#but i think it would be like. Confusing. to watch with no knowledge of trek in general

[nat-20s]

the best way I can pitch Star Trek: Lower Decks is that the protagonists Mariner and Boimler are like. The absolute PEAK representation of annoying bisexual besties

#also i love that mariner like. sucks lol. #i mean that EXTREMELY positively we need more women who do dumb bullshit #also ougghhg i love you sci fi comedy i love you SPECIFICALLY a star trek show that is inherently a comedy #star trek lower decks #my only like. non pitch for the show is it is not really good for people who are like. not already star trek fans #it's a show by and for trekkies lol #which is not to say it doesn't have it's own things going on it's not just references #but i think it would be like. Confusing. to watch with no knowledge of trek in general

[mogwaei]

There is so much more to you.

[~2700 word oneshot below the cut, Astarion's pov!]

There was never a dull moment with Zjinn (the name had stuck with most of the others, but Astarion was having too much fun to settle now). The dark elf simply never stopped, and if everyone else was occupied, Zjinn found ways to amuse herself which was a skill he admired but would not admit. Now, if he were a better man, he might even be a little concerned, but Wyll and Gale already had that covered. Karlach encouraged it. Lae'zel seemed to find it secretly entertaining, or more likely useful, in that if the rest of their party didn't require rest, she would have absconded with Zjinn to the nearest creche on day one.  

Astarion instead assigned himself the task of watching and waiting with great anticipation for the day the chaos finally caught up with the guileful, fey elf. It would probably be disastrous, but also hilarious. Perhaps the others were too charmed (or even infatuated) with Zjinn's magnetic personality to realise that it was a glamour, a distraction to hide an internal struggle with a darker somethingness he'd seen slip free here and there.  

After their encounter with dear Auntie Ethel, he was almost certain it existed. The entire group had descended into the hag's tree and things went from high confidence to ‘everything is very bad very quickly’. Out of their seven, it came down to the two of them becoming a bloody acrobatic act trying to avoid the crone's lethal spells. Thinking herself victorious, Ethel taunted him, plucking weaknesses and insecurities from his head like ripened fruit.  

Slaver. Sadist. Descendant of monsters, child of the Gloaming! How dare you judge me?  

Well. Whatever that meant.  

He'd peeked out of cover in confusion at the other elf. Nothing they had encountered in their short time together seemed to ruffle Zjinn. She was as slippery as the tadpoles in their heads and annoyingly resilient. But right then, he saw something like doubt. Maybe a spark of fear.  

It clearly struck a chord with the elven thaumaturge. Something snapped and suddenly Zjinn went completely feral. He'd seen her fight with broken chicken bones to stab into soft flesh and even a frying pan more than once—she was very resourceful and hands-on for what he expected of a burgeoning bard-druid-whatever. But this time, Zjinn picked up a short sword out of the filth and became a flurry of blade and strange, foul magic he'd not seen her wield before. The hag cackled with glee, I knew your kind was excitable, petal, but you're as weak as watered milk!  

And yet, it was Zjinn who ended up covered in a thick soup of blood and grime, standing above the hag as she begged, then bargained for her life. Unexpectedly, Zjinn let the miserable creature go in exchange for power. I intend to be the strongest milk you’ve ever tasted, Astarion! Another thing to bite them in the arse down the road, but, she was right. He would happily help her hoard power if it meant they could eventually reduce any of their enemies to dust at the snap of their fingers—Cazador at the top of his list.

Nevertheless, after barely rousing their companions with carefully portioned potions and Zjinn's last healing spell, the elf traded her usual series of friendly quips to lighten the mood. Another distraction, for while the others conversed tiredly on the trek back to camp, Zjinn filtered to the rear and subsided into an inordinate silence. With that battle being their toughest to date, he chalked it up to exhaustion.  

But Zjinn did not stop nor rest. He immediately recognised the vacant look in her eye: a lute enchanted to play without a musician still played its programmed notes, but to his knowledge, magic lacked the specific flavour and spirit only a living person could provide (despite what Gale would argue). In other words, no one was home except the tadpole.  

Further driving his convictions, Zjinn disappeared for a bit into the darkening forest, returning with a burlap sack containing some sort of fungus that she made a  brew from. Whatever it was kept her up all through the night—and no, he wasn't watching her every minute of the day. He was settling into a trance when she woke Wyll for his watch and sat with the warlock on the  riverbank for the duration of his.  

Whatever the man said to Zjinn that night was enough to return the eye-patch elf to her regular  insufferable self the next morning. There was no sign of vulnerability for another couple of tendays—then again, Astarion forced himself to stop paying so close attention. For reasons.  

That was up until a night or two before they planned to storm the goblin camp, finally deciding they were prepared to do so. Astarion had gone hunting since his usual donor had once again gone out for an evening forage. He took a meandering path not at all keeping an eye out for signs of a familiar moon-haired cretin getting high off spores with myconids or something equally absurd.

He wasn't far off the mark. There were no mushroom people, fortunately, but Zjinn was near an outcropping overlooking the river and the overcast heavens, her form almost entirely obscured by a cloud that was shifting colours like an aurora. Motes of light, like stars, were drifting through them. He moved closer with nary a sound, mouthing what the fuck?  

The cloud turned red spontaneously at the same time that the idiot dropped to the ground out of sight. When she didn't rise immediately, Astarion sighed and pushed through the bushes calling her name while hating the worry edging his voice. When he broke through, he nearly tripped over her body, batting fruitlessly at the cloud. Zjinn lay sprawled on her back staring up at the stars with the vacant expression that had been haunting the back of his mind for days. While her shirts and armour were usually left open to a dangerous degree to flaunt the myriad tattoos adorning her skin, it was the ink that caught his attention this time...and not in a horny way. They were shifting, the designs mixing and twisting nauseatingly.  

He nudged her with a foot, not trusting his hands to do something foolish like touch her face.  

"You're not even breathing—what the hells did you do now?" he muttered, kneeling beside her.  

Then she blinked. And looked at him. They stared at each other in silence, neither breathing.  

"It worked. The dose needs dilution, but—" Ziinn winked.  

Astarion's face darkened. "You absolute buffoon. If Gale finds out you're sampling fungi again, we'll never hear the end of it! And so far from camp—what if—”

Zjinn started wheezing with laughter and Astarion shut his mouth indignantly, considering kicking her over the edge of the cliff. He was not worried. "Gale only finds out if one of us tells him." She pushed herself up, wild curls stuck with moss and grass. "Did you want some?"

He waited for her to latch onto the too-obvious concern rolling off of him to tease him mercilessly, but it never came. There was still time—probably tucking it away for later, the menace. It was what he would do.

"Even if I were interested in huffing dust off rocks like you, I doubt it would have an effect on me," he groused, watching her roll around, mumbling incoherently in another language. "Also, why aren't you breathing?"

He wasn’t sure why that unnerved him, of all the unhinged things she did, but he didn’t want to figure it out. He couldn't afford to.

She ignored him in favour of searching the ground for the fallen pouch, but Astarion grabbed it first and tucked it out of view. "It's merely a side effect, I'Il be fine! Tell Gale or Wyll to lead the parade for a day or two."

Unable to find her pouch, she let out a garbled sound of dismay.

"Sorry darling, if we're going to be fighting goblins and drow tomorrow, I'm not about to trust my back to a mushroom-addled bard."

Zjinn kicked out at his ankle, knocking him onto his ass. "Why not suck the poison out of my veins? Like ye olde healing leeches.”

“And risk getting me high? I think not.”

She narrowed her eye. "Would that work?"  

"I am absolutely fucking not testing that out.'  

"I promise they're harmless to outsiders.'  

"'Outsiders'?"  

She pursed her lips and he realised it must have been  a slip. "I don't know. I..." Zjinn dug her hands into her  hair, leaning between her peaked knees. "It must be the tadpole. Catching stray thoughts from others out of the air or something.” There, a fissure in the jester's mask. He needed only to chip away at it until there was  an Astarion-shaped hole.  

"That doesn't explain the sudden need for—" he gestured lazily to the starlike magic and the still-swimming ink on her skin. He wasn't sure if the particulates had affected him or if the tadpoles were skimming surface thoughts off their brains, but he felt something give in the air. The slightest incremental shift of time and space in her direction—oh gods below, he was beginning to think like Gale.  

Zjinn sighed. "I've been getting terrible headaches since the crash," she confessed, though it did not come easy. It should have made him feel elated for the bit of give, but instead...he felt a little cold. Guilty. “It's like reality doesn't quite fit. I feel...untethered."  

"Darling, I think it's the mushrooms—”  

She raised her head, staring up at the red clouds and scattered constellations, still without breathing. "Somehow I thought you’d understand, being someone who needs a questionable substance to feel semi-stable.” The other was Gale, he knew, but she didn’t mention the wizard.

Astarion floundered for his script. "You’re right. Try me, darling. I’ll behave." Yes, that was choice, and delivered with the right amount of softness. She was looking at him now, likely because it was a tone she'd never heard him take. He cleared his throat and gently booped her on the shoulder with his finger. "It's not just headaches, is it?"  

She was, for once, silent. And then that single red feline-pupiled eye turned to the crimson depths above. "No." Zjinn wiggled her fingers where they perched on her knee. "But something about these mushrooms and flowers...they make me feel  more connected? Instead of hurtling blindly through wherever I'm bloody going, I suddenly am only a few tools short of being able to map the unknown. That's why I was trying to chart the stars from memory.”  

It was Astarion's turn to stare into the distance, mind spinning. It explained the mess of ‘stars’ in the red cloud, but not the...mapping bit. 

 "There's far more to you than you let on." It was meant to be a genuine compliment—eugh—but as always, it came off frosted with mockery. Gale would probably be losing his collective shit if he were sitting in his place, happily hanging on every word of her reluctant vulnerability. Hells, figuring out what sort of magic she wielded had been something of a camp topic for weeks while Zjinn demonstrated signs of sorcery, druidic magic, and whatever it was bards did. He still didn't understand the others’ obsession—Zjinn could fight and kill and protect well, sometimes having fun with the violent bits! It was all he cared about after all.

But he had to pretend he was invested, because it was Astarion she was telling now. Except…what did it mean for two seasoned liars? Did she expect him not to believe her and thus didn't care to hold her cards close? Why did that prospect suddenly bother him?

Push it a little further. You can secure her loyalty here, that fearful voice whispered.  

"Why don't we try something?" he piped up, drawing her gaze again. "Remember when we discussed getting blood-drunk? As in, you drink to the brink of liver failure..." Astarion could get drunk on wine, but it usually took enough bottles to kill a mortal man or two. The theory they had some time ago—but tragically had yet to test—was for her to get piss drunk and for him to…partake of her blood shortly after, perhaps yielding a more potent result.  

"Are you suggesting what I think you are, but with the spores?"  

He shrugged nonchalantly as he leaned back on his  hands, pasting on a little smirk. "It was your idea. Something about 'sucking out the poison'? I'm not usually one for details, dear. But, if it works, maybe it will help me to...better understand what has that wild little mind in such a bind lately."  

Zjinn mirrored his posture, tilting her head slowly to the side in a way that exposed her inked neck. It drove him a little mad and made his fangs ache. 

“When was the last time you looked at the stars?”

Every fucking night since the crash. He was absorbing every vibrant petal and shimmering ray of sun like any moment he'd be whisked away back to Cazador. But he pretended he wasn't one for details because that was weakness.

“Well, hardly tonight since they're playing coy.” The double entendre was not lost on her.

Zjinn gave a very Lae'zel-like tch and motioned toward her neck with those tapered fingernails. “We'll see about that. Have a taste.”

Astarion reined himself in so as not to appear as excited as he felt, taking his sweet time positioning himself behind her, deliberately brushing her thighs with his. Gently brushing the mass of curls over her other shoulder, he briefly inspected the shapeless ink on her neck. This close, it almost looked like something was alive and moving beneath her skin. He wasted no time drowning those lovely little thoughts in her blood.

As the hot liquid flooded his tongue, he noticed a new note to the conflicting essence that was uniquely Zjinn. It was…unexpected, yes, but not unpleasant. Yet, trying to put words to the taste only conjured an image of the Astral Sea, similar to where the Dream Visitor had taken up residence. Multi-hued puffs of stardust that looked tantalisingly tasty—Zjinn's words, not his—but what Lae'zel vehemently insisted was not. Regardless of what Lae'zel said, Zjinn's blood had some Astral Sea in it and it was quickly approaching ambrosial in quality.

He didn’t realise how far gone he was until Zjinn gave him a tiny zap on the nose. When he opened his eyes, they were surrounded by aurorean lights and an expanse of drifting stars.

“It's all right, you're not going to float away,” came the moonsmoke voice, all light with amusement. He was clinging to her. Mortifying. Astarion quickly put distance between them, but not far enough that he couldn't reach out…just in case.

“Fascinating darling, but how exactly does this help you at all? All I can see are…unicorn farts.”

“You haven't built up a tolerance, pumpkin. But now we know it works! Think of all the debauchery we can get up to now.”

Astarion opened his mouth to reflexively deliver something salacious, but his eyes caught once more on the tattoos. The designs were back, but gone were the usual mosaics of Feywild flora and fauna and monsters. Now, they were images of portals and arches filled with visions of other worlds, of voids containing stars, and stained glass windows framed by flowers and ivy…

All connected by the thin dendritic fingers of mushrooms.

He didn’t know what it meant and she was unlikely to grace him with a straightforward answer. Instead, he focused on her currently guiding a star across the sky.

“You're mapping them?” he recalled weakly, feeling in threat of losing his connection to the ground. 

She nodded, placing a particularly sparkly orb at an acute angle above his head. “I've already done the prettiest part of the sky.”

Astarion scanned the area, about to say something incredibly snarky about her memory being shite until something she had said earlier about reality not quite ‘fitting’ had him faltering.

While it had been something like two hundred years since he'd had a proper look at the heavenly bodies, he'd been catching up enough on his stargazing to recognise something was off.

These were not the constellations of Faerûn.

But something deep down inside him said they were designs that existed in some realm.

It occurred to him that their peculiar dark elf had a very different perspective of the world. Or, perhaps, Zjinn was not Faerûnian at all.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #dark urge #throwing in some of my own oc lore - this durge has a different backstory than 'canon' sue me #zjinn's a bard/sorc/druid...but not a spores druid. Mushrooms just happen to be a big part of their culture (even tho she can't remember) #also Zjinn is she/they but using “she” for the sake of clarity rn #if anyone is familiar with my Ouroboros' background...we tapping into that here :3 #also the art doesn't quite line up with the story oop #mogwaei arts #zjinn #astarion

[samseabxrn]

Welcome to DADWC! A prompt this fine friday: A mage’s staff, splintered in the center

Thank you so much!! Something Amell-centric to start...

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1069

The enchanter pulls the next example from under the table and sets it out in front of them. The minute her eyes land on it, Amell bites her tongue. The apprentices crowd closer to examine the long elm staff, splintering down the middle in a spindly crack. Enchanter Trembley lets them take it in for a moment, then drops her bait into the water.

“Can anyone suggest how a failure like this begins?”

Technical critique has always been her least favorite part of her courses. It’s bad enough to be under watch at all times, both by the templars and the enchanters. But to add in the criticism of her peers, all of them stuck in the same cliques and vying for the top spots in class? Downright insufferable. Even broken, the staff is tall enough that she’s sure it’s clear whose mistake this was, and she tries not to shrink back too much.

“Lack of preparation for a new spell?” someone suggests. She holds back an eye roll.

“Improper concentration of mana through the staff?” She stiffens.

“All reasonable. My guess is that this person carries a great deal of power, but not enough control. To be a mage is to be in control. It is essential.” The enchanter pushes the staff, letting it roll forward. “Now, Miss Amell.” Her cheeks are fully burning now as she steps forward, breaking the ranks. “What do you think happened?”

“Um, I was.” She catches eyes with Jowan from across the group and tries to direct her words to him. “I was trying to combine a frost spell with a flame cone. It’s a technique we learned in advanced primal lecture,” she’s quick to say, because innovation is hardly an admirable quality at their level. “And I think my timing was off. I didn’t let the energy dissipate.”

“And what will you do differently next time?”

“I’ll wait for the energy to stabilize before casting my second spell.”

“Good. Come get your staff.”

She goes to pick it up, but Enchanter Trembley halts her for a moment. “First Enchanter Irving wants to speak with you.” Whatever good mood she has from surviving the critique disappears as the news settles in her stomach. There’s no trace of emotion on the woman’s face, no clue of what this could mean. Class ends, and she makes the trek up to the first enchanter’s office, the steep steps giving her ample time to make up a story about what she’s done.

“You wanted to see me, First Enchanter?”

“Ah, come in, Apprentice Amell.” She takes her seat across from him, ankles knocking against each other clumsily. “I heard you broke another staff today.”

“I—“ didn’t mean to, she almost says, but that would be the worst thing she could say, especially when there are templars right outside the door. “I did, ser. But I’ve been working in my practicals to… master my timing. I think it’s my timing.”

“Relax, Miss Amell. I know your potential.” He shuffles some papers on his desk, then folds his hands together. “Quite a lot of potential. I know some of the others may be concerned, but I have full confidence you’ll address this issue of… timing soon.” He gives her a gentle smile, and she blinks. “Do you have any questions?”

“No, ser.”

“Good. I know we’ll be meeting again soon anyway, to discuss your future plans, but I just wanted to reassure you. Couldn’t hurt.” Suddenly, it dawns on her. The Harrowing. Hers could be coming up. A chill runs down her spine—she can’t tell if it’s excitement or dread. “Well, you had better get that staff looked at.”

“Maybe I’ll get a new one,” she replies, trying to pose it as an off-handed remark. To her surprise, he laughs.

“I will see what we can do.” She leaves, turning the knowledge over in her mind, even more confused than when she came.

….

“You’re really getting good at this! Never seen a staff break like that before,” Alistair laughs, winding a strip of cloth around the cut on his shin.

“It’s becoming a bad habit,” she grumbles, picking at the wood with a knife. It splinters in nearly the same way each time, like a signature.

“It’s that bad?”

She puts her supplies down for a moment to shoot a glance at him. “You don’t know?”

“I never actually made it to my vigil,” he begs off. “You’re the expert."

“Well, that’s a first. It’s pretty bad.” He nods, tying the bandage off with a flourish. She thinks that’ll be the end of it, but he pipes up a few minutes later.

“How bad?”

“Come here." He gets up and stands next to her. She’ll never get used to how eager he can be to be around her.

She wraps his hand around the staff, right above hers. With a breath, she calls the spell into focus. Nothing big, just a simple frost spell. She casts it towards a nearby tree, and as a layer of ice begins to wrap around the trunk, just as expected, a chill shoots up through her arm. Next to her, Alistair shivers, his hand tightening on the staff.

“Oh,” he breathes, and his breath is hot in her ear. “That’s not supposed to happen?”

“No,” she has to laugh. “It backfires.”

“Well, I can see how that would be bad, then.” His grip on the staff slackens, his hand sliding down to rest near hers. She’s not sure he’s noticed it, but the detail lodges itself in her mind. “Does it feel like that every time?”

“Not if the staff is normal. But without the staff, yeah. More, actually. That’s why we use them, because otherwise the magic just goes through…” She gestures down her body.

“I guess I never realized. You carry all of that inside of you.” To her surprise, he doesn’t sound afraid like she was dreading. She didn’t realize she was dreading that. In fact, he almost sounds amazed. Suddenly, she feels very flustered; she almost wishes she was back in class and about to hear a scathing critique come out of his mouth to cut it.

“Nothing special,” she jokes, because she doesn’t know what to do with this—admiration.

"Tell that to the darkspawn. I'm beginning to think we have a chance," he shoots back. The girlish hope that's rooted inside her flares up at that, despite all her attempts to quash it.

#dadwc #my writing #the drama in kinloch hold must have been through the roof

[writeforfandoms]

The Trouble with Tribbles

This is really pure silliness. I thought "Huh, you know what would be fun? Throwing tribbles on Lasky." And then I did it.

Pre-relationship Johnsky wherein they're both bad at flirting.

No knowledge of tribbles or Star Trek is necessary.

"What is that?" Thomas Lasky, Captain of the Infinity, stared at the thing sitting on his bed. It was round, gray, and fluffy. In fact, he couldn't see anything but fluff - no evidence of eyes, ears, mouth, feet. Nothing. 

"That is a tribble, sir." Roland appeared with his hands on his hips, looking at the little thing. 

"Is it alive?" Tom sounded dubious even to his own ears, stepping closer cautiously. Although if Roland knew about it and wasn't warning him to back away, it was safe. 

Just weird. 

"It is!" Roland grinned, amused with his captain's antics. "Tribbles are a more recent discovery, quickly becoming popular among the outer colonies. They have a trill that humans find quite pleasing and relaxing, according to the reports. They're gaining popularity on ships too, since they're so low maintenance. Just don’t feed it - they reproduce ridiculously fast." 

Tom held out his hand towards the little thing, watching it inch closer. How it inched, he had no idea, and he wasn't sure if he should be charmed or alarmed. Either way, the fuzzy thing crawled up onto his hand, and Tom picked it up. 

"How did it get in here?" Tom glanced meaningfully at his bed. The list of people who had access to his room was short. Very short. 

"It's a gift." Roland waggled his eyebrows. 

Tom sighed. That was probably as much as he'd get out of the AI. "Thanks, Roland." 

"Sure thing, Captain!" Roland vanished again. 

Tom looked down at the tribble currently cuddling up to his chest. "Well," he mused, lifting his other hand to start petting it, "I suppose you can stay for now." The tribble began purring, vibrating ever so slightly. Oh that was kind of soothing. Odd, but soothing. 

Tom sat, intending to read through a few reports before bed, the tribble tucked in one hand and his datapad in the other. 

He opened his eyes to the lights coming on as his alarm beeped at him. He blinked. When had he fallen asleep? 

Tom sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. He hadn't slept that well in… Well. It had been a while. 

He was quick to rise and get ready for the day. The tribble squeaked at him as he left the bed, and he looked down at it. It wiggled towards him. 

"No," he mumbled to it. "You are staying here." 

One last tug at his uniform and Tom left, heading back up to his post. 

The tribble was quick to leave his mind as he tackled the day's problems. 

For a few days, Tom vaguely wondered about where exactly the tribble had come from. But he didn't think too hard about it. If he wanted to know that badly, he could order Roland to tell him. 

But he figured it didn't matter that much. The tribble was cute and harmless. So he didn't push. 

But if he happened to notice a certain Spartan hovering for a moment longer than usual after debrief, well… There was no way someone like the Master Chief would be nervous about interpersonal relations. No way. 

Normally, Tom didn’t eat in his room. Too much risk of forgetting something and coming back to an accidental science experiment. (It had happened once and only once, but that once was enough to leave an impression.) So he was doubly confused about how the peach cobbler had gotten into his room. There was no note, and Roland got squirrely as soon as Tom asked. 

So Tom shrugged and started eating it. It was delicious - whoever had gotten their hands on it must have called in a favor or something. Damn. The sweetness lingered on his lips between bites. He was absolutely savoring this. 

“Captain,” Roland interrupted, sounding somewhat apologetic, “new orders from FLEETCOM, you’re needed on the bridge.”

Tom sighed, looking down at his lovely dessert mournfully. Well, maybe this would be quick and he’d be able to come back shortly. “On my way,” he agreed, putting the plate down on his side table and pulling his boots on. He left without a backwards glance. 

It was not a quick and easy thing. Of course not. It was, instead, an hour long conversation in his ready room involving far too much grumbling about colonies. (Tom and Sarah shared a brief but equally exasperated look.) That was followed by half an hour of follow-up and updating orders. 

By the time he finally got back to his room, he was ready to knock out for a solid six to eight. 

He didn’t even think about the empty plate sitting on his side table. 

Tom woke to an entire huddle of tribbles congregated across his chest and stomach. Eight of them, now. The original gray one, which was purring against his throat, and seven slightly smaller tribbles - white, brown, a darker gray… 

“What the fuck.” 

All of the tribbles squeaked as he moved them, and he had to remove a persistent little golden one three times before he was able to get up. “Roland!”

“Morning, Captain! What–ah.” Roland looked at the bed and then back at Tom with clear disapproval. “I warned you not to feed it.” 

“I didn’t feed it.” Tom looked at the empty plate. The peach cobbler. His shoulders dropped and he sighed. “I didn’t intentionally feed it.” 

“Congrats, Captain, you’re a dad.”

Tom snorted. “Not a chance. I’m not keeping them. I do not need eight tribbles.”

“Bet you could give them away. I could find you a crate, you can make one of those old-fashioned labels. ‘Free to good home!’” Roland spread his hands out, grinning. 

“Roland.”

“Or you could leave them in the rec room with clear instructions not to feed them.” Roland shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you’d have people lined up for them.”

Tom sighed, rubbing a hand over his head. He knew his crew, he trusted his crew, but there was a lot of room for error with these things. Clearly they could eat just about anything, and the last thing he wanted was for one wayward tribble to get into any of the storage compartments. “I’ll think about it.” 

He did take the plate with him when he left his room. Just in case. He didn’t need more tribbles.

The next 16 hours were busy. Unexpectedly busy. He sent Blue Team off on a mission and was entirely unsurprised when they made it back for debrief sooner than anyone expected. He’d accuse them of showing off (at least in the privacy of his own head), except they really were just that good.  

Tom finally fell into bed (not squishing any tribbles in the process) and slept. For about five hours. Until his alarm went off and he had to get up again. 

It took him a couple days to decide to leave the tribbles with strict instructions not to feed them in the officer’s mess. His officers could be trusted to obey orders, the tribbles would go to good homes, all would be well. 

And that worked for about a week. 

Tom stepped into his bedroom. And then stopped.

A veritable pile of tribbles sat on his bed, cooing and chirping to each other. 

“Roland.”

“Yes, sir?” The AI sounded… not exactly nervous. Not quite.

“Where did all these tribbles come from?” Tom thought he was doing a marvelous job of not losing his shit. 

“Well. About that.” Roland shuffled his feet, looking at anything but his captain. “Apparently one of the ODSTs got their hands on one of the tribbles…”

Tom groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Is this all of them? And why are they here?” 

“I… think so?” Roland cleared his throat. “Someone thought you’d want to keep an eye on them yourself until we get somewhere they can be safely offloaded to a colony, or something.” 

“Someone.” Tom lifted his head enough to glower at Roland. “Which someone would that be?” 

“Commander Palmer.”

Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah. That tracked, actually. She would pull this kind of prank on him. “Wait. What do you mean you think this is all of them?”

“Well, some of the security team are double-checking,” Roland said, eyeing his captain a little nervously now. “It’ll be fine, I’m keeping an eye on things!”

“How long until we reach our destination?”

“Two more days, sir.”

Tom rubbed his forehead. Fine. Fine! He could deal with this for two days.

Or…

“Where is Commander Palmer right now?” 

“Running drills,” Roland answered slowly. 

“Good.” Tom smirked as he gently pushed tribbles off the bed, pulling off the top sheet and starting to pile the tribbles into it. 

There was a knock on his door.

Tom stopped and looked at the door. Then he walked over and opened it.

Master Chief stood there, larger than life. Tom swallowed.

“Sir,” he greeted, nodding once. When Tom just stared at him, a little blankly and vaguely panicky, he continued cautiously, “Roland said you needed to see me.”

If it were possible to strangle an AI, Tom would have… been tempted to. 

“Well. I could use your help with something.” Tom stepped aside to let Chief in. 

Chief looked at the pile of tribbles, some of which were attempting to escape the sheet. “Sir?”

“Palmer left them in here as a joke,” Tom said quickly. “I’m going to return the favor, if you’re up to it.”

“Yes, sir.” Chief stood very still, looking down at the (frankly ridiculous) pile of tribbles. 

Tom piled the last few on. Paused. Grabbed his gray tribble (he just knew it was his) and set it back on his pillow. His tribble purred at him and obediently held still. Then Tom nodded, bending over to get one end of the makeshift sling. Chief had frozen, staring at the single tribble on Tom’s pillow, until Tom gently cleared his throat. Then he snapped to, picking up the other end of the sheet.

“Roland, you are going to clear the way for us and open every door. That is an order.”

“Aye aye, sir.” The AI sounded far too chipper about that. 

The walk to Sarah’s quarters wasn’t long, fortunately. Well. Not as long as it could’ve been. True to his word, Roland kept the route clear so the two didn’t run into a single person. Perfect.

Tom led the way into Sarah’s room and took a moment to survey the space. He could go the direct route, but… It would be much more satisfying to leave them everywhere. 

“Cover as much ground as possible,” he ordered Chief, picking up several of the fuzzy little menaces and heading for the bathroom. 

Chief obeyed quietly, and it took no time at all for the tribbles to be spread across the entire quarters. Tom stood next to Chief, hands on his hips, surveying their work, feeling distinctly smug. 

He’d like to see Sarah top this.

“Thanks for the help, Chief. I know this is… unusual.”

Chief nodded. “Anything you need, sir.” 

Tom looked up at him, because that… that was a very open invitation. “I’ll remember that,” he murmured, a little lower than he’d intended. 

“Sir, might want to get moving, Commander Palmer is on her way back,” Roland piped up from the nearest microphone.

“Got it. Thanks, Roland.” Tom nodded to Chief and walked away. He heard Chief leave in the opposite direction. 

Tom was entirely vindicated by the force of Sarah’s glare the next day. “They were in my shower, Tom,” she hissed. “My shower!”

“Were they?” He affected surprise. “Sneaky little things, aren’t they?” 

She glowered but didn’t say anything else. Tom kept his smirk to himself. 

He didn’t know where the tribbles ended up after that, and he didn’t care, since he didn’t see them in his room again. 

Until they were half an hour out from the colony they were visiting. 

“Captain, there’s a little problem in kitchen storage.” Roland looked sheepish as his hologram appeared next to Tom.

Tom went very still. “What kind of little problem?” he asked slowly.

“The furry kind.” 

Tom closed his eyes, searching for some kind of patience. He found none. “Right,” he said on a sigh. “I’m going.”

Which is how Tom found himself standing outside one of the walk-in fridge units for the kitchen, staring at shelves full of tribbles. 

“I don’t know where they came from, sir.” The officer on duty was wringing his hands together, just a bit of a nervous wreck. 

“Well. I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” Tom stared at the absolute mass of tribbles. Some of them had fallen out of the unit and rolled across the floor. “Roland. I want everyone not on essential duty scouring the ship. Check everywhere. Ventilation, maintenance tubes, everything. I want every tribble off this ship.” He paused. “Well. Every tribble except mine.”

“Yes, sir. Sending up some Spartans to help with clean up.”

“You have any empty crates?” Tom raised one eyebrow at the officer.

“Yes, sir.” The officer nearly sprinted away to grab the crates, and Tom sighed down at the tribbles. This was going to be a very long day. 

He paused as he picked up a tribble that was a very familiar shade of gold, and stuck that one in his pocket instead. 

All told, it took 36 hours to officially clear the ship of tribbles. Tom didn’t even want to know how many of them there were (Roland knew, and offered, cheerfully, several times, to tell him the exact number). 

But they were finally gone. Given to the colony planet below with very, very serious warning labels. Tom had left the little golden tribble in his room with his gray one, the two cuddled up together on his pillow. 

Tom was more than happy to put that planet to the rear and continue on with the mission. But there was one last thing he had to do. 

As captain of the ship, he could go anywhere he wanted and never got a second look. (Well. Almost never.) 

So when he walked through S-deck, nobody tried to stop him or ask him what he was doing. He knew exactly which door he was heading for, didn't need any directions. 

He stopped in front of the door. Paused. Took a deep breath. And knocked. 

Master Chief was out of armor when he answered. Blue eyes met his, blinking once. 

"Captain," he murmured, standing a little straighter. 

"Here." Tom pulled the gold tribble out of a pocket, holding it out to Chief. "Matches your visor."

Startled blue eyes flitted between the tribble and Tom, and one big hand slowly extended. Tom dropped the tribble in his hand. The tribble began to purr up at Chief. 

"Just don't feed it." With a little smile, Tom turned to go. 

"Captain." 

He paused, looking over his shoulder. 

"Thank you." Chief's lips twitched in a faint but unmistakable smile. 

Tom nodded once, returning the smile. 

Two tribbles on board wasn't so bad, after all. 

#halo fanfic #john-117 x thomas lasky #nobody look at me

[toontwink]

☆ ☆ ☆ficccc

Star 1: Excerpt from Brassius/Grusha fic I wrote in February.

If Grusha never had to attend one of those league parties again, it would be too soon. The night air outside was frigid, but nothing compared to what it would be like on the mountain when Grusha eventually got home. He figured the least he could do was walk Brassius home, especially knowing that he intended to walk back on his own otherwise. It was something that a date would do, after all; even though Grusha didn't think the role suited him, he wanted to make an effort for Brassius's sake. That being said, however... "You said Artazon is close by, right?" Grusha felt somewhat foolish asking this question after they had been walking for upwards of 20 minutes already. Truthfully, Grusha wasn't very good with walking long distances. "Yes yes, we're about halfway there." Brassius said, unphased. Halfway? Grusha could feel his eyes glaze over. He did notice, however, a picnik table nearby; an opportunity for reprieve from his aching legs. "Could we... sit down for a moment?" Grusha asked, getting flashed a quizzical look from Brassius; unlike Grusha, he showed no signs of being winded from the trek. "Oh! Of course." Brassius smiled. Grusha felt warmth creeping into his cheeks but pretended it was just the cold air. "Thanks." He said sheepishly before setting himself down on one of the wooden planked seats, feeling immediate relief from being off of his feet. Brassius took a seat beside him. It was a little close for Grusha, especially when the entire table was available, but he decided against saying anything; if Brassius didn't think it was weird Grusha certainly didn't want to make it weird by speaking up. "We can let our Pokemon get some fresh air as well." Brassius suggested. "Ah, that's a good idea." Grusha agreed as the two sent out their parties. Right out of the gate Brassius' Smoliv demanded to be held by it's Papa while the other Pokemon played with one another. Brassius plopped the tiny Pokemon on his lap, giving it affectionate pets and scratches as he watched the others enjoy themselves. "Thanks for coming with me today." Brassius' eyes didn't leave the scene of playing Pokemon as he spoke. Those gray eyes -or perhaps they were more like thistle, Grusha was unsure- were oddly beautiful. "Don't mention it." Seriously; it wasn't like Grusha wasn't going to be attending anyways. "You know, it was awkward though." Grusha admitted. "Yeah." Brassius agreed, "but it would have been much worse if you weren't with me." That was probably true, Grusha thought to himself. Amidst Brassius' Pokemon was a familiar face that Grusha had not been expecting. "You brought Snover." Grusha remarked. Brassius grinned and Grusha could have sworn he saw a light flush on Brassius's cheeks.

[I did not write any connective tissue here]

"Her." Grusha corrected. "Hm?" Brassius seemed confused. "Snover is a girl." Grusha repeated, pointing at the Pokemon. "Look at the body for a second." Brassius did so, his gaze settled on the small Pokemon. "Yes? I'm looking." "See how the midsection is white? Male snover have a brown midsection." Grusha explained; it was a rare opportunity for him to show off his knowledge of ice-type Pokemon. "Oh! So that's how it is!" Grusha couldn't tell if Brassius was just humoring him or if he was actually interested in Snovers' sexual dimorphism. He decided not to think about it too hard. "You two really did hit it off, though. I wonder if you're always this popular with grass-types..." Grusha said this to himself, but since Brassius was right beside him, he responded anyways. "Well certainly not always, but you know... I just love grass-types. And... sometimes -if I'm lucky, that is- grass-types will love me back." It was such a simple idea, Grusha understood completely. To love freely and receive that same kind of love in return... The thought made Grusha feel warm. Brassius smiled awkwardly at the expression on Grusha's face. "What?" He asked with a light chuckle. Grusha blushed; what kind of expression had he been making while he had been lost in thought? "N-nothing." Grusha stammered, "I was just thinking that I know what you mean." After all, Grusha himself was fond of ice-types, even after he had to quit boarding. There was a moment of silence before Brassius spoke up. "Are you feeling any better?" He asked. He must be bored waiting for me, Grusha thought to himself. "Yeah. Sorry, I guess you don't want to stay out here all night, huh?" "... Maybe I do." Brassius said softly. "Huh?" Grusha asked but Brassius shook his head. "Nothing. If you're ready, we should probably keep walking." Grusha got up from the picnik table only to find Snover standing by his feet, looking up at him curiously. "Hey girl." Grusha crouched to get closer to eye-level with the smaller Pokemon. His knees screamed at him for doing such a thing but he ignored it. He couldn't help but be fond of her; she was an ice-type, after all. She was also Brassius's Pokemon, but that probably wasn't related. "You're going to be such a strong big sister, aren't you?" He asked with a small smile on his face. He could already imagine how she would look as an Abomasnow, easily towering over Brassius's other grass-types. "I'm counting on you." He finished, barely a whisper as he tried to hide his words from Brassius's ears. When Grusha looked up, however, the grass gym leader was already watching him. "Who was it who's loved by grass-types again?" Brassius teased. "Snover also happens to be an ice-type. So obviously that's why..." Grusha smiled. The two chuckled before finally settling their Pokemon away.

Star 2: Excerpt from the Hassius fic I mentioned a few days back about the fluffy bedtime snuggles.

"Let me know if you're too warm." Brassius said softly, his free hand curling around to secure Hassel's head against his chest, thumb lightly brushing against his hair. The silky material of Brassius' pajama top smoothed across Hassel's cheek as Brassius' chest smushed against him.

"Do you remember doing this for me all those years ago?" Brassius asked. "Mm, you're referring to back at the hospital?" Hassel asked, unsure. Brassius began petting Hassel's hair in longer strokes. "Yes. You told me -well, I don't remember the exact words, but it was something like 'cry as much as you need to; I'm here with you'." Upon hearing Brassius mention crying, Hassel clearly remembered the night that Brassius was referring to. The night before a major surgery, and Brassius was terrified, inconsolable and shaking in his arms. He had felt so powerless then, only able to provide a body for Brassius to weakly cling onto.

"Once I finally wore myself out, I noticed I could hear your heartbeat and feel your chest rise and fall with your breathing." Hassel noticed this as well: the gentle thumping of Brassius' heart in his ear, his soft breathing with the ascending and descending of his chest. It was soothing. "I don't mean to dredge up rough memories. I only bring it up because I'm grateful that you've stayed with me all this time. That's precisely why if you want companionship, I want to be there for you. Not out of an obligation to repay you, but to reciprocate your devotion with my own." "Brassie..." "Ah I'm talking too much, aren't I? I'm sorry, I'll let you sleep." "No, that's not it." Does Brassius even realize the things he's saying? Hassel wondered that to himself, poorly resisting the urge to cry. A sniffling noise all but confirmed he had failed at this. Brassius' chuckled, fingers returning to stroke Hassel's hair again. Another sniffle, a slight headbutt to the chest and a muffled approximation of "thank you so much". Brassius rested his head on Hassel's, smiling lips pressed against his hair.

Star 3: This is from, like, a chapter 2 ish point in a young hassius fic I've just been calling "the apartment au".

Morning came with what seemed like a single wink as Brassius struggled to get out of bed; stuck between his body feeling too tired to rise and the rays of sunlight creeping through the window being too warm and bright to sleep through. He turned his head so that his face was absorbed by his pillow, letting out a groan. It didn't take long, however, until Brassius could hear the pitter-pattering of tiny footsteps running across the floor; undoubtedly prompted by the sounds of Brassius being awake. He heard small whimpers and the thumping of steps, then, felt a thud into the bed beside him. Brassius turned his head to look at his little friend: a Smoliv. "Good morning, Minnie." Brassius smiled softly at her. There was something about that perpetual sobbing face that made him want to handle her as if she were made of glass. He knew that it was just a Smoliv's usual countenance; much like Sunflora's smile, it didn't always reflect the way the Pokemon was actually feeling. "I hope you weren't awake by yourself for too long." He said, more to himself than to her. Minnie was somewhat displaced on her side, her small body sunken into the sheets from where she initially landed. She had launched herself into the sheets from the foot of the bed after climbing the step ladder that Brassius had left for her. She kicked her stubby legs. "Full of energy, are we?" Brassius asked, surprised by the sound of his own chuckle that followed; the sheer volume of it. He pet her head affectionately and she replied with a small coo. Brassius was thankful that Minnie came to retrieve him from bed; the sight of her giving him some energy. "OK, time to get up."

#sparkle on! it's wip wednesday

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

I have a request! So Reader is curious about what Zhongli was like during the Archon war so Zhongli gives them a dream (With consent of course) where they meet Morax and reader gets fucked by him. Also Zhongli is watching too. If he manifests in the dream to join in or not is up to you.

This was the hardest fic I wrote so far because I had to think if I'd go for two dicks Zhongli or not. So anon, and everyone else, please suspend your disbelief in this fic. Yeah 4 cocks might be too much for one hole but listen as the new adage says "If there's a hole, there's a way!"

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Summary: A simple question borne out of curiosity leads you to experience a side of Zhongli that no historian had never even thought of.

It started from an innocuous question, one borne from curiosity and genuine desire to know more about him.

“What were you like, during the Archon Wars?” You had asked, the midday sun shining brightly through the bamboo leaves on the roads of Qingce.

Your hair fluttered in the soft winds, your silver bell tinkling with each step you took as it fluttered from the sides of your sash.

“Unpleasant” He had answered after a beat, he stopped observing you and looked forward, blankly staring at the road as he remembered the way he was.

Just as cold and as unfeeling as the rocks he had come from.

“Hmmm…”

Your curious tone became on the receiving end of his inquisitive look. You smiled at him, gentle and just shy of being embarrassed, “I think, you would have no patience for my usual antics. Had you been unfortunate enough to have met me then.”

“Perhaps,” Zhongli agreed but silently he thought, ‘I would have still come to like you.’

You laughed at his agreement, oblivious to his silent thoughts, “Ah~ but I feel like I would have so much fun teasing the version of you during the Archon Wars.”

“I bet you were so uptight during that time, like a stick in the mud!” You continued in playful banter, “I’d probably be the first person who’d get you so mad you’d be red in the face!”

Zhongli found amusement in the triumphant tone you held, your tone just as excited as it was when sharing theories with Miss Alice. Zhongli found comfort in that, the knowledge that even at his most scariest, and most unpleasant point in his life, you would be fond of him.

“Zhongli, do you think that if we met back then we’d be as close as we are now?” You asked him, “personally, I think that we wouldn’t be. I don’t think I would have been able to survive the aftermath of the Archon Wars.”

Zhongli paused in his walking, his joy washed away in your rationality.

“What makes you so sure of it?” He asked, ‘I would have protected you.’

You gave him a soft smile, “We wouldn’t have gotten along, I would probably punch you in the face. And then you’d get mad for the disrespect.”

Your laughter rang in his ears, as if mocking his sentiments even if he knew that your words held a modicum of truth in it. Back then, he had no qualms on dirtying his hands, no matter how gentle he tried to be, he never wavered in face of difficult decisions, always choosing the best option that would lead to victory.

How would he have reacted to you, who fought and found answers beyond what was given, always seeking a third option that would ensure a happy end. You were not meant for war, your ideals and kindness would have no place in those cruel times.

Even so, Zhongli wanted to prove you wrong.

“Then, shall we place a bet?”

“A bet?” You asked, eyes glinting in anticipation of a boon.

“Yes. I shall give you a dream, of sorts, that can transcend through time.”

“Ooooh~! Another one of those adepti arts, I presume?”

“Yes. I would let you meet the version of me before the height of the Archon Wars” Zhongli began to explain, “then if we manage to be as close as we are now, I have won the bet. If that version of me ends up loathing you, I acquiesce to your belief.”

“And what do I get if I win?” You asked.

“Whatever you wish for” He answered, eyes shining bright like cor lapis.

“Deal.”

--

The golden leaves of the gingko trees fluttered as it fell down to the ground. Morax sat on one of the edges on the numerous outcrops of Qingyun Peak. It was a rare moment of peace, there was no imminent danger that needed to be quelled. Liyue was in momentary peace. He sighed and let himself relax, enjoying the solitude up until he heard the soft sound of someone landing nearby.

In an instant he appeared before a human who wore strange clothing. He pointed his spear at them, “Speak, why do you trespass on the grounds of the Adepti?”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, slowly getting up as you patted the grass and dust off your clothes, “Damn, Zhongli wasn’t really kidding when he said you were too wounded up.”

Morax frowned at your impudence, “Mortal, that is not the way to speak to the Prime Adep-”

You raised your arm towards him, interrupting him as you offered, “Osmanthus wine! I’ll share it with you if you don’t get mad at me!”

Your wide smile, warm and inviting made him uneasy. An unknown feeling bursting in his chest as he stared into glinting eyes.

“Impudent” He said before moving to capture you and bring you down the mountain.

Despite moving at a speed impossible for a human to match, you had effortlessly evaded his hands. Your laughter rang loudly in the open field, teasing and amused. Zhongli frowned and quickly gave chase and yet you eluded him, teasing him by purposely letting him almost grab the hem of your sleeves only to speed up at the last possible second before appearing far away from him in another direction.

Frustration building up, Zhongli decided to use his geo to block your path, slowly studying your moves so as to anticipate where you would move. It went on and on, erecting stone steeles to block your path until you were caged and nowhere to run.

“Uwaa~” You panted, a mild tone of complaint seeping into your voice“How come you can’t even have tenderhearted feelings for this weak human?”

Morax frowned at your blatant lies, “No human would be able to match the speed and energy of an adepti the way you do.”

You gave him an amused smile, sweat dripping down your face, “That you’ve met. Have you ever made it out of Liyue?”

Morax didn’t answer, stony gaze boring down on you.

“Aiya~ what a tough crowd…” You trailed off and yet the smile on your face never wavered, “but if you keep up such an attitude towards me~ I’ll win the bet and have an adepti answer my whim~”

“What tricks have you done, mortal!” Morax pointed his spear at your throat.

Your smug look never wavered, “Ahahaha, I did no tricks Lord Adeptus~”

“Lies!” He denounced, “What sort of charm did you use to seduce one of my own?!”

“Seduce?” You blinked at him owlishly before a wide grin broke out on your face, “Oh, oh! You think I’m seductive?”

You pushed his spear away, sauntered to him, pressing your chest close to his, arms wrapping on his neck. With a voice dripping in honey and seduction, you whispered in his ear, “Does Lord Adeptus find me pleasing to his taste? Would you like to have a taste of me?”

Your lips moved to his exposed thoat, kissing the apple of it. Morax felt some sort of stirring within him, convinced that you had placed him in a trap, he pushed you off unconsciously gentle with his grip, “What sort of spell have you casted?!”

Your laughter, soft and oddly fond, made him uncomfortable. A feeling that he could not name settling in his bones. His chest was warm as he stared on the way the soft afternoon light shone on you, casting you in warm orange light as you laughed uncontrollably.

“No spell, just utterly charming in your eyes” You answered, fluttering your eyelids and gracing him with a smile he often found among the numerous brothels on Chihu Rock.

“Shameless!” He admonished as he took out a talisman and withit binded you.

“Oh~ How kinky~” You said with amusement as if you felt no danger.

‘Foolish mortal’ Morax thought privately as he pulled you along to begin the trek down the mountain only to stumble upon your next words.

“Does Lord Adeptus plan to have his wicked way with me then? Bring me somewhere secluded and show me the might of his jade pillar?”

“You! You! You!” Morax found himself at loss for words.

“Adepti would never stoop to such a barbaric act!”

“Oh” Your disappointed voice only served to confuse him, until you uttered your next accursed words, “I wouldn’t have minded if it was you~”

A wink sent his way accompanied by the odd motion of your lips had his face beet red. It was the first time he had ever suffered such a loss. Embarrassment gave way to anger when he heard your laughter, his hand moved to curse you until another voice stopped his movements.

“Must you resort to such means, to win our bet?”

Your smile brightened up as you saw Zhongli walk in the clearing, wearing his archon clothes. His hair swayed in the wind, gentle smile plastered on his face despite the chiding tone of his voice.

“But the appeal of having you indebted to me was too much to resist!” You answered with a jovial grin that made Morax pause.

“More of you?” Morax asked with great annoyance until he realized how much similarity he had shared with the new “guest”.

A split second was all it took before you found yourself encased in Zhongli’s familiar arms, his strong shield surrounding you both as Morax’ vortex vanquisher hit the shield. You blinked, slightly rattled but still relatively calm as if you weren’t just about to be skewered by the Lord of Geo.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asked, concern evident but you remained staring at Morax.

“Zhongli~ I’m starting to understand why you think I’d get along with this version of you!”

You grinned, eyes no longer glinting with plastic curiosity. Zhongli sighed and resigned to whatever consequence would be the outcome of your action.

It took several terse talks between Zhongli and Morax to draft an acceptable contract between the two of you and Morax. All of it just to accompany Morax in his day to day life. Zhongli found himself frequently being on the receiving end of a spear, or in some cases a glower from the amount of times you had teased his stubborn and unpleasant past self.

However, Zhongli could not deny that this version of him was growing fond of you, soft even, with the way Morax would occasionally gently steer you away from the geo vishaps or the rare times he would bring you to Azhdaha to play with the large geo dragon.

Though this soft moment would always, almost, be followed by your teasing. Zhongli wasn’t even spared from your flirtatious remarks though he did have the advantage of knowing you longer, thus he was able to render you speechless more often than not when compared to Morax. But from the past few days, Zhongli could see how Morax was learning and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before you would be rendered speechless by Morax as well.

Thus, the three of you spent the days in simple fun, getting to know each other, sharing battles and each moment Zhongli spent observing how you acted with Morax brought him some sort of warmth, happiness at your acceptance and your rationality during such troubled times. It was true that your kindness would not have survived but Zhongli could see that if you truly had lived in this time, your kindness would have just taken another form, adapting and yet remaining all the same.

You were a safe haven, for him, for Morax, and for those who met you in this troubled times. A human who stubbornly remained kind, who audaciously declared that even Celestia could be wrong. This side of you that remained hidden in the present times, flourished like a well cared for silk flower.

Therefore, it really should not have surprised him to see Morax begin courting you, not that you noticed, and yet it did. Surprise and discontent warring inside him, both claiming that you were his and one discrediting his former self. He figured that the same thing was most likely happening with Morax, from the dangerous glint in the other’s eye when he drew close to you or held you by the waist.

--

Somewhere between teasing Morax and having Zhongli recount his past through the various strolls you took in Liyue Harbor, you noticed the almost possessive way Morax would act towards you, the barely kept aggressiveness directed to Zhongli whenever he would care for you or the occasional soft growls towards threats you didn’t even notice.

It was fascinating to watch him, and you made no secret of it. So a part of you couldn’t help but blame yourself for provoking a dragon. Really, what sort of person says, “I can take you” to a god of war?

“Me, apparently” You thought with great regret and annoyance as you found yourself benign subjected to the intense bedroom look of Morax.

“Can you?” Morax purred, eyes glinting with something primal and you can’t help but be entranced.

You have always been drawn to beautiful and dangerous things.

In contrast to his predator smile, his kiss was gentle but no less passionate than your previous lovers. Morax’ grip on your body was firm but gentle, bringing you close to his rock hard body. You gripped his clothes as you opened your mouth wider, letting his inhuman tongue explore your mouth.

In the privacy of his abode, you didn’t hesitate to tangle with him. Battling for dominance in the bed, a passionate dance of desire that had the dragon in him purring in delight. Morax bit your neck and you moaned in pleasure before making the split decision to bite him back.

Your clothes were askew, private parts exposed to the cold air and you returned the favor to Morax. His hair was untied and his thick cocks sprung out as soon as your hands pulled down his pants. In a fluid movement, you easily took both of his cocks inside your mouth.

Morax, who had never experienced such a thing, felt his heart quicken just as his arousal rose once more. It was a testament for his new found feelings towards you that he let his guard down and lost himself to the sensation of your tongue and mouth as it sucked him off. His hand clasped the back of your neck and held you still as he began fucking your mouth.

Your moans of pleasure made wonderful vibrations that intensified his arousal, drool dribbled down on the side of your lips as you slowly lost yourself to the haze of pleasure. His bed shook with each vigorous thrust that hit the back of your throat, he stilled inside your mouth, his cocks managing to not make gag as it spilled thick loads of cum down your throat.

Morax smirked at you and you smiled back, lazy and challenging. He laid you on the bed, body naked as the day you were born. Despite his recent orgasm, his cocks were still erect and throbbing, you bit your lip in anticipation.

Legs spread wide, exposing your hole that was calling out for his cocks with each twitch that was visible in Morax’ eyes, you were the picture of desire. Morax swore as soon as he plunged his cocks inside your tight and warm hole, you moaned feeling as if you had ascended to Celestia itself when his cocks stretched your hole. The burn, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

He moved slowly, coaxing you with sweet words as you cried out in pain and pleasure until the only feeling left was pleasure. For all of his inexperience, Morax was good at reading people and body language, and yours was the easiest he had read. It took him barely a minute before he was able to accurately tell which parts sent you to a high, which part of you brought forth more arousal.

He sucked on your tits as he thrusted into you, hitting your sensitive spot that had you moaning and begging his name. Your lustful moans felt more devoted than any other prayer he had received from his people. Your kisses felt more divine than any offering he had ever tasted.

If there had been another way to reach Divinity, Morax had no doubt that making love with you was one of them. Each touch from you sent his body aflame, each call of his name made him feel more of a god that he wasn’t.

Oh! How he wanted to drown in you for eternity until erosion came for him. He wanted you in all the ways he never understood, each particle of his cell calling out to yours, and Morax felt it too much so he poured each and every emotion you made him feel in fucking you. He fucked you as if to brand himself in you in all the ways that matter. He plunged his cocks inside you again and again, bringing you countless orgasms as you submissively let him maneuver your body however he wanted.

He fucked you from behind, thrusting hard enough to leave marks on your buttocks, spilling his seed again and again without stopping his thrusts as you came again and again.

He fucked you sideways, spreading your legs high and wide, as his mouth kissed and bit your neck, his hand pinching and twisting your nipples while his cocks slid in and out of your hole that was overflowing with his seed. He broke you apart with each round and mended you over and over again until you lost count of the times you came.

Both of you were so focused on each other that neither of you noticed the arrival of Zhongli.

And what a sight it was to behold, the way your body contorted in half as he watched Morax impale you with his cock again and again, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Zhongli felt his cock stir, quickly hardening as the lewd sounds of flesh clapping echoed loudly, he moved slowly as he divested himself of his clothes until he reached the side of the bed just as you and Morax laid on the bed, panting from the most recent orgasm.

He observed your body seeing the marks and bruises that littered it on top of the numerous drying flecks of cum on your skin. He swallowed his saliva and spoke,

“Perhaps there is room for one more?”

And your smile, inviting and sparkling at the thought of another challenge, made him breathless and helplessly fond of you all over again. The continuous and seemingly never ending cycle of him falling for you over and over again was one he would never tire of.

“Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?” You said, positioning yourself to lie on Morax as you spread your legs once more, hands going to your hole and spreading it for Zhongli to properly appreciate.

You felt Morax’ cum dribble down just as you felt his displease growl.

“I bet I can take the two of you at once”

There was no such thing as a medicine for regret, and it was one you had no need for. Not when two predatory glint brought you to a new height of pleasure.

Zhongli’s thrust was just as hard if not rougher than Morax, as if he was releasing centuries of frustrations to your abused hole, not that you were complaining. You were already lost to the pleasure of their cocks filling you and stretching you, all semblance of rationality thrown away as you begged for their cocks.

Zhongli’s cocks fucked your hole, easily slipping in and out from the cocks it had been receiving from Morax, Zhongli’s cocks were thicker but shorter when compared to Morax. Despite that his skillful thrust had you clamping and twisting as your mouth busied itself with Morax’ cocks.

Between the two of them, not a single part of you remained untouched. Your body was stained with their love, their marks littering every inch of your skin, their hands leaving bruises on your skin as you sank deeper and deeper into them. The overpowering scent of cum filled your senses as Zhongli and Morax threw away their rationality and began to fuck you like beasts in heat.

The fact that you could take them both at once, was proven true, with the way your holes relentlessly sought their cocks, how you ignored your bruised knees just to get into a better position for them. And it pleased them terribly, made them want you more. To make you theirs permanently and for as long as they breathe. It made them fuck you harder, just to reach deeper inside you, spilling their thick cum inside you until it over flowed.

You moaned, joy mixing with pleasure as you came just as they filled you to the brim. White spots filling your vision until you finally passed out. Your body remained responsive, your hole twitching as Zhongli continued fucking you through your orgasm.

Morax grinned, animalistic, as he took his cocks and smeared the remaining cum on your lips and then spreading it on your face, “You really could take us both at once.”

His cum spilled from the slight gap in your mouth, his thumb gently pushed it back inside before he turned to Zhongli, “Shall we see if they can take all of our cocks in one hole?”

Zhongli stilled as he spilled more of his cum inside, then he answered, “Let’s see how long it takes before they wake up as well.”

The two of them worked together, loosening your hole until it was able to fit four cocks inside, your walls spasmed with every thrust as your let out unconscious moans with the immense amount of pleasure from having four cocks inside you. Your unconscious and limp body was sandwiched between Zhongli and Morax, your nipples played with until it was sore and overly stimulated. The two of them didn’t stop fucking you until your stomach was filled with their cum, their cocks repeatedly penetrated you, thrusting inside you again and again until they had their fill.

Their cum created pools of semen on the bed sheets, some of it on the floor when the two decided to switch positions, trying out different positions with your unconscious but eager body until they were satisfied. By the time you woke up it was already afternoon of the next day, your body utterly sore from all the sex it went through.

You blinked and realized that there was someone sleeping beside you, a quick glance on the side and you recognized Zhongli, ‘The dream must have already ended’ you thought as you slowly got up from the bed.

Except your legs could barely stand, making you fall into the floor in a flash. You blinked, your mind not registering the pain but instead focusing on the feeling of something warm dripping down from between your thighs.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asked, the vestiges of sleep clinging on his eyes, as he frantically assisted you back to the bed.

His torso was filled with scratches and bite marks. You flushed with embarrassment as you recognized the marks you left on him.

“I-just what happened after I passed out?”

“The first or the second one?”

“?”

Zhongli smiled tenderly at you, “It’s alright if you can’t remember, I’m sure another round would jog your memory.”

Like a magic trick, his words had your hole eagerly twitching with anticipation. Coyly you lied back on the bed and spread your legs, showing him your glistening, cum filled hole.

“Perhaps” You agreed with a seductive smile, “I’m sure I can take you well.”

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact morax x reader

[lipstickstainz]

mismatched socks - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer's girlfriend (reader, FBI agent too) always wears mismatched socks and when they have their first night together at his apartment he notices, and his brain goes to mush, and falls in love with her even more

Warnings: fluff, some talk about Spencer being insecure Word Count: 2.2k A/N: thanks for the request, love! I really enjoyed writing it! requests are open guys! hope you enjoy. gif not mine.

Spencer had always known he was different. He had always been the smartest in school, which could be attributed to his eidetic memory. He wasn't invited to birthday parties because he liked to tell facts that were funny to him, but that no one else found funny. And he had been rather an oddball in other ways, too.

All his life this fact had made him insecure. He thought of himself as too skinny, too unathletic-especially when he compared himself to Derek, which was pretty stupid, of course-and his hair always lay funny, no matter how hard he tried to tame it. He wore cardigans over shirts-the watch over the cardigan, of course-which was pretty weird, but he wore Converse with them and two different socks every day. He loved magic and physics jokes. Spencer couldn't talk about the latest episode of Greys Anatomy, and he wasn't sure what Team Stefan and Team Damon were. Spencer didn't fit in perfectly anywhere and it had taken him time to accept that. He also never imagined anyone would find in attractive, or even want to be with him.

Until you came along.

On your first day at BAU, he immediately noticed three things about you. First, you walked incredibly fast, actually too fast to just walk from one office to the next. It seemed to her as if you were flying. Second, you tucked your hair behind your ears every few minutes, even when it wasn't falling in your face. He wondered why you didn't use a pin or a scrunchie. But it was a habit that didn't bother him in the least. From the moment he first saw you, he found you irresistibly pretty, and he was glad your hair didn't cover your face. And third, you could write ambidextrously. As the team sat in the conference room and you scribbled something in your case file - also something he noticed, you seemed to prefer paper as much as he did - you reached for your coffee cup with your right hand and continued to write undisturbed with your left, until the entire team looked at you as if you were from another star. It was a look Spencer knew all too well.

He had never met anyone like you.

Spencer liked you from the first moment he saw you. He liked that you took your backpack on both shoulders and that you preferred cocoa to coffee. He liked the way you smiled at him when he brought you one from the office kitchen and set it on your desk. And he liked the way your skin felt on his when you reached under the desk for his hand when you noticed a change in his demeanor. You then squeezed his hand twice. Once for "It's all right" and once for "I'm here, with you."

In your presence, everything seemed as easy as breathing. You listened to him when he blathered on about a subject you didn't understand, because you liked his intelligence and the way he explained things without looking down on others. You even asked when he had to explain something to you, which had surprised him so much the first few times that he had completely forgotten what your conversation was about. He had stared at you and the blush had come to his face. One feature that didn't escape you, but made him even more attractive to you.

When you went to his table one morning and told him that you had seen Star Trek for the first time the previous night, and now wondered how realistic the physics in the movie were, he could hardly stand it. You were beautiful and intelligent and interested in Star Trek? And when you asked him if he could explain something from the movie to you, he was sure his dream girl was standing right in front of him.

"I need your help", he told Derek that very day as they stood together in the kitchen. "How do I ask a girl out?"

Derek nearly choked on his coffee before turning to Spencer. "Since when do you want to date?" He noticed Spencer's gaze, which wasn't on him, but slid past him and lingered on you.You sat at your desk and tucked your hair behind your ears before looking up and over at Spencer's desk.  Derek could see your gaze wander around the office and then linger on Spencer before you smiled and got back to work. With a grin, Derek looked at Spencer. "You're going to ask Y/N out on a date? Oh boy, it's about time you finally do. I already said to Penelope that -"

"Please, Morgan. I just want to know how to ask her out”, Spencer interrupted him, looking at his friend.

Derek's grin gave way to an honest, friendly smile. "Don't make a big deal out of it. Just ask her directly."

"And if she says no?", asked Spencer uncertainly, his mouth twisting into a thin line. He couldn't imagine you going on a date with him, but he couldn't stay in the dark any longer either. He had to at least try.

"She won't”, Derek assured him. The whole team felt that Spencer and you would be perfect for each other, but he didn't tell him that. Spencer should learn to walk before he starts running. "I can see the way she looks at you. And if she does say no, she's not as smart as I thought."

Spencer trusted Derek's words and took it upon himself to ask you out on a date that very day. He had phrased the question countless times in his head, even encouraging himself in the mirror in the men's room, but every time he stood in front of you and looked at your beautiful face, he couldn't get a single word out. They got stuck in his throat and he was so embarrassed that he fled from you several times. By the third time, he had red marks on his neck, which you noticed immediately, and you wondered how you had made him so uncomfortable without having really done anything. When he said nothing again, you put your hand on his forearm.

"Are you okay, Spencer?", you asked, and he just nodded. It's now or never.

"Wouldyougooutwithme?" He almost mumbled, but you had understood him perfectly. "If you don't want to, that's fine, and we'll pretend I never asked. We'll just keep being friends and -"

"Spencer," you interrupted, smiling up at him, "I'd love to go out with you," you replied, and he was able to breathe deeply again. The marks on his neck faded as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

He had done it. Spencer had asked you and you had agreed, but where was he going to take you? Nothing seemed good enough for him. Going out to eat was nice, but you didn't seem like someone who needed to talk the whole time. He thought movie theaters were dumb because you couldn't talk there at all. After two days he had thought of something and he wouldn't have minded if you thought the idea was stupid, but when he presented his idea to you, you smiled at him excitedly.

"I can't wait."

You spent your first date in Spencer's favorite library, surrounded by knowledge and stories. You walked the aisles together, telling stories of books you had read and found to be good, and books you had abandoned because they were so bad you couldn't finish them. As you walked through each aisle, which had actually taken an entire afternoon, Spencer didn't want the date to end. He was going to suggest something else, but you beat him to it.

"There's a couch over there. Shall we sit there? Then you can read me something from your favorite book."

You would be the death of him.

A few weeks later, you had arranged to go for a walk. The weather was nice, not too hot and not too cool, so you strolled hand in hand along the paths. He liked the fact that you worked together but couldn't just talk about the job. You were explaining to him why a certain Matt Donavan from a vampire series was incredibly annoying when someone stopped in front of you.

"Y/N! How nice to see you!", the young woman said, unceremoniously wrapping her arms around you. When she broke away from you, you looked at Spencer.

"Spencer, this is Lisa, my college roommate. Lisa, this is Spencer, my boyfriend”, you explained before you could think about what you had just said. You chatted briefly before going your separate ways again. You noticed a change in Spencer's behavior and feared you had misinterpreted everything. When you couldn't take it anymore, you stopped.

"Look, I'm sorry I called you my boyfriend”, you said, looking down at the ground in shame. "We've never talked about what exactly we are, but it feels like you're my boyfriend and I wish you were, so I -"

"Y/N”, he interrupted you and tenderly reached for your hand. A smile spread across his face. He couldn't believe himself that he would ask you that. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

The bar was crowded and the later it got, the more crowded you felt. The team had been in the mood to celebrate after a difficult case, so everyone had gathered in the regular bar. Penelope was putting on some dance moves on the dance floor while Emily and JJ were bawling out the song, which neither Spencer nor you knew. He had his arm around your waist and pulled you tightly to his side, which you enjoyed very much. He didn't fit in here with his shirt and cardigan, but he fit you, you were one hundred percent sure of that.

As you stifled a yawn, he looked down at you. "Shall we go? You seem tired and I'm getting ready to go to bed too”, he suggested and you nodded. Outside, he hailed you a cab and as you got in, you gave the driver Spencer's address.

"We're going to my place?", asked Spencer, looking at you in confusion as you nestled into his side.

"Yeah, I hope that's okay”, you replied, "If it's too soon for you for us to sleep together, then you just have to say so. I won't be mad at you."

How could he be mad at you? You wanted to spend the night with him. You wanted to fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him. He had hit the jackpot.

"Would you like to drink something?", he asked as you sat down on the couch and kicked off your shoes. It wasn't the first time you'd been in his apartment, but you'd never entered his bedroom before and you didn't want to take the step without him. It was still his apartment and his privacy and you respected that.

"Just water, please”, you replied, pulling your legs up so he could sit next to you. He handed you the glass and you took a big gulp.

In your presence, Spencer had never felt like an oddball. You never made him feel like he was different or weird. You didn't laugh at him, you laughed with him, and you had assured him many times how incredibly attractive he was to you, even if he couldn't see it. He wasn't too skinny or too unathletic for you. He dressed askew, but it suited him like a glove and you had imagined more than once what he would look like without clothes. It didn't bother you in the least that he wasn't interested in the technology of today. For you, he was just right. For you, he was perfect.

Even though you often assured him how much you liked him and how happy you were with him, he was still insecure from time to time. But as you sat there together on the couch and you put your legs on his thighs, he was one hundred percent sure that he didn't need to be insecure. On your left foot was a green sock, while on your right dangled an orange sock.

You wore the socks like he did. Two different ones. Had you seen this on him and copied it or had you always worn socks like this? A question that could be answered later. His heart stopped for a second, his brain turned to mush, which is why he couldn't control his following words either. "I think I love you."

Surprised, you looked to him and noticed that his gaze lingered on your socks. "You see my socks and then say you love me? Maybe something isn't going right in that clever head of yours”, you grinned and leaned towards him. Blushes shot up his face. "I love you too, Spencer."

Gently, you placed your lips on his. The kiss was tender, hesitant, but Spencer saw his chance and gently pulled you onto his lap before wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His heart threatened to overflow with love. As he placed his hands on your butt, you moaned softly into his mouth. He smiled.

In your presence, he didn't feel like he was different.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid gif #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #Jennifer jereau

[nightlight-firelight]

Hi everyone! Sorry for the long wait! Art block (Or writing block?) is the worst and I’ve been busy. I’m also trying to make this a gender neutral story and I’m not too experienced on this so hopefully I’m doing ok so far! Now with that out of the way, on to chapter 2!

“Falling (in love) So Fast That I Can’t Even Think!”

Chapter 2

You take a second to realize that he was holding you a bit tight around the waist, and the silence of the tension began to build every second that neither of you moved.

“Hi?” You ask him. You mentally smacked yourself in the head for that comment. At this point of view, you can see that the, now real and very handsome doctor, eyes were a shade of blue that could take your breath away and-

“Oh, um,” Eggman studdered out a bit softer and less confident the what you have seen him in the show. “Hi.” He finally decided to look around at his predicament and examined your room.

“Where am I?” Eggman finally pulled you back onto the bed, creaking slightly from the unexpected new weight. Your mind finally snaps back into reality as the warmth from his hands fades from your hips, already missing the connection he had. You need to relax, and not freak out the poor man sitting on your bed.

“You’re in my room.” You finally managed to push the words out of your lips. His face turns to confusion and worries at all of the merchandise of not just his universe, but the main Sonic series as well. His mind mostly likely wandered into a ‘crazy fan’ mode and tried to back up. You perk up and lean back slightly, making sure to not fall off the bed this time, but also give him some space to relax. Ivo’s movements began to quicken as he still backs up, almost falling off the other side of the bed. He catches himself and looks at you with a face of slight panic and worry.

“What’s all this? Who are you and what-” You cut him off with a hand slightly raised, signaling to calm down and to relax. “Breath, please. I won’t hurt you.” You promised him as you instruct him through a breathing exercise. After a small bit of confusion between the two of you, you lead the poor man into your living room, hesitantly on his part, and led him down on your couch. Just walking into your kitchen to grab two white ceramic mugs, you hear him clear his throat.

“So, what’s going on?” You can feel his gaze on you as the first mug is filled with hot liquid, the steam coming from the filling mug as your brain thinks of what you should do. You switch mugs, taking out his mug for yours. You take a breath.

You’re in my house, and not in your multiverse.” Finally giving him some type of answer as his, at this point, huge bear paw-like hands, envelope the mug and took a small sip. You went to grab your mug as he commented on the choice of beverage you had given him.

“Hot Cocoa?” The question you as you at on the opposite side of the couch, holding what you liked to think, that at this moment was your liquid courage. You take a small sip and taste the liquid pooling into your body. You almost blush as you remembered the ‘CowBot’ episode where Eggman offered Sonic and Tails hot coco and messed with them, waiting for his machine to arrive.

“I thought you might like it.” You confess as he stairs back into his cup, pondering on his whole situation. He takes a breath and looks at you.

“Can you explain to me how I may have gotten here?” All you could do is nod as you start the long trek into the explanation of who is and on all of your knowledge on how he may have gotten here.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

The next few hours were, as you expected, emotional. You had to start with who you were, where he was, and leading him into the conversation that may or may not have caused way too much emotion for the both of you.

“So the main series follows Sonic and his friends, but mostly Sonic, throughout his adventures fighting his version of the doctor. There in the form of games.” He takes a sec and has a look that tells you to keep going. You explain all the story of how the franchise came to be from the nineties till the game you were kinda worried about. Sonic Adventure 2. You tell him the basic plot points and slowly explain how the Main Univers Doc’s Grandfather died along with his grandchild, Maira. He winces when you explain this and see that he’s shaking whenever the two popped up. When you explained that Shadow was made by his Grandfather, his mood perked up and he getting giddy and you have to admit, his cute squeal of figuring out that somewhere he could be related to one of the most powerful people on his island. You smile and after his cute reaction, keeps the conversation going with more information about the franchise. By the time you had reached the current point of the history of the franchise, the man had a lot of questions.

“So let me get this straight,” Eggman’s posture was lax as he was leaned back into the couch, making himself more at home for the time being. “You’re telling me that the main version of me has released a water monster god, a prototype of Shadow, that is a giant lizard, a god within the earth that’s made of darkness, and tried to play with time and space like it was a toy?” He questioned as he took another sip of his now lukewarm cup of cocoa, stroking his mustache pensively, looking at you for a reasonable answer on why he would do so. “Well the BioLizard thing wasn’t truly his fault, but the rest were planed. And I’m saying ‘planned’ with quotes because I don’t think for a second that he thought a few of those through.” You chuckle at the main Doc’s decisions. While you did think his plans were really good, sometimes you think he may have never really thought things through before going to start his plans. Doc downs the rest of his drink as you realized that your cup is still half full. He sets it on the counter in front of the two of you and leans back into your couch. You smile at the thought that he’s finally warming up to you. In all reality, he could take you down with a swing of his fist and run anytime, but having him trust you this much to serve him a drink and have a nice conversation did bring up some fuzzy feelings you have been trying to push down withing the last few hours.

“So I’m still confused, how did I get here?” Doc asks as he cracks his spin a bit to relax better. You take another sip of your dink and set your cup down. You look him in the eye with a bit of confusion. “I’m not sure. I just watch the DVD and you were the one to start seeing me, after the ending of your battle with Sonic and Tails, that white light appeared and you grabbed me before I fell off my bed.” You look towards him and blush a bit, your face now warm from the memory of the save. “Thank you for catching me, I don’t think a concussion would have helped the situation now, would it?” You try and make the small joke appealing to make it less awkward. He blushes and nods, a small ‘no problem’ slips from his lips as you can see he’s trying to not make eye contact and his cheeks, just slightly visible under his mustache, a small bit of warmth wraps around his cheeks. Your brain gets hit with a moment of clarity and you jump up from the couch and take a second to grab your DVD player from your room, bringing it back to him to study. “I’m not sure if this would help you get back home,” You start, “ But it’s a start.” You also hand him the note that came with the box along with the Sonic figure. He takes the figure first and rolls it over a bit, looking at the detail.

“So this figure and the note came along in the box with the DVDs?” He asked as he set the figure down as he grabbed the note. You blush and remember that wasn’t the only thing in the box. You almost had forgotten the figure of the living breathing man in front of you. You ask him to give you a second and hurry back to your room. Searching the room, you almost give up on finding the figure, until you spot it halfway under the bed. You bend over and grab the figure and examine it. It’s still the same figure, but less detailed now. It actually looks like how one of the box set figures is. Cheaply made and having a missing paint splotch here and there. It still was a good-looking figure though, just not as best made. You start your very slow pace back to the living room, taking a small bit of time to think about something. The Sonic figure was still the same as it was before the doctor arrived, why did the doctor change-. You stop mid-way in your hallway to finally piece a big puzzle together. The figure of the doctor was some type of catalyst for his arrival. Like a gateway to get here. ‘And now that the figure is back to normal, does that mean that the Sonic one-’ You didn’t finish that thought as you hurry back to the living room, the doctor just putting the not back onto the counter. He looks up as grabs the DVD player and sets it onto his lap. He smiles as you enter the room.

“ Hey, you ok?” He asks you as you sit back down next to him, gently grab the Sonic figure, cradling it with some care.

“I’m ok,” You answer with some melancholy in your voice. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking of something that just came to me.” You look over to him, Doc staring back, patiently waiting for you to continue. You take a breath and look him in the eyes. “The box set also came with a figure of you as well.” You explain as you gave him the small toy, his face going into a slight pout over the quality as he looks it over.

“I’m much more handsome than this.” He sulks over the craftsmanship of his figure compared to the one in your hand. You pat him on the back with your free hand, feeling him tense for a sec and then relax. You giggle at the line, remembering it from the 30th-anniversary comic. Your mood lightening up a bit at his reaction. “It was actually just as well made before you appeared in my room.” You explained as you rub your thumber gingerly over Sonic’s quills. Your mood dampens a bit. “I’m really thinking that the figure was the way-”

And a giant flash of white engulfed both of your eyesight. You scream as you feel a sense of weightlessness as you clutch the figure closer to you. Opening your eyes after that flashbang of light, as see that you’re in. You blink and take a look around. You try and gain a scene of where you were as you feel like you were falling down. You see Eggman trying his best not to scream as he is also in the same predicament as you. You look at this ‘tube’ as you decided to call it and take a look a the warping walls. They move with colors that remind you of the goop In Super Mario Sunshine. The colors of yellow, magenta, and white mixing together and making the whole experience feel like a trippy dip around a pipe. The tube had some slight aura to it as it was some type of fuzzy feeling in the back of your spine, not good but not unpleasant either. You look down past your now slightly screaming partner in crime to see a large warp ring that looked something right of the Sonic movie, looking to land right over some type of woods. You realized from the rate your accelerating from and the height from the ring to the ground would lead to more than a few broken bones.

Holding your breath and snaping your eyes closed as you wait for the pain to hit, the now cool air of the new land you arrived on pools into your skin as you want to feel at least a bit of joy knowing that right at the end, you feel cool. You never did feel the ground but instead a pair of arms holding you and the sensation of rocketing back up. Opening your eyes, you see Doc holding you again, having been lifted from the ground by two sleek black jetpack type of wings protruding from the back of his jacket. He looks down at you with a smirk and chuckles a bit.

“We have got to stop doing this.” He’s sarcastic, and the potential way of flirting, way of teasing sends you a bit more than tomato red in the face as you wonder if it’s the altitude of the comment that making it hard to think right at the moment. You almost didn’t hear him as he starts to talk.

“It looks like we’re flying over Seaside Island Jungle.” He starts to explain. “I’m going to fly us back to my lair and we can figure out from there what’s going on.” You look over his shoulder for a brief second to see the portal closing and finally dusting away with a puff of gold sparks. Looking back and see a breathtaking view, seeing the full grand scale of the island from up in the clouds. You can even start making out at sever locations from both seasons. You only think of what’s going to happen next when you see golden sparks emulate from your closed hands and feel a heavyweight in your arms and Doc quickly getting down to the ground, getting to be just at the end of ‘Nameless village’ as your reflexes grab on tightly to what you were holding onto. You both look down and see a very unconscious Sonic the Hedgehog in our arms. You look him over and inspect the teenager and see that he’s breathing, and in an ok shape. You look back at Doc and even he’s surprised by this addition to the group.

“Is he ok?”You question him as he gives Sonic a once over. You getting used to finally landing on the ground, stretching your legs after that small adventure.

‘He’ll be fine after some rest, but he looks exhausted.” Eggman questions as you scoop Sonic back up into your arms, being careful of his quills, making sure you don’t end up looking like a human banana peel. You look over at Doc and he looks like he’s, and you have to look a bit more closely at his expression because he looks, jealous? You ponder on that thought that the man might be jealous of the unconscious blue blur as the both of you set off into town, wondering where to go from here.

“Hey!” You hear a cry from in front of the, three? of you. You look up and see four multi-colored anthropomorphic animals. “What did the two of you do to Sonic?” Cried the two-tailed Kitsune. You see all three, with the exception of Amy, who at this point is trying to stop the trio, of Sonic’s friends close in around you. You give a panicked look to Doc as it dawned on you that Doc and yourself were about to be attacked by Tails, Knuckles, and Sticks.

Shit.

#dr eggman #eggman #sonic boom #dr eggman x reader #dr robotnik x reader #sonic franchise #writing #fanfic

[wolfeyedwitch]

And Still Part 5

No. 9 - RUMORS OF MY DEATH HAVE BEEN GREATLY EXAGGERATED

presumed dead | (blind) rage | tears

Hey, this one made me cry as I was writing it, so... fair warning for that. Content warnings for verbal and physical abuse against a minor. Also, Sidekick is in a really bad headspace. Please let me know if there's any content warnings I missed!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

And that would be their biggest mistake.

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

Sidekick was… confused.

Which was a step up from utterly terrified, at least. But still.

What the hell was going on?!

Villain was being weird. First the taking them hostage, then the carrying them back to her lair, and her wolves being… friendly? And then she didn’t put them in a dungeon, but left them in what seemed to be her living room with a wolf acting like a spoiled lapdog begging for pets. And she was treating their injuries, and seemed to genuinely want to know who had hurt them.

Part of why Heroes League was so wary of Villain is that they knew very little about her. No one had gotten a complete handle on who she was, where she came from, or even what all her powers were. The general consensus was that she could control animals, and Heroes League was concerned about whether or not that control might extend to humans as well. That had led to more than one philosophical debate that Sidekick had to pinch themself to stay awake through.

The one thing that Heroes League knew for sure about Villain was that the hero who had fought her most often, Heroine—a seasoned veteran of the League with geokinetic powers—had gone missing shortly after beginning a more in-depth investigation into Villain. Some thought Villain had managed to control Heroine long enough to capture her; others thought Villain had just killed her. Either way, Heroes League was sure that Villain was responsible for Heroine’s disappearance.

With that knowledge as background, Sidekick has somewhat of a mental picture of what they expected from Villain. They expected her to be cold, calculating, ruthless. They thought she would have a lair filled with stolen luxuries, and possibly a long-haired cat to pet while she stared down any who dared to defy her.

(Sidekick might have watched some James Bond movies at an impressionable age.)

The reality in front of Sidekick was nothing like their expectations.

Firstly, this wasn’t exactly a luxurious lair of larceny. Villain’s lair, if you could even call it that, seemed to be in a cave of some sort. The walls were stone, though it seemed a little too regular and even to be naturally occurring. The appliances and amenities seemed to be about what you might bring on a camping trip. The little furniture there was, mostly cushions to sit on, was made of either animal skins or rough-spun, hand-knitted yarn.

And Villain herself?

Villain wasn’t anything like Sidekick expected either. Yeah, she seemed a bit cold and aloof, but Sidekick was beginning to think she might just be better at talking with animals than with people. She had been patient with them this whole time—kind, even. She hadn’t berated them when they couldn’t keep up on the trek through the woods, and instead had just carried them herself. And now that they were back at her lair (though “den” might be a more accurate term), she was…

Giving them medical treatment.

Like Sidekick said. The whole situation was baffling.

“You never did answer my question,” she said quietly, eyes tracing over the bruises and first-degree burns on their face. “Who did this to you?”

Until then, Sidekick had managed to remain more or less calm. But that question? That made all that calmness flee.

“It… it was Hero,” they managed through the grief that threatened to choke them.

Villain slowly lowered the cloth she had used to clean their face, grip on it so tight her tendons stuck out and knuckles went white.

“Hero did this to you?” she asked, voice an icy sort of calm.

That tone was more like what Sidekick expected from a villain. That tone promised that someone would suffer her wrath, just as soon as she determined exactly how much they would endure before she put them out of their misery.

Sidekick swallowed, mouth dry as sand. Their tongue was stuck; they couldn’t speak if their life depended on it. And right now, it might. All they managed was a single, small nod.

Villain’s nostrils flared, and a muscle in her cheek jumped as she clenched her jaw. The wolves seemed to pick up on their leader’s fury and began a low, ominous growl.

Villain abruptly stood up and began pacing. “Hero. Hero, your mentor, did this to you?!”

Sidekick barely managed another nod.

They were so fucked.

Villain let out a growl of her own. Somehow, the sound was all the more disturbing coming from a human rather than a wolf.

“I- I’m sorry,” Sidekick stuttered.

Villain whirled to face them. “What the fuck are you sorry for!”

“I- I’m useless,” Sidekick managed to stutter out. This must be how rabbits felt when cornered by a wolf, heart pounding so hard it felt like it was throwing itself against their ribs to attempt to escape. “I’m a sh- shit hostage. Hero d- doesn’t want me back; they were trying to get r- rid of me. A-a- and they’ve probably told Heroes League that I ran away by now, th- that’s what they were p- planning to say. T- trying to ransom me to them won’t work; they’ll think I left to work with you and this is a tr- trick.”

Their control over their camouflage failed, and they felt patches of color rise on their skin only to move in random organic patterns. Hero said it was like “watching a fucked-up old TV screen” seeing them morph incompletely like this.

Villain stopped pacing to stare at them. She looked like someone had told her the earth revolved around the moon. “What?”

“Y- you brought me here as a hostage,” Sidekick said, beginning to grow confused themself. “You said you couldn’t let me go; you wanted to ransom me back to Hero. I’m sorry that I’m useless for that.”

Exactly why they felt the need to explain and apologize to a villain, Sidekick couldn’t tell you. Useful hostages stayed alive and mostly intact. Unuseful hostages didn’t last. Maybe Sidekick was apologizing in hopes that she would at least make it quick, rather than drawing out their death?

But Villain was still staring at them like they had said the sun rose in the west. “What?!” she repeated, somehow sounding even more confused.

Sidekick couldn’t take it. They could withstand Hero’s too-hot hands and too-harsh corrections. They could take the insults and abuse. Give them complicated rules to follow, and they’d manage. But mind games were too much for them.

Sidekick began to cry, knowing even as they did that it would only make the situation worse. No one likes a snivelling little snot, they could hear Hero saying.

“I- I’m sorry,” they repeated between sobs. “I- I’m not worth the trouble you put in t-to getting me here. Please don’t hurt me before you kill me.”

“What,” Villain said again, practically a whisper this time.

“I know you have to kill me,” they sobbed, “I u- understand. I’ve seen your lair. You can’t let me go, so you have to kill me. But just please don’t hurt me first.”

They cried harder, gasping for air between wracking sobs as they curled in on themself. “I j- just don’t want to be hurt any more.”

That was the fact they’d been ignoring for far too long, the truth that they hadn’t been able to face. They were just so tired. Tired of being hurt, being bullied, being abused. They might only be a teen, but they already felt so old, worn out and worn down.

They could take it.

They didn’t want to.

They stayed there, curled in on themself in a villain’s lair, waiting for it all to end.

Instead, they felt warmth. Not heat, like they’d come to associate with pain after being Hero’s student. But warmth, comfort. Safety.

Two warm bodies pressed themselves against Sidekick’s legs, and a third pressed against his torso and wrapped arms around them. They stayed like that, two wolves and two humans curled together. Villain gently rocked Sidekick back and forth while humming soothing melodies, occasionally running a hand gently through their hair.

Not once did she shush him or tell him to stop.

Finally, Sidekick’s sobs tapered off to hiccups. Only then did Villain begin to speak.

“I brought you here because you were hurt and needed help,” she said softly. “I wasn’t going to leave an injured pup in the forest. I couldn’t let you go because we were so far from anyone else who could have helped you. I never meant for you to be a hostage; I’m sorry I led you to believe that. I didn’t mean to cause you pain and sorrow, but I have. All I can do now is apologize, and offer to keep helping you.”

“S’not your fault,” Sidekick muttered.

Villain gave a distinctly wet-sounding laugh at that. Her eyes were looking suspiciously damp as well. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work as an answer, pup. We’ll talk about that later. For now, do you have any other injuries that need tending?”

“My ribs.”

Villain helped Sidekick remove their shirt and checked their ribs under the watchful eye of the wolves. (The rest of the pack had come in during Sidekick’s sobbing session because, according to Villain, “they were worried about the sad human pup.”) Once she determined none of them were broken, only cracked or bruised, she wrapped them and called an end to the medical treatment for the day.

She then bridal-carried Sidekick (despite their protests that they could walk) to a bed made of a mound of furs.

“Sleep well, Sidekick. We’ll talk more about all this once you’ve rested.”

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster

#whumptober 2021 #no. 9 #tears #OC #my writing #whump writing #and still #series #verbal abuse tw #physical abuse tw #abuse of a minor tw #yeah Sidekick is a teenager #so I suppose they could be a minor or not #depending on how you look at it #evil hero #bad hero #disordered thoughts #internalized abuse #Sidekick has bought in to a lot of the shit Hero has told them #about themself at least #none of that stuff is nice #villain caretaker #good villain #sidekick whumpee #this was hard to write #yes i literally made myself cry #i think the results are worth it? #but yeah this one is rough #abuse of stuttering #sorry about that

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Draco Malfoy and the Parent Trap (headcanons)

Request: hc for scorpius trying to get his father back together with his dada teacher a while after his mother passing because he wanted his father to be happy and he found out reader used to be his school sweetheart before things got in their way? - anon

A/N: This is a fairly long headcanon and for that, I apologise! I had so much fun with this though! I’ve split this into sections like how I would a full length fic otherwise it’s too hard to follow, in my opinion.

Warnings: female reader, mischief and mishaps, kissing, fluff, humour, mentions of death, past relationships.

Scorpius Malfoy loved his mother; he adored his mother, but even he could no longer deny that she was not coming back. 

Astoria Malfoy had died, and she was not coming back. 

It had been years since her passing and whilst Scorpius missed her every single day, he could not ignore the fact that his father needed to meet someone new. 

-------

Draco Malfoy adored his wife; he would give up his soul to have her back in his arms where he could love her as wholly as he had when she was alive. If he had possession of the resurrection stone, he knew who he would bring back, he didn't care whether it would change her - he would have her back. 

However, Draco Malfoy was lonely. He missed his wife, but he also missed the companionship of a relationship. He missed going to bed and having someone there when he woke up wishing him a good morning. 

He yearned to have someone to hold; someone to love; someone to care for. 

Draco Malfoy simply wanted someone.

-------

Scorpius didn't really have a favourite class; he enjoyed them all as he loved learning, but he found himself drawn to Defence Against the Dark Arts when you took over as Professor, breathing new life into the subject.

“Scorpius!” You call, smiling widely as the blonde ambles over to you. “Well done! I haven't seen spell casting like that since I last saw your father.”

“You knew my father?” Scorpius asks you, shocked at the admission.

“We were very close for a time,” You admit, feeling your face flush as the teenager looks on confused, “But we drifted apart.”

“What was he like back then?” Scorpius asks before he can help himself, “Dad doesn't speak a lot about his time at Hogwarts; he says his life began when he met my mother.”

You laugh, pressing a hand to your chest. “I understand why he would say that; he always was the romantic. I was sorry to hear of her passing; I remember when she attended Hogwarts.”

“Thank you,” Scorpius whispers quietly; a new wave grief washing over him as he meets another person who0 had known his mother. 

“You’re the spitting image of your father. How is he?” You ask, needing to know.

“He’s okay. He’s lonely,” Scorpius admits, “He misses my mother.”

“As he should,” You state, nodding solemnly. “He always was serious. Even in school; I could very rarely get him to take a night off and have some fun.”

Scorpius smiles at the image conjured in his mind; the teenaged version of his father causing mayhem around the castle - it just didn't seem true. Scorpius sighs when he glances at the clock. “I’ll see you next time, Professor.”

“Bye, young Malfoy,” You laugh, thinking back to a time when a blonde haired teenager had been the centre of your universe.

------

Scorpius brings up the subject at lunch, asking Albus and Rose whether they knew anything of it.

Albus shrugs, sipping at his water before shaking his head. Rose frowns, tapping her chin with her finger. “I remember hearing my parents talk about it,” She murmurs, seeming far off as if in a distant memory.

“What did they say?” Scorpius all but demands, perching on the edge of his seat.

Rose’s eyes brighten as the conversation comes back to her. “I remember!” She all but cries, “They were discussing Professor (Y/L/N)’s appointment as our professor - they knew her at Hogwarts, you see.”

“Anything else?” Scorpius presses, already aware of such knowledge.

“My dad spoke about how he could never believe that someone like Professor (Y/L/N) would date your dad.”

“WHAT?” Scorpius shouts; not out of the slight insult to his father, but the fact that his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher used to date his father and neither said a word about it. “They dated?!”

Rose shrugs, reaching for her drink. “They must have if my parents were talking about it. I don't know how long for, but both my parents said it was the nicest they had seen your father act.”

Scorpius frowns at Rose’s words but does not comment; instead, he wonders about his father, overworking himself at St Mungo’s so he doesn't have to come home to an empty house. 

“Scorp,” Albus sings, interrupting Scorpius’ worrying, “I have an idea.”

“What is that?” Scorpius asks warily; these ideas never ended well. 

“You were talking about wanting your father to find love again... and here you are being educated by on elf his exes.”

“Okay?”

“Set them up you fool!”

“Oh!” Scorpius gasps, seeing the plan fall into place right before his eyes.

“Alright,” He concedes, “But I’ll need your help.” 

-----

The plan gets put into motion the following week.

Scorpius approaches you at the end of Thursday’s lesson, a sheepish look on his face.

“You know your father had the same expression when he messed up,” You snort, “What did you do?”

“It’s not so much what I did, but what my father would like to hear.”

“Pardon?”

“My father wrote to me yesterday asking if he could have an early report of my progress in school. Since you already know him, I thought - if you don't mind, that is - you would write to him first, update him on DADA?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course, Scorpius. I’ll write a report his evening and send it with the owls tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you!” Scorpius exclaims; eyes wide with happiness as the first stage of the plan falls into place. 

-----

Stage One: set up communication.

Draco had never sent his son a letter asking for his progress so far; Draco never rushed for academic excellence, he was simply happy with Scorpius’ best. 

However, the report would hopefully open up a line of communication between the exes which would in turn lead to something more.

-------

Owl Post arrives only once a day so it isn't until Saturday that Scorpius hears back from his father. 

He opens his letter with barely restrained glee; Albus and Rose watching on curiously. 

Inside the weighty envelope, Scorpius finds your progress report of his work in DADA but also an attached note from his father:

“Scorpius, you do not need to feel pressured to send me reports. I know you’ll try your best in every subject. You will do well with (Y/N) teaching you. She was a genius at this subject when I was at school.”

Scorpius freezes for a moment; running a finger over his father’s handwriting as he is hit with a keen sense of absence. He didn't get homesick often, but right now, he misses his father more than words could say. 

Albus reads over the letter, Rose follows. The three sit in silence as they think of their next move. Rose comes up with the idea.

“Your dad needs to reply to Professor (Y/L/N). It would look rude if he did not.”

Scorpius nods; reaching into his bag for a piece of parchment and his quill. He scrawls a quick reply to his father:

“Dad, I just thought you would appreciate the update. I hope you replied to Professor (Y/L/N), it would be rude to not have given that she took the time to write to you.”

His reply is sent in the afternoon when he treks up the Owlery, feeds a postal owl before offering up his letter to be returned to Draco. Scorpius had even tucked Professor (Y/L/N)’s original letter in the envelope so his father did not forget what she had written.

As Scorpius watches the owl fly away, he wonders whether this plan will ever work.

-----

Time passes and Scorpius begins to wonder whether the plan is working.

He watches you in lessons; notices that you seem a little brighter, that there is a little glow about you when you smile.

And Scorpius cannot help but wonder whether his father did reply and that the both of you were keeping in touch.

The hope that unfurls in his chest at the thought if his father happy again is what makes him pray to Merlin for it all to work out.

-----

It’s a Friday afternoon, weeks into the plan, when you approach Scorpius.

“Scorpius, may I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“I’m not sure if your father had made you aware or whether he was keeping it a surprise, but he’s coming to the school tomorrow.”

Scorpius’ face goes slack at your words. 

Draco had never come to the school; had not wanted to come after the second wizarding war and for good reason too. For Draco to be stepping foot back into the place he so strongly thinks hates him, there must be a powerful reason.

“Why?” is all Scorpius asks.

You fiddle with your fingers before replying. “He sent me a letter letting me know he would be coming to see you, but to also catch up with me. You don’t mind, do you? I know this could be strange for you. I’ll happily cancel if you want to spend the whole day with your father.”

The hope that had been hiding away just behind his heart begins to bloom in his chest as he takes in the hopeful expression on your face. It's then that Scorpius realises that you don't want to cancel on his father, but you would for him. It’s then that Scorpius realises that his father might just be ready for moving on.

“I don't mind at all,” He answers, finding his words truthful. “You and my father have a lot to catch up on.”

“That we do,” You laugh before smiling genuinely at the teenager, “Thank you, Scorpius.”

Scorpius smiles; grabbing his belongings and making his way out of the classroom. Stage two of the plan had begun with Scorpius even realising.

He knows exactly what he needs to do tomorrow.

-----

Scorpius barely sleeps all night for thinking of it.

He’s up with the sun and the first to breakfast as he waits for his father's arrival.

He remains sitting in the Great Hall when he begins to wonder just exactly where his father is. It was long past the time of his arrival.

It’s then that Scorpius decides to wander to the DADA classroom.

He finds Draco there in quiet conversation with you; sitting close together on the desks, hands so close touching that it almost pains Scorpius to look. 

He realises then how well you fit together; how you both balance each other out when you snort at something Draco says, reaching out to show his shoulder playfully. Scorpius cannot remember a time when he saw his father have fun; have a joke with someone.

Heads bent close together, Scorpius catches the glimpse of an indulgent smile on his father’s face and it's then that Scorpius knows that his father has found another person to love. 

Scorpius thought it would hurt, to see his father with another, but it doesn't. Instead, Scorpius feels relief that his father might not be so alone forever. 

An idea pops into Scorpius’ mind. 

Gathering his courage, Scorpius reaches for the door handle, and slams the door shut loudly. 

He covers his mouth to quash the laughter that bubbles at the sound of your surprised yelp. 

He quickly casts a locking charm on the door, remembering an advanced one taught to him by Rose whose mother had taught it to her. 

“Let us out!” You yell, shaking the door handle and banging on the door.

“Not yet!” He shouts back with a smile.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” Draco shouts, “Let us out right now!”

“Not until you get your act together!”

“What?”

“You can't come out until you admit your feelings!”

And with that, the voices on the other side of the door fall silent and Scorpius sits himself across the corridor from the entrance to the classroom. 

-----

Draco shakes his head at the audacity of his son. 

You press a hand to your mouth to stop the laughter from leaving. 

“It’s not funny!” Draco laments.

“It kinda is,” You admit, “Your son could see something neither of us could.”

“What?”

“Draco, you would have to be half blind to not see my feelings for you.”

“What?” The blonde repeats, once again struck dumb. 

You shrug, “We’ve been talking for a while and I thought there was something there. At least, there is something there on my end.”

“It’s been so long,” He whispers, closing his eyes against the wave of emotions washing over him.

Draco feels nothing but conflict; he can no longer ignore the rising affection he has for you, but with every sting of it, he’s reminded of Astoria. 

“I’m not asking to replace her,” You whisper, drawing your hands up to your chest as if protecting the already breaking heart. “I know I could never do that.”

Opening his eyes, Draco sees the stricken expression on your face and hates that he’s the cause for it. “I miss having someone there,” He admits quietly, “I miss having someone.”

“I could be that someone,” You state.

“I want you to be that someone,” Draco admits, pulling your hands from your chest, holding them gently in his own. “I want you.”

A watery smile breaks across your face as Draco drops on elf your hands to caress your cheek. “A new chapter,” You whisper, leaning into his touch.

“A new chapter,” Draco promises, ducking his head to kiss you.

------

Scorpius Malfoy misses his mother every day. He knows that she will always be with him, but he misses her nonetheless.

However, he cannot ignore how happy he is for his father to have found someone to love again. 

****

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @oopskashish @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @sexysirius @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​ @belladaises​

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy headcanon #scorpius malfoy #draco malfoy fluff

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Chapter 2

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)  

Rating: M

Words: 2K

Warnings: SMUT!! (fingering, sexual content, small breeding kink i guess), cursing. things of that nature

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

AN: Unedited. This chapter has smut, not intense smut but it is to further the plot. comment on this chapter or message for taglist. much love Cia!

 Chapter 2: Would it help if I dressed up like Spock?

You never want to thank serial killers for anything but you were slightly grateful that they decided to chill for a week. You and Spencer didn’t really want to have to put this off another month and you very well couldn’t go to Hotch like “you mind if Spencer sits this case out so he can knock me up?” 

You decided that you wouldn’t tell the team what you guys were doing until you were at least 4 months pregnant, which getting Garcia to keep it a secret was proving to be its own task. You thankfully had been able to intercept her before she could tell Derek. 

Spencer was over every night after work now, cuddling you on your couch watching a new Disney movie. For a man who seemed to know everything, his classic children movie knowledge was lacking. Right now, you guys were watching Ratatouille. He was sitting on the couch and you were on the floor beneath him between his legs, his hand aimlessly raking through your hair. You were on the verge of purring like a cat. You had forgotten how it felt to be comfortable around someone. 

“I don’t understand. If this movie is supposed to be about a rodent in a gourmet restaurant. Why is he making a peasant dish?” 

“It’s called Ratatouille. Why do you think?” You say, looking up at him. “It’s a pun.” 

He smiles down at you. “Well, it’s a play on words. Not a pun.” 

“Whatever, nerd.” You go to turn your attention back to the screen but his hand slides from your scalp to around your chin, forcing your head to stay up. 

“Tomorrow’s the day, you know.” Spencer says. 

“Trust me, I know.” You say. 

“Are you…. nervous?” He asks, eyes kind of shifting. 

“You don't make me nervous, Spencer.” You say, turning so you can look at him fully. “But something tells me you are. Tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“It’s just…. Idontwantittobebadforyou.” He rushes out. 

You look confused for a second before you realize what he’s saying to you. “Oh, Spencer you don’t have to worry about that.” You say, tapping him on the leg. “After all, you are kinda the only one it needs to be good for.”  

“Actually some studies have been showing that women are more likely to become pregnant if they also achieve orgasm.”  

“Now that’s something I didn’t know.” 

“I just… it just feels selfish. You’re not getting anything out of it.” 

“But I am getting something out of it, Spence. The best thing, our kid.” You laugh. “That’s what we’re doing this for, right?” 

He hesitates slightly. “Y-Yea, it is. Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“Hey, it’s alright. Caring if I orgasm already puts you above like 90% of the guys I’ve fucked.” You shrug. “Now, shut up. I’m trying to watch Remy.” You say, turning your attention but to the kitchen antics on the screen before you. 

———————————————

You had been antsy all day. Penelope tried to pry out of you what was making you so jittery but you never told her. As far as Penny was concerned, you and Spencer were going through the clinic. She didn’t need to know the details of how you were getting pregnant. 

After work, you and Spencer piled into your car and drove to your house. Once inside, Spencer waited in the living room while you went to the bathroom and took an ovulation test. Not exactly the sexiest thing to set the mood but what are you gonna do? You come out some time later brandishing the test before tossing it in the trash. 

“Well, I’m ovulating.” You say. “How are you feeling?” 

“F-Fine.” He stutters before clearing his throat. “I’m fine.” 

“Ok so you’re clearly not fine.” You say. “We don’t have to do this tonight if you’re having doubts. We can wait as long as you need.” 

“No, I’m fine, just nervous.” 

“This is probably the wrong time to ask but you’ve…. Done this before right?” 

He looks at you incredulously. “Christ, Y/N. I’m not a Virgin.” He exclaims. You hold your hands up in surrender. “It’s just weird. You’re my coworker.” 

“We can pretend I’m someone else if you want. Like I’m someone from the bar? Or where do you even meet girls? The library? Comic con? Pen gave me a Star Trek shirt last year. Would it help if I dressed up like Spock?—“ 

“Can I just kiss you?” He cuts you off. “Can we start there?” 

Your face can’t help but soften at that. “Yea, Spencer. That’s fine.” You say, stepping into his space. You feel his hand cradle your face before he leans in kissing you softly. You go at his speed for a while, slowly letting your tongues meet in the middle as you wound your hands into his hair. Soon a gasp is leaving you as you feel hands circling your waist pulling you closer as his kisses become rougher. Soon, you find yourself pressed against your wall. You let out a small yelp not expecting that at all. Spencer slots a leg in between yours, rubbing it against your clothed sex slightly. You groan when you feel his erection against your hip. Spencer’s now kissing you extremely rough. His hand drifts from it’s hold on your hip to the bottom of your jaw, fingers spreading slightly so he's almost gripping your neck like he wants to but is trying to hold back for right now. You’re a little surprised at that, you would’ve never thought Spencer Reid was into that. He pulls away for a second, hand still on your jaw looking at you with hooded eyes. 

“Bedroom?” He asks. You nod. 

———————————————

The two of you didn’t even have time to have an awkward moment because as soon as you’re in your room behind the closed door Spencer is on you, his lips finding your neck and that spot behind your earlobe that makes you moan. You reach to start unbuttoning his shirt, he helps you and you feel the slight smirk against your jaw. As soon as he’s undressed, you take off your clothes and sit on the bed. You look up and see Spencer still standing up at the end of it, watching you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask. 

“Nothing.” He says. “You’re just- you’re beautiful, Y/N.”  

You don’t like the way your heart flutters at that. You need to get a grip and remember this is just a one time thing, a business interaction. 

“So do something about it.” You say. 

Spencer is on top of you at the speed of light, trailing kisses down your neck and chest. You moan loudly, back lifting off the bed when his lips circle around your nipple, fingers playing with the neglected one. He looks at you softly as he starts to pull your underwear down. His fingers ghost above your sex, waiting for your permission. You nod, moaning when you feel the first digit slides across your wet folds. You had thought about Spencer’s hands before but nothing could prepare you for how they’d actually feel inside you. He says nothing, just gently pumps the two fingers inside you, smirking at how much you’re falling apart under him. It’s somehow hotter than when guys talk to you in bed. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the line you had set for yourself as you get closer to the edge. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you were. Your moans got more and more loud as you felt yourself falling over the edge, praising Spencer’s name all the while. He still says nothing, just studies you with a look of wonderment crossing his face as you ride out your orgasm. 

“You ready?” He asks. You nod, helping him pull off his boxers before he settles in the space between your legs. You feel the tip of his member press against you before he looks you in the eye again, silently asking for permission. You push back against him, granting it. The two of you groan loudly at the feeling as he presses inside of you. Spencer gives you time to adjust to his length, he was definitely a lot bigger than you thought he was going to be, then again you never really thought about any of your coworkers genitalia before. You nod when you're ready and he starts moving, slow at first but quickly picking up pace when he hears the groans and moans escaping your body unintentionally.   

“Fuck, Spencer. R-Right there.” You stutter out, Spencer moves your legs higher up on his waist as he started fucking you faster, hitting that spot inside you nearly every thrust. You went into this expecting nothing, really just the most mediocre sex possible. Which was fine, you were only doing this for your baby. You certainly weren’t expecting Spencer to actually be good at this. But here you were, moaning like a pornstar underneath the man she didn’t even like just weeks ago. 

“Fuck,  Y/N.” He moaned, head dropping into your neck. You could feel him panting into your ear. “Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so tight, baby.” 

You don’t know where that baby came from but you were too caught up in it to care. Your moans get louder and louder and Spencer drops a hand to your sex, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves that had your back arching off the bed. You were so unbelievably close you and Spencer could tell by the scratches you left down his back. He placed a small bite on the small patch of flesh behind your earlobe and that was all it took back over the edge for the second time that night. You felt Spencer’s thrust start to falter shortly after.  

“Shit, you feel so good, Y/N.” He groans into your ear. “Fuck.” 

You knew it wasn’t wise and if you could take it back you would. But you got swept up in the moment and still reeling from the two orgasms you had that you turned your head and whispered directly into Spencer’s ear. 

“Give me your baby, Spence.” 

Spencer’s leans his head up to look at you now, an almost feral look crossing his face as he starts fucking you harder. Looking you so intensely in your eyes. He brings a hand up to your neck squeezing the sides slightly and gripping your head so you can’t even look anywhere else if you wanted to. 

“Fuck, Y/N. You want me to fuck a baby into you, don’t you?” He says, fucking you impossibly hard. You moan loudly, gripping his wrist attached to the hand around your neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna--” He cuts off, and you watch him shake as he releases inside of you, thrusting shallowly as he rides out his orgasm. 

A minute passes and he separates from you, placing another pillow under your hips. “I’ve seen some studies say it’s better to keep the hips propped up for five minutes after sex to increase chances of fertilization.”  He says. “I’ll be right back.” 

He leaves you alone in the room for a second and you decide to spend that time gathering your thoughts. This could not be good. Spencer just gave you the best sex of your life for what most likely, was going to be a one time thing. You don’t even know how to go about working with him and raising this child knowing what he was like in the sack. This was a bad idea, but it was also a little too late now. 

He comes back in with a cold water bottle, prompting you to drink it which you happily accept. He goes and runs a hand softly through your sweatshined hair. 

“Sorry for… doing that, I know you said it wasn’t necessary before but you seemed close and it felt cruel to just not.” You look at him confused for a second before you realize what he’s saying. 

“Are you…. Apologizing for making me cum?” You ask. Spencer looks down awkwardly for a second. “Spencer, trust me it’s fine. In fact, it’s more than fine. Thank you for this. I know it was less than ideal for you.” 

Spencer playfully ruffles your hair. “It was not as bad as I thought it would be.” 

You roll your eyes at that. “Gee, thanks Casablanca.” 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughs. “I should get going.” 

“It’s already late. You could just… stay if you want.” 

“I don’t want to impose--” He starts but you cut him off. 

“Spencer, stay with me.” You say again, looking him in the eyes. “Please.” 

He looks at you back for a second, decoding if you were serious before nodding and crawling into the bed next to you. You immediately turn and toss an arm over his torso. 

“Goodnight, Spencer.” You say. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says back. 

You can almost swear you feel a kiss at the top of your forehead before you drift off but you’re so tired. 

 You probably hallucinated it. 

      Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​ @no-honey-no​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @chenlemure​ @sizzlingclamturtlesludge​ @tclaerh​ @k-k0129 @takeyourleap-of-faith​ @trashyhipsterfangirl @haylaansmi​ @spencerreidlivesrentfreeinmyhead​ @waspyyy​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @octaviaxanadu​ @whxt-to-write​ @meowiemari​ @b99andsoc​ @boba-king-iroh​ @punkndisorderrly​ @richardrosejpeg​ @underratedmisfit​ @gredvb​ @criminalminds4days​ @fanfictionislifetho​ @justpeachykeeeen​ @kopfkinomind @moonchildkei @appleblossoms-posts​ @urguardiandevil​ @cm-imagines-07​ @ajeff855

#spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #bau x reader

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, pining

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's Note: Thank you for all the patience and support! I love love love seeing replies and reblogs :,)

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Journey to Azzano

October 24, 1943

Yet another sleepless night. A night spent away from the nurse’s tent, handkerchief in hand, with eyes cast towards the heavens. The stars stared back, silent watchers from above; the petrified audience to a grotesque display of gore, violence, and inhumanity. Lottie knew that they were nothing but balls of gas, great masses of fire that drifted in that infinite chasm of space millions of lightyears away. Somehow, her heart still broke for them.

How painful it must be to be a star, she thought, To see the Earth, to see its people, to see the love and hope. To be forced to watch its destruction, its pain. Oh, how the stars must weep, gazing down at the broken bodies of men and boys, women and children, all victims of such a cruel war.

Still, the pain of a star could never come close to the pain of a nurse. The stars would never hold those bodies in their arms, they would never fumble for a tourniquet as blood spilled from a fresh wound, the stars would never have to slide a man’s eyelids shut, his skin cold to the touch.

Lottie was becoming quickly acclimated to the smell and feel of death. It never seemed to leave her skin, no matter how thoroughly she washed her hands. Though they were constantly rubbed raw, she could not rid them of death’s stench or its thick grime that seemed to coat every inch of her skin.

After they’d left Pantelleria, the SSR had scrambled to stay afloat, constantly caught in the crossfire of other Italian campaigns. The Germans had weaseled their way into northern and central Italy, with carnage in their wake, the nurses of the SSR were left to care for their victims. Lottie had come to know death as intimately as one knows the curves of their lover’s body, all the dimples, ridges, and edges.

“No number of bandages would’ve saved him, Lottie,” Gladys would whisper, “We’re nurses, not miracle-workers.”

“If I remember correctly, folks at the SSR sure love to rant about that ‘miraculous’ serum we developed.” “Betty, you know what I mean.”

Lottie wished she could be a miracle worker. The men that she managed to save definitely thought she was, but who wouldn’t think so highly of the woman who saved them from certain death? It would have been a comfort to visit them in the recovery ward, but the SSR would whisk them away, further north and closer to Hydra before she had the chance.

The SSR found themselves in Siano, a village an afternoon’s trek away from Salerno. At another time, it would be quite lovely. The quiet little community was nestled between small mountains, far too grand and looming to be called hills. The greenery was lush and the air was crisp, mingled with the saltiness from the nearby sea. A cool, sweet breeze kissed Lottie’s cheeks and became entangled in her curls that had finally been loosed from her strict bun. With every graze of the breeze against her cheeks and every rustle of the grasses beside her, it seemed that the very earth was breathing beneath her. Every movement was a great inhale or exhale that emanated around her; the only calming element to an otherwise restless night.

Their camp was just outside the town, stationed in an expansive field which was quite likely an abandoned pasture. Camp had been sloppily thrown together, after a horrifically bloody day in Salerno, morale was low and they knew their stay would be short-lived. Agent Carter had mentioned that they were urgently needed in Azzano; there was a POW situation up there that involved Hydra. Their stop in Siano, as Colonel Phillips had explained, was merely for recuperation. With a day of bloodshed behind them and several days’ worth of traveling ahead of them, rest was needed by all.

But she couldn’t really rest, could she? Lottie would always be on edge, on high alert, until she had her boys by her side once more. At every camp, in every campaign, she searched for the 107th. For any sign of a USO show. So far, she had come up with nothing. Nothing but disappointment.

All that she could do was gaze up at the stars and wonder if a pair of clear blue eyes were doing the same.

Somewhere in Azzano

Liquid fire in his veins. Muttered words in German. Leather straps that dug into his skin; they kept him from writhing in pain. Days bled together and he could barely find the willpower to stay conscious, blurring the lines between his dreams and reality.

Bucky didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what was going on, either. All he knew was agony, frustration, and a girl. His best girl, Little Lottie. The first time he’d seen her, he was sure that she was real. He had just undergone the first round of… whatever this was, and all of a sudden, she’d appeared before him, dressed just as she’d been when he last saw her— white uniform, thick stockings, and a heavy coat that seemed to swallow her whole.

He’d tried to yell at her, warn her about how dangerous this place was, but he could only muster a choked groan which had earned him a blow to the head. After that, she kept appearing— every time he was poked or prodded at, she stood in the corner of the room and watched over him with a smile on her lips. His head would loll to the side with exhaustion and their gazes would connect; it was the only glimmer of hope in the midst of his torture.

His Little Lottie would only speak to him in his dreams, but she wouldn’t speak, really. No, she’d do this thing he’d seen her do to Stevie hundreds of times when he was sick in bed. With gentle hands, she would smooth his hair away from his forehead, freeing the sweaty, bloodied strands that clung to his skin. She quieted his groans of pain with soft sounds and breathy hums of her favorite songs— mostly from the musicals they had gone to see in the thirties. Little Lottie was fondest of numbers by the Gershwin brothers, he’d noticed, as she was always humming one of their tunes in his dreams.

Any anger toward her was forgotten, but the fear remained. Fear for her safety devoured him from the inside out; if Hydra ever got their hands on her, there would be hell to pay.

Siano, the next day

“Y’know if you’re gonna make a habit of this, I might as well take your pillow for myself.”

Lottie blinked her eyes blearily, taking in the figure of Betty before her. Apparently, she’d fallen asleep outside. Again. The first time it had happened, they’d been camped out in Salerno and while her companions had gone to bed earlier, she’d attempted to calm her nerves with a midnight cigarette. Suffice to say, the cigarette had done its job, though she’d woken up with a terrible pain in her neck.

This time, the pain was located in Lottie’s lower back, probably due to the uneven ground she’d fallen asleep on.

“Believe me, Betty, I don’t intend to make this a habit,” Lottie gritted her teeth in pain as she attempted to maneuver herself off of the ground.

Betty sighed and grabbed her hands, heaving her up, “C’mon, we don’t have all day. Colonel Phillips wants the tents down as soon as possible.” She jerked her head in the direction of the other three nurses a few yards away, they were evidently having a difficult time with the canvas and poles of their tent.

The two of them rejoined their group and Gladys tossed a pack to her with a smile, “Your stuff’s all good to go. Figured you needed the extra sleep.” Lottie squeezed her shoulder in thanks and observed Nancy and Mary as they argued over the correct way to pack up their tent.

“First we need to disassemble the poles, then we wrap up the canvas and—”

“No, we need to take care of the canvas before we can—”

Agent Carter stalked toward them with a rather agitated look on her face; only she could look powerful crossing an uneven field in heels. Lottie bundled up some poles in her arms, trying to stow them away in a pack before they could be berated for being the last ones to finish.

“Ladies,” Agent Carter began, voice firm, “You did not go through a year of training just to be the last ones done packing up your tent. We need more speed from you five to reach the one hundred and seventh in time.”

Lottie nearly dropped the metal poles in her arms and choked out a gasp, “The one hundred and seventh?” That was the regiment with the POWs? The POWs that had fallen victim to Hydra? Her heart was suddenly beating a mile a minute, her stomach was all in knots.

Agent Carter furrowed her brow, likely confused by her reaction, “Yes, they were vastly overpowered in a recent battle. We’ve been summoned to provide medical care to the survivors as well as to assist in a reconnaissance mission for information regarding the whereabouts of the POWs.”

She was tempted to ask about Bucky, to see if she’d heard anything about their survivors, but she ultimately decided against it. It was unlikely that they already had extensive knowledge regarding those who had been saved or lost.

“We’ll be done in a jiffy, Agent Carter,” Nancy nodded, removing the poles from Lottie’s grasp.

After another minute or two, their tent was packed away, and each nurse was outfitted with a hefty pack that carried their belongings. Together, the nurses and the rest of the SSR agents began their trek through the Italian countryside, keeping close in their groupings. It would have been far easier to be transported by plane, but the agents had to take as much caution as possible with Hydra's threat level. If traveling by foot kept the lowest profile, then that was what needed to be done.

Lottie’s four companions broke out into quiet conversation to pass the time while fearful thoughts weaseled their way into her mind. What if Bucky really had been taken by Hydra? What would they do to him? Would they kill him? She’d heard of their horrors from Erskine, and she’d even seen their ruthlessness at his assassination. The dark thoughts that began to swim around in her head made her want to be sick. Lottie wanted to double over and retch, to alleviate the sick feeling that crept into her at the thought of Bucky in Hydra’s clutches.

“You alright there, Lottie? You’ve been awfully quiet,” Gladys sidled over to where she was walking, only a foot or two away from the rest.

“I don’t think so,” Lottie began, her voice strained, “I mean, with the one hundred and seventh and everything, I just, I don’t know how to—”

Gladys nodded, a sad look on her face, “I know, it’s a dreadful situation, isn’t it? I can’t imagine how those survivors must feel. Having your comrades stolen away from you in a bloody battle.”

“It’s not just that, it’s also—”

“Oh yes, definitely more than that. Not only the mental anguish but the physical, too. I mean, we’re here for a reason, we’ve got to be prepared for the worst when we get there. I’ve heard they’re in absolute shambles.”

Lottie fisted her hands in frustration, “Gladys. Bucky’s a member of the one hundred and seventh. That’s his damn regiment. And I haven’t a clue of whether he’s dead, alive, or barely holding on in some dingy cell, so I would really appreciate it if you would spare me the monologue about how terrible their situation is.”

Gladys stared at her, a look of shock painted on her face, “Lottie, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I— gosh, I feel absolutely awful now, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lottie grabbed Gladys’ hand to squeeze it, their arms knocked together as they walked side by side, “I just need to think optimistically right now. If I start thinking about all the atrocities, I might go crazy.”

Gladys squeezed back, a faint smile growing on her lips, “You’re right. Think optimistically. I bet he got out of it just fine, with a few scratches though. But he’ll be waiting for us real patiently, waiting for the fine nurses of the SSR to patch him right up.”

She found comfort in Gladys’ words. It was much nicer to picture him that way, sitting in a medic tent cot, wounds scabbed over in blood, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Maybe he'd be cracking jokes with the other poor souls stuck in that tent, his eyes alight with humor and that lopsided grin threatening to send that cigarette straight to the ground. He would be a bit battered and bruised, but he’d be there waiting. Waiting for her.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky x ofc #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #1940s bucky #40s!bucky x ofc #40s!bucky x reader #40s!bucky #40s!bucky x original female character #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes ff #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you

[snowsanji]

even more dad!schlatt hcs:

this is a continuation of my first two dad!schlatt hc fics (pt.1 pt.2) 

- “philza minecraft!” tubbo called out, walking into phil’s house without knocking first. all of phil’s stuff was strewn across the room, chests wide open. 

“yes, tubbo?” phil answered, from somewhere in the house. “and don’t mind the mess, i’m reorganizing my chests.” 

“is schlatt my dad?” 

“what would prompt that?” phil peaked his head out from around a corner, the color draining from his face upon seeing glatt. 

“what’s wrong phil? looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“schlatt? a-aren’t you dead?” 

glatt shrugged. “eh, didn’t stick with me.”

phil sighed, kneeling down infront of tubbo. “tubbo, it’s true. schlatt was your father. he raised you until he couldn’t anymore, which is when he left you with me.” 

“oh.” tubbo looked to the floor. 

“but not the way you’re thinking. schlatt cared about you. so much. he had to leave you, he got caught in some...bad things. he didn’t want you to be hurt by his actions.” phil looked at glatt. “which is why you wouldn’t remember. it was painful for you.” 

tubbo and glatt remained silent. 

“now this is a lot to process, i know. and tubbo, i know this must be hard for you, so even if im not your dad i’m still here for you. ok?” 

tubbo smiled. “ok phil. i’ll leave you to your reorganizing.” 

tubbo walked out, and as glatt started to follow phil spoke to him. 

“schlatt that applies to you as well. i knew you well while you raised tubbo. i can help if you need.” 

glatt nodded. “thanks phil.” he walked out of phil’s help and floated over to tubbo. 

“so....” glatt said awkwardly. 

“listen glatt. i want to get to know you. i really do. but its kinda alot for me right now. and i’m also a president. and there’s this.” tubbo gestured to the scars on his face. 

“yeah, how did that happen?” 

“i don’t wanna talk about it.” 

at that moment, glatt and tubbo heard a loud shout. 

“AYYYY TUBBO! MY FRIEND!” tommy yelled from the distant hill. 

tubbo smiled. he looked back at glatt. “i’ll talk to you later, maybe.” he started to run to tommy before glatt called out. 

“can i say hi to tommy?” 

tubbo stopped and turned, his face grim. “no. i don’t want him knowing we’re family ok? and if he does i want to tell him. not you.” 

glatt watched his son run over and start talking to tommy. he sighed. what did schlatt do when he was alive? why did so many people seem afraid of him. 

“what did i do?” schlatt looked down at his hands, deep in thought. 

- one late afternoon, glatt was sitting on a hill, looking out on lmanberg. 

“hello there! you look a little sad.” a voice said, appearing behind glatt. “would you like some blue?” 

glatt looked up to see a figure standing above him, holding out some sort of blue substance. the figure was extremely pale, and floating. 

“are you dead too?” glatt asked. 

“yes i am. but i haven’t seen you before. im ghostbur. who are you?” ghostbur cocked his head curiously. 

“i’m glatt. i was called schlatt but...” 

“i used to be wilbur.” 

“wilbur....wilbur.” glatt thought about the name in his head. “i think, i knew you. before.” 

“i’m sorry but i don’t remember you.” ghostbur replied. 

“eh, its alright. i can’t remember much either. i can really only remember my son.” 

“your son?” 

“tubbo.” 

ghostbur’s pupil-less eyes seemed to widen. “your tubbo’s dad? tubbo is my secretary of state. was my secretary of state. he’s the president now.” 

“do you know what happened to him? the scars on his face. he won’t tell me about them.” 

ghostbur looked down. “i don’t. i don’t think it was a happy memory for alivebur. i think he blamed himself.” ghostbur looked back up, eyes lighting up. “but i know who we can ask! technoblade! he’s very knowledgeable on things. im sure he’ll know what happened.” 

and so the two ghosts made the long trek to techno’s cabin, avoiding the snow on their way. they made it to his front door. 

“are you sure he’ll be okay with us turning up randomly?” glatt asked. 

“of course. techno’s nice!” ghostbur smiled before knocking on the door. 

a large half pig half man answered the door. his overall appearance was quite intimidating, aside for the reading glasses perched on his nose. 

“ghostbur hello. and hello to you....schlatt? ghost schlatt?” 

“glatt.” 

“ah.....glatt. what can i do for you? and if it’s execute tubbo again, im retired.” 

glatt paused. “sorry, maybe i didn’t hear you right. did you just say execute tubbo?” 

“uhh... yeah?” techno looked confused. “what’s going on here.” 

“techno he came to ask what had happened to tubbo. why he has the scars on his face. neither of us can seem to remember.”  

techno moved aside. “here come in. don’t mind the enderman, he’s my roommate.” 

glatt, still stunned by this information barely moved, instead being guided by ghostbur into techno’s cabin. 

“i-i did what?” 

“here allow me to start from the beginning. would anyone like tea?” 

ghostbur nodded excitedly. techno got out a kettle and began to boil water as he spoke: 

“tubbo was spying for pogtopia, which was alivebur’s rebellion against your administration, schlatt. it was alivebur, me, tommy and tubbo. he stayed in manberg, which is what you renamed lmanberg, and got us information. but on the.. i wanna say the 16th of october, you held a manberg festival. tubbo decorated the event and at the end of tubbo’s speech you trapped him in a box. you said you knew he was a traitor and that he needed to be made an example of.” 

the tea kettle began to whistle. techno took a small tea cup from his cupboard and poured the boiling water in. 

“ghostbur, earl grey or honey lemon?” he asked. 

“honey lemon sounds nice.” ghostbur smiled. 

techno brought ghostbur his cup of tea and sat down next to glatt. 

“you called me on stage and told me to execute him. after some back and forth, i did, killing you and quackity in the process.” 

“tubbo...” glatt held his head in his hands. “how...how could i have done that? he-he was my son!” 

“its alright, glatt.” ghostbur said reassuringly. “im sure you had your reasons. you don’t know what you were thinking.” 

“what reason could i have for murdering my own son? i really am i villain, huh?” 

#with each new installment it becomes more and more like a legit fanfic #grace writes #mcyt #dadschlatt #dad!schlatt #schlatt mcyt #jschlatt #tubbo mcyt #tubbo #dreamsmp #dsmp #ghostbur

[everdreamart]

Read my Thoughts

The journey through Aeor only gets more confusing as eye powers are thrown into the mix.

OR

An accidental telepathy fic where Caleb shares a bit too much to a certain drow.

Relationship: Caleb Widowgast/Essek Thelyss (Shadowgast)

Rating: Teen and Up

~~~~~

Things in Aeor are strange. Magic Especially. A teleport can send you miles away from target, and a spell gone wrong can make you bald! However, Aeor's atrocities were put on the backburner when Jester's weasel turned out to be her 'god' and the red eyes adorning the Empire Kid's bodies started to show power.

Darkvision was one thing that was quite startling to Caleb. He hadn't really noticed it with the constant flow of light emitting from Caduceus' staff and his own globules. It wasn't until Beauregard said something that it really occurred to him. Even more surprising was the telepathy. The ability to transcend one's thoughts into the mind of another. A mental link for shared knowledge. All sorts of possibilities flowed into Caleb's mind. How useful this could be in their upcoming battles with Lucien.

"Woahhhh Caleb I can literally HEAR your thoughts! Slow down a bit!" Jester marveled.

"OH Oh Beau! Can you read my thoughts??" Yasha exclaimed.

"Hey let's give it a try-" Beau smirked.

"Ok who do I love? Oh wait thats dumb.." Yasha mumbled. The rest of them started to laugh a bit.

Caleb shifted his gaze over to Essek. The drow's soft features focused on the commotion going on around him. A confused expression painting his face - no doubt from the sudden talking weasel - in a show of momentary openness. Throughout their travels in Aeor, Essek had slowly let the shadowhand persona slip away. Caleb liked this version much better. The way emotion displayed itself on Essek's face was new and nervous, but the man was truly trying to change. That alone caused something to swell in Caleb's heart.

Immediately, Essek's head snapped up and looked over at Caleb in surprise. Caleb looked away as soon as he turned his head. Did Essek hear him? He needs to get a better hold of this power. Fast. Swallowing hard, Caleb simply nodded, before turning his gaze back to their laughing friends.

-----

After a day of hard trekked travel, the Mighty Nein stumbled into the tower for a night of much needed rest. It was then that Caleb's mind started to wander. What exactly is transmitted through this telepathy? Feelings? Words? Images? The beginning pricks of worry started to crawl into his throat. Would he have to wrestle every one of his thoughts down so the others wouldn't be plagued by his memories? He glanced at the glaring red eye adorning his palm. Thick red lines seared into his skin flawlessly. Watching. Staring. Certainly these powers come with a price. And Caleb didn't know what that price was.

There's nothing he can do right now. Stay on task, Widowgast. Maybe something from the papers he picked up earlier will have more information about their enemy. With an idea for distraction in place, Caleb floats up to the library to begin opening the amber. He settles on a couch opposite from a crackling fireplace as he does so, the comforting warmth washing away the stress of the day.

Piles of books and papers fill the floor in front of him. Excitement and curiosity begin to tug at his mind. Caleb reaches out and grabs one of the dusty old tombs, tracing the foreign writing in awe. So much knowledge, packed in the papers around him. So much information to be learned and so little time.

"It's quite incredible, is it not?" A soft voice comes from behind him as Essek glides over to Caleb, staring at the collection of books.

"Ja. After our business is concluded, I would love to study more of Aeor's history and research."

"Well, we have a few moments now, do we not?" Essek smiled softly as he looked at Caleb.

And just like that, they were off. Reading through ancient texts, occasionally bouncing theories back and forth. The constant whirring of intellect trying to process the thoughts of mages from far beyond their time. It was invigorating.

However, from time to time, Caleb found it hard to keep his focus. His eyes constantly wandering back to the drow sat beside him, nose buried in a book. His thin white brows creased into a focused expression, eyes full of wonder and curiously, devouring the age old texts. The way his mouth would curl into a subtle smile when he found a particularly interesting section of text. Or how he would nibble at his lower lip when frustrated about something. He wondered if those lips would feel as good as he imagined. How soft and delicate.. Oh how glad Caleb is to have moments like these, just him and Essek.

At some point while Caleb was lost in his thoughts, Essek looked up. Violet eyes meeting blue ones.

"I uh.." Essek clears his throat. " I found a section that you might find to be interesting." He smiles and looks away.

Oh.

How much did he hear? How many of those thoughts slipped through in his tired state? Apparently enough for the subtle hints of purple creeping on the edges of Essek's ears to catch Caleb's attention.

"I think it's time for me to head to bed. I require more sleep than you do, after all," Caleb said as he stood up. It was awkward, for a moment. The silence was heavy, and he didn't dare steal a look at the drow beside him.

-----

Having your thoughts known to others feels like quite a violation of privacy. Caleb thought as he laid in his bed. I need to get a hang of this.

It took a while for him to get even close to falling asleep, for his mind was racing with thoughts.

He was on the edge of consciousness when he heard a small knock on his door. Surely all the nein are well into their sleep right now, so that means that the only person this could be is… a lump formed in Caleb's throat as he opened the door. Essek stood in front of him, a foreign expression adorned on his face.

"I hope I wasn't disrupting your rest. I would like to talk… if you don't mind?" He spoke softly as Caleb gestured him into the room.

It caught Caleb's attention immediately that the man wasn't floating, but walking instead. They sat on the couch as he responded, "Ah, I was having some trouble sleeping. You weren't interrupting anything. What is it you would like to discuss friend?"

"I ah.." He fidgeted with his fingers. The drow wasn't wearing his usual mantle, but instead the more comfortable robes that were provided to him from the tower. Caleb let his eyes momentarily linger on the way the clothing frames Essek's small figure. The way the deep blues and purples frame his gorgeous dark skin. Caleb promptly tries very hard to stuff these thoughts down.

"I took notice of the recent… developments of the eyes on beauregard's and your bodies. It… concerns me. The acquisition of such powers surely means that something was taken in exchange, and I am unsure of what that was." Essek says with worry laced in his voice. His eyes rise to meet Caleb's.

"..ja. I too am a bit uneasy about the current situation. Though it just makes our goal that much more important, does it not?" He replied, flashing a faint reassuring smile.

"I guess it does." The other wizard's gaze falls to his lap.

'That's not really what you came here to talk about. Is it?' Slips from Caleb's mind before he can even think to stop it.

The drow visibly flinches in surprise, then sighs slightly. "There was something else on my mind, yes."

Caleb slowly, ever so slowly, reaches his hand over to touch Essek's. "I'm here if something is wrong."

He is very aware of what Essek was referring to. However, he doesn't know what is going through the other man's brain, as thin smooth fingers meet his calloused ones halfway. A slight smile plays at the corners of Essek's mouth, and Caleb once again feels his focus begin to slip. He focuses on the feeling of Essek's hand in his. Soft skin, clearly not used to the harsher weather of the frozen wasteland as of late, his fingers only rough in the areas where one would hold a quill.

Strands of silver-white hair hover on his forehead, slightly covering vibrant violet eyes. Oh it is a sight to behold. Dark skin growing impersivibly darker. How he works at his bottom lip nervously. Caleb finds himself fighting back the desperate want to feel this man against him. To hold him close and study his features on a much more intimate level. Essek's ear twitches.

"I ah… I thank you for your.. Compliments..?" He stutters out as his face flushes an even darker shade of purple.

Something inside of Caleb breaks, and he finds it becoming increasingly harder to hold back the growing need to bring the wizard close.

"I apologize for not being able to return such… appraisal," the drow mumbles out, looking anywhere but Caleb's eyes. His other hand raises up Caleb's arm, settling on the crook of his neck. "I hope I can live up to your expectations, Widowgast." He smiles nervously.

Caleb's mind goes blank. Soft lips brush his own and his restraint vanishes. They crash together in feverish movements, a warm pressure on his lips that grounds him in the moment. It's so much better than he could've ever imagined. The sensation of Essek's mouth on his is something he wants to savor forever. He wants to memorize every movement and feeling of the man pushing against him, as if this was a rare slip-up and it would never happen again. Maybe he was dreaming after all, but the feeling of Essek starting to nibble at his lower lip quickly reassures him that this is very much real.

Something sharp catches Caleb's lip, and he recoils a bit in surprise. Essek immediately pulls back, a flash of worry crossing his face.

"Fangs." Caleb mutters out, breathless. "I was not aware you had fangs."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" he gets cut off by Caleb leaning in once more, capturing his mouth hungerly. His fingers lace through Essek's hair as he pushes onto him, desperate to be closer. More. He wants more.

Apparently Essek heard him, as the drow parts his mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Caleb runs his tongue over the sharpened points of Essek's fangs, feeling a shiver as he does so. They merge together, desperate to taste each other. To explore every inch. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. He wants this moment to last forever.

They pull away after what feels like hours, but still isn't long enough. Essek's breath dances on Caleb's lips, mere inches away. Caleb smiles and presses another quick kiss to Essek's mouth.

"I think you far surpassed my expectations, Thelyss."

#critical role #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #Not quite canon compliant but its pretty close I think #Teef #:)

[havin-a-wee]

Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.

#HarryOnHoliday #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot

[ficsandbits]

Exhaustion makes a great Cupid.

Hey guys! BNHA has taken over my life recently so have some Aizawa fluff to help relieve my mind of it. I'll also be posting over on my AO3 here : > https://archiveofourown.org/works/28061130

Y/N is written as G/N (Gender Neutral) 

Word count: 2,099

Like always, comments and feedback are always welcome and greatly appreciated! If you have any requests don’t hesitate to ask! 

Enjoy! xoxo✌🏻💕🌻

Y/N was tired. So bone tired they could barely bring themselves to open their eyes to see who was calling. A week filled with night patrols and paperwork stopping any chance of sleeping in the day were starting to take a toll on their body. They rolled over and hit the answer button, putting the call straight on speaker.

"Hello?" Y/N's voice croaked out, the signs of just waking up still coating their voice.

"Y/N? You okay? You don't sound too good." Aizawa's cool tone rang through the bedroom. At their hum his concern grew. "Do you need me to bring you anything? I have a bit of time before class starts."

"No no." They stretched glancing at the clock. Y/N held back a groan noticing they'd only been home a couple of hours. "I'm okay. Just overworked. What's up?" It was rare for Aizawa to call first, especially on a school day.

"I was wondering if you could come and help me with some hero classes today? I think it'd be good for the kids to go up against someone with your quirk type." The concern from before had dropped but not disappeared. "It's fine if you're busy, we can fit it around your schedule."

"You're in luck, I have the day cleared." Y/N sat up and cracked their back, letting out a satisfied sigh. "What time do you want me?"

They heard Aizawa clear his throat on the other end of the line before he responded. "Around 11 would be perfect. Thank you for your help, I'll see you later." He hung up after the quick conversation, leaving Y/N to double take at the time.

They huffed, working out that there would be about 4 hours to get ready and make the trek to UA. Luckily they had an old hero costume hanging around somewhere, the current one not being in top form after last night. Y/N really would never understand how simple night patrols turned so ugly so quickly. They dragged their tired body out of bed, choosing to run a bath rather than shower hoping it would soothe their aching muscles. Y/N didn't trust themselves to leave on time and set an alarm on their phone for when they had to leave.

What Y/N hadn't anticipated was falling asleep in the bath and having to rush around just to make it out in time. Their drooping eyes and growling stomach made them extremely aware that they were lacking in both sleep and food. Y/N shot off a quick text to Aizawa letting him know that they were on the way, even though he was probably busy.

Y/N had first met Aizawa in high school, the two of them keeping their distance and not really getting to know each other. It wasn't until their later years that they had gotten close, soon becoming each other's close confidant. Aizawa's best friend was quite the competition but there was clearly a difference in the relationships. Y/N adored the loud man, finding him a hilarious comparison to Aizawa's calm and placid nature. They envied their friendship, always sharply reminded of their own friend, who had left to become a hero in a different area. Y/N spotted a group of children sporting hero merch and smiled gently, their eyes drifting shut for a brief moment before the train announcer called out for the stop. As Y/N stood the world tilted slightly and they quickly grabbed onto the nearest pole. An older lady placed a concerned hand on their arm, asking if they needed to sit back down. Y/N waved away the lady's kindness and got off as the doors opened, desperately hoping the dizziness was a one time thing. The walk to UA was more of a struggle than they had hoped, but they made it just in time.

Y/N phoned Aizawa to tell him to come and collect them. Y/N was in luck when he picked up and told them he'd be down to get them in a minute. They idled around preening for no real reason. Y/N found they wanted to look their best, it was the first time in a while that they'd be seeing each other in person and the thought gave them butterflies. Y/N took a deep breathe to calm their jittery nerves. They had been sure the crush they had on Aizawa was long over, yet here they stood with all the nervous excitement of a high school teenager. Y/N was snapped out of their thoughts by the man causing these feelings approaching them. They smiled brightly, their heart fluttering just seeing him in person.

"Long time no see! How long has it been now?" Y/N joined him as they walked back into school grounds. Aizawa clearly giving them a withering look. "Oh come on surely I don't look that bad." Y/N tried to joke earning a sharper glare from him.

He stopped, his arm coming out but not quite touching theirs. "How much sleep have you gotten in the past couple of weeks." Y/N turned to look at him fully, taking a quick note of the way his eyes softened so subtly. "And when was the last time you had a substantial meal. You look ready to drop are you sure you'll be okay in there today?" He got closer to them, peering closer at their sunken eyes. "I'm happy you said you'd come but I care more about your health than I do the lesson today." This time his hand came to rest on their arm, thumb stroking gently.

"I'm here now, I'll be okay." Y/N placed their hand over his giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I can change the lesson around, I won't put your health at risk." His eyes grew more stern the more Y/N protested.

"Shouta, I promise you I will be fine." Y/N removed his hand from their arm, holding it tightly in their own. "Besides you are the last person putting my health at risk." They mumbled the last part out bitterly.

There was clearly no love lost between Aizawa and the hero's association, so Y/N's bitter words were met with gentle acceptance. He caressed their knuckles one last time before letting go of their hand and continuing the walk. Y/N couldn't stop the smitten smile that formed on their face as they trailed behind him. They made light chatter on the way to the training grounds catching up on the many things they'd missed in the others life. Y/N showed off cool new scars they'd got and he sighed deeper at each one as their smile got wider. His concern was only growing the more they spoke but he couldn't express anything before they reached the training grounds.

He glared at his class waiting for them to calm down, not missing the way Y/N suppressed a smirk at the action. "Alright class we've got some active hero training. This is Y/H/N and she'll be helping us out with training today. If any of you want to spar just let us know and we'll arrange it, otherwise we'll be here to observe and help out." The class nodded and looked over to Y/N, all eyes scanning them.

"So this is what it's like being assessed by a bunch of children, it's scarier than I thought." Y/N leaned in to whisper into Aizawa's ear, enjoying the light chuckle he let out and downright loving the scent that wafted from him as he leaned close to whisper back to them.

"They're a bunch of scary kids, no wonder you're worried." He turned to his class stone faced, raising one scruffy eyebrow. "Well are you waiting for an invitation, get to it." He dismissed the class sternly, watching them scatter quickly.

Y/N walked around, occasionally stopping to critique or praise a students form. They were stopped by one student hoping to expand his knowledge on different quirks and how his would be useful against them. Y/N couldn't say no despite the pounding headache and almost constant dizziness. The two moved to a more open space in the grounds and got into position to start their fight. Before they could even begin Y/N's vision suddenly swayed and they became vaguely aware of the feeling of falling but blacked out before they could process it.

"Uh... Mr Aizawa! There's, um, Y/H/N's fainted." The young boy shouted out across the room to his teacher, confusion clear in his voice.

Aizawa turned, a frown plastered on his face wondering what he was talking about only to see Y/N lying on the floor with students stopping what they were doing to gather round. Panic clutched at his heart for a second before he began to make his way over to the scene. He moved quickly, hyper aware of the fact the floor was solid concrete and that Y/N went down with no support, the last thing he needed was them gaining a serious head injury whilst helping him out. When he reached them the first thing he did was check for any injuries, letting out a breathe when he found none.

"Take the class back to homeroom today's session is finished. You can use the time to study for your upcoming exams." He instructed the class lead whilst scooping Y/N up. "I'm going to take them to recovery girl to check for injuries. I should be back soon." He quickly left with Y/N, heading directly to the infirmary.

Y/N groaned as they came around, confused by the surroundings. They felt a weight shift on their side and turned to find Aizawa sat on the bed, hand coming to brush their hair back. Y/N sighed at the sensation their lips turning up into a smile. "Now this is a nice dream." Y/N croaked out.

Aizawa snorted at them, his hand coming to rest on their cheek. "It's not a dream Y/N, you fainted in the training grounds." Y/N's eyes snapped open as they struggled to sit up. Aizawa moved his hand to rest on their shoulder, pushing them firmly back down. "Oh I don't think so, you're in the infirmary and have been out for hours. Rest." His firm voice made Y/N sink back down into the bed.

"Hours? How hard did I go down?" Y/N rubbed at their temples, a dull ache working its way back into their head.

"Recovery girl said you had no outward injuries but were just too exhausted to wake up right away. We let you sleep it off." Aizawa's thumb started it's usual comforting circular motion on their shoulder. "I told you we could rearrange." He sighed, his grip tightening and his eyes closing.

"I honestly thought I'd be fine." They looked up at him noticing his strained jaw and screwed shut eyes. "I didn't mean to make you worry," Y/N reached a hand up to massage gently at his jaw. "I'm sorry."

Aizawa let out a long suffering sigh and leaned forward planting an almost shy kiss onto their forehead. Y/N's eyes widened as their face got hot at the gesture. He lingered for a moment before lowering his forehead to their own, eyes opening to look deeply into theirs. "There's never a time when I'm not worrying about you idiot." He pulled back to give them a gentle smile. "Next time just tell me. Come on let's get you some food and a comfier bed." He grabbed their hands and gave a gentle tug bringing them to sit up.

Y/N stood shakily, Aizawa there to take their arm and help them walk out. "I should get a taxi and just face the ridiculous fare huh." They laughed lightly coming to stand on their own, Aizawa not letting go of their hand.

"Don't be stupid. You're staying with me tonight." Aizawa stated as a matter of fact, smirking at the way Y/N blushed and tried to stutter out an excuse. "No excuses, your in no fit state to be making the trip back." He threw a look over his shoulder towards them as they trailed along shocked. "Besides I don't want to leave you alone right now."

Y/N moved closer, planting a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Thank you Shouta." He smiled and kept them close to him as they walked to his place.

#mha x y/n #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa imagine #bnha imagines