#don’t just sit there and waste precious time line

[obae-me]

The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.��

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me nightbringer #nightbringer spoilers

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

The Morning After

Summary: Reader and Spencer are waking up after a big fight the night before.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Comfort

Content warnings: Relationship troubles

Word count: 1k

You woke up not convinced you had slept. Your eyelids sticking together and sore from the stark morning light must indicate otherwise, right? It stings no matter how often you blink. It’s a similar sting to chlorine and your body clears it out. But no matter how many times you blink, the pain remains.

Normally, Spencer’s hogging the bed, his arms pressed against your back like he was in a casket but sideways while you grip the edge and hope you don’t meet the floor with your nose. Stretching your arm out to feel the other side feels unnatural. No hand ready to grab you and smack your knuckles with a kiss. No grinding teeth that you’ve told him is a sign of stress and he should get checked out.

This all felt worse. Even though Spencer was just in the living room, he still felt too far away. But what’s the right way to deal with that? How does one bounce back from such a brutal night?

Well, you don’t bounce back. You take it slow. You pick yourself up from the pillows, your body aching like a hangover. Sitting upright did not help your headache; the pain between your eyes is strong, recovering from scrunching so violently in the midst of sobbing and yelling. You’re both lucky the neighbors didn’t call the cops.

You sway around the bed, left to right like a stiff pendulum. In the doorway, you see your boyfriend. His hair is a moppy mess. He's got a fresh dark roast in his hands, and it takes all his concentration to bring it to his lips. It’s almost precious if you didn’t remember you’re partially responsible for putting him in that state. You watch him sip slowly, the heat hits his skin and he remains unfazed. He pulls it away.

“Morning.” You croak out. You push yourself out of the doorway as you wrap yourself tight in your robe.

His face turns to you as he considers another sip. “Morning.” He puts his cup on the end table. “There’s… uh there’s plenty more. If you want any.”

You nod, crossing your arms close to your chest. Even though you don’t waste time grabbing the hot pot and plenty of creamer, your mind concentrates on the feeling of eyes pressing into your back. The sound of the leather shifting with his weight, maybe he was watching to make sure you weren’t walking out (like you may or may not have threatened to do last night). When you turn around though, he does too, he knows you saw it.

Because you know what to do.

You walk to the couch, taking the side opposite as you take two gulps of your beverage, ignoring the semi-sweet liquid’s heat. You settle in with your cup close by while Spencer occupies himself with his own hands like he’s been called to the principal’s office.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

A third sip. “Yeah, probably best.” You eventually put your cup down after another eager drink. Your magazines were arranged on the table in front of you, labeled by issue. And not just that, but the books that were once sprawled on the floor were put back neatly on the shelves, in their intended alphabetical order. You pause at the sight. “You… wait, you cleaned up last night?”

Spencer coughed to pretend he wasn't so tired, saying "Yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured, you know, why not?” He equipped the rhetorical question with a shrug.

You rub your face. It all hurts. “I didn’t mean to back into the shelf. I hope you know that.”

“I know.”

“Good, okay.” The silence is thick. Expected, but still daunting. The chest pain that comes with holding your breath so sternly is not something you thought of before. And you wish it would go away. So you start it. “Do you want to go first, or would —”

“I’m sorry.” Spencer interrupts.

“Huh?”

“I’m really sorry. What I said, it was out of line.”

You sigh. The relief of it all (or part of it, the rest will come in time) pours out with one exhale. Your lungs still feel the ache, but again, in due time. “Me too. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have retaliated the way I did.”

Spencer’s lips pull into a smile as his head falls back. “Okay. Good.” He swallowed. “Good.”

You don’t waste time taking up space between you. Your knees touch as you reach out to brush his cheekbones with your knuckles. You move further up and rub the redness around his eyes. They match yours. So you know the area is sensitive. Spencer, however, looks up at the ceiling as you touch it. Soon though, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the skin. “Not as sloppy as I usually am."

“It’s okay.” Your grip tightens in his. “I think we both need to rehydrate.”

“And sleep more,” Spencer said.

“That sounds nice.” You slip out of Spencer’s hold and comb his hair back with your fingers, clearing them from his face. “Want to go back to bed?”

Spencer’s face scrunches and readjusts in his seat, rubbing his shoulder blade against the couch’s back. “I don’t think I can. It’s not easy to turn comfortably here.”

“You don't have to sleep on the couch.”

Spencer looked back at you. “Really? You sure?”

“You deserve a decent sleep in your own bed.”

Before Spencer has a chance to protest, you’ve picked yourself up from the couch and started pulling him up by the wrists. Despite his weary state, he followed you and stood up himself. You tugged his arm to the bedroom, to the sweet relief of a mattress, pillows, and potential cuddles. Spencer however tugs back, and he brings you into a soft hug. His head on your shoulder, his arms linking together to cage you into the warmth of his body. You gladly (and sleepily) follow by putting your arms around his neck. And you stay there. For a while.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid /you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid blurb #criminalminds #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 5 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, the beginning of pregnancy weight gain, body insecurity, lots of Mother's Day fluffiness

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Reader/Ms. Sweetheart borrows jeans from Viv. I've never specified or alluded to Viv's size or body type, so she's whatever size y'all are 💚

May 1999

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy!”

Harris’s excited voice rouses you from your half-sleep. You’d awoken earlier with Eddie’s alarm–it’s unusual that he sets one when he doesn’t have work–but you hadn’t thought much of it, rolling over and pulling the comforter up to your chin. Rest is a precious commodity lately, one that you refuse to waste.

You sit up slightly, blinking until his and Eddie’s faces come into focus. This is your second year celebrating the holiday as Harris’s maternal figure, but it’s the first since you and Eddie have gotten married. Still, his enthusiasm is just as high as it was last Mother’s Day as he climbs onto the bed, sheets rumpling underneath him, thrusting a homemade card in front of your bleary eyes.

The front displays one of Harris’s signature drawings, you and him standing next to each other with matching smiles. A bright yellow orb in the left hand corner represents the sun, shining down on the two of you. He’s drawn your fingers intertwined; in your free hand is a book, and in his, a crayon.

With slanted handwriting, the message inside of the card reads: I love you, Mommy! Happy Mother’s Day! Love, Harris.

You smile, wrapping him in a spine-crushing hug and tickling him until he’s breathless. “Thanks, Har,” you murmur, grinning against his curls. “I’m the luckiest mommy in the world today.”

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” Eddie chimes in with a wink. “Go ahead and get dressed, Sweetheart. The Munson boys are taking you out for breakfast.”

Your stomach growls in response; now that your morning sickness has mostly subsided (save for a smattering of oatmeal-related incidences), breakfast once again sounds appetizing. You gently place Harris on the empty side of the bed “Sounds great,” you say, swinging your legs over the edge to stretch away your exhaustion. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Eddie nods, leaning over and kissing your waiting lips. “Take your time.” He motions for Harris to follow him out of the bedroom, giving you some privacy to change out of your pajamas. 

You slip out of your oversized nightshirt, carefully hooking your bra around your tender breasts. They’re even more sore than when you’d get your period, and you wince as the fabric grazes your nipples. 

Your favorite pair of jeans sit atop the laundry pile. They glide over your thighs with ease, but when you try to fasten the button, it won’t close. 

“What the hell?” You try to mutter it under your breath, but Eddie hears it and pushes his head into the room. 

“Everything okay—ooh, boobies.” He immediately clocks your shirtless torso, closing the door behind him as he makes a beeline for your chest. 

You pout, fingers pinching the open waist of your jeans and tugging on them exasperatedly. “My pants don’t fit,” you moan, tears brimming along your lash line. “I don’t even have a bump yet; why won’t they close?”

Eddie’s amused expression drops into a frown when he notices the storm brewing behind your eyes. “Hey, it’s okay.” His voice is soft as he presses his lips to your forehead. “Baby Munson is just growing, that’s all.” He slowly drops to his knees, palms bracing your hips while worshiping your stomach with light kisses. He stands up and takes your hands in his. “I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t worry about what you’re gonna wear.”

Before you can question it, he’s left the room once again. You wipe at your cheeks and resignedly brush your teeth and fix your hair, eyes never leaving the mirror. Your midsection doesn’t look different, but your clothes would beg to differ. You knew your body would change with pregnancy, but that didn’t make it any easier to cope with. 

Your hands rest just below your belly button where your jeans should fasten. There’s a baby in there, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. Our baby has to get bigger, which means I have to get bigger, and that’s okay. You silently repeat the mantra, hoping to convince yourself of its truthfulness. 

You’re unsure how long you’ve been critiquing your appearance before there’s a knock on the door. “It’s me. Viv.”

You don’t even bother to throw on a shirt before letting her in. She’s clutching a pair of jeans with a black elastic waistband. “Eddie called and asked if you could borrow a one of my, and I quote, ‘pregnant lady pants.’” She grins, tossing them on your bed. “He didn’t tell me why, but between that and you not drinking when we went out for dinner the other night…” Her eyes glimmer mischievously, not wanting to reveal her assumption without permission. 

“Well, I am pregnant,” you confess, laughing when she pulls you in for an ecstatic hug. “About three months along, so we’ll officially be telling people pretty soon.”

“My lips are sealed.” Viv mimics locking her mouth with a key and throws it away. “Seriously, I didn’t even tell Jeff; I just said I had to run a quick errand. And,” she lowers her voice even more, “you won’t be going through this alone.” Her gaze flits down to her stomach.

You squeal, gripping her wrists. “Ettie’s gonna be a big sister?”

“Mhm,” she nods, smiling just as wide as you are. “In seven months. We’ll basically be having these babies together.”

It’s the best news you’ve heard since you’d seen your own positive test. Your body releases a tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. Not only are you and Viv pregnant at the same time, but she’s also already experienced this. And now that she knows, you have a list of questions to ask her within the coming weeks.

 “I gotta get back home, but we need to make a mom-date and catch up,” Viv promises, squeezing your hand. “Maybe go shopping for some maternity clothes?”

“Perfect.” You give her another strong hug before she walks out of the room, and you change from your too-snug jeans into Viv’s pair. Taking another look at yourself in the mirror, you process this temporary change in your wardrobe. You’re wearing maternity pants because you’re having a baby; you’re having Eddie’s baby.

You throw on a fuschia shirt and bound into the living room where Eddie and Harris are waiting for you, their patience visibly waning.

“C’mon, Mommy!” Harris hurries you, tugging on your hand and leading you towards the door. “We can share the silver dollar pancakes! Oh, and can you sit next to me in the car and at the diner?”

Before you can answer, Eddie chimes in. “I don’t get to sit next to Mommy at all?” he asks with a dramatic pout, clutching his car keys and opening the apartment door for you and Harris.

Harris shakes his head. “Nope. It’s Mommy’s day, and she’s my mommy!” He looks up at you and beams, and you return the expression tenfold.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Eddie mutters under his breath, though you can see him smiling as he locks up behind you. “All right, troops; let’s ship out!”

As the three of you–four, if you count the tiny person forming in your womb–make your way to the car, you relish in the day’s joy. Old traditions mix with the new, yet the feeling of unconditional love remains the same.

--

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[sudsyv2]

You guys know that audio that goes

“My wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you touching me on my chest”

“I am your wife”

“…sup”

Ghost loosing his memory for a short period due to a tbi during a mission, doesn’t remember who soap is but knows that he does have a husband. (Who is soap)

And because ghost doesn’t remember who his husband is, he tries to not let soap touch him in any way. “You shouldn’t be touching me. I have a husband” ghost would say, mumbled and low due to just waking up from his injury. Trying to get soap to move his hand away from his thigh.

And soap would laugh, not bothering to remove his hand. He can’t wait to tease his husband after this.

This would be great blackmail.

“Ah am your husband, si”

Silence

Ghost didn’t respond even after a couple minutes. Soap didn’t mind though, patiently waiting as he felt the familiar stare from his husband.

‘He’s always been real observant..’ Soap reasoned in his mind.

Normally most people would be devastated but Soap knew his LT would be back in shape soon enough. He was also already notified by the nurse that ghost would regain his memory in a couple days. All soap had to do was wait and be there for his husband.

He smiled slightly as he saw ghosts eyebrows knit together and his eyes squint, obviously deep in thought.

“..you do look familiar.”

“Mhm!”

In his own thoughts, Soap absentmindedly rubbed a comforting hand on ghosts thigh. “You’re doing so great, love.” Soap cheered his husband on with a big grin. Trying his hardest to hold a laugh when he sees a blush creep on ghosts face.

“You’re pretty.”

“Huh?” Soap said, snapping out of his thoughts to look at ghost. Who was staring at him with such intensity it would’ve made soap shrink in his seat if he wasn’t used to it.

“You’re really pretty.” Ghost repeated himself. Looking at the new red tint spreading itself on Soaps face. “It seems I’m very lucky.”

Not wasting any time, he gently grabbed soaps hand. And squeezed it as best he could, rubbing his thumb across the others palm. The sound of their rings clinking together as ghost ran his hand across soaps own.

“We have rings” ghost said to himself, in both awe and suprise. “We’re married you idiot, I told ya! You don’t ever take yours off, love. But neither do I.” Soap said, smiling to himself at a fond memory.

(“You gonna keep it on even during our missions?” Soap exclaimed, surprised that his now husband would wear the ring everywhere they went. Ghost has always been the more cautious one so it was a suprise for the man to want to wear something so precious all the time even during their line of work. “Of course.” Ghost answered. “Not like anyone would say something. Everyone knows we’re married, hell price was our pastor. I think they were all more excited than we were while we were getting married.” ghost pointed out. Soap only laughed at it, how absurd is it to have their captain unite them through marriage. “I’m thinking of wearing mine too!” Soap said, his usual bright smile shining on his face)

“You’re smile is amazing. No wonder I married you..” ghost said, staring intently at soap. “So pretty too, you look like what poets write about.”

“If you didn’t tell me you were already mine, I think I would’ve gotten on my knees and proposed a second time.” Ghost laughed, not noticing the shiver that ran through soaps body.

(Seems ghost is a flirter when he loses his memory)

“Y-you..” Soap stuttered out, not sure whether to look away from the gaze of his husband or to just straight up kiss him.

Now it was Ghosts turn to laugh at his husband. “I’m?” Ghost said, a small grin forming on his face.

“You don’t even act like this when you’re drunk. Trying to get me to cry happy tears huh?” Soap said breathlessly, leaning in to plant a soft kiss against the corner of ghosts mouth. A smug grin forming on his face as he felt ghost try to lean in to soaps kiss.

“Wouldn’t think of making someone like you cry, less it’s in bed.” Ghost said trying to sit up. Already snaking a hand to soaps back.

But after soap heard the pained groan come from ghost he stopped it. Removing ghosts hand from his back.

“Let’s leave it off right here, we can save the lovey dovey stuff for when we get you out of here alright?” Soap said, gently pushing ghost back into the pillows on the hospital bed.

“…” ghost didn’t say anything, only staring at soap. “What’s the matter?” Soap asked, worried that his husbands injuries had maybe worsened while they talked.

“Nothing, nothing at all. I would like it if you- I mean- can you..” soap looked expectantly at ghost. Patiently waiting for him to finish what he was saying.

“Stay please” ghost reached out with a bandaged hand, trying to grab at soaps shirt

Soap laughed lightly

“You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried, Si” and soap took ghosts hand, kissing it gently.

“I would never”

It took 4 days for Ghost to regain his memories.

“Well, hello there!” Soap popped his head into ghosts hospital room. Today was the day that ghost would be able to leave and hopefully the day he would remember everything.

“Hey…” ghost responded with his usual gruff tone, staring at soap making his way next to ghost by the side of his bed.

“What happened while I was out?” Ghost asked, he had heard he shortly lost his memories from the nurses. Outside he looked real calm, like usual, but inside Ghost worried if he had done anything to soap while he didn’t remember him. Worrying if he had hurt the other.

Soap only answered with a warm smile, the same smile that had grounded ghost when he was nervous to recite his vows.

“Nothing crazy happened!” Soap said, waving his hands around.

“Really?”

“Yup!” Soap smiled, only he will know what ghost was like. And he’d use it to tease his dear husband later.

Just not right now

Soap was too excited to take his husband home, to their cute cat and their comfy bed.

#ghoap #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soap cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mctavish #soap mw2 #ghost mw2 #these bitches gay #soft fluff for ghoap #short memory loss #I love writing fool in love ghost!! #sudsyv2

[rollinouttahere-writes]

So. It's kinda random but what if Platonic Yandere! Strawhats with Y/n who is an artist? And maybe one day they saw how Y/n drew one of them but doesn't want to show any?

Let me see!

Yandere Straw Hats x GN!Reader

1.4k words

It was rare to get any time to yourself around here. Ever since you got mixed in with the Strawhat Crew, you felt like you always had someone attached to your hip or hovering over your shoulder. This made indulging in your personal hobbies difficult. Granted, it’s not like any of them would stop you from doing it, but you wanted to keep at least one thing for yourself.

Today was one of those instances where you were actually being left alone. You’re not sure how it happened this time. Maybe they all thought you were already spending time with someone else. Whatever, you’re not about to waste these precious moments pondering it.

Quietly slipping into your room, you pull your sketchbook and utensils out of their hiding spot. You curled up in your bed and flipped through the book until you found a blank page. Twirling the pencil between your fingers, you contemplate what to draw.

Despite your.. Complicated relationship with the crew, you couldn’t help but be inspired by them. Well, artistically speaking at least. They were constantly doing all these incredible feats and looking cool as hell while doing it. That, and it’s not like you saw much else besides them anyways.

After mulling it over, you start sketching, having decided on drawing Luffy today. He was an incredibly fun person to draw, what with his admittedly adorable baby face and his cartoonish anatomy. 

It didn’t take long for you to really get into the zone and be only focused on putting new lines onto the sheet of paper. You’re so focused that you don’t hear the door to your room open, nor the sound of sandals slapping across the floor until it’s too late.

“(Y/N)! Why are you hiding in here, I’ve been looking for you!” Luffy giddily rushed towards your bed and threw himself onto it, and subsequently you.

Frantically, you try to hide the sketch book under the covers, but he already saw it. Perking up, he tries snatching it out of your hand, “C’mon, why are you reading a book when you could be playing with me?!” 

Yes! You might be able to get out of this yet. If he thinks it’s a book, he definitely won’t try to read it and discover what it really is. “I like reading, Luffy. I just want to curl up with a good book once in a while,” as you’re saying this, you narrowly avoid letting it fall into his grabby hands, and slip it underneath yourself to sit on it.

He pouts and rests his face on his hands, still focused on the book, “Is it really that good that you want to read it more than hang out with me?”

You cringe a bit at how pointed the question was. There was no good answer here. Either you say no and he’ll immediately drag you off, or you say yes and run the risk of hurting his feelings. Then you’ll have to deal with a temper tantrum from him, and being admonished by the rest of the crew for being mean. “It’s not about it being better than hanging out with you, I can like doing more things you know.”

Luffy huffs at your indirect answer and begins tugging on the book again, “What’s it’s even about then?”

Oh shit. Um. Hm. Now you need to improvise. “It’s about,” you dart your eyes around looking for any inspiration to help you out. You’re in a plain room on a boat in the middle of the ocean, and of course the plot of literally every book you’ve ever read has completely vacated your brain.

You were apparently taking too long to tell him, so he just ripped it out from under you to investigate himself. “It can’t be that good if it’s that hard to explain. Why would you-” Luffy’s sentence died on his tongue as he opens it, right onto a picture of himself.

Panicking, you launch yourself onto his back in a desperate attempt to confiscate it, but he simply stretches his arms to keep it out of reach.

“This is awesome! Why didn’t you tell me you could draw so good?” Much to your chagrin, he starts flipping through it, now seeing sketches of the other members, too.

“Luffy! Give that back! I didn’t say you could look at that!” Blood rushed to your face from the embarrassment of being caught.

He peers over his shoulder at you, looking bewildered at your statement, “What’s the big deal? Don’t you want to share your talent?”

“No, I don’t! Just give it back and don’t tell anyone about it! Please!” You scrambled off the bed and leapt for the book, but he just snapped his arms back and continued the game of keep away.

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of your words and actions. His eyes suddenly widened and he grinned as something clicked for him, “Oh I get it! You don’t know how good these are! You just need some help realizing it!” With that, he took off out of your room, sketchbook in hand.

“Get back here!” You sprinted after him, hoping you could get it back before he showed everyone, but deep down you knew it was already too late.

You were at a massive disadvantage here. Luffy was fast, especially when he had something he wasn’t supposed to. By the time you make it onto the deck, you’re horrified to see he’s already acquired an audience. Nami and Robin were seated at the table, with Sanji serving them some tea and snacks (which were currently being inhaled by Luffy while they were distracted by the book).

“You aren’t supposed to see that!” You hope that you’ll be able to get it out of Robin’s hands, but Luffy wraps one of his arms around you, leaving you immobilized at his side. Before you could beg them to please put it down, Luffy shoves a tiny cake into your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go back a page, I think I saw one of me!” Nami was pestering Robin and trying to get it to herself, but any attempts at grabbing it were thwarted by an arm sprouting from the table and swatting her hands away. 

“In a minute, Nami, I’ll let you see when I’m finished,” Robin was entirely unbothered by her pleas (and yours), choosing to casually flip through each and every page with a small smile on her face.

Sanji was looking over them, smiling at the artwork, and was the first to acknowledge that you were standing right there. “These are incredible, though I’m not surprised that you would be so talented~!”

The sweet and genuine compliment almost made you cave in to accepting the situation, but you dismissed it. Swallowing the cake, you can finally speak again, “Please stop looking at that, I don’t like people looking at my sketchbook!” Especially not when the people in question kidnapped you and are actively holding you hostage.

“Oh? Are you shy about it? How cute,” Robin teased.

“It’s not-” you were once again cut off by another cake being stuffed into your mouth.

“What are you guys all looking at?” Chopper was now approaching with Usopp not far behind. Great. Why not just let everyone see it! 

Robin flipped to a page with Chopper on it and showed it to him, “(Y/N), took the time to draw all of us, it seems.”

Chopper’s eyes sparkled at the drawing, and against all logic he was somehow blushing??? “Oh I don’t look all cutesy like that, you jerk!” His dopey smile easily contradicted his words.

“I didn’t know you were also an artist. You should have told me sooner, I could’ve been teaching you! I’ll have you know I’ve tutored many famous artists! In fact, this reminds me- You drew me too?!” Usopp’s tale is cut short when Robin shows him a sketch of himself. 

You finally stop struggling, instead choosing to flop against Luffy in defeat. What’s the point? Damn near everyone has already seen it, you’re sure Zoro will wander on over here soon enough anyways. 

Upon feeling you give up, Luffy lets go and looks very pleased with himself. He unceremoniously shoves the little remaining food into his mouth and runs off calling for Zoro while Sanji gives chase, scolding him for eating all the food.

You just stood there, not knowing what else you could do. With Luffy gone, everyone else was crowding around you, lavishing you with compliments and asking questions all at once. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer, all you could do was sulk as the last thing that you had just to yourself was taken away and thrown out into the open.

It was bound to happen eventually, you suppose.

#one piece #one piece x reader #yandere one piece #yandere #platonic yandere #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #monkey d luffy #sanji #black leg sanji #nami #usopp #tony tony chopper #nico robin #emtynessinmyworld #cat burglar nami

[wisteriagoesvroom]

gax + corporate/law vibes + ‘The powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.’

gax?? gax!!

power (you make some points): a gax ficlet

rated m, ~1.2k words now also readable on ao3

author babble:

bear in mind i wrote this before i knew more about the Gax Lore i.e. karting together, actually being nice to each other blablabla. you could also just retrofit the vibes and hopefully they still work. anyways!

will throw this up on ao3 when i’m not sitting bleary eyed in an airport

————

If there was one thing that Max Verstappen wouldn’t tolerate, it was George Russell having the monopoly on good PowerPoint presentations. Max had won all four years of debate in College, as well as the dubious title of “most radical deployment of Google Slides templates” at his MBA, and he was not about to be usurped by the other guy in his department who actually knew how to use an animate transition.

“You missed an indent there.” Max says, pointing at the monitor. Yellow and red lights wink at them from the outside, as if to say: you’re both in your mid-twenties, quit wasting it on a computer screen at 11pm on a Wednesday, maybe?

Max is not staring, very determined not to look at his teammate’s facial expression. But George is almost certainly rolling his eyes right now.

“Was coming back to that, alright?” George huffs back. Max is very professional most of the time. But something about how wound up George is, how insanely pedantic he is about everything from semicolons to coffee cup placement for the Directors to taking insanely detailed minutes that nobody except Max reads after the meetings – well. What is it that Nietschze once said? We hate in others what we most identify with about ourselves. Or was that from Twitter? Max does not really use Twitter except to look at Bloomberg News updates and cat videos, so he does not know. And anyway Nietzsche never made a six figure salary.

“It would just be easier if you would let me do it.” Max says.

“Fuck right off, mate.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like me to.”

“Not now.”

“Just share the link to this. I’ll do it.”

“We agreed to take turns on this.”

“Yes, Russell. But sometimes, the rules are meant to be bent.”

George swivels his chair to Max, then. Fully attempts to pin him with his gaze, commencing an awkward stare-off that lasts way too many seconds and makes Max once again realise that George’s eyes remind him of the expensive fish tank he saw at the Partners’ sushi dinner once. Max doesn’t think those same fish were the ones they ended up eating. But he does remember that dinner because it was the one where the Partners had dangled the promise of a huge promotion if they could help carry the company merger across the line successfully. The problem is, there was only one spot.

George’s distracting aquatic orbitals aside, fortunately, Max (i) never backs down, and (ii) has been told that he has the dead-eyed emotional stare of a robot missing an empathy software upgrade sometimes.

And clearly, the powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.

Max leans back in his chair, stance all mock-relaxed. “Do you want to be out of here before midnight, or not?”

“We’re expensing the Ubers either way, so it doesn’t make a difference to me, mate.”

Fine. If George is so hyperfocused on The Tasks that he’s forgotten the fun part of being Questionably Close Coworkers, so be it.

Max deploys the nuclear option.

He sticks his leg out, nudging the toe of his Pradas onto George’s slacks. And strokes his foot halfway up to a sensitive point on George’s thigh. Max may even flutter his lashes a little.

To his credit, George does not react. Merely swings his eyes like a lamp to Max’s face again. His hand does, however, goes still on the mouse.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Max feigns. He knows that George hates, more than anything, anyone getting dirt on his precious Ralph Laurens. But at least he has his attention now. “Was hoping we could move onto the more fun part of the typical evening activities. Maybe.”

“We shouldn’t be doing that again anyway.”

“George.”

“What?”

“That is not what you said the last, hm, fourteen times that we have done this, eh?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I thought you were the most careful of rule followers and data analysis, knapperd.”

George is a human being, but Max is almost certain the other man shakes himself like he’s preening right now.

“Well. It’s what the team likes me for, and it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

“Oh yes. Surely we must keep in mind the team. And the shareholders. They are very important.”

“Quite.”

“But should we tell them that you like it so much, George. When I do this.” Max says. Rising up, fully crowding George in, hands gripping the cool handles of the computer chair. Leaning in to nibble the side of George’s neck.

George swallows. Max watches his throat move.

Next, Max mouths the words onto the side of George’s jaw, stubble prickling his mouth. “And this.”

The click of the mouse continues steadily as Max moves his mouth to the shell of George’s ear. “And let’s not forget. This.”

Max tilts George’s face up fully, then. George’s face is flushed, eyes sparkling, all surprise at the sudden change of pace, but eager, too.

When Max seals his lips over George’s, George groans, and his hands shoot up to Max’s waist immediately. It doesn’t feel quite like winning a deal or a pitch does for Max, but the completion comes pretty damn close.

Max sweeps his tongue into George’s mouth. George opens willingly, like he always does. In the back of Max’s logical brain, a warning sign blares that the computer chair may not be able to support the weight of them both – because they spend a lot of time pretending they don’t work out together at the gym but Max knows exactly what George’s deadlift PB is and it’s pretty damn high for a scrawny looking dude.

And despite the keening protest of said chair, the two of them are both lost to it now. Max jams one knee between George’s legs, George nibbles hungrily at Max’s lower lip, Max thrusts his hips all needy, and maybe if Max is nice about it George might suck him off under the table, and–

Outlook chimes again.

“Blasted piece of shit.” George says, breaking away. His hands go still at Max’s waist. “Why we’re using G-Suite and Microsoft Office at the same time I will never know.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, as if making himself stop this is causing him physical pain. Maybe it’s that or the workflow incompatibility when George tries to move his custom Excel-Trello gantts into a third party API.

And Max won’t lie. He kind of likes it when George gets so irritated about these things. When he cares a bit too much. Because what is Max but exactly like that, too.

“Hazards of a merger, I guess. But without that, I would never have met you, no?”

George makes a noise like he knows what Max means. The other man straightens his shirt collar, and Max runs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, because George had made a passing comment at the bathroom sink once about it looking good.

Sleeping with the person competing for the same Chief of Staff position is possibly the worst decision he could’ve made, and Max once dyed his hair platinum blonde. But, they’re stuck here together. Hell is a slightly more tolerable place when Satan’s right hand man looks this good. And knows his coffee order without asking.

Besides. Max is not bothered. He knows that the promotion is his. This is just a minor plot inconvenience.

Later, they will expense the uber back to George’s place, where Max will put his mouth on George’s arse, and give him a practical demonstration of the three different ways he’s learned to elicit pleasure from the male prostate.

George will whimper and whine the whole way through it, and after they’re both sated, they’ll both roll over to check their emails, barely concealing their smiles. They will pretend that what’s happening between them could be as clean as their zero-email inboxes. As if their connection is not violently seeping through containment.

All in the name of team bonding. For the firm. Yes.

(Or this is what they tell themselves, to maintain the illusion, anyway.)

#gax #max verstappen #george russell #f1 rpf #3363 #6333 #max verstappen x george Russell #wisteriawritesstuff #if this feels out of character I am sorry simply LOOK AWAY #but I enjoyed it #snipey type A assholes #but they’re MY made up snipey type A assholes #prompt fill #THESE WERE MEANT TO BE DRABBLES 😭 #anyway

[moongreenlight]

It's WIP Wednesday and I'm thinking so hard about “Chateau Lobby #4 (In C for Two Virgins)” by Father John Misty that my head explodes.

Retired!Price x Divorcee/single mom!reader (titles are hard who cares)

Cw/Tw: Pressure to perform sex/sexual acts

Little 1k blurb that ends right before the smut because I just got done ovulating and the thought of writing about cock and dick is not in the cards rn.

There was never much time to date while John was working. Never enough of him to occupy all of his work and pleasure. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to spread himself thin enough to coat the surface of all his wants.

He tried for a few years, early, when he could stay out late and still feel alright putting in a full day’s work the next morning. But he’s a romantic at heart. Never found much appeal to a fast-and-loose lifestyle and eventually stopped looking for trouble in places he would find it.

He was now alone, but with more time to figure out what he really wanted after retiring. Had more of himself to portion out. Pursued his hobbies. Picked up odd contracting jobs out of a need to keep himself busy. Found trouble with a single mother and recent divorcee who hired him off of an online ad because she needed help with a few things around her new house.

He knew he was in for it the moment she opened the door. Asked her out while he was half inside a cupboard under her sink. She said no twice.

Third time’s the charm.

She must have been put on one of those religious conveyor belts and turned out like she was on a factory line- that or she had parents to piss off. Married, turned out two kids, and split young. Must have been straight out of high school, because now that the divorce is finalized she’s cheating her way through a business degree at the community college around her day job.

Still carries some of that youth and innocence in her even though she’s only a year or two his junior. In the way she snorts when she laughs and hastily covers it up by holding the back of her hand over her mouth. The three times already tonight she’s prefaced that she doesn’t kiss on the first date and she’s got a strict rule about no ‘secondary locations.’ It’s charming. Like she’s spending any fleeting moment of free time discovering herself.

And is he glad she’s wasting her precious time on him. Even more glad he caught her on a weekend where her ex had the kids, though the idea of introducing himself to her house, her innocence, her little family, was fucking intoxicating. Made him forget the two fingers of whiskey sitting up right of his plate.

He gets so tipsy on the thought of besting her rules that he can’t help but push his luck after she- ever so delicately- refused the waiter trying to drop a dessert menu at the edge of the table.

“Cheap date.”

A snort from her. She has to pull her lips away from the rim of her wine glass to stifle it. House, even though it’ll give her a headache, she says. Couldn’t possibly bring herself to spend a dime of his money further than what was necessary. Darling thing. He’d love to see how far that ‘good girl’ act went. How much pressure it could handle.

She’d probably pull him in warm. Gooey in the middle when he finally got her spread open.

“Wasn’t out to test your fiscal limits”

She dabs the corner of her smile with a napkin. It’s his turn to laugh now.

“Shame. Half my appeal is the restaurant.”

She falters for a breath. Her eyes go a bit wide, like she’s suddenly worried she hasn’t thanked him enough. Hasn’t been good enough to please him. The thought makes him ball his hand into a fist to distract from the tightness in his slacks.

“Gosh, John, and it is such a nice place. Dinner was fantastic. Thank you, really.”

Her fingers curl around his fist. She has to stretch a bit to reach him from across the table. Her fingertips don’t touch even when she tries to wrap her hand around his. Earnest is thick on her voice now. It honeys her tone. He wonders if when she pulls away she’ll leave a sugary stickiness on his skin.

He tsks, a smile flirting across his mouth. Unable to help himself. A hungry stray being tossed a hot meal.

“And how impressive would it have’t be if I had my heart set on bringing you ‘round t’mine for a nightcap?”

She wrinkles her nose at that, though there’s a glittering of humor in her eyes when she gives his hand a kittenish slap.

“You couldn’t afford it.”

Sharp as a tack.

He has to clench his jaw shut to keep from sinking his teeth into her. They ache to see if she’s candy-floss all the way through.

“No?”

“Dinner was fantastic, John. Thank you.”

She throws him a warning glance with that. There’s the faintest outline of severity blurring into the soft edges of her voice. He digs his nails into his palm.

“M’I that bad to talk to?”

He’s pulling out stops now. Ignoring the chirping alarm sounding in the back of his skull that tells him that he should be able to pick out if he’s insisting for the right reasons or not.

She’s more difficult to guilt a second time. Rolls her eyes and starts folding her napkin on the side of her plate.

“Must be.”

She is fucking delectable.

Trouble. Everything about her. Every new layer he peels back sets him ablaze. He’s smoldering in his chair, waiting for the smoke curling off the crown of his head to set off the smoke detectors.

It takes some effort, but he’s able to get her to settle on him coming ‘round to hers after dinner. ‘One drink, John. I’m serious.’ She digs her heels in a bit, but he’d already made his mind up. He’d have her. Tuck her in a paper bag and take his dessert to-go.

She makes him turn away when she punches the code into her garage opener. Says the remote in her car is dead, and while he looks around the edges of the house for security cameras, he makes a note to come back and get both of those things taken care of for her. Doesn’t like the thought of her alone in her driveway after work tired and vulnerable.

Never mind if she had to step out in the rain. Sugar melts.

He tries to convince her to sit on the couch with him while she nurses a weak pour of wine, she refuses. Sits on a plush armchair catty-corner to him in the living room and smiles while shakes her head.

“Not used to being told no?”

It’s less of a question than it is a plain statement. A surface-level observation. It should strike him as an insult, but watching the words fall from her pretty mouth made pride swell in his chest.

“Should I be?”

Trouble. He’s inching toward the line.

“You’d think.”

He wonders what she would think if he took her down to the studs. Not much of anything- if he was lucky.

#moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #price cod #price call of duty #captain john price #john price #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #wip wednesday

[clu-ven]

"I'm so tired..." Prompt with Captain Rex

word count: 3.2k

summary: Rex needs some goddamn sleep

-> mainly SFW with vague indications to anything spicier <-

You get used to the late nights and early mornings, everyone does. 

When you spend a lot of time going from planet to planet, it gets hard to differentiate between what’s supposed to be night and day, each rotation merging together. No matter the time, space always looks the same and with the different time zones you frequent, it’s no surprise that you’re still wide awake in what’s supposed to be the middle of the night.

It’s not just you that suffers from this, though the clones usually have their hands full with their shifts, too busy to notice their odd sleep schedules. 

So sitting at one of the desks in a quieter part of the ship, working away on some overdue paperwork while Captain Rex fills out a mission report across the room isn’t too unusual. If anything, the only thing that's unusual is how quiet it is.

Normally there’s more clones roaming around, all working on their own  reports at the individual desks scattered around the room but tonight, it’s almost empty, with just you and the Captain present.

When Rex first entered, he greeted you with a weary smile before hunkering down with his work. It’s a rare occurrence to have some alone time with the Captain, even if neither of you are doing much talking. Thankfully, the silence that hangs in the room is a comfortable one, soothing compared to the loud blasts of the battlefield or constant chatter of the mesh hall. 

Every once in a while, your eyes leave the reports you're filling out and trail over to Rex, a smile lingering on your lips as you watch him, deep in thought. 

Like always, he’s still fully suited, his helmet placed casually on the side of the desk. It must be uncomfortable to sit there for so long in his armour, though you doubt Rex cares. He’s a man who’s always ready for action, hating the idea of wasting precious time on putting his armour on. He sits hunched over his work, completely engrossed by it with one of his arms propping up his head, hand leaning against his forehead.

Rex is like a statue with his eyes glued to the holopad in front of him. His brow is creased, deep lines running across his face as he puts all of his attention into his work. 

…Work…

Damn, you need to concentrate on your work too but that’s easier said than done.

It’s a difficult task to get back into work mode but you keep your head down and at least try to fill out a few more sections of paperwork. The good thing about doing some administration so late at night is that it’s sure to make you sleepy… eventually. The mundane task is bound to make anyone want to fall asleep or it’ll at least make anyone rethink every life choice that has led them to this moment. 

Even Rex must find it boring. You’re tempted to call out to him, say some witty line about how this makes cleaning the gunships look fun but you stop yourself, not wanting to intrude or interrupt his train of thought. You don’t even look up, knowing that if you glance his way again then you’ll get no work done, your mind wandering to other places.

Kriff, even without seeing Rex and just knowing he’s nearby is enough to distract you. You blink a few times in the hopes of pushing these thoughts out of your head and focus solely on the work in front of you. But it’s no use, you’ve lost all motivation to even finish the last sentence you’ve begun. You can’t bring yourself to do it, your brain completely shutting down at the thoughts of writing a single word more. Honestly, you’re too drained to deal with it now anyways and it can always wait until tomorrow.

Shutting down your holopad and clearing up your paperwork, an unfamiliar sound comes from the other side of the room. For a moment, you freeze, trying to process what the hell the sound could be. 

Was it a snort? Well, definitely not one from laughter, it was too quiet. Maybe it was a hum from the ship… though you think you would have recognised the sound if it was. 

An array of different possibilities flood your mind and just as you look up, opening your mouth to ask Rex if he heard it too, you realise what… or who the source of the sound was. 

With his hand still pressed against his forehead, keeping his head from smacking against the desk, Rex snores again. You can’t believe it. Is he actually asleep? 

Slowly pushing out from your chair, you stand to get a better look at him. His holopad is still on, showing a half filled out mission report. You don’t try to hide the soft smile that tugs at your lips, it’s not like he’s going to see it. Peering over at him, you realise Rex is undeniably asleep, even letting out another snore to confirm it. 

Being as quiet as possible, you tip-toe closer to him until you're beside his sleeping frame. Keeping your voice a mere whisper, you stoop down beside him “Rex?”. He doesn’t respond besides a small twitch of his nose. 

A part of you doesn’t want to wake him. For the most part, Rex looks peaceful when he sleeps except for the occasional crease of his brow, as though he’s still thinking about the work in front of him.

If it was the best option then you’d probably leave him here, perhaps turn off the light and find somewhere else to do your own work, giving Rex as much peace and quiet to rest as possible. But looking at the position he’s in and the way his armour seems to dig into him, you conclude the best course of action is to wake Rex and get him into a proper bed for the night…. Or for the next few hours until the morning briefing.

Placing your hand gently on his shoulder, you try again. “Rex” you drawl out, this time a little bit louder as you nudge him. His eyes screw closed for a second before he wakes with a start, immediately sitting up right as if he got caught sleeping on the battlefield. 

“Wha- what’s happening?” He blurts out, scanning the room with urgency.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” you assure him, keeping your hand on his shoulder “you just fell asleep, that’s all”. Realising it’s just the two of you, Rex relaxes under your touch. 

Breathing easily, he slumps back in his chair, thankful you’re the one who caught him sleeping. “I’m sorry,” he apologises, rubbing one of his eyes as he mutters more to himself than to you “I’m so tired…”.

It’s as if you can feel him tugging at your heartstrings. The Captain always has so much to do, report after report, constantly trying to keep the others in check. You doubt Rex ever has enough time to get a proper night’s sleep. 

“C’mon Captain,” you stand “time for bed”.

Still groggy from sleep, it takes a second for Rex to process your words “Hm? No, no I can’t. Just uh, just let me finish this report” he tries his best to sound authoritative and fully in control but the yawn he finishes his sentence with says otherwise. 

“Captain” you sigh, a sympathetic but stern look crossing your face.

Rex tilts his head as he looks at you, still rooted in his seat. “Don’t give me that look,” he groans “I’ll be done with this report in no time”. You don’t change your expression, knowing that not even Rex himself believes he’ll finish this report anytime soon.

It only takes a few more moments for Rex to crack, averting his gaze as he mumbles “Fine, I guess I can finish it in the morning”. Putting both of his hands flat on the table, he stands with a huff.

He doesn’t protest when you pick up his helmet and lead him out of the room, guiding him through the quiet corridors and passing the various sleeping quarters until you get to his.

Reaching the door to his quarters, it takes Rex a very drawn out minute to punch in the code. He grumbles under his breath as he does, blinking hard in an attempt to keep his eyes open and focused on the keypad. You stay quiet, not wanting to distract him and instead you let Rex take on the dreaded keypad on his own. 

With the keypad’s beep of approval, Rex sighs in relief when the door begins to move.

The heavy metal door effortlessly glides to the side, revealing Rex’s compact room. It’s not exactly what you were expecting, the room being pretty cramped even though there’s hardly any furniture inside. Sure, there’s a sink and mirror so Rex doesn’t have to shave with the others, a small trunk presumably for his extra set of blacks as well as a bed that’s built into one of the walls and spanning the width of the confined room. Yet it doesn’t seem like enough.

Slowly wandering into the room, Rex glances behind him to make sure you follow him inside. Rex deserves a much bigger room than this, kriff, most of the clones do but you always thought his quarters would be bigger since he’s the Captain. But you don’t turn your nose up at the room, finding it quaint and liking its closeness. As you put Rex’s helmet on top of the trunk, he sits down on his bed. 

“Thank you… for well, for forcing me to get some sleep” he chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling.

“Anytime Captain, I’ll see you in the morning” with the bow of your head you turn to leave his quarters. You nearly make it out of his room when a thud sound causes you to stop and look back. With his eyes already shut, Rex has flopped down onto his bed, his legs dangling off the side and his armour still on. 

You sigh to yourself and turn back around to face him, making your way back over to the drowsy captain. “Rex,” you say softly, nudging him yet again “you know you shouldn’t sleep in your armour”.

While your main goal is to get Rex to sleep for a few hours, you didn’t mean in his armour. You’ve heard enough complaints from the likes of Hardcase and Jesse to know that even napping in full armour can cause a few sore muscles and lingering knots. 

Rex opens one of his eyes, gazing up at you but making no attempt to move. “Am I dreaming?” He asks, mouth half muffled by his pillow. Putting both hands on his torso, you try to gently pull him back up to a seated position. 

“You never know,” you tease “maybe this is a nightmare”.

Rex smiles to himself as you hoist him upright, knowing that couldn’t be the case. “But this can’t be a nightmare if you’re here” he shrugs, stating it as if it’s fact.

You’re taken aback by his words but you try not to show it. Rex could have meant a million different things by that or he mightn’t have meant anything at all, simply the incoherent ramblings of someone on the verge of sheer exhaustion. But deep down, no matter how much you try to deny it to yourself, you wish it means something. 

“Well, luckily for you it’s neither,” you force a smile, pushing those emerging emotions and desires deep down “you’re just tired beyond belief”.

Rex hums in relief as you work on getting his pauldron off. He savours your touch as your fingers brush against his blacks, fiddling with the ties of the armour.

This isn’t a situation Rex has ever found himself in. No one has ever taken off his armour for him with such care. He wants to watch you but Rex opts to keep his head down, instead focusing on the sensation alone as you remove his pauldron and start on his chestplate next.

Breaking the silence, you tease him again “I swear Captain, you better stay here and get some rest or else you’ll have an incident report to fill out”.

“Is that a threat?” He questions, though you can tell he’s not serious by his tone. You scoff, shaking your head but your smile remains bright “No, it’s a promise, Captain”.

Rex chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He’s thankful for you, someone who doesn’t treat him like he’s just a number and willing to joke around with him from time to time, not always falling into the professional role of the GAR. 

You treat him like a friend and sometimes, Rex wonders if that’s how you see him. Not as a colleague or a Captain, but as a friend you could turn to in times of need, that you could always rely on to make you smile or listen to your problems. Maybe that’s why Rex’s chest always seems to grow tight when you’re around or why he always scans an area to see if you're near, hoping to spot you in the crowd. He nods to himself, determining that’s why.

“You ok, Rex?” You ask, dropping more pieces of his armour to the side of his bed.

He looks utterly exhausted and you’re sure you can hear his brain clocking into overtime. With tired eyes, Rex is quick to assure you “I’m alright, just have a lot on my mind”.

“Is it that mission report?” your voice is so soothing to him. Even at the mention of the half complete mission report, Rex doesn’t feel an ounce of stress, too busy relishing in your voice. He shrugs his shoulders, mumbling “I guess”.

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll get done, they always do” you try to reassure him “and I’m sure General Skywalker won’t mind if you hand it in a little later than usual”. As much as Rex wants to worry about the report, he finds it hard to concentrate long enough to stress about it. 

With the top half of his armour off, you pause. Technically, the next piece of armour you should be getting off is his codpiece but you don’t think that would… *ahem* be in line with GAR policy. “You think you can handle it from here or should I keep going?” you ask, a touch of playfulness in your voice. Rex meets your gaze, his lips twitching upwards into that little lopsided smile he does every now and again.

It’s as if electricity surges through his body at your suggestive remark, his brain suddenly jolting awake as he tries to quickly decipher what you could be insinuating -if anything, that is. “Oh I- well, uh,” he stumbles over his words, clearing his throat before trying again “Y-yes, I’m sure I can take it from here, thank you for your uh, for your help”. 

He hates how he can’t get a sentence out properly, becoming more undone by the second. Usually Rex can easily keep his head in times of intense stress but with you? You always know how to seamlessly get under his skin, making him get flustered even with a mere glance in his direction.

You bow your head, taking a step back from Rex. “It’s no problem, Captain” you reply, giving him one last smile before you turn to leave yet again.

This time you nearly make it out of the room, the durasteel door sliding open before you hear Rex call your name. With one foot out the door, you stop and turn to look at him, waiting for him to say more. 

Rex opens his mouth though no words come out. He doesn't know why he called out to you, well, he does deep down but he’s not ready to face those emotions just yet. He can feel his face getting warm and he prays you don’t notice his cheeks turning a light shade of red. 

“I-” he doesn’t want you to leave, not now. Can’t you stay just another few minutes? Or until he falls asleep? The bed may look uncomfortable… which it admittedly is but there’s enough room for you too. 

But he knows he can’t, that if any superior found out then you’d both be reprimanded. Or what if you reject him? How is he supposed to look you in the eye after the embarrassment of blurting out something so impulsive yet vulnerable just to be rebuffed by you?

Becoming increasingly aware of you waiting for him to speak, Rex forces the words out “Don’t stay up too late”. Maker, he wants to kick himself.

“Oh,” you weren’t quite sure what you were expecting Rex to say but for some reason that wasn’t it. Though you stay professional and nod to him “I’ll try not to, Captain”. You step out into the hallway, holding his wishful gaze until the door swiftly shuts between you both. A breath you didn’t know you holding, shakily leaves your lungs.

You try to shake the feeling that maybe Rex wanted to say something else, doing your best to shrug the feeling off as being nothing more than your own fantasy. 

The sound of your name snaps you out of your thoughts and you whip your head to the side, noticing a surprised Echo standing only a few feet away. “Did you just…” he trails off, not fully believing his eyes before slowly continuing “leave the Captain’s quarters?”.  A knowing smirk quickly forms on his face and Echo folds his arms.

Panic hits you as your eyes go comically wide. “What? N-no, it’s not like that, Echo!” you hurriedly profess.

The smirk doesn’t leave Echo’s face. “Woah, like what?” he asks, innocently “I’m just saying what I’m seeing”. You roll your eyes, too tired for his teasing.

“Echo...” you warn.

“Hey, your secret’s safe with me!” he chuckles, his smirk changing into a comforting smile “just be glad it wasn’t Fives who caught you, the whole battalion would know by morning if he found out about this”.

“There’s no secret to keep safe! Nor is there anything going on for Fives or you or any other trooper to ‘find out’ about” you try to clarify, a silence hanging in the air before you quietly add “but thank you… I would appreciate it if you kept this between us”.

With a wink, Echo continues on his patrol “You know I will”.

You sigh in relief. The last thing you or Rex need right now is a rumour. Running your hand down your face, you try to wake yourself up as you turn to head back the way you came. You know you can trust Echo but you also know how perceptive Fives is and how easily he can detect whenever Echo is keeping something from him.

But right now that isn’t something for you to think about, knowing you’ll stress yourself into oblivion if you do. Instead, you try to focus on one thing only; finishing off Rex's mission report by morning.

#the clone wars #tcw #tcw rex #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #tcw rex x you #clone trooper x reader #clone trooper x you #clone captain rex #ct 7567 #star wars clone wars #drabble #clone wars fic #captain rex fanfiction #captain rex fic #captain rex imagine #clone wars fanfiction #captain rex x #clone wars x reader

[ficjoelispunk]

CH 01 - It’s Fucking Friday

Next Chapter >>

Author's Note: Guys, I'm sorry for any grammatical errors, don't give up on me, translating is not easy, but I did my best. Correct me as much as you can. Thanks.

"I don't care if there's too much work, I don't care how you organize yourself. I have deadlines to meet, and I want these files filled out and cataloged on my desk on Monday morning, do you understand me?"

It’s fucking Friday!

"Yes ma'am"

She didn't say anything else so you were aware that you were dismissed.

You would always leave her room facing her, if she called you again you wouldn't waste time turning to her. So you close the door when you pass.

"Fucking hell!" You murmur to yourself.

When you turn around, you come face to face with the two people you hate the most in this job.

Agent Murphy and Agent Peña.

Excellent!

The two agents were the perfect duo for problems. In all these years, you've never had as much trouble for your head as when these two started working together.

It was amazing that they both could think that alone they would be able to save the planet from trafficking, and that only and exclusively their work was important.

For them it didn't matter if you attended all the fucking department responsible for a country, no, for them their navel was so precious, that in their egocentric little heads, you worked for them, and not for the government of the United States of America.

Seeing them there, still, with their folders, you deduce that they had at least listened to the frame you had just taken.

Peña had his hands on his waist, and Murphy looked anxiously between the two of you, so that he silently questioned his partner if this was a good time. And of course Peña nodded to his partner.

Unbelievable.

You walked quietly to your desk, dumped the pile of files on your desk, which made a contrasting thud, since it was a large and heavy pile of papers.

Your arms leaned on the table, and you looked smiling with false sympathy.

"Good afternoon guys, how can I help you?"

Your smile broke down as soon as you finished the question, sitting in your chair.

Murphy seemed apprehensive, but Peña waved his hands for him to catch himself.

"Well, we need this request to arrive at Noonan's table, even today."

You wanted to punch that clueless blonde man in the face. But instead, you smiled.

"Of course. Do I help with anything else?"

"Really?" Murphy was surprised.

You knocked the fake smile off your face.

"Are you kidding me?"

Murphy looked at Peña behind him, who changed legs to support his body, releasing his arms around his body.

"You don't understand..."

“Ah” you placed your hand on your chest feigning surprise “I don’t understand?” You stood up and leaned over the table "I think you're the one who doesn't understand, agent. Do you see this pile of paper" You placed your hand on the mountain in front of you "These are all reports that I need to catalog and deliver to the table from the Ambassador by Monday. So, if you don't mind, fill out the form, and put it at the end of the line"

He laughed blandly, Peña rolled his eyes.

"We have important information and we need the authorization..."

“Fill-out-the-form-and-place-it-at-the-end-of-the-line"

Murphy crouched in front of you.

You arched your eyebrows.

"It's an exception, it's really important..."

"Fill out the form..."

Peña advanced towards him.

"Look, this is really important, I understand that you shouldn't understand the real meaning..."

"Oh, of course, because I am very incompetent, being the Ambassador's assistant, to understand how the fight against drug trafficking is an economic and social setback for the country, in all political and social aspects."

Peña and Murphy exchanged glances, he walked away from the table, running his fingers through his nose.

The door behind you opened.

"Good afternoon guys" Noonan was passing by them.

You caught the exact moment when Peña and Murphy exchanged glances, and believed that was the time to speak directly to the Ambassador.

"Good afternoon ma'am" Peña began the speech "if you give us a minute, we got an interception with a contact, who knows Escobar's location, and we need the authorization..."

"My assistant takes care of the classifications of applications, so fill out the damn form, and she will evaluate the urgency of the request and forward it to me. See you later."

You had to restrain yourself so as not to smile big.

The two agents watched as Noonan passed by them, and walked to the corridors.

In perfect choreography the two turned to you, who promptly already held the form sheet for them.

"Thank you." Murphy thanked him while picking up the sheet.

Your relationship with these two agents was always like this.

Murphy could still keep himself more restrained. He was lazy, but he was still polite. But Javier Peña had a fame and preceded him.

The man was unbearably insolent, loose, arrogant, petulant, owner of a terribly questionable character, and to finish with the icing on the cake, a womanizer.

There hasn't been a week that your extension didn't touch with a woman looking for Javier in the department.

Outside, of course, the women in the department. You heard all kinds of conversations between different women. It was sad that some really believed in his bullshit. You felt even more angry with him for the lack of emotional responsibility.

***

23:45

And you're still in the department. Starting to think that the solution was to ask for your dismissal. You would never be in a way to analyze all those requirements, catalog and deliver everything ready on Monday. It was simply impossible.

Since the Ambassador took office, and you had to move to Colombia, you have simply lived for this job. This position has consumed you.

Although you are very proud of your journey, and have come here on your own merit. Since college, and all the projects you have developed, all the studies you have done, all the specializations you have done in public relations, international relations, science and politics, and so follow a very extensive curriculum, this position was the greatest achievements.

But with great power comes great responsibility. And being the Ambassador's assistant, being responsible for the entire department, was something that took up 100% of your time in your life.

You lived for your country, in the fight against drug trafficking in another country. Away from your family. With another culture, with another language. Another climate. Another lifestyle. You felt there was no room for anything else.

It was routine for you to stay at work until dawn. And when you weren't at work, you were at parties that was work. And when it wasn't that, you were at home, studying, or thinking about work.

There was no social life. And particularly, it wasn't something you wanted. But you felt needy. You missed a human warmth. The last relationship you had didn't last long until after you took office. And it was understandable since you were always at work, and the priority was always work.

Today was one of those days when you were deciding whether to stay and finish work, or take work home.

Before deciding, you decided to take a break, go to the department kitchen for a coffee. The lights in the rooms were all turned off. It was just you, and the job. As always.

The coffee machine was making its noise, comforting to know that after the tremor on the counter, the liquid filled with caffeine could give you one last gas.

"Coffee at 11 p.m., doesn't seem like a good choice for a Friday"

You jumped off the counter, taking your hands to the heart that was beating fast.

"Jesus..."

Well, it’s more for the devil. Javier Peña. You didn't need to see him to know it was him.

Only a man could make your weekend worse. And of course he would be there.

"Sorry, I didn't want to scare you..."

He was leaning against the door frame, God has known since when, watching you. The voice is hoarse and low, making you tense.

"Right"

"It's late, you shouldn't be... "

You turned to him, leaning against the kitchen countertop, holding your cup, the smoke from the hot coffee rising in front of your face, while raising an eyebrow for him.

"Out?" He completed it, making a grimace of doubt.

You snorted.

"And you? Agent Peña, shouldn't you be on some brothel or something?" You took a sip of your coffee.

He smiled mischievously.

"It’s, Javier..." He corrected it with a dark smile. "And, I have other plans" he pulled out of the door frame, and came walking slowly towards him.

"Really?" You were ironic.

He nodded, without ever looking away.

And you didn't break the eye contact. You had the feeling that if you looked away, you would give him a victory. Victory about what? You don't know. But there was this invisible competition, a competition never communicated. A silent war between your ego, arrogance and petulance.

"Well, I probably must be getting in the way of your slaughter"

You were going to walk, but Javier entered in front of you, looking at you through your eyelashes, causing you to retreat, and hit your butt again on the bench.

The distance between you was shorter than usual. You could smell his cologne, and somehow his whole body was tense.

He smiled.

"I thought you might want help with the requirements" his voice was low, calm and seductive, you could not deny that the timbre of his voice made your body stiffen.

If you didn't concentrate, you could succumb to something that not even you would know how to explain for sure what it was.

"Sorry, it's such a simple service that your advanced brain would never be able to perform"

He takes another step in your direction. Shortening the distance between you even more.

Your body automatically tilts back, in an unsuccessful attempt to try to keep a safe distance.

He itches the tip of his nose.

"Look... I really just wanted a break”

You take a long time to realize that he was being honest at that moment. But you would never take a break for him. A white flag.

"Javier Peña needs a break. Look, not everything revolves around weapons, cars and prostitutes"

"I'm starting to think you're jealous of these prostitutes"

"I'm starting to think you're getting a tantrum in the head"

He smiles.

"Oh, don't do it like that, be honest with me, sweetheart"

"After so many years in the midst of shootings, I think you need a license"

He stares at you deeply with an absurdly uncomfortable pause. And when it's uncomfortable, it's because you have your body responding to the provocations independently, Peña's gaze sends a heat through your body, bringing pulsating sensations in places you wouldn't like.

"You act like a brat, desperate for an educational concealer"

You're basically seeing red.

"I know an educational method, which would teach you some ways"

His eyes go down to your lips. You feel a twinge in your traitor clit, an involuntary response to his invitation.

“Pull yourself together Peña, we are in a work environment. You're the one who needs education to learn some limits.”

"I love it when you're aggressive"

He laughs quietly. Having fun while watching you squirm.

"Limits have never stopped me before"

"I know"

"You have such a smart mouth, why you don't spend the same energy you use to be insolent, being kinder"

You half closed your eyes.

"Of course, because a woman who is really focused on her service, instead of worrying about being friendly and spreading her legs for you giving in to her charm and doing everything you want, is someone insolent, and not professional"

He looks away resting his hands on his waist, while passing his tongue through his teeth, and you know you won.

But he's pretending.

"So you think I'm charming?" He smiles crooked.

And God, why when a man is a scoundrel everything about him seems inviting?

"Oh, please!" You rolled your eyes.

"Don't be like that, I'm offering help, and if I'm not competent with the requirements, I can help in another way" Javier stands next to you on the bench, his arms collide gently while he handles the coffee machine.

You perfectly understand the double meaning in his speech.

You sigh.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Agent Peña?"

He looks at you, a little too inclined in your direction.

"First, Javier. And secondly, why? Are you feeling seduced?" He smiles crooked.

You look at him through your eyelashes, with an innocent look. Getting into the game.

And you see the lust in his eyes. His eyes dancing between your lips and your eyes. Almost like a magnet, you could say that you are attracted. In your subconscious you could say yes, you are being seduced. Those brown eyes, big and expressive, so deep, and hard. Now looking like it could be melted, easily if touched in the right way.

And purposely, you pass your tongue under your lower lip, pulling a light bite.

"Just to be clear, I’m too smart to be seduced by you"

“That’s why I like you”

"And, my question was to know if I should make a complaint for sexual harassment" you smile ironically. And drops the smile at the same speed.

You turn to the opposite side leaving the cup in the sink next to you, on normal days, you would wash and store it, but you just need to urgently get out of that kitchen.

That distance between the two of you is making you dizzy. The air seems rarefied.

Peña doesn't move an inch, even after you start walking towards the door.

"Oh come on… Sorry, okay? I didn't want to be unkind..."

"Right, I'm sure not, enjoy your break Agent Peña, have a good weekend"

You walk listening to the sound of your jump clicking on the floor and after passing the door, you hear Javier murmuring.

“Damn it!”

Outside the kitchen, the air finally reaches your lungs. You close your eyes, and shake your head trying to dispel your thoughts.

What the fuck?!

It was undeniable that Javier Peña was one of the most beautiful men in the department. When he was dressed in a suit and tie, it was almost an invitation to heaven, or to hell, it depends on the point of view.

Javier was a strong man, tall, dark, deep and expressive eyes, plump lips, demarcated jaw, wide shoulders, muscular arms. He had strong and striking traits.

The way he behaved made everyone orbit around him.

He was a very competent DEA Schedule, great feats were being completed because of his work. He was a prominent name.

But along with all the qualities, there were also the defects. And you'd rather focus on the defects. It was easier to keep your thoughts to yourself, if you focused on the defects.

He had the bad habit of flirting with all the women to get absolutely everything he wanted. But you quickly imposed this war mechanism between you by setting a safe limit between you and Javier.

That's how it should be. And no matter how much in your deepest nights, you dreamed of Javier's big and warm body about you, everything that was in your power you would put between you, because you could not afford to mix things in your work.

Your work was all you had. All your life. Years of study, research and specializations. I wouldn't put everything to lose, for a man of dubious origin.

At least you tried your best, so you didn't.

#pedro pascal #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos

[lilliankoo]

“TITANIC” (I) SHIP OF DREAMS ♰ jjk.

♰ series masterlist / more info.

pairing: artist!jungkook x rich y/n!

synopsis: the port is bustling with thousands of passengers and the ocean liner- titanic stands in its all glory in front of you, but among all this pretty chaos, a man with paintings in his hands catches your eyes. this titanic voyage is bound to open new doors for you- which one will you choose?

genre: strangers to lovers, star-crossed lovers, smut.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: [things are just getting started] classism, descriptions of ocean/freezing temperatures, rich/poor themes, controlling mother, talks about (forced) marriage. future smut.

author’s note: things are just getting started, this chapter is more of a “pilot” and setting the stage for the plot! i apologize if its boring lol + i am not a professional writer :D don’t expect some Shakespeare level flow or plot building lmfao ok enough! lets go.

April 14, 1912

1:11 am

“I still think we have met before” you tell him as your teeth chatter and goosebumps ignite your skin due to the chilling ocean water. The subtle ocean waves roar and wrap around your waist once in a while as if they are inviting you; inviting you to go with them and let go of the hands of your lover. The lover who is holding your hands so desperately; laced are his fingers in yours as if this is how it's always been- you and him; hand in hand. Always & forever.

The tears cascade down from his cheeks into the ocean water, you watch as the teardrops trudge from his lash line into the saline water- one by one. He hiccups and looks around hoping to catch someone’s eye and get you both out of this.

“I need you to at least try to get on this door, there is enough space” he says hastily, tries you to get on the piece of door he is on right now, moving rapidly as if every minute is precious- which is, considering how the water temperature decreases minute by minute and it is getting harder for you to even blink. The little ice flakes sit on your eyelashes like pearls in the ocean; so beautiful- almost making you look like an angel on earth.

you smile dreamily as you close your eyes and rest your head on both of your connected hands; not even trying to save yourself because you know it is an attempt that has no success, “i think i saw you in france, you were selling one of your paintings” you say trying to ignore the fact that your lower body is freezing and you cannot feel anything. It is a numb feeling- not only in your legs but in your heart too. In your heart too, because no matter what you do you cannot change the past and fix this.

he drops his lips to your forehead and kisses it. tries to feel your skin for the last time but he can’t. Because his lips are freezing and so is your body. The kiss doesn't feel like the kisses he used to give you in his warm bed. The way he used to murmur promises in between the light kisses on your lips- however, this kiss feels like nothing but a false promise. “Everything will be fine” “we will always be together” when you know that the more you both speak the more breaths you are wasting.

A moment passes as he lifts his head from yours and looks at you. Looks at the way the cold gives a natural pink blush to your cheeks and how prepossessing you look right now. Suddenly, he remembers the words of his grandmother; something she used to tell him when he was a young kid. “Man glows differently when he is about to leave this earth and go to the almighty” he never understood what she meant. He drops his eyes from your eyes to your lips- which are pinkish like the roses he used to put in your hair all the time. In that moment, Jungkook swears he had never seen someone more beautiful like you. his smile fades when he realizes the words of his grandma; the words something along the lines of “glow and leaving”. his heart drops in the pit of his stomach deeper than the ocean you are in right now. Jungkook shakes your connected hands hysterically as he nudges you to open your eyes.

“y/n! y/n! open your eyes my love! ” his voice cracks as he hopes for you to respond back. waits for you to open your eyes, laugh and say something like “i was just trying to scare you i'm right here!” or something. but nothing. Not a single sound to his ears besides the sound of furniture and bodies floating around and the sound of the silent ocean.

A moment passes again, the temperature in the atmosphere decreases and Jungkook’s body starts freezing; ashes of ice decorate his eyelashes and cheekbones, his lips turn purple pink and for some reason he can’t feel his hands. can’t feel the softness of your hands. His eyes keep closing on their own but he tries to keep them open- because he doesn't want you out of his sight. scared that you might leave him if he blinked his eyes even once. murmurs “come back” for the last time as he watches your hands leaving his cold ones, watches you go with the waves as if you accepted their invitation. watches your beautiful face one last time as his eyes close entirely.

April 10th, 1912

7:30am

The port is bustling with thousands and thousands of people when you and your mother finally reach there. Some are carrying suitcases on their heads, some their children in their arms and some are waving at the passengers already aboard the gigantic ocean liner. Words like “write me when you get there” “bon voyage” “will you come back” reach your ears as you and your mother surf through the ocean of people to reach the boarding line.

“Darling, stick with me, we don't want these peasants touching your supple skin” your mother says, pulling you to her side and looking at the people around like they are not humans. like they don't have blood and limbs just like her. you scoff internally at your mother’s remarks, you smile at whoever makes eye contact with you. you notice the way some even blush and shy away as someone like you dressed in finest silk gowns, diamonds and pearls even looked their way.

Last night you remember how the news of boarding the ocean liner was dropped on you. “darling we are going to new york” your mother told you as she handed you the pamphlet- “ship of dream, the titanic” in bold lettering caught your eye and some sentences like “largest vessel in the world” “queen of the ocean” “once in a lifetime opportunity” and so on. you sighed because you know what this is all about. the liner is going to be filled with fellow millionaires and richest of the riches, this is nothing but your mother’s plot to find a groom for you.

Now, looking at the Titanic in front of you, you indeed can agree that it is truly the queen of the ocean. The vessel stands at a height in its all glory, the flags afloat in the air proudly as if they are proud to be displayed at a liner like titanic. your mother nudges your arm and motions you to close your amused mouth. you don’t miss the way she glares at you and almost says “behave” through her eyes. you nod and look around and smile whoever smiles your way. The weather is serene; the sun shines surrounded by clouds and the temperature is chilling due to the water you are being surrounded with. you and your mother both stand near the first class boarding gate as your mother informed you how the son of the titanic shipwrights “the son of the man who built this giant”- her words- will escort us and by the way, she smiles and rolls back her shoulder, You know it is something more. that the supposed man is the man she wants you to marry.

While waiting for the supposed man to arrive, you look around the port and at the families. you notice how some are giddy, some are crying and some are hugging their loved ones. your attention is derived from the crowd when you hear a man talk to your mother. “Welcome mrs.dewitt bukater” a man dressed in a black breasted jacket addresses your mother as he hugs her and kisses her cheek. your mother smiles and motions for you to come forward. before you can speak the man takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“mademoiselle” he says and bows his head, not letting go of your hand. you smile and tell him to just call you y/n. he smiles and introduces himself too. “It's a pleasure to meet you Mr.kim, we thank you for all your pleasantries and the efforts you put in for our utmost comfort” you say just the way your mother made you practice last night. your mother smiles proudly looking at you and the Mr.kim in front of you.

“Just mingyu is fine, y/n and it is my utmost pleasure, it is the least I can do” he says while smiling and letting go of your hand. “The liner is going to sail in 30 mins, mrs. bukater if you don’t mind, would you like to meet my mother while I show y/n around? there are some things i would like to share with her” he says as he holds both of your mother's hands. your mother wholeheartedly agrees and enters the liner- however not before hugging you and saying something in your ear. “We are rich but mingyu is the type of rich that can buy you an island in minutes. behave and keep in mind what i told you ''. and you exactly know what she means. you smile forcefully and nod your head. you look at your mother entering the liner and as she talks to a woman you guess is mingyu’s mother.

Mingyu touches your lower back and extends his hand in the direction of the bow of the titanic- motioning you to walk along with him. “y/n, Titanic is the largest and most luxurious passenger ship right now '' he tells you as he walks you through everything the liner is made of. as if you care. He points at the liner’s windows and railings telling you about the metal it is made of. He tells you about the luxuries the liner offers, the gym, the personal orchestra and so on. you look at him and the way he sounds so passionate about it- almost proud too since his daddy dearest built it. you control yourself from yawning as this is a topic that doesn’t ignite any desire and simply bores you. The topics you usually enjoy are about art and paintings however you guess mingyu is not that type of a person. “y/n, the titanic has 16 watertight compartments designed to keep it afloat if damaged which means it is unsinkable, even the god cannot make it sink” he tells you smiling proudly as he looks down at you. due to the height difference, you crane your neck at him then the liner in front of you.

“That is impressive but you shouldn’t challenge the almighty that way” you say, unlinking your arm with his. you wrap your arms around your torso as goosebumps rise on your skin due to the chilling oceanic temperature, you look around and at the people in the third class boarding ; you see people trying to get on the ship as it's boarding soon. However, someone special stands out to you the most.

a young man wearing suspenders and with black hair catches your eye. Only the back of his head is visible to you as his back is facing you and he doesnt turn around much, a suitcase by his feet and some frames wrapped in newspapers that look like paintings in his hand. the officer asks him something and he replies. the officer motions for him to step aside. you watch the conversation from afar and come to the conclusion that the man is being denied boarding. “mingyu what's going on over there” you ask him, still looking at the man who now wipes his eyes- which you think is because of tears. Mingyu laughs and tells you how the business of third class is not ours.

you turn around and look at mingyu. study the way his eyes scan your face and linger at your lips. hooked. you smile and trace his jawline with your finger. “Well, Mr.kim, you're the man in power” you say and his breath hitches. his breath hitches because he knows where this is going. knows you are testing him and the power he holds. However, in reality the only person you care about right now is the one with paintings in his hands. the one that has tears in his eyes. Mingyu nods and tells you how he will take care of it. you watch him go over to the small crowd and talk to the officer. you are still at a distance and cannot hear what they are saying. you watch them from afar, the man still has his back to you, mingyu looks through some papers and just as soon as that man is about to face your direction someone calls your name.

“mademoiselle dewitt!” You turn around at your name and come face to face with a man that you guess is in his 50s with some streaks of grey hair in his black hair, dressed in a breasted jacket just like mingyu- wait, he looks alot like mingyu too- the man bows his head and you accept the hand he offers. “good morning mademoiselle dewitt, i am kim joong-ki, the shipwrights of titanic” the man says. the man who designed this liner stood in front of you, bowing his head. you were confused as to why a powerful man like him was there for you. you greet him back and compliment him for his work on this titanic.

The conversation goes on for a few minutes before joong-ki informs you how well he knows your father and wishes he was aboard too. However, due to your father’s diamond business, he had to stay back. “We should get going, the Titanic is going to sail soon, please come along this way, i will bring mingyu in a minute” joong-ki informs you while nudging you in the direction of the door.

“y-yes but i am actually wai-” your words are cut off as he practically runs off in the direction of his son. the officer in front of you motions to enter. Just as you are about to enter you look over at that man’s direction in thid class area and see him entering the titanic, you could only catch the glimpse of his side profile as the moment was short but you were sure that he was handsome. The giddy feelings sits in your heart as you think about how you entered the queen of the ocean at the same time as the man who caught your eyes.

The vague descriptions written in pamphlets about the interior of the Titanic didn’t do any justice at all to the beautiful reality as you look at the grand staircase in front of you. The staircase in front of you right now is supposedly one of the most impressive features of the entire ship. The ship tour started a while ago. Just as you entered the titanic, your mother introduced you to the women she befriended and all of them decided to do a tour accompanied by Mingyu and his father. from what you have heard from joong-ki so far- that this lavish staircase spanns six decks from boat deck to E deck and continues through the F deck. whatever that means.

“As you can see ladies, the staircase is crowned by an extravagant wrought iron and glass dome along with a large chandelier at the centre. The dome provides natural light to the stairwell before being artificially lit at night from behind. If you step down a little, you can see at the central landing of the A-Deck staircase is an exquisitely carved clock with allegorical figures on either side, known as Honor and Glory Crowning Time and At the foot of the staircase, on the newel post of the middle balustrade, is a bronze cherub holding an electric torch” kim joong-ki gives a descriptive tour of the staircase, pointing out every single detail. you watch as everyone awes in amusement while you wait for the clock to strike another hour and hope for this unannounced tour to end quickly.

It's been approximately two hours since the Titanic set sail and since then you only have been doing the tour and it looks like it’s still not over. “mother, i'm going to step outside on the deck and breathe in some air” you whisper to your mother who flares her hand around signaling you to leave her alone as you are ruining the important information dear mr.kim is giving. you smile to yourself and shrug before mingyu or anyone else can notice, you step out and head to the upper deck.

you take a deep breath as you reach the deck and see the beautiful ocean around you. you have always been intrigued by the ocean’s beauty- always wondered what’s deep inside the water and so on. you laugh as the air flows through your hair dramatically ruining your perfect curls. you laugh because this is the most free you have ever felt in a long time. you don’t need to fix your hair or act womanly right now. there is no one around but the ocean. you fix your skirts and smooth down the material of your gown before standing in front of the railing. The railing is cold to your hands and it sends a weird chill to the back of your neck. you smile and look at the lower deck which is for the third class passengers. Since everyone has just gotten on the Titanic & is still exploring and settling in, there are not lots of passengers at the deck right now- besides a man near the left railing with his back to you; who looks like is sketching and a group of men smoking near the right end side.

The man sketching sticks your attention as he holds a notebook in his hand and a pencil in his other. momentarily, he lifts his head from the notebook to the front and that's when you notice he is drawing the oceanic view in front of him. you smile and lean a little more to see his work when suddenly your bracelet unlatches from your wrist and falls on the lower deck. The very same bracelet that matches with your “heart of the ocean” pendant adorning your neck. For a moment you freeze and assess whatever took place just now. you look around helplessly and down at the man and the group but none of them noticed the dropping. you instantly run in the direction of the entrance and internally pray to the almighty that no one gets their hands on it before you. you run through the stairs to the third class entry gates. you run fast as you can and follow the directions displayed in the corners to the lower deck. Just as you are about to open the lower deck’s door, someone catches your arm.

“Madam, this is not a suitable area for you” a man that you guess is a butler warns you. He lets go of your arm and blocks the gate by standing in front of it. “Sir, i will make it quick, i need to go” you plead to the butler with tears in your eyes as you cannot stand the chance of losing your bracelet that was gifted to you by your grandmother.

“I am sorry madam, the third class area is filled with poor filthy passengers, some pathetic men might take advantage of you” he replies as he shows no sign of stepping aside.

“I order you to step aside before i talk to Mr. kim” you warn him.

“But madam”- the butler sighs when you don’t budge and he steps aside while telling you to “make it quick”.

you run once again and reach the area you kind of guess it dropped. you look up to the upper deck and calculate the location of the railing you were previously standing at. you look down at the floor but you meet with nothing but with a piece of paper in place of your supposed bracelet. you look around confusingly and pick up the paper. you unfold it and come across a scribbled note.

“Meet me where the nest resides and the stars shine brighter than they are, meet me in the pale moonlight and maybe I will tell you where we are - J ”

next chapter- brooklyn baby.

taglist: @currently-stanning-bts @justagirlinlovewithsevenboys @namelesskeid @jksbibomp @withluvjm @heartstealer-law @badgyalcedi @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @september-husband @yourbobaeyestell @pointofviewyugyeom @ohcarolinamin @jungkooksmytype @erensfavblackie @kaithezaftig

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook recs #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook imagine #jungkook x y/n #jungkook reader #bts jk #bts fic #bts smut

[throneofsapphics]

A rowaeling x reader where she's been mysteriously sick for months and is getting weaker and weaker and they can't spend much time with her because of their duties the one day she calls for them because she knows she's dying?! Like she dies in their arms?!🥺

Love your writing and sorry for any mistake English is not my first language🥰❤

no time left to waste

Rowaelin x Reader

Summary: you keep a deadly secret 

Warnings: angst, death 

A/N: thank you for the request! please don't apologize

They were busy, the Queen and King of Terrasen, for gods sake. You couldn’t bother them over a small stomach bug, something that would get better in time. The times you did get to see them, it wasn’t worth bothering them about - not when you have so little precious time together.

“What’s this?” Rowan asked, snatching a small empty bottle. Something you’d experimented with, some new herbs you found in the library that could’ve helped. 

“A return,” you gave him a small smile. You do run an apothecary. Not really a medical center, you weren’t a healer but you could make small potions and tonics for people. 

He sniffed it. “It’s different.” 

“Trying something new,” you hedged.

“Is that safe?” Aelin asked from your couch. 

You let out a low laugh, “I’ve been consulting healers over it.” You’d been referencing healing texts so far, but not the healers themselves. It was close enough to the truth they didn’t pick up on your lie. Your answer satisfied them and Rowan placed the bottle back down, tugging you over to sit next to Aelin instead. You fought your exhale of relief. 

-

It was getting worse, even you could tell. The few friends you had did too - but you played it off as a small bug and settled on visiting them less. The further you pulled away … if anything happened, that would hurt them less, you tried to reason to yourself. After a few months, you finally visited a healer, a close friend of yours - swearing them to secrecy. Several times a week, she would drop by to check on you - Ella insisted she come visit you instead. 

“It’s nothing contagious,” she’d said - to your relief. “We’ll keep monitoring your progress.” Grief shone in her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell anyone?” 

“I’m sure.” Your voice was more confident than you felt. Her mouth curved into a frown, and you grasped her hand - realizing how pale your skin had grown. “Please,” you didn’t need to explain what. 

“Not without your permission.” 

-

All of your strength was saved for their visits, putting on the best front you could. 

“You’ve been busy,” Rowan remarked - a line of vials on your sink. You cursed yourself, you meant to clean or hide those earlier. 

“Winter sickness is hitting early.” 

August, normally it wouldn’t pick up until late September. He didn’t question it. You almost wished he would. 

After they left, it settled into you that you likely wouldn’t see another solstice. Wouldn’t make it to your twenty second birthday. Tears streamed down your face and you debated calling them. Two weeks, they’d said - it would be another two weeks before you could see them again. So much could happen in that time. But, you’d dug your own hole and maybe ripping it off like a bandage would be better. 

Ella came by the next day. “If,” you swallowed - fighting the tightness in your throat. “When,” her face fell. She knew the truth as much as you did. “It happens, tell them it was sudden. Please.” 

“I can’t lie to them,” she whispered. It’s the truth - they’d pick out the lie no matter what. 

You reached for a paper, and started writing. Tears still on your face, you sealed it. Ella took it wordlessly.

-

Aelin, just finishing a meeting - received an urgent summons. She rolled her eyes. Everyone seemed to be urgent today - everyone wanted a piece of them. The last week and a half had been grueling, and she and Rowan were looking forward to seeing you. She regretted not being able to visit more, but they did come by as much as they could justify without neglecting their duties. 

A month or so ago, she’d brought up you moving in with them - but you’d denied her offer, explaining you needed your space for your business. Maybe she could ask again. 

Rowan spoke quietly to the messenger. A slight panic, only one she would recognize, showed in his eyes as he turned to her. Y/n, her healer friend sent a message - she’s severely ill. 

Aelin snatched the paper. Severely had been underlined - three times. The hell with the rest of the day, you had never called on them before. She’d leave Aedion to make an excuse for their absence. 

-

You’d finally given the go ahead to Ella, and she rushed to find a messenger - a strongly worded letter in hand. She was panicking, regret rushing through her mind. Why had she let out convince her to keep it a secret? You’d been friends for longer than she could remember - childhood friends. Now, you were on the brink of death and there wasn’t a damned thing you could do about it. Torre healers would be too late - but she’d trained there, and knew there wasn’t anything else to be done. Still, she’d combed every text she could get her hands on over the last few months, consulted with all sorts of healers and nothing. 

She held the door open and the Queen and King rushed her, her knees trembling slightly. The Queen rushed right to you, a faint smile on your lips as you laid out on the couch. She watched as she fell to her knees before you, hands gripping the sides of your face in panic. 

“What happened?” The King asked her, and she told him everything - handing the letter over. He tossed it on the table, not reading it yet, and she slipped out to give you some space, and get herself out of the direct line of fire. 

-

Rowan relayed what happened to her, not daring to speak any of it aloud. Days at the most, the healer had said. How had he not noticed? All of the experiments going on, how you grew weaker. You looked so small, so much tinier than he could remember. Your face had lost some color, eyes more hollow. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“I … you had too much going on.” She said, teeth digging into her bottom lip. He couldn’t find the words to reply. 

Aelin started rushing out words, about bringing different healers over - places they could take you, but you held up a hand. 

“We’ve tried everything.” Everything - over several months. Gods, it hurts. That you thought they would think their work and duties were more important than you. More important than  spending time with you, being there for you through this. He should’ve known. 

Aelin tried to argue with you, but he laid a hand on her shoulder. “I believe you.” He said - and relief flooded through you in a massive wave. Aelin glared at him, but he fixed her with a look; if we only have days, don’t waste them fighting. Aelin’s eyes widened. She was still upset - angry, might be for a while. Gods know he was, but he’d be angry later. Not now, that’s not the memories he wants you to have of them. 

-

“I’m not immortal,” you said - and they both stiffened, “it would’ve happened eventually.”

Aelin only picked you up - wrapping one arm under your knees, the other around your back, and carried you off to your bed. 

They spent all the hours left tucked into bed with you, holding you close - tears falling from all of you. 

You knew exactly when it was happening, and the shuddering breaths tipped them off. 

“No no no no,” Aelin chanted, running a hand over your head, “not yet, please” 

Rowan was a silent and steady presence. 

“It’s time,” you managed to croak out. 

“I love you.” Aelin had never said the words before. Rowan repeated it. So did you. 

It was a prayer and chant on the Queen’s lips, a deathbed declaration - leaving any regrets behind. Rowan ran gentle fingers through your head, Aelin brushed her hands over your cheeks. 

You let your eyes close as you drifted off, a smile on your lips and your last words - three you’d wanted to say for years. Better late than never.

-

Two months later, Rowan and Aelin managed to open your letter. Rowan took extra care, cutting the seal as delicately as he could. He didn't want to damage it, to risk destroying anything of this last ... gift, you'd left behind for them.

I’m sorry. I insisted to keep it a secret.

I know you’re angry and hurt. 

If I didn’t get to say it, I love you with everything in me. 

The text grew shaky at the end - like writing this was difficult enough. She did, her handwriting and her scent lingered. He brought it to his face, breathing in you. Aelin laid her head on his shoulder.

#rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x reader #throne of glass drabble #throne of glass imagine #I'm sorry

[nightghoul381]

Jude Jazza~ Luxury Liner Event~ P2

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Jude: “If ye do, I’ll bet all of my fortune and… this woman.”

Kate: “What!?”

Just as I was admiring Jude’s skill, that outrageous remark came out and I started sweating profusely.

(I didn’t hear that, I didn’t hear that…!)

Blackwood: “Her…?”

Blackwood narrowed his eyes as he was me sitting on the opposite side of Jude’s chair.

Blackwood: “Is that lady important to you?”

Jude: “Of course. Why would I waste my time with a woman I don’t care about?”

Jude threw a bewitching glance at me.

Jude: “I didn’t want to bring her because she was too important, but she just couldn’t stay away…right?”

(I didn’t say that, I didn’t say that…!)

(But if I shake my head here, will it interfere with the mission…?)

I hold my breath, trying not to breath hard from the agitation.

My heart was pounding and my eyes were wet from the breathlessness.

(…I need to calm down Jude said ‘I’m not gonna screw up and let my bait get killed’)

(If you use me as bait, you have a chance of winning, right…?)

As if asking a question, I turned my gaze to Jude—

Jude: “…Fuha, yer all teary-eyed.”

Jude: “I wish I could make ya cry more.”

(…huh?)

His sudden smile made my heart leap.

(Wha…What’s….)

Kate: “I… uh…”

A sigh escaped from my lips, which had been shut to hide my agitated breathing.

Jude: “Yer makin’ a weird sound.)

Kate: “It’s…wrong.”

Blackwood: “I see, she seems to be quite an outrageous woman.”

(What…?)

I saw Blackwood leaning forward, as if he’d seen our exchange and understood what we were saying.

Jude: “There ya go. So whadda ya say?”

Blackwood: “…Let’s do it. Make sure you keep your precious partner so she doesn’t run away.”

Jude: “Ellis.”

Ellis: “Yeah… I’m sorry Kate.”

(Ellis…?)

Ellis, who had been standing behind us as if on watch—

Cuffed my hand to the arm rest of Jude’s chair.

(Wh-where did the handcuffs come from…?)

Ellis: “It’s okay, Kate. It won’t hurt if you don’t try to run away.”

Kate: “Y-yes…”

Ellis smiles gently, so I can’t help but smile back.

Jude: “Ye said ya wanted to cooperate so ya must be prepared to do this, right?”

Kate: “…!”

(…The declaration I made before boarding the ship wasn’t a lie.)

(A person who lines his pockets with gang contributions… and then gambles with them.)

(I can’t forgive him… if it’s to catch him, I’d like to cooperate.)

I managed to swallow the turmoil and tension and nodded.

Kate: “…Of course.”

Jude: “Ha… yer worth the bullying.”

Seeing I had somehow managed to regain my composure, Jude laughed happily.

(Evil hobby…)

However, his usual relaxed attitude strangely calms me down.

Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Jude timid when facing an enemy.

(I think the reason you aren’t shaken in these situations… must be your experience and determination.)

When I think about it, the difference is somehow very frustrating.

(I,--)

Jude: “So what’re you betting?”

Blackwood: “Of course, the equivalent.”

Blackwood: “What you bet was, your entire fortune, and the rest was… the life of one important person.”

Blackwood: “I don’t have a lover or a spouse, so what should I do?”

(You bet when you didn’t have anything…? This man and Jude are both outrageous…)

Jude: “Then if I win, you should resign as a member of Parliament.”

Blackwood: “Huh!?”

(What…!)

Jude: “A politician’s life is a fine life, isn’t it?”

(…Jude, no way.)

(You used me as bait to get him to bet this?)

It seems that we all played right into the palm of his hand.

I can’t even be angry because of how cleverly it was done.

Blackwood hesitated for a moment, then swallowed and nodded.

Blackwood: “—alright.”

(I get it.)

(All that’s left is—Jude needs to win the bet.)

As I moved, the chains jangled on my wrists, and Jude looked at me sideways.

Jude: “Yer not cryin’ anymore?”

Kate: “After thinking about it, I can’t believe that you would lose the game you set yourself up for.”

Kate: “Besides… I wasn’t crying just now, I was just a little choked up.”

Jude: “…Brilliant.”

Jude: “Ye’ve got some nerve fer a princess.”

The words that suddenly spilled out made me feel like I’d been acknowledged, just a little bit, and my heart beats a little faster again.

Immediately the dealer begins dealing cards to the two men—

—Victory was decided quickly.

(Jude, it’s a landslide victory.)

Blackwood: “Huh…? hah…”

Jude: “…phew…”

While Blackwood’s breathing was disturbed,

Without moving an eyebrow, Jude exhaled purple smoke and pressed the cigar against the ashtray.

Jude: “…he’s a piece a shite that takes money from shitty people and then gambles it away,”

Jude: “Ye think he’d be worth the torture.”

Jude: “Oh my God.”

Blackwood: ��Uh…guh…”

Blackwood looked up –and grabbed Jude.

Ellis: “Ah.”

Kate: “Jude!”

I get up from my chair in a panic.

Blackwood: “I’ve never felt so good about a game…!!”

(Gah…)

Jude: “Aah…?”

Jude’s face contorts in disgust at the sight of Blackwood, his eyes blazing with a strange glint.

Blackwood: “You, I’ll bet my life on it next time. Give me one more chance, please…!”

Jude: “Disgustin’. Don’t touch me ya piece a shite. I don’t care about yer life.”

Jude kicked Blackwood in the chest and thrust a piece of paper at him.

Blackwood: “Th-this is…?”

Jude: “ ‘Th-this is…?’ C’mon. It was already decided that you’ll transfer all yer assets and resign from yer position as a member of Parliament.”

Jude: “If ye don’t sign it, I’ll bloody yer nose and take that as yer signature.”

Blackwood: “Ha, haha…!”

Despite signing his doomsday oath, Blackwood was full of joy.

Jude: “Yeah, yeah. Thank you for all yer hard work. Don’t show yer face again during the voyage.”

Jude took one look a the spelled out signature and waved Blackwood away, dismissing him.

Stripped of all his wealth and position, he staggered out of the casino with an… excited look on his face.)

(I wonder if he was…into that sort of thing…)

Jude: “…That kind of abusive, worthless guy really pisses me off.”

Ellis: “Good for you, Jude. It’ll all be over soon… happy?”

Jude: “How can I be happy when there’s still the troublesome ones to deal with?”

(The troublesome ones… If this is the lawmaker who was standing by.)

Kate: “…By troublesome ones, do you mean the gangs?”

Jude: “The reason they were able to do whatever they wanted was because Blackwood was a member of the aristocracy and had the power to cover it up.”

Jude: “If he resigns, well, that’ll be a problem, won’t it?”

Ellis: “They’ll come for this contract by any means necessary.

Apparently the real mission starts now.

(…If we’re going to be attacked, now’s not the time to be chained to a chair.)

Kate: “Um… I’d appreciate it if you could remove the handcuffs soon.”

Jude: “Ah, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Jude leaned over the back of the chair and lifted my chin with the rolled up contract.

Jude: “I don’t mind leaving you as is until I finish with this troublesome lot. If yer wandering around, you’ll be in the way.”

Kate: “Wha…”

It sounds callous but it means, stay where you are, where it’s safe.

This man is undoubtedly sadistic and cold-blooded, but he keeps me out of critical situations.

Ellis: “Sure, it might turn into a brawl.”

Kate: “But, I…”

Passenger woman: “Kyaaaa!!!!”

Jude/ Ellis: “--!”

(What…!?)

Looking back at the sudden scream--,

Near the entrance to the casino, Blackwood was lying on the floor with a bloody nose.

Ellis: “They’ve already found out? That was quick.”

Jude: “Saved me the trouble of lookin’ around.”

Rough men surrounded Blackwood. The man who appeared to be the leader grabs him by the collar and asks him what’s going on.

Then Blackwood’s finger pointed toward us, and several murderous gazes were directed at Jude.

Kate: “If a fight breaks out in such a small space, there will be casualties.”

Jude: “I’d go out without you tellin’ me.”

Ellis: “Kate, stay as low as possible and hide behind the chair.”

Kate: “Ah…!”

Jude and Ellis turned and left the casino.

Men who appear to be gangsters chased after them.

(If you two are right, I might be safer if I just stay in the corner--)

(But, I …)

Kate: “…Eh! Oh my gosh!”

I picked up the chair that the handcuffs were attached to and jumped out of the casino.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil translations #jude jazza #ikevil jude #ikemen villains jude #ikevil jude jazza

[racinginchid3nt]

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part One

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: none yet. so far it’s just build up

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

————————————————————————

While you weren’t a newbie to watching the races, you’d never done so in person. Work kept you busy and the idea of wasting precious vacation days on a flight to sit in the rain instead of on your couch wasn’t your idea of enjoyment.

Your friend had been dating Pierre for a few months now. Having spent the past week fighting, she forced you to take a weekend off and fly to Belgium with her for the race at Spa. He had surprised her with an extra plane ticket and paddock pass as an apology.

As you had packed the night before, Y/N Best Friend had appeared at your doorstep, arms full of garment bags. As soon as she saw the comfortable, weather appropriate outfits you’d selected, she started ripping through your suitcase and adding in her own picks.

“We’re going to be in the paddock, not the grandstands. We have to look the part Y/N” She’d said.

“Besides, there’s plenty of eye candy and you’re single. Might as well make the trip worthwhile. You know our shared hotel room will basically be yours the entire trip.”

“Honestly Y/N Best Friend, I’m not sure that’s the best idea. I’ve heard enough horror stories about most of the guys to make it clear that I should steer clear.”

“You don’t have to marry him Y/N! I just think it would be more fun if you joined me on these trips more. A girl can dream. Besides, it doesn’t have to be a driver. Some of the mechanics are definitely worth a second look.”

“Screw it. Pack what you want but don’t take anything I packed out” You admitted with defeat. Maybe she had a point. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, and how much damage could one weekend do.

The journey to the airport in the hired car was relaxing. And when you boarded into first class and champagne was waiting at your seats, it was a welcome surprise.

The flight from Barcelona has lasted only a few hours and before you knew it you were gathering your purse and carry on to disembark. It was only Wednesday so you were able to relax as you got to the hotel. The suite was beautiful and Pierre had sent flowers to greet his girlfriend. As you unpacked, the two of you began to plan the weekend’s festivities.

Thursday would be filled with media day around the paddock, followed by Friday free practice and qualifying, then Saturday sprint. The race on Sunday would wrap everything up.

————————————————————————

Thursday

Media day started early. The time adjustment was rough but the calm arrival day helped. You were going with Y/N Best Friend and Pierre to the track. He had interviews and Alpine press responsibilities. The two of you would spend the day in hospitality.

Your paddock pass hung around your neck. A tag on a lanyard with your name and face. The drive in was crazy, with fans already lining up to see the drivers. Your best friend waved you ahead so she could help fans get their autographs and you entered security alone.

Seeing the track in person felt surreal. Larger than life, it started to set in that you were actually standing at Spa. You knew the Alpine hospitality would be further down the track. As you started your walk you were amazed by how many journalists were in attendance. As someone with a large camera and a boom mic began filming you, you were thankful you’d taken your friends advice and dressed the part. A simple dress and nice sneakers kept you both presentable and comfortable. You smiled at the camera crew, spotting the netflix logo on their badges, knowing as soon as they discovered your lack of celebrity they’d cut your clips from the show.

You arrived at hospitality, showing your pass at the doors, before sitting down in a small seating area to kill time until Pierre’s media interviews. As the time began to tick closer and closer to round one interview starts, you became nervous that you still hadn’t see Y/N best friend or Pierre.

You tossed your trash and began the walk to the tent. Glancing at your phone trying to decipher what Y/N Best Friend meant by her directions, you decided to head towards the back of hospitality. As you reached the end however, you couldn’t find anything that looked like a media tent. The interviews would be packed and there was no way the space could be small.

You began looking around trying to find someone who could point you in the right direction. The first person you spotted breezed past you, not even acknowledging your question. The second was speaking in what sounded like Italian and had looked at you in confusing, not understanding you. Resigned to wander on your own you picked up your pace and began jogging around the area, peaking your head around corners to see if media was set off to the side.

As you turned sharply after another dead end, you felt yourself bump into someone. Looking up you saw a head of brown hair reaching down to collect their empty cup. Apologizing profusely you reached into your bag to pull out tissues. It wasn’t until you began trying to pat dry the wet spot on the man’s shirt that he actually said anything.

“Fuck sorry. I’m in a rush I didn’t mean to bump you. Are you okay?” He said. The voice sounded familiar but your embarrassment kept your eyes down while you tried to clean the mess.

“Yeah. It was my fault. I’m so sorry about the spill. I’m in a rush too. Could you point me in the direction of the media tent? I’m supposed to be watching the interviews.”

“That’s where I’m going. Just follow me. They won’t let you in if you’re late.”

You looked up for the first time at the Aston Martin driver, realizing why the voice was so familiar.

“Yeah that’s what I was told. Lead the way!”

You followed behind the driver for a few minutes. Flashing your pass to security to enter into the back with just minutes to spare.

He continued on, making his way up to the stage. As he took his seat he began scanning the crowd, trying to determine which media was where and looking for his PR agent. As his gaze made it over to the visitor section he saw you seated with a few of the other girlfriends.

“What kind of guy ditches his girlfriend and doesn’t even tell her how to get to the media tent” he thought. He began eyeing the drivers near him, trying to remember who was and wasn’t single, but his train of thought was cut off as the host started the round.

————————————————————————

A/N: This is my first time doing any kind of fanfic in awhile. So hopefully they improve as they go on. Parts will hopefully be posted 5-6 times a week but we’ll see how it goes. The next post is already done and will be up soon. Im not sure what the final length on this will be but I have a pretty good guideline of the story planned out. There’s not nearly enough lance content IMO so someone has to contribute. There will also be a longer spin off of the Pierre and Best Friend storyline to come

Edit: please fill out the poll when you get a chance

#lance stroll #aston martin #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #alpine #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Raven Crowley Broomquet Interview

Similar to last year, I wrote some quick dialogue for the interview questions and sketched a little something for Raven’s birthday card this year~ In the first year, I had commissioned an initial illustration, a Groovy, and wrote some voice lines.

It’s her Broomquet this time, and I decided to make the other birthday character her interviewer 😆 Ignore that this is coming to you one day late—

Happy Birthday!

Raven: Hehehe 🎵 What a most merry time of year. It won’t be long now before my birthday interviewer appears before me. They’re picked at random, so it could be potentially anyone! Oh, I feel as though I may burst any second from the excitement!

Leona, off to the side with his arms folded: …

Raven: Yup! They’ll be here any minute now.

Leona, hand to temple: …

Raven: Aaaany… minute… now…!

Leona, starting to look mildly annoyed: … Oi. Get your head out of the clouds and stop ignoring what’s right in front of you.

Raven, wincing: … Please don’t tell me… Are you my interviewer, Leona-san?

Leona: Would you look at that. Took you long enough. What are the chances, hmm?

Raven: Pretty low, actually!! Of the hundreds and hundreds of students at Night Raven College… It had to be you who was picked? (What terrible misfortune!)

Leona: That’s not a very grateful way to speak to your interviewer and birthday twin. I thought you’d have more decorum than that, canary.

Leona: Shouldn’t you be proud of me for not skipping out on this momentous occasion? You always get on my case whenever I miss a lecture. Be consistent, will you?

Raven, embarrassed: Hnngh…! V-Very well, I concede—you do have a valid point. Perhaps I was a bit quick to be wary.

Raven: It would not do for me to spoil the mood on this festive day, nor waste our time. We have so precious little of it. Shall we begin the interview? The sooner we start, the sooner we end. Such is the sweet sorrow of parting…

Leona: Hmph, that’s more like it. I knew you had it in you. Let’s knock this out so I can get back to my birthday cat nap.

Leona: Alright, first question. How good are you at flying?

Raven: I’m most excellent at it!

Leona: … You are?

Raven: Y-Yes! Is that really so hard to believe!

Leona: You’re lying through your teeth.

Raven: Ex-CUSE me?! Who are you to insult my flying abilities when you are a creature of the land?

Leona: Don’t kid yourself. Everyone has seen you fly once or twice in P.E. and they all say you do it worse than a blind bat. I’d say you’re about on the same level as the octopunk.

Raven: H-How rude! If you meant flying in the human sense, then you should have specified! I’m very well aware that my flight skills need some... practice.

Raven: But can you really blame me?! It’s extremely difficult to adjust to an entirely different body shape and mechanism for the procedure. A human lacks the same aerodynamicism and compactness that a bird does.

Raven: I assure you that I am more than capable of flying well! ... in my original form. 

Leona: Yeah? All I hear are excuses.

Leona: I’m just “a creature of the land” according to you--but this “creature of the land” can outfly you any day of the week.

Raven: Ngh...!! Must you remind me?! I-It’s obvious that the captain of the Magift Club would be skilled at flying. You must have worked diligently to be at your level of mastery. I lack that time and training.

Leona: Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Who knows? One thing’s for sure, though: if all you do is sit around and whine about what you don’t have, then you’ll never get over it or change.

Raven: Oh? That’s ironic coming from you, Leona-san. You also...

Raven: ... No, never mind. I misspoke.

Leona: ...

Leona, groaning: When I was still a furball, I’d play chess with this old coot in the palace. He’s a lot like you, feathers and all. Always running his mouth at me, being a real pain in my tail. But you know what? That geezer could kick my ass in chess.

Leona: ‘Course, I didn’t take it lying down. I’d make a racket and demand rematches. I’d win some, I’d lose some, but no matter what, I’d get back up again every time.

Leona, with a smirk: Now? I can beat him with both arms tied behind my back.

Raven: Was there a moral in that story about not giving up? It felt like you were also just rubbing your victories in some poor old man’s face.

Leona, laughing dryly: Hah. Very good. Gold star for you.

Leona: My point still stands. You want to complain? How about you put forth some effort and do something about yourself before you talk about others? I know where my strengths lie. Do you?

Raven: ...!!

Raven, reluctantly: You’re... You’re right. If I want to improve my flying, then it is action, not words, that will see me through to that end! Starting tomorrow, I should try to squeeze in at least 30 minutes of flight practice after class.

Leona: That’s the spirit.

Raven: You’ll help me, right, Leona-san?

Leona: ... What?

Raven: I don’t have the proper form or formulas memorized yet. Since you’re the expert in this, it would be helpful to have you as my tutor.

Raven: Besides, weren’t you the one encouraging me a few minutes ago? It’s your job as a responsible upperclassman to aid the underclassmen in need of your assets.

Leona: I wasn’t volunteering to chase you around! Go find someone else to babysit you.

Leona: Next is... What’s your favorite thing about having magic?

Raven: Heheheh, isn’t it obvious? Clearly, the best thing about having magic is...

Raven, striking a silly pose: THIS!!

Leona: ...

Leona: And just what am I looking at?

Raven, flailing her arms: Y-You know! THIS!!

Leona: ... Posing stupidly? That’s your favorite thing about having magic?

Raven: Gah, why do you always have to phrase it so simply?!

Leona: Isn’t that what it is? Stop kidding yourself by dressing it up with fancier words. You’re just posing weirdly to try and look cool while you use magic. End of story.

Raven: That’s not all!! It’s the range of movement that I most enjoy about using magic.

Raven: Humans have the same number of limbs as birds, yes--but humans also have more joints, which allows them to move in complex ways while spellcasting.

Raven: There’s no one set way to cast a fire spell. You could wave your arms in different, complex patterns to summon fire balls, fire columns, fire circles...

Raven: It’s fascinating when you think of it like that! You’d think that a bird would have more flexibility, but humans actually surpass them in that aspect.

Leona: Magic can manifest any number of ways, it just depends on how you visualize it and command it. Posing has little to do with the form magic takes.

Raven: W-Well, it still adds a nice dramatic flair and dynamicism!! Especially in combat situations!

Leona, sighing: Listen to yourself. You sound like some kid that hasn’t even cast their first spell yet, running around waving a stick for a magical pen and shouting nonsense, getting excited about looking cool.

Leona: Like Cheka.

Raven: Aw, that actually sounds really cute!!

Raven, suddenly frowning: ... Wait a minute, did you just compare me to a child?!

Leona, smirking: Aaah, he’s a real pain in the tail. He’ll only get wilder once his magic comes to him.

Raven: That’s part of the joys of childhood~ Discovering new things about the world and about yourself... It can be confusing, but it gets better with time and hands to help you along the way.

Raven: Cheka Kingscholar, the princeling of the Sunset Savanna... With that level of enthusiasm and energy, I’m sure he has potential as a mage.

Leona: You seem fine with hyperactive furballs. You should keep each other company, practice your dumb poses together and cheer each other on.

Raven: Why am I suddenly becoming your on-call babysitter?!

Leona: Look at the pot calling the kettle black. You’re the one that volunteered me as YOUR babysitter earlier. I’m only repaying the favor.

Leona: Next is... What do you do in your free time?

Leona: Don’t say reading or writing either. Anyone could already guess that.

Raven: Alright, then I...

Leona: Or making your own inks.

Raven, grimacing: ... Always one step ahead, aren’t you?

Leona: I’m familiar enough with you and your hobbies to be aware. It’s hard to ignore them when you’ve got a little bird screeching in your ear and demanding toys. Asking for pen and paper, glassware and fresh ingredients.

Raven, flustered: Aside from those activities, I find that I enjoy the mundane. There is nothing quite as relaxing as finding a comfortable spot to sit and just... watching the world go by.

Leona: Seriously? You do nothing? You might as well catch up on some Zs instead of watching grass grow.

Raven: It’s not as though I’m doing nothing! I people watch. Lots of students and staff pass through in a day, each of them different and unique. I sometimes see them and wonder what their stories are, trying to piece together observations and make a little guessing game of it.

Raven: In the town, for example. There goes the baker with his tray like always. He has bread and rolls to sell. So early in the day, he must have risen bright and early to prepare them. A hard worker with, perhaps, a family to support back home. 

Raven: That girl is crying. Did she have a bad day? Heartbreak, or maybe a fight with a friend or family member. She’s scared to let others see her this way, so she hides where she thinks no one will see.

Raven: Those sorts of things. It gives me new material to work with, inspirations for my writing.

Leona: A bird that people watches instead of people who bird watch... You’ve picked up an unsavory habit from Rook and that Octopunk’s goon.

Leona, with sarcasm: I shudder to know what dark secrets you’re keeping stored away in that pretty little head of yours.

Raven: I-I did NOT learn this from anyone!! And it’s NOT unsavory!!

Leona: Saying that doesn’t make it any less creepy.

Raven: It’s nothing more than an exercise in imagination! That’s very important talent to hone as a mage.

Raven: It’s not just people I watch either. There are plenty of ideas to be gleaned from scenery, or just an item. Sometimes I find myself entranced by the things displayed in store windows.

Leona: If they catch your eye, why don’t you just buy them? Then you can stare at them all day from the comfort of your own room.

Leona, with a smirk: You know, instead of doing it out in public.

Raven, frowning: Truth be told, I have very little pocket money. Uncle is very stringent when it comes to matters of the purse... so even if I do find an item that catches my fancy, I’ll rarely ever have the money to purchase it.

Leona, scoffing: Poor you.

Raven: It’s okay! What I lack in material goods and money, I can make up for in creativity! I’ll take what I see and weave it into a story where the impossible is made possible.

Raven: Oh! Maybe I can write something from this interview.

Leona: Hah?

Raven, smiling: Because... I’ve been watching you this whole time, Leona-san! And you’ve been watching me as well. It could make for an interesting story, perhaps the same narrative told from two totally different perspectives.

Raven: The world can look so different from another person’s eyes and perspective. Don’t you think so?

Leona: Whatever you say.

Leona: Next is... If you could fly anywhere, where would you go?

Raven: I write about many far away places in my stories, but I haven’t had a chance to visit many of them. The next best thing I can do is to research them well, then recreate them as settings to the best of my abilities. Ideally, I would like to visit some of them someday.

Raven: I would love to experience habitats that I’m unfamiliar with, just for the experience. The ocean floor, the sprawling savanna, frozen tundras, mountain villages, massive cities... Perhaps they would come with some unpleasant experiences, but I feel that those, too, would be valuable for expanding my horizons.

Leona, sarcastic: Keen on the savanna? If that’s the case, you’re welcome to the Sunset Savanna as a guest of the crown whenever your little heart pleases. I’m sure my exalted older brother would just love to entertain you.

Raven: Hold on just one moment! I... I never said that was my top choice!

Leona: Yeah, then what is?

Raven, looking slightly uncomfortable: ... There is one place I wish to visit. It’s the Castle of the Loveless King in the Shaftlands.

Leona: That dusty old site? Thought the lizard was the only one into roaming ruins. That place isn’t anything special.

Raven: But you know the tale, don’t you?

Leona: Of course I do. It’s taught in Magic History, second year.

Raven: Once upon a time, there was a king who loved no one but himself. On a dark and stormy night, an old woman appeared at his door, asking for shelter from the rain. The king rejected her twice, and before she asked the third time, the old woman offered a rose, claiming it as a symbol of everlasting love.

Raven: She pleaded with the king, warning him that it was not too late to change the course of his path. When he rejected her a third and final time, the old woman shed her robes and revealed herself to be a powerful fairy enchantress.

Raven: She cursed him with immortality, so that he would witness the world and all the love it encompassed pass him by. But instead the king relished in the curse, growing even more daring and cruel. Slowly, the people around him left, fearing for their own lives. And the king was left loveless and alone, withering away in his castle.

Raven: By the time he realized what he had loss, it was too late for him to get it back. So the story goes.

Raven, to herself: (... It’s not the complete story. Only I will ever know what truly happened to him.)

Raven: That castle where the Loveless King fell... it’s important to me. That was where I was first taken in by my “father”--and he was the one that directed me to Uncle. It’s really where my story started. It’s where I learned to write. I want to honor my heritage by visiting it again.

Raven: Admittedly, father was not... the ideal parent. But he tried his best to raise me with an understanding of the world before releasing me into it. I’ve always regretted that we were not able to fully reconcile before he...

Raven: ...

Raven: I want to learn more about where he came from, his history before having me. Starting at the castle is my first and only clue.

Raven: Father was the one that allowed me to live this life. I owe him a great debt, so I wish to honor his humble beginnings.

Leona, crossing his arms: Hmph. You’re really concerned with legacy, huh.

Raven: Legacy is important, after all. You must know, being a prince yourself. You have a lot of expectations on your shoulders.

Leona: Ugh, don’t remind me. The last thing I want in this world is to flatter my ancestors by repeating the exact same mistakes they made.

Leona: Times have changed. We need to change with it and adapt, or risk losing ourselves to the wilderness.

Raven: (Risk losing ourselves...)

Leona: In the Sunset Savanna, we say the great kings of old are embedded in the sky. They’re the stars themselves, watching over each and every one of us. The idea is that if we’re ever lost, we look up to them for guidance.

Leona: But what can the dead do for the present? We can look back on them, ask them for advice, but we can’t rely on the past to pave the way to the future.  That can only be done by people who are here and now. People like you and me, canary.

Raven: !!

Leona: Look back all you want, but don’t stay fixated on it. The future is littered with prizes--you’ll miss them if you’re not focused.

Raven: ... I understand.

Raven: Dead men tell no tales. That’s why their legacies live on in us. We must serve as the torchbearers that carry their stories with us to the future--not for their stories to be repeated, but for the next generation to understand where they came from, and to learn from it.

Raven: I will keep moving forward.

Raven, pensive: You as well, Leona-san. You... should also keep looking forward.

Leona: ... Hmph. Looks to me like you’re living up to your old man’s legacy just fine by doing your own thing.

Leona: Let’s get a move on.

Leona: Next is... What’s one thing you hope to do this year?

Raven: I’d like to get better at communicating face-to-face.

Leona: Oh yeah? That’s a first. You always have your head shoved in a book one way or another. Thought you’d be comfortable sticking to that.

Raven: Yes, and that’s part of the problem...! I tend to prefer the company of books over people. The issue is that I tend to fumble in conversation... Maybe I’m too formal, or too stilted, or too uptight, or just too awkward... Or maybe I say something but it comes off the wrong way because my emotions aren’t fully coming through in how I say the words out loud.

Raven: It makes communication a challenge if I’m not writing down my thoughts--but it’s unrealistic to think that I’ll always have paper on me to write on. I have to get used to communicating clearly with just spoken word.

Raven: I wish I were as free-spirited as Kalim-senpai is. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is amicable with everyone.

Raven: Then there’s Silver-senpai, who is earnest and lives in harmony with the woodland critters.

Raven: Both he and Kalim-senpai are so kind, honest, and approachable. They have boons I can only dream of having myself.

Leona: You’re definitely different from those two, that’s for sure.

Raven: Urk!! I knew I was lacking in this area, but you needn’t affirm it so bluntly!!

Leona: Hah? Whaddya mean? I’m stating an objective, neutral fact. It’s not inherently a bad thing.

Raven: Eh?

Leona: They’ve got their own strengths. So what? You’ve got yours. Weaknesses too.

Leona: Let’s say Kalim was meeting an important dignitary. Sure, he’d chat them up real good, but he also has no filter. If he messes up, that’s it. He’s offended the potential business partner, and no trade deal goes through.

Leona: But you’re cautious. You know when to hold your tongue. You wouldn’t have made that same slip-up.

Leona: Stick you at a party though? That’s where Kalim would thrive and you’d merge with the wallpaper.

Leona: It’s not the skill that matters, but the setting and how the skill is used.

Raven: That’s true... That’s also part of what’s so complicated about speaking with others face-to-face. There are variables you cannot control, another person whose responses you must account for. Things constantly changing.

Raven: When I write, I can manipulate each and every aspect of the conversation. I have as much time as I need to think of a response. 

Raven: I just hope it will come to me with practice. I’ve been pushing myself to go out of my comfort zone lately, staying behind class to exchange a few words with my first-year peers. Even this conversation that we’re having now is considered part of my training regimen!

Leona: Good for you.

Raven: Come to think of it, you’re quite well-articulated yourself, Leona-san. Er, when you want to be. It must come with the royal tutoring.

Leona, slightly amused: You don’t say. Am I riveting enough of a conversation partner for you?

Raven, warily: Well... You’re certainly not Prince Charming, but you’re a prince with your own ‘unique’ charm. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?

Leona: Next is... What is your best subject?

Raven: That would be Ancient Curses.*

[*NOTE: In the official localization, this subject is called “Ancient Magic”.]

Leona: No kidding. It looks like birds of a feather flock together after all.

Raven: Eh, you too?!

Leona: Yeah. ‘s not all bad. It’s a test of your wits, not just busy work to waste time.

Raven, smiling: I know, it’s so interesting!! Deciphering ancient languages, unlocking spells wanted to be kept secret... It’s like solving a puzzle or a riddle, so it’s really satisfying when you finally find the answer. It feels like you earned the right to see it!

Leona: Huh. You’re pretty gung-ho about this.

Raven: I have a personal fascination with it as a writer.

Raven: I mainly write stories in the common tongue, but there are many languages spoken in Twisted Wonderland, each with its own unique grammatical and social rules.

Raven: And in Ancient Curses, we often look at languages no longer spoken. That is to say, dead or extinct languages. Words forgotten by the natural passage of time, or purposefully buried by its original authors.

Raven: If we unearth those words, we can learn more about what once was, and all the things we have yet to understand. There is much knowledge and wisdom from the past that we’ve yet to find.

Raven: Ancient Curses is the bridge between now and then.

Leona: Guess so. 

Leona: You talk about it like you’re looking for something. Did a forbidden dark magic spell catch your eye?

Raven: An answer. I’m looking for an answer.

Raven: (... for this curse of mine.)

Leona: Aren’t we all.

Raven: What are you hoping to get out of your Ancient Curses studies?

Leona: Me? Nothing much. It helps keep me momentarily amused. I’m not looking for the secret to life or the cure to disease or whatever.

Leona: Unlike you, I don’t have any lofty ambitions.

Raven: What a shame. With your abilities, you just may be able to uncover whatever you like.

Raven: In fact, I would say I detected a hint of sarcasm just now, when you said you don’t have any lofty ambitions. It’s not good to tell little white lies, Leona-san.

Leona, with a laugh: Hah! Thanks for the vote of confidence, canary. You put your faith in the strangest of places.

Raven: I don’t think it’s so strange. The flowers in Heartslabyul’s gardens do stranger things than believe in lions. ‘You can really do it if you put your mind to it’... That saying is true for everyone!

Leona: Now that’s some topysy-turvy logic if I’ve ever heard of it.

Leona: As for your ‘answer’... if you manage to find it, be so generous as to share those secrets with the rest of us, won’t you?

Raven: Hehe. Of course I will. That’s a promise!

Leona: We’re done here.

Raven: And not a moment too soon!

Leona, sarcastic: Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re just so eager to be free of my clutches. I won’t take a second more of your precious time.

Leona, with a smirk: Here. Your bouquet. It’s the first and only time I’ll hand you flowers, so enjoy it while you can.

Raven, flatly: Thank you.

Raven: ... Oh my. What a lovely bouquet. Dark blue and burgundy flowers with speckles of small white and gold flowers... It looks like the night sky. They would make for a lovely color of enchanted ink.

Raven: I don’t recognize a lot of these, but blue roses aren’t natural, are they?

Raven: (It’s like me. Something that doesn’t belong, placed there artificially... but it’s still a part of the bouquet, still a part of the story.)

Raven: If I recall correctly, blue roses mean “mystery”, “the unattainable”, and... “a dream come true’.

Leona: Ever the romanticist. Are you going to stand there stalling for time, or are you actually going to fly the Birthday Road? I’m going to see your flying again one way or another. You might as well get it over with now with some grace intact.

Raven: I-I will! I was just admiring the composition of the bouquet before I left! (Oh, WHY did he have to point that out?!)

Raven, getting on the broom and clearing her throat: W-Well then, if you’ll excuse me! I must be off!

Leona: Finally off to see the world? Bring me back a souvenir and a good story while you’re at it, canary.

Raven: I make no such promises, Leona-san!

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #Leona Kingscholar #notes from the writing raven #my art #Raven birthday takeover

[renardiererin]

footnote

———————————————————————————————————

rintarou suna x reader

loud chatter ringing through your ears, as the music pounded against your head, and the lights blared against your eyes but you didn’t care one bit. you’d had far too much to drink to even be thinking about the throbbing pain in your head that grew by the minute. there was only one person you wanted to find right now.

“rin! thank god, i’ve been looking for you.” you sighed when you reached your best friend. he was sat on the kitchen counter, no drink in his hand. he was never a big fan of drinking.

“what’s up? what do you need?” worry laced into his expression as he studied your face for evidence of an issue.

“rin, i really like you. like, a lot.“ it was clear to him that you didn’t just mean platonically.

“uhm, you’re too drunk you should sober up.” he said, neglecting your confession as an alcohol induced delusion.

“why would i lie? it’s so clear i’m in love with you!”

“y/n, you know i like someone else. i don’t feel that way about you. i thought we’d been over this.” he said with a look of forced guilt on his face as if he didn’t even feel slightly bad for shattering his best friend’s heart yet again.

“if i waited, could that maybe help?”

“patience won’t change how i feel about you, y/n.” a small breath let out from his previously pursed lips as he pat the top of your head twice.

drunk, sober, tipsy, blacked out, wasted, stoned, shitfaced, whatever y/n was it was never enough. because she wasn’t ruby. and she knew he would always love ruby. you found an empty bedroom and sat on the couch by the fireplace

so i’ll stop being pretentious and loathing our friendship. you taught me a lesson: that love isn’t precious. it’s not like the novels. no pride and pres prejudice at all.

so ill just take a footnote in your life. and you could take my body, every line i would write for you. but a footnote will do. a footnote will do.

—

“i picked your favourite restaurant just for you. to help with that hangover i’m sure you’ve got.”

“hey, it’s not that bad. i wasn’t as drunk as you think.”

“oh for sure.”

“excuse me- i just wanted to say i think you two are a super cute couple!” the hostess from before approached you and rintarou’s table with a bottle of booze, him kindly turning it down due to your current state.

oh and i’d be embarrassed if i weren’t so pleased. that everyone else sees what you’ll never see. we’re perfect together, but ill never be the one.

“rin i meant what i said last night. i was thinking fairly clearly.”

“what do you mean?”

“im in love with you, rintarou.”

“y/n you know how this conversation is gonna end, we’ve had it a million times. i could never see you as more than a friend, and you know that. im not yours and you aren’t mine, no matter what you may want.”

“i can’t be just friends with you.”

“what?” fear etched into his skin as he ran through every worst case scenario he could think of.

“im in love with you, in case you didn’t hear me the first two times. i can’t just be your friend, rin that’s how how i work. i can’t pretend to be happy for you when you have a future with someone else and i’ve been by your side since as long as i can remember. i can’t be happy that you’re giving everything i want to another person. i can’t do it. i can’t sit idly by and pretend. this isn’t a fucking fairytale and im not gonna be a side character in your little movie you’ve created. soon enough, i’ll be merely a memory to you. and that’ll be good enough. i need to leave, and i don’t know if i’ll ever see you again. and if i do, i hope i’ve moved on. im tired of reaching for stars i can’t touch, and yearning for things i can’t have. i need to move on from you. i can’t do that if you’re constantly at my side, as my best friend telling me it’ll be okay just to gush about whatever girl you’re fucking, ten minutes later. i can’t do it anymore, rin. thank you for breakfast, i’ve really gotta go.” and so you left. running out the café doors, without so much as a glance back at rintarou.

it was just the wrong person, at the wrong time.

#Spotify #suna rintaro x you #suna rintarou #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintaro haikyuu #rintarou suna #haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq hcs #hq imagines #hq headcanons #hq x you #hq angst #rintarou suna angst #angst #haikyuu angst #wrong person wrong time #footnote

[fruitcoops]

helloooooooo babes, i lovelovelovelove the way you write smut and all your fics in general. it’s like literally me when?? like when is it my turn to be happy😭 anyways, would you be interested in writing smut where coops got into a little tiny/playful argument, and they’re like being kinda stubborn, and not like seriously apologizing because they’re both, as mentioned, stubborn af. and they just have like playful makeup sex and laugh about how stubborn they are?

On the fifth day of Nutmas, fruitcoops gave to you: a combo prompt with praise and stubborn Coops! Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for smut, minor argument (everyone is enjoying themselves very much, though)

“You are so full of shit.”

“Okay, fuck you—”

“Fuck you!”

Sirius smacked Remus’ hand away from the whiteboard with his eraser until he crossed both over his chest with an irritated sigh. “Connard,” Sirius muttered, bending once more to scribble at his plays.

“You know, I do occasionally have good ideas.” When Sirius refused to look at him, Remus flicked the edge of the whiteboard; Sirius cursed under his breath as he erased the skewed line. “This isn’t prime captain behavior.”

“Will you just let me do this?”

“You asked for my help!”

“I asked for your opinion,” Sirius corrected, finally sitting up to spare a moment of his precious time and look at his husband. It was an exasperated look, but a look all the same, and one Remus would count as a win. A good scowl should never be wasted. Sirius narrowed his eyes and poked him in the chest with the capped end of his pen. “Not your help.”

Remus felt a sigh bubbling from the depths of his soul. He shook his head and made sure to bump the back of Sirius’ shoulder with his notebook as he stood. “Oh, fuck off.”

--

So maybe Remus had been a little too hasty in assuming his competitive urges had died out during his years off the ice. And maybe there was a reason his old teammates had given him a wolf-based nickname. But he took a lot of pride in being measured and mild—it had taken quite a bit of time and effort to cultivate.

He loved Sirius, and he was going to strangle him before the day was out.

“I’m just saying, if you let Finn take it up the flank—”

“Oh my god, Remus.”

“You asked for my opinion! This is my opinion!”

Sirius gripped the countertop and took a breath so deep, Remus wondered how he had any lung capacity left. “No.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“An opinion on the play that I showed you!”

“That’s what I’m giving you!” Strangle him. Remus was going to strangle him. If it didn’t take so much effort to get up off the couch, he would’ve done it already. He gestured vaguely with his book and Sirius rolled his eyes. “Did you want me to pretend it was perfect?”

“It is perfect.”

“If it was perfect, you wouldn’t have wanted me to look at it. You know I’m picky about hockey. You love how picky I am.”

Sirius’ forehead creased. “Maybe you’re too picky.”

Remus couldn’t help his bark of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you. Can you just admit I have a point?”

“Can you just admit you’re wrong?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, set his book neatly in his lap, and folded his hands over it. Sirius’ steely gaze was unyielding. “Explain how I’m wrong.”

“Gladly,” Sirius bit out as he slapped the last piece of deli meat onto his sandwich. “First, the play is perfect.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuck you. Second,” he continued, holding up two fingers. “If I let Harzy take it up the flank, the defense will net him faster than he can blink. The Badgers don’t fuck around. He’ll get smashed. And third, you’re picky.”

“Come on!” Remus complained as Sirius headed down the opposite hall. “You won’t even let me have a turn?”

“Picky!” was the only answer he got.

--

Arguing with someone who could match him hit-for-hit in stubbornness was an undeniable consequence of dating the captain of an NHL team. Remus really should have seen that coming. Halfway through their third spat of the day, he sent a silent apology to every single one of his teammates that had ever tried to coerce him into…well, anything. Remus knew hockey, loved it, lived it. Unfortunately, so did Sirius.

It didn’t help that Sirius was also brilliant. The play was fantastic: it was tailor-made against the Badgers’ excellent defensive line and highlighted so many of their strengths. If only Sirius would compromise on one tiny thing, it would be perfect, and they could go back to their day without it cropping up ever again.

“You are so goddamn smart,” he snapped.

“Thank you,” Sirius practically snarled.

“So why can’t you see this isn’t going to work for you or get you laid?”

That wasn’t entirely true, if they were being technical about it, but Remus didn’t count the post-lunch blowjob. This is not acceptance, he had thought as Sirius’ hand wound tighter in his hair and drew a muffled moan from him. A trick of the tongue, and Sirius’ knees were buckling under him. Yeah, you’re not the only one with a power play here. It was lucky Sirius didn’t try to come in Remus’ mouth, because he would have spit it back like a camel.

The tension dragged on through the afternoon, past Sirius’ weekly game of pickup basketball with James and the movie Remus went to see with Talker and Leo. “I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal to swap out James with Finn,” he said while they finished the dinner dishes, setting his towel next to the sink.

Sirius tipped his head back and groaned. “I told you, James is better with my passes.”

“And Finn is quicker against defense like that.”

“You can be so infuriating sometimes.”

Here we go again. “I can be infuriating whenever the hell I want to be.”

Sirius opened his mouth, closed it, then took two steps closer and deposited Remus on the countertop, ignoring his indignant squawk. “I’m the captain, remember?”

“Off the ice, you’re my husband.” Remus quirked a brow. “My husband, who explicitly asked for my opinion on a play. Or are you ready to admit you just wanted me to tell you it looked good?”

Sirius’ cheeks turned deep rose. “Did not.”

“I would have done it, if you asked.”

“So you agree that it’s good.”

Remus half-shrugged, swinging his feet. “Sure. But it can be better.”

“Remind me again why I let you stay in my house?”

“You fed me and said nice things to me,” Remus mused, hooking his heels behind Sirius’ knees to pull him closer. “You’ll never be rid of me now. Plus, I cook for you, fix your washing machine, and give you blowjobs in the kitchen. It’s a win-win.”

“You criticize my plays.”

“That was barely a suggestion. If you want real criticism, ask me how I feel about your shirt-folding methods.”

Sirius was grinning already; their noses bumped. “Oh?”

“I will tear you to pieces, Black,” he murmured.

“Promise?”

Remus’ breath caught as Sirius closed the distance between them, sucking at his bottom lip before surging up for more. The back of his head bumped the cabinet and he smiled into the kiss when Sirius’ hand came up to rest over the spot with a soft noise. For once, Remus was taller—he angled downward and groaned quietly at the rush it gave him. Sirius bent and broke so pretty for him in bed, but getting him to bow like a willow was a fine art. He would savor every second he earned of it.

Sirius’ palms were cold from the marble counter when they slipped beneath Remus and hoisted him up; Remus could feel him against his thigh when he locked his ankles around Sirius’ waist. “Look at you,” he cooed, tugging on the back of Sirius’ hair. “Hard for me after just a little kissing.”

His back hit the wall of the living room a little harder than strictly necessary and he bit at Sirius’ jaw in retaliation. “Watch it,” Sirius warned. “I’m not facing the Badgers with a hickey on my face.”

“Says who?”

“Says your captain.”

“Husband,” Remus corrected again, grinning. “No ice.”

Sirius fixed him with a withering look before crushing him into the wall again and Remus took no small amount of pride in the heavy breaths filling the space between them. He knew Sirius loved it when he pushed, knew he was one of the few who would unapologetically fight him until they exhausted themselves. Sirius had always liked a challenge, and Remus would be dead in the ground before letting go when he was right.

“C’mere,” Sirius mumbled when they were red-lipped and panting. Remus didn’t really have a choice in the matter—Sirius kept both hands on his thighs, tight enough to sting in the best way as they moved down the hall. He switched to one hand to rummage through a side drawer for lube before pinning Remus next to the wall by the couch with a knee wedged beneath his ass, a move that should not have been as hot as it was.

“You’re gonna fuck me here?” Remus teased, rolling his hips forward to get some friction on his neglected cock. “Not even on the couch? Lame.”

“You’re going to kill my boner if you keep talking like that.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what’s poking me in the leg right now?” He narrowed his eyes when Sirius raised a brow. “Don’t act like this doesn’t turn you on, baby.”

“My house, my play, you have to be nice to me.”

Remus mouthed along his neck while one of Sirius’ deft hands worked their pants down and rucked Remus’ shirt up around his ribs. He would never tire of those big hands on his skin, nor the catch of Sirius’ breath under his lips when he skimmed a sensitive spot. He nibbled at his earlobe as the first lube-slick finger circled his rim. “You love it when I push you.”

Sirius ducked his head, but Remus caught a glimpse of his smile and reached out; he tipped his chin up and felt his heart go ka-chunk at the exasperated fondness directed only on him. “Maybe,” Sirius conceded, sliding just the first knuckle of his finger inside before returning to teasing circles. “Or maybe I just like you, hmm?”

“Never crossed my mind.”

“Not even once.” Sirius scrunched his nose playfully, then bent and kissed the shiny band on Remus’ ring finger. He couldn’t help his burning blush, a fact Sirius certainly didn’t miss when he kissed each of Remus’ cheeks before beginning to push two fingers inside him.

“Huh—” Remus managed, clutching at his shoulders.

Sirius paused at the second knuckle. “Too much?”

“No, no, keep go—uh fuck.” The wall was solid behind him, and for that Remus was grateful. He needed an anchor if Sirius was going to keep twisting his fingers like that. His heels pressed into the curve of Sirius’ ass when he slipped both all the way in and started up a pattern of steady movement, alternating between short thrusts that nudged at Remus’ prostate and scissoring him open like it was nothing. Every other stroke featured a swipe of his thumb over Remus’ stretched rim that made him shiver.

“You’re good with two.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, should be fine today—”

“Not a question, mon coeur.”

Heat flashed through his stomach and he clenched down around thick fingers, but when he found Sirius’ eyes again, there was a silent question there. “Yeah,” he repeated. “You’re right, give it to me, I’m ready.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate—his lashes fanned out over his cheeks as he gripped Remus’ hip with one hand and guided himself in, letting out a slow breath at the first constant press. He didn’t stop until he was in all the way despite Remus’ squirming. If anything, it seemed to encourage him. “Tight,” he noted, a little breathless.

“Two fingers,” Remus fired back, panting. “Better luck next time.”

The first snap of Sirius’ hips made him grit his teeth and tilt his head toward the ceiling, and the second covered the pretty blue paint with sparkles. He loved it like this, the burn and the stretch and the roughness of Sirius’ palms on his skin. It lacked the intensity of their more involved nights—usually saved for the bed, where water and snacks were easily accessible—but more than made up for it with the energy crackling between them. Sirius buried small noises in his collarbones while Remus heard his own punched-out sounds reverberate back to him, proof of life as liquid pleasure filled every vein.

Sirius was sweaty under his grappling hands and shining in the light that seeped through the curtains. He was working for it, muscles flexing, giving Remus everything he desired. It would be so nice to leave well enough alone and give Sirius the satisfaction of a job well done.

“Come on, you can do better than that.”

Sirius shoved forward and stayed there, statue-still. “Répète,” he said briskly, ignoring the groan of protest at the rapid halt.

Remus licked his lips. “I know you can go harder. I’ve seen it. Felt it. You’re not even trying.”

Sirius arched a brow. “Pardon?”

“Come on, babe, you haven’t even fucked me through the first layer of paint yet,” he goaded with a grin, even as a shudder filled his stomach. Seeing Sirius like this was like looking a lightning storm in the face. He wanted to see how fast it would crack and burn. Maybe it was mean, but the glint in Sirius’ eye told him he was enjoying this just as much as Remus was. “Feels like you think I’m a blushing virgin on our honeymoon.”

“You were not blushing or a virgin on our honeymoon,” Sirius laughed, hauling him further up by his thighs.

Remus slid his hand up the valley between Sirius’ pecs and around his neck, rubbing a thumb over the base of his skull. “Then fuck me like you married me.”

A smile played over Sirius’ lips as he leaned closer and pressed their foreheads together. “With my whole heart and soul?”

“And your dick,” Remus added. “Don’t forget that part.”

“If I do, will you admit James should be the first choice for my play?”

The slow, grinding circles of Sirius’ hips plucked at Remus’ concentration. He was deep enough that Remus could feel every inch of him, their bodies pushed close enough that each of Sirius’ breaths brushed his abdomen against Remus’ cock. He needed—he needed. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Depends on whether I can think afterward.”

He expected Sirius to start pounding him in earnest, but Sirius kept his pace, running his hands along Remus’ narrow hips and over his thighs, then back down to get good handfuls of his ass. Sirius spread him wide in a smooth motion and a short whine made Remus bite the inside of his lip, only to be kissed until he released it again.

And they stayed there. Waiting. Quiet. Sirius holding him open while he slipped in and out hardly an inch, over and over, pushing Remus up the wall with the force of each grind. It was tearing him apart, bit by bit.

“I need—” Remus gasped, clutching Sirius’ shoulder blades as the head of his cock continued rubbing over his prostate. His knee slid up to Sirius’ ribs as the shivery feeling in his gut intensified. He couldn’t even ask for more; it was slow and intentional and toe-curlingly good, and he was going to melt right down onto the goddamn floor. “Oh, shit, Sirius.”

Sirius shushed him softly and pressed him further into the wall. He replaced one hand with his knee again in a single effortless move and trailed his fingertips along Remus’ inner thighs, where the fine tremor running through him had started making an appearance. “You can take it,” he said lowly.

“Harder—gimme harder.”

“No.”

Another whine, louder this time, slipped through his teeth and Remus braced his foot against the couch arm for some leverage to rock down, but Sirius caught him under the knee and hefted him back up with a little bounce that made his mouth fall open at the sudden stimulation. It didn’t last long—he was back to a slowly-melting mess in seconds.

“You can take it hard,” Sirius agreed with a chaste kiss to the corner of Remus’ lips. It took him a moment to register it and chase after him for more, but Sirius just nuzzled into his cheek. “I love seeing you break under me and listening to you babble until you don’t make sense anymore. But when I want you to stop thinking…”

“Oh,” Remus whimpered, feeling another piece of his brain go radio silent when Sirius gave the base of his cock a squeeze.

“…I know exactly what you need.” It came out like the purr of a big cat, quiet and rumbly where his chest laid flat against Remus’. He was warm all over. Dizzy under the constant, pointed motions of Sirius’ rolling hips. Falling apart at the seams. Sirius shifted the hand holding him open to stroke at where they pressed together and a funny sort of wheeze escaped Remus. “What do you think, Re? Am I fucking you like I married you, now?”

All he could offer was a silent nod. Sirius Black, you absolute menace.

“Pink cheeks,” Sirius hummed, running the back of his hand over Remus’ cheekbones in a way that was somehow tender and possessive at the same time. He felt himself go hotter and turned away from it, away from the kind words and sweet tone that were so at odds with everything else about their situation. “Hey, no, look at me. Pretty boy, so smart. I do love it when you’re picky. There’s nobody else I want to check my plays. I love how much you love hockey.”

“Love you,” Remus corrected, though it came out as more of a slurred ‘luvva’. The praise was making him feel strange, like Sirius had shone a flashlight on him while also bundling him up safe and secure. It was—it was just too much, but any attempt to writhe away from it was met with a wall or Sirius himself.

“Don’t run away.” Sirius kissed him again, sweet and soft. Remus made a noise low in his throat when the index finger of his free hand pressed in alongside his cock, just an inch, just enough to tease. His legs shook around Sirius’ waist. “Let me say nice things to you, ouais?”

“Oh, no, no, no—” This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Sirius pushed, Remus pushed back, Remus got fucked over the nearest flat (usually) surface. He had not prepared himself to be leaking precome over Sirius’ hand from a few honeyed words.

“No?” Sirius nudged their noses together; Remus could hear how labored his breathing had become and moaned when his finger slid in another inch. “You don’t like it?”

“Like it,” he mumbled, loose-lipped and half-coherent. “Like it so much, love you, love you.”

“You still want it harder?”

Remus shook his head and guided Sirius closer by the back of his neck. It took a few tries, but then they were kissing for real, muffling Remus’ cry when Sirius began moving his cock and his finger in tandem. He was sandwiched as tight as he could ever imagine between a sturdy body and the wall, held up only by Sirius’ knee and hand. This is the peak of my entire life, he thought. I will nitpick every single play he ever puts in front of me.

Sirius laughed quietly into his mouth. Oops. “Please don’t, it would destroy my ego.”

“Your ego can take it,” Remus answered, closing his eyes at a deeper push. “And your plays are fucking gorgeous.”

“You’re gorgeous.” He groaned, going to cover his face with one hand, but Sirius pulled it away and placed it back on his own shoulder before taking Remus’ cock once again to rub relentlessly over the dripping head. “Stop that, I want to see how handsome you are when I come.”

A shout stuck in his chest and Remus arched into him, every muscle tightening as he came hard enough to spatter his sternum. It left him breathless and thrashing, but he yanked Sirius closer when he felt him pull away. “Fuck me through it,” he demanded, even as his knees folded on Sirius’ waist. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

The finger inside him disappeared and he had only a moment to mourn the loss before both of Sirius’ hands were on his ass again, canting his hips up to accommodate the height difference when Sirius straightened and began to rail him like Remus had thought he would from the beginning. Frantic, half-strangled noises were music to his ears as Sirius dragged his orgasm out to its final threads—a laugh bubbled out of him, but was quickly drowned out by Sirius’ shout as he shoved Remus against the wall and buried himself inside, breathing hard into the joint of his shoulder.

They remained there, both trembling, both sweaty enough that Remus could feel it cooling on his skin and damp on his hands. Every inch of him buzzed with the rush; he placed a few openmouthed kisses on the curve of Sirius’ neck, where his heaving gasps for air were most severe. It was rather flattering, to be honest. He took a stupid amount of joy in making Sirius look that happily worn out.

“Your play looks really, really good,” he murmured without removing his lips from flushed skin. Sirius smiled, forehead against the wall. “Both Finn and James would fuckin’ kill it out there. You’re so smart.”

Sirius hummed, licking over his collarbone before biting down gently. “I wanna win.”

“I know you do.” He stroked the side of Sirius’ face, then turned it toward himself. His eyes were a softer grey now. Less of a lightning storm, more of a drizzling raincloud. Remus kissed the tip of his nose. “We’ll win with you at the lead.”

“It was a silly fight.”

Sirius’ accent was thick, his eyelids drooping. Remus loved how he looked a little sex-drunk. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But I like this part.”

“I’m sorry for being pushy. And calling you picky.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I am picky. You have every right to be pushy about your plays.”

“You didn’t feel like I was bullying you, ouais?”

“Bullying me?” Remus laughed, tapping Sirius’ waist to be let down on shaky legs. “Baby, no, I had a great time.”

He stumbled when his feet found solid ground and Sirius caught him neatly under the arms, drawing him right into a cuddle. “Me, too,” he admitted. “You’re hot when you’re picky.”

“You just like a challenge.”

“That is not a secret, loup.”

“Wanna shower together?”

A thoughtful look crossed Sirius’ face before he looked down with a mischievous grin. “I’ll blow you if you wash my hair.”

“Deal.”

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