#coffee cup asset

[kirkwallmorningnews]

i would like to discuss the coffee situation in the lighthouse.

this is the apparent coffee station in the kitchen. little coffee maker, a couple of unlabeled bottles of additives (i assume), and a bunch of cups including these cute little decorated ones that scream ren faire souvenir

oh and also: two giant open baskets of coffee beans underneath the table. (and a sack of Unidentifiable Brown, but let's ignore that for now because i couldn't get any good pictures of it. it's not the same texture, anyway, so i can't confidently say it is More Coffee.)

that's a lot of coffee beans. that is A Lot Of Coffee Beans for eight people, even if they make 3-4 pots a day. at least one of those pots is for lucanis insomnia purposes, a few cups are for neve to boil into a cognitohazard, and the rest of the team might have a cup or two in the morning, but i don't know enough of their coffee habits to say for certain. 3-4 pots is a generous estimate. so what do they have over 20 pounds of coffee beans for? are they using all of those before they go stale in an open basket? lucanis is a coffee snob, i refuse to believe he's buying all of that if he doesn't think they'll use it while it's still fresh.

But okay. benefit of the doubt here. maybe they've got some stay-fresh ziploc magic on it, and that's a month's supply for a greater amount of coffee per day than my estimates.

but wait. in the pantry. what's that?

oh my god it's an even bigger basket of coffee beans. what are you doing with 50 pounds of coffee beans. you are NOT using all that, this is more coffee than a party of 8 could even try to consume before it went stale in, again, an OPEN CONTAINER. i don't even want to consider whether those sacks next to it might have more, there's no way they could possibly have...

two more. giant baskets. of coffee beans.

there are more baskets of coffee beans in the lighthouse than vegetables. the lighthouse is constantly out of onions because the guy in charge of the shopping spends half the grocery budget on coffee beans. lucanis drinks 6 pots a day and his blood-to-caffeine ratio is 50-50. no wonder spite can smell colors.

[smutoperator]

Taming The Tiger

Kim Chaehyun x Male Reader

Tags: all things tits, ball sucking, begging, choking, creampie, degrading, dominant man, facefucking, mounting, multiple orgasms, nipple pinching, pantyless, parking lot quickie, pearly gates, public sex, ripping clothes, rough sex, screaming, sexting, slapping, tit fucking, tit groping, tit sucking

Word count: 4492.

It had been a while since you gathered on a Friday in front of the KBS building to see the idols headed to Music Bank. As Kep1er were having a comeback, their last as 9 members, they got the most attention, especially a red-haired white tiger flaunting the massive assets on her chest.

Chaehyun smiled when she saw you. It had been nearly 9 months since you two crossed paths. She knew she had to act quickly and seize the opportunity. So, a few minutes later, your phone rang with a special notification.

"Wanna have fun with those tonight?" Chaehyun sent the message asking you, with two topless pics attached, one with her hands covering her big boobs and another with them fully on display. "Meet me at the parking lot after the show," you replied to her. "Sure," she said.

The hours passed by, and your anxiety only grew. You were very horny for that big-boobed little white tiger. You decided to take some coffee to not fall asleep and remained preserverant, waiting for Chaehyun.

Chaehyun finally arrived at your car, parked right at the KBS building parking lot exit. The windows were opened, but you weren't there. Maybe this wasn't meant to be the day. But she was about to get a surprise.

Seeing Chaehyun already at your car, you dropped the cup of coffee in your hand and slowly approached it, being careful for her not to spot you. Emerging from the same door as Chaehyun, you grabbed her from behind, right at their most coveted spot.

"Missed me?" she asked you, your left hand already on her boobs while your right hand covered her mouth. "Shhhhh," you told her. Although you had parked your car in a very private area of the parking lot, you didn't want to raise any concerns about getting spotted because you knew Chaehyun could be a very loud screamer if she wanted to.

"Shut the fuck up; I'm gonna take that pussy right here, ok?" you asked her. "Hmm hmmm," Chaehyun nodded as your hand covered her mouth. "Don't scream," you ordered her as you pulled her jeans down, satisfied with what you saw.

"You really came in prepared," you told her. "No panties whatsoever," you continued, spanking her ass and making her giggle. "Hmm, your butt isn't as big as Hikaru's or Yeseo's, but it's quite slappable," you told Chaehyun shortly after, giving her another spank.

You covered Chaehyun's mouth again and started running your hands over her already wet pussy. "Today you're going to do what I told you," you said. "Yes, baby," she said, but you couldn't hear much with her mouth covered.

Just a little massage in her pussy and you were good to go, taking your belt off as Chaehyun placed her right leg through the car's back window. "I'm gonna use this fucking pussy like a fleshlight," you told her, already sticking the tip of your cock inside it. Chaehyun moaned a bit as she covered her mouth with her arms this time not to make much noise.

Chaehyun gave you a big smile as you stuck your cock deeper inside her, letting out a louder moan shortly after. "Shhhhh, I told you not to be loud," you said. She gave you an apologetic stare, moaning silently this time. "This tight little fuckhole is perfect to get used," you told her as you started thrusting in and out of her pussy. She rested her head on the car's column, muffling her moans as best as she could, but not without a couple screams in between when you managed to hit her more sensitive spots.

"Oh My God, hmmmm," Chaehyun moaned and giggled as you found the rhythm to take on her tight pussy. Her out-of-breath moans were quite hot, and you praised her efforts to not let any sneaky stranger ruin your parking lot quickie with her. "Have you ever had the fantasy of having your pussy stretched out at the garage of a building?" you asked her. "No, but it feels so good, ahhh," she replied.

"AHHH. AHHHH. AHHHH. OHHHH. OHHHH. OHHHH." Chaehyun tried to contain her screams, but that didn't last long. It was in her natural instincts, and your cock was just too good for the little tiger. You had to pull out and massage her pussy a bit, but that only made her get louder, forcing you to place your hand in her mouth.

"Calm down with the screaming; I don't want KBS staff to see us," you told her, punishing Chaehyun for being a screaming whore as you now gave fast-paced pumps into her cunt. Her urge to scream was higher than ever, but your hands were there this time to prevent her from doing so. But even with them covering her mouth, she was still loud enough for her pleasurable moanings to be well heard.

It had been a few minutes, and you had yet to touch Chaehyun's most coveted assets. But you quickly fixed this, ripping her top apart and unveiling her bare milk trucks. "Oh yeah, OHHHHH," Chaehyun couldn't contain herself as you quickly groped her tits while still pumping her pussy hard. Her nipples were your preferred spot, as you soon find your rhythm to massage and pinch them at will.

"Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, AHHHH, AHHH," Chaehyun moans got louder as your hard thrusts meant her boobs were getting smashed against the car's column. Without pulling you, you took her right leg away from the car's back window, shoving her face down it instead. "If you're gonna be a screming bitch, better do it inside," you told her.

Chaehyun giggled as her boobs rested right against the cold surface of your car's backdoor. "There you go," you said as you pushed her body from the waist up inside the vehicle. "Oh my God," she said, and more prayers followed as you pounded her from behind nonstop while your hands gave her breasts the much-needed massage they deserved.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck, fuck," Chaehyun said as you keep fucking her. "Get on your knees," you said, pulling her from the window as she obliged and went directly to suck your dick. You quickly tied her hands behind her back and started plowing her face. Chaehyun had to open her mouth to the fullest, as your cock was too thick for her little mouth, making her widen it and stick her tongue out.

"Bet you learned that stuff in your trips to Japan, cause you look like a human onahole." You paid attention to Chaehyun's tongue, not missing the opportunity to degrade her. "But now you're gonna show me what you really are: a human cow," you continued.

Chaehyun got the message as she pushed her saggy boobs up for you to stick your cock in between them. You titfucked Chaehyun much faster than you fucked her pussy, making her let out even more out-of-breath moans. "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah," Chaehyun reacted every time your throbbing tip emerged out of her massive honkers, spitting on it and licking it a few times. 

"You're having too much fun for my liking," you tell her, grabbing Chaehyun by her neck and pinning her against the car, going back inside her pussy. This time, you have no concerns about her screaming. As a matter of fact, the louder the better. 

"AHHHHH FUCKKKKK, OHHHHH SHITTTT, OH MY GOD, AHHHHHH, YESSSS," Chaehyun screams as you fuck her like a toy, ducking your head down to such her tits simultaneously to all the pounding you give her. "USE MY FUCKING PUSSY, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she continues to yell, enjoying being stretched out like a fleshlight as her smile gets brighter than ever.

"AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH," Chaehyun moans and giggles as she creams all over your cock. "Now, let's go home," you tell her. It felt like much more, but you guys fucked for a little under 10 minutes in the parking lot.

Running vroom vroom vroom like a supersonic and racing around the streets of Seoul like you were in a grand prix, you quickly reached your home. Your cock is still throbbing as Chaehyun jerked it off all the way through it like her personal gearshift. As soon as you get to your room, you shove Chaehyun's tiny body right in your spatious bed, topping her and giving her multiple kisses in her mouth and tits.

Chaehyun's big boobs get the most of your attention as you place your head between them and grope them hard while kissing her nipples. Soon, you start acting like a baby sucking his mother dry as you plunge your mouth into her areolas, wondering how big they would look with her pregnant and lactating.

"Ahhh, yes." Chaehyun loves the attention you give to her big tits, giggling every time you touch them. "Hmmm, so you like that, little tiger?" you rhetorically ask her as you now slap her fun bags and then rip apart the remnants of her top, surprising her with a hard dive straight into her left breast.

You then strip yourself naked and go back inside her pussy, placing Chaehyun's legs over her head. Her tight cunt means you have to spit on it a couple times to get in, but once you do, you ravage it, paying extra attention to reach into her boobs and grope one as you let the other freely bounce with the impact of your thrusts deep inside her.

Chaehyun prays to God once more, but he won't listen to her. Her nipples are now getting pinched hard as you can't stop pounding her. "Yes, yes, yes," she screams. "Shut up, bitch," you punch back, slapping her face. She reacts laughing at you, making you go feral and choke her again, showing who the real boss is, increasing the pace you pump her pussy and enjoying how hard her tits bounce as you do so.

But Chaehyun is a cute little slut and loves getting choked, reaching down her pussy as she starts fingering her clit, leading to her insides tightening around your shaft. "Oh my God, I fucking love it, oh yes," she says as you go back to pinch her nipples before getting even rougher and pinning her thighs against her body. 

"OH, OH, OH, OH," Chaehyun gives short but repeated moans as you continue to fuck her pussy. Her boobs bounce and are now hitting her thighs as her legs are fully open in the air. "OH, YES, YES, YES, FUCKKKK, GOSH," she yells as you attack her cunt full speed, slapping her face as she sticks her tongue out in pleasure. More choking and nipple-pinching ensues as you place Chaehyun into a fetal position and destroy her tiny little body with all your might.

"Fuck, that feels so good," Chaehyun says as you stimulate her tits with more sucking in between your hard thrusts. "AH, AH, AH, AH, AH, FUCK, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING," she announces loudly as your breast stimulation proves too much for her to handle and she fills your bedsheets full of juices.

"Shhhh," you keep telling Chaehyun to be silent, as that slut is so fucking loud the neighbors are probably hearing everything of your fuck session right now. But your pleading has been futile, so you decide to take it by yourself, shoving your cock straight into her mouth and hammering her face nonstop. Chaehyun doesn't mind it, as she loves tasting her juices from your cock as you fuck her face. "Open your fucking throat, bitch," you tell her, who instead tightens it as if you're fucking her second pussy, forcing you to stretch it out even further.

You turn Chaehyun's little body into your playground: cock in her mouth, tongue in her tits, hands in her pussy—every inch of this slutty little tiger is getting stimulated now. You go all the way down and give Chaehyun a very dominating 69, eating her folds as your cock destroys her tiny mouth.

The hours of dancing and recording seem to have tired Chaehyun a bit, but you aren't going to give her any rest, immediately placing her on all fours and putting your cock back in her pussy. "OH YES, AHHHH, OH MY GOD," Chaehyun scremas as you pump her hard from behind. She looks so good being a submissive little slut. 

"Fuck, abuse my pussy," Chaehyun says as she can't even stand straight, her boobs now smashing against the bedsheets. "I like when you're in control; I do," she tells you as you tie her arms behind her back. "Hmmm, you do? I guess I can do this then," you tell her.

Seizing the opportunity, you mount on top of Chaehyun. The little tiger is now getting fucked like a cow by your raging bull, her little pussy getting pounded balls deep by your thick cock. "Oh, fuck," she screams, quickly regretting her words as you tame her.

"OH MY GOD!" Chaehyun screams, clinging to the pillow as you show no mercy towards her pussy. Fast, hard, and deep, you destroy her cunt full throttle while grabbing her neck. "OH SHIT, AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH," Chaehyun yells as she is turned into a little submissive fucktoy.

"Oh yeahhhh," you groan as you massacre Chaehyun's pussy. She can't even get on her knees anymore, you pressing her little body into the bed sheets in full force. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD," she begs, but the more she does, the harder you fuck her. Chaehyun gets prone-boned to oblivion while you massage her ass, as you apply to her the same position you tested on Hikaru and Yeseo's fat butts a couple months ago in Japan.

"OH FUCK ME, YES, FUCK ME," Chaehyun turns into a screaming machine. The pace you fuck her is unmatched by any of her previous partners. You use her with no regard for her little body; she's just there to get fucked until you cum, and you still have a long way to go.

Chaehyun is on the verge of tapping out as she rolls her eyes. You sniff her neck as you finally get fully on top of her body and trap her completely. "This is what you get for sending me those pics early this morning, you fucking slut," you tell her, your cock still buried deep in her pussy.

But truth be told, Chaehyun loves to be treated rough like that. Even after so much pounding, she lets out that beautiful, bright smile in full display for you to see, even as you continue to fuck her like an animal. "You scream so loud the entire neighborhood will call the cops on us," you tell her. "Well, let them do it," she says.

After a few deep thrusts that make Chaehyun cum again, you give her a little break, but this time, she wants none of it, with you having to demand she not ride you yet. "Suck my cock first," you tell her. Chaehyun is happy to oblige as she takes it deep in her throat and bubbles all over it. "Damn, that's really good; you've improved a lot; I guess Yujin was a really good teacher," you tell her as she gargles on your dick and slaps it against her tongue and then massages your balls before going down to lick them.

"Such a fucking whore," you tell her as she laughs with her mouth full of your balls, finding her favorite spot, savoring them to the fullest as she jerks your cock off. "Hmmm, hmmmm," Chaehyun enjoys your ballsack to the fullest as she moans with her mouth buried deep on them.

"Get on top of me," you tell Chaehyun as you slap her butt, thinking she's having too much fun with your balls and wanting to exert your control back into her. Chaehyun takes no time fully impaling herself, ready for the ride of her life. But she was in for another surprise.

As soon as Chaehyun fully sits on your dick, you stretch your arms to grope her tits and start thrusting up her pussy, giving her no time to answer, quickly crushing any hopes of Chaehyun to be a girl on top. Even though she was on top of your body, you were still fully in control, mercissely pushing up against her cunt and hitting her cervix faster than a car crashing in a high-speed oval.

"Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes," Chaehyun quickly surrenders into moans as you pump her up. Her asshole starts to gape as your balls go so far up they hit them nonstop. Your cock is like a piston, making Chaehyun's engine combust as you thrust into her faster than ever and hit the valves in her cervix, making her scream.

Chaehyun is just a roaring moaning mess at this point, as you use your fingers to apply extra pressure on her tits while they bounce hard. "OH, YESSS," she screams as you slap her boobs once again. "OH MY GOD, I'M GONNA CUM AGAIN," she says, which only makes you go even harder. Her pussy getting pumped, her tits getting slapped and groped, her neck getting choked. Chaehyun quickly starts falling down from her straightened position, right into your lap as she cums and gets increasingly clingy to you.

"Stretch that hole, use all of it," Chaehyun begs, getting out-of-breath as your cock keeps pumping her without rest. Your balls clap hard against her cheeks, and she loves it. "YESSS, YESSSS, YESSS," she screams as you choke her. You finally let her set the pace a bit as even you get a little tired of such rough and high-intensity fucking, grabbing her tits for some playing as you suck them again.

Despite all the pounding she's been taking so far, Chaehyun is restless and rides your cock quite well. I guess after a while you just get used to it, as she goes fast and hard as well, keeping the pace you had set while you enjoy her boobs like a baby.

"Let me see them bounce," you tell her, giving Chaehyun yet another slap as she straightens herself back up and gives you an amazing jiggling show to watch as she sits on your cock. But you quickly want to take control, pumping Chaehyun up again as she has to use all her forces to not fall down, making it even harder when you grab both her tits and go back to pinch their nipples.

"OH YES YES YES YES, AHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHH, OH FUCK, MAKE ME CUM," Chaehyun screams as she is back to being your fucktoy. Without even pulling out, you push your body close to hers, grabbing what is still left of her ripped-up top to bring her further close to you as you keep pounding her pussy.

You stop a bit to give Chaehyun a few kisses. She may be the perfect sex toy to use, but she's also a cute, clingy, girlfriend-esque girl that you love so much. And that's why you fuck her to the best of your capabilities, because you truly love her more than anyone else. At least for that night, because truth be told, you say that to every idol you have sex with, and you fuck a lot of them.

You push Chaehyun's body sideways and start treating her as an experiment for some crazy sex positions. "Holy fuck," she says, as you do that without ever leaving her pussy. She loves the way you know how to fuck, and to be frank, you really have a thing for short girls with big tits, as you always seem to fuck them the best.

Chaehyun was more excited than ever, giving you lovely smiles as you pounded her sideways. "You're so good, you're so good, fuck, yes," she kept saying as you had your mouth fully attached to her left boob, trying to milk it dry. "Fuck me, fuck me, I'll be a good girl; do everything you say, ohhhh fuck," Chaehyun kept saying, and you loved how submissive she had turned the longer the fucking went on.

"I want to try a new position on you; turn around and lay on top of me," you tell Chaehyun, who gets excited. You knew you had to do it. When you fucked Eunbi a couple months ago, this was your favorite position, meaning you had to try it on a ripe, young titcow as well, and especially because Chaehyun had the perfect combo for it: a similar body to mother Eunbi while having the face that resembled another of your favorite fucktoys in Irene.

"Oh shit," Chaehyun says as she does it, and you immediately place your hands in her clit. She's about to learn why the pearly gates position is so heavenly, as you then move up to grope her tits. You hit her hard and deep, and within seconds she's in heaven. "Ohhhhh my Godddd," she says, lowering her head and enjoying the ride you're giving her, especially with the great massage you now give her tits. 

"Oh God, that fucking feels so fucking good," Chaehyun says, cursing twice on the same sentence. You know her cunt is throbbing and adds further stimulation with your left hand running all over her clit now, while the right hand stays on her tits. Chaehyun starts laughing, but the stimulation is so overwhelming she quickly has to stop, as you know, pump her fast and finger her clit with fury.

"AHHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Chaehyun squeals, and her voice finally cracks. Even the great vocalists succumb to the power of the pearly gates as your cock and hands all over her cunt make Chaehyun unleash her hardest orgasm yet. "OH MY GOD, YES PLEASE, YES, YES YES," she screams, grinning her teeth as her entire body shakes in orgasm. "OH, I'M CUMMING," she yells again, but her hardened nipples already can tell you.

Chaehyun enjoys her orgasm, as you can't stop fingering her clit. "My fucking legs are shaking so hard; I've never felt so good,"  she says, completely blown away by the position you just taught her. "AHHHH, I'M SO HORNY, YESSSS," she screams as her juices cover your crotch and leak out of her cunt. "Holy shit, why did no one teach me this position before?" she says.

Chaehyun could barely breathe, but you kept fucking her regardless, fingering her clit even harder as you searched for yet another orgasm. Her big tits looked better than ever right on top of you. "Oh wow, oh wow," she moaned, her saggy boobs wanting to detach from her body at any moment with how hard they bounced. "Holy fuck," she said as she came again in the same position.

You quickly pushed Chaehyun to the side of the bed, closing her legs and giving no break to her as you went back into working in her pussy. She gave you begging stares, wishing for this night to never end and for her to be forever your fucktoy. You dove your head right into her tits to do what you do best: suck them. Chaehyun was so horny that every thrust you gave her now put her on the verge of orgasming. You used her tits as your playground, one for your mouth, the other for your hands, all that while never stopping the pounding.

Chaehyun groaned as you massaged her nipples. "Fuck, yes, this is the best sex I've ever had in my life," she said, giving you another big smile that quickly got replaced by more moans. "I fucking love the way you fuck me," she said, rolling her eyes once again in pleasure.

You gave another break to Chaehyun in your high-paced fucking to worship her already sore pussy, preparing it for the final round. She loved the way you ate her wet folds, enjoying every second of it. "Oh my God, keep licking my clit like this," she said, giggling as your mouth made sounds all over her puddling cunt.

Chaehyun grabbed her tits as she closed her eyes and rested her head on the bed. You moved your mouth sideways all over her folds, getting her close again. "OH FUCK, HMMMM, YESSSS, AHHHH," she screamed again as you just finished, giving her pussy a little kiss followed by a hard slap.

Back inside it you went, with your hands instantly placed in her boobs, as you pressed them against each other, making Chaehyun laugh again. "Ohhhh fuck," Chaehyun said as you pounded her pussy like crazy for one last time, putting one of her legs all the way up in the air. "Holy shit, fuck me, yesss, ahhhh," she said.

"I'm gonna fuck you until I cum," you whispered to Chaehyun as you choked her again, giving her more kisses and then slapping her tits. "Oh, please, do it," she said. "Give me your cum," she continued as your balls slapped hard against her hips and you pinned her to the bed. "OHHHH, OHHHH, OHHHH, OHHHH," she moaned.

"Please, yes, I want your cum. I do; I want your cum so bad; give me all of it," Chaehyun begged hard for your load. "I want all of it, please, cum for me, cum for me," she continued. The more you fucked her, the harder she wanted it.

"YES, YES, GIVE ME YOUR CUM, PLEASE, PLEASE," just as she screamed it, you granted her wish. Beggars can't be choosers, and she didn't say where she wanted it, so you just filled her pussy to the brim. Having so much to give, you managed to pull out and paint her crotch white with some extra loads. 

"Holy shit, you gave me all of it, such a big load." Chaehyun got impressed as you turned her into your cum dump, giggling as she said afterwards, "Hope this is good to get me pregnant."

"That was fun," Chaehyun said as she kissed you. "Now I need to take a shower." Wanna join?" she asked you, heading towards the bathroom. You waited a bit as Chaehyun was already turning the shower on. "Come here," she said. 

Chaehyun started to shower herself, but although most of the sex fluids were at the bottom, she was paying more attention to her tits, pouring water on them as she teased you, until a sudden tingle hit her as a thick foreign object penetrated her anus.

"Don't fool me, you want a second round, you fucking little tiger, or should I say, little titcow," you told her.

"Yes, please, destroy my ass in the shower while you make those beautiful big tits bounce," Chaehyun demanded.

At this moment, you knew you had just begun to taming the tiger. This was going to be a really long night.

"Sure," you answered her. On the next day, Chaehyun was thankful for painkillers existing because you fucked her so hard she couldn't even walk.

[zvdvdlvr]

— Morning Smoke

💜 — Synopsis. You knew you had a thing for the one person who had a clear distaste towards you. But maybe having a wet dream about him- while sleeping in the same room as him- was probably a good thing.

💜 — Warnings. Rushed writing. Unedited. Dry humping. Clothed grinding. Reader and Spencer smoke cigarettes.

One year, eleven months, and six days. Thats how long you’d been working for the BAU catching serial killers, bombers, and rapists by observing every detail if their crime. You’re a valuable asset to the team, your brain working on the same page as the rest of the team with just a different design. 

During your time at the BAU, you recieved many titles. Caffeine fiend(Aaron), best friend(Penny), mama (Derek), and idiot- affectionately- (Emily). The only person that hadn’t called you anything other than your first or last name, or agent was Spencer Reid.

There was a barrier between the two of you- unspoken, of course, but there was just some kind of wall seperating you from him. You didn’t blame Spencer for keeping you at at arm’s length: you were just some new agent who would eventually transfer. Admittedly, it hurt when Spencer politely uninvited himself from the activities you went along with. And it felt like a gut punch when Spencer chose the farthest seat from you on the jet and chose to move away from you while giving profiles to the police. But you figured he had his reasons.

“Y/n,” Emily murmured, nudging your arm. You looked up, bleary eyes focussing on the dark haired woman in front of you. You blinked.

“What’s- hey!” You cried out indignantly as Emily snatched the cold cup if coffee you had started to reach for. “Emily.”

“It’s time to go back to the hotel. Hotch’s orders,” the dark haired woman said, nodding to the team behind you.

You nodded. “Okay.” You stood up and hastily tucked papers into the manilla folder you were working on. “I’m ready.”

“Put those files down, y/n,” Hotch commanded, raising a tired eyebrow in your direction. “If I’m tired, you have to be a dead woman walking.”

You put the file down and pulled your coat on without protest. You’d only actually seen Hotch exhausted a handful of times. And Hotch was right: you did feel like you were about to fall over. Maybe having an iron deficiency and drinking coffee off an empty stomach wasn’t a very pleasant experience…

The ride to the hotel was over in a blink of an eye- a really ling blink apparently. You hadn’t even known you had reached the hotel until the inevitable and only boy genius Spencer Reid shook your shoulder gently to wake you up. Truly, you thought you were dreaming when you opened your eyes and Spencer’s face surrounded by a mat of curly hair greated you. His furrowd eyebrows relaxed when you looked around.

“Let’s go, l/n. You’re rooming with me,” Spencer told you after locking the car.

If you were in the right state of mind, you probably would have bent over giggling from the way Spencer put his arm around you as he led you into the building. But you weren’t so you just rested your head in the juncture if his shoulder and neck. He smelled good for someone who’d been awake for God knows how long. If you concentrated you thought you could feel the heat of his palm around you, moving in teeny tiny circles.

By the time you reached the bedroom you were practically unconscious in Spencer’s arms, yours and his go-bag around Spencer’s other arm. Spencer gently set you down on the bed closest to the door and put your go-bag in the bed beside you. “You should probably get changed, but I know how tired you are. I’ll shower tonight so you can shower tomorrow,” he explained, brushing a baby hair out of your line of sight. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, Spence,” you mumbled, eyes caught in the way Spencer’s lips moved and twitched. He was an expressive man when he was tired, and you caught the rare smile that graced his lips.

You hoped you would remember the blush on his cheekbones that matched the color of his lips when you woke up the next morning.

Birds chirped. The bright sun shone through the blinds of your home, patterning your room with strips of orangey-yellow. You turned over and saw him.

“Hey, you,” Spencer greeted. His hand came to rest gently on your cheek and pull you up to his pink lips. Your leg fluidly moved to straddle Spencer’s right leg.

Breathlessly you muttered a “good morning” before your hand tangled in Spencer’s curly hair, tugging his head down to meet your desperate kisses.

Spencer moved his thigh up to rub harshly on your core. You gasped sharply and ground down to meet Spencer’s thigh. “Oh fuck,” you whispered, watching Spencer’s back arch as you palmed the massive tent in his pants.

A strangled cry left your lips when Spencer’s massive hands fell onto your hips and controlled your movements. “That’s my girl,” Spencer growled, your hands feeling up Spencer’s chest and tracing the curves and lines of his neck. As your orgasm approached, your hands grasped Spencer’s face and harshly pulled him into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

“Y/n,” Spencer murmured, voice low.

“Fuck,” you cursed. “Jus’ like that,” you slurred.

“Y/n,” Spencer repeated, one hand sliding up to your shoulder.

Your jaw clenched and your hips jerked violently.

“Y/n.”

You shot up in bed, sweat soaking your forhead and hair. You looked around wildly, chest heaving. 

In front of you sat Spencer Walter Reid, eyes beady with sleep. “Are you okay? You sounded like you were having a nightmare-?”

“Fuck, fuck,” you whispered, running a hand through your hair. “I’m- yeah I’m alright. I just-“ you exhaled. “Go back to bed, Reid, I’m alright.”

“A-Are you sure?”

You wanted to groan. The ruins of a spoiled orgasm simmered away in your blood. “Yes. I just- Yeah it was a nightmare. I’m gonna- go get ready.”

“L/n, it is 4 o’clock in the morning.”

You thanked the dark lighting for concealing the dark patch of your pants due to your arousal. “It’s- Please go back to bed.”

“Talk to me,” Spencer pleaded, grabbing your hand.

“It’s nothing, Reid. There’s nothing to talk about. Go to bed.”

“It’s a proven fact that people who discuss their nightmares with someone increase their happiness and healing process by more than 50%,” Spencer rushed.

“Reid it’s embarrassing. I can’t-“ you shook your head. “I’ll- please, Reid.”

The moonlight glinted in his eyes as he searched you for answers he knew you wouldn’t give him. “Are you- y/n. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Your jaw tightened and you looked away. Your thighs burned- you must have been humping the blanket between your thighs. “Reid, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

You threw your hands up. “I know you don’t like me, Reid. It’s kind of obvious, so I’m just saying that you don’t need to have a therapy session because we’re rooming together.”

Spencer genuinely looked offended. “I don’t hate you,” he murmured. “I never have.”

You scoffed and stood up, dream completely forgotten. “Could have fooled me, Reid. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You left Spencer on your bed, bringing your go-bag to the tiny bathroom.

— 💜

After scrubbing you skin raw you finally exited the shower and pulled your hair into a braided updo before pulling on some clean clothes.

The sky was still dark when you exited the hotel, cigarette box in hand.

You sat in the ground, smart enough to know not to willingly wander too far outside of the vicinity of the rest of the team while at an unfamiliar location. “Goddamnit,” you murmured, lighting up a cigarette and watching the sun start to stain the concrete.

Visions of dead bodies filled your mind. Empty coffee cups getting tossed into a trash can, bloodstained hands as you ushered a victim away from the unsub, the ringing in your ears after an SUV blew up near you. When you joined the BAU you hadn’t known that every day you looked into the eyes of those possessed by evil, you would lose a part of your soul trying to save each and every person you saw.

But the team had it’s pros. A group of people you mostly called family, good pay, paid sick leave, mostly free flights, a badass title, and introduction to some very fine specimens (read: Spencer Walter Reid).

Speaking of Spencer, you were thinking of the conversation you both had. ‘I don’t hate you. I never have’. You snorted and lit another cigarette, holding the smoke in your lungs until familiar white spots danced in your vision.

“Y/n.”

You looked up. Spencer stood near you, hands fidgeting. You could see his eyes avoiding yours and suddenly you felt like laughing. After all of this time thinking one of the hottest people you’d ever met hated you, he was standing- nervous- in front of you. “Yeah?”

Spencer sat beside you. “Didn’t know you smoked,” he tried, looking towards the rising sun.

“You refused to make comversation with me for about a month when I started,” you said lowly. When Spencer sighed beside you, you added “I don’t normally. Just when… things happen.”

Spencer nodded. “Oh.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you exhaled. You offered the cigarette to Spencer, raising an eyebrow when he accepted.

“I want to talk to you,” Soencer said finally, snuffing out the cigarette.

You lit another one. “So talk.”

“Well, I… I’m sorry.”

When Spencer didn’t say anything for another few seconds, you turned to him. “Is that all?”

Spencer dropped his head into his hands. “Look, I knew I was keeping you at arm’s length. I thought… I thought keeping you away would make sure that I didn’t…” Spencer sighed.

“Reid, I need tou to really spell it out for me. I can’t keep dancing around your riddles,” you said, facing the sun.

“I love you, y/n. I thought that if I didn’t talk to you, let these feelings grow… Maybe I could harbor my attraction to you.” 

You felt your heart skip in your chest.  “You didn’t consider telling me this? What if I felt the same?”

Spencer looked at you, a confused look in his eyes. “You didn’t like me like that and I couldn’t force you to love me too. You’re way too good for me anyway.”

“I do,” you reply, nodding. “And I’m not too good for you, Spencer. If anything, you should find better than me.”

Prolonged eye contact and silence fell over the both of you.

“Ask me now, Spencer. Make up for lost time.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Spencer lips at your request. “Do you like me like I like you, y/n?”

You nodded, mirroring Spencer’s smile. “I do like you the way you like me, Spencer.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Spencer asked immediately, eyes dropping to your lips.

You closed the distance between the two of you, hand sliding up the nape of Spencer’s neck to tangle in his curls. Spencer’s lips were skilled, leaving you wanting more as he pulled away.

“So, about that dream I had earlier,” you started.

A sly smirk replaced the smile on Spencer’s face. “I knew what you were dreaming about, I just couldn’t stand listen to you knowing how weird it would be for me to face you at work the next morning.”

You felt your face warm up at Spencer’s words. “Oh. Well. Sorry for waking you up, then.”

Spencer just shrugged. “I’m not- you sound very nice. I guess I will admit the fact that I told you about talking about your dreams was completely false. I just wanted to pry.”

You shook your head with laughter, the sun peeking up even further in the sky.

[reiding-writing]

Hi 💜 can i pretty please request a fem!Reader where she looks younger than she actually is and people are often condescending to her but bf spence always has our back

(under)qualified [ s.r ]

WARNINGS: fem!reader, ageism, dick of a character that i made up, reader gets angry

spencer reid x cold!reader | hurt/comfort? | 2.1k |

series masterlist!!

a/n: so i unintentionally self projected on this and it ended up as an unintentional sequel to my cold!reader fic sorry 😭🫶

main masterlist!!

“Yes I understand that but if you’d just let me-“ Your attempt is immediately shut down by the man in front of you raising his hand like you’re a child who’s spoken out of turn.

You’d been trying for almost forty five minutes to reason with him, but every single thing that you said was dismissed like you were asking him for cookies after bed time instead of putting your two cents forward as a qualified psychologist on the mental state that the unsub you were tracking down was likely to be in.

“If you want to be useful, why don’t you go and make me a coffee? You can do that can’t you?” The look he gave you made you want to tear out your eyes so you couldn’t see him anymore and then force them down his mouth so you didn’t have to hear him anymore.

You swallow your pride with a clench of your fists, exhaling slowly through your nose. “…Yes Sir,”

“Splenda and skim,”

If he weren’t your superior you’d shove his splenda right up his asshole and watch it leak down his legs like a five year old who wets the bed.

You stuff the urge to slam the door on your exit into the back of your head, although you’re sure you are basically steaming from the ears by the time you reach the coffee machine.

You may well have been physically steaming from the ears if the looks from your teammates had anything to say about it.

“Something tells me she’s not getting along with Dr. Lancaster too well-“ Morgan’s assessment was met with agreement from Emily and a concerned glance in your direction from Spencer.

“Does anyone get along with him? Even Hotch can’t stand the guy,” Emily’s eyes turn towards where he stands in the conference room. “I still don’t get why he’s even here,”

“Strauss thinks he’s a valuable asset to the team-“ Spencer speaks as he stands, eyes still locked on your back as he leaves Morgan and Emily at the desk to make sure that you’re alright.

“Hey,” You look like your about to rip him to shreds as you turn towards him, although the minute you realise that it’s just Spencer and not the pain up your ass that is Dr. Lancaster your expression softens tenfold. “Are you- uh- Are you okay?”

That split second of venom in your facial features seems to knock the wind out of Spencer’s sails, and he’s increasingly glad that he’s not the one on the end of your rage.

“Oh i’m just grand,” You tone is dripping with sarcasm, and he watches as you unscrew one of the salt shakers and scoop a half teaspoon into the mug in front of you.

“Uh-” He has half the mind to question your actions, but the contempt that returns to your eyes as you turn them down to the coffee in front of you tells him that it’s most likely for the Doctor still in the conference room, and considering you were practically burning holes in everything you saw when you left the room yourself, he figured that this was you playing nice.

“You’d think that nobody under the age of fifty is allowed to have a PhD I swear-“ You don’t need any prompting to start spilling all of your anger for Spencer to hear.

“‘You’re too young to have a PhD’ he says, ‘go and make me a coffee’, oh I’ll make you a cup of coffee alright, and hopefully it’ll rot your intestines as you drink it,” You’re just rambling to yourself at this point, and Spencer purses his lips into a line as he listens to you, unsure whether to interject or just let you rant. “I’m a qualified psychologist for god’s sake, not a fucking coffee runner.”

He definitely knows how it feels to have your intelligence questioned because of your age, but in your case you weren’t even exceptionally young for your education, even if you looked a few years younger than you actually were.

You were 23 when you got your PhD. Which yes was a few years younger than the average person, didn’t make you any less qualified than someone like Dr. Lancaster who’d had his PhD for over two decades.

If anything it probably made you more qualified. Social sciences like Psychology changed all the time, and someone who was stuck in the mindset of what it was like twenty years ago would probably overlook things younger specialists would see immediately.

He guessed that was probably what was happening with you and Dr. Lancaster back in the conference room.

“Would you like me to speak with him?” Spencer’s tone carries nothing but sweetness, as well as a slight hesitation in the possibility of increasing your frustration rather than helping you quell it.

“It’s fine Reid, I’ve got it.” You tone is notably filled with much lest resentment as you turn down his offer, but he can still hear the lingering frustration in your words. He trails behind you regardless, following as you re-enter the conference room with the coffee mug held in your hand and a feigned smile on your face.

He’s sure you can handle yourself, he’s just there for backup. Just in case.

“There you are, I was starting to think you couldn’t even find your way to the coffee machine,” You force yourself to bite your tongue and just give him the coffee before retreating to the opposite side of the conference room to watch him drink it, ensuring a quick escape if he doesn’t take kindly to the salty beverage.

You could see the instant shift in his facial expression as he took the first sip, his eyes immediately turning towards you and Spencer with a disgusted look on his face. “You call this coffee? It’s disgusting.” He discards the cup on the table, glaring daggers into your forehead.

“Guess I’m not qualified enough to make it,” You shrug with an overly nonchalant expression. “You know what they say, you want something done right you gotta do it yourself,”

“You little-” Dr. Lancaster was the one steaming from the ears now, and Spencer had to step in to stop the two of you getting into a full blown argument.

“You know studies have shown that if you view something pessimistically before you experience it, you’re more likely come out with a negative opinion afterwards,” Spencer’s sentence accuses the doctor of mentally disregarding the coffee because of his distaste for you rather than the fact that you put half a teaspoon of salt in the drink.

You have to suppress a small smile at his interjection. Spencer Reid. Helping you get away with purposefully tampering with a superior’s cup of coffee because you were petty over his condescension. Who would’ve thought.

You can see Dr. Lancaster open his mouth to retort, but Spencer doesn’t give him the chance. “Is this the psychological profile you’re working on? There’s still a lot of gaps in it,”

Spencer reads the board with a raised eyebrow. Some of what’s written makes absolutely zero sense and he’s beginning to wonder whether Dr. Lancaster was even a ‘doctor’ at all. Although it was at least much easier to read than when you’d scrawl out your own profiles. But he’d leave that part out when talking to you about this later.

“You’ve ruled out the possibility of deluded fantasies as part of the MO?” That was the oddest part to Spencer. The unsub showed a clear repetitive pattern in how he’d kill his victims, making the idea of delusion the literal first thing to look into as part of their psychology. He glanced at you as you spoke and you gave him a shrug of your shoulders and a shake of your head that told him exactly how frustrating the last hour of your life had been.

“Are you questioning my decisions?” Dr. Lancaster’s voice was just as harsh to Spencer as it was to you, and you had half the mind to pour the rest of the coffee you made him over his head and hope the salt got in his eyes and blinded him.

“Well, I do have my Bachelor’s in Psychology so I feel I have an adequate knowledge on the subject, although I’m sure our psychological expert would be a better person to assess the holes in your profile,” Spencer gestures his head over to you as he speaks, and you can see the anger rise into Dr. Lancaster’s face like one of those baking soda and vinegar volcanoes.

By now your sure your smile at Spencer’s interjections is visible, and your not even sure that you’re trying to hide it anymore.

“How dare you suggest that my methods are inadequate,”

“With all due respect sir, psychology is an ever-changing science, and your… methods are not as effective as they used to be back when you used to work with the BAU twenty years ago,”

“We’re on a time limit here, so either you can work with me, or i’ll make my own profile and pitch it to Hotch separately,” You take a seat on the edge of the conference table and gesture your hands outwards.

Dr. Lancaster looked like he was about to blow a fuse, and if he was any older you’d be convinced he was about to have a heart attack and die right there in the middle of the room from rage.

He looked absolutely astounded at your tag teaming, and you’re sure that the both of you being in your early thirties whilst he was in his late sixties was not helping with the seething anger that was showing all over his face. “You two have some nerve speaking to your superior like this. I will be bringing this up to Chief Strauss, believe me.”

He didn’t give either of you the time to say anything else as he pushed past Spencer to leave the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Talk about immature, you’d think he was a child,” Your final jab is met by a small laugh from Spencer, and you shoot him a small smile of thanks that makes his cheeks heat up.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Spencer gives you that perfectly awkward endearing smile as he retreats to the door of the room and you almost melt at the sight.

He’d really gone out of his way to deal with the asshole plaguing your work to no real benefit of his own. You wouldn’t lie, it was kind of attractive seeing Spencer shut him down like that, but you’d keep that to yourself when you talked about this later.

“Spencer,”

You caught him with the door half open, hand he looked at you with the eyes of a puppy who’d just been praised for spinning in a circle rather than an FBI agent who’d been called his first name by his coworker.

His eyes were big and round and blinking softly at you, his pupils blending into the honey brown of his irises and making his gaze even more puppy dog like.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,”

[kattyysims]

Autumn Core Challenge | The Sims 4

don’t click me

   With my favorite season being fall, I wanted to create a mini cozy challenge to do a let's play with! This "challenge" will take you through an autumn bucket list, and all the cozy aesthetics ~ meant to be played during the rainy fall season (at least where I'm from).

Required Packs: Seasons, Discover University, Spooky Stuff.

Extra Packs: Get to Work, Cats & Dogs, Paranormal Stuff, High School Years, Movie Hangout Stuff, Get Together.

~ Not a must have but required for some objectives.

Aspiration: Best Selling Author

Traits: Bookworm, Creative, and 1 free trait.

Sim Likes: Rain, baking, sweaters, candles, baths, movies, lofi, reading, cafes.

Skills: Baking, writing.

Season: Fall

~ Options Menu > Game Options > Environment > Seasons _ Seasons Length > 28 Days

Mods (Optional): Shorter University Degrees by The Peridot Project.

~ Not required but makes it easier ~ since the normal 12 credits takes up so much time.

Assets: Small cozy home, a cat, a small bakery.

Business: Bakery (Optional)

~ If you'd like an extra challenge, own a bakery on the side!

Education: Major - Communications or Language & Literature, Elective - Baking

Holiday: Spookyfest

~ (Open the seasons calendar, and create a holiday - add Spooky Spirit, Trick or Treat, and Wear Costumes.

   Your sim LOVES to read, write, and bake, she also has a small furry companion. Growing up she always loved reading books which led her to majoring in language and literature, with dreams of one day being a best-selling author. She loves all things fall and cozy, and thrives during the season. But not without conditions, she must drink at least one cup of coffee a day and loves visiting new cafes.

Objectives:

Master the baking skill. (Get to Work)

Graduate with at least a 3.8 GPA. (Discover University)

Own a 4-star bakery. (Get to Work) (Optional)

Publish 3 successful books.

Finish reading 4 books.

Become companions with your cat. (Cats & Dogs)

Drink one cup of coffee a day.

Have a 3 sim friend group.

~~~

Go to a cafe at least once a week. (Get Together)

Host a Spooky Party and get gold reward. (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a pumpkin patch (you can download one from the gallery). (Spooky Stuff)

Carve pumpkins (pumpkin carving station). (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a haunted house. (Next to the ferris wheel in Copperdale ~ High School Years.)

Befriend a ghost.

Play in a pile of leaves. (Seasons)

Watch Sims of the Dead. (Movie Hangout Stuff)

Go to a movie theater.

Stay the night in a haunted house residential. (Paranormal Stuff)

Commune with the departed. (Séance Table) (Paranormal Stuff)

Have a picnic.

Find a partner to go skating with. (Seasons)

Harvest an apple tree.

episode 1

[champagnefountains]

I have a request if they're still open.

Alastor decides to hire Reader as a radio intern. He first did it for entertainment, sending them out to do ridiculously hard and long tasks for his own amusement, like fetching him coffee from the other side of Hell in a super short period of time or proof reading scripts that he purposely made completely illegible to anyone but himself, but had slowly begun to fall for them the longer they stuck around.

ALASTOR - H.H.

Prompt: Being Alastor's radio intern.

Thank you for your request anon! I hope you'll enjoy this one!

Word count: 1.5k+ words. Genre/other tags: Fluff. Humour. Warnings: None.

You were unfortunate to have your soul be owned by the renowned Radio-Demon. Tough luck. You were merely a desperate soul who needed a major favour to be done by yours truly, and are now forever tied and forced to do his bidding. You initially expected a life-time of torture and pain, but was pleasantly surprised when he had requested for you to be his personal radio-intern-slash-assistant.

"Dear Charlie and I have been so, so busy and I just need an extra hand is all...and that's where you come in!" He chimed, pinching your cheek. Alastor explained that he needed someone to assist in managing his radio-broadcasts and schedules while he was out playing hotelier. And just as you thought that you were off the hook, it turns out that this had been his own, little way of torturing you.

Alastor made you do the most ridiculous and tedious tasks ever – like fetching a cup of coffee from a cafe situating on the other side of Hell, or obtain some weird, obscure item from sketchy shops in the most dangerous and chaotic districts in all the Nine Circles, only for it to have little to no significance to him at all. Of course, you did some actual radio-intern-related tasks, but it didn't make things any easier for you. More so than often, Alastor would give you a stack-pile of his broadcast scripts to proof-read. The only problem was that all of it was mostly illegible, almost appearing like chicken scratch. It was then that you knew for certain he was doing this as some sort of sick entertainment for himself, knowing that he had the neatest penmanship amongst the entire team. Oh, and don't even get started with the ridiculous deadlines!

All in all, Alastor was constantly giving you a hard time. However, you were determined to not let him continue to walk all over you. After some time, you were slowly getting used to his strange requests and behaviours, and managed to find ways to work around them. Oh, he wanted his oddly specific order of coffee? You already had it ordered beforehand, and even had the beans supplied to have it readily brewed in the Hotel. He asked for some random-ass antique item? You had already established some connections during your previous commutes, and will have it delivered on the doorstep the next day. You needed to proof-read his scripts? You've learnt to decipher his hieroglyphics and were able to get them done hours before its deadline, whilst also adding in a few of your own critiques and comments.

Already a couple months in the job and you've already got it in the bag. And if he was being honest, Alastor was surprised with your progress. Dare say that he was even impressed! It was like no matter what he had thrown your way, you were able to catch it with ease. Yes, he had to admit: he did initially hire you for his own entertainment – you were his little play-thing when boredom struck – but you had proved yourself as an important asset and massive help towards him and the Hotel. You even went out of your way to help with tasks in the Hotel, such as tending the front desk with Cherri, assisting in the kitchen with Nifty, and even managing some group activities alongside Charlie and Vaggie.

You were incredibly hard-working, selfless and compassionate. Alastor and everyone in the Hotel could see it. It initially ticked Alastor off, seeing that his plans were foiled and were tailored to your favour, but the more you stuck around and spent time with himself and everyone else, he genuinely began enjoying your company. And vice versa. When he wasn't being the overbearing and unreasonable boss that he can be, you actually found yourself having fun in Alastor's presence, now often chuckling at his jokes and schemes.

But that wasn't the only thing that changed.

Alastor came to a stark realisation that he had developed feelings for you. It was a foreign feeling to him, which initially confused him at first but it filled him with such warmth that his cold-heart craved for. He found himself seeking your presence constantly (more than usual, that is), always making an effort to talk to you (again, more than usual), and at times, forcing you to stay in his office while he worked on his scripts, and even have you sit through his broadcasts. Even if it wasn't obvious, Alastor's feelings were overwhelming him with each passing day – he didn't know how to go about it. 

So Alastor resorted to what he does with most things – in straight-forward and curt fashion, of course. 

"S-Sir, you...y-you want me to do what?" You stuttered, a rapid and violent blush suddenly taking over your face. "I said, I want you to go out with me!" Alastor repeated nonchalantly, all the while jokingly tapping a finger on his microphone, "hello, hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing!" You couldn't help but gawk at the deer-demon and his bluntness. He had summoned you to his office out-of-the-blue, requesting your presence urgently in the midst of an activity session you were co-hosting with Vaggie. With the way he went about it, you would've thought that there was some sort of emergency. Not...well, not this.

"...Go out with you? Like...on a walk, or something?" You slowly reiterated, trying to get a grasp on what he was trying to say. Alastor hums to himself, tapping his chin in thought. "Well, if that's what you prefer to do on our date, then I suppose that would be quite swell! We can fit that right in once we've had our dinner," He nods after a brief moment’s contemplation. It nearly sent your eyes popping out of its sockets. "Woah, woah! A-A date?! You mean, a date?! With–with me?!" You exclaimed, pointing to yourself in disbelief. The Overlord rose a brow.

"Why, of course! You're the only one in the room that I'm currently talking to, dear! Oh, hoh, you're quite silly, aren't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "B-But...don't you think this is like–I don't know, a bit unprofessional, sir?" You timidly ask, picking at your fingers, "you are my boss, after all..."

Alastor tilted his head to the side, humming, "Hm, perhaps. But I believe we’ve already crossed that boundary long ago, don’t you think? We’ve treated each other like good, ol’ comrades rather than just co-workers these past few months, have we not?” You blink. “I…I guess we have,” you blankly affirm.  

“Right? So, with that being said, I can't help but want something more. I do wish to properly court you. After all, it's not everyday a mortal soul such as yourself could pique my interest. That means to say that you’re quite exceptional, dear!” You couldn’t help but nervously chuckle at the flattery, shaking your head, “w-well, I don’t know about that–” 

“Oh, none of that nonsense!” He suddenly swoops in, waving a hand and shaking his head, “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who has managed to keep up at my level the way you have. It’s very impressive and admirable – take my word for it!” 

Alastor then suddenly evades your personal space, leaning down to eye-to-eye level with you. It startles you momentarily but you decidedly maintain eye-contact with him, too nervous to look away. It causes his grin to widen. "And I can bravely assume that you wouldn't mind taking up my offer...as you haven't yet made any effort or comment to decline it, hm?" He smartly comments, looking at you expectedly. 

Well..damn, he got you there, didn’t he? Because in truth, you did enjoy the playful dynamic you've established with him. You found satisfaction in the little praises and smiles Alastor would send your way whenever you accomplished something and slowly, you found yourself valuing his opinion of you. You then tried to up yourself with each passing day, and it was just as shocking for you when you came to terms with your own feelings. 

And that’s how you found yourself being courted by the Radio-Demon himself. 

After that, nothing much had changed in your dynamic with Alastor – you still continued being his radio-assistant. Well, other than the fact that he had become more openly sweet towards you. This meant calling you a variety of pet-names and giving you a little less work for you when he knows you’ve worked yourself hard enough. Small pecks and kisses will be rewarded when you would hand him his cup of coffee every morning, and he would invite you to join and sit on his lap when he would do his frequent broadcasts. He would also teasingly ask you to call him ‘sir’, knowing that it’ll fluster you so much – he just loved and enjoyed seeing you turn red all over. He even stopped with his hieroglyphics, reverting back to his usual handwriting when writing his scripts – the joke’s gone a bit stale, he says. And at the end of a long, tiring day, Alastor would have you in his arms as you happily basked in each other’s company.

[bullet-prooflove]

Okay! Since you said I could! I'd love it if you'd try (if you're up for it) if you did, "you were never what I expected" with Reacher!! If you ever feel like writing him, this will be here, lol! I'm glad you like the show!

Tagging: @kmc1989

Reacher finds you in a seaside cottage in Maine. It looks like something out of a fairytale, white washed with a grey roof, honeysuckle running up the outside. The garden is lush, well cared for. Not the place he expected to find the world’s foremost Intelligent asset.

There have always been rumours about The Rose, nothing substantial. He’d thought you were just a myth but then he’d received the packet that Joe had left for him, one that was to be delivered only in the event of his death.

He watches you for a while from the woodland on opposite side of the cottage, trying to get a read on you. You spend a lot of time in the garden with your dog Poppy, the collie snoozes in the shade as you weed the flower beds diligently. That garden, the attention you give to it, it shows focus and dedication, traits that served you well throughout your previous position.

He spends days following you, learning your patterns, your habits. Your mornings start with a walk on the beach with Poppy. She frolics on the sand, while you toss pieces of driftwood for her to chase. You get lunch in the diner where all the locals know you. You go for a run on the beach just before sunset. There’s no sign that your anything other than a normal woman.

At least until the third night he spends watching your home, when he finds himself on his knees in the woods with a Glock jammed into the base of his skull.

“This is getting old.” You tell him as you secure his wrists with zipties. “Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea?”

“You know I can break these?” He says almost conversationally.

“You know I could just shoot you and bury you under the rosebushes.”

It’s at that moment Reacher realises what happened to the men that came after you, the ones documented in Joe’s file. He turns his head towards the roses as he passes them, every single one of them healthy and flourishing. He has to say, he approves of your environmentally conscious approach to body disposal.

You make good on that offer of tea. You keep the gun trained on him while you wait for the leaves to steep inside of the pot. The scent of Earl Grey fills the air and Reacher feels his muscles relaxing despite the precarious situation.

“You are not what I expected.” He finds himself telling you as he sits at the kitchen table, his wrists still bound behind him.

Your gaze flickers up to meet his as you set a mug of tea down in front of him and say.

“That’s what the others thought too.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bmbochangetales]

Another meeting Ashley was on the sidelines for. She wanted to make sure she made a good impression even if she wasn’t involved. She had just graduated college and wanted to work her way up. She had been helping pass out papers and serve the members of the board.

She even pointed out to the Board President a valuable client opportunity in his files. When suddenly he commanded the attention of the other men.

“Gentlemen, what a waste of talent you have keeping Ms. Smith in this position!”

Finally, someone saw her talent and skills. This was looking good for her. The President saw that she was good at the job and could do so much in a higher position.

“I mean look at those milkers, obviously she is going to make one of you a very happy man.”

What was happening? Her boobs suddenly tripled in size. Her once demure button down now squeezed he boobs out on display for the men. Oh fuck. They were huge. Maybe this was a test though to see if she could handle boardroom talk. She just began to remove their cups and dishes.

“Did you see they was she cleared the table too? A tray full of coffee cups and plates from breakfast and she did it in heels and a skirt! A domestic goddess waiting!”

Her skirt shrunk and become a tight miniskirt. Her sensible pumps became sexy high heels. Her hair and make up overly done for a day at the office. She continued clearing the table showing off. Making sure to touch the gentlemen and show off her assets to the company.

“And just look at those hips. My wife popped out 6 healthy kids and Ms. Smith looks even more able. Think of how many times you could knock up a young thing like her.” He gave her ass a slap for emphasis. Ashley’s hips widened as her ass bounced out. Ashley saw all the eligible men in the room. She wouldn’t have time for a career supporting one of these sexy, smart men. She would do better at home, getting knocked up, taking care of their home, making sure they don’t have to worry about a thing especially with their stressful job, that she could barely understand. She was here to serve them coffee and pastries.

“I’m sure she would bring you lunch and those lips for a good afternoons blowjob.” He gave tits a good squeeze as she refreshed his coffee. She let out a long moan but kept doing her job. She imagined being under the desk deep throating a big cock as her husband kept working. Stopping only to spray cum down her throat. Then wobbling down the hallway showing off her big pregnant belly, as she went home to make him a dinner worth of a Michelin star.

“Who is taking this fine bimbo home gentlemen?” The president asked the board. There were murmurs of negotiation as the gentlemen pulled rank and status on each other. Well the men were busy arguing, the lowly mid level manager decided to do things more forward. He grabbed Ashley and bent her over the projector table. Her moans called all the men’s attention to their lost prize as their subordinate claimed her for himself. They all looked to the president as the manager emptied his balls into Ashley who was just letting everyone know what a slut she was.

“Hostile takeover style,” the president said, “that is the kind of men we need in leadership here. The bimbo is yours. Now let’s talk promotion.”

[moonstrider9904]

All good things start with coffee

Chapter 1 of Le Coeur

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Next chapter

Chapter summary: On an otherwise typical day, the owners of the Coffeewick can't help but notice an enforcer standing guard outside their coffee shop.

Tags/warnings: Steb x Original Female Character, other OCs are in the fic as well. Canon divergence, flirting, pining, crushes, teasing. Just a cute intro chapter.

Word count: 4.4k

On the corner of Alpine Road and Reverie Lane, on the northwestern quadrant of the intersection, there was a lovely building called The Coffeewick. It had been named by its owner long before she had even laid eyes on it, long before she—and her trusted business partner—turned it into the staple it became. Before them, the building that would go on to become the Coffeewick was already a catch. With its front facing south, it overlooked Bonan Plaza, one of Piltover city’s most renowned parks filled with trees bursting with life, benches to sit and enjoy life, fountains, even monuments to some of the City of Progress’ brightest minds. Shops, boutiques, even some apartment complexes were in the area, and before it became filled with life, the Coffeewick didn’t really fit into any of these categories. It was a little building that stood there, right on the corner, that could amount to anything.

When looking at the Coffeewick between its neighboring buildings, it certainly looked small. It had merely two stories—two apartments in the top story, each with one bedroom, a small kitchen and restroom and just enough room to make it the coziest home one could conceive. The roof of the Coffeewick wasn’t regularly used for anything other than the greenhouse, a valuable asset to those who lived in the little building, and in the remaining space of the rooftop where chairs and a table, and a series of warm fairy lights above the makeshift outdoor living room for the nights in which the Coffeewick’s two residents would decide to spend some time up there. The rooftop rarely saw the presence of outsiders.

But the ground level of the Coffeewick was the crown jewel, the dream that had been given hours of work and planning and love until it became a reality. It was a cute little coffee shop run by a human woman and a Yordle, both avidly passionate about their place in the world. The walls were a light cream color, creating a fitting canvas for the decor placed around it, mainly revolving around delicate green foliage and the same warm fairy lights wherever they could be placed, from the dark oak furniture to the edges where the walls met the ceiling, even flower pots dangling from the roof. Shelves were placed along the back wall where both owners kept a collection of their favorite cups, and at times, they added seasonal plants and decorations there as well.

These shelves, of course, ended where the counter began, the same place that originated the magic—and science—of the brewery. The counter was of the same dark oak as the shelves, tables, and chairs, contrasting with the floor that was a wood of a slightly lighter tone, balancing out the roof and delightfully bringing out the green plants and the lights, as though to emphasize the life that the Coffeewick had, that was breathed into it. The outer face of the counter was simple, with an intuitive sequence where a visitor would arrive, order, pay, and receive their heart’s desire.

But at the back, the main attraction was the coffee machine, designed and perfected by the owner herself throughout years of study, capable of brewing coffee in different volumes, temperatures, and consistencies, roasting and grinding beans, and it also contained an attaché for frothing milk. The machine itself took up almost half of the space along the back wall of the counter, after which there was an assortment of utensils, a small oven, a rack of syrups, sugars, and spices, followed by pastry racks, and finally a refrigerator. The logo of the Coffeewick was painted on the empty wall space above all the equipment, and above it was a hand-written menu on a chalkboard containing all the different beverages that were available for purchase as well as any pastries that would be available for the day. The menu had doodles of flowers and stars in any empty spaces, just for the sake of a little more magic.

The owner and head barista of the Coffeewick smiled gently as she poured steamed milk into a mug to create a piece of art with the drink she’d just brewed. A graduate of the prestigious Piltover Academy, Nea had dedicated years of study into the arts and sciences of coffee. What had started as a simple beverage to cope with long periods of school work evolved into the little thing that made life most enjoyable, and Nea harnessed her knowledge and dedication into designs, money saved, even the construction of the coffee maker that made all the beverages in the Coffeewick. While it was her dream and her vision, Nea hadn’t solidified the Coffeewick entirely on her own.

Nea’s partner, Blu, was a Yordle shorter than most and with the feisty spirit that was signature for her species. The little Yordle was well over a hundred years old, and she had seen many things in her time in the Yordle homeland known as Bandle City, from magical dreamscapes to portal catastrophes. A century of being a knitter and a tidal wave of adventures that followed made Blu long for seeing more around Runeterra, and when she parted for Piltover, she had nearly nothing to her name, and no hopes of amounting to anything in the near future. That had changed when she met Nea.

On that fairly typical day, while Nea focused on brewing the drinks that the customers were ordering, Blu exited the back room of the Coffeewick holding a tray of fresh pastries. She placed it on the pastry rack at the back of the counter and glanced over at Nea on the other side.

“This batch of Poro Cookies is the last one of the day,” Blu called.

With her concentration unbroken, Nea nodded in understanding at Blu’s statement. Making the appropriate twisting motions with her wrist as she poured the milk, Nea finished the foamy drawing of a swan on the surface of the drink she’d created—a traditional flat white made with a slightly darker roast than usual, one of her favorites. She called the customer’s name and set it on the round wooden surface at the edge of the counter where customers picked up their orders. Letting out a little exhale of satisfaction, she tucked a strand of her short black wavy hair behind her ear and moved onto the next order.

On her side of the counter, Blu tapped the knee of the young man who was working the cash register. Like all the additional employees of the Coffeewick, he was a student at the Academy in his last semester who worked there to earn some money and experience pre-graduation, a need for many like him whom the Coffeewick also wanted to help. Once he graduated and got a better job, he’d move on and let another student take his place, and so on. He, like the other part-timers, enjoyed working at the Coffeewick—it wasn’t just the peaceful ambience and delightful smell of coffee that made it shine, but the feeling of having a safety net that it emulated in him and his fellow Academy students was rivaled by only a few other initiatives in Piltover.

“You’re free to go,” Blu told him. “I’ll take over until Lily shows up.”

He looked down at Blu and smiled as he bent over and pulled a stool for her to climb on. “Thanks, I just need to talk to Nea and then I’m off.”

“Yup, take care,” Blu said as she got on top of the stool and was finally able to reach the cash register to keep the line going. “May I take your order?”

The next person in line was a lady who looked like she was in her sixties. She was well-dressed in black and white clothes that looked expensive, and she crowned her head with a black hat that had a large, poofy burgundy feather adorning it. The lady was expecting a human to take her order—you know, the same one she’d just seen behind the cash register—but instead, she was met with a little Yordle. Yordles weren’t all that common in Piltover, even if recent years had brought more of them to the city, so it was still a surprise for a Piltovan citizen to come across one. And this one in particular, with her blue fur and round brown eyes, her short brown hair in a bob cut, her round ears that poked from beneath the hair and her round little snout, knitted beige sweater and brown knit cowl, this little Yordle was just so round and fuzzy that it looked like a child’s teddy!

“Yes, I’ll have a… uh…” The lady trailed off, her eyes sparkling as her demure smile expanded into a grin from ear to ear. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute!”

“Ma’am, this is a coffee shop,” Blu replied in a kindness-infused deadpan, as though her words were previously rehearsed. “If you wish to express appreciation for the staff’s cuteness, I suggest doing it in the form of a generous tip.” Blu gestured at the little jar next to the cash register machine and directed a bright smile at the lady.

“Of course, of course,” the lady said, pressing a hand to her cheek as the other one looked through her purse and pulled out a hefty coin, proceeding to add it to the jar. “Here you go, dear. Now, could I please have the toffee caramel cappuccino to go?”

“Yes, ma’am, and thank you for the tip,” Blu smiled and proceeded to charge the lady for her beverage. “Toffee caramel cappuccino to go!”

“Coming up,” Nea called from the other side of the counter as she was finishing up the next milk drink in the queue.

One more coffee was done and delivered, and it was time to go for the next. This next drink was a large dark brewed in the Moka method—that one always took longer to brew, so Nea set up the Moka to brew with the cup underneath it while working on the next one in parallel, a simple, straightforward latte. And as Nea divided her focus between the two drinks, she was able to see from the corner of her eyes that her cashier was approaching her timidly.

“Um… Miss Nea?” He said.

“What can I do for you, Donnie?” Nea responded, glancing over at him through her glasses before focusing on steaming milk again. “Your shift’s over, right?”

“Yes,” Donnie replied, feeling a tad less tense. “Listen, um… I was wondering, and I’m sorry for not asking sooner, but… finals are coming up, and I’ll need to buy a whole bunch of supplies for my projects. I need my paycheck early, maybe not even the whole check, just whatever’s appropriate for the days since my last one… could you maybe…?”

Keeping the cup of milk at a steady angle for it to continue steaming, Nea looked at Donnie again, her big brown eyes soft on him. “Oh, I remember finals seasons. The sooner you can get your supplies, the better. Stores run out quickly.”

“Yes, that’s what I fear,” Donnie sighed. “And now that I pay for all my food and I got the bright idea of adopting a dog—”

Nea let out a smooth, delicate laugh, stopping Donnie’s nervous rambling in its tracks.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t need to be afraid to ask me for things you need. The paychecks are in the backroom, just let me finish steaming this milk and I’ll go get it.”

Donnie directed a bright smile at Nea. “Thanks so much. You’re saving my life right now.”

“Not a problem,” Nea said, putting down the milk and quickly cleaning the steamer with a damp cloth and a second of blowing pure steam onto an empty cup. “Be right back.”

Having mastered the art of wandering around her coffee shop, Nea went to the back room for the paycheck and returned to see Donnie finishing up and delivering the drinks she left paused. She smiled at the sight—acts of kindness like that one would always live in her memory. She then walked up behind Donnie and handed him the envelope with his check, and the curve on her lips widened slightly.

“Thanks for covering those drinks,” Nea acknowledged. “Here’s your check, and if you need a raise, just let me know.”

“Thanks so much, Nea,” Donnie unconsciously gave a slight bow in her direction. “I don’t need the raise, I just really needed this to get all the stuff I need.”

“Alright, well, good luck with all your finals,” Nea smiled at him.

“Thanks!” Donnie cheerfully expressed his gratitude again, and he pranced his way out of the Coffeewick to leave Nea to continue her work.

Nea’s eyes lingered on Donnie as he made his way out, her mind temporarily wandering on a number of different things ranging from her own memories as an Academy student short on cash and the writing of a mental note to motivate Donnie—and the rest of the intern staff—more over the next few weeks. But just as Donnie’s figure was disappearing into the crowd of people outside, her gaze got caught in a blue uniform that shielded teal skin. It was a male enforcer whose profile faced Nea, and his posture was strictly straight, almost regal, with his fingers interlaced behind his back. The sight was fairly standard except for the obvious fact that this enforcer was a Vastaya, and the sound of Donnie walking out of the Coffeewick as well as his figure walking past the enforcer caused him to angle his body enough for him to fully face the Coffeewick’s entrance.

When he did, the enforcer's gaze traveled through the entrance of the Coffeewick and landed on Nea only for her to notice it was the most beautiful shade of aquamarine. With wide, brown eyes unable to hide their appeal at the most intricate details they were able to pick up on even in that second-long glance, from the gills above his jawline to the delicate fins that framed his eyes, and the way his angular features looked so incredibly soft, Nea stared back at him and felt her surroundings fade to white noise. Though as the door of the Coffeewick closed itself and cast a sheet of wood and glass between her and the enforcer, Nea noticed him turning around and regaining his post standing watch outside.

Even after Nea was no longer able to see that striking ocean gaze, she remained motionless as she replayed the image of it in her mind. Seconds passed her in her daze, forgetting the queue of orders and the smell of coffee that would, on any other day, be the thing to entrance her senses. Her stare stood focused on the blue uniform as if she could telepathically beckon him to turn around again, maybe inspire him to come inside and order a cup or two, but no such thing happened.

"Hey, head barista," Blu called from the cash register. "Get brewing!"

"Sorry!" Nea gave a hop, startled out of her daze, and she got back to brewing and filling orders as if nothing had distracted her in the first place.

Blu was just about to get off her stool with which she covered the cash register since Lily, another Coffeewick worker, had just arrived. As Blu was moving her stool over to the side, her gaze wandered over to Nea with an eyebrow raised, puzzled by her partner's sudden—and uncommon—lapsus.

"What was that about?" Blu asked Nea.

"Oh, nothing," Nea replied as she added whipped cream to the toffee caramel cappuccino she was finishing.

"Your cheeks are burning red," Blu deadpanned.

"Don't you have a tray of cookies to take out of the oven?" Nea glanced over at Blu.

"And now you're getting defensive, which means not even you understand whatever's got you in a pickle," Blu climbed onto a chair behind the counter. "You were looking outside, what happened?"

"Nothing," Nea said.

"A ghost from your past?" Blu teased. "An ex lover you left in the dead of the night?"

"No, and I've never done that," Nea answered as she delivered the beverage and headed toward the coffee machine to brew the next. In that time, Blu looked through the glass doors and windows over to the outside, and her Yordle eyes were able to catch irregular sights far quicker than others.

"Enforcers? Out here?" Blu wondered.

"Yeah," said Nea.

"Why?"

"I think I read in a newspaper somewhere that it's just a council initiative," Nea replied almost cautiously. "Just to keep people and businesses safe, etc, etc."

"So... if you're not a fugitive but you're nervous about an enforcer at our door-" Blu stopped herself and giggled. "Ooooh, I see. "

"No, you don't," Nea tried to dismiss.

"Poppycock," Blu laughed and stood on her paw toes, trying to get a look at the enforcer. "Woah, he's green!"

"Blu!" Nea scolded.

"Hey, come on, you just shouted the color of my fur," the Yordle teased and looked at the enforcer again with more attention. "What do you know? A Vastaya. Didn't know you were into that."

"Cut it out," Nea couldn't help but laugh, albeit nervously.

"Aww, you have a little crush," Blu smirked.

"Hey, I know that look in your eyes," Nea answered. "You may as well have little flames in them."

"Do you want me to go out there and tell him you like him?" Blu said with that same look of mischief in her teddy-like face.

"What I want is for you to get off my case," Nea frowned.

"No you don't, you love me," Blu crossed her arms and frowned back.

"Right now, I could think of a few other emotions I feel towards you," Nea smirked.

"You'd be lost without me," Blu challenged.

In response, Nea proceeded to do the mature, grown-up thing and stuck her tongue out at Blu. The Yordle instantly stuck her tongue out too in response and, after the two shared a laugh, Nea paused the drink she was brewing to help Blu off the chair.

"Fine, I'll go somewhere else and leave you to pine for your hot Vastaya enforcer man on your own," Blu laughed, looking back up at Nea over her shoulder. "Hey, here's an idea. You should totally make him a cup of coffee and take it to him, and be all girly and googly and all like 'thank you for your service' or something like that."

Nea straightened up, pausing in her tracks. "That's not a bad idea."

"What?" Blu's teasing became concern as she turned around and faced Nea fully. "Hey, I was kidding."

"No, you're right, that would be perfect!" Nea's face lit up with a smile. "Let me finish up these next couple of orders. Do you mind taking over the queue while I head out there?"

"You're serious," Blu stared blankly. "You're actually gonna do it."

"After these, it's just two lattes, one for here and one to go," Nea instructed. "It shouldn't take me any longer than that. What should I take him? Latte? Cappuccino? Flat white? Black coffee? Creamer on the side? Sugar?"

"Whatever Nea, just pick," Blu grunted as she pushed the chair over to the coffee machine, figuring she was gonna need the boost if she was to take over for Nea. Nea walked over to help with the chair and put Blu up on it again, earning her a frown from the Yordle. "I'd go with a Red Eye, maybe you'll scare him off for good."

"Oh, come on, don't be like that," Nea grinned. "It was your idea."

"If this is your way of teaching me to shut up next time, it's working," Blu deadpanned.

"You don't mean that," Nea smirked. "You love me."

"And now I'm eating my words from earlier," Blu said. "Yippee."

Despite Blu's protests, she obliged and brewed the next couple of drinks in the queue while Nea finished up her current orders. As for what beverage she would deliver to the enforcer, she leaned back on her experience and went for the most balanced recipe for a latte she knew, one with good coffee flavor and creamy milk that added just the right amount of sweetness—perfect for nearly anyone who favored either the sweet or the bitter side of the craft. Nea was careful in her movements, deliberate in each part of the process from the milk steaming to the pouring of the espresso, and even if she was placing it in a disposable cup with a lid, she still made a delicate flower latte art with the foam on top—a heart probably would have been too obvious, but no small part of Nea wanted to make it that way. The flower seemed like a good option for now.

With the beverage done, she reached for a packet of sugar, a wooden mixer, and a couple napkins, Nea walked out from behind the counter and made her way across the Coffeewick, heading for the door. She stepped outside, relished in the chilly fresh air, and walked forward with her gaze set on the enforcer.

She stopped. It only dawned on her then that she didn't know what she was going to say, but on top of that, she was about to make a total fool of herself for all she knew. She'd had so much fun brewing the coffee and thinking about the perfect outcome that now that she was out there, part of her wanted to run and hide. He hadn't turned around yet—if she was quick, she could abort the plan and get away with it, have that latte herself. It was sure to be a good cup of coffee, she'd made it, after all. Nea became lost in her thoughts of how she could use a good latte right about now to regain a grip on reality, and at that moment, the enforcer felt her presence behind him and calmly turned around.

His aquamarine gaze nearly ended Nea. Up close, she was able to see much more of the detail in his physique. The fins that framed his eyes were paired with markings of a slightly lighter shade of green, and the inner corners of his eyelids as well as the sides of the bridge of his nose adopted a shade that more closely resembled human flesh. The helmet that he wore concealed his eyebrows and any other details above, but even under it, Nea could observe the shape of his ears pointing upward. In the sunlight, the golden details of his enforcer uniform appeared to be glowing in contrast with the rich blue color of the fabric, and aside from being motionless, Nea was now also rendered speechless in the presence of such beauty. Even if she wanted to appear cool and collected, she knew right then that she would miserably fail at any attempts to do so.

As he looked at her, his gaze appeared to soften, and the detail that dealt the final blow for Nea and made her weak in the knees was the way the fins around his eyes flickered, like a wave from inside to out, as his eyes widened slightly in attention. When he blinked, Nea noticed he had a second eyelid acting as a membrane that closed on a horizontal plane underneath his main eyelids—ust another thing that added to Nea's inability to speak—and he remained quiet, expectant of whatever she was about to do, until his gaze finally traveled over to the cup of coffee she was holding.

He met her gaze again. "Can I help you, miss?"

God, Nea thought to herself. Even his voice was irresistible, it was almost unfair. It was deep and rich, and when he spoke, he had a thick, elegant accent that made her yearn to hear him endlessly. Thoughts and insecurities rushed through her mind, things like how could someone that gorgeous still be single, or how could someone as beautiful as him pay attention to her, but she was surprised at herself for being able to put those intrusive thoughts aside and instead lifted the cup of coffee, showing it to him. As for what she would say—and she had reached a point where she really should say something—Nea opted to use the very words Blu had suggested in her earlier mischief.

"Thank you for your service," Nea said softly and offered the coffee to him.

His gaze softened even more, and slowly, he reached for the cup, almost hesitating to take it from her. He met her eyes again, and the hint of a smile curved her lips.

"It's not necessary," he uttered, his voice much softer than it had been before.

"Oh, I know, I just..." Nea trailed off, unable to stop smiling at him. "I wanted to."

Finally, he gave her a fuller smile. "Thank you."

Nea's smile grew as well to the point where she nearly giggled. When he took the coffee, Nea used her free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, averting her gaze from him before meeting his eyes again. Lost for words again, Nea gave a little nod and turned around, walking back towards the Coffeewick until she eventually disappeared into it.

Inside, Nea remained for a second at the doorstep smiling at herself, and then she went back behind the counter where she was needed. There, Blu was just finishing up a couple of orders, and as soon as she laid eyes on Nea, the spunky grin returned.

"Well?" Blu said. "Did you crash and burn and stumble with your words?"

"No, I..." Nea smiled. "I actually think that went really well."

"What's his name?" Blu asked.

"Not a clue," Nea replied, her smile still firm in place.

Blu, in turn, facepalmed. "You're hopeless. Alright, I'm done here. Take over your coffee bar."

"He is so pretty," Nea pouted with a hand over her chest. "He is seriously so pretty I kind of want to cry."

"And yet you don't know his name," Blu mentioned.

"Yeah..." Nea's smile faded a bit. "I messed that up."

"I'll let it slide," Blu smirked. "People make dumb mistakes when they're in loooove."

"Oh, be quiet, you," Nea chuckled.

Blu walked off in the direction making indiscreet kissing noises the whole way until she disappeared into the kitchen. In the meantime, Nea got back to work and noticed the way her hands were trembling, but she figured she would still be able to make coffee even with a shaky hand and rosy cheeks.

Thanks so much for reading! Please reblog to help me get out there!

Next chapter ->

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Kiss me under the milky twilight

Masterlist

(From the 6th to 30th April, I am having a mini 100 follower milestone event!)

Tags: Scaramouche x GN!reader, modern au, fluff Summary: Where Scaramouche celebrates Valentine's day with you, even if he's late.

Scaramouche pushes his glasses up while blinking tiredly. Not even the 10th cup of coffee can keep him up for any longer. The file and its blinking mouse begin to look like they are taunting him to no end with the tall pile of paperwork sitting beside him. He lets his forehead hit the desk with a ‘thunk’ while his eyelids shut under their own weight. The moment he is about to drift to dreamland, his own alarm wakes him up. Scaramouche looks at the clock on his cursed computer and is shocked awake. Fuck, he hasn’t prepared anything for you! It is already 23:00 on the 14th! He was supposed to buy the chocolate for you before the last store closed but of course his dumbass boss just had to dump more work on him. ‘You’re a great asset.’ He calls bullshit but he still needs money to buy you your favorite things. He groans. No matter how mean or rude he may act, he has never forgotten to buy you gifts on Valentine’s and any other occasion you like to participate in.

Scaramouche stands up abruptly, puts on his coat, grabs his wallet and clocks out. It’s okay to be late, he thinks, as long as he can get to you before the end of the day, even if there is only an hour left. At this time, only a convenience store would be open so he runs to the nearby Family Mart and looks at the various options under the clerk’s judging stare. And he understands because who even rushes to buy chocolate in a convenience store at 23:00?? Scaramouche looks at the many flavors before picking your usual favorite dark chocolate. He also quickly grabs your favorite tea, pays for them both and makes a dash for your shared home.

You stand on your balcony, fiddling with the little plant that you got from the local fair boredly. Scaramouche knows how early you often go to sleep so he would always go back on time but this is the first time you had to wait for him for so long. Even the fancy dinner you made got cold in the meantime. You pout and push against the succulent’s leaves until you hear rapid footsteps and the gate unlocking. You run down the stairs quickly, opening the door and bumping right into his chest in the front yard. Scaramouche huffs at your excitement despite his heartbeat increasing like a teenage boy in love. He shoves the gifts he got into your hands, “Sorry for being late. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow with something better.” You grins and hugs him tightly, “Don’t worry about that, just come inside. My gift is in the fridge, waiting for you, love.” He holds you tight and kisses you deeply, mumbling against your soft lips adoringly, “What will I ever do without you…”

A/N: This is kinda rushed and the ending is weird but happy Valentine's day~ i'll be suffering for 8hrs later but it ain't important rn Taglist: @amyminhminh (comment if you want to be tagged in future scara x reader posts <3)

[soapybutt17]

Day One

Summary: Initial Scenes with Rookie and the rest of 141 during the earlier days of the new Taskforce. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Kate Laswell. Word Count: 3,115 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Blood and Injuries. Mentions of Nightmares. Canon Divergence AU.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

In the broad daylight, Captain John Price was tucked away in a nondescript corner of a small café, the smell of coffee and pastries enveloping him as he made his way inside. Kate Laswell already waiting for him. A cup of tea already in his hold for what was to come out of their conversation.

“Tea?” Kate inquired, surprised by his choice of beverage.

“Yeah, well I’m a long way from a proper pint.” He grunted, giving her a passive aggressing smile, he was genuinely craving one after the events with Barkov.

“Russia disowned Barkov.” Kate immediately spoke, going straight to the point of their meeting.

“Well they didn’t have much choice did they? He’s dead.” John quipped right back.

“You took a big bite out of that problem, John.”

“For now, but left unchecked.” He knew there were still loose ends that needed to be dealt with.

“They won’t be.” Kate assured him, pulling out a dossiers of several candidates, potential members for his new Taskforce. “General Shepherd pulled the files you asked for. What is this about?” Kate slid the it towards him, but her own curiosity for his plan was shown in broad daylight.

“A Taskforce.” He answered simply.

“We already have loose ends.” Kate shook her head, doubt more than evident in her features for his plan.

“And I will tie them.” He reassured right back.

“I can fund assets, not outlaws.”

It took him a moment, but if she was not able to meet his demands, there was no point in pushing further with the mission.

“Enjoy the tea then.” He slowly slid his cup away from him before Kate slid the dossier further towards him on the table.

“Zakhaev wants Barkov’s throne.”

“I almost buried him in Pripyat, with Macmillan.” He remembered the man dead, confirmed. There would have been no way in hell the man was still alive.

“That was the father. This is the son, ‘Victor’.”

“Lovely family.” He deadpanned.

“They’re big fans of Hadir’s.”

“Well, that would explain why he’s still alive.”

“They’re going to get him out.” It was the problem that needed a solution, but John knew that he couldn’t give them solution if they were not willing to compromise with his own needs.

“Then give me what I need.”

Kate finally relents, letting go of the dossier and allowing John to finally take a hold of. In one measure movement, he had pulled the array of folders inside, skimming through the number of folders looking for four that would be a part of his Taskforce.

“Who’s your crew?”

First on the list was Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, a younger member of the force with an impressive track record. John admired his loyalty and fierce determination he was a soldier, still a young blood, who would follow orders without question, a quality that was crucial for the success of the Taskforce. A man that Price knew would be crushed and broken if not trained by the rightful people.

“Sergeant Garrick,” John responds.

“Kyle?”

“They call him “Gaz”. He never said anything.” It was not his secret to share, but he knew the story behind.

He handed the folder to Kate, knowing she would do her own precautionary check on her own end to reassure herself and to reassure the General that his choices were the best that could be made as he created the team.

 The second candidate was Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish, a skilled operator with a reputation for getting things done. Price knew Soap well, having fought alongside him in some of the most dangerous missions. He saw potential in Soap to be the backbone of the team, a reliable and skilled asset.

“John MacTavish, SAS. Sniper-demolitions. Goes by ‘Soap’.” John handed the folder to Kate.

“Why?”

“That’s classified.” He was quick to respond, it was not his question to answer.

Skimming further to the pile the chuckle escaped from his lips as he saw the familiar name.

“There he is…”

The third was that of the masked Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley. John had known Ghost for years, and his mysterious nature and exceptional stealth abilities made him an invaluable asset in covert operations. Ghost's skills in reconnaissance and intelligence gathering were unparalleled.

“Simon Riley.”

He was amongst the only one out of the three that did not have a photo that came along with his file.

“There’s no picture.” Kate pointed out.

“Never.” John’s only response and it was the only answer he needed to give for the topic.

As he skimmed through the files, he couldn't help but think about his wife, Lieutenant Rookie. She was a highly capable officer, and unbeknownst to the rest of the team, she had already been part of some successful covert missions. Price knew that she was more than just a decorated Lieutenant. She possessed a profound understanding of strategy and possessed a level of intuition that couldn't be taught.

Price hesitated for a moment, his mind wrestling with conflicting thoughts. He wanted his wife closer to him, to protect her and have her by his side. It was a selfish desire, and he knew it, but he also recognized the immense value she would bring to the Taskforce.

“Lieutenant Y/N “Rookie” Y/L/N.” He showed your folder to Kate. In the years of knowing you, of being in a relationship, and eventually tying the knot, the both of you had decided it was best for both of your interest to keep your relationship a secret. But for this moment, for the loose ends that would possibly end in death for any of them, all he would want is to have you by his side should the time ever come to him, to you, or to the rest of the team.

“SAS. Sniper, the best marksman you can ever find and a trained medic.” He began, taking a little longer to look at your photo attached to the folder before finally handing it to Kate. “She’s not just here because of her abilities, she will be the heart of this Taskforce. Her insight, her instincts—they are invaluable. Trust me on this.”

With a nod of approval from Kate, John had sealed the team he has created to help him in ensure that all the loose ends that were in the present and those that would come in the future would be dealt with in the best way possible.

“Now the rest…” He trailed off, knowing that he had shown the best of the best that would be in his roster, but it was enough to give them the much needed confidence in his choice. “That’s need to know. Unless we got a deal.”

“What are you calling this Taskforce?”

“1-4-1.”

And so, Taskforce 141 was born, a group of highly skilled and dedicated operatives handpicked by Captain Price, each bringing their unique talents to the table. Little did the world know that behind this elite team was also a personal motive, a desire to protect and be closer to the ones he cared about. It was a risky move, but Price knew that with these individuals, including his wife, they had the potential to change the tide of any battle they faced.

~

Sergeant Gaz Garrick's heart pounded in his chest as he approached the entrance of the new base, now a member of the highly acclaimed Taskforce. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety about being handpicked by the Captain himself to join this elite group of soldiers. However, the thought of standing alongside the prestigious individuals he had only heard legendary stories about filled him with hesitation and doubt. "Do I really belong here?" he wondered silently to himself.

Stepping inside the base, Gaz was immediately greeted by the brisk air-conditioned atmosphere, a stark contrast to the sweltering heat outside. The clacking of boots echoed through the corridors as soldiers went about their duties. With a slight gulp, Gaz navigated the unfamiliar layout until he found the office of one of his superiors. An infamous woman by the moniker Rookie.

As he approached the door, he took a deep breath, trying to quell the nervousness building up inside him. He knows gently and waited for the invitation to enter.

“Come in,” a warm and inviting voice called out from within the room.

Gaz entered the office to find Lieutenant Rookie, a seasoned officer with a kind face and a commanding but welcoming aura, sitting at your desk, engrossed in some paperwork. You looked up and smiled warmly when you saw Gaz standing there, a bundle of nerves and uncertainty.

“Sergeant Gaz, welcome to the team!” You greeted, rising from your seat and extending a hand in greeting.

Gaz shook your hand, feeling slightly relieved by your welcoming demeanor. “Thank you, Ma’am.” He replied with a hint of gratitude in his voice.

You studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his feelings. “I know it can be overwhelming to join a new team, especially one as new but slowly becoming prestigious as this,” you said, voice softening. “But rest assured, Sergeant, you’ve earned your place here. The Captain doesn’t choose just anyone. He saw something in you. We see something in you.”

Gaz managed a half-smile, appreciated your attempt to ease his doubts. “I’ll do my best, ma’am,” He replied earnestly.

“I have no doubt about that,” you beamed, her eyes glinting with confidence. “Now, let’s get you settled in. You’ll find your quarters just down the hall. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

As they days went by, Lieutenant Rookie proved to be more than just a commanding officer to Gaz. You took time to get to know him, understanding that he was far from home and his family was hundreds of miles away. You easily became a motherly figure to him, offering advice and support when needed. Your guidance and caring nature had helped Gaz feel more at ease in his new surroundings, and he began to open up to you, sharing his worries and aspirations.

During training exercise and missions, Gaz found himself admiring and appreciating your leadership skills and expertise—it also didn’t hurt that you had become the ear that would always listen to his worries without thinking he was weak. Your experience was evident, and you never hesitate to impart your knowledge to him and to the rest of the team. Slowly, Gaz started to find his place among the other members, gaining their respect through his own hard work and dedication.

As time passed, Gaz's doubts began to fade away, replaced by a sense of belonging and pride in being part of the Taskforce. He realized that he had been chosen for a reason and that his skills were valuable to the team.

And it was all thanks to you.

~

The night was cold and dark at the military base where Simon Riley had been station. He had been asleep in his bed, but his rare peaceful slumber was soon interrupted by the harrowing and haunting memories that had plagued him for years. In his nightmare, he found himself back in the midst of a tragic event that had forever scarred him.

As the nightmare unfolded, Simon was back home, witnessing the devastating attack to get back at him that had taken the lives of his beloved family. He saw himself frantically trying to save them, but was overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness. The confinements of a coffin was the next of his memories that was relived.

The guilt of feeling responsible for their deaths consumed him, the claustrophobia of being in such a confined space for days, and he thrashed wildly in his sleep.

His desperate cries and movement did not go unnoticed. In the adjacent room, Lieutenant Rookie, a growing mother-figure to Simon, heard the commotion and rushed to his side. You had always been there for him, providing support and guidance, and this time was no different—you had always been his exception for moments like this.

You sat down besides Simon’s thrashing form and gently shook him, calling out his name, “Simon! Wake up, it’s just a dream, you’re safe.” It was your comforting words that slowly eased him away from the nightmare.

Simon’s eyes flew open, his breath heavy and labored as he looked around, trying to comprehend where he was. Slowly, the images from his nightmare began to fade, but the pain his heart remained, more painful than ever.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close in a comforting embrace—one of the few people he would even allow to touch him. You whispered soothingly in his ears, rubbing his shaking back in the process.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re not alone, Simon. You’re with me, you’re with us.”

Unable to hold back the overwhelming emotions any longer, Simon broke down in tears. The weight of the past, the loss of his mother, brother, nephew, and sister-in-law, and the burden of feeling responsible for their deaths came crashing down on him.

You held him tightly, allowing him to grieve as he needed to. His sobs echoed through the empty military base, a poignant reminder of the pain he had carried silently for so long, all on his own.

“Let it out, Simon.” It’s alright to feel the pain.” You said, your voice gentle and caring. “You don’t have to carry this weight alone. We’re here for you. You’re not alone anymore.”

As Simon clung to you, he felt a sense of relief in the moment of despair. A sense of relief he hadn’t experience in years. The walls he had built around his heart began to crumble, and he allowed himself to lean onto you for strength and the love he never thought he would ever deserve again, just as he had lost all those years ago when his mother passed away.

In that quiet moment, Simon Riley found solace in your arms, the mother-figure he had lost but had now regained in the most unexpected of places. As the night turned into a new day, Simon knew he had finally found a way to heal from the wounds of the past.

And it was all thanks to you.

~

As the sun set over the war-torn landscape of Los Vaqueros' Base of Operation, Sergeant Soap MacTavish and Lieutenant Rookie found themselves fleeing for their lives from the treacherous clutches of Shadow Company. The once trusted Private Military group had turned on them, leaving Soap with a painful wound on his shoulder and a relentless determination to survive.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Soap leaned on you for support as you made your way through the abandoned streets. The buildings around them were mere husks, remnants of a once-thriving town now reduced to a battleground. Gunfire echoed in the distance, a chilling reminder that danger was never far away.

“Keep moving, Soap. We’re gonna get out of here alive, you here me.” You urged, your voice filled with both fear and determination. You held your weapon close, scanning the shadows for any sign of your pursuers.

Ghost's voice crackled over their comms, trying to keep the mood light in the face of danger. "Hey, Soap, how do you make a tissue dance? You put a little boogie in it!" he joked, but his concern for his comrades was evident.

Soap managed a faint smile, grateful for the distraction. "Thanks, Ghost. I owe you one for that."

You shot a quick glance at Soap, admiration and concern in your eyes. You had always trusted and believed in him even when everyone doubted the man and his antics.

As you neared the edge of the town, the sound of gunfire grew louder, and the stench of burning buildings and bloodshed filled the air. Las Almas, once a bustling community, now lay in ruins, a ghost town in more ways than one.

Finally, you spotted the church steeple in the distance, its silhouette a beacon of lost hope. Ghost’s car was parked nearby, ready to whisk them both away to safety. But getting there would be no easy task with the Shadows still looking for you both.

“Soap, take point. We need to make sure the area is clear before we make a run for it.” You instructed, voice steady despite the pain of the bullet that had now also grazed your arm while on the run.

Soap nodded, his resolve was firm as he led the way, carefully navigating through the debris-strewn streets. The sound of bullets whizzing in the background only fueled your determination. Both of you relying on each other’s skills and instincts to stay one step ahead.

Finally, you reached the church, your escape vehicle in sight. Ghost was behind the wheel, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. "Hurry up, lovebirds! We've got a date with safety, and it's getting late!" he quipped, though the tension in his voice betrayed his worry.

You helped Soap into the backseat, taking a moment to catch her breath before climbing in beside him. Ghost revved the engine, and the car sped away from the desolate town, leaving the chaos of Las Almas behind.

As they drove towards the safe house, the adrenaline began to subside, and exhaustion set in. Soap leaned back, his injured shoulder throbbing, but relief washed over him knowing they had escaped the clutches of Shadow Company.

Soap, for the first time in a long while sighed in relief, his head somehow falling onto your shoulders, getting a momentary sense of peace even with the battle that would still come your way after this. It would be a long night, but they will get their retribution and they will make sure Alejandro’s base would be return back or they would all die trying.

“As much as I love Soap, he’s too young for me.” You had pointed out in the silence of the car ride, it had taken notice by both men.

“Aren’t we the same age?” Soap inquired, not really knowing much about you besides your accomplishment in the field.

“Barely.” You snort patting him on the head. “I’m about a half a decade older than you, you’re not my type, and I’m actually taken.”

Soap couldn’t help but blink at the tidbit of news about you.

“Who’s the fuckin’ bastard we need to beat up then?” Soap inquired.

“No one you need to know about,” You smirked pulling his head right back to your shoulder. “Now get some sleep, it’s gonna be a while before you get one once we start the plan of attack on Graves and his Shadows.”

[destinationtrekk]

arcadia

This is only a dream, and you will never hear that laugh again.

1.9k, wesker lives, referenced sex, flashbacks, angst with a happy ending, also kind of ambiguous ending, descriptions of depression

a/n: all my fics are cross posted to my ao3. named after the lana del rey song. also, i have a post-re5 wesker playlist if anyone wants it!!!

-> masterlist

-> arcadia on ao3

This day starts out like every other day since he died. 

You wake up an hour before your alarm, though you think it’s generous to say you woke up if you never really slept. Your bedside clock reads 5:09 am, and you crawl out of bed anyway. You start getting ready for work, carelessly throwing on something vaguely professional looking. You had taken up managing a few of his labs. Not doing any real science of course, you were never as smart as him, but helping with hiring and on-boarding, being the pretty face that introduces young people to the insanity that is - was - his world. 

You think they pity you, his employees and peers, because they ask quietly how you are, what have you been up to, how are you liking the job? You know they just want the gossip on how their dead boss’ widow is surviving without him. You had no clue where his money came from, or his nice house, his expensive cars, your expensive car he bought you. You had just taken everything he gave you with a blush and a smile, with devotion to him that ran deeper than blood. 

You were worried, once you were able to stop crying and pleading for him to come home, how you could possibly manage to handle his assets. You quickly realized he had taken care of it, he had taken care of everything, just like he always had. A lawyer stopped by and handed you a few files, apologized kindly, and left. You only read enough to know that the house was yours, and you had enough money in your bank account to last you the rest of your life, if you were smart with it. 

Now, you look at yourself in the mirror, your eye bags covered perfectly in makeup, and you feel sick. His towel is still hanging behind the door. His cologne is still sitting next to your perfume on the counter. You can’t bear to touch either. 

You drive his black Jaguar to work. You remember when he brought it home, angry after a long day and storming into the house like there wasn’t a sparkling new car in the driveway. You had calmed him down, and kissed him sweetly until he let you drive it to town for dinner. You park the car at the lab and don’t look back. 

Your day drags on but you can’t remember any of it. Everyday feels like this. You smile politely and drink coffee, shake hands and sit in meetings, drink more coffee. After lunch you make two cups of coffee, and you stare at the second cup with too much sugar and no cream until your eyes burn. You give it to an intern and ignore them when they try to thank you. 

Your drive home is stunted by an hour of traffic, so you turn the music up until your head pounds and you aren’t tempted to look in the back seat, where he had fucked you so hard on your anniversary that he scratched lines in the leather with his nails. 

It’s raining when you finally pull into the driveway. You go straight for the shower, scrubbing until your skin is pink and staring at nothing but his half empty shampoo bottle. You go through the motions of cooking dinner, but you feel too sick to eat. It gets portioned away in the fridge, where you know you’ll eventually just give it to someone at work, claiming you’re not hungry. 

You lay on the couch for a few hours, eyes staring unfocused at the TV screen, until you migrate to bed. You do the same under the cold covers, which smell of nothing but laundry detergent now. Your eyes fixed blank on the ceiling. You doze off, just to repeat the day again, and again, and again.

You're splayed across the couch, his broad form crushing you into the cushions. You're both laughing, gasping for air and clutching at each other like teenagers. You don't remember the joke, but you do remember the way his blonde hair glowed like an angel across the table at dinner, lit by candles and the rosy haze of a bottle of wine, domestic in your kitchen. He sits up, straddling your thighs with his own, and looms over you. His eyes glow red in the dim room, and you smile so wide you swear your mouth would be stuck like that. He leans down, whispering sweetly against your neck, hands gliding over your clothes, under them, touching your skin-

This is only a dream, and you will never hear that laugh again.

Before you know it, nearly a year has passed. You had stopped going to the labs a month ago, and soon after the BSAA raided every known location of his research. You don't know who the rat was, but you're happy he's not here to see it. You've done nothing with your time except sit around, cook too much food for one person, and occasionally go running until you make yourself sick.

You're having a... better day than usual. It sets you on edge, thinking that you're on the path to heal and move on. You don't ever want to move on, to forget him, but it's inevitable. You had gone into his closet tonight, taking a sweater much too big for you that had long lost his smell. It was only the second time you had touched his clothes, but you thought you could handle it. Now, laying curled in bed, his sweater nearly swallowing you, you weren't so sure.

He's been gone for a week, and you've taken to sleeping in his shirts. The expensive fabric wraps around you in a poor mimic of his calloused touch, but it smells like him. When he finally comes home, he finds you curled up in bed, face buried in his pillow. Obviously, he has no choice except to drop everything and crawl under the covers, wrapping you tight in his arms. You groan as you come to, immediately smiling as you recognize the vice grip he holds your body in. It makes you laugh, and your joyous sound makes him smile into your neck.

"Nice shirt you have there," he rumbles, breath warm against your cheek. "Where did that come from?"

You giggle and turn in his arms, and you press your lips to his. "Just some guy I met, no one special."

He rolls you onto your back, gaze dark and adoring, and-

You snap awake. The front door alarm was blaring through the speakers downstairs, but it was silent by the time you jumped off the mattress. The alarm could only be turned off with a code, which meant-

You felt panic begin the climb up your throat, and you scrambled for his pistol, still tucked neatly in his bedside table. Your steps were quiet, the gun raised as you searched the house. Nothing was out of the ordinary, until you rounded the corner to the kitchen. You froze immediately, gun falling to your side as your eyes widened in shock.

Albert was hunched over the sink, white-knuckling the counter. His head shot up as the sound of your gasp, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection of the window. The gun clattered to the ground beside you and you nearly fell to your knees. His arms were around you in an instant, holding you up against his chest. A sob escaped you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head and struggling in his grip.

"Quit it, you animal." His voice was the same dark murmur, a deep rumble against your cheek as he held you still. One of his large hands was cupping your head against him, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing deep while you cried and squirmed against him. "Relax, sweetheart, breathe."

A few moments later his grip has loosened enough for you to pull away, and your heart breaks all over again at the sight of him. His hair is longer than you've ever seen it, hanging limp over his forehead and curling slightly behind his ears. His eyes are a familiar red, but his exhaustion is palpable in the air around you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, and your expression falls at the texture of his skin. Your head rears back, and you take his hands in yours. He's covered in thick scars, pink and white flesh rigid under your fingers. You look up at him, noticing the same scars climbing his neck and crawling over his cheekbone.You reach a hand up to cup his face, and a devastated sound leaves you when he leans into your palm. "Albert..."

He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, turning to press his lips to your wrist. He doesn't need to say a word, not when you can still read each other perfectly even after a year apart. You can see it in the corners of his mouth, the stiff way he moves his shoulder, the rasp of his voice, like it takes too much effort to open his jaw. This isn't the same Wesker you lost. This is someone else entirely.

All at once, the person you used to be comes back, like you never lost them at all. You take his hand in yours and lead him to the guest bathroom downstairs, flicking the light on and pushing him to sit on the toilet lid. He's slouching and avoiding your gaze, an act so unlike him that it makes you pause. You make him undress to his boxers, and he obeys without question. Confusion and grief and relief are clouding your mind. You reach again for his cheeks, and you can tell he wants to resist but you pull him to face you anyway. Under the fluorescent lights his scars look even worse - no, you won't say worse, you love him - you trace the lines gently up to his cheekbone.

"Do they hurt?" You whisper, turning him to take a closer look.

He doesn't answer for a moment, and then barely tilts his head in a nod.

You apologize, and quickly pull your hands away. He grabs your wrists and holds you still, before correcting himself. "Just sensitive."

You can tell now that he isn't injured - he isn't bleeding at least. You spend a long moment just looking at him, taking in the ways his body has changed, and the ways it hasn't. He looks a little thin, his collar bones prominent, new scars riddling his skin that aren't from burns. However, the burns do continue past his neck. One of his shoulders looks, well, frankly it looks like it had been shredded - the thick burn scars the apparent reason for his stiff and pained movements on his right side. The scars continue down to his ribs, all the way to the v of his right hip, where they fade into smooth, unmarred skin.

The shock on your face must be apparent, because he reaches back for his shirt, and you quickly stop him, your voice breaking. "No, don't- I'm sorry, I just... how are you alive?"

He looks uncomfortable, his jaw clenched tight as he still avoids your eyes. "Honestly, I don't know. It's... a very long story." His voice is still hoarse, and you start to think it's not just from exhaustion.

He finally looks up at you, and his red eyes are wet. You decide then and there that, even if this is a dream, he's the most beautiful you've ever seen him.

"Then why don't you start from the beginning?"

[hiskillingjar]

What if? Fox was infatuated to unhealthy levels with MC, from the beginning (even before the kidnapping).

me when i flirt with an older man (he runs a human trafficking ring and has an anxious attachment style)

2000+ words, sfw, ren hana is a chubby chaser and no you will not change my mind

"Hey, what can I get for you?"

It was a cold day in December and he had been called to the office on a weekend due to a technical mishap from one of his staff the previous day. It was a day that he would have been annoyed, angry even, a day where he would have taken one step into the building and tore the head off the first person who dared speak to him.

But, for whatever reason, he always found his anger dissipated when he saw them.

The barista smiled, their soft, freckled cheeks dimpling with an expression that insinuated sincerity and sweetness, an innately trusting nature, traits so rare in Fox's profession, in the city that surrounded him, rare enough that he cherished and obsessed over them whenever he found them in someone.

He had been coming to this cafe every morning for weeks, not only because it was on the corner of his office in the financial district, a place close by where he could escape his moronic employees when he needed to, but because he found that he had to see their face to even feel slightly at ease on the more stressful days of work.

Just one look of their smile and hearing their voice was enough to settle him in an instant.

"Just a cup of coffee, please," Fox replied with a slight smile, jolted out of his train of thought, one of his ears twitching when they chuckled kindly.

"Well, yeah, I assumed," They said with another little chuckle, crooked teeth (so familiar, so sweet, wouldn't they look nice on the ground, scattered like pearls?) biting their lip to stop the chuckle from growing into a laugh. It was a quiet Saturday in the financial quarter, so they must have had time to banter with customers. "What kind?"

Fox smirked just a touch, one of his fangs hooking over his bottom lip.

He couldn't deny that he was a little curious about the young barista and what they were doing working in this part of the city (since, for one, they looked like they had a modicum of personality compared to everyone else who worked there).

They were a far cry from the kind of people he usually saw and interacted with on a day-to-day basis, soft when all he saw was hard, kind when all he saw was cruelty, and there was a certain, naive charm to them that Fox found almost magnetic.

He was always the obsessive type, falling in love with every pretty face who was nice to him, and years of therapy and unpacking his trauma never really stopped that obsession from blooming.

But what was the harm, really? What was so bad about a little crush and a few intrusive thoughts?

"Hmm…" He hummed thoughtfully, his tail idly wagging behind him. "Surprise me?"

"Adventurous. I like it." They chuckled again as they set to work on his drink. When they turned, it gave Fox a good opportunity to…assess their assets, his gaze scrutinous as he leaned against the counter, elbows up on the glass pastry display.

All things considered, their figure wasn't exactly remarkable, certainly not compared to the call girls and 'staff members' he was accustomed to working with. Average height (taller than him, but that wasn't hard), a heft to their hips and backside, a small (possibly bound) chest, and a constellation of acne scarring on their freckled cheeks…but he found himself drawn to them, regardless of all of that.

It had indeed been a cold day…but there was a certain warmth that he felt coming from the young barista that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Indeed, despite his violent intrusive thoughts, there was a part of him (buried beneath his hardened surface) that yearned for them.

He almost wanted to reach out and touch them, right then and there, the urge to simply embrace them, touch their skin, run his fingers along their cheek, dig his claws into them, pull their hair, break their jaw, make them bleed, make them cry, growing with every passing second.

But something stopped him, a sensible part of him that kept pulling him back from the brink of his obsession, his face remaining impassive as he continued to stare.

He probably looked like any normal, lecherous, older man, making advances on someone years younger than him. He could deal with that.

"You work around here?" They asked, making idle conversation as they steamed a jug of milk, a gust of steam fogging up their glasses.

"That I do," Fox replied with a nod, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he took in their form once again (they were cleaning their glasses with their shirt, making it ride up and expose the soft skin of their belly) and stood back from the counter, putting his hands in his pockets (adjusting his growing bulge). "Right around the corner, in fact. And you?" He asked curiously.

"I'm a student," They smiled, turning back towards him and putting their glasses back on. "Obviously. I mean, I'm a barista, that comes with the territory, right?" They laughed and Fox smiled, nodding again curtly. "I work the weekend shift when I can though, when it's nice and quiet."

"A student, huh?" Fox asked curiously, casually, raising a brow and running his tongue over one of his fangs, his ears tilting forward. His attention was torn between the barista's face as they spoke and the still-exposed flash of skin above the waistband of their jeans, a little fold of soft fat spilling over them. His eyes shone brightly as he continued to stare downwards. "What are you studying?" He asked, eyes quickly returning to their face so as not to look too obvious in his ogling.

"Criminal psychology," They replied, finishing up the coffee with a dusting of cinnamon and setting it on the counter in a to-go cup. They had him clocked as a businessman, then. "Postgrad."

"Criminal psychology?" Fox repeated, accepting the offered drink as he took the cup and raised it to his nose, inhaling the aroma as he spoke. "I'm curious, what sort of career are you hoping to move into with that?" He asked, tilting his head, his tail still wagging idly. "Not just after university, but after all of it?"

"I wanna work in rehabilitation," They said, tilting their own head and giving him a considered look, their dark eyes flitting from his well-groomed fox ears (beast-kin in the wild were still relatively rare, after all) and down his handsome face and his suit, admiring him casually, as any person did (and they often did). "And help people get back on their feet after prison."

"Rehabilitation, eh? Helping people get back on their feet…" Fox repeated their words again with a thoughtful look on his face, his wrinkles looking a little more pronounced as he thought over what they said. He took a sip of his coffee, meeting their gaze for a minute (noting when they smiled eagerly at him as if waiting for his approval). "Well, I think that's just wonderful….and a hard job, too. You must be pretty driven to want to do that."

"Yeah," They laughed, scraping back dyed hair behind their ears. "Tell me about it. It's really tough sometimes. But…" They bit their lip again, but despite their bashful expression (those crooked teeth digging into their soft skin, like he wanted to do), their eyes never left his. "I believe people deserve a second chance…everybody, even the worst people. We should do everything we can to make sure of that, and I want to be part of that. I want to help people."

Something about those words, their eyes on his, speaking to him as if those words were for him and him alone, made something tight catch in Fox's chest, and he almost spluttered a mouthful of hot coffee around the rim of the cup.

"Everyone…even the worst people," Fox said softly to himself, wiping his mouth clean as he glanced down at his shoes, hoping his expression made him look thoughtful instead of…well, complacent. "How very noble of you."

He ran his tongue over his teeth, tilting his head back while the barista typed his order into their register.

"Even people like me?" He then asked, his voice low in the back of his throat, golden eyes flitting upwards, half-lidded, as his brows knitted together with an ominous kind of consideration.

"What was that?" They looked up from the register, not catching what he said.

"Ah, it's nothing, nothing at all." He then said quickly with a subdued laugh and a casual smile. "This is lovely, by the way. What am I drinking?"

"Oh, it's just an oat milk latte," They chuckled with a shrug. "But…" They then continued in a quiet whisper, leaning into him over the counter, like they were telling a secret. "I infused the milk with fresh lavender and thyme this morning. This is the first time I'm trying it out in the shop."

When they were this close to him, their scent was overwhelmingly intoxicating and attractive, so much so that it made his guts twist in ravenous hunger and his growing bulge throb even more.

"Ah…how unique." He grinned, taking another sip of the coffee, doing his best to look deliberate. "The lavender adds a really nice touch, as does the thyme. Very subtle, but distinct. It's wonderful, really." He said, forcing a slightly impressed look on his face as he looked up at them, his golden eyes sparkling at their own grinning face, ecstatic at the praise.

"I'm so glad you think so," They grinned, before turning the register around for him to see and pay. "That'll be four-fifty today. No charge for the extras, of course."

"How very kind of you," He said softly (and mostly to himself), taking his phone from his pocket and tapping it against the register's contactless sensor in a quick and fluid gesture.

So fluid that he was almost certain that they didn't notice him taking their picture.

The register let out a high BEEP in recognition of his payment, and a receipt was quickly spat out on the barista's side.

"Great, that's all gone through. Well," The barista's grin faded into a polite smile, as the interaction wound to a close, tearing off the paper receipt and stuffing it in the cash drawer of their register. "It was great speaking with you today, Mr…"

"Fox." He said, taking another sip of coffee with a light smirk. Their picture must have been scanned into the database by now, from the way his phone was buzzing in his pocket. "Just Fox. No titles."

"Fox." The barista said back to him with a nod. "See you around?" They added hopefully.

"Certainly," Fox replied with as close to a genuine smile as he could still manage. "It was lovely speaking with you too, darling. Take care of yourself."

Once Fox left the cafe, a tinkle of a bell above the door marking his exit and leaving the young barista to attend to their other tasks while it was still quiet, he took out an old flip-phone and dialed a familiar number, still thoughtfully sipping his coffee as the cold chill of the morning ran down his spine.

"Hey…yeah, I have a special request for you."

His voice was low and quiet once the person on the other end of the phone silently picked up, waiting for his instructions.

"I want a pick-up from a specific spot, today if you can. I'll send you the location." He took another sip of coffee as he idly paced the front of the cafe, hearing a few words from the other end of the line. "Yeah, I've just uploaded them to the database. Local university, no housemates, family not around, it looks like…mm, and cute as a button, I know, I know."

Fox smiled widely, his tail wagging a little more frantically as his mind raced with gruesome thoughts.

"As soon as you can. No damage in transit or no bonus, got it? Great."

He hung up with a snap of the phone and drained the last of the coffee from its cup, running his tongue over his lips in silent consideration.

He could get used to lavender and thyme.

[dragonflylady77]

what's my name again?

Harringrove - Rating: M - 4309 words

A Billy Didn't Die Day fic and a present for @shieldofiron and @intothedysphoria because they love a bit of Amnesiac Billy.

Thank you to @spaceofentropy for the beta, as always. <3

It's also on Ao3!

It's a year since Starcourt. The last thing Steve expected was to find Billy fucking Hargrove on the side of the road one night. Not only is he alive, but he doesn't remember anything, not even his name. This new Billy is flirty as hell and Steve finds that he doesn't mind at all...

“Hargrove?”

He turned towards the voice, wondering if the guy was talking to him. He must have been because there was no one else around. 

He wasn't even sure where they were. 

The side of some country road, clearly, judging by the trees and the lone street light illuminating a busted phone booth.

Had he walked there? He couldn't see a car apart from the maroon BMW that the guy was standing next to. 

He took a good look at the guy. Thick brown hair that you wanted to sink your fingers into, big brown eyes, full lips, a long neck begging for a hickey… a well fitted jacket and light blue jeans that definitely highlighted his… assets.

Okay, so I’m clearly into men.

He licked his bottom lip and took a couple of steps towards the decidedly hot guy. He noticed the guy's hand tighten around something that was dangling loosely from his fingers, then the guy brought up a fucking baseball bat with nails on it and swung it a few times like he was warming up to use it.

“Woah, there, pretty boy, I know we only just met, but I promise I'm no threat to you,” he said, putting both hands up so the stranger could see he meant it. “I'd appreciate a ride, though, into whatever town is closest to here so I can figure out my next step with a cup of coffee.”

He had searched his pockets when he woke up on the side of the road and found nothing besides a couple of twenty dollar notes. He had no idea where he was, or who he was, which was not the best situation to be in.

“How are you here, Hargrove?” the guy asked, bat still raised. “I saw you die, man. A whole year ago, on the floor at Starcourt.”

“What the fuck? Clearly you have me confused with someone else.”

“You're telling me you're not Billy Hargrove? Because you sure as fuck look like him. And sound like him. And that's not possible.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. I woke up under that tree over there not that long ago and I have no clue where I am, or, more to the point, who I am,” he told the guy who immediately scoffed. “Okay, what’s your name then?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington. We were in high school together last year? You beat me up about a month after you arrived in town, when I was looking after your stepsister and her friends?”

“Yeah, Steve, my gut says that doesn’t sound like something I would do, not without a good reason. And I don’t remember having a sister.”

“Well, you just said you didn’t remember who you were, so…” Steve shrugged.

“Sure wish I remembered you, though, because you’re pretty fucking dreamy.”

Steve stood up straight and dropped the bat. It clattered on the road beside his feet. “Oh, um, I don’t… um, I’m not…”

“No need to fret, pretty boy, I meant nothing by it. If you just point me in the direction of the nearest town, I'll be out of your hair and on my way.”

“What? No. You can’t!”

“You don’t want to give me a ride and now you don’t want to give me directions… What the fuck do you expect me to do? I’d call a cab except I have no clue where I am and that phone booth has seen better days.”

“You can’t just walk back into Hawkins like nothing happened, Billy. You died . There was an article in the paper about you, with your yearbook photo. We had a fucking funeral for you, for fuck’s sake.”

“Look, amigo, this conversation is going in circles. I’m tired and I’d love nothing more than a hot meal and an even hotter shower. I have just enough for a shitty motel room, so if you’d be so kind as to tell me if I should go this way or that way, and you never have to see me again.”

“You can come to my house.” Steve blinked a few times, like the words coming out of his mouth had surprised him. 

“What?”

“You can come to my house,” he repeated. “My parents are away in Chicago, the fridge is stocked up and you can pick whichever guest room you want for the night. And tomorrow we can work out what happened to you.”

If Steve wanted him to be this Billy, he’d be Billy, especially if that meant a safe place to spend the night. The name kinda felt right anyway.

“You promise not to bludgeon me to death with your nail bat?”

“I promise. Get in the car, Billy. I don’t like this place,” Steve said, nodding towards the passenger side before he bent to pick up his bat.

Billy allowed himself a moment to stare at Steve’s ass before he walked around the car and got in. Steve shoved the nail bat in the boot before he settled behind the wheel and started his fancy car.

“Not sure what’s hiding in the forest, but that building over there gives me the heebie jeebies, Stevie,” Billy said, peering into the darkness at some rusted warehouse with a dilapidated sign. He thought he saw something move in the shadows and was glad when Steve turned the car around and took them away.

Billy let out a low whistle when Steve parked his fancy car outside an equally fancy house. “Jesus, pretty boy, you didn’t tell me you were loaded.”

Steve shrugged. “My parents are, not me. My dad’s pretty pissed that I didn't get into college and keeps threatening to get me a job at his company, but I’d rather stay here and work at the video store, even if it doesn't pay much, than having to travel all across the state selling vacuum cleaners.”

“Vacuum cleaners, ay? Sounds pretty fucking boring. And they’re letting you stay in this mansion for free?” Billy asked as he followed Steve into the house. 

“Nah, not quite. I mean, they still pay the mortgage but I have to pay for the utilities.” Steve led the way to the kitchen and made a beeline for the freezer. “Hot pockets, pizza or TV dinner?” He turned to Billy who was staring at him.

“A kitchen this nice and you don’t cook? Not even eggs, or like, grilled cheese?” Billy shook his head. “I’m disappointed, Steve.”

Steve closed the freezer, his eyes never leaving Billy.

“What? What did I say?” Billy was starting to feel a bit self-conscious. He wasn’t sure why Steve was suddenly staring silently at him. He didn’t think he’d made any major faux-pas and if he had, he could hardly be blamed for it. After all, he’d told Steve he had no memories.

“You, um, you keep calling me Steve,” Steve said so softly Billy almost didn’t hear it.

“Yeah, it’s your name, isn’t it?” Billy was the guy with the memory loss but Steve seemed to be the confused one…

“I guess I’m not used to it. You always called me Harrington before…” There was wonder in his eyes and it made Billy feel some sort of way he wasn’t too keen to explore when he was this tired and hungry.

“You want me to call you by your last name instead?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I, um, I like it.” Steve cleared his throat. “So, about dinner?”

“Oh, I’ll have whatever is quickest, if that’s okay. I’m beat.”

Steve nodded and threw a couple of hot pockets into the microwave before getting two sodas from the fridge and offering one to Billy, who took it gratefully.

“Thanks.” The cold drink made Billy realize how parched he’d been. He wondered when the last time was that he’d had anything to eat or drink before he woke up on the side of that creepy road. This amnesia thing was bullshit, if you asked him.

Steve sat with him while he ate and Billy asked him about that life he’d been supposedly living before he lost his memory. The reluctance of his host to answer a few of Billy’s questions made him wonder what Steve was hiding. Something bad had happened on July 4th the year before, leading to the destruction of the local mall, and the demise of this Billy guy Steve was adamant was him.

“I’m sorry, pretty boy, but I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. Do you think we could pick this conversation up in the morning?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll get you a towel and some clean clothes. There’s a guest bedroom down the hall, third door on the left. The bathroom is the one before that. If you end up in the garage, you went too far.”

Billy went looking for the room while Steve retrieved clothes for him from upstairs. They said goodnight and Billy had a quick shower before he lay in bed, pondering on the surreal turn his evening had taken. He’d gone from waking up on the grass next to an isolated country road with no car and no ID, to staring at the ceiling on a comfy bed with soft sheets, and a belly full of food. 

He hoped the next day brought more answers.

*****

“Are you absolutely sure it’s really him?”

“Dustin, for the fifteenth time, yes, I am sure, okay?” Steve gritted out, trying not to scream. He regretted using the radio to tell the kids about Billy before he went to bed, because they’d all shown up bright and early. He kept repeating the same information, over and over, and none of them seemed to actually listen, or understand he didn’t know any more than what he’d already shared with them.

“But it’s not possible,” Mike said, a sour look on his face. “We saw him die. There’s no way he could have survived the injuries that the Mind Flayer infl—”

Mike’s eyes widened and he stopped talking, staring at the archway to the kitchen. Someone gasped, Steve wasn’t sure which of the kids, then they all turned around as one. It was a very Invasion of the Body Snatchers moment and Steve started laughing. 

His laughter died in his throat when he took in the sight of Billy Hargrove padding into the kitchen, stretching with a yawn. He was wearing the gray joggers Steve had left for him the night before, slung low on his hips, and nothing else. The scars on his chest and sides looked pink and gnarly and Steve winced at the sight of them.

He wondered what he was going to say to Billy about them when he asked, because he was bound to ask. Maybe he should just tell him the truth, even though he had no way to prove any of it.

Billy opened cupboards until he found the mugs, then helped himself to some coffee. Black, one sugar. He turned around, leaning against the counter and lifted his mug in greeting.

“Morning, pretty boy. Teenagers I don’t know. Thanks for the bed last night, I don’t remember the last time I slept so well.” Billy chuckled. “Then again, I don’t remember anything before you found me last night so…”

The kids all started talking at the same time, throwing out questions and theories that Steve tuned out automatically. He didn’t care how it was possible that Billy was back, or where he’d been in the past year. The fact was that he was back and he had no memories. 

Steve crossed the lounge and walked into the kitchen. He got himself some coffee before joining Billy by the counter.

“Hey,” Steve said, marveling at the smile that bloomed on Billy’s face.

“Hey, Stevie. Are they always this noisy and annoying?” Billy asked with a nod towards the kids.

Steve chuckled. “Uh huh.” The stray thought hit him, not for the first time, that Billy was attractive as fuck, especially when he smiled. He didn’t remember Billy smiling all that much before, at least not in the open and genuine way this new Billy was. He found that he liked it a lot. 

After the battle of Starcourt, Robin had asked a lot of questions and Steve had done his best to answer them. Some of the things she’d said when he’d explained his unwanted rivalry with Billy had prompted some serious soul searching.

For Robin’s eighteenth birthday back in March, they’d driven to Indianapolis and used fake IDs to get into a queer bar. Steve had ended up in a booth making out with a guy with a dirty blonde mullet and blue eyes, which had caused him a few realizations about himself. 

After long discussions with Robin during boring early afternoon shifts at Family Videos, the two of them had come to the following conclusions:

One, Steve was most definitely bisexual.

Two, he maybe had a type.

Three, there was a good chance Billy had been pulling Steve’s metaphorical pigtails

After the last twelve-ish hours, Steve was ready to add a new item to the list. Billy was definitely flirting with him, and Steve was into it. A lot.

“You know, they usually keep going for a while. I bet we could sneak out to go grab some breakfast and they wouldn’t even notice,” Steve whispered to Billy, his eyes on Dustin and Mike yelling at each other while Lucas and Will tried to calm them down.

Billy snickered. “You’re on. I better put a shirt on though…”

Steve made a show of looking down at Billy’s chest before he locked eyes with him. “If you must… Wouldn’t want you to get arrested for indecent exposure on your first day back from the great beyond, I guess,” he said with a wink that made Billy’s cheeks turn pink. “Come on,” he added before pushing off the counter.

With a nod, Billy headed down the hallway towards the guest room, which went unnoticed by the kids. Steve put both their mugs in the sink and grabbed his wallet and his keys as silently as he could from the bowl on top of the microwave.

He stopped in the archway long enough to get Will’s attention. “Just going to the bathroom,” he told the quiet boy, who nodded before his eyes moved back to Mike. 

Interesting…

A fully dressed Billy was waiting for him by the door to the garage. Steve looked back at the house as they drove off, but no one came running after them. 

“Are you sure it’s safe to leave those boys in your house like that?” Billy asked when they got out of Loch Nora.

“Yeah, they’ll get tired of arguing eventually and raid the kitchen for snacks.” Steve was over it, if he was really honest. He never signed up to be the unofficial Party babysitter, not that a bunch of fifteen-year-olds needed a babysitter. He sighed. “They’ll either be watching a movie when we get back or they’ll have left.”

“Kinda hoping for the latter, I have to say, pretty boy” Billy said, his gaze on Steve and Steve found himself agreeing.

“That makes two of us.” Steve smiled, feeling a little giddy when Billy blushed again.

“Do you think it’s a good idea for us to go out in public, on account of me being dead and all?” Billy inquired when they stopped at the intersection that would take them downtown.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m taking us to a diner about twenty minutes out of Hawkins. They have the best pancakes.” Steve took the turn that led out to the highway, flipping down the sun visor when the sun peeked through the trees and into his eyes. 

“You know, I’m still not entirely sure who I am, but yet somehow, I know I love pancakes,” Billy said, his frustration evident in his tone.

Steve reached across the central console and picked up Billy’s hand in his, slotting their fingers together. “I’m sorry.” He turned his head briefly to smile at Billy then put his attention back on the road, giving Billy’s hand a light squeeze. “If your memories don’t come back, we’ll just have to make new ones.”

“Steve…”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t do this. Don’t answer a question with a question. You skirted around a bunch of stuff last night when you were telling me all about how I allegedly died, and now you’re holding my hand and talking about making new memories together. What the fuck is happening?”

Steve sighed. He spotted a service road and slowed down so he could get off the highway. He drove until they were out of view and parked next to a copse of trees. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face Billy, who was sitting in a similar fashion. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and decide where to start and what to tell Billy.

“The truth, please,” Billy said and Steve nodded.

“Over a year and a half ago, you moved here to Indiana from California, with your dad, your stepmom and your stepsister, Max. I’m not sure why you moved over here from there, there were a few rumors at school about it, but they were all as stupid as each other. I do know that you were angry about it, and you took it out on Max, and to a certain degree, me.”

“Okay, so how did we go from that to this? Because I vividly remember you telling me last night I beat you up at some point early in our acquaintance.”

“I did say that. And I remember you saying that you wouldn't have done it without a good reason.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you were right, though I didn’t realize it at the time. By that, I mean when you showed up looking for Max, and found her alone in some stranger’s house with me and those boys you met earlier, I probably shouldn’t have antagonized you, or thrown the first punch.”

“Oh.”

“I also since learned some unsavory things about your father that went a long way to explain why you reacted the way you did and beat the shit out of me. But that’s all water under the bridge.”

“Are you serious right now?” Billy balked.

“As a heart attack. Anyway, around that time and also later, some really bad shit happened, involving an alternate dimension, flower-headed creatures with lots of teeth, and possession by a huge monster made of people.” Steve chanced a glance at Billy to find him staring with an odd look on his face. “Long story short, me and my friend Robin were tortured by Russians but we managed to escape, then you sacrificed yourself to save all of us, and potentially the world.”

“Okaaaay. Alternate dimensions, creepy monsters and Russians in Indiana. Got it. That still doesn’t explain this.” Billy gestured between the two of them.

“Um, I did a lot of thinking, after, and Robin made me realize a bunch of things about myself.”

“This Robin your girlfriend, then?” Billy seemed upset by the idea.

“What? No!” Steve shook his head vehemently, so there wouldn’t be any doubt in Billy’s mind. “We’re just friends. And I’m totally not her type.”

“Pretty boy like you is everyone’s type, Steve.”

The turn of phrase was so familiar, it hit Steve in the gut. He wanted to reach into the past and slap himself for being so oblivious. “Even yours?” he asked, hopeful and not caring about sounding desperate.

Billy laughed and Steve was once again astonished at the difference between this Billy and the one he remembered. 

“Especially mine,” Billy replied, sobering up. His gaze dropped from Steve’s eyes to his mouth.

“Billy?” Steve whispered when Billy didn’t look up again.

“Yeah?” Billy glanced up then, and Steve grinned at him.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too, pretty boy, me too.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he yanked Billy to him or if Billy climbed over, but next thing he knew, he had a lap full of amnesiac boy. He grappled for the handle on the side of the seat and slid the seat as far back as it went, moaning loudly when Billy straddled him properly. Then Billy’s mouth was on his and it was everything Steve had dreamed about and more… Billy kissed with his whole body and Steve couldn’t get enough of it. 

He wrapped his arms around Billy to keep him close, not that Billy was likely to go anywhere, if the way he buried his fingers in Steve’s hair was any indication. Billy tightened his fingers, giving a little tug that made Steve’s dick jump. The second Steve leaned his head back, Billy left his mouth to nibble along his jaw and down his neck.

Steve let out a keening whimper when Billy started licking and sucking on a spot at the base of his neck. His hand flew to the back of Billy’s head and he bucked his hips, groaning when he felt Billy’s half-hard cock press against his. There was fire running through his veins at the thought of Billy marking him where everyone could see.

“Oh fuck, Steve… you feel so go— fuck !” Billy pulled back all of a sudden, his breath coming in harsh pants, his hands dropping out of Steve’s hair as he sat upright. He banged his head on the roof of the car when he moved off Steve and fell back into the passenger seat. He was white as a sheet, his arms curled over his chest, his knees up to his chin.

“Baby, you okay?” Steve asked, concerned at the sudden change in Billy. He wanted to reach out, but wasn’t sure it would be well received. 

“I remember…” Billy’s voice was shaky and he wouldn’t look at Steve. “I remember everything. Oh God!”

He was out of the car and running into the woods before Steve had a chance to move. Steve took off after him, not even bothering to close his car door in his rush to catch up to him. 

“Billy! Wait!” Steve kept his eyes on the red dot ahead of him and kept calling out for Billy to stop. He came to a clearing with a rocky outcrop and stopped to catch his breath, noticing the heaving form of the boy he was looking for huddled beside a boulder.

He approached slowly, careful to make some noise to alert Billy to his presence. “Hey, Billy, it’s me, it’s Steve.”

Billy lifted his head from where it was resting against his knees. His eyes were red and his cheeks wet from tears. “Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” he asked with a voice rendered husky from crying.

Steve let out a relieved chuckle. “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

“I don’t know, Stevie, you seemed pretty keen a minute ago in that fancy car of yours,” Billy replied with a small chuckle of his own.

Steve dropped down in front of Billy, close enough to be touching but not daring to yet. His confidence was bolstered by the glimpse of Billy’s usual bravado “Yeah, I was, until the boy I like ran out on me,” he said with a smile.

“Oh.”

“Can I touch you?” Steve asked, moving closer when Billy nodded. He wrapped his arm around Billy’s shoulder, reassured when Billy leaned into him. “You scared the shit out of me, running off like that. What happened?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. Suddenly everything came back to me, every horrible thing I did, all those people… God, Steve, how can you stand me? I can’t stand myself after what I—”

“Baby, no. That wasn’t you. The Mind Flayer controlled you. It made you do those things. It’s not your fault, you hear me?”

“You really mean it?”

“That it wasn’t your fault? You bet.”

“No, the other part.”

“Oh, that? Wasn’t that obvious? I really like you, Billy Hargrove. And I’m glad you’re back from the dead, or wherever you were this past year.”

“Pretty boy, I have no fucking clue what happened to me.”

“What do you wanna do now?”

“I can’t stay here, I know that much, because where the fuck would I go? I died. And there is no fucking way I’m going back to Cherry Lane.”

“Oh, well, you wouldn’t be able to, anyway. Your dad left a bit after your funeral. Susan and Max moved into a trailer at Forest Hills because the house was in his name and they couldn’t stay there.”

“Well, that’s just peachy, isn’t it?” 

Steve tightened his hold on Billy. “You can stay with me. Or we could…”

“We could what? What are you plotting in that brain of yours, pretty boy?”

“I have some savings, and a car. If you wanted, we could, I don’t know, go to Cali. Or somewhere else. Anywhere.”

“You’d want that?”

“More than anything, if I’m being honest.”

“But your life is here. I don’t want you to end up resenting me, Steve.”

Steve cupped Billy’s cheek and pressed their lips together for a short kiss. “My only friend here is Robin, and she’s off to college in the fall. I’m sick of spending my days off driving a bunch of ungrateful teenagers around. Also, I’ve spent a whole year without you, and it sucked. So if you want me, want this, I’m all in.”

Billy pounced, bowling Steve over onto the soft grass with a wide grin. They rolled over a few times and Steve was still laughing when Billy pulled him down for a kiss. 

The pancakes could wait. The damn kids could wait.

The universe had given Steve sunshine back and he was going to bask in it for the rest of his life.

[aesethewitch]

Spirit Work: The Power of Hanging Out

Elaborate rituals, intense meditations, and huge gestures have their places in spirit work. There's value in putting a massive effort into something for the spirits you venerate or work with. And sometimes, you need to do these big things for a particular outcome or as part of your tradition.

I have a bias against big, elaborate rituals for this purpose, though. In my practice, it's just unnecessary. All of the relationships I have and maintain with spirits are, at their cores, friendships. They're not working relationships, they're not worshiper-worshiped relationships, they're not transactional relationships. My spirits are my friends.

So I approach working with them like friendship. I'll light a candle and set a cup of coffee or tea on their altar in the same way I'd offer a friend a cup of tea when they visit. If I'm working on something, I'm accustomed to body doubling as someone with ADHD, and I like to invite my friends to work alongside me. In the same way, I'll invite my spirit friends to participate or just hang around while I work.

Heck, they hang out while I write these posts sometimes!

Not everything in spirit work has to be intense and serious. Yes, you should be respectful -- in the same way that you should be respectful to your neighbors and your friends. And yeah, not all spirits can or should be treated this way.

But I would like to posit the humble power of Hanging Out.

What I Mean By That

Literally. Hanging out.

Whatever you normally do to "call" your spirit(s), do that. My method is lighting a candle of some sort. Sometimes, I'll choose a scented candle if I'm trying to lure a particular spirit to the area, but an unscented taper candle will do just fine.

And then, you hang out. That's it.

If you're watching YouTube, invite the spirit to watch with you. Ask their opinions on what to watch, if you have an easy way to communicate with them. (One of my spirits loves Ghost Hunting TV Shows. He thinks it's hilarious.)

If you're playing a video game, leave space on the couch for the spirit to settle next to you to watch.

Make dinner, chat about your days. Set aside a little plate for them if you want. Eat together.

The Value in Hanging Out

The idea here is that time is valuable​. Time spent with someone else is valuable on its own, even if that time is spent doing little to nothing "productive."

Think about your friends and the people you enjoy spending time with. It isn't always clubs, parties, exploring, hiking, running, traveling, or whatever else you do. Even if that's how you met or your main activity together, there are always casual moments. Easy breakfasts, simple conversations, sleepovers in your PJs, watching movies.

Quality time is powerful. Choosing to spend your time with someone sends a clear message: "I value your presence."

Not everything has to be an elaborate party. Sometimes, all you want is to sit down and hang out.

Why can't it be the same with spirits? The answer is that it can. In my practice, I rarely do anything that elaborate. I'll put extra effort in for special occasions like holidays, but usually, it's a simple act of lighting a candle, saying hello, and then sitting down with the spirit to just hang out.

Not every relationship requires constant, intense focus. Especially if you're looking to befriend​ your spirits, rather than just work with them, the Power of Hanging Out is a valuable asset to keep in mind.

It doesn't have to be every day, either. I have a sort of open, standing invitation for whichever spirits to hang out whenever they like. They're welcome to chill anytime, unless I ask to be left alone. Because of our relationship, they respect that. (Usually -- the only time they don't is if something urgent has come up or they need something.)

I developed the theory of Hanging Out years ago. Spirit work was where I started, and it's always been Home to me. But it's intense sometimes, and a lot of what I was doing was burning me out very, very fast. So I adapted on the fly, as one does, and it ended up working really well.

Now, Hanging Out is my primary method of doing spirit work. Even with spirits I don't know or in new locations, there's value in projecting an aura of "I'm just here to chill. Feel free to talk to me, or don't. It's cool." Spirits, shockingly, respond to that. I end up with a lot of interesting, casual conversations, light taps on the shoulder to let me know I've been acknowledged by something that doesn't want to talk, and various visual anomalies from shy critters in the shadows.

Think of it like slow blinking at a cat or offering the back of your hand to a dog. Approaching respectfully and calmly in a very casual way attracts things that otherwise wouldn't show themselves. The Power of Hanging Out is alluring to even the shyest spirits.

Again, obviously, this won't work for all spirits. Do what works for what you work with. I've found Hanging Out works best with ancestors, house spirits, land spirits, and assorted ghosties over the years. It's not so good with, say, the Good Neighbors. But hey, maybe your experience will differ.

Extra Benefits of Hanging Out

Aside from the relationship benefits of casually sitting and hanging out, there are even more practical benefits. As a side-effect of adapting spirit work in this way to work for me, my senses for spiritual energy shot through the roof.

I've always been pretty sensitive. I'm that weird kid at the next table over in the restaurant who clocked the spirit of your recently-deceased aunt who left you her necklace which you're wearing under your shirt and which I couldn't have possibly seen. But when I started Hanging Out and just existing in a space with spirits, everything sort of... exploded.

It's like recognizing your family's footsteps coming down the hallway. When I stopped trying to force myself to understand and recognize every scrap of energy, it all washed over me instead. And in the Energy Soup, I started to recognize more signs and signals without effort.

This is, in my opinion, the greatest benefit of Hanging Out, even for people who don't do spirit work at all. There's no meditative aspect to it, really (though you can certainly meditate to enhance it, if that's something you do). It's just sitting and being receptive.

I don't think this method will work for everyone. People who have zero sensitivity to spirits may not see any results. But I think it has value even for those people.

At its core, Hanging Out is a mindfulness exercise. If you can't be with spirits, be with yourself. Put the call out to whoever or whatever you work with, venerate, sense -- or things you'd like to get to know better. See what answers.

​Light a candle.

Say, "If you want to come sit with me and watch TV, feel free. I have popcorn."

Hang Out.

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[littlest-w01f]

Sunlight

Helion x Alora

HELION MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Helion is low on staff for his libraries, Rhysand casually mentions to him he knows of someone who wishes to try to go out of the House of Winds' library

Cw: None

A/n: Edit after @nox-ceur's comment, here's the breakfast, Enjoy :)

part one - part two- part three

As the morning sun casts a warm glow through the chamber's windows, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, mingling with the scent of sizzling bacon and toast.

On the table, a bowl brimming with ripe strawberries gleams under the sunlight that beamed through the windows, their deep red hue promising a burst of sweet tanginess with each bite.

A plate heaves with golden-brown pancakes, their surface dotted with dollops of melting butter and drizzled with a rich maple syrup. A side dish of scrambled eggs, fluffy and tender, beckons with its creamy yellow hue, while slices of crisp bacon lay scattered like a constellation of savoury gold across another plate.

The golden pastries, so flaky and buttery, filled with sweet berries.

Alora gasped softly, seeing everything Helion had set on her plate, "Wow... This is so much..." Her curiosity peaked at seeing the different forms of pastries.

"Well, a good day should start with a healthy breakfast." Helion smiled, pouring some morning tea for her.

With a warm smile, Helion poured Alora a cup of freshly brewed tea. The steam rising from the cup carried the aroma of cinnamon and cloves, adding a hint of spice to the already tantalizing scents wafting from the table.

He watched as she carefully picked up a piece of pancake, holding it daintily between two fingers before bringing it to her lips. The sound of her soft sigh of pleasure echoed through the room, making his heart skip a beat.

He leaned back in his seat opposite hers slightly, admiring her delicate movements. His gaze lingered on her full lips, now glistening with traces of syrup, he looked away before he found himself imagining other ways those lips could be used.

"Helion," Alora spoke, her voice soft, pulling him out of his fantasies, "Will I be working in the library as usual? Like I used to in Night or are there..."

"…new responsibilities awaiting you here?" Helion finished her sentence, his expression thoughtful as he considered how best to utilize her skills within the Day walls.

"You've been an invaluable asset to Rhys, Alora," Helion began. "I envision you taking on more leadership roles, perhaps mentoring younger scholars."

"Of course, your time will still be divided between the library and other pursuits. We must ensure you maintain that spark of curiosity and creativity that makes your contributions so valuable." Helion's eyes locked onto hers, conveying a silent promise that he would always prioritize her well-being and growth, both academically and personally.

Helion's smile returned, softer this time. "Don't worry, my sunshine. You'll still have access to it whenever you desire. And with you being a Priestess, I doubt anyone would give you a hard time."

Alora began to speak but Helion's eyes almost darkened 5 shades, "If any of the staff here bothers you in any way, you come straight to me, alright? I have already asked them to behave." He sighed, his eyes soft again, "I won't handle your - or anyone's - mistreatment here, especially yours." He added, "Since you aren't from Day Court."

His words hung heavy in the air, echoing a promise that left no room for misinterpretation. Helion was prepared to protect her, to make her feel safe and comfortable.

Helion leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. "You're a part of this Court now, sunshine, our family."

"I appreciate that, Helion," Alora replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It means a lot coming from you. I know I'm not familiar with the customs and dynamics here, but I'll do my best to adapt and fit in. But I don't wish to be treated like a breakable object, or be treated with child's hands."

He reached across the table, his hand covering hers. "You are a valued member of this court, and we will respect your boundaries and autonomy. You have my word on that."

Their gazes met, and for a moment, the unspoken connection between them crackled with tension. Then, Helion cleared his throat and looked away, breaking the spell. "Now, finish your breakfast, sunshine. And tell me, how do you enjoy your pancakes and treats? Do they meet your standards?"

Alora walked the halls and found her way to the libraries from Helion, where she would be working. Intimidating wouldn't even begin to describe it, the libraries were ten times the size they had been in the House of Winds, going on like a maze for as long as the eye could see.

As Alora wandered deeper into the labyrinthine halls of the vast library, she felt a sense of awe wash over her. It wasn't just the sheer size that was overwhelming, but the knowledge contained within these walls. She could spend a lifetime exploring and still find new treasures.

Her steps took her down row after row of towering bookshelves, each shelf laden with ancient tomes and scrolls. The scent of old paper and ink filled her senses, a comforting familiarity amidst the unfamiliar surroundings.

She paused occasionally to glance at titles, reading snippets of information that piqued her interest. There were histories, philosophies, sciences, and tales of fantastical lands that stretched beyond anything she'd ever imagined.

"Hmm, you're on time, I thought you might be late." Anahita greeted Alora as she came to her, there was a large steel canteen of water in her hand, "Good."

Anahita's tone was firm, yet there was a hint of warmth beneath her stern exterior. She appraised Alora critically, taking in her appearance and demeanour. She led the way deeper into the library, navigating the winding paths with ease. "Today, you'll be focusing on the cataloguing and organization of our collection. It's a tedious task, but an essential one for maintaining the integrity of our archives."

As they walked, Anahita continued to speak, providing Alora with instructions and expectations for her role in the library. Her words were clear and direct, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"So exactly what I used to do for Night?" Alora asked with a smile, her head tipped up to look at the female.

Anahita nodded, "Yes, for the first few days, for you to get used to it." Anahita confirmed, her face relaxing into a slight smile. "We need to make sure you’re acclimatized to our routines and systems before we introduce you to more complex tasks."

"But you know better than to mistake this for easy work," she added, her expression once again serious. "This isn't just about putting things in order, it's about preserving our history, understanding our past, and shaping our future. There is knowledge in these walls dating back till even before the first High King."

Alora was surprised to hear that, "Really?" She looked at the bindings, wanting to read them all.

"Yes, really," Anahita affirmed, her voice carrying a note of reverence. "The knowledge contained within these walls has shaped us, guided us, kept us alive through countless generations."

"It's a responsibility we take very seriously," she concluded, her eyes meeting Alora's. They stopped at a section of shelves that needed organizing. Anahita gestured towards the books littering the floor. "Here, start with these. Make sure they're sorted properly, and add them to the correct sections."

"Alright..." Alora nodded, looking up as she noted the books and books of knowledge.

"I'll leave you to it. Here, take this canteen, and don't forget to drink, the Day sun might get to your head fast." Anahita nodded, handing her the steel canteen filled with cold water, "And stay here so you don't get lost in the maze of the libraries, if you can't help yourself and do get lost, don't forget to scream so we can get to you faster."

Before Alora could ask what Anahita meant, she was gone. Alora watched as Anahita disappeared around a corner, leaving her alone with the daunting task ahead.

She leaned forward, picked up the first book from the pile and examined it closely. Its binding was worn, its pages yellowed with age. She flipped open the cover with gentle hands, her fingers tracing the handwritten notes inside.

There was a certain magic in handling such antiquities, a tangible link to the past. Alora couldn't help but marvel at the dedication and care required to preserve these relics of history.

She got to work, organizing the books by subject matter, alphabetizing authors, and ensuring every detail was accounted for. The process was meticulous, demanding focus and attention to detail.

As Alora worked away, she couldn't help the distraction of the open book, wanting to read what was inside. Alora's curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself opening the book further, scanning the pages for intriguing passages.

The handwriting was elegant, written in old fae tongue, but she managed to decipher the meaning behind the words.

"Heliophilia, love of sunlight," She read, there was a note on the edges with a different handwriting, "Helion, what a perfect name for the Prince of Day."

Alora's eyes widened, this particular book was from the High Lord's direct family line. A small gasp escaped Alora's lips as she realized the significance of the book in her hands. Here, she held a piece of Helion's lineage, a testament to his ancestry. She carefully turned the pages, noting the entries made by various members of the royal family throughout the centuries.

Before she could get lost in the book, she resumed her work, marking the book down, shelving it in the correct place, trying her best not to get distracted.

With renewed determination, Alora returned to her task, meticulously filing the book away alongside others of similar origin and content. Each volume she handled was a piece of history, a window into the lives of people who had lived and loved, fought and died, centuries before her own existence.

The hours passed quickly as she worked, when it was time for lunch a kitchen staff had found her, bringing her food, her mind filled with thoughts of the rich tapestry of life laid out before her. In another few hours, the library had grown quiet around her, only the occasional distant echo of footsteps breaking the silence and she made her way outside.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Sunlight Taglist- @anuttellaa @a-frog-with-a-laptop @lalaluch}