#and then she walked me through her lip product collection and by the time we were done we locked eyes and she was like

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

[withwritersblock]

More Hearts Than Mine-Meeting her Family

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~

Author's Note: this is the first of my one shot collection series where Luke and Y/N do varies fluffy (or angsty) activities with each other's families ! Per usual not edited Summary: Luke meets Y/N's family for the first time Warnings: I don't think so? Word Count: 3,155 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Luke stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection, running his fingers through his curls. He held the gel product in his fingers as he tried to style his hair perfectly. He got a haircut. The sides of his hair were shaved as the top of his hair was longer on the top. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It’s been almost a year since he had his hair this short. 

Y/N walked into the bathroom, wearing a maroon sweater with black jeans covering her frame. “Lukey, you look handsome. Please leave it alone,” she mumbled as she took a hold of his forearm. He glanced towards her direction in the mirror before he dropped his hands from his hair.

“It’s so short,” he said as he leaned towards the mirror. She rolled her eyes as she looped her arm through his. “I didn’t think she was going to shave it like this when I said shorter on the sides,” he explained, looking at his reflection again.

“Hey,” she mumbled as she reached her hand over, taking a hold of his chin to force his gaze to her. “You look very cute,” she muttered as she leaned towards him and kissed him briefly.

“Cute’s good right? I mean for meeting your family? Cute is supposed to be-”

“Luke,” she mumbled, raising her eyebrows. He nodded, taking a deep breath as he turned on the sink to wash the remainder of the gel in his hands. “It’s just three days,” she mumbled as she rested her hand onto the bathroom counter. 

“Three days is a lot of time to mess up and make your parents hate me,” he let out as he shifted his body to fully face her. She smiled towards him while shaking her head. 

“You want the cliffnotes?” she asked him and nodded as he delicately placed his hands onto her waist. He toyed with the ends of the sweater as he looked deeply into her eyes. 

“My mom will love you. She’ll say you’re too skinny and will feed you all the cinnamon rolls you can eat. She’ll probably end up loving you more than me,” she said with a wide smile. 

“My dad likes to think he’s this big tough guy. He’ll try to intimidate you but he’ll be a big softy once he sees how much I love you,” she explained. His hands slowly looped around her waist, pulling her closer. His cheeks flushed slightly as the word love leaves her mouth.

“My sister is nosey, she’ll try to get you to blush and she’s really good at it. She may even ask about our sex life,” she explained, raising her eyebrows as she watched his eyes widened. “Don’t tell her anything,” she teased. He nodded dramatically as she rested her hands on his chest. 

“My brother will probably ask you a thousand questions about hockey.” She leaned towards him wrapping her arms around the center of his back. He squeezed her tighter. “You’ll be okay, everyone is going to love you,”

“Am I allowed to touch you, or do I avoid all contact?” he asked, she chuckled as if he was joking but he was serious. She pulled away, keeping her arms wrapped around the center of his back.

“They know you’re my boyfriend, Lovely,” she teased. 

He licked his lips nervously, “I know but are they weirded out if we cuddle on the couch or something,” he asked as he brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. 

“Please cuddle me,” she muttered as she leaned towards him and delicately pecked his lips, “But maybe wait to kiss me until tomorrow,” she let out.

“Noted,” he muttered before he kissed her for a few more moments.

~~~

Luke drove the hour and half it took to get to her parents house. With the ran and the traffic it took thirty minutes longer than normal. Luke was quiet, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm his nerves. Every so often she would reach her hand over and squeeze his hand that was in his lap. He would smile softly towards her briefly before he would shift his gaze back to the road. 

He slowly pulled into the long driveway into her childhood home. She lived in the middle of nowhere. “You can park there, Honey,” she said as she pointed to the small gravel side of the driveway. He nodded as he slowly pulled the car into park. He let out a long drawn out huff of air as he looked towards her. “Just be yourself, my love,” she hummed as she reached her hand across to rest her hand onto his cheek. She ran her thumb across the skin of his cheek. 

“I don’t know how to do that. What if they think you’re too good for-” she silenced him by kissing him. He melted into the kiss as his body relaxed. She pulled away, keeping her lips a mere inch away from him. His eyes fluttered open as he took another deep breath, “Thank you,” he let out before he pecked her lips once more.

“Come on, Lukey,” she mumbled as she opened her passenger side door and stepped outside. The rain had stopped during the last ten minutes of their ride. He stepped out of the car as well, slamming the door shut as he squinted his eyes.

“Please don’t call me Lukey in front of them,” he whined. She fought off the smile on her lips as she shook her head.

She walked towards him as she linked her arm with his as she whispered, “I’ll think about it,” she paused, “Lukey.”

He rolled his eyes playfully as they continued up the small path towards the front door. His heart began to quicken as they stepped up onto the deck, the board creaking as they stepped towards the dark blue door. She met his gaze and he gave her a reassuring nod before she knocked a few times before she pushed the door open. She stepped inside, dragging Luke into the house. 

Her house was a small farm-like house. It was cluttered but homey. Her living room had the fireplace lit and it was already quite warm in the house.

“Mom! Y/N and her boyfriend are here!” her little brother shouted as he jumped from the couch to greet the pair at the door. Luke’s cheeks flushed red instantly as his eyes widened. Y/N glanced towards Luke admiring his pink cheeks before she looked towards her little brother. Who’s not so little anymore, he’s fifteen and already taller than their dad.

“EJ, look at you!” she let out as he jogged towards them. He hugged her instantly, chuckling. After a few seconds she pulled away and looped her arm around Luke’s again. “EJ, this is Luke,” she said, pointing towards him. Elijah lit up as he reached his hand across to Luke to shake his hand. Luke quickly returns the gesture.

“You say that like I don’t know the guy.” Elijah muttered excitedly. Luke smiled, “Great game the other night, I’m a huge fan,” he continued.

“Thanks man. Y/N tells me you’re a goalie?” Luke offered. Elijah nodded dramatically. Before their conversation could continue her parents emerged from the kitchen together. Her mother was practically tearing up at the sight of them.

“Elijah James, will you let them enter the damn house!” her mom asked teasingly. Elijah moved out of the back towards the couch to his video game he was playing. “Come in, come in!” she said excitedly. Her mom guided them towards the living room to allow the couple to breath. 

“Oh Luke, we’ve been so excited to meet you.” her mom let out as she gave him a hug, his eyes widened as he returned the hug. He looked towards Y/N awkwardly. Y/N chuckled as she hugged her dad as he was ignoring Luke and her mom was ignoring Y/N. “How was the drive?” she asked him.

“It was raining but otherwise it wasn’t too bad,” he replied, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh good, come on, dinner is ready,” she said as she began walking back towards the kitchen to walk towards the dining room.

“Two point night the other night, huh?” her dad offered, keeping his hands in his pocket as he looked Luke up and down.

“Yes Sir,” he mumbled, Y/N tried to fight off the smirk toying to her lips. Y/N gave her dad a warning look.

“That was a really impressive goal in OT,” her dad let out as he cautiously clapped his hand against Luke’s shoulder. He walked towards Elijah who was still in the living room. Luke and Y/N walked through the house, ending the conversation there.

“You’re right, he’s scary,” he whispered into her ear. She rolled her eyes playfully as they wandered into the dining room where her sister, Jasmine was sitting waiting. She lifted her gaze from her phone to see the pair walking into the room. Jasmine was her younger sister. Jasmine and Elijah are twins.

Jasmine and Elijah were vastly different. It was hard to even believe that they were twins. Jasmine had dyed red hair and was a part of the school’s theater program. Elijah was the starting goalie for the varsity hockey team. He had been since he was a freshman. Despite their many differences they were very close and they shared the same friend group.

“Hey!” she said excitedly as she lifted her gaze from her phone. “Oh he’s cuter in person, nice job sis,” she said as she scanned Luke up and down. Y/N clenched her jaw as she guided Luke to sit at the dining table. They manuvered towards the empty side of the table, where she was closer to her dad and he was closer to her mom. 

“Luke, this is Jasmine. She tends to lack a filter when talking to people,” she explained as Luke pulled out Y/N’s chair for her to sit. She smiled towards him before she sat down. Luke sat down beside her, reaching for her hand desperately. She delicately interlocked their fingers as she moved her chair closer to him.

“Get a man who pulls out my chair for me,” she said as she mocks typing in her Notes App. Luke pulls his lips between his teeth as he feels his skin get hot.

“Are you doing okay?” Y/N whispered as she leaned towards him, he met her gaze and nodded.

It took a few more minutes before the rest of her family to join them all at the dinner table. Y/N reassuringly ran her thumb across the top of his hand beneath the table. It helped him calm down, feeling her touch on his skin. 

“Luke, how many days do you get off?” her mom asked as they all started to serve themselves food. 

“I get a week off and then I have practice the day before our next game,” he explained as he added salad to his plate. 

“Will you watch the All-Star games?” Elijah asked excitedly. Luke nodded.

“My brothers are there, I have to support them,” he said, meeting Elijah’s gaze. 

“I can’t believe my sister is dating an NHL player,” he said before he took a dramatic bite of his salad. Luke chuckled nervously as he met Y/N’s gaze. 

“Luke, Y/N told us you’ve only been in Jersey for about a year. Where were you before?” her mom asked as she put all of her attention on him.

“I was in Michigan, but I’ve been a bit everywhere,” he replied before taking another bite of his food. Y/N delicately rested her finger on his knee, delicately tracing reassuring circles. 

“That’s exciting,” her mom muttered. “How are you liking Jersey?” she asked. 

“I like it a lot. It's hard to enjoy the city when I’m traveling as much as I am but I plan to stay longer in the off season to experience it,” he explained. Y/N smiled towards him with so much admiration as he spoke. Her father watched the soft smile on his daughter’s lips.

Y/N’s brought home two other boys before Luke and her father couldn’t stand them. Mainly because she never looked happy around them, but she hasn’t stopped smiling since she was home with him.

“Can we come to one of your games?” Jasmine asked. Luke lifted his gaze, looking towards Y/N for assistance. 

“Let the kid chew his food before you ask him any more questions,” her dad interrupted. Luke met his dad’s gaze and chuckled as the rest of the table laughed along.

~~~

It was a few hours after they arrived and it was past ten o’clock and her parents were already in bed. Her siblings were in the living room with Luke and Y/N. They were all watching an episode of Friends. Y/N curled up to Luke’s side, his arm was draped along her shoulder as she was nuzzled into his chest. His hand would slowly trail from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. 

It was simple and easier than what Luke thought was going to happen. Her sister was funny and her brother was super nice. Her mom was overwhelmingly kind and her dad was slowly getting accustomed to his presence. 

“How long have you guys been together?” Jasmine asked out of nowhere. Y/N blinked slowly as she lifted her head from Luke’s chest. 

“Seven months,” she looked towards Luke and his lips turned upward slightly.

“Wow,” she muttered as she tilted her head back against the couch.

“Who asked who out?” Jasmine questioned again, Luke pursed his lips forward as his cheeks pinked up.

“I did,” he mumbled.

“How’d you do it?” Jasmine pressed with a smirk. 

He looked towards Y/N, raising his eyebrows as he asked for permission to tell her the story. 

They met through a mutual friend. Y/N’s friend, Zara, had a fling with Luke’s brother Jack for a few weeks around the playoffs run last year. After a Devils win, Y/N and Zara went out with the team to celebrate. 

While Y/N was completely uninterested in partying as well as Luke. The pair sat together and talked for several hours before they left. After they lost their playoff series, Jack and Zara fling ended horribly. Except Luke really wanted to see Y/N again. It took days to convince Jack to break no contact with Zara to get Y/N number. It worked.

They later found out that Y/N wanted her to do the same thing but Zara refused.

They spent the first month FaceTiming and texting all of the time. There was a hint of romantic tension but they never acted on it until Luke moved back to Jersey. It took thirty minutes into hanging out in person for him to ask her on a date. There was not an ounce of hesitation to say yes.

“So you guys didn’t see each other for another month?!” Jasmine asked. 

“He was back in Michigan, Jaz. It was a little hard,” Y/N said with a chuckle. 

“A bit of a long game then, Lukey Boy,” Elijah teased as he slapped his hand on the shoulder of Luke. Elijah took a long breath as he continued towards the set of stairs near the front door. “I’ll see you guys in the morning, don’t do anything weird in our house,” he said with a yawn as he walked up the stairs towards his room.

Luke chuckled nervously as he met Y/N’s eye.

“He’s a real gentleman, sis. It’s a shame there aren't more guys like him out there,” she mumbled as she dropped her gaze to the floor as she walked towards the stairs to her own room. 

Luke kept his gaze on Y/N as she watched her younger siblings leave them alone in the living room. He took a hold of her chin, delicately turning her gaze to look towards him. Their eyes met and he felt his body relax. Her eyes looked down towards his lips as she inched towards him, “Kiss me,” she let out barely above a whisper. He smiled as he glanced around the living room. “Please,” she mumbled. 

He slowly leaned towards her kissing her so delicately, not to make a scene. It had only been a few hours without feeling her lips against his and he missed it desperately. Her father had stepped down the stairs, stopping short. He looked towards the pair, desperately wanting to interrupt them. Luke’s hand slowly rested on her cheek as he pulled away, keeping his face close to hers. “You look beautiful,” he muttered.

Her lips curled upward slowly as she tilted her head to the side. “Thank you, Lukey,” she replied before she leaned towards him and rested her head onto his shoulder. 

Her father fought the smile forming to his lips as he watched the small interaction between them. The entire night, he watched Luke and Y/N put on a show of their relationship and happiness. It was comforting to watch them be fully themselves. He awkwardly shuffled down the stairs pretending that he didn’t see anything. Luke fully scooted away from Y/N as her father walked towards the kitchen.

“Are you ready for bed?” she whispered wide eyed and he nodded as a reply. 

They both stood up from the couch, out of habit Luke rested his hand onto her lower back as they walked towards the stairs. Her father smiled softly as he watched the pair climb the stairs towards her childhood bedroom. She walked towards the last room at the end of the hallway and pushed the door open. 

Luke’s eyes lingered on each childhood photo of hers on the walls of the hallway. He stared the longest at a photo of her sitting in the center of a bean bag with Elijah and Jasmin in her arms. She was smiling shyly as her eyes were staring at her little sister. “That’s a nice picture,” he muttered as he pointed towards it. 

“I was terrified of holding them,” she muttered as they continued down the hall towards her bedroom.

Her room was extremely cleaned as her mother constantly kept it from being dusty. They stepped inside and she shut the door behind them instantly as she met his eyes. Her back was against the door as he rested his hands on her hips. 

“They like you,” she muttered as she ran her hands up and down his chest slowly. He shyly smiled while his cheeks flushed red. “I mean it, my dad would’ve said something if he didn’t,” she teased. 

“I like them too,” he mumbled before he leaned towards her and kissed her delicately.

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/741884957599973376/httpswwwtumblrcomeldritch-spouse741700018004?source=share

I need to know in explicit detail the first time breg allowed this human to collect samples. Also need to know the embarrassing situations they are put in that their coworkers judge them

I honestly love this so much I'm kicking my feet and giggling ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[Fem reader. I kind of rushed this. Doodle at the end.]

TW: Heavy themes of abuse (including mentions of noncon, death and captivity); Dubious consent moments.

" Listen, we just need you to get in there. "

You blink. " ... This can't be serious. Is this a joke? "

The half-fiend woman, superior to you in professional rank, drags a hand across her blonde locks and grimaces. " Look, I know it sounds bad- "

" Of course it does! This was nowhere in the job description- "

Not that the job description was very uh, descriptive, anyway. But any straw will do, anything to cling to a modicum of your dignity as you get told what your next task will be.

She seems to switch through a few different corporate tactics to ease the blow. " Listen, please. We are short-staffed at the moment, and this has been affecting production a lot more than you can imagine. Specimen 197 is a big bread-winner here and we all know he's uncooperative with machinery, going as far as to ruin it constantly, which leads to more expenses- "

She's explaining this to you like you're a particularly slow toddler and you're not amused.

" We have also noted that M197 is clearly attached to you and a bond has been formed, which is why your presence is requested in certain situations, to reduce his stress levels during tasks. This... Is another one of those tasks. We just need you to get a few samples- " She points at the two canisters next to her. " And you can think of it as a way to improve your bond with the specimen even. "

" Ma'am, he's entering a rut. " You pause. " You want me to walk into a male breeder's cell while he's rutting and engage sexually with him? "

She gulps. " For- For strictly professional purposes- "

" I'm not doing this. "

...

" There's a significant monetary bonus if you manage to do it. "

A long, shameful, disgustingly filthy moment of silence unfolds where you internally debate how far you're willing to go for some much needed money.

Too far, apparently.

" ... I'll do it. "

" Great, that's wonderful, we- "

" No cameras in the room. "

She flinches. " But then how are we supposed to know if you're in danger? "

" No cameras, please. "

If you die you die. You don't want footage of you being possibly mauled by a breeder out there...

A begrudging glance is cast towards the canisters sitting innocently on the table.

Grabbing them, you prepare for the shitshow you signed yourself into.

We have him tied up, the techs had informed you, it'll make things easier.

Just hearing them gives you headaches.

Yes, of course, because forcibly restraining the already volatile lifeform will make it cease being hostile. Logical.

A long-suffering sigh exits your lips when you input the code to open 197's cell. It's a code you know by heart now. If not from the regular standard visits, then from the hurried string of numbers your coworkers would scream at you over the radio before getting launched around by a monster several times their size and weight.

It's hard to forget something like that. There are just some faces you never see again.

As soon as the heavily reinforced door hisses open, you're greeted by an immediate build-up of a snarl. As scary as the sound was when you first heart it, and continues to be on an instinctual level, you understand now that it's mostly born out of fear.

Nothing good ever happens when 197 is cuffed and he's right to be frightened.

The moment you step into view and the door slams shut behind you however, he visibly seems to shift gear instantly.

Sitting on the rather uncomfortable tiled ground, specimen 197 has his ankles spread and cuffed to the ground, his wrists joined behind him and his neck nearly choked to the wall. A muzzle prevents the breeder's jaw from elongating as it tends to do when he's threatened. His tail is likewise restrained in two areas. Those cuffs are the best things modern technology can offer, you haven't heard of a single solid monster type that can shatter them. They're likely also tampered with by some more magically-inclined individuals, but you've never been one to dabble in that.

He exhibits the signs you'd expect from any male entering a rut. Excessive sweating, goosebumps, a faster breathing rate, tension, restlessness and a dilated, humid slit. His skin flickers from time to time, signals somewhere between aggression and courtship displays. You would never have associated heat cycles with torture before starting your work here, but seeing the way these monsters are chemically forced into hypersexual, unhealthily exacerbated heats has shown you just how cruelly this biological process can be exploited.

Sometimes they die. A hormonal, frenzied, artificially accelerated metabolism like this is powerful, but it's also very fragile, in a way. Either they're able to maintain their required ridiculous nutrient intake, find a way to preserve as much energy as possible, or simply panic and end up dying from a mixture of stress and lack of sustenance.

Another sigh escapes your lips, you try to clear your head by placing the canisters on the ground.

The breeder in question, who was once nearly pitch black in his effort to intimidate the perceived threat, is now snow white, having registered you as his favorite, the "nice one". 197 shrinks in himself, then begins a litany of keening whines interspersed with specific chirps.

It might be a plea for attention from an already hormone-fried brain, it might also just be a desperate request to be released from his binds.

You're no paragon of morality, but unlike your coworkers, you understand that building a bond with anyone requires depositing some trust in them. And, even if 197 is rutting, you can only continue to build a connection with him if he has a modicum of comfort in this situation. Which is why you steel yourself before moving closer to the specimen in question and inputting the specific combination to unlock all of his cuffs.

The process is timed, giving workers about five or so minutes to leave the cell before the cuffs drop and the monster is freed. It prevents casualties, naturally.

197 tries to thump his tail in appreciation when he realizes what you're doing, quietly rumbling and trying to lean into the small brushes of your fingers as you work.

" There big guy, just give it a second... " You take a few steps back while you wait.

It feels like a small eternity before the restraints begin falling off one by one. First the tail ones, then the muzzle, the neck, the wrists... And the ankles. On that last click, the breeder shrugs everything away and stretches as he stands.

You've studied these monsters and their mannerisms, he's not stretching just to soothe his joints, he's displaying. The exaggerated curve of that spine says it all, you know exactly what reaction he's after. Though, already riled up as he is, you don't think it's a good idea to respond.

In a second, he's closed the distance between the two of you, this near suffocating hovering over your front, hands and arms twitching with the urge to touch you. 197 is not good with boundaries, which was very surprising to you, considering he absolutely detests it when 99% of people touch him.

The 1% being you.

He waits, visibly pained, for the signal.

" You can touch me now. "

And like a sudden wave, 197 nearly crashes onto you, his comparatively massive pale body blanketing over yours as his arms cage your upper body, lifting it along with him. You squealed the first few times, now you know to stay mostly still and lean to the right so he can shove his face in the crook of your neck without bonking his head against yours. Painful.

He takes a couple deep, shameless inhales of your scent. And, if you had to guess, you're probably a bit sweaty from anxiety. Not that he seems to care, 197 actually appears to slow down a little, enjoying the closeness and now familiar odor you possess. His tail coils around your legs and you pat his back when the telltale chirps and trills of elation make it past his throat.

" Yeah, I missed you too buddy. Take a breather. "

This close to the male, you have absolutely no choice but to drown in his musk. 197 can't help it, he's ruttting after all, those pheromones have to come out. Fortunately, as a human, you're not affected by them, though some of your monster coworkers have to wear specific masks when they enter rutting breeder cells. To you, it's just vaguely unpleasant and heavy.

197 would usually give you a bit of room by now, but he doesn't seem interested in that, instead shifting you around so he can smell other parts of your figure, particularly your hair. Your face warms from his excessive body heat and the sensation of being corralled, your protests silenced when a long blue muscle dips to trail from the base of your neck to your jaw and up the side of your face. The movement is quick, and your attempt to reflexively lean away is met with a tighter grasp as he repeats it.

197 has a habit of dulling his teeth to look more humanoid for your comfort, but not today, in the state he is, he likely forgot that detail altogether. This unfortunately means that you feel the scrape of those pointed daggers every time he amorously samples your skin.

" Alright okay, that's enough- "

You butt in when it feels like he's getting a bit too riled up too fast. It's not exactly counter-productive to your task, but letting him get more and more control over the situation will make it difficult to get the samples later. You can't wrangle a breeder in the throes of their rut, you have to do things before that critical stage.

However, the specimen isn't interested in listening to anything you have to say, responding instead to your tone with his own whine and starting to tug at your uniform. That does it. Thoroughly soaked in his drool, you grab onto the breeder's forearms hard.

" 197! " It's not a tone you like to use with any of the breeders here.

He eventually snaps out of his little trance, gulping, steadying himself before frowning and giving you the space you want.

In this barely minute-long episode, 197 has already kicked into high-gear. Breathing accelerated again, open-mouth panting, excessive drool production, somewhat puffed figure and the tips of his twin cocks already poking out of a pelvic pouch that can barely hold them back. He seems to shiver in his own overwhelming arousal, and though this species is known for having its eyes shielded behind a layer of skin on the face, you know he's fixed on you like a famished animal.

Although your cheeks are moments from setting aflame, this isn't exactly a new sight for you. 197 has gotten aroused in your vicinity several times, you've actually lost count. It'd be nonsensical of you to get irritated over such, given that these males are forced into hypersexuality by the concoctions introduced in their organisms. That paired with his fondness for you probably makes it hard for 197 to not get erections constantly. A hug can set him off, even simple closure paired with your scent is enough to do it.

Well. No time to waste.

While he's mildly disoriented, you grab one of the canisters and move towards a corner of the room with a seemingly randomly arranged pile of fabrics. This, as confusing as it may be to some, is a breeder's nest. And in this species of monsters, the males tend to be the ones who arrange spaces for coupling. 197 has expressed clear discontentment with the fabrics given to him during times of rut to fulfill his instinctual needs, but no one here is ever acting with the specimen's best interests in mind. Besides, he piped down when one of the techs had the bright idea of giving him a jacket you forgot in the workplace. It's right there in fact, the gray hue contrating with a mostly white and pale color scheme.

The nest itself is big, if it fits 197 then it definitely fits you too. And, knowing exactly what you're doing, you let him observe you take a step into it and sit down on the middle, empty canister beside you.

Oh boy.

You can practically hear the popcorn crackles in his brain.

The monster trills loudly, proudly, your supposed acceptance of what have amounted to months of unsubtle courtship from his part being finally rewarded. It's a dangerous moment, you're perfectly aware of such, but it's also necessary to get this over with.

197 drops to a creepily nimble crawl across the floor, rapidly posing over your seated form with blue-tinted cheeks and rabid need. Before you can get so much as a word in, he's dropping some of his weight on you, showering you in hasty licks and clumsy kisses again, this time unable to help himself from nipping at your clothes. The coverings visibly bother him, and the male growls quietly before his instincts tug at him again and he's trying to slot himself between your clothed legs. It takes some yelping, and fussy movement from his part, but you eventually rationalize that stressing him out can lead to a violent response right now.

Might as well let him get away with some embarrassing acts.

Hormone-muddled as he is, 197 has only enough of a mind to hold onto you and press two hot lengths against the front of your body. He's already full-mast, the heat and weight of those things dragging across you when he automatically moves his hips is utterly filthy. He groans, probably the first kind of decent friction he's been getting since he entered this phase of his cycle, the softness and smell of his favorite human getting the monster to leak already, lost in his desperate search for a modicum of relief. As gross and ridiculous as it is, at least he's not tugging at your clothes yet.

You can sense his frustration, the frantic way 197 mechanically bucks against you, the pressure he puts in every thrust, the way his claws puncture into your lab coat and he whines low, this noise that turns into a pleased sort of snarl. Overwhelmed, you shiver beneath his figure, glad there are no cameras to see you fluster and shamefully let a rutting monster grind at you.

You dare say you can get into this.

There's something so appealing about having a monster yearn for you so madly that he's driven to this senseless and primitive display, that even so much as humping you could have them blissed out. Your legs quake around his and you feel your pussy throb in response to the muted friction from his lightly barbed cocks. It's not the first time you've wondered about how it would feel... You've always been a monsterfucker at heart, and 197 is a brutally gorgeous specimen. He's always imploring for even a single touch from you, if you spread yourself out you have absolutely no doubt he would ram those alarming inches into you like a wild beast.

Yeah, maybe your coworkers would call you a sickfuck, but it's not like anyone who works here is moderately normal...

It's a secret. One that you're vaguely paranoid might not be so secret anymore, now that you've been entrusted with this.

In your horny little stupor, you make the critical mistake of forgetting that breeders quickly detect arousal in others. And you are probably making a wet spot in your pants as of now.

With a sudden snort of an inhale, he rises like a man possessed to start ripping at the sides of your lab coat, forcefully trying to rip it off even as he's unable to stop rocking his hips. He knows how to unbutton things just fine, but you bet he can't be fucked to think much in this state.

" Hey- Hey, easy, slow down. " You grab onto his wrists, being ignored.

Okay. Time to think this out while you still can. He's going to rip through your clothes if you let him, and that's not just needless damage, it'll put him in control. But being aggressive about getting him to stop isn't ideal with this type of monster, you need something that distracts him too much to realize he's not exactly holding the leash here. Eventually, an idea graces your mind, though it makes you grimace a little.

Already blazing with shame, you carefully edge a hand between you and, with some hesitation, grab one of the twin members pushed against you.

Instant reaction.

The monster halts, as desired, and looks at you almost oddly, but hopefully. The trick is not giving him enough time to think, so you quickly get a feel for what you're working with, and start stroking him generously.

It's not the frenzied, rushed jerking he inflicts on himself when his own libido becomes bothersome, the fisting of a large hand with little focus and care. You handle him as pleasurably as you can manage, using both hands on him and attentively reading his face. 197 pants openly again, glancing vapidly at your small hands while they work him and he fucks into the motions, strings of thick drool falling from his teeth.

" Good...? Yeah? " You ask, gulping.

He falters and gasps, trying to articulate something. " Please. " Gets dragged out, his dick pulsing in your grasp.

You don't quite know what he's begging for, but you assume he's enjoying himself. Watching the neglected length bob uselessly, you take the opportunity to remove your own lab coat, switching hands quickly when necessary. The shirt comes off too, leaving you in your bra and pants.

By the time you glance back at him, the breeder's skin has shifted entirely to black, and he's hypnotized by the new parts of your body revealed to him, the mounds on your chest breeder females don't have but that he somehow finds pleasing to the eye regardless.

You make a lifting motion, trying to get his attention. " Knees. Come on, knees. Let me show you something. "

It takes a hot second, but he computes the request and does as told out of genuine curiosity. You're about to show an already decidedly horny monster the wonders of oral sex, which is likely not the brightest of ideas, but no one's here to judge your poor decisions.

197's girths hover far too close to your face while he waits a tad impatiently. Studying the things you'll be pleasing soon, you nearly pale a couple shades, knowing it'll take some prayer not to end up hurting your jaw. The male has lived in captivity since the day he hatched, you've enjoyed showing him some of the nicer things in life from time to time, this is just another one of them.

Carefully grabbing onto the left one, you glance at 197 as you deliberately slip your tongue out, so he doesn't just assume you're going to try biting his genitals. He tenses, because of course he would, but you take your time, stopping the moment only his tip is inside your mouth. The breeder is a tad confused and quaking slightly with ambiguous anticipation.

Then you suck.

And it clicks instantly.

God, just this little of his length is already forcing you to open wider than you've ever had to with previous partners, still, you strain to take a few more inches down and focus on that part.

The male exhales tremulously, experiencing the feeling for the first time ever, you're certain. 197 has to straighten slightly as the first intense waves of pleasure course through him, and bless the big dorky monster, he has no idea what to do with himself or his arms. As your jaw adjusts, a tad uncomfortably, you start truly gouging how much of him you can handle. Not that much honestly, but it's to be expected. It's already more than enough to please him, if the increasingly louder growled trills are any indication.

Oh, you bet this is the closest thing to heaven for him. His favorite human, with a mouth warmer than he could have ever expected, lips much softer than any of his species', no apex predator teeth to get in the way, and a tongue that although flat and short, can still chase after those wonderfully sensitive spots.

He has exactly zero idea how to react beyond making bestial noises and drooling on his own chest like a vapid animal. The way his cock pulses in your mouth is a tad bothersome to the rhythm you're trying to keep, but you figure you don't have to show-off to someone who's never had oral before, he's already blown away.

Humorously, 197's hands land on your shoulders, and that's the only way he can apparently steady himself while he's sucked off. His spare cock oozes precum that smears onto your bare chest and you half-heartedly pump it when you pop off his other dick.

" Is this okay, hm? " Needless question, really.

The breeder doesn't even make an effort to reply, whining at the loss of friction and edging forward until both his members nudge against your cheek and lips, begging without words to have that bliss again.

Feeling vaguely in control, enough to be playful, you lean away from the one closest to you and take the right one into your mouth, sucking it as far in as you physically can before switching to the other one, all just so you can hear 197 gasp and grunt out moans. His desperation causes him to buck, and as you gag, a little lightbulb fizzles above his head.

Oh.

Oh no.

The next time you try to pull away, his hands rise from your shoulders to the sides of your head. Each dark finger nearly curves over the perimeter of your skull, and you freeze instantly, not wanting him to tighten his grasp by any means. Everything is fine so long as he only holds onto your head this way, gently.

He's the one moving this time, apparently marveling at the sight of his length disappearing past your somewhat swollen, drooled lips. Except, as expected, he's going faster and deeper than you'd like, getting into it enough to trigger harsh flutters in the back of your throat. Your gagging and subsequent reflexive jerks are met with warning rumbles and one of his hands caging you in place by the back of head.

He learns fast, needless to say.

The more he drives into you, the less you can control your saliva, creating gross pops and slurps as you have little choice but to huff through your nose. Merciless, not even the odd cough around his dick will stop him now that he's nearing orgasm, or so you're willing to guess by his franticness.

Eventually, he makes the mistake of shoving his cock far enough that your jaw strains and your stomach flips, a grossly loud hurl being his response. The horrid noise finally jolts him to a still, giving you enough space to pull away and catch some much needed breath, controlling your belly before anything unfortunate happens.

" Fucking Hell! " You groan hoarsely, irritated. " You're hung like a horse, be careful... "

The rutting male's fried brain only understands that you sound wounded, a concerned chirp followed by soothing sloppy laps to your jaw being his response.

Not an ideal development at all, and yet, progress.

197 is usually very violent with the breeders they tired to pair him for mating. Which is to be expected, being the golden goose of the facility comes at a cost- The rush of hormones in his machine of a metabolism doesn't just contribute to more virility than his male peers, it also causes bursts of hyper aggression not easily controlled. And the only socialization this one usually gets is fights with other males who feel threatened by his presence, understand that they are being hurt by techs because they fail to live up to the standard 197 created, that they might be killed for such.

The females, likewise, fear him.

197 is bigger, louder, scarier. He has a reputation amongst the other breeders, and some of them were more likely to try fighting him off during their heats than accept getting sexual with him. This has led to 197 rejecting all breeders regardless of the context, which resulted in many of the paired females being immediately fatally attacked whenever a scheduled session was arranged. Sometimes he would simply slaughter them, other times he would actually instinctually attempt to mate, and end up ignoring cries of distress, nothing but rage and hormones in that brain causing him to end up killing them mid-coitus.

Shitshows, complete shitshows you've had the displeasure of partially witnessing in the past.

Which is why you're so incredibly shocked he stopped when he heard you nearly throw up. Then again, you're no breeder, and you like to think you've created as decent a connection with him as possible. It could be that.

When the monster thinks you've recovered enough, he attempts to get you to sit in the same position from before so things can resume, and if the way he's insistent on keeping a hold of your head is any indication, then he's learned he prefers to take control of this. And you won't be the fool that argues with him in this state.

After licking your lips a few times, hearing his impatient little huffs, you take one of those slicked cocks into your mouth again, letting him build the pace back up. On the one hand, you're glad you don't have to pretend to keep any composure, letting yourself drool as much as possible for the sake of making the process easier, and uncaring of the filthy noises that only seem to make his thighs quake. On the other, you need a solution so he doesn't just peirce past the back of your throat.

So, experimentally, the next time 197 pushes far enough to have your eyes rolling, you get a firm grasp of the base of his tail and tug.

The appendage lifts and his spine curves back in sudden shock. You doubt it's pain that has him straightening like a plank, after all, you know these beings can oftentimes carry their young by the tail, so if it can handle their body weight, then it can handle a yank from a human's hand. It's more so a sort of "freeze reaction", effective in getting the male to pull back even if he grunts in mild agitation.

It's only fair, in your eyes.

The moment you let go, 197 continues to fuck your face as he pleases, moaning and curving over you once more to find his own pleasure, until he drives in too much again and you repeat the gesture. Over and over, so he understands there are limits.

It seems to succeed in getting the message across. If he wants to keep getting sucked off by your hot little mouth, then he needs to be minimally considerate.

This goes on for a while, you're almost proud to feel him eventually actively hold back from going too far. Because that would halt the friction, and judging by the way his tongue lolls out in pleasure, 197 wants to come really bad.

He seems to have enjoyed your antics from before, because the male actively pulls out of your mouth with another lurid pop and positions his spare length against your lips, fucking into you a couple times before switching to the other one, doing this enough times that you honestly struggle to contain some laughter.

His throbbing increases and you know his peak approaches, quickly reaching beside you for the container as fingers race to open it. Your spare hand makes an extra effort to stroke the length 197 can't fit inside you and with as much vigor as possible, you complement his every motion.

The second you back away to breathe, strings of saliva still clinging from your lips to his dicks, offers the monster enough of a nasty view to trigger exactly what you need. 197 snarls at the top of his lungs, rapidly fisting both cocks before you. It's a decidedly disgustingly arousing display that has you staring heatedly, until the first rope of thick pearly cum lands on your cheek.

It jolts you into flustered movement, holding the canister up to the closest of his girths, you try to get as much as possible inside, unable to shield yourself from the rest of his load as it lands on your neck and tits, warm globs marking you in the throes of the specimen's ecstasy.

It's immensely relieving for him, the sighed, low and needy moans that rip out his throat evidence enough that 197 had been pent up for more than a while. And you... You're soaked in warm seed, observing his maddened jerking slow down.

This is your job now.

Personally collecting from the golden goose of the facility. All for a bonus.

Whatever, just don't think about it too much.

Giving into the guilty sense of pride you feel over making 197 stare at the ceiling in total bliss, you lean down to catch the trails dripping down those teal blue lengths, cleaning him. You don't have to, by any means, but you've already sunk so low today, what difference does it make if you let yourself go a little?

The specimen's legs tremble and he glances down at you with this utterly cum-drunk, infatuated smile. Dark, stained digits rise to comb through your hair in some kind of comforting gesture until you eventually pull away and allow the male to recover.

Now, two things.

You need to clean up somehow, you don't want his cum to dry on your skin.

There's also the matter of the second canister, you think while you grab one of the cloths in the breeder's nest to wipe your face and chest on. You probably won't be allowed to leave his cell until they're both full.

Reaching for the one already warm with 197's sample, you seal it tight, the small device in it emitting a faint green light and beeping quietly. The signal that one container has been filled is then sent to whichever tech is keeping track of this particularly... Unique task.

A pang of shame courses through you at the thought of one of your coworkers now knowing that you've made 197 orgasm.

Time to get the other one and hurry this up.

Unfortunately, as soon as you're about to set a foot outside of the nest, a huge black hand captures your leg, and you're possessively tugged back by a disgruntled breeder who barely gives you enough time to scream before he starts shredding the rest of your clothes...

Hours have passed. You're sure of it.

As far as anyone's concerned, your work has been accomplished. Both canisters are practically overflowing with untainted samples, sitting in the corner of the room so that nothing happens to them.

You're naked, sticky and likely to bruise in some areas from 197's lack of strength mediation, but you did it.

At any moment now, coworkers of yours will enter 197's cell, and you know it's going to be a total wreck. Between his likely immediate aggression, the damage they'll cause him and your less than sightly state, it'll be unpleasant.

But you can't bring yourself to care.

Not when a tireless tongue continues to groom your already exhausted form and 197's meaty cock lazily fucks globs of his hot cum back into your puffed pussy while he trills soothingly. His breathing has steadied and his heartbeat slows.

Any moment now, he might fall asleep inside you, enjoying a sweet moment of bliss before you're taken away again.

It's almost cruel.

[ilovespec]

CHARMING STALKER

| MALE ! Yandere stalker × FEM ! Reader. | Part 1.

WARNINGS !!!! : stalking , some advice from the author , YANDERE MALE !! , pronouns yandere he/his , the reader here is female , pronouns of the reader here she / her , observation , stalking on social networks , shy yandere , possible errors in the text English is NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE!!!

Character description .

September. Russia. City - X .

You went to the convenience store. After all, as usual, you were late at work... But !! At least you'll have time to buy yourself something to chew on... And maybe even a drink..!!!! You have collected all the products for the food of the gods: instant noodles , sausages, mayonnaise and cheese (try this, it's REALLY the food of the gods. Just don't put a lot of mayonnaise, maximum 1-3 teaspoons lol) and most importantly for a good evening... Beer. You almost ran up to the counter with this drink, and had already stretched out your hand to the LAST bottle, when someone's rather big and sinewy palm accidentally covered yours. But immediately that palm twitched and moved away from yours. You turned around and saw a man behind you... He's a pretty tall, muscular guy by the way! He has black (LONG !!!) shoulder-length hair, brown eyes and light stubble and hand hair. He is wearing a black striped short-sleeve shirt, a light gray sleeveless T-shirt and black pants with a leather belt. He also has a small piercing on his lower lip, and jokes in his ears. Because your palms touched slightly, he said... Blushed a lot ??

- ??? : Uh... oh... Erm...I'm sorry, you can have a beer...!!! I have to go to work tomorrow anyway...

there was a strong Russian accent in his voice.

He's so tall and threatening-looking, and shy at the same time... You nodded slightly, but you took the beer.

- You : thank you ! Then good night to you.

You turned around and went to the cash register. You didn't see it, but he stared at your back in shock, and then, blushing even more, smiled as he also went to the checkout.

The next day, you were sleeping peacefully on your favorite couch... After all, you had a day off!!! Yayyy !!!>3 You calmly stretched , stretching your cramped limbs . It's been a long time since you've slept so well...!!!

You sit down at a table in a coffee shop. You decided to please yourself a little bit today >-< That's why you ordered (your favorite drink) and (your favorite dessert). When your order was accepted, you calmly started flipping through the recommendations feed on (your favorite social network). But you felt someone gently touch your shoulder and then you heard a voice you already know.

- ??? : H-hey.. Hello....!!

And when the owner of that voice came out from behind you and stood in front of you, you recognized him. It was that boy from the convenience store!! He smiled awkwardly , and, blushing DEEPLY, leaned slightly towards you .

- ??? : Do you remember me..?? I met you at that store yesterday... well... I'm sorry if I seem intrusive.. N-but... Can you please give me your phone number..?? I think that you are very beautiful and that we could take a walk at our leisure.. I'm Alexander Gnilov by the way..!! But you can just call me Sasha or Sanya.. ! (If anything , Alexander is the full version of the name Sasha ;) )

- You : and I (your name) . nice to meet you ^^

You calmly write down your phone number on a napkin and hand it to Sasha, and he, oddly enough, puts it in his pocket with a happy smile.

- Sasha: I'm sorry... Can I sit next to you... ?

You calmly agree, and Sasha sits next to you. And when the waitress brings you your order, Sasha asks that he be given the same order as you. And the rest of the time you were chatting and having fun <D

You calmly scroll through your account on (your favorite social network) you have increased activity!!! It's good... And you went to drink tea with a calm soul . (I think drinking tea at night is the best pastime. And that's what I'm doing now, ZAAZAZZA) But you didn't notice that someone is already sitting in the tree and watching you. Taking photos along the way...

[midnight-moth-musings]

The Butcher's Boy, Part 1

John "Soap" Mactavish x reader, medieval au

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

---

I stare at my reflection in mirror in front of me, trying to ignore the endless chatter of my mother and the seamstress behind me. The dress is gorgeous--fit for royalty I suppose. The expensive, purple silk cascades down my body and pools down to my feet just right, hugging my corseted waist tightly. I begin to tug at the long sleeves with mild frustration. The expensive silk itches at my skin as I try to adjust it. My mother approaches from behind and slaps my hand away.

"Stop with your fidgeting. Ladies do not fidget." I would roll my eyes at her, but that would call for a later punishment--one that I would like to avoid.

"Yes, mother." I murmur. I avoid making contact with my own eyes in the mirror, knowing that there are likely glossed over as the reality of my situation sinks in.

"Many girls would kill for a chance like this. You have been chosen as a possible wife for the king, are you not happy?" I turn to face my mother. A stern woman, one who has embraced the life of a noblewoman steadfastly.

"I am happy for you and father." My mother purses her thin lips and silently seethes at my reply. Before our conversation can progress further, the seamstress approaches. I envy the older woman's calm demeanor and her simple life.

"How do we like the dress, dears?" She smiles brightly at us. Her hair is greyed, long and curly, only pinned back to reveal her face. My mother looks down on her, I can see the judgement in her eyes every time we enter her shop.

"We will take it." My mother replies quickly. The seamstress nods and begins to undress me. She begins to help me undress and put on the dress I came in. My mother walks outside to our carriage to wait, albeit impatiently.

"Thank you, Miss Imelda." I smile at the seamstress as she finishes fixing my hair by tying a silk scarf around my head. I walk outside the shop and enter the carriage slowly to try and avoid the stern talking to I will likely receive. Instead, I am hit with silence as my mother ignores me. The carriage lurches forward and I stare outside the small window as we travel home. We reach home after minutes of silence, and I am helped out of the carriage by one of the footmen. My mother pushes past me quickly to enter our home and I walk upstairs to my room alone. I collapse on my bed and burrow my head against one of my pillows in a huff.

"Lady Y/N?" I tilt my head up with a groan to meet the smiling face of my maid, Clara. I feel the bed move as she sits beside me. "It seems you had great fun at the seamstress." She giggles as I roll my eyes.

"It was awful. My mother insists on dressing me like a doll. If she insists upon dressing my hair in pins and bows, I may impale myself on one of the pins to escape it." Clara rubs my back gently as she smiles down at me.

"I could think of worse fates than to wed a king." I begin to roll my eyes again, but Clara pinches my cheek. "Hush." I swat at her shoulder grumpily as I rub over the sore skin. "Would it brighten your mood to join me for some errands?" I sit up with a grin, eager to leave the confines of my home as I am often not allowed to leave for such trivial tasks.

"Of course!" Clara giggles again as I hug her tightly and stand up from the bed.

In town, Clara and I walk from shop to shop as she collects a variety of items. I scrunch my nose as we approach the butcher, already imagining the stench of raw meat and blood. Clara tugs me along impatiently as we enter the shop. She walks over to the end of the counter to speak to an older man who awaits her with a smile. My eyes flicker around the shop as I stand in the corner. I take a few steps toward the counter hesitantly, looking to the array of raw meat and animals products strung about. My attention is distracted by the sudden entrance of a young man through the back of the shop. Clad in a white apron stained in red, his bulky frame approaches. My eyes trail from his muscular arms down to the large piece of meat in his hand. He carries it almost weightlessly.

Slam! I'm snapped out of my daydream as he slaps the meat on the counter and begins to chop at it with a knife. Instead of repulsion, I find myself oddly interested in the action as his thick arm slams down on the meat to separate it into pieces. Blood splatters on his already dirty apron as I watch him quickly butcher the piece of meat into small pieces. Ladies do not stare, I begin to repeat. He begins to wrap several pieces in brown paper, tying with string to keep it intact. His nimble fingers quickly tie knots around the paper, gripping the packages with his large, calloused hands. Dark specks of coarse hair cover his hands and arms. I begin to imagine the feeling of it contrasted with my soft skin. Ladies do not stare. His head tilts up and I'm met with the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Dark brows and a coarse beard frame his face almost perfectly. I quickly avert my eyes to the stone floor as he notices my staring, cursing at myself for my lack of manners.

"Need somethin' lass?" My stomach drops at the unfamiliar voice but I raise my head cautiously to see the man staring at me with a boyish grin.

"N-No, I'm just waiting." I curse myself again for stuttering. Ladies do not stutter, my mother's voice replays in my head. I catch a glimpse of dark tufts of hair sprawling down his neck to his chest as he leans against the counter.

"Aye, you're here with Clara hm?" I look back over at Clara, who is in a deep discussion with the older man. I muster a nod as I look back at the man next to me. "I haven't seen ya here before. Would've remembered a face like yours." I find myself reddening as he winks boldly at me.

"I-I...no, I haven't. I'm Y/N." I gulp as he extends his arm to me. Never allow a commoner to touch you, mother says. Throwing caution to the wind, I take his hand hesitantly and he pulls mine in for a soft kiss. The bristles of his beard brush against my skin as his lips touch my knuckles gently. I almost forget to breathe for the moments that follow. Our hands disconnect and I carefully put my arm to the side as the area he touched remains tingling.

"Johnny." He smiles brightly at me. "Johnny Mactavish. It's a pleasure to meet ya bonnie." I smile back at him widely, my cheeks red as he stares back at me. We stand silently for a few moments before Clara walks over and grabs my arm.

"Ready, Lady Y/N?" I'm snapped away from his blue eyes as I look over at Clara next to me. I nod, wiping at my cheeks as if I can remove the blush with only my hands. She smiles over at the man next to me--Johnny.

"Safe travels, ladies." Johnny waves at the both of us, focusing his attention longer on me as he sends me a second wink. Clara walks us out of the shop and I feel almost empty as we leave--as if my soul just found a missing piece of it and is now being ripped away. I smile softly to myself as Clara and I travel back home, unable to fully immerse myself in her chatter as we walk together. Later that night, I catch myself dreaming in a sea of blue as I trace a finger over the skin of my knuckles that he kissed.

---

This is the dress that I imagine for the beginning ^^^

-P

[coffe-book-club]

✩‧₊ coffee, coffee, coffee *༄

info: boss tom kaulitz x staff manager fem! reader

summary: your boyfriend and boss of the coffee shop where you work, decides to take away your role as staff manager after you broke two coffee cups, without even notifying you.

disclaimers: none in particular, just a little bit of agnst and a little bit of a love quarrel. mini one shot

the moon had taken over the dark blue sky adorned with numerous shining stars, it was now closing time and i was near the counter bending over the floor to pick up the ceramic shards of the cappuccino cups.

by mistake a boy had bumped into her and with the loss of balance the tray had slipped from her hands and she had dropped the cups, her owner was finishing cleaning the shot glasses and was watching her in silence, but she knew he was angry.

tom was walking towards her with an expression of fury, his lips were clenched together and his cheeks were flushed, the other employees looked on in shock, this is the first time they saw him angry. tom looked at her for a few seconds before asking her in an ice-cold voice: “how dare you be so clumsy?!”

she look up slightly, her face flushed with embarrassment as she continue to put the ceramic shards back on the plastic tray. “i didn't do it on purpose, i'm sorry”

since they had started hang out outside of work, he had started to be much more strict with her at work. tom stayed quiet for a few seconds as he looked at her with a cold and sharp expression, he let out a sharp inhale before speaking again: “i don’t care if you did it on purpose or not, but this is unacceptable! how dare you be so clumsy?!”

he kept staring at her with that same sharp and cold expression that seemed to pierce right through her, other employees watched nervously as they feared that he’ll blow his top and fire her.

a small sigh leaves her lips making her look down again as she finish picking up all the ceramic shards. they had spent a quiet morning together, they had slept together the previous night and then went to breakfast together and now he was angry with her. “i'm sorry”

tom let out a small grunt of irritation before speaking again with a cold and sharp tone: “well, you should be.” he stayed quiet for a few seconds as he stared at her again before speaking again with a little less sharp tone: “do you know how much those cups cost?”

he stayed quiet for another few second as he stared at you with a cold expression, he then finally said with an annoyed tone: “they’re expensive, you have to be aware of that!” he stayed quiet again for a few second before speaking again but with a bit less of an annoyed tone: “i’m going to take the cost of those cups out of your pay, are we clear?”

a light snort leaves her lips it wasn't the first time he deducted money from her paycheck even when it wasn't her fault, she was the staff manager and every time someone made a mistake she had to pay the consequences. even though tom and her were dating.

as soon as she finish collecting all the ceramic shards from the two cappuccino cups, she straighten herself up again with the plastic tray in her hands, placing it on the bar counter, and then pass tom to go get the broom and dustpan from the closet. “don't you think you're exaggerating? they were cappuccino cups not crystal goblets, you will buy others again...”

she answer him in a flat tone of voice going towards the changing rooms where there is a small closet nearby where inside there is the counter and the cleaning products, the broom and the mop. my colleagues didn't say a word, they remained silent as they finished cleaning the cafè.

tom stayed silent for a few seconds, he seemed to be thinking about what you said, he then spoke again with an annoyed tone: “oh, so now you’re trying to tell me how to run my business? this is why i deduct money from your pay, you seem to think that you can just do whatever you like” he stayed quiet again for a few seconds as he looked at her with that same sharp and cold stare, she began hearing the other employees whisper around her.

she avoided replying so as not to have to continue arguing with him, walking past him without even turning to look at him. going along a small corridor to go to the back bar where there is the wrong room for the employees and next to the small closet, to take the broom and the red plastic dustpan. the closet had no windows, it was small and gave off a slight smell of a closed and slightly dusty room.

tom seemed annoyed by her not replying but he didn’t say anything else as he stared at her and she walked past him, he seemed to be thinking as he watched her.

the small room where you went to was in the corner of the coffee shop, it was a tiny room with no windows and it smelled slightly dusty as her picked up the red plastic dustpan and broom to clean up the broken cappuccino cups.

through a text message from a colleague of hers. she learned that her boyfriend, before closing the bar, had made some phone calls to look for someone to replace her and take over her role as manager of his employees, after four months' training and half.

when she read that message she had just returned home and her heart sank into an abyss of sadness. she had always been committed to her work, trying to give her best and make the work of her colleagues easier, always taking responsibility for their mistakes and tom hadn't even told me about it, he had just acted. tom had decided to replace her because he felt that she were too lenient with the employees and he was becoming tired of her letting them get away with small mistakes, so he decided to hire someone who would take over her role as manager and be more strict with the employees as he felt that’s what his business needed. he hadn’t told her because he didn’t want to make it seem like he was replacing her because he was tired of her, he just wanted to appear professional and didn’t want to make it seem personal.

hi 🍒 how are you? it's been a very intense week at work and now i find myself with absurd pain in my feet, shoulders and arms 🥲 but right now my dear mother is making strawberry jam in the tavern and the house is filled with that delicious aroma of sweetened strawberries with an aftertaste of vanilla, which makes my mouth water. anyway, i had this one shot in the drafts for some time and i couldn't wait to publish it, because years ago i read a fan-fiction on the wattpad platform starring kim taehyung (v) of bts and as the main place it was a coffee shop. i hope you have a wonderful day. xoxo flo.

[dewedup]

the world is in flames (dewdrop ghoul)

The flames dancing in his eyes echoed into the depths of his soul, and he felt at peace.

-

Or Dewdrop earns a cult like following from the band's pyrotechnic team.

-

This was inspired by this post and I decided to elaborate on the tags I added.

This is purely to spark joy in my heart, no relationships but if you squint there's implied Raindrop.

Words: 2,014

Read under the cut or on AO3

Dew's favourite part of touring was the pyrotechnics. Even as a water ghoul he had a deep appreciation for the theatricality and beauty the flames added to the production of the show. But when he became a fire ghoul his fascination grew into a slight obsession. He loved the way the flames danced in time to the music and lit up the venues. He even began to practice his own pyrotechnic moves, and soon his skills were on par with those of the professionals. It was an art he was passionate about.

-

It started when the pyro team had an issue with one of the ignition sparks. It randomly stopped working and every attempt to restore it resulted in absolutely nothing. Dew watched silently from the stage, tuning his guitar idly as his fingers itched to join the madness the group was embarking on before him. After one too many dejected sighs, he suddenly snatched the guitar from around his body and deposited it on the stage below him. He walked right up to the team and peered over the lead’s shoulder as they moved wires around furiously. It seemed like a no-brainer to him, and he made his opinion clear by shoving his way through the bodies to rest a hand on the lead’s shoulder.

“Let me have a look,” Dew suggested, moving into place as he was given space to work. He fed a spark from his fingers along the wire he found oddly bent and was delighted to see it disappear into the fold. He heated his fingers to an ungodly level and welded the wire back into a more natural shape, pinching together lightly to bring the mechanism closer together. With a step back, he nodded at the woman in glasses standing in front of the control board. Her eyes widened comically, but she pushed the ignition button, nonetheless. The entire team let out a collective whoop as the flame sparked to life, casting light on Dew’s mask as a deep feeling of accomplishment settled into his body. The team continued to praise him, gracing him with light pats on the back, even a few handshakes, as they all reveled in delight at the miracle he had performed.

-

The band was hanging out on the tour bus, relaxing before the show that night as they usually did, when a knock sounded at the tour bus door. The ghouls shared a confused look as Rain detangled himself from the mess of limbs they’d created with a ghoul pile. He answered the door, and turned back to the group, surprise written all over his face.

“Uh, Dew? It’s for you,” Rain elaborated, which seemed to confuse the band even more. Dew, himself, felt somewhat hesitant to stand and walk to the door. The puzzled look on his face remained as he saw who stood there. The pyrotechnician with glasses was before him, wringing her fingers nervously as she bit her lip. Dew could feel the nervousness dripping off her, staining the air with an overwhelming scent of anxiety.

“Hi Dewdrop,” She spoke softly, swallowing hard. “I-well I mean we, the team, like collectively all of us, were wondering if you could give us a hand?” She stumbled over the words, almost talking so fast Dew had to strain to hear the words. 

“You need my help?” He confirmed aloud, his heartbeat picking up slightly at the idea of getting his hands on some pyrotechnic equipment again. She nodded in confirmation, a blush spreading across her cheeks at the group of ghouls who had gathered behind him, intensely watching the interaction between the fire ghoul and the human, like spectating a tennis match, eyes bouncing between the two. Dew wasn’t known for his positive attitude towards humans. Sure, he could fuck them, but he didn’t tend to make himself available for anything else, preferring the company of the other ghouls instead. The surprise continued to flow through the group as Dew leaped back into the tour bus, grabbing his jacket, and sliding his helmet into place as he ushered the girl before him out and towards the venue.

“Well, that’s new?” Mountain spoke aloud, the other ghouls nodded in agreement as they watched Dew disappear into the side entrance, already talking animatedly with his hands as the girl with glasses nodded along enthusiastically.

-

Swiss was going insane.

He couldn’t find Dew anywhere. The show had ended, and the group of ghouls were getting ready for a planned movie night, but a certain little fire ghoul was nowhere to be found. 

Swiss had checked everywhere, his bunk, Rain’s bunk, the bathroom, the smoking area outside of the bus. He even walked to the McDonald’s around the corner, knowing Dew had a penchant for nuggets that rivaled his love of guitar. He opened his phone to text the group chat, letting them know of the missing ghoul, when something caught his eye. The stagehand with the glasses had just walked out the door, a carry-out bag firmly in her hands.

Swiss moved swiftly, pushing out the door and jogging down the street to the familiar face. 

“Hey!” He shouted, the woman turning around with surprise, clutching the paper bag to her chest, as if to protect the food from whoever was chasing her down. Her wide eyes stared at him from behind the frames, her shoulders tensing as he came closer.

“Hello?” She questioned, eyes darting around to see if the ghoul was yelling at someone else but finding no one else in the vicinity. Confusion coloured her face as she lifted a hand, pointing towards herself, eyebrows raised in a question.

“You’re the one who came to the bus for Dew the other day right?” Swiss ventured, watching as the woman nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, uh I’m Celeste, you’re Swiss right?” It was his turn to nod, and she nodded softly in return. He could almost see the wheels turning in her brain as she struggled to grasp why the multi-ghoul had flagged her down. “Did you forget your wallet or something?” She questioned, gesturing back to the McDonald’s they had just left. Swiss swallowed a laugh, as this almost stranger started reaching into her pocket, thinking he needed some money to get a late-night snack.

“No, thank you,” he replied gratefully, touched by the kindness she was showing him. It wasn’t often the ghouls were regarded with anything more than barely concealed disdain by their touring counterparts. “I’m actually looking for Dewdrop. Have you seen him around?”

Realization dawned on her face, along with a cheeky grin. 

“You mean the nugget fiend who bet Trevor he could eat 60 in a single sitting? Yeah, I’m about to bring these to him to watch the show. You want to tag along?”

And that’s how Swiss found himself following the woman back to the parking lot behind the venue. She brought him to another bus further from the ghoul’s own, and opened the door that barely concealed the excited shouting going on behind it. He climbed the steps and watched in amazement as Dew sat in the center of the room. The pyro team’s eyes were glued to his every word as he described how they could easily achieve a higher caliber of flames with just a few small tweaks to the equipment. The pyro lead looked like he was about to propose marriage, while another seemed to wipe drool from their face as they imagined the monstrosity they could create.

"Dew?" Swiss asked with a grin he couldn’t contain, even if he wanted to. The fire ghoul turned to him suddenly, just now noticing his presence. Dew’s face was pure excitement, no longer concealed by the helmet he had deposited unceremoniously on the floor. Not a single soul from the pyro team seemed to bat an eye at his exposed fangs and horns. Swiss even saw his tail swishing about behind him. Celeste carefully stepped over it to deposit her bag of nuggets on the center table.  

“Oh shit, I completely forgot about the movie night,” Dew moaned, his face falling as he slowly started to gather his things. The pack of cigarettes slipped back into his pocket as he retrieved his mask from the floor. Swiss felt the disappointment in the air and made a snap decision, pulling out his phone and sending a quick text to the group to start without them.

“I think we have more significant things to deal with,” Swiss said seriously, reaching up to undo his own helmet. He was greeted by smiles from the entire group as he revealed his own unmasked presence. Dew looked up in confusion, as Swiss took a seat on the floor with him. He nodded towards the bag Celeste had put down in front of, who Swiss assumed, was Trevor. Dew’s eyes lit up with realization, a cocky smirk gracing his lips as he narrowed his eyes at the lead pyro tech sitting in front of the nuggets.

“You’re right, there seems to be a bet to settle,” Dew chuckled darkly, grabbing at the take-out bag. Trevor, who had appeared confident up until this point, seemed to deflate a little at the gleam in both ghouls' eyes.

-

Dew couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he scrolled through the webpage, practically salivating at all the wonderful technology. He had offered to take over Swiss’ next heat from Cumulus in exchange for her help with the dark web. She was an electronic whiz and wouldn’t tell Dew what she used this specific knowledge to purchase. However, he was okay with staying in the dark if it meant he got unlimited access to the pyromaniac’s dream he was currently looking at.

Dew gleefully added everything that sparked joy in his heart to the cart, not bothering to look at the total as he used Rain’s crypto account to complete the purchase. He’s sure the water ghoul would notice almost immediately, but Rain could never stay mad at Dew. 

In a few weeks all the packages had arrived. Rain had become progressively more frustrated as the pile continued to grow in Dew’s closet. The ghouls all watched on as Dew carried the coveted items to the common room as he used some decorative paper he borrowed from Sunshine to wrap them. What started as a bystander event, quickly turned into a group effort when they noticed how excited, but horribly incompetent at wrapping gifts Dew was.

“Who are we addressing them to?” Mountain asked. Pieces of tape were stuck randomly to his horns to help craft the masterpiece before him. Dew mumbled something unintelligible, a fierce blush covering his cheeks as he ducked his head further, pretending to be completely enamoured by his wrapping job. Mountain eyed him curiously, smirking as he realized what was being said. He shrugged and returned back to his work, deciding to leave Dew to his own devices. He started adding more tape to his present, determined to finish it before Rain, who was struggling with an oddly shaped bottle of powder that was labelled ‘handle with care’.

“What was that?” Swiss chirped from the corner of the room, a grin spreading across his lips, because he definitely heard what Dew said, but wanted to confirm it.

“Flame gang,” Dew grits out, his chin tucked into his neck as the entire room erupted in laughter at the nickname for the pyrotechnic team.

-

Dew surprised them with the gifts at the start of their next tour, glad to see the same group of faces still in attendance. Celeste squealed with glee at the prospect of even bigger flames, and insisted they test it out immediately. Trevor agreed instantly but made them set up in an empty parking lot, not willing to test their luck in the venue as much as Dew claimed he could supress the fire from engulfing the entire building, even offering to enlist the help of the water ghoul.

Dew looked lovingly at his favourite group of flesh bags as they unleashed unholy flames into the sky. 

[fitrahgolden]

Partners

[NOTE: Competency kink, anyone?]

“Oh. Kate.”

Anthony was surprised to find his wife reclined in a chair in his study, book in hand. She looked up and smiled as he approached.

“I thought you were accompanying Franny to the modiste this morning.” He kissed her temple as Kate closed her book and placed it on the side table.

“I was. We returned an hour ago.” She answered, seemingly bemused.

“Well, you should have found me.” Anthony looked down at his pocket watch, his eyes widening when he read it. “Ah, I do seem to have lost track of time.”

“Yes, it seems.” Kate’s soft laugh was good-natured.

“Oh, the modiste! Our account needs to be funded for the season.” Anthony moved to his desk.

“It is,” Kate said, causing Anthony to pause before settling into his seat. “I have confirmed it.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows. “When?”

“This morning,” Kate said, adding, “while we were at the modiste,” when Anthony didn’t immediately indicate understanding.

“Oh, right. Of course. Forgive me.”

“No need,” Kate got up and walked over to lean against the desk beside Anthony’s chair. She ran a hand through his hair as she asked, “Are you quite alright?”

Anthony caught her hand in his. “Yes. It is simply that the beginning of the season can be quite…” he exhaled dramatically, “taxing, to say the least.”

“Of course.”

“With so much to do, I sometimes find it hard to decide where to direct my focus.”

“Well,” Kate pointed to a stack of papers at the corner of the desk, “Here is a task for you. I have applied my signature where I could and those contracts have already been collected. Those are the accounts that will not accept my designation and require yours,” the latter part said with much derision.

Anthony nodded wryly at his wife’s annoyance. He turned his attention from Kate to the papers in question, and paused again, furrowing his brow. “What is this?”

Kate looked over her shoulder. “Your… desk? I would think you would be familiar with it after more than a decade, but perhaps I have overestimated–”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, but what has been done to it? I do not think I have seen so much of the actual surface of it in years. Surely something of significance is missing.”

“Ah. No, nothing is missing. I simply organised it, so that I may actually get some work done. Honestly, Anthony, I do not know how you managed to be so productive for so long considering the state in which it was.”

Anthony looked from this desk to Kate, who seemed to be giggling at his wonder. “When did you do this?”

“Anthony, I have been managing to keep it orderly since we returned from the country,” she scoffed. “Most recently, before breakfast, so that I could review candidates for Francesca’s new lady’s maid. You and I have appointments to meet with them this afternoon.”

“You have already…” A laugh bubbled out of Anthony, spurned on by a feeling he couldn’t quite name. Disconcertion? Relief? Embarrassment? Perhaps some combination of the three, or something else entirely.

Anthony shifted his chair towards Kate and pulled her into his lap. She settled in happily.

He kissed her jaw before speaking into her ear, his voice low. “Is all this the reason our bed was cold when I awoke this morning?”

He smiled smugly when he felt her shiver. Encouraged, he gathered the skirt of her dress in his hands until the hem skimmed up over her thighs, giving him the access he sought.

Anthony could tell Kate was struggling to keep her voice even as she answered.

“I… am afraid, as the season gets underway, my attention must be further divided, which means less time–”

“For me?” Anthony’s hand reached its destination, and had its desired effect, as Kate seemed to lose her train of thought, if only for a moment. 

“Only in a singular aspect, yes.” She leaned her head against his and he ghosted his lips over the shell of her ear.

“Well, that simply will not do.” A second finger followed the first that had disappeared into his wife’s core.

“No?” Kate whimpered.

“No. I will not stand for it.” His thumb started moving over the outside of her, causing her to grind her hips into his lap.

Kate said breathlessly, her eyes screwed shut, “What remedy then, husband?”

Anthony tsked, shaking his head. “Viscountess… I have every confidence that you will find a way to manage your time such that none of your duties are shirked during the season. You are undoubtedly the most capable woman–” He laughed at Kate’s ability to glare at him even in her current state, “–person in all of England. And I will offer my assistance.”

She laughed as she gripped his shoulders desperately. “Oh, how grateful I am.”

“Kate?”

“Mmm?”

“What were you doing when I walked in here?” With his free hand, Anthony started undoing the buttons on the back of his wife’s dress.

“Rewarding myself for… all my hard work with a… um, a book.“

“Might I also reward you?”

Kate was starting to take over the pace, working against his hand more than his hand was working against her. Still, she managed to speak between gasps.

“Reward? I suspect these current means of yours may actually be for a selfish end.”

Anthony’s laugh was dark and foreboding. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I should stop.” He wrenched his hand away.

“Anthony!”

“Shh.” He soothed Kate as he moved her to sit on the edge of the work surface, pulling down her loosened bodice. Speaking before closing his mouth over her nipple.

“I think we should make use of this immaculately organised desk.”

[wndaswife]

Could you do 37, 38, and 70 for Lizzie please

elizabeth olsen & gn!reader

tags: fluff.

word count: 937

“I heard you wanted me to work with you for this scene,” you say when you walk into the makeup trailer.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you?” Lizzie asks, spinning in her chair to face you with a grin.

You were assigned to work on Kathryn for the next few weeks for Wandavision’s final episode. Lizzie was assigned to a more experienced makeup artist as a particular scene in the episode called for much more detailed work which you didn’t have a history with practising. Not yet, at least. Not until Lizzie made a request for you to work with her instead of the other artist.

“I’m alright. And you?” you ask and place your tools and kits on the vanity the actress is sitting at.

“It’s a weird feeling finishing WandaVision after filming’s gone through so much. How do you feel about it? There was a lot of work you had to do with me,” she speaks, leaning back into her seat as she watches your face through the mirror.

“Excited, I suppose, to see the final product. Wrapping up is always bittersweet, though.”

Lizzie hums in agreement. After a few moments of watching you set up your things, she questions, “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well, the first few scenes are pretty simple and natural. We’re going for a modern makeup look, so just let me know if there’s anything specific you have in mind to make you look more natural that you’d prefer,” you explain and take out a few brushes, Lizzie’s shade of foundation, and primer. She nods in understanding. “We do the fight scenes last, which’ll be more tedious in terms of prep time. But I think it won’t be too bad. I’m excited.”

The next few weeks are filled with long hours- early mornings and late nights. But the tireless hours pay off when shooting finally comes to an end. The cast and crew gather around sharing applause and thanking each other for the collective hardwork shared with wonderful people who’d been working for the last chaotic and memorable year.

You’re cleaning up in the makeup trailer when Lizzie steps in, wig freshly taken off. You can tell by the way she massages her scalp with her fingers.

“Y/N,” she sighs as if relieved. “I’ve been looking for you. Have you been hiding up here this whole time?”

“Hi, Lizzie,” you greet with a tired smile. “Yeah, I’ve just been busy cleaning up.”

She wraps an arm around your hips and pulls you into a side hug. “Don’t you want to come out and celebrate?”

“I think I just wanna go home. I’m pretty tired,” you tell her regrettably.

“Let me take you out. I’ve been wanting to find some time to ourselves but we’ve just been so busy. Let’s go out for coffee. I’ll pay.”

Thirty minutes later, you’re walking through downtown Los Angeles with her, coffees in hand warming each other up from the brisk winter. Though you’ve been working with her for the last year, you realise you haven’t gotten to know Lizzie very much until tonight. And you liked her. A lot.

When the two of you finally get back to her car, you stop by the driver’s side with her. It’s an awkward moment until you suddenly tell her, “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I really like your laugh. I think it’s so contagious. Even through the most tiring days, sets are so much brighter with you.”

She’s just grinning at you, her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at you. The undivided attention makes you antsy and you look away from her.

“Y/N,” she says, bringing your attention back over to her. Wanda laughs between words, her hand raised to her mouth, “You’re so clueless.”

Your shoulders fall and you ball your lips over to the side awkwardly. You didn’t know what to say to that. You like Lizzie, but if you had no clue how to keep up a conversation with her, perhaps you weren’t a good match for her, even if only for a professional relationship. A painful pang shot through your chest at the very thought.

But without warning, her cold hands are placed on either side of your face and she pulls you close to her. She’s wearing a playful grin on her soft lips, bright glints of amusement dancing in her green eyes. The sight stuns you, making you freeze on the spot.

Lizzie quietly asks, “Can I kiss you?” After a few more moments of waiting for your response that hadn’t come because of how stunned you were by your proximity to her, the actress giggles. She pinches your cheek lightly between her thumb and the side of her index finger. “Say yes,” she chuckles, her laugh blowing white in the cold air.

“Yes,” you answer quickly.

Lizzie’s grin widens and she steps towards you so your bodies pressed together. She kisses your lips softly and your eyes flutter closed. Your arms lift to wrap around her body, hugging her against you. You feel her smile widen against your lips and she pulls away. Her arms wrap around your neck and, on the tips of her toes, she leans against you. “You’re warm,” she whispers.

You answer with a nervous smile that makes Lizzie laugh, “So are you.” She kisses you again.

“I want to see you tomorrow. Are you free?” she asks, kissing your cheek and looking up into your eyes. You nod. “Then I’ll pick you up early before lunch and we can spend the day together. I really like you, Y/N.”

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 9: Double Trouble

That night I sleep very well. I’ve noticed that recovering from missions is getting easier, which is something I don’t know how to think about. Is it good that I no longer have night terrors of the people I killed? I wake up feeling calm for once. Sadly now that my Hamburg mission is over all that’s left to do is wait for my next assignment. Unlike Bond I keep up with paperwork, so the only productive thing I can think of is a quick training session. The next 2 hours leave me fatigued but still alert, and it’s only noon.

“Why so glum?” Moneypenny asks as I enter the break room.

“No new work to do. Has M said anything?”

She shakes her head. “He’s been busy with the new security program. You could help Q in the lab, if you want. He’s always hiding in there from broad daylight, so some company could be healthy for him.”

I snag a granola bar and chuckle at her suggestion. “I don’t think my company is something he’d appreciate. So I will go annoy him anyway.” I turn to leave, then realize something’s afoot. “Where’s Bond?”

If Moneypenny is in kahoots with him she’s hiding it very well. “He mentioned something about going to see an old friend.”

My eyes narrow. “I see. Please call if there are any updates, and by that I mean please let me know when he gets fired.”

Moneypenny doesn’t respond as I walk away. Jesus Bond, what are you up to now? I quickly signal a cab and head straight for the security building. When I walk into Q’s lab I find him slumped against his desk holding his head in his hands.

“The car’s gone, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t stir. “All that was left was a cooling bottle of champagne, which I am using to get drunk on.” Q points to the opened bottle on his desk. “Care to join me?”

“You and alcohol are two things I would not put in a sentence, Q. Put that away before you do something stupid.” I relocate the bottle to the back table and tut about the current predicament. “You can’t brag to Bond about a new car and not expect him to swipe it. I imagine he put you up to something?”

“You know I can’t lie.”

Bond’s disobeying orders? Why doesn’t this surprise me? “Must be important. He knows what he’s doing.”

“You’re not worried about M finding out?”

I put my hand on my hips. “He can’t pin anything on me. I’m shocked that you actually caved and let Bond go.”

Q bites his lip and looks to the floor. “He threatened my cats.”

Once again, this does not surprise me. “Oh well that’s on a whole new level of blackmail. Thank heavens, for a moment I thought you lost your marbles!”

Q groans, still holding his head. “Hilarious, 0011. You seem pretty tame for learning that Bond’s not being honest with you.”

I pick up a knife and twirl it through my fingers. “Oh I’m still mad at him. Since he’s always trusted me I thought I’d be left in the loop, but it’s just more secrets being added to the pile. So I’m guessing we just wait for him to call or turn up dead?”

“Lord only knows with that man,” Q mutters, then changes his tone. “Why are you here? M didn’t mention any new assignments.”

Oh, so now I can’t pop in for a visit? My my, Q’s quite touchy.

“I have no new task, so Moneypenny said to help you in the lab.” I turn to face him directly. “If you are so displeased by my offered assistance then I shall go waste time somewhere else.”

Before he can mock my fidgety enthusiasm I return the knife to the table and storm towards the door. To think I was actually willing to help that ungrateful-

“I do have something you could do.”

Stopping dead in my tracks I pivot and face the shaggy-haired geek, who walks over and hands me- keys?

“I don’t understand. What do you want me to do with keys?” I ask.

Q smiles and nods his head at the giant metal door. “Take her for a spin.”

I connect his words with the keys in my hand. “Really? You’re not joking?”

“It’s better for both of you. You’re not stuck inside and that bike’s not collecting dust.” Q shoos me off. “Go on. You can return it tomorrow.”

I feel like a kid who just got ungrounded. The gesture is so small, yet so big and trusting at the same time. I don’t know whether to laugh or kiss him- Wait, no. Just no. Strangle that thought and kill it with arsenic. Q just did a very thoughtful courtesy, the least you can do is thank him.

I grip the keys and give him a stern nod. “Thanks, Q. This means a lot.”

He gets a distant look and nods in return. “Like I’ve said before, I know a thing or two about being an underestimated youth. You’re a 00 agent, you deserve your own vehicle. Now go!”

A wide grin spreads on my face as I race to the shining motorcycle, the engine roaring to life like a ferocious tiger. The vintage design reminds me of the bikes I used to race as a teenager, and as I give a final wave to Q before speeding out the back hatch into the street I can’t help but think of how much my life has changed.

The motorcycle runs like a dream. I drive it all around London and even dare to race out into part of the country to test going up to 100 miles per hour. It’s only half the speed and it’s perfect. I know it’s not for me to know, but I wouldn’t mind finding out about where Q learned to work miracles with technology. He’s so talented he could create his own business but instead he decides to be part of the MI6. Putting those thoughts aside I drive back to London, only now realizing I’m not too sure where to go. Is the old central building still operational or has everything been evacuated?

I pull out my cell and dial Moneypenny. Thankfully she picks up quickly.

“Hello, um, where is Cricket?” 

On the other end I hear her yawn. Oh, right. It’s one in the morning.

“Him and your belongings are still at the old compound. I made sure M didn’t touch anything. And yes, Cricket has been fed.”

I sigh in relief. “Thanks, Eve. You’re a lifesaver! Sorry about the call, I know it’s late. Or is it early…?”

She laughs. “Believe me, this isn’t the worst call I’ve gotten. “Goodnight, Levie.”

“G’night!”

So I do still have a home. For now. I’ve been meaning to find another apartment but, if I’m being honest I’ve been too busy. I guess my job has become my home. That and it’s been convenient to live in Q’s old lab. Not just the fact that it’s Q’s old lab. Not at all.

I must be tired. After driving to the old MI6 center I wheel the bike in with me to the basement. I’ve never had my own vehicle before and I will not leave this treasure unprotected outside for some random hooligan to scam. My last mission took up two weeks but to me it feels like I haven’t been “home” in months. I crash on the small twin bed and am out like a light in seconds.

Sleep still comes far too easy. When I first began as a 00 agent there were recurring nightmares of all the killing I’ve done. Now I hardly dream at all. When I open my eyes I’m shocked to find the clock reading 2 in the afternoon. That Hamburg mission must have taken more out of me than I thought.

After a quick cleanup and a fresh change of clothes I drive back to Q’s lab. He, as usual, is tinkering with more tech.

“Decided to sleep in, did we?” he taunts lightly.

“I’m not on any assignments. Who says I’m not allowed to?” I remark as I wheel the bike back to the garage. 

“Oh, good. You actually brought it back.” Q seems impressed. “How did she run?”

My eyes widen. “To quote Charles Dickens, ‘as good as gold and better.’ It’s amazing, Q!”

Just then I hear Q’s phone ring so I continue putting the bike away while he takes the call.

“Please tell me that 007 is in London,” M’s voice rings out.

“Oh! Um, yes. I will take a look at that now.”

I look over in response to his uneven voice, seeing Q give me a nervous look. M doesn’t sound happy.

“Is 007 in London?” M asks more urgently.

Q bites his lip as he pretends to check the smart blood status. “Oh, yes. Yes he is.”

Silence slinks by. “He better be.”

The conversation dies down and I’m unable to hear the rest. I can only notice it’s threatening to Q.

“I completely understand, sir.” Q hangs up the phone. “If Bond makes me lose my job I’m going to kill him.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Look at you, mister silver tongue. Lying like a true pro.”

He looks up with a smirk. “Learned all of it from you, 0011.”

Now my phone rings. It must be- Yes. It’s M. Now he’s trying to get me to talk.

“0011, what’s your location?”

I flash Q a look. “Still stuck in London.”

M sighs. “Good, at least someone is following orders. I just got done with the Nine Eyes meeting. The resolution was not unanimous, so it has not been adopted. I am going to attempt to ask C to reconsider.”

He better if he wants to upkeep everything we’ve struggled to build over the years. “It’s best you do, M. This whole program is against all forms of privacy and security it’s meant to represent.”

“Oh. One more thing. Tell Q I send my deepest apologies.”

The moment M hands up my phone dings, showing he sent me a new article. One with a front-page photo of the Aston Martin Bond crashed in a river. No surprise.

I walk over to Q. “That was M. Says the Nine Eyes program wasn’t passed through.”

He tilts his head. “Can’t say I’m disappointed.”

“There’s something else. Not exactly all good news.” I look up at him cautiously.

Q looks down and sighs. “Let me guess. The car’s wrecked?”

I hold up my phone and show him the article M sent. His sad eyes make me think Q’s about to cry.

“I poured part of my soul into that car!” He whines.

It’s sad to see him like this. I put an arm around him and he hangs his head. “It will be missed, dear Quartermaster. Might I suggest you don’t show Bond anymore cars?”

Q nods and lifts his head, only realizing just how close we are now. He stiffens up, making me remember he doesn’t do hugs. But it’s just one arm around his back. How can he be so skittish?

He tightens his jaw and turns to walk over to grab his laptop. “That’s it. I’m going to find him myself.”

Is he serious?

“Q, you can hardly lie to anyone. What makes you think you’re capable of sneaking around under M’s nose?”

He locks eyes with me. “I had a good teacher.”

Glad to know I’m not completely useless to him. Since Q’s all keen on tracking down Bond I don’t see a reason why I can’t help. I’ve got nothing better to do.

“It’ll be nice to be back in the field again,” I comment out loud as I grab a fresh uniform from the storage cabinet and head to the water closet to change.

Q doesn't seem to share my interest. “You shouldn’t risk it. If M finds out you’re involved you could get fired too. Bond’s only trouble for you.”

I step out, dressed in proper mission attire, and strap a holster around my thigh. I notice Q’s stern gaze falters and he quickly looks away.

“He’s trouble for both of us. And right now he needs our help. Particularly your help.”

“Then why are you following me?” Q asks as he grabs his messenger bag.

“You need a bodyguard,” I say simply.

He blinks. “Excuse me?”

I ignore him and gather up some ammunition. “Plus I’m tired of being stuck underground. I’m restless, I can’t help it!”

“You need a hobby.” Q rolls his eyes.

“My job is my hobby. So where are we going?”

“The smart blood shows that Bond is meeting with a new lead in Austria, so we will contact him there. We can take the Eurotunnel.”

I raise a brow. “You just don’t want to fly, do you?”

His stern face doesn’t change. “Not if I can avoid it. Quickly grab whatever necessities you need. I suggest you wear something warm. We leave in half an hour.”

[everybodyshusband]

post-show ritual

mushy may ; day three !! (approx. 680 words)

read the rest of my mushy may collection on ao3 :)

Cumulus stretched her arms out to the exhausted ghoulette in front of her, willing Sunshine to fall into her arms. “C’mon, Sunny. C’mere, let me hold you for a bit.”

Sunshine tugged her mask off and tossed it on the dressing room bench before collapsing into the chair in front of her. She reached out her arms towards Cumulus with an exhausted huff. “Hold me, ‘Lus,” she whined. “‘M so tired…”

Cumulus walked over from her side of the mirror and stroked a hand through Sunshine’s hair, purring softly. “I know, my star, I know.” As she always was after a ritual, when Cumulus ran her fingers through it, she was struck by just how knotted Sunshine’s hair had become underneath her stage mask. The sheer amount of knots the youngest ghoulette’s hair managed to hold after a demanding show was truly impressive. “You want me to brush your hair, baby? Get all the sweat and knots out for you?”

Sunshine trilled and nodded, leaning further into Cumulus’ touch. “Would you?”

Cumulus laughed and nuzzled her cheek against Sunny’s hair. “Of course, love. That’s why I offered.”

(It always went like this. Once the night’s ritual concluded—regardless of the city the band were performing in—Sunshine would drag her feet all the way back to the dressing rooms and do her best to convince one of the other ghoulettes to brush her hair for her. And neither Cumulus nor Cirrus could ever even entertain the possibility of denying Sunshine of her request. Sometimes, if Sunshine was lucky, both ghoulettes would aid her in the brushing out of her thick, tangled curls. But tonight, Cirrus had pulled a dead-on-his-feet Aether off to one of the other—notably empty—dressing rooms, and Cumulus had heard her offering up the possibility of allowing him to let go of his responsibilities and float for a while. Presumably, he’s said yes; he’d be a madman to deny any form of affection-slash-domination from Cirrus, in Cumulus’ humble opinion.)

The air ghoulette reached into the stage bag they both share with Cirrus and pulled out one of Sunshine’s favourite brushes; she’s always claimed it feels the nicest against her scalp, especially after a tiring day. Cumulus set it down on the counter in front of them both and began raking her fingers properly through Sunshine’s hair, doing her best to rid it of any smudged face paint and hair products that have weaselled their way into it over the course of that night’s ritual. Once she was sure most of the paint was out, she picked the hairbrush back up and began brushing it through Sunshine’s hair properly, taking her time so as not to hurt her partner.

Sunshine hummed happily and leant further back into Cumulus’ touch, a small smile settling on her lips as her eyes closed of their own accord. She could already feel the tension draining from her muscles, loosening even further with each pass of the brush through her hair.

After a few more minutes of brushing, Cumulus let out a pleased trill. “I think all the knots are out now, Sunny!”

Sunshine turned in her chair and pulled Cumulus’ face down until it was level with her own, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Thank you, ‘Lus.” She rested her forehead against her partner’s and sighed contentedly, taking in Cumulus’ soft blush at her own undivided attention.

Cumulus wrapped her arms around Sunshine as well as she could manage with the awkward angle they both found themselves in and kissed the top of her head. “D’you want me to brush your curl stuff through as well? I don’t mind doing it.”

Sunshine tilted her head, considering. “Mmm, shower first? Then we can do that back on the bus?”

At the mention of a shower, Cumulus practically melted. She’d been so eager to brush Sunshine’s hair out that she’d forgotten how hot and sweaty she’d become. “A shower sounds perfect, Sunny, Good plan.”

Sunshine stood and took hold of Cumulus’ hand, leading her in the direction of the showers. “C’mon, love. Let me take care of you now.”

[mikazukinika]

III. Shameless [Twice]

"O YOUNG PEACOCK" TAGS AND ABOUT → Summary: Childe has his own ways of sourcing the information he needs from Liyue's most eligible. Cue Ying'er of the Scent of Springs. Scene Rating: E Scene Length: 1.4k words, about 5 minutes NEXT → READ ON AO3 → MORE FROM THIS AUTHOR →

“I can’t take this anymore,” he sighs pitifully that very same night, clothes haphazardly clinging to his sweaty body, now stained. He heaves a miserable groan, frustrated with himself beyond belief, and runs a cold bath before changing into a fresh uniform. Having no choice but to pull along his tumbling emotions during the short walk, Childe weaves through the now-familiar nightlife of Liyue Harbor to his offices.

The rumors Zhongli had heard were slightly embellished, as all rumors tend to be. As much as Childe would like nothing more than to wreak havoc in the city in that regard as well, the truth of the matter is this: he has been ruined since the very moment he had first laid eyes on Zhongli, all those months ago - not that he acknowledges that.

To put it into context, it was incredibly cunning of the Fatui to set up a bank in the center of Liyue Harbor’s business sector. After all, in an investigation daring to touch the heart of this ancient land, it is best to follow the money. Of course, they spare no efforts in their investigations on the socio-historical front as well, Childe spending much of his time in ruins and stone islands as a result. It is when he is collecting debt (through force, preferably against a worthy opponent), however, that he is in his element. Within half a year in this stone harbor, Northland Bank establishes a reputation of dependability as well as ruthlessness, and that is exactly what they are all hoping for. For as much as the citizens and the Qixing paint their city as a model for all others… 

“The underside of a heavy stone is still dirty,” Childe’s smile - a few weeks ago now - is saccharine, and for a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkle just falsely enough to be considered dangerous.

“Oh my, you mustn't make such a promising expression so openly, mister diplomat,” comes a honeyed voice, relaxed and teasing.

His gaze slides to the side towards the woman who had called out to him, finding her effortlessly. She stands coyly in the doorway to what seems to be one of the many shops along this road, dressed tastefully in violet tones that suit her - and by the look in her eyes, she knows it too.

At first, he isn’t interested in what she has to offer at all. She leads him into her humble store while the patrolling Millelith’s back is turned, and that is when a flicker of amusement tickles his chest. He soon finds that Ying’er is a master of a different kind of communication; one that Zhongli has yet to teach him. As innuendo after innuendo flows as easily as water past her lips - and as his smile grows increasingly stiff and his neck warm - he realizes she fully intends both sides of her words.

Taking his teacher’s lessons into consideration, he decides to smile demurely and choose self-deprecation as his tactic for now. “I am only a young, inexperienced diplomat. I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what I can offer you.”

Her eyes gleam. “Offer me?” she echoes. Plucking a seemingly random bottle off the shelf, she draws near enough for him to catch the floral scent on her skin. “I only thought you could use a bit of… relaxation,” she says smoothly. Her delicate hands brush over the lines of his shoulders. “We have plenty of products here that are popular for calming nerves, you see.”

“Is that so?” he breathes, chin tilting down as he looks at her. His eyes are dark with a mixture of emotions - amusement, warning, a little lust, perhaps admiration for her way with words - but Ying’er does not seem deterred in the slightest. “How embarrassing; you’ve seen right through me.”

Her giggles are quiet and her hands are wandering. Soft, curious touches, as if learning the curves of his biceps and the dip of his waist. “Perhaps a demonstration is in order,” she suggests, eyes flickering towards the stairs over his shoulder.

“I will trust your fine judgment.”

When Ying’er called out to him, she’d seen only a tiny glimpse of the person hiding behind Childe’s cheerful attitude. In other words, she had no idea what she was asking for. Taking her apart so completely had been satisfying, if only to see the look on her face when she realized she’d gotten so much more than she’d bargained for.

But in the end, it all comes down to business.

Leaning over her with a crooked smirk and one furrowed brow, Childe lets the poor woman catch her breath before prompting, “So? I’m sure the payment has been more than sufficient.”

She gives him a leer and opens her mouth to speak, but the redhead dips his head and nips any further propositioning in the bud with a little too much teeth, if the yelp he hears and the tug in his hair is any indication. 

Ying’er gives up with a pout on puffy red lips, bruised by their earlier activities. “My, is it so wrong of me to be fascinated by that beast you’re hiding?”

Childe laughs lightly, flattered, but his smile is cold. “You couldn’t possibly take me at my worst, Ms. Ying’er. And besides, this is a business transaction, is it not? It would be best not to press your luck.”

“I see,” Ying’er sighs, greatly disappointed. Her eyes trail away from his bare body to the side, unseeing. “I recently obtained a curious piece of intel from an acquaintance of mine who runs a business alongside one of your loanees…”

“Oh?”

“It seems the folks at a certain teahouse are preparing to leave the city.”

“Ha!” Childe lets out scathingly, reaching for his clothes. “Pathetic. They borrowed more than they could pay for. Don’t the people in Liyue know you can’t run from debt?”

Ying’er smiles amusedly at him. “That’s certainly a Snezhnayan way to look at it. Though, I suppose debt and contracts go hand-in-hand.”

Childe’s lashes drop partially as he leans closer to the young woman, who only smiles sensually at his attention. “Don’t tell me you stopped me just for this?” he murmurs lowly. “My subordinates can handle something as simple as debt collection.”

“Clever little boy, aren’t you,” Ying’er grins, and Childe’s gloved hands trail across sensitive skin threateningly. “It’s - ah, you’re right. My friend mentioned something else…”

“I’m listening,” he says cheekily as she squirms beneath him.

The muscles in her thighs quiver, her body already weakened from their earlier play. Nevertheless, Ying’er keeps her voice as airy and as relaxed as possible. “There seems to be an interesting item in their possession…”

“And that item is?”

“I don’t know the details,” she admits, lips pursed as if troubled. “My acquaintance suspects it’s some sort of treasure - the master has an obsession with things like that and is often seen conversing with archeologists and researchers alike.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize they all hung out together like that. If they aren’t collaborating, aren’t they rivals?” Childe asks, tilting his head in curiosity. His hands fall away from the soft curves of her body and she looks at him with something akin to confusion for a long moment.

Then, Ying’er slowly smiles like the cat that caught the canary. “Rather than me, I believe there’s someone better suited to receiving that question by your side, is there not?” She trails a cheeky forefinger down his chest, following the hardness of his sternum beneath the skin. “Say, for example, a tall, handsome man by the name of Zhon-”

He catches her hand by the wrist. “You’re right,” he punctuates simply. “This has been a fruitful meeting, Ms. Ying’er. I’m afraid I’ll have to bid you goodbye for now, however.”

Ying’er blinks up at him in surprise, eyes wide, before dissolving into a fit of laughter that has Childe’s ears burning. “My!” she breathes, sounding too pleased for comfort. “So that’s how it is!”

The Snezhnayan gives her an annoyed glare, but it has no bite. “That’s how what is,” he asks flatly.

“Goodnight, Mr. Childe,” she smiles, herding him out of the room. “I presume you can find your way out? You’ll have to forgive me; I can’t walk very far, you see.”

Childe gawks at her, not sure whether to feel proud or miffed. “Why you little-!”

But the door slams in his face.

NEXT →

[divinegrey]

𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎 / 𝚟𝚒 𝚡 𝚏!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

i went over my limit for this prompt, it was too cute.

arcane masterlist

prompt: hii! could u write a like modern au type thing where vi goes to get her nose pierced and the reader is the one who’s doing the piercing for her? ^^

words: 1185

warnings: fluff, meet-cute

You walk past your coworker currently hunched over a girl’s back finishing a tattoo, taking a moment to observe the wonderful linework before walking to the front desk. It’s a relatively slow day for you in particular. Not many folks have come in to get piercings as of late, but you did have a pleasant session of giving a man an industrial this morning.

The front counter needs some reorganization. Some of the piercings are a mess and you hate messes, so you get to work lining up the rows and cleaning off some of the display septums.

Through the glass, you spot a woman walking through the front door of the shop, announced by the chiming of the doorbell. Your coworker glances over then goes back to his work when he sees you at the front counter. You brush your hands off on your jeans and give a polite smile to this woman.

Who, you might add, is a complete smoke show.

“Hey, welcome to the shop!” You say. “How can I help you?”

“I was hopin’ you had some time available, I’m lookin’ to get a nose ring. Google said this place had the best reviews for piercings nearby,” the woman says, tucking her hands into a bright red hoodie that somehow manages to compliment the insane hue of her pink hair, brushed back in a messy little bun, and shaved on one side.

You grin at the compliment. You take a look at her nose— it’s sharp, the nostrils seem to have a good opening that won’t be affected by a piercing. You say, “Well, lucky for you, my time schedule is wide open. Nose rings around here go for seventy dollars for the piercing, and the default jewelry we use that’s standard for all piercings is a twenty-dollar charge. If you wanna dish out on something a little nicer, you can take a look at this section of the case.” You tap your finger twice to your left. “These are the best starter nose rings.”

“Damn, these look nice,” the woman says, putting her hands on the glass to take a look. There are several rings on her fingers, the veins in her hands prominent as she raps her knuckle against the glass. “I like the one on the front row, third in from your left.”

“That’s a good one,” you say, getting some forms out from a drawer. “What’s your name?”

“Vi. You?”

“Nice to meet you, Vi,” you say, the name rolling right off your tongue. You give her yours and she extends her hand out. You give it a shake, completely unsurprised that she has a strong grip. “Now, if you could just sign these forms and negotiate payment, we can get started.”

Vi hands you the credit card, agreeing when you offer some aftercare products with a nod of her head. You ring her up, and you’ll admit, maybe you watch her sign all the forms and waivers, noticing the way she bites her lip when she signs her name or how her handwriting is somewhere between messy and illegible. Your own isn’t much better.

“Come with me,” you say, beckoning her to follow you with her finger around the counter. You take her into a closed-off room that you conduct all your piercings in. All of your certifications are hung in clear view, and you gesture for her to take a seat on the bench. “First piercing?”

“Nah, I’ve got some in my ears that closed off, I need to get them redone,” Vi replies, resting her hands in her lap. “Had a time where I couldn’t wear earrings so they sealed.”

“A shame. We do half-off for re-piercings here, if you’re ever interested,” you say, going through some drawers to collect the things you need. You wash your hands at the sink thoroughly with soap, snap on a pair of gloves and turn to her.

“I’ll remember that,” Vi says as you uncap a marker.

“Alright, let me see your nose,” you say, taking a step closer. “This is going to sound weird, but you’ve got the perfect nose for this piercing. Genuinely.”

“Oh,” Vi whispers. Her cheeks go red. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. How’s that look?” You hold up a small mirror for her to look at the positioning you’ve made with the marker, and she nods. “Okay, great.”

“Just out of curiosity, how many piercings do you have?” Vi asks.

You blow some air out of your nose, counting out loud. “Six on my left ear, seven on my right. One on my eyebrow, one septum, one tongue, one lip, one belly button…” You snicker. “I’ve got twenty.”

“Wait, you just counted eighteen,” Vi raises her sharp brow. You notice one of them has a scar on it. That’d look nice with an eyebrow stud, you think to yourself. With a sly smile, you glance down, conveniently in a crop top to show off your belly button, but also to draw just a little attention to your chest. If it’s even possible, Vi’s face goes redder and you just laugh.

“Alright, I’m gonna need you to take a breath for me okay? Nice and deep,” you ask, holding the needle to her nose over the spot. Vi inhales, shutting her eyes, then exhales. “Good girl.”

The needle pierces clean through and you hook the nose ring into the freshly made hole.

“Not so bad, right?” You ask, stepping away. “Looks amazing on you, take a look.”

Vi opens her eyes and looks at herself in the mirror. The giddy grin on her face is enough to make you happy. Another satisfied customer.

“Thank you,” Vi says, the genuinity clear in her words.

“Of course. Let me take you through the aftercare process.” You explain to Vi, step by step, how to care for her new piercings, demonstrating with your own septum so she gets a clear idea of what to do. When you’re done, you give her the cleaning supplies and take her back to the front room.

“Have a good day, ya hear?” You say, waving her off. Vi waves in return and moves to the door, and you’re almost sad to see her go.

Except, she spins on her heels and walks right back to you.

“I don’t wanna sound creepy at all, but I just wanted to say that you’re pretty,” Vi says. “Like, drop-dead gorgeous. Just so you know.”

Now it’s your turn to blush.

“That’s— that’s really sweet, thank you,” you say. An idea pops into your head. “Vi, come back anytime next week. I’ll check on your piercing to see how it’s doing and… we can talk more after. If you want.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, that’d be awesome.” She bounces a little in place, her smile beaming. “I’ll see you later then.”

“See you later, Vi.”

She exits the shop and you lean against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. Damn it. You prepare yourself for the teasing from your coworker, because you just scored a hot chick coming back soon.

~~~~~

A/N: gentle reminder that my prompts are closed. don't try and come into my dm's either, that won't work. anyway, have a great day everybody!

[romanoffsbish]

The Other Side of the Door

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Besties)

Sad Beautiful Tragic (MW x Taylor Swift Series)

TW: Perceivable cheating, Lack of proper communication, Gaslighting, Non-Sexual nudity, Non-Consensual advances/touching

Angst with an open ending. | 3,906 Words

Yelena was tired, like genuinely exhausted after the month she'd just had, full of nonstop missions with her sister. Tonight, all she'd wanted was to enjoy a night out with her girlfriend and accompanying friends. Instead, she had an hour of blissful conversations over a delicious meal before it all went to shit. Her dearest friend—Kate Bishop, decided to laugh far too loudly at her joke, and place her hand on her chest for longer than necessary.

"Y/N! I'm allowed to spend time with my friends!" Yelena groans as you both enter her apartment, her patience with this repetitive argument now wearing thin.

"Yeah, Yelena, you are, but not when said friends are literally undressing you with their eyes. Literally getting handsy right in front of me, and to be honest you didn't seem to really mind it at all!"

———

"Y/N, I love you, you're the one I choose to come home to."

A loud scoff falls from your lips as you can't find it within yourself to hold back anymore.

"You've been back from your week long mission for less than five hours Yelena, and instantly you were planning a night out for us. Not to mention, inviting the girls who are clearly infatuated with you. All I've wanted was to cuddle up with you and Fanny."

"Jesus Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that you're all that I want before you believe me!"

"Maybe when you do something that lets everyone else around you know that too!"

A tense silence falls around the both of you, Yelena's gaze is glued to the ground, and her lips are clamped shut.

"You know what, I've had enough Yelena, you're just disregarding my valid concerns, attempting to placate me with baseless phrases of affirmation, but you know actions speak louder than words Yelena, I'm going home!"

"Detka, please don't leave, we can still work this out..." She dejectedly whispers, attempting to grab at your arm, but you manage to slip right passed her.

You stood outside of her apartment door, anxiously anticipating her to run after you, to wrap you up in her strong arms and show you just how much she really does want you.

After ten minutes though, you'd officially lost hope and instead chose to walk home. Paying no mind to the incessant pinging of your phone, or the torrential downpour that had been soaking you through your clothes.

—————————————————————

In the heat of the fight I walked away

Ignoring words that you were saying

Trying to make me stay

I said, "This time I've had enough."

And you've called a hundred times

But I'm not picking up

'Cause I'm so mad I might tell you that it's over

—————————————————————

Going home had been the original plan, but then you worried she'd show up there, you weren't necessarily ready for that so you instead settled for the bar.

Johnny saw you walking in, and had immediately began to pour out a set of shots for you, having been through this with you many times before. A silent nod of appreciation is thrown his way before you throw the collection back, then make your way to the restroom to assess the damage.

The people of the bar expecting to have access to the all inclusive single stall would just have to wait. You crouched, careful not to allow your clothing to drag across the floor of the bar's restroom, while allowing the hand dryer to at least lessen the dampness of your locks.

Once satisfied enough you took a good look in the mirror, wincing at the returned reflection, before fixing your outfit, and reapplying your products in an attempt to hide your clear misery.

You pulled your phone out to find out that she'd gotten Natasha involved, and that just pissed you off further. Nothing could ever just remain between you two, it's as if dealing with you alone was too much of a hardship. Messages and voicemails were left ignored, and it seems she'd given up about twenty minutes ago, so now your phone was dauntingly silent.

"Why so glum my old chum?"

You groan at the familiar voice, looking up to see the long line of people outside the door, and your redheaded best friend staring at you with a comforting smile.

"Your sister is an idiot, and by the sounds of it, so are you." You grumble as you push right passed her and make your way back to the bar.

"Hey... I thought I was being kind of cute... Also yeah—she is, but you knew that when you got with her." She teases, then orders two old fashioned's and settles her hand on your back for comfort while you wallow in your own pity with your face on the bar.

Natasha sips upon her drink, cringing lightly at your choices to place your face on such an unclean surface, but just this once she chooses not to scold you. Instead she listens to you complaining about her little sister, and her odd ways.

"It's just, she tries to make me think I'm crazy, but I know crazy—that's not what this is at all. Kate Bishop, and Ivanka are literally infatuated with her and she just tells me I'm over exaggerating the matter."

"Typical deflecting, it's what we were trained to do. Also, Y/N/N, you have to remember she's not great with context clues when it comes to the heart. Remember how long it took for her to see that you wanted her? Or to even acknowledge that she'd wanted you?"

"Not an excuse Nat. Kate laughs at all of her jokes, especially the unfunny ones, and she's always got her hands all over her. Ivanka's even less subtle, going as far as sitting on her lap and kissing her cheek. Yelena might be clueless when it comes to affairs of the hearts, but she's not that fucking dumb."

"Yeah, I honestly have no defense for that Y/N, but maybe you should just sleep it off, then try and talk it out tomorrow?" She suggests with a pity smile.

"I'm tired of talking..." You sigh, lifting your glass to your lips and Nat's eyes nearly bulge out of her head when you uncharacteristically down the drink in one gulp without so much as a wince.

Natasha's phone was nonstop buzzing so she'd excused herself to handle her business, leaving you to mope at the bar. The alcohol in your system was making you exceptionally sad, so naturally you pulled your phone out to reminisce. Tears caught in your eyelashes as you stumbled upon photos from when everything between you and Lena had been picture perfect.

When the love she had for you burnt brighter than the sun, and nobody could come between the two of you. The adoration was clear in her eyes, but now her eyes just seem dull, as if you're more like an obligation to her than anything else. Natasha stood behind you silently, agitation for her sister only intensifying as she hears your sniffles, and now begins to form for Steve for pulling her away from you for an impromptu mission.

"I remember that day." She muses, as she hugs you from behind and places her chin atop your shoulder to peer down at the photo.

It was one she took of you asleep on the couch at the compound, she'd left you alone while going to a scheduled meeting with Fury. When she'd returned she found you peacefully asleep, which wasn't shocking because you would sleep just about anywhere. What surprised her was finding Yelena sleeping on top of you, with her face smushed against your bare abdomen where your shirt had ridden up.

"Yeah, you mean when you mercilessly teased Yelena until her face was practically the same shade as your hair?" You laugh out while reminiscing about the good old days.

"Funny to think that she was still very much unaware of her own feelings for you."

A simple silence falls between you two as you continue to scroll through your photos, resulting in the occasional awe to fall from Natasha whenever she sees a photo of the both of you, or you with Wanda—her girlfriend.

"You have to go right?" You knowingly sigh, suddenly breaking through your comfortable bubble of silence, and Natasha groans, lightly digging her chin into your shoulder as she confirms your statement with a nod.

"Yeah, I was supposed to leave immediately, but I like to live on the edge." She jests, and you genuinely chuckle at your little rebel.

"That and you don't like being told what to do."

"Exactly... This is why you're my best friend."

...

"Now, don't stay out too late, and call Happy for a ride home, stay safe dorogoy." She instructs, slightly shaking your body by the grip she has on your shoulders.

"Yes mom..." You playfully groan out, turning to her with a small smile, and Natasha's nervous heart settles at the sight of your slightly improved mood.

Alone again...

Your fractured heart continues to ache the longer you sit there at the bar, wondering if Yelena would ever show up for you herself. Eventually all seals require breaking, so you slipped off to the restroom, and in doing so missed the collection of women entering the establishment.

—————————————————————

Me and my stupid pride are sitting here alone

Going through the photographs, staring at the phone. I keep going back over things we both said, and I remember the slamming door and all the things that I misread.

So babe if you know everything, tell me why you couldn't see, that when I left I wanted you to chase after me.

—————————————————————

Yelena had paced the length of her apartment trying to get you to answer her, anxiety consumed her entirely when the weather turned torrential. In an honest fit of pure desperation she contacted her sister, who had been your best friend since far before your relationship with her. Natasha scolded her, then told her that she'd find you, and the stress of your safety was instantly gone.

Left with the remaining ache from your fight ironically led her to contacting the sources of your tension. Kate and Ivanka agreed almost instantly to meet her at the bar, so she'd taken to changing into something far more casual then set off for a night of disassociating.

Once she reached the pub her friends were already stood there with wide smiles on their faces. Instantly they pulled her to the bar for shots, and Yelena's heart skipped when she caught wind of your familiar scent.

"What's Y/N's problem again?" Kate shouts over the booming music, as she sips from her mixed drink and stares into the blondes eyes.

Yelena cringes internally at the slight disdain in her tone when referencing you, but she chooses to overlook it as her friend just supporting her.

"She picked another fight with me over me spending time with you two, she's insecure, and mistakenly thinks you guys want me."

"What a fucking bitch, you should dump her Lena. Clearly she's making you miserable." Ivanka confidently exclaims, while throwing her arms up in the air along to the beat before slyly dropping them down to Yelena's waist.

Yelena's honestly never felt a rage like the one she felt right now at the words that fell from her supposed best friends mouth. They know just how much she loves you, and to think calling you a bitch was okay was bad enough, but to then encourage her leave you over something so small was beyond her. Before she could come to your defense the grip on her hips tightened and she found herself silenced as she was pulled against the black haired woman.

As you exited the bathroom you decided to take Nat's advice, so you returned to the bar to drink some water and then close out your tab. However, you were not expecting to be met with Johnny's nervous smile; following the trajectory of where his eyes had just been moments prior, you stood frozen in place.

There stood your girlfriend, lips locked with Ivanka in what appeared to be an intense kiss, and she hadn't looked to be pushing her away. Your heart stopped beating, you're absolutely certain it genuinely stuttered in your chest for at least five seconds, and the sound of shattering glass brought you back.

Your heart fluttered painfully, but the ache in your hand suddenly took precedence when you felt a towel pressing firmly against your hand, and then you noticed the glass and blood.

"Ow.." You weakly mumbled, and dropped your gaze as a new wave of tears began to trail down your cheeks.

Yelena was completely thrown by the initial contact, truthfully—she was disgusted; her reactions were severely lacking though due to her inebriated state. An immense wave of guilt coursed through her as your supposed insecurities were clearly based in truths.

She'd gasped when Ivanka's hands lowered, and the woman thought that she should deepen the kiss. Yelena had an immediate bitter taste in her mouth, and she went to shove the woman off of her at the same time that a loud crash pulled her from her daze.

She went to shout at her, possibly even punch her, but her attention was pulled away as she peered over her shoulder and was met with the sight of your trembling form at the bar. You could feel her stare on you, so you decided to let her see the pain she was causing you by locking gazes. Then it became too much and you quickly ran out of the bar in search of your chariot, as if it would turn into a pumpkin by the strike of midnight.

"Chertov ad." She groaned under her breath, then aggressively shoved passed the obliviously giddy woman before her to attempt to intercept you from leaving.

(Fucking hell...)

Kate was honestly stunned—sure, she had a crush on Yelena, and maybe it was obvious. The difference though is that she would never cross such a boundary, because she actually valued her friendship with the blonde assassin. Truth be told, she also didn't hate you, she just mostly envied you for meeting the blonde first.

You're noticeably shaking from the influx of overwhelming emotions consuming you as you attempt to look all around for Happy. Intentions proving rather fruitless as your vision is clouded with tears, your shaking increasing tenfold under the downpour that apparently means to drench you for the second time tonight.

Yelena was usually quick on her feet, but the alcohol's effects, mixing with her terrifying emotions slowed her down. Then she was met with the nearly pitch black streets as the storm was muffling the street lights effects. The slamming of a car door shifts her desperate gaze down the street and she runs when she sees the familiar Rolls Royce Phantom.

Happy notices her, standing guard by your door to prevent her from getting the chance to reach you. He'd just stood there with you under the harsh rain until he'd been able to calm your ragged breathing down just enough to feel you were safe enough to drive home.

Yelena quite literally shoved him out of the way without a care in the world though, obviously still having her strength and dexterity above all else.

"Y/N! Detka! Open up! Please, it's not what it looks like..." She pleads through her sobs, while hammering her fists against the window, and cringing at the cliché statement.

"GO AWAY! I can't even look at you Yelena!"

"Please... I-I, I need to talk to you, to explain, because I promise it's not what it seems.”

“There's nothing you can say to make this right again! I mean it, just fucking leave me alone!”

"No! Don't say that! I'm in love with you Y/N! Only you! Please, just hear me out... I’m not willing to lose you, so I’m not leaving, I’ll never leave… Detka, I can’t do this without you…" She shrieks, voice cracking the entire time, while she has to simultaneously gasp between words.

The obvious desperation in her voice made your heart ache with an almost natural need to comfort her, so, against your better judgment you opened the door, and shimmied over so she could climb in, then Happy begrudgingly drove you both back to her place.

—————————————————————

And I'll scream out the window

"I can't even look at you!"

I don't need you but I do, I do, I do

I say, "There's nothing you can say to make this right again! I mean it, I mean it."

What I mean is I said, "Leave," but baby all I want is you

To stand outside my window throwing pebbles

Screaming, "I'm in love with you."

Wait there in the pouring rain, come back for more, and don't you leave 'cause I know:

All I need is on the other side of the door

—————————————————————

The ride was silent, as you kept your eyes focused on the passing buildings, and Yelena's body never ceased in its sobbing. When the car finally came to a stop outside of her place your emotions were no longer containable as the entirety of the night flashes before your eyes.

Happy kindly opened the door for you, and you honestly would’ve crumbled to the floor had he not caught you. Yelena pulled herself together just long enough to scoop you up and carry your sobbing form in through her doors.

Once you’d made it through she sat down on the couch, and the two of you sat there surrounded by the sounds of each other’s unsteady breathing, and honestly, if you’d listened close enough I’m sure you’d be able to hear the hearts breaking.

After about ten minutes your mind finally returned to you, and Yelena’s sobs only increased as you recoiled from her touch by jumping to your feet and creating distance between the two of you. Yelena jumped to her feet and immediately stumbled towards you until she had you backed against her door.

“Detka… You have to believe me, please.” She whimpers, as she reaches out to cup your face, sighing gratefully as you don’t recoil this time.

Truthfully you do believe her, but that changes nothing. The problem is the unwanted kiss never would’ve happened had she just listened to you. Had she stopped dismissing you, taking in the obvious signs, then these tears would’ve never fallen, and both your hearts would be intact. Completely lost in your thoughts you failed to see the way her booze clouded gaze fell to your lips, nor did you seem to notice her leaning in, but as soon as her lips touched yours it was over for you, as her taste was currently tainted.

"No! Don't, God, I can taste her on your lips." You spat, while attempting to choke down the rising bile as you forcefully shove her back.

Yelena nearly trips at the sheer force in which you push her off of you, then she hurls into the trash can at your words. Body crumbling to the floor in a fit of sobs, with the despair written all over her face, and visible through her body language. Your love for her overrules the logic telling you to keep your distance in your brain and you take a shaky step towards her in an attempt to extend an olive branch of sorts.

Yelena shimmies over to you on her knees, desperate to have you close, as she wraps her arms around you from the front, linking her hands upon your lower back and clings to you.

"I'm so sorry I didn't believe you..." She sobs against your abdomen, and if you weren't already drenched you're sure you'd be able to feel her hot tears soaking through.

"I know..."

"I didn't want to kiss her, I swear it..."

You hum in response, not having any words for her in the moment, pretty much urging her to continue on.

"The alcohol messed with me Y/N/N, I couldn't fucking move, it was like I was frozen in place. Once she shoved her tongue down my throat it finally registered in my mind what was happening. I hated it so much... I’d never cheat on you. You’re the absolute love of my life. Please forgive me..."

You continue to say nothing, but your hand settling on her head is enough for her in the moment to know that your love for her remains.

“I made you think you were crazy, because I actually thought you were being it. I’d never noticed their advances because honestly I didn’t see anyone but you. I know that sounds like a cheesy attempt to seek forgiveness but it’s not. It’s my truth Y/N, you’re the first person I’ve ever loved like this, and I’m set on making you my last.”

Her head turns as she settles her chin against your abdomen and cranes her neck so that she can peer up at you. Glossy eyes full of love, despair, and hurt meet, and for just a moment it’s like everything stills for them.

“Please, forgive me…” She pleads once more, and you can see that distant look in her eyes; as if she’s one second away from shutting down, so you say the words you know she needs to hear, even if you don’t fully mean them yet.

“I forgive you…” You whisper, while using the pads of your thumbs to wipe away at her tears that settled upon her cheeks.

Yelena jumps up on shaky legs and catapults herself into your embrace. Yelena’s only ever been like this once before—when Natasha had been severely injured, and the aftermath of it all was terrifying. Having to fight to bring her back out of those dark places in her mind was tedious, and required a lot of patience, that with which you have none of currently. Something you’ve noticed over the years, that tends to help to calm her, was skin to skin contact.

You began slowly working on removing both of your wet clothes while still holding her firmly against you. On e you’d finished stripping the both of you, you then took her to the restroom to handle the bare minimum of your hygiene routines before finally settling the both of you down in her bed. Taking your rightful place in the center, as Yelena grabbed the duvet, then silently crawled on top of you, bringing the cover with her.

—————————————————————

With your face and the beautiful eyes

And the conversation with the little white lies

And the faded picture of a beautiful night

You carried me from your car up the stairs

And I broke down crying, was she worth this mess?

After everything and that little black dress

After everything I must confess, I need you.

—————————————————————

Her content sigh tells you that your preventative plan is somewhat working, which you’re truly grateful for, because you’re not entirely sure what tomorrow will bring. There was still so much left to be said, and in turn to unpack, but for tonight the blonde needed to rest, and you needed the silence to think.

You’re not entirely sure love is enough, and you’re wondering if your happiness instead lies on the other side of the door.

——————————————————

[seokiloquy]

Pearlescent Pt 1 - Iwaizumi Hajime

Au: Merpeople

Requested (kind of)

Tags/Warnings: GN!reader, That’s about it.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5

You had seen him a few times while wandering up and down the length of the beach. A towel draped over his legs and a pile of seashells in his lap, the boy would pick one up, scratch at it with a small pocket knife, and then feed a small string through the carved hole. He seemed rather stoic in his concentration, brows pushed down and mouth curved in a natural frown. As you passed, you noticed his hair becoming more spiked as it began to dry off.

“Your eyes aren’t glued. Look somewhere else,” Hanni hissed, digging an elbow into your side.

Your head spun to her. “I— What— No—”

“Don’t try to deny it. Since we got here, you’ve hardly picked up a single piece of trash. Your pockets are filled with beach glass and seashells, and you’ve been staring at him every chance you get,” she scoffed with a teasing grin. “When I asked if you wanted to go swimming, you just said, ‘huh, okay, ya.’”

“And?” Your voice raised.

“You can’t swim.”

“Good point. Look,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder at the boy, “he’s just interesting? He looks good, and he’s making something.”

Hanni sighed, “You have a type for scary-looking buff guys with a hobby.”

“That’s not true!” You shook, causing the glass and shells in your pocket to jingle.

“Don’t lie. If you’re not going to pick up trash, at least do something productive and talk to him.”

“No way.”

Hanni’s eyes flicked over your shoulder. “He’s looking at you?”

“Heh?” You turned around, catching the boy’s eyes as he paused his craft. “Shit, he is. Hanni—”

“Cool, have fun!” She printed off the bag of garbage bouncing against her hip.

“Hanni!”

You were left with a heavy stare shared with the stranger as he threaded his shells blindly. Raising a brow, he nodded, gesturing to the plot of sand beside him. With pinched lips, you came to the startling realisation that he had heard everything.

Kicking through the sand, you rushed to sit at the man’s side. “I’m so sorry. That was so rude of me. I didn’t mean to be a creep.”

“It’s fine.” He wore a sharp grin, flashing his polished teeth. “I people-watch too.”

“It’s not exactly people-watching if it’s just one person.”

He laughed. “What’s your name?”

“(L/N), (Y/N). What’s yours?”

“Iwaizumi, Hajime. What brings you to the beach?”

Sighing and glancing back to where Hanni ran off, you adjusted your position to get your feet in the warm sand. “Yearly clean up. My class got sent to the beach to pick up garbage.”

“Well, it looks much cleaner than normal,” he tried to compliment.

“Hardly to do with any of my efforts,” you said, reaching into your pockets for the collection you gathered while walking along the shore. “I’ve been a bit distracted by something else.”

“Me?”

“Beach glass and seashells.”

“And me.”

You sighed, dropping the small objects into a small pile in the sand. “So what are you making anyways?”

“A gift. Though it seems all the good specimens have been collected already.” He looked at your pile with a grin.

Arms raised in surrender, you kneed the pile forward. It crumbled. “All yours. I don’t even know what I’d do with it all.”

Instead of picking a piece from your collection, Iwaizumi reached to his side and pulled a string out, slicing it down before handing it to you. “You can make your own.”

Raising a brow, you glanced at the thread. “Are you going to show me how? That looks a bit complicated.”

“I could, but shouldn’t you return to class?”

You didn’t even check before denying.

You went back every day during summer vacation. If the sun was out and the weather cared enough, you would wake up, get dressed and run out the door before anyone could wish you good morning. 

It was a change of pace, but it was all made worth it when you arrived at the sandy shore of your town and caught a glimpse of Iwaizumi working away on his gift.

“Are you here every day?” You asked after a couple days while trying your best to match his skill level at making these necklaces. 

“Pretty much. You can often find me on the sand if I’m not in the water. Or the other way around.” He tied a knot in his string before lifting up the design. “Tada.”

The shells and pieces of beach glass were primarily blue and white with the occasional earthy tone. They were all small, each around the size of your pinky nail and formed precisely with a practised hand to not make them break. Your necklace couldn’t even be compared with its clunky wrapping and forgotten pieces that broke in the process and couldn’t be added.

“Is the pearl in the middle?” you asked, brushing the pad of your thumb against the round surface hanging from the bottom by a bent wire. 

“Sure is.”

“Where did you get it? There’s no way you just found it on the sand, and pearls are expensive.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I just found it. I had to hunt for it.”

“Hunt?”

“Clams are sneaky little things.”

You blinked at Iwaizumi. “You’re saying you dove into the water and hunted clams to get pearls?”

“Ya.” He pointed down the length of the shore where the beach turned into a rock ledge. “There’s some over there every once and a while.”

“You’re insane.”

The rock ledge was infamous for causing broken bones and bruised brains. It wasn’t much trouble if you were even the tiniest bit careful. But often, teenagers found themselves calling the emergency line after a risky fall.

“Don’t worry, I don’t jump in.”

“Then… how do you get there?”

“By swimming, of course.”

You blinked at him, jaw slack. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Then don’t say anything.” Grinning, he lifted the necklace and wrapped it around your neck, tying it in a knot.

“I thought you said it was a gift,” you said, adjusting it to lay comfortably before fiddling with the pearl in the middle.

“It is a gift. For you.”

As school started again, you saw Iwaizumi less and less. Besides the fact that every day was spent going to school and doing homework, you found that the times you would walk by the shore and glance over the sand, there was a severe lack of Iwaizumi’s presence.

To make up for not seeing him, you ensured that his necklace was always with you. It was always in reach for you to fiddle with. However, after being told off by your phys-ed teacher, it remained tucked into your uniform and out of sight.

Hanni encouraged you to check on your way back home. Just to see if he would be there, Just in case, because, just maybe, he would be.

He wasn’t there when you arrived. Nor was he appearing from any corner or street. No one was there. With the cold wind and overcast, you should have expected the beach to be relatively empty. But this was where Iwaizumi spent most of his time. Pausing for a moment, you fiddled with the pearl on your necklace and looked toward the rock ledge he had pointed out. If you were lucky, maybe he would be searching for more pearls.

Looking down the jagged edge of the stone wall, you pursed your lips and couldn’t help but think you were being ridiculous. Iwaizumi, as kind as he had been, was practically a stranger. A stranger that was able to woo you with his sharp features and ability to wrap and thread a beautiful piece of jewellery.

The water was splashing against the stone edge with every gust of wind. The movement disguised any visibility deep below the water’s surface. Had it been a nice day, you would have been able to see deeper. 

At the sight of a fish jumping above a wave, you lowered yourself to get a closer look, curiosity piqued. There was something, a shadow moving slowly beneath the whitecaps. The more it moved, the more fish jumped from the water. Shuffling to where people climbed out of the water, you cautiously took steps down, sitting on them to avoid losing balance. 

The fish kept leaping above the waves before crashing into them again. As you got to the bottom and sat comfortably on the most extensive flat ledge, another rocketed from the shallow depths and launched itself at you. You screamed as the footlong creature landed in your lap, immediately soaking through your uniform.

It flopped around, wriggling and smacking you as it desperately tried to aim toward the water, but it was futile without any limbs to propel it off you. You grabbed it, shutting your eyes as it wobbled in your grip, risking a smack to your face. Holding it out, you hoped that once you let go, you and it would be free from each other’s presence. 

You released your grip.

“Thanks!”

You screamed again. Thinking that suddenly you had fallen into a fairytale and accidentally kissed the fish like it were a prince disguised as a frog. But no.

“You’re a fish!”

“Not really,” Iwaizumi said, holding up your still squirming, scaly friend. “This is a fish.”

You coughed, trying to catch your breath. “You’ve got a tail!”

Pale blue, with a skin-like sheen similar to a dolphin, Iwaizumi’s torso stopped and turned into a long, finned tail of a merperson.

“I do.”

“You’re a fish.”

“A merman,” he huffed, brows pinching. He lowered his arm holding the fish, and raised the other, showing off a clam with a dark shell. “Were you looking for this?”

He seemed too relaxed. While you were feeling your heart pounding against your ribs, Iwaizumi waded in the water casually, with an almost bored expression.

“Uh, no. I was looking for you. You mentioned hunting for clams, so I thought….” you gulped, blinking. “Has this happened to you before?”

Iwaizumi huffed and swam forward, propping his elbows on the rock by your side. “Not to me. But a friend of mine can’t seem to keep himself out of trouble, so I’ve gotten used to the possibility that it could happen. You’re taking it much better than most, though. We usually have to erase their memory.”

You choked. “You can erase people’s memory?”

“No. But we can be very persuasive.”

His smile was too sharp, eyes curving with his cheeks.

“So…like a siren?”

“We’re the same, really.”

You shut your eyes, leaning back against the rock wall as you raised a hand to your chest so you could feel your racing heart.

“You still have the necklace.” Iwaizumi had his cheek pressed into his forearm, shoulders scrunched to his ears as he gave you a soft smile with pointed teeth. “Good.”

“Good? Should I be concerned?” You asked, fiddling with the pearl.

“Not if you don’t want to be.” He dropped the clam by your hip before pushing off the rock ledge. “Go to the beach tomorrow! I’ll be there. And don’t take off that necklace!”

Before you could ask anything else, he dove into the water, tail flicking up behind him. He was gone.

Post-secondary sucks. I wrote this a day before and the day of posting. It’s…. Probably gonna have a second part cause ya. - Bacon

Posted: 20/11/2022

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

           A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

-

-

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox​ @whxt-to-write @calm-and-doctor @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection