#it’s just my time of the month but this could turn me into Dexter

[willgrahamscock]

If I see one more TikTok where someone is talking and then takes a big bite of their food and chews for 30 seconds before getting their point across I am going to lose my mind. RECORD THE VIDEO BEFORE YOU EAT OR WAIT THE 2 MINUTES.

#it’s just my time of the month but this could turn me into Dexter #alex says things

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Is my punishment almost over?" Emily asked her boyfriend, Joey.

"No, not yet, baby girl..... I think you need to learn your lesson a bit longer."

"But....! The tournament is in a month. How can I perform like this?"

"Not my problem.... You should've thought of that before being such a naughty girl, Emily."

Joey wasn't wrong, in a way..... Almost a year ago he started dating an Olympic silver medalist gymnast, who was known the whole world over for her skill and dexterity. Shortly after dating her, though, he was sent something damning by a random person online.... At the time, Emily was basically flat chested, yet had a cute butt and tended to give the cameras sensual, flirty looks, often blowing kisses and winking at the camera, sometimes bending over unnecessarily to give the people filming her something to zoom in on.....

Turns out when pervy guys reblogged these clips and admitted to masturbating to her performance, she would reply, happily encouraging them. On her official account, zero shame, her with the silver medal as her avatar. She'd tell these random men to 'milk their cocks good' and 'cum real hard for her tight little ass', like some porn star. Joey saw this and was very amused..... So, he decided Emily had to be punished--badly. He told her she had to obey him and take breast growth pills, to give the next national gymnastics tournament before the Summer Olympics a good show.

"I'm sorry, Joey..... you know I can't help myself. I love to flirt."

"Which just tells me how badly you need to be punished. Look at this one I found! Some random married guy posted that he wants to throw you in his van, hogtie you, and put 'a pile of kids in your pretty gut'. Did you block him....?"

She shook her head. "No....."

"Oh wait, you went on an extended RP session in the public comments about how he was going to abduct and rape you. Damn, you're one messed up girl."

"Messed up as a guy that makes his girlfriend grow a pair of boobs that weigh 50lbs each? Knowing she's a gymnast!"

"Nah, not as bad. But hey, think of all the hot interactions you'll have on Instagram now! You're gonna step out, not in your leotard, but a bikini, these gigantic udders spilling out. And you'll do your routine.... as well as you can. Think of how many guys are gonna jerk off to that."

"Fuck.... that's so hot." Emily bit her lip, fondling her pussy and breasts. "They're so heavy.... I look like an idiot with these things....."

"Well, you are an idiot. A horny, drooling idiot, too obsessed with fondling that swollen pussy of yours to care whether or not millions see you flirt with married men and RP getting knocked up by them."

"I'm.... it's just a little addiction, is all. I could try therapy...."

"Nah, I think you deserve to be nothing but walking jerk-off fodder. You're done being a real athlete. They'll just have you on because your oversized, goofy looking udders will make so many desperate, horny men tune in. And a whole bunch of normies to make fun of you."

"Fuck you.... you find these tits sexy..... You just came so hard inside me!"

"Well, I find them less sexy than I do the fact that I made you grow them. Understand?"

She nodded obediently. "Yes, master."

"Good girl, now, isn't it going to be fun watching you balance those giant tits and a belly full of my kids at the next tournament? Damn, by the time the Olympics roll around, those tits will weigh 100lbs each. Won't that be so fitting? I can't wait to see you even try to perform..... Then your career will be sitting on OnlyFans, immobilized by those cartoonish udders, masturbating all day like the drooling, horny idiot you really are deep down. You'll be flirting with your desperate, gross fans, all of your regular fans won't want anything to do with you as you sit there ten hours a days fondling yourself, surrounded by a pair of tits too big for you to carry on your own....."

"Fuck you...."

"Don't act like you don't agree. You aren't an athlete Emily, you aspire to be nothing but walking jerk-off material. So you might as well go for gold, isn't that right?"

Emily bit her lip, rubbing her heavy breasts. "Then I better go for 200lbs each...... be totally trapped by these things...."

"Now that's the perverted little idiot I love."

"I aim to please, Master. ❤️"

#breast expansion #be #enormous breasts #immobile kink #gigantic breasts

[mojogojocasahouse]

Thirty Centimeters

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: You and Satoru Gojo sneak around the halls of Jujutsu High like students despite the fact that you’re teachers. One day, he comes into your classroom after hours in search of detention after almost spilling the secret.

Word Count: 3.1k

Rating: E

Content: secret relationship, public sex but its still a secret, oral sex both receiving, vaginal sex, some sub!Gojo, Gojo gets gratuitously spanked with a ruler, double vaginal penetration, squirting, multiple orgasms

“This meeting is in ten minutes,” you scolded into an unruly mop of white hair, “We’ll be late.”

“So what?” he groaned against the thin skin of your throat, his long, dexterous fingers tugging at the buttons of your uniform top, a knee slipping between your legs.

“I’m not you, Satoru. I can’t get away with it.”

“Guess I need to be quick then.”

All it took was one grind of his thigh against your already damp panties beneath your skirt to have you giving in.

He’d found you in one of the storage rooms, claiming he followed the scent of your “decadent” perfume through the hallways until he’d come bursting into the small space loud enough to have your heart skipping a beat. You’d berated him, tossed the clipboard you’d been making your notes on straight at his head all for it go clattering to the floor before making impact. Expected.

“I can’t wait til tonight,” he’d murmured against your lips, all your anger melting away as the sweet, arid scent of him filled your nostrils. And when he kissed you it was all over, the fight called off.

“So needy, Toru.” It had come out as a whimper as his mouth trailed to taste the heat of your pulse. He’d hummed in response, and just as you’d allowed yourself to melt into his embrace the alarm on your phone had gone off; the shrill reminder of the meeting with Yaga snapping you out of the haze he’d put you in. But now you found yourself once again becoming victim.

“Just relax,” he cooed in that arrogant tone, “You’ll walk in with me and it’ll be fine.”

“You have five minutes.”

A toothy grin grazed against the bared skin of your chest, his hands turning you at the waist as he bunched your skirt up while undoing his own belt and zipper. You braced yourself for the impact on the table you’d been bent over, Satoru spitting on your hole as he spread your slit open, marveling for a moment at the way your cunt searched for him even now. You were aware it was pathetic. You’d stopped caring months ago.

No one fucked you like Satoru did. No one ever would. He was greedy yet attentive, rough but courteous, and he held nothing back.

“Get on with it,” you snapped as the head of his cock teased your entrance, “Your time is ticking.”

“As if you’ll care within the next minute or so. Please.”

He was right. And it sucked that he knew it, too.

He bottomed out in one hard thrust, your entire body jerking forward from the force as his long, thick length stretched you open. It burned, but he gave you no time to adjust, dragging out and pushing in just as hard you couldn’t help but whine in bliss. Coherency was fading, the wood of the table cool against your searing skin, his palm swallowing your shoulder whole as he held you in place. Every movement was pinpointed to hit that soft spot only he could reach, your body seizing up before his hand moved to clamp over your mouth, muffling your scream as he brought you to ecstasy.

“My turn,” he chimed as you collapsed completely, chest heaving beneath your weight as you gasped for air.

But before you could regain full consciousness, you found yourself on the floor, Satoru pushing you with his leg behind a shelf place conveniently in the middle of the room.

“Principal Yaga!” he greeted, entirely composed as if he hadn’t just been balls deep in you, “Was just on my way over! Thought I’d check out what was in this closet, Megumi said Itadori hid one of Maki’s cursed tools in here. Can’t have those on the loose, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” the gruff response of your boss barked as Satoru’s hand gripped you behind the head, guiding you mouth to his leaking cock flushed purple after the untimely interruption.

He couldn’t be serious? Your pursed lips pressed to the tip, your scent heavy on him as he tapped under your chin, continuing to argue with Yaga about Maki being out on a mission and all the tools being under strict lock and key, so whatever ones were out in Itadori’s possession were entirely Gojo’s problem. You gave him what he wanted, staring daggers at that black blindfold as you took his entire length into your mouth, hoping his breath would at least hitch, but ideally make him stutter.

“Okay, well, talk soon! I’m just gonna do one more sweep and be on my way,” Satoru said coolly, moving his hips to gently fuck your face as he propped his head up on his free hand, his face not even changing expressions. That fucking bastard.

“So you won’t be late then, since you’re already so close to the office,” Yaga pressed; why wouldn’t this guy just fucking leave?

“I wouldn’t dream of being late to a meeting with you. You always have the most important things to say. Just…close the door behind you.”

With an angry grunt, Yaga left, the door clicking closed Satoru’s cue to pick up his pace. With both his hands guiding your head now he battered into your throat hard enough you’d be hoarse when addressing your superior within the next five minutes, and the smirk on his face told you that was his goal. Drool dripped down your chin onto your skirt and you thanked whoever had been in charge of uniforms for selecting a dark color, your throat glucking as you held back your gag reflex just long enough, the familiar, salty tang of Satoru hitting your tongue moments later. He was at least kind enough to spare the mess of that, ensuring you’d adequately lapped every last drop from him before leaning down to get a quick taste with an open-mouthed kiss.

“All right!” he exclaimed completely unbothered by all that had transpired, “Let’s go see what he wants this time. I started practicing my ‘No’s on the way over.”

“You’re such an ass,” you growled, pushing past him as you buttoned your top up, not even waiting for him to follow as you made your way down the hall.

You had gotten yelled at. Despite both you and Satoru walking in at the same time, Yaga had noted that he expected it of Satoru, but had thought more highly of you. Your shoulders slumped as you took a seat across from the principal, and although his eyes were completely covered, you could feel Satoru’s sympathetic gaze on you. So the pompous prick could feel pity.

In an attempt at penance to yourself, you’d taken to scrubbing your classroom after Yaga had explained the details of the next Exchange Event, the students stopping by to bid farewell on their way out. The sun had begun to dip below the dense trees shrouding Jujutsu High from curious eyes, the orange glow warming up the small space as it filtered in through the windows. You were engrossed in your task, humming a song to yourself as you organized the various knick-knacks on your desk, but when a warm pair of long, thin arms circled your waist, it didn’t catch you off guard.

“I got you in trouble,” Satoru crooned, his breath hitting the shell of your ear enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you confirmed, “You did.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Because you got me in trouble?”

“Well, after being so naughty I thought maybe I deserved detention.”

With that, you melted back into him, sliding up the sleeves of his uniform to run your fingers along his forearms, his head tucking further over you as his lips pressed to your cheek. There was nothing easy about being in any form of relationship with Satoru Gojo, but it was never boring. There was always that.

“Detention, huh?” you purred, shifting to reciprocate a gentle kiss to his cloth-covered temple before turning, his arms moving to cage you in as you leaned back against the edge of your desk, your fingers lifting to trace along his brow, “Can I take this off?”

“Mmhmm.”

There was little more satisfying than watching Satoru’s piercing blue eyes that held the galaxies themselves come into view, his snow-white hair flopping down onto his forehead. You smiled every time his full face was bared, your adoration for him always pulling one up onto his face as well, though you never understood why. It wasn’t like women fawning over him was a rarity, even with the blindfold on. You always tried not to read into it.

His lips tasted like the soda he always got from the vending machines as he saw the students off to their dorms for the night, his tongue equally as sweet as it met yours for an evening waltz. Hands pulled at buttons and zippers until you were both left bare to the setting sun’s light, your lips kiss drunk and craving more.

As you moved to mark his pale skin with purple stars he’d wear with pride beneath the high collar of his jacket, your fingers wrapped around the thin tool you’d just set into your top drawer, pulling away from him with your lower lip pulled between your bottom teeth.

“Oh,” he chuckled, eyes widening with glee.

With a push of the thirty-centimeter ruler to the top of his head, you sent him to his knees, sitting up on the wood behind you and spreading your legs wide to reveal your glistening folds to his eager gaze. Without needing words, he understood, his palm pushing down on your stomach as his tongue collected what had already begun to accumulate. His movements wove from your opening to your clit, latching onto the little bundle of nerves he’d neglected in your earlier rendezvous. He swirled and lapped, two fingers massaging your inner walls as your back arched off the desk, your grip locked in his hair as he brought you closer and closer to the edge with every swipe and flick.

“Fuck…” you gasped, slinging your legs over his shoulders as your inner thighs began to ache, “just like that.”

His hum in response sent a shockwave up your spine, a throaty groan filling the air as he pulled your swollen nub into his lips and suckled hard, repeating the pattern until you were crying out and then soothing your sensitive skin with gentle licks. It was frustrating how he slowed and then sped up, he was borderline edging you, and it took you a few moments of angry mumbling for you to remember you were in charge this time.

Pushing his head along with you, you stood, his flexibility becoming useful as you bent him backwards to keep his mouth locked on your heat while you towered over him. He was smiling wickedly as you wrenched his head where you needed him, grinding your hips over his mouth and tongue greedily.

“You’re always such a fucking brat,” you sighed, his sharp nose catching you just right.

Pride sent the corners of his lips up into his crystal eyes as yours rolled to the back of your head, his face smeared with your release as the coil that had been building since sucking him off in the presence of Yaga finally snapped.

“Stand up,” you directed, trying to maintain control in front of the man that searched for any opening to gain the upper hand, “Hands on the desk.”

He gasped exuberantly, “Are you gonna smack me with that ruler? Please say yes. Please. Please.”

The fact he was looking forward to it took some of the joy out, but when he theatrically bent over your desk, his balls hanging full and heavy between his thighs as he awaited impact, it didn't matter how bad he wanted it. You wanted it more. And you didn’t hold back. The thin wooden slat slapped against his alabaster skin, the whimper that left his lips so depraved it sent arousal rushing between your thighs. It was then you realized, Satoru Gojo was only hit when he wanted to be hit. It wasn’t like when you or any of the others went out to fight curses and took a beating, he had a constant barrier, one that he’d let down to allow you to leave bruises and welts with the shitty little ruler you’d pulled out of your drawer.

Credit given where it was due.

Winding up, you slapped him again, the bright red line adorning his ass and the way his knuckles gripped the edge of the surface he was laid up on two of the prettiest things you’d ever seen.

“How many do you deserve?” you asked, out of breath and dazed, your palm soothing his stinging skin.

“Twenty,” he answered quickly, “Thirty. Til your arm falls off.”

Welted speckles began to emerge after the seventh whack, his body in a sweaty heap and dick leaking onto the floor. He looked pitiful, the strongest sorcerer in the world nothing but putty in your hands. He’d do anything you asked.

“Can you take more?” you asked, yanking his head up by his soaked strands, your breasts pressing into the damp skin of his back, “Or have you had enough?”

“Define enough,” he teased, flashing that cocky smile.

“You’re bruising.”

“And?”

You were entirely overcome with admiration, dropping the school supply-turned-weapon in your hand to cup his flushed face and kiss him, pouring your appreciation for him into your affections. He could sense the game was over, rolling and sliding up so he laid beneath you, his hands able to explore the stretch of your back and caress the heated skin of your cheek. It was gentler now, the urgency entirely gone, the world washing away as you relished in his touch, the way his hair stuck to his forehead and your own, the trust that had built between you, and the calm that washed over you when he wrapped you tightly in his arms.

“Can I fuck you now?” you exhaled against his mouth, pressing your aching core down onto his painfully hard, neglected length.

“I thought I was supposed to be being punished,” he replied, the books teetering on the corner of the desk crashing to the floor as he pushed himself up further to grant you more leverage, “Not fucking me would achieve that better.”

Shutting him up with another sloppy kiss, your cunt sucked him in greedily, his large hands resting on your thighs as you sat back, putting you on full glorious display for his eyes that could see all but somehow always looked for more. After your quick meeting earlier you wanted to enjoy this, to appreciate the way he stretched you almost to the point of pain and how with the simplest adjustment he was once again hitting a bullseye to that spongy patch deep inside of you that already had you seeing stars. As you rocked over him, the slap of your ass meeting his thighs was almost as lewd as the sound of your soaked channel welcoming him again and again, he leaned up, locking his lips over one of your swaying breasts and sucking hard, his teeth grazing over your nipple before he lapped the sting away.

“Toru,” you moaned when his middle finger slid between your ass cheeks and pressed against your tight hole, the sound of his name all the permission he needed.

You shrieked when his finger joined his cock in your pussy, wiggling enough to have you buckling over onto his chest as you felt yourself stretching beyond any level you had before.

“That feel good?” he asked, his voice husky in your ear, “I can feel you getting wetter.”

“Mmmm,” you hummed, "Want more."

“Oh…aren’t you adventurous today?”

A shaky exhale had the wisps of hair by his ear swaying as he stuffed his ring finger into your hole, your brain focusing on breathing as he scissored his digits deep inside you, pushing the limits of just how much you could take.

“That’s it,” he cooed gently, rubbing his other hand up and down your spine soothingly, “Just relax.”

“I can’t,” you quavered, your channel seizing up around him.

“You can. You’re about to. Let it happen. Be fucking greedy…”

His thumb pressed to your clit as he spoke, and that was all it took. Hot, clear liquid sprayed onto his hand and thighs, white flashing behind your eyes as every nerve in your body whirred to life for a finally rev before shutting down, sending you limp and boneless down against his chest. He was still as the waves coursing through you calmed to gentle laps, the storm passed and the familiar scent of him welcoming you back to reality from where he’d sent you ricocheting into the clouds.

“May I finish?” he asked in his arrogant tone, pulling his fingers out of your cunt and slipping them between his lips as he awaited your response.

“It kinda hurts…” It was honest, but you were embarrassed nonetheless, every inch of you sensitive and overstimulated.

“Finally. A punishment that fits the crime.”

Slowly, he pulled himself free and you couldn’t stop the hiss through your teeth as he dragged over your walls, his soothing hushes as he repositioned you in his embrace enough to anchor to. Your arms were locked around his neck, face buried beneath his chin, and he rocked you side to side, kissing your hair and forehead still sticky with sweat.

“Why don’t we go to my place in the city?” he offered, “Use that nice bathtub you love.”

“That sounds nice,” you answered, pressing your lips to the sharp angle of his jaw.

After helping you get dressed and cleansing the various fluids soaking your previously clean classroom, his fingers laced with yours as he led you through the halls to where his familiar black car was parked. The metal was cool when he pressed you back against the passenger door, grabbing your face gently and kissing you like it was the first chance he’d gotten all day, tongue sliding over the seam of your mouth begging for entrance, your hands fisting in the white button down he wore beneath his jacket…

“I saw nothing,” a deep, level voice called from beside you, your eyes shooting over to see Kento Nanami standing with his gaze averted from where Satoru was currently grabbing a handful of your ass. “Leave me out of it.”

“You knew he was there, six eyes!” you scolded, slapping Satoru on the chest as he backed away laughing hysterically to himself, nodding shamelessly.

“I’m serious,” Nanami repeated, “Leave me out of it.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#gojo jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo smut #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut

[daydreaming-nerd]

Hey, I saw that you are writing to Rhys and I have been asking, I just ask that you be patient because I don't know how to explain it very well

Anyway, would you like a fic, like, with two scenarios? where Rhys and the reader LITERALLY love each other with the same intensity? like, a scenario where Rhys defends and protects the reader, and another where the reader defends and protects him?

Thanks!

Unconditionally (Rhysand x Female! Reader)

Summary: you and Rhysand are fiercely protective of each other no matter what the situation is. 

AN: I hope this is kinda what you were looking for!

Warnings: fluff, mentions of abuse, Amarantha sighting (brotha ew), blood, death, mentions of rape, SA.

When I found the High Lord of the Night Court I was nothing but a weapon crafted and created from birth by Keir. Chosen for my impeccable beauty, Keir had molded me to be an assassin that could rival Azirel himself. Keir had long sought to own the entirety of the Night Court and he had every intention of using me to do it.  My beauty allowed me to seduce any man within an inch of his life. But my sleight of hand and dexterity made me nearly lethal. When Keir wasn’t using me I was locked away deep within the Hewn City, forced to train with men who were much bigger and stronger than me. Oftentimes I thought to run, escape, but I was always beaten into submission. 

The night I met Rhys was the mission I had been bred to complete for many years. I walked into Rita’s dressed to the nines and blended in perfectly. The second the devilishly handsome High Lord made to leave I followed him, waiting in the shadows until it was my time to strike, the second I got the blade under his neck he winnowed out from under me and returned the favor with a blade of his own. I’ll never forget his first words to me...

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing with such a dangerous weapon?” he drawled. 

He could've killed me that night, but he didn’t, he showed me mercy and maybe pity too. It turned out he knew much more of me than Keir thought he did. He saw how scared I was offered me sanctuary. At the time I didn’t have a clue who he was to me, but looking back, I think he knew all along. Through months of getting to know each other despite my fear of him at first, we grew to like each other. Soon we grew to have witty banter that kept me on my toes, and intelligent conversation about anything and everything that would surpass the long hours after dinner.  After a few months he started sending me on missions with Azriel, and eventually after a year or so he sent me on missions of my own, his way of saying he trusted me.  

One fateful mission I was sent on to an Illiryan camp left me battered and bruised. It seemed the Illyrian generals sought to teach me what happens when a woman comes into their camp and causes problems, even if it is at the request of their High Lord. I never would’ve made it home if Cassain hadn’t found my frozen body in the ditch they had left me in. Looking back I was almost thankful for the event, it was how Rhys and I realized we were mates. Ever since then we had been truly inseparable.

“Rhysand, I won’t ask nicely again,” purred that clearly female voice. 

Amarantha had been after Rhys since he escaped from under the mountain, but I had never seen her in the flesh. She would send letters and emissaries asking for Rhysand to be her whore, promising him riches and luxuries beyond his wildest beliefs. Yet now she stood in the townhouse, auburn hair cascading down her bare shoulders, her black off the shoulder dress squeezing her tightly.  How she got here? I don’t know, but I do know that from where I sat in the shadows she wouldn’t see me drive a knife through her skull. 

“Amarantha, I'm a mated male. The answer is no,” Rhysand drawled trying to keep up appearances, but down the bond I could feel a sense of fear. 

“She can watch if she likes,” Amarantha mused, and it was my last straw. 

I snuck up behind her with the stealth and dexterity that had been bred into me from a young age. I hardly needed to use it anymore, being Rhysand’s mate gave me ample immunity across Prythian. But god if there was ever a time. I press my dagger to Amarantha’s throat and I feel her body try to move but she's far too late.

“Sorry Amarantha I don’t like to share,” I growl, pressing the edge of the blade even deeper. 

“Did I mention that my mate is lethal?” Rhysand boasts with pride.

“I’m s-sorry,” she pleads and a tear falls on my black dagger. 

“Now mate,” Rhysand smirks. “We wouldn’t want to get blood on the new rug.”  

I roll my eyes at his snarky remark. It was little comments and that effortless swagger that had made me fall in love with him in the first place.

“Beg,” I utter in her ear. My voice filled with absolute authority. 

“P-please I’ll leave. I-I’ll never come back,” she says through her sobs. 

I yank her hair back further, “Why should I let you go?” I smirk. 

“Because I’m s-sorry. I-I’m so sorry.” she cries even harder.

“Sorry for what?” I ask condescendingly.   

“For what I d-did to R-Rhysand,” she says, like she’s too afraid to reveal the whole truth.

I felt Rhysand tense through the bond but it only made me see red even more, knowing that her presence still affected him. 

“What did you do to my mate?” I ask like I don’t already know the answer. She stays silent, choosing to cower. “Tell me!” I shout. 

“I’m sorry I f-forced him into my b-bed.” she admits and her knees go weak at her admission the only thing keeping her up is my hand in her hair and my dagger to her neck.

I couldn’t help but see the image of him and her. Rhysand helpless below her as she rode his cock, the reason he still was too scared to let me take him that way. Images of him cumming inside her, his body's natural reaction to what she was forcing him to do. I remember how he told me the stories of him crying himself to sleep while she slept soundly and happily. 

“You touched my mate, and for that you’ll pay the ultimate price,” I sentence her. “He’s fucking mine.” I growl before slitting her throat. 

Her body falls to the floor in a heaping pile of dress skirts and her own blood and I toss my bloodied dagger over her dead body. I check my hands for blood, but like a trained assassin should have it, not a drop is on me. 

“Well so much for the rug,” Rhysand drawls, standing from his chair. 

I walk over to him, the rage the mating bond caused me to see drifting away at the sight of him. He wraps his arms around my waist. 

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “But she was a dead woman the second she stepped in this court. Thinking about what she did to you still makes me sick to my stomach.” 

“Shhh,” Rhys coos, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’m not mad at you. If you didn’t kill her I was going to.”

“Sorry I kind went all deadly assassin on you, but-” 

“The mating bond was provoked,” he cuts in, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze. “Trust me I know the feeling. How do you think I feel when you come home injured from a mission?”

“Holy shit y/n!” Cassian drawls from behind me. I turn to find him nudging Amarantha’s limp foot with his boot. “Mating bond chafing a bit?” he chuckles. 

“More than a little bit,” Rhys laughs with male pride. 

I simply raise my eyebrows at the Illyrian in a challenge and pull Rhys down to kiss me.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Rhys asks me for the millionth time. 

“Yes Rhys I’ll be fine! I promise!” I reply but I wasn’t too sure of my answer. 

I had never been back to The Hewn City since I left on that mission to kill Rhys all those years ago. But today I finally made my return. I had avoided the city as much as possible and Rhys never so much as asked me to come along with him. Returning would mean the torture, the assault and every nightmare I faced here, I would have to face again. Today I had decided I was done hiding, I wanted to face my fear, show Keir that I was more than just what he made me. I knew I would be more vulnerable down here, most likely off my game. But Rhys had assured me we would only be making a quick appearance at the party and then leaving, so I felt now was as good a time as ever. 

“Alight, but if you want to leave at any time you let me know okay?” he says, kissing my brow.

“I will,” I smile. 

We walk through the large doors to find the people of The Hewn City already kneeling. The second I come into view their gasps reverberate throughout the room. Everyone knew I was Keir’s pet, but now I stood dressed in black with a crown atop my head, beside the one man I was bred to kill. The High Lord. 

We take our seats on the twin thrones at the end of the room. Keir bows to us both and I don’t miss the shock in his eyes as he sees what became of his pet. It becomes clear to me that he thought I was dead for all these years, and now I walk into his city once more with a crown on top of my head. 

“Let there be music and dancing!” Rhys proclaims and the room fills with a beautiful orchestra as the festivities begin. 

“Welcome Rhysand, who have you brought with you tonight?” Keir asks, faking his innocence.

“My mate of course,” Rhys says, pressing a kiss to my hand. “I must thank you for introducing us. She is without a doubt the most delectable creature I’ve ever known.” he continues nibbling my palm. 

“I- uh. Well” Keir stumbles over his words. 

“Leave us,” Rhysand orders. 

Keir scrambles down the steps to wherever he thinks he might be safe from Rhysand’s death stare. I knew this place always put him on edge, no doubt with me here tonight he was fuming. 

“How are you feeling?” Rhys asks, fondling my hand.  

“Good, considering I’ve never seen Keir show true fear before,” I laugh replaying the image in my head. 

“Maybe next time I’ll have him juggle and sing you a song then too mate,” Rhys chuckles. 

I watched as people danced and sang and were generally happy. I never knew this side of the Hewn City. The normal side I should say. Keir always kept me locked in the dungeons, the only time I was ever allowed out was on missions and when he chose to parade me around like his little pet. His way of striking fear into the hearts of his subjects. Seeing the people act like, well, people was almost jarring. They were monsters, but they were still fae just like me. 

“I’m thirsty darling, I'm going to grab a glass of wine, would you like one?” I ask Rhys. 

“Yes but let me fetch a servant or come with you.” he replies and I can sense his unease. 

“No, I want to show them all I’m not afraid of them,” I say quietly so only Rhys can hear. He nods his head and I feel him tug on the bond as if to say ‘be safe’. 

I waltz down the dias steps and over to the corner where wine is held in large barrels.  I don’t miss the shocked looks from those around me followed by hushed whispers. No doubt all of them were talking about how I used to be Keir’s pet. I keep my head held high and reach for a glass to fill up. 

“Well hello beautiful,” a deep voice drawls from behind me and I whip around 

My shoulders tense up. I would recognize that voice anywhere. Dante. The man who helped to “train me”  in the art of seduction. He would come into my cell and teach me how to seduce a man, which of course led to him taking advantage of me. He was one of Keir’s favorites. 

“Remember all the fun we used to have little one?” he grins wickedly stepping towards me. 

“Normal people would call that rape,” I snipe at him, trying to act like I’m not terrified. 

“Oh but you used to make such pretty sounds for me,” he teases, stepping closer and I feel my back hit the wall. “Lets see if you still do.” 

In a second his body presses me to the wall and his hands are hiking up my skirts. I try to push him off or look for help, but here in the Hewn City it wasn’t uncommon for males to take what they want when they want it. 

Dante’s motions stop and his eyes go wide, like his brain is about to explode. He falls to his knees before me and every vein in his head and neck look like it’s about to burst. I look up to see Rhys standing behind him, nothing but pure murder in his eyes.

“I would think twice before touching another male’s mate,” Rhys grits out standing in front of me so he can look down on Dante. “Especially your High Lord’s.”  

“I’m sorry Rhysand I didn’t know,” Dante wheezes. 

“Have you touched my mate before?” Rhys asks and Dante neglects to answer. “Very well then I’ll just have to find out for myself.” 

Dante screams in agony writhing on the floor, Rhys no doubt tearing into his mind to find out what he wants to know. I look around at the stunned faces watching one of their own lose his mind in the middle of the ballroom, even the orchestra had stopped. I felt shame fall over me as I realized what Rhys was seeing. Images of me, dirty, bruised and helpless being forced to seduce and please the man writing on the ground. Rhysand’s shoulders tensed and suddenly Dante stopped writhing. 

“So you have touched her before,” Rhysand drawls. “What a pity, I almost considered letting you off with a warning.” 

Within moments Dante’s screams echoed off the walls and I knew what Rhys was doing, he had done it to the Illyrain who threw me in a ditch all those years ago. He was melting his mind from the inside out. He didn’t even have to lift a finger. 

“Let it be known that whoever disrespects my mate again shall meet the same fate!” Rhysand’s voice booms, addressing the crowd now. “Maestro you may continue!” he finishes, turning to me.

Rhysand’s shadows shield us from the rest of the onlooking crowd and the second I look into his eyes I’m immediately comforted. 

“Are you okay?” he asks me, taking me in his arms. 

“Yeah I’m fine, you got here before anything happened.” I sigh, melting into his touch. “I’m sorry you had to see that, you know, the things he did to me. I hoped you’d never know” I say, casting my head down in shame. 

“Hey don’t you dare be ashamed,” he says tilting my chin up. “What he did to you was unforgivable. If I had known earlier I would’ve had his head on a pike.” 

“I love you Rhys,” I say, burrowing my head into his chest. 

“I love you too mate,” he smiles stroking my hair. “Let’s go home.” 

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar

[e-dubbc11]

Trust Your Gut

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of rohypnol (date rape drug), fluff, smooches, mention of a little violence

Word Count: 2.7K-ish

Summary: You keep seeing a very handsome stranger every Friday at happy hour with your work friends. He saves you from a potential dangerous situation

A/N: Miss me? 🤣 I had a lovely vacation, didn’t really look forward to going back to work but I’m happy to be back to writing. And if there’s anything you’d like to see from me, don’t hesitate to send something to my inbox. Come say hi! ♥️ So anyway, I saw a prompt on the blog @creativepromptsforwriting and I wanted to use it. #1061 - “I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you smile.” “Then why haven’t you yet?”

Oh and I make mention of Tyler Durden, Brad Pitt’s character in Fight Club. If you haven’t seen it, what are you waiting for…it’s classic!

Not much else to say except I hope you like it! ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Before you had even set one foot into the bar today, you felt his presence.

That gut feeling you had all day while you were at work, a combination of butterflies and knots danced and twisted around in your stomach as you kept glancing at the time, waiting for the moment you could clock out so you could go and meet your friends for your usual Friday after-work drink.

For the past month, you had noticed him. The way his long dexterous fingers wrapped around the glass of bourbon, the way his throat moved up and down as the amber liquid trickled down his throat, and the clenching of his teeth as his drink hit his stomach.

He was so handsome, mysterious, and sexy as fuck. His eyes looked like two pieces of onyx that shined when the dim lights of the bar hit them just right and you tried your hardest not to seem like you were staring at him but he probably knew you were.

Every woman in that place stared at him. How could they not? Between his handsome face, the fancy suit and tie, those eyes you could get lost in, and a smile that made you weak in the knees, you were irresistibly drawn to him. He could have his pick of any woman but you were surprised that every woman that threw themselves at him, he turned them all down.

Why?

Actually, you didn’t care why he turned them down. You only cared that he did turn them down and you didn’t have to watch him leave with someone that wasn’t you but you were too shy to even think of speaking to someone of his caliber.

All of those thoughts disappeared as soon as you saw your friends waiting for you. You were there to have a good time with them, not to gawk at the handsome man in the fancy suit. They had saved you a seat and it happened to be near Mr. Fancy Pants’ table.

Your gut never lied; he was there already.

He was drinking with a few other guys also dressed in fancy suits. Your heart jumped from your chest into your throat and you managed to catch a glimpse of him before he could return your gaze although he probably didn’t even look away from his friends.

“I’m bringing someone for you next week, y/n.” Your friend Jenna said.

Your mind was somewhere else and you were staring off into space so you didn’t exactly hear her.

“What?” You replied.

She glared at you, pointed and asked, “You didn’t pay attention to a word I just said, did you.”

You felt bad and apologized.

“I’m sorry, Jenna. I guess I’m a little distracted.” You replied.

Every woman in the bar had a crush on Mr. Fancy Pants, but you didn’t let it show that you did too. It was difficult but you acted like he wasn’t even there. If there was a way for you to become invisible so no one would see you ogling him, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Stolen glances would have to do…for now.

**********

The following Friday, your standing date with your friends was rapidly approaching and you were nervous about the guy Jenna said she was bringing for you. She said his name is Tyler and he is a personal trainer/boxer at the gym that she and her husband go to. Every time you heard the name “Tyler,” two words popped into your head…Fight Club.

“…And could you try not to mention Fight Club when you meet him? I knew exactly what you were thinking when I told you his name was Tyler.” Said Jenna.

You shrugged and said, “Ok, but you know that happens when I get nervous. I just start quoting movies or blurt out song lyrics. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.” You said with a slight chuckle and batting your eyelashes.

It almost sounded like Jenna didn’t want you to be yourself but she wanted you to be someone else when talking to Tyler but you would try to keep your movie quotes to a minimum, although you couldn’t make any guarantees.

He was nice enough, good looking, and seemed like he enjoyed his job. But he was a little full of himself, dull and didn’t seem like the brightest crayon in the box, nothing like the real object of your affection, Suit & Tie. Everyone in the room was drawn to him.

Without saying a word, he commanded your attention and always seemed in charge of everything. That kind of power over people turned you on, it sent a restless shiver down your spine, and a sudden warmth brushed across your cheeks.

Your blind date, however, droned on and on about the gym, his clients, some of them famous people, which didn’t impress you in the slightest. Your mind wandered, thinking about if Suit & Tie’s taste in bourbon was impeccable like his taste in suits.

Your desire to taste the bourbon on his lips kept getting stronger with every sip he took. The words coming out of Tyler’s mouth were not registering and it sounded like he was speaking underwater. That’s how little you were paying attention to what he was saying.

There was something about Tyler that wasn’t sitting right with you, though. He put out kind of a weird vibe but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it could be. Your intuition has never betrayed you before and you didn’t think it would start now.

Setting your empty glass onto the bar, you told Tyler you needed to use the ladies’ room and said you would order another beer when you got back. Emerging from the bathroom, you were startled to see who was standing in front of you. Mr. Fancy Pants. Your stomach lurched upward toward your throat before settling back down and he wasted no time starting the conversation.

“You have a date tonight, I see.” He said softly with a warm smile.

He noticed that he scared you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized and extended his hand for you to shake. “Billy Russo…nice to meet you.”

Shaking his hand, you replied, “OH! I’m y/n, it’s really nice to meet you Billy. And yeah it’s—it’s a blind date.”

Billy moved in closer, caging you in against the wall down the long and narrow hallway. The scent of his spicy cologne floated past your nose and he placed his hand against the wall just above your head. He was even more handsome up close.

“Do you like him?” He asked in a serious tone as the line of his mouth tightened a fraction more.

Not really knowing how to respond, you stumbled over your words at first but managed to pull yourself together long enough to answer him.

“Oh…well…I dunno,” You had started to say. “Actually…I feel like there’s just something off about Tyler but I don’t know what it is.” You whispered.

Billy’s endless brown eyes stared into yours. He looked…angry but you weren’t frightened.

“You felt that, huh?” He replied.

Nervously, you nodded.

“Yeah, I felt that too and confirmed it when I saw him slip something into the fresh beer that’s waiting for you on the bar.” He said through clenched teeth.

You covered your mouth in disbelief.

“WHAT?! I purposely didn’t order another beer yet so I could watch it being poured.” You asked in a scared tone.

“Look, I know you don’t know me but I don’t want anything to happen to you because, well…I” Billy trailed off. “Do you trust me?”

Strangely enough, you did. You trusted him like you’ve known him for years.

“Y-yes, I do…Billy.” You answered.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a sly smile.

“Good, because I’ve kinda developed a little crush on you in the four weeks I’ve been comin’ in here. I keep suggesting this place to my team, hopin’ I’d get to see you.” He whispered in your ear, his hand still pressed against the wall, and his slight New York accent peeking through.

His words went straight to your core and instantly goosebumps peppered across your skin as the scent of bourbon escaped his lips when he spoke.

“Really?” You asked, shyly.

Biting down on his lower lip, he nodded.

“Well…I may have a little crush on you too.” You said with a slight smile.

Your hands trembled as you reached for his tie. Sliding it through your fingers, you looked up at him through your long dark lashes, desperately wanting him to kiss you and not caring that you just officially met him a few minutes ago.

Billy Russo was the one person in the entire bar that you felt like you could trust wholeheartedly and that included the trust you had in your co-workers and friends. It was hard to explain but everything about him just felt right.

Billy had inched close enough for the two of you to share the same air, causing you to swallow hard before he spoke again.

“I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you smile.” He said slowly as he grazed your cheek with his knuckles and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, away from your face.

Billy’s lips ghosted over yours as you asked with a smile, “Then why haven’t you yet?”

Flashing that million-dollar smile, he gently cupped your cheeks and drew your face closer to his before his lips were pressed firmly against yours. They tasted like vanilla with a mixture of sweetness and bite as he continued to kiss you a little harder now. Your stomach dropped when his body pressed up against you and your hands migrated to his raven colored hair.

His kisses were even better than you imagined they would be.

Breathlessly, his name fled from your lips as he kissed up and down the side of your neck. You completely lost yourself in the moment before snapping back to reality and remembered about Tyler, your friends, and the fact that no one has been down this hallway since you came out of the ladies’ room.

“Billy…no one’s come down here looking for either one of us.” You said.

He pulled back and said with a devilish grin, “Oh I got a guy at the end of the hallway preventing anyone from coming down here. I didn’t want any interruptions before I could tell you what that asshole did to your drink.”

“Shit…I keep forgetting about that.” You said, pressing your palm to your forehead.

Billy smirked again. “I’ll take that as a compliment, pretty eyes. Have dinner with me.” He commanded.

“Are you requesting or demanding?” You asked with a warm smile.

He leaned in to kiss you again.

“Please?” Asked Billy.

Without any hesitation, you replied, “Well since you asked nicely…yes, I’d love to Mr. Fancy Pants.”

Billy started to laugh.

“Mr. Fancy Pants, huh.” Said Billy.

You shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t know your name so that’s just how I referred to you in my head.” You said with a slight chuckle. “Suit & Tie was another one I used.”

He laughed at that one too.

“Well, I like both of them.” He said.

Just as he finished his sentence, a voice boomed from down the hall.

“Hey Bill!”

Billy yelled back.

“Yeah, what is it Frankie?!”

“You done warnin’ Miss Pretty Eyes about that fuckin’ scumbag yet?! Says he needs to use the bathroom.” He said, his voice dripping with disdain.

You narrowed your eyes slightly as the corners of your mouth curled into a smile.

“Pretty Eyes? You’ve told other people about the nickname, I see.” You said to Billy.

Billy winked at you and replied to his friend.

“Go ahead, Frankie. Let him down here and then you can watch me work!” Yelled Billy, with a devilish grin.

He was breathless with anger. Clenching his teeth, you watched as Billy’s hand balled into a fist until his knuckles shown white. The same knuckles that were gently brushing your cheek a few moments ago were getting ready to connect with Tyler’s face.

“You’re gonna hurt him, aren’t you.” You said nervously; your hands shaking slightly.

Billy kissed you on the forehead and replied, “Tyler’s walkin’ in to his own personal Fight Club. I’m gonna make sure he’ll think twice before doing that to someone else, y/n.”

The reference to Fight Club made you laugh. Movie references randomly popped into your head at any given time. It appeared that they randomly popped into Billy’s head also. This guy just might be your person.

“Ah, you forgot the first rule of Fight Club, Mr. Russo!” You chuckled a little. “So, do you beat people up professionally orrrrr?” You asked sarcastically.

He gave you another wicked smile and said, “We can talk about that at dinner and then you can remind me what the rules of Fight Club are.”

Immediately after he started walking down the hall, Tyler began running his mouth, telling Billy to get away from me, and “hope he’s ready to have his ass kicked.” When he got close, Tyler took a couple swings at him but missed and Billy proceeded to show him what happens to guys who mess with other people’s drinks.

Shoving Tyler out of the back door, Billy bloodied him enough to where you knew he’d never do that to anyone ever again and had the bartender call the police. When they dumped the beer out, there was some white residue along the bottom of the glass.

“Hey, he took swings at me first. I was just defending myself.” Said Billy, after being asked why Tyler’s face looked like a mangled piece of meat.

Bar patrons and Frank had watched Tyler swing first so they corroborated Billy’s story that he was “defending himself” and Jenna apologized for trying to set you up with such a creep. It wasn’t her fault; how could she have known? But she still felt pretty bad about the whole thing.

“I promise, I’ll never try and set you up again. I’m not very good at it, apparently.” She said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Well maybe if this works out, you won’t have to set me up again.” You said.

Watching Billy talk to the police, you felt a sense of relief, and it scared you to think of what would have happened if he wasn’t there. If he wasn’t watching at that exact moment, something terrible could have happened to you.

Billy had finished talking with the cops when you rushed over to him, crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. The shock of it all had worn off and you were left thinking about all of the bad things that could have happened.

He was surprised but returned your embrace as tears streaked down your face.

“Hey, hey it’s ok, y/n. It’s ok. You’re safe.” He whispered against the top of your head.

“Thank you, Billy.” You said with a hitch in your voice, trying not to get your tears on his shirt.

You just kept thanking him over and over again. You had to make sure he knew just how grateful you were to him for today.

“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you…pretty eyes. You can trust me.” Said Billy with a slight smile.

His voice was calm and smooth like warm honey. He soothed you and reassured you that you were alright. Billy’s long arms wrapped around you, his body was a warm cradle for yours, and you fit perfectly against him.

“I know I can, Billy. I don’t know how I know…but I do.” You said as the corners of your mouth curled into a shy smile.

Brushing his beard with your thumbs, you leaned in to kiss him again. Instinctively, you knew there was something off about Tyler but at the same time, your gut told you there was something about Billy Russo that fit just right.

You would just have to remember to really listen to that inner voice from now on when it tells you something important, whether it’s bad or very…very…good.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @mrsbillyrusso @russosafehaven

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you

[cripple-culture-is]

Sorry, but if you do not use a mobility aid, then you aren't physically disabled 🤷‍♀️ Only those with mobility aids can call themselves a cripple. I saw your main blog and that you are "physically disabled without mobility aids". That's not even possible. You can't be physically disabled and not require mobility aids.

And the fact that you believe you have the right to use the word cripple rubs me the wrong way. You have to look disabled in order to use that slur. Otherwise it's incredibly disrespectful.

If you can walk, you are not crippled. Crippled means to "cause (someone) to become unable to walk or move normally." If you can walk, you can move normally.

My first full on hate comment lol 🤣 I'm really moving up in the world.

But on a serious note, yes, you can be physically disabled and not require mobility aids. Physical disability isn't always stagnant. It isn't always as simple as someone who is paralyzed being a full time wheelchair user.

Since you used definitions, I'll use definitions. Physical disability is defined as "a limitation on a person's physical functioning, mobility, dexterity or stamina." Also, "any physical limitations or disabilities that inhibit the physical function of one or more limbs of a certain person."

I am physically disabled. I pretty much always have been. I have a mobility disability. I was diagnosed with juvenile idiopathic arthritis at 9 months old, an autoimmune disease. I did show symptoms at 4 months old at the latest though. Arthritis is actually the leading cause of disability and the most common disabling condition for U.S. adults.

I do not currently use mobility aids, no, but I am looking into getting a rollator for college. So I suppose that when I do get that aid, I will finally, in your eyes at least, be considered physically disabled.

However, I have reached a point in my life where I don't really care what people say about my disability. Whether you believe I'm physically disabled or not doesn't change the fact that I am physically disabled under U.S. law 🤣🤣

I got my permanent disability plates and placard when I was about 5 years old, though I probably could've gotten it before then.

I have always said that I have never used mobility aids. And while that's technically true, it's also not. I've never used traditional mobility aids regularly. I used a wheelchair in public once as a child, and I hated the pity looks adults would give me as I used to be more self-conscious.

However, I HAVE used untraditional mobility aids. While most people wouldn't consider them as such, I have used aids that have helped my mobility, mostly as a child, they just aren't stereotypical disability aids.

I was offered a wheelchair as a child, but due to the pity looks I got from adults, I turned it down. My parents worked around that hangup of mine by using things that I was confident enough to use for mobility as well as more acceptable to me.

My parents had bought this long stroller. When I got older, the typical strollers caused problems, in that I couldn't rest my legs on anything. So I had this stroller that had a leg rest that I could use to stretch my legs as keeping them bent for long periods of time physically hurts me.

I also sat in the baskets of shopping carts until I was in my mid-teens. My mother or father would put the cart with me in it and I'd sit in it as if I was merchandise just like everything else in the basket. This was all because I couldn't walk.

Though, what would happen when a stroller or shopping cart wasn't available? I would get a piggyback ride, mostly from my sister, though from my father as well. My mom did it only occasionally as she has joint issues just like I do.

Then, when I was a bit older, my parents bought me a red wagon. We would take it to amusement parks and carry some things in it. We'd use it for food and other stuff. But it's real purpose was to be there in case I got to a point where I couldn't walk anymore.

I have arthritis in every single joint in my body. From my jaw and neck, all the way to my toes. Hips, ribs, spine, you name it, I got it.

As for the use of the word 'cripple' it DOES apply to me. Cripple refers to anyone with a physical disability. And due to my disability, I do have lower body involvement. Hips, knees, ankles, toes, etc. All of it.

As for being able to "move normally", I actually don't completely. I appear like I do, but if you look at the structure of my legs and the way I walk, I do move differently than a lot of people. I find that I tend to limp often, even when I'm not in pain. And I am curious as to if that's because I got so used to limping as a child due to pain that my walking pattern just adopted that, leading me to limp when I'm not in pain. I also sometimes walk as if I'm waddling.

Plus, if you notice, my right knee is actually slightly turned in, which means that somehow, it's out of alignment. Knees are supposed to point forward. My dad's point forward, my sister's point forward, my mom's mostly point forward. Both of mine do not, even though both of my ankles are straight. My left one is pretty straight, straight enough for me to not really notice it. But my right is a separate story.

Because my right knee is pointed slightly inward, I tend to walk with my right foot slightly turned out.

I'm not sure if the alignment is a knee issue, a hip issue, or potentially an ankle issue. This wasn't an issue that was ever pointed out by my doctors as a child, cause my knees have been like this for a while. I did have a lot of knee inflammation as a kid.

But back fully on topic, cripple punk isn't contingent on the use of mobility aids. Plus the assumption that I have to "look disabled" in order to be physically disabled is very ableist and leads to those like me getting harassed when we use our handicapped parking permits. I'm invisibly physically disabled, I have always recognized that. But me having an invisible disability doesn't change the fact that I am physically disabled. And come this time next year, I will probably "look disabled". Not that I believe disability has a look. It doesn't. Believing disability has a look is ableist and perpetuates harmful stereotypes. I AM physically disabled. I AM crippled, mobility aid or no mobility aid.

You don't know my history, you don't know me. You don't know my day to day life.

In order for you to believe me, you'd likely have to see my diagnosis papers and the proof of my disability. But you are not entitled to that information. I don't have to show it to you, and I'm not going to.

#physical disability #cpunk #cripplepunk #cripple punk #crip punk #physically disabled #physical disabilities

[ssahotstuff]

Hi! Sorry if it's too soon after my last request but I loved the innocence kink fic and it got me thinking about the complete opposite and how about Hotch with a dumbification kink? I just think he'd love the fact he could render her dumb just by playing with her body

This was so fun to write!

Warnings: oral, fem receiving, unprotected sex, dumbification kink, Aaron calling the reader a ‘slut’ in the most endearing way possible, cursing

Word Count: 1.9 k

Aaron was not blind to the effect he had on you. It caused his heart to beat faster, his head to spin. You had become a permanent fixture in his life nearly a year ago, the two of you living together after only six months. Aaron had asked you to move in when your lease was up, and he hadn't regretted a day of living together. You took care of him in every way, and he was so lucky to have you. He hadn't been looking for anyone, but you'd fallen into his lap at the perfect time, and he was smart enough to know that women like you didn't come around often. He had known you were the one after your first date, and you only confirmed it the more time you spent with him.

You made Aaron a bit cocky. He didn't want to admit it at first, but the way that you acted when things got sexual had boosted his ego in a way he'd never imagined. You made him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof, and he still wasn't sure how you managed to do it.

He'd just brought you home after a night out with his team, and the tension had been high since you left for the evening. Aaron couldn't keep his hands off of you, which you didn't mind one bit, soaking up every bit of the attention like a siphon, and Aaron was happy to give it to you. Aaron had found it so easy to be affectionate with you in public—there wasn't a seconds worth of hesitation when it came to holding you close, or kissing you right in front of everyone. He knew your love was too precious to take for granted, so he wanted to show you nonstop that he was thankful to be around you. You were equally as touchy, which made Aaron secretly giddy. Before you, he'd been so touch starved that it was a shock to the senses to be in your presence. You always wanted to put your hands on him, whether it was in the car or out with friends.

The entire evening, Aaron had been focused on your soft curves, the way your tits sat perfectly in your dress. Every time you spoke, his eyes trained on your luscious lips, the way they wrapped around your straw as your drank. He couldn't wait to get you home to see your mouth in action in other ways. He'd pretty much taken the first available opportunity to leave, and he knew you were thankful for it. You'd wanted him just as bad all night, confirmed by the way you'd snuck off to make out with him shortly after you'd arrived. Now that you were back home, there was no reason to hold back, which is why he'd taken the chance to grab you by the hips as soon as you crossed the threshold into the house, moving your hair out of the way so he could suck hickies onto your neck.

"Been wanting this all night," you murmured, turning around to meet his mouth, fingers laced around his collar, pulling him closer. His brain went white hot as your tongue crept into his mouth, his hands reaching up to cup your tits through your dress. He groaned, ducking down to pepper your chest with kisses as his hands disappeared under your dress.

"Needy for my cock, sweetheart? All I could think about was getting you home," he admitted, your panties swiftly being rolled down your thighs as he helped you step out of them. He left them in the floor, opting to remove your dress next, letting it crumple at your feet. Your bra came soon after, his first instinct to take turns sucking at your nipples; his tongue swirled around them one by one, your skin littered with goosebumps as the heat of his mouth made you shiver.

Your fingers dexterously worked at the buttons of his black dress shirt, something he'd worn on purpose because he knew how much you loved him in black. Once his shirt was out of the way, his T-shirt was next, yanked over his head at record speed. Your hands wandered over his chest as he sucked in a breath, heart still beating rapidly every time you touched him. Within seconds he was scooping you up and carrying you to the bedroom, tossing you onto the bed as if you were weightless so he could finish undressing. His cock was strained against his boxers as he made his way to the bed, yanking your legs apart as he crawled between them.

"Going to fuck you with my mouth since you were such a sweet girl all evening. I know how much you love to come on my tongue," his words ignited something primal within you, something that left your mouth dry and your thighs clenching together before he'd even had a chance to touch you.

"Love it so much," you whined as he licked a stripe up your soaked center, humming in delight as he finally got to taste you. Aaron enjoyed it just as much as you, spending far more than a usual amount of time between your legs—as far as you were concerned, he was an expert, knowing exactly how to make you go wild, and most of the time, he didn't even have to try. It took mere minutes for you to fall silent except for the occasional whimper of his name, Aaron's lips curling into a devious smirk as he looked up at you.

"Nothing to say now that you've gotten what you wanted?" You shook your head, indulging him further when he began to suck furiously at your clit, eliciting a string of profanity from you in response as you saw stars, your orgasm taking Aaron by surprise as his arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place. He continued lapping at your dripping core, fueled by desire and the intention to give you more orgasms than you'd ever experienced—he was on a mission, and he wouldn't be moving until he'd succeeded.

They came like clockwork after the sixth orgasm, your legs shaky and unreliable, your body rigid against the mattress. You weren't sure how you hadn't melted into the comforter as relaxed as you were, and Aaron's smile only grew wider every time you came, hastily encouraging you to do it again. With every swipe of his tongue, the slack in your jaw grew wider, your mouth in an ‘o’ shape as you came unglued over and over again. Aaron’s ego was astronomical, his smile nearly uncontainable as he peered up at you through his long, dark lashes. You struggled to remember a time you’d ever seen someone so undoubtedly gorgeous; he was it for you, and you’d realized it a long time ago. Aaron had a way of turning you to putty, you fell apart under the mercy of his touch.

“Dirty fucking girl, making a mess in our bed. Oh, but look at how pretty you look, even when you’ve lost your words,” his lighthearted teasing had you smiling back at him, running your fingers through his hair as he eagerly devoured you—you’d never seen him so focused, so determined to make you unravel. You could barely hold your eyes open, your voice long gone, but Aaron was content despite the ever growing erection in his boxers that he was willingly ignoring, all for you.

After more orgasms than you could keep track of, he was pulling you towards the edge of the bed with haste, licking his perfectly pink lips at the sight of your core glistening for him. This was Aaron’s favorite part—your gentle sigh as he slid into you, the way your eyes closed as he bottomed out in you. Aaron had the ability to bend you at will—when you were in this sort of headspace, you’d do anything he asked. He’d never take advantage, he was too much of a gentleman, but when your eyes went hazy and you fell silent, Aaron knew that you were sunk. You’d told him numerous times that you’d do whatever he wanted, but he hadn’t wanted to push things too far—now he was thoroughly convinced you’d been telling the truth. You were always so ready for him, spreading your legs as quickly as you could so he could slip into you.

Aaron let out a shaky breath as you squeezed him like a vice, your pussy clenching uncontrollably as he stretched you to fill you up. He took his time, watching his cock throb as he pressed into your warm, wet pussy, made just for him; he’d never take a second of you for granted. He was smitten with the way your eyes rolled back, your tongue between your teeth as he started to move. He slammed into you without warning, causing you to let out a pitchy moan that was music to Aaron’s ears. It made him drill into you harder, hooking his arms behind your knees and dragging you closer, his strong arms holding your lower half up so he could find a new, delicious angle to fuck you. The two of you sighed in unison as he found his home in you, your lips swollen and puffy from being between your teeth. Aaron came forward long enough to cup your face lovingly, tilting your chin to look up at him.

“You take me so well, baby. My pretty little cock slut, absolutely ruined now that she’s being fucked,” he growled, his words filled with nothing but love and lust. He loved the stupefying aftermath of how you were a couple of orgasms into the night, your lips pouty as he fucked you into the mattress, fists full of the comforter in your hands to keep you from shouting to the ceiling. He could make love like no other; you’d never need another sexual partner as long as you had Aaron, you’d always be perfectly satisfied.

“Yes, baby. Can’t even think straight,” you managed to sputter, and aaron thought you looked so adorable in that moment that he couldn’t help but to come forward and kiss you, even though you didn’t have the energy to kiss him back properly. He could feel your orgasm coming quickly, the muscles in your legs growing tight as the pressure began to build. Aaron knew he’d cum as soon as you did, unable to hold back as you constricted around his cock, and he was absolutely right— as soon as you reached your high, aaron finished in you with a groan, his own legs shaky and unreliable beneath him as he pulled out of you. His first order of business was to clean you up, and you didn’t bother moving the entire time. You didn’t change locations until he was done, nestling into the pillows with a cute little sigh. Aaron felt the heart eyes forming as your own eyes fluttered shut, you looked absolutely wrecked in the best way possible. Your eyes were glassy, your hair a mess on your head as you patted the bed, encouraging Aaron to join you.

“Come here, sweetheart. You look exhausted. My girl had such a tiring night,” he pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead as he rubbed your bare back, knowing the repetitive movements would put you to sleep in no time.

“Mhm, you always take such good care of me,” it was true, Aaron went above and beyond to take the most special care of you at all times, but especially after sex. He knew you were too exhausted to eat or else he would’ve already retrieved you a snack, but you’d rather cuddle up next to him and have his body close to yours.

“And I always will,” he promised you, pulling the blanket up around your body so you could get some much needed rest. 

Master tags: @wheelsupkels @periodtcevans @hausofwhores @criminallyobsessedcm @tojithesourcerkiller @fireworksinthesky



#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch smut

[yellowocaballero]

Weekenders Side Story: Byleth Gets Turned Into A Cat; Felix Causes Problems On Purpose

“You know humans can’t spontaneously become cats, right?”

“So far as we know,” Dimitri stressed. “Magic can perform impossibilities, can’t it? Annette and Byleth were practicing magic for hours yesterday. She could have magically turned into a cat!”

“Uh huh.” Felix hadn’t expected that to work, but might as well make the attempt. “What are the other reasons it reminds you of Byleth?”

“Its fur is the exact shade of her old hair color, and its eyes are the same shade as her current eyes. One would assume it’s just a castle stray -” Left unsaid: like Felix was undoubtedly assuming. He absolutely was. “ - but none of the castle strays are affectionate to either of us. It’s well-groomed and its fur is silky, which is another case in point against it being a stray. Its claws and teeth are wickedly sharp and it wields them with dexterity. It clearly doesn’t possess bloodlust, but it’s always lying in wait for battle. There is something calculated about its expressions, as if they are not quite natural to its face. And the stare speaks for itself!”

Dimitri knows Byleth turned into a cat. It's very obvious. You can tell just by looking at her. Why doesn't anybody believe him? Dimitri never says untrue things. People turn into cats all the time. He's not hallucinating this time he swears.

In which everybody thinks Dimitri is hallucinating, Sylvain grapples with love and family, a young boy finds his destiny, and Byleth has the best month of her life.

A friend asked me to write this and so somehow I did. If you were into Weekenders I highly recommend this, as it is basically the 'Five Years Later' story.

20k of shit getting weird under the cut. I spent so long writing Felipe as the world's most pretentious 15yo that it was weird to mentally smash cut into him as a baby. He's a democratic socialist but just because he hates his dad. He won't stop lecturing Sara on praxis and is convinced that he's in touch with the underprivileged despite being the most privileged teen boy in the country. The OCs have lore guys.

“Felix. Wake up.”

Unfortunately, Felix woke instantly. Seven years of battlefields made a light sleeper. Worse, the voice was Dimitri’s. 

It took longer to realize that he was in his opulent four poster bed in his castle suite. There was no slip dip of the mattress beside him - Annette must have fallen asleep at her desk again. Instead, his only companion in his bedchambers was the King of Faerghus Dimitri Blaiddyd. Who was standing next to his bed. Holding a cat.

“Please,” Felix said, “tell me this important.”

The presence of the cat indicated that it probably wasn’t. Nobody delivered news of another invasion holding a cat. Dimitri would have sent a runner to knock on his door, anyway - kings didn’t fetch people. 

Dimitri flashed a ridiculous pair of cow eyes at him. He held up the slim-but-fluffy black cat in his arms indicatively, as if that could possibly indicate anything. “I need your help in determining if my wife turned into a cat.”

Alright. Felix took a careful breath in and out. He reminded himself that in Dimitri’s world this was an emergency. That Dimitri was doing exactly what they asked him to do, that even asking Felix to confirm the delusion was a sign of incredible effort and will from Dimitri, and that he was coming to Felix because he trusted him to help him feel safe. None of this changed the fact that it was ass o’clock and the King of Faerghus had, again, woken him up because he thought his wife was a cat. But it was important, and it did help. 

Felix leaned over and lit the candle on his bedside with a finger, immediately bathing them in soft candlelight. He saw that Dimitri was in his nightclothes - that he wasn’t even wearing his eyepatch - and that the cat seemed very satisfied with its current position in life. He must have come straight from bed.

“I see,” Felix said evenly. “Can you tell me why Byleth is a cat?”

Dimitri lowered the cat, face falling. “That’s your ‘humoring the mental patient’ voice - no. No, this does sound insane.” He shook himself, holding the cat a little tighter to his chest. “Byleth and I worked on paperwork until 2200 hours. We stayed up for a little while talking, and went to bed at 2230. I believe I fell asleep before she did. Fifteen minutes ago, I woke up suddenly and saw that Byleth was gone. In her place was this cat. Which is obviously Byleth.”

Dimitri held up the cat. Felix looked at the cat. The cat looked at Felix.

Dimitri cuddled the cat closer to his chest, making it close its eyes and purr happily. Somewhat defensively - somewhat exhaustedly - he said, “I am…very, very convinced this cat is Byleth. No part of my mind is telling me any differently. But I recognize that it seems…improbable from the outside. As such, I decided to ask you to help snap me out of this. Or confirm my suspicions, as necessary. I hoped to also call upon Annette, but it seems she fell asleep at her table again. I trust in your discretion.”

Felix sighed and threw aside the covers, dragging himself out of bed. He was only in his boxers, but they were years beyond modesty at this rate. “Obviously. Here, give me the cat.”

With some reluctance, Dimitri passed the cat into Felix’s arms. It was lithe, slender, and attractively fluffy. It was perfectly happy with being tossed about a bit, and it immediately snuggled happily into Felix’s arms and cocked its head at Felix in pure and innocent curiosity. In the candlelight, the black coat shone dark blue.

Its eyes were gigantic, and a strange shade of mint green. It had…the blankest, yet most intense, stare he’d ever seen in a cat. It didn’t move - it just looked at him, trapping Felix in its hypnotic stare and freezing him still. It held eye contact with him for a very long time. Felix broke first, looking away as his spine crawled. That cat knew your sins. 

Well. Felix honestly saw where Dimitri was coming from. He couldn’t say that, obviously - affirming the delusion was a terrible idea. But the cat really was horribly reminiscent of Byleth. He’d never seen any other living being stare like that…

“Do you see what I mean?” Dimitri hissed. “Doesn’t it have Byleth’s uncanny aura?”

It absolutely did. Felix was not about to admit this. “It’s pretty cute.” It was - it felt innocent and pure, yet draped in apex predator blood. “You know humans can’t spontaneously become cats, right?”

“So far as we know,” Dimitri stressed. “Magic can perform impossibilities, can’t it? Annette and Byleth were practicing magic for hours yesterday. She could have magically turned into a cat!”

“Uh huh.” Felix hadn’t expected that to work, but might as well make the attempt. “What are the other reasons it reminds you of Byleth?”

“Its fur is the exact shade of her old hair color, and its eyes are the same shade as her current eyes. One would assume it’s just a castle stray -” Left unsaid: like Felix was undoubtedly assuming. He absolutely was. “ - but none of the castle strays are affectionate to either of us. It’s well-groomed and its fur is silky, which is another case in point against it being a stray. Its claws and teeth are wickedly sharp and it wields them with dexterity. It clearly doesn’t possess bloodlust, but it’s always lying in wait for battle. There is something calculated about its expressions, as if they are not quite natural to its face. And the stare speaks for itself!”

Dimitri finished his speech with a flourish, as if it was all irrefutable evidence. He waited expectantly for Felix to give a retort and refute his points. This time, Felix was floundering. It was normally pretty easy to parse out Dimitri’s illogical trains of thought and help him realize that they weren’t possible. His ideas got really out-there. This was also an out-there idea, but this time he didn’t seem deterred by the obvious impossibility.

He seemed clear and present, but he must be worse off than Felix originally guessed. Damn it. They had so many meetings tomorrow.

He really did not miss this feeling of completely hitting a wall. “Did anybody tell you this, Dima?”

“It was all basic deduction!” Dimitri said heatedly.

“It’s alright if somebody told you.” Fuck, Felix was tired. “Was it Monica again? Or the Dark Mage?”

Dimitri jerked back a little, hurt flashing on his face. Damn it, don’t make Felix feel like shit over this. He was the one so dead-set on the cat thing. “You won’t even entertain the possibility?”

“I’m a master-class mage, Dima. Magic can’t turn full-bred humans into cats.”

“It could have been a blessing by the Goddess.”

“Byleth has a very irregular sleep schedule. She’s always getting up in the middle of the night and walking around. Have you checked the castle pond for her? The stables? The garden?” Judging by Dimitri’s sullen look downwards, he hadn’t. So he really hadn’t been thinking clearly. “Do you need me to check those spots with you?”

It must have been very obvious from the look on Felix’s face that he really, really didn’t want to. Felix had ten meetings today and he’d have ten meetings tomorrow, and he really wanted to go back to the scant few hours of sleep he could scrape. 

Twenty five was a pretty young age to rule an entire country - especially when Dimitri  hadn’t mentally been up to very much for five years. And it wasn’t just Faerghus anymore. He ruled the ‘Territory of Adrestia’ now too. Faerghus had swallowed the Alliance back up, and its lords had all been forced to swear fealty back to Faerghus again. The guy was now effectively the ruler of Fodlan. Anybody in his position would believe that their wife’s a cat.

“I can manage on my own,” Dimitri said stiffly. He held out his arms. “I apologize for waking you up. Please return By - the cat to me.”

Despite himself, Felix hesitated. Dimitri hated even touching live animals - he was always scared that he’d crush them. Bad experience with a frog when he was nine. He hadn’t hurt an animal since, and Felix knew he never would, but…

Dimitri saw the hesitation. It was clear how much Felix had hurt him. But he just sucked it up and took it - as always, after all this time - and he just let his arms drop. 

“Never mind,” Dimitri whispered. “Sorry.”

Before Felix could apologize to him, the cat abruptly wriggled out of Felix’s arms. He let it escape, allowing the cat to jump down onto the floor, and he and Dimitri watched in silence as the cat gracefully trotted away. There was something so familiar about that swaying gait…

That solved that problem. Dimitri didn’t chase after it, which solved another. 

Dimitri turned around and left his room. Felix could almost see the cape snapping at his heels. He was in his sleeping clothes in the dead of night, trying desperately to convince Felix that his ex-private school teacher and current wife was a cat, but it was somehow still impossible to mistake him for anything other than a king.

Felix rubbed his face and groaned. Out of all the times to fall asleep at your desk, Annette…

Sleep was a long time coming that night, and in the morning Felix was tired after all.

***

The next morning was as miserable as expected. 

Felix never had high hopes for it. Every trip to the castle was marked by a month of nonstop useless meetings and wastes of breath lords. He had a million reasons to resent his father, but forcing him to be Lord High Marshall to His Majesty etc was one of the worst. Felix had always assumed Glenn would be stuck with the horrifyingly important positions and that he’d be free to manage the fiefdom while Glenn was busy being important. Now Felix was important. And he couldn’t even complain about it, because every time he complained about it his old man kept on offering to do it instead and leave Felix to manage the fiefdom.

And fuck that. As if he’d inflict Dimitri on any other sucker. 

But, of course and as usual, the situation forced Felix to be a little more honest with himself. If he could be here every day, he would. Even if it involved retainers and vassals and stuffed shirts. For Annette and Sylvain, obviously. But for Dimitri too. Felix always wanted to be there when he needed him. Every time and always.

Tapping the Blue Lion (they seriously needed a new name for their cult - it was a little embarrassing going by schoolyard names) gossip network was the day’s first order of business. Felix updated Sylvain on the situation during their 0500 training session, and by breakfast every Blue Lion in the castle knew. By the end of breakfast Ingrid had rearranged her guard rotations so she could take the position of Dimitri’s bodyguard for the day - peeving his usual guard, who was well aware of Dimitri’s condition, but Ingrid was the only member of his guard who could step in for him publicly. 

The greater castle gossip network spread a little slower. Felix’s manservant heard from Byleth’s ladies in waiting that they couldn’t find her at all that morning. It was a little unsettling. Byleth had the habit of disappearing into the woods and completely forgetting to tell the people responsible for following her around, so the ladies in waiting were more peeved than worried. Felix remembered how clear Dimitri’s speech had been. 

When Felix spoke to Dimitri and Ingrid personally for the first time that day - nearing mid-day, which said quite a bit - Dimitri obviously knew what was going on and had accepted it with his usual grim resignation. His opinion on their rigid protective detail changed frequently, but at his most even he always carried that air of resignation. Sometimes Felix wondered if he thought he was being punished for something. 

They were both in the hallway moving between conferences, but Felix had learned how to take any opportunity to snatch a minute with Dimitri. Dimitri was attended only by Ingrid, and Felix stopped them both in the middle of the hall and bowed.

“Greetings to Your Majesty,” Felix said. This felt intensely stupid after last night, but it always did. “I pray for your continued good health.”

“Greetings to Lord Fraldarius,” Dimitri said, a little coldly. Ingrid made a sympathetic face from behind him. “How fares your wife?”

“I have not had the pleasure of seeing her today.” They all grimaced together. Workaholic woman. “Your Majesty, may I borrow your guard for a minute?”

For just a second, Dimitri looked a little more tired than usual. He was aware they were about to gossip about how to handle the cat-wife situation behind his back. “Of course. Captain Galatea, return at your leisure.”

Ingrid stepped out from behind Dimitri, bowing as a knight to a lord before shooting him a concerned look. “If His Majesty has a minute to join us, his company would be welcome.”

Felix grimaced apologetically. “His Majesty must be very busy. I wouldn’t want to occupy his time with this small matter.”

Read: Dimitri was not invited. They both frowned in apology to Dimitri, who just shuttered his expression and waved them off. Five more retainers immediately swarmed him, and Felix and Ingrid quickly whisked themselves away to a small conference room. The people using it were less important than they were, so they kicked out the idiots and locked the doors behind them. 

Immediately, Felix said, “This sounds stupid, but you need to send your guards out searching for Byleth.”

Also immediately, Ingrid said, “Please do not tell me that you also think Byleth is a cat.”

“Of course I don’t!” Felix snapped. Ingrid raised an eyebrow, and he immediately subsided. “Look. You didn’t see that cat. It was - reminiscent. And nobody’s seen Byleth at all. Finding her would put the matter to rest.”

Ingrid sighed. “Dimitri wanted to check the garden ponds himself. I had to call in one of Byleth’s handmaidens and have her attest that they’ve already looked all over the castle. She’s going to feel awful when she learns that she worried Dimitri…maybe it’ll be enough for her to finally start telling us where she goes all day.”

“Then tell the guards to find her. Say that I need her urgent signature or something.” 

“If you think it’s important, I will.” When had Felix earned that trust? Why? He was literally Felix. “But I won’t mobilize the castle guards without Dimitri’s approval. How should we handle this?”

Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sylvain said to let it run its course until it becomes a problem. Is he showing any other symptoms?”

But Ingrid just shook her head, looking troubled. “Absolutely none. You know how sometimes he feels a deep worry, but he hides it because he thinks we won’t understand?”

“If that man starts thinking we turned her into a cat -”

“No, not at all. It’s only that he knows we won’t believe him.” Ingrid’s brow furrowed - like Dimitri, more worried than she would like to admit. “It’s hard to do anything for him like this.”

“Flayn would know.”

“Or Byleth.”

The two least emotionally intelligent Blue Lions stood in miserable silence. They mutually attempted to design a respectful, sensitive, and efficient way of solving the problem. They were too emotionally stupid, and they mutually failed miserably. 

“Fuck it, let’s just tell him.”

“Agreed.”

Kidnapping Dimitri was a tall ask, but when Felix returned Ingrid to Dimitri he was able to somehow do it so aggressively that they gained a small bubble of privacy. Felix tried to weaponize his unpleasantness these days.

Ingrid bowed lowly, as a knight to her king. “Your Majesty. Permission to mobilize the castle knights to search the surrounding area for Her Grace.”

Dimitri perked up immediately, and temporarily forgot himself. “Does that mean you believe me?”

Felix and Ingrid adopted poker faces. The implication was clear. Dimitri’s hopeful face fell, and Felix saw him struggle to replace that impassive kingly demeanor. 

He stepped closer, lowering his voice and hissing, “Why are you sending the guards if you don’t believe me, then?”

“It never hurts to be thorough with Her Grace’s safety,” Ingrid said. Nice one. “We want to do our due diligence.”

Dimitri’s voice lowered further, only barely audible to Ingrid and Felix. “Are you or are you not humoring me?”

Felix and Ingrid winced as one.

They were both remembering the same moment - years and years ago, when a raging ‘up and out’ Dimitri accused them of humoring his repeated insistences that the Adrestian mages were using telepathy to project messages into his mind. He had thrown a chair against the cabin wall. It had been the first time Mercedes had to knock him out from concern that he would hurt something or someone else besides himself. 

Dimitri remembered it too. He backed away, closing off his expression, but Felix knew the hunch of those shoulders. Pure Dimitri-class shame. And the Dimitri-special ‘Everything I did while I couldn’t control myself makes me a bad person’. And that particular tightening of the eyes indicated the classic variant ‘I wish my friends had allowed me to freeze to death in the Faerghus winter instead of taking care of me’. Goddess, he was stupid.

“You have my permission for anything you must do,” Dimitri said stiffly. “No need to inform me.”

Which was code for ‘I know I’m compromised right now, so do whatever damage control you want, sorry in advance for the extra work’. It was normally a relief to hear - for more than one reason - but now…

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Ingrid bowed again. “I’ll send the order at once.”

Felix copied her, but he found himself hesitating. That was never a bad thing. It didn’t happen often enough. “Your Majesty. Do you remember when you and Flayn stayed in that small village in the base of the mountains?” Dimitri stared at him blankly. He was correct: those five years were fuzzy for him. Sometimes Felix wondered if he remembered more than he admitted. “You kept on telling Flayn that the village was overrun by Adrestian mages. She said that you were on high alert during your entire stay. Apparently your caution was how Flayn realized that a group of travelers were plain clothed scouts from the Adrestian army. It may have saved your cover.”

Dimitri blanched, apparently shocked. “I did? I was right?”

“They were not experts in telepathic magic,” Felix said, somewhat circumspect, “but paranoia was a smart move in those days. You weren’t always wrong, Your Majesty.” 

“It used to make Lady Byleth sad,” Ingrid said quietly. Felix nodded, but Dimitri just looked away. “She once told me that you wouldn’t be so scared all of the time if there wasn’t anything to be scared of.” 

“Lady Byleth also blamed herself for involving me in my own coup and the war for my own kingdom,” Dimitri said, stiff and unyielding. Felix knew that the topic was a sore spot between them. Byleth had vented about it more than once to Felix. And cried about it, which had been deeply alarming. “I take responsibility for my own burdens. And I would not burden you two with my own…beliefs.” 

Ingrid and Felix gave him identical ‘you aren’t a burden, asshole’ eyes. Dimitri knew the eyes perfectly well and pretended he did not. He turned away from them and made eye contact with a courier, and just like that their personal time came to an end. More than they usually got. 

Ingrid and Felix exchanged long-suffering glances. But something rose in her expression, and Felix had to admit it rose on his too: 

Felix didn’t know a lot about blessings from the Goddess. He didn’t know any Faith magic, forbidden magic, or experimental atomic magic. He knew nothing about beastkin, dragonkin, or catgirls. He was not a religious man and wasn’t even a particularly friendly man. But even he had to ask himself…

…what if his professor had turned into a cat?

***

Felix recruited Sylvain for the cause, because he clearly didn’t have enough to do.

Grand Chamberlain was such a fake job. Sylvain was probably the smartest Grand Chamberlain in two hundred years, but Dimitri’s uncle had gutted the position so severely that it was a little fake. Then King Dimitri unified Fodlan, appointed Sylvain to the position, and un-faked the job via signing off on whatever he wanted to do. In a move that would have made the teenage Blue Lions faint from shock, Sylvain loaded himself up with as many responsibilities as he could and lifted every burden from Dimitri’s shoulders that he could manage. Even beyond what he could manage, sometimes. The Blue Lions were experts in collusion to make him take a break (Mercedes persuading him to take a break, Dimitri signing off on the break, Annette and Felix taking over his duties, Petra shipping him off to the beach), but those moments were few and far between.

And that wasn’t even mentioning the baby.

Felix easily kicked aside the guards outside of Sylvain’s office, shoving open the door and finding Sylvain in the exactly expected location (giant fancy desk) doing exactly the expected things (paperwork). Felix would have come earlier, but he had squeezed Sylvain’s schedule out of his assistant and timed his approach for the handful of hours that Sylvain did not have a meeting. 

“You’re helping me out with the Catleth situation.” 

Sylvain looked up, pained but not surprised. “With the cat or with Dimitri?”

“We’re finding the cat.”

“You don’t need me for that.” Felix opened his mouth. “If you make any pussy jokes I’m throwing you out of this castle.”

“You don’t have the authority to do that.” He did. With Dimitri indisposed, Sylvain had the administrative final word. Byleth had the Blue Lion final word, which was a subtle yet distinct difference. “If I’m going to spend my free hour hunting down a cat then I’m going to multitask while doing it. You’re coming with me.”

“How is that multitask -”

“It’s making you take a break. Up.”

Sylvain got up. They swapped abilities to bully each other about once every five years, and it was Felix’s turn. 

The castle was sprawling and it was not short on cats. Cats were one of the few things that made Lady Byleth smile, so the groundskeepers were under orders to leave them running around so long as they didn’t disrupt anything. Sylvain immediately began plotting out a systematic search that began at the fringes of the castle and circled inwards - a move that was basically identical to their standard military tactics to eradicate the fleeing dregs of enemy forces. Felix blatantly ignored him and forced him in a straight line outwards. 

“Are we just doing this to make Dimitri feel better?” Sylvain asked, successfully prying himself away from Felix’s iron grip. Damn lancers and their upper body strength. “If we are, then we should probably invite him to this very useful expedition that is a great use of our time.”

“Ingrid mobilized the guards to make him feel better. We are searching for the cat.” A passing page tried to get Felix’s attention. He blatantly ignored them. Dumbass Sylvain had to wave and grimace apologetically. Just get a reputation as an asshole. It was easy. “It’s a better use of our time than idiot forms and idiot idiots.”

“Shit, you’re being serious.” Sylvain stopped short, forcing Felix to stop with him. He looked sternly down at Felix, who forcibly reminded himself that it was his turn to bully Sylvain. “You said that Dimitri thought it might be magic. You’re the mage between us, Felix. Do you really think that Byleth could have magically turned into a cat?”

“Magic isn’t an x factor,” Felix said curtly. “It’s not limited by the beautiful reaches of our imagination. Reason magic is a mathematics and science that produces certain sensible results. Like lightning. There’s no Reason equation for turning a human into a cat.”

“What about Faith?”

“Oh, Faith’s bullshit.”

Sylvain crossed his arms. “Faith’s magic. Annette knows -”

“Annette’s shitty at Faith.”

“Annette thinks shittiness is a moral failing.” Stone faced, Felix pumped his fist in the air - their standard ‘Go Blue Lions!’ gesture. “She was like that before Lady Byleth got her hands on her and you know it.” Felix rolled his eyes. “She made all of us worse, your wife isn’t special.”

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “Look. Byleth forced all of us to have basic proficiency in all types of magic. I know enough theory behind Faith to understand that it bolsters the body to approach the ultimate ideal form of the goddess. The goddess’ body is immaculate, so it heals the body. The goddess’ body is powerful, so it provides buffs. The goddess is not a cat.”

“Wow,” Sylvain said, impressed. “That is bullshit.”

“Fucking hated learning that shit, but Byleth manipulated me into getting competitive with Annette and forced me to learn it.” The increasingly intense rivalry had turned their relationship from casual into something far more serious. It had taken years for them all to accept that Byleth had arranged all of their relationships, much like she had arranged their lives. “Here, quiet down.”

The best fishing spot in the castle was the large pond in the center of the castle. It was rich with fish, had a peaceful ambiance, and even possessed a waterfall. Byleth’s favorite fishing spot was way out on the outskirts of the castle and bordered a cow pasture. Fishing was a meditative task, and for her it demanded maximum isolation. At Garreg Mach they could clearly see her fishing at the docks during most of her free periods, but nobody was stupid enough to bother her. She had a way of making the blankest stare feel hostile. 

Cows lowed among them, peaceful and stinky. Felix and Sylvain pulled on their hard months of stealth training and snuck through the brittle and scraggly bush, ducking beneath overhanging branches and gently sidling out of the brush to the other side. 

The sight was unimpressive: the pond was just as scabby and tattered as the bush, and the sagging tree branches spread over the pond creaked in the weak spring breeze. Despite the spring, the pond’s foliage was limp and cracked. The only redeeming feature was the solid selection of particularly stupid fish. Due to a confluence of all of these factors, it was Byleth’s favorite fishing spot.

Sylvain leaned close into Felix’s ear. “Didn’t Byleth’s handmaidens already search the fishing spots?”

“Not this one. It’s her secret spot. Nobody with half a brain would tramp through all of this cow shit.”

“Then why do you know about it?”

Special Tea Time. “Classified.”

“The fuck does that -”

Felix slapped a hand over Sylvain’s mouth. Silence and stealth was now of the utmost priority. He had found his quarry. 

Of course, the quarry was the Debatably-Byleth Cat. It was sitting exactly at Byleth’s favorite place to sit on the bank, leaning over the pond as its tail lashed. Its eyes tracked the surface of the water, alert and ready as it waited over its prey. The cat’s fur had looked black last night, but in the color in the daylight was clearly dark blue. 

“That’s supposed to be Byleth?” Sylvain hissed. “Felix, it’s obviously a -”

“Watch!”

Felix almost missed it. The cat had watched its quarry for over a minute, but in retrospect it had clearly just been waiting for the right opportunity. The cat lashed out a gleaming silver claw, spearing a fish and pulling it out of the water. The movement was smooth as silk and so quick that Felix barely caught it. The fish flopped pathetically onto the shores of the bank, and the cat wasted no time in almost swallowing the fish whole. It was probably the most impressive hunting Felix had ever seen.

The cat finished its meal and settled down happily onto the banks, flopping on its side to enjoy the gentle sun. Looking at its serene little squints, you could never tell that it had speared a fish and swallowed it whole in under three seconds. The bat of its paw was perfectly calculated to almost mathematic precision.

“Holy shit,” Sylvain said. “Byleth’s a cat.”

“I’m gonna have to apologize to Dimitri,” Felix said blankly. “Damn. I hate doing that.”

The cat re-embarked on its precise hunt, its bloodlust insatiable. Sylvain looked abjectly depressed. “He’s never going to forget this. This is going to validate him.”

Worst case scenario. “Maybe we don’t have to tell him?” Felix offered. Sylvain gave him a bizarre look. “What? What do you think’s going to upset him more, a missing wife or a cat wife?”

“Impossible to tell.” Sylvain faced down the cat grimly. It - she - casually speared another fish, shoving it down its gullet. Where was she putting it away? That fish was half as big as she was. “We gotta catch that cat.”

“I’m not getting into a fucking chase scene with our cat professor, Sylvain.”

Sylvain whistled, bright and sharp, and Felix immediately shoved him. The cat’s head rose, turning her head as her eyes locked straight onto Sylvain and Felix. They both fought instinctive quailing and the urge to apologize for disrupting the sacred fishing time.

Damn it. This was the point of stealth. She was going to freak out and run off, and Felix would actually be stuck in a horrible little chase scene with his academy professor -

The cat trotted over to them, tail swaying happily, and Felix and Sylvain froze as the cat stopped at their feet and blinked solemnly up at them. Those piercing mint green eyes made Felix understand how the fish felt. Sylvain, still traumatized from the academy, froze in horror and fear. 

Felix bent down and scooped up the cat. He bounced her a little, holding her like a baby, and she meowed delightedly. Sylvain stared at the stone faced Felix and the happily purring cat, rapidly losing all will to live.

“She’s very friendly,” Felix said blandly. 

Sylvain bent down a little, making eye contact with the pleased cat. Hesitantly, he said, “Professor? Is that you?”

The cat mrrp’d. 

“Meow if you can understand me, Professor.”

The cat yawned. 

“I think Byleth might be a regular cat,” Felix said, scratching her behind the ears. “So what do we do now, your lordship Grand Chamberlain?”

“I wish I was in a meeting,” Sylvain said, desolate.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t.” Sylvain sighed, running his hand through his hair. “We can’t let anybody find out about this. The future queen of Faerghus is a cat…how did this even happen? Damn it, why does this only happen to us? What are we supposed to do with her?”

“I don’t know,” Felix said, “does your son want a pet?”

“He’s nine months old, he doesn’t want anything,” Sylvain snapped. “Gather everybody. I’m calling a house meeting. Including Dimitri and the cat.”

Felix raised Cat Byleth to eye level, bouncing her a little. “What do you think, my lady? Are you making a new rule of the Blue Lions? Is it ‘we only eat trout’? ‘If we can fit in it, we can sit in it’? ‘Our kittens are acquaintances’?”

“Let’s go, Felix! And don’t let go of that cat!”

Man, he was cranky lately. 

***

Sylvain did absolutely have a baby. He had met the squirt around twice. It was hilarious.

The birth of Felipe Emilie Gautier was celebrated throughout the country, and the blessing of the goddess was assumed: Sylvain and Mercedes Gautier’s first child was a boy and born with a crest. You couldn’t get any luckier. Dimitri had been hailed by the country as a miracle baby because he was the king and queen’s first child and was born a boy with a crest. There had been celebrations in the streets for a week. 

Good thing, too. Sylvain had refused to have any mistresses. His children would be born via Mercedes, and fuck everybody else. Maybe the goddess had approved of the romanticism.

Sylvain’s position as heir Gautier had already been locked down. But his war heroism, decorated office, and blessed child catapulted him into the second most powerful position in Fodlan. To Felix, it was clearly a little disconcerting for him: nobody had ever valued Sylvain for anything beyond his crest. Nobody outside of the cult had ever respected Sylvain as a person. Sylvain’s reputation in their schooling and his home had been of an empty-headed callous playboy, and no amount of kindness, intelligence, and wisdom from him could dent that reputation. Obviously, war heroism and kingly favoritism turned that around. He was an invaluable asset in making Fodlan strong. Look at his baby.

Sylvain did not look at his baby that often. As much as Felix gave him shit about it, he knew that it was natural. Sylvain worked in the castle and the Gautier capital was two weeks of travel. Losing a month of work to travel was unacceptable, never mind the time spent at home. Sylvain had spent a month at home when Mercedes gave birth and returned six months later to attend the annual fiefdom congressional meeting. That was it. 

Mercedes herself found that kicking around a castle living with her in-laws was a thoroughly boring experience, so she and Felipe were living at the border of the Duscur territory and working with Dedue to build schools and conduct humanitarian missions and whatever-the-fuck. Even letters took ages to reach her.

Dimitri, by this point thoroughly aware that he had stolen everybody else’s fathers, had immediately offered to move Mercedes and Felipe into the castle. Mercedes herself had declined: she was needed at Duscur, not Fhirdiad. Sylvain understood, for the same reasons that Mercedes understood why he had to live at the castle, and they loved each other as much as ever. But Felix knew a small part of Sylvain was a little relieved too. Sylvain was ashamed of the feeling, but that didn’t stop him.

“Think of it this way,” Felix had said. “You didn’t want to be a father. Mercedes wanted to be a mom. You knew you would lose your place in the line of succession if you didn’t become a father.” If a noble of a crested home didn’t have a child their entire territory would excommunicate them. No exceptions. Hilarious. “Now you and Mercedes both get what you wanted. Mercedes gets a baby, and you get to pretend the baby doesn’t exist.”

Sylvain had actually attacked Felix over that one. 

Technically the situation wasn’t Sylvain’s fault. The sword at his neck forcing him to be a parent was incredibly fucked, there was nobody else any Blue Lion trusted to do his job, and the castle incompetence left him taking on so much work that he couldn’t take a break. Maybe it was mean to tease him for child neglect, as if there was anything he could do about it.

That wouldn’t stop Felix. His father had made, in retrospect, a stunning effort to see him as frequently as possible, but that was maybe glimpses of him for a week every three months. Glenn’s death wasn’t the only thing that had strained their relationship. Even Felix was luckier than his friends: his forced bonding time with Dimitri at the castle once he turned five meant that he saw his father too. Felipe might not be so lucky.

Just because it was unavoidable didn’t make it acceptable. Sylvain was fucking up his relationship with his kid. When that baby was an uncertain child, struggling to navigate the oppressive nature of his world, his father would not guide him. When that baby was a bitter teenager, he would blame the father that didn’t want him for the faults of the world. From this distance, it was easy for Sylvain to forget that. Felix wouldn’t let him. Shoving this pain away would push it onto somebody who didn’t deserve it.

Ingrid and Ashe, the token monogamists, weren’t married out of sheer spite. Petra had asked Ashe to return to Brigid to help her with some invaders, and Ingrid had sent him away with support from ex-Adrestian troops. When he returned, he would probably move in with Ingrid into the castle and raise their own child within the castle. Having that Galatean baby out of wedlock might be a bit extreme even for spite, but Ingrid would probably satisfy herself by eloping with Ashe’s lack of title and absolute poverty. Dimitri’s child wouldn’t steal the baby’s father. An unusually lucky baby. 

As for Felix. Annette had submitted their ten year plan onto Felix’s desk and he had rubber-stamped it. Felix would continue splitting his time between his own lands and his castle; Annette would continue her work as Royal Magician. At age twenty eight, once she received the highest level of acclaim she could receive from the Inter-Continental Magical Association, she would leave her position to her successor and return with Felix to Fraldarius full-time. Annette would have the kid and take up a professorship position at the university as she continued her independent research. Felix, you can split your time in half between the castle and raising the kid. Three children maximum, another if one is a jock. You’re on your own after that one. If you have to choose between the castle and your kids, Felix -

Yes, Annette. He’d pick the children. Almost all of them would. Byleth had raised a strange group. 

The men had even gotten together and unanimously agreed to only resort to mistresses if their wives asked. Sylvain had flatly refused. Almost all of them had a stupid amount of half-siblings: it was extremely common practice for lords to try for children with other women if their wives weren’t delivering on the Crest front. Ingrid had a truly insane level of half-siblings, none of which she had met. Ingrid and Ashe had frankly stated that they were having as many as they felt like having, and that chasing the crested baby was her brother’s job. It was technically meant to be hers, but somewhere along Ingrid’s three hundredth kill she stopped caring about what she was supposed to do.

Sylvain’s monstrous half-brother was actually the full child of the lord and lady - Sylvain himself was the child of his father and apparently the most gorgeous woman in her village. Any crested child out of wedlock was bought from the mother and adopted into the lord and lady’s family, given the title of heir, and treated as if they had been there the entire time. Sylvain was apparently identical to his mother. Maybe. He didn’t look anything like the lord. He took after her in personality too. Maybe. He didn’t act anything like the lord. He had never met her, and his father couldn’t be assed to remember her name. When Sylvain got drunk he wondered how much his mother had sold him for.

The flood of extra children had extra utility: namely, that noble tradition put its nobility on the front lines of war literally all of the time, and they all had the habit of dying like flies. Felix had a funny family story from his grandfather about how a generation of Fraldariuses three generations ago had been wiped out in a war against Sreng. Desperately, they literally had to scavenge together a handful of impoverished village bastard children to fill out their ranks again. His entire noble family were the descendents of mistresses. It was a skeleton in their closet that Felix found hilarious.

None of them knew Dimitri and Byleth’s plan. They were all privately concerned that Byleth didn’t know where babies came from and that Dimitri was too awkward to explain. 

Felix had spent five years as an underground revolutionary. He had fought and won a war that unified the continent. He was one of the five most powerful people on the continent. He was renowned as the greatest Master Savant on the continent and was forced to regularly turn down a flood of requests to take apprentices or teach his methods. But he had never really felt like an adult until he was forced to sit at a table with Annette and haggle out how many uncrested children they would have until Felix would start taking mistresses. 

Or had it been earlier? Maybe it should have been. Maybe the first time Felix helped feed Dimitri should have been his tipping moment into adulthood. It hadn’t. He had only felt achingly young. He had been painfully aware of his own inadequacy: his fear, his helplessness, his daily dances with death. He had wanted the professor. 

For years, they had all wanted the professor. She was the only protector they had who hadn’t split her time between their duties and their families. She had dedicated her entire life to them. Every second of her day was about helping them grow, nurturing their minds, healing their spirit, and pushing them to the brink. It was attention they had never gotten from somebody who had never been obligated to give it. 

Families were obligations and pressures. Families were lonely birthday parties and glimpses of their fathers. Families were false mothers who knew you were a cuckoo in their nest. Families were dead mothers, dead fathers, and an extended family who convinced themselves that you stole your cousin’s nonexistent crest. Families were the price your mother put on your head and the faceless wash of half-siblings who you would never know. 

“The Blue Lions are family,” Ashe had murmured into the dark, a long time ago. A dark cabin and a rare meeting between almost all of them. “Right?”

Ingrid shifted closer against him, creaking the rusty mattress thrown unceremoniously to the floor. “You’re all family to me.” 

Three of her brothers had died in the invasion.

“I believe that we choose the family of our hearts,” Mercedes had said quietly. “My adopted father is no father to me. I care for all of you deeply.”

“None of you would ever abandon me.” Annette’s voice was a little thick. Felix had squeezed her hand. “Of course you’re my family.”

“Family is a complex matter,” Flayn had yawned. They hadn’t even realized she was awake. Girl had always been chronically tired. “It’s somewhat of a construct…but far too much emphasis is placed on blood ties in our society. I’ve always had the freedom to arrange my own family. You all will always be a part of it.”

“Fuck my family and its fucking bloodline shit. I can’t tolerate them. I love you all more than anything. No debate here.” Sylvain reached out and gently tapped Dimitri on the shoulder. Dimitri’s face was buried in his ragged pillow, his silky hair tangled over his sheets. They had successfully wrangled him into a bath yesterday. “What about you, Dimitri? We know you’re awake.”

Dimitri curled up on his side, pointedly putting his back to Sylvain. Voice hoarse and deep, he muttered, “I have a mother and father.”

“And I have a brother,” Felix had said. “The living don’t overwrite the dead. None of us here want to be your mother, anyway.” 

“My sister slaughtered my family.” Alright, maybe bringing up family to Dimitri had been a shit idea. “She’ll kill you too.”

Lightly, Sylvain had said, “We’re pretty tough cookies. Have a little faith in us, Your Highness.”

“You should leave,” Dimitri had hissed. “You’re all going to die.”

Felix had groaned. “Did telling us to abandon you work the last twenty times, asshole?”

“We’re in danger anyway, with or without you,” Ashe had reasonably pointed out. “Together or apart. Might as well do it together, right?”

Dimitri muttered something under his breath and buried his face deeper into the pillow. He pointedly ignored everything they said after that, and they politely let him pretend they weren’t there. 

Their best friends forever schtick was a childish promise at seventeen, and their cutesy found family shit had been a childish promise at nineteen. But it was still true, despite everything: they had all married each other. If you didn’t marry, it barely mattered. Mercedes had been living with Dedue for months, and Ashe was currently on another country’s front lines side by side with Petra. Their family had stayed together. Cute, technically. Definitely the desired outcome for all of them. None of them would have it any other way. 

But hey. Sylvain hadn’t promised his baby to be family forever, had he? 

***

The Blue Lions held their sleepover that night in Dimitri’s chambers. Goddess knew what his guards thought about the late night bedroom meetings. They all had reputations. Sylvain was under the impression that he and Felix were very discreet, which meant that half the castle probably knew. Sure, war rooms and sitting rooms had been invented for a reason, but sitting rooms didn’t have Dimitiri’s gigantic bed. 

The sleepover began without Dimitri. Felix’s wife worked the longest hours, but she was one of the blessed lucky officials without a meeting every hour, so Ingrid had successfully tracked her down and explained the situation. Felix was graced with her company the second he escaped the last nightly obligation of the day and barged into Dimitri’s room. Annette was happily playing with Cat Byleth on Dimitri’s bed. At least she hadn’t escaped. 

“This is the cutest kitty,” Annette gushed. “You are just the most friendly, nicest little stray I’ve ever seen! And so glossy!”

“If you start singing Lady Byleth little songs I’m walking out the door.”

“Aw, but look at her.” Annette held up Cat Byleth, swaying her a little. Cat Byleth stared into Felix’s eyes, judging his soul and assignments. “She deserves little songs. Are we really naming her Lady Byleth? Things are going to get confusing if we do. How about the Professor?”

“Incredibly bad news.”

Annette lowered Cat Byleth, giving Felix a dubious look. “Ingrid said that Dimitri says that…” Felix nodded grimly. “So…we’re dissuading him of that notion, yes?” Felix’s grim look sank six feet under. “Darling?”

“I’ll explain once everyone’s here.”

Sylvain arrived after her, flopping down dramatically next to Annette onto the bed and groaning with exhaustion. Felix dragged over his favorite plush armchair, pushing it against the bed and propping up his shoes on the luxurious embroidered sheets. Sylvain refused to even look at the cat. Annette gleefully cooed at the cat until she fell backwards onto the bed and instantly began snoring. Felix slid a pillow under her head. 

Ingrid joined them shortly afterwards, chugging a beer, and cautiously took a seat on the chaise lounge on the other side of the bed from Felix. Cat Byleth was happily kneading one of the pillows. Ingrid squinted at the cat. Cat Byleth purred. 

Finally, Ingrid proclaimed, “I don’t see it.”

“It’s a very unique shade of eye color,” Felix pointed out.

“Look how happy she is,” Ingrid said. The cat was having the time of her life. “If you were turned into a cat, you wouldn’t have fun like that. Even if you really did have a cat brain, you’d be pretty freaked out. Wouldn’t you?”

Felix had to concede the point. Felix would be biting everything.

Dimitri was the last to arrive. He stopped short when he entered his own quarters, cape already halfway unlatched, and stared blankly at the assembly. Everybody else turned to look at Ingrid, who raised her hands in a plea for innocence. 

“I told him! I mentioned it twice.”

“Forgive me. My mind was somewhat preoccupied today.” Dimitri slowly finished unlatching his cape, moving to toss it on the nearest flat surface. Annette twitched an eyebrow at him. He slowly hung up the cape on the hook near the door. “Good evening, all. You…brought B - the cat.”

“She is really just so precious.” Annette was sitting cross-legged with the sleeping Cat Byleth in her lap, scratching her behind the ears. “I’ve never met a sweeter cat. And she’s just so fluffy!”

“Right,” Dimitri said stiffly. He walked into the room, stiffly surveying the group. “Is the intervention necessary?”

“It’s more of a family meeting,” Sylvain said. Dimitri clearly mentally tacked ‘tactfully’ onto the end of that sentence. “I just figured we should put our heads together and figure this situation out, Your Majesty. And hey, it’s been almost a week since we were all in the same room!”

“That’s because Annette never leaves the tower,” Felix said blandly. 

“If it’s a family meeting, it’s Dimitri.” Dimitri disappeared into his closet and began changing clothing as Annette mimed aiming a Fire spell at Felix’s face. They had chased away Dimitri’s manservants, so Felix would have offered to help him remove the armor, but Dimitri had designed the armor specifically so he could remove it himself. Apparently he had found time to learn metalworking in his training schedule. Somehow. “Do the guards have any leads on my wife?”

“Nothing.” Ingrid looked a little uncomfortable. “We don’t want to cause a panic, so we’re searching in plain clothes, but some of them are beginning to grow concerned.”

“Annette, have you tried a tracking spell?”

“Yep. It completely fizzled out.” Quickly, Annette added, “Not as if she was dead! It was like a letter that was returned to the sender. It mystified the hell out of me. I couldn’t figure it out. I was considering writing Lysithea about it.”

Dimitri emerged from his closet, wearing far more casual and soft clothes. The cat’s ears twitched, and she opened her eyes and lifted her head to see Dimitri standing in front of the bed. She jumped out of Annette’s arms and bounded over to Dimitri, jumping up into his automatically outstretched arms. She immediately began rubbing her head against his chest, purring up a storm, and Dimitri very gingerly cradled her in his arms. 

Slowly, Dimitri said, “Felix, take the cat.”

“Don’t feel like it,” Felix said blandly. 

“Felix - !”

“You’re an adult, hold your own wife.”

“Did you feed her earlier or something?” Ingrid asked, fascinated. “Animals tend to hate you, Dimitri. But she’s so affectionate…”

Exceptionally gentle and slow, Dimitri stroked the cat’s fur backwards. Cat Byleth wriggled happily. “She’s liked me since I met her. If you all have any arguments to address my…thoughts, I would like to hear them.”

Sylvain and Felix looked at each other. They silently battled for their lives. Sylvain silently reminded Felix that he was the one who ruthlessly shut him down last night, and that this might make up for it. Felix silently cursed him out for being right, as usual.

“I have no idea how to say this in a way that doesn’t make me sound as insane as Dimitri,” Felix said bluntly. Better rip off the bandaid. “But Sylvain and I think Dimitri’s right. The cat’s definitely Byleth.”

The girls stared at Felix blankly. Dimitri’s eyebrows skyrocketed upwards. 

“Do you really think so?” Dimitri asked urgently. “Are you certain? What are your deductions?”

“We caught her fishing in Byleth’s fishing spot. She kills like Byleth kills. It’s a…distinctive sort of murder.” Sylvain sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t make it sound good either. It just feels so obvious. Man, I wish Mercedes was here. She’d have insight.”

“All three of you feel certain?” Ingrid asked. All three men nodded with varying levels of enthusiasm. She turned back to the cat, leaning forward and staring intently at it. After a heart-stopping minute, she said, “It would answer some persistent questions. If all of you are certain, I’ll trust you. Annette?”

Annette hummed, tapping her chin. “Magic can’t turn humans into cats. But Lady Byleth is no ordinary human. And…we were playing around with a lot of highly experimental spells yesterday…yeah, this isn’t making me sound great.”

“We all vote that this cat is my wife?” The room nodded as one. Dimitri slumped, tension unwinding from his frame as he exhaled. “Thank the goddess. I was so damn worried…thank the goddess, truly.”

“Was that really the problem here?” Sylvain asked. “Not the wife cat situation?”

Dimitri’s expression tightened unhappily. “I deny it sometimes, Sylvain, but I can tell when my mind is cloudy. Having delusions like this while knowing my mind is clear…it made me doubt a lot of things. I’ve been unsettled all day.”

Damn it. Felix felt horrible. “It’s not on you, Dimitri. I completely shut you down last night. I know you don’t want me humoring you, but I should have heard you out.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dimitri said, absolutely predictably. “I’m hardly a - a reliable source. Really, considering how I betrayed your trust in me as a friend and leader, I couldn’t possibly ask you to trust me at all, let alone in such a ridiculous situation -”

Fantastic, Felix no longer felt bad. “Shut the fuck up, you’re so annoying. Aren’t you done with your apology tour by now?”

Dimitri scowled at him. “I’ll stop apologizing when I stop doing things to apologize for.”

“You never feel guilty for the right thing, you know that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You two are far too old for this,” Sylvain said severely, and both men shut up. “Felix, save the tough love for when Byleth isn’t a cat. Dimitri, wait until Byleth’s finished being a cat before you start self-flagellating again. Annette, were you really hitting Lady Byleth with random spells yesterday?”

Annette, the true wrong-doer in the situation, abruptly looked a little shifty. “It was scientific experimentation.”

“On the queen of  Faerghus?”

“She said she was bored!”

“So you turned her into a cat?”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Annette cried. “I was trying to invent a spell to improve eyesight! How was I supposed to know it would turn the queen of  Faerghus into a cat?” She drooped, crushed by the weight of her own sins. “Oh, I never should have tried mixing Reason and Fate theorems into the same proof. This is what happens when we try getting experimental…I’m so sorry, Dimitri. And Byleth.”

“Magic can’t turn people into cats,” Felix hissed. “You’re doing fake magic.”

“It’s not fake if it works! You’re just a classicist.”

“Improvisation magic doesn’t create new theorems, it creates explosions. And cats.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous I managed to turn the Professor into a cat and you couldn’t.”

“I could turn Byleth into a cat if I wanted -”

“If I was literally any other king,” Dimitri ground out, strangled, “and you were any other court magician, you would be fired at best for using the queen as an experimental subject. My grandfather executed court magicians for less.”

Felix straightened, scowling. “Are you threatening my wife -”

“Shut the fuck up for once, Felix!” Sylvain snapped. “You can’t threaten the king!”

“Oh, you’re always taking his side -”

“You’re always making me point out the absolute obvious -”

Dimitri scowled, looking away. “I was the one pointing out the obvious. I wasn’t threatening - that wasn’t the intention, Annette, I just -”

“It’s alright,” Annette said miserably. “You’re right. I got too excited and stopped thinking things through again. I’m a failure as a court magician.”

“You’re the most talented magician I know, Annette,” Dimitri said, all soppy earnest. Ugh. As if he wasn’t totally threatening her a second ago. “You aren’t a failure at all. I admire you greatly.”

“Aw, Dimitri. Thank you -”

“But if you fail in un-catting my wife you are in very serious trouble with the royal family of Fodlan.”

“See!” Felix cried, throwing out a hand. “An obvious threat!”

Cat Byleth meowed disapprovingly. She blinked at them, somehow with great intention. Everybody fell silent in absolute shame and mumbled apologies. Dimitri was a little red.

Finally, Ingrid coughed a little. “I think we can all agree some mistakes have been made tonight.” Everybody looked at the floor. “Let’s just focus on solving the problem. Your Majesty?”

“Right.” Dimitri kissed the top of Cat Byleth’s head, making her mrrp adorably. “Annette, you drop everything you’re doing and fix her as soon as possible.” Annette opened her mouth, ready to argue on behalf of her three other deadlines. She had moaned about the imminent book chapter final submission deadline for a week. “That’s an order. If you miss a deadline then tell them to take it up with me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I just hope I can.” Annette picked at the luxurious comforter, desolate. “This happened because I used Faith magic beyond my level of expertise. A novice can tangle a knot in seconds that a master would take hours to fix. I wish Mercedes was here…she knows enough about white and black magic to diagnose the problem immediately.”

“Is she the only Gremory in Fhirdiad?”

“She’s one of seven in Fodlan, and four of them are in Adrestia. Two are in the ex-Alliance. She’s the only Gremory in  Faerghus.” Annette muttered something uncomplimentary about Adrestria hoarding all of the good magicians.

“Then bring Mercedes here. Requisition the Adrestian mages if you have to.”

Sylvain straightened, eyes widening. “She’s over two weeks travel away, Dimitri.”

Dimitri looked back to Annette, who was clearly falling into despair. “Can you fix her yourself, Annette?”

Annette hesitated, biting her lip. “If I study hard, maybe. Or I might turn her into a smaller cat…or I might blow her up…”

“We’re calling in Mercedes. If Byleth is a cat for two weeks, then she’s a cat for two weeks.” Dimitri glanced at Sylvain for the first time, thoughtful. “Ask her to bring Felipe. Might as well make something good out of this. I still haven’t met him yet.” 

“Aaaa,” Sylvain said.

“You haven’t?” Ingrid asked, surprised. “But you gave him that ridiculous birthday gift.”

“There is no point to conquering a country if you can’t give its smaller islands to a baby,” Dimitri said stiffly. “I want to meet him. I also want this problem fixed.” He looked sternly at Annette and Felix, who abruptly both looked at the ceiling. “This was an accident, and accidents happen. I do not intend for anybody to find out about this. I don’t intend on punishing anybody right now. But if the accident is not fixed I will hold the house of Fraldarius responsible. And yes, Felix. That is a threat.”

“That’s fair,” Annette said, desolate beyond what her peppy little heart deserved. “I really am sorry, Your Majesty.”

Dimitri softened, and he held the cat a little closer to his chest. “It’s still Dimitri. Trust me, Annette. This would be an inconsequential matter if it was only myself. But it’s Byleth’s safety that I’m worried about. I have to take that seriously.”

“We all do,” Ingrid said gently. “We’re all just as worried as you, Dimitri. We’ll work together on fixing this. There’s nothing Mercedes can’t do, so we’ll just have to hang on until then.”

Felix was not just as worried as the rest of them. But this was severely not the time or place to say so. He just nodded solemnly with everybody else. 

“And please have somebody keep an eye on her. I don’t want her run over by a carriage or eaten by wolves.” Something disturbing clearly occurred to Dimitri. “Or want kitten children.”

“Ew,” Annette said.

“I’d love them anyway, of course,” Dimitri continued to himself. “But it would still be strange. They couldn’t exactly have a place in the line of succession…but we couldn’t just give them away…”

“What if she was pregnant when she got turned into a cat?” Felix asked, bored. “She could give birth to kittens that are genetically yours.”

“Oh, goddess,” Dimitri said, paling, “she totally could.”

“She could not, I’m obviously fucking with you -”

Sylvain just looked pained. “Felix, please stop teasing Dimitri.”

“But it’s so easy.”

And then they were all off again, and Cat Byleth took a luxurious nap to the sound of her students’ incessant bickering. 

***

Felix had a small secret: he wasn’t really all that worried.

He also wasn’t seventeen anymore, and he now understood that certain sentiments had a certain time and a place. Annette’s well-intentioned carelessness had already put them both in hot water with Dimitri - it would push their luck if Felix was seen acting as if this was a good thing. It was, in fact, somewhat dangerous - Felix had faith in Byleth’s ability to win in a territory fight against another animal, but he didn’t like her odds against a carriage or a monster. But Byleth had survived much less stupid situations than this, and Felix had decided to kick up his heels and relax. This was, after all, a good thing.

It was obvious. Felix would wonder why nobody else saw it, but he knew how oblivious and self-absorbed everybody else was. They were all too wrapped up in their own stress and projecting all of it to realize the straightforward truth. Mercedes would notice, but she was a handy second reason why this was a good thing. She would agree with Felix immediately: that Byleth was honestly living her best life. 

Despite what the overgrown children around him thought, Byleth didn’t actually live to work. Byleth’s ideal day - as recited during a Special Tea Time years ago - consisted of training for a few hours in the morning, fishing for eight hours, eating three giant meals, sitting in companionable silence with Dimitri, and holding a Blue Lions sleepover at night. Three naps had been mandatory: one at ten in the morning, another at two in the afternoon after a big lunch, and another at five in the afternoon after a hard day fishing. 

The woman was the queen of  Faerghus slash Fodlan and had no opportunity to spend all day doing nothing but fish. She was busy every second, and had been for as long as Felix knew her. There was no such thing as a day spent lazing around in Byleth’s world. In a cat’s…

So far as Felix could tell, Cat Byleth did nothing other than hunt, sleep, and cuddle with them. Felix figured that it was actively mean to undo this spell too quickly. He knew better than to vocalize this opinion. Mercedes would agree with him. 

Some people were meant to be born a Lagunz or beastkin or something. This was probably righting a natural order of things. Maybe restoring Byleth to cat-hood would lift the curse on the Fraldarius family bloodline. Which Glenn might have invented to tease him, but it was real, damn it. 

“Look,” Felix told his lovely wife, “I’m just saying. We still don’t know where the hell she came from. It’s not physically possible for a person to develop human emotion after they finished puberty. And Seteth kept saying that Jeralt hadn’t aged a day in twenty years. You know what species ages slowly?”

His lovely wife hadn’t been accommodating. “Goodness, Felix, not another one of your conspiracy theories.”

“Conspiracy theories?” Felix had yelled, throwing up his hands. “What conspiracy theories? You mean my famous conspiracy theory, the one where Dimitri’s -” A violently vengeful murder-happy psycho with severe mental problems, which Felix didn’t feel comfortable saying anymore. He hadn’t vocalized a thirst for murder in more than a year. “ - you know. That one? The true one? The fact?”

“There’s a perfectly good explanation for why Lady Byleth is a freak of nature,” Annette said primly. “She told me herself.”

“Yeah? What was it?”

Annette halted. “Uh. You know, the picture was a little unclear…”

“You know what’s clear as crystal to me?!”

Maybe Annette hadn’t turned Byleth into a cat after all. Maybe she had just disrupted the magic creating a human form. Maybe this was Byleth’s natural state. Strangely, nobody wanted to hear this. 

Regardless, it wasn’t a safe situation. A ten pound apex predator was still ten pounds, and no matter how proficient she was against prey or other cats she wouldn’t match up to a cart or a horse. Dimitri was still unironically fretting about boy cats, and for once his paranoia was disturbingly plausible. The Blue Lions were busy people, but they could keep a 24/7 eye on a cat, right?

Annette tried keeping Cat Byleth locked in her mage’s tower. Cat Byleth escaped twice, knocked over expensive potion ingredients three times, and almost ingested a potion that would not have sat well with a cat’s delicate stomach. At the risk of Dimitri smiting their house with a lightning bolt, Annette was in no position to keep an eye on her.

Neither were the rest of them, who were far too mobile around the castle. Trying to keep her inside their chambers, even Dimitri’s gigantic ones, was hugely unsuccessful - when she wasn’t meowing miserably she was pulling objectively impressive escape attempts. They all silently wished that they had some sort of tactical genius or something around to solve their problems for them. Their two best tacticians were physically and emotionally compromised again. Time to pull in their tied third best tacticians. Or just one of their third best tacticians - Annette had been banned from further ideas, lest she make things worse again. 

“It’s alright,” Sylvain said grimly. “I have an idea.” 

“Oh boy,” Felix said. “I’m looking forward to this one.”

The idea involved a trembling servant boy. Balad was around fourteen years old, and clearly from Duscur - a beneficiary of Dimitri’s affirmative action hiring policies. The castle had a school for servant children and children of servants and everything. Insane quantity of orphans in this castle. Man never stopped projecting.

“This is a cat,” Sylvain told Balad. He passed Cat Byleth to Balad, who accepted her with a trembling sincerity. “This cat is your new job. Do not let her out of your sight. I’ve spoken with the chamberlain, so this is your only job for the next few weeks.” He stared Balad down firmly, who was already staring down his doom into Cat Byleth’s guileless eyes. “This cat’s safety is of paramount importance. Do you understand, Balad? We’ll give you a big reward for looking after her, but if anything happens you’ll get in big trouble.”

Balad stiffened, holding the cat closely to his chest. Byleth liked children, and she immediately began snuggling in Balad’s arms. “Y - yes, my lord! I will put my life on the line!”

“Normally that would be a pretty extreme thing to say,” Felix yawned. “But in this instance…yup.”

Balad looked down at Cat Byleth as if her large eyes held the future. Cat Byleth mrrp’d. 

Felix remembered youth. How unpleasant and depressing youth had been. Everything had been life or death, even the actual life or death bits. There was a reason they’d put an immigrant teenage boy on the job - a knight would have eventually thought to himself, ‘This is just a cat, it’s ridiculous. Surely it can’t be that big of a deal’. But an immigrant teenage boy with his job on the line was probably convinced his life was on the line, and he would apply himself to the task with attentiveness five times greater than a knight could hope to reach. Felix and Sylvain knew this intimately - it was straight out of the Professor’s playbook.

Still, you had to miss the unique adventures that only a fourteen year old could have. Felix was a boring adult and wasn’t privy to a single one, but he occasionally held the privilege of catching glimpses out of whatever stupid shit poor Balad was dealing with that day. 

Over the next two weeks, Felix saw: Balad hanging upside down from the rafters, Cat Byleth precariously held in his arms. Balad bravely rescuing Cat Byleth from the overly affectionate arms of a small gaggle of five year old girls. Balad in the cathedral, teaching Cat Byleth Duscurian prayer rituals. And, obviously, chasing after her as she ran through the kitchen and got paw prints in the flour. 

Felix had the privilege of interrupting that one. He was passing by the kitchen as he heard a great commotion and sequence of crashes, and after a few seconds of exhausted deliberation he figured that he ought to do something about it. Felix looped around until he stood in front of the double entry doors in the staff mess area, crossing his arms and waiting patiently.

His patience bore fruit only a minute later. The doors blew open as a cat rushed out at breakneck speed, and Felix silently squatted down and grabbed the cat out of midair. Felix held her by the stomach with both hands and held her up for scrutiny, letting her dangle in the air. She was covered in tomato sauce, flour, and flecks of spinach.

“Having fun?” 

Cat Byleth meowed. She was having the time of her fucking life.

Balad burst through the doors at a dead run only a few seconds after her, and by the time he saw Felix it was too late. Felix, prepared for this, steadied himself and held Cat Byleth out of the way just as Balad collided in a crash-course into Felix, falling back onto his ass as Felix swayed with the motion. 

Balad groaned, rubbing his head and cursing people who stood around useless in halls under his breath. He opened his eyes and witnessed the person standing uselessly in a hall, eyes traveling slowly upwards as he saw Felix holding Cat Byleth and looking down at him with an arched eyebrow. 

Slowly, Felix said, “Missing something?”

“Aaaa,” Balad said.

Felix sighed, holding Cat Byleth up until they made eye contact. He shook her lightly. She swayed happily with the motion. “I’m happy you’re having fun. Really. But do you have to torment serving boys like this?” Cat Byleth meowed happily. “Can’t fault you for honesty, I suppose.”

“I didn’t lose her!” Balad scrambled upwards, panting for breath. There was a clump of dough in his hair, and one of his shoes was lost. “She just - um - I’m sorry, Lord Fraldarius, I swear I had my eyes on her!”

“I believe you,” Felix said, amused. The kid’s determination was beyond admirable. “This one enjoys challenging young people. She thinks it builds character.” He returned Cat Byleth to Balad, who took her with a practiced ease and allowed her to curl up in his arms. “I hope she hasn’t pushed you beyond your limits.”

Balad shook his head fervently, hoisting Byleth in his arms. “This is just practice for knighthood!” Oh, no. This was adorable. “A knight of  Faerghus protects the whole continent - and there’s no creature too small for the first Duscurian Knight to protect, I think - so Eisner���s just good practice!”

Felix’s eyebrows jumped up. “Eisner? As in the queen?”

Far too late, Balad’s eyes widened. Had he overheard them speaking? Serving boys knew when and where to gossip - had he told anybody? “Oh, I’m - I’m sorry, my lord! I apologize! It’s just that - well, it’s just that Eisner really reminds me of Her Grace. Something in her eyes…it’s ordinary to name cats after people you admire in Duscur, my lord, but if it’s disrespectful in  Faerghus - oh, I bet it is disrespectful in  Faerghus -”

“I think Her Grace would be flattered,” Felix said. Balad, who had already begun working himself up into an anxious spiral, abruptly deflated. “The first Duscurian Knight?”

Balad blushed a little, bouncing Cat Byleth and looking at the ground. “Don’t pay that any mind, my lord. Ever since His Majesty made new laws saying foreigners could be knights…no dream comes true if you sit around hoping for it, right? I don’t know a sword, but even I can practice being virtuous…but please pay that no mind, my lord.”

Wow. No wonder Cat Byleth was giving him a hard time.

Felix leaned down, making a show of tilting his ear towards Cat Byleth. “What was that?” Cat Byleth purred. “I see. You’re absolutely sure?” Cat Byleth yawned. “I couldn’t agree more.” Felix straightened, clasping his hands beyond his back and looking seriously down at Balad. “Eisner has spoken. She really thinks you’re Blue Lion material.”

Balad’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “The Blue Lions? Like - like your elite front line combat squadron? The revolutionary heroes?”

“We were students at Garreg Mach first.” Felix propped a hand on his hip, and he allowed himself a half-smile. “The Knight Captain of the Imperial Guard started out as a rebellious student with a dream. And the Royal Spymaster began as a commoner who used the skills he learned on the street to become a hero. They didn’t have anything you don’t have. If you train hard enough, you can protect what’s important to you. That’s all there is to being a Blue Lion. Even a cat knows that.”

Young kids like Balad didn’t associate the Blue Lions with Garreg Mach anymore. Yuri had already begun planning the major changes he’d make to the Academy once Seteth officially let go of the reins of the school and officially transitioned into his new role as Archbishop, and after some requests from Dimitri and Byleth he grew confident enough to start planning the complete overhaul. Yuri had been the first of anybody to see it, but it was Dimitri and Byleth who told everybody else - that there was no unity and cohesion among the continent when the houses grouped into national insularity. And murdered each other later. That put a damper on school spirit.

When something as awful as the Blue Lions could happen - when an institution could produce students who trusted nobody but their own neighbors, who isolated themselves so thoroughly that they could grow up and slaughter their classmates without a second thought. When the Golden Deer and Black Eagles could do the same. In some ways, Byleth Eisner was the greatest and final failure of Garreg Mach.

Besides. They didn’t really have three countries anymore. There was that little detail. 

The four new houses held students from all over the continent. Students from Faerghus, the ex-Alliance territories, and the Territory of Adrestria attended the same houses and mingled in the same classes. There were reserved spots for exchange students from Brigid, Almyra, and even Sreng. A new definition of unity, to be sure, but they could only hope it would be a little more effective. Time would tell.

Poor Balad’s eyes were as big as dinner plates. Felix really hoped that the kid wouldn’t internalize these words or something. He was just saying shit. “Wow. Thank you, Lord Fraldarius.” He held Cat Byleth up to eye level, and he smiled for the first time. “What do you think, Eisner? Want to teach me how to be a Blue Lion?”

Cat Byleth meowed. 

Balad grinned, and in an unselfconscious burst of joy he nuzzled her sticky forehead. “I knew I could count on you. The god of trials must have sent you to me.”

Fantastic back-handed compliment. Felix would have to remember that one. “Hey, kid. Do you know any Duscur curse words? Lord Dedue and Lady Mercedes refuse to teach me any -”

With impeccable timing, Cat Byleth jumped out of Balad’s arms and began sprinting down the hall. Balad cried in dismay, and with less than a second’s hesitation he set out after her in a dead run. 

“Wait!” Balad called. “You need a bath, Eisner!”

Cat Byleth’s run turned into a sprint.

Felix watched them go, hands in his pockets. He had always wondered if Lady Byleth would ever take on another group of students. Queens had better things to do, and the continent probably couldn’t handle another year of her teaching style, so Felix had given up and decided it was for the best.

If this was her way of collecting more students, then a retired life was definitely for the best. 

Oh, well. Definitely Sylvain’s problem. 

***

Two and a half weeks after Her Grace Byleth Eisner Blaiddyd’s Great Catting, Mercedes and Felipe Gautier and Dedue Molinaro arrived at the castle. Happy as he was to see his family, these events were definitely Sylvain’s problem.

Hosting visitors as nobility was a huge production, and as usual royalty was twice as bad. They dressed up Mercedes’ visit as just a wife visiting her husband, backflipping out of making it a big thing, but Mercedes’ carriage still pulled up to the outside of the castle and met a giant team of servants, staff, and the Blue Lions themselves. 

Sylvain, standing next to Felix with his hands folded behind his back, was tapping his foot. Then looking at the carriage advancing on them, then checking his watch. Then running his hand through his hair. Then looking at the carriage again.

Felix elbowed him. Sylvain elbowed him back. Felix elbowed him again, harder.

“It’s fine.” Sylvain had a wonderful habit of manifesting his reality. It was the confidence. “I’m excited to see them. It’s great. What if he doesn’t like me?”

  “Dedue? If he was going to stop liking you, it would have happened after the second mock-battle dorm party.”

They both knew that Felix knew who Sylvain was actually talking about, so Sylvain ignored him. “I mean, how hard can it be to win over a baby? You just give them toys, right? What if he likes me too much, and gets upset when I’m not there? Is this a no-win situation?” 

“I think this has been a no-win situation for a while,” Felix said, maybe tactfully. 

According to the professor, in a no-win scenario you shifted your goals from victory towards survival. You stop trying to maximize ground or fortresses captured and start focusing on pulling back and saving fats from the fire. You couldn’t stop the blow, so you just protected yourself against it. It was a strategy Sylvain had understood perfectly well - it was the strategy Sylvain used to live his life, and it always had been. Babies included.

Sylvain’s face twisted, but if he had anything smart to say he didn’t get the chance. The carriage came to a full halt, and the small flight of footmen opened the door and helped the noble lady descend the stairs. 

It was Mercedes, baby strapped to her back and smiling widely at them, and Sylvain lost all sense of propriety.

He lurched forward, pushing through the crowd and flying down the castle steps. He was supposed to wait for Dimitri to greet her, for some sort of official reception - but the same Sylvain who fretted for days over her arrival couldn’t wait one more second. Mercedes’ smile turned into a grin, and when Sylvain wrapped her in a hug she eagerly reciprocated. They stood there together, clinging onto each other, for the scarce few seconds Mercedes and Sylvain would ever allow themselves, before separating.

Miracle of miracles, Mercedes even unfolded Felipe from her back and balanced him on her hip. Whoah. He had gotten huge. Felipe sucked on a fist, watching the proceedings with wide eyes, and Sylvain bent over him for a few seconds. Mercedes and Sylvain’s body blocked Felix’s view, and whatever look may have been on Sylvain’s face or how Felipe may have reacted was lost to all but the two of them.

Then Dedue stepped out, as hulking and stone-faced as always. He looked good, tanned and relaxed. He was dressed in the clothing of his homeland - an interesting bit of political messaging. Felix glanced to his right, and completely predictably saw Dimitri grinning widely. He was clearly about two seconds from running up and hugging him too. Great. 

It wasn’t that Felix had a problem with Dedue. His personality was completely inoffensive, which wasn’t something you could say about Felix. As a comrade on the field, he was second-to-none. And he was a Blue Lion - ‘nuff said. Felix would die for the guy, the guy would die for him, etc. 

But Felix really didn’t think he was a good friend. Nobody who saw Dimitri suffer like that for years and helped him grow worse was anything resembling a good friend. Maybe if he saw Dimitri during those five years and fucking hand-fed him like the rest of them he would have realized the impact of the choices he’d made, but the guy had been a little busy living in hiding after he sacrificed his life for Dimitri’s. Which was why it was a little hard to hate him. Ugh. Felix was so brave for not picking a fight about this. 

“Lady Gautier!” Dimitri called, his usually monotone voice tinged with an emotion that made it seem positively jovial. “Lord Molinaro! Well met! I trust your trip was uneventful?”

Mercedes curtseyed, in an impressive balancing act with the baby in her arm. “Greetings from House Gautier to His Majesty. We’re happy to answer His Majesty’s summons. Our trip was delightful.”

Dedue bowed, stiff as ever. “I am honored by the invitation, Your Majesty. Blessings from Duscur unto  Faerghus.”

“Good! The servants will set you up. Now, for the most important business.” Dimitri stepped forward, descending the steps, and Mercedes and Dedue walked up to meet him. Sylvain hastily followed, hovering at Mercedes’ elbow.

Dimitri clasped Dedue’s hand, hugging him fiercely. Said a lot about Dedue’s sheer bulk that he handled a hug from Dimitri so tightly, but Felix knew Dedue gripped onto him just as tightly. They embraced closer than any lord and vassal ever would, probably more than two friends might, and they hung onto each other for just a little bit longer. 

They separated, Dimitri’s eye bright, and he clasped Dedue’s arm a final time. “You look well.” 

“I am, Your Majesty.”

“I was surprised that you elected to join Mercedes. Last time I checked the orphanage and school needed constant supervision.” 

“I am pleased to say that they have grown stable. We left them in the capable hands of our staff. Viscount Meroe asked me to approach you regarding several matters.”

‘Ownership’ of Duscur had been neatly stripped from Viscount Kleiman and given to the elected leader of the surviving Duscuran people, who quickly re-assembled a stripped-down version of their old government. The woman was pants-shittingly terrifying and Felix had to fight the urge to give her whatever she wanted just to make her go away each time she showed up. Dedue was highly placed in their new government, but his primary role was as a link between Duscur and the king. He seemed happiest co-leading the orphanage and school with Mercedes, but the guy was the type to put duty before pleasure.

“I’ll have my secretary contact you and we can have a long conversation.” Dimitri gave him a final clap on the shoulder before turning to Mercedes and Sylvain, smile brightening. “Now! Most importantly! Do I finally have the honor of meeting the heir of House Gautier?”

Mercedes giggled, approaching Dimitri and presenting Felipe with faux-ceremony. “The honor is ours. Your Majesty, I’d like to present the young lord Felipe Emilie Gautier. Felipe, this is Uncle Dimitri. Say hello, Felipe!”

Felipe sucked on a knuckle. The kid had been pretty squishy and raisin-like when Felix first saw him, but even Felix had to admit now that he was an objectively beautiful, adorable child. It was the fantastic genes. Kid could have walked out of a painting. One of the twee ones. 

“Bah bah?” Felipe asked the king of the continent. 

“This is the perfect child,” the king of the continent decided.

Mercedes laughed, bouncing Felipe lightly on her hip. “You flatter us, Your Majesty. He’s certainly perfect to us.”

“I think it’s objective,” Dimitri said, almost heated. Ingrid, standing on the other end of the courtyard from Felix, made an exhausted face at Felix. Felix mimed shooting himself with his fingers. Annette had the right idea preparing their surprise cake in the kitchen. “I can’t believe I never met him before. He’s adorable, you two! He’s chubby! And look at his hair! He seems so soft!”

“Burble burble wah,” Felipe asserted.

“When is his next birthday?” Dimitri demanded. “A month? Can he have it here? How long do you think it’ll take before he can call me Uncle Dimitri?”

“Certainly not for a while,” Sylvain said, exasperated. Mercedes was outright laughing now. Dedue was hiding a smile behind a hand. “Do you want to hold hi -”

“Absolutely not. But come inside, he must be tired. You all must be tired. The servants told me we have baby accouterments for guests, but let the chamberlain know if you need anything and we’ll have it brought right away.” Abruptly, almost stressed, Dimtiri said, “Can he understand what I’m saying yet? What is his level of linguistic proficiency?”

Dedue sighed, badly fighting a smile. “Not much, but sometimes he surprises you. I believe he understands Duscuran better than the language of Fodlan.” Sylvain’s eyebrows rocketed upwards, and Dedue nodded in half-apology. “Mercedes and I try to speak Adrestian to him at home, but because he lives in Duscur I believe he’s more comfortable with our language.”

“He’s multicultural,” Dimitri whispered.

“Ah,” Sylvain said. “I didn’t - really think about that.”

Dimitri said something very seriously to Felipe in Duscuran. 

“Wah wah wah,” Felipe agreed.

“Did he understand that?!”

“Can we please go inside,” Felix said. “Please.”

***

Balad sat in front of the high nobility of  Faerghus, quaking in his boots and holding a cat. 

He was sat on a stool at Annette’s workbench, tasked with the vital job of keeping Cat Byleth still while Mercedes carefully inspected her. The child was not coping well with almost the entire assembled original Blue Lions in front of him, but he was keeping a stiff upper lip about the matter. He seemed to have decided that, so long as he didn’t say a single word, they couldn’t chop his head off. Bizarrely, Balad sat closest to Felix and made sad eyes at him when he tried to get up and leave. 

Mercedes hummed, finally closing out the diagnostic spells. She had been scrutinizing the cat for a solid ten minutes, which was longer than it took her to identify most poisons. She leaned back on her stool, exhaling heavily.

“I’m glad you waited for me to arrive, Annie.” The words were completely innocuous. Annette’s face fell. Everybody hissed. “Don’t worry, the magic isn’t dangerous. It’s just a little tricky. If you give me a day to write the counter-spell, I can have her all fixed up in half an hour.”

Dimitri brightened. He was sitting next to Balad, giving the boy a constant low-level heart attack. “Really? You’re a lifesaver, Mercedes!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” the woman who single handedly prevented five plague outbreaks and significantly contributed to ending a war said. “And please don’t be too hard on yourself over this, Annie. Every great inventor blows up a few labs here and there! Why, just the other day, Coco wrote to tell me how the entire kitchen was -” “We really let those rat people teach the future leaders of Fodlan, huh?” Felix muttered. 

Sylvain arched an eyebrow at him. “I think it was a great idea. You couldn’t find a group of people more dedicated to Garreg Mach. Or a more neutral party.”

“Yeah,” Felix panned, “they hate all of Fodlan equally.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Thank the Goddess,” Annette sighed. Poor woman was exhausted - Felix had barely seen her the last two weeks. “I’m never getting experimental again. It’s just not worth all the stress.” She paused a second in thought before adding, “Of course, this was a practically unprecedented spell. Faith/Reason magic is a highly under-studied field. If I could recreate it, maybe I could publish a paper on -”

“No!” Everyone shouted in unison.

Everybody but Felix, who just yawned. “Beat you to it. Wrote a thesis on transformation magic for extra credit near the end of school. Lady Byleth gave me a new sword as a reward.”

“Damn it, Felix! Why are you always trying to one-up me?”

“I don’t have to try.”

Annette looked at Ingrid, who leaned against a spare workbench next to him. “I forgot how she used to give us new weaponry if we learned a subject well. I thought good grades were good enough for most students…”

“Did any of us really care about grades by the end of it?” Ingrid asked wryly. “The closest Lady Byleth could get to educating Dimitri was locking him in the classroom with us and seeing how long he could last before he started pacing around the room.”

Dedue said something sternly to Balad in their language, making Balad pale and stutter something back. Ingrid abruptly remembered that little pitchers had big ears and shut up, a little embarrassed. 

But Dimitri just smiled at Balad and said something to him in perfect Duscuran. The kid stuttered something out too, but at a little more gentle prodding he began opening up. Dimitri pointed at Cat Byleth, who was napping peacefully in Balad’s arms, and Balad lifted her up and excitedly began chattering. Felix recognized that face by now - she had done something freakishly intelligent and Balad was very proud of her for it. Dimitri nodded, attention rapt.

Finally, when Balad sheepishly wrapped up his story, Dimitri switched back to their native language. “Regardless, I understand Sylvain promised you a good reward for your hard work. What would you like? You’ve done a fine job, so don’t be modest.”

“Oh. Um.” Balad scratched Cat Byleth’s ruff, looking down. “Does Eisner have an owner?”

Immediately, Dimitri said, “Not at all. She’s a free spirit.”

“She owns us, really,” Felix said.

“It’s an equal partnership, Felix!”

“Uh huh.”

“She’s a cat,” Ingrid said flatly. “She owns the castle.” Felix opened his mouth. “More so than usual.”

“Then…if it’s possible…” Balad flushed, but Felix saw him visibly screw up his courage. “...could I keep her?”

The entire assembled original Blue Lions stared at Balad.

He flushed deeper, but he held his ground. “I’d take really good care of her! It’s dangerous to be a stray cat, you know. There’s fleas and kitty gang fights. I’ve seen them myself. I think she’s gotten attached to me, too…maybe? It’s hard to tell with cats…but I really would be a good owner.” Balad turned up big cow eyes at Dimitri, who kept his now-usual poker face. “So…that’s the reward I’d ask for, Your Majesty.”

A long silence stretched across the room.

Dedue pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. He said something to Balad - something which probably wasn’t hostile or harsh, but was definitely unhappy. Balad paled. Dimitri quickly said something back to Dedue, with an intonation that sounded heavily like ‘don’t give him a hard time’. Dedue said something back, a little harder. 

Then Mercedes broke into laughter, and the spell was lifted. Every Blue Lion started wheezing. Mercedes buried her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter, and Sylvain was almost bent over in cackles. Annette was trying valiantly to keep a straight face, but her complexion almost turned red with the effort before she gave up and started snickering. Ingrid’s face was buried in her hands, wheezing. Felix smiled. 

In Adrestian, Dedue said, “It’s not funny.”

“Man,” Sylvain wheezed, “it’s so fucking funny.”

“It’s disrespectful.” Poor Balad paled considerably. “As a representative of our people, it is -”

“A misunderstanding,” Felix said, and he was surprised by the firmness of his tone. “He’s not representing your people, he’s fourteen. Trust me, anybody who wants to stick around that shithead cat is a saint.” 

“Felix!” Dimitri’s eyebrow twitched, scandalized. “Don’t call her a shithead!”

“Why not? She calls me a shithead.”

“Yes, but you don’t have the excuse of being a cat.”

Mercedes giggled again. “Aren’t cats sacred in Duscur? What’s more respectful than that?” 

Dedue sighed, still kneading his forehead, but for the first time his lip quirked upwards in a smile. “By that logic, I suppose a servant from Duscur was the best choice in the castle.”

The corner of Dimitri’s lip curled too, a subtle match for Dedue. “You can admit you find it funny too, Dedue.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Your Majesty.” 

“She wouldn’t mind.”

“She better not,” Felix said flatly. “This is her fault too. A mage should know better than to use experimental magic on themselves. Her magic’s unique, anyway - no wonder something this bizarre happened.” Something troubling occurred to Felix. “Maybe cats are sacred in Fodlan too…”

Mercedes straightened, eyes widening. “Felix, you’re right! This wouldn’t have happened without Her Grace’s sacred magical energy.” Yeah, because humans can’t turn into cats. “Maybe the Goddess is…oh, wouldn’t that be interesting? I have to tell Yuri.” 

Ingrid hummed thoughtfully. “That would explain all of the stray cats at the monastery.” 

“Sure,” Sylvain said flatly, “let’s incorporate this into our worldview. The Goddess is also a Goddess of cats. If we decide it’s true then it has to be. That’s how religion works.”

Annette shrugged helplessly. “If anybody gets to decide how religion works, isn’t it the vessel of the Goddess?”

“We’ll have to ask her later.” Dimitri looked down at the sleeping cat in Balad’s arms, eye softening. “Thank you for your hard work Mercedes. Knowing this ordeal will be over tomorrow is a fantastic relief. Perhaps we can enjoy a small break in the meantime.” Dimitri half-smiled, crooked and stiff. “So many of us Blue Lions are here. That hardly happens every day. I’ve already arranged for a large feast tonight, with Dedue and Mercy’s favorites - why don’t we take some time off and schedule an activity for the day after tomorrow? After Byleth is cured.” 

Ingrid brightened. “I could take a half-day. How about a picnic, Your Majesty?”

Dimitri’s eye crinkled. “Byleth would like that. I’m certain we could put something together. One second.” Dimitri looked to the right, at the stone wall. “Please, I’m in a meeting. You have to quiet down. I don’t know where your knife is.” He turned back to Sylvain. “I apologize for the interruption. What were we talking about?”

“Ingrid suggested we go on a picnic tomorrow, Your Majesty.”

Dimitri looked at the right wall again, brow furrowed, and didn’t say anything. 

“Your Majesty,” Dedue said, even and steadfast, “are you with us?”

Something was louder than Dedue, and Dimitri’s attention was caught. Sylvain and Felix exchanged glances, thinking the same thing in unison. Downplaying Dimitri’s condition was no longer a matter of the war effort, and most of the castle was aware that the king had a chronic illness that left him spacey and moody, but it was best that the servants outside of Dimitri’s inner circle of servants saw as little of it as possible. 

But Balad moved before either of them. Cat Byleth had woken up, paw batting in Dimitri’s direction, and Balad was carefully moving Cat Byleth from his lap to Dimitri’s. Cat Byleth eagerly slithered down from Balad’s grip into Dimitri’s lap, and she began pawing at Dimitri’s shirt immediately. 

An old, ugly memory flashed in Felix’s mind - the Professor crying out in pain as a rabid Dimitri grabbed her arm, wanting to feel angry but fighting an overwhelming crush of fear instead - and he found himself starting forwards too. 

But when Dimitri began absently petting Cat Byleth his touch was gentle, and his expression focused after only a few seconds of cuddling with her. He blinked hard, scratching Cat Byleth on the ruff, before looking back at the Blue Lions.

“Sorry, I must have dozed off.” Did he think that or was he instinctively trying to cover? It was always hard to tell. “I ought to…”

And, as always, Sylvain was right there in front of him. Already handling it all. “Rest? Of course, Your Majesty.” Sylvain quickly scooped Cat Byleth up from Dimitri’s lap, making her meow in protest, and deposited her back in Balad’s hastily outstretched arms. “The serving boy will entertain and play with Her Grace while you take it easy. Why don’t you take a nap or something and we’ll call you when the feast is ready?”

Dimitri scowled, but he allowed Sylvain to pull him up. “I’m perfectly fine, Sylvain.”

No doubt, but that wasn’t the point. Felix crossed his arms. “How much sleep did you get last night?” Dimitri looked at the ceiling. “Uh huh. If you want to be mentally present tomorrow instead of spacing out all the time, then you should get some rest.”

“Yes, yes.” Dimitri sighed, waving a hand. “You’re forbidden from working tomorrow, Sylvain. Spend the time with your family.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“How exciting,” Mercedes said, clapping her hands and smiling. “I’m going to make a nice big cake for the picnic tomorrow.” Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Yes, yes, after I fix Lady Byleth. Annie, are you thinking orange or lemon?”

“Can Dedue make something?” Annette burst out. “It’s been forever since I’ve had his cooking!”

Dedue sighed, smiling. “Of course. I was already planning the menu.”

Ingrid thrust her hand in the air. “That honey pastry, please! Double servings!”

“Mercedes has grown adept at making that dish as well.”

“Then you’ll both have to make some,” Sylvain decided. “So we can see whose is better, of course.”

“Oh, darling, there’s no need to grow competitive. Dedue’s the best cook I’ve ever known.” Mercedes paused an ominous beat. “But baking and cooking are two very different skills.”

“You do not know what you have walked into,” Dedue told Sylvain. Felix trusted him - Mercedes had a crazy glint in her eye. “Our culinary battle has grown fierce in the last few months.”

“Stir-crazy?” Sylvain asked sympathetically.

“Blame the infant.”

“Yikes,” Sylvain said, about his own infant. 

“That explains some things,” Dimitri said, clearly impressed despite himself. “After too long locked in a house with me, Mercedes would grow  - if you excuse the pejorative term, Lady Byleth - somewhat…catty at the markets?”

“You’re misremembering, Your Majesty,” Mercedes said beneficently. “That never happened.”

“I - ah, if you say so, perhaps…”

“That’s not ethical, Mercie,” Annette said.

“Oh? Does it turn Dimitri into a cat too?”

“That was almost three weeks ago!” Annette cried, throwing her hands up. “Why aren’t we over this yet? Are you going to bring it up forever?”

Sylvain pinched the bridge of his nose. “She is still a cat, Annie.”

“I knew it,” Balad whispered. 

***

Cat and baby faced each other across the field of battle.

Baby lay on his stomach, pushed upright on his two hands and gawking at his adversary. He reached out a hand, testing the reach of his weapon. 

The cat sat on her haunches, surveying the position of her enemy. She swiveled her head to stare at the neutral parties lying on their stomachs a few feet away watching them. She requested additional information from their scouts. The neutral parties shook their heads regretfully. This battlefield was her own.

The baby made the first move. He crawled forward, advancing on the cat’s captured territory (her side of the rug). In a shocking move, the baby babbled a long, incoherent stream of noise. The tone sounded friendly - was it a request for parley? Or was it a vow of battle? When the only language the two parties held in common was the language of death, perhaps all attempts at negotiation would be futile.

The cat uncurled, stretching forward and sniffing the baby hesitantly. Cautious as always, the cat was taking the time to gain a sense of the enemy’s strength. Or was it a tentative reciprocation of the baby’s gesture for peace? Was it possible for this fight to end without bloodshed? Would the sun set on a green and pristine field today, unmarred by splatters of blood? Was such a thing even imaginable?

Then, in the midst of negotiations, the baby struck. He reached out a chubby fist and grabbed the cat’s fluffy midnight blue fur. First blood went to him. War had begun. 

The cat’s counter-strike was instant. She batted at his hand, a light knock that was somehow reminiscent of hitting a student on the head with a wooden training sword. The baby felt the attack acutely, and withdrew his hand. The neutral parties readied themselves for a war cry of the wounded, but the baby only babbled at the cat again. This one was almost…recriminatory. Fascinating.

“Is he scolding her?” Felix asked.

“I thought she was scolding him,” Sylvain said. “Her claws aren’t out, right? She’s not going to scratch him? Maybe we should break this up.”

“Are you kidding? This is the funniest thing that’s happened to me in the last six months.”

The cat slunk forward - pressing her advantage, delivering a follow-up strike? The baby thrust out another hand, but it didn’t seem like an attack - more of a simple reach, almost an ache. The cat batted at his hand anyway. 

The baby stuck out his hand. The cat batted it away. 

The baby giggled. 

Sylvain groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. “Dimitri was right. He’s the cutest baby. I can’t believe it. It’s like he knows he’s adorable! He targets his cuteness whenever he wants something!”

Felix did not state the obvious. It hung loudly in the air between them.

“Shut up. It’s because he’s smart. Way smarter than me, probably. Did you know he started standing at only eight months? Apparently that’s really early. He has these little Duscuran picture books - apparently he loves them, do you think he’s going to become a big reader? - and when he wants Dedue to read them to him, he crawls over and starts trying to get the books from the bin himself. He fell into the bin that way! Isn’t that cute or what?”

The genius of the century crawled closer towards probably the smartest cat in Fodlan. With a great and terrible ceremony, the baby reached out and gently patted the cat’s fur. More like smacked, honestly, but the cat seemed to understand the intent. 

“He didn’t cry when he saw me.” There was something so awful and fragile on Sylvain’s face, too close to breaking to ever be called happiness. “I was terrified of that happening. I couldn’t stop imagining it. But he saw me, and he - he just looked curious, you know? Mercie says he’s a real curious kid. Always getting into stuff. Apparently every stranger is just a friend he hasn’t met yet! Can you believe it? He’s going to be a handful when he starts running around.”

Felix hummed, propping his chin on his hands. “Why are you so surprised that he’s a great kid? Did you think he’d be a terror?”

“I knew he’d be great,” Sylvain said, instantly defensive. “I just - I just didn’t realize I’d get so excited about it. I didn’t think it would make me feel this way. I thought I’d be immune or something.”

“To loving your own kid?”

“Do I love him?” 

Felix turned to look at Sylvain for the first time, incredulous. “Am I the person to ask about that?”

But Sylvain just shrugged, and for the first time Felix saw the strange shadow of desperation over his expression. “You’re always noticing things nobody else does, Felix. Do you think I love him?”

It was, obviously, a question Sylvain couldn’t answer on his own. The kid had arrived at the castle yesterday, and Sylvain had spent every second since then either hiding from him on the other side of the castle or glued to his side. At this moment, Annette and Mercedes were locked up in the magician’s tower writing the anti-cat counter-spell. For the first time in the little guy’s entire lifespan, Sylvain was babysitting. Normally Felix would say parenting, but he wasn’t certain this counted as parenting. How the hell was he supposed to know. 

Sylvain seemed acutely aware that he was babysitting instead of parenting. Say what you will about Sylvain, he wasn’t in denial about much. He tended to just ignore the feelings he didn’t like. Sylvain clutched onto his resentment with both hands, but Felix suspected that the emotion ran deeper and stronger than even Sylvain was aware of.

“I can’t answer that question for you.” It was the most obvious sentence in the world, but Sylvain sagged anyway. “Is it even important, anyway? The only thing that matters is your actions.”

Wryly, Sylvain said, “And as we’ve well established, my actions are shit.” He looked back at Felipe, who was heroically bridging the gap between their two factions. Cat Byleth was sniffing him curiously as he made cooing noises at her. “I thought I wouldn’t be capable of even liking him. Because - I thought my mind was too full up wondering how old I was when my mother sold me off.”

Cat Byleth rubbed Felipe’s face with her nose. Felipe laughed, tickled by the movement. 

“It was probably five months, right?” There was a bizarre edge of desperation to Sylvain’s voice, poisoned by time. “That’s when most noble babies get tested for their crest. But it’s a pretty expensive test - maybe she had to save up? Or did she tell my father about me soon after I was born, and did he pay for it? How much was she even paid, anyway?” Sylvain took a deep breath, and he was clearly surprised when it shuddered. “I couldn’t have been a good kid. I must have really been awful. I always figured that. But Felipe’s a good kid. So now I’m wondering - Felix, you know, I’m just kind of wondering if -”

Sylvain dropped his head, resting his forehead on the carpet, and breathed. Felix silently lay next to him. He watched Cat Byleth cuddle up around the baby, lying half on top of him with a paw stretched over his chest. Felipe was clearly already growing sleepy. Comfortable, safe, and warm - emotions only Byleth could make children feel. Only Byleth and mothers. 

Even in those dark days, as evil surrounded them and their leader lost his sanity. When Byleth stoked a fire in their classroom’s hearth and they spread their cots around the flames, Felix had felt warm. When they had stayed up late into the night talking and exchanging secrets, Felix had felt safe. As the wind whistled outside of the impenetrable stone walls, Annette’s head pillowed on his chest or Sylvain’s leg entwined with his - even Felix had felt comfortable. Even in those horrible days…

Felix didn’t say anything. He wasn’t Byleth. He didn’t understand, and he never could. Felix was the loved product of a loving couple. Losing Mother had felt like the Goddess reached into his chest and ripped his heart out. It wasn’t a wound he was born with. He had no wisdom or insight for this. In the end, Felix could only say the truth.

“You could ask her, you know. She’s probably still alive.”

Sylvain lifted his head, exhaling heavily. He rested his chin on the heel of his hand, watching the baby slowly lull himself to sleep. “Nah. It’s alright. That’s not really the point, you know?” Despite everything, Felix did know. Sylvain could see that. “Man. Remember the literal nightmares I used to have as a kid about getting babytrapped?”

Felix grimaced. “I remember when you woke me up asking if we had a kid.”

Sylvain ignored him, as he often did. “In my nightmares, I was always so disgusted looking at that baby. Holding it would make my skin crawl. But I don’t feel that at all looking at him now. Do you think it’s because he’s Mercie’s?”

“Who knows.” Felix had the feeling it was more because Felipe was the product of that loving and happy union, but this wasn’t his business. “So are you over your babyphobia now? Ready to be a dad?” Sylvain flinched hard. “That answers that question.”

Felipe’s little hands kneaded Byleth’s coat in his sleep. Byleth blinked slowly and sleepily - refusing to sleep while there was a child to watch out for. 

“I still get so uncomfortable just looking at him.” Despite his words, Sylvain didn’t look away from Cat Byleth and Felipe. “I can’t help it. That disgust…it’s not just the stuff of nightmares, Felix. I do feel it. I just didn’t know I would be disgusted with myself.”

“You know the best way to fix that, right?” Felix raised an eyebrow, and Sylvain awkwardly looked away from him. “Cowardice? In a Blue Lion? In front of Lady Byleth herself?”

Lady Byleth meowed. They both ignored her. 

“There’s never a reason to be afraid. Not so long as we’re here.” Felix reached out and gently elbowed Sylvain, hoping his elbows were as bony as his compatriots’. “Rule Three. Whatever help you need, we’ll give it. None of us fight alone. Felipe’ll have all of us. That simple enough for you?”

Sylvain sighed. “Knew I’d finally get you to say something useful.” He dodged Felix’s mock swing. “I know it, alright? Trust me, I’m already grateful. Dedue’s putting a lot of work into raising him too. I’m glad he has a male figure around.” Felix tsk’d. “Saints, you still don’t like Dedue?”

“He’s always been bad for Dimitri.” Sylvain opened his mouth, and Felix waved him off. “But Dimitri’s worse off without him, so I’ll deal. At least now we know Dimitri definitely wants kids. Not that we needed the confirmation.”

“He’s had their names picked out since he was seventeen,” Sylvain said, dead-eyed. Goddess, the guy was so fucking cringe. His daydreams about the Dimitri-Byleth idyllic perfect children were well-entrenched. But Sylvain hesitated a beat anyway, and Felix found himself sobering too. “If I tell you something, will you - uh, not tell anybody I said it?”

“I’ll do my best,” Felix panned, “but I don’t know how we’ll stop Felipe from tattling.”

“Very funny.” Sylvain picked at a cuticle, expression tight. After a few long moments, he finally said, “Do you think Dimitri’s really fit to be a parent?”

That was a question worth its weight in gold.

But it was also a pretty useless one. Dimitri was having kids. His family hadn’t been very large to begin with, and Cordelia had executed even his most distant cousins. If Dimitri didn’t have kids, it might be the extinction of his legal bloodline. Losing a crest as powerful as Dimitri’s was no joke, and Dimitri had a strong sense of royal duties. 

There was another question, one that Felix knew for a fact Dimitri worried about - if his children would inherit his illness. It was possible. They had hopes that Byleth’s fresh, good, and completely unrelated genes would reduce risk. Felix knew it had almost been enough to stop Dimitri from having the children at all. But Dimitri really did want those kids. He wanted it more than anything: that happily ever after. Finding that family lost. 

But Sylvain hadn’t asked if Dimitri would be having kids, or even if he should. He was wondering if Dimitri’s illness made him capable of being a parent at all. It was a stupid question too - maybe even stupider than the last. Sylvain never learned a thing. 

“Maybe not if he was doing it on his own,” Felix said bluntly. “But they’ll have two parents, idiot. And all of us. When Dimitri’s capable, he’ll be great. And when he’s not, Byleth and us will be here. What are you worrying about such useless things for? Get real problems.” 

And Sylvain just laughed. For a brief second, his faint wrinkles smoothed out, and he looked like the smartest and stupidest man alive again. “Man, we’re fucked up. It takes all of us combined to maybe competently raise only a slightly fucked up kid. Felipe and the future prince don’t stand a chance.”

“Don’t forget Annie’s spawn,” Felix panned. “We’ll have to throw in the towel then.”

“Nah, your kid’ll be fine. They’ll just have to learn how to be mean back.”

“What about Ingrid’s? We know what she’s like as a mother.” Left unsaid: she’d been mothering them all for years. Horrific.

Sylvain shivered. “Yeah, those ones will need our help.”

“As if we don’t have enough work to do.”

Cat Byleth yawned. She finally gave up the ghost and closed her eyes, resting her chin on the gently slumbering Felipe’s chest. Sylvain and Felix kept watch over them as they both slept, and they even stayed long after Felipe woke up crying from unknown nightmares.

***

Felix stood in front of a wooden door.

He stood in the abandoned hallway with the exhausted Sylvain, the stoic Dedue, and the antsy Balad. Felix didn’t know why they had to fucking wait outside while the girls and Dimitri got to stay inside. Something about how Lady Byleth would probably wake up without any clothes. Fucking so? They’d all seen each other naked.

Granted, nobody liked seeing Lady Byleth naked…and she was, objectively, the Queen of  Faerghus…fine, whatever. So Felix would stand outside like she was already having her baby. Poor Balad was clearly wondering how they hadn’t caught him out and sent him back to his chores by now. 

Sylvain scowled, taking a look at his pocketwatch for the fifth time. “It’s been an hour. That’s twice as long as Mercie said it would take.”

“It’s advanced magic,” Dedue said simply. “Give it time.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“And yet my answer remains the same.”

“But I’m bored!” Sylvain groaned. “I have so much work to do, I can’t stand around here forever -”

“I see where Felipe gets it from.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Felix looked down at Balad, who had been the picture of patience for an hour. “Don’t grow up like them.”

Balad blinked up at him, eyes wide and guileless. Please. Servants were the sneakiest people alive. Teenagers were even worse. “I can’t see how I would, my lord.”

Fair. Very fair. 

Before Sylvain could begin to protest the unfair treatment, green light flashed underneath the door. Felix’s eardrums popped, and an acrid smell hit his nostrils. Dedue made a face, and Sylvain obnoxiously coughed. Balad pinched his nose shut, but he looked up at Felix in abject excitement. 

“Did it work? Was that the counter-spell?”

Excited noises sounded from behind the door, and after a second Felix heard a familiar and welcome husky tone. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but grin.

“Yes on both counts, I believe.”

After five more agonizing minutes, the door opened. Byleth stood at the door, dressed in her exercise clothing of a simple shirt and trousers, blinking owlishly at the assembly behind the door. 

She was herself, as she ever was - mint-green hair and eyes, big eyes and placid expression, short stature standing tall. Still the youngest of them all at only twenty four, her air was still indescribably old. All things told - very much like a cat. 

Almost simultaneously, all three men bowed at her. 

“Greetings to Your Grace from our esteemed houses,” Sylvain said crisply, speaking for all of them. Dedue’s house wasn’t esteemed at all, but he slid into the greeting with his honorary baronage. “It’s a pleasure to see you well, Queen Byleth.”

Queen Byleth, Saintess of the Church of Seiros, Queen of  Faerghus-and-kinda-Fodlan, Professor of the House of Blue Lions, blinked at them.

Finally, her esteemed royal and holy personage said, “...a cat?”

Stoically, Sylvain said, “Yes, Your Grace.”

“...why?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask.”

Byleth slowly turned around, looking at the women assembled behind her. Dimitri hovered near the back of the pack, looking anxious.

At her gimlet eyes, the women hurriedly curtsied or bowed. They had probably been too busy with the check-ups and trousers to remember. Or, judging by Annette’s unusual efforts to lead the pack, were skirting responsibility. 

“May the Goddess’ blessing shine upon Your Grace,” Mercedes said smoothly. “I had nothing to do with you turning into a cat.”

“Greetings to Your Grace from House Fraldarius,” Annette said hurriedly. “House Fraldarius is willing to admit that perhaps -”

“Hey,” Felix said, “don’t drag me into this.” 

“ - two people were being irresponsible. Together. As a team.”

“For a month?” Byleth said. 

“As friends, even.”

“Your Grace!” Dimitri quickly weaseled his way through the crowd of women. He stopped in front of Byleth and bowed hurriedly, almost instinctively. “Greetings to Your Grace by His Majesty of Faerghus.” 

Sylvain groaned, clapping a hand over his eyes. “You outrank her -”

Dimtiri didn’t give a shit. “Are you sure you’re alright? Shouldn’t you sit down, my lady? You’ve had a large turn. Perhaps you ought to rest.”

“I feel quite well-rested.” Byleth patted Dimitri’s hand in thoughtful consideration. Dimitri made the most desolate kicked puppy expression. Byleth just turned back to the assembly, scrutinizing the line-up before breaking into a large smile. Well, it was a large smile for Byleth - to people who didn’t know her, it seemed like nothing else but a curl of the lips. “Dedue. Welcome back to  Faerghus.”

Dedue bowed again. He was the only one who maintained the formalities beyond the first few seconds. “It was a pleasure to return, Your Grace.”

Then Byleth’s gaze swiveled down to Balad. He stiffened, hurriedly bowing again and locking his eyes on the floor. She stepped forward and scrutinized him closely, holding her thumb to her chin. Did she recognize him? How much did she remember of the past month, anyway? With the benefit of long experience, Felix instantly knew that he wasn’t about to find out. Byleth never put any of her cards in play.

“Straighten up.”

Balad straightened, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor.

“Chin up too. Widen your stance a little.” Byleth unabashedly nudged him a little, and he awkwardly widened his stance. Balad looked ready to faint from fear, but Byleth either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She just hummed, looking him up and down closely. After a few heart-pounding seconds, she finally straightened and said, “There’s potential. Tomorrow morning, 0500 hours. Training hall. Don’t be late.”

“Oh, Goddess,” Annette said, “this poor kid.”

“That’s some reward for the boy’s help this month,” Mercedes said reproachfully.

“Do you remember him?” Sylvain asked urgently. “Your Grace, I asked this boy to keep an eye on you for the past month. Did you -”

“I remember enough,” Byleth said mysteriously. Great. That could mean anything. “0500 hours. Don’t be late.”

Balad hurriedly bowed again, face flaming red. “Yes, Your Grace!”

Felix crossed his arms. “Do you have time for another victim, Lady Byleth?”

But Byleth just looked at him, eyes glinting. “I don’t know, Felix,” Byleth said, “do I have time to be a cat for a month?”

Felix stared at her, unrepentant. Byleth stared at him, a focused assault.

Finally, Byleth said, “Join me in Annette’s office, Felix.”

Everybody paled, even Balad. Felix narrowed his eyes. 

Dimitri, relentlessly hovering around Byleth’s elbow, was almost wringing his hands. “Your Grace, let’s discuss this before you make any decisions.”

“His Majesty already said that he doesn’t intend to punish House Fraldarius,” Mercedes piped up, a little anxiously. “Are you mad at them, Your Grace?”

Annette’s face fell tragically. “Lady Byleth, I really am sorry…it was just an accident.”

“Felix knows what he did,” Byleth said mysteriously. She pointed inside the room. “Office. Now.”

Felix shrugged and entered the office as the women were shepherded fully outside. Annette looked strongly as if she wanted to speak with Felix and/or plan an escape route, but Felix just waved her off. 

Byleth closed the door resolutely behind her, letting it latch with a final click. Felix stood in the center of the room at loose attention, eyeing Byleth carefully. Byleth stood in front of him, arms folded and eyes sharp. 

They stared each other down for several long seconds - not so much a battle of wills as a mutual challenge. Byleth silently inquired if Felix wanted to defend himself first. Felix knew better than to self-incriminate.

Finally, Byleth said, “You wrote me a thesis on animal transfiguration in school.”

“That I did.”

“It was good.”

“Thank you.”

“Very good.”

“I know,” Felix said. “It was how I knew ordinary humans can’t turn into cats.” 

“I’m out of the ordinary,” the vessel of the Goddess said, straight faced. 

“Hence turning into a cat.”

“Your thesis included a proof on unwinding animal transfigurations.” Byleth’s piercing stare could have put a hole in Felix’s head. “Annette hit me with a modified Reason spell. You could have undid the transformation at any time.” 

“Please,” Felix said, “don’t flatter me. It would have taken a week.”

Slowly and carefully, Byleth said, “Felix. Did you let me stay a cat for a month?”

Completely unrepentantly, Felix said, “Yup.”

“Why.”

“You needed the break.”

Byleth stared blankly at Felix. 

Felix just shrugged. “What? You were having fun, and it’s impossible to make you relax. Figured I’d take advantage of the opportunity.”

“Why didn’t you volunteer to undo the spell at all?” Byleth asked. “You could have artificially extended the time needed to cure me.”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get Sylvain and his wife and kid in the same room?”

Byleth pinched the bridge of her nose. Felix felt no shame. 

Finally, she announced, “You were my most troublesome student.”

“And now I’m your most troublesome subject,” Felix said serenely. “Isn’t it funny how life works out?”

“I should tell His Majesty.”

“You won’t snitch.”

Too high a likelihood that Dimitri would actually grow angry. And, obviously, Byleth wasn’t actually mad at all. Byleth had a fantastic time being a cat. It had been the time of her fucking life. 

She wouldn’t admit it. Felix knew. Byleth knew that Felix knew. They would take this mutual secret to their graves. She was undoubtedly already wishing she could return to chasing mice. Felix had her number. 

Byleth sighed, nodding at the door. “You’re dismissed. I’m assigning you an unpleasant task later.”

Straight faced, Felix said, “But Your Grace. I already co-chair committees with Sylvain.” 

Byleth pointedly walked over and opened the door for him. Dimitri was hovering right outside the door, apart from the other Blue Lions relentlessly gossiping. Everybody’s eyes snapped to Felix and Byleth instantly, assessing the situation. 

Everybody noticed in unison that Felix was looking rather smug. Annette breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Byleth announced, guaranteeing that everybody would worry about it. “Dimitri. Would you like to debrief?”

Somewhat maniacally, Dimitri said, “Byleth, please consider that I have not seen my wife in almost a month.” 

Byleth paused, thinking hard. “Hm. Correct.” After a second’s thought, an answer came to her. “Oh!”

“You understand.” Dimitri grabbed her hand, already pulling her along. “Now, if you’re amenable -”

“Certainly.”

“Excellent. Everybody in this castle is forbidden from bothering us until we return.”

Byleth hurriedly pointed at Balad. “Make that 0800 hours.” 

“Ah - yes, my lady!”

Dimitri and Byleth exited stage left. Very hurriedly. 

Ingrid sighed, folding her arms. “I miss Ashe.” 

“Ah,” Dedue said, “young love.”

Mercedes arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you the expert, Dedue?”

“In those two? Yes.” 

Meanwhile, Annette pushed her way through the crowd and grabbed Felix by the sleeve. She unceremoniously tugged him out of earshot of everybody else, pulling down on his sleeve and making him bend down so she could whisper directly into his ear. 

“What the hell did you do?” Annette hissed. “Why is Byleth mad at you?”

“Can’t say,” Felix said solemnly. “We swore each other to secrecy.”

“You damned good-for-nothing husband, I swear if you went and made things worse -”

“Hark! What is that I see in yonder distance? A young woman in a glass home? What is she holding? That couldn’t possibly be a stone -”

“I have been stressing the past month, and if you had any information that might have reduced that stress -”

“But you got an extension on all of your deadlines!” Felix added cheerfully. Please. Stress. She had been waiting for Mercedes to come and fix it. She had been busy the past month catching up on all of her work, not just the Cat Byleth situation. “Now all of your papers are written, your work’s completed, your best friend’s here, and the Queen of  Faerghus isn’t a cat anymore. Round win in my book.”

“That’s not - did you have something to do with this?”

“I had absolutely nothing to do with any of this.” That was extremely true. A little too true, but definitely true. In a technicality. 

Annette’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a technicality.”

And, bizarrely - beautifully - Felix could only lean in and kiss his wife. She immediately kissed him back - it had been a while for them too - and they joined together for a long handful of valuable seconds before they finally separated.

Felix kept her in his arms, relaxing into the feeling of her warm weight. Hopefully the others were too busy bickering amongst themselves. They were way too old for ridiculous PDA like this. He kept his voice low, secluding words away just for the two of them. “Maybe you should take a break too. Let’s take a week off. Just don’t do shit, you and me.”

“Felix!” Annette lightly batted him on the shoulder, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m behind enough as it is already!” 

“You’re always behind! I’m always behind, we’re always busy - so what?” Somehow, for some weird reason Felix couldn’t quite explain, at that moment saying these words to Annette felt like the most important thing in the world. “We were too busy during the war and we were too busy before it. Who cares? I just want time with you.”

“You’ll get time when I retire from my royal magician position in five years,” Annette scolded. “We’ll both move back to your home and settle down then, remember? It’s in the timetable?”

So it was. As Felipe had been in the timetable, and never in Sylvain’s life. As taking care of Dimitri was worked into every day, and they had glossed over actually trusting him. Ashe had been in Brigid for months, and Ingrid hadn’t so much as opened her mouth to complain - accustomed to it as a wartime necessity, with no time to stop and remember that the war was over. Only a summons from the king brought Mercedes across the country to even see her husband again. Even Dedue, returning just to reunite and reconnect, had to remind the nearest Duscuran child that he was never allowed to relax, to lose composure and dignity - the same composure and dignity that Dedue maintained at every moment, without fault or slip. The only break any of them had taken in the past month was completely involuntary, and it had involved turning into a cat. Yes, Felix was completely unrepentant. 

“Annie,” Felix said, and for a moment he let her see the exhaustion in himself too, “are we going to live the rest of our lives like this?”

Were the Blue Lions going to end as they began - pushed to the brink by fear and desperation, and only pushed further as danger encroached around every corner? Would they live now as they had always lived - leaders and combatants in a war for their lives, no expenses spared just to live? Struggling to take care of Dimitri as Dimitri struggled to take care of them, looking to their old teacher for guidance and floundering when left without her? 

Annette was quiet for a long minute. She wasn’t used to seeing that look in his face. Felix didn’t show his heart very frequently, even to her. Maybe that was the weight he still carried.

Finally, she said, “Maybe a quick break.” 

Felix’s smile resurfaced on his face, and he knew it was a lot looser. “A week?”

“A whole week? What would we even do?”

“Whatever we want, maybe.” Felix paused a beat. “His and Her Majesties have the right idea.” 

Annette giggled, resting her forehead on the chest. “Wanna invite -”

“Ah, I hear new parents have no time for that sort of thing.”

“Maybe they can take a break too.” 

“Maybe we’ll all take a break,” Annette said, rolling her eyes. “We’ll let the continent of Fodlan grind to a halt because a group of friends are exhausted and horny. That’s the work of responsible nobility.” 

Felix wanted to be the best parent in the world. He wanted to be the best father who ever lived. He wanted to be a father who made Annette cry in relief, because she would never worry if he would abandon her and his children. She wouldn’t even think of it. Blue Lions or not, important titles and distinguished peerage or not - Felix would make her worries disappear. Even their ghosts wouldn’t exist in her life, or the lives of their children. 

It had to start now. He still had to whip everybody else into shape too. 

“It’s always been us versus the world.” For better or for worse - but that described a great deal. “Let’s let the world take care of itself for a little while.”

If Annette had any arguments, she chose to kiss him instead of making them. Which was about as good as no arguments at all. 

#my writing #fe3h #fire emblem three houses

[rachalixie]

mind your business!

summary: the aftermath of the crew finding out about yours and hyunjin’s unintentional secret relationship, complete with domestic fluff at the end.

a/n: you don’t necessarily have to read slipped my mind to enjoy this (but it is highly encouraged!)

warnings: hyunjin x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1250+

you’re dragged over to chan and felix’s apartment (the aussie house, as they like to call it) by minho, still wearing your sweatpants and fuzzy socks. you’re trying to text hyunjin while you walk, but minho’s equally firm and gentle grip doesn’t allow for the dexterity you need your fingers to perform at.

“i can’t believe it. can’t believe i didn’t see it. they’re not even good liars,” minho is muttering to himself as he sets the fast pace to cross the few blocks of distance between your building and the aussie house.

“hey,” you pout, offended, before the rest of his words hit. “we weren’t lying!” you cry out, but he doesn’t seem to register anything and he keep muttering up until you reach the door. as he goes to press the buzzer, you notice hyunjin and felix already in the lobby waiting to let you in. felix has a grip on hyunjin’s arm mirroring minho’s on yours, as if they’re scared you two will run away if they let go. they’re not entirely wrong, probably.

“how did you get here before us?” minho demands in lieu of a greeting when hyunjin opens the door for you both. you want nothing more than to jump into his arms and escape this entire evening.

“secret shortcut.” hyunjin smirks, attempting to cross his arms in smug satisfaction but failing due to felix’s small fingers wrapped around his elbow. did you say you wanted to hug him? scratch that. you want to strangle him.

“there isn’t a shortcut, that’s such a lie,” you respond, rolling your eyes. this is an old argument you’ve had plenty of times. “you probably ran here just to beat us.”

“did not!” hyunjin said, sticking his tongue out at you. real mature, you think. and then tell him as such, making him scoff.

“you didn’t think my tongue was immature last ni-“

“if i may,” felix’s deep voice interjects your argument desperately. “since i’m more mad at hyunjin than (y/n) right now, i will admit that we did run here just to beat you.”

you pump your fist in triumph just as the elevator doors open on felix and chan’s floor, and the smile drops off your face instantly. you had almost forgotten why you were here.

you swear you hear minho mutter maybe they are really dating under his breath, but when you turn to give him a sharp look he’s turned away and giving felix a look.

you want to slap them.

“let me get this straight,” chan starts, opening the door before you could even knock. “you’ve been dating for months?”

“yes.” you say, finally shaking minho’s hand off of your arm so you could sit on the couch. if you’re forced to be here, you might as well make yourself comfortable. minho frowns deeply at you as he sits in the single chair in the corner, making the picture of an upset kitten. it’s cute.

“and we didn’t know about it?” chan follows, his brow furrowing.

“yes.” you repeat, sighing. hyunjin moves over to you to perch himself on the armrest, his hand coming to rest on the nape of your neck. your annoyance towards him regarding your previous argument fizzles out in favor of targeting it towards your common enemy, otherwise known as your friends.

“and you lied to us about it?” chan continues, his voice growing more and more insistent.

“yes- i mean no! no, we didn’t lie!” you exclaim, feeling hyunjin’s vigorous nodding next to you.

“we thought you knew the entire time!” he sounds as exhausted as you feel.

“sure you did,” minho snarks from his corner. hyunjin snarls at him, and minho hisses back.

“don’t you have cats that you need to get home to?” you snap, causing minho to bristle. hyunjin barks with laughter, then covers his mouth and cowers at the glare minho throws at him.

“what’s this i hear about the wonder twins dating?” jisung interjects as he walks through the door without knocking, cutting off minho from responding, making everyone’s head twist towards him.

“oh, ew. don’t call us twins.” hyunjin says, shuddering in visible disgust. who invited jisung to the party?

“well, i wouldn’t if i had known the two of you were together but. you know. i didn’t. i had to hear about it from minho, of all people.” he said, taking a seat on the coffee table across from you.

“hey,” minho says indignantly, crossing his arms and pouting more. like you said, angry kitten.

“sorry, baby. it’s just that i would have rather heard it from the elephant’s mouth. or whatever animal it is.”

“i think it’s tiger,” felix suggests, perking up from where he was cuddling into chan’s chest.

“does it matter? let’s get back to the matter at hand.” chan placates, pressing felix back down by carding his hand through his hair, always ready to settle things with a discussion. “these two are dating. and we didn’t know. but they thought we knew?” he said, his voice lilting up at the end as if he didn’t believe you.

“yes,” you say, frustrated now with the amount of times you’ve been asked these questions.

“why would we lie to you? you’re our best friends.” hyunjin pleaded as changbin, jeongin, and seungmin entered the apartment, completing the interrogation squad they no doubt created a groupchat to commemorate. those nerds.

“your best friends? who didn’t even know you were dating? you know we had bets placed on when it would happen?” jeongin said dramatically, holding a hand to his chest in faux offense. seungmin swats his shoulder with a smile and an eye roll as changbin sighs.

“we agreed not to mention that today.” changbin said, shaking his head. you scream in frustration, reaching your breaking point and making everyone jump in shock (and felix almost fall out of chan’s lap).

“i,” you started, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. “don’t want to be here anymore.” you say, reclaiming your grip on hyunjin’s hand and standing, dragging him with you past the three bewildered newcomers.

“oh, i guess we’re leaving now.” hyunjin drawled as he was pulled out of the apartment. you didn’t realize you had his hand in a death-grip until he softly tugged it away with a muttered baby.

“i’m sorry, honey,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, leaving your lips there for a few moments. “i’m just frustrated.”

“i know,” he said, moving his hand to grip your chin. he pulled you in for a few quick kisses, each peck calming you down until you’re sighing into his lips. “let’s go home.”

home. you know he meant his apartment, where you spent most of your time. you let him lead you this time, and he holds your waist gently as you walk, fingers sneaking under your shirt and tapping out a rhythm into your skin.

you let him guide you home, his touch grounding you as you feel your frustration melt away with every step. by the time you’re cuddled next to him in bed, you’re a puddle of exhaustion and overwhelmed emotions. hyunjin strokes your hair and you’ve never been more grateful for his presence, as your best friend, your lover, your soulmate, and everything in between.

“they’ll get over it soon, you know?” he says, voice soft. “they’re just surprised, is all. and, probably upset they all lost their bets to seungmin.”

“seungmin?” you ask, shocked. “how do you know?”

“did you see his face? he looked like he did when he won the mario kart tournament last month.”

seungmin is definitely buying you lunch tomorrow after this.

—

prequel

masterlist

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x stay #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin skz #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin drabble #hyunjin fic #stray kids fic #stray kids drabble #stray kids scenarios

[maverick-wingman]

Broken Skies (Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell! Reader) Chapter 1

Note: I apologize for the long long wait. I was really lacking motivation and just on a long writer's block for the past few months. But here is Chapter 1 for Broken Skies. The Sneak Peak is linked below for those that have not read it yet. And also thank you @justabigassnerd and @callsign-dexter for motivating me to write more! ❤️

This is a redo of my Bradley Bradshaw Part 1. This is more of a prequel rather than a sneak peek this time. Mel - “one who is fearless and daring.” Canon characters are out of character. Iceman will be healthy in this fic. 

Warnings: Nothing big, maybe angst, other than a brief mention of death, and military inaccuracies. NOT grammar/spelling checked. Some switching between first names and callsigns.

Masterlist | Sneak Peek | Chapter 1

In the room with Cyclone and Warlock, Maverick looked at the screen and saw 2 very familiar faces. Cyclone looked at Maverick and asked, “Is there a problem, Captain?” Maverick looks at him, “You know there is sir.” Cyclone signed and zoomed in on your picture, “Lieutenant Mitchell, callsign Mel, one of the best pilots I have seen in years. She was top of her class. Two confirmed air-to-air kills. You must be very proud. Captain.” Maverick smiles, “I am, sir. I’m proud of her every day.”  

Maverick was indeed proud. Starting from the second you were born, he knew you would be a mini him the second he got called for a parent-teacher meeting for you not following directions and being a bit rebellious. There was also the first time he took you on your first little joyride, instead of being scared like  most people that are thousands of feet up in the air going hundreds of miles per hour, you were so excited. You had the time of your life. You especially loved when he did aerobatics. You kept on asking him to do another one, he often wondered how you never got dizzy or felt nauseous. As you grew older, you went on to be just like him.  If not, maybe even a little better. Now here you are, getting called back to Top Gun to be a possible candidate for a special detachment. This isn’t like the past missions you’ve been on. This is life or death. He knows there is a chance someone isn’t coming back. 

Cyclone then zoomed in on another person. Rooster. “Bradley Bradshaw aka Rooster. I understand you flew with his old man. What was his call-sign again?” “Goose, sir” “Tragic what happened.” Warlock cuts in defending Maverick. All Maverick could do was nod. Memories of what happened replaying in his mind.

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

“Dad?” You saw your dad sitting by the bar alone. You thought he’s in the desert working on the Death Star. Why is he here?  He turned around and you smiled excitedly going over and hugging him as tight as possible. You felt him hug back just as tight. “Hey sweetheart.” You always loved the daddy-daughter hugs. It made you feel safe and relaxed. You haven’t seen him in person in almost a year. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re supposed to be somewhere in the desert.” You saw the look he gave and you couldn’t help but grin. “You pissed off another admiral, didn’t you?” He chuckled at your response. “You could say that.” You sat next to him. “So… what are you doing here at North Island? Did Uncle Ice tell you I was here?”  You asked him. 

“Well uh…. in a manner of speaking.” You noticed the look your dad had. There was worry in his eyes. You hadn’t seen that look in a long time. “You’re here for the detachment… aren’t you? That’s why you’re here.” He gave you a look. You knew the answer. “How bad is it going to be?” You looked to your dad. “I can’t say too much yet, but … this is something no one’s ever seen.” All you could do was nod. Before you can react you felt him rub your shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re the best fighter pilot I know.” You let out a little chuckle, “don’t let Uncle Ice hear you say that.” You heard him let out some chuckles.

You talked with your dad for a little longer to catch up on everything. He told you that the Kazansky’s invited you both over for dinner tomorrow night. You were excited, as you have seen your Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah in a while. You heard your name being called, looking over you saw Jake and Javy calling you over. You heard your dad’s voice, “go on, go catch up with them.” You looked over to him. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. We have plenty of time to catch up more.” You smiled and hugged him one last time before going over. 

“What’s Pops doing here?” Jake asked after pulling you into a hug. You didn’t want to ruin the surprise. “He’s here visiting old friends.” You responded as Javy pulled you in for a side hug. 

As you talked, you caught up with Phoenix, you met some new members: Bob, who was so sweet, Payback and Fanboy who both were really nice, although you felt a little competitiveness between them and Jake and Javy. Jake would not stop teasing Bob, you had to nudge him a few times hoping he’d stop messing with the guy. 

Maverick watched as his little girl bonded with her teammates. Despite Jake's reputation he trusted him that he wouldn’t leave his daughter behind, but he is unsure if he would do the same for the rest of the team.

You looked over and saw a familiar face entering the Hard Deck. Bradley Bradshaw.

Bradley walked over to the group. “Bradshaw.” “Hangman… you look good” “Well, I am good Rooster, I’m very good. In fact, I’m too good to be true.” Hangman responds, smirking. Bradley then looked over to you. “Mel.” “Rooster.” “Why am I not surprised you’re here?” You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his remark. You knew what he was thinking, he still believed the reason  you made it this far is because of your dad and uncle. “Well who else did you expect?”  

Before Bradley could say another word, Jake cuts in, “you’re just jealous Bradshaw, admit it, you will never fly like Mel here. She takes risks unlike a certain someone. She’ll make a great mission leader, but anyone that follows you will just run out of fuel. Waiting for the right moment that never comes.” You felt Jake’s arm snake around your shoulders. 

Jake is your best friend, you could say. Sure, during training he would leave his wingman and fly off, but during the missions he was never like that. At least not to you. He saved your  life; that’s how he got his first confirmed air to air kill. If it wasn’t for him, you would not be standing here right now.

Bradley suddenly felt a ping of jealousy growing inside him. Since when were you and Hangman so close? But Bradley being Bradlet, he chose to ignore it. “And anyone that follows you will just end up in a grave.” That ticked you off a little. You wished Jake would let you tell everyone what really happened that day. You don’t get why Jake wants to keep it a secret, he loves to show off. Only a few people know the exact details. 

“They’re on me! I can’t shake them!” you said with a panicking voice. With an enemy aircraft chasing after you at full speed. Trying different maneuvers, you dodged as many bullets that you could. That’s when you heard a beeping sound; the enemy got a lock on you. Just as  you started accepting your fate, there was an explosion sound. You looked over and saw the enemy fighter jet blowing up into pieces. “You owe me a drink, Mel.” Y/N looked over and saw Hangman giving her a grin. He just saved your life, for once not living up to his callsign.

After that, it was Hangman and Mel. Jake and Y/N. You became best friends and each other’s wingperson.

Other than Rear Admiral Jackson, Javy, Maverick and Iceman, no one knew it was Jake that saved you. Jake wanted to keep it a secret. With the help from Iceman, no one knew what really happened. Because the mission only needed 2 pilots, it made it easier to hide the truth.

Maverick was watching the whole scene play out in front of him, feeling the guilt bubble inside him knowing he was the reason his daughter and Bradley are no longer friends. He remembers how close they were as kids, how they never left each other’s side. He hopes this mission will bring them together again.

The night went on, he ended up being broke after not realizing the rules at Penny’s bar. Jake and the others had the joy of “throwing” him out of the bar. You knew it was all fun and games. You knew your dad took a liking to him after he saved your life that day. Even you let out a little laugh watching it all play out. 

You heard a familiar tune starting to play in the background, you looked over to the piano and saw Bradley sitting there. The tune that your uncle Goose, Bradley’s dad always plays. You remembered how you and Bradley would sit on the piano with your dad, Uncle Goose and Aunt Carole gathered around singing “Great Balls of Fire” together. Your eyes wandered around and noticed your dad outside staring towards where Bradley is. You knew he misses them too. 

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

You sat next to Jake and Javy waiting for the debrief to start. You had this feeling that something was going to happen today and it was not the good kind of feeling. You know Bradley will not be happy knowing who the instructor for the detachment is going to be. You also know he will be mad that you didn’t warn him. But he has no right to feel that way. After all, you two were basically on no speaking terms. Cyclone’s voice disrupted your thoughts. “Good morning aviators.” 

At morning debriefing, Cyclone and Warlock went over the details of this mission. Just from hearing the details about what is going to happen, you knew this was going to be a detachment like no other. As he introduced who the instructor was going to be, you knew exactly who they were talking about, even though you already found out last night. You only know one person that fits the description so perfectly. 

You couldn’t help but look over to Bradley, wondering how he is going to react when he sees your dad. You can see him tense up as he sees your dad walk in. This is going to be a very long day. Bradley made eye contact with you and he was not happy, just as you had predicted minutes ago.  After the debrief, you and everyone else waited to be selected to go up in the air. First ones up were you, Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster. 

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

As you walked towards your fighter jet when you heard your name being called. “Why didn’t you tell me he was going to be the instructor?” You knew he was going to ask this. “How am I supposed to tell you if all we ever do is argue when we talk?” “Yea, well you’re the one that always starts it” “Are you serious Bradley? Look at us. Besides, would it really make a difference if I did?” “Yea, it actually would have.” 

As the training session went on, no one has been able to get a lock on Maverick. not even you. You were close but he is always steps ahead. And thanks to the little bet, everyone was punished with 200 pushups.

Now it is time for Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, and Roosters turn. You listened to the radio as Jake asked Bradley some personal questions. There was one secret you never told Jake, it was the exact details about you, your dad, and Bradley. All he knows is you and Bradley had an argument, he left and that was that. 

You heard your dad’s voice. Encouraging Bradley to take a little risk instead of playing it safe. Jake’s voice came in warning them about getting below the hard deck level amd telling Rooster to take the shot. Soon through the radio, you head the alerts going off telling them to pull up. You are holding your breath at this point. No matter how upset you were at Bradley, you didn’t want to lose him and your dad.  A few seconds later, you heard your dad’s voice. He got a lock on Bradley. What on earth were they thinking?

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

You stormed up to Bradley angry. “What was that Bradshaw?! Are you trying to get kicked out?” “Oh like you care, you probably would love to see me off this mission.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It’s like he never changed. “I worked hard to get here and you know it!” “Well not everyone is lucky enough to have their dad and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet as their teacher!” He snapped back. You froze, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. Not wanting to continue this anymore, you shook your head and walked away in silence. You knew if you stayed longer, you would end up saying something you’d regret, and possibly escalating the argument.

“Why are you such close friends with Hangman? You know what type of person he is!” You stopped in your tracks. Why did he change the conversation to this? Was he jealous? You turned around facing him once again, letting out your anger. “You’re right, I know what type of person he is. You don’t! You let your judgments get clouded too easily, you’ll just assume the worst in people!” You saw the look Bradley had on his face, hearing him let out a scoff, “all he ever did was leave his wingman behind! Everyone knows that! Why won’t you believe me?!” 

You don’t know what came over yourself. You’ve kept it in for years. Coming up with reasons why Bradley cut off contact with you, why he barely said anything to you during your time at Top Gun, why he treated you like you were nothing. He didn’t even believe you told him that you had nothing to do with his application being pulled. And now all of a sudden he cares about who you’re friends with. You knew what Hangman was like to others. That’s just a character he built up; he doesn’t want to seem weak or soft, easy to push around. Sure he messes around during training, but when it comes to the real thing, he takes things seriously. 

“You want to know why? Fine. He never left me hanging! He didn’t cut off contact with me for something I didn’t do!  He trusted me! He never assumed I got in just because of my last name! He didn’t hurt me the way you did!”

You were mad at your dad too, especially at first. But after a lot of begging, he finally told you why he pulled Bradley’s application; you understood, it was an extremely difficult decision. Adding on to it, it was his best friend’s dying wish.

You quickly walked away going to the locker rooms. You heard Bradley call out your name, but you chose to ignore it. Today did not turn out the way you had expected. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since the first time you saw Bradley in years and he is still the same.

Taglist: @alluringshawn @anurst @urmomssidehoesposts @sarahjoestewy-blog @adoringsebstan @70spadfoot @khaylin27

@littlebadariell @ems-alexandra

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x y/n #pete mitchell x daughter!reader #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #top gun imagines #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fics

[teagballs]

hands! | gob bluth x reader smut

authors note: crawls towards you hi im back. for my fellow hand enthusiasts. this has been in my drafts for like a MONTH finished it today. still taking arrested development requests but now i also that its always sunny and what we do in the shadows and beetlejuice.... yeah. love ya enjoy <3

cw: smut obviously. first person perspective hand kink. gob teases alot because he is an ass. clit play, fingering, hickies. written with fem reader in mind and they have a vagina.

nsfw under cut

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

My boyfriend, Gob, had an interesting hobby. Magic. Not the most attractive or accomplished interest, but it was his and I loved him so I went along with it. Coming to his shows, helping him learn new tricks, even being a stand in for his assistant in some cases. I always tried to support him.

Now, I sat in his kitchen, watching as my boyfriend performed a card trick. And it wasn't all that enticing, he kept getting it wrong and dropping his cards all over the table. His dedication was cute. I smiled a little and tried to hold interest. But slowly, my mind began to drift. The way his long fingers glided over the edge of the cards, and how they flicked through them to pick out a select amount. I had always had a thing for hands, and it was seemly arising again now.

"Now, watch I'll get it this time, pick a card." Gob said, laser focused on the cards. I hummed in acknowledgement and picked a card. As he ran his nimble fingers over the deck and shuffled once more my mind began to wander. What kind of dexterity would a magician hold in his hands? Trying not to get flustered and attempting to lock this thought away, I crossed my legs as if to hold back my arousal and sat up straighter. 'Sexualising your boyfriend's innocent hobby? Perv,' I thought.

I tried to focus solely on the trick but that seemed to make things worse. God, he had nice hands. Lengthy digits, veins that ran on the back of his hands, was I blushing? Gob looked at me again, ready to ask for my card back to shuffle into the pile, but he seemed to pick up that my focus had shifted. Maybe he had gathered from my upright form and fidgeting that something was off and I wasn't fully present.

"Hey, are you paying attention?" He groaned childishly.

'Yes. Definitely, I am." I replied quickly, tensing a little.

"You're not. You look all distracted." Gob replied. Shit, he had picked up on it. I couldn't tell him the truth - the reason I wasn't fully focused was because his hands were really fucking turning me on.

"No I am really! It's just that, I.. um," I struggled to find an excuse, hoping the ground would swallow me up. If I wasn't flustered before I certainly was now. I settled on just awkwardly looking away from him, hoping he would either move away from the subject or figure it out on his own.

"What's up with you? You're all... oh." The pin dropped. Gob realised why I was so distracted. My hand grazed my face, trying to decide if he gotten there from context clues or if the blood had rushed to my face.

"So, what's got you so riled up?" he teased. The switch from showman to flirtatious dick was fast. He leaned over the table now, lowering his voice and tone.

"Riled up? What are you talking about?" Gob might be a little stupid, but he could still tell I were lying.

"You're blushing, that impressed by my magic?" He questioned. His ego was showing. There was no escaping this. I sighed and gave in.

"No its not your magic its... your hands." I admitted shamefully. Gob raised an eyebrow, confused.

"I've always had a thing for them. I find them, like, attractive, like you'd find ass or tits attractive, they just.. they make me think about what they can do, what'd they'd feel like on me, inside me." I babbled, trying desperately to explain my weird attraction.

To my surprise and relief Gob understood? He hummed in acknowledgement. "I get it." I could feel myself growing wetter.

"I guess you doing a magic trick... it made me think you know, cause your a magician, what else can you, um, do with your hands." I told him, looking anywhere but at him.

Gob smirked at this, filled with pride. "Well, how about you find out?"

I lifted my head to look at him, "...What?" I mumbled.

"Why don't you find out how good my hands are at other things?" His smirk grew.

Gob made his way over to me and kissed me. He grabbed onto my shirt to guide me out of the room. He moved his hands to my face as the kiss grew deeper stumbling out of the kitchen. The whole situation had made us both so desprate, essentially eating eachothers faces now. The pair of us stumbled onto the sofa, pulling away briefly to catch our breath with a string of saliva connecting. This time when we reconnected, Gob began to work the button of my jeans. I whimpered in anticipation. Gob's hand made its way into my jeans. Gently, using his ring and middle finger he felt my wetness through my underwear.

"Fuck. You really must like hands huh?" He chuckled goofily.

To help with ease of access, I began to shimmy my jeans off. Now, Gob was able to pull my underwear down. The cold air on my pussy made me arch my back. Gob hovered above md, hands on either side of my face on the communal sofa, which was about to be desecrated. He ran his index finger up my now exposed slit. He started slow, painfully slow. I twitched and bucked my hips, antsy for more. He repeated this movement until he gathered a sufficient amount of wetness. Finally, he ran small, steady circles around my soaked clit. This caused me to mewl out. I was a little embarrassed at how loud I were for such a small movement, though, this only seemed to encourage Gob. He continued his slow pace, but this definitely wasn't enough.

"Please Gob, please go fucking faster," I grunted out of frustration. Ever willing, Gob increased the speed. I grinded my clit down on his finger. In response, Gob switched to two fingers and started kneading my bundle of nerves an accelerated speed. Fuck. He was gifted with his hands. This new pace was overstimulating. He maintained it as I loudly moaned praises and a string of obscenities.

"Fuck! Gob- so fucking good- m'gonna-" was all I could get out before cumming.

Gob was full of himself now. Shocked at his own abilities. "Wow. And I haven't even touched here yet," he said, plunging his fingers in my drenched entrance. This action caused me to emit another loud sob to Gob's delight.

"Shouldn't waste anymore time." He mused and thrusted two fingers into my pussy. I arched again. A little awkwardly, Gob repositioned us both. Now he was sitting on the sofa with me in his lap, his fingers taunting me by hovering above where I needed them most.

"Please," I mumbled. He smiled before placing his two fingers in and out of my wetness. It was too slow. Not deep enough to feel any pleasure. My hole clenched around his fingers, my body's way of revealing yearning with using my words. He began a pace of moving his fingers. I needed more, needed him to go deeper, faster. Gob found my eagerness all too amusing. Once he reinserted his fingers to my drenched pussy again, he curled them. This action caused me to let out a long moan.

"Fuuuuuck." I groaned. Gob smirked against my neck, growing more and more proud of his ability to please. He attached his mouth to my neck, gingerly sucking love bites and kissing me gently as he continued to guide his fingers in and out of me. Gradually, he increased his pace. He began to pump in and out of my pussy, continuing to curl his fingers. He kept this up until he was fingering me at an excruciating pace, I wasn't going to last much longer.

"Fuck! Gob, m'gonna cum soon." I sobbed. Gob took this as a challenge. How quick could he make me cum? He reached his other hand down to my pussy and began to rub my clit again at a ferocious pace. This, combined with the attention to my neck was more than enough to send me over the edge and bring me to an orgasm for the second time.

I fell against my boyfriend, my head found its place in the crook of his neck. Exhaused. I look up to find Gob, licking the result of his labor off his fingers. I whimper a little at the sight, fuck that's hot. But I'm too tired to go again. Gob chuckles, "Did they live up to your expectations?" He asks, wiggling his hands in a sort of 'jazz hands' motion. I groan. I'm never going to hear the end of this. Cocky bastard.

#gob bluth #gob bluth x reader #arrested development #arrested development x reader #will arnett #x reader

[almost-a-class-act]

It's been a while since I've written some luztoye!

For @blood-mocha-latte who has been leaving just the best comments on my luztoye modern au. I open my email each time in absolute delight.

--

George is still grinning when the door closes behind them, partitioning them off from the rest of the world and leaving them alone at last in the room they are sharing ostensibly to save on expenses. Joe sits down heavily on the edge of one of the beds, laying his crutches next to him and grimacing as he massages his wrists. George passes him and goes to tug the curtains closed, peering out at the night for a moment first, as if he's reluctant to shut it out just yet.

"I don't remember it being that tiring just being around everyone," Joe grumbles. Maybe he lost the knack for crowds, inasmuch as he ever had it. Maybe it's harder to drink beer until well past three in the morning, the older you get.

And maybe it has something to do with feeling the intangible but undeniable weight of not being the person they remember. Joe might put some money on all three.

"You're advanced in years now, Joe," George says with a wink. "Almost thirty. One foot in the grave, you could say."

Joe nearly snorts. "I'm a little surprised that's the first time you've made that joke."

George crouches down in front of him to unlace his shoe and tug it off. "I'd hate for you to think I'm becoming predictable."

"Hey." Joe says it to get his attention, as it occurs to him, and George looks up inquiringly. "Were you ever going to tell me about the dud shell?"

George blinks and stills, clearly caught off-guard. "You talked to Lip?"

"Yeah, I talked to Lip."

Joe is not unaware of the fact that George's constellation of people he trusts is smaller than most people think. He gets along with everyone, but that friendliness hides a tendency to play vulnerability close to the vest. It's work to look past that brightness, that sound; it's work to convince George he can turn it off. Lip and Frank were the two people George used to mention most often in his letters after Joe came off the line, and sometimes at these reunions, when George is doing the life-of-the-party thing he's so gifted at, Joe sits next to Lip and they buy each other a round and they don't talk about how they've both been George's quiet. 

"No," George says, after a moment. I wouldn't have told you.

Joe nods, slowly. It's not worth arguing over; he knows why.

"Not much to tell," George adds. "It hit the side of the foxhole and didn't explode. I was fine."

"Close call," Joe notes. 

"Uh huh." George pushes himself slowly to his feet and sits on the edge of the bed, next to him. "Wouldn't have even had time to think if it had gone off. It wasn't there and then it was." The snap of his fingers is crisp, lightning-quick. "That's all, folks."

He had come to this reunion in the first place because he remembers what it was like to wake up in the hospital without George there to turn all the lights on and talk him down, like a fucking kid. 

Joe would have gone weeks, maybe months without knowing he was dead. He would've read it in a letter from someone else, or heard it through the hospital grapevine. George is gone. Sorry buddy. I know you two were close. He used to have nightmares about it, so constant that he was always exhausted, an ache between his shoulder blades that didn't ease until the surrender of Japan. He still dreams about it occasionally, coming awake with a terrible certainty that he will find himself alone. 

"Didn't hear mine, either," he says. "Either one. Not that I can remember."

George reaches over and squeezes his good knee, just this side of too hard. "Probably better not to see it coming, huh."

Joe knows he's thinking about other faces, about another impersonal hole in the ground. These are the kinds of silences he recognizes but doesn't have the dexterity to cross. 

After a moment, George pats that knee and goes to stand up. "I'll pour us a nightcap," he suggests. "Then maybe we can talk about world hunger, or which of us is going to lose all our teeth first. You know, more real cheery stuff." 

Joe catches his wrist without even really thinking through why. George looks down at it, and then up at Joe's face. After a moment, he seems to recognize something, and it makes him cover Joe's hand with his own and stroke his thumb over the ridges of his knuckles. Yeah, I know. 

It's only when he gives his captured wrist a gentle tug that Joe lets go.

#luztoye #band of brothers #fanfiction #roaroftheninth

[ahedderick]

Farm Christmas

We had a delightful Christmas morning. With young adults instead of young children, things get rolling much later; nobody hops out of bed at dawn anymore. I made a big breakfast of link sausages and pancakes. Lady, the only dog we've had who knows how to unwrap gift, got the first gift. She happily demolished the paper and started gnawing the rawhide chew. Chance does not understand giftwrap, and was given his plain.

Everyone had chosen gifts well this year, and there was a lot of delight. The paintings and sewing projects were a hit. K got my husband a weighted blanket that, when unwrapped, turned out to be faintly dusted in glitter (?). As nothing else had glitter, it was a little perplexing how that happened, but he enjoyed the blanket nonetheless.

Once the gift-giving had wrapped up, K wanted to go outside and do a little light trail maintenance. Several of her favorite paths have branches down all over them. I'm always in favor of outside time on holidays, so we got heavy clothes and tools while the dogs went bonkers at the door. Hero watched us alertly as we walked up the hill, thinking that perhaps he should be the center of whatever was going on. He was not, this time. The temperature was perfect for working, and we were peacefully working our way around the trails moving dead branches, clipping greenbriar, and chitchatting. That is, until we saw Lady frantically pawing at her mouth again.

Lady?! AGAIN!!?

I had a new and nicer pair of work gloves that gives me more dexterity than the old ones. Given that we had already been through this once last month (Lady getting a piece of wood wedged across the roof of her mouth), I was determined to see if I couldn't help her myself this time. The last vet visit cost almost $200, and I, um, let's try at home this time. To her credit, while she was highly upset, she wasn't as frothing frantic as she had been the first time. She let me look in her mouth (not without a fuss) and I could see the small piece of wood wedged tightly in there. I tried with my fingers, but it was far too wedged (and spitty) for me to get it out. Yes, that was a bit trusting on my part, with those large fangs flashing, but my trust was repaid.

We all walked home, K and I severely disappointed that our activity was cut short (just when we were making so much progress!) and Lady worried, hurt, and drooling. Baxter was utterly unconcerned and bouncing happily along in kitten style.

Back at the house I could not find my set of pliers (argh argh); K has one in her electrical tool set but it has sharp edges. I tried with a pair that turned out to be too large and unwieldy. Of course, every time I pry her jaws apart and reach in there, Lady gets a little more frantic and snappish. Finally my husband turned up a small pair and I made a last attempt. Kneeling with the dog stuffed between my legs, K keeping her from backing up, and my gloved left hand holding her mouth open, I grabbed the piece of wood and yanked.

Oh, the relief for all present!

K went out to ride Hero (he DOES get to be the center of attention, now), Lady is recovering on a cushion, and I may . . collapse.

Merry Christmas, all!

#farmblr #farm living #dogs of tumblr #dogs being dogs #farm dogs #horse #christmas #holidays

[moirasdolly]

Digitally Yours, Moira x Fem!Reader ⊂⊂ ౨・)

Synopsis: Feeling more confident in the way you and Moira’s relationship had been going, you request a facetime date with her. She obliges, of course, and you set a time and a day. It was the only thing occupying your mind for the entire week.

Contains: NSFW, implied plus size reader, age gap, face sitting, vaginal fingering, etc,… moira is a bit freaky (in a good way)

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: Surprise - Chlöe

Chapters: 1 2

𐙚 Chapter 2: Sweet Dreams

Chats between you and the woman you had met on one of your impromptu streams had been continuing for a few months now, and you couldn’t be more happy talking to her. The parts of your day where you finally got to drop everything and text her were what you looked forward to the most. You had even exchanged phone numbers instead of using the streaming website to communicate. Of course the site wasn’t completely abandoned though. Some nights when the both of you were feeling particularly needy, you would set up a private stream just for the two of you. You dressed up for her, and she repaid you with praise and large sums of money. That’s how your “relationship” was at the moment, but you wanted more.

You lay sprawled out on your bed, your hair splayed all over your pillow as you angle your camera above you to show your face and the top of the sweet little gingham bra you wore for her tonight. “Moira…” you whine “I have an idea, I’m not sure if you’ll like it though…” You trail off softly.

Doctorsorders: I’m listening, sweetheart. Use your words you know I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.

Your heart flutters at her declaration to protect your happiness, and for a moment you can’t help but think that maybe she also felt the same way about you. It had only been a few months since you started talking regularly, but you knew you were developing feelings for the older woman.

You look to the side, contemplating if you should make the request or not, but her earlier words gave you the confidence to go ahead. Your eyes meet the camera once more before proposing your idea, “Would you maybe like to FaceTime with me? I would love to see your face… hear your voice.” Your eyes were practically pleading for her to say yes. A moment goes by without any word from Moira and you’re afraid you had scared her off, “I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just thought maybe we were at that stage.” You hesitated before finally you saw a message pop up from her.

Doctorsorders: My sweetheart, of course you didn’t overstep. In fact I’d be more than happy to set up a video call with you.

Doctorsorders: Maybe we could even discuss meeting in person as well, my doll.

A smile graces your lips almost immediately, and you squeal in joy. A million thoughts of what you should wear, how to do your makeup, and how to do your hair ran through your mind after she had agreed to reveal herself to you. “I’m sure you’re the most attractive woman I’ll ever see.” You tease her with a quiet giggle.

Doctorsorders: If you’re looking for the most attractive woman you’ll ever lay your eyes on I suggest taking a look in the nearest mirror. Look at your beautiful, plush curves, your perfectly soft stomach, and those sweet thighs of yours.

Doctorsorders: Oh how I’d love to open those thighs up and make you sing a chorus of lewd little mewls. I’d make you unable to say anything but broken cries of my name.

You press your thighs together at the thought of Moira pleasuring you, you bet her fingers were perfectly lithe and long, and her tongue thick and dexterous. You could just imagine all the things she’d do to you when you met. Another comment from her snapped you out of your daze and you’re embarrassed with how under her spell you had become.

Doctorsorders: My doll, I can practically see the cogs in your mind turning. What is it that's occupying your thoughts so intensely?

“I’m just thinking about how badly I want to see you, speak to you, have you hold me.” You confess. “I need you so badly.” You feel heat rush in between your thighs, you were already getting worked up over the prospect of meeting her.

Doctorsorders: Oh darling… my needy girl. What do you say we schedule a call for this upcoming Friday night. In only two days you’ll be able to see me. How does that sound?

A hum of agreement emerges from your throat almost immediately as you nod your head frantically. “That's all I’ll be thinking about until then.” You admit as you sit up on your bed and set your camera back on the stand.

Doctorsorders: Perfect, mo stór. I will spend every moment, every second of my days until Friday thinking about your sweet little face. You’re so perfect. I never want to end our time together, but unfortunately it is late, and I have early lab work that is calling my name for tomorrow.

Doctorsorders: Goodnight, mo stór. I expect you to get a full night of sleep. I’ll be in touch in the morning to ensure you had nice dreams. Sleep tight, doll.

Your eyes flit across the screen and you hang on to every word she tells you. You scoot forward until you’re close to the camera and give the lens a quick kiss. “Goodnight, Moira. You’ll be the very first person I message when I awaken.” You beam at the camera. “I don’t wanna leave…” A frown plays on your lips as you get ready to turn off the camera, but the sooner I sleep, the sooner tomorrow will come and then there will be just one more day ‘til we can talk face to face!” You give her a small wave before shutting off the camera and falling back onto your bed. Shortly after ending the stream, your phone lights up from another goodnight message from Moira.

Moira ♡: Goodnight mo stór. Send me a picture before you sleep. I want to see your face in my dreams tonight.

You slipped into an oversized tshirt and comfortable panties before plopping down onto your bed and snapping a quick picture of yourself. Moira always loved the cuter side of you, so you decorated it with cute little bunny and heart emojis before sending it to her.

Me: [Image Attached]

Me: Goodnight, Moira! ♡

Moira ♡: Perfect, you look lovely darling. Sweet dreams.

And with that last message, the both of you drifted off into a deep sleep, both dreaming of each other.

#moira x reader #moira o'deorain #moira x fem reader #dolly fics ♡

[ya-so-im-here]

Did I Make You Blush?

Writer: Me, I have it published under my Wattpad account TheNinjaOfCake22

Fandom: Night at the Museum

Ship: Larry Daley x Ahkmenrah

Word Count: 3026

Link: https://www.wattpad.com/1317572968-larry-x-ahkmenrah-one-shot-s-tabletguardians-did-i

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

It had been a couple months now since both Larry and Ahkmenrah confessed their feelings to one another and since they started dating officially. The coupling hadn't came with any surprise from their friends within the museum as many had nearly or were quite certain that the two had deeper feelings for one another. So when it was revealed it was a mixture of "congratulations" and "about time."

  With the new formal pair dating, not too much had change ultimately.   Larry was still subtle with his affections as he was before when he was hinting at his feelings towards the pharaoh, and Ahkmenrah was about as obvious as ever, though it could be argued that he always was so obvious, trying to express his feelings towards the night guard even back before when Larry often overlooked his affections not noticing them.  

  Though now Larry was much more aware of the Pharaoh's flirts and affections, but ultimately those affections weren't reciprocated at least not in the manner of which Ahk would have preferred and he was having just about enough of it.

  Larry was in the main lobby of the museum as was common as the majority of the exhibits preferred the grand openness of it compared to their displays. Ahkmenrah had come down from his room to find his boyfriend talking with Jed, Octavius, and Dexter around Rexy's stand. The night was young and there was already trouble for Larry to help mend.

  "We've talked about this guys. What else are you to expect, it's not like he's a horse" stated Larry looking down at the three of them.

   "We don't need any more horses Gigantor, we need a battle ready mount" shouted out Jed

   "Why? what battle are you going into?" asked the night guard perplexed by the situation.

   "In case we need one of course. The last time we had a battle here we didn't have a battle ready mount and it would have come in handy." answered Jed strongly

   "Don't you have the car?"

  "Car just ain't the same" responded Jed taking his hat off in what appeared to be disappointment

  "He's right Larry, a car doesn't strike as much fear in the hearts of our enemies as a wild capuchin monkey does" added Octavius gently patting Jed's shoulder in a form of comfort. Larry simply looked down at the two then looked over at Dexter who had his signature monkey half smile that he often had.

  "Don't act like you're free from this conversation either" added Larry pointing at the monkey, who responded by sitting down and lowering his head a little. "You guy's couldn't work this out on your own?" the night guard asked placing a hand on his hip and the other rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  "We did try, but he wasn't cooperating" explained Jed pointing at the capuchin to which Dexter responded with a high pitched chirp of what appeared to be deviance.

  "Well you can't just saddle up your friends and ride them into battle, specifically if there is no battle to ride into and also if they said no in the first place."

  "Larry I don't think you understand. It was for training for when the situation arrives." explained Octavius

  "Precisely Gigantor, we know there ain't no battle to ride into, death ready and at our sides. But we have to train and prepare ourselves so that we can go out in a blaze of glory when our time arrives" elaborated Jed with keenness and flare in his eyes. Larry simply signed unknowing how to handle the situation.

  "Besides if he didn't want us to all he had to do was ask." stated Octavius "He didn't have to run rambid and destroy our cities" added Octavius, it was now Jed's turn to pat his shoulder comfortably.

  "Yeah, that's not cool Dex. You know we have to fix that before morning." exclaimed Larry, pointing a finger at the capuchin who responded once again with his own monkey noises "No. Destroying things isn't the solution, just as saddling up Dexter isn't a solution either" he added pointing the direction back to the to minis.

  It was around this point in the conversation that Ahkmenrah had made it down the stairs and towards Larry's side. The pharaoh took the opportunity to wrap his arms around his boyfriend's waist utterly distracting the night guard as well as their friends.

  "What sort of mischief is happening here" cooed Ahk quietly in Larry's ear instantly getting a flush of rose colored blush to lightly cover his cheeks, from the sudden presence from his boyfriend.

  "Ooooh, Gigantor's gettin all blushie" teased Jed as he broke into a roarious laughter and using Octavius' shoulder for balance. Even Dexter began to laugh at Larry expense.

  "Not much" stated Larry wriggling himself free from Ahk's arms "Just trying to settle the ordeal of Jed and Oct thinking they need a battle ready mount and the fact that Dexter rampaged throughout their displays."   Larry's blush had died down from the sudden excitement from his boyfriend's close presence to a form of bothered embarrassment.

  "Oh" mumbled Ahkmenrah as he took a step back from Larry and his joyous smile dwindled. "Well simple." stated the Pharaoh as he went forth and addressed the three before him "Dexter, you must help them fix their cities, since you destroyed them. As for Jedidiah and Octavius, if you want a battle ready mount, discuss it beforehand with Dexter before attempting it. Perhaps you can work out an agreement like civilized adults." he declared formally.

  "You got it, captain" saluted Jed with a flare of dramatics that was equal to Octavius' "Of course you're majesty." Which was rivaled by Dexter's own primate response.

  Ahkmenrah then took that as his time to leave, just as Larry was about to turn around and face him, his boyfriend was already beginning his ascend up the stairs. To where Larry presumed was back into Ahk's room. Larry sighed feeling defeated as he realized he had made a mistake and definitely needed to fix it.

  "Ah yes, unappreciated affections. Definitely an issue that could lead to further issues" proclaimed Teddy as he and Texas rode up to Larry's side.

   "Thanks. I really needed to hear that" remarked the night guard.

  "Indeed you did Laurence.  You've never been the openly affectionate type, especially with actions and touch. However, our dear pharaoh is just that. Affectionate with actions and touch." elaborated the past president.

    "I know. It's not that I don't want to be, but I'm working. It feels wrong to be openly flirting when I'm in the middle of doing my job and trying to fix things." explained Larry

  "Perhaps it be best that you talk to your partner about this. It's something you both need to agree on and see eye-to-eye on to avoid the awkward situations like the one that just unfolded before us."

   "It was awkward" He asked meekly

  "Yes it was" stated Teddy.

  "Mhm" remarked Attila making his presence and his awareness of the situation known as he was talking with Sacajawea just a few feet over from the two.

   "Well great" mumbled Larry in further more embarrassment.

  "I suggest my dear boy, go and talk to him" smiled Teddy warmly and gently grabbing Larry's shoulder in support. Larry nodded in agreement, as he made his way towards his boyfriend with a ping of guilt in his stomach.

    Larry arrived to the opening of Ahkmenrah's room with both of the jackals standing guard as was their constant duty to their pharaoh. Sitting on his sarcophagus was Ahkmenrah himself, he looked down and sad as he sat their to himself. Larry's guilt ten folded just upon seeing his boyfriend in such a state and the knowing he caused it only worsened it.

  "Ahk?" he called out gently as it echoed through the room, reaching his boyfriend's ears. Ahk turned around and faced Larry, his saddened face was worse now that Larry could see it fully. "I'm so sorry" exclaimed the nigh guard as he quickly made it to the other man's side, and grabbing his hand firmly in his own.  "I shouldn't have been so cold with you" he apologized wholeheartedly.

  "I just don't understand why it is you refuse my affections. You know I like flirting with you, it's one of the ways I show I love you, and yet you refuse them and knock them down any chance you get" explained Ahk, he was sad but his voice was also of annoyance and mild anger.

   "I know. And I knew this when we started dating, I thought I would get over it, but I can't help it-"

   "Why can't you help it? what about me is making my endearments rejectable?" asked Ahkmenrah.

  "No, no. They're not rejectable, it's simply I feel..." Larry paused, exhaled lightly then explained "I just feel embarrassed and awkward" Ahk looked at him, and Larry swore he looked even more hurt then before.

   "Oh. I wasn't trying to embarrass you, they were supposed to be sweet" stifled Ahk's response.

  "Wait no, I mean it's because I'm working. Technically it's my job to help everyone, and settle conflicts that arise. But then you act all flirtatious and I get all flustered and my face flushes. I never expected to fall in love with you so much, but I did and every time your sweet or flirty with me. I turn into a mess and I don't want to be a mess of emotions when I'm trying to solve problems within the museum." clarified Larry as he held tight to his boyfriend's hand to ensure him he meant every word and that he did deeply love the affections and flirtings.

  Ahkmenrah looked up at his boyfriend with a sparkle in his eye "So, the only reason you've rejected my affections is because I make you flustered?" questioned the pharaoh as he tightened his own grip on Larry's hand and smirked at him mischievously.

  "Y-yes" he stuttered in response, as his cheeks began to become lightly flushed once again as Ahk's other hand trailed along Larry's arm, gently and coyly.  Larry's shoulders tightened as he felt his face begin to heat up from the rather swift change in Ahk's mood and actions.

  Ahk softly lifted up Larry's hand towards his face placing a caressing kiss on the other man's knuckle, shivers trailed along Larry's spine from the contact of his boyfriend's lips on his hand. Ahkmenrah smiled archly at he watched his actions slowly unravel his boyfriend's adamant exterior from just his gently touch.

  Larry attempted to uphold his composure, but he was becoming flushed and flustered from each and every touch that the Pharaoh was giving him, he wasn't even sure how he was supposed to react. He felt stiff but also like mush, as though a gentle tab and he would fall over from the attention.

    "Ahk- Ahkmenrah..." he mumbled as his partner gently folded back one of his sleeves and left soft gentle kisses along his arm. Larry blush had spread out towards his ears as they too became engulfed in a crimson shade. Ahkmenrah gave Larry's hand one last gentle kiss before looking up at his boyfriend with the same flirtatious smile.

  "What's this?" whispered Ahkmenrah amorously as he leaned in close to Larry's ear "Did I make you blush?" Larry never felt his face grow to be this hot before now, he knew he was certainly as red as a tomato. Though unlike before he didn't wriggle away he felt utterly frozen and enthralled in his boyfriend's flirtatious manner.

  Ahkmenrah moved closer to his boyfriend, letting go of his hand and now moving it behind his head, allowing him to kiss gently by Larry's ear as he whispered sweet nothings into his ear, as the flush on Larry's face grew ten times what it was back within the lobby.

  Larry felt he may utterly fall apart from the touch and whispers from his partner as he leaned into each touch that was gifted to him, his arms covered in chills and his face flushed and flustered. He enjoyed each touch, but felt utterly flustered nonetheless he couldn't elaborate on why but Ahk's affections possessed a powerful reaction on him he fell into each and every time.

  Ahkmenrah coyly pulled away from his boyfriend, locking eyes with him. "Perhaps you'll be less flustered if you don't reject my affections"? he teased, Larry went to reply but was interrupted by a swift and sweet kiss, now he had to swear his face couldn't get any redder then this. "I won't flirt too much when you're in problem solving mode, however when you aren't I intend to keep up my antics whether you become flustered or not" allured the Pharaoh charmingly.

  Larry smiled back, still feeling flustered but also utterly in love with the man beside him, "I would have it no other way" he stated as he leaned in a reciprocated the kiss.  

  "Well well well, so this is why you went on and skedaddled away from us, so you can get all close and personal with your man" teased Jed, he and Octavius were saddled upon Dexter's back in a makeshift saddle resembling both the Cowboys and Romans.

  "So I see you figured it all out" exclaimed Ahk excitedly as he rested his chin on Larry's shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist.

  "We did indeed." stated Octavius, "We discussed out a plan, every week Dexter will allow us to train him to be our battle ready mount, and in exchange once every week we will aid him in is endeavors to cause mayhem for you" explained the Roman proudly.

  "Great, now I'll have you the pharaoh over here to do that" teased Larry as he gently turned his head and kissed Ahkmenrah's forehead.  

  "At that you will" whispered Ahkmenrah back, as he leaned in further into Larry's shoulder.

#larry x ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x larry #larry daley #natm ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah #NATM #natm 3 #natm fandom #natm 2 #natm larry #one-shot #oneshot #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #natm fic #tablet guardians

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

This takes place after the Muzzled series and references Flinching and Touch Starved part 5.

Febuwhump Day 1.5 Part 2

Touch-Starved – Crosshair - Nothing's easy with Crosshair, but after a joke goes too far, he and Doc manage to find a deeper trust in each other.

Warnings: More cursing, panic attack

WC: 4,1117

The heavy padding of the crash seat restraints was deceptively comfortable. I could hear the indecipherable words of Tech and Echo murmuring from the cockpit, unhurried voices a gentle hum atop the Marauder’s engines. Hunter, if his body was feeling kind, was resting in the bunk room. I wasn’t sure where the other two were, but the gentle quiet of the ship was a rare treasure that I found myself too happy to merely exist in.

My eyes had just started to close when something shifted nearby, attention reluctantly glancing to my right. Crosshair sat in the seat to my right, hand stretched toward me though his attention remained pointedly locked on the door to the kitchenette.

I stared groggily at his open palm for a moment, brows furrowed before hesitantly reaching for him. Studying him with a confused weariness, I slowly let my fingers slip through his. His eyes darted down to our hands in a split second of confusion before wrenching away from me with a scowl.

“I’m not asking to hold your kriffing hand.” He snarled, and I felt my eyes close in a slow blink as I drew in a deep, mediated breath, mind still freeing itself from the fringes of sleep.

“Kay, so, what are…” My jaw fell open with a silent ‘oh’, head falling heavily back against the seat. “Words. Crosshair. We use them for a reason.” There was just a faint hint of impatience in my groan, but I was already pushing the harness of dense foam away from my chest. “Sit.” I mumbled before he’d risen more than in inch from his seat, hand quickly reaching out to settle atop his forearm.

For a moment, I thought he’d been so affronted between my initial misunderstanding and subsequent frustration that he’d refuse, but, lips bunched, yielded beneath my touch, and the beginnings of a smile warmed my face as I pulled his arm toward me, gently easing the glove and vambrace free.

There was something captivating about his hands; the play of powerful tendons dancing below thick veins that stretched up the dense muscle of his forearm, the long, dexterous fingers tipped in neatly kept nails and coarse calluses; the way he melted as soon as I dragged my thumb along the center of his palm. He resisted for a moment, but I could see the tension slip from those narrowed eyes, brows abandoning that signature furrow before, finally, he let himself sink back into the chair, head resting contently against the worn padding.

My chest swelled at the sight of his eyes slipping shut, shoulders just beginning to slouch as he let out a deep breath. It had been months since he first let me touch him like this when his wrist was caught in that vine, and he’d seemed even more keen to avoid me after he’d been captured; after I’d had to subject him to that painful treatment because he’d hidden the severity of his injuries; after he’d said those hurtful words that still made my heart clench every time I thought of them.

Now, however, I granted myself permission to treasure this moment: he’d come to me. Without prompt or pain, he’d come to me for the simple pleasure of my touch. I noted the way his breath stilled against the threat of some small grunt or moan as I deftly worked over each finger in turn; the flush of gooseflesh as I meticulously isolated and manipulated the complex network of bone and tendon in his wrist; the way his jaw slackened ever so slightly as I kneaded the wiry muscles of his forearm; the softness in his eyes when he stole that brief glance at me as I finished with slow, sweeping movements up to his elbow and down to the his fingertips.

Carefully setting that limp hand atop his knee, I quietly stood and moved to the seat at his other side, lips still lifted into a gentle smile.

“Would you like me to do this one, too?” I asked, already holding my palm up in invitation. Without a word, he merely nodded and set his other hand in mine, watching in silence as I freed that limb of armor as well.

This time, a tiny grunt did manage to escape him at that first flush of relief from my thumbs dragging firmly along the length of his palm. I heard the click of his jaw slamming shut, but refused to let myself react even enough to glance toward him in hopes of catching sight of a flush creeping up his neck. For any other reason, I’d have gleaned no end of humor from causing the reserved man to blush, but not now; not for this. As I repeated the unhurried worship of his hand, I wanted him comfortable. I wanted him to know that, as long as he trusted me in this way, he was completely safe from any judgement or ridicule, that he was free to enjoy this – that I wanted him to enjoy it as shamelessly and candidly as he could.

“You know,” I murmured quietly as my hands finally stilled around him, letting that final touch linger for just a moment longer, “I don’t just give hand massages. Holding that rifle up all day can’t be comfortable. Are you ever going to let me touch your back again?” I knew I was pushing him, but hoped the gentle cadence of my words and the deep calm still evident in the laxed set of his face might be enough to rid those final whispers of reluctance.

His gaze fell to where my thumb continued shifting absently atop his palm, attention briefly captivated by the gentle touch, before drawing movement back into his own hand, fingers leisurely stretching out and then closing just enough to curl lightly atop my skin. Without a word, he pulled the limb away from me, retrieved his gear, and, with easy, unrushed strides, retreated to the cockpit.

I let out a slow sigh. While his refusal wasn’t surprising enough to even warrant any real disappointment, I still felt the smallest note of failure. He didn’t trust me enough yet, but there was hope.

-

“That was the problem,” Echo groaned, hand dragging over his face, “Captain Rex knew he’d snuck her into the barracks, that’s why Heavy wasn’t able to distract him with the whole ‘existential crisis’ diversion!”

“So, you was jus’ as confused as she was?!” Wrecker snorted.

“I had no idea what was happening!” He burst with a note of helpless that only fueled mine and Wrecker’s mirth. I’d found myself nestled on my back atop the foot of Hunter’s cot, legs stretched up for my feet to press absently against the bottom of Crosshair’s bunk despite the snarl I knew I’d get if he walked in to see me like that as Wrecker and I listening to the arc recount some of the misadventures his brother roped him into. I couldn’t dismiss the worry that Wrecker might find inspiration in his retellings, but still found myself giggling right alongside the man.

“Fives just said he was calling in a favor – a favor I didn’t owe him, and shoved her in my boot-locker because everyone else’s was too cluttered for her to fit! And then the Captain came in almost the second he closed the lid.”

“And so-so Rex just…” I stammered.

“He was there for hours! I thought the poor girl was going to suffocate! Then he just walks right up to me, kicks my locker, and asks her if she wants to come out yet. I’ve never seen Fives look so defeated!” I let my head tilt back over the edge of Hunter’s bed, body shaking with howls of laughter.

“Having fun?” Face still distorted in a beaming grin, I turned to see Hunter staring pointedly at me, arms looped across his chest, and quickly caught my lips between my teeth.

“Just keeping it warm for you, Serg.” I replied coyly. His eyebrow hitched, but gave no further reply as he watched me quickly roll to my feet. Stretching my arms lavishly over my head, I met his deadpan stare with a look of mock innocence. He relented with a small smirk before nodding toward the back of the ship.

“Tech’s sending our inventory list out when we change hyperlanes. Anything else you need to add?” There was a fondness in his voice that softened the routine question and drew my lips into a small smile.

“Everything should be up to date, but I’ll do another count just to be sure.” I answered warmly knowing that, while I was meticulous in recording what supplies I used, the occasional tube of bacta or roll of bandages still went missing now and then when they elected not to ‘bother’ me with ‘smaller injuries’. He gave an approving nod as I shot Wrecker and Echo a farewell glance before making my way through the ship.

I already had the inventory pulled up on my datapad as I walked through the medbay doors, scrolling through to quickly note what we should be fully stocked with as an easy place to start. I’d made it halfway across the room before my body reacted in a flurry of panic. There was no conscious acknowledgement of the figure leaning in the corner just beside the door, no thought before my arm snapped out to launch the datapad at him with every ounce of force the muscles could manage, no difference in that fleeting moment of terror between the elegant form of the sniper and the memory of that wretched mercenary as my throat closed around a strangled gasp, legs tangling beneath me in a desperate rush to throw myself away from him, to steal even a whisper of distance more between us before crashing back against the cot.

He caught the datapad effortlessly, brows raising in a mocking look that should have brought a flush of embarrassment to my cheeks, but I couldn’t begin to focus on that, heart fluttering painfully against my chest in a ceaseless race to flood my veins with adrenaline.

“Dank Farrik! Crosshair!” The curse erupted from me in a shout I gave no effort in restraining, “Enough with the lurking about in my karking medbay! You want to give someone a heart attack, choose someone who’s not in charge of saving your ungrateful hide every time you lot come up with some suicidal plan!” The tiny smirk he had just enough sense to at least try to bite back only fueled my rage. One hand clutched to my chest as though it might somehow prevent my heart from bursting through my sternum, body rocking beneath violently panting breaths, I dragged my other hand through my hair, fingers clawing against my scalp.

“What do you want?” I could hear the strain in my voice as I struggled to force back some of that unrelenting panic, wide eyes locked on his, and I watched that initial humor slowly fade from the sharp features of his face, brows just drawing together as he studied me with something bordering surprise; concern.

“Thought I’d take you up on your offer.” It took a moment for my mind to make sense of those suddenly hesitant words. My offer… Had it really just been earlier that day that he’d finally come back to me to work the tension from his hands; when I’d voiced that gentle invitation to treat his back with the same healing touch? Mouth hanging open slightly, I let my gaze fall away from him, jaw shifting in a vain attempt to loosen the taut muscles.

A massage… He’d been waiting in here for a massage. I wanted to be thrilled. I wanted to feel the exhilaration of a relief I knew should have accompanied this gesture of confidence and faith, but I felt only that awful cold; the chill of fear surging down my arms and legs, robbing sensation from my fingertips and prickling atop my scalp with that nauseating urge to run. I tried to focus on a slow, controlled breath, fighting the way the air shuttered through slightly pursed lips.

“Yeah,” I sighed, nearly cringing at the initial weakness in the word before starting again, “Yeah, of course…” My throat shifted awkwardly in an attempt to swallow back the lingering stiffness, a hum catching on my next exhale as I tried to force my mind into some semblance of stability. “Your- go ahead and take your armor off. You can… just stack it over on the counter.” My hand motioned vaguely across the room before I turned to retrieve my oils.

He was still for a moment, and my hair bristled at the sensation of his attentive gaze following me, but I refused to acknowledge it. I couldn’t waste this chance. If I turned him away now, he may never let himself reach out again. I just needed to convince my heart to slow, to remember that as long as I was aboard this ship surrounded by these men, I didn’t need to be afraid.

As I listened to Crosshair finally begin to walk toward the far wall, however; as I quickly chose an oil and began warming it to a soothing temperature, I couldn’t force the tremble from my breath, couldn’t slip free of that violent need to scan every corner of the room; to lock the door and bar it with everything I could physically move. My teeth ground beneath that crippling frustration, mind screaming in rage at this pointless panic, glare burring into the violent tremors still seizing through my hands, and I wanted to sob at that sharp hurt of defeat.

“Crosshair,” My voice sounded so small as I reluctantly called his name, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him as he immediately stopped moving. “I-” The word caught in my throat, every fiber of my body rebelling against the wretched truth clawing up my throat, “I can’t.” I finally forced it out on a barely audible whisper, chest lurching with a sharp inhale immediately after in a rushed attempt to explain, to somehow prevent this from pushing him away, “Um, I just… just give me a minute, okay?” It sounded like I was begging him, and that almost made it worse, but I couldn’t force that plea from my words, fingers digging into the edges of the countertop, “I’ll come find you in a bit… just… just give me a…” My teeth ground against the way my lungs tried to shutter around the words, chin ducking against my chest, eyes clenching shut in that futile attempt to focus on steadying my breath.

Once more, I heard him go still, felt the intensity of his gaze burning into me, felt my stomach churn amidst that suffocating silence that rent the air around me to sludge. When he retrieved his armor and quietly saw himself from the room, I finally let my legs fold beneath that crushing weight, knees crashing to the hard floor as my torso seized around desperate, gasping breaths, arms locking fast about my chest. I barely noticed my feet scrambling beneath me until the corner of the room pressed against my shoulders, body yielding beneath that fear as my gaze tore around me for any sign of a threat before darting to the sleek durasteel of the door.

I couldn’t bring myself to move for a long while, trapped in the certainty that that panel would slide open at any second. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to shout at myself for the uselessness of this panic. I wanted to mourn the potential damage done to that delicate wisp of trust I’d so nearly gained, but, for those long, agonizing minutes or hours or seconds, I could only cower, hidden pressed into the corner, and wait.

When my limbs finally back to unlock, when exhaustion slowly won out over that fear and I felt the first whispers of clarity reluctantly returning to my thoughts, I let myself sink beneath the wretched  understanding of what had happened, of what it could have cost me. I allowed myself a moment longer to breathe before trying to stand.

Groggily, I forced my legs to straighten, shaking them slightly to urge some feeling back into the limbs even as I scowled at the eminent sting of static prickling through newly awakened nerves. What emotion had filled those piercing eyes in the final seconds before he’d left? Disdain? Annoyance? Indifference?

I watched my fingers tap absently atop the chilled counter, no longer plagued by that uncontrollable tremble. The weariness dragging against my movements was an annoyance, but one I could overlook. We’d surely be falling out of hyperspace soon, and I still owed Hunter an updated inventory. Resolving to grant myself only that menial task as some justifiable delay before forcing myself from the room, I tried to use those few minutes to let my mind fall into a thoughtless quiet. There was no point in fretting over the potential of damage done, and blaming myself for it was a pointless misery.

-

“Cross?” His attention snapped toward me from where he’d been absently dragging a cloth over the visor of his helmet, legs curled tightly beneath him atop the thin mattress of his cot, but he offered no further response at those frightfully insightful eyes locked onto me. I didn’t shy from his gaze, standing quietly just beyond the doorway of the bunkroom. Without a word, I nodded subtly over my shoulder before turning and starting back toward the medbay, ears straining to catch any hint of sound to confirm he was following, and the relief that burst through my chest at the near silent thud of his feet hitting the floor drew a quick sigh from my lips.

I’d already sent the updated list to Tech, confirming there had been a mysterious discrepancy between my records and our physical inventory, and, in an act of either hope of denial, had begun warming my oils before leaving to find the intimidating sniper.

“Let me know if there’s a particular spot that’s bothering you. Otherwise, I’ll just start with your back and shoulders, and go from there.” I told him lightly as though nothing at all had happened earlier. “You can either lay down on your stomach or just sit if that’s more comfortable for you.” Granting him some hint of privacy, I kept my back to him as he slowly began freeing himself of that heavy armor once more, but, when those sounds quieted, I turned to find him still covered in his blacks.

“I didn’t peg you as being self-conscious.” I teased gently. “You’re not going to take your shirt off?”

“Last time I did that, you stabbed me.” The look of unabashed disbelief that quickly stole over me was almost enough to completely rid even the memory of my earlier episode, mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

“You were losing sensation in your hands.” I reminded him pointedly with a scoff, “My deepest apologies for thinking that was something you might prefer to avoid.” His lips twitched in something between a smirk and a scowl, but he let his fingers slip under the hem of his shit and drag it smoothly up his torso. I pointedly turned my attention to my supplies. Unlike Wrecker, I didn’t doubt the man before me would not only notice the flash of appreciation warming my cheeks, but also make absolutely certain that I knew he’d noticed.

Flask of oil in hand, I turned to find him settling comfortably atop the cot, arms folded up to rest his forehead on. Maker, the man was a wealth of immaculately defined muscle; the rich caramel of his skin, though slightly lighter than his brothers, still granted a stunning display of warmth as it danced with the unhurried ebb and flow of his breath.

Steps purposefully quieted, I made my way toward him, pouring a dollop of oil onto my palm before setting the container down carefully at my feet. In sure, gentle motions, I let my hands trail atop the ridge of muscle sweeping up his shoulders to the base of his neck before stretching down the length of his spine, and I couldn’t help but note the threat of tension he was purposefully fighting back.

“Normally, I’d lead you through a breathing exercise,” I murmured warmly, “though, given your specialty, I have a sneaking suspicion it might be a bit rudimentary for you.” He responded with a dismissive grunt, but offered nothing more; so I merely turned my attention back to the elaborate interplay of sculpted muscle before me, subtly beginning to add weight to the long, sweeping strokes in hopes of easing that tension from him so I could really begin.

“I’m sorry.” My body froze at the quiet words, so taken aback for a moment, that even the air stilled in my lungs. “For earlier.” He added as though there was any need to elaborate, and I had to let out a carefully slowed breath before pulling some hint of movement back to my limbs, fingers absently flaring out atop the broad expanse of his shoulders.

“Thank you.” I whispered almost silently, caught for a moment longer in that stillness before drawing my attention back to a gentle rhythm of motion, and my touch shifted slightly to begin targeting that troublesome spot between his shoulder blade and spine. “But I don’t want you to think that was entirely your fault.” I pressed, voice still lowered into a gentle murmur, “You had no way of knowing I’d react like that – I didn’t know I’d react like that.” The leisurely dance of his breath stilled, and I could practically hear the grind of his teeth beneath taut muscles.

“It’s alright, Crosshair.” I promised, heart threatening to burst at the guilt stealing over him. “Just proves that I need to pay more attention to corners.” At that, his head shifted just enough to glance up at me from the corner of his eye, and I didn’t have to force the warm smile that crept over my lips. He hesitated a moment longer before letting himself sink back to the mattress.

Only then, did he finally begin to relax beneath my touch, back occasionally shifting ever so slightly into me as I found dense knots of tangled tissue. Each subtle breath of relief that swept through him as I meticulous worked over every muscle was its own priceless reward, and I found myself all too eager to let my hands move on to continue down the length of each arm in turn before repeating my earlier ministrations to his hands, if only because I knew how the man seemed to favor that touch. I dragged my thumbs along the dense cords of muscle lining his neck until his head rested perfectly limp, and I was thrilled to see him match his breathing to the barely whispered count automatically sighing from my lips.

Finally, I let my hands rest quietly against him, and the stillness that followed was a gentle presence neither of us seemed willing to break for a long while. When he dragged his hands beneath him to push himself up, I merely let my touch slip away in the wake of his motion as he pulled himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He didn’t look at me as he rolled his shoulders, absently testing them in a subtle dance that I couldn’t help but marvel at.

“Better?” I asked, not trying to hide the smile from my voice. His jaw shifted forward, teeth absently catching at the flesh of his inner cheek before giving an almost reluctant nod. “Good.” The depth of my own elation beamed through that single word, and he seemed to quiet further beneath it.

“You know, you’re the first one so far to stay awake.” Lips pulling further into a cheeky grin, I knelt to retrieve my oil. He responded with a dismissive hum, attention following his own arm as he continued aimlessly exploring what was surely an odd weightlessness from the newly loosened limb. “Maybe next time.” I teased. That finally drew his gaze back to me, eyes narrowing into an unamused stare that drew a quiet chuckle from me.

“Thanks.” He nearly mumbled the quiet word as he began dragging his shirt back over that stunning display of elegant muscle.

“Anytime.” I answered, forcefully dragging my attention away from the final glimpse of golden skin, and my heart dropped at the subtle hitch of his brow as those damn eyes stared pointedly at mine. Kriff.

Continue Reading

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @ct-0113 @padawancat97 @eclec-tech @roguethe0tter @crosshairs-girlfriend @atomickidsoul @jennrosefx @echos-girlfriend @burningfieldof-clover @manofworm @merkitty49 @get-wr3ckered

#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #star wars echo #the bad batch echo #febuwhump2023 #febuwhump #comfort #touch starved #star wars hunter #star wars crosshair #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb oc #my writing #tbb fanfic #star wars fanfic #tbb fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #massage #yelling #star wars wrecker #panic attack #first person reader #fem reader #ptsd #fanfic