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covetyou · 1 month

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the howler monkey

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Mature (18+ only!) warnings: no smut but some nudity, implied drug use/addiction, little bit silly, mildly angsty, performance anxiety, screaming, Dieter Bravo's soft cock. basically mild hurt/comfort/fluff with my usual bit of silliness. word count: 2.8k summary: You got him here, he was safely tucked away upstairs and everything was going, mostly, according to plan. So, who the fuck is screaming?

A/N: For the Dieter Bravo Brain Rot Club March Server Challenge - you're unhinged and I love you all. Dieter would be so, so proud of us. Circus mention in honour of Clown!Dieter.

TROPE: Only one bed and forced proximity PROMPT: "You're going to get us arrested." "Oh, I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

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On days like this, getting Dieter Bravo out of the house was more like wrangling an overtired toddler than it was dealing with a full grown man. At least, you assumed it was. You didn't have a toddler for reference, but you did have a Dieter and, sometimes, that felt worse. He stalled and delayed for so long that by the time you finally - finally - got him out of the door, it was quite literally a race to get the the airport.

The flight hadn't been much different, having to practically drag him through the terminal with head down and sunglasses on to cram him into his window seat. Truth be told, you didn't know why you were flying with him anyway, only to fly back later tonight. Still, as long as it wasn't your money on the line, what Dieter wanted, Dieter got.

But now it was done. You got him here relatively unscathed, all things considered, and Dieter had been deposited in his room, ready to get a full nights beauty sleep before the press descended and the festival opened. All that was left to do was check in with his publicist and you'd be on your way back home, where you couldn't wait to crawl into bed and have a few blissful days to yourself.

So, as is the natural way with these things, it's when you're just finishing up with his publicist in the back of the bar that it all starts. It's nothing but a few strained looks from the hotel staff to begin with.

Then the phones start ringing. Every single one.

And when the phones can't be answered quick enough, hotel guests start crowding around the lobby, whispering amongst themselves about the screaming.

The screaming.

And your blood turns cold. Because it's not. It couldn't be. He wouldn't.

The publicist pays no attention, continuing swiping through his phone and yammering away. Not your circus, not your monkeys, you try to think to yourself as the lobby just gets busier and busier.

But then the hotel manager rushes in, sickly sweet smile plastered on his face, Dieter's publicist blissfully unaware as he stares down at his phone, looking at schedules and interview times and literally anything but the chaos evolving around you.

"Excuse me? Excuse me," he's saying, wringing his hands together as he approaches the table. "You're with Mr. Bravo?"

His publicist doesn't even bother looking up, simply nodding as you stare, open mouthed, into the lobby.

"It seems we have... a bit of a problem," he whispers with wide eyes. "Mr. Bravo is uh... well, screaming. It's disturbing the other guests. I'm afraid if he doesn't stop we're going to have to ask him to leave or call the police."

Well, shit. This is your circus, and that is your monkey in particular.

You're swiping the extra key card out of his hand and making your way out of the bar and into the packed lobby as quick as you can while his publicist sits there, arguing that Dieter would never (he would), that he was quiet (he wasn't), and so it couldn't possibly be him (it absolutely could).

The elevator feels so slow, the whirl of gears and an unseen mechanism pulling you up and up, as you ascend the many floors of the hotel. Then, in a blink and with another creak the doors are about to pull themselves open, and you swear you can hear it already.

The fucking screaming.

You're running now, the elevator doors barely open before you're squeezing through them, not caring for the noise you make as you thud heavily down the hallway. What would a little extra noise matter when there's someone screaming blue murder inside one of the hotel rooms.

Tapping the card, the lock on room 819 illuminates green and you're throwing open the door, the screams having subsided for a moment, and shutting yourself inside and trying to catch your breath.

Aside from the silence, it's dark. That's the first thing you notice. The second thing you notice is Dieter Bravo is nowhere to be seen, even in the dim light creeping around the window.

"Dee... Dieter?" you whisper into the darkness, hoping beyond hope that he's not here and he hasn't been screaming for the past fifteen minutes.

A small, hoarse voice floats toward you from much further away than you'd expect him to be able to be given the size of the room, "Who is it?"

"Dieter? It's me. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?" you loud whisper into the hotel room, running your fingertips across the wall as you creep forward. From what you can tell it looks the same as when you left him here. Nothing is wrecked or overturned, and he hasn't had another sudden burst of artistic inspiration - the walls look the same as they did when you shut the door to Dieter looking forlornly out of the window to the city below.

"What do you mean?" comes the muffled voice. It's closer now, but you still can't see him. There's no lump on the bed, no one sat in the chair, and he's not lying spread eagle on the floor.

"Dieter, where the fuck are you?!"

He sighs, and you hear a slap, like the sound of a hand hitting a flat, solid surface. "Under here, numbnuts."

You take another step forward, peaking under the desk, seeing no sign of Dieter. Turning toward the bed, you try to find somewhere else to look under to find wherever Dieter has stashed himself when you see it.

Two bare legs sticking out from under the bed, the end of his soft green robe just poking out from beneath the frame.

"Dee... what is going on, why are you under there? There was screaming, they think it's coming from in here."

Dieter's silence is all you need to confirm it was indeed coming from in here, from him. Pinching your nose, you ready yourself for whatever he's going to throw at you this time.

"Why are you screaming?"

"Come under here."

"Dieter, no, it's disgusting under there, they don't clean these -"

"I'll tell you if you come under here."

"No, I know this is a nice hotel, but the floors are still filth-"

Dieter cuts you off, a loud scream ripping out of his chest and rattling around your head at a frequency that makes you feel like your skull is about to burst. It must hurt, is all you can think, his throat must be raw and his mouth dry. Panic sets in - hearing a scream like that will do that to a person, you suppose. You panic not just because it must hurt, but because if there was one thing you knew, despite Dieter Bravo's flair for dramatics, he wasn't a man to scream for no reason. And, as much as you hate to admit it, you can't help but think down to Dieter's publicist likely still sat in the bar - Dieter will be impossible to interview tomorrow if you don't stop him soon, and that's if he's even allowed to stay in the hotel much longer.

So, you do the only thing you know how to do when a metaphorical fire in the shape of Dieter Bravo threatens to burn everything down. You throw yourself over it and hope for the best.

"DEE! DIETER! OKAY, OKAY!" you shout, trying not to grimace as you get on your hands and knees to crawl under the cramped space under the bed, ignoring the grit and dust already on your palms.

"Fuck. Shit, Dieter. Ow." You're wedged under there with him now, ass sticking up in the air as you cram your upper body under the bed frame. You can see the vague shape of him under here, a Dieter shaped profile visible in front of you as he stares blankly up at the underside of the bed.

"What's wrong with you?" you ask, somewhat breathlessly, only to watch Dieter tense up at your words. Shit. You didn't mean it like that, and you certainly didn't say it like that either, but before you can take it back and apologize, he beats you to it.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with me," he says in a voice so much smaller and quieter now that your head is right beside his.

"Sorry. Look, I didn't - I meant, why are you screaming, Dee. They said they'd have to kick you out or call the cops. You're going to get us arrested."

"Arrested, huh?" he says thoughtfully, turning to look over at you. "I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

"No, Dieter," you say, and even though you know he can't see you, you roll your eyes in the dark anyway.

Dieter's sigh is so big it picks up errant dust swirls it around under the bed. The urge to swipe at your nose is strong but you resist, knowing from the state of things and the chalky feeling of your palms that it'll only make things worse.

"I'm nervous," he finally says, and that's all you needed to hear.

His face is turned toward the underside of the bed when you crawl backwards. It takes a moment for him to notice, but as soon as he does he's whimpering and taking in a breath big enough that you know he's going to scream again. But you're not leaving, and instead you roll onto your back with an oof and slide yourself under the bed to look up into the nothing with Dieter.

You think back to other times he'd been like this. Too scared to perform, anxiety taking root, frightening him off into some dark quiet corner of a set or his house. You'd found him in his closet once, the only thing apparently capable of coaxing him out was watching you unbutton your shirt a little more because you'd gotten so hot sitting in the stifling little room with him. When he'd finally made his way out, it had been with his eyes glued to the extra patch of skin you'd uncovered and the trickle of sweat dripping down your chest.

Dark as it was, visual distractions wouldn't work this time.

"How many times do you have exactly the same thoughts, and how many times does everything turn out okay anyway? You're good at this, Dieter. You're going to be amazing tomorrow, just like you always are, and I'm not saying that to pressure you to perform, but just because you are. You're amazing."

"Yeah, right," he scoffs, slapping a hand dramatically down on the floor again with a grunt.

"I'm serious. You have a lot to be proud of."

"A lot to not be proud of too."

"Well, you know what to do about that."

"I'm not going to rehab."

"I've never told you to."

Dieter sighs again, because you were right. You had never told him to go to rehab. You never would. It didn't feel like your place to - you were only his assistant. He knows this and you think - know - that sometimes he'd like for you to just tell him to get it together and go, but you don't. "I know."

You don't know how long you both lie there in silence and darkness after that, softly exchanging breaths under the bed. You do know it's long enough for your mind to wander back down to the bar and all the people now going about their evenings. It's not lost on you that no one came in to check on him before you. That now that he'd been silent for several minutes, no one had bothered to knock on the door to see if he was okay. None of them cared, not really. You knew that and, worse of all, Dieter knew that. The people here didn't care about him unless he was being a shiny, glitzy movie star who could say and do the right things in front of the cameras.

Scuffling feet alert you to his movement as Dieter move shuffles toward you, his head colliding gently with the side of yours. You make no effort to move and neither does he, choosing instead to lean his head against yours and rest it there.

The signs are obvious then. The small weave of his head as his eyes track invisible shapes in the dark. The twitch in his fingers, the bounce of his foot. He'd been a mess all day, you can see that now, and whatever he had taken since getting here was somehow making it better and worse all at once.

"How much have you taken this time?"

His breath catches, caught doing something he said he wouldn't do, not here, not this time. But he doesn't lie, not to you. He'd stopped doing that a long time ago, and that was as much progress as you could ever hope for.

"Too much. Not enough. I don't know."

"Okay," you say, even though it isn't, not really. He should stop. You wish you could do more to stop him.

"Will you stay?" he murmurs, even though he knows you have a flight to catch. He'd paid for it when he demanded you come with him, promising you a few days off while he was stuck at the festival answering the same questions over and over again.

"You know I can't, my flight is in a couple of hours, I need to get through the traffic -"

"Please stay."

"There is nowhere for me to stay, Dieter. You don't need me here and I couldn't get a room if I tried. Everywhere nearby is booked." Assistants don't sleep with their employers, assistants don't sleep with their employers...

"I do. I do need you. I'm not asking you to stay anywhere else, I'm asking you to stay here. Stay with me," he mumbles. "I can sleep under here if I have to. Just stay." Assistants don't sleep with their fucking employers...

"You're not sleeping on the floor. And I- I can't." By this point you don't know why you can't, because maybe assistants don't sleep with their employers, but you and Dieter were always a little bit, well... y'know.

"Please."

And your resolve never was that strong where Dieter was concerned. Not really. "Fine. I'll stay. I need a shower and I need to go -"

"You can borrow some of my clothes," he says quickly. "We can shower - separately, I mean - get room service - fuck I'm starving - and then when we sleep, we can cuddle?"

You can't help but laugh, smiling up at the bed at how quickly his mood could turn around, particularly where cuddling and a good meal were concerned. Sometimes, when he was really tired, or high, or sad, or a combination of all three, he'd ask you to cuddle. You'd always settle on stroking his hair instead, watching his face as his jaw relaxed and sleep finally pulled at his features before sneaking away. Today, you had nowhere else to be so, you think, you may as well stay to cuddle.

"Yeah, Dee. We can cuddle."

You talk over room service - fancy toasted sandwiches and warm chocolate chip cookies that weren't on the menu, but Dieter had the audacity to ask for anyway. When you shower, he waits outside the door for you, restlessly stepping from foot to foot. You wait for him too, convincing him to leave the door open a little just in case, and he does so without question. A few minutes later he comes out, flushed red from the heat of the water and totally naked. You don't bat an eye.

Your skin still feels damp when you're climbing into bed, grateful to be on top of it and grit free now rather than under it. Dieter soon follows, crawling naked on all fours before tucking his legs under the sheets beside you.

You talk for a little longer, listening as Dieter sounds more and more slurred with sleep, before flicking the light off. He fidgets, shuffling closer to you until his arm wraps around your chest, resting his hand softly on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling into your neck on the pillow you now share. It's not comfortable, not for you, but the contented sounds coming from Dieter and the way his face twitches against your bare skin tells you he's holding back tears, that he needs this. You can be uncomfortable for one night, you think, just before he hooks his leg over yours, well and truly pinning you to the bed.

"Dee?"

"Yeah?"

"Your cock is on my leg."

"I know."

"Okay, well... G'night Dee."

"Night," he says straight into your ear, smacking his lips as he snuggles into your side, soft cock squished against your leg. And when, somehow, sleep ignores your discomfort and pulls you under barely a few minutes later, you swear you can feel Dieter press his lips to the bare skin of your neck.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #coveted fics

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greatooglymooglyyy · 1 month

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The Last Ride Chapt. Three (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

series masterlist

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: strained parental relationship, flirting, sexism, 1.8k words

a/n: this my work, do not replicate it. do not repost as your own. this is such a filler chapter y'all but i think we needed some character development

“You have anything else for me today?” I ask Chris as I yank off my work gloves and shove them in my pocket. He shoots me a quick glance over his shoulder before he goes back to unloading the truck.

“Did you fill the watering-”

“Yes.”

“Did you walk the fence to see-”

“Yep. And told Uncle there was a loose spot by the north pasture.”

Chris turns and studies me for a second before his mouth pulls up in the ghost of a smile. “Well, alright then, little miss farmer. You can go.”

“Thank god.” I sigh in relief at having survived my first week and spin to leave before tossing Chris a curt, “Have a good weekend.”

He nods back at me in recognition, opening his mouth like he wants to say something else before apparently thinking better of it and turning back to the truck.

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

I can’t believe that I’ve become a person whose most exciting plan on a Friday night is a long bubble bath. But I’m not even mad about it. After a week of chasing down animals and lifting feed, I have muscles aching that I’ve never even felt before. Not even after pilates.

When I’m done soaking away my sorrows, I get dressed and head into my room. But before I can follow through on my plan to sleep for approximately the next 22 hours, my phone begins to ring.

I know before I even look down that it’s my dad and I sigh deeply. I’ve been dodging his calls and texts since I got here, using work as an excuse, but he knows I have weekends off. Flopping onto my bed in defeat, I slide the bar over to answer.

“Yes, Dad?” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice but the pause in his response tells me I failed.

“Hey, honey. I was just, um, calling to check in on you. How’s the ranch?”

I give a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, it’s great. A dream.”

There’s silence on both of our lines for a few beats as we each wait for the other to give in.

“Look…” Dad starts, his normally strong voice wavering a bit. “I just wanted to tell you…”

I wait as he trails off, hoping he’s about to open the door for us to get over this but he seems to bail out on his original thought.

“... I wanted to ask how you’re doing on cash. There are some cool shops in town. Don’t just rot inside all day while you’re there. Here I’ll transfer something to your card.”

Disappointment floods over me as my bank app notifies me of a deposit. “Cool. Thanks.”

We say an awkward goodbye a few minutes later and I throw my phone on the bedside table. I turn off my lamp and stare up at the ceiling, deep in thought. As I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but wonder if my dad and I will ever have more in common than just money.

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

I take his advice and take my uncle’s truck into town to explore. The experience of driving a pickup truck is every bit as humbling as I expected it to be, especially with the loud backfiring. But when I pull into the parking lot for the shopping strip, I see that I fit right in for maybe the first time since I got here.

I step into the first clothing store I see, a cute little boutique with pink cowboy hats in their window. It’s pretty busy when I enter so I stick to browsing the walls, smiling to myself at the section of belts with huge buckles.

I pick up a shirt that says “Say howdy, stay rowdy” intending to take a picture but sit it down when I remember I don’t really have anyone to send it to.

A pretty girl in a camo Chevrolet hat taps me on the shoulder and gives me a friendly smile when I turn. “Hi! Can I help you find anything?”

“No thank you...” I glance down at her nametag and return her smile. “...Abby. I’m just looking.”

She nods and leans in close to whisper. “Girl, I really just came over to say how much I love your purse. It was all over my vision board this year.”

I laugh at this and look down at my Marc Jacobs tote bag. “Do you want it? I hardly ever carry this one.”

Abby’s eyes widen and she shakes her head quickly. “No! I couldn’t-”

“Girl, seriously. It’s no big deal. I open the bag and pull out my wallet and lip gloss, having not even bothered to switch the rest of my belongings over this morning, then hand her the bag.

She takes it slowly as if she’s sure it’s a trick and then beams at me. “Thank you so much! That’s way too sweet.”

We talk for a few more minutes, exchanging socials before her boss comes around the corner and calls for her.

“Ugh.” She groans, rolling her eyes. “Let me get back before he has a cow. Don’t be a stranger, okay? Text me.”

I promise I will and leave the store, hiding a smile.

As I start making my way over to the next boutique, the door to the ice cream shop bursts open and a small girl runs out. She just may be the cutest kid I’ve ever seen in my life with her huge blue eyes and pigtails that curl delicately at the ends. The girl skips my way, her little hand holding a cone, and almost bumps into me. She stops short and smiles up at me sweetly. “Sorry!”

I smile back, squatting down a bit. “No problem, honey. I love your shoes.”

At the compliment, her face brightens up even more, stepping back to show off her cowboy boots better. “Thank you! My brother got them for me. They have my name on the side, look. E-V-I-E. Evie!”

I laugh and nod my head. “Very cool, Evie.”

The ice cream door opens again and a familiar frame steps out. “Little girl, what have I told you about walking away from me?”

I raise my eyebrows as Chris comes over and places a hand on Evie’s head. Without my permission, my eyes trail themselves over Chris' outfit, taking in the rare sight of him out of work clothes. Somehow he looks even better than usual in his simple white tee tucked into his jeans, a gold chain hanging casually around his neck. He’s got a cowboy hat in his hand and he pulls it on, adjusting it as he looks up and finally notices me. His brow furrows in confusion as he looks between the two of us. “Scotch?”

I wave awkwardly and smile. “Hi.”

Evie looks up at me blinking slowly. “Your name is Scotch?”

“Y/N.” Chris and I say in unison, making heat creep up my skin.

“This is Mr. Buck’s niece, remember?” He adds, looking down at Evie who nods. With them standing next to each other, the resemblance is striking and I can't believe I didn't make the connection immediately. His eyes dilate with love when he looks at her and I can't help but grin at their sweet bond.

Chris looks back over and me and raises his brow, reaching out and tugging my sleeve. “Ain’t it a little hot for this?”

I scoff and gesture down at myself, smoothing a hand over my faux leather jacket. "You do what you must for the look,” I say with fake cockiness and he laughs. “Why are you always hating on my style?”

He grins, clicking his tongue. “Believe me, Scotch, the last thing i'm doing is hating.” I raise an eyebrow and he adds a quick, “I mean, it don’t make me no nevermind is all.”

My lips pull up in a smirk and the moment stretches on for a bit too long as he holds my eye contact until Evie taps her foot and interrupts. “Why are you looking at her so funny, bubba?”

We snap out of it and look down, Chris giving her a confused look. “What are you on about?”

“Like your eyes are sparkling. It’s weird-”

“Okay! We gotta go. Let’s have a little chat about strangers on the way.” Chris cuts in, taking her hand to lead her away. “See you Monday, Scotch.”

“See you.”

“Bye Y/N!” Evie yells over her shoulder. She turns back to Chris lowering her voice only slightly. “You’re right. She is pretty.”

“Shh-”

Oh wow. My heart does something funny but I ignore it and cross the street, deciding to head back home. As I walk past a group of boys my age, someone lets out a low wolf whistle and I turn in disgust.

A boy with the greasiest mullet the world has ever seen runs over from his group of friends and starts walking backward beside me.

“Well, damn girl. You gotta be the finest thing on this side of the Mason-Dixon. Where they been hiding you at?”

“Jesus. Does that usually work for you?” I say, picking up my pace a bit. He grins, clearly taking my tone as a challenge, and steps into my path so I stop walking. “Get out of my way.”

“Oh c’mon on, darlin’. They don’t let y’all smile in the big city?” The boy flashes me what I’m sure he thinks is a sly smile and leans in closer, running his eyes down my body. “Let a country boy give you a reason to.”

I scoff and cross my arms, opening my mouth to give him hell, when Chris appears behind him and claps a rough hand on his shoulder.

“How about you take a few steps back, man?” Chris suggests, setting his jaw around his toothpick and giving the boy a dark look from under the brim of his hat.

He seems to wilt immediately under Chris’ gaze, cutting his eyes from his to mine. “My bad, bro. Is this you?”

I narrow my eyes, annoyed that the only thing stopping him from harassing me is another man. “Or maybe I’m just a girl who isn’t interested?”

Chris lets the boy go, stepping closer to my side. “You heard the boss, Mason. Why don’t you go mack on your girlfriend?”

He smacks his lips and puts his hands up. “Whatever man. I was just being nice. She ain’t even all-”

Chris levels him with a dangerous stare and he snaps his mouth shut. “Watch your mouth.”

Mason rolls his shoulders back in forced nonchalance and heads back over to his boys who yell out taunts and ooos.

“I could have handled it,” I say stubbornly, looking over Chris’ shoulder and noticing Evie waiting a few feet away.

“I know you could have.” He replies without hesitation. “I don’t think there’s much you can’t handle.”

He doesn’t wait for my response, spinning on his heel and heading back to his sister. I stand there and watch them fade down the street, forcing down a smile as my understanding of who Chris is shifts in my mind.

🏷️/ @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper

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diorcities · 10 months

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⠀ ⠀ ── 𖥻 🍭‧₊˚⊹ nct dream on your period !

suggestive. mdni. library

haechan can sleep with you for hours, as long as you need it. the pain gives you no rest, and you try to confront it in silence to not overwhelm the boy sleeping next to you. between dreams, you have heard him wake up occasionally to check that you are better, and you have not thought about anything other than pretending to be asleep so that he gets some rest. so you are there, staring at the ceiling as a blaze of pain collapses you and grips your insides. you doze and doze until you finally fall into the arms of morpheus; the pain has subsided a bit since you last woke up.

you stretch, feeling your muscles stiff and exhausted from a terrible nap, but feeling that you can finally find some sleep: the pain has almost completely disappeared. the sun's rays have been extinguished by the thin curtains of the alcove and you hear the small cooing of nocturnal animals below haechan's soft snoring. maybe that's why you don't notice it at first; your hand goes to your belly and you bump into something.

haechan's hand rests peacefully on your stomach, giving off a sweet body heat. you hear him stirring between dreams before his two brown orbs greet you warmly. “better?” your hand intertwines with his. “better.”

jisung would make you the most delicious teas in the world while you showered with hot water. he knows how bad you feel when your period is about to come, so he would make you your favorite pajamas and together while listening to music. he would make you sleep on his chest while caressing your lower back to somehow relieve your menstrual pains, whisper sweet things in your ear or simply sing to you in an attempt to divert your attention to him. “you know what i read somewhere?” you hear his voice ask as you are about to fall asleep. you hum in response, “making love helps.”

“ji, dear. i think it only applies to headaches.” “oh,” he would say, stubbornly. “i'm sure i read it somewhere, i'll look it up for you.”

mark buys you pads when your period is three days early. she'd probably try to buy them in your favorite color, even if it's just the wrapper. he'd be on the phone with you while reciting in whispers the details of the towel package, and at this point, you don't know who's more embarrassed between the two of you.

“mark, honey, can you hurry up?”

“oh, shit, yes, baby. on my way,” he says he's about to pay but actually asks a salesgirl for help because he doesn't understand entirely about wings and no wings. he'd probably spend hours looking at the rack to buy the perfect towels, see the details on the packaging having a vague idea of the ones he's seen you buy. then when he came home, you know he'll make you tell him how proud you are of him for doing it without help, nevertheless, you ask him to hurry up next time because your ass is frozen from waiting so long.

jeno knows when you're in pain, and he finds himself in a conjunction of what's the best thing he can do in situations like that. it's obviously hard to know for sure what to do when he'll never be able to experience what you're feeling. “talk to me,” he whispers softly, hovering over your body but without touching you, fearing that he could make the situation worse by looking at your body contorted in the least painless position you found for your cramps. “let me die.” also, it doesn't help the drama you possess without alteration at times like those.

he leaves the room for a whole ten minutes and you think «damn he did let me die» but then he returns. you are filled with gentle kisses while a warm compress is deposited in your stomach. “is it too hot?” he wants to know, looking at you with worried doe eyes. suddenly you're out of speech at the sweet gesture, feeling flustered and warm by it even tho he surely did the same on other occasions. “too hot.” you think out loud, causing jeno to check the compress. “you sure?” he asks, receiving a pretty stunned “uh-huh” from you.

he peeks at you, and it all seems to fit in his head. a big smile appears on his lips when he leans to kiss you as he decides to play along. “should we try another method?”

taking hot showers with renjun is always fun. without worrying about anything since the bathroom is always dark except for scented candles on the countertop. having long, tender kissing sessions while his soft hands caress your waist, back pressing the tiles from the wall. hands brushing his wet hair out of his hair. smiling in each other's mouths, before you feel something warm go down your crotch. “okay! we need to stop.” because you've never tried doing it while on your period, and asking renjun would be pretty embarrassing. however, he only moves his kisses to your neck, “If you need me, just say it.”

he lets you go as he hums a melody, feeling him lather his hair. going silent out of nowhere before he whines softly, “something's wrong?” you ask him, trying to focus your eyes on his dark silhouette. “it got into my eye!”

jaemin would be so kind and understanding when he sees you start to cry after you have said something rude to him. he knows you are in a vulnerable and emotional moment, so he empathizes completely with you even when he cannot and will not be able to experience what you are going through. you are so upset and in a bad mood, that you don't register when you raise your voice in response to him. you immediately regret doing so, which makes you more irritated; you regret being in this state and regret yelling at your boyfriend when all he wants to do is to help.

you cover your face in grief. “sorry, sorry.” hiccups attack you as you try to hide the terrible state of your riotous emotions. you register no sound other than your disconsolate sobs, and you think jaemin has gone and finally tired of you, which causes you to cry more. little do you know that jaemin is suffering his own internal battle. he knows you don't like to show your sensitive side, should he go away and leave you alone? it must be hard to have colic and have to put up with his nonsense questions, should he apologize? would it make any difference?

so the best he can think to do is to hold you in his arms as he rocks you in his embrace, whispering that there is nothing to apologize for every time you apologize.

chenle doesn't cringe when she sees the dark spot on the sheets, and you sleeping peacefully, oblivious. but he knows how embarrassed you'll be once you wake up, so he gets to work. you once told him how much you craved gummy bears when you were on your period and ever since then, he has had bags and bags of gummy bears in the cupboard. he would remove you from your dreams for a good reason, suggest you shower together and then eat candy while watching a movie.

even when he keeps you from noticing, it's almost impossible; there's a similar stain on the pants you stole from his closet. the embarrassment eats you alive as chenle tries to downplay it. he doesn't budge when you try to take charge, instead, he KICKS you out of his room and tells you to pick a movie while he takes care of the situation. after he's done with the room, he walks into the living room and sits next to you while a weary sigh leaves his lips. “what did my pretty bloody mary pick out for us?.”

#nct dream fluff #nct dream suggestive #haechan fluff #mark fluff #jeno fluff #jaemin fluff #jisung fluff #renjun fluff #chenle fluff #nct dream reactions #♡dream

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dinodanicus · 3 months

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you can skip this wall of text its just about the scam this illustration was involved in.

This fairly ordinary illustration of two hands holding was involved in a very weird and convoluted scam. Last month I was commission to illustrate this image for invitations meant to go out for a supposed wedding anniversary coming up in March. The whole commission seemed odd to me I mainly draw dinosaurs and aliens. Not many people know I also draw people but the buyer who called himself Petterson Reid was offering to pay 300 up front and 200 after the work was finished. A nice offer for what was a very simple illustration. I took the job and sent him a very rough sketch of the hands to show him what the final image might look like. He liked the sketch and told me to finish the image after he sent the first payment I went ahead and finished the image that night. I held onto the picture to see if he would really send the 300 dollars first. The buyer wanted to send a check by mail which is weird but I thought he might have been a boomer who didn't understand how to use PayPal. His emails and text seemed like something my grandmother would write very proper and overly polite. I was fairly suspicious of him and waited to see if a check would actually be delivered. To my surprise a check did arrive a week later from Petterson Reid except it was for 2,790 dollars. knowing this was far too much money I asked him if it was a mistake. He said the extra money was for a PayPal invoice to the printers involved in the invitations. He wanted me to use the extra money on the check to pay the printers on his behalf. Again very weird but I chalked it up to an old person who didn't know how to pay online. I cashed the check the next day, since it was from an out of state bank they were putting it on hold for 3 days to see if the funds would clear. I told the buyer about the three day waiting period and asked for the invoice I was suppose to be paying and he went absolutely ape shit. He claimed I was trying to steal his money and was threatening to pursue legal action I was completely shocked by the change in attitude. I had to mute my phone because he kept sending wave after wave of threatening texts. At this point I was 90% sure this was some sort of scam but when I called the bank they said there was nothing to do until the hold expired. I was confident it wouldn't then to my surprise the check cleared and the money was in my account. At this point I had the finished artwork and the money so I wanted to get this crazy asshole on his way so I wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. I told him to send the invoice for the printer and I would pay it with the money on the check then I would send the picture and our business would be done. This prick sends some half assed looking invoice with a payable link on PayPal. When I try to pay, it says payment will be held till Feb 7th. Apparently this date is too late for the printers so now that processing payment has been canceled by the printer in favor of a new payment process through Zelle. I was trying to figure out what was going on, if its a scam what is the take the entirety of the check was still in my account it didn't even say it was pending. I go to pay on Zelle and discover the 2,790 dollars has been rescinded by the bank. I call and learn this ass hair had sent a forged check to the bank in an effort to have me pay these fake invoices with my own money. He guessed the bank would deposit the check without fully vetting it for the standard 10 days since I'm a long time member. He knew he had until about five a clock that day before the bank would catch the discrepancy. He was posing as the printer in order to scam 4,740 dollars from me through both attempted payment methods. luckily for me I'm broke as hell right now and didn't have the money in my own account to cover either payment with out the check. everything has been taken care of now I just thought I better share this story since I've never seen a scam like this before. It took an entire month for him to essentially get nothing I really don't know what to think of any of this its such a weird scheme.

#my art #illustration #hands #sketch

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decolonize-the-left · 2 months

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DIVEST FROM BANKS FOR PALESTINE

.....Correct me if I'm wrong but allies to Israel would have no money to move around and spend if we and banks have no money to move around for them right?

Even the US treasury needs a way to offer collateral for the billions they give to countries like Israel. Do you know what that collateral has been thus far? Your paycheck. The future paychecks of babies that can't even talk yet. That's how they'll pay all this off.

The government has been giving us the biggest fuck you that they could. Let's return the favor.

"yeah but the banks-"

Have been bailed out every time they've asked for it since I've been alive. They love debt when they aren't the ones paying it. They'll know how heavy the weight of their arms dealing is. There's a reason they have been phasing out paper checks and money- they can't move money they don't have and digital bank accounts can't see the paper money in your drawer ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So yes absolutely keep boycotting.

And we should pull all our money out of Major Banks.

It's incredibly accessible for most people who already have a bank account, even if you can't protest or strike. And you don't have to miss any work.

So let's hit em where it hurts.

Banks (from this list of Banks that heavily fw Israel)

Citibank

Bank Julius Baer & Co

Bank Lombard Odier & Co

Banque Pictet & Cia SA

BNP Paribas Israel

CBH Compagnie Bancaire Helvetique S.A.

Dreyfus Sons & Co.

Hyposwiss Private Bank Geneve SA

JP Morgan Chase Bank N.A.

Silicon Valley Bank

Union Bancaire Privee

HSBC

Barclays

BNP Paribas Israel

State Bank of India

Other banks that have supported the genocide

Goldman Sachs

Bank of America

Wells Fargo

Blackrock

AXA

Capital One

RBS

Marks & Spencer

Tesco

Scotia Bank

Bank of Montreal

No, you don't have to cancel your direct deposits (most places in the USA won't even pay you without an account anyway). But you should drain your account ASAP. Don't let the money sit in your bank. Pull it out and use cash for everything you can. Don't put money in the bank unless you need to.

The point is just to keep as much money as you can out of banks for as long as you can.

Yeah it's gonna be harder to order online which may be inconvenient until we readjust but thats good.

It'll be a natural way for the boycotts to evolve.

A lot of fighting in the Red Sea is being done because of how much money the USA, UK, etc have to lose if they can't get their products on time. The Houthis turning ships away cost these countries millions every time. If there are less ships to turn away cuz people aren't ordering stuff from overseas then Good.

Yeah we could have an organized day to do this but...why??? It's accessible, it's free, and the people across the globe experiencing a genocide right now, from north America to Africa to Palestine don't have the luxury of waiting a few months for us to spread the word and organize.

If you see this share it. Copy/paste, repost, retweet, idc. Spread like wildfire pls

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raz-writes-the-thing · 4 months

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Paying Attention (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x GN!Reader / requests are OPEN

Summary: You're a little clueless, but the Crows are trying their best to get you to see the light.

SAB/SOC: @the-sweet-psycho (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“You-” Jesper said, sitting down at the card table, crossing one leg over the other and running a gambling chip down his knuckles in an impressive display of his dexterity. “Are clueless.”

You practically choked on your margarita, eyeing him up and down and yanking the chip from his fingers before he had a chance to pull it from your reach. He cocked a brow at you in quiet respect and you clicked your tongue.

“Really? How so?” You deposited the chip onto your stack and shot Jesper an award-winning smile. He grunted, not at all impressed.

“The boss man,” he said, picking up his cards to check his hand, “and his very obvious feelings for you, of course.”

You checked your own hand, playing with the stack of chips. You risked a glance at the upstairs balcony area and who do you see? Kaz, of course. He’s leaning down at the tables below with that calculating glower that sends you mad with desire.

Jesper follows your gaze and has to stop himself from snorting. Kaz’s eyes flick over the tables and finally settle on you. The unexpected eye contact sends a shiver down your spine and a flush up your cheeks. Kaz arches one brow at you, expression otherwise not changing. You know him well enough by now to know that that eyebrow raise means ‘are you okay?’

You flash him a microscopic nod, which he returns before standing upright again and wandering off in the direction of his office. You know what that means- Inej is here somewhere keeping an eye on things. That leaves him to retire to his office and peer over ledgers and jobs for another several hours.

“Hello,” a velvet voice says over your shoulder as the body that came with it slid into a chair beside you with such grace it couldn’t have been anyone else other than-

“Inej,” you greeted warmly, placing your cards down for the round. “Kaz have you keeping an eye on things at the Club tonight?”

She’s barely moving, but you know she’s on high alert, watching and waiting for any sign of trouble. She hummed her confirmation.

“Yes, he’s concerned the Dime Lions are getting a little too bold with their territory. Kaz wants to make sure they don’t cause any trouble for the Pigeons.”

“Pigeons,” you reply, watching as Jesper finally makes his move. “Not language I hear you speak in very often.”

Inej lets out a sigh, allowing herself to break vigilance for just long enough to rub her forehead.

“No, but you stay in the Barrel long enough, you get used to the local speech patterns.”

That made sense to you, yes. It was easy enough to slip into the language of the Barrel. Particularly when you spent time in the Crow club and the dodgier parts of town.

“Inej,” Jesper piped up, that signature look on his face that told you he was about to stir shit up. “You know Kaz better than most- tell me, do you think he has a crush on our dear friend here?”

You spluttered, slapping Jes on the shoulder playfully in disbelief. You were about to defend your fearless leader once again when you turned to look at Inej. She was usually so good at keeping things to herself, but one look at her expression and you knew she thought the same as Jesper.

“Oh, no- not you too,” you protested. “You don’t seriously-”

“Oh, yes,” she said, eyeing a patron by the bar who was starting to look like getting in a fight might not be such a bad idea after all. “Completely smitten.”

You scoffed once again, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all.

“We’re not joking,” Jesper said, placing his hat on his knee.

Your laugh died off and you frowned thoughtfully. It would be nice if he did have a little crush on you, given how he made you feel, but you weren’t at all convinced.

“Well then,” you said. “Guess I better start paying more attention and see for myself.”

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

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Someone Like You

Pairing: Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) x f!reader Warnings: Mild angst, handjob, smut. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: The Halcyon is hosting its Christmas Eve party for its guests, and her and Billy are both feeling the pressure of being rushed off their feet. They find a moment of respite alone together.

Author's note: A part two of my first Smuffmas entry. Day eleven of the Smuffmas prompts - "a fancy party and praising". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It has been twelve days since her and Billy had decorated the staff sitting room. Twelve long, miserable days since she had last felt his lips upon hers and the way he’d rutted against her, not that she’s counting. They have scarcely had a chance to see each other in the lead up to Christmas. Beyond shy smiles and blushes exchanged in passing, they’ve had no other interaction. But that’s not for lack of wanting to or trying. The mistletoe she’d rescued has remained in her apron pocket, primed for an opportune moment.

December is always the busiest time of year for the hotel. People want to celebrate in style, and so they check in to the Halcyon to be waited on hand and foot. She’s not sure what it is about Christmas that drives people to make the most outlandish demands of the staff, but it has stolen away her festive cheer. She is exhausted.

It’s Christmas Eve and the day has been spent preparing for the annual party they host for the guests who will be staying with them on the big day itself. On top of turning down rooms, and helping the kitchen staff to prepare food, she’s now expected to serve drinks at the party itself.

The staff who are married with children have been given Christmas off to spend with their families, so The Halcyon is operating on a skeleton crew of the young and the single, her and Billy are unlucky enough to find themselves among them.

She weaves her way through the bar, abuzz with the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses. Every surface seems to glitter with decorations, amplified by the muted lighting of the lamps that adorn the centre of each table.

Nodding and smiling politely each time a guest relieves her of a saucer of champagne that rests on the heavy tray she carries around the room, she breathes a withering sigh once it’s finally empty. Her feet ache with how many passes she’s made around the crowded space, yet there’s no time to rest. She has to collect the empties and take them back to the kitchen to be washed, so that they can be refilled anew by the bar staff. It seems never ending.

Doing a quick scan of the bar, she can see that Kate and Feldman are circling the room with drinks and canapés, so she’ll be fine to leave for a little while to wash up some glasses. The food prep has already been done, so the kitchen is empty, save for the staff going in to refresh plates and glassware.

The empties rattle precariously against each other on her tray as she walks carefully back to the kitchen, her burden suddenly seeming not quite so great as she spots Billy doing exactly the same thing. He’s clad in his usual bellboy uniform, though is without his cap, a means to help him blend in with the rest of the serving staff.

He pushes his tray onto the draining board next to the sink, and a glass wobbles, toppling off and shattering loudly against the hard linoleum of the kitchen floor.

“Ah– shit!” He grumbles, kneeling to pick up the pieces.

She quickly deposits her own tray onto the food prep table and kneels to help him.

“It’s okay, Billy, it’s just a glass,” she reassures him, picking up some of the larger shards and depositing them into the bin beneath the sink.

“I know, I know,” he replies with a sigh, “but I can’t seem to get anything right today.”

“How do you mean?” She asks, righting herself and brushing her hands on her skirt as he reaches for a dustpan and brush to sweep up the rest of the mess.

“Spilled champagne all down a lady’s frock just now, broke a glass,” his brow furrows as he brushes the broken pieces into the pan and empties it into the bin. “Brought the wrong luggage to the wrong room earlier too.”

She watches as he stands again, chucking the dustpan and brush to one side, and she offers him a sympathetic smile. “It’s our busiest time of year, everyone makes mistakes. I forgot to fold the toilet paper into a point in the Royal Suite earlier, and Mrs. Garland gave me a right earful.”

He tugs awkwardly at the bottom of his bellboy uniform, his mouth turned downwards, as is his gaze. “Yeah…but…I’m gonna be drafted next year. If I can’t get this job right, how am I gonna manage to defend our country? I’m useless.”

Her brows pinch together in concern, stepping forward to gently cup Billy’s cheek. It’s soft and warm against her palm, growing warmer still beneath her touch. “Oi, don’t talk like that. You’re doing a fine job. And you’re so brave, I know I’ll feel safer having you protecting us all.”

His blue eyes flit up to meet hers, wide and filled with uncertainty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Billy, I think you’re wonderful.”

He huffs a soft chuckle, turning pink as he pulls away slightly, lips pressed into a tight smile. “I dunno about that…”

“Well, I do,” she reaches into her apron pocket, pulling out the mistletoe she’s kept stashed there since their first kiss. “See? I’ve been saving this in the hopes we’d use it again.”

Billy visibly softens, shoulders pulling away from his ears, and he steps towards her, hands gripping her waist as he presses his lips to hers. It’s a slow, soft, lingering kiss that they hold for a few moments, before he reluctantly breaks away. It sets her pulse racing and she wraps both her arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Anyone could walk in,” he whispers, his eyes searching her face uncertainly.

“They won’t though. They’re all busy.”

She kisses him again, and this time they are both more eager as he backs her up against the sink. She smiles into it, the mistletoe she’d been holding absentmindedly falling from her fingers and onto the floor behind them.

His excitement grows more apparent as he presses against her, and she drops an arm down between them to palm at him through his grey trousers.

He groans, pressing his forehead against hers. “We shouldn’t…”

“But you want to?”

“God…yes…yes!”

His voice is a strained whisper, causing excitement to flutter hotly in her lower belly. She uses both hands to unbuckle his belt, before unzipping his trousers and snaking her fingers into his underwear to wrap around his hardened length.

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. Though she’d felt it as he’d ground against her the first time they’d kissed, it’s another thing entirely to have her hand on it. Billy is impressively well endowed.

“So big,” she coos, her thumb swiping over the wetness that’s gathered at the tip.

His head falls against her shoulder with a gasp, and his grip on her waist tightens as she slowly strokes her hand up and down, dragging the foreskin along with it, feeling every ridge and vein.

“So good for me, Billy, you’re so good.”

She speeds up her movements and his head tilts back slightly, eyes screwed shut and lips parted, as he breathes raggedly. “Oh god…please…”

Smirking, she leans in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Have you ever been with a woman, Billy?”

“N–no,” he pants, hips canting to chase the movement of her hand.

“Do you think about it when you touch yourself?”

“Yeah…I…I think about you.”

She clenches around nothing at the confession, biting her lip, twisting her wrist slightly as she pumps at his cock.

“Is that what you want?”

He whines slightly, nodding and pulling her closer, a strand of his gelled hair falling forward against his forehead. “Mmmm…I want you.”

“Such a good boy,” she purrs. “Perhaps if you ask nicely then that’s what you’ll get for Christmas.”

She feels his stomach muscles tense, a grunt escaping him as he pulsates in her palm, coating her knuckles in hot, sticky spend.

Withdrawing her hand, she licks it from her fingers, the taste slightly salty, and hums in satisfaction.

He stares at her, chest heaving and eyes wide, transfixed by the sight.

“Are you real?” He asks breathlessly.

She giggles, brushing his stray strand of hair back into place. “If you do a good job for the rest of this evening, perhaps I’ll let you find out.”

#billy taylor x reader #ewan mitchell #billy taylor #billy taylor x you #billy taylor x y/n #billy taylor imagine #billy taylor smut #billy taylor the halcyon #the halcyon billy taylor #billy taylor fan fiction #billy taylor fanfiction #billy taylor fanfic #billy taylor fan fic #the halcyon #the halcyon fan fiction #the halcyon fanfiction #the halcyon fan fic #the halcyon fanfic

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softiejoon · 1 year

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it's stupid, he knows, but sometimes minho thinks you love chan a little more.

there are no ill feelings to the sentiment, and he doesn't harbour any bitterness towards either of you for it. in fact, sometimes, he considers it only natural that you do. you've known chan longer than you've known him; not by much, but he understands there's a certain familiarity that comes only with time. the two of you are similar in a lot of ways, leading to constant sighs and eye-rolls on minho's end. especially when you and chan start a slew of terrible jokes or fuel each other’s squeals during movie nights. it’s common that minho falls asleep trying to keep up with the hour-long conversations you and chan have in bed, and, more often than not, he chooses to bury his head into the pillow rather than participate in your early-morning sweet nothings. you and chan simply share more love languages, minho concludes, and it's never bothered him before. if anything, he finds himself annoyingly endeared by your antics. for some reason, though, he can't shake the thought of it today.

☾ ･*˚⁺‧͙ :-゜・．

the following day, minho is reading in bed when you come home. he hears your keys drop into their place by the kitchen counter and your footsteps as you pad into the entryway. he knows your routine like clockwork: you deposit your things and have a glass of water in the kitchen; you check to make sure the door is locked and survey the shoe rack to determine who's home. then, on the way to your room, you head into chan’s studio to straighten his desk, and say hi to minho before stepping into the shower.

this time, as minho mentally maps your route, he hears you head straight for the bathroom. his brow furrows and he places the book down. a minute later, the water runs.

:-゜・．

"min?" your whisper of his name wakes him.

he sits up and rubs a hand over his face, blinking to make out your figure in the dark. you hadn't come to bed after your shower, mumbling a 'no thanks' when he'd asked you to join him. you didn't want to sleep yet, you said. the television was playing distantly in the living room when minho fell asleep.

"kitten?" his voice is raspy. yours is stuck in your throat.

you crawl into his arms without waiting for him to open them. minho doesn't miss a beat, gathering you towards him as he pulls the covers over both of you. his hand comes away wet when he runs the back of it over your cheek.

"what's wrong, angel?"

you sag against him, unwilling to respond.

"are you hurt?" he feels you shake your head, but you don't say anymore, so he opts for the question chan always does when you're upset. "do you want to talk about it?"

you're quiet for so long that minho thinks you might have fallen asleep; that is, until your breathing becomes uneven and he feels his shirt dampen where you lean against him.

"shh." he hopes he sounds soothing, rocking you gently in his hold. "it's okay." you tighten your grip on him but the pace of your breaths only seems to quicken.

minho feels his own worry rise; it's rare that you ever cry in his arms. of course, you've found comfort in him plenty of times before, but usually chan is the one wiping away your tears. he's good with words in a way minho thinks he’ll never be. instinctively, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand.

"it's okay, kitten. i'll get channie, okay?"

you shake your head quickly, reaching out to grab his hand. "no," you croak.

"he's not here?" minho frowns. chan always makes an effort to be home by midnight, even if he’s in his studio.

"want you," you whimper, wrapping his arm back around you.

minho's heart stutters. you want him to take care of you?

"just me?" he whispers, because he can't help but be a little selfish when it comes to you.

your words are muffled by his shirt, but he hangs onto each syllable. "just you."

if you weren't so upset, he would have laughed. not at you, but at the sheer ridiculousness of the thought that bothered him yesterday. how could he have missed it before?

it’s you who nags them about eating regular meals when minho isn’t around or feeling up to it. it’s you who hums songs around the apartment like he does, singing in the shower when you think no one’s listening. it’s you who indulges minho in his pudding fixation, searching new ones out and sending pictures to him at the store. and it was you who sat alone, craving your love’s affection, before remembering all you had to do was ask for it.

"i'm here, kitten. always here for you, hm?" you snuggle into him, breathing calmer than before. "always gonna be here for you. channie too."

you shift positions so that your head lays over his chest, listening intently to his heart beat. he wonders if you can hear just how hard it thumps when he thinks of you.

it's stupid, he realises, to think you ever loved one of them more.

#minchan #bang chan #lee know #skz #chan x reader #lee know fluff #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #minho x reader #bang chan x reader #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #minho x you #stray kids reactions #skz fluff #lee know x you #lee know angst #chan x minho #poly!skz

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littlemissaddict · 1 year

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I Miss You (18+) - Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie’s away on tour when he finds a bunch of polaroid's in his suitcase from reader and he has to thank her when he calls.

Word Count: 2660

Warnings ⚠️ Phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, swearing. I think that’s it but please let me know if there’s anything else I should add. Also if it’s not clear 18+ only minors kindly dni thank you.

This has been sat unfinished in my drafts for far too long and was originally supposed to be super sickly fluff but as always with anything I right lately it’s turned into smut, enjoy!

Coming home to an empty house was one thing she hated but the first time doing it after Eddie had gone on tour was always the hardest as she had to readjust back into the routine of him not greeting her at the door with a warm smile and open arms when she returned home from work. Tonight, once she had stepped through the threshold, she was greeted with silence. Kicking her shoes off by the door and depositing her bag on the table as she made her way into the kitchen to busy herself with making dinner to hopefully keep her mind off the loneliness beginning to grow inside of her.

Truth was, the tours that Corroded Coffin did now were not as frequent as they did when they were just starting out, no longer picking up any gig they could get just to build their fanbase. No, their fanbase was going strong and still growing everyday as the guys got bigger but she was just thankful that despite that Eddie was quite happy to stay in Hawkins. It hadn't always been that way but after a few months of staying out in LA while they wrote for their debut album and played shows nearly every night, Eddie had confessed to her that he'd been so relieved to come back home and just have that sense of normality back that he did the unthinkable to his teenage self, he bought a house for the two of them in Hawkins with part of his pay off from their album.

Now that had been an occasion for celebrating and while Eddie was appreciative of all the parties being held for them, the first chance he got he took her and Uncle Wayne out for a big fancy dinner wanting to spoil the two people who had always been there for him. He had also surprised his uncle with a cheque which obviously Wayne had tried to refuse stating, "I don't need your money boy, didn't do all I did for you expecting anything back" and Eddie had agreed with him. He knew that wasn't the reason Wayne took him in as a boy but Wayne had taken him in without complaint, raised him well so that he wouldn't follow the same paths as his parents and well it was clear they had struggled so now that Eddie had the means he wanted to give back to his uncle.

"I know that but you've worked so hard for so long uncle Wayne that I think it's time you looked after you instead" Eddie had replied, pushing the envelope back into his uncles' hands until finally he relented, thanking the boy but telling him rather sternly that he wanted no more.

The ringing of the phone pulled her focus away from the pan boiling away on the hob. Glancing at the clock on the wall on her way over to the phone, she frowned, it was way too early for Eddie's call so she wasn't sure who else could be calling.

"Hello?" she spoke, her free hand twisting the wire as she waited for a response.

"Hey, how you doing? Just wanted to see if you needed anything getting" Steve's voice crackled from the receiver and she smiled hearing Robin shouting hello in the background. Of course, she knew how Eddie liked to not-so secretly have Steve call to check up on her while he was away and while Steve usually liked to call round the house unexpectedly it was clear given Robin in the background that he was still at work.

"I'm fine just making dinner" she replied, it was partly the truth because she was fine, she just missed Eddie an awful lot. Something that Steve could sense when he asked if she wanted some company to which she shook her head at, feeling slightly silly when she remembered that he couldn't see her. "Not tonight, I'm gonna eat then shower so that I can crawl into bed and wait for Eddie to ring" she told him truthfully and Steve hummed knowingly.

"Okay but Saturday you're coming with us to the movies" he said and she could hear the smile in his voice and Robin faintly in the background shouting 'no arguments', shaking her head as she rolled her eyes at the two of them before bidding them both a goodbye as she went back to her cooking, thankfully it wasn't burnt.

An hour and a half later, she was tucked up in bed with clean pyjamas and the teddy bear that Eddie had gotten her before Corroded Coffin's first ever tour, "Just so you have something to cuddle with while I'm away" he had smiled softly when he'd given it to her. The first night she'd come home to it, she found it wearing one of Eddie's shirts and upon burying her face in the soft material she'd found it smelled just like him too and that had been enough for the tears to fall, she couldn't believe that he'd been thoughtful enough to do that for her. Now though it had become tradition every time he was away and this time, it was his old Hellfire t-shirt that she'd pinched on many occasions that adorned the bear.

Wrapping herself up in the duvet with the bear held tight to her chest, she lay on Eddie's side of the bed waiting for him to call, pouncing on the phone as soon as it started ringing and answering it with a breathless hello.

"Sorry princess, did I catch you in the middle of something?" Eddie's voice drifted through the speaker and she immediately felt herself relaxing further into the bed.

"No, just in bed" she replied with a sigh, holding the teddy bear tighter in hopes of it feeling like he was actually there with her.

"Oh I see" he chuckled and she could practically see the teasing smile he was definitely wearing through the phone, "I leave for one day and your already taking matters into your own hands" He was mocking her, she knew that but for him to even suggest that she could replace him that quickly, well she couldn’t have that.

“You know nothing compares to you” she smiles, burying her reddening face into the teddy as Eddie chuckles down the line at her confession, “besides I’m having to settle for your double seeing as you left me” she teases, knowing that if he was here she’d have stuck her tongue at at him after she’d said it.

“Ah so you found him, what do you think of his outfit choices this time” Eddie asks, bypassing the part about leaving her because it wouldn’t help to dwell on the fact, she knew he’d never willingly leave her but he had to tour, it was part of his job.

“Perfect, just perfect” she sighs in reply, it was the same answer every time he asked but she was a little bitter about it this time because it was one of her favourites to sleep in when he was away.

As if he could sense it through the phone his next words only seemed to confirm it, “I thought you might say that and I know it’s your favourite so if you look under my pillow” she doesn’t give him chance to finish whatever else he had to say before she’s squealing his name and drops the phone in excitement as she fumbles under the pillows finding exactly what he was talking about.

Pulling out the neatly folded shirt, she watched it unravel as it revealed an exact copy of the shirt the teddy bear was wearing. Although as she trailed her fingers over the soft material, she realised it was more worn than that of the bears, this was his original shirt and he’d left it for her. She wasted no time stripping off her pyjamas and letting the material of his shirt slide over her head until it engulfed her body before she remembered the phone.

She could hear him asking if she was still there when she brought the phone back to her ear, “Thank you, thank you, thank you” she smiled giddily, interrupting him while wishing that he was there with her just so she could throw her arms around him and hug him tightly for the gift.

“Mhmm well I think it should be me thanking you sweetheart for the special gift I found in my suitcase” he hums, his voice dropping a lot lower than it was before.

She sits up straighter as a shiver runs down her spine, even miles away he still had that effect on her and she could just imagine him sprawled out on the bed in the hotel room with her polaroids in his hand. It had been an impulsive decision, one that she’d forgotten about until he’d mentioned it just now but she could still remember each photo she’d taken, the lingerie she’d worn was stashed away in the wardrobe ready for him getting back home.

“You like them?” she asked, feeling a little nervous. It was completely out of character for her to do something like that and she had to push away the fear of someone else other than Eddie discovering the pictures.

“Like them? Oh honey I’ve been hard since I pulled them out of the suitcase about a half hour ago, I had to force myself to wait until our usual time to call you” he groaned as if it was the hardest thing he had to do in his entire life and she couldn’t help but chuckle at his dramatics, same old Eddie she thought. “Don’t laugh sweetheart, I’m stuck here with nothing but your pictures and my hand, do you know what I’d give to have that tight pussy wrapped around me right now” he moaned.

She felt her thighs clench at his words as a familiar heat began to pool in her lower belly, she whined his name and he copied, her own name gracing her in his low voice that didn’t help the want growing inside her. “Oh Eddie I need you so bad” she whined, burying her face in the teddy which was still clutched tightly in her arms.

“Yeah sweetheart, fuck take your panties off and play with yourself for me” he groaned and she could hear shuffling in the background before his breathing grew heavier. He was touching himself and he wanted her to touch too.

Scrambling to get her panties off, she slid them halfway down her legs before she kicked them off and let them fall somewhere in the room that she’d worry about later. Slowly sliding a hand over her chest, she stopped to pinch her nipples through the thin fabric of the shirt, teasing herself just as Eddie would if he was here, whining his name as she did so. “Oh baby you sound so good, wish you were here with me” he moaned, a wet sound now beginning to grace her ears and it didn’t take her long to realise he had moved on from teasing touches to fucking his hand.

Moving the hand down from her chest, she let her fingertips dance down over her tummy whilst she imagined that it was Eddie playing with her as he usually did. When her hand reached the bottom of the shirt, she flattened her palm and let it slide until it was cupping between her legs and she could already feel her wetness dripping onto her hand. Using her middle finger, she ran it through her folds, getting it wet enough before she slid it into herself, moaning into the phone and hearing Eddie curse from the other side.

“Tell me how you’re touching yourself sweetheart, need to picture how perfect you look” he pleads following his words with a groan as if he’s holding himself back from cumming just yet as if the thought of her touching herself alone was enough to make him cum.

“I’m so wet Eds, my finger is just sliding in and out but it’s not enough, need more” she whines as her hand begins to move frantically between her legs, searching for the pleasure that Eddie can bring her so easily.

“It’s okay sweetheart, add another finger for me and let me hear how wet you are” he groans, his own hand sliding over his dick, slick with his spit that he was imagining was hers, that she had her mouth on him and was almost overwhelming him with pleasure.

Doing as Eddie said, she slowly added a second finger, moaning at the stretch and the pleasure that followed as she began moving her fingers again. “Feel better sweetheart” he asked, his fucked out voice hitting her ears and only adding to her pleasure as she quickly nodded her head in answer, completely forgetting in her pleasure that he couldn’t see her but as her moans increased. “I’ll take that as a yes then” he chuckled but it was broken when his breath caught in his throat as the gasp of ‘yes’ that followed his words.

“Jesus sweetheart you sound so good, bet you look even better” he rambled, his hand starting to pick up the pace on his dick as he brought himself closer to his orgasm, knowing that with the sounds she was making that she wouldn’t last much longer. “Think you can take some more pictures for me, wanna have a collection to take away with me next time” he growled, eyes rolling back as he started to buck his hips up to meet his hand.

“Yes Eddie, so close, gonna cum please Eds, can I?” she asked, broken by her moans as she felt the heat inside her reaching breaking point.

Eddie, never one to say no to her, especially when she sounded so pretty, pleading with him like that. “Go ahead baby, let me hear you” he encouraged, feeling his own end approaching and knowing her moans as she came would only push him over the edge. She didn’t hold back either, her moans coupled with gasps of his name and he could just picture the way her body was shaking as she came. That was it for him and with one more thrust of his hips into his hand he was cumming, white ropes of cum painting his bare torso as he moaned her name.

For a while all that could be heard between them was the heavy breaths as they came down from their highs, until he broke it with a laugh. “You know I always forget how fun that can be”

“Not as much fun as when we’re together though” she hums, body beginning to feel heavy with sleep as it always did afterwards.

“Of course not” he agrees, reaching for his discarded shirt to clean himself off with as he tries not to think of the state it will be in when it eventually gets around to being washed. As he throws it in the general direction of his suitcase his eyes find the polaroids again, “you know I wasn't joking about the pictures baby, I fully expect a collection for the next tour” he smirks.

“We’ll get to work on those when you get home” she giggles sleepily, her free hand searching for the discarded teddy bear and pulling it into her chest as she hears him chuckle on the other side of the line.

“That we will sweetheart, now get some sleep and I’ll speak to you tomorrow, I love you” he smiles, it was as bittersweet as always but he wouldn’t have it any other way, living the life he dreamed of all with the girl of his dreams by his side was more than he ever could have hoped for.

“I love you too Eds” she mumbles, using the last of her energy to place the receiver back before sleep took over her.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson onshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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marlynnofmany · 8 months

Text

Hands-Free

“Are you going to want help installing all these?” I asked, opening another case of engine rings. I had no idea which part of the spaceship’s guts these actually went into; they were about three feet across, an inch thick, and made of some plasticky red stuff that was above my pay grade to define. All I knew was there was a lot of them, and we only had one engineer.

“No thanks,” grumbled Mimi, the octopus-looking guy with the voice like a gravel road. “This is a tentacles-only kind of operation.”

“Really? What’s the difference?” I was curious now. “Do you have to use specific tools, or reach into tight crevices?”

“Crevices,” he said, checking the label on the box. “These have to fit snug, and they go somewhere you people with fingers can never manage to reach.” He gave one ring a judicious whack against the floor, then tossed it back into the box.

I huffed in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very flexible for my species.”

“Sure you are,” he chuckled. “Not your fault you’re held back by all those bones. And you only have two arms! I don’t know how you get by.” He started looping tentacles around the rings in a different box, gathering an impressive number of them.

“Just fine, thank you,” I told him. “Two arms is plenty.”

“Yeah? Carrying just a couple things at once? Must be a simple life.”

I took the hint, digging into the box for more rings. “Who says I can only carry two at once? Look how many I can fit over my nice long arms.”

“Yes, yes, good job. Put ‘em over there.”

“And I can hook them over my shoulders,” I continued as I deposited my armload where Mimi had pointed. “Heck, these are big enough that I could just stand inside a stack of them, and hold them all from the bottom. Oh! And—”

“Here, these too.”

“And,” I repeated, “I can even carry one without my arms or shoulders.”

“Yes, I know you have tiny fingers on your feet,” Mimi said, unimpressed.

“No, not like that!” I set down the other stack. “I’ll pick it up with my hands, then only touch it with my torso! Think I can do it?”

He struck a pose lounging on the floor with one tentacle against his head, looking dramatically bored. “Wow me,” he grated.

I hadn’t used a hula hoop since I was a kid, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. With all the flair of a carnival magician, I grabbed a ring and lifted it over my head, braced it against one hip, then spun it and did my absolute best to keep it from falling.

I managed about three seconds, which I consider a major success.

Finally it hit the floor. “Ta-da!” I said, hands in the air.

Mimi got up and deadpanned, “Wow.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

“I’m sure that is immensely practical on a day-to-day basis,” Mimi said. “A fine consolation for being unable to reach around three-bend corners.”

“Oh sure,” I said, stepping out of the ring and picking it up again. “You can do that, but can you make this love you?”

I gave the ring an underhanded throw towards the hallway, with a twist to make it spin madly. It bounced twice, still spinning, then rolled back to my waiting arms.

A voice from the hallway shouted, “What was that?” Paint stuck her lizardy snout around the corner, and was utterly flabbergasted when I did it again. “How did you do that? Can you teach me?”

“See, she’s fun,” I said to Mimi. “Sure thing, Paint!”

“Well sure; she’s got fingers too.” Mimi waved a tentacle and went back to sorting the boxes while I showed Paint how to use vital engine components for childhood tricks.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

#another short one #while I juggle projects and also figure out the new posting interface #it looks like I might not need to paste things in one paragraph at a time anymore??#fingers crossed #my writing #the Token Human #writeblr #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #short stories #very short #but fun #aliens #hula hoops

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chocogi · 4 months

Text

Xiao & fennec fox child hybrid reader

A lost little feral

Xiao's patrol was supposed to be simple. Clear the areas, and check Azhdaha's seal. Until he finds a lone little foxling rustling about by Azhdaha's tree.

cw; none, i think? fluff. minor mentions of sickness. its x reader

ha betcha didnt think i woyld write genshin again after throwing up a cod drabble. its eating my brain xiao is my baby

The rain pours its tears onto the earth as Xiao walks down the dirt path towards Nantianmen. Azhdaha has been defeated and resealed, but the seal must be checked periodically to prevent fault.

A geovishap hatchling screeches and chases down its mother's tail. A few burrowing weasels wrestled by a pool, where a crane serenely picks at its talons and sips atthe water.

Amidst the roots of the majestic tree Azhdaha sleeps under, quiet rustling pricks at Xiao's ears and snares his attention easily.

Xiao sighs. He must check, lest there be a threat he might accidentally dismiss.

His patrols were supposed to be a simple matter

A sharp cry scares the peaceful crane, and it flies off, startling the weasels, who burrow away. The geovishap curls closer to its mother while she scans the surrounding area before cooing down at her precious little warrior.

A blink, and Xiao is nowhere for a moment, before a little fennec hybrid lets out a muffled shriek as the yaksha reappears behind them, shushing them with a hand to their mouth.

"You are a long way from home, little fox," Xiao mumbles. observing the squirming child caught in his arms. "What are you doing here?"

The fennec simply squirms and wriggle in his hold, tail tucked between their legs and large ears flattened in clear fear.

"Tell me." His grip tightens slightly, and the child wails softly in pain, their struggling beaten down quickly. But they don't speak.

With a huff, Xiao pushes the child away allowing them to scramble off and hide in the winding roots of the large tree. "If you won't speak, fine. Will you follow me to the Harbour?"

They look at him with fear and apprehension in big doe-eyes that somehow fit with their vulpine features, and they shake their head. He sighs. "Do you have a name?" They shake their head again.

Xiao thinks for a second, and teleports away.

The second time Xiao finds them, they're stuck on the tree, ears pinned to their head and tail tucked around one of their legs. When Xiao tries to approach, the little kit just wails and scampers away, higher and higher onto the branches. His brow twitches.

It takes about five minutes of Xiao chasing the child all over the tree for him to catch the wriggling, fearful fiend and deposit them back onto the ground, safely. It takes another minute for him to try and fail to calm their panicking as they just keep running away from him.

Xiao sighs, shakes his head, and moves on with his patrol.

The third time, it was raining again.

A coat is draped onto the shivering fox's shoulders once Xiao finds them again, and he sits beside them, uncaring of the mud that will rub into his sash.

He pulls out a sunsettia. "Eat."

The child mumbles a small thank you in a tongue he does not understand, before biting into the fruit. It tasted of mangoes, with the texture of an apple and the shape of a pear.

When Xiao leaves, three sunsettia cores have been left by the tree's roots, the little kit ushered into the cavity under the roots where Azhdaha's seal is visible.

Xiao left them a warning not to touch the barrier, and an armful more of sunsettias.

For the fourth, the child does not skitter away once they see him, and Xiao counts that as a win.

He sits by the entrance, the soil still damp and cold, and pulls out a container of "Sweet Dreams," his take on the silky almond tofu. Xiao portions a bite onto a spoon and holds it out to the foxling.

"Come here, eat it," he coaxes, but Xiao doesn't think it's doing much, considering he was never one for verbal comfort. Still, he holds out the spoon, waiting patiently.

It's only when an ache starts to bloom in his outstretched arm that the child trots closer, gently gripping onto his hand as they eat the bite of the sweet, silky dessert.

And if Xiao smiles when their eyes widen and sparkle and they drape themselves over his lap asking for more, no one will know.

On their fifth meeting, when Xiao finds the foxling curled up, shaking and sick, he only sighs, and bundles them up to take back to the inn.

It has been raining periodically, and the yaksha is unsurprised when the foxling eventually succumbs to a flu.

"Do you really not have a name? I can't keep calling you 'child'," he mumbles down at his shivering charge, and when they shake their head, he pats them gently.

"Alright then."

Xiao pets the foxling's ears. "We will find a name for you later."

In truth, he had asked for a name from his master, believing that he would soon come to take care of the child himself once the wild leaves them sick and weak. But he is still busy in the Harbour hand has yet to visit the Inn again, so waiting it is.

#xiao and child reader #xiao genshin #xiao x reader #hybrid reader #xiao #genshin #genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #thoughtless meja #tofu midget #so is it just me who calls xiao ‘tofu midget’ from time to time

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lacroixqueen · 1 year

Text

made your mark on me, a golden tattoo tattoo artist sevika x reader AU (18+)

Summary: you are getting your very first tattoo and sevika just so happens to be your tattoo artist. flirting and sexual tension ensue.

Pairing: tattoo artist sevika x reader AU

Word Count: 3357 (she's LONG)

Tags: soft sevika, unresolved tension, useless lesbians, gay panic, tattoo artist, tattoos, tattoo parlor

You shifted around the seat in the waiting room of the tattoo parlor for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of a single minute. For some reason you were a lot less nervous on the way here than you were literally waiting for your tattoo artist to set up the room and look over your art samples. You told yourself that this was something you were going to get done if it was the last thing you did.

I mean, for God’s sake, it was a brand new year, and you wanted your first tattoo to be something special, to carry meaning that only you will understand. Kind of like a little inside joke.

Apparently the tattoo artist you selected.. Sevika was it? Was quite well known throughout Zaun for several amazing masterpieces. She was attentive to detail, cared about each and every single one of her customer’s needs, and really wanted to make the best product possible for her clientele.

You crossed one leg over the other, folding your arms across your chest and heaved out a little sigh. She better damn well be. The waiting list for her business was about three months long. You made sure to do plenty of research before committing to something as permanent as a tattoo. I mean, it will stay on your body for the rest of your life. Perhaps even into your death.

You shuddered at the thought. Whatever. No matter what, it was far too late to turn back now. You already submitted your deposit, gave the artist the design you had in mind and for crying out loud, you were already here at the goddamn place. So might as well get this over with and try to have as few regrets as possible.

“Y/N?” a low and raspy voice called out from the back of the tattoo parlor. “I’m ready for you. You can come on back now.”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. She was ready for you. Okay. What does that even mean? You stood up, dusting off your skirt and took a final big deep breath.

Just stay calm, you reassured yourself. Everything will be alright in the end. And if it isn’t, heck, maybe there is a surgeon in town who can remove it altogether and you can forget this even happened. Maybe that’s a bit of an overexaggeration.

You were greeted by what you could only describe as one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. Sevika was tall. And just by the looks of her right shoulder and arm muscles bulging from underneath her black tank… you could tell she worked out. Like a lot. She was also smoking a thick cigar between her lips, so her already godlike silhouette was wrapped around in a dreamlike haze.

You muttered a little curse under your breath. As if matters couldn’t get possibly worse, your tattoo artist was hot. As in, very very very hot. This was going to be a long afternoon.

“You can take a seat right here,” she said with confidence, slapping the tattoo bed with a resounding echo.

“Oh, uh, yes okay,” you stammered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before hoisting yourself up in a less than dignified fashion.

“Are you nervous, Y/N?”

Oh no. From the corner of your eye, you could see she was smirking quite noticeably. Her eyes flicked over you just slightly. Shit. Was she checking you out? You didn’t even do your makeup properly today because you had no idea what she even looked like. If you had known earlier that she was this drop dead gorgeous piece perhaps you would have put in a bit more effort. You win some, you lose some, you suppose.

“J-just a little bit!” you squeaked out. “It’s my first tattoo, so I have no idea what to expect.”

“Well, let me just tell you that you have absolutely nothing to be nervous about, Y/N,” Sevika chuckled as she slid closer to you on her artist chair with your designs in either hand. “If I ever hurt you, you can always tell me to stop and I’ll go slower, okay?”

“Thank you!” Oh god. She smelled so good too.

“Of course. Sooo.. I got to take a look at your ideas last night and I honestly think they are great.” You watched as the thumb of her mechanical hand peeled back a page to glance at the alternate design.

“Really? You think so?”

“Absolutely. Although I think for this bottom part right here, we might need to make a small color adjustment since there might be some shading issues. And for the top corner here where it gets a little bit more complicated? I think I might do a little bit more dotwork to really flesh out the details. But uh, other than that, the stencil is essentially done.”

“Wow! Then, yes, perfect, let's just keep going then,” you gulped. Your eyes casually glazed over the extensive tattooing Sevika had all over her arm and neck.

“Excellent. So, I’ll just have you lay back and.. you wanted it on your side, right? Just lift up your top for me so I can have easy access to that part.”

“Oh um, sure!” You did as you were told, carefully unbuttoning your sweater and shrugging it off your shoulders. You then laid back, and lifted up your cami to reveal the right aspect of your body.

“Lovely,” she replied. “And.. may I?” Her mechanical fingertips lightly grazed over the top of your skirt.

You nodded vigorously. “Of course!”

With the most gentle touch you have ever felt, Sevika gingerly tugged your skirt down a little bit more so it rested comfortably on the roundest part of your right hip. She did the same with the pink lacy fabric of the thong you had on underneath. You tried to take a small breath as quietly as possible.

“Cute panties,” she commented almost a bit too nonchalantly before turning her back to you to slip on some latex gloves and ensure her work tray was all in order.

As if you weren’t already flustered beyond belief, now you might as well have been an uncontrollable mess. “Th-thanks! It’s from um, the store.”

She laughed ever so slightly. “Yeah, I figured as much. Sooo.. for the design. Were you thinking of having it more..” She trailed her gloved fingertip from your pantyline to the top of your chest. “Or more like here?” She ran her other hand over the curve of your waist all the way down to your hip.

“Uhm.. maybe kind of like.. both? If that makes sense? Like it can sort of spread from..” You gently took her wrist and guided her finger from your belly button all the way to the divot in your waist. “Like that?”

“Hmm.. yes. That should be perfectly fine.” She smirked a bit when you immediately released her arm from your grasp as if you were overstepping a boundary.

Without another word, she quickly sprayed some isopropyl alcohol into a wipe and proceeded to sanitize the area. “This might be a bit cold, I’m sorry babe.”

Babe? Did she just call you babe? Does she call all her clients babe? Or is it a little pet name that she only has reserved for you?

“I-it’s totally fine!” you yelped. But she was right. It was quite cold. She could tell you were lying through your teeth when your tummy suddenly clenched up.

“You can’t tense up just yet, doll. I haven’t even gotten the needles out,” she chuckled, lightly slapping your hip. “I need you to loosen up a bit, I don’t want you to be too tight.”

“R-right!” you replied. “Definitely don’t want that.” After a brief pause, you struggled to figure out if there was any sort of double meaning in her words. Or maybe you were just overthinking again.

She let out another hearty laugh and proceeded to massage in some warm lotions into the side of your body. “Just try to relax, hun.” You did as you were told, closing your eyes and making a futile attempt to count numbers. But she wasn’t making your life any easier with all these pet names. And why did her fingers have to feel so goddamn good simply by rubbing cream into your skin. It felt like it was working some type of dark magic, undulating in soft, round circles and moving rhythmically over your waist.

You could have melted into her hands right then and there.

“Okay, and now the stencil. This will feel a little bit wet, alright?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip so you wouldn’t accidentally yelp out. For some odd reason, even though you two just met, you felt very safe with Sevika. Like you could entrust your entire body and soul to her and she wouldn’t hurt any of it even if she was fully capable of doing so.

She smoothed out the stencil exactly over the part of your stomach and waist that you pointed to. She gently kneaded it into your skin, taking extra caution not to be too rough with you.

With one smooth motion, she removed the stencil and quickly leaned over you to ensure no detail of her handiwork got disrupted. That no stone was left unturned.

“Looks… just about.. perfect,” she muttered quietly. You could tell her tone has shifted slightly from the flirtatious one she took on earlier. Suddenly she was laser focused, ensuring that nothing, absolutely nothing would disturb the intricacy of her artwork.

“Great!” you chirped awkwardly, craning your neck over to see the stencil art. Good god. It looked absolutely breathtaking. Her line work was truly something out of this world. And she really did pay attention to every single request you made in your design. “Wow.”

She looked up, locking your gaze with the utmost intensity. “Yeah.” A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She was quite pleased with herself.

She turned around to power on her tattoo machine.

“This part is going to hurt just a little bit, okay?” she spun around in her artist chair to check on you.

You nodded your head and exhaled ever so slightly. “Okay.” A giant lump was starting to form in your throat and you could feel yourself getting a bit worked up.

Sevika immediately held onto your hand and gave it a light squeeze. “If it ever starts hurting, just let me know and I will stop right away.”

“O-okay.”

“We’ll start with the first line. Take a deep breath and count to three for me, alright princess?” Sevika said as she positioned the tattoo gun at an angle to your skin.

Oh my god. Princess?! She definitely does not call all her clients that. Alright. Big deep breath. One.. two.. three-

The searing hot needle pierced into your skin like a knife.

“Ah~!” you let out a small cry and Sevika immediately stopped midline.

“Too fast?”

“A little bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll go a lot slower this time.”

You nodded and took in another breath. You felt Sevika’s gloved hand slide over the curve of your waist as she positioned herself to gain a little bit more control over her line. By god did her cologne smell amazing. When she leaned over your body, a few short pieces of her bangs would fall out and just barely graze over your exposed tummy. It was definitely getting a bit difficult for you to concentrate on your breathing and counting.

Sevika proceeded to carve out the central line of your tattoo design. She worked slowly and methodically, usually in complete silence. But for some reason when she was around you, she felt the urge to keep pushing the envelope and testing your limits.

“Good girl,” she would coo gently when she noticed your stomach beginning to relax.

“That’s my good girl..” she would say again when she finished a piece of detailing while you stayed quiet and still.

You would moan softly every now and then when you felt the needle dig into your skin and Sevika would respond by going just a touch slower and smirking to herself. Secretly, she loved hearing how adorable and helpless her clients sounded when she sank the tattoo needle deep into their skin. Her sadistic nature was one of the primary reasons she decided to go into tattooing as a prime business.

To have someone completely in her control, at her disposal. To leave a permanent mark on their bodies that would forever remind them of their experience with her. To watch them writhe in pain, or sometimes even pleasure. It was like a drug she simply could not get enough of.

And you. Something about the way you squirmed was extra fucking enticing and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

In fact, she could feel you wriggling ever so slightly even now. “Stay still for me, angel.”

And you would immediately stop. Her voice was soft, but also definitively commanding. She needed to focus. To have you moaning and writhing was too much even for her. Her mind would begin to wander to dangerous places.

Like how it would feel to start ramming into your cunt right then and there and watching how your sensitive body would react to her thrusts. How irresistible and beckoning your moans would sound as they ricocheted off the walls, encouraging her to pound into you so rough and so hard you just couldn’t take it anymore. How cute you would look clutching onto your sweater for comfort, or holding onto the sides of the tattoo bed for dear life.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t fantasizing about a million hypothetical scenarios in your head.

Having Sevika press her bicep over the top of your stomach to hold you still just did something to your psyche that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Your eyes danced over the detailing of her own tattoo. It looked to be very intricate and well-thought out… wait a second. Was that supposed to be Zaun?!

“Um, I-I like your tattoo!” you chirped meekly. “It’s really beautiful.”

“Thanks baby,” she smirked to herself. “I designed it myself, actually.”

“Do.. you call all your clients that?” you asked out of the curiosity that was beginning to kill you slowly.

Sevika suddenly paused in the middle of her tattooing to glance over at you.

“Only my favorite ones,” she said with a wink before returning to her work.

Oh my god. Why does she keep doing that? It’s starting to become unfair. Like she was getting off the high of torturing you and watching your pathetic reactions. And what did she mean by “favorite ones”? So she flirts with all her clients she finds attractive? What does that even mean?!

Every now and then, Sevika would sneak a glimpse over towards you. She loved the way your chain necklace rested so comfortably over the top of your collarbone. Or how plump and kissable your lips looked in the dim lighting of the parlor. Or how your legs were beginning to spread instinctively the closer her tattoo work moved to the top of your skirt.

Sevika had to fight every last urge in her body to not reach down into your panties and start pleasuring you the way you deserved right then and there on top of that tattoo bed. But she knew she had a job to finish, regardless of how damn adorable you looked and sounded as she drew on the finishing touches of your tattoo.

“Okay.. almost done,” she said. “You are doing so good, sweetheart.”

You winced a little bit when you felt the needle dig just a bit deeper than usual at the last pattern. Was she trying to tease you back there? Or was that absolutely necessary to finish off the line? Whatever. You tried not to overthink it, even though you have been doing so this entire time.

“Alright..” Sevika hummed. “Why don’t you step off the bed and take a look in the mirror over there?”

You did as you were told, hopping off and hobbling over to the full-length mirror across the room. You tilted your head to the side, gently lifting up your cami again to look over the tattoo. Wow. She really did a stunning job. You were a bit surprised, given the fact that she was flirting with you half the time. But holy.. every single piece of line art and dot work flowed so evenly with each other. The design came out exactly the way you had imagined it.

Sevika gave out a low whistle of approval from behind you.

You jumped a little bit out of surprise. Sevika had snuck up on you without you even noticing. And god. Just by looking in the mirror she was already towering over you.

“It’s… beautiful,” you said softly. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sevika replied. “Now, can you take your cami off for me, Y/N?”

“M-my cami?”

Sevika chuckled and raised up the medical grade bandage she had in her hand. “For this.”

“Oh. Right. Yes. Absolutely.”

You gently tugged off your shirt and tossed it onto a nearby countertop to reveal a pink lacy bra. Sevika tried not to comment on it but she did in fact take note of how good you looked in it. And how badly she wanted to take it off you right then and there.

Sevika stepped forward so she placed her thigh between your legs and carefully laid the clear bandage over the top of your tattoo. She gently rubbed it in with her thumb and index finger, making sure to smooth out any uneven edges or creases. She smiled a bit to herself when she felt how hard and fast your heartbeat was pounding against your stomach, or how much warmer your skin felt compared to before.

“Perfect,” she said, quickly removing her gloves and handing you back your shirt. “So, for this bandage, think of it as like a second layer of skin that offers extra protection. Leave it on for the next few days. Then I would rinse it off with some warm water. Oh and, definitely moisturize.” Her tone shifted from flirtatious to professional and matter-of-fact in what felt like a split second. How did she keep doing that?!

“Y-yes ma’am!” you sputtered out, returning to the tattoo bed to shrug on your sweater and gather your belongings.

“And the payment is already taken care of since I saw you submitted your deposit in advance, so I believe you are all set,” Sevika said.

“Great! Um.. thank you Sevika. I was super nervous going into this but you definitely made me feel a whole lot better afterwards.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she replied, giving you another flirty grin. “Oh, and uh-” The tattoo artist went behind the front counter to dig around a bit until she fished out a slightly bent business card and handed it over to you. “Call me.”

“C-call you?! As in like- Oh my god. I’m.. not sure if I would feel.. I mean, isn’t this kind of fast?”

“I meant to update me on your tattoo healing,” Sevika chuckled. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, princess.”

“Right, right, no yes that makes total and complete sense,” you responded, folding the business card nervously into your palm. “Um.. well I guess I’ll.. call you.”

“Yeah.” She had already followed you to the doorframe and you were standing in the streets of the undercity at this point. “I’ll see you around, alright Y/N?”

“Okay! Yes. Um. Bye! Thank you!” You quickly scurried off into the busy crowds of Zaun, disappearing into the darkness once more.

You were quite certain that if you didn’t act, that you would barely see Sevika again, save an occasional run-in at the liquor store or maybe a random night at The Last Drop. So you didn’t want to take any chances.

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anto-pops · 1 year

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Atonement - Dark!Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Sebastian had tried to escape. From what you understood in the article you’d read, he had actually succeeded, only to be discovered and apprehended in the water mere miles from the shore. It was mind boggling– nearly impossible to believe– but you had no choice but to accept it as the truth when you read he was being re-sentenced as a result of the transgression.

He had been doomed to face the Dementor’s Kiss.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, angst, brief thoughts of suicide, violence, minor character deaths

Part 1 of this fic can be found here on Ao3! PART 2 now finished!

The brisk London air chilled your bones, billowing through your unkempt hair as you sat perched on the roof of King’s Cross Station. At this time of year, it wasn’t unusual for temperatures to dip well below freezing in the dark of the night, chasing any meandering residents back inside the safety and comfort of their warm homes.

Good. The less people milling about when the caravan arrived, the better.

You had been sitting there for the better part of two hours, lying in wait for the Ministry assigned escort from Azkaban to arrive with their prisoner in tow. Sebastian Sallow had, for the most part, been serving his life sentence rather quietly based on what you heard through the grapevine. Which really wasn’t much, but no news was good news, and that turn of phrase had held true for two long, painstaking years– until about five months ago.

Sebastian had tried to escape. From what you understood in the article you’d read, he had actually succeeded, only to be discovered and apprehended in the water mere miles from the shore. It was mind boggling– nearly impossible to believe– but you had no choice but to accept it as the truth when you read he was being re-sentenced as a result of the transgression.

He had been doomed to face the Dementor’s Kiss.

A fate that many said was worse than death. It would strip him of everything that made him human– everything that made him Sebastian. They would take it all away and leave him a husk of his former self, and for what? For running? For trying to escape what you knew could only be Hell-incarnate? It was your fault he had ended up there in the first place; a part of you had always known Azkaban was never a solution. The prison wasn’t exactly synonymous with rehabilitation, and yet you had practically held the cell door open for him by telling Professor Black what he’d done.

After that, you knew what you had to do. Ominis had silently listened when you’d gone to him with your idea— begging for his help— because without his connections, who knew if you would be able to reach Sebastian in time. Any remorse you may have felt for essentially manipulating him into agreeing vanished when he came to you weeks later with a stack of parchment.

“He’s being brought to London in three months. It sounds like they’re charting the trip along a road just west of the tracks near the station, but you can double check– I think there’s supposed to be a map in here somewhere. They’ll transfer him from Azkaban and bring him before a hearing. The Dementor’s Kiss will happen there, in the main chamber.”

Your stomach lurched at the thought of Sebastian being reduced to a brainless, drooling pile of flesh in front of hundreds of unknown eyes. “Why wouldn’t they just have the Dementors do it in the prison?”

Ominis deposited the papers on the rickety table in your kitchen, his brows furrowing. “They won’t risk a Dementor going rogue in the prison. There aren’t enough wands available to handle something like that, so they use one housed within the Ministry that’s surrounded at all times.”

You hummed your acknowledgement before thumbing through the thick wad of information you now had to sift through. It had to work– there was no alternative in your mind. With Ominis’ assistance, you stood a real chance of getting to Sebastian now. All you had to do was stay two steps ahead of the Ministry and not do anything impulsive. You would have to act alone– no one else could know of your plot to get to him before the Dementors.

Ominis’ head turned, and you glanced over to see milky blue eyes trained in your direction. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“What other choice is there, Ominis? Let him have his soul sucked out? I know what he did was wrong, but when does all of this stop being punishment and start becoming torture?”

The taller man’s eyes pinched shut, and his head hung heavy between his shoulders. He sighed, raking his long fingers through his neat coif of hair while he waged against his own internal turmoil. “I know. You’re right, I just…”

He trailed off in silence, so you continued, “If I don’t do this, he’s as good as dead. If I can’t get to him before they do, the Sebastian Sallow you and I both know and love will be a thing of the past. He’s learned his lesson, Ominis. I refuse to believe that he hasn’t, and I can’t sit back and let him continue to pay for one mistake forever. He won’t even be making up for anything after this, he’ll just be some mindless husk shut away in a dark cell, left to rot all alone and–”

“Alright!” he clipped, the edge to his voice making you snap your mouth shut with an audible clack of your teeth. “I get it, okay? I’m sorry. It’s just– if you do this, you can’t come back here. You know that, right? You’ll have to take him and run. Get as far away from London as you can before the news breaks and then stay hidden until things die down.”

You frowned, “What about you? They’ll immediately suspect that you had something to do with it– I don’t want you getting into trouble for this. This was my idea, not yours.”

He gave you a sad smile, those hazy eyes narrowing slightly as he pondered the possibilities that raced through his mind. “I’ll figure something out. It might not be pleasant, but there’s always the Obliviate charm.”

“Come with me,” you implored him. Ominis shouldn’t have to erase his own memory just to save himself from the ire of the Ministry. You suddenly felt awful for having come to him for help. “Come with us and you won’t have to. We can all leave– together. Start over somewhere far away from London and the Ministry. There’s nothing here for us anyways.”

Ominis shook his head, the action small but firm. “At least if I’m here I can spin a story. Lead them in the opposite direction. If I go with you I’ll only slow you both down, and you’ll need to be moving fast if you want to keep him out of the Ministry’s reach. Besides, someone has to stay here in case they try roping Anne into all of this. It wouldn’t be fair to let her face their scrutiny by herself– I refuse to do that to her.”

Something in your chest cracked. Ominis, always the logical and reasonable one. It pained you to even begin to agree with him, but at the end of the day, he was right. All of your good work for Anne’s health could be undone in a second at the Ministry’s hands. She would need Ominis’ help, and once you had Sebastian with you, there could be no stopping. You would never be able to settle in any one place, effectively on the run for the rest of your life. But if that was the price you had to pay to atone for sending Sebastian away in the first place, then so be it.

The memory faded from your mind at the sight of carriages peeking over the hill. There had been a few false alarms thus far, so you waited patiently and scanned the line of wheeled transports for a sign that this was what you’d been waiting for. One carriage came over the cobblestone path, flanked by a second that had two Auror’s perched precariously on either side of the driver. Their robes set them apart from the man holding the reins. A long, white flag flapped in the breeze, and the familiar ‘M’ of the Ministry’s logo flashed in the vivid moonlight.

Sebastian was here.

You shifted so you were laying across the slanted roof on your stomach, watching silently as the carriages followed the west road leading towards the train station. All you had at your disposal was a desperate plan and a shit-load of ancient magic, but it would have to be enough. You would ensure that it was enough. Otherwise…

Otherwise you would die trying.

—

The entire carriage ride from Azkaban to King’s Cross Station had been… interesting, to put it mildly. To start everything off, the two Auror’s who had come to retrieve Sebastian from his cell insulted him immediately after confirming he was present. That wasn’t too unusual, though, and he honestly considered it to be relatively standard treatment from the Ministry’s best and brightest. At least, it was normal as far as the inmates were concerned.

Then the blokes had pushed him against the wall and shoved a bag over his head, and it was game on from there. Sebastian knew what lay in wait at the end of the tracks they were taking him to, and he’d sooner cut out his own tongue than make the task easy for the bastards.

So, he fought. He had kicked and flailed and quite possibly shattered his cell guard’s nose with the heel of his foot when Alexander Shacklebolt used Levioso to suspend him in midair, opting to float him into the carriage instead of letting him walk to his untimely demise– the nerve of the condescending asshole.

Now, after four hours of listening to the second Auror, William Singer, sing his own praises and retell the story of how he “took down the biggest poaching ring in Northern Ireland”, Sebastian was looking forward to the Dementor’s Kiss. It should be illegal, he thought, having a prisoner’s last coherent hours on Earth be spent listening to moronic rambling.

There was a long list of things he would have preferred to have cashed in on before being made into a failed lobotomy patient, and none of those things had shit to do with William Singer’s escapades in Ireland.

You appeared an unhealthy amount of times on said list.

Sebastian’s infatuation with you had only grown in his time locked away from the outside world. With nothing else to do but think, he found himself replaying the events that had landed him in Azkaban over in his mind, day after day. Perhaps it was counter-productive to admit it, but he never regretted killing his Uncle. Solomon had been a stain on his life for far too long to start backtracking now and say he missed him– but what he did regret was putting that look of fear in your eyes in the catacombs that night.

You had done everything in your power to help him in his search for a cure for Anne. In his crazed pursuit for power, he started taking everything you and Ominis had given him for granted. Somewhere along the line, Sebastian knew he had become a terrible friend. One unworthy of Ominis’ loyalty, and most of all, undeserving of your love.

Your shared moments with him haunted his dreams every night in Azkaban. From the adrenaline filled adventures the two of you had gone on in the Highlands, to the far more intimate moments shared in the Undercroft late at night. Sebastian longed for you like a man lost in the desert craved water. You were his mirage in the barren wasteland of his prison cell, and it was your name that tumbled from his lips during those particularly dreadful nights when all he could do to cope was stroke himself to the mantra of your name on his tongue.

William Singer started talking again, interrupting Sebastian’s life-before-brain-dead montage, and he rolled his eyes within the confines of the sac on his head. If he could cast wandless magic, Singer would have been transfigured into a rat long before now.

“Is the convoy waiting in London already?” Singer directed the question towards Alexander, and Sebastian had the good sense to believe that the seasoned Auror was the real brains behind this whole operation. The man allegedly came from a family of powerful purebloods and was highly skilled with his wand, rising to the ranks of Auror when he was only twenty-four years old.

Alexander sounded equal parts uninterested and irritated when he replied. “No. As I stated before we got in the carriage, we’ll send an owl from the platform. That way the Ministry won’t be sitting ducks out in the open when we’re still heading their way.”

The two men didn’t even bother to conceal their conversation from him, and Sebastian scowled, almost offended that they considered him to be so little of a threat. Hadn’t he put up a fight on his way out of the prison? Or maybe they figured that since he would be a witless, soulless idiot in less than a few hours, him knowing their itinerary wasn’t the end of the world.

Merlin, he wanted to Confrigo them both into scorch marks.

The carriage finally lurched to a stop, and Sebastian’s stomach sank into his feet. They were here. His unfortunate quietus loomed ominously in the far reaches of his mind, and he couldn’t help but feel a tad defeated at the realization that this was the end of the line. After this, whatever happened to him probably wouldn’t matter to him. He had seen what fate came after the Dementor’s Kiss plenty of times with other inmates. The most obstinate and ferocious of prisoners would return from their own sentences cross eyed and shuffling their feet, taking beatings from the guards with little more than soft grunts.

Maybe he would throw himself in front of the train. He could sort of see through the threadbare bag over his head– albeit not very well. But how hard would it be to just… jump forward when he heard the train approaching? If Ominis could maneuver around the world without sight, Sebastian figured he could easily do it for five measly seconds before becoming a bloody splat on the tracks.

One of the Auror’s gripped his forearm to haul him out of his seat, and he was cursing up a storm as he was unceremoniously thrown from the carriage doors. The temperature change was drastic, the cold fresh air hitting his skin like a bucket of ice water, but he couldn’t help but relish in it. He’d been too preoccupied with thrashing like a fish out of water on his way out of Azkaban to appreciate the undiluted, clean breeze that existed outside the prison walls.

“Don’t try anything stupid, Sallow.” Shacklebolt muttered ominously from somewhere behind him, and Sebastian sighed in annoyance.

He felt the Auror grab his bound wrists to push him forward, and he blindly allowed himself to be guided towards the front gates of King’s Cross Station. As they approached, a different kind of chill ran down his spine, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. All he could see through the sac concealing his vision were the brief flashes of light from the streetlamps, but he still strained to look around and figure out what surrounded him.

“Quit fidgeting and walk, Sallow.” William spat his name like it was a curse, and Sebastian sneered behind the safety of his makeshift mask, slowing his stride purely out of spite. William groaned, “For crying out loud…”

The closer he got to the station, the more potent the energy around him felt. It was electric and warm, almost soothing against his skin as his footsteps echoed through the barren streets. It didn’t sound like there was anyone milling about, so what was the source?

“Do you feel that?” William whispered to Alexander, and the older Auror stopped walking to look around with narrowed eyes. Evidently, he did.

A few beats of silence followed the question, and Sebastian felt Shacklebolt tighten his grip around his restraints. The rope digging into his bony wrists bordered on painful, but he grit his teeth through the discomfort. He had dealt with worse. “Take him back to the carriage. Now!”

At the same time Alexander was pulling Sebastian backwards, a brilliant flash of red illuminated the sky through his head covering. It arched overhead and slammed into the ground behind them, raining shattered wood and debris on his shoulders. Instinct screamed at him to duck down and keep his head attached to his neck, but with Shacklebolt roughly tossing him towards William, Sebastian found himself being forced to sprint back towards the carriage with Singer’s wand pointed against his back.

“What the hell was that!?” Sebastian found himself yelling over another blast of magic.

“Shut up! Get back in the carriage and stay there–” Another explosion heated the air in front of them, the force of it blowing him and William back against the rough stone pavement and ripping the bag away from his head.

The night sky and crackling spells danced above him, and Sebastian blinked away the fog from his mind as the ringing in his ears subsided. His head ached when he lifted it from the cold ground, but he willed away the impending nausea to hurriedly take in everything happening around him.

The carriage he had arrived in was now a useless pile of charred wood, as was half of the second transport that was still disintegrating into ash. Whoever had been riding inside was likely no longer amongst the living. The whole thing screamed preventative measures, and Sebastian wondered dimly if this was by any chance a prison-break.

Alexander was entirely on the defensive, every other spell from his wand being cast to protect himself from the brutal onslaught of magic coming from above the train station. Whoever was attacking them had the high ground and was thoroughly thrashing the Auror, an impressive feat in and of itself, but then he noticed William stirring from his spot on the ground. The beady eyed man wobbled as he got to his knees, grabbing his wand from beneath him as he moved to take position behind the older Auror.

“Accio!” he called out, and the purple tether of magic whizzed past the unknown assailant as they dove across the roof. Sebastian saw their dark cloak billow behind them as they leapt from the clock tower in an absolutely insane freefall, and right before they would have hit the ground with a bone-breaking splat, a spell shot from their wand and allowed them to float down the remaining distance.

What the fuck kind of magic was that?

The figure stood straight, and they weren’t very tall at all– kind of youthful in stature, actually. When they slowly began stalking closer, Sebastian realized they had a mask on under their hood. Their narrowed eyes glinted with recognition when they flickered over to him still lying prone on the ground, and Sebastian’s heart threatened to beat straight out of his sternum. Did he dare to hope?

“Whoever you are, you’re a right fool for attacking Ministry officials,” Shacklebolt’s voice was booming, drawing Sebastian’s attention from his rescuer back to the two Auror’s that separated him from them. “Rest assured you’ll get to spend plenty of time with Mr. Sallow on the train ride to London. I take it he is why you’re here, am I correct?”

The cloaked figure said nothing, but Sebastian saw the way their gloved hand tightened around their wand. Your wand.

His breath got caught somewhere in his throat at the revelation at the same time you were moving into a dueling stance, and it dawned on him then that you were taking on fucking Aurors to get to him. You were trying to help him escape his fate– and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help. The bindings on his wrists kept his hands uselessly sandwiched between his back and the road.

“Last chance,” Alexander growled, leveling his wand with your head, which in turn prompted William to do the same. “Drop your wand and surrender, and maybe I’ll put in a good word and get you a nicer cell with a view. What say you?”

You stayed silent, but the spell you fired off said everything that you didn’t.

It sounded a lot like fuck you.

Sebastian watched as Shacklebolt and Singer both started countering your attacks with devastating ones of their own, but you held your ground. Despite the uneven odds, it was you advancing closer to them, stealing the space that they tried to maintain in vain. Your wand was constantly glowing, your ancient magic pulsing in the air around him and charging the breeze with flakes of electricity.

That was what he had been feeling this whole time– your magic.

He never remembered it being so palpable. Sure, you’d always had something of a magnetic aura– it was one of the reasons he’d found himself so drawn to you years ago– but this was different. Something had changed. Your power had transformed into a ruthlessly sharp entity, yet it's eerily familiar warmth from your fifth-year was still there. It caressed his skin as if to put him at ease, before shifting back into the cold, jagged flecks of energy that worked to set the two Aurors’ teeth on edge.

William rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding Bombarda as it broke apart the Earth where he had been standing seconds before. Sebastian watched in awe as you used the demolished remnants of the transport as ammunition, lifting and throwing a detached carriage wheel to knock Singer off his feet before he could steady himself. He flew back against the loose gravel with a grunt, and it was like the universe was dangling a bone right before Sebastian’s eyes, because the man’s wand bounced and came to rest not two feet away from him.

Sebastian threw himself to the side and awkwardly clasped the crooked wood like it was his lifeline, and despite it feeling clunky in his fingers, it hummed in acknowledgement as he finally let his magic channel through him after two and half years without it.

“Incendio,” The rope bindings around his wrists went up in flames for a heartbeat, then fell away in a pile of smokey ash underneath him. He could feel the fresh burns on his skin from the direct contact with the fire, but that was hardly important right now.

Sebastian took his own dueling stance behind Shacklebolt, who was too preoccupied with shielding himself from your casting to notice that his partner was incapacitated behind him. Your wand whipped towards the Auror, your own spell breaking the shield he’d encased himself in, and Sebastian leapt at the chance.

“Depulso!” It felt incredibly strange to be casting magic again– much less with an unfamiliar wand– but the way it got his blood pumping brought a dark smile to his face. He hadn’t felt this alive in years. Alexander went flying through the air before hitting the streetlamp across the road, and Sebastian couldn’t help but wince a little at how the man seemed to wrap around the pole. The Auror slid down to the ground in an unmoving heap, and at the sight of his wand rolling out of his lax fingers, Sebastian let his guard drop as he turned to face you fully.

You had no time to say anything to warn him as William Singer reappeared behind Sebastian, wearing a positively murderous expression that promised trouble. The Auror looped his arm around Sebastian’s throat, pulling him against his chest with a strangled choking sound.

“I’ll fucking kill you for that, Sallow,” Singer spat while trying to grab his wand from Sebastian’s outstretched grasp. All the while Sebastian struggled to take a breath to utter a spell– any spell– to save himself. He was fading quickly– the awareness in his eyes slowly seeping away as William tightened his hold against his airway. “The Dementor’s Kiss is too good for you anyways, you’re gonna die here and now, at my hands–”

William was cut off as he was snatched up into the air faster than either man could process, and he stayed hanging in midair as Sebastian collapsed to his knees, bracing himself on his hands to suck in greedy breaths. Looking over to you, he saw your wand pulsing an angry red– a red that seemed to be reflected in your eyes– and you swung your arm down in a broad motion to hurdle the Auror against the pavement. A sickening crack resonated from somewhere within him, and Sebastian’s blood ran cold. You repeated the motion two more times, essentially ragdolling William Singer’s body back and forth with the force of a damned Troll, before you let his broken form hit the ground in a bloody heap.

Holy fuck.

Your shoulders heaved with exertion as your magic receded beneath your skin, and the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Hot, puffs of your breath warmed your cheeks beneath your mask, and with one last look at the slumped bodies of both Aurors, you ripped the face covering off and turned to Sebastian.

His pale skin had a sheen of sweat covering it along with a few scrapes, and he was breathing heavily. An ugly bruise was starting to form along his neck from the Auror’s arm, but beyond that, he seemed to be okay. Despite being locked in the dark for two and a half years, his freckles were stark in comparison to his alabaster complexion, and you couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of them. Sebastian’s dark brown eyes widened at the sight of you, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something, but the words got caught in his throat.

Your steps were slow and tentative as you closed the distance between the two of you, and when you finally came to kneel in front of him, Sebastian’s hand flew to the front straps of your cloak and yanked you into a desperate kiss.

It was all tongue and teeth as you collapsed against him, with your frantic hands cupping his cheeks and then raking through his unkempt hair, while his hands gripped your hips with bruising strength to hold you as close as possible. Part of him was afraid that if he let go, you would disappear entirely– that all of this would just turn out to be some torturous dream inside the carriage with Singer still monologuing in his ear.

Any thoughts of William vanished at the feeling of your burning hands cradling the back of his head tenderly as you kissed him harder, more urgently, and a keening noise sounded from deep in his chest. Sebastian’s hands roved up the small of your back, tugging you harder against him as he started to pull at the fabric of your shirt.

As riveting as everything was, it was equally sobering to feel the cold pavement beneath your knees, and you forced yourself to stop and remember where you were. You placed your hands against his chest in a bid to break away, but he chased your lips as you pulled back to gaze at him.

“Sebastian, wait–” he stole you into a kiss once more, swallowing your startled gasp and delving his tongue into your mouth to taste you. He had forgotten how sweet you were, and he felt that if he didn’t commit everything to memory now, he would never get another chance.

“Say my name again,” he heard himself say against the curve of your jaw, the husky, needy tone to his voice making your toes curl in your boots. Merlin, you had missed the sound of it.

“We need to leave, it isn’t safe–”

“Please,” he breathed the request against your heated skin, and when his head lifted to stare up at you in his lap, the look was desperate and showcased just how haggard he actually was.

Dark, reddish circles framed his deep-set eyes and made the whites stand out drastically, giving him something of a haunted expression. Being this close to him clued you in on how thin he was beneath his clothes. There was still a little muscle definition, but his cheeks were gaunt, and you could see the sharp outline of his collarbones poking over the neckline of his shirt. The tortured glint in his eyes imbued you with a fresh sense of remorse, and your guilt gnawed at the lining of your stomach, effectively smothering any joy you might have felt at reaching him in time.

You might have made it to him before the Dementors, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d still failed him.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you let your hands rise to cup his cheeks, ghosting your thumbs across the constellation of freckles that lined his nose. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

Chuckling cynically, he lowered his stare and shook his head softly, the longer strands of his overgrown hair brushing over his shoulders. “You can make it up to me later– tell me you have a plan that gets us out of here quickly– I don’t particularly want to hang around for more Ministry dogs to show up.”

Nodding, you blinked away the sting from your eyes and slid off Sebastian’s lap, extending your hand to help him to his feet. He took it graciously, mindlessly fidgeting with the wand he had taken from William in an attempt to distract himself from his own nerves. You let him collect himself for a moment while you took in the state of the streets outside the train station.

Chunks of cobblestone littered the ground, along with what little remained of the carriages you’d exploded. Your eyes skipped over the bodies of the Auror’s you and Sebastian had killed, noting dimly how little the sight affected you. At this point, you had seen and done worse, but that didn’t shrink the severity of the crime. You forced a breath into your lungs to squash the sinking feeling that you would be apprehended at any moment– carted before the Ministry to face the Dementor’s Kiss alongside Sebastian– all of your planning done in vain.

The plan. Right. The one you had spent months refining and memorizing. Snap out of it, you implored yourself, or all of this will have been for nothing.

“Come on,” you forced yourself to say, extending a hand for him to take. He cocked a brow at you, the action so very Sebastian of him, and almost cautiously interlaced his fingers with your own.

“Are we going to apparate?” He sounded surprised.

You flashed him a half-smile, though you were positive it came across as more of a grimace. Of course he would be shocked at the revelation– he’d been imprisoned for two years.

The tiny devil on your shoulder was having a field day reminding you what a massive piece of shit you were.

“It’s a newer trick. I’ve been practicing here for a few months to get it down, but I won’t splinch you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He huffed a laugh, but the sound was devoid of any humor. “Hardly. I guess I assumed we’d be using the Floo network, that’s all.”

Your grip on his hand tightened a fraction as you spoke, “I don’t think it’ll be wise to use the Floo network for a long time. I wouldn’t put it past the Ministry to somehow track us making jumps that way. It’ll be this and our own two feet for a while.”

Sebastian gave you a nonplussed blink, but then he surprised you by giving you the first real smile you’d seen from him since saving him. “That doesn’t sound too bad. We certainly have a lot of catching up to do. How far will we get tonight?”

“Far enough to grab a few things and rest,” you whispered, in some futile attempt to conceal your plans from the dead men surrounding you. “Are you ready?”

Sebastian’s free hand came to curl gently around your bicep, tugging you closer, and you felt the ghost of his breath against your temple as he muttered coyly, “Lead the way.”

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x female!reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow oneshot #dark!sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #implied 'bad ending'#my writing #in case anyone is looking this far down the tags yes part 2 is where all the smut is #I couldn't very well let them go at it in the street outside King's Cross Station

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captain-mj · 6 months

Note

Can you do another part for alien korangi au? I'm starving 🙏😔 (love ur writing btw❤️)

Part 1 Part 2

Thank you!

Horangi sighed as König left. He really doubted that he'd actually be back. Maybe the next solar cycle of his species when he got horny again. As nice as being swept away sounded, it just didn't actually happen. All kinds of people and non people promised him this.

Horangi checked his debt, seeing the giant chunk taken out of it by König's generous payment. He had tipped heavily, easily paying a month of Horangi's work.

Two months passed. Horangi continued to work as normal. Sometimes, his mind would wander to König again.

The biggest part that he missed was the intimacy of it. König didn't speak the majority of the time but he had pressed into him and held him so tight.

It was a lot better than most of his clients who left him aching and starving for a nice hand through his hair.

Horangi groaned and stretched, back arching. He checked his debt.

5 coins.

Horangi could go outside and ask that of someone.

He quickly went to check who deposited so much money.

Colonel König. As a tip.

Horangi stared at it for a long time.

5 coins.

Someone knocked and he sat up quickly. He scrambled up and got dressed before opening the door.

König.

"Hi."

König didn't speak. His hood kept his face covered. But he did lean down and brush their cheeks together. "My Liebling."

Horangi growled and shoved him before yanking him closer to him by his belt loops. "Not a word for two months!! Not a word! I thought you had given up on me!"

König shook his head. "Worked a bunch of overtime. Was too busy. Also didn't want to waste any money." He yanked him along before making himself calm down and instead gently lead him.

"Why leave 5 coins?" Horangi had none of the same scruples, yanking König to him constantly and making them bumbled around.

"Wanted to pay it in person."

"This is crazy. You get this right? You paid so much money for me. You didn't even purchase me! Just paid off my debt like a crazy person!"

"I could've purchased you?' König sounded rather interested but it was clear he was joking. Especially since he was currently trying to nuzzle back into Horangi.

Horangi hit his ribs and kept following him.

König handed Horangi the money and Horangi paid the last of everything. It was a rather anti climatic. He was just... there. And he was free to leave for once.

König hummed. "Can I have my date now?"

"Gongjunim, you can have whatever you want." Horangi said smiling at him.

They ended up a parlor nearby. It served tons of things, the best being pastries. König paid for everything, insisting on it. Mostly because Horangi had no money.

He watched Horangi eat with a ton of interest. He didn't lift his hood very much so Horangi couldn't return the favor.

König purred happily when Horangi took another bite. "Any plans?"

"Not really. Burned a lot of bridges back home."

"Could get you a job working for me."

Horangi stared at him. This wasn't hesitation. Instead it was introspective. "Am I just going to be your paid secretary that you bang?"

"Mercenary."

Horangi's interest was immediately piqued. "Go on."

"You'd be a merc that I scouted that I bang." König said with a smile in his voice.

Horangi tapped his fingers. "Only when I want it."

König blinked in shock. "That was a question?"

Horangi found something about this man to be very attractive. He wasn't sure what exactly it was, but he did.

Some patrons were watching them with unease. Probably waiting for König to suddenly go crazy. Start eating people like some beast.

Horangi finished eating. "I'll take you up on it. For a little while. Something to get me on my feet yeah?"

König smiled at him. "You'll stay in my home."

Horangi hummed. "You don't have a harem like some of your species does right?"

"No.... If i did, we wouldn't have met. I'm very glad I don't have a harem." König didn't meet his eyes.

"Take me home then."

Horangi was on König's bed and being attacked. König kissed him all over, pulling him in between his thighs. He purred and wiggled, rubbing all over Horangi.

Horangi laid back and let König snuggle him. "My liebling.'' König cooed and put his face in Horangi's neck.

They existed tangled up for quite a while before things dragged König away.

At night, they once again intertwined, being rather insistent about it. They tangled together and kissed.

König's hood ended up on the floor. Horangi held him close and kissed him sweetly.

They started to make love. König was so sweet about it. So nice and sweet. He thrust into him over and over and over again. Driving right into his sweet spot.

Horangi held on and reveled in the pleasure of everything. König kissed him softly, licking into his mouth. "You're so sweet."

Horangi wailed when he came. He couldn't help it.

#Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #Konig #König #Horangi #Körangi #König x Horangi #Horangi x König

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spirk-trek · 3 months

Note

I always love when spock has to ask mccoy to help him understand his feelings for jim

now on ao3!

i'm so sorry to this anon who waited so long for me to finish this prompt *cries* i have never written anything from mccoy's pov and wanted to challenge myself... and oh boy, was it a challenge. i feel like it turned out kind of (very) boring and maybe not so good but i tried my best with something new!

~*~*~*~

Spock had cultivated an arsenal of excuses to get himself into sick bay when he didn’t really need to be. Some were more convincing than others, but over the years Doctor McCoy had come to consider himself a damn near expert at identifying them. At least, he eventually identified them. Once he managed to stop being annoyed.

“What in the blazes- Spock! Get your hands off my equipment!”

“Doctor,” he greeted, raising a brow and pausing whatever the hell he was doing with several panels removed from the wall. McCoy stared at him, swelling with rage.

“I leave this room for one damn minute-!”

“Actually, you were absent for nine minutes, eighteen-”

“Dammit Spock,” McCoy gritted his teeth and begged whatever gods might be listening for strength. “ You have eighteen seconds to tell me what you’re doing before I tranquilize you.”

Spock’s mouth closed with a well-then expression, eyes widening just enough that McCoy might’ve felt accomplished if he didn’t have a six patient backup in the transporter room. He watched as Spock deposited the components onto an empty biobed- the only one remaining, mind you- and placed both arms behind his back to face the doctor squarely.

“I am here to calibrate your newly installed biofilters to include the latest blood-type data sets.”

McCoy blinked, then helplessly gestured to the chaos surrounding them. “I'm a little busy here, if you hadn't noticed. Can it wait?”

“Hardly.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and squinted. Two can play at that game.

“Medical equipment, eh? Since when are you our go-to guy for that?”

Both Vulcan brows eased their tension, rising to meet the dark curve of his bangs. “I am not. However, considering the fact you are currently treating Lieutenant Macsen, as an experienced science officer I am the most qualified individual to-”

McCoy groaned and uncrossed his arms to toss them at Spock impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, alright but-” he jabbed a finger at him. “But you're acting Captain now, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be on the bridge? ”

Spock’s eyes slipped away. It was only for a moment, but that was enough. Gotcha.

“The danger has passed,” Spock eventually answered, careful mask back in place. “I can be of assistance here.”

“You sure?” A smug grin was spreading over McCoy’s features. Spock tilted his head in consideration of him, likely knowing he was in trouble. Damn right. “So this ain’t just an excuse to check up on Jim, then?”

As if he had forgotten his excuse, Spock gathered several of the discarded components back in his hands, answering only once his back was turned. “I assure you, doctor, my only concern is the efficiency with which your facilities are capable of treating the biologically unique individuals awaiting care.” He paused, both his speech and his hands, which were simultaneously reconnecting a tangle of wires. His chin tipped back over his shoulder just enough for McCoy to see downcast eyes stuck to the floor. “It is a logical endeavor. There is no need to question it.”

McCoy set down his medical tricorder with a thud and glared at the back of Spock’s head. “Uh-huh,” he muttered, chewing the corner of his mouth. “Well, if you're not here to bother me, carry on with your ‘logical endeavor.’ Just make it snappy. I got patients to heal.”

He left the goddamned hole in his wall to do a lap around the med bay, asking after patient conditions and giving orders where needed. When he got back around to where he started, he was pleased to find the wall panels more or less back in place. He was even more pleased to catch Spock peering down the line of beds, even craning his neck to do so. Gotcha again.

He knew already, of course, which bed was the subject of Spock’s nosiness. Nurse Chapel was there, standing over an unconscious, battered, and idiotic (in McCoy's professional opinion) Captain James T. Kirk. The man looked downright pitiful with his uniform torn and bloodied, neck supported on either side by braces.

I’ll be damned if I’m gonna say anything. He wants to know? He’s gonna have to ask.

Spock never asked, though. He suffered in silence, like a damn ascetic. The doctor sighed, knowing already he didn’t have this particular fight in him. Not now. Not today.

“He’s gonna be alright, Spock. He’s had worse.”

At being addressed, Spock hastily resumed what appeared to be the last of his tinkering. McCoy watched him quietly, trying- unsuccessfully, as always- to read the unyielding Vulcan façade he so effortlessly constructed moment by moment.

“I acknowledge that the Captain's injuries are not likely to be fatal.”

“More n’ not likely. He’s gonna live, and he’s gonna thank me for it.”

Spock said nothing, simply pressing the final strip of wall back into place. He slid his hand over the seam to ensure there was no protrusion before ultimately turning around to face McCoy again.

“Once more, my concern lies with the efficiency of the ship's functions. The Captain's well-being is, logically, a crucial component of that efficiency. Is that not correct, doctor?”

McCoy scowled, not buying a damn word. He knew Spock wanted him to agree. To hand him his own excuse back on a silver platter. Not gonna happen.

“Well, if you were worried about him,” he cajoled, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "you might have a point. He took quite the beating down there.”

Spock shifted, and another bolt of triumph shot through McCoy’s core.

“It has been my experience that the Captain possesses a remarkable ability to defy all odds.”

Leonard barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sap.

“Still. Haven’t you people ever heard of hand phasers? They have a couple hundred meter range, you know, but no. You just have to get up close n’ personal.”

Spock’s gaze hardened. McCoy knew that meant his bluff had been called.

“Doctor. You have already indicated that the Captain’s injuries are not of long term concern. Are you rescinding that assessment?”

McCoy sighed, any remaining sense of accomplishment fleeing him. He was just about to damn his attempt at getting a proper rise out of Spock when he saw him turn a glance toward Jim’s vital signs, checking them. Not very Vulcan of you, he thought, even as a pang of pity won out over the desire to dig his thumbs in and yank.

“I, uh…” He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Listen, Spock. Since you’re here, I’ve been waiting what feels like a century to get my tricorders synced with the medical catalog we integrated from Nomalis III.” He looked at Spock pointedly before jerking his head in the direction of the storage cabinets. “Think you have time to get to them, too?”

He nodded once. “Certainly. I will assess their status presently.”

And if he noticed a stroke of gratitude in Spock’s immediate acceptance, he wasn’t about to claim responsibility for it.

* * * * *

Sometimes, the visits were shorter.

Leonard glanced up from his screen, raising a brow at Spock's unexpected presence on the other side of his automatic doors.

“Spock,” he greeted warily, one eyebrow raised. “You finally taking me up on that open nurse position?”

With a look he’d no doubt deny was annoyance, and a breath he’d definitely deny was a sigh, Spock placed his hands at the small of his back. “Negative, doctor. I require a medical examination for a minor injury sustained during our most recent expenditure.”

“You? Injured?” He set his PADD down and pushed it away, leaning over his desk toward the other. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It is a minor contusion,” Spock explained promptly. “I deemed it necessary to ensure my optimal functionality.”

The Vulcan presented his hand between them, fingers outstretched, a thin line of green wrapping around the palm and over his first knuckle. With a frown, McCoy stood and gestured for Spock to take a seat on the nearest biobed, coming to stand beside him as he snapped on a pair of gloves. He pulled the marked hand into the light, turning it at different angles. It was half healed at best, shallow at worst.

“You know, Spock,” McCoy murmured as he looked, “I don’t tolerate malingering.”

“Proof of my injury is visible, doctor. Or did your medical training not prepare you for superficial wounds?

“Ha ha,” McCoy deadpanned, noticeably less gentle as he flipped the hand back over and dropped it. “It’s already started healing, so I can’t use a stitcher. A treatment bandage overnight should do it, with that Vulcan metabolism of yours.”

He busied himself with a nearby drawer, pulling the right type of bandage from its depths. Once he had Spock’s hand back in his, he cleared his throat and began wrapping it.

“You didn't come all the way down here for a papercut, did you?”

Steely blue eyes flashed upward, but Spock wasn’t looking down to meet them. McCoy rolled them instead, annoyance mounting.

“I discharged him twenty minutes ago, y'know.”

He refused to look up again when Spock’s posture went rigid, his fingers flexing unconsciously against his newly coiled bandage. To McCoy's shock, he didn’t even bother denying that’s what he was really after.

“The venom was of an unidentified variety.”

“I identified it.”

“And his symptoms? They were-”

“Severe, yes. Keyword there being were .” He smirked, but Spock was still looking straight ahead. It quickly curled into a frown. “I healed him. That's what doctors do.”

Spock said nothing in response, though a crease appeared between his brows as he watched McCoy seal his bandage with a whirr of instrumentation.

“Anyway,” he turned in his chair, wheeling to a shelf to pull out a bottle of pain capsules he knew Spock would refuse. “I confined him to quarters until morning, if that's what- hey!” The doors were swishing as he turned back around, and despite knowing he wouldn’t hear it, he still called after Spock bitterly.

“You’re welcome!”

* * * * *

Sometimes, the excuses weren’t really excuses at all.

“Doctor,” Spock greeted upon being let into McCoy's office. He blinked in surprise at the vision before him; Spock was pacing, hands clasped tightly behind his back, gaze down on the floor. He watched him take two trips from wall to wall before clearing his throat.

“Why yes, Spock?” he asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes to no effect.

“I have come to report increased stress levels, resulting in loss of sleep.”

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. He placed his resequencer aside, immediately forgetting whatever he’d been doing with it. It’d still be there later, but this. This, he had to hear.

“Stress, Spock? That doesn’t sound like you one bit.”

“Stress is a natural reaction to disturbed mental equilibrium.”

“Would you please stand still?”

The Vulcan froze in his tacks, looking down at himself as if he hadn’t even realized he was in motion until that moment.

“That’s better. Now, what is going on with you?”

Spock, for a moment, looked explicitly uncomfortable. The lines of Leonard's face ironed out in shock. That level of transparency was, in Vulcan terms, something like an outright confession. He might as well be singing Shakespeare from rooftops.

“I’m waiting,” he eventually probed when Spock didn’t answer, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Spock shut his eyes. “Captain Kirk has recently… developed a closer association with a civilian on board.”

Oh. McCoy couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the pretty copper-haired thing he’d seen hanging off Jim’s arm that morning. And the morning before that. And the morning before that.

“Kaylia, right?”

“My concern ,” Spock continued as if McCoy hadn’t spoken, his eyes meeting some spot beyond them both, “stems from the potential risk such emotional entanglements pose to our current endeavor.”

McCoy’s smile curved into something dangerous.

“I see, I see… So, the Captain’s love life. That’s what’s stressing you out, is it?”

Spock’s jaw worked from side to side. “I fail to see the relevance of his personal relationships to my emotional state.”

And damn him, Leonard actually believed that. He leaned in, fixing Spock with an intense stare.

“Look, Spock. I'm a doctor, not a counselor, but I've seen the way you look at Jim.” He raised a hand when Spock opened his mouth, no doubt to deny it or try to explain the accusation away. “This ain’t just about the ship, or your current endeavor, or whatever the hell we’re calling it today.” When Spock didn’t answer, McCoy’s harshness receded slightly. He could feel it shrink within him, going from hot to cold in an instant.

“There's something more there,” he continued earnestly. They were well past it being a question. It was a damn fact as far as he was concerned, and he was sick and tired of pretending it wasn’t. “Way I see it is, you may be a Vulcan, you may have even fooled yourself, but you're not fooling anyone else.”

In the end, that got Spock’s attention. The dark eyes that swiveled down to meet his had a dangerous flicker to them. An ember he couldn’t help but stoke.

“I've known Jim a lot longer ‘n you have, and this? This ain’t about a single thing except you being jealous .”

Spock's mask wavered, another current of vulnerability passing over him like a spectre. When he finally broke his silence, he spoke with a voice that was measured and low.

“That is a highly illogical hypothesis, doctor. I am not capable of experiencing jealousy, and even if such were the case-”

“Oh, cut the crap, Spock. I've known you long enough, too. You've got feelings, and they're more n' just friendly when it comes to Jim.”

Spock raised a brow, the barest hint of a frown crossing his features.

“It is not… ‘crap.’”

“It is crap,” McCoy snapped, smacking an open palm against his desk. Spock stared at it stiffly. “Admit it, Spock! Seeing him with someone else is tearing you up inside." He narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth in a not-quite grin. Struck a nerve, did I? "How many days has it been since you slept, anyway? Have you gotten a wink since she walked onto this ship?”

“Your analysis is flawed," Spock spoke quickly, his speech pressured in a way the doctor hadn't heard before. "I am merely concerned with the Captain's ability to remain impartial. These matters often do not work out favorably.”

McCoy shook his head. “So, what? You’re worried she’ll break his heart?”

Spock didn’t react other than to pull his lips into a thin line.

“Ah, no. You're worried she won't.”

Spock was speaking again before McCoy had even finished accusing him, and if he had to give it a name he'd say he sounded downright irritated. Yeah, well, join the club.

“I am not governed by emotions. I am not worried, nor am I jealous-”

“Yes you are.”

“Furthermore, my feelings would be irrelevant regardless of-”

“Irrelevant my foot .”

A pause. “That doesn’t-”

“All’s I’m sayin’, Spock,” McCoy raised his hand and his voice to cut the other off, eyes screwing shut in his frustration. “You might want to face those feelings head-on before they gut you.”

They held each other's gaze for a prolonged moment, McCoy’s silent office beginning to feel heavier and darker than before.

“As you have already pointed out, doctor,” Spock spoke quietly now, the tide of irritation ebbing away. “You are not a counselor. I am here to seek a simple sleep aid, if one is available.”

After several more seconds, Leonard finally broke their eye contact to slam a drawer open. He tossed the bottle of pills at Spock, who caught them with cat-like reflexes that annoyed him more than it should have. Spock held the bottle low and looked down at the capsules, watching them fall over each other as he twisted the bottle side to side. McCoy bit his tongue, waiting... and what’ll you know? It paid off for once.

“Suppose your hypothesis is correct,” the Vulcan eventually murmured without looking up. “What is the solution?”

McCoy blinked. “Spock.”

Only then did their eyes meet again. McCoy sighed.

“Emotions don’t have solutions. Alright?” A ripple of impatience pushed itself into a frown on Spock’s lips. “But,” he continued, “they do have causes. Usually, anyway. Is that- Does that make any kinda sense to you?” Spock nodded once, straightening his spine. McCoy considered for a moment, his lips pursed. “Jealousy, for example, is usually caused by…” He leveled a careful look at the other man. “Well, I don’t have to tell you. It’s biblical.” Seeing the bewildered expression beginning to take shape, he rushed to clarify. “A tale as old as time. You want to be in her place.”

Spock averted his gaze again, then shook his head once. “I do not.”

“I don’t mean you want to be a diplomat, or a pretty redhead, or on the mind of every man aboard this ship.” He let out a short huff of breath. “Just the one man, right? And he’s currently off on some observation deck somewhere…” McCoy trailed off when he noticed Spock’s hands flex around the bottle, taking a moment to send some irritated thoughts Jim's way. Blind, stupid idiot.

“Am I getting anything right, here?”

Spock rolled his shoulders. “This is… not my area of expertise.”

“I know,” he said in a way he hoped was kind. He meant it to be kind, anyway. “Like I said, there ain’t a solution to feelings, but... In this situation, there are a few outcomes. And outcomes are sorta like solutions, right?”

Spock opened his mouth as if to disagree, then shut it again and gave a curt nod.

“Right. Okay. So,” he held one hand up as a visual representation, “one outcome is, you keep doing what you’ve been doing. Hope it goes away, hope each beautiful woman that comes along never stays too long. Hope you can keep ignoring it forever, and hell, sometimes that’s what it takes.” He took a deep breath, allowing his lungs to fully empty again before pressing on. “Sometimes, though,” he raised his other hand, looked at it as if he was actually holding something suspended in the air, “it never goes away. It just becomes… different. Sometimes better, sometimes worse.”

He fixed Spock with a severe look before dropping both hands back to his desk.

“And since you can’t know, there’s no way to know- well, that’s why us humans decide to do something about it to find out.”

Spock remained perfectly still until he swallowed, throat bobbing with what looked like effort.

“‘Something’ is vague terminology,” he pointed out, deadpan. “Clarify.”

McCoy flipped his restless hands skyward. “Well, we talk. Ask questions we don’t know the answer to.” A gradual smile broke across his lips. “Kiss each other, maybe, if the moment’s right.”

Spock looked more uncomfortable than McCoy had ever seen him, but he couldn’t even enjoy the blotches of subtle green that bloomed over both cheeks because of the pit of worry weighing down his stomach. Damn.

“You are saying," Spock began to summarize slowly, "that my options are to continue attempting to suppress my emotions… or to inform Jim of them.” The green in his face darkened as McCoy nodded. “I admit, I do not favor either prospect.”

The doctor chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “Yeah. One of the scariest things in the world, tellin’ someone who’s important to you that…” He looked Spock up and down. “Well. That they’re important.”

The Vulcan remained silent, finally opening the pill bottle and rolling two tan colored capsules into his palm before looking up at McCoy again.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said simply, and the words held a tightness to them so poignant McCoy couldn’t think of a single thing to say as he watched Spock take his leave.

The next time he or Jim tried walking into his office to worry about the other one, he was gonna lock them in a conference room somewhere, even if it meant crashing the whole damn ship. And he was gonna demand a drink first.

#idk this got sad for NO reason????#i do not ship spones but something happened while i was writing this and i feel like it's there #if you squint #spirk #fanfic #request #prompts #my writing #dr mccoy #bones #spock #jim kirk #captain kirk #bones pov #fanfiction

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