#idk what the estimate is yet for how long he has but he's got an aggressive form of lymphoma and other cats don't respond well to the chemo

[supercantaloupe]

also. Apollo went to the oncologist today. not good :(

#idk what the estimate is yet for how long he has but he's got an aggressive form of lymphoma and other cats don't respond well to the chemo #so. my parents aren't gonna bother. he's going on a prescription to slow its progression #but at this point it's just a matter of keeping him comfy as long as we can. #i hope he still has a year or two left but that's probably a bit hopeful. idk #i wanna talk about me #update: dad says it's probably a few months. a year at best. :( #maybe i'll visit home more often than i was planning this summer. i want more time with my boy while he's still here... #even if he does throw up on my puzzles.

[starglowwos]

quick note before i start ranting: last night i started thinking. and then i started ranting in discord. and it got off track. and then i woke up this morning and had a similar thought. so this is just a stream of thoughts from me, really, lmao also, absolutely all of this is from memory, there's a good chance i got some stuff wrong (and i also include a lot of headcanons based off estimates and stuff i don't think would be a stretch), so yeah lmao this is kinda like a thought experiment or something

thinking,, thinking about c!martyn and his birthday

3rd life started 2 weeks after his birthday, last and double life weren't close, rats missed it, pirates has a good chance of missing it, and that's in the future anyway

only limited life included it

martyn… spends the rest of his time in a void, regardless of which route you take, datastream or eyesandears (as we don't know how they connect yet, they're mostly separate? kinda? idk its complicated)

so… what's better: having your birthday in the midst of a death game, in a world that isn't real but feels painfully so, or alone in a void?

in a dark void where you're unconscious most of the time, and when you're not, you're being taunted? or in a green void where you can't so much as sleep like you had to back in the world you were torn from, the world that you only have one actual connection with, your only glimpse of reality being of that who trapped you in this mess and doesn't care enough to get you out already?

martyn's first birthday in the datastream likely would've been limited life, if that's how that would work (again, datastream~eyesandears, complicated)

he's still got another good 7 months until his next one

will he be out of the datastream by then? will doc have finally figured it out?

…why hasn't he yet?

…that's a question for another day. (sure, maybe he's said that dozens of times before, but… now's not the time, is all)

(…besides, it seems like he cares. but…- no, question for another day. whatever a day even is. he only really knows because doc makes him journal for every one that passes, not because it really holds any meaning right now.)

would he rather spend his birthday lonely and paranoid, lonely and paranoid, or lonely and paranoid?

either

in constant fear of death, being able to see just how much time you have left until then, knowing it could skip ahead by an hour or even two at a moment's notice.

people who were supposed to be your friends (and perhaps were in another life) trying to kill you on your birthday, throwing explosives down from the clouds onto your party on the one day you maybe thought you'd be allowed to enjoy yourself.

(and yeah, maybe you were planning on blowing up everyone else, too, but when you're red, can you really be blamed for wanting to spill some blood?)

(…everyone else feels like that, don't they? you're not the only one. you're stupid for thinking you'd be an exception to their bloodlust just because it's your birthday.)

or

in a void where your only waking moments aren't good ones. where you're taunted and berated and ridiculed for your mistakes, where you start to believe what you're told, that you failed your one job despite being given so many chances.

the void in which you last see Them before your only anything between these games abandon you for years?- months on end, only to reappear a game later in hopes of ruining your life. and you're pretty damn scared They succeeded. (you've felt, just, bad, for so long, that you're not sure things can get worse, yet they manage to every time. you're not sure when things got this bad, but it's Their fault, you know it is.)

…you're unconscious most of the time in this void, anyway. you're not sure why it feels like such an eternity every time.

or

in a lime green void, stretching on virtually endlessly (heh, virtually… ah, this is what you've resorted to for entertainment, isn't it?), with access to all you could ever dream of?

sure, maybe not the impossible—that's, well, impossible—and maybe not things that haven't been created yet, maybe some things are locked behind paywalls you can't bypass, or, or need for accounts–

oh, did you mention you can't leave any trace of your existence either? there's quite a few restrictions, actually—no accounts, no anonymous comments, no privacy, no friends, no family, no food, no drink, no sleep, no- no bodily functions, no.. no concrete sense of self, no… fellow(? are you even human anymore?) human interaction…

well, besides doc, but he's… busy. too busy to help you get out of here, too busy to…

to care where you land after pushing you through a portal to an unknown world with little to no warning,

to get… worried, when you stay months in the same game world, because these- these missions are meant to be a, a quick in and out, maybe a week, usually less, not… three whole months, and…

fuck did that hurt, leaving them all, but… the sooner you complete these missions for doc—what even are these missions, anyway? why-—the faster you'll be out of the datastream and.. back to reality. back to.. home… you think.

(why do these missions have such big gaps between them?

why– how is doc presumably fighting CHEST all by himself (well, not all by himself, you are the datastream defender, after all, even if that is just a made up title to make yourself feel better, even if you're barely an asset as opposed to a liability to doc)?

what does global ramifications entail?

why hasn't doc figured out how to get you out of here yet?

why does he not spend any time with you, he's your only real human contact, and even then, it's flakey!?

why does he make you journal every day? to keep you sane? you mean, it's hardly working, but why?

if doc cares, it'd be more than just whatever this is. or–…

…you've had this conversation before. you're just out of touch with social interaction. players and npcs are nothing like real people. you're just… wrong. and doc's right, because doc knows what's going on, and you don't, save for some tiny morsels of information. right. …nevermind.)

this is where i stopped ranting for the night, and i pick it back up on a similar topic this morning ^^

i wonder if, in the datastream lore, rats and pirates are made by the same people or not

if doc would have access to that information, if he would purposefully start avoiding powcreations, or purposefully seek out their game worlds

is martyn spending months in a game world, having fun instead of doing his job, a good thing in any way, in doc's eyes? or is it solely a distraction or vulnerability?

martyn goes to all these game worlds for a reason, he needs to find loot shards so doc can deal with them, but how does doc feel about martyn staying months instead of days? of martyn having fun? growing attached? forming emotional bonds with people who aren't real?

(doc tells martyn they aren't real. martyn has no reason not to believe him on that. (in fact, martyn tells himself they aren't real, because if they were, he's not sure he'd handle that well.) even though players can be awakened, they're still ultimately under an actual human's control—doc's told martyn this. martyn is... a special case. (and if they aren't quick enough, his situation could lose its uniqueness to the enemy. which, if it wasn't clear, isn't a good thing.))

it's ultimately not healthy, martyn knows, but he's been in the datastream a little over a year at this point. the only human interaction he has is doc, who barely seems to have time for him, and CHEST agents (he thinks? they may just be AI), which are actively trying to kill him, whatever that would mean for him. he doesn't like the thought.

so, maybe he's a bit lonely—okay, maybe very lonely—so can you really blame him for wanting to indulge? i mean… even if it isn't really reality, what's stopping it from acting as one? he'll… he'll always have to leave eventually, but… he may as well enjoy himself while he has the chance, right?

so what's to stop him from making friends with oli the trash rat, or oli the pirate? (they're almost eerily similar, all things considered, but martyn guesses that's what happens when you get lazy devs. everything else seems to have so much care put into it, though... why would they put in such little effort to player characters when so much goes into everything else?)

what's to stop him flirting with half the players on the faction isles and being responsible for the nickname "kisstrels"?

what's to stop him having a genuinely good time?

leaving rats was hard. it was the first time he felt he truly belonged somewhere in how long? longer than the datastream, for sure.

he was really starting to struggle at that point with the crushing loneliness and feelings of unreality, if he's honest. rats... rats was nice. rats was probably some of the most fun he's had.

and leaving pirates has every chance to be even harder.

with these new scars appearing (which he would assume to be a design thing if it weren't for the fact that they stayed with him in the datastream itself), and these new feelings occurring without reason or rhyme, he's starting to feel uneasy about being stuck in the datastream again. (he's never not felt uneasy about it. he just… manages to push it to the back of his mind(? does he still have one of those?), sometimes.)

he's spent a lot of his time thinking—a lot about the rats, admittedly—why does scott feel so much more familiar now than he did even after he left rats? so many of the rats always felt familiar, especially jimmy and oli, but why does he miss scott all of a sudden?

weird feelings like that had been beginning to pop up the past few months, along with scars he has no explanation for—i mean, seriously, why does he have at least three scars shaped like a four-pointed star? what would even cause that? he's fairly sure there's more, as well!—and it's been making him uneasy. most of all, it's been making him lonely.

pirates came at a good time, he thinks.

maybe his introduction wasn't the best, what, with doc shoving him through a portal just for him to fall from the sky into the ocean, then immediately getting scammed by scar—

why does scar feel so familiar? why does that seem so in character for him? he hasn't been in another game world which used his assets, has he?

—just to go to this weird corrupted purple island and lose two people along the way—

why does doc always put him in the center of the story? it can get so stressful at times! i mean, rats was stressful enough even before the other rats did stuff like blow up the boiler!

—but... i mean, he made a song for pirates. that's something he'd only previously done for rats (and wow, was that process painful, can you imagine how hard it is to make music while being a rat and staying secretive about your mission? speaking of secrets, he got pretty lucky with the whole pirate thing, for once he can be truthful about some part of why he's here, even if he has to stay vague), and even then, that wasn't really a serious song. this one's a full on song, water made sheet music and everything!

so, evidently, it's not that bad. it's quite the opposite, actually. martyn thinks he's going to have a pretty good time here, as a pirate.

(he's not sure why the pirate aesthetic, and the oceanic/aquatic aesthetic as a whole, actually, feels so familiar. like he's done this sort of thing recently...?

and... scott. scott feels related to that, for some reason. and scott's a heron, martyn fucking hates the herons (he'd never admit it, maybe except to the rats in his boots, but they're actually not that bad. it's more like a sibling rivalry, than anything).

…does this have something to do with martyn randomly missing rat scott the past few months? …does he miss rat scott, or does he miss scott? …these aren't real people, martyn, get it together, it's fine. you're fine. nothing to worry about.)

#itlw #itlwlore #inthelittlewood #eyesandears #martyn rats smp #martyn pirates smp #pirates smp martyn #rats smp martyn #c:/sgos/gold #c:/sgos/talking #cw unreality #cw paranoia

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: The Wheel of Destiny #8, Kerubim.

You can find this article on the Dofus MMO's site, by simply googling it.

A bit of context: this is an article, from the series called "Wheel of Destiny," which focuses on small character studies of various ecaflip characters from the World of Twelve. I won't be doing all of them, just the ones that interest me.

It is my decision to start with this in particular, because of the relatively small size of the article, to test out this... reading liveblogs thing. I hope it goes well, and isn't too boring.

I hate Eca so much it's unreal, just so you know.

To make it more obvious which parts are me, and which parts are the article, while you're skimming the post, I turned on my computer's night mode for making screenshots.

...My sincerest apologies to tumblr's dark mode users, though. I'm sure this is a nightmare for you.

And this is what I was talking about in the previous posts, where I said that, canonically, Kerubim's friendship with Bashi started before the Quest of Two Mornings in Episode 3, Strich Hunt.

Very sad to disappoint, but there does not actually seem to be a Croc Ness monster in the Dofus MMO.

Yet another confirmation of the temple being situated in Amakna. (Besides my own geographical estimations while watching the show, and it literally being there in the Dofus MMO.)

It's a long ass way between the temple, and the swamp, but it is realistically doable for two kids, especially if they have a carriage. (Which Kerubim, being the guy responsible for feeding Ecaflip, does have access too.)

"Five-Cat Monte" is a reference to "Three-Card Monte" which is a real thing.

Glad to know Bashi is also very normal and sane as a kid. Also, very glad that older kids, who give lessons, react to things like this by essentially going "Sure, go die I guess."

God, they are so fucking stupid. Anyway, they are talking about some real landmarks here, all of which are also around Amakna, and seem to be pretty accurate to the in-game geography.

...It feels nice to be right.

...I suppose that, despite its faults, the orphan temple actually gives a shit about its disciples not dying. Color me surprised? Eh, I'm mostly joking. It would be very weird if they didn't.

I will spoil things ahead for you: Ecaflip used magic to make Kerubim look like Atcham.

Bashi's reaction to Atcham being "AAAAH NOT THAT FUCKING CREEPY KID AGAIN 😨". The way he pretty much says, "a ghost?? NO. SOMETHING SCARIER. YOUR WEIRD FUCKING BROTHER."

It all implies., So much. It implies so much. I'm still not over it.

Pictured: my vision of how Bashi reacted to Atcham, when Kerubim (against his will, unwillingly, and deeply embarrassed) was forced to introduce them to one another.

I like to think that before they began to hate one another, Kerubim's relationship with Atcham was similar to what he had with Patafiks. Except instead of copying him, Atcham would, idk. Threaten to kill himself if he got any friend other than him? Threaten to kill his friends?

Something insane and jealousy-based like that.

I may be that guy who's very critical of Kerubim, and constantly going "Atcham's sad implied backstory this, Atcham's sad implied backstory that," but you don't get reactions like that by simply being extremely bullied.

You get reactions like that by being That Heavily Bullied Kid With 20 Mental Illnesses Who Attacks People With Sharp Objects.

Pictured: my rough theory of whatever the fuck happened between Kerubim and Atcham in the orphanage.

It is a funny image... that quickly wraps around back to being sad, once you think about little orphan Atcham, who people fucking hate for being a bingus, who has nobody except for his equally-orphaned brother (who doesn't look weird, can actually make friends, and leave him alone, if he wants to. Which he does.) and how at such a young age he got desperate enough to resort to what seems to be violence to protect himself.

Which got him absolutely no help. And also made people look down on him even further.

I think the funniest part of it all is that Atcham as an adult has:

1. The knowledge that hating Kerubim is literally not productive and a weird fucking coping mechanism.

Yet he keeps doing that.

2. A sort of moral compass that's all about protecting and respecting those in the same shit situation as him. (Even if they insult him. He hates that, but he's mature enough to uh.... just shave people against their will about it.)

While Kerubim is like. Still struggling with even saying that he doesn't even hate his brother. Somehow, he's the more emotionally constipated one.

So normal of them.

Anyway,

I think here we can see a bit of the internal growth Kerubim has had, from the time when he was a child, to adulthood.

Joris cannot picture Kerubim being ashamed, or disgusted, by Atcham, despite this article showing him doing exactly that.

It is the reason why I think one of the factors that contributed to Kerubim adopting, and keeping, Joris, was his guilt over whatever Atcham went through, despite how much he likes to say that he doesn't like Atcham.

Joris is different from other kids: small, weird, probably bald. And in any other situation, it's likely he'd develop a complex about it, except his dialogue in the movie specifically implies that Kerubim has put in conscious parenting effort into preventing exactly that.

While it's obvious that Kerubim loves Joris, there are many flaws in his parenting. So him putting a petabyte worth of effort and research into one single aspect of it is... very telling.

Now for a bit of a reach/headcanon: Who's to say that the reason Joris doesn't have many friends, is not Kerubim trying to isolate him from any potential source of shame or trauma? This part, as I've said, is purely speculation/headcanon — but it is an interesting thought.

And Atcham, who was there, and experienced shit like this from Kerubim, is still swayed by Joris's words.

What I think happened between them is that Kerubim, who yearns for societal approval, is afraid of being like Atcham, who is often ostracized and disliked by people for his looks. Besides this, I think Atcham, who was Going Through Horrors, was clingy.

For these reasons, he pushed Atcham away, and it is this betrayal, coupled with Kerubim's advantages in the form of not looking weird and being Ecaflip's favorite, that made Atcham fucking detest him.

What it all means is that Joris isn't necessarily wrong: Kerubim wouldn't hurt Atcham (at least, not unless it's self defense), and what he did was just... trying to save his own skin as kid.

Which isn't exactly malicious.

And I guess Atcham agrees with Joris on Kerubim's incapability of doing harm to him on purpose. Otherwise, he would never be convinced to change his mind.

There is probably a reason for why Kerubim would rather live in a forest, than go back to the temple looking like Atcham. And as I've said, I don't think it's a happy one.

Now think about Atcham doing this his whole life and get sad. Like I just did.

I think that, of all the things, it's most disgusting that whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham was happening under the watch of Ecaflip, and perhaps even because of him.

I wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate their hatred for each other for fun. Or because he wanted Kerubim all alone, to himself.

I also find it interesting, the way Ecaflip says "once more" here. Implies that it used to be a normal thing for him. I suppose my guesses of Kerubim being disliked by other kids due to Atcham may have some merit.

And god, it makes me so, so sad.

He cares enough to intervene when Kerubim is about to die, which goes against his own rules, but not when it's about his kids' life being fucking awful.

...Maybe Oropo was right.

Do we know if Ecaflip's emotions are even genuine? He is the narrator of this story, after all, and he could be lying. He puts Kerubim in danger many times. Many. Just for fun and his own amusement.

I will take Ecaflip's narration as a straight-forward one, — that he really is feeling these things, but it still reads as manipulation, even if he is doing it for "Kerubim's sake". He's not a good father and never will be one, and these are very cruel lessons.

I will be real, their relationship disgusts me to my heart <3 Amen.

And now we know why Kerubim is... like that. And why his parenting is so overbearingly sweet, controlling, and obsessed with making sure Joris knows he adores him and adores him back.

Perhaps, despite everything, Atcham was the luckier one for not having Ecaflip's "love" the way Kerubim did, but honestly, I feel both of them had it equally shitty.

A true "would you rather sit on an anthill or sit on a cactus" choice.

#wheel8 #ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #atcham crepin #kerubim crepin #Youtube #still hate that tumblr automatically adds this tag to posts that have videos in them but whatever.

[chiiyuuvv]

🗪 yuvie wips! ➤

feel free to make any suggestions for any of my wips <3

true pt. 2 - bestie!yechan xikers

estimations : pretty long fanfiction (over 1k, maybe even about 1.5k words), hopefully the end to my two part series, this work will include some angst and misunderstandings, but in the end it's going to be the fluffiest shit ever because we are slow dancinggg :OOO

title to be decided - friend!euijoo &team

estimations : pretty short drabble/blurb, involves a moon wink wink

title to be decided - boyfriend!jo &team

estimations : pretty short drabble/blurb, lots of kissing that may become a little suggestive?? But in my mind, i'm picturing very deep yet light hearted kisses... so idk yet

title to be decided - boyfriend!maki &team

estimations : pretty short drabble/blurb, I feel like whatever i say will spoil it so uh... its fluffy??

you're my favorite song - boyfriend!hunter xikers

estimations : short/medium drabble filled with all sorts of love and reassurance. Also based off of camp rock's "you're my favorite song," and that poll I did

if he wanted too he would - bestfriend!taki &team

estimations : short/medium drabble that has lots of angst, but also a lot of reassurance and maybe even kissing? probably because he (taki) would be in the heat of the moment, but idk. this is also a very iconic trope, but i'm not telling you what it is bc thats spoiling ���� OH and this is inspired by Johnny Orlando's "if he wanted too he would" (but thank god that he didn't).

xikers as rare words

estimations : headcanon!! this technically isn't mine, as I got the idea from this twitter thread. I just plan on explaining it but in ff/hc form

title to be decided - (not decided yet, although probably bff or something)!nicholas &team

estimations : based off that tiktok and poll I sent. Also i hope all of you stub your toes for picking my man >:|, y'all actually have no idea how excited i was to write it for either kei (kei was winning the entire time btw BUT NO) or maki (he was in third place), but noooo lets kill your beloved writer :|

title to be decided - bestfriend!hunter xikers

estimations : hopefully a VERY long fic (maybe at the 1k mark idk). this one is a very personal idea of mine and I just realized I have like never.. showed one of my writer moots this idea 😅 all i remember is that I was reading prompts to write it for my friend, when BOOM I have like two pages of the outlined draft. All prompts used are from @keyotosprompts btw!!

title to be decided - ??!yujun xikers

estimations : medium/long fic. actually got the idea by playing this game! i got 1) in the morning - rocco, 2) firework - &team, 3) read your mind - sabrina carpenter, 4) poster boy - lyn lapid, 5) buzz love - &team. I think this is going to be a fun one!

something about moutains.. - prob bf!jo &team

estimations : blurb, inspired by something he said in a recent video

quick declaimer that it is not guaranteed I write all the wips listed above ^^ I make no promises, for these are just my ideas that might collect dust ngl 😁

#yuvie💡!

[toughtink]

some post-nona thoughts and questions in no particular order:

and this will be long and full of spoilers, sorry

so is silas coming back next time? because i have questions about wtf took over his cav especially seeing as those tongue eye things showed up on the ninth house. biblically, silas traveled with paul, so maybe paul will be related to his comeback? idk

what’s with the tower? “kironia” and ianthe are referred to as “tower princes,” the RB was yelling about a tower to nona via judith, and we got a big tower coming out of the river now?? and the whole “the tower has reactivated” cipher or whatever it said, too. the only tower that’s been story relevant thus far is canaan house + the facility beneath it. harrow estimated they only saw ~30% of that tower with the rest going deep under the ocean, which i always took to mean that it was originally a sky scraper that they built a temple/church/palace on top of. OH YEAh! and a tower is in the jod chapters maybe??? it was confusing. (gasp! what! confusing??? in this series?!)

so is nona translating a ton of people’s names when she hears them, and that’s why she calls corona “crown” and has that exchange with hot sauce where she gets corrected on born in the morning’s name? and this is a separate thing from the multi-sentence long names that seem to be BoE tradition?

speaking of weird name stuff, the jod chapters have him using intials to refer to his friends! that was annoying but implies that they didn’t all used to have their fancy mouthful names which makes some sense, especially since jod specifically mentions changing U— and T— to ulysseys and titania. however, i’ve seen a lot of folks under the assumption that he wiped his friend’s memories after rezzing them, but is there evidence for that? i gotta reread htn, but i know that mercy didn’t seem to realize that gideon’s gold eye color was jod’s before it was alecto’s and only put it together near the end—point in memory loss’s favor (tho i don’t think we can officially say it’s purposeful on jod’s part yet.) HOWEVER!! when nona & the gang are approaching the tomb near the end of ntn, pyrrha mentions gideon (the first) and after saying his name a couple times says “G—” like jod does in his chapters!! implying that pyrrha might just know gideon’s pre-resurrection name! so either jod’s friends did retain their pre-res memories OR that memory loss thing happened later, probably post lyctorhood if it could affect the lyctors but not the cav secretly residing inside still??? idk. EDIT: my frand ginny pointed out that on pg 433 jod talks about how his friends “won’t have to remember anything,” because he knows where remembrance lives in the brain, and this sort of mirrors harrow own attempt to alter her memories. i think with pyrrha remembering g1deon’s name, we can say these are likely altered memories rather than a complete clean slate.

i need people to realize that when nona describes “teeth” coming out of gideon’s speed holes, it’s most likely ribs and not literal teeth. also—the speed holes joke is maybe one of my favorites in this book and incontrovertible proof that kironia is indeed our gideon.

i want to know more about anastasiaaaaa! was she another married/romantically involved pair with her cav? did pyrrha mention something about painting a nursery on the ninth?? what if anastasia was pregnant when her lyctorhood went wrong????

what’s this with cassiopeia and the sixth house in communication? that was her house, right? also, cass is the C— mentioned in jod chapters that marries the artist N— (nigella) and has teeth flowers at their wedding. also, she had the tooth trial at canaan house. and the tooth secret message in the corresponding study. what’s with all the teeth? lol

that tooth secret message was about doing soul melanges to power the canaan house staff, including teacher! 6th house theorm was soul melange related, so paul makes sense!!! ;v; (it should be noted that everything with cam, pal, and paul had me in tears and i’m never getting over their recorded conversation.)

gideon is clearly missing pieces figuratively and literally (her heart!! 🥺). TM said that if gideon’s soul was a happy meal, harrow ate the cheeseburger, but that leaves the fries, sauce packets, and toy. so where’s the cheeseburger now? attached to harrow’s soul? or attached to her body? completely absorbed and essentially gone? something has to be powering nona’s lyctoral regeneration powers so i’m kinda team body. that and the fact that she’s wearing the cheeseburger shirt and that feels like TM trying to give us a giant neon sign of a hint?

as for harrow…i saw the icy tomb she climbed into at the end of htn as a metaphorical tomb in her mind, between the lobotomy slits i guess where she was keeping gideon’s soul, thus the nonexistent sexy magazine. ntn makes me think she was also in the actual tomb, aka fully swapped places with alecto? but i suppose either could be true. the jod chapters feel like she’s tapping into alecto’s memories and subbing in herself maybe? that doesn’t really say much about the literal placement of harrow’s soul, tho, just that she has a connection with alecto.

anyways, it looks like she woke up long enough for the epilogue and then promptly passed out again (woo go girl! give us nothing!). and we know that she’s going to be harrowing hell at the start of atn?? good luck have fun i guess???

oh yeah is part of the reason nona’s not all there because not only is she in the wrong body, but she’s dealing with harrow’s lobotomy brain???

gonna come back and add more laterrr—edit: i’ve come back SEVERAL times to add more. maybe i should just reblog or make a new post for more. 🙈 i’m at the end of my gtn reread so htn will be next. oof that one will take a while methinks! and then i can reread nona…which will be my first Proper read through for the final version since i’ve only read the ARC months ago and some random passages since it came out.

#nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb spoilers #ntn #gtn #htn #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth

[slutzandcuckz]

Title: Sundays Are The Best

Rated M 18+ (MINORS ARE NOT WELCOME TO READ OR INTERACT WITH THIS POST. MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED)

Content Warning: all characters are 18+, soft!bakugou x bratty(ish)reader (gender-neutral language used, reader has a vagina and breasts), long haired bakugou, established relationship (they in love or whateva), overuse of the word baby, wake up sex, fingering, grinding, squirting, nipple play, could maybe possibly be interpreted as dub-con but the sexual encounter is completely consensual (reader is just being a brat), aftercare, maybe some editing errors but I hope not 😩, idk lemme know if I missed anything.

Estimated Word count < 2200 * I edit my writing too often to commit to a static number 🥴

Sundays are the best. You and Kastuki have no obligations or unwanted tasks. You could stay in bed all day if you really wanted to, and being that it’s nearly noon, you’re on the right track. The only reason you rouse from sleep is the gentle thumb caressing your cheek. The touch is too soft to hold any resentment, and how could you when your eyes flutter open to a perfect image: Bakugou Katuski on his side facing you, just barely awake himself, eyelids heavy from sleep. His long blonde tresses blanket half of his face, and his gaze leisurely roams your across your face. He looks so content; it brings a sleepy smile to your lips.

“Good morning, baby.” He says it like this every morning—with that same husky voice that brings a flutter to your tummy. And like clockwork, he cradles the back of your head and brings you into a long yearning kiss.

His greeting is returned once his lips part from your own, and you promptly burrow your head beneath his chin. Your limbs intertwine, and your breaths fall in sync. He radiates so much heat from his unclothed chest. You feel so warm and comfortable. This is your favorite part of every day. It is never skipped nor is it rushed. If you had it your way, you two would stay like this all day. You’ve coaxed him into it a few times before. He would do it more often if he didn’t have to work all the time. He enjoys cuddling just as much as you do, despite what others might think. And he always looks a little sad when he has to get up to get ready for work. Luckily that’s not the case today, and you can hold each other for as long as you want. Today your cuddle session lasts well over thirty minutes and is only interrupted by the gurgling of your tummy.

“M’so hungry but I don’t wanna get up.”

“Idiot,” he scoffs. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Stop,” you drawl, and you playfully swat his butt. “You know m’sensitive.”

He can’t see it but he knows you’re pouting— can imagine that plump bottom lip poking out. God, you are adorable, and it’s funny how easily you get worked up. It’s because you're so soft. He absolutely loves it.

“I know,” he sighs, adjusting himself to cradle your face and mush your foreheads together. “M’sorry.”

He apologizes so easily. He’s come a long way. He’s humbled himself, especially for you.

“You’re cute when you’re fussy.”

And yet, he still finds a way to be an ass. He could at least wait until you’ve had breakfast for the banter. His jests hit different on an empty stomach.

“Hmph.” You turn your nose to the air and roll over to your right to scoot from his side, leaving Katsuki to stare at your back. “Cute my ass,” you mumble.

“Hmmm.” His voice is so deep. You can feel the vibrations of his hum even with the distance you have. But he doesn’t stay far for long. His fingers have migrated to your ass, massaging each globe with a heavy hand. “Your ass is pretty cute.” Especially with those little pink panties you got on. Most of the fabric is hidden between your cheeks. You let him massage you a bit, humming contently from the feeling before remembering you’re supposed to play mad, and Katsuki gets a smack from your manicured fingers.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.”

He’s much closer now, having slid you back against him, his frontside tightly molded to your back like an air-lock seal. His left hand holds your hip while his right arm slithers beneath to wrap around your torso and tug your camisole down, freeing your breasts. You can feel his long golden strands tickling your shoulder as he leans down to your ear. His warm breath sends a shiver down your spine.

“Lemme make it up to you.” It isn’t a whisper but he says it so quietly, like he’s talking to himself.

His left hand strokes the outside of your thigh. It becomes heavier and heavier, creeping further and further to the warmth between your legs, but as much as he tries to wiggle his way in, your thighs are closed shut. It’s cute how you play coy, but he knows how to play your game.

“Spread these thighs for me, baby.” He kisses those words right into your ear, each syllable loosening the reins to your tightly held pride. “Wanna play with that pussy.” You absolutely melt. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Your thighs part like the sea. He kisses beneath your ear in thanks, left arm bracketing your thigh to keep it in place. He’s adjusted you both so he can see what he’s doing and still be able to grope at your breasts. His dick is neatly seated in the crack of your ass.

His fingers dance along the frilly edges of your panties, a cute little lip poking out from the side. He ignores it for the most part, wanting to tease you a little. He even plays with the hairs unhidden by your underwear— absolutely loves how hairy your pussy is. He can remember the first time he laid eyes on your kitty. His brain nearly fried from the sight: perfect glistening folds gifted in an untamed bush of hair. God, you are perfect.

He senses you are restless for more friction, and finally takes mercy. He glides his fingers to the center of your core, sliding them up and down from your clothed hole to your gradually engorging clit. Whenever he reaches that cute little button he takes a moment to really wag his fingers from side to side, placing soft kisses to your cheek and shoulder all the while. He cycles this routine over and over, dragging the wetness seeping from your entrance further up to meet your clit. His path is growing increasingly more damp with each pass, your panties are nearly soaked through . It’s so fucking hot, he can barely keep eyes open from the pull of arousal. And the subtle humping of your ass has grown into a hard grind.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Of course it feels good. Why else would your hips rut and chase after his touch? “Does it feel good?”

You whimper ‘cause he must be teasing you. You know he knows it feels good.  You’re dripping, and whimpering, and spreading your legs as wide as you can—but you know he won’t let it go until you answer. It’s quiet and indignant, but you give a “yes,” nonetheless.

“Yeah?” He’s not teasing you, he just needs to know he’s doing well; yearns to hear how good you feel—loves to hear you say it.

“Yes,” you whimper.

Satisfied with the sopping of your underwear, he quickly moves it aside, hooking the right side of the fabric on your left butt cheek to reveal your glistening vulva.

Deft and callus fingers make quick work at tracing your fluttering ring and marinating his fingers in your silky wet texture. He can feel you clenching; every cycle around the perimeter of your entrance is met with a hard wink. You’re practically begging him to fill that pretty little hole. And it’s so cute how you wiggle and buck, attempting to will his fingers into your depths. It’s fun to watch you struggle.

“So sexy, baby,” he says. “Make my dick so hard.” He should reward you for your patience.

His middle and ring finger fuse together and wiggle inside your hole. He explores for a while, completely gluttonous in his actions. It’s an adventure each time he is inside you. He likes to map out every bump and ridge, and always discovers something new to make you purr.

He finds a steady rhythm: wrist loose, fingers curling against your top wall, palm bumping perfectly against your clit. It feels so fucking good you could cry.

“Sh, sh, shh. S’okay, baby.” You are crying, chest hiccuping with each inhale. His pretty baby is so sensitive and soft, and hasn’t spared him a single glance. It makes him hard as a rock. “I know. I know.” He coos, placing a kiss to your cheek in apology before increasing the speed of his hand.

It’s so fucking sexy how your hips chase after his touch, how they swivel and hump patterns into the palm of his hand; he can feel how hard your clit is. Your movements have gone a bit frenzied, and he’s going absolutely crazy trying to keep up, attempting to follow your lead and keep his dick slotted between your ass cheeks. With each upward thrust of his hips, the head of his dick collides with his hand. He’s gonna cum in his underwear at this point, and from the look of it, you’re not far off either. You’re drooling, and your eyes keep fluttering shut. You alternate between whimpers and moans, either sound completely uncontrollable. Your nipples are so fucking hard from his pinching and pulling.

“Look at me, baby,” he pleads, left hand steadily increasing in speed. “I wanna see you!”

“N-No!”

God, you are so prissy. It drives him absolutely wild.

Suddenly, your body seizes from an unanticipated pressure building behind your clit. Your toes are curling so hard it feels like your feet will cramp. Katsuki senses that something is coming. Your wet warm walls are contracting so hard around his fingers, and you’re panting like a dog. His stomach clenches.

“Fuck! You’re getting so tight,” he whines.

“I-I—”oh fuck.

“Yeah, baby?” He sounds so desperate, and he’s humping so chaotically. His dick is so fucking hard, his boxers are nearly soaked through.

“I think I’m—” —Literally getting finger-fucked within an inch of your life. “I think! I think! I think!” You’re delirious. And something is building so quickly you don’t have time to brace yourself. It’s coming, coming, coming—

“Cumming!”

The dam breaks. Your eyes cross. Your mind is absolute static. You can’t register anything other than the strumming through your body; not how you contort, or how you sob, or how you squirt everywhere within a two feet radius.

“Yes, baby, yes!” He cries. “Fucking squirt all over me, baby, yes—”

Fuck, he’s cumming. His eyes can’t stay open to see you finish making a pool of the bed. His body tenses and his rhythm fumbles, but his hand never stops moving.

One. Two. Three more ruts against your ass and his balls drain what feels like gallons of cum. It’s thick, and gooey, and seemingly never ending, making a pathetic puddle in his underwear. It feels like he’s having a spiritual experience with how his soul literally leaves his body.

It’s like you are both frozen in time; shocks of pleasure zapping down each of your spines. And it’s precious how you cling to each other, right hands having laced together over your chest.

The come down is gradual, both pairs of limbs leisurely falling like leaves. Your heartbeats slow. You eventually regain cognizance. You can feel the heat radiating off of your bodies in contrast to the cool A/C, and it’s silent save for your recovering breaths. His fingers are still inside you, probably soft and pruned. Neither of you can muster any movement, but you’re not in a rush—the edges of reality are slowly coming back into focus.

“Fuck,” you break the silence. “I can’t believe I squirted.”

“Why,” he inquires, voice muffled by the back of your head. “You’ve done it before.”

“I know, but god, that was really intense.”

He hums in agreement. It feels like his body is falling deeper and deeper into the mattress. If he doesn’t get up soon he fears both of you will fall asleep in the mess that you’ve made.

He begrudgingly removes himself from your body, and makes his way to the en-suite. The pitter patter of the shower is heard shortly after. He was right to get up when he did because when he returns to the bedroom, you’re half conscious. He’s on your side of the bed leaning over you, gently stroking your cheek to coax you from sleep.

“Wake up, baby.” His voice is so soft and his touch is so warm. He’s just lulling you further to dreamland. “Gotta shower and eat.”

“But I’m sleepy,” you whine.

“I know,” he counters. “I promise after we’re done we can go back to bed.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

The shower is needed. You pet each other gently, and exchange small kisses between rinsing the grime from your bodies. And when your shower is over, and your bellies are full, he keeps his promise and tucks you both into bed.

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#smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #katsuki smut #gn!reader #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo x reader smut #bakugou x reader smut #writing tag

[phoenixyfriend]

Uhh for the prompt meme, 3 & 13 gives me Anakin and the Jedi Babies vibes, so Jango or Jaster & Anakin or Soka or Ben maybe?

390 Prompts!!!! 3. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?” 13. “BOOM! That oughta show you not to mess with me!”

IDK if I’ll get the actual line in but I’ve been meaning to write a bit about Jango and Sokanth, at minimum. Jango is just barely fifteen, Soka is two. She has very vague memories of her teen self.

EDIT: I GOT THE LINE IN

Objectively, Jango’s main connection to Anakin Skywalker should have been professional.

It wasn’t.

Jango hadn’t been one of the soldiers to bring in the little family. He’d heard about it after they’d already been taken to medical, arrived just in time to see them muttering about how fancy the prosthetic arm was as they removed it--frostbite risk, they said--and stripping the Jedi of his sodden robes. The man was only a few years older than Jango, and covered in battle scars. Attractive, maybe, but Jango wouldn’t be able to even think of that until he wasn’t staring at blue lips on a half-dead face.

“How did he know we were here?” he asks his father, stepping up beside the man at the overlarge window of the ‘secure’ medical room, and receiving half a glance in response.

“He didn’t,” Jaster says, looking supremely unhappy with the entire situation. “Had no idea who I was, when he saw me.”

“He talked to you?”

“For about five seconds before he passed out.” Jaster smiles, thin and grim. “We found an Ident card. It’s got a name, a few details that don’t make sense... we think it might have been prepared for a long-term mission in system with a non-standard calendar; the dates are in the future if we assume it’s Republic.”

“Weird,” Jango mutters. “He doesn’t look much like a Jedi.”

“Adi’ka, you’ve never met a Jedi,” Jaster scoffs, cuffing him on the shoulder.

“Jedi don’t wear black leather,” Jango argues, glancing at the nearest pile of cloth.

Jaster rolls his eyes. “He had four lightsabers on him, if that’s what you’re looking to ask.”

“Haran.” Jango whistles lowly, impressed despite himself. “What’d he need that many for?”

“The brown robes were too short for him,” Jaster says, voice not quite loud enough to carry. “And the other set were fit for a female youngling, even shorter.”

He hadn’t been alone.

And now he was.

“Bodies?” Jango asks.

“None dead,” Jaster says. “And the living are... far too young to match up.”

He gestures, and Jango belatedly sees the tiny, tiny things in cribs to the side.

Jango swears, quiet and angry. He’d heard there were children, but he hadn’t expected anyone quite that small.

Jaster takes the cursing in stride. “They’re estimating the human at six months. Togruta’s maybe two years. Jedi was damn near dead when they found him, but the kids seem fine. Medics are guessing it’s something to do with the Force, because neither of them were even that cold.”

“Any idea how he knows them?”

“Nothing yet, just that he cares about them like they’re his own,” Jaster says. “Scouting party claimed he said they were family. Even used Mando’a, called them aliit. We’re going to keep them together until we know more. No use accidentally enraging a Jedi by separating him from family, if that’s what they are. The Togruta seems to know him, at least.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have families.”

“You also thought Jedi weren’t supposed to wear black leather.”

Jango huffs and turns away from his father, focusing in on how the medics are starting to pack in blankets on the man’s chest while they get to work on the thigh wound. It looks already cauterized, maybe a blaster, but that can still get infected damned easily. Jango’s seen it happen before.

“Can the togruta talk yet?”

“Only enough to ask for her... carer?” Jaster hazards. “She refers to him as ‘Skyguy’ and it’s been pretty much the only word she’s said that isn’t gibberish.”

Jango almost asks if they’re sure it’s not just Togruti.

Even as he watches the area below, the toddler starts crying. A few of the medics dart glances over, but they're busy with the adult. The crying starts increasing in pitch, heading to dangerous territory, and a number of people abruptly remember that a Togruta's cry is much more likely to destroy eardrums than a human child's.

Jango hesitates, but turns from his father and heads for the door. Nobody comments.

Jango slips into the room as quietly as a teenager in most of a beskar kit can, and goes over to the cribs that have been hastily set up. The human infant is quiet, blinking sleepily and furrowing their little brow, but the toddler has gotten to her feet, clinging to the bars and screaming her little head off. He stops in front of her and... tries to figure out what to do.

"Weks?"

He has no idea if that's a word. She's stopped screaming at least, is just rubbing her eyes free of tears and peering up at him. She hiccups.

"Hi," he says, unsure of what else to do.

"No weks," she seemingly decides, and her lip trembles. Kriff. "Obi-obi?"

"I don't know what you're saying," he tells her, but offers a hand that she immediately grabs for. "Do you know Basic?"

"Ya!" she cheers, and then starts trying to climb out of the crib. Jango panics and picks her up, because he's pretty sure this might be a Jedi baby, and if it's a Jedi baby, then what if she can float? He can't deal with an upset, floating baby. Better he just pick her up.

"Hi," he repeats, still unsure of what to do with this small child. She frowns at him, deep in thought, and pats at his face like she's trying to figure it out. "What are you--"

"Shi-ny," she suddenly insists. "Like Tup."

He has no idea what she's trying to say. "Sure."

She frowns harder at him, and then leans forward and drops her head against his beskar, seemingly unaware of how uncomfortable it's going to be. "Shiny. Weks 'n' Cody 'n' Echo 'n' vod."

"You don't even know my name," Jango says, panicking a little. "You can't call me vod."

"Shhhh now," she says, patting blindly at his mouth. He tries to crane his head away. He mostly fails. "Sleepy."

"Wh--okay," he decides. Sure. If it keeps her quiet, sure. He goes to sit down, and she immediately turns and tries to grab for her... fellow child? He has no idea what they are to each other.

"No!"

"Okay, okay, we can stay with the other baby!" Jango assures her, trying to bounce her up and down like he's seen new parents do, looking frantically for a chair to pull over. "I'm going to get a chair and we'll come right back, okay?"

She looks up at him, tears gathering. "Pwomise?"

"Uh, yeah, I promise."

He lets her bury her face back against his chest, and quickly grabs the nearest chair and drags it over to the cribs. He ignores the medics for the most part, just focuses on holding the toddler that he has, mostly against his own will, become temporarily responsible for. "Do you have a name?"

She just whines and cuddles closer. He sighs.

"Well, I'm Jango. So, you don't have to call me that other stuff." He moves a hand to pull her away from where she's about to topple off his lap. She grabs for it and pulls it to her face, apparently forgetting that she'd just declared herself sleepy. She examines the glove in fascination. "Please definitely don't call me vod. You have people here, and I just met you. Wait for your, uh, Skyguy? Wait for your Skyguy to wake up."

She bites his fingers. He pulls his hand away, swearing under his breath and panicking just a little. "Don't put that in your mouth, do you have any idea where my gloves have been?"

She bares her teeth at him and growls. Given that her teeth are barely more than nubs, this doesn't do much. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

"Ya!"

"I am not."

She pouts and whines and throws herself back against the beskar, causing a thunking noise as her montral hits the plate. She does not seem perturbed by the collision, just twists somehow closer and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

That is... also probably covered in germs. He looks over at the crib, spots a pacifier, and awkwardly leans to grab it without dropping the toddler in his lap or standing up and making it harder for her to start falling asleep again. There's a little togruta on it, which he figures means it's not going to be a choking hazard for non-human teeth. "Here, chew this instead."

She makes a curious noise and lifts her head. She wrinkles her nose at the pacifier, and then looks up at him. "Jan-Jan, no."

"Wh--you know what, no, you're a kid, I can't get angry at you for getting my name wrong," he sighs. "Take the pacifier, it's cleaner than your hand."

"No!"

"Please?" He tries.

She glares at him a little harder and then huffs. "Kay. Cuz shiny."

He still has no idea what that means, but if it gets her to fall asleep with this thing in her mouth instead of her dubiously-clean hand, he's fine with it.

(When he learns what shiny means, he will be much less fine with it.)

(It'll be far too late by that point, of course.)

#Ahsoka Tano #Jango Fett #Jaster Mereel #time travel #de aging #star wars #anakin and the jedi babies #Phoenix Answers Memes #Phoenix Posts #if you're wondering 'wait doesn't she NOT recognize him later?' #the answer is that she's literally a toddler and not great at memory

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

[lunaekalenda]

Omg can I request a scenario with Levi in season 4? So you know how he's supposed to keep watch over Zeke in the forest? One of the Yeagerists finds out their location and lies to Levi that his wife is giving birth so Levi rushes back to town and leaves the other soldiers in charge of keeping an eye on Zeke. And by the time Levi meets up with his wife, she's very confused as to why he came in such a rush. I've read the manga so I also want to add onto what happens next but idk if you write manga spoilers so 😭 anywho the explosion doesn't end up happening tho! :D

ofccc!!! i hope you like it!! <3 sorry if i wrote to much fluff it just came :’) i took some manga spoilers so read under your own risk under the spoiler line!!

a/n: i didn't took the canon manga words or events!

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ levi x female!reader

❁ some bad talking against zeke :’), pregnancy and death.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Zeke opened another wine bottle and drank, being cautious with the book he has been reading. Levi looks at him, his face totally unexpressive but his eyes look at Zeke with disgust. They have been days in that place, sleeping in tents, near the Forest of Giant Trees. He’s in charge of Zeke, with some of his closest soldiers, who are now drinking some wine in reward for their hard work, even when Levi told them to have some water instead.

“Come on, Captain. We also want to have fun...”

He couldn’t stop his soldiers, they deserved it. He looks to the campfire in font of him, the flames reflected in his grey eyes. He thought about his family, the one he’s about to have. You’re pregnant with his baby, the baby you two wanted for a long time. Armin told him he estimates less than a week for you to give birth.

And he’s trapped in this forest with a fucking bastard. He looks at Zeke. He seems strangely calm, as he wasn’t being watched by humanity’s most strong soldier ever. The one that cut his arms and legs more than once, and was about to kill him at least another two. But he didn’t learn about it, and keeps trying to get killed.

“Levi, you look too serious. Do you want some wine?”

“Drink it yourself and hopefully you’ll choke to death.”

“That’s not very sweet for a married man, Ackerman.” Levi raises an eyebrow, taking his blade out and cleaning it slowly. Zeke looked at the blade, shimmering in the light. He took his eyes to the book once again. Some fast steps were heard. Levi took out his blades and, with a look to his soldiers, they all stood in their positions. A little girl, with the Corps jacket, searched the Captain with her eyes. He looked at her.

“Captain Ackerman, I have news from the District!”

He looked at his soldiers, one of them behind her, in case she tried to hurt the Captain. Levi’s gaze told them to be alert around her. Zeke looked at the girl from behind his book.

“Talk, then.”

“It’s your wife... She’s having complications with the birth. She’s about to have the child, but the possibilities of them both surviving are minimum.”

Levi’s eyes reflected true terror while he was listening to her. He looked back to the bearded man. He keeps reading, while drinking. He looks then to his loyal subordinate.

“You should go, Captain. We’ll have an eye on this man.”

Levi nods. He looks at the girl closely, analyzing her. He talks before taking his horse.

“Keep one eye in this girl too. She seems like a liar.” Right after that, he rode his horse, going as fast as he could. During all the way, he though how you were. How the baby is. If you two are okay. If he's late to save one of you. 

He obligated himself to fix his attention on the way and keeps going, He arrived to the city at almost night. He searched his home, the one the army gave him after getting married, to avoid the Captain and his wife living with them. He opened the door with his hands shaking, and almost run to the living room. He smelled rice. Then, the sound of a knife. He also took out his blades. You both encountered in the corner of the kitchen, your hand holding tightly the knife and his holding the blades. Both of you looked at each other with surprise, before you let go the knife and run towards him. His hands found your waist.

“Levi...” you whisper. You have missed him a lot all this time. He hugged you, his eyes full of tears. He’s trying to relax his breath, but you notice. “Why did you come so fast? Weren’t you watching Zeke?” 

He nods, his hand caressing quietly your belly. 

“It’s the baby okay?” you nod, confused. “And you?”

“Of course, I’m fine. Why?” he sighs before hugging you again. His head buried on you hair, your belly against his worked abdominal. 

“I thought I was late to save you. I thought I lost you and our baby.”

“No, no. Armin came half an hour ago. He told me I’m really healthy and the baby is in a good position to give birth to. We’re both totally fine, but we were missing you.” You pout. His lips found your neck. 

“I also missed you.” His hands cover your belly, and he receives a little kick. You laugh,

“It has been kicking for a while now. It’s the Ackerman gene.” Levi lets out a little laugh. He also knows he has to go back to the camp, to keep watching over Zeke and interrogate the girl who is she and for who does she work. But his soldiers are there, just a minute more. He gets on his knees, near to your baby bump. His hands keep being warm against your covered skin.

“Daddy missed you a lot this days, hm? But we’ll be all together really fast, baby. Don’t make mommy feel bad, yes?”

“I can’t see you as the strongest and fiercer soldier alive if you talk to my belly like that.” He lets out a little laugh, but his brain made “click”. That girl was a Yeagerist. For sure. This was all a trick to make Levi come here and leave his post.

“You have to leave this house. Fast. And don’t go out for a while. They have an eye on you.”

“Were I’m I supposed to sleep then?” You ask, lost and confused. He takes a couple clothes from your wardrobe and put a brown cape on you, covering your head and your bump. “Should I stay with my parents?” you ask. He shakes his head while he keeps searching things you might need. Also, some baby’s clothes, because he’s sure you’re about to give birth.

“No, that’s too obvious.” Levi’s brain was working faster than ever. You need to be in a comfort place, so sleeping in the barricade it’s out. Then, you should be with someone who knows how to help you giving birth. A place where a pregnant woman won’t be found and hurt.

“Historia.” he whispers. “Can you walk fast?”

“Of course.” he took your hand and guided you. You talked to Historia a couple times. You know she’s also pregnant, and protected by some guards. He guides you fast. When you’re in a campsite house, near the town but kinda hidden, he knocks. 

“Were you talking about Queen Historia?” you ask in a whisper. He nods. A soldier opens, without recognizing Levi. His head totally covered by his cape.

“Sorry, this is restricted area. It’s an orphanage...”

“We know that.” Levi takes his cape out of his head. The soldier stands straight and puts his hand in his heart as a salute. You two do the same.

“Tell Historia she’s my wife. They have been rounding around our house, so I hope the Queen can give a favor back and let my wife sleep here until we’re safe.”

The soldier ran up the stairs, to talk to the Queen. He came back faster.”

“The Queen accepts. She’ll be in the best care and, if she gives birth, she’ll be in the hands of the real matrons. Don’t wprry about her, Captain Levi.” He nods before looking at you again. The soldier lefts to give you privacy.

“Be careful. Talk to them if you feel bad or if you need something. And, please, don’t make efforts. The baby it’s near and...”

“Got it, Levi. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You should be careful, I don’t want you to get hurt, or worst...”

“I’ll be okay.” he answers. “Just looking to a barbed man. I’ll be back faster than you think.” He takes you again between his arms. You bury your head on his chest, hugging him stronger. 

“I don’t want you to go.” you say in a whisper. He pats your head before giving you a kiss.

“I’ll be right back.” he says. You enter the orphanage with his little smile promising you you’ll be together soon.

-------------------s p o i l e r s  a h e a d -----------------------

Then, he runs back to the camp. Things seem quiet there. Levi hears his soldier’s voices, followed by a scream.

And then the click of a thunder.

All the soldiers he had there were now titans. From different sizes and type, but they had the face of his comrades. And a blonde-haired bastard was running in front.

“This fucking bastard...”

He was surrounded by his now-titans comrades. He had no exit, just killing them. When will this nightmare end? He saw his friends getting killed, he killed friends. He's tired of this macabre game.

“I’m sorry, guys. I’m so sorry...” he thought, before starting to move his blades against his friends’ necks. He saw his faces, his families, every time their blood got into his uniform.

His teary eyes weren’t an obstacle when he kept fighting. He saw Zeke, in the hands of a titan, covered by other two. He killed the first one silently.

Zeke searched him, founding nothing, looking surprised.

He killed the next one. There was just the one carrying Zeke left

“You thought I was not going to be able to kill my comrades? That’s dirty play.” Zeke looked at the man with fear in his eyes before turning into the beast titan. Levi smirked.

“Pathetic.” Zeke says. Levi's blades are covered in blood. "I'm going to kill you."

Zeke took the head of the titan carrying him. He looked around for Levi. A near movement caught his attention, making him throw a smashed titan head to a branch. Levi cut branches to distract Zeke, right before covering his neck with thunder spears.

"Did you think that converting my subordinates into titans will stop me? that i wouldn't kill them? You don't know how many comrades I killed."

Zeke's neck exploded, making is titan fall. Levi went back to the flor and searched Zeke between all that blood and flesh. He was charred.

"I'm not going to kill you... yet."

Levi took Zeke by the head and dragged him.

"I'm so sick of you, barbed bastard."

#aot fluff #aot x reader #snk fluff #snk x reader #snk fic #aot fic #aot scenario #aot fanfiction #snk headcanons #aot #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi #snk levi #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman #captain levi #zeke jaeger #snk #shingeki no kyojin

[simpsiren]

jung jaehyun x reader

description. Working for an art exhibit that only lasts a week, you wouldn’t expect anyone to stay here long until you meet a guy who comes by every single day, looking at the same painting at the same timing that lasts hours.

genre. flUff, at the end i promise

word count. 6.4k~

warnings. nonee

a/n. the pic of jaehyun just gives me museum vibes idk why so yes i’m going to write a short story (okay its not idk how i extended but i did) on him. the story is more of the reader observing him till the halfway point where they slowly start to interact. this would probably be considered a slow burn?? not sure but enjoy it either way!!

“You got a new job again?”

You turn around your desk chair, taking one side of your earpiece off and noticing Taeyong sitting on your bed casually scrolling through his phone.

You didn’t even realise he came into the room. Probably because you had your music blasting at a high volume and you were concentrated on completing your holiday homework.

“Yeah. It’s at some art exhibit. Pay’s fair and I only have to sit there and do nothing for a week.” You simply reply with a light shrug.

“That’s so easy. When do you start?” Taeyong asks, lifting his eyes off his phone to look at you with curiosity.

You didn’t give an answer, looking down on your phone to search for the email that the person in charge sent you a few days back.

“It says the exhibit opens on friday so I guess that’s tomorrow.” You say shortly after glazing your eyes down the email.

Taeyong hums and nods his head. “Is it far from here? Need me to ride you there?”

You give a sincere smile and shake your head lightly. “You don’t have to. I can take the train. Plus you have work.” You politely reject your friend.

Taeyong frowns in response, making you sigh as you know he’ll insist on doing it.

“I’m working from home? I can do whatever as long as I complete my work. Just let me send you. You’re always refusing my help.” Taeyong glares at you and lets out an exasperated huff.

You purse your lips into a thin line, suspiring in defeat in a matter of seconds. You can never win when it comes to Taeyong being persistent. That’s how he always is whenever it comes to you.

“Okay, okay.” You breathe out.

“Anyways what are you doing in my room? I have homework to do.”

Taeyong flashes his cheeky smile and bobs his shoulders. “Was actually thinking of asking you to treat bubble tea?” His smile widens till his eyes form a line.

You scoff, furrowing your eyebrows. “You’re the one that’s working here!” You shout, letting out a ‘tsk’.

“Urgh fine! You’re cooking me instant noodles though.” Taeyong points his finger at you.

“Are my instant noodles that good?”

You earn a lighted up face as Taeyong nods his head eagerly. “Something about the way you cook it just tastes different from regular instant noodles!” Taeyong squeals like a kid while he let out a soft dreamy moan while closing his eyes.

“Jeez I’m craving for bubble tea now that you’ve mention it. Hurry up and order it on Grab!” You throw the pillow behind your back to Taeyong’s face, making him snap out of his thoughts on your instant noodles.

“My God, chill! Calm your women cravings.” Taeyong mumbles, turning on his phone and proceeding to head to the app to order the bubble tea.

It’s already the next day. Luckily for you, you wouldn’t have to be there till eleven in the morning since the exhibit opens at twelve.

You peacefully wake up at nine. Though you stayed in bed and used your phone till ten. Realising the time, you gather your strength to pull yourself out of bed, dragging yourself to the bathroom with half-opened eyes despite the fact that you’ve been awake for an hour.

You know you could take your time getting ready since Taeyong knows how to ride his bike. Fast. Like extremely fast. You estimated that you’d be able to reach in ten minutes, when normally it’ll take fifteen to twenty.

“Taeyong!” You scream out in the hallway as you make your way to his room. Opening the door, you see Taeyong on his desk typing away at his keyboard.

He shot his head at the noise, turning his head sharply to the door where you are. “We’re going now?” He asks, using his middle finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, glancing down at the papers that are scattered on his desk.

You hum, looking down at the time on your phone. “We have five minutes till we can leave.” You inform him.

Taeyong nods his head and stands up, taking off his glasses and putting it on the desk. He slowly walks up to you, eyes scanning down your outfit. “They really let you wear this?” He asks with a skeptical eye.

You narrow your eyes in response. “How am I suppose to dress?” You question back sarcastically.

“I don’t know like fancy? High class? It’s a museum type of exhibit isn’t it?” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. You roll your eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to be a tour guide. Whatever I’m still wearing this.”

You walk up to the full length mirror that’s beside Taeyong’s bed, looking down on your outfit. You decided to wear loose legged jeans along with a brown sweater vest, white button up and Vans shoes.

You smile to yourself in the mirror and turn around happily to Taeyong. “Let’s go.”

Taeyong takes out his extra helmet from the back, passing it to you. You wear it quickly while Taeyong gets on his bike, starting the engine as the noise from it can be heard loud and clear. After he takes a moment to adjust in his seat, he jerks his head to the back, signaling you to get on.

With that, you and Taeyong begin your journey of heading to the exhibit. As expected, you got there at around ten minutes. And you still had time befofe it opens. You got off and take off the helmet, passing it to Taeyong.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“I’m doing it for the instant noodles.” Taeyong says with a light chuckle, putting the helmet at the back. You swirled around to walk to the entrance. You glance over your shoulder to see Taeyong still leaning against his bike, waiting for you to head in. You shake your head and held a hand up to wave him goodbye before entering.

As you walk in, you hear Taeyong’s bike engine starting as he drives off. Looking around the exhibit, you were instantly amazed. It isn’t large, but isn’t small either. It is a completely white building with paintings and other things you would see in a museum cleanly displayed by their categories. It’s a simple yet classy set up.

You head to the counter to meet the person in charge who’s the only one in the exhibit.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dejun.” You greet with politeness, bowing your head.

“Good afternoon. Since today’s the first day I don’t think there will be too many people coming in. Other than that, I’m sure you know what to do.” Mr. Dejun informs as he writes something on the black clipboard he has in his arm.

You hum. “Yeah, I do.” You reply confidently.

“Alright I’ll be heading off now. The key to locking up the exhibit is here. Make sure to return it to the main building, okay? I won’t be coming back by the way.” Mr. Dejun adjusts the glasses on his face.

You nod your head, watching him look around the counter one last time before greeting you goodbye and walking out of the exhibit. You sigh and take a seat on the chair that’s at the counter. You look down, seeing the key along with other papers that you assume is not relevant to you.

You got comfortable, placing your bag down on the counter and start to use your phone. Getting bored after awhile, you decide to walk around the exhibit for the fun of it.

You get to where the paintings were, clasping your hands behind your back after shoving your phone into your back pocket. You get in front of picture to picture, staring at it for a moment before looking to the bottom right to read its description and moving on.

You didn’t end up spending that much time walking around since you got through the arts fairyly quickly, not really caring about admiring it.

You get back to your seat, huffing and placing your chin on the palm of your hand as you lean in, closing your eyes.

You swear you could have fallen asleep but you got awoken by the sound of footsteps coming in. You shot your head up to the entrance, seeing a tall man wearing a brown velvet suit with a pink turtleneck. he had brown hair that’s slit back, though it looks a little messy.

You question how he looked at first. Brown and pink? You thought. That is until you concentrated on his face. You had to blink your eyes a few times to capture his face in your mind while he walks off to look around.

He had a jawline and features that can cut like a knife. The way every feature on his face looked amazing and straight out of a painting from someone’s imagination of a perfect man. His hair framed his face that was made for him to pull off any outfit choices or hairstyles.

You got intrigued in an instant without a doubt. You would want to look at him more but he ended up going deep into the exhibit and disappearing out of your sight.

You frown to yourself, the picture of him etched into your brain while you trace whatever you remember of him in your head. You eventually snap out of it, proceeding to look down on your phone.

You didn’t know how much time has passed since he came in. But it felt like a long time. And you still have yet to see him exit the exhibit.

Getting curious or concern, you weren’t exactly sure, you rose from your seat. Walking around, you tried finding for him. And eventually, you did.

You stand there in silence, a few steps away from him. He had his head tilted sideways as he stares blankly into this one particularly painting. It felt like he’s been looking at it for so long, seeing how his body didn’t bother moving an inch and it looked like he was in a trance.

You suck in your lips, looking up from his hair down to his high cut black Converse sneakers. He had such a perfect body proportion along with his height. Even his side profile felt breathtaking and you couldn’t even imagine how you’d feel if you were to get up close to someone with a physique like his.

You decided to turn back and leave, taking silent steps and making your way back to the counter. You want to leave him be for the time being. But then, your stomach began to growl, urging you to have your lunch. You turn on your phone and headed to the Grab app, wanting to order some Mcdonald and have it delivered here. Mr. Dejun didn’t say that you couldn’t eat here so might as well.

Thirty minutes passed. You had you food but you still have yet to see the man leave. Curious yet again, you grab your coke and head to where you saw him last time.

He’s still there, same painting, same standing position. At this point you were getting concerned. No one can stay frozen staring at something for that long right?

You take a sip of your coke, realising that the straw made those suction noises when your cup is empty. The sound caused the man to sharply turn his head to you.

You lean back, eyes blinking as it met his. “I’ll go soon, don’t worry.” He mutters. Finally, he starts walking down deeper into the hall and looking at other paintings.

You hum, nodding your head. You decide to walk as well, wanting some of your food to be digested.

You didn’t see him leave. He probably did while you looked at some flower painting.

Oddly enough, he’s the only one that came today.

And that was your first day at the exhibit. As you lock the door with the given keys, you couldn’t help but wonder why it’s called, What is love? Observing the arts in the exhibit from the main museum building, you didn’t see anything related to love except for one or two that had a direct meaning to it. The descriptions about them didn’t exactly help either.

You could only shrug off the thought once you hear the familiar sound if Taeyong’s bike driving down the street as he comes to pick you up.

Day two comes by. you got there around the same timing with Taeyong’s help. Mr. Dejun is there again. He gives you the same instructions as yesterday, but this time you are told to make sure the peole who enter have registered in so they could keep track of who comes in and out. You were wondering why they didn’t have that system on your first day.

Quite a few people come by. Couples, families, perhaps journalists since you see them jotting something down in their notebooks while looking at the art.

What caught your eye is the fact that you see him come in again. He still looks as classy as yesterday with his slit back brown hair. But, you see someone else as well.

“This is where you wanted us to go?” You hear the women beside him say, linking her arm around his. You take a look at her up and down.

She’s absolutely stunning. From her dark brown wavy hair with curls at the bottom that reach till her chest area, the tight floral dress that cups her hourglass body perfectly, not to mention it’s proportioned beautifully just like his to the features of her face that looks just that of a model’s. You would have made an assumption that she is a model.

“Yeah, why? We can go somewhere else?” He mumbles as they take slow strides to the counter, approaching you. Needless to say, his voice is definitely amazing as well despite the few words he has said here.

The two ended up in front of you. The girl gives a simple smile. “Two tickets please.”

“You have to register with the QR code that’s there first.” You motion your hand to the sign on top of the counter that displays a huge QR code along with instructions to complete the registration.

“Ah I see. Hold on.” She jerks her arm against his, lifting her head up to the sign. He shapes his mouth into an ‘O’ as they proceed to use their phones to scan the code.

While they look down at their phones typing in their information, you thought that it’s a good time to have your eyes on him while you still can before he disappears into the exhibit.

You admire his face. You could tell his face looks breathtaking at every angle. You couldn’t see his face properly since the fringe of his hair covered his eyes a little while he’s looking down. But you liked it either way.

But you also start to wonder who that women is. His girlfriend? A close girl friend? You couldn’t exactly tell but you could make a guess that she’s more outspoken than him, seeing how he just nods his head and makes little effort to use his words when she talks to him.

“Alright, we’re done.” You shot your eyes up to them. You notice how he had his eyes on you with a blank expression. You shake your head, wanting to get yourself out of your deep admiration for the man i. front of you.

You hum, taking out the stickers that had the logo of the exhibit on it. Peeling two off, you hand it over to her. “Just stick it on your body anywhere.” You reply, attempting to sound polite.

“Also I need your names.”

Not.

You just want to know what the man’s name is.

“Nayeon.” The women brightly introduces herself. Your eyes adverted to him quickly.

“Jung Jaehyun.”

Fuck, you thought to yourself. Even his name suits him well. You practically couldn’t find a single flaw on this man appearance wise. You would want to talk to him, if Nayeon isn’t here with him today.

The two head off and the hours fly by as usual. To ease yourself out of boredom, you went to walk around the exhibit again, watching people admiring the arts and having small chitchats.

As you walk by the place where you saw Jaehyun standing yesterday, you realise the two are there. Standing in front of the same painting.

“This is boring. Let’s walk around more.” You hear Nayeon say loudly. You could’ve sworn you seen a look of anger or disappointment, or maybe both on Jaehyun’s face. But as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared quickly as well.

“Sure.” Jaehyun plainly says as he walks behind Nayeon. He glances back at the painting before having his eyes scan the area. His eyes meet yours for a brief second. You feel your body tense up so quick. You never felt something like this in a long time since you stopped dating when college started.

Absentmindedly, or maybe perhaps not, you ended up walking to wherever they went, following their footsteps and being quite a few meters away from them, they were in your sight almost all the tims.

One thing that stood out to you is the fact that Jaehyun looked somewhat gloomy or annoyed, even bored in fact. He didn’t look like this yesterday. And it’s obvious that the reason for that is Nayeon. You can’t understand why, not really diving too deep into it.

At some moment, Nayeon walks off with her phone to her ear, probably answering a call and exiting the exhibit.

“You don’t seem to be having fun.” You say, walking up to Jaehyun and standing beside him as you look at the painting in front of you.

He turns his head, looking down on you. He scoffs. “Is it that obvious?” Jaehyun asks, though the both of you seem to know the answer to that.

“Totally not.” You reply sarcastically, sliding your phone into your back pocket. “I saw you came by yesterday.” You start.

“I remembered you since you were the only one here.” Despite your eyes being on the painting, you couldn’t help but feel that his eyes start piercing into your skin. Looking up, you see him staring at you.

“Well to be fair it’s an exhibit that’s not popular yet.” Jaehyun lightly shrugs. “I actually thought I’d see my friend here. Guess not.” A small, almost unnoticeable frown creeps up his face.

“Friend? Who exactly?”

“Xiao Dejun. The one in charge of this place.”

You let out a soft “Ah...” while nodding your head. “He’s only here before my shift starts. And he never comes back either. I thought that’s something a friend should know.”

Jaehyun lets out a quiet sigh. “He’s too focused on this to let me know I guess.”

Just as he says that, you hear the clanking of Nayeon’s high heels coming in from the entrance. You know it’s her since she’s the only one wearing high heels here. “Looks like your boring date is back.” You joke with a small smile.

Jaehyun chuckles, brushing his thumb across his nose and shoving his hands into his pocket. “Sure is.”

“Hope thay you’ll be done with it soon.” You say, giving him a little encouragement to light up his mood. He didn’t reply to your statement and instead laughs softly, making you practically swoon for him in your mind when he lets out a, “Thanks.”

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow, Jaehyun?”

“Perhaps, uh your name?”

“_____”

With that, the two of you exchanged smiles once again as you walk off, seeing her hugging him from behind and dragging him off.

You couldn’t help but smile, him calling your name resonating in your head over and over as you head back to the counter.

Moments later the two left and you went along with completing the rest of the shift.

“Jung Jaehyun?” Taeyong asks, taking a bite of his chicken. You completely forgot to eat lunch today so you texted Taeyong to meet you to have dinner at the nearby fast food restaurant.

You nod your head eagerly. “He’s so handsome and hot and just.. ah~” You close your eyes as you picture him in your mind, moaning dreamily as you thought about him.

“He sounds familiar not going to lie.” Taeyong shrugs, reaching his hand out to grab your mashed potatoes that were on your tray.

“Hey that’s mine!” You shout. Taeyong giggles cheekily. “You didn’t eat so I’ll assume you don’t want it.” He flashes his eye smile, making you look at him with disgust.

“Uh no I’m saving it for last. Why didn’t you get your own?”

“I forgot okay!” Taeyong huffs, angrily taking a scoop and putting it in his mouth. “I’ll share don’t worry.”

You roll your eyes. “So is he going to go there tomorrow?”

“He said probably.” You plainly shrug. “I mean I hope I do. I get to see him again.” You smile to yourself, looking down at your finished tray like an idiot.

“From what you tell me, it really feels like you’re just stalking him.” Taeyong adds with a scoff. You let out a ‘tsk’, grabbing a tissue to wipe and clean off your fingers.

“I don’t! Okay maybe. But seriously if you seen him, I’m pretty sure you would’ve turned gay for him.”

“Imagine how hot that’ll be. Seeing how you are handsome, and he’s handsome too. Ah the gayness!” You squeal, tapping your toes and as you grin widely.

“I’ll floor you at home. Watch me.” Taeyong threatens, throwing you a sharp glare. “You can drop by tomorrow to see him if you’d like. I can text you when he comes.” You bob your shoulder, a slight smirk creeping up your lips.

Taeyong hums and nods his head, grabbing his drink and taking one last sip to finish it. “Don’t disappoint me. If I don’t like what I see, I can say it as a fact that you have low standards.”

You gap your mouth open, placing a hand on your chest and gasping, overreacting at his statement. “Oh please. I’ll never.” You say with full confidence.

The next day at around three in the afternoon, Jaehyun enters the exhibit.

“Good afternoon, _____” Jaehyun greets in a polite yet trying to sound fun manner

“Afternoon, Jaehyun.” You flash a bright smile.

“Do I still need to register?” Jaehyun asks, leaning against the counter and closer to you. You blink your eyes rapidly, wanting to take a moment to look at his face up close but shake your head out of it immediately.

“Yeah. You need to do it every time you come.” You inform him, your phone flat on the table as you boredly scroll through Twitter.

“Alright.” He does the same procedure and proceeds to walk off, giving you a soft and kind smile before doing so.

You immediately went to iMessage, texting Taeyong that he’s here and keeping to your promise that you’ll let him see Jaehyun. Almost instantly, you hear the door open and reveal Taeyong casually walking in.

You widen your eyes in shock. “Wait the fuck?” You say as Taeyong walks up to the counter and leans his body againsy it. “So where is he?” Taeyong asks with full curiosity, peeking is head into the exhibit.

“Wait how did you even get here before I texted you?” Taeyong simply shrugs. “I didn’t go back home. I had lunch then I saw a dude who’s the only one that seem to go inside so I just assume that’s Jaehyun.”

“Wow...” You reply in awe, sounding surprised, buf also not.

Taeyong keeps his eyes at the exhibit, moving his head to see all it from all directions. “Where did he go?”

You pucker your lips in response. “Might have gon’ to that painting again. I don’t know why but every time he comes by, he just looks at this one painting. He can literally stand there and only leave hours later.”

Taeyong laughs, clapping his hands. “There’s no way, you idiot. He obviously moves around while you’re here.” Taeyong breathes out, patting his chest to calm his laughter.

“But I saw him!” You growled, reaching a hand out to punch Taeyong in the chest, making him wince. “Yeah, yeah sure.” Taeyong taunts. You roll your eyes.

Suddenly, you see Jaehyun coming out of the corner. You smack Taeyong’s arm constantly to get his attention and point your finger to the direction where Jaehyun has his back facing you.

“There!” You whisper. You really did look like a fan swooning over her idol.

“Oh my God wait. Yo, Jaehyun!” Taeyong suddenly shouts out. You widen your eyes at his sudden action. You weren’t sure whether that’s suppose to embarrass you or he actually knows Jaehyun.

Jaehyun turns his head around slowly. His eyes went to you first before Taeyong, a bright smile emerging his lips instantly. “Woah Yongie!” Jaehyun walks over. He nudges Taeyong’s shoulder with a balled fist, making him chuckle.

“Uh.. So you know him?” You ask, you finger going back and forth between Taeyong and Jaehyun. Taeyong chuckles, nodding his head. “Yeah back in college.” Taeyong says. “She’s on her last year.” He adds on, gently motioning his hand to you.

“We had a chat yesterday.” You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks getting hot ever so slightly. You hum. “I was hoping you’d come so that you can see Taeyong.”

What a huge lie.

Taeyong couldn’t but scoff, making you and Jaehyun look at him with raised brows. “Pft, oh really?” He asks, sounding pushy. You furrow your eyebrows, glaring at him intensively in hopes that he will not push it any further.

“So!” Taeyong starts after an awkward moment of silence. “Since Jae’s here, wanna eat something for lunch?”

Jaehyun looks up, thinking for awhile before tilting his head back down to Taeyong. Though, his eyes met yours for a split second that made your heart skip a beat. “Alright.”

“Order me take out then.” You say, disappointment filling your tone ever so slightly, which Taeyong instantly picked up.

“Aw I would have invited you if you didn’t have work, right Jae?” Taeyong had a wide smirk on his face for a second before turning to Jaehyun. He lets out a simple chuckle. “True.”

You frown, raising a hand up to wave it at them lazily as a sign to push them away. “Okay, okay. Just go and come back quick. I want food.”

With that, you ended your third day. You ended up spending more time with Jaehyun than you’d expect, which makes you happy every time you thought about him.

The next day, oddly enough, Jaehyun didn’t come by. You didn’t see him coming in around the time he would be entering. And he never did. You waited for him impatiently, waiting eagerly for that one time you get to see him for a brief moment before he goes in to look at the painting yet again.

It felt almost weird to you. Despite you meeting him for only three days, you felt somewhat accustomed to be seeing him for the rest of the week. And him not coming in today felt out of place. It shocked you how attached to him you got. But to be honest, who wouldn’t?

You start wondering why he didn’t come. But the reality dawned on you pretty quick. He had his own live of course. He obviously has other things to do. Work? Family and friends? You thought that he couldn’t possibly be coming in everyday.

“I see you came back with her.” You whisper to Jaehyun, leaning in slightly. He heaves a sigh, rubbing his temples. “It’s... complicated. She’s probably talking to her father.” Jaehyun jerks his head to the seating area outside the exhibit, where you see Nayeon on the phone.

“Sorry if I’m intruding or anything...” You start off. Jaehyun raises both his eyebrows and humming. “But why do you keep coming here? I mean other than yesterday, it just seems like you come here just to look at that one painting in the corner of the exhibit.”

Jaehyun puckers his lips, shrugging after. “That’s complicated to answer too. Well, not really but-”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to answer.”

Just then, Nayeon comes back, running over to Jaehyun and holding his hand, interlocking their fingers. It really made you wonder whether Nayeon is actually Jaehyun’s girlfriend that he loves or is dating her for another reason.

Once again Jaehyun immediately looks bored. Before they walk in the exhibit, he looks over his shoulder to look at you. You mouth a, “Good luck.” With a light laugh, making him nod his head and turning back to the front.

With that, your bore through the hours of your shirt. For such a simple job, you were surprised at how much you were being paid. But that was all you care about anyways. The money. It served you as motivation to just push through the boring hours.

It’s near closing time now. You stood up to walk around the exhibit to make sure there’s no one left. As you head back to the counter to grab your things, you stop in your tracks when you see Jaehyun and Nayeon standing outside at the seating area. “Are they fighting or something?” You mutter to yourself as you watch Nayeon screaming at Jaehyun while he avoids her eyes with folded arms.

You raised a skeptical brow, not knowing what they’re fighting about and continued ahead to pack your things and turning off all the nights. You take one last look around the exhibit before grabbing the keys in your hand.

Just when you were about to head out, you now see Jaehyun sitting on the bench with his back facing you, his head leaning against the glass. You gulp and open the door, making him shot his head towards you.

“What happened? I saw you and Nayeon fighting.” You say, turning around and using the keys to lock up the exhibit. Jaehyun stands up, running a hand through his hair.

“We broke up.” Jaehyun says in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

“Um well I guess you need time alone?” You raised your shoulders, taking in a deep breath.

Jaehyun walks closer to you, and with each step your heart began to race quicker. You bit your bottom lip in nervousness, despite him not standing that close. “Not exactly.” He replies shortly.

You furrow your eyebrows, tilting your head in confusion. “Then what? I’m not exactly the type who’s good at comforting people.” You say, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. “Unless it’s food. I can treat you to food.”

Jaehyun nods his head, glancing sideways before looking down at you. “Okay. Then invite me to dinner.” He reauests nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pocket as he copies your body language.

After blinking your eyes a few times, you say, “W-What like now? Do you want to eat dinner now?”

Jaehyun simply nods. It’s surprising how casual he is towards you, but you really liked it so you didn’t mind. “It’ll be nice if we could drink as well. I need to get Nayeon off my mind for tonight.”

You puff your cheeks and blew the air out. “I know a place.”

It all feels crazy to you right now. You’ve only met Jaehyun in less than a week but here you are, having dinner with him. You could guess that he’s being awfully casual since he knows that you and Taeyong are friends. But it also surprised you as to how the silence between the two of you is comfortable.

The two of you eat in silence, munching on your food with your heads down and glancing at each other a few times while you look up to take a shot of soju.

You eventually start talking. Specifically about his college life and how he met Taeyong. You felt that it’s the only way to connect with him since he did graduate from the same college as the one you’re attending.

“What’s your major?” Jaehyun asks as he reaches his hand out to pour me a shot. I downed it quickly, exhaling calmly. “Psychology. Have pills of homework I need to get done.”

You click your tongue, twirling the fork in your hand as you feel the alcohol kicking in already. To be fair, you are one to get drunk easily. Jaehyun doesn’t know that, and you’ve subconsciously been drinking more than your usual intake as your chat with Jaehyun goes on.

“Really? Why didn’t you say? I took psychology too.” You raise both eyebrows in response, closing your eyes for a moment. “Perhaps you can help me.”

Jaehyun leans in, his chin resting on his fingers that were interlocked. “Should we go somewhere?” You tilt your head, placing a hand behind your neck and rubbing it gently. “Where exactly?” You question him.

“Your home. Where else? Taeyong must be worried that you’re drunk on a work night.” You scoff in amusement, your mouth still open after you did. “And? It’s just a part time job.” You giggle, covering your face with the palm of your hand. Clearly, you already weren’t in your right mind.

You didn’t know how, but you blanked out. And somehow arrived at the rooftop of a run down apartment. But after looking around, you facepalm yourself in your mind, realising it’s your apartment’s rooftop that you’re at.

You had your head laid on Jaehyun’s shoulder. Turning your head slightly, it made Jaehyun look down on you. “Awake already?” He whispers, leaning in and making his face inches away from yours. To which you couldn’t help but blush in a matter of seconds.

“What time is it?” You scrambled around to find your bag to take out your phone but before you could turn of your phone, Jaehyun replies, “Two in the morning.” with a casual tone.

“Are you the type to wake up late?” He asks once again. You took this time, in your “drunken” state to snuggle your head into the crook of Jaehyun’s neck, finding a comfortable spot and breathing in his scent. A scent you could indulge yourself with all the time if you could.

You hum. “Yeah. Not gonna lie, I’ll probably be late tomorrow.” Your lips brushed against Jaehyun’s skin as you reply.

Jaehyun clears his throat, letting out a sigh. “Do you want to know why I always go to the same painting at the exhibit?” You bit your lower lip. Finally, the question you have asked yourself throughout the days when Jaehyun comes by.

“That one painting. It’s actually my grandmother’s. She painted it before she passed away. I found out about the exhibit Xiaojun was gonna open, and asked him to display for painting.”

As Jaehyun talks, you take in the atmosphere. The cold breeze against your skin. The night sky reflecting its moonlight onto the city’s streets and building. How peaceful it all felt, with the person you’ve been wanting this whole week the moment you saw him. You know how you got close to him, but it also felt as though you didn’t. Like a atring attached to the two of you, getting shorter and shorter till you reach this moment. A moment where you are so close that it feels like it’s too close.

“Her painting showed her own way of depicting love. I saw the other arts in the exhibit, it all had one general idea. Love. Different artists, different perspectives of love. Some showed it to be seen as butterflies and rainbows. While others depict it as something to stay away from, something you should be afraid of. Romantic love, that is.”

You hum, nodding your head. “I never expected you to be someone this deep.” You mumble. Jaehyun replies with a chuckle. A chuckle you have now grown used to. “I do art, other than psychology. But I stopped when I had to make more time for my major.”

“Continue.” You whisper. He takes a second to tilt his head up and taking in a deep breath before resuming.

“My grandmother’s painting showed both the good and bad sides of love. I knew her love life wasn’t a regular one. But I somehow was able to understand it after hours of just staring at her painting and its very brief description about it.”

You smile to yourself. You really could hear him talk for hours on end and never get tired of it.

“Want to know something?”

You absentmindedly wrap your arms around his torso, moving in close to get even more comfortable. It felt right just doing it. Surprisingly enough, Jaehyun wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close. Not too tight, not too loose. His touch sent constant electric shocks throughout your body. But it felt right. Just this moment alone, like time has frozen for you to admire it while it lasts.

“I hoped everyday you’d come to the exhibit. Just to see your face.” You say, closing your eyes as you feel his heartbeat on his chest, putting you at ease. You weren’t sure if Jaehyun’s drunk, if he’d remember anything you say. You did think of the embarrassment you’d have to face the next day, but you just didn’t bother.

“I caught your eye that fast?” Jaehyun asks.

You nod your head immediately. “You should know that yourself.”

The two of your laugh softly at the same time. This feeling, this moment. Is it the alcohol that’s doing all this? Is Jaehyun really like this or is it only when he’s drunk? Is he actually taking whatever you’re saying and can remember it the first thing in the morning?

You know you could’nt. Which is why you try to take in this night as much as possible so that it would be in your memory forever, dream or not.

“Let’s go to the exhibit together tomorrow. I’ll come by your house to pick you up.”

Silence ensues, this time it’s much longer. But as mentioned before, you felt comfortable, as though this is how it should have always been.

A sudden connection you feel with a mere stranger. Within days, you've formed an unfamiliar yet familiar bond with him, despite the minimal interactions. The world somehow made the two of you end up in such a cliche situation.

“Would love that.”

#nct x reader #nct 2020 #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct ff #nct #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun #nct jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun fluff #nct jaehyun angst #nct jaehyun fanfic #nct fanfic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x y/n #nct jung yoonoh #jung yoonoh

[yoonia]

[Teaser] Blurred Lines

➬ Title | Blurred Lines

➬ Pairings | Kim Seokjin x reader

➬ Genre | Smut, Sexual Tension!au, Teacher!Jin, Teacher!reader, Tattooed Biker!Jin

➬ Summary | A new place to live, a new job, a new beginning. Six months have passed and everything has been going well for you in starting over. The warm welcome from your students and peers have quickly made you feel at home, yet you still long to have one calm day where you wouldn’t have to walk into the school with a heavy weight on your shoulders and the air thick with tension. Blame it on him—the strict English teacher who keeps giving you cold shoulders no matter how many times you try to play nice. One night out with your girls and a drunken dare ultimately lead you to uncover what he’s been trying to hide. People do say that the quiet ones always keep the biggest secret.

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

↳ Warning | Slow burn, mutual pinning, mention of alcohol consumption, hard dom!Jin, bondage, big cock!seokjin, dirty talk, mild degradation, cum play, creampie, tattoos and dick piercing, idk I might add more as I write this

↳ Estimated word count | 10k-15k words

↳ Estimated posting date | Dec 2nd, 2020 Dec 4th/5th, 2020

↳ Excerpt

“I’m not so sure about this,” you complain as your two friends barge in through the front entrance of the bar. Though you know that you are losing the fight when they keep pulling you along with them and you have no other choice but to give in when the drinks you had taken so far slowly begin to sink in their claws in you.

Holli wraps her arm around yours so she can drag you with her. “Oh, come on. Our goal tonight is to try on as many bars as we could get and none that we’ve been into looks like this one.”  

Of course, they haven’t, since none of the bars you went to had looked anything like a bikers’s bar. And even under the state of tipsiness, you can still recognise this place as the one that you would usually avoid whenever you walk past down this road.

Both of your girls seem like an expert as they wave through the crowd, heading straight to the seating area to find yourselves an available booth.

The bar is nearly packed wherever you look. Only a few empty seats seem to be available, even with many of the patrons standing up, either crowding the pool table, lining up at the bar counter, or gathering in groups on the dance floor. Except that nobody appears to be dancing.

God knows how Holli can manage to snatch a seat at all through all of this, but she does it with ease. Taking one last look around as you take your seat, you are glad to have gotten a few drinks in from the previous bars. You would have never been brave enough to step foot into this place if you had been sober when you came in. Wherever you look, you see big, burly men drinking beer and laughing. Their muscles stretching out from beneath their tops—some wearing tight black T-shirts, some wearing white sleeveless muscle tops, either one had made their bulging muscles look like they are about to burst out of them—their ink work peeking out from either their sleeves or their necklines, and they are all wearing matching leather vests with silver studs on the shoulders, with a logo resembling a girl sitting spread-legged on top of a motorcycle and the name “Howlers” embedded at the back of said vests. You can even see that some of the men are sporting matching tattoos on their skin, though not all of them have them on the same spots—some on their necks, their upper arms, or at the back of their hand that is holding a glass of beer.

There are a few girls hanging out with them, some are simply sitting or standing close, while others are practically clinging on their men’s muscled arm. They are all wearing matching leather vests as well, suggesting that they are either members of their motorcycle club or they are here as their lovers, though the vests look much smaller in size and are a bit tight around the chest.

Waitresses with crop tops and tight plaid miniskirts walk around the room with trays that are never empty. They are always filled with glasses of beer that are filled to the brim, almost spilling as they weave their way through the crowd. The girls would occasionally stop on the tables they are tending to in between trips, chatting along with the patrons as if they are all old friends. And even through your drunken haze, you are pleased to find that none of the men are acting like sleazy bastards that might be disrespectful around these working ladies.

Damn, even those strong drinks Holli gave you still couldn’t get you out of your proverbial teachers’ shoes, it seems?

You look up just as one of the waitresses comes to your table, all warm smile and polite greetings. The lack of judgement in her eyes as she looks between the three of you sort of eases you down a little, and the apprehension you have been feeling upon entering the foreign place slowly fades away.

“Welcome to Anchor Roadhouse, what can I get for you ladies?”

Jennie leans forward over the table to make the order. “Cold beer for three, please. Oh, and with double shots of tequila on the side for each?”

The waitress nods. “You got it. Be right back.”

“We’re going a bit over the top, aren’t we?” you ask the girls as the waitress turns to make her way towards the bar to retrieve your orders, and Jennie only shrugs.

“This place looks like way more fun than the ones we’ve been before,” she says, looking around as she admires the sight she is seeing at all corners. You would have never thought that your best friend would have a liking to tattooed, burly men, but you are finding out all the new things about your friends tonight.

“It sure is. So might as well have fun,” Holli agrees with her, before turning to glance at your way. “But most importantly, we still have someone between us who has yet to do the dare.”

Ah, yes. The dare. You refrain from rolling your eyes as you are reminded of it. You have hoped that choosing to be the last one to do it would be able to safe your ass from actually doing it, thinking that your girls would have been too drunk to notice that you are skipping it by then.

You look around again, perusing the field and making plans, when you suddenly feel the heat of someone’s piercing gaze burning on your back, only to see that nobody is actually paying attention to any of you. But the quick scan around the room has you feeling quite intimidated all the same. Just how on earth are you supposed to get one of these burly bikers to buy you a drink?

You look at all the girls around you and consciously begin to compare yourself to them. Unlike these girls who are confident enough to flaunt their skin while wearing leathers and tight tops, you feel like everyone could look your way and figure out instantly that you are no more than a mousy high school teacher. Not even the mini black dress that you are wearing—no matter how tight and revealing it is—and the killer heels could hide it from the world.

The waitress returns just as you are about to give a closer look at the bar, to find your way in on finding a lone biker to talk to, and you are surprised to see her carrying not just three glasses of beer as requested, but a whole pitcher of it.

Everyone at the table looks at one another in confusion, yet the waitress simply sets down the pitcher and the clean glasses around the table, along with the tequila shots, and sets them all up as if there is nothing wrong with the order.

“Um—I’m sorry—” you try to cut in, “We didn’t order the whole pitcher.”

The waitress keeps her smile on her face when she raises her eyebrows. “Oh, don’t worry, Doll. It’s in the house. The owner wants to welcome you girls properly.”

You look at your friends again before asking, “The owner?”

The waitress cocks her hips once she is done setting up the drinks and tilts her head towards the bar. “Yeah, see the sweetheart standing right behind the counter over there? He’s watching over you girls to make sure you’re having a good time.”

You turn back to look at the bar as the waitress walks over to the next table right after Holli thanks her almost too excitedly. As if the night hasn’t gone any weirder yet, the crowd slowly parts way to give you the full good look at the bar counter.

And that is when you see him.

Standing behind the counter the way the waitress had described him is a familiar face. The same face that has your spine rigid and your muscles growing tense whenever you step foot into the school in the morning, knowing that your schedules will allow you to cross path with each other. He is now looking at you almost the same way he does it at school, the same way his gaze is locked on every move you make to have you feeling terribly self-conscious in everything you do when you are around him. Like every single move may end up as a mistake.

And now he is there, looking at you closely, though you are surprised to find him doing so without any judgemental look in his eyes when he finds you. He had discarded the ivory-rimmed glasses he normally wears, and instead of wearing his usual long sleeves dress shirt, he is wearing a black tight sleeveless top that puts his perfectly toned arms and shoulders on display, showing off the ink work that marks the length of his arms and all the way up to his neck, presenting you all the drawings and scribbles of words that you have never seen on him before. His fancy velvet coat has been replaced with a leather biker vest which looks exactly the same as to what everyone here is wearing.

You can barely get over the shock of not seeing the usual scowl that he normally wears at school, when his smile slowly grows upon noticing that you are looking straight at him, making your jaw drops even further.

This must be a dream, you wonder to yourself.

Because there is no way you are seeing Kim Seokjin—the strict English teacher that everyone is afraid of—standing behind that bar as if this is his own home.

But there is no mistaking the smouldering gaze he is giving you now, the same one that has been quite intimidating that you always avoid seeing him in the break room at school. Except that his gaze no longer causes fear inside you when you return the look in his eyes.

And he just bought you a whole pitcher of cold beer.

— © 2020 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. translations are not allowed.

#fic teaser #misc: fic announcement #seokjin scenario #seokjin fanfic #seokjin smut #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin scenario #jin fanfic #jin smut #jin angst #jin fluff #seokjin x reader #jin x reader

[writefightandflightclub]

Mixed signals

Author’s note: just a quick, simple hit of pure fluff, sweeties. Wrote this super quick idk. 

Summary: you are Poe’s favoured comms officer, and it means so much to him to have your voice on the end of the line during a mission. You’re great at comms. You’ve talked him through some tough times. So why in the hell can’t he get you to speak to him when you’re face-to-face? And will his cute idea to get you talking work?

Warnings: hell, not a one.

(GIF by @cmorgana​)

Poe has grown pretty fond of you over the past few months. The first time he spoke to you was over the comms, when his usual signals operator was injured and you were drafted in. He liked your style and you gelled well, and soon after he requested with the General that you be assigned to him and his squadron permanently whenever he was out on a mission. He trusted you to get the job done clearly, calmly, and decisively. You always stayed admirably cool in a crisis. And, to be honest, the other guy had always rubbed him up the wrong way, which was the last thing he needed when already under pressure.

He has come to depend on your voice on the other end of the line. Particularly the way you go over and above for him. Sometimes you talk him down if he’s scared on a mission -whether on the ground or in the air-, you boost him up when he’s hopeless, and sometimes you’ll even just keep him company through a private channel on his long flights home. You’re even ballsy enough to call him out when he’s being a dumbass, which he respects, even if he doesn’t admit it at the time. Your voice is often his lifeline, his saviour, and he’s losing count of the number of times you’ve guided him back home. 

But when he’s face-to-face with you things are different. He can’t -for the life of him- get you to speak to him. It’s not like he hasn’t tried, of course. Case in point, the first time he spoke to you face-to-face, when you had just a couple of missions under your belt together, didn’t go down so well. He’d sidled over to your table in the canteen, thinking that he wouldn’t mind grabbing lunch and introducing himself to this (cute) new recruit he’d laid eyes on.

“Hey. Can I sit here?” he asks with a broad smile. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“Yes, Commander Dameron.”

He recognises your voice instantly, suddenly turning goofy when he realises it’s you. “It’s you! From the comms!” he exclaims, with a succession of finger guns, cringing inwardly even as he does it, a heat slowly rising up his neck.

“Yes, sir. It’s me from the comms.” you slink away immediately, setting your empty tray down on the side without so much as a smile. He’s left sitting there alone, feeling like a bit of a buffoon, if he’s honest.

From then on, even in spite of that, he couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you. Your voice, the way you were with him on the comms already... did things for him, got him thinking about how he’d like to spend more time with you. But meeting you in-person, seeing how gorgeous you were, it had only cemented his attraction to you.

So, he tries again. And again. But no matter the situation, the topic, the time of day, the weather, you always seem to clam up and disappear, tight-lipped. For someone apparently skilled in communications there has definitely been some kind of break down between you. Maybe you’re just shy, he thinks; hopes, at first. But after a while he comes to the conclusion that you simply don’t want to talk to him unless you’ve been ordered to.

Finally, after months of pining, after becoming desparate to recreate the rapport he has with you over the radio, he just has to know what he’s doing so wrong. Did he piss you off? Is there something about him that you find deeply offensive? He needs to get you talking, and after some consideration, he figures out a way to do just that. At least, he has an idea and he prays it doesn’t make things any worse.

So, to implement his master plan, he approaches you in the canteen one day. He pulls you aside and softly asks if he can borrow you for a minute.

You clear your throat and respond stiffly. “Yes, sir.” 

He smiles thinly when you fail to call him Poe, yet again, but motions for you to follow him anyway. He leads you into a spare bay in the hangar -now cleared out while everyone dines or hangs out in the mess hall- and gestures for you to tak a seat in the chair opposite him. Seeing the nervousness, discomfort in your expression, your tense shoulders, he reassures you that there’s nothing to be concerned about. It’s just a comms exercise. Then, he passes you a little hand-held radio and asks you to close your eyes tight.

“What’s happening?” you say, clutching the device in your fingers, your brows furrowed in confusion as you perch on the edge of your seat, clearly unwilling to relax.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions. And I just want you to close your eyes and talk to me like I’m in the air, ok? Just imagine I’m in my X-Wing, and you’re in the control room.” he sees a soft, subtle smile pass over your lips, sees you visibly unclench, just a little.

Maker, he likes looking at you. It kinda makes his heart flutter. Great, and now he’s getting nervous; he hopes this isn’t another of his utterly dumbass ideas. Only one way to find out, as per usual. Dive in.

“Black Leader to Nav Six. Do you copy?” He calls out, then mimics the “kchhh” sound of the radio.

You hesitate, your lips twitching up at the corners, but you respond. “Nav Six, I copy.”

“Do the noise.” he prompts you, with a gentle whisper. 

You shake your head in confusion, flashing your teeth in a good-natured smile all the same. “Nav Six, I copy. Kchhh.”

“Black Leader to Nav 6. How’s your day going? Kchhh.”

 “It’s getting a little weird, over. Kchhh.”

Poe notices your nose crinkle in amusement. He finds it adorable, and can’t help but smile in response to you. “Ok, Nav Six, I got eyes on the prize.” You must be able to hear the smile in his voice, because you reciprocate with your own broad grin. He always swears you can detect the emotions in his voice better than anyone. Always know what he’s feeling, often better than he does himself. Maybe that’s why your face drops as his tone switches, becoming more serious. Again, you mirror his expression unconsciously. “I gotta ask, Nav 6. Why do you talk to me on the comms but never face-to-face. Over.”

The radio drops from your lips and your face scrunches in mild distress. He swears a flush creeps up your neck, your skin beginning to glow with a soft sheen. He watches as you let out an audible, nervous breath, but determinedly bring the radio back up to your mouth. “Your voice alone is bad enough and then face-to-face? I have to look at you too?!” you blurt out.

“Wow, OK. Kriff. Copy. Loud and clear. Black Leader out. Kchhh.” He sits back in his chair, defeated, face agape. Maker, he hadn’t quite expected you to be that blunt. But at least he had some answers now. Mission complete?

“No, wait! I mean...” you appear to clutch the radio a little more tightly, screw your eyes up a little further. He watches your shoulders rise as you suck in a slow, deep breath. There’s something more. Something worse?

Searching your face, he leans forward again in his chair, his voice soft and gentle. “Talk to me Nav Six. Over.”

After one more long inhale you blurt out: “I have a huge crush on you, Poe!”

Oh. Oh. It’s a classic case of mixed signals.

“What?! You do?!” he smiles in utter delight, a warm feeling spreading through his chest, giving him jitters. Happy beeps. Happy kriffing beeps. 

And now that you’re talking you can’t seem to stop.

Your hands are clasped together nervously, your shoulders practically tucked up next to your ears but you’re talking. “On the comms I can hide how I feel, a little, but in real life you’re so damn handsome and you smell too good and you make me so kriffing nervous that I can’t even speak.”

Now this. This he could work with. He scrapes his chair across the floor to come closer to you, and you bite your lip with apprehension as you hear the sound.

“Tell me more,” he encourages. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

You huff a little. “I was trying to avoid you finding out because it’s embarrassing and... and there’s no way you can like me back.”

He just looks at you, checking you’ve finished your outburst. Unbelievable. You really have no idea how utterly perfect you are, do you? You gulp as he shuffles his chair closer to you once again. He must be close enough for you to smell him now, he estimates, as your nostrils flare slightly, your breath quickens a little.  

“Ok. Let’s review, Nav Six.” He can’t keep the smile off his face at the fact you still have your eyes screwed tight shut. “Some of that was correct- I’m handsome. I smell great. What I wanna know is why is there no way I can like you back?”

“You’re Poe Dameron...”

His eyebrows jump up in surprise and confusion. “What does that even mean?”

You laugh, hopefully realising how silly that sounds out loud. 

Then he simply asks you: “Open your eyes.”

“Nuh-uh.” you shake your head, nibbling nervously on that delicious lip of yours.

“Fine, if you really don’t want to see me when I tell you I do like you back.”

Oh, you open your eyes now. You open them wide.

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he finally gets to gaze into yours. He looks up at you from beneath his pretty lashes, a little more nervous himself now. “In fact, I like you so much that I don’t even mind if you get all spluttery and nervous. If this is any indication? Then, it’s adorable on you anyway, quite frankly.” He reaches out tentatively to take your hands in his, scraping his chair a little closer. “But one thing I do kinda mind” he says, dropping his voice a little into his throat “is not getting to talk to my favourite person and look them in their gorgeous face at the same time.”

You’re grinning. “Are you done? Do the noise.”

“Sorry, Nav Six.” He says, matching your grin. “Kchhh.”

You giggle, and he just looks ardently at you, drinking you in. He traces his thumb affectionately along your jaw line, under your chin, over your bottom lip.  Your breath hitches. 

“See, this is exactly what I mean..” you say, becoming evidently flustered.  “You ... you make me feel really... nervous.”

He leans in until his lips are almost on yours, enjoying the effect he’s having on you already. “Hmm, but I only wanna make you feel good, baby.”

Then he presses his mouth to yours, and suddenly... you’re giving him all the right signals.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #star wars x reader #sw #star wars fic #swcreators #poe x reader #poe dameron fluff #fluff #reader insert #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

[goldnratio]

Inconvenient Interruptions (Spencer Reid x reader)

Summary: the team has to catch an unsub at a nightclub. spencer is paired up with female reader. they flirt, dance, and confess some feelings.

Warnings: briefly mentioned killings, some touching and kissing, microscopic teen wolf and beetlejuice references, a little ooc Spencer I think, and some guns at the end

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’m thinking of doing a part 2 that’s smut but idk yet,,, this is a hot mess but enjoy :))

—

Going undercover wasn’t so bad, you’d done it plenty of times while working for the BAU. Usually you’d go by yourself - with the rest of the team and local cops outside - or with a partner, and that sometimes meant you’d portray friends or lovers. Having been paired up with everyone on the team at least once, you’d probably say that you preferred pairing up with Spencer Reid. You were comfortable with the whole team, but you felt different with Spencer. You liked him, and you only hoped he felt the same. If not, then all the casual flirting back and forth would have just gone waste.

This case involved another serial killer, identified as forty-one year old Adam Raeken, that was going around Los Angeles, California and preying on all types of young couples. He seemed to have favored night clubs; abducting a couple from one club, and disposing their bodies somewhere near a different club. So far, he managed to abduct and kill six different couples without getting caught, and your team was hoping to catch him before he got a seventh.

After learning when and where Adam would strike next - around 9:30 PM at a club a few miles from the LA police station called ‘Dante’s Inferno’ - every available unit was going to be deployed.

Turned out, ‘Dante’s Inferno’ was a pretty big club, both in size and popularity. In an effort to try and catch Adam without causing a mass panic, every officer and agent was to go in plain clothes, along with the law enforcement waiting outside.

Even though the informant gave a rough time estimate, the team got there when the bar first opened at 8:00 PM to keep tabs on everyone who walked into the club.

—

Hotch made you and Spencer partners, assigning you the task of focusing on scoping the bar area for Adam.

You’d chosen a short, red bodycon dress that hugged your curves with matching heels and a loaded gun in your bag, acting coy with Spencer while you all waited for Adam to show up.

“What’s a girl like you, doing in a place like this?” Spencer said as he got comfortable in the bar seat next to you.

You take a sip from your non-alcoholic beverage and grin, “You use that opener with all the ladies?”

“Just the gorgeous ones.”

“Well to answer your question, I’m looking for someone.” Your smile feigns innocence, except Spencer can see the humor in your eyes.

“Really? A pretty girl looking for someone? I would’ve guessed someone here would be looking for you.”

“Most days, but tonight is special. He’s unique.” You wink at Spencer and he laughs.

“I’m sure he is. With a woman like you after him, he’s a lucky guy.”

You sigh dramatically. “That depends on if I find him tonight,” you take another sip from your drink, “if not, I’ll have to go home all by myself.”

“Oh please, I’m sure any man in here -“

Static coming from your earpieces interrupts him.

“Reid, (Y/L/N), if you could focus on the case, please.”

“Sorry, Hotch,” you blush, looking away from Spencer.

“Yeah, sorry, Hotch,” Spencer cleared his throat, “we’ll focus.”

“You can flirt off the clock after we’ve caught Raeken,” Emily teased.

You saw her down at the end of the bar with JJ and stuck your tongue out at her. JJ tries not to laugh as Emily fake gags.

“Ladies, if you can keep it together for the rest of the night, you can have your pick of a wine bottle from my cellar,” Rossi chuckled.

“Got it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You bet.”

No one saw, but Hotch rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

You quickly scanned the other people at the bar and a portion of the dance floor, making sure Adam hasn’t showed up early.

Your attention directs back to Spencer when he puts a shy hand on your waist and leaned in close to your side without the earpiece and microphone, so close that you felt his hair tickle and his breath hot on your skin.

“You know, we were ordered to come in plain clothes.”

Two can play this game, you thought.

Placing one hand on the back of his neck to play with his curls and the other on his bicep, you lean forward towards his earpiece-less side. “Plain clothes just means ‘not a uniform.’ This look like a uniform to you?” You softly squeeze his bicep, sitting up and taking another sip from your beverage.

Spencer simply shakes his head and smirks. “I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.”

“I don’t think a dress, much less one like this, would be...appropriate…in the field.”

“I think I could imagine a few places it would be appropriate,” Spencer countered.

“Yeah?” You hum, “like where—“

“Alright it’s nine o’clock. Make sure you are on alert in the next twenty-five minutes so that we’re ready if he sticks to the time,” Hotch interrupts.

A series of ‘okay’s’ are heard in your earpiece.

“and (Y/L/N), Reid? Just because you’re not talking into the earpieces, doesn’t mean we can’t hear you.”

This time, it’s a series of your teammates’ laughs in your ear.

“Right, sorry...again,” Spencer answered.

You gave a small laugh and issued your second apology as Spencer excused himself to use the restroom.

—

As soon as he got in the restroom, Spencer took out his earpiece. Right before he walked into a stall, the restroom door opened and revealed none other than SSA Derek Morgan, who also took out his earpiece.

“Reid, my man!” Derek clapped his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Who knew you had that kinda game in you, buddy?”

“Oh my god, Derek, please don’t do this now,” Spencer deadpanned.

“Do what?”

Spencer can’t help but give him the ‘seriously?’ look.

Derek smiled. “Look, kid. All I’m going to say is that it’s obvious you’re both into each other, you should go for it.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know if she really likes me or it’s just the friendly flirting or the fact that we’re technically undercover right now!”

“Kid, I’ve gone undercover with (Y/N) before, and trust me when I say that her flirting with you is real. And I’m sure you’ve noticed that she doesn’t ‘friendly flirt’ with anyone else other than you.”

Spencer sighs. “You really think she’s into me?”

“Of course I do. You’re a great guy, Reid. You two deserve each other.”

“Thanks, Derek...but is that it because I came in here to actually use the restroom.”

“Oh,” Derek laughs, “my bad, Reid. I just came in to wash my hands but I’ll let you get to your business.”

“Right...see you out there.”

—

When Spencer made his way back to the bar, the last thing he expected to see was a man trying to hit on you. He walked a little faster to you and noticed how your eyes lit up when he got there.

“Oh look! Here he is!”

The mystery guy looked at Spencer, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of this man making a move on you while he wasn’t there.

“Who are you?” He asked Spencer in a bitter tone.

Spencer took a step closer to you and put an arm around your shoulders, “Her boyfriend.”

Luckily the man got the hint and left, and Spencer’s arm loosened up on your shoulders.

“Sorry I left, I didn’t think anything would happen in such a short time.”

Reaching for one of his hands and you give it a quick squeeze. “It’s not your fault, and um, thank you.”

“No problem.”

You both sit in silence - as much silence that’s possible at a crowded club with music that’s blaring, until you hear a familiar beat. You glance at your watch, it's almost 9:10 PM and you realize there’s time to have some fun.

“Hey,” you look up at Spencer, “you wanna dance?”

His instincts almost kick in to say no. But then Derek’s restroom advice is ringing in his head, ‘you should go for it.’

He gives you a hesitant smile, “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Okay, just a sec.” You reach for your earpiece. “Hey guys? Spence and I are gonna scope out the dance floor.”

“You sure you’re not going just to dance with Pretty Ricky?”

Spencer blushed.

“Yes, Derek. We are also going to dance, we have to blend in.”

“Just stay focused,” Hotch reminds you.

With Hotch’s semi-blessing, you grab Spencer’s hand and lead him to the middle of the dance floor.

At first, Spencer is a little stiff, but you’re patient with him as he tries to find a rhythm that works for him. In any other circumstance, Spencer would’ve lost his mind trying to dance to music so loud that he can feel it in his bones while surrounded by sweaty bodies. He can only tolerate it because you’re with him.

Only because it’s his large hands that have a tight grip on your hips.

Only because it’s his long fingers dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

Only because it’s your hands in his hair.

Only because it’s his eyes your gaze is burning into.

Only because it’s your body moving in sync with his.

The upbeat music lasted a few good songs, but the music transitioned into something slower. It sounds like R&B, but you lose focus with how Spencer’s hands feel on your lower back, practically burning through your dress. And how good he smells. And how handsome he looks in the club’s colorful lighting. You almost forget why you’re in the club in the first place.

Your hands are on his shoulders, slowly traveling to the back of his head to thread your fingers in his hair as he leans forward to bring his face closer to yours. Neither of you say anything while you stare at each other, both too afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing.

You don’t know who leans in first, but you can feel Spencer’s nose brush against yours and his lips are just millimeters away and -

“All agents, I have eyes on the target. I repeat, I have eyes on the target.”

Crap, it was finally 9:30.

You quickly pull apart from each other, despite the disappointment evident in both of your faces.

“Copy that. Where’s he by?” You’re looking around the dance floor but don’t see him.

“Raeken is approaching the bar. Remember to proceed with caution, we want to avoid casualties.”

You double check the dancing crowd to make sure there’s other plain clothed law enforcement, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

“Let’s go get a drink, all this moving made me thirsty.” You kiss Spencer’s cheek, and his face is flushed as he follows you to the bar.

Adam’s already ordering a drink, so you settle a few seats away. To avoid suspicion, you order drinks for yourself and Spencer, but he looks tense and you’re hoping no one notices.

You wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck to get closer so he’ll hear you. “You’re too stiff, follow my lead.”

Moving just a few feet closer to Adam, you purposefully drop your drink, gaining the attention of the people around you.

“Oh no!” you pout.

When Spencer asks the bartender for a rag, he sees Adam staring at you with a dark look in his eyes. Spencer doesn’t like it but he has no choice but to stick to whatever plan you have.

Spencer turns back to you and helps you clean up your spilled drink. Fortunately, the cup was plastic and not glass.

Once the mess is cleaned up, you thank the bartender for the rug and ‘accidentally’ bump into Adam.

“Sorry about that,” you fake giggle.

He smirks at you, his eyes never leaving your body. You fight the urge to arrest him right there.

“No worries, gorgeous.” He takes a sip from his own drink as you walk back to Spencer.

You hug him again, and his hands gravitate towards the middle of your back. “Is Raeken looking?”

Spencer nods.

“Okay, good. Sorry about this in advance.”

That’s when you lean in to kiss him and you lightly push down on his arms. Luckily, Spencer gets the idea and moves his hands to your backside and squeezes. He relishes in the taste of your mouth and the sound of your moan, until you break the kiss.

He has to remind himself how to breathe when you ask him if he wants to get out of there, just loud enough for Adam to hear. You wink at Adam as you walk past him, anticipating him to follow you as you lead Spencer to the club’s exit.

“Hotch, he’s leaving with Reid and (Y/L/N).”

“Start to make your way towards the exit, we’ll catch him outside.”

Some officers stay inside, while the rest of your team is following you three out.

Outside, you’re surrounded by police cars to ensure the serial killer’s capture, who was just a few seconds behind you and Spencer. You quickly throw on some vests you were handed and pull out your gun.

Adam walks out of the club and the look on his face is priceless.

“Adam Raeken, freeze!”

He tries to make a run for it back into the club, but your team is already blocking the entrance, guns pointed straight at him.

In a matter of minutes, Adam is cuffed, being read his Miranda rights, and in the back of a cop car.

Before heading back to the LA precinct, you want to talk with Spencer.

“Hey Spence,” you pull him to the side, “can we talk really quick?”

“Of course, (Y/N).”

You walk away from the crowd of law enforcement and onlookers leaving the club.

“Listen, about the kiss and everything I said at the bar, I’m sorry again for springing that on you. It was completely unprofessional of me and unfair to you.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “No uhh, don’t worry. I’m sorry about what I said at the bar too, but the kiss thing was okay, really, I enjoyed it.”

You giggle and he immediately realizes what he said.

“Wait I didn’t mean that - I mean - Not that I didn’t enjoy it, because to be honest, I did and -“

He’s surprised by the feeling of your lips on his, and he’s already kissing you back before he brain can even process it.

You pull back with a small smile on your face. “Spencer, I like you too.”

He sighs in relief, “Oh good, if not this would’ve been awkward.”

“Totally,” you laugh in agreement, “but um, since the case is over, do you maybe wanna get a cup of coffee or something when we get back?”

“I’d like that, yeah.”

“Okay, great! I guess we can-“

“Hey, Romeo! Juliet!”

Your’s and Spencer’s heads whip to the direction of the voice, belonging to a very smug Derek Morgan.

“You two done over there? Because we’ve got a case to wrap up and a plane home to catch!”

You yell back, “In a minute!”

Spencer’s yelling, “Alright! We’ll be right there!” at the same time.

“We can talk more about this,” you gesture between the two of you with your hands with a grin, “later.”

You’re both wearing smiles on your faces as you walk shoulder-to-shoulder, back to your team, trying not to think about the numerous questions they’re about to ask.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg imagine #alexis writes #dr spencer reid #reid x reader

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

how easy you are to need

the wench and the witcher

“how easy you are to need”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader

Summary: Geralt gives in to his baser instincts.

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY/smuuut - kitchen fuckery, Geralt of Rivia has a smutty mind/dirty mouth. 

A/N: I’m back on my bullshit (not that I was ever off it idk) and this got steamy, if I do say so myself. Heavily influenced by “It Will Come Back” by Hozier, which is honestly the sexiest love song I’ve ever heard. Seriously, y’all, I have a giant playlist of ALL Hozier shit and I’m basically just writing my way through. If it’s not dirty, it’s fluff. Most of it’s dirty, lbr. Enjoy, my little chickens!

@coconutxraikage​ ; @onyour-right​ ; @kingniazx​

Don’t let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ - don’t be kind to me Honey don’t feed me, I will come back 

You are… kind-hearted.

Not naïve, never naïve – kind. He suspects it has to do with what you do for a living. Part of your job at the tavern is to provide for people. You give them food when they’re hungry, drink when they’re thirsty. Geralt knows you’ve even provided lodging, in spite of not having the space for it. You give a shit about the people who walk through your door, be they regular customers or the stranger just looking for a watering hole. It makes you under-estimated, that kind heart of yours; people expect you to be easily bullied, but that is a mistake they only ever make once.

He’s watched you break a man’s jaw. Definitely not easily bullied.

But always kind. Good.

He watches you talk animatedly with a family and their small children, pouring ale for mother and father. You crouch when the youngest boy tugs at your skirt, tip your ear to his tiny mouth. Whatever he’s said makes you laugh, hard, and the motion of tipping your head back sends your dark curls tumbling over one shoulder. You catch him staring and flash a smile, dragging your teeth over your full lower lip.

That smile makes something hot and desperate settle in his gut.

Always kind. Good.

Makes him feel like more of a beast for wanting you the way he does.

It’s inexplicable and a little disturbing, but when he sees you, laughing like that, smile pulling at your lovely mouth all he can think of is the way that mouth looks around his cock. He thinks of the way you hum around him, staring up with fathomless eyes from your knees; how you moan when he tugs at your hair. It’s base and it’s filthy, and you love it. You’ve never been coy or shy with him – not unless you’re doing it on purpose. He might even call you brazen.

He sees your eyes darken with desire from across the room, as if you can guess his thoughts.

Every time you pass to fill his mug, there’s an extra swing in your hips. Your fingertips linger on his wrist.

Geralt feels something rattle in his chest, feral and vicious. Mine, it snarls.

He finds you in the kitchen at the end of the night, after the tavern is empty and the door has been barred. You’ve tied your curls up, giving him the long line of your neck. You smell of honey and sweet herbs, as always, when he noses against your hairline and crowds you up against the washbasin. Pressing his chest tight along your back, he breathes in deep and exhales on a low rumble. You shiver against him, skin brown and shimmery in the low light of the kitchen fire. Delicious.

“Geralt,” you sigh his name, turning your face towards his for a kiss and he obliges with a pleased hum.

It’s slow. Lazy. He keeps one arm barred across your middle to keep you trapped against him. The other moves freely, fingers stroking and groping. He manages to unlace the top of your bodice and slips his hand inside – finds your nipples in stiff peaks against his fingertips. You whine into his mouth as he toys with you, pulling and plucking.

The thing, the creature in him growls. He bites at your lower lip – you shudder.

Gods, he can smell you. The hand at your breast changes course, extricates itself from the front of your dress to slide down your torso. Gathering your skirts is a little more work one-handed, but he’s pleased at what he finds once he gets there. You’re slippery-wet, swollen, and hot between your legs. He groans at the feel of you, dragging the pads of his fingertips back and forth while you writhe in his grip. One of your hands slams palm down on the counter in front of you; the other reaches up, fisting in the hair at the base of his skull. He relinquishes his claim on your mouth so you can gasp for breath.

Gasp his name.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rumbles into your neck, scraps his teeth. Bites down – marks his territory. “This is all for me, isn’t it?”

You keen, low and agonized, and he’s so hard that it hurts. “Yes - Geralt,” you whine – sob – and tug at his hair. “Geralt, please…”

Fuck.

He unlaces the front of his breeches in record time, lines up, and thrusts home. You clutch around him, so blisteringly hot that any coherent thought is burned clean of his brain. He hears your broken, gasping cry and that’s all the encouragement he needs. Slowly, so very slowly, he pulls back to feel you tremble against him before pushing forward with a single rough snap of his hips. The sound you make is just fucking heavenly, raw and desperate. One of your hands finds his forearm – he feels the pinprick of your blunt nails on his skin.

“Harder,” you plead with him.

He obliges. Deep, slow, unforgiving thrusts that send pleasure hammering up and down his spine as you keen and beg. Your scent fills his nose and his lungs, he feels drunk with it, panting roughly against the back of your neck with each steady push. Sweat beads at your hairline, slips its way down the back of your neck; he follows with his lips and tongue. The hand you have gripped in his hair tightens and Geralt slams his eyes shut with a grunt.

It’s the sweetest, filthiest thing he can imagine, listening to you cry out for him when he takes you like this. Feels like devouring something lovely and clean, corrupting it just a little. Just enough. You sigh when he grips bruises into your hips, you moan when he bites at your neck – you don’t mind when he lets his devils off the leash a little. It’s almost like you relish in it.

You come noisily, shouting his name as you fall headlong over the edge and drag him into oblivion with you. He feels you shudder when he steps back, slips himself from your trembling body; it makes him grin. A light tug on your hip and you turn to face him. You smile up at him, swollen-lipped and bright eyed and wrecked.

Not wrecked enough. Gods, but he feels himself stir again – the beast has not been sated, not in the slightest.

“Leave the wash up for later,” he murmurs. He grips your waist, pulling you into him so he can bite a new bruise onto the side of your neck. “I’m not done with you yet, little rabbit…”

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x woc reader #the witcher netflix #geralt x poc!reader #fanfiction #fanfic #welcome to the sin bin #tutu scribbles #the wench and the witcher

[katierosefun]

author interview tag game

thank you for the tag, @pandora15! <3

Name: caroline

Fandoms: mostly the clone wars, but i also have some marvel stuff, and waaay back in the day, i wrote some doctor who and merlin stuff!

Where you post: primarily on ao3! i mostly just write on tumblr when i’m accepting prompts from like...ask games or something.

Most Popular Oneshot: real

Most Popular Multichap: to these memories (this fic only recently hit 1k kudos, and my heart?? w h a t)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: def. to these memories because a) longest fic i’ve ever written, and b) oh, the hours i logged into writing this fic, and c) oh, the outlining that went into this fic...i’m very proud of myself for completing the fic, and of course, i credit this to everyone who showed their lovely support for the story. :’)

Fic You Were Nervous to Post: uhhh definitely too far just because it’s...rather personal. i sometimes say that there’ll be a scene or two or just straight up a line or two that’s plucked out of my real life, and i think it’s inevitable for writers of any kind, including fic writers, to isolate their real lives completely from whatever they’re writing, and?? this fic is probably the most personal for me because of that. i remember kinda hem-hawwing about posting it, because i was like whoa, maybe this is a little too personal? but then i steeled myself and was like, “okay, well, would this have lifted my spirits when i needed a story like this??” and then decided to post it.

How you choose your titles: i def. toss and turn between titles! there’s a few fics of mine that are straight-up song lyrics (no surprise there), but to my surprise (as i was looking through my catalogue of fics just now), i realize that a lot of my fics are usually just words or two about what i think might have been extremely important to the story. (or captures the overall tone/theme of the story, anyways.)

Do you outline? for multi-chapter fics and relatively long one-shots with lots of moving parts, i’ll outline. but for shorter one-shots and prompts, i’ll usually just stick with the image that compelled me to write the prompt/one-shot in the first place! (and then kinda write around that.)

Complete: uhhhhh, i’m gonna answer relatively for all my clone wars fics, because in total, i have 74 completed fics. (make that...75, hopefully in a few minutes or hours!) but out of clone wars fics, i have 46 completed fics! (and again, hopefully 47 in a little while.) a part of me is lowkey hoping that i’ll get up to 100 total fics by the end of this year. a part of me highly doubts it, but given how much i was able to write over summer break, i’m...intruiged if i wind up somehow writing another twenty or so fics by the end of this year. (asfsf my wip list is long enough to fill in for another twenty fics. caroline finish all your wips challenge.)

In Progress: okay, so officially, time, wondrous time is in progress and online. but in terms of the works in progress on my laptop...i have...*mutters, counting* fourteen official wips. (ten of them are one-shots, and the other four are longform fics. one of them, i’m hoping to release next week (!!!), and another, i’m hoping to release hopefully around mid-december. uhhh so fingers crossed??)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: oops, i guess i kinda already answered that question, but eh, might as well! the one coming out next week (hopefully!! caroline get your shit together challenge!!) is titled most ardently, and it’s an obitine au based off pride & prejudice because i cannot and will not shut up about obitine being the period drama ship out of star wars okay--

and then the other longform fic that is very overdue is called getting lost in a big galaxy, which is a fix-it of sorts taking place after season 5. anakin’s gone missing, and obi-wan winds up going on a galaxy-ride road trip with ahsoka (who, remember, has left the order) to find their idiot. this is honestly my excuse to just write more obi-wan and ahsoka content. hopefully, that’ll be posted in december!! (despite the fact i...originally meant to post it in august oOps.)

and then there’s this other longform fic which...might be coming in early 2021 called red, underlined, which is essentially...uh. everyone’s a stressed out law-school student, and anakin might have accidentally murdered professor palpatine, and now anakin, obi-wan, ahsoka, padme, and rex are all trying to find out what the hell to do with themselves because they’re all in on it. (def. influenced by how to get away with murder except without the criminal justice professor to lead them through the ropes. so more chaos. kind of a dark comedy vibe, if anything else? anakin no is major theme in this one. uh, i mean, maybe anakin was justified in murdering creep palpatine because our gang’s gonna find out what was going on in the background, but either way! lots of “holy shit are we good people are we bad people what are we doing”. lots of questions about morality! ethics! law school student study nights with anakin sprawled out on the floor and obi-wan wearing glasses (which he pushes up the bridge of his nose whenever he’s about to lecture anakin that no, that’s not how that statute works, dumbass) and ahsoka just bringing snacks and rex catching paper airplanes and padme being the one to supply everyone with very neat flashcards. this fic is gonna be an absolute beheamoth, and i’m estimating about 45 chapters? like...130K+ words? help? yeah idk either this really blew up in my head

and then...this stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job, which is...office x tcw au. only not? it’s very, very loosely based off the office, but not really. obi-wan moves in as a new manager of a company, and we’ve got anakin being like “lol new guy i’m gonna mess with him”, and ahsoka being the one who’s both like “please don’t mess with our new boss” but also being like “actually, wait, lemme help”, rex being in hr and being like “i don’t get paid enough for this”. (also there’s some parts that are written like actual interviews like you would find in the office, so there’s this one bit where uhhh

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to the cameras in silent question before turning back to Ahsoka. “Well, if you need to call maintenance, then I hardly think you need my permission—”

“Thanks!” Ahsoka says quickly, and she’s about to disappear from the doorway when Obi-Wan stands up.

“Wait, Ahsoka, what exactly—”

Ahsoka re-appears at the doorway. “Oh, right,” she says. “Um—maybe just stay away from the men’s bathroom for a little bit.” She pauses.

“Actually, just stay away from them for the rest of the day.” She hovers by the door for a minute longer, and then she adds quickly, “And maybe also avoid the breakroom. Everything’s fine!”

And with a perfectly not-fine smile, Ahsoka disappears from the doorway.

Obi-Wan stares at where Ahsoka was just a moment ago, and the he turns to the cameras in disbelief. “Did she just—” Unable to finish his own sentence, Obi-Wan starts out the door. “Ahsoka?”

The camera follows Obi-Wan out of the conference room and into the breakroom. There are only muffled shouts—Anakin’s shouts, and then Rex’s, and then Ahsoka’s frantic “no, sorry, everything’s fine!”, and then Obi-Wan’s loud, “What is going on in here?”

surprise y’all just got a snippet i’m sorry can you tell i’m weirdly into this au?? i need to rewrite some scenes but uh there you go

Prompts: for the most part, yes! i have some stuff in my faq about prompts that i’ll probably turn down (mostly anything that’s...above a certain rating/really, realy heavy themes that i just don’t think i can tackle with justice or with enough education on my end). i can be a little slow with prompts, but i’ll get to all of them in time!

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: uhhhh i have too many that i’m excited about. literally i can write a mini essay on every single one of the fics i’m working on? but uhhh i guess since i already talked about all my major longform fics above (asdfasdfsd didn’t mean to do that, i’m so sorry for everyone who had to scroll past that word-vomit), i guess the one i’m most excited about releasing is the post season 7 obi-wan-and-ahsoka-finally-talk-about-how-they-miss-each-other-also-sorry-for-fighting-with-you-i-know-you-were-just-trying-your-best fic. (not a whole ton of spoilers for this one, but uh. i’m looking at some of these scenes and making frustrated sounds because there’s this one particular instance where i’m like, ahsoka. ahsoka just talk to him just ta lk to him but then lol no talking :)) also maybe some h/c? lowkey sickfic might be involved in this somehow? might have accidentally served as a precursor to to these memories? help? this fic just ballooned. caroline keep your ideas contained challenge!)

No Pressure Tags: @lightasthesun @soplantyourownflowers @ohhellokenobiand anyone else who wants to join!

#tag game #thank you!! #caroline.....control your wips challenge #also i am so sorry this got sO long and SO OUT OF HAND #also....lol caroline stop writing so many longform fic challenge #i really love writing one-shots #i really really love writing one shots #but like also. also there's a part of me that's like 'im gonna hyperfixate on this au sO HARD' #thankfully tho i think those are all the longform wips #there's also that one time travel fix it longform fic i have in the back of my head.... #but lol i still haven't outlined it yet

[codenamesazanka]

Geten (Part 2)

(Part 1)

Specifically, focusing Geten in Chapter 271/during this current ‘War’ arc:

Look at his face! Bloodshot eyes and a vein about to pop. Geten’s ferociously  livid and about to slaughter some Heroes. (also I wanna point out that they’re actually addressing him as ‘Geten-sama’ still.)

In the Paranormal Liberation Front, Geten serves as one of the nine Lieutenants, and with Dabi, they lead the the ‘Violet’ Vanguard Action Guerilla Warfare Regiment.

It’s a mouthful! Dictionary.com defines ‘guerilla warfare’ as: “the use of hit-and-run tactics by small, mobile groups of irregular forces operating in territory controlled by a hostile, regular force.” 

We’re aren’t told exactly what the Violet Regiment does, but I’m guessing they’re sort of first attacking force of the army - on the offensive; aiming at weak spots and key areas of Hero society; being quick, brutal, and unexpected to cause as much damage (to infrastructure, morale, personnel, etc) as possible to the Heroes. 

Which makes sense! Dabi’s fire can destroy a good part of a city, as can Geten’s ice. 

Making the two of them leaders, though. Well, it’s as one of the MLA member Sanctum said to Twice, they’re kinda figureheads handed their position (it’s true of the whole League save Shigaraki, really) - true for Dabi, definitely; and it seems true for Geten too, although he at least had some history of being a superior in the army. Still. 

Geten as a commander 

Despite being “central to the Liberation Army’s success” and being greatly respected, Geten never was given any leadership position that we knew of during My Villain Academia. 

It’s probably because he’s shit at caring about his fellow warriors. Mr. Compress notes this in Chapter 230. 

His massive ice attacks are indiscriminate, destroying whole streets and anyone unlucky enough to be there, friends and foe alike. It doesn’t seem to be calculated sacrifice for a larger goal - Geten is simply callous and reckless.

He’s still the same about three months later, despite having a regiment under his responsibility and in the middle of a battle where the army probably should keep as many of their numbers as possible. 

Here’s him essentially destroying what’s left of the mansion, tossing everyone - allies and heroes - into the air; and interrupting Dabi’s attack that would have at least taken out the Number 2 Hero. 

The irresponsibility extends off the battlefield - here’s Geten missing from a PLF meeting:

(Even Gigantomachia is there! idk, maybe he forced his way in and no one can make him leave, and I’m not quite sure the significance of this, but it says something that Machia is attending and Geten is just not.) 

So it’s safe to say he isn’t very leadership material; he doesn’t know or ignores what leadership entails, and if he keeps up his preferred method of destructive attacks, he’s not going to have anything to lead either. 

He does know how to “command” at least somewhat, however - or that’s what I think is implied in Chapter 271.

Breakout 

(Same image as above, except Viz translation + another panel)

Who could forget this awesome scene? Geten doing a signature ice explosion, wrecking everything - and there he is, on the battlefield, attention all on him, calling the Heroes “dogs of the state” and telling them they will not die peaceful deaths. Damn. He has correctly assessed the situation! He’s giving orders! Got a strategy! 

A sound strategy - and an actual one discussed in real military tactics: concentrate combat power on one location and rupture the enemy line. 

(info I found through googling here, here, and here.)

An encircled force attacks by using the rupture force to penetrate the enemy defensive positions in at least one location. The commander must produce overwhelming combat power at each breakout point... 

...The mission [is] to penetrate the enemy's encircling position, widen the gap, and hold the shoulders of the gap until all other encircled forces can move through.

It’s simplified here, and it’s kinda obvious, but it’s still exactly what one should do when they’re in a siege-like situation, i.e. surrounded, all routes, communication and reinforcement blocked and cut off. 

I’ve half-joked about him being dumb and maybe illiterate because he bragged about not going to school, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t taught things and given an education. (Like Shigaraki!) He’s obviously learned some military tactics and commanding along with his quirk training.

So yeah, Geten is doing everything right. 

The prospect of such a grouping of forces, placed in a confusing and desperate situation, makes unity of command and unity of effort absolutely essential. The most senior combat arms officer must establish his authority immediately. 

Especially in rallying the troops. It could be coincidental, he’s just angry and shouting at his soldiers to do finally something right; yet he’s still done it. 

And Geten does it alongside another action: he removes his hood. 

In a meta sense, it’s likely to establish Geten as a character - he’s not a faceless mook, he’s not creepy ‘two glowing eyes in darkness’ enemy; he’s a character with a name and a (very pretty) face, that we can relate to and maybe even like. (That he mentions Re-Destro, the only person we know he cares about, and shows protectiveness/concern, adds to that.) He’s portrayed here in a way to make him badass, in a defining moment where the PLF gains some control of the situation, for us to cheer on. 

In-story though, the reason is more unclear? to me, anyways. During his battle with Dabi, he never removed his hood then. Here, is it to literally face the Heroes, to show that he doesn’t care if his face is known, to go head to head with them? Is it to show his men that he’s here, let the sight of his pretty face re-energize them, he’s at the frontlines fighting too? His quirk makes it obvious who he is, he needn’t show his face. 

Despite his disregard for other soldiers of the army, I’ve got a feeling that this is some sort of symbolic gesture to motivate them. Get their attention, establish his authority, finally be a bit of a leader. Cuz, man, the situation really calls for it. 

The Ice

When the attack began, we see Geten running towards the frontlines (chapter 263):

(tiny note: Dabi is heading the opposite direction from everyone - going to help out Twice - but Geten, his co-leader, doesn’t pay attention to him at all. No ‘where the fuck are you goin’, nothing. Feel like they would’ve noticed each other, but no interaction here.) 

From what we can see, Geten doesn’t show up until Chapter 271, a length of time enough to have Hawks confront Twice, Dabi intervene, Hawks kills Twice, Dabi fanboys Stain, Tokoyami to the rescue, and a little more. Let’s say... 15, 20 minutes? 

So he’s missing from the frontlines at the start of the battle - I say he was probably trying to generate an absurd amount of ice during that time. This villa probably has a kitchen with some ice, but not enough. I’m guessing Geten went to find a water source (multiple of water sources?), froze it all, in preparation for the ice explosion. In preparation for him to create a battlefield to his advantage.

So it looks the ice has engulfed the mansion, going up several stories, as well as spreading out to the mansion’s surroundings. A bunch of people are surrounded by ice - like Gang Orca there, right next to a wall of it. 

We know Geten has fine enough skill to shape ice to whatever he wants, and his range of control (and sense?) is massive. Whoever is standing on or is close to the ice - they’re in Geten’s territory, he controls the very ground they’re standing on. 

Go get ‘em, Geten. 

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Part 3 is next! Will be focusing on Geten’s relationship with ReDestro, and other miscellaneous details. Feel free to suggest anything too.  

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I could very much be over-estimating Geten’s intelligence! So don’t my word here too much. I’m sure there are a couple reaches here to. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! 

Note: a friend pointed out a reach in Part 1, which will be edited:

I think the fact that [Geten] targeted Dabi as his opponent, despite the obvious weakness his ice has to Dabi’s high-temperature flames, means he was looking for a challenge. Trying to show off, trying to prove that he can go up against his greatest enemy (as in, heat and fire) and come out on top.

It’s more likely that ReDestro had assigned Geten on the Dabi-hunt, given the panel from Chapter 238 where ReDestro is telling Geten to be wary of Dabi’s long-range flames. If there was any strategy to having Geten target Dabi, it could’ve been the general plan, rather than Geten’s own thing. 

thanks for reading! 

#Geten #Aprocrypha #Meta Liberation Army #Paranormal Liberation Front #My Hero Academia #HeroAca #Boku no Hero Academia #bnha #mha #nalslastworkingbraincell #Chapter 271 #MLA #PLF #this took forever #oh my god #mostly because I was lazy and procrastinated #but here it is!!!! #everything here my interpretation