#but i don’t want to rush things with losing my religion so i want to keep practicing with small one shots

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s my Religion- Part 3: Everyone Wants to Have Their Taste (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- You and Astarion don’t see eye to eye about him ascending. Cazador kidnaps you to lure Astarion to the palace. Astarion realizes that more powerful vampires may not be capable of love.

CW: Violence, non-descriptive mentions of gore, mentions of SA, threats of SA, mentions of suicidal ideation

I feel so gross cause I made myself sob while editing this.

*picture belongs to @clowndroids

It had quite literally only been two hours since Pale Petras had kidnapped you. You were having a drink with Karlach after your fight with Astarion.

Astarion finally broke you and you gave your opinion on the Rite of Profane Ascension- he was not thrilled with your opinion to say the least.

“Astarion! I don’t even want to marry a fucking Master Vampire!” You had screamed after he had gotten pissed at you for saying you didn’t think he should ascend, “not only that- I will lose you entirely. You will no longer be anything, but fucking Mephistopheles’ vessel to what he pleases with! I can’t be with you if… if you ascend- I can’t sit back and let you torture me for eternity or watch you fade away.”

“Well-I guess we’re done then.”

You had watched him walk off miserably- your heart shattered into a million pieces. Karlach consoled you at the bar.

You should have tried to be calmer, maybe it wouldn’t have resulted in a break up.

You had begun to not feel well so you went back to your shared room with Astarion.

Astarion was out hunting so that he could be at his best for the fight with Cazador tomorrow- that gives you plenty of time to move your stuff into another room.

You are sniffling as another uncomfortable wave of nausea and exhaustion overwhelms you and then you collapse. You hear footsteps walking towards you- hoping it might be someone friendly. You thought how incredibly inconvenient timing it would be if the Cult of the Absolute was coming to kidnap you.

Except it wasn’t an Absolute Cultist or a friendly face- it had been Pale fucking Petras.

You woke up in what you assume is the Kennels- Cazador leering down at you like he’d caught you doing something you weren’t supposed to do.

Oh and you had. You had given yourself to Astarion- let yourself be “ruined.”

Every lash of the flail against your bare skin feels even more numb and painful than the last- you are barely conscious by the time Cazador decides he’s done and you are “purified”.

“What a shame- I would have liked your skin to remain porcelain and perfect before we have to consummate our marriage,” Cazador feigns sadness, “but I do suppose you have time to heal- a few hours, give or take. Dalyria- please help my beautiful, crimson colored bride clean up a little bit, leave the majority of the blood- it smells delectable.”

Cazador begins to leave and then turns around to say one last thing, “And do get her into her wedding dress. I have a homecoming to prepare for my prodigal son and I’m sure he’d love to wish us eternal happiness, my Love.”

The smile he gave you made your entire body shake with fear. He kidnapped you to force Astarion’s hand. You hope that Astarion stays out all night like he occasionally does when he hunts pissed off.

You would much rather he be prepared to fight and feel confident than rush head first into a battle because you are in danger. Or worse- maybe he wouldn’t care at all. He did break up with you.

You know the consequences if Astarion doesn’t show up quickly- Cazador is going to marry you, violate you, and then turn you into his spawn. Cazador told you that, by the time he is done completing the ritual, you should be ready to be his obedient consort.

Astarion would die knowing you were damned to an eternity of suffering at Cazador’s hands- whether he got there in time or not was inconsequential to Cazador- either would make Astarion crumble (despite telling him that he had quite literally dumped you not even an hour or two earlier).

You asked him how stupid he is considering he revealed his whole plan to you before you had even been there 30 minutes (he knows about the tadpole)- he bashed your head into the wall two times. Hard.

“Better?” He had said, roughly grabbing your hair and making you look up at him.

You listen for his footsteps and hold back the painful, strained sobs that rattle your broken rib cage. Your head is throbbing and your body is aching- every piece of skin cut up in some way or another besides your face. That needed to be “protected” according to Cazador.

You don’t remember when Dalyria gently helped you up off the ground and provided you with awkward, but soothing words. You cried as she began getting you ready for your impending doom. She washed your hair with care and despite what Cazador said, she made sure the majority of your blood was cleaned up and the wounds were safe from infection.

“He’ll get here in time,” Dalyria whispers, “Astarion won’t let this happen to you- he adores you far too much.”

“Doubtful,” You sniff, “and anyway, I don’t want him to make any rash decisions.”

“Right now, Tav?” Dalyria looks at you with sorrow, putting makeup on your cheeks “rash decisions is what is going to save you.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion is nervous while heading back to Elfsong Tavern- he had a bear for his meal and he is eager to see you. While he was out hunting, he realized that you had a lot of very valid points. In what world could he ask you to become his thrall when Astarion knows how Spawns suffer at the hands of their master’s. The other point that stuck with him was when you said you would lose him. Astarion can acknowledge those points- he is sure he can even reassure you. Cazador never let anyone touch you nor did he ever lay a finger on you- not all Vampire Lords are evil and abusive. Astarion will be wonderful to you.

Except, when he gets to your shared room to talk- you are gone and the only evidence of you being there is a blood stain on the floor and your supplies scattered every which way.

Astarion is frozen and he runs to Karlach and Shadowheart’s room- hoping you are maybe there and just had a minor cut that needed healing. Karlach informs him you had gone back to your shared room when you stopped feeling well.

Once all the pieces were put together- everyone was sprinting out the door towards the Crimson Palace. It had been two whole hours since anyone last saw you. Astarion can’t imagine that Cazador would actually hurt you- he’s too possessive of you.

Astarion feels sick to his stomach, enraged, and terrified all at the same time.

Astarion isn’t sure he believes in any of the Gods, but he is begging to any that will listen to him that you are okay- unharmed.

************************************

Cazador holding you up by your hair, tears streaming down your face in a blood stained revealing white wedding dress is an image that will forever be burnt into Astarion’s brain. Cazador has mutilated your skin.

Astarion and your other companions had ran in right as Cazador was cutting into you again- yelling at Dalyria that she did this to you, if she had just listened and not cleaned up the blood like he had said- he wouldn’t have needed more for the dress.

When Cazador notices Astarion, he gives him a chilling grin.

“I told you that he would come for you, Pet,” Cazador cooed, a broken sob escapes your lips, “it was so cute, boy. ‘Just use me for your ritual, I’ll take his place, don’t hurt him-“

You whimper as Cazador licks the blood running from one of the cuts on your collar bones- nipping at the skin painfully. Astarion is going to rip the bastard apart, limb by limb.

“My favorite though,” Cazador maliciously states, “is when she told me how you left her and that you wouldn’t come for her. I’ve never been so thrilled to see someone so heartbroken over the life and love of a pathetic creature such as yourself. I’m not worried though,” Cazador places kisses along your neck and Astarion watches as another wave of sobs racks your body, “I’ll pleasure myself with her body until she starts screaming my name instead of yours.”

Astarion is seething as another pained scream leaves your mouth as Cazador gives you one last deep cut on your right side- dropping your weak, shaking body to the ground. The smell of your blood and fear is overwhelming.

Astarion barely remembers the battle- he remembers Wyll pulling him out of the ritual and then killing every creature that dared try to keep him from you.

Cazador is still looming over you- occasionally digging his staff into your side and Astarion gets angrier with every wheezing cry he hears. You are trying so hard to fight back- clawing, kicking, and punching. You are throwing cantrips as Cazador continues to throw you around.

Cazador goes to hit you again, but his swing is interrupted by Astarion stabbing his dagger straight through the Vampire Lord’s wrist- the staff landing with a clatter.

Astarion is all daggers and nails- his rage towards Cazador coming out in a frightening display of bloodlust. Cazador is barely visible under all the blood Astarion as drawn, but the man still teleports to his coffin.

Astarion charges towards the coffin- he’s not done yet. Astarion wants the man to suffer for everything he’s done to him, to the countless lives he forced Astarion to ruin, and you- your freedom and guaranteed safety. He’ll be killing Bridril Von next.

Astarion pushes the lid off of Cazador’s coffin.

“No, no. No healing sleep for you,” he pulls the Vampire Lord out of his coffin, “Wake up!”

Astarion flings the man with so much force he slides across the floor. Cazador gets onto his knees and looks at Astarion with pure loathing and disgust.

“Get your hands off me, worm.”

“Ha! I’m not the one in the dirt,” Astarion says with a sneer.

Astarion picks up the knife nearby and looks at Cazador, “one last thrust and I’ll be free of you. I’ll never have to fear you again.”

Astarion cocks his head to the side, “but, if I finish the ritual you started, I’ll never have to fear anyone, ever.”

“You think me a fool? That I would allow anyone to usurp me, speak the words and ascend in my place?”

Cazador cackles before continuing, “The runes I carved into your flesh bind you and all seven thousand souls to the ritual. Complete it, and all those bearing the scares will be sacrificed- you included.”

Astarion’s face contorts as Cazador smiles, “ you are simply a means to an end. I made you to be consumed.”

“I am so much more than what you made me,” Astarion retorts.

His whole body is shaking with anticipation- Astarion will finally end this man’s life. Astarion will have pow-

The pull of the Ascension is disrupted by Shadowheart screaming for Halsin to come and help- you’ve lost a lot of blood and she thinks you may be poisoned to some extent as well. You aren’t talking and you are motionless on the ground. You are looking at him though, tears rolling down your face.

Your affection for him warms his body as he enters your mind through the tadpole. You are barley conscious enough to notice the invasion of privacy.

Without the pull of the ascension, Astarion is unsure of his next move. He needs to know what to do, he doesn’t know and he needs your help.

Astarion’s body is then filled quickly with an intense suffocating grief. He is watching memories of the two of you together run through your mind as if you are having your own silent funeral for him. Astarion hasn’t seen himself in 200 years, but seeing him from your point of view- a loving, grieving point of view- takes all the wind out of his sails. Astarion is beautiful, but your affections towards him make him even more so. Together reading books, making love, joking, playing games- it’s all there in a nice warm little box that is slowly turning blue.

There is a finality in your head that eats him alive. There is acceptance and happiness for him- Gods all you have ever wanted was for him to be happy- but you are screaming and crying on the inside for your lost love. Aching and all alone- wishing Cazador would have just killed you and hoping there is a possibility they won’t be able to save you in time so you don’t have to watch him become Mephistopheles’ puppet- now or in the future.

Astarion feels tears stream down his face as your eyes begin to close. Your breathes are getting more shallow and he feels you give up- unable to continue with this life all alone. You’ve lost everyone now.

Goodbye, my Star. I should have told you I love you.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion x female reader #astarion x f! reader

[giyuji]

୭̥⋆*｡ RULES!

PLEASE READ all rules surrounding interactions, my writing and sending requests before sending any of the above, thank you!

INTERACTING. . .

༄ i write for aged-up characters outside their canon storyline. if this isn't your cup of tea, or if you feel that's not correct, then that's totally valid. except this blog isn't for you, then. simply remove yourself from my blog and go on with your day. unwanted comments will be blocked <3 i don't have time nor want for those.

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WRITING & REQUESTING. . .

༄ different fics i'm open to writing: headcanons, most to least likely, smaus, drabbles, one-shots, multi-parts & series. note that series and multi-parts cannot be requested. these will only be done if i myself feel like it.

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༄ remain patient and respectful when requesting. this is still my blog, and i do this for free & bc i find it fun. as soon as im rushed to write, i will no longer find it fun and will lose the motivation to do so. you will only be waiting longer.

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#writing guidelines. #rules. #if you don't follow these and send a request without reading them i'll ignore it #it won't be written & i won't respond to it #overstepping my boundaries multiple times will result in being blocked

[bryantshea14]

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[healingtheworldwithboburnham]

Ineffable Husbands x Taylor Swift (pt 4)

Crowley and Aziraphale to Reputation and Lover, the sluttiest and most anxiety-ridden albums.

Don’t Blame Me - “Echoes of your name inside my mind; halo, hiding my obsession, I once was poison ivy, but now I’m your daisy. And baby, for you, I would fall from grace, just to touch your face. If you walk away, I’d beg you on my knees to stay.” [IS THIS CROWLEY IN THE BEGINNING OR AZIRAPHALE IN SEASON 3]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied - “Yeah, we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied. Yeah, we were dancing, and I had a bad feeling, but we were dancing. I’d kiss you as the lights went out. Swaying as the room burned down. I’d hold you as the water rushes in.”

New Year’s Day - “Hold on to the memories they will hold on to you. I will hold on to you. Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.” [oops i hurt myself]

Cruel Summer - “Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes [too perfect not to include lol], what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more… I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar [pub], said I’m fine but it wasn’t true. I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you, and I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate. I scream for whatever it’s worth, I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard? He looks up grinning like the devil.” [Aziraphale as Taylor, Crowley as Devilish Grinner]

The Archer - “Help me hold on to you. I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey. Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?” [it’s feeling very Crowley after Aziraphale chooses heaven; and WHEN EVERYTHING IS RESOLVED THEN IT GETS TO “you could stay.”]

Paper Rings - “I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings [material girl Crowley]. Uh huh, that’s right, darling, you’re the one I want. And I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.”

Cornelia Street - [whatever their street is called] “And baby, I’m so terrified of if you ever walk away, I’d never walk Cornelia Street again. You hold my hand on the street, walk me back to that apartment, years ago, we were just inside. Barefoot in the kitchen [bookstore], sacred new beginnings that became my religion. And I hope I never lose you.”

Death By A Thousand Cuts - “Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts, flashbacks waking me up. I get drunk but it’s not enough ‘cause the morning comes and you’re not my baby. I look through the windows of this love even though we boarded them ip. Chandeliers still flickering here ‘cause I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not.” [God, this whole thing is so S2. I just fucking know Crowley would sob to this while he’s getting drunk but it’s not enough]

London Boy - too accurate not to include

False God - [oh fuck yes] “They all warned us about times like this, when the road gets hard and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith, blind faith. But we might just get away with this, religion’s in your lips even if it’s a false god… I know heaven’s a thing, I go there when you touch me, honey, hell is when I fight with you.” [This is what I need from S3]

#neilgaiman #crowley #aziraphale #taylor swift #reputation #lover #ineffable husbands

[angelholme]

M4M&I — Day 28 : Lost & Found

So this is kind of unusual for me but this post is going to come with a bit of a warning for the topics I am going to stray in to — religion, death and somewhat dark humour about both subjects.

I know I usually just wander into topics that could potentially cause offence without any real thought or any real consideration, but I thought this time I would give it some consideration in advance.

Almost thirty years ago there was a series called “Two point Four children”. It was a sitcom about a family that lived in the suburbs and was generally not about anything in particular.

Now since it is thirty years since it was on the air, I have forgotten most of the details of most of the episodes, but there was one particular episode and one particular joke that has always stuck with me.

The family is supposed to be going to Rona’s wedding when they find David collapsed in his room. He is rushed to the hospital and then the admitting doctor — who was played by the guy who played Billy Boswell in Bread — tells them that they’ve lost their son.

And I have to say, this always cracks me up.

Because Bill, Ben and Jenny (the daughter) all get such horrified and sad looks on their faces, and Doctor Billy immediately follows it up with “No — I mean we’ve literally lost him. We admitted him we sent him off to a ward but now we don’t know where he is”

I have to admit, I have never liked the phrase “lost” for when someone dies — it makes me think that they are just misplaced. It sort of feeds into the idea that there is an afterlife — that someone is lost from this life but you will find them in the next — but that requires you to believe that there will be an afterlife, and that you’ll be reunited with someone who dies when you get to this fictional afterlife.

Don’t get me wrong — I entirely understand why people use metaphors. Why they want to avoid the word and why they want to find as many different words as they can (lost, passed on, passed away, moved on). I think at a push my own personal one is “passed beyond the veil” — but that is just because it is a Harry Potter reference.

And it kind of leads me on to the other half of today’s topic, and the matching joke to the “We lost your son” — one that, as it turns out, is about the same level of darkness……… at least from a certain point of view.

Turns out that there has been at least one advantage to the world wide pandemic sweeping around the globe over the past two years. Due to the massively reduced foot traffic on the street, there have been far fewer of the Evangelical book stands around. And far fewer people knocking on my door wanting to tell me about “The good word” and “the true way”

Which means that over the past two years or so I have had to deal with far fewer people asking me “HAVE YOU FOUND JESUS?” and trying to convince me that their imaginary friend is a) real, b) going to save my soul and c) someone I should make my imaginary friend.

It’s also lead to far fewer people asking me to vote for their preferred political candidate, which is about the same as asking me to vote for the fastest turtle or the tallest dwarf,

But the main bonus is that I am not being bothered by a bunch of people at my door, or being approached by a bunch of people on the street,, who keep asking me the same question, and keep trying to convince me that despite the fact I have spent over thirty five years of my life believing one thing they are the ones who will get me to change my mind.

However the downside is it means I haven’t been able to tell them what I told the last person who tried to convince me to take their imaginary friend as my Lord and Saviour.

“Have you found Jesus?”

“’You’ve lost him? Again? Why are you always losing him? I mean shouldn’t you take more care of someone you think of as your Lord and Saviour? Someone who died for your sins? Have you tried looking behind the sofa? That’s usually where I find something when I lose it. Or I just go out and buy a replacement and then I tend  to find the original. Of course if you just nailed him to a cross like the Pharisees did then you’d always know where to find him — have you considered that, because I think it would be an excellent idea”

#may myself and i #m4m&i #day 28 #lost and found #lost & found

[littlerockerao3]

I want to write another Throbb+their kids one shot, but I just can’t start it if I haven’t found a middle name for their youngest. (I’m weird forgive me)

Like, Arrow’s middle name is Eddard, Aris’ is Alannys, but what about baby Rowan???? Any suggestions?

Also, I’m about to finish the first chapter of the dolphin trainer!theon Throbb au, it’s going to be up in like... an hour? Two tops.

#losing my religion won’t be up until september #acutally i want to keep writing these two days because i won’t be able to for a week #but i don’t want to rush things with losing my religion so i want to keep practicing with small one shots #also hopefully another chapter of head above water will be up by september too because it’s arya’s turn and i wanna write ittttt #okay you don’t care #but please give me name suggestions im going crazy he’s the only one left it’s driving me nuts

[seokjinsdisciple]

forbidden fruit - part one

mark x reader (literally all smut and completely self-indulgent)

mark is the epitome of innocence. pastor’s son and good christian boy. can he be tempted by the forbidden fruit?

UNEDITED

if you see this and you know me. inreal life, no you didn’t 

word count: 3.8k (blame red wine me)

warnings: language, fingering, choking kinda? (mark chokes himself), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, handjob, sub mark, blowjob, mentions of virginity and religion, uh wet dreams, sex toys, probably more lmk what i missed

You had met Mark 3 years ago in your church’s youth group. You never really liked church if you were honest, finding the whole thing rather stupid. However, Mark made coming to church very worth it. He was your age, the pastor’s son and probably the most handsome boy in your small town. 

You spent your high school years pining after the boy. Your hormones were out of control and associating all horniness with his face. A real problem when you had to spend hours with him at church. 

You ran into him one day on your campus your freshman year, his face lighting up as the two of you made small talk. You talked pretty regularly after that, becoming closer than you had been before, and when the two of you moved in together you thought all of your wet dreams were about to come true. 

At least until Mark drunkenly confessed to you one night that he was “like totally a virgin, dude.” 

The two of you were giggling messes, too many bottles of empty soju surrounding where you sat on the floor. Mark’s cheeks were deep red seconds after the words came out of his mouth. 

“Yo, I can’t believe I just said that, omg,” he said, hands covering his face as his ears reddened. 

“It’s ok, Mark,” you giggled, pulling his hands off of his face, “I kinda figured you were.”

You hadn’t, but you didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, and you certainly didn’t want him to stop talking about it. 

“Really?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face, “are you too?”

“No,” you giggled, hands covering your own face now, Mark’s whine ringing out in your mostly empty living room. 

“This-uh,” Mark whispered, “Sorry if this is uh- a weird question and you totally don't have to answer if you don't want to dude, but what did it feel like?”

So you told him, you answered every question he had that night. And when the two of you drunkenly parted ways, it was with a stickiness between your legs and an obvious tent in his pants. And that was the start of your current relationship with Mark.

It had been awkward at first, after that night. But he had started asking you more and more questions. They started off innocently enough, like what kissing felt like. Yeah, he was that innocent. But the questions started getting more and more sexual, and it was getting harder and harder to control yourself around him. 

You found yourself starting off simply at first. Changing what you wore around the house. It began by you wearing shorter and shorter pj bottoms. And then by wearing tops that gradually increased in sheerness, until you started just wearing oversized t-shirts. Losing pieces of underwear as you went.

Yeah, you were trying to seduce him. But who could blame you? Mark was the center of your wet dreams, and he had been so since the start of 8th grade. So who were you to deny his request?

It had been a regular Tuesday, classes attended and dinner shared when a blushing Mark had turned to you on the couch. 

“Something has been happening to me,” he confessed, his bright pink cheeks enough to make you soften. 

“Are you ok?” you had asked, completely convinced that he had never approached any topic like this before with you. 

“It’s just-,” he started, glancing nervously to the clasped hands in his lap, “I’ve been thinking about all the answers you’ve given me about...sex and all that. And well everytime that happens, I get this...heat in my abdomen. And no matter what I can’t make it go away.”

“Mark-,” you breathed out, glancing swiftly down to where, sure enough, there was a tent in his pants, “Are you talking about being horny?”

“I don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered, flushing an (impossibly) deeper shade of pink. 

“Oh sweetheart,” you whispered, “Are you feeling the heat in your abdomen now?”

You smiled gently as he nodded shyly back at you. Encouraging him with your facial expression as you hummed in acknowledgement.

“This is called being horny, Mark.” you spoke, much more calmly and clearly than you thought possible because of the heat tickling your own lower half. “What do you normally do when you feel this way?”

“I-I don’t normally do anything,” Mark admitted, eyes flicking up to yours for just a moment before settling back to his own clasped hands, “I just try to distract myself until it goes away.”

“Oh you poor thing,” you whispered, drawing your hand up to Mark’s face and caressing it gently, “Have you ever made yourself cum, Mark?”

Mark looked up at you again, confusion on his brow as he shook his head, “I don’t know-know what you mean.”

“You’re such a sweet angel,” you said, “Would you like me to show you how you can make it go away?”

Mark’s eyes connected with yours, and finally, they stayed there. He looked deep in thought, but before you could rush to apologize and hurry back to your room, he spoke.

“You can make it go away?” he asked hesitantly, and god did you want to ruin him on the spot. Wrap your lips around him and make him curse the lord he so deeply believed in. But you held back. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him away. 

“I can show you,” you spoke slowly, “if you want me to.”

“I think I might like that,” he whispered, the bob of his adams apple making you grow damp between your thighs. There was just something about Mark that made you insatiably hungry. And not for a meal. 

You scooted closer to him on the couch, ignoring the thumping of your heart and the wetness between your legs as you spoke, “I’m gonna tell you what you need to do. And you’re gonna listen, aren't you, baby?”

Mark’s eyes widened as he gulped, but he still nodded his head. You felt a little bad for how nervous he seemed, considering how excited you were. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, analyzing his face closely. When he nodded you just tutted at him, “I need words, Mark.”

“Yeah,” he spoke, “I really want to do this.”

“Okay,” you smiled gently at him, “I want you to start by letting your hands explore. Touch everywhere, slowly, and find what feels best for you, Mark.”

You watched intently as he slowly brought his hand up to his neck, letting his fingers hesitantly dance across his skin. His eyes shot to yours when he shuddered, unable to stop himself. 

“Is-is that good?” he asked, whining as he dropped his hand to his chest. 

“You’re doing so good, Mark,” you encouraged, hesitantly placing your hand on his thigh, “Is it ok if I touch you like this?”

Mark nodded so quickly you almost laughed, the blush dusting his cheeks almost as cute as the way he squirmed under your grasp. His breathing increased as you crept your fingers slowly up his thigh. You let your hand rest on his hip, splaying your fingers so close to his dick but so far away.

“You’re- you’re making it worse,” he stuttered out, letting out a shocked moan as his fingers brushed over his nipple.

“No, baby,” you smirked at him, “I’m making it better.”

Mark’s cock jumped in his sweats, his blush deepening as he let out another quiet moan, “I- I like it when you call me that.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “I’m glad you like being called baby, it suits you.”

His breath hitched as you dipped a finger beneath the band of his sweats, letting it rest there. You smiled when his hands met yours, grabbing his pants and tugging them off. You almost moaned as his glistening red cock slapped his stomach. He hadn’t been wearing underwear. 

“What do I do now?” he whispered, eyes blown out with lust and hair perfectly tousled. 

You let your finger trail up to where a bead of precum rested on the head of his dick. You watched as his face scrunched in pleasure, breath knocked out of him as you swirled the wetness around the tip. 

“Make sure your hand is wet enough,” you said, spitting into your hand, smirking as Mark’s eyes shot open at the noise, flickering down to where your hand was hovering over his cock. 

You watched as he swallowed, his own fingers curling into the couch as he said, “Will you please touch me now?”

“How could I say no when my baby asks so nicely,” you said, eyes never leaving his face as you finally wrapped a hand around his length. 

Mark was a sight to behold. Sweat glistened on his forehead as you wrapped your hand tightly around his cock. The guttural moan he let out was enough to have you cumming in your pants, but you held strong. Well as strong as you could as he clung onto your form. You dragged your hand slowly up his length, thumb flicking over the head of his cock as he groaned into your shoulder. 

You felt on top of the world, Mark’s pleasure the direct response to every flick of your wrist. You barely recognized him. Whining, needy mess as he mewled into your shoulder. 

“Mo-mommy,” he whimpered, hands quickly finding your core, “Can I touch you too?”

Who were you to deny your polite boy, quickly and ungracefully shoving your panties to the side to give Mark an easier access to your heat. You’d be lying if you said the term mommy had no effect on you. In fact, you were dripping at this point, just one look at Mark enough to make your pussy throb in need. Not that you would tell him that. 

“Baby,” you said quietly, guiding Mark’s over-enthusiastic hand to your clit, “right here, keep rubbing in circles.”

“Yes, mommy,” he whimpered, shoving his reddened face into your shoulder as your wrist moved quicker up and down his length. 

“Good boy,” you groaned, squirming where you sat on the couch as Mark slipped a finger into your dripping cunt. 

You were getting each other off at an inhuman pace, the two of you squirming and wiggling where you sat. The pleasure of it all too much to take. This was Mark’s first time feeling any contact on his cock, and you’d be lying if you said you never dreamed of Mark’s fingers pumping into you at the pace they were now. 

This was the definition of a wet dream, for both of you. And as you came with his fingers reaching a place in you no one else had reached before, you were determined to make Mark cum. 

You flicked your thumb around the head of his cock, watching with half lidded eyes as he shuddered. He was putty in your hands, and there was no way in hell that he would ever be able to touch himself the way you were touching him now. And you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about in this moment was throwing him off the edge with you. Corrupting that sweet little church boy the only way you knew how. 

It was with a satisfying grin and an earth-shattering moan from Mark as you watched cum spurt from him. Eyes scrunched in pleasure as his entire body shook with a feeling he had never experienced before. An orgasm. 

You watched in wonder as he clung onto you. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he threw his head back on the couch. You watched as his cock twitched as rope after rope of cum sprung from him, years of pent up pleasure finally releasing at your hands. You had never felt more powerful in that moment. 

You parted that night with a sweet kiss to his lips after cleaning him up. Boneless Mark even more pliable than before, and as much as you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you could do to a sleepy Mark. That night there was no awkwardness between you. 

That, of course, changed as time passed, both of you ignoring the mutual pleasure you had achieved by the other's hand. You ignored any feelings you had, whether it be attraction or lust. Mark deliberately avoided you, and as much as you hated to admit it, but you avoided him too. 

You were convinced the two of you would never recover from this, from your experimentation with each other's bodies. At least until he burst into your room one Sunday afternoon, notably after his father’s church service, with a question and burning cheeks. 

“Have you ever given a blowjob?” he asked, the door to your bedroom swinging into the wall with a loud bang that neither of you could hear. 

“Mark?” you asked, putting your laptop to the side as you looked quizzically up at him.

“I watched one..porn video about it last week and I haven't been able to focus since.”

“You watch porn now?” you asked, raising a critical eyebrow as you looked him up and down.

“I-, no” Mark stuttered, face flushing an impossibly deeper shade of red, “yes, what about it?”

“You sound sure of yourself,” you teased, “come sit.”

“Never mind-”Mark rushed out, turning away from you and hurrying towards your open door. 

“Sit, Mark. Now please,” you spoke, dominance in your tone as you watched his body language change. 

You smiled softly to yourself as he shuffled to your bed, sitting on the edge and avoiding your gaze. 

“Did you have a question for me, baby?”

You almost laughed as he sighed, body immediately relaxing at the nickname he had told you he loved so much. 

“I was just wondering,” he said, glancing up at you and losing his confidence, “haveyouevergivenablowjob?”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite catch that, Mark,” you said, knowing glance as you watched his lips form into a perfect pout.

“Are you really gonna make me ask again,” he whispered, looking down from where his eyes previously met yours. 

“Yes, baby, I am.”

You grasped his hand as he whined, squeezing his palm slightly as he pouted up at you. 

“Have you ever given a blowjob?” he whispered, eyes glancing to every corner of the room to avoid your gaze. 

“I have.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as his eyes met yours curiously. Fingers playing with your comforter as you watched the wheels turning in his brain. You were begging him to ask, practically groveling for him to say the words that would fuel the corruption kink you had solely for Mark. 

“Can you…” Mark started, scotting subconsciously closer to you, “can you give me one?”

“Well that depends on you, Mark. Do you think you deserve my mouth?”

You watched with bated breath as he nodded, a tent already fully formed in his pants as the conversation went on.

“What makes you think you deserve it, huh? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, Mark. After Mommy made you feel so good. You ignored me, and now I find out you’ve been watching porn. Being such a naughty boy. Doesn’t really seem right to give you my mouth.”

You had him now, hook line and sinker. He was trapped, listening to every one of your words, waiting with bated breath as you made up your mind. 

“I- I’ve never felt it before, Mommy. I promise I’ll be better next time. I’ll do better next time. Just please suck me off,” he begged, filthy words dripping from his mouth in desperation. 

“I’m ruining you, Mark,” you whispered, “Absolutely destroying your sweet innocence. What about your God, Mark? Would he want you to beg for my mouth like you just did?”

“I-,” he started, quieting as you pushed a finger towards his lips. 

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll make you worship that God of yours in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

You steadied his shaking body as you switched him places on your bed. Sitting in front of him in your disgustingly dirty pj top and messy bun as he laid in front of you. You tugged his pants down, licking your lips in want as his cock slapped his stomach. 

You wanted this just as much as he did, evident by your drool and dirty thoughts. You hadn’t noticed his sizable length before, too focused on all of the other unbelievable things that had happened before wrapping your hand around his cock. You took it all in now, the glory of Mark’s cock, pulsing red and so incredibly hard in need. If he hadn’t whimpered you would’ve stared at this beautiful sight for hours. But he was needy and so were you. So you wrapped your mouth around him. And dear God was Mark a sight to behold.

He had stars in his eyes as your tongue ran up the length of his cock. He could barely contain himself as his hips bucked up into your mouth. Politeness leaving his body as he followed his craving for pleasure. 

Within seconds his hands were in your hair. Tugging as you worked your mouth over his sensitive length. He was barely holding it together, and the second you reached the bottom of his cock, he cursed. 

His hips were itching to move, you could feel the way they bucked ever so slightly as you took him. Your hands grasped his thigh tightly as he unintentionally pushed your head down. You were taking as much as he gave you, and as he whined in pleasure you couldn’t help  A second later he wasn’t touching you anymore, eyes wide when you glanced up at him. 

“So-sorry,” he whispered, for what you weren’t sure. 

“What’s wrong, Mark?” you asked gently. 

“I should go,” he said, face paling as he scooted further away from you on the bed, “This isn’t right.”

You stood up quickly, sitting beside him and cupping his face in your hands, “Mark you can go if you want to, I won’t stop you. But do you really think something that felt so good could be bad?”

“I-I don’t know,” he whispered, shying away from your touch, “I’m going to the library.”

He stood up quickly, half tripping as he tried to pull his pants back up, fumbling with himself and the door as he tried to leave. 

“Mark,” you called out to him, waiting until he turned to meet your gaze before continuing, “It’s ok that you aren’t ready yet. But I’m always here if you have more questions.”

He nodded at you, “Thank you, for understanding,” blush returning to his cheeks as he spoke, “I feel comfortable around you, Yn.”

He closed the door after he left, and while your Sunday afternoon was spent attached to a vibrator, you were glad Mark had felt comfortable enough with you to tell you that he wasn’t comfortable. 

Maybe you had pushed him too far, and as much as it killed you, you were glad he was taking his time. If your baby wasn’t ready to go any further than handjobs, then that was that. He was too innocent to be corrupted, which is what made corrupting him all the better. 

Yes, Mark had been full of curiosity and questions. But you were the one who wasn’t ready for the question he asked next.

#mark smut #mark angst #mark fluff #mark fanfic #mark lee smut #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee fanfic #mark tuan smut #mark tuan angst #mark tuan fluff #mark tuan fanfic #this i wrote with mark lee in mind but its hot either way

[queen-isabelle-writes]

Queen Isabelle Masterlist

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Started: 11/16/2021

Updated: 1/17/2024

Total Works: 56

Queen Isabelle on AO3

The Inheritance Games

One-Shots

only bought this dress so you could take it off (T) - Completed

i don’t wanna look at anything else now that i saw you (T) - Completed

Multi-Chaps

there goes the last great american dynasty (T) - Incomplete

missing him was dark gray all alone (T) - Completed

oh, darlin’, don’t you ever grow up (T) - Incomplete

gold rush series:

i don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘til the bone crush (T) - Completed

i don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush (T) - Completed

i don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch (T) - Completed

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Zutara Month 2020 series:

every rose has it’s thorns (T) - Completed

let it snow, let it snow, let it snow (T) - Completed

‘cause all i know is we said “hello” (T) - Completed

broke your heart, i’ll put it back together (G) - Completed

carry on my wayward son (G) - Completed

what will they say monday at school? (T) - Completed

Multi-Chaps

dirty little secret (T) - Incomplete

The Owl House

Multi-Chaps

you make me feel like i’m living a teenage dream (T) - Incomplete

and if i’m dead to you, why are you at the wake? (T) - Incomplete

little miss perfect series:

i can’t risk falling off my throne (T) - Incomplete

Frozen/Rise of the Guardians

One-Shots

Do Love Potions Actually Work? (T) - Completed

The Next Ten Minutes (T) - Completed

do you know what it’s like to feel so in the dark? (T) - Completed

and so this is christmas (war is over) (T) - Completed

Little VVomen (T) - Completed

(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life (G) - Completed

Multi-Chaps

I Think I’ll Try Defying Gravity (T) - Incomplete

night visions series

i don’t ever wanna let you down, i don’t ever wanna leave this town (T) - Completed

though this is all for you, don’t wanna hide the truth (T) - Completed

i feel it in my bones, enough to make my system blow (G) - Completed

but innocence is gone, and what was right is wrong (T) - Completed

there’s nothing left to say now (nothing left to say) (T) - Completed

caught up in the middle of a headache and a heartbreak (T) - Completed

(and it’s a long way up when you hit the ground, but) (T) - Completed

happiness begins series

sucker (M) - Completed

cool (M) - Completed

1989 series

baby, i know places we won’t be found (G) - Completed

i want you for worse or for better (T) - Completed

Harry Potter - The Marauders

Multi-Chaps

i’m only seventeen, i don’t know anything (T) - Incomplete (w/ @booksarelife-stuff)

Fullmetal Alchemist

Multi-Chaps

this slope is treacherous (T) - Incomplete

The 168th Annual National Amestrian Chemistry Conference (E) - Incomplete

and it’s been a long december (and there’s reason to believe) (E) - Incomplete (for @tsaritsa)

badlands series

we’ll be lacing the same shoes that we’ve worn through to the bottom of the line (T) - Completed

there’s no use crying about it (T) - Completed

i sold my soul to a three-piece (and he told me i was holy) (T) - Completed

i can’t find you in the body sleeping next to me (T) - Completed

i know i’ve only felt religion when i’ve lied with you (E) - Completed

what kind of bubblegum have you been blowing lately? (G) - Completed

even when you’re sleeping series

the tricky thing is yesterday we were just children (T) - Completed

i’m building an empire series

i’m building an empire (starting from scratch it began with stones) (T) - Incomplete

speak now, lover series 

“i love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard? (T) - Completed

why are we pretending this is nothing? (T) - Completed

something keeps me holding onto nothing (T) - Completed

i don’t wanna lose this with you (E) - Completed

‘cause i see sparks fly, whenever you smile (T) - Completed

who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay? (T) - Completed

your name, forever the name on my lips (T) - Completed

and some things you just can’t speak about series

you don’t have to call anymore (M) - Completed

#someone asked for a masterlist #so i figured it out #the inheritance games #tig #averygrayson #avery kylie grambs #grayson hawthorne #frozen #frozen 2 #disney #rise of the guardians #rotg #jelsa #elsa #jack frost #zutara #avatar the last airbender #atla #the owl house #toh #royai #riza hawkeye x roy mustang #Riza Hawkeye #roy mustang #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma:b #fullmetal alchemist #FMA

[spacedikut]

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah! 

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #i tried to write the first half in the past tense but i got confused so sorry if the tenses r weird

[ladykissingfish]

so one of you requested this in my inbox, and you used your actual name. you put some personal stuff in your ask that I wasn’t sure you’d want to be made public, so I’m not going to put your name here. but here’s what you asked; I hope this is what you meant 😊

The Akatsuki’s Reaction to A Break-Up

Itachi

Unfortunately, Itachi’s self-esteem is already so low that a break-up for him is something that he prepared himself for more than the relationship itself. He’s the type to vocalize his desire to stay friends with his ex, even if that person doesn’t want the same thing. The first few days after the breakup will be the most difficult for him, but his behavior will be so subtle that the others will barely notice. The most striking and tell-tale sign that he’s going through it will be that this infamous insomniac will actually start sleeping more, even going so far as to take naps during the day. Itachi isn’t the type to seek out the comfort of friends when something like this is bothering him, instead choosing to keep his pain to himself and only briefly talking about it when asked. He’ll eventually pull himself out of his funk and go back to normal, although the scar on his heart prevents him from seeking out another relationship for a long, long time.

Zetsu

Doesn’t take relationships seriously to begin with; if anything, he’s with the other person simply to alleviate boredom/have a good time. When the other person breaks up with him, there aren’t any hard feelings involved on his part, and he bounces back almost as if nothing had happened at all. He’s always been the type to treat his lovers more like friends, and that dynamic will likely continue even after the romantic part has died.

Hidan

Is most likely to be the one to initiate a break-up rather than be broken up with himself. Hidan’s religion doesn’t offer much (if any) room for love and attachment to anything other than Lord Jashin, and being with someone will weigh heavily on Hidan’s mind until he decides to end things. Part of this is actually a sort kindness; he recognizes that to an outsider, his religion can be viewed as disturbing and macabre, and he doesn’t want to drag somebody else into his hectic (and violent) lifestyle. But despite the romantic relationship being over, Hidan isn’t above contacting the other person every now and then for a casual, no strings attached encounter.

Kakuzu

Another one who will be more likely to initiate the break-up then the alternative. There will never be a time in the old guy’s life where money isn’t the bottom line for him, and being with someone else is no exception to that rule. Dates, gifts, time spent with the other that takes away time that could be used to hunt bounties … all of that is costing him. He’ll be as kind as possible to the other person when breaking up with them, but the message is pretty clear. He’ll likely feel mild pangs of regret for several days after the end of the relationship, but in the end he’ll shake it off and carry on with business as usual.

Obito

Oh, God. Obito is someone who feels things very deeply, and being in love with someone is a head rush for him. Obito would never leave someone, no matter how they treated him. Others will recognize this in him and some will take advantage of his sweet and giving nature. When he’s broken up with, he’s absolutely devastated. He won’t leave the house/his room for days, he’ll stop bathing, he’ll barely eat and the things he does eat is mostly junk food or candy … it takes several members of the Akatsuki to rally around him to pull him out of his depression. Konan will be there to comfort and nurture him, Deidara will be there to offer a kind of “suck it up”/tough love approach, and Itachi will offer him empathy (the Uchiha clan is revered for many things, one of the highest among them being their capacity to feel and experience love, so Itachi will be the only one who knows EXACTLY how Obito feels). It’ll take a few weeks, but eventually Obito will go back to the way he always was, much to everyone’s relief.

Kisame

One will always know when Kisame has been broken up with, when he announces he’s going on a trip. He’ll pack a suitcase and take off for an indefinite amount of time. He does this because he needs to clear his head after his heartbreak, and he never wants to burden the others with his pain or his emotions. While he’s gone he won’t really keep in contact with anyone except Itachi, who will call him every day to check up on him. He uses his time alone to sleep, to cry, and, once the initial hurt fades, to wear himself out. Hiking, skiing, mountain climbing, jogging … anything that gets him sweating and his adrenaline pumping is something that he seeks out, in order to distract his mind. He’ll eventually return home renewed and ready to go on, and the others are always happy to see him back.

Nagato

Is a bit like Itachi in that he expects a breakup from the very start, and is so prepared for it that he doesn’t quite feel the impact as strongly as he could. Life is pain, as he likes to tell people, and losing a love is a part of that pain. Doesn’t change his habits any and nobody would even know he’s suffering in any way … except for Konan, who knows him better than anybody. She’ll sit with him and get him to open up about what and how he feels. Konan has always been the only living person in the world that Nagato had cried in front of, and there’s no exception to this rule now. He’ll cry, Konan will hold him, and after awhile the two will spend time watching movies or tv, and slowly easing Nagato into a better headspace.

Konan

Konan is an eraser. When she’s broken up with, or she ends a relationship herself, she wants to forget any sign that the person ever existed. That means throwing out love letters or drawings, that means deleting the person’s contact information from all of her devises. It means getting rid of pictures, it means no more watching shows that she watched with the other person, or going to places they once went to. Her only goal is to stave off hurt by pretending that the other person never existed … although this doesn’t last for very long. After she’s calmed down a bit, she can reach out to the other person and get whatever closure she needs, in order to move on. Konan is also a comfort eater when she’s sad, and will break her diet to indulge in any and every decadent treat imaginable. And she won’t be alone; every single other member of the house will be with her at some point, whether to comfort, or cry, or eat, or trash-talk her now-ex.

Deidara

Deidara is the guy who initially can’t accept a breakup. He assumes the other person is just mad at him for something he’s done, and that their break-up really isn’t an ending at all, but a “short break”. Will send the other person countless messages, flowers, teddy bears, and candy, to try and get back in their good graces. When it finally sinks in that it’s permanent, he’s quite upset about it. He goes over and over in his head all the things that he felt he did wrong, or ways that he just wasn’t good enough. Will call his ex and ask for reasons as to why their relationship didn’t work out, and keep those things in his head, to improve on for his next relationship. Is also the type to make drastic changes to his appearance after a breakup, like dying or cutting his hair, or making changes to his wardrobe. Has to be talked out of his more impetuous urges, like getting a tattoo, by Sasori or Konan.

Sasori

Sasori will be the one broken up with. Not because he treated his partner in anyway bad. In fact, it would be quite the opposite; Sasori would have been uncharacteristically kind, loving and attentive. Always asking his partner how they feel, inquiring about their day, etc. But after awhile, Sasori’s partner will have begun to notice certain … things. Like Sasori constantly touching their face and commenting on his smooth their skin is. Being really pushy when it comes to healthy eating because “it makes your body last longer”. And there will have been quite a few times when Sasori’s partner will wake up in the middle of the night and find Sasori sitting in a chair by the bed, staring intently at them in the dark. The person will eventually decide to leave Sasori, because they start to get the ((sadly correct)) suspicion that Sasori had been making plans to turn them into one of his puppets. Sasori will take the breakup with dignity, but silently lament the fact that more people don’t understand his way of thinking. After all, if you care for someone, why wouldn’t you want that person to last forever?

#the akatsuki #break up #deidara #sasori #hidan #kakuzu #zetsu #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #kisame #konan #nagato #headcanons

[rhysismydaddy]

Casual Ruin pt. 4 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series

~Elain~

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” 

That’s what I’m supposed to say, right? That’s what they say in movies, I think. Does it count if it isn’t in Italian?

I rub a hand across my forehead, shaking my head at myself. I’m not even religious. I haven’t been to church since I grew out of the pastel pink Easter dress my mother used to love forcing me into.

Yet here I am, sitting in a dark, hot box, attempting to confess my sins.

I think I’m losing it. 

Five days with no Azriel, and I’m turning to religion.

The dark shadow on the other side of the confessional doesn’t help me in the slightest or even tell me if I’m doing this right. He just sits in silence and waits for me to pour my heart and soul out.

So I say, in an embarrassingly shaky tone, “Well, I... I’ve been sleeping with someone.”

That gets me a low hm.

“Someone I shouldn’t have.” Before he can get the wrong idea, I blurt, “He’s not married or anything. At least, I don’t think so. God, what if he’s married? Oh, I probably shouldn’t say God’s name in vain in church. Sorry.”

Father gives a deep sigh, and I take that to mean I should hurry up. “Anyway, he’s just... not a good guy. I won’t confess his sins for him, but believe me, he’s committed his fair share.”

Still nothing. 

I think he’s waiting for the actual confession part of this thing.

So I say the words I’ve been trying to fight for the last five days. “I told him I don’t want to see him anymore, but I don’t think... I don’t think that’s really true.”

Another hm, this time more thoughtful. 

“I keep thinking about him, all the time. Even though I know it’s wrong. He’s like a tumor.”

There’s a huff, like he’s amused. 

“I’m worried I’m not a good enough person to say away from him,” I murmur quietly, which is the understatement of the century. 

I know I’m not, which is why I’m here. 

I’m pre-confessing, because if the way Azriel’s been on my mind the past couple of days is any indication, it’s only a matter of time before I get desperate enough to call him and tell him his... occupation doesn’t change things.

There’s a bit of a pause, like he doesn’t know how to reply, and then for the first time, I get an actual response. In a very thick, very German accent, the... priest? replies, “His sins are not yours.”

He’s taking the stance opposite of what I thought he would, but that’s a good point. Good enough I don’t bother asking myself why a German priest is in an Italian church.

“True, but if I stay with him, aren’t I condoning them? Don’t they become mine?”

“His sins are not yours,” he repeats.

Helpful.

I’m about to ask for a little bit of actual advice when he asks, “Do you regret it?”

“No,” I answer almost immediately, knowing that no matter how much I hate what Azriel does, I could never regret the time I spent with him.

He’s silent, probably thinking of my punishment for being such a scheming harlot.

I’ll likely have to do a million hail Mary’s once this conversation is over.

But instead of telling me I’m going to hell, he surprises me by asking, “So you plan to sleep with him again?”

There was something familiar about the tone of his voice, but I don’t know anyone German, so I don’t ponder it for long. His question doesn’t require pondering, either.

“No,” I answered with fake certainty, even though the thought of never having Azriel’s calloused hands all over me makes me unspeakably sad.

“Are you sure? Forgiveness from the Lord requires... repentance.”

I sigh at that, hesitating even though I shouldn’t. “I’m sure. No matter how much I want to or think about it, I can’t.”

“I think you should.”

My mouth drops open, not only because the words he just said or the sudden disappearance of his accent, but because the screen separating me from the man on the other side of the confessional drops, revealing the bane of all my problems.

Azriel sticks a cigarette between his full lips, lights it casually, and smiles the devil’s smile. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” I demand, barely resisting the urge to fling myself over to his side and strangle him.

“Listening to a very insincere confession.” Even though I narrow my eyes in the most threatening gesture I can make, he continues, “You know, if you feel like you need punishing, I can always take you over my knee.”

A strange tingle shoots through me and makes my spin straighten, but I ignore it and glare at him harder.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I look him over, ignoring how good it is to see him and asking, “Aren’t you worried you’re going to catch on fire?”

He grins, blowing smoke around him. “If I’m the devil, does that make you my angel?”

“I’m not your anything.”

He just watches me and smokes his cigarette, something I’m sure is frowned upon in church. Probably right beneath sneaking into a private confessional. 

“Are you even religious?”

My lips twitch as I lie and say, “Recently converted.”

Azriel braces his arms in the small hole of the wall between us, looking unconvinced. “Yeah? What are the Ten Commandments?”

My head tilts as my eyes narrow. “I don’t know them all, but I have to believe one is about not killing people.”

“Number six,” he tells me, surprising me with the fact that he knows that. “You know, there’s also one about not stealing. And I happen to know for a fact you stole my sunglasses that day we were on the beach.”

Comparing those two sins is so ridiculous, a laugh bubbles out of me. He killed someone, yet by his logic I’m just as bad a sinner.

I knew this religion thing wasn’t for me.

“Why are you here, Azriel?” I ask, trying to get back to normal footing.

He takes so long to respond, I’m almost convinced he isn’t even going to bother. He runs a hand across his jaw, through his hair. Looks around at the plain little booth. Smokes some more.

When I’m about to give up and just leave, he says quietly, “I can’t stop thinking about you, either.”

My heart starts to pick up pace. “Yeah?”

I know I shouldn’t encourage this conversation, but hearing that he thinks about me the way I think about him... it means something to me.

“Yeah,” he agrees after a few moments, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear. 

It falls silent, and something grows in the silence, building between us until all I’m aware of are the small sweeps of his thumb against my cheekbone. 

I don’t know if he pulls me forward or if I take the step myself, but suddenly I’m right in front of him, our faces lined up through the small hole in the wall.

There’s a Bible in a little cubby that’s pressing into my stomach, and I’m sure there’s no better sign to resist sin than literal scripture digging into you, but I can’t bring myself to care.

It’s been less than a week without him, but it’s like my body is touched starved. The single inch where we’re connected is a live wire, and I close my eyes, trying to figure out what we were even talking about.

Releasing a tense breath that sounds a whole lot like relief, he slides his hand to the nape of my neck and leans his head to rest against mine. 

“Fuck,” he says, like it’s an all-encompassing statement and not a single word. “Come back to me, carro.”

He smells like rain and smoke and something dangerous I never understood until now, and it’s so intoxicating I almost lose myself. Brushing my nose against his, I breathe him in over and over, never getting used to it. “You want me?”

A nod, so small it’s almost imperceptible. But it’s there, and we both know it. 

Making sure my lips brush his, I lean in and whisper, “Then beg for me.”

He goes still, tension coming to rest in the hands still gripping my nape.

See, I realized something in the five days since I last saw him. 

He wants me to say that him being in the mafia doesn’t change anything, confess to lying about it in the first place, and beg him to fuck me, yet hasn’t even apologized for lying to me in the first place.

Sure, I lied, but he got us in this mess, not me.

So he gets to beg.

Azriel pulls back, and there’s such dark depths in his eyes that I shiver. “What did you just say?”

I don’t respond, because I don’t need to. We both know he heard me. 

He releases me with a huff, stepping back and practically growling, “No.”

Raising an eyebrow, I challenge, “Why is it different? You want me to confess to lying about saying that what you do changes things? Fine. I confess, Azriel. I have feelings for you that, whether or not I like it, outweigh the moral part of me that tells me to run in the opposite direction.”

Despite how casually I say it, that realization almost breaks me to admit. 

I realized it when he popped up in this booth, looking every bit the villain and completely making my day. Wrong or not, he makes me happy.

“You have my confession, but you know what? I want yours.”

He shakes his head, seeming to not understand, so I elaborate. “I want you to actually apologize for lying to me. I want you to admit that you put me in an impossible situation, then acted like it wasn’t a big deal. And I want you to beg for my forgiveness.”

The muscles in his jaw are clenched so hard I don’t think he can even open his mouth, but he manages to say, “That will never happen.”

Something inside my chest collapses, so suddenly and painfully I can’t hardly breathe. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it until now, how much it actually meant to me. 

The fact that he won’t make that compromise for me threatens to send my emotions scattering, so I stiffen my spine and force the words out.

“Then we’re done.”

He smacks a hand against the wall of the booth but doesn’t say anything, not even as I fling open the door and flee. 

I rush through the thankfully empty pews and outside, right into a downpour. 

The urge to laugh rises as I become instantly soaked, my dress sticking to me and my hair flattening to my head. It isn’t funny, and would be considered normal any other time or place, but we’ve had a month of paradise without a single rainy day. 

Until right now. It’s almost like the sky’s mood matches mine. 

Practically running, I make my way towards the townhouse. At least it’s close, I think as I hurry. If it was far away I’d probably collapse in a side alley and just let the rain wash me away. 

When I reach the door, unlocking it in a hurry, I feel someone walk up behind me. Stepping inside, I turn to see Azriel staring down at me.

Rain washes over the planes of his face, and while I probably look like a wet rat, he looks like something out of a movie.

"Why do you need this?” he asks, the anger thick in his voice. 

“Why do you?”

He doesn’t make a move to come in, practically ignoring the rain as he asks in a dry tone, “You mean why do I need to hear that what I do and have done--that this fucking life I was forced into--doesn’t make me a monster?”

“Azriel-”

“Because you’re the one person in this entire goddamn world who knows me.”

I give him a look that conveys how little I believe that. 

I don’t know anything about him. That’s the problem.

He shakes his head. “You know who I could’ve been, Elain.” 

It’s my turn to shake my head, because I don’t understand.

He seems to make the decision of whether or not to tell me at once, saying, “Who I could’ve been if I hadn’t been born into a sadistic fucking family who beat the shit out of me for existing.”

Raw anguish lines his voice, and I stop breathing, stop thinking. 

“You know who I wanted to be, who I dreamed of being, when I was in the hospital with a fractured skull or in lockup for stealing a car to run away.” He throws a hand out, yelling, “I didn’t ask for this shit! I wanted to be who I am with you. But when someone came and said they could get me out of the life I knew would kill me, I fucking said yes. And I don’t regret it.”

Tears are streaming down my face, mixing with the rain bouncing off the door. I never knew. “Azriel...”

“The day my older brother took a hammer to my hands because I scratched his CD was the last time I apologized. And I haven’t begged for anything since I was old enough to know better.”

There’s a set to his jaw, a hardness in his body I’ve never seen. “But none of this shit even matters, and it isn’t an excuse, because you’re right.”

The rain comes somehow harder, almost drowning us, but I’m rooted to this spot.

Especially as Azriel slowly lowers himself to his knees, right there on the threshold of the door. 

“I’m sorry, Elain. I’m sorry I lied to you and put you in this position and acted like an ass about it. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I shake my head again, whispering, “Stop.”

I can’t bear for him to be like this after hearing what he said, can’t bear to be the reason for the strain in his voice.

He doesn’t listen. Just looks up at me with such open, deep eyes I almost choke. “Please.”

A sob escapes me as I make the decision instantly, falling to my knees and throwing myself at him.

He grunts as we collide, but I capture the sound with my mouth, seeming to take him off guard as I kiss him without abandon.

His hair is like wet silk between my fingers, and I realize the door’s still open and that rain is still getting everywhere, but I don’t care about anything but him.

His hands grip my waist, holding me steady, as I kiss him until I’m breathless, until I know he’ll believe me. 

“You’re not a monster,” I tell him, pulling back to palm either side of his face. “I know you, and I know you’re not a monster.”

He leans in again, but I keep going, knowing that he needs to hear this as much as I need to say it.

“I decided before I saw you today that what you do doesn’t change things for me. I just want you.” 

The knowledge of how deep we’re in this settles between us, growing into something undeniable as we stare at each other.

This time, when he kisses me again, I don’t stop him.

We fall over, him landing on top of me, and roll until we’re far enough inside that he can kick the door closed.

It’s silent besides the sound of our breathing, the rain pounding against the windows, and the deep, wet slide of our mouths coming together.

I tug at the hem of his shirt, and he pulls back long enough to rip it off. His skin’s hot compared to the cool water all over us, and I’m dizzy on the feel of him. I feel like I can’t get enough, can’t have him fast enough.

His hands are rough against me, tilting my head where he wants it, gripping my hips, putting my arms above my head.

Reaching between us, he fists the thin fabric of my dress, and then there’s a ripping sound I don’t even care to protest because now his skin’s against mine, and I don’t think anything has felt better.

A thumb on my jaw pushes my head to the side, and then his mouth is on my neck and he’s kissing me over the spot where my pulse flutters as proof of my pounding heart. 

I tug his belt open, and he toes his boots off, pulling back to finish getting rid of his jeans then settling back over me.

I tilt my hips up, not able to take the wait anymore, but he has more self control, taking the time to kiss my throat, my jaw, the tip of my nose.

“Please,” I beg. “I need you. Please, Azriel.”

He’s inside me with the next breath, filling me so deeply I can’t think. 

“Merda,” he curses, forehead dropping to mine. “Questa figa e stata fatta per me.”

The dirty words just make me burn hotter. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that I have one of the most dangerous men in the world between my thighs, waxing poetic about sex with me.

His teeth tug on my earlobe, and I arch up into him, making him sink deeper in me. 

“Dimmi- shit,” Azriel chuckles, almost like he didn’t realize he wasn’t speaking English. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Knowing that won’t happen, I nod and open my mouth to ask him to hurry up with it.

But I never get the chance, because the next second, he’s pulling out and slamming into me so hard I slide across the floor. I don’t get far, because one arm goes under my head to grip my shoulder and the other lifts my leg to keep it in place. 

And then he starts to move.

His hips hit mine hard enough to bruise, his mouth is demanding against mine, and his grip on my shoulder is unshakeable. It’s rough and restrictive and something I never knew I needed.

He’s turned me into this wanton, thoughtless thing, and all I can do is burn and burn and pray I survive. 

A moan escapes me with every thrust, almost like he’s pushing them out of me, and I know I’m loud enough the sweet old lady next door will hear, but I can’t stop. 

“You have to be quiet, or this’ll be over before I’m ready,” he warns in a breathy voice that makes it even harder to keep quiet.

It gets worse as he starts to repeatedly hit the spot only he’s been able to find, like he’s in perfect sync with my body. 

“Fuck, Azriel,” I moan, losing my mind at how good he feels against me. 

I try to fight it off, try to prolong this longer, but one of his hands slips to my throat. And as he lightly squeezes the sides, the blood rushes through me in a heady current, I come so hard I almost pass out.

Shaking beneath him, I release a loud moan he covers my mouth to stifle. When he pulls it away, I see slight indentations and realize I must’ve bit him. 

I make a note to apologize later. Even if the way his eyes go almost black tells me he isn’t mad about it. 

I’m almost comatose, but he isn’t even finished. He just grits his teeth, pauses to throw my leg over his shoulder, and keeps going.

My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and trying to keep him exactly where he is, doing exactly what he’s doing.

Thunder breaks outside, but it isn’t loud enough to mask the sound of us coming together or the moans he’s no longer masking.

Despite my body being sensitized and exhaused, when he cups my cheek, kisses me softly, and says, “Come with me,” I do.

He groans, hips churning messily against mine, as release finds us both. My legs shake, squeeze his waist like a vice, then go limp. 

All of me does, actually. I’m boneless and pliant and couldn’t move if I was paid to.

Azriel isn’t much better off, collapsing on top of me and suffocating me with his warm weight. 

“Holy shit,” I whisper after a moment, smiling at the amused huff he lets out. 

Air starts to become hard to find, so he rolls off me, then sits to lean his back against the door.

“We’re on the floor,” he says, almost like he didn’t even notice before now.

I shrug, not caring in the slightest. “I can’t move, so we’re going to have to stay here.”

He chuckles, something entirely male in his eyes as he looks at me. My cheeks grow warm as he looks at the complete mess at apex of my thighs and murmurs, “Fuck, that’s pretty.”

“You are so inappropriate,” I mumble, covering my face with my hands.

Nodding his agreement, he grips my hips and practically drags me on top of him. “You like it, though,” he teases, putting a sweet kiss to my lips. 

“I do,” I admit, kissing him again. 

Something brushes against my thigh, and I look down between us, then raise a brow. I knew he had stamina, but this is...

“Consider it making up for lost time.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and he smiles, one of those full, beautiful smiles I’m helpless to resist. 

I know everything’s complicated now and I know he does horrible things, but when he smiles at me like that, it’s hard to care about anything except how happy he makes me. Right or wrong, good or bad, there’s something between us I’m powerless against. 

“It’s been five days,” I remind him, running my hands up his chest and into his hair. “Better get started.”

~

The floor. The wall. The stairs. The shower.

He gives me a tour of my own house, fucking me on every inch of available space. 

I’m just as much to blame, I guess. Any time he tries to do anything besides me, I tug him back, unable to stop myself. 

He’s the drug I’m happily overdosing on, and fuck, does it feel good.

When we finally end up in bed hours later, I expect to immediately pass out. He definitely looks tired, and I’m sure I’m not much better, considering the amount of... activity my body’s been through tonight.

But despite the lingering exhaustion, we lay there, just looking at each other.

There’s still so much left unsaid, so many unanswered questions and untold stories, but I don’t want to ruin the moment by talking, much less asking questions, so I stay quiet.

His lips twitch, almost like he can see what I’m thinking.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he murmurs a second later, proving that thought correct. “I won’t lie to you again.”

I nod, thinking of what I want to ask first. 

I also think about the pain in his eyes earlier, when he gave me that piece of himself. I don’t ever want to be the cause of that pain, so I ask something I assume is unrelated. 

“Who was the man I hit with the wine bottle?”

The corner of his lips tip up. “That was Luca. I guess you could say he’s my friend, but more officially he’s my Underboss. We worked our way up through the ranks together.”

“You’ve known him a long time then?”

He nods, propping his head up with an arm. “We were in prison together.”

Questions bloom, but I don’t want to pry, so-

“I was sentenced to three years for grand theft auto and another for assaulting the cop who booked me. Luca was in for intent to sell.” 

At my blank look, he says, “Drugs, Elain.”

“Oh.” I feel stupid as hell, so I deflect by asking, “You were cellmates?”

“No,” he laughs, running a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. “But after he saved my ass from getting jumped one day, we stuck together.”

It’s quiet until I ask, “How’d you get out?”

“Well, this was in Chicago-” 

My eyes grow wide as I cut him off. “You’re from Chicago? You’re American?” 

He laughs at the disbelief in my voice, nodding while my brain explodes. He’d never told me, but I’d just assumed he was born in Sicily. 

“Anyway, this was in Chicago. I was seventeen, but got tried as an adult because of my record with juvie. I spent two years inside, then the Capo there just showed up one day and told me he could get me out.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he says, rolling on his back and looking up at the ceiling. “I remember it like it happened yesterday. He’s only three years older than me, but he was wearing a two-thousand dollar suit and had everything I didn’t. He said he needed someone to work for him, to do the shit no one wanted to.”

Sliding closer, I prop my head up with a hand. “And that was you?”

“He said he looked at my records and that I had potential.” He laughs, almost unbelieving. “I was nothing more than an angry fuckup from the south side, and he said I had potential. He said he knew who my father and brothers were and could help me get revenge. I knew it was crazy, but I said yes. On the condition Luca got out, too.”

My eyebrows go up as he says, “We were out the next day.”

“Powerful friends,” I mutter. 

He toys with the ends of my hair, slight smile on his face.

“I worked in Chicago for about a year, then was sent here. He said he needed someone over here he could trust. My family’s Italian, so I knew the language, and with my baggage, I wanted out of the city anyway.” He takes a deep breath, running his hand down my arm. “So I moved here and worked my way up.”

He picks my hand up, measuring the difference between our palms.

“And now you’re Capo.”

“Mmhm.” 

Tugging my hand, he pulls me closer, burying his head in my neck and inhaling. 

“I have the Capo of the Sicilian Mafia in my bed,” I remark almost unbelievingly, making him laugh.

He shifts to lay down, holding me in his arms, and I marvel at how small and delicate I feel with him. My head’s against his chest, and he’s curled around me, making me sigh. 

“The Capo is a snuggler,” I murmur, running my hands across the smooth expanse of his back and smiling when he makes a low sound of contentment.

“I haven’t slept the past five days,” he tells me. “I couldn’t sleep without you in my bed. You have no idea how much it pissed me off at the time.”

Laughing, I snuggle closer. He’s so big and warm, and I’m so tired. 

Eyes struggling to stay open, I realize I never told him something. 

“You’re forgiven,” I whisper. 

I feel his lips on my brow, kissing me so gently my heart clenches. And I swear I hear him say something, but I’m soo tired to stay awake to hear it.

I fall asleep in his arms, and even though he’s dangerous and everything I should hate, it’s the most peaceful I’ve ever felt.

I’ve said the past month with him has felt like a fairy tale, and that’s true. 

Maybe just not with the knight in shining armor, but with the villain instead.

______________________________________________

stole a couple lines from Danielle Lori

Part 5

@elorcan-trash @acreativelydifferentlove @loosingdreams @poisonous00 @januarystears @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @thedarkdemigod​ @full-tilt-diva​ @biggestwingspan-az​ @bookstantrash​ @mari-highladyof-feels​ @pilesofriles​ @teddytdr​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @bamchickawowow​ @live-the-fangirl-life​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @autophobiax​ @rowaelinismyotp​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @lovemollywho​ @inardour​ @tillyrubes10​ @tswaney17​ @greerlunna​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @awesomelena555​ @booksofthemoon​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses

[mystic-poet]

ROGUE PATHS

I wake up to find myself handcuffed to the hospital bed. The drug they injected me with to tame me seems to be wearing off. Ugh! This again. Better to get it over with, I guess. I drag my free hand into my bun and retrieve a small blade. As usual the dumb police never bothered to check in there thinking a man’s bun would just be a fashion statement. I twist to my side and turn the blade in the keyhole clockwise. My hand comes free. I learnt to pick locks when I was young, one of my many talents. I shake my hand hard to get rid of the stiffness and get up from the bed.

I stride confidently straight towards the door, not in the sneaky kind like a criminal would. As expected, a police officer stands at guard. His lips are on the verge of screaming when I silence him by waving a hundred bucks in front of his eyes. He raises his eyebrows at me and I throw in another four hundred to satisfy his thirst. That ought to shut him up. Money! The most deadly weapon and beautiful thing anyone can ever have.

□□□

Outside the hospital waits Beth. She teaches German in Crawford High. Well, it would be safe to say she taught me the art of viciousness. If angels can house demons, there isn’t any harm in a teacher being an evil mastermind.

“They shot you pretty bad in that leg, huh?” she says as I limp on one good leg. She gives me a look that was overflowing with pity. How I hate that!

“Enough with the puppy eyes already!” I snap. My right leg was hurting real bad and I would have stayed in the hospital until they mended it and made my grand escape later but I won’t want to deprive the world of its foul folks. Besides, I have business to finish.

“I must say, I didn’t expect you to be in the hospital,” Beth says unlocking her car and we sit in.

“They shot my leg in the encounter at the bank and I was losing blood by the second. Couldn’t get much out of me while I was thrashing in pain,” I explain.

“Did you find anything at the bank?” Beth asks raising an eyebrow at me as she drives the car out of the parking lot.

“I was close to. The property papers were in my hands before the cops caught up with me. Couldn’t read a word.”

“So, what are going to do? Got anything up your sleeves?”

“Well, I do. I am going to father’s house this Wednesday,” I say coolly.

“You do know that’s two days away, don’t you?”

“I have thought it through. You’ll see,” I say grinning.

Beth shakes her head. “Just remember I need my share of the money, Carl.”

“We talked about this a million times, Beth. You’ll get your forty percent,” I say casually leaning into the passenger’s seat.

□□□

My dad abandoned me when I was a teen. He is the owner of a multinational electronic company my late grandpa founded. Beth was the assistant manager. She was a frequent visitor in thehouse and shared a fine bond with dad until one day, she was fired when my dad accused her of a theft she never committed or so she told me.

When I was old enough, I tracked her down and discovered that she craved revenge with dad for all the wrongs done to her. She wanted to blow the lid off and reveal all the dark secrets behind dad’s firm. In a way, our common want of vengeance united us.

My dad is stinking rich whereas I was left in some community home and survived off donations. This is why I despise pity; I have lived with it all my life. I have my rightful place in the company and the fortune my grandpa left behind. But I need theofficial documents and my one chance of getting them from the bank slipped away. That’s where the part of infiltrating his house comes in. Ah! It’s been such long while since I did something of this kind. Infiltrating seems such a gorgeous word now.

□□□

“So, how are we doing it?” asks Beth pouring two glasses of red wine for the both of us. She drove us to her house for it’s probably the safest place to be.

“He is hosting some success party on Wednesday and there’s bound to be security. My idea is to go through as delivery persons. The rest will follow. You will tip toe to the computer room while I put up some distraction. I will catch up with you soon enough. Till then, find the papers,” I instruct taking a swig from my glass.

“It won’t be that simple, you know,” she says with a smirk.

“I was thinking you need that forty percent,” I say with mock seriousness.

“Fine!” she says exasperated. How I love when I am obeyed.

□□□

We are wheeling the cart that supposedly holds the cake but instead I just stuffed it with a wad of cotton. I ring the bell of the grand house with Beth beside me. The housekeeper, a woman in maybe in her thirties, opens the door. She gestures to where the cake should be kept. I look around at the magnificence of the place and its each and every adornment and decoration, from the mahogany coffee table to the velvet curtains and even the intricate designs on the glass vases, conveyed royalty. I feel a rush of hatred inside me. My father enjoyed all the money at his disposal and lived in comfort with rugs beneath his feet whereas I tossed and turned with unease in my bed every night wondering if my parents would ever make their way back to me. At least my mother passed away before she witnessed the return of her abandoned son.

“You know what to do,” I whisper in Beth’s ear. She nodded. I take my blade out and make a shallow cut in the back of my hand oozing out blood. That blade is indeed a good partner. I pocket it as swiftly as I took it out.

“Oh, I am bleeding. I am bleeding,” I say dramatically and hold my hand out purposefully for everyone to see the scarlet covering it.

“Oh dear, God. I will fetch you some ice from the kitchens,” the housekeeper says and disappears into a corridor. That’s the thing about kind people; they are easy prey.

I signal to Beth and she sets off in a half-walk and half-run up the stairs. She knows the way to the computer room from all those years of coming to dinners and teas in the house. As she turns into the corner, I rush behind her too wiping the blood on my pants.

I catch up with her soon enough as she looks straight ahead navigating through the rich corridor filled with a few guests. I walk behind her maintaining a safe distance; we can’t afford to attract any attention.

We walk into a long deserted hallway. I am sure the computer room is here and so does Beth, I suppose, as she carefully notices each door. She comes to an abrupt stop in front of the door at the far end of the hallway and opens it without a glance at me. In the middle of the room sits a computer that would be the cause of my dad’s doom. Beth turns it on and gets to work as I stand at the door occasionally peaking in. I was afraid it might have a password but it didn’t. Arrogance! Father must be sure no one could evade his computer. Well, I guess history is being made today.

“Do it quick!” I hiss at her.

“Does it look like I am not trying?” she says making an irritated face at me.

We are silent for five minutes or so when Beth says, “Carl, I found them!”

A smirk creeps across my face. “Transfer it to me. All of it,” I say in an excited whisper.

Beth turns back to the computer and presses send. The next few moments go by as quickly as the blink of an eye. I lock Beth in the computer room and somewhere a safety alarm triggers deafening my ears. I hear her muffled screams calling out to meechoing in the hallway but without looking back I descend the two flights of stairs.

I bump into the security on a landing and adopting my best worried voice I say, “A woman in the computer room. Upstairs.” The words barely escape my mouth and they run upstairs to find the trespasser while I walk out of the mansion with satisfaction.

Indeed, Beth taught me too much than she should have. Call me selfish but that’s what the world made me. I couldn’t have let Beth have forty per cent. After all, what would she do with it in jail? As for my father this episode would definitely motivate him to set a computer password. I whistle walking on the road thinking of the colour my bungalow would be.

Tagging:

@ruins-of-heart @witchpossessinghozier @some-broken-words @sinless-mind @luck1998 @ze-thoughts-are-stupid @random-lit @saamiya @colinisalright @thunder19sstuff @yalocal-deadpoet @asthetically-bookish @literature-is-my-religion @mrun-v @songfromstars @donapreachesart @i-snort-chocolates @duskobserver @apprielle24 @halfagonyhalfhop3 @klainebrittana @ray-of-darkness7 @balladofableedingpoet2112 @morticiapretz @vantaerayleigh1997 @sillylilbakaaa @church-of-burnt-romances @burn-like-starss @mjsespaces-blog @theleechwhodrinksbleach

Thank you so much for giving this a read dears!

Comments, criticism and suggestions are always welcome <3!!!

#story writing #spilled writing #writers and writing #poets and writers #writers on tumblr #writers and readers #writers community #writers and poets #story

[polandspringz]

I made the decision to watch all of the Case Files of Jeweler Richard in a day and I am ABSOLUTELY LOSING MY FUCKING MIND

(Technically I’ve watched up to episode 11 so I have 1 more episode left but am leaving it until tomorrow because it’s 1 AM right now- but I digress)

Spoilers for up to episode 10 of the anime, and apologies because I don’t know how to do read more on mobile so LONG POST:

Okay so FIRST OFF- On the cover this show isn’t explicit in that it has LGBTQ themes- it’s not labeled as such or with BL or Shounen Ai, the usual genre titles we see in anime. However, when I first tried to watch it a few months ago, within the opening minute I just knew (I just forgot to continue after that first minute until today). A lot of times with anime you can just tell things based on the art style or the dialogue, and if it doesn’t end up having those themes, then you get a situation like Balance: Unlimited where all of Twitter was tweeting “wait, it isn’t a BL???”

That being said, this series DOES have LGBTQ themes, one of the early side characters talks about how she doesn’t want to go through with her marriage because she realized she’s a lesbian or bisexual and is still in love with her old roommate. Another character expresses thoughts about romance and marriage in ways that I’m sure people who are asexual or a romantic can identify with. And this isn’t just with the side characters, oh no. The entire show is centered around the relationship of Richard and Seigi, and oh my god is it wild in how it is presented.

If you go on the wiki for this show, as my sister and I did, you’ll see a sentence along the lines of “Richard and Seigi frequently compliment each other’s beauty and say how much they like one another, to the point that everyone around them believes them to be in a relationship. However it’s unclear if their words are romantic or not.” And then if you go to their relationship page on the wiki, it just says Seigi is Richard’s boyfriend. So what’s the truth? (TLDR: the wiki is right. They’re definitely in love.)

Well the thing that had me rolling is that Seigi says he likes rich. A lot. Specifically throws around the “daisuki” line almost every episode. He says Richard is like a jewel, calls him beautiful and pretty. Richard picks him up in the rain after being dumped. They go alone to fancy restaurants for dinner almost every night. They flirt. It feels almost undeniable that what they’re saying is romantic, and that any kiss confirmation is unnecessary. There is a major plot line during all this though of Seigi trying to ask out his female college classmate however, and the result makes it sort of feel like Richard and Seigi are together but they’re in this open relationship with no labels so Richard just wants Seigi to have no regrets. The plot with the classmate really doesn’t do anything to their relationship. Richard and Seigi still are being as wild as ever.

And the reason I refer to this as being “wild” is partially because while watching my sister and I were riffing on the dialogue a little. For an anime, the show is very progressive in it’s ideas, Richard in episode 1 or 2 straight up calling Seigi out for something he said about a foreign customer and making him promise to not discriminate or judge anyone for their race, religion, sexual orientation, appearance, etc. (My sister literally joked “DONT BE RACIST” and then her jaw dropped when Richard said just that). There’s a multitude of moments in the first half of the show where Richard basically is just glaring at Seigi or telling him off later with a deadpanned expression for being xenophobic or just blunt about things that end up being rude to customers, and it’s because of how surprising it is that the show NEVER misses a moment to be like “YEAH ACTUALLY DON’T BE RUDE” that makes it hilarious. It feels almost unreal when everything you make a joke about happens two seconds afterwards.

Circling back to Richard and Seigi relationship though, early on I called on the idea that the show was going to have the trope of “he’s rich and from Europe so he’s illegitimate or something and he’s going to have to go back and Seigi will run after him in this big airport scene” and I basically got all that. Except that Richard and Seigi don’t meet up again until they’ve both been in England for a while and then we learn that Richard’s family are terrible people because a clause in their dead great grandfather’s inheritance made it so only Richard can inherit this 300 million pound Diamond but ONLY if he married a traditional English housewife. This clause is said to be VERY VERY strict in that it HAS to be an English housewife to the LETTER. And she must be TRADITIONAL. Of course, Richard is refusing to do this. So you’re watching them mess around in England for a bit, I got another cliche/trope I wanted when Seigi fell sick and Richard had to care for him in the hotel room, before the characters suddenly get a phone call and Richard’s cousin goes:

“Hey Seigi! Guess what? Turns out you qualify for the marriage clause! Despite being Asian, the will and the law consider a homosexual civil partnership equivalent to a heterosexual marriage, so you can be with Richard and then he get’s the Diamond! So I’ll see you at the safe where the Diamond will be at!”

(I’m paraphrasing the words obviously but the part about civil partnership was what I specifically remember being said, but forgive me for any errors, as my jaw was on the floor when the show threw that curveball at me).

In case you’re confused, I’m not saying this is bad at all. I’m just saying when watching this show, it feels UNBELIEVABLY HILARIOUS the way these things literally get thrown at the audience. Stuff you would never expect in an anime just punch you in the face repeatedly and I was so shocked from this “viable marriage candidate” twist that I did SENSE was coming (but thought of it more of as a joke, BECAUSE HOW THE HECK DID HE FIT THE CLAUSE OF A TRADITIONAL ENGLISH HOUSEWIFE) I had to pause the episode and rush to spit out the water I just drank before I choked. And if this wasn’t enough to kill me, we learn later on, that the reason this whole crazy clause happened in this dead man’s will was because he wanted to get back at the rest of Richard’s family because the man’s son was marrying a woman from Sri Lanka and LITERALLY SAID “THE WHITE SUPERMACISTS” WOULD HARASS HER so all of this chaos was to give the fortune to their side of the family and piss off the racists. I just cannot believe I’m hearing and seeing all this in a Japanese anime. There was even discussion of how Japan’s traditional gender roles restrict women, and it’s just like HOW IS THIS SHOW SO PROGRESSIVE??? It literally feels like I’m watching a paradox and it’s sad because it shouldn’t but it’s hilarious and enjoyable all the same.

Once again, and sort of a TLDR, The Case Files of Jeweler Richard is an incredible show. It’s an unintentionally hilarious ride that isn’t baiting because it feels like it’s definitely presenting Richard and Seigi’s relationship as romantic coded without needing a kiss or anything. It’s strangely progressive and open minded for Japanese media, seems meta at times, and has left me stunned in ten out of twelves episodes thus far that I’m so sad I didn’t watch it week to week to see the reactions of the fans live. I highly recommend this series if you’re looking for something to just get you to laugh or just a fun story involving two male leads with great chemistry.

Now, here’s a representation of me watching this show:

#the case files of jeweler richard #Poland’s thoughts

[heyitmelexie]

Falling In Love

Din Djarin x riduur!F!Reader

Word count: 3444 Warnings: mention of wounds and blood Rating: Teen and up

A/N: Day 9 of the December Writing Challenge by @honeymandos​! ❤️

This was also my first time ever writing for Din!

I know it’s late but I’m currently pretty occupied with uni etc. Hope you enjoy anyway!!  ❤️

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

The sweet smell of Bantha-butter pancakes tickles your nose and pulls you from your peaceful slumber.

As you open your eyes you see soft beams of sunshine creep through the window, illuminating your exposed legs and bathing them in warmth.

You smile and stretch, hearing the sizzling noise of the pancakes coming from the kitchen, accompanied by soft talking, gentle coos and occasionally one or the other clank.

The door is slightly ajar, but you can still see the domestic scene playing in the other room.

Din, in only his pants and with his hair still mussed, stands with his broad back turned to you. He’s making breakfast while quietly talking to your little green son, who sits on the counter right next to him. You see his ears occasionally perk up, followed by coos and little giggles, making you smile.

“Look, now you flip it. Just like this” you hear Din say, before (you assume) he tries to flip it with the pan. You expect to hear the loud sizzling again, indicating that the uncooked side of the pancake landed safely back in the pan. Instead, you hear a dull splash, like a wet fish falling onto tiles, followed by strings of curses coming from Din and a loud, hearty laugh from that little womp rat.

You laugh softly at that, getting out of bed to make your way into the kitchen.

Upon hearing your laugh coming from behind him, Din turns and looks at you, a sheepish smile playing on his flustered face.

“I hope I didn’t wake you, cyare” he says before quickly cleaning up the mess he made.

“Not really. I woke up from the smell of my favourite breakfast” you hum, before kissing your son’s wrinkly little head. He coos happily and then stretches out his arms to make grabby hands at you. You chuckle softly and then proceed to pick him up. He immediately snuggles against you, one of his little claws clutching onto your shirt.

Din smiles, before gently kissing your lips and then continuing to make the breakfast.

You take the time to go outside into your little garden with the child in your arms.

The sun immediately engulfs you in its warm light and you lay down in the soft grass between the flower beds. The little one moves to get comfortable on top of you, snuggling into your chest and cooing contently.

You smile at him and gently caress his big ears.

Din and you had built this little hut on Naboo together just about a year ago, finally deciding to partially settle down and have a somewhat quiet life. He would occasionally still go on a few hunts to get some credits for the three of you while you would stay home with the child. He would always make sure to not stay away for too long. Din had gotten really used to this simple life with you.

As you now lay there in the grass, admiring yours and Din’s handiwork, you think back to how you two met.

And what had made you realize that you had deeply fallen for this beskar-clad warrior (and honestly sometimes tin can dumb bitch of a man).

You grew up in a very small village that was hidden in the lush forests of Naboo. People there were kind and caring, always helping each other and even going so far as helping out strangers that desperately needed the help.

And that’s what had led to meeting him.

*

You were some sort of healer for the people of your village. Mixing concoctions, ointments, bacta gels, etc. Taking care of wounded and ill people. They trusted you with their lives and that had filled you with a great sense of pride.

One day, while you were collecting herbs in your little garden, you could hear a loud commotion coming from the marketplace. The noise steadily grew louder until five people stormed in, carrying a person covered head to toe in fabrics and metal, that was bleeding profusely from a deep wound in their lower abdomen. A pool of blood was very quickly forming on the floor and then on the bed once they put the person on it.

You dropped everything you held and rushed inside, immediately starting to cut off the fabric from around the wound to get better access to it, not even thinking about removing the armour and pants. You knew what that would mean.

You had heard about Mandalorians before. Strangers come and go; they spend most of their time at the small cantina. Many of them weren’t very social and would mostly just ignore the questions they were asked. But others, they would talk and then wouldn’t stop, much to the delight of the folks here.

That’s how one day you met a woman called Rook Cava.

She was unlike any other person you had ever met before. Just like this wounded person, she was covered in fabrics and metal armour, from head to toe. The specially shaped breast plate was the only certain physical indication for you that assured you she was a woman. The armour had been painted a very deep purple, the paint was already chipping away here and there. On the helmet, around the visor, there were golden, intricate symbols. She was mysterious and, even though you had no idea what she looked like, you thought she was breathtakingly beautiful.

She emitted such strength and power. The armour made her look bulky, but the fabric underneath laid snug against her skin and you saw her biceps. She wasn’t bulky, no, she was strong and muscular. You had never seen a woman like her before. She rendered you speechless and at the same time there were so many questions you wanted to ask her. But you didn’t want to overwhelm her, so you kept these questions to yourself.

So instead, you let her rest for a bit, she had obviously been travelling for a long time before taking a break on Naboo.

Rook was a step ahead of you though because the next morning she knocked at your door. She explained that she needed a few ointments and new bacta gel for the next few weeks of her travels and that everyone had told her to go seek you out for that.

Without hesitation you had let her in, offering her a seat and something to drink which she politely declined.

You sat in comfortable silence for a bit, while you collected the things she needed and also freshly mixed some of them so she could take a bigger amount with her.

Rook noticed that you held back your questions, always glancing at her, at her armour. She smiled under the helmet, amused and also astonished that you hadn’t drowned her in your questions yet.

She slightly shook her head in amusement and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms behind her head.

“What do you wanna know?”

Your head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Her question had caught you off guard and she had laughed at your shocked reaction, heat creeping to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“It’s fine. I know I’m not a very common sight. Go ahead, ask your questions” she said, her voice warm and friendly. The complete opposite from her fierce appearance.

“Uhmm… what exactly are you?” ‘What exactly are you?!’ You wanted to slap yourself across the face for such a stupid question. But Rook didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m a Mandalorian. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head no at that and she nodded, showing you that she understood.

“To be clear, a Mandalorian is not a race. It’s a creed. You can be born by Mandalorian parents and grow up to become one yourself, or you could be a foundling. Those are children who lose their families at a very young age. They can be taken in by Mandalorians so they have a home and protection. They will grow up and become warriors as well, they will swear the oath. They will live their lives in anonymity, protecting their creed.”

You let that sink in and crush the herbs in your little bowl. Your eyebrows furrow and you take in her armour again.

“Anonymity… What exactly do you mean by that? I mean, I know your name. So, that isn’t very… anonym, is it?” She smiles, but you can’t see it.

“I decided to go by my name because I was just tired of everyone calling me Mando. I hated it. Some of my kind decide to keep their names to themselves, only revealing them to their loved ones and children. Others, like me, are okay with sharing that information. And, by the way, do people check if the name is real anyway?” You laugh at that. She was right. She could tell everyone a made-up name and they would believe it. Nobody checks.

“But, unless you are the wife of a Mandalorian, you will never be able to put a face to that name. We don’t reveal our faces to anyone but our families. If a Mandalorian takes off the helmet in front of another living thing, the Creed would be soiled, the oath you swore - broken. And we are nothing without our Creed. It’s our religion, it’s sacred, holy. It’s what makes us who we are. And we will kill anyone who tries to take that from us.”

“Is that why you declined the water? And why you asked for the food to be brought to your room last night, so you wouldn’t have to eat in the cantina? Because you can’t take off your helmet?”

She just nodded and you hummed in response, thinking about your next question.

“What happens when you get hurt and someone has to access, let’s say, your thigh. Do you just have to risk dying or are others allowed to see other parts of your body?”

She seemed to think about that for a moment, trying to come up with a good answer.

“Technically we aren’t allowed to show any part of our body to anyone. But wounds are, let’s say, a little loophole. If the wound is dangerous and could possibly kill me, then we can let them assess it. Let’s take your example.” She taps one of her thigh plates.

“If I had an awful wound on my thigh that I couldn’t take care of alone and would need help with, I can take off my thigh plate. You can’t take off my pants but you can cut a hole into the fabric so you can access the wound properly. You couldn’t see much of my skin. My Creed would be intact and you can save my life.” A loophole.

This brings you back to your current situation.

“You need to take off his armour! And his clothes! How can you dress his wound like that?” one of the villagers says, not understanding why you just cut a whole into that person’s pants.

You assumed it was a man, his shoulders seemed to be too broad for a woman and his chest plate was quite flat.

“I can take care of his wound like that just fine” you say, telling them what you needed in order to close and disinfect the wound.

It took you a bit over an hour until you had finally finished stitching it up and wrapping gauze around his thigh.

He still wouldn’t move; the blood loss must have weakened him. You had checked his pulse just to be sure he was still alive and then bundled him up into blankets

Just when you finished cleaning the blood stains and tidying the room, he jolted awake, startling you.

He quickly scanned the room before pulling the blankets off of him and attempting to stand up. You saw his knees buckle slightly and rushed over to steady him, carefully pushing him back onto the bed.

“You need to lie down and rest for a while. You lost a lot of blood” you told him, getting him a glass of water and digging out a straw from your drawers.

You held the glass out for him to take but his visor was focused on your face.

“Who are you? Where am I?” His rough and rather deep voice sent a shiver down your smile that you tried to suppress. You just smiled and told him your name, gently pushing the glass into his hand but he didn’t drink yet, still looking at you.

“You’re on Naboo. A few hours ago you were brought to me because you had a very nasty wound on your abdomen, bleeding like mad. I took care of it, but you need to rest or the stitches will break open again and you’ll risk an infection. And you need to drink” you say, pushing the glass a bit closer towards his face.

When you turn around to put the trash away, he tucks the straw under his helmet and quickly empties the glass. He’s relieved to notice that he immediately feels a bit less lightheaded and puts the glass on the little table before lying back down. For some odd reason he feels like he can trust you.

“I didn’t take off your armour or your clothes. And especially not your helmet, so don’t worry. I must admit though that I put my hand under your helmet as best as I could to see if there would be any blood. But I looked away while I did that, I promise. I know it’s forbidden” you turned back to him, a gentle smile on your face.

“I… Okay. Thank you.”

You felt relief wash over you, glad you hadn’t somehow done anything wrong or harmful, internally thanking the Force for sending Rook your way those few years ago.

The Mandalorian spent about a week at your house, resting and healing.

You had learned that he was hunting a bounty and somehow they had managed to ambush him. The wound on his leg was caused by a warspear the bounty had rammed into his thigh in a moment of inadvertence.

Din had to admit to himself that he… liked you. You were kind and caring. You weren’t one of those people that would ask him when the last time was he took off the helmet or if he’d ever taken it off in front of someone else. None of your questions or conversations were focused on his appearance or his life, which he was very grateful for. He trusted you, but he didn’t want to share such private information with someone he didn’t know well enough.

You simply took care of his wound, made him drink enough water and you would leave him alone whenever he needed to eat.

Not even the conversations with you felt awkward.

You willingly told him about your upbringing, what you had done so far in your life and you also told him about your encounter with Rook Cava.

He knew that he was lucky you had this knowledge of his Creed. What if you hadn’t known it and would have taken off his helmet? He figured that he must have killed the whole village then in order to somehow keep his Creed intact… That thought sends a shiver through his body, once again he felt lucky that he ended up in your care.

When he felt stronger and healthier again, ready to leave Naboo behind, the thought of you sitting in his co-pilot chair flashes through his mind.

He didn’t want to leave you. He didn’t know why, but he wanted you to come with him and stay by his side.

‘I just need someone with her skills’ is what he tells himself.

And when he asked you to come with him, he was surprised at how quickly you said yes, agreeing to leave your home behind to travel through the galaxy with him.

As much as you loved the village, you really wanted to see other parts of the galaxy. So you quickly said your goodbyes and packed your things. You were excited to start this new chapter.

You ended up staying and travelling with him for the following 6 years, before you settled down last year.

During this time, your little green rascal became a part of your family, making you a clan of three. That filled Din with great pride and whenever he looked at his little clan, he felt happy and warm. You two were his entire galaxy and he would make sure that nothing ever happened to you.

One evening, you two had been ‘dating’ for about two years now, the kid was sleeping in his pram and you sat on his lap in the pilot chair, his arms around you. You had asked him a question that had floated through your mind for quite a while.

“When did you know you loved me?” You stared out of the windows, the stars just streaks of light during hyperspace. Din stopped caressing your back for a moment and seemed to think about this.

“Pretty sure it was the first time you smiled at me” he said, making you laugh softly and swat his chest.

“Sure thing, shiny” you giggled, making him smile at you under the helmet.

He held you closer to him and leaned his helmet against your shoulder.

“I think it was the moment I realized I couldn’t leave Naboo without you” he said, continuing to caress your back. “That whole week, you took great care of me and I’ve never felt this comfortable around anyone outside of my tribe before. For whatever reason I trusted you right from the beginning. That first smile you flashed me, if I didn’t already sit I would have probably had to sit down. I never felt like this before I met you. Your presence was calming and kind of made me giddy. I don’t know how to describe it…” You smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of his helmet.

“Like butterflies fluttering inside you? The constant urge to smile?” He thought about it for a moment and then nodded. Grateful for his helmet covering his face because he was sure it was just as red as a tomato.

“The thought of leaving without you, it… it kind of hurt. I was imagining you sitting in my co-pilot chair while I would fly. I even dreamed about you… Back then, I didn’t know I was in love with you. I had never loved anyone this way before. You changed my whole life. To the better. I thought I would die alone. No family, no friends, nothing. But then you strut into my life with that stupid little smile of yours and you gave me hope.”

Your chest swells with pride at his confession, warmth spreading throughout your whole body.

You gave him hope. Home. A family, even before this little womp rat waddled into your life. You made the love of your life believe in a happy ending for himself and that was more than you could ever ask for.

“But what about you, cyar’ika? When did you know you loved me?” he asked, while gently putting a hand on your thigh.

“I think it was the first time I saw you straddle that speederbike back on Tatooine. That was pretty hot.”

He laughed at that, gently squeezing your bum and tutted.

“You are unbelievable.”

*

You didn’t realize you fell asleep again until a gentle hand shakes you awake. Your eyes flutter open and you look right into the face of your riduur. He smiles at you and kisses your nose, making you giggle before you gently kiss him.

After a moment he slowly breaks the kiss and sits next to you in the grass, a big plate full of pancakes in front of him and a bottle of chee-chee berry syrup in his hand.

Before you can sit up, the kid scrambles off your chest and goes to launch himself at the plate of pancakes, but Din is quicker. He scoops him into his arms and then puts him into his lap.

“They’re for all of us, ad’ika” he softly tuts, before taking a pancake and slowly tearing it into little pieces to feed him.

You smile and sit up, pressing a kiss to your riduur’s cheek and one to your son’s head.

The Force had blessed you with such a beautiful little family. And soon there would be another little one moving and kicking inside of you. But you had yet to tell your lover.

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

@absurdthirst​ @dindjarindiaries​ @tangledlove27​

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x Reader #Pedro Pascal

[twiceinadream]

Twice React: Fem S/O and Them Get Caught By Their Kids

Requested: Yup

Request: Can u do twice and their wife get caught by their kids plz?

a/u: Hey, guys! So it’s been three months since my last reaction (sorry about that) but I’ve had a writing bug this week and finally got this done so I hope you all enjoy. I love you all and thank you the support!

Category: NSFW and Fluff

Nayeon

“Oh sh…”

Being mothers was one of the greatest achievements you and Nayeon had ever come to. However, that also meant alone time was far and inbetween, so knowing your guy’s daughter was having a sleepover at her sister’s was like a message from the divine. Except when she forgot her safety blanket and you guys forgot her sister had a spare key. As soon as Nayeon’s sister had left with your daughter in hand, Nayeon was quick to push you on the couch as her hands found her way into your shirt. You let out a low moan as her lips trailed kisses up and down your throat, small nips made you croon as the sound of the door opening made you two get up quickly. Your guy’s daughter coming into view a few seconds later, “Hi, baby. What’s wrong?” Nayeon was quick to act as you reached for a blanket to cover your neck. “I forgot Blankey.” Your wife nodded as she took her hand, leading her back to her room to retrieve her favorite blanket. Your attention was driven back to the door as you could hear muffled laughter, “What?” Nayeon’s sister just smiled slyly as she shrugged playfully, “Didn’t mean to interrupt Y/N.” You rolled your eyes, “Shut up.” Her laughter followed you as you left the room.

Jeongyeon

“Off!”

Your guy’s son was the pride and joy of both of your lives. But wandering hands in the backseat of the family car feel so much better when you're racing against the clock of your son’s soccer practice. It had been a minute since you and your wife had shared some alone time together and when she pulled you into the backseat you weren’t about to complain as your hands found your way into her pants as you connected your lips in a kiss. “I can’t remember...the last time we did...this.” You could hear the smile in her panted words as your fingers rubbed at her clit, the pent up sexual frustration guiding her to her climax as you continued kissing her neck. “I know. You better cum quick though, I think practice might end soon.” Jeong nodded as she gripped onto your shoulder, her climax seconds away as you heard the door to the van slide open. Jeongyeon panicked as she pushed you away from her, the force sending you backwards as you pretty much fell out of the van and onto the asphalt. Your son’s confused face meeting yours as your wife quickly jumped out as well, making sure nothing looked too strange. “What were you doing?” You looked to your wife as your son raised an eyebrow in confusion. You both shook your heads before replying in unison, “Nothing.”

Momo

“Crap.”

Being married was amazing, but being mothers was even better. Even if that meant having your early morning quickie interrupted by the bedroom door bursting open. It was early on a Saturday morning and you had already gotten busy beneath the sheets as you lapped at your wife’s entrance. Momo bit her finger to keep quiet as her other hand was tangled in your hair, grinding against your tongue as her release began to build. When suddenly, the door to your guy’s bedroom burst open and your sons came running in full speed with Boo at their heels, jumping onto the bed and coincidentally you under the blankets as you yelped in pain, “Ow!” Your boys were quick to jump off you as they stared at a blushing Momo as you emerged from below, “Mom what were you doing to Mama?” You opened your mouth to speak but Momo beat you to it, “We were playing Hide and Seek, right Y/N?” You gave her a confused look as you nodded dumbly. “Yeah, um...and you boys better go hide before we find you!” The two were quick to run out of the room as they left to hide, a shocked look still on your faces as you both suddenly burst out laughing. “Well, I guess that’s motherhood for us.” You gave your wife a smile as you got up from the bed, “Alright! Ready or not..here I come!” Before you left you pecked her lips as you winked, “I’ll make it up to you tonight Momoring, when the boys are really asleep this time.”

Sana

“What?” (Ojou-sama: Small girl in Japanese)

Don’t get it wrong, your daughter was an angel. An angel who seemed to have a “my moms are getting it on” alert system. You can’t really explain what had happened to you in that moment but watching Sana do the dishes just made her look like the most beautiful woman on Earth and with your daughter taking a nap you just couldn’t keep your hands off her. One second Sana was at the sink and the next she was on the counter with your hands under her shirt as you connected your lips in a kiss. Your hands groped at her breasts as your lips left hot kisses down her neck as you nip playfully at her pulse point making your wife squirm as the heat building in her created a knot in her stomach, “Y/N please, I’m so wet.” The sound of her voice made your knees weak as you nodded, reaching behind her as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her sweatpants and panties ready to pull them down and ravish your wife when you heard little footsteps get closer to the kitchen, “Mommy? Mama?” You both looked at each other in shock as you quickly helped Sana down from the counter just as your daughter walked in, “Yes, ojou-sama?” Your daughter clutched her stomach, “My tummy hurts.” You both frowned, hating whenever your daughter was hurting, “Here I’ll help you, baby.” You offered as your daughter took your hand, “I’ll make it up to you.” Sana shook her head, “Later. Take care of her first.”

Jihyo (This is my favorite Jihyo look hands down. She low key looks like Iris from TWD: World Beyond)

“Nothing!”

Having twins was great! But, alone time after having twins was never the same as before, especially when the door opens. Having a three year old was hard, but having two at the same time was even harder especially if one was very hyperactive and curious while the other tagged along just because they didn’t want to be left behind. So trying to ride your wife’s thigh in the laundry room wasn’t exactly the smartest plan as you were dangerously close to the edge of no return. “Hyo, I’m close. I think I’m gonna…” As you fell over the edge the door to the laundry room suddenly burst open as the face of you daughter and son came into view making you and your wife panic as she pulled her thigh away from between your thighs, which wasn’t the smartest thing since your legs were pretty much jelly mid-orgasm causing you to fall on the floor, “Ouch!” The twins looked concerned as they rushed to your aid, “Are you okay Mama?” You had a heavy blush on your face as the twins hugged you tightly, while Jihyo hid a smirk behind her hand. You rolled your eyes as you made sure the twins weren’t looking as you flipped off your wife. Jihyo just smiled as she blew you a kiss, leaving you to deal with your clingy twins.

Mina

“Move, move, move.”

You were the cool mom and Mina was the graceful one. Except when it came to being walked in on. It was like a whirlwind before you registered Mina on her knees, water poured down on the both of you as she ate you out in the shower. Trying to steal all the alone time she could get with you as your daughter watched Frozen in the living room, your fingers grasping onto the shower curtains as Mina latched onto your clit unexpectedly making you yelp out loud in surprise as your knees grew weak. Your release began rapidly approaching but just as you were at your peak the door to the bathroom creaked open and Mina was quick to stand making her nearly lose her balance due to the water as you caught her nearly taking the shower curtain with you as you peaked your head out. Only to find your daughter staring back at you, “ What’s going on?” Your daughter looked at you worriedly, “I heard you scream Mama. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Both your hearts melted as you thought of a quick lie to ease her worries, “That’s very thoughtful baby, Mama just scared me.” Her gaze suddenly turned to Mina, “That’s not nice Mama.” Mina smiled sheepishly, “You’re right, I should know better. How about you go back to the movie and we’ll be back there soon.” Satisfied your daughter left the bathroom as you both let out a sigh of relief as your wife couldn’t help but snort, “Told you, you were a screamer.” You pushed her into the cold water, making her yelp as well, “So are you.”

Dahyun (Imma go to Hell for this one, but it was just too good not to do it)

*Can’t function*

Dahyun raised your guy’s kids in the church. Even if what came out of her mouth when they walked in wasn’t. Your wife wasn’t super pushy about religion. She just wanted them to have a good foundation before letting them decide what they wanted to do in their lives for the future, so after saying their prayers for the night you and Dahyun also settled into bed as well. However even good church girls had their moments since in the blink of an eye you had Dahyun pinned beneath you as she grinded down on your fingers as you pumped them into her heat, her wetness coating your every move as her back arched. Your fingers began curling into her g-spot as she moaned out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god...” Dahyun was so close to coming when the door to your guy’s bedroom opened making you both panic as you quickly rolled off your wife and wiped your fingers on the sheets before facing your son who was standing in the doorway, “Mom? Eomma?” You cleared your throat as you patted the bed, watching your son quickly climb up, “What’s going on buddy?” He looked between the both of you before looking at his hands, “I heard Eomma saying her prayers really loud, she kept saying, ‘Oh god” a lot and I wanted to join.” At the hilariously innocent answer you couldn’t help but laugh as a dark blush took over Dahyun’s face, “Oh, you just missed it, she finished as you walked in,” He pouted as you ruffled his hair, “Maybe tomorrow. I’ll tuck you back in.” You got up from the bed as you gave your wife a teasing smile, her face still red as she screamed into a pillow. Your laughter following you down the hall.

Chaeyoung

“Behave.”

Chaeyoung was the badass mom who didn’t take shit from anyone. Except when your hands wouldn’t stop moving under the table. When your wife had mentioned “spicing up your guy’s sex life” this isn’t exactly what she meant, but she was so pent up that she didn’t really care that you were trying to fit in an orgasm in the middle of a restraunt as your daughter was in the bathroom. Your fingers teased her through the fabric of her panties as your hand snuck further under her skirt, circling her clit as she gripped onto the tablecloth. Both of you were so distracted that you hadn’t noticed your daughter had returned, a look of confusion on her face as she cleared her throat, “Moms?” At the sound of her voice you and Chaeyoung jumped apart, your wife’s lips were parted slightly as she tried to mask the fact she was panting, teetering on the edge of a orgasm that had been interrupted (which was not your daughter’s fault, but the fact you two were as horny as teenager). You offered a half smile, “Hi, baby, you’re back.” She nodded her eyes looking between the two of you, “Did I interrupt something?” Chase quickly shook her head, “Nope, Mama was just telling me about this ice cream place we should try after.” Your daughter’s eyes lit up at the mention of desert as you gave your wife a look, “Yup, so save room.” She smiled as she sat back down across from the two of you as you whispered into Chae’s ear, “Smooth, Chaengie. Real smooth.” Your wife just rolled her eyes as she Goggled the best ice cream places near where you were. “Shut up Y/N, you’re finishing what you started later.” You smirked as you bit her ear lightly before pulling away, “With pleasure.”

Tzuyu (I wanted to end this react on a sweet note)

“We’re getting a dog!”

You and Tzuyu could read each other like open books, always on the same page. Unless she panicked trying to not have “the talk” with your guys five year old. It had been a long day at work and all you wanted to do was relax with your wife, the massage she had offered you earlier turned more sensual as her hands got lower eventually ending up between your legs as you moaned at the stimulation. Tension leaving your body with every circle of your clit as you neared your climax. Cloud 9 felt like it was just a flick of your clit away when the door to your guy’s bedroom opened and your son stood in the doorway, his own Minjoong in his arms as Tzuyu quickly covered your naked body with a blanket as she looked to the boy, “What’re you doing?” You both looked shocked as Tzuyu looked to the version of Minjoong you had bought for him when he was a baby, thinking quickly so she wouldn’t need to teach a five year old about the “birds and the bees”. “We’re getting you a puppy!” What followed was a unison, “What?!” From both you and your son as he ran out of the room in excitement jumping and hugging the stuffed dog to his chest, a shocked look on your face, “I’m sorry, we’re what?” Tzuyu face palmed as she sighed, “I panicked, I’m sorry.” But by the tone of her voice you could tell that there was something more than just panic that made her say it, a small smile on your lips as you sat up slightly. Ensuring the blanket didn’t slip as you placed a kiss to her cheek, “Don’t worry about it baby. Prada or Dior aren’t bad names for a new puppy.”

#fortwice #twice #twice imagines #twice prompts #twice reactions #twice smut #twice fluff #im nayeon #yoo jeongyeon #hirai momo #minatozaki sana #park jihyo #myoui mina #kim dahyun #son chaeyoung #chou tzuyu #twice nayeon #twice jeongyeon #twice momo #twice sana #twice jihyo #twice mina #twice dahyun #twice chaeyoung #twice tzuyu #anonymous #twiceinadream

[brandstifter-sys]

November 1st

@dukexietyweek Day 8 - Holidays 

Word Count: 1452                      (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Patton

Rating: T

Warnings: Innuendo, mild religion mention, nudity mention

Halloween is over and Virgil is not looking forward to the Christmas overload. Fortunately his crush has just the gift to give him, even if it's early

---

November 1st was always a sad day for Virgil. Not only was his favorite holiday over, but the Christmas season was getting revved up at an alarming rate. He didn't want the snow or the forced family interactions. He didn't want to make cookies or sing carols or pretend that there was no religious significance to any of it. 

Virgil sat on the staircase and stared in silence as his landlord, Patton, skipped about the front room, swapping out his usual knick-knack frogs for snowmen and Santa Clauses. All of the orange, purple, and black curtains and pillows were already put away and swapped for red, green, and gold. 

He got up and made his way down to the first floor, dressed in his uniform to sell the same kind of decorations and seasonal junk that Patton loved. 

"Hey there kiddo!" Patton greeted him, "Have a good day at work!" He didn't seem to notice that Virgil was forcing himself to keep from frowning. 

"It's retail, Pat, I'm aiming for just okay," 

"Well if you have time, can you tear apart the clearance section for me? I'll pay you back or take it off your rent." 

"Yeah, I can do that, Pat, I'll see you later." 

"Bye! Oh and my cousins are coming back tonight—they know to stay out of your room." 

"Alright, Pat, I gotta go," Virgil said with a wave and left. He was not going to have a good day and it would only be worse with Roman and Remus around—two handsome men who needed constant attention like them meant no time to breathe, and no chance for his heart rate to drop.

Virgil got home from work with the weight of the world on his back. It was far too early to start with the Christmas stuff, but there were plenty of people who disagreed. At least he could get to the clearance area and buy the remains of his treasured holiday for Patton, mostly—there was a travel mug covered in spiderwebs he got for himself. 

He placed the bags for Patton on the couch before heading straight to the shower. He needed that reprieve, especially when he saw the twins' car in the driveway. Patton wasn't home so they would latch onto him if he wasn't careful. 

"Hey Virgey!" Remus greeted him as he rushed past his room, only for Virgil to lock himself in the bathroom and turn on the water. Remus shrugged and used the opportunity to strike. 

Virgil didn't always take that long to shower, but he was sad and tired and his back hurt. It just felt too good under that warm stream. But even the nicest showers had to end, so he reluctantly got out, dried, and wrapped a towel around his waist. 

But when he closed the door to his room and turned on the lights, his jaw dropped with his towel. His curtains had fake webs all over them and strings of purple and orange lights crisscrossed the ceiling. There were bats and skeleton stickies on the walls, and a rug covered in fake blood. But the Halloween decorations weren't the only things—a trashy little imp was lounging on his bed in a flowing black dress with a present next to him. 

"Well hello there!" Remus grinned and wiggled his fingers, "I wasn't expecting to see this much of you, but I'm not complaining!" Virgil yelped and covered his nethers. 

"What are you doing in my room?!" 

"I thought I'd freshen up the place before I give you your present! I already got my present!" Remus grinned. Virgil rolled his eyes and inched toward his dresser, not ready to give Remus a look at the other side. 

"Christmas isn't for like two months. Neither is my birthday," he said as he pulled out a pair of pajama pants. 

"Yeah, but it's only one month til Chanukah, but I think you might want this before then!—And no it's not boxers before you ask!" Remus replied and eyed Virgil as he sacrificed his cover to put on those pants. 

"That would give you a reason to complain," Virgil scoffed and pulled out a tee shirt. He didn't look at Remus while he put on deodorant and put his shirt on. 

"I mean, if I had a shot at getting in your pants, it would!" Remus laughed, "You're so immune to my charm it doesn't matter!" 

"Remus," Virgil sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He was not at all immune to this man's charm, far from it. He was supportive and fun, charming and sweet, macabre and handsome—like a grimy Gomez Addams. Virgil wanted to be on the receiving end of his affections, but Remus was out of his league. 

"Open your present, Scare Bear!" Remus said loudly and shoved the box into his hands. Since it didn't have any leaks and it didn't stink, Virgil reluctantly took off the bow and pulled the lid off the box. He looked inside and gasped. 

"Yeah, I didn't think you had one and I know Pat wouldn't think of it, so I thought you might like one that's a little more stylized," Remus said and rubbed his neck sheepishly. 

"Remus," Virgil said as he pulled the gift from the box. It was a nine-candle menorah with skull-shaped candle holders and spider web supports on either side. There was also a package of purple candles in the box but Virgil was too awestruck to pay them any mind. 

"Is it too sacrelig?" Remus asked, as if he didn't wear inverted crosses and pentagrams with rams' heads all the time.

"I'm not orthodox about it, and my brother has one shaped like a t-rex, so for me, no it's not. I'm just—where did you get this?" 

"I made it! I thought you should have one that matches your style! Do you like it?" Remus said and bit his lip. He really wanted to give Virgil something he would love with all the love he wouldn't ever want to give Remus. 

"You made this? Remus this is incredible! No one ever thought to give me anything for Chanukah—no goyim at least—let alone make it themself!" Virgil gasped and reverently placed the gift back in the box. He set it on the nightstand and let out a shuddering breath. He was not about to cry in front of Remus. 

"Virgil," Remus said and leaned forward, gently grabbing his shoulder, "Are you okay?" 

"I'm constantly surrounded by Christianity, and the obnoxious Christmas stuff is going on at work—and you gave me a custom menorah. I'm so happy I could kiss you right now!" 

"You can if you want to stoop that low, I won't stop you!" Remus giggled. Virgil pouted and glanced back at Remus. 

"Stoop that low? Me? You'd be the one downgrading. You're thoughtful and sweet and fun, you could do so much better than me." 

"Nah, you forget that I am a macabre bastard with impulsive tendencies and a knack for causing trouble! You're one of the most patient people I know—you listen to me and you get me. I would kill to be your boyfriend! You're witty and chill and hot and you're hu—" 

"Shut up a sec," Virgil cut him off, "You want that? To be my boyfriend?" 

"Yep!" Remus beamed, only to let his smile falter. He was not ready to face rejection.

"Then scoot over," Virgil said and flopped on his side, "I'm tired and you're on teddy bear duty." 

"Teddy bear duty?" Remus asked dumbly and got up. Virgil awkwardly forced his sheets and blanket down from under him and huffed. 

"Spooning, duh. I'm exhausted and I want to cuddle my boyfriend." 

"Can I switch out of this dress? It didn't seduce you and it's not comfy," Remus asked. 

"Yeah, but you lose your boyfriend status if you don't come back," Virgil huffed and closed his eyes. He swore he heard Remus squealing all the way to his room. 

Not even five minutes later, Remus burst in wearing sweats and a tee shirt. He turned off the lights and crawled into bed next to Virgil, who looked like he was asleep. 

"I guess you're stuck with me til morning," Remus giggled and kissed his nose. Virgil grunted and grabbed him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

"Work on your aim, Pup," he grumbled and pulled Remus to his chest. Remus giggled and curled up to him, looking up at his face as he drifted off. 

"Happy Halloween 2: When Remus is your beau," he whispered, only to hear snoring coming from the emo. He closed his eyes and let Virgil's warmth lull him into dreamland as well.

#remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #dukexiety #patton sanders #jewish!virgil #nudity mention tw #sex mention tw #dukexietyweek2021 #sandyscribed