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pyrriax · 2 months

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hello here to ask about the seraphim au again lol

what are wisps? how is disability handled among seraphs? what is the most common way for them to get disabled? how fucked up is spoke exactly? like does he have abnormally long limbs? does he have limbs that he really shouldnt? is there a way for the ones in the fray to get up to the vesper esp with all the ruin? are there any other weapons of war lying around aside from centurions?

this au is really interesting and i love finding out more about it :D

Hello welcome back! I'm happy to answer your questions i love talking about this thing ^_^

Yet another long post ahead, but I've gone ahead and answered all of your questions in as much detail as I can without fully spoiling anything! 👍

What is a Wisp? (Where do they come from, what're they like?)

Wisps are another common creature, originating from cast magic. They vary in size, shape, color, and type, although the most common are ones which have a tendency to either cause small explosions, or light fires. Because of the way their bodies are comprised primarily of magic, they are constantly expending this energy, and thus don't accumulate it the same way that most things do.

These wisps are a common pest in the Vesper, a little like rats, but also a bit more potentially damaging, as they're drawn to places with a high magic content and flow. Although, they're rarely found at the pools in the Fray. This is mostly because Centurions have taken to killing them on sight, since they are quite fond of feeding off the energy which is used to keep them functional. It's a special thing, and it's their favorite.

Once upon a time, they actually had a use, but now they're just considered a bit of a waste product from magic casting.

(Although, that hasn't stopped some curious Seraphs from wondering if it'd be possible to domesticate them in a sense. They aren't inherently harmful, even if they have a habit of starting little fires or blowing cracks in walls. Some wisps simply sap energy and laze about, and though they become rarer later on, these are the ones that stick around places the longest.)

Certain wisps expend their excess energy with mimicry and shapeshifting, some of my references for them are birds like European Starlings and Superb Lyrebirds. Often times, their mimicry can make them even more of a nuisance, especially before the Seraph's extinction, as they were known to lead Seraphim astray by mimicking distress calls and even the sounds of clashing metal. Shapeshifting-wise, they tended to prefer creatures of a similar mass, so most often they'd take forms no bigger than medium sized cats, since anything larger is significantly bigger than any typical wisp. These ones didn't often last long after being created, but they were well documented.

They used to be kept out of important places in the Vesper with gates and small spells, but as those diminished, they began to creep in once again. Their presence sped up the collapse, but it couldn't exactly be prevented.

How is disability handled among seraphs? (Along with a brief explanation of some pieces of Seraphim culture)

Overall, it's treated as something to be respected, as it tends to be the result of actions not the Seraph's own, or of actions that were for the greater good of either the Seraph, or the Vesper as a whole. But, there are certain things which are much more looked down upon, and that is typically things like blindness or missing wings. These types of injuries, and related disabilities (stunted flight, limited vision [in cases where the blindness is partial], etc.), are viewed as almost childish, due to the fact they're especially common occurrences for Seraphim youth.

Older Seraphs commonly deal with lower mobility, at least in comparison to their younger counterparts. While Seraphs will snip and bite at each other (both literally and metaphorically), they are still a social species and care for their ill and disabled. Typically, any care being done for a Seraph will be done by those closer to them, mostly their inner circle and occasionally those associated with those Seraphs.

In cases of lost limbs, for any reason (regardless of how it may be viewed), if all the injury does is heal over and become more of a typical stump, the spot will be adorned with jewelry, and even tattoos or specifically dyed feathers, depending on the specific spot. Rather than being something hidden, these things are typically decorated, highlighted as a show of life and living. This is a bit of a remnant of an old myth which was lost long before anything was written, but it speaks of highlighting these losses as a triumph of life. It's a little bit of a "this is our gift from the stars [in reference to an almost-god] and we must show our appreciation, lest it be taken from us." Along with that, it's viewed as a way of warding off Wisps and other pests from these vulnerable spots.

Common patterns & symbols in these types of jewelry include but aren't limited to: ferns / laurel, flowers (varying types depending on the city, although the most common ones in Vesper are lily of the valley and bleeding hearts), spirals, and insects (again, of varying types depending on the city, the most common ones in Vesper are beetles or millipedes, although the latter are much less common.)

These pieces are made out of a variety of materials, but typically the basis is metals, either cast and shaped or twisted wire, depending on the Seraph's preferences. Pieces of the grown stars used for Centurions are also common place, along with common crystals. Everything used is subject to change, as these are personal to the Seraphs and will reflect their preferences, and even their favorite things. Over time, this jewelry may be reforged and adapted to better suit the Seraph, as time goes on.

What is the most common way for Seraphs to end up disabled? (And maybe a little hint of lore, as a treat)

So, I've mentioned some of the most commonly disabling things, but how the hell does that even happen?

Seraphs have their nasty habit of fighting amongst themselves, which is only more common with the younger of the bunch. While it isn't pleasant, it isn't unheard of for these fights to reach the point of weak points being clawed at/out. Which often entails wings being at the least taken out of their sockets, and at worst clawed off. In the same thread, eyes are also a common spot to be gone after.

But, as time went on, these types of fights became less common, so scars and marks from these fights are more often seen on the fully grown Seraphs. At least, this is the most accepted answer. Though, the truth of it is that usually, Seraphs lost limb and life to the fights which were so often instigated. While it's been most attributed to overly violent youth, it was much more an effect of war. At least, that was before the Centurions.

After them, however, things shifted. Without nearly as many Seraphs out actively participating in the fight aside from those that remained to ensure the Centurions' function, the most commonly disabling occurrences were related to either overexertion of magic over a long period of time (leading to effects a little similar to chronic fatigue & pain) and flight related injury. Though, that was tied with... Poaching related damage to stars.

Damaged stars? Poaching?

As I've already mentioned briefly here, Seraphim stars became a useful weapon due to their properties. While I won't elaborate much more than that for some mild spoiler reasons, let it be known that Seraphs were once revered as gods, but this began to turn into resentment over time. But, what does a damaged star entail for them?

A Seraph with a damaged star (whether it be cracked or chipped, both having different but lasting effects) doesn't often live more than a handful of years longer, as the magic that typically circulates through their body will begin to stagnate. This causes to formation of a sediment of sorts that accumulates in extremities and places like the eyes, mouth, and will even begin to seep into the keratin in their body, as well as their bones/marrow, coloring any new growth anything from pink to deep blues and greens.

While Seraphs are known for having a variety of colors which naturally and commonly occur in their feathers and flesh, these colors are associated heavily with this type of ailment, and those with these colors are often avoided by some of the more paranoid. (There is no risk to other Seraphim, this is a lot like how people will avoid those they perceive as ill / sick even when they know it won't affect them.)

Cracked Stars (All pieces present, but with slight separation or small fragments loose): Slower overall progression, characterized by weakness and general lethargy, along with sharp pain and numbness in extremities as time goes on, since the magic that Seraphs rely on doesn't flow quite how it's supposed to, along with the appearance of the aforementioned colors, since they tend to live long enough for it to completely change their appearance.

Chipped Stars (Pieces are missing, typically from failed removal attempts): Much faster progression, often to an almost violent effect, as instead of accumulating slowly, the magic which would form a sediment will instead begin to crystalize rapidly, making them only really able to live about a year after at most. This can also be the most sudden, as a chipped star likely won't be noticed until there are Wisps circling the Seraph, and sharp pain and complete loss of feeling (a side effect of the magic that's basically pouring out of them, which will make them much like the Centurions in this regard, as they cannot contain the magic.)

Malformed Stars (Not injury based, but included due to the relation and similarities): Some Seraphs are born with malformed stars and will have coloration associated with cracked stars from the very start. Although, it's entirely possible that they can live for a while longer than those whose stars get cracked, as their bodies are given the opportunity to properly adjust, as well as the lack of excess magic directly leaking into their bodies. Varying from Seraph to Seraph, they can have much more volatile magic, or that's less potent than is typical.

So what the fuck is the deal with Spoke? (Why is he like that?)

Spoke is a case of a potentially good thing being used in the worst way possible. Grown stars (or artificial stars, or anything to that degree) are perfect for Centurions, being able to be used as a baseline for the creation of pseudo-personage, a pseudo-soul, if you will. But, the problem is when they interact with another soul. Natural souls will eat away at artificial ones, and this lead to an extremely volatile reaction within Spoke. Along with the issue of souls, human bodies are not exactly made to regulate the magic that comes with these stars, and it causes... Complications.

Caught in an odd place where he both does and doesn't even physically exist at all, Spoke is a little like the ghosts that've taken to haunting the library in the absence of Seraphs. Varying even minute to minute, he can go from looking a little off (almost a little uncanny, in a way. Limbs slightly the wrong proportions, just enough to ring as odd, but not completely distorted) to being almost unrecognizable as human at all, practically surrounded by a thick layer of ambient magic, which can make him look like a bit like a shadow.

Although, as time goes on, this becomes much less varied, and instead, it manifests in the beginnings of Seraph-like features, including an additional set of non-functional eyes. As well, there is a certain dark-green-almost-black that makes his extremities look almost necrotic, although they aren't. This is just a manifestation of the excess magic, much like how it looks for Seraphim with cracked stars. For a period of time, he had grown the beginnings of an additional limb (although, it never got far, as it began to become excruciatingly painful for him), but it was removed.

Spoke is basically in limbo between being alive and dead, which has had its own interesting effects on his psyche, and really, if any true Seraph were there, he likely would've been mercy killed to spare him from this. But, he's happy as can be, despite the agonies. Much like any other human with a star place in them, there is most definitely a noticeable mark that resulted from it, something which has only grown over time. A little like what could've just been a scar at the start begins to morph into creeping vines, looking more and more like they've been struck with lightning.

(This is probably the most subject-to-change-as-i-write thing here, since I'm not 100% set on the primary appearance of it. There are major differences between Seraphim-stars and Grown-stars, and one of those major differences is that Seraphim-stars are much more stable, as they've had a long period of time to be refined and cultivated. Meanwhile grown-stars aren't given that kind of time, and are only an approximation of the real thing. While they can heal and prolong life, they lack the rhyme or reason that Seraphim ones will abide by. They don't know when to quit. They will form tumors and create what I can only describe as an excess of life, they make people sick, they shouldn't be used on organic things even if it's the only option. There's a reason Seraphs will sooner die than use one. They are viable for Centurions purely because of the lack of organic growth.)

Let's talk the Fray (and a little bit about the War, shall we?)

is there a way for the ones in the fray to get up to the vesper esp with all the ruin?

Really, it depends on the scenario! Before the death of the Seraphs, going between the two places was inconvenient, but possible. Typically it involved making some kind of trade with one of the Seraphim in order to be brought to the Vesper, although this was rare. The handful of human mages that did exist were able to move freely between the two places, but they disappeared not long after they began to be noticed. Though, they made a little bit of a resurgence as almost ghost-like figures, after the Seraphs' death.

Seraphim were able to go between the two places, as they never lost their flight, but even those who struggled with it were able to use their magic in order to go between. Centurions were unable to go between the two, as they were designated their places and functionally left to continue that task ad infinium. Humans were a rare sight, but on occasion human merchants were known to get up to the Vesper, usually using crude airships.

are there any other weapons of war lying around aside from centurions?

To be a little ominous for the sake of not spoiling too much: yes. Yes, there are, and they are only getting worse for wear, and even if their creators are long dead, they are not. They're still there, waiting to be called upon once again, to lay the world to even greater waste. Slumbering giants, if you will. I'll be elaborating on these especially in the main fic I have planned, so this is a "wait and see" kind of deal ^_^

Also if you've gotten this far I want to point you toward some art that vaguely inspired the baseline I have for wisps because I love this art and it fascinates me!

first piece is by ida lissner, second by tealnewcombart on etsy, third by tracy debenport!

i couldn't find the much more vibrantly colored type of almost psychedelic art that i've really drawn a fair bit of inspiration from, at least with the colors, these show a lot of the Shapes that i think of with them

#ask a ghost #asker: citrusinicake #au: seraphim #haunted bookshelf #only like 2.5k words later o7 #ALSO i am happy to talk more if you have any questions or thoughts abt this au because there is a lot and there are things i havent #even really gotten to yet but hopefully this answered the questions you posed in a mostly satisfying way ^_^#if youre curious about characters or any thoughts i have for anybody i havent mentioned before ive been working a little on some #smaller side stuff but im mostly focusing on two parts. i actually need to decide who to focus on for the original Fall as clown's #perspective doesnt actually show very much of it....... ive gotta work on the proper writing but this is my little side project #“”“little”“” side project that is lol

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gustofwindfr · 5 months

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Happy New Year, and Year of the Dragon !

#I know its not year of the dragon quite Yet but it is this year nonetheless #A LEAP YEAR TOO YAY #flight rising #fr #flightrising #derg #baby derg #Got a little too excited about all the new stuffs and uh #bought a buuuunch of new dragons without thinking #i need to slow down and focus on one project at a time dangit 😭#haven’t decided on a name for this fella tbh #very happy i was able to buy him at the auction house #a quick sketch of this fella also #would like to get back into drawing and having more unique poses too hehe #my art #gustofwindart

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midnightwind · 1 year

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I’ve been staring at these (and a third triple line up that I literally only have the poses for) for like a few months so have some WIPs of Nik in fancy wear and my phantom rogue Lucian’s general get up (kindofsorta I’m playing with ideas still)

I keep waffling on Nik’s outfit because I want it to be thinner and more flowing, but can’t get it in that nice mid ground of feminine but not straight up a dress, ya feel?

#my triton pally of the open sea if the triple line up but I cannot decide how I want a triton to look #or even a general color scheme for her so she simply Exists with no description #I'm not budging on the thigh high slit and high heel boots on Nik btw #those are the core Features #I have a Thing where I like showing off his collarbones for some reason so I want to give it a low cut but #he would be avoiding that because of his focus no longer being a necklace and trying to hide that fact from the party #I also want the cape/train to stay but I dunno How to incorporate it with whatever the fuck the top half of the outfit turns out to be #Lucian is more of just making him look more scruffed up in Nice-but-worn clothes #a ghost detective is a bit tight on cash at the end of the day and sleeps on the floor/outside a lot lol #maybe hit with more bloodborne vibes too #my art #wip #please appreciate the csp pose-able model and the Lucian picrew that spawned his design #I do need to draw his cloak too fuck

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gubsbuubs · 5 months

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Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid imagine #mgg x reader #mgg smut #spencer reid x you #mgg x y/n #mgg fanfiction #mgg

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queenendless · 7 months

Text

😷🤒Sick Day(Adult!SatoSugu x Sick!Fem!Reader)🤒😷

A/N: Yep this is part of that SatoSugu Teacher AU alongside Moving Day and Nights.

Also, announcement. I have smut writing fatigue after just putting out one and I'm down with a cold right now. So that vampire AU gang bang piece is happening next month. I'm so sorry for this yall. Thanks though to everyone who commented on that and helped me decide.

But I will hopefully be posting a JJK Halloween piece to make up for it. A headcannon/ imagined scenario where the JJK cast celebrate Halloween with my ideal fave pairings in couples costumes and such in this what if AU. And yas it gonna be SatoSugu x Fem or GN reader, idk on that part yet.

All credit for JJK and its characters goes to the madman that is Gege.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy!

Your throat feels raw.

Your nose feels stuffy.

And you kept coughing every few minutes.

You should have figured spotting a curse forming from a virus epidemic happening in the hotel across the street would pose a high ass risk of getting infected yourself.

But as a Window, it was your job, as life risking as it was.

The more people inside and around the building got infected, the Grade 4 grew closer to Grade 3. If it kept up, dozens upon hundreds would die.

"Ijichi-san. Disease curse. Transitioning from Grade 4 to Grade 3. Requesting sorcerer help here immediately." You struggled speaking over the phone as you kept coughing, dispatching the address to him, seeing the revolting curse grow in size as its toxic presence spilled, tripping as you tried keeping your distance.

Your head was pounding and you could barely focus as Ijichi-san panicked on his end.

"L/n-san!? L/N-SAN!"

In a moment of ailment, you dropped your phone, causing it to disconnect from the impact.

You were barely able to keep a grip on your phone or walk without faltering as you felt more drained with each passing moment. You blinked a lot as you tried staying alert, stumbling before collapsing against a parked empty vehicle on the street, sliding down to your bum just to rest your aching head against your knees, hugging your legs to your chest.

That curse's smogs began spreading down the streets, into traffic, and nearby occupied establishments.

Believing help wouldn't get here in time through the systematic process, you opted for your wild card, shakily picking up your now cracked screen device.

"Toru. Curse problem. Get here ASAP. Please." Texting the address in your feverish haste, you pressed send before curling in on yourself, welcoming sleep to rest your aching self.

In just under the next few minutes — more like moments — you felt a boom in the cursed energy atmosphere, that curse no longer being sensed. At last, it was done.

The shift from freezing metal to cozy soft fabric stirred you awake a bit. Along with the feel of solid warm arms draped around your shoulders and under your knees. Those big smooth hands squeezing your shoulder and your kneecap had you tugging weakly on the front of that top, pressing your face against your makeshift pillow, struggling to open your eyes as your hearing painted the picture for you in the meantime.

"A majority will spend weeks recuperating. The ones closest to the cause will spend months in the hospital at best. Still though, no casualties. Thank you for the help." High chances it was one of the many medics on site for post cleanup.

"You can thank the young woman here for that. She was the first responder, after all. I'll tend to her recovery myself. Sayonara." You know that voice right away, even when he was muffled, relaxing further in his hold.

"This cold isn't going away anytime soon. Too bad reversed cursed techniques don't make the common cold go away." Your half lidded eyes still had him swooning at how frail and precious you were in his arms.

You murmured, noticing him in his black long sleeved top, matching sweatpants, and face mask with the blindfold. "Blindfolded giant." That's when you realized a face mask was put on you as well, your muffled coughs hitting cloth.

You could already picture him beaming, grinning, as he laughed a bit.

"Correction. Your blindfolded giant, darling~ Now then, let's get you home."

°•○•°•○•°•○•°

Geto typing away on his computer, working on his latest reports.

Gojo straddling his lap, hugging him as he napped against his dear best friend slash hubbie.

The former smiling fondly at the motion before picking up where he left off was their situation before both men's phones began vibrating and ringing.

"Geto-san! L/n-san has reported a disease curse spotting! But she was cut off before I could get further details!"

"She just texted me the location." The sleepiness was wiped away, replaced with firm seriousness, as Gojo started getting off of him to get some shoes on.

"Ijichi-san, do not fret. Satoru will handle the curse." Geto calmly responded over the phone before speaking concerningly to his snowy-haired hubbie. "Toru, bring a face mask in case the affected area reaches where you land post teleport."

Said man smooched his hubbie in kind before slipping on the black face mask to match his current apparel. "Wait up for us, Sugu~"

Seeing you both back, teleporting into your home office, Suguru smooched Satoru the moment he took that face mask right off. Pressing the back of his palm against your forehead to double check for a fever, Suguru's dismay was warranted.

So being there when you awoke from your fever dream tucked in the middle of your guys' giant bed meant Suguru patting your now sweating forehead with a wet rag, you trembling from chills raking your skin followed by feeling warmer the next minute as you coughed into a tissue he handed to you.

"Well dearest, you've got yourself a nasty cold here." Suguru noted with a gray face mask on as well, seated by you on his side of the bed.

"Ah bah." Your raspy spat earned you a cough into your fist before you were offered a filled up water bottle by Satoru who was sitting behind you on his side; blindfold off but face mask back on.

"Welp, I exorcized the curse and brought your cute self back here. Plus I got that report to work on in your precious stead. So you're welcome." He gently ran his fingers through your hair to ease you in whatever way he could.

"Thank you Toru." You slowly sat up and were then handed some cold pills by Suguru to down some water with. "Thank you Sugu."

"Now that we've made our home Ground Zero, you are hereby confined to this room. Drink plenty of fluids. Take your medicine. Get lots of rest. Do you hear me, young lady?" Suguru's smart ass tone made you pout.

"Yes mom." You murmured raspy.

Satoru snorted behind his face mask to which Suguru whacked him in the shoulder across from him with narrowed eyes. "At least Megumi and the twins are living in the dorms now and Tsumiki was able to convince her classmate to stay at her place for a while. Meaning we three have the place to ourselves~"

"Does that mean … I have to sleep by myself?" You whimpered, cracking their resolve. "Neither the Gojo Geto bears, nor the Gojo Geto cats, not even the Gojo Geto giant round plushies can substitute for the real deal." You moped, pointing at said custom made toys lined up on the window seat on the far side of the room.

"Aww, Suguru, how can we deny our lovely sweetheart the company of her valiant handsome knights in the flesh, huh~!?" Satoru dramatized his own cries, muffled though.

Suguru sighed, consigning. "At least one of us should. Who else will be teaching the first years in the meantime?"

"Round robin, then? Last one left standing tends to that noble martyr and gets our dear sweetheart to be their own personal nurse in the end … huh …" That hum and those inquiring eyes could only bode mischief. "I volunteer Suguru to go first!"

"Not gonna happen, Satoru." He immediately denied.

"But to be fed by, bathed by and be doted on by our angel is heaven sent~!" Satoru gushed.

"Which is why you shouldn't be the only one getting that special treatment!" Suguru being jealous at possibly being left out on that.

"Hey!" Your strained shout ends in a coughing fit, curled up in bed, sniffling to which Suguru hands you a big enough tissue to blow your nose in. "I'm dying here."

"Hmm … Yu could fill in." Satoru suggested.

"He is working as a teaching aid part time. And he did say he could help out whenever we needed it." Suguru added.

"Plus Nanamin is on a business trip for the week~ He'll need something to do while waiting for his beloved's return~!" Satoru teased.

"That settles it then." Suguru was smirking behind that mask, you could just tell.

"How lucky you are, darling, to have the strongest duo be your own personal nurses~" Satoru was so smirking his ass off.

"Even though you'll literally get sick of me?" You shyly asked, squeezing your bottle, apprehensive.

"We have strong ass immune systems, Y/n. Comes with over a decade of immense training." Satoru prided on, kissing your flushed cheek.

"If we can risk ourselves in the face of death as sorcerers, this is nothing." Suguru assured, kissing your other flushed cheek. "I'll call Haibara."

"I'll start up a bath for us all. Thank you big ass bathtubs." Satoru clapped to that.

"What do I do?" Even when sick, tilting your head and batting those eyes made the duo smooch your lips at once.

"Just be a good little patient for us, alright, honey?" God that wink of Suguru's left you more hot than usual as he walked off to make that call.

"Besides, being sick with you means being granted a sick leave and getting paid for it! Ah, thank you, my darling sweetheart~!" Satoru did hug you, nuzzle his face in your hair, and left you a wheezing mess.

"Y - You're w - welcome!"

Well, on the bright side, at least you'll all be sick together.

Snuggled in bed, among discarded tissues, wrappers of cough drops, and smooshed in one big embrace of entangled limbs while binging nothing but sitcoms, movies, and anime.

You would eventually get better in a week's time then later tend to your two enamored, affectionate partners and get them back into tip top shape.

But until then, being in their cozy arms, sleeping smack dabbed in between them, that might as well be the key on your quick road to recovery.

The SatoSugu cure, indeed!

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asmosmainhoe · 5 months

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MC draws the brothers

im kinda shy to ask this but, can u make artist!mc drawing brothers and others and them reacting to it?(*´-`)

- @maiitski

Note: This was incredibly fun to write! I also only did the brothers, because I don't write for more than 7 characters in one post

Gender: neutral

Warnings: heavy language

Lucifer

You often draw him when he's working, because then he's absolutely still for hours

At first he doesn't exactly know what you're doing over there with your notebook. The first guess is some kind of study and you're simply looking for some peace and quiet to focus

Once he's done with the mountain of paperwork he walks over to you and glances over your shoulder

Oh wow. The portrait you drew of him looks fantastic and he nods proudly until he notices some special details

"Why are the spots under my eyes so dark?"

"Well, you've been working for hours now."

"I see..my hair looks so disheveled as well."

"You just really need some rest."

A portrait falls out of your notebook when you leave the room and he quickly hides it in one of his drawers. There is no way he won't treasure your hard work

Mammon

To say that it's difficult to draw a picture of the greedy demon is a complete understatement since he's in constant movements

The only time you catch him truly sitting still is when he's counting money after a long day of casino activities

"Look at what I won, MC! Hey, you're not even listenin'!"

"Sorry, Mammon. I didn't notice that you talked to me."

"What are ya doin' anyways, huh?"

His voice gets caught in his throat and he starts coughing violently. Partly to hide his embarrassment

"It l-looks pretty cool."

Translation: THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING HE HAS EVER SEEN

"I can get rid of it if you want me to."

"Are ya mad?! You can't just destroy a picture of the great Mammon! Give that to me."

Leviathan

By now it's routine for you to chill in his room to watch him play in the evening, but sometimes it does get a bit boring. Especially when he's playing a game that isn't your cup of tea

So you take out your notebook and start drawing whatever comes to your mind. This time it happens to be the envious third born

But you can't satisfy yourself with a normal portrait, no. You decide to draw him as if he's a character from the game he's currently obsessing over and proudly show him your work once you're done

You can watch Levi's soul leave his body in real time once he realizes that out of all the cool things in his room you drew him

"I-I can't believe you drew me! Me! It looks so good too! MC, I've got to have this! Please!"

I can see him roll around the room crying and screaming if you refuse to hand over the drawing

Satan

Once he loses himself in a book he turns into a freaking statue

Of course he has seen your drawings before and he absolutely adores them. There are several cat pictures from you hanging on his walls

But seeing you put his own features onto paper is a whole other thing

You manage to make him blush a little and chuckle in embarrassment as he inspects your work

"You're extremely talented. It almost looks real."

As Satan inspects your portrait an idea comes to his mind and a mischievous grin forms on his lips

"Do you perhaps take requests? I'd love for you to draw me tower over Lucifer. Preferably him cowering on the ground while I step on him."

"You know exactly that he will kill me if I do that."

"Oh, well. It was worth a shot."

Asmodeus

DRAW HIM LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH DEMONS

Please, the moment he notices that you're drawing him he's going to strike poses left and right

"Let me fix the light real quick! Oh, I how do I look? Is my hair sitting correctly? Oh, why am I even asking? Of course it does!"

It's not the first time that someone either draws him or takes a picture of him, but with you it's special

Now you have to show him your entire notebook! He has to know if there are more portraits of him!

And there are. Most of them are him in an absolutely relaxed position and often times when he's not dolled up at all

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have gotten ready!"

"You looked the most beautiful in these moments. I didn't wanna disturb them- are you crying?"

"No! OF COURSE I AM!"

Beelzebub

Please, to him you're the most talented artist he has ever seen! And he doesn't hold back with that thought!

One time you drew food just for fun and he ate the entire paper, because it looked way too good. You have to admit that that's quite the high compliment

And Beel has such beautiful and drawable features so how couldn't you put that on a piece of paper?

"Can I see what you're doing?"

The hungry demon gets to lost in it that he's just silent for a very long time. It gets to a point where you worried that he might not like it

"I can throw it away if you want to."

"No, why? I love it."

He never really realized how good he looks until now

"Can I keep it?"

Belphegor

Our sleeping beauty over here is perfect to draw considering he sleeps so still that one might think he actually died

One time you don't even notice that he woke up from his nap and is wondering what you're so focused on

It's only when he leans over to get a peak inside your notebook. You quickly hide the drawings of him, but it's too late for that now. The damage is done and you brace yourself for his teasing

"Wow, you must really like me."

"Shut up."

"This is some Levi-level simping."

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

You guys wrestle over the notebook for a little while until he grows tired of it and lays down again with a yawn

"Fine. Keep your secrets. Your notebook is probably full with my face anyways."

"No."

"Next thing I will find out is that you have a shrine dedicated to me."

"You're such an ass."

"But a pretty one."

---

Masterlist

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hanasnx · 5 months

Note

brucie and his 19 year old girlfriend who he flaunts around Gotham like it’s no big deal. he takes her everywhere and anywhere there will be press. everyone is so shocked and they don’t even know what to say. especially the kids. dick and jason are (high key) jealous of it… -🍓

PART ONE ✩ PART TWO MINORS DNI 18+

BRUCE WAYNE has been keeping you around to garner attention around himself and off of his dealings as the Batman. You were the perfect candidate given your social influence, your popularity, and it helped you were easy on the eyes. If Bruce Wayne was the center of controversy for dating someone half his age, Batman could keep a lookout on Penguin’s latest caches without distractions like the Cobblepots releasing a statement that Batman is wrongfully investigating a man based on appearance. Prejudice doesn’t make the news, but an age gap does.

You practically float off the floor when Bruce is around, whether it be an arm around your waist; leading you or twirling you like a dance with music he hums; sweeping you off your feet, easily up over his head. It becomes clear why he’s so dangerous, he’s such a charmer. Somehow he has romance dialed in, and you fell for someone so put-together. You love going everywhere with him, and when a fan asks for a picture, he’s the first to hug you from behind and curl his huge body around you, cheek-to-cheek with his chin over your shoulder. He’s so shamelessly touchy. It gets to a point where he likes when you scold him with a pat. Hitting his sturdy bicep when he tugs the neckline of your dress to him for a peek at your tits, and all he does is growl at you playfully, like you’re asking for it later.

To be honest, you are. Yet, Bruce won’t get it to you. He dangles it over your head in public, but alone he makes up some excuse and calls his butler to drive you home.

One time when you’ve been invited to the Manor, it was so you could get ready and drive to a gala with Bruce. Arriving together is a big statement, and you’re excited, but in a much realer sense there’s a tickle of dread in your stomach. Bruce told you to make yourself comfortable and wait for him, he’s terribly sorry that he has to attend to something first and if he’d had it his way a lady wouldn’t wait on a gentleman. You’ve already fantasized this might be it, he’s finally going to ask you. Sitting on this chaise in front of a fire you clench your legs together at the reminder. Perhaps he’s getting ready so he’ll finally sleep with you. Briefly, you imagine what the paparazzi would bark at you if you arrived to the gala with sex hair. It brings a smile to your face.

Just in case, you had outfitted yourself with a tasteful nightgown underneath your clothes, and you decide now is the time to enact it. Shimmying off your garments, you then arrange yourself seductively on the chaise. Bruce’ll be here any minute, and he always acts so insatiable in public. Maybe if you surprise him, he won’t be able to steel himself. Your fingers play with the hem, already short but your ride it up even more, and trace circles onto your bare hip. You’ve felt his hands on your hips when you wore a stringy little bikini for him on his yacht, and those callused hands had pulled you right down on his lap to stick his tongue in your mouth. You can still taste it, closing your eyes to revisualize it. He was so big underneath you—

“… and this is a one time thing, understand? My debt is paid.”

“Don’t worry, birdboy, I won’t tell your old man—“

Voices come into focus, alerting you as the door opens and not one but two people come in. Two people you do not recognize. Without thinking it through, you stand to conceal your seductive pose meant for someone else, and everything else slips your mind.

Two men. Boyish. Both with black hair that’s grown out, and one of them with a white stripe sprouting from the front of his hairline.

“Oh,” DICK GRAYSON says. He’s no stranger to walking in on something he shouldn’t see. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“Nice outfit.” JASON TODD adds, and you can tell he’s making fun of you. Your cheeks grow red hot, and you scramble for something to cover yourself up. A thin throw blanket folded over the back of the chaise is hastily straightened out to cover yourself.

Wary he might cause you grief, Dick points to a bookshelf behind you. “We just have to… get something.” He waits for something, and you realize he wants you to reply. You nod, hoping to just end this as soon as possible.

The blanket covers most, but a lot of your thigh is exposed. You try to turn with them as you they pass you, but Jason cranes his neck to catch a glance of your ass. The undersides of it hang out of your tiny nightgown. An indignant crease in your brow forms, and you make an obvious move to yank the blanket over your ass, turning it away from him. Dick keeps going, Jason hangs behind. “What’re you doing here, missy? You look a little young.” Condescension. The last thing you need right now is a conversation.

“Yeah, are you looking for someone?” Dick asks over his shoulder, more polite than his companion as he searches the spines of books with a finger.

You hesitate to say anything, you don’t know these people. “I’m waiting on someone.” A tremble shivers through you, the back of you cold from being away from the fire, and your nerves didn’t help.

“You’re not a hooker, are you?” Jason’s blunt nature shines through in his question, not that he’s intrigued or judgmental, just curious.

Your first instinct is to be offended he’d say something like that to a lady, frowning at him with a scoff. “What? No! And—!” It dawns on you that you shouldn’t put down sex work, you’re overreacting. So you wiggle your shoulders and stick your nose in the air, prissing up your attitude. “It wouldn’t matter if I was.” you say, quieter this time.

“Sure, it does. I’ve got cash on me.” Jason replies, only to get that cute offended look back on your face.

“Jason, shut up. She doesn’t know you’re trying to get under her skin.” Dick plucks out the book, and flips through it. He joins you and Jason, and you take a wary step back. He doesn’t notice, snapping the book shut and handing it off to Jason. Those blue eyes are back on you again, and you swear you see him give you a quick once-over. “Whoever you’re waiting on is a lucky guy.” he says, and by his tone you’re unsure if it’s a genuine flirt. When he smiles, dimples define, and for a brief second you’re weak in the knees.

A third voice pipes up, deeper than them both. “She’s with me.” Bruce says, walking in as he adjusts his cuff links. “Jason, always a pleasure to find you sneaking around my house.”

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thef1diary · 11 months

Text

Picture Perfect | D. Ricciardo

Summary: Daniel loves taking photos of you on his new camera, however, some of them aren't meant for his Instagram.

Warnings: 18+ mentions of smut

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: daniel x fem!reader

When Daniel showed you the new camera he bought, and told you his idea to start a photography page, you didn't expect him to take the camera everywhere. You weren't complaining though. You loved watching him focus completely on taking a perfect picture.

If you two didn't spend the day together, when he would return home, he would show you all the pictures he took. And damn, there were a lot of photos. His reasoning was "you never know which one turns out to be the best".

There was a selection of photos that Daniel took but decided to keep for himself. Even though he would sneak in a photo of you every time he's posted so far, there was a growing collection of photos of you that he wanted to keep private.

It started when he took you out on a date and decided to bring his camera with him. Although he didn't bring it out during dinner, he started taking photos of you when you were walking in front of him. He called out your name and snapped a photo right as you looked back at him. Then you started to pose for him, making weird faces because he would laugh at them, and you loved hearing him laugh.

You started to make bolder decisions. One time, when you two were at home and he was working on his laptop, you decided to change into more risqué clothing. Putting on a robe above your outfit, you joined him.

He was sitting on the desk facing away from you. Walking up to him, you placed your hands on his shoulders. "You've been working for hours" you complained. He didn't look back at you but held your hand for a short moment to place a kiss on your knuckles. "I know baby, just a little while longer" he replied, not knowing what you were planning.

You placed a kiss on his cheek which made him think you were leaving. Instead of leaving, you lightly kissed his neck, moving lower to the space of bare skin that was showing. "I think you deserve a break" you muttered and you saw the goosebumps rise on his neck. He didn't break until you made marks on his neck which made him immediately turn around to face you. Daniel saw your outfit, or at least the robe that was covering your outfit and his eyes widened. "I think I do"

He held his arms open for you and you sat in his lap. Daniel's hands immediately went to caress your thigh as you pressed your lips to his. He didn't waste time picking you up and heading to your shared bedroom. He dropped you on the bed and saw how your robe was not as tight as you wrapped it, which slightly revealed the lingerie you wore underneath. He closed his eyes and groaned "I think this break is going to last longer than I thought" he commented.

"Let's be honest, there was no way you'd go back to work after this so-called break" you retorted which made him shake his head with a smile on his face.

His eyes spotted the camera that was sitting on the shelf in the corner of the room and he looked back at you. Before you saw where his eyes were focused, he walked to grab the camera and returned. Daniel raised his eyes in question, asking if you'd be comfortable to do what he was suggesting. You knew that if you denied, he would listen to you but you didn't deny him.

Sitting up on your knees, you posed for the camera. After you heard the camera shutter click a few times, you untied your robe leaned forward. This caused Daniel to stop for a moment and he just stared at you. "Baby, you're staring" you pointed out the obvious. "No, I'm admiring. You look amazing" he spoke when he regained his senses.

He walked closer to you, placing one hand on your cheek as he snapped photos with his other hand. His thumb caressed and pulled your bottom lip lower. You opened your mouth and took his thumb into your mouth, lightly sucking on it.

Daniel placed the camera on the bed for a moment before taking off your robe. Trailing both his hands up and down your body, he hooked his finger into your bra strap and pulled it down your shoulder. Instead of going back to the camera just yet, he strongly kissed you. Your hand trailed down his back, marking it with your nails while his hand travelled up in your hair, slightly tugging on it.

You were out of breath by the time he pulled away but you gasped as soon as he sucked on the side of your neck, creating marks. The thought of him marking you before taking more pictures made you impatient.

Once he stepped away, you unclasped your bra and covered your breasts with one of your arms while the other hand was up in your hair. Daniel kept clicking away, capturing the lust shown in your eyes.

You moved your arm away and he was blown away by the bold moves you were making. He knew how much you trusted him, and he would do anything to keep these photos away from everyone else. These were just for him.

A few more minutes passed and you removed your panties and were on your hands and knees. As much as you loved this photo session, you were quite frustrated because Daniel wasn't done yet. You wanted, no, needed him so badly.

"If you don't come take care of me now, I'll do it myself" you warned him and began to make yourself comfortable to do just what you told him. Instead of moving quickly like you'd expect him to, he raised an eyebrow at you. "Is that so? Do you really think you could please yourself like I do?" He put the camera to the side and walked towards you. You had your legs resting in front of you and he immediately spread them apart.

Daniel trailed his fingers from your ankle to your thigh, not going to the one place you want him to. "What do you want?" He asked as if it wasn't obvious enough.

"You"

Apparently he liked the way you responded because his fingers were quick to spread your folds and collect the wetness. He didn't know you were that desperate and ready for him, and he almost felt bad for teasing you. Almost.

The camera was long forgotten until the end where you were half asleep due to how well he fucked the energy out of you. He snapped a photo of you in a blissed state because he wanted to remember this moment when he looked back at these pictures.

He transferred the photos to his phone and made a private album for the days that you wouldn't be together. Needless to say, he used those photos to get himself off during race week. Especially on the days where he didn't want to disturb your sleep due to the weird time zone differences. But he would tell you all about it the next day. You had already planned to do this again when he comes home.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fandom #f1blr #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 smut #thef1diary fic

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moongreenlight · 3 months

Text

More childhood best friend!Gaz headcanons because I cannot stop thinking about him

He’s your valentine every single year. Started as his dad trying to teach him proper etiquette when he was young and just never stopped. A bouquet of flowers on your stoop and a cheap card he scratches a note into. Never signs his name. Just ends ‘xx.’

He chaperoned your first real date in high school because your dad paid for his tank of gas. The guy you were keen on never called you back after. It took you until you were seventeen to realize that it was probably because Kyle was sitting on the same side of the booth as you and spoon feeding you bites of dinner.

He also ruined your first real relationship when he beat your boyfriend to asking you to formal (a full two months early). You tried to explain that it didn’t mean anything, but he just couldn’t understand. Kyle said it was for the better while you sobbed into his shoulder. “Tosser can’t cope with the fact he’ll always be second place. Better not to waste your time.”

His basic training was 26 weeks away from home. He went immediately after picking up his diploma. It was the most miserable summer of your entire life. Spent primarily waiting by the mailbox for the postman to deliver your daily letters back and forth. He’s started signing off “Garrick. x.”

Both of your families went to his graduation, but his mother insisted you were the one to tap him out. You barely recognized him, like the summer where his family took a month long vacation and he came back a full four inches taller. He’s bigger now, his shoulders permanently rolled back, but he still carries himself with that same cool ease.

He barely stays long enough to say his hello’s to everyone until he takes you back to the car and lays you out in the backseat. Griping the whole way about how “you’d be in a hurry, too. Couldn’t even get away with a wank in the shower.” And “s’your duty to the country. You wanna thank me for my service, don’t you?” You swear the two of you fit easier six months ago, but now he’s cramped between the seats. Caged in tight. His head bumps the window each time he snaps his hips into you.

You seriously considered moving close to base when you found out he was being permanently relocated after joining the task force, but he wouldn’t hear a word about it.

So you settle on sending each other disposable cameras back and forth. You’ve got a picture of him on a mission in Amsterdam framed up in your hall. He’s got a cigarette hanging out of his big, toothy smile, posing like an overexcited tourist in front of a lingerie shop with a display window that made your ears hot when you first saw it.

He called you a few days after his incident with the helo in Urzikstan. Boasted his adventure with only a whispering tremble on the soft underside of his tough facade. Carried on until you wretched dryly into the receiver. Working yourself up into sick with worry even though he promised he was fine, just sticking to the ground for a bit.

Even though you’re seeing him less nowadays, he’s still somehow coming between you and any romantic pursuits you make. You chalk it up to coincidence most of the time, but a blind eye can only be turned so far.

He seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re on a date or a one night stand. Sending texts and pictures that could be misconstrued as flirty to someone who didn’t know the dynamic at just the wrong moment every time. And there was the one time where he sent flowers to your desk at work just a few days after you’d said something about a coworker getting sweet on you.

It happened so often that you eventually decided that the dating scene just wasn’t for you. Resigned to focus on work and friends. Adopting a new mantra of “if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

You’ve got no idea why Kyle is so pleased to hear about the conclusion you’ve come to. Or why he’s suddenly coming back home for a few weeks.

#he is rotting my brain from the inside out I need him carnally #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz smut #gaz smut #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #gaz call of duty #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick smut #cbf!gaz

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fangswbenefits · 4 months

Text

The Arrangement (13) - Tempest

Chapter summary: A much needed conversation takes place... as well as a realisation that might change everything.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Mentions of trauma.

Word count: 4.6k

Series masterlist . AO3

There was a crack on the ceiling.

A deep scowl settled on your face as you lay sprawled along the large bed, staring at the lightning-like fissure that had caught your attention.

How deep did it run? Had it been there all along? You wouldn't know. After all, you seldom spent time in this room.

His room.

Astarion had never shown interest in moving in with you and the others. He kept to himself and rushed to find accommodation at The Blushing Mermaid. You couldn't really fault him for wanting to keep to himself.

But you still kept this room vacant just in case he changed his mind.

He never did.

Little did you know that it would be a myriad of unfortunate events that had hurled him into this very room.

Until a few nights ago.

He left before you could convince him otherwise.

Guilt had been boiling in the pit of your stomach ever since, but you had come to accept that some things were out of your control.

The house confinement had been lifted after much insistence on Wyll's part. It no longer seemed appropriate, yet he promised to keep Fists nearby just in case.

Still, Astarion was now free to do as he saw fit.

Wyll had met up with him and he was seemingly doing well.

Seemingly.

The events of that night kept on flashing in your mind, as you sought to find a rational explanation to what could have caused him to stare at you the way he had.

Revulsion.

Disgust.

Had you taken it too far? Maybe you should have suggested for him to feed on you. Maybe you shouldn't have been brought up that night.

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You could go on forever, going over countless possibilities, but you were not inside his head.

Only he had the answers to your questions.

This was the logical side of you urging your mind to make peace with what is out of your control.

But your heart still clenched and ached and hurt.

Your feelings had been severed from all logic.

You still felt the need to go through that event, desperate to find solace.

That maybe this, too, would pass.

Maybe.

And just as always, a tear detached from the corner of your eye and streamed downwards, leaving a familiar wet trail in its wake.

Glancing around, you could still see so much of him everywhere.

His embroidery set, his books, his shirts, some of his vials of poison.

Even his scent lingered.

You hadn't even bothered drawing the curtains and letting the sun or moon in.

It was as if he was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

You heaved a deep sigh as you mustered the strength and will to shift your focus on what you could control.

The crack on the ceiling stared at you and you stared back at it, eventually deciding you should do something about it.

Pushing yourself off the bed, you placed both hands on your hips with newfound determination.

This you could fix.

Maybe.

The door was open, and you yelped in surprise as you saw movement in the corner of your eye.

Wyll was leaning against the doorframe with folded arms and the same kind and soft expression he always held around you.

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

You ran your hands along the silky fabric of the nightdress to adjust it before slipping into your robe, tying it snugly around your waist.

“Oh, I was simply distracted.” you blurted out, hurriedly wiping the wetness from your face.

An understanding smile curved his lips. “I knew I'd find you in his room.”

“It's not his room,” you immediately said. “Well – not really,” you added, fearing you had come across as too harsh.

He arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

Your gaze landed on the ceiling once more. “There's a crack on the ceiling.”

He slowly joined your side and followed your line of sight. “So there is.”

“I need to fix it.”

“You? Now? Do you think the ceiling is giving in?”

You stared at him, perplexed. “What?”

“Do you think it poses danger?” he asked, his eyes on you. “It is quite small.”

There was an argument to be made that the size of things seldom mattered.

Tiny cracks could make way to bigger ones.

Tiny cracks could still hurt.

They could still inflict damage.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you flinched. “Are you well?”

“Yes. Quite.”

An obvious lie you hadn't bothered to flesh out.

He didn't look convinced in the slightest, but didn't press things further.

You enjoyed that about Wyll. He knew exactly when silence was the best and more adequate answer. Sometimes, words just weren't enough.

Eventually, you cleared your throat. “I assume you're not here just visiting.”

“You caught me,” he said playfully, hands laced behind his back. “I come bearing news.”

From the way his face had faintly dropped, you could immediately tell your mood was about to shift in an unwanted direction.

“Ava?”

He nodded. “We still haven't been able to tie her to anything as of yet.”

You felt your stomach clench with dread. “It can't be… she has to be involved somehow.”

“I agree. I have the finest inquisitors trying to break through her facade – if she has one.”

There had to be something.

She had to be responsible.

“What about Rob Sorel? Surely he can be of help.”

A scowl twisted his face. “Nothing as of yet. He has a solid alibi that he insists on roping her into. Besides, he's an established patriar of the city, there is only so much pressure we can apply before tensions rise amongst the noblemen.”

A shaky sigh rushed past your lips.

Wyll was stuck between a rock and hard place, no doubt. On one hand, he sought to act dutifully and according to his moral code. On the other hand, he was far from being impartial in the matter, and his friendship towards both you and Astarion could be seen as a compromising factor.

“How much time do we have until you have to set them free?”

“Maybe one more day,” he said. “Rob Sorel is the tricky part here. Ava has no power, but he does. He has connections that extend far beyond our reach, and if they take notice that he's imprisoned, it might trigger unforeseeable consequences.”

You began pacing around the room, urged by your nervousness and frustration.

“What of Waterdeep?”

Wyll followed your every move with his eyes. “Gale has yet to encounter anything suspicious that could be tied to her.”

You slumped into a nearby chair and pressed your face into the palms of your hands, letting out a growl. “I am not wrong about this,” you said almost pleadingly, lips quivering. “Wyll. I am not wrong. She – there is something wrong with her. Astarion…”

Your voice trailed off at the mention of his name in your mouth.

It hurt.

A painful jab in your chest rendered you silent, and you lowered your face, anticipating tears of frustration.

Wyll rushed to your side, placing a comforting hand atop your head, patting it gently.

“We will figure this out. You have my word.”

His word held weight. You knew of this. If there was anyone in Baldur's Gate whose word was worth gold, it was Wyll's.

But… “It is not fair. It is not fair that now he doesn't want to pursue this anymore… because of her.”

Wyll dropped to one knee, eye-levelling with you. “Astarion is stronger than we give him credit for, and he is free to choose his own path.”

“What if it's the wrong one?”

“You can't decide that for him,” Wyll reasoned, taking your hand in his. “All we can do now is give him time and respect that.”

Astarion needed time and you needed to find a way to make that realisation less agonising.

You wanted nothing more than to be a comforting presence to him, but surely not at the expense of his well-being.

Breaking into a sob, you managed to stare into his eyes. “How is he doing?”

Wyll offered the warmest smile. “I believe he is doing well – within reason, that is. He was spotted hunting in the outskirts of the city before I got here.”

That should have put your mind at ease, but it only seemed to make matters worse.

“It's not enough… boars and deers and carrion cannot satiate him as thinking creatures do.”

His hand tightened around yours and his face was firm. “Are you referring to yourself?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I do not mean to pry on your relationship with him, but you're a dear friend of mine,” he began. “I am aware you want to help him get through his hunger, but you don't have to.”

Immediately, you pulled your hand from his grasp as if burned.

You didn’t need to be scolded on this.

“Don’t. Do not do this.”

Wyll fell silent, but there was a hint of sadness sprawled across his features.

Then it quickly dawned on you how unfair you were being towards him.

“I apologise… you mean well, I know.”

Ever courteous, Wyll shook his head. “I overstepped a line. You care deeply for him and the bond you two share is foreign to me.”

This time, you took his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Wyll also possessed a heart of gold that few could rival with. He never hesitated to take a step back if he believed to be in the wrong.

And he wasn't.

“No, you're right. You're merely looking out for a friend.”

“For both of you, actually,” he promptly corrected. “I care for both of you and I would detest for you to part ways unless as a last resort.”

You inhaled sharply. “We'll figure things out… hopefully.”

Were you trying to convince Wyll or yourself?

He rose to his full height, pulling you up with him. “If there is someone who can figure things out, it's you.”

How you wished that was so, but you accepted his words with a sincere smile.

“Do not fight me on this,” he said, playfully jabbing a finger into your shoulder. “You brought us all together

“It was only possible because of everyone's commitment,” you said truthfully. “Do not fight me on this.”

Wyll chuckled as you used his words against him, raising both hands. “Very well, very well.”

You looped your arm around his, allowing yourself to feel lighter and push the fear and concern aside even if just for a moment.

“It's quite late. You can stay over,” you offered kindly as the two of you headed downstairs.

He patted your hand. “Ah, I would gladly take up that offer, but duty calls.”

“At this hour?”

“The city never sleeps, my dear friend.”

It had to be an exhausting job more often than not, especially with all the unpredictability that came with it.

As you reached the kitchen, you were greeted by a couple of flickering candle lights spread across the room, providing just enough clarity for you to reach the front door.

Your arm slipped from his and you pulled him into a hug, which he reciprocated.

“Take care,” he said, patting your back lovingly. “We'll stay in touch.”

You nodded, fighting back the tears that had begun to prickle at your eyes.

When he finally pulled away, you realised that if Astarion had been there, he would have teased you to death about Wyll.

Alas…

With a final nod, he went out into the cool night, categorically greeted by two Fists that awaited him outside, ready to escort him back.

Just as you were about to close the door shut, Shadowheart's low voice was heard.

“Are you well? Was it a nightmare?”

You turned to face her. “Oh, no. Wyll dropped by to say that they might not be able to hold Ava as a prisoner for much longer.”

It was interesting that despite the abrupt departure from Astarion, you had been able to sleep undisturbed. Not a single nightmare or bizarre dream had plagued your subconscious ever since.

Granted, you had been using the lavender oil Shadowheart had gifted you, but its effectiveness was still debatable.

She grimaced, adjusting her own robes, as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Snivelling little cockroach,” she said with a hiss. “There must be a way to catch her in a lie.”

It was far too late and you were far too exhausted to pursue this matter once again.

You needed to step out and catch some fresh air.

“I'll be in the backyard.”

Shadowheart's quick steps drew near. “Do you want some company?”

“I'd rather be by myself, if that's alright.”

She nodded, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.”

Slipping past the open door, you made your way around the house and towards the back garden that Gale took pride in keeping luscious and vibrant.

You hadn't told any of them what had happened between you and Astarion a few nights ago.

They knew something had happened, but didn't press you for details, which you were thankful for. They assumed he had parted from the group again because of the whole Ava ordeal and that he needed to process things.

But you knew it was related to you. You knew deep inside you that something within him had been triggered and it made your heart clench knowing you were probably the root cause of it.

The gentle night breeze rushed past your cheeks, as you hurried along, barefoot and with only a thin robe to keep any semblance of heat close to your body.

The grass crunched softly under your feet and you only came to a halt once you found yourself surrounded by countless flowerbeds of all shapes and sizes.

You took a deep breath, calmness filling your lungs as the soothing scent of grass and pollen wafted around you.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for now.

The crickets were in full force tonight which only added to the magical ambiance.

For the first time in what seemed like too long, you smiled widely.

You wrapped the robe around you tightly as you sat on the wooden bench by the impressive row of night orchids.

Mindlessly, your hand reached down and you plucked a wilted flower bud that had certainly gone past its time.

It was still as radiant as ever in hues of dark blue and purple.

You twirled the stem in between your fingers as you glanced up to admire the glinting stars high up above, sprawled across the sky.

Bathed in moonlight and surrounded by calm and quiet, you pulled your legs up and pressed them against your chest, resting your chin on your knees.

You vaguely wished you could freeze this moment in time and take in all the beauty that surrounded all of you.

“It's quite a sight.”

You jolted in your seat at the sound of a velvety voice.

Astarion.

Your eyes found his crimson ones in the dark of night, and an overwhelming urge to bolt straight into his arms nearly took over.

But your mind held you back, rooting you in place as you watched him approach.

“The stars, I mean,” he added with a purr, glancing upwards at the starry night sky.

The playful jab didn't go amiss and you felt a faint smile tugging at your lips.

He had uttered that same remark many moons ago, teasing you for entering his field of vision.

And now here he was, entering yours and capturing your attention like he had the first time.

It was as if the very sight of him was a force of nature that slammed mercilessly against your chest, robbing you of air.

Your heart was thumping so hard you could hear each heavy beat in your ears.

You leaned back, taking in the full sight of him.

He looked… well.

He looked fed.

He looked like himself.

But there was this aura about the way he slowly moved that indicated something was amiss.

Silently, he sat next to you, far enough that your heart skipped a fleeting beat.

Should you say something? Ask something? Should you wait for him?

Astarion eventually turned to stare at you. “It's quite cold tonight yet you're out here wearing nothing but your paper-thin nightdress and an equally useless robe.”

You opened your mouth, but you just couldn't speak.

He slipped the thick cloak off his shoulders and draped it over yours with a click of his tongue.

“You were never one to properly look after yourself, but, darling… do not get sick on me,” he finished with what seemed to be a genuine teasing smile.

Words were stuck in your throat. The fear and dread that you might utter something wrong completely froze you in place.

He looked and talked like your Astarion.

But was he truly being himself?

His gaze dropped to the flower in your hand and he tugged it free from your grip, inspecting it closely.

“Ah, flowers… beautiful, but–”

“–they make for lousy poisons,” you completed, voice coming out raspy.

Another genuine smile ghosted his lips. “Yet it would look even more beautiful on you,” he said, his hand reaching out to tuck the stem behind your ear. “As most things do.”

“Astarion…” you said, swallowing hard.

“I meant every word.”

He was overcompensating and deflecting.

Your heart sank.

It wasn’t that he didn’t mean what he was saying, but you could tell this was an attempt at mending things between you without quite addressing the issue.

And he clearly realised you had seen right through him as he sighed. “Alright, alright… we do need to talk, don't we?”

You nodded silently.

A shiver ran through your body and it wasn't due to the cold breeze.

It was the gripping fear that whatever came next might break your spirit.

He fixed his stare somewhere in the distance before speaking again, “I apologise for leaving so hurriedly that night. I… supposed I got carried away and it felt rather overwhelming.”

Your mouth had dried up. “What did I do wrong?”

This time, he turned his head to fully face you, a sliver of confusion twisting his pleasant features. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me – my head – that got in the way.”

You didn’t believe him.

“You were talking to me and suddenly it was as if I had said something horrifying,” you whispered, doing your best to keep your tone steady. “It was me… it was something I said.”

He paused for a moment. “It is not your fault that this happens. I need you to understand that. Please.”

A lump formed in your throat but you swallowed it right away, not wanting to be bound to silence.

This conversation was long overdue.

“Can I be honest?”

He quickly nodded. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

You collected yourself and your heart. “I don't know how to help you… I don't know what to do…” you said truthfully, lacing your fingers together and unable to face his piercing eyes. “I don't want to be too much… I don't want to trigger you. I do–”

Astarion cut you off immediately. “Look at me. Please.”

He waited for you to do so and only then did he proceed. “There was a time I cursed from having a wriggling worm inside my head. Little did I know that that was the least of my problems. And this is my problem. Not yours.”

You had to bite down on your lower lip to keep it from quivering.

He suddenly looked weary, running a hand along his face. “I am tired – exhausted to have my mind holding my body back. There are times when I can go through with it… and it's mostly thanks to you and your patience.”

There was a part of you that was relieved that he wasn't upset with you.

But a more vicious part of you rose a voice inside your head, telling you he was merely doing damage control.

That he just wanted you for your blood.

“What's that look on your face?” he asked, sounding hurt. “You do not believe me?”

You pushed the mocking voice away and blinked. “No – I just… Astarion… I don't know what to do. I don't. I want to be here for you, but I keep fearing we're pushing it.”

He pressed his lips into a fine line, brows knitted together.

Your legs dropped and you straightened yourself with a sigh, the sudden movement causing the orchid to drop from behind your ear and onto the ground.

“What can I do? How can I help?”

He looked almost offended for a brief moment, but his features eased before he spoke, “I don't want you to treat me like a glasshouse. I don't want pity or mercy. I want whatever you are willing to give me.”

Your heart was beating faster than ever. “And what do you need?”

Silence.

Astarion kept mixing want with need and it often landed him in less than ideal situations.

“To finally be free. I believed facing Cazador and destroying him would grant me freedom, but there is no worse cage than your own mind.”

Now, that was an answer that made your eyes widen.

Ava had once uttered similar words.

In truth, you expected him to make it all about you, but his words lifted a weight off your shoulders.

But there was still doubt in your mind.

“I can and will be here for you,” you said firmly. “But I need you to promise me something.”

He nodded.

“Please let me know whenever I say or do something that hurts you. That night–”

He held one hand up, effectively silencing you. “That night was different. It was the timing of it all that caused me to…”

His voice faltered.

You waited for him to find it again.

And he did. “I don't want our relationship to revolve around some silly arrangement to keep me in line. As much as I crave your blood more than anything else, I do not wish for this to feel like a transaction.”

“I've always made it clear that I more than willingly give it to you.”

“Yet my mind tells me I am using you.”

It was as if someone had thrusted a knife into your heart. “Astarion – what? You… you're not.”

The mocking voice inside your head laughed loudly, making your shudder.

“Then don't offer me your blood,” he said. “Feeding on you has become tainted. For now… I can't do it.”

He's a liar. He's used you before and he's playing mind games again.

“You can feed again whenever you're ready,” you said, finding a way to voice your thoughts in the midst of the negativity that had such a tight hold on you. “I know wildlife isn't enough.”

Astarion’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you.”

You nodded.

He didn't know how close you were to breaking into tears. Not from what he was saying, but from the vitriol that your own mind was spewing in regards to him.

He wasn't inside your head, but you were.

And it was awful.

Still, you fought through it. You had to. “I'm here for you.”

You felt his cool fingers brush against yours.

“You don't have to be.”

One by one, your fingers laced with his and you realised your hand was freezing from the cool night air.

But you could still feel his touch.

You could still feel him.

“We can stay as friends.”

Astarion let out a growl of sheer frustration. “Why must you insist on this? Does it truly matter if we are friends or lovers or whatever other social construct you think we should fall under?”

His grip tightened around you, in a silent plea.

“We're… us. No one is like us,” he went on. “We don't need labels or to follow any relationship rules that some drunkard shoved into a book.”

His last remark earned a chuckle from you, but mostly because he was so right.

“We're us.” you repeated.

“Yes. Whatever that entails. As long as you're comfortable with me, we're us.”

Slowly but surely, your heartbeat slowed down, falling into a steady rhythm.

“I want you to be comfortable with me, too,” you said. “Just promise to let me in. If you need time and space, I will respect that, just… don't vanish.”

Silly girl, he'll break your heart again, the voice mocked.

“I promise.”

The two of you leaned back against the wooden bench, still quite far apart, but not letting go of each other's hands.

You felt so light it was almost if the faintest of breezes could carry you away, floating across the field of flowers.

But even if it were so, you doubted he'd let go of your hand.

You'd remain anchored to him.

For better or for worse.

You'd either float or sink with him.

You liked the options, because now they existed. Before this conversation, all you had was the impending feeling that the tiniest of cracks would tear through your relationship, and that it would sink.

Now, you had hope.

After a while, you spoke again, “What now?”

His thumb caressed yourse absentmindedly. “What do you mean?”

“We're at a standstill. The Ava situation… finding a way for you to walk in the sun. We're rooted in place, it seems.”

Somehow, he managed a chuckle. “You and I made progress, did we not? Even at the expense of everything else. Isn't that worth something?”

You found him staring at you with those crimson eyes of his and that genuine smirk that always got to you.

“I suppose. You're right… yet I can't help but feel sorry that you seem to be the one with much more to lose.”

He squeezed your hand playfully, earning a gasp from you. “Darling, you don't get it, do you? I've spent hundreds of years unable to form a single bond with anyone that didn't feel tainted or doomed. Until you came along. You and that bleeding heart of yours. If there is a price to be paid for a single meaningful relationship, I'll pay it.”

Your heart clenched and the first tears began to stream down your face.

You adored him.

In that moment, you wished to melt into his embrace.

“Besides, nothing is over yet. We're quite terrific at turning the impossible into possible.”

You chuckled, eyes welling up with more tears. He shifted closer to you, letting go of your hand and brushing both thumbs across your cheeks to wipe them clean.

“There is one regret I have, though.”

A jab of fear poked at you. “What is it?”

He cradled your face in his hands. “You're so cold right now and I cannot warm you up.”

You felt as though you might melt into his touch.

“Is that your only regret?” you asked playfully.

He shook his head. “I suppose not. Striking a deal with Ava might top this.”

Your face dropped instantaneously.

“Oh, I've ruined the moment, haven't I?”

“Maybe,” you said softly as he pulled back. “But we'll get through this. Whether you decide to pursue the Wish spell or not, I am here for you. We are here for you.”

He looked peaceful.

You hadn't seen that expression in a while.

“I remember Ava once saying that pursuing the Wish spell was folly. That I either wished to be cured from vampirism altogether, or that I'd end up some weirdly washed out version of a vampire spawn.”

Oh.

And then your heart plummeted as realisation hit you.

How did you not see this before?

“Astarion?”

“Hmm? What?”

Once again, your heart raced in your chest. “Astarion… who would benefit from you not having your vampirism meddled with?”

He arched an eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dread took over you and flinched away from his grip, bolting to your feet. “By preventing you from getting access to the Wish spell, you remain a spawn… untouched… your blood…”

Astarion's eyes widened.

“Shit.”

TBC

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

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neos127 · 10 months

Text

photo booth kisses | hwang hyunjin

gender neutral reader & fluff

“What should we do for the first pose?” Hyunjin asked once the timer on the photo booth started. The two of you had wandered into one, deciding to take your first set of photo booth photos as a couple. You had been dating for about six months by then, but Hyunjin hadn’t been able to take you on many dates due to his schedule.

“Let me kiss your cheek?” You asked shyly, feeling your face heating up. Hyunjin chuckled, nodding his head before turning to the camera. You quickly grabbed his face, closing your eyes and kissing his cheek. Hyunjin smiled widely at the camera as the shutter went off.

“Okay…uhm…” You trailed off trying to think. It was a bit pressuring, considering the fact that you only had about ten seconds to come up with your poses.

“Giant heart?” Hyunjin asked, holding up his arm towards yours. You nodded, completing his heart before smiling at the camera. You were nearly distracted by Hyunjin’s smile, never being able to get over how gorgeous he was. You felt your stomach start to knot, the urge to kiss him senseless stronger than ever. You held back though, scared to initiate your first ever kiss with Hyunjin.

“Now a silly pose.” You announced, trying to focus at the task at hand. Hyunjin grit his teeth together as if he were growling while you stuck your tongue out and pinched your boyfriend’s cheek. Once the shutter went off the two of you giggled, trying to think of one more pose.

Hyunjin looked over at you, all hints of the playful nature he held before was gone. He looked down and twiddled his thumbs, making you wonder what was on his mind.

“Can I do something? You’ll just have to trust me.” He asked suddenly, his voice so low that you had to strain your ears to hear him, even in the tight space.

“Of course. I trust you, Hyun.” You replied, a reassuring smile on your face. You had an idea of what he wanted to do, something that you’ve seen many couples do when they took photo booth photos together.

The timer ticked down as Hyunjin ran his hand up your thigh, pulling one of your legs over his. His hands then moved to rest at your waist and he looked at you intensely. Your heart began to race and the time ticking down to nearly three seconds didn’t help your anxiety of the anticipated kiss.

You barley had time to take a reassuring deep breath before Hyunjin crashed his lips onto yours. You immediately closed your eyes and pushed his hair away from his face, hearing the camera shutter go off right after.

The two of you didn’t pull away, Hyunjin only deepening the kiss when you groaned softly against his mouth. He tightened his grip on you, tugging on your bottom lip when he pulled away. You were breathing heavily, an uncontrollable smile making its way to your face.

“Can you do that again?” You asked, tracing your thumb along his swollen lips. Hyunjin smiled, leaning over to kiss you breathless once more.

#this is kinda half assed but #my tumblr re-debut !!!#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz hyunjin #skz x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you

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kithtaehyung · 5 months

Text

drabble: first one pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) rating/genre: pg ; fluff ; three tangerines au note: uhh. surprise and happy holidays LOL. based on this ig reel sent in the discord multiple times, this little slice is gonna kickstart the "3tan does sm" mini series! basically this little ongoing collection will have all the drabbles/requests based on social media things y'all send in. if it inspires me, i'll make a drabble or something out of it hehehe. enjoy! warnings: nothing big. just 3tan yoongi lol links: three tangerines mlist ; masterlist drop date: december 28, 2023, 7:07pm est word count: 1.1k

In the middle of winter, you decide that tonight is the perfect time to try something new.

Which leaves Yoongi confused as hell because this attempt requires him to be outside in the freeze, when the two of you were just bundled up in blankets and watching a movie minutes ago.

But he can scold your lack of attention span and tendency to watch videos during long movies later.

“What am I doing?”

Placing him on one spot of the sidewalk just outside his apartment, you urge, “Just, hold on. Stay right there.”

“Huh?”

Giggling, you give no other instructions, instead rushing forward to bring your phone to a nearby bench. When you set it down to see what the camera catches, you determine that you look fine enough, so you tell Yoongi—who is simply standing there and still looking devastatingly handsome—what you wanna do. “Okay, pull up the video I sent you.”

“Shouldn’t we go back inside?”

“Yes, yes, after this.”

When you walk up, he pulls up the link, and you both watch as people run to their partners and rush them out of frame, spinning them around or chasing them away.

Ever consistent, Yoongi is both unfazed and wondering what goes on. “What’s the goal of this again?”

Shrugging, you’re just happy he’s not tugging you back indoors yet. “I don’t really know, but. I just wanna see how you do it.”

“Mm…” He looks one more time, cementing his answer with the way he smushes his lips. “Fine.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Uh huh. But this is just for you.”

Right. Because of course this can't be seen anywhere else. Your smile is rueful with a tinge of holiday hope, “I know.”

And Yoongi’s expression carries the same weight.

Maybe one day this conversation will be a lot different. Just like the way your quick stay at his place while your brother is at a work dinner will prove a lot longer of a night. One day.

Maybe.

Cheering yourself up, you practically bounce back to where the bench is, slipping a bit with a tiny “whoops” before reaching out to press record. Backing up onto the sidewalk, you throw up peace signs, poses, do a few different filler moves until Yoongi does his part.

But nothing happens.

And no one appears by your side.

So you turn to see if he actually left but goddamn it is he recording you? “What the!”

Yoongi just laughs as you kick your head back in laughter, and stops holding his phone up. “So cute.”

Damn it, he can’t give you this fluttering feeling while being annoying! “Focus!”

Groaning, you turn your recording off and then back on again, repeating some of the same things for the camera and shuffling a little in place to warm up. Because it is freezing and this idea could have waited another season or two.

And when you look to the side after a pause, Yoongi is recording again.

You bend forward to shield from the chill, your yell echoing throughout the small little courtyard, “Yoongi!” Does he have to keep grinning like that? There’s no time for prolonging this even more! “I cannot with you right now.”

After another attractive huff of amusement, he keeps going, “I can’t help it! You’re being adorable.”

Well. At least Yoongi’s having his fun. If anything, he’s stalling because he doesn’t wanna do whatever challenge this is. So you can drop it. “Ugh… Never mind, we can go inside.”

After grabbing your phone, you walk up to him again before he stops you. And you think it’s because you were about to slip once more, but his low tone gets you to see his face under those locks.

“Nah, we can do it.” When you give him a pouting frown, his teeth shine. “Serious!”

Easily placated, you’re back to grinning. “Okay, for real this time! It’s cold!”

“I know! You didn’t even let me get my beanie!”

Laughing out your guilt, you warn him over your shoulder, “If you run into me, you better not knock me over.”

“I won’t, doll.”

“Okay!” Placing your phone down for hopefully the last time, you hit record, seeing yourself sigh before gingerly walking back to the sidewalk.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to try and get Yoongi to do this. It’s colder than hell’s deepest frost at this point, and some snow is still falling from darkened skies.

But all the little reactions in the videos looked too cute, and you are genuinely curious to see what he’s gonna do. So even through your poses, you brace yourself. Is he gonna run in for a hug? Is he gonna rush you off with a big warm embrace?

…Is he really not gonna do anything?

Feeling a little bad, you drop the cute poses and turn.

Only to feel him right at your side, gathering you with a soft, strong arm and leading you down the sidewalk.

Well, damn.

The gesture is so him that, for a second, you genuinely think that he saw something and led you out of harm’s way on instinct. But as you look around, you don’t see anyone else in the wintry courtyard besides the two of you.

“What’s wrong?”

Your vision flicks away from the lighted trees dotting the area. “Oh, nothing, I was just…”

“Wanna run it back? If we do let’s go somewhere else. It’s icy right there.”

Blinking, you see his eyes full of pure curiosity and attentiveness.

And suddenly you wanna go back inside for a completely different reason other than warmth.

“That felt perfect,” you whisper, eyes lowering to his ever inviting lips. “Lemme check it.”

Leaving his cozy side, you go back and retrieve your chilly phone, stopping the recording that you are relieved you successfully started. Both you and Yoongi watch as you play the full thing, and after he leads you out of frame, your jaw drops.

“Oh, my god. This beats all the ones I’ve seen.”

“Really?”

“Damn… Now I’m actually sad I can’t post this.” When you laugh, it’s not all joyful. Turning to him, you pretend to be mad. “Why are you so cool?”

Huffing small, Yoongi looks up and around you before giving your cheek a kiss, and your knees weaken at how tender it is. “Send it to me,” he murmurs.

“You want it, too?”

“Mm.”

“Okay.”

“Just a little longer, babe.” He gives you another peck on your very cold nose. Then both cheeks. And your forehead.

All while you’re out in the open where anyone could witness.

Just his willingness to amuse you was already perfect. Yoongi didn’t need to do any of that, and he certainly didn’t need to be so charming with his stylistic choice. But he did it all anyway while freezing his pretty ass off.

And his next words make your chest yearn to stay with him—for every holiday season and silly trend that comes around.

“Then this’ll be the first one of us we post.”

fin. :)

🌨️ what do we feel! i needed this little drabble :')) 🌨️

a/n: did i mean for this to be a full blown drabble? no! was this the video that bo originally sent me that i flailed over? no! but it's the reel i saw and apparently had been sent in the server multiple times. so here we are with a surprise hahaha.

enjoy your holidays, everyone! and if you have anything social media related that 3tan reminds you of - or you can see the 3tan crew doing - send them in and maybe i'll get inspired again. :D this didn't take me long at all and i wanted to do it, so no worries about extra work!

a/n 2: 3tan12 is going strong alongside the holiday fics! should be posting teasers and taglists for those, too. very very excited for all of them mwahaha

🌨️ links: three tangerines mlist ; masterlist

#oops surprise LOL #3tanslice #3tansm #*latest #*ryenfictalk #3tanextras #three tangerines #bts fic #bts imagines #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #bts reactions

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95rkives · 1 year

Text

chapstick⼂j.jk

summary: jungkook had an undeniable fondness for your vanilla-flavored chapstick, so it came as a surprise to him when you decided to switch up the flavor one day. the unexpected change left him pleasantly taken aback.

pairings: bf!jungkook x fem!reader

genre/warnings: established relationship, kissing, fluff

wc: 1.5k

a/n: here’s some jk fluff until i find the motivation to write ur requests :p haven’t proof read!

you perched on a stool beside the kitchen island, propping one leg up on the seat and resting your chin on your knee. in an attempt to ease your anxiety, you absentmindedly chewed on a small plastic spoon—the kind typically used to serve ice cream samples. it had become a peculiar habit of yours, seeking solace in chewing on random objects.

with unwavering focus, your gaze remained fixed on the vibrant glow of your laptop screen. as you effortlessly typed away, your glasses perched slightly lower on the bridge of your nose, yet you paid no mind to readjusting them.

the hushed echoes of soft footsteps resonated through the hallway, heralding jungkook's arrival in the kitchen. a gentle yawn escaped his lips, a telltale sign of him awakening from his midday nap. after his routine gym session, he often indulged in these power naps, finding solace and rejuvenation in their brief respite.

as you stole a brief glance at him, you couldn't help but find his tousled hair endearingly adorable as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. with deliberate and unhurried steps, he made his way towards you. a low, rumbling sound akin to a contented growl escaped him before he mumbled a sleepy "morning," despite the fact that it was well past 2 p.m.

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you inquired, "slept well?" a gentle smile adorned your face as he leaned in to plant a kiss on your temple, his arms enveloping you from behind, and his cheek resting against your shoulder. in response to your question, he emitted a contented purr, conveying his satisfaction.

as you directed your attention back to the screen, a gentle smile graced your lips while a melodic hum escaped in response to his presence. meanwhile, the plastic spoon in your mouth clinked against your teeth. time ticked by as he slouched against you before eventually straightening up, his tattooed hand tenderly ruffling his own hair. as he positioned himself beside you, he posed the question, "coffee?" to which you replied with a nonchalant, "i already had one."

a gentle, low hum resonated from his throat as his hand, previously occupied with ruffling his hair, extended gracefully to retrieve the small spoon from your mouth. in an exchange, he planted a sequence of brief, velvety kisses upon your lips, prompting a soft giggle to escape from you against his mouth. his lips curled into a smile in response.

with a subtle, sly grin playing on his lips, he pulled back, his eyes still partly closed in the lingering embrace of sleep. he ran his tongue over his lips, detecting an unfamiliar yet oddly sweet taste that enveloped his senses, causing a slight crease to form between his eyebrows in bewilderment. maintaining close proximity to your face, he gazed at you intently. "what?" you inquired, your voice tinged with a low, curious tone, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

his gaze descended upon your lips, and with a swift motion, he kissed you once more. this time, his tongue lightly traced over your bottom lip, evoking a soft, surprised utterance of "mm" from you.

after a few fleeting seconds, he gradually pulled back, his gaze meeting your amused eyes. the faint furrow in his eyebrows lingered as he tilted his head to the side, his tongue tracing over his lips once more. "cherry?" he inquired, causing you to mirror the slight crease on his brows. however, a soft, laughter-tinged scoff escaped you as realization dawned. returning your attention to the laptop screen, you watched as he straightened up, shaking your head with a hint of amusement. "raspberry," you corrected, a playful lilt present in your voice.

a hum escaped him as he leaned against the counter, propping himself up on his elbow, his fingers idly toying with the small spoon he still held. a soft pout graced his lips out of habit as he fixed his gaze upon you, fully engrossed in your work, observing your unwavering focus.

"that's new." his words escaped as a muttered observation, prompting a soft laugh to escape your lips. Intrigued, you ceased typing and leaned back against the stool, crossing your arms over your chest, meeting his gaze with playful curiosity. "do you not like it?" you questioned, feigning a hint of mock hurt as your eyebrows furrowed deeply, your voice carrying a tinge of playful theatrics.

a soft click of his tongue accompanied an amused laugh, laced with playful offense. he mirrored your posture, crossing his own arms against his chest in a charming display. "i never said that," he retorted, his words carrying a slight pout as he defended himself, provoking an amused, sly grin from you.

"that's certainly what you implied," you countered, playfully teasing him.

"if I did," he began, his voice trailing off as he casually discarded the little spoon into the trash. "would i do this?" without further hesitation, he swiftly leaned in, capturing your lips in an assault of soft kisses. his hands delicately cradled your cheeks, ensuring your unyielding presence in that moment. you playfully whined, your hands instinctively reaching to grasp his wrists as you emitted a soft laughter, intermingling with the exchange of affection against your lips.

"stop!" your voice pleaded, muffled against his persistent kisses. despite your plea, you could sense the curve of his lips forming into a smile, intermixed with soft giggles escaping from him. he pressed closer to you, firmly holding your lips against his, indulging in the moment a little longer than your lungs desired, before finally pulling back. the brief separation left you both breathless, yet utterly captivated.

a breathless laugh escapes him as he shielded himself with his arms, attempting to evade your playful smacks. With each successful strike, he exaggeratedly exhaled faux sounds of pain, adding a touch of dramatic flair to the moment.

after the playful exchange, he eventually seized both of your wrists, firmly yet gently, to halt your actions. bringing your arms around his waist, he drew you into a warm and affectionate embrace. he wrapped his own arms around you, one hand tenderly cradling the back of your head, urging you to bury your face against his neck.

"you're an annoying little rat." you playfully muttered against his neck, eliciting an amused laugh from him. "a rat?" he feigned offense, his voice carrying a slight, teasing high pitch as he struggled to contain the widening smile tugging at his lips while keeping you securely held against him.

"you just kissed a rat." he teased in response, playing along to taunt you further.

"the rat kissed me."

"you kissed back."

"did not."

he emitted a gentle giggle, the sound mingling with the strands of your hair as he tightened his embrace around you. in a playful retaliation, you teasingly sank your teeth into his neck, evoking a soft sound of pain from him. he instinctively pulled back, his eyes searching yours, only to find you grinning widely, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes, as if reveling in your victorious prank.

"deserved."

"does raspberry flavored chapsticks come with an attitude?" he quipped sarcastically, causing a genuine gasp to escape your lips. you couldn't help but be amused, a laughter-tinged scoff escaping as your mouth remained slightly agape, caught between surprise and amusement.

"you're insufferable." you declared, narrowing your eyes in mock annoyance. with a huff, you turned your head away from him, crossing your arms against your chest, a subtle display of defiance. meanwhile, he couldn't help but wear a self-satisfied smirk, reveling in the mischievous banter between you.

"don't be such a baby," he teased, his voice laced with playful amusement. his arms skillfully encircled you from the side. with a mischievous intent, he maneuvered his face in front of yours, attempting to meet your gaze once more, but you averted your eyes, purposefully turning your head further away.

narrowing his eyes in mock annoyance, he swiftly retaliated by tickling you, catching you off guard. you flinched in surprise, a sound of startled amusement escaping your lips before you burst into frustrated bursts of laughter. despite your feeble attempts to push him away, you failed miserably, only fueling his amusement. he chuckled, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, barely containing the urge to laugh further at your delightful struggle.

"you're such a pain!" you exclaimed, delivering a light smack to his chest once he finally relented. your breaths were heavier than usual from the tickling, and he couldn't help but throw his head back in a fit of laughter. his arms instinctively clutched his stomach.

"we could've avoided all of this if you had just cooperated," he exclaimed, a mischievous smirk adorning his lips once his laughter subsided. his arms found you once again, this time lifting you effortlessly from the chair and throwing you over his shoulder. you let out a startled yelp, your eyes widening. "i believe it's time to teach my little cherry a lesson," he teased in a low, flirty tone, beginning to make his way towards the bedroom while you struggled.

"it's raspberry!" you protested with a mix of laughter and determination.

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