into her coat. Karl’s eyes shot daggers into you, biting back a laugh of his.

The woman giggled with her whole chest. “Oh, darling. That won’t be an issue,” she gasped as she caught her breath. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your smile as you made eye contact with an ill-looking Karl.

You opted to head back to your apartment, eyeing the clock each time you get an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your roommate had gone out for the night, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts. As two hours passed, you were beginning to feel phantom notifications from your phone, your heart skipping with faltering hope.

As if your prayers had finally been answered, a brief knock at your door sent you jumping over the back of the couch and tugging on a hoodie before you threw open the door. Karl stood leaning against the frame and cracking his knuckles. He eyed you curiously as he noticed your urgency. His shirt was barely buttoned and untucked, hair ruffled and curling here and there. As you let him into your apartment, your mouth grew dry with anticipation. Karl slumped onto your couch, kicking his feet up on your coffee table and raising an eyebrow at you.

You wet your lips, sitting on the arm of a chair near his side of the couch. “How was it?” You asked. “Did you learn anything?”

He scoffed, humor dancing behind his eyes. “You will never guess where I was.” You furrowed your brows at him as if it wasn’t obvious. To this he shook his head, sitting up to lean his elbows on his knees, reaching forward to pull you into the empty spot beside him. “So, that woman owns an art studio downtown and she holds classes for whoever. The nail polish girl in my art class is like the right-hand man to that woman and she caught wind of the auction,” he paused to loosen a few more of his buttons. “The woman has always gone to the auction, but the girl knew I was participating this year and recommended me.”

“Okay, so… You were in an art class all night?” You probed, making him grin smugly at you.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Not exactly.”

You snorted, leaning into the cushions and turning towards him. “They weren’t drawing you nude were they?” You joked sarcastically, the mental image proving to be almost unthinkable. His eyes shifted to his lap as he chuckled and you punched his arm. “You’re kidding!”

He shook his head, biting back a grin. “I had old dudes staring at my dick for two hours straight and trying to recreate it in charcoal.” You covered your mouth with your hand, waiting for him to reveal that he was joking. “They liked my cheekbones,” he taunted.

You huffed in disbelief. “Oh my fucking God.” Your mind was utterly blank. “So, you didn’t sleep with anyone?”

He smiled at you. “Nope. You’re still my only one.” Your cheeks flushed at this. “That being said, you were so incredibly immature earlier,” he chided, making your eyebrow perk with discontent.

“Excuse me,” you nearly hissed.

His eyes navigated your body. “Jealous little brat, honestly,” he scoffed. “Make it up to me.” You stared at him blankly, as if unable to comprehend his words. He moved his arms to rest on the back of the couch, letting his legs spread a bit further. You watched him intently as his jaw tensed, looking slightly intimidating as he eyed you. His calm expression started you, gears turning behind his eyes. “Did I stutter?” He nipped.

You climbed onto his lap, letting his hands slip beneath your hoodie as he gripped your hips, pulling you down to grind against his leg. Heat spread across your body at the friction, realizing now just how needy you’d been for most of the night. Funny how you didn’t even think of taking care of yourself without Karl there.

He tugged your collar to the side, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, his warm breath a stark contrast to the cool temperature of the room. You felt his teeth glide over the valleys of your collarbones as if threatening to mark you as the brat you were. His brat.

His fingers dug into your skin, his knee bouncing slightly as he pushed you to increase your speed. You moaned against his shoulder, reaching the hand that wasn’t planted securely on his arm towards his belt. The clasp was almost second nature for you, considering the various places and positions you’d been in and wrestling with it.

As you slipped your hand into his pants, he groaned, bucking against your touch as if he'd been hungry for you all night. He rested his hand in the crook of your neck, roughly bringing your lips to his own. Instead of kissing you immediately, his lips brushed against yours, the smell of his breath dancing against your skin and forcing you to want him more as your hips moved to make up for the lack of his taste on your tongue.

Your hand gripped him through his boxers, earning a muffled grunt of pleasure from Karl. His eyes threatened to roll as you began to palm him, his breathing deep and needy. Curses hissed through his teeth, the sound further adding to how turned on you were. "Give me your mouth," he moaned, a demand you were more than happy to fulfill as you slipped onto your knees in front of him. Karl's hand gathered your hair as you tugged his boxers down. Your fingers traced the hem of his dress pants that ran against the inside of his thigh before attending to his arousal once again.

Then something clicked into your mind. "I've been thinking about what Todd said," you began, Karl's reaction dulling as you began to pump your hand around his dick. "About me sleeping with him," you continued, your voice dripping with a venomous innocence.

Karl twitched in your hand, his grip on your hair tightening. You moaned slightly as his eyes hardened. "Tread lightly, pet," he nearly growled. The gruffness of his voice sending goosebumps down your back. "You're on thin fucking ice already."

You looked up at him with doe eyes, crowding his lap. "I wonder if he's bigger than you," you commented.

You seemed to find the last straw rather quickly as Karl grabbed your arms, pulling you up and throwing you on the couch beneath him. "Fucking bitch," he snapped, ripping your underpants down your legs. "And here I was about to make this about you," he chuckled darkly, leaning on his knee to slip his jacket off his shoulders and discard his button-up shirt.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you towards him before he ground his hips against yours roughly, clashing his lips against yours. He tugged on your hair tightly, tongue pressing into your mouth.

His lips left yours, pulling your hoodie over your head and throwing it across the room before digging his teeth into your chest. You moaned at his efforts, basking in the roughness of his actions. Karl pushed himself into you without warning, and without hesitation, he began to snap his hips into yours. Your thighs tightened around his waist, attempting to adjust to his speed before he hooked one of your legs in the crook of his elbow, pushing it towards your chest.

His hand moved to wrap around your neck possessively, his eyes burning into yours with a mix of lust and glimmers of the sadistic side of him that loved to see you tremble beneath his touch as he restricted your breathing, only for you to gasp for air when he allowed. "Fucking brat," he barked, pounding into you faster. "Bring him up again and I'll make your life miserable," he groaned, spitting into your mouth to illustrate his point.

You let him take his anger out on you as you fought not to grin at the pure sparks of pleasure pulsing through your veins at the view of him completely dominating you. Your eyes fluttered shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt not to cum from the intense stimulation, your fingers digging into the softness of the couch beneath you as you searched for something to anchor yourself.

Karl leaned back slightly, dragging a hand through his hair as he slowed his hips, his eyes glued to yours, the new angle driving him deeper into you. The view of him above you like this oddly reminded you of when the two of you went to parties and spent the night grinding against each other in the massive crowds of your peers to an unidentifiable song.

Any idiot could tell Karl could fuck by the way he danced.

Karl pressed his hips firmly against yours, bucking into you relentlessly once again, pulling your hands above your head and holding your wrists in his fist. He kissed you harshly once again, swallowing your attempts to catch your breath and dragging his teeth across your lips again.

You felt unable to control your orgasm as it raced through you, your moans echoing into Karl's mouth as your body tensed. Karl used your orgasm to ride out the rest of his own pleasure, smirking slightly at your disheveled appearance.

As the air settled, the two of you straighten up the living room, making sure to find each article of clothing so your roommate wouldn't comment. Karl sat back down on the couch, reaching an arm out for you. You raised an eyebrow at him hesitantly, with a small smirk playing on your lips.

He huffed jokingly. "Come on, I can't fuck your brains out and not hug you at least for a bit," he joshed, gesturing for you to join him.

You let out a small laugh. The man with multiple piercings, tattoos, and a glare that can insight nightmares, was always the first to ask to cuddle. You tucked into the spot beneath his arm, letting his grasp tighten around you as you wrapped a blanket around the both of you.

His heartbeat thumped against your ear, making you want to slip into a deep sleep. "I think we should set Todd up with Nail Polish Girl," you joked, breaking into the comfortable silence between the two of you. You glanced up at Karl as you said this, hoping to gauge his reaction as you silently apologized for what you'd said earlier in the name of getting him riled up.

He chuckled shortly. "We should probably straighten ourselves out before we meddle in other people's relationships," he mocked. It'd come out as a light-hearted statement, but it tugged heavily at your nerves.

You pushed yourself to sit up and look at him, suddenly anxious. "What do you mean? We're fine, right?"

Karl smirked. "Well yeah, but sooner or later we're going to have to figure out what we're doing." He wet his lips. "I mean, how much longer are we supposed to just mindlessly hook up."

"We're not mindlessly hooking up. We're friends too," you reasoned, your voice uneven as you attempted to inject humor in your statements, hoping to mask your hesitation.

He rolled his eyes slightly. "Yeah, but don't you want more? Like who do you say I am when your friends ask?" He raised his eyebrows, shortly waiting for a response before continuing. "A booty call, right? Am I supposed to be a booty call forever?"

You were taken aback slightly. His tone wasn't provocative, but that didn't stop your heart from racing. "What are you saying?"

He shrugged. "What does it sound like I'm saying?" He sat up a bit more to angle towards you. "I don't mean now, but eventually I'd like this to mean a bit more."

You stood up from the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table as you reached for a pair of discarded sweatpants and slipped them on. "This is a lot to think about," you mumbled, unable to make eye contact with him. Your mind raced with the different outcomes of what he was talking about. Also, all of them involved the two of you going stale and him finding comfort in other people. "I mean… what we have now is good. Isn't it?"

Karl stood too, raising his hands slightly as if he were consoling a cornered animal. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I thought we were on the same page?" You rubbed the back of your neck nervously, looking for words. "I- uh. I'm sorry." His hands fisted at his sides awkwardly, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Sirens wailed from outside your windows, the street becoming the only noise in your apartment as he awaited your next move. "I'm actually… gonna head out. I'll uh… I'll text you later," he stated, grabbing his jacket, gauging your reaction.

Your tongue felt like sandpaper as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "No, uh… I think I need some time…" you trailed, your eyes flashing to his. "... To think…"

He nodded slightly, taking one last look at you before slipping out your front door, the lock clicking shut behind him.

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