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peachsayshi · 9 months ago

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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬･ wc: 3,383

↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx

nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table.

a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away.

he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home.

your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to.

you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current.

he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.

he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.

shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately.

“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat.

that student was his responsibility...

...and he failed him entirely.

“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango. “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!”

her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day.

he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down.

“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet.

right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her...

“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on.

“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair.

“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles.

“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”

“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!”

she’s only six.

she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction.

he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty.

he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.

he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…

all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.

“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.”

his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him.

the room is dead silent.

your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice.

what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.

nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place.

he regrets his words immediately.

he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room.

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next.

fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.

you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists.

“kento?”

he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away.

after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry.

“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement.

his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?”

the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright.

“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug.

nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.

your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.

a safety, a reassurance of home.

you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."

a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.

nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."

you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.

"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"

"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.

"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."

you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."

"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.

"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.

your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.

she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.

he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.

"my love?" he calls out to her.

his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.

"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.

"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."

her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.

she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.

"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.

her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.

nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.

she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.

he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.

“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.

“and what tale are we reading tonight?”

she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready…”

nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.

“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”

“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

nanami’s heart sinks.

that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.

“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.

her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.

nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”

she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.

“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”

“why was it bad?”

nanami sighs once again.

she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".

thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.

“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”

"shaken up?"

"scared, my love"

his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.

nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.

his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.

nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.

"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"

she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.

"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.

your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.

nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.

"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"

nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.

"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"

she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.

"I did?"

nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.

"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”

“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"

"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.

“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.

you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.

“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”

“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.

“shall I carry on?”

“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."

"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.

"I know so, papa!"

"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"

"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"

"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"

"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.

you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.

“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."

"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.

you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.

#[peach is away.💌]#[peach queues.🧡]#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x female reader #nanami x ofc #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento angst #nanami angst #nanami hurt/comfort #jujutsu kaisen angst #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction #jjk fluff

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reiderwriter · 5 months ago

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Unfair We're Not Somewhere

Chapter Eight of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: With a little bit of help from someone who could relate a little bit too closely to your situation, Y/N tries to come clean. Tries.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy symptoms/ general pregnancy things, unsub mentions, plot.

A/N: Chapter Eight! I'm so excited for where the rest of this series is going to go, though I do feel like people are going to be a bit annoyed by this one lmao. Let me know your thoughts in the comments below or in an ask! Don't be too mad...

Masterlist || Add yourself to the tag list

You sat quietly in the clinic as you waited for the pharmacist to fill your prescription - a simple pregnancy multivitamin that was supposed to help your food go down, make your hair shinier, and fix all your problems.

You wondered if the bottle could tell Spencer you were pregnant. You wondered if it could make him magically okay with that and prepare him for fatherhood, too.

Your phone buzzed, and you surfaced from the field of thoughts you'd been lost in as you checked it.

“Outside,” an unknown number had sent. You took that as your queue, stood up, and left the clinic, trying your best to avoid looking back at the small boy Spencer had been playing with.

You weren't sure if you were going to have a boy or a girl yet. You didn't mind either, though you'd always envisioned yourself with a big enough family that you assumed at least one of each was inevitable. Though even you had to admit how stereotypically nuclear that was, and how only 18% of the country was living that was lying anyway.

You shoved psychology from your head for a few minutes and let yourself breathe.

“Y/N!” JJ signalled from the driver's side of her still running SUV. She waved slightly, and you smiled politely as you quickly paced around to the side of her vehicle and got in.

“Hi,” you said, unsure if you should introduce yourself or not. She'd been in the office the day you'd been taken into custody (protection), but you still had yet to speak to her. She'd been exempt from protective duty so far due to her status as a senior field agent and the fact that she had two kids and a husband at home waiting for her.

You were sad she was the anomaly in the BAU, the only one with someone waiting on her.

“I'm Y/N,” you said, still unsure if you should hold out a hand or not. You hadn't made the best impression on most of Spencer's colleagues, and while you didn't think there was much point in trying, you still couldn't bring yourself to be intentionally blasé.

“I know, you're all we've been talking about for weeks,” the woman laughed, pulling out of the clinic car park and smiling at you.

“Oh, right. Case. Of course, I've heard you probably know more about me than I know about myself.”

“We have a profile, sure, but that's not what I meant.”

You nodded awkwardly and stared out the window for a second, the sky darkening slightly as it prepared to rain.

You drove for a few minutes before JJ spoke up again.

“I don't know if Emily told you, but it's actually my day off today,” she said, turning off into a cul-de-sac you'd never seen before.

“Oh, oh my god, I'm so sorry. I could've just got a taxi or something or just… gotten over myself. You didn't have to-”

“Yes, I did,” she looked at you for a second, cocking her head to the side in a gesture that said, ‘and you know why.�� It was a look only a friend would give, and you felt an instant connection with her.

How had Spencer found so many wonderful, big-hearted women to surround himself with, and how could you get in on it?

You supposed, by letting him get you pregnant, you'd probably found a cheat code for whatever the answer might have been.

“Anyway, it's my day off, so I promised my boys a fun day at home with mommy. We're doing finger painting and macaroni art. I hope you don't mind getting messy.”

“Wha-? Me? Oh. No, not at all,” you tried to seem nonchalant, but your heart suddenly beat faster now that you were faced with this unexpected opportunity. As a lecturer, you'd been surrounded by kids professionally for years now. 18 to 21 year old kids. The kind that already had defined morals, world views, and, secretly, alcohol tolerances. The last time you'd encountered any kind of child younger than 18 was when you yourself were under 18.

The joys of toiling away at a doctorate for the better half of your adult life. You knew how to talk to professors and scholars. You were absolutely scared shitless of interacting with a kid.

“H-How old are they?” You asked, trying to sound polite but falling somewhere between anxious and terrified with a simple stutter.

“Well, Henry is turning 8 in November, and Michael is just about 22 months. He's just about talking, which is as fun as you can expect.”

Her voice was tired, but there was genuine affection there, love for her kids and pride. You wondered if your voice would change if you'd suddenly begin speaking like that, too, about something other than a paper submitted to a journal or a job opportunity.

She pulled into a street parking space and turned off the engine as two bright haired little boys came bouncing up the path of their garden to greet her, stopping at the gate.

“Mommy! Michael got glitter on the carpet, and Daddy said we shouldn't tell you.”

“And you have no sense of loyalty when a pretty face comes around, do you?”

Hopping out of the car, you heard JJ's husband drawl as she greeted him with a kiss. She'd probably only taken half an hour to pick you up, but they were still greeting each other so warmly. For a second, you wondered what that would be like before you remembered throwing yourself into Spencer's arms the night before. Your face heated as you stood awkwardly at the side of the car, trying not to cradle your stomach as you watched the family interact.

Would your baby ever get that tall? Would it have brown eyes like Spencer, or one's more similar to your own? His hair was curly. Maybe your baby would get hair that waved like his, too.

After all, JJ's kids seemed like perfect compromises between her and her husband. Other people's kids didn't, though. You wondered a lot of things before JJ gestured you over again.

“Henry, Michael, this is Aunt Y/N. She's going to do those crafts with us today - after we've locked away the glitter and thrown away the key.”

You laughed as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pushed you forward into the chaos of two kids under ten.

You were a little startled as the smaller one - Michael - grabbed your hand. He had a pacifier in his mouth, though he was probably outgrowing it, and he stared up at you with big, wide eyes, blinking and sizing you up as he toddled along beside you.

Your heart grew three sizes, and you felt sorry for ever being afraid of interacting with the kids.

JJ whispered to her husband quickly as you entered the LaMontagne household, and he greeted you quickly.

“So you're Spencer's lady friend. It's nice to meet you. It's nice that you're real. Honestly, I was getting a little-”

A look from JJ cut him off, though he did still seem a bit confused.

“I'm sorry, am I under the wrong impression? JJ said you were pregnant with Spencer's baby, y'all aren't…”

“Oh my god-” you whispered, suddenly panicking again but whispering just in case. You weren't sure if the pair was religious, and though you certainly weren't, it probably wasn't the best time to blaspheme. You needed as much god as existed in the world.

“So, does everyone know?” You asked JJ, trying to keep your voice bright and calm, so Michael didn't take too much of an interest and grow frustrated by hushed tones. You knew enough about child development and psychology, it translated over, right?

“Everyone who's observant. Luke noticed the pregnancy vitamins in your bag, Tara was talking about your mood swings in the office the other day. I guess you told Emily earlier, and I have two kids.”

You nodded at the answer.

“And Spencer?”

“You haven't told him yet?” JJ asked, slightly surprised.

“If I told him, you'd know.”

“Well, you're right on that. He's not the most easy-going during pregnancy,” JJ laughed and steered you into the living space, where your de facto art studio had been set up for the day, along with the offending glitter bomb.

“Really? You thought you could keep that a secret?”

“Well, of anyone was going to find it, it was going to be my beautiful, smart, funny, profiler Wife,” Will said, giving her a small peck on the cheek as she rolled her eyes at him. “I'm clocking in now. Call me if you need anything.”

You waved him off, and sat down with the kids.

JJ started the craft and then planned your hasty escape as the two boys were enraptured by making the perfect macaroni necklace, dusting it in objectively too much glitter as they proudly created their art.

In the kitchen, she handed you a mug, and you sipped it quietly as she began again.

“So, you're not dating?”

“Nope.”

“And he doesn't know you're pregnant?”

“No.” You took another sip and shifted from one foot to the other.

You knew what was coming next. It was what you'd gotten next from Emily, from Penelope, from yourself when you'd thought about it for longer than ten seconds. You needed to tell him.

“Okay. What's your next move?”

You were so shocked you almost splashed the hot tea over the mug you held, close to burning yourself as you turned to face her.

“I… what?”

“Well, what's your next move? You're what, five months along? You're not going to be able to hide it for much longer. And you have to think about maternity leave, your hospital stay, and names, and who's going to drive you to the hospital. And obviously, how you're going to pay the hospital fee, and then custody and child support.”

“Oh god…”

“And you also have to sort your relationship out with Spencer. So where are you starting?”

It wasn't a question that didn't have an answer. JJ was staring at you, waiting for one as you opened and closed your mouth, head suddenly so empty you almost forgot what you were talking about.

“He doesn't like me,” you suddenly blurted and wished you hadn't, face crumpling as you physically cringed at your own words.

“Y/N, he was telling us about your toothbrush yesterday. Part of the office has a theory that he made up this case as a reason to get closer to you.”

Again, you felt the heat blossom on tour skin as you looked away, taking another sip.

“We don't do anything but argue.”

“You do at least one other thing,” JJ said, hands on her hips as she confronted you.

“No, that doesn't count. We were still arguing while we were doing…that.”

“TMI,” she groaned as you fanned yourself. “Y/N, I know for a fact that Spencer is at least half in love with you. If you're absolutely sure you don't feel the same way, you need to at least let him down easy.”

“I…. I don't know. He's infuriating sometimes, but then he's so smart and annoying. But he's pretty great at comforting me. And the, uh, the other stuff, that was good, too.”

“Don't need to-”

“Like really good. Like, I'm not surprised I ended up pregnant practically first time good-”

“Back on topic, please!” JJ whisper shouted, throwing her hands up as you zipped your mouth shut.

“You like him,” she said.

You sighed and finally gave in.

“Yeah. Yeah, I like him.”

“Great. What next?”

“Next, I tell him I'm pregnant and make him hate me for a while.”

She patted you on the back and poised you another mug of tea before leading you back over to the kids and sitting beside them at the table.

“We can plan something later. For now, macaroni art is calling.”

You weren't sure if it was the stern, practical pep-talk from JJ or the little tiny grasp of your hand from Michael. Maybe it was even Henry's goodbye of ‘see you soon, Auntie Y/N’ that had you suddenly invigorated, but you suddenly kicked yourself into gear.

The pregnancy wasn't going to put itself on pause while you worked up the courage to tell Spencer about it. You had to do it.

JJ dropped you off at home at 6 p.m., knowing that Spencer would be back at the apartment shortly.

“You're sure you don't need me to stay up there with you? The commute can get a bit long this time of night, Spencer could be anywhere between 15 and 45 minutes.”

“No, I think… I think I need some time to think about how I'm going to do this. I need some alone time.”

She nodded quietly and sent you off after calling Spencer and giving him an update on your whereabouts.

You paced the apartment wondering what the best option was.

You could go for the bookshelf again, though it was still organised into your first message. You'd not moved a book in that stack at all, and surprisingly, neither had Spencer.

Running into your room, you grabbed the pair of baby shoes you'd thrown into your bag from your apartment. Maybe if you left them on the shelf next to the books…?

You put them there and frowned, wondering if he'd be able to see them from the door when he walked in. He was so used to the surroundings of his house that he really didn't check for irregularities.

You moved them to the coffee table. Then you wondered if you should just hand them to him when he walked in.

“Spencer. I am..pregnant,” you practised, looking into the bathroom mirror as you tried to force a smile.

“Spencer. We're pregnant. No, not a chance,” you sighed.

“Spencer, I have a parasite growing in me. I've had it for five months now, and then I'll have it for another four and hopefully a long time after that as well.”

That one was mostly a joke. Mostly.

“Spencer, I… We're going to have a baby.” You looked down at your bump again and decided that was probably your best option. It wasn't a state. It wasn't a condition or a parasite. It was a baby.

You rubbed your stomach again and looked up, wiping away tears from the corner of your eye as you composed yourself again.

The doorbell rang, and your heart race picked up. It was time. Spencer was home, and you were going to tell him.

Suddenly, you were filled with excitement, with happiness. You ran to the door, stepping on the sofa to get there quicker as you ran to pull it open.

Maybe it was the pregnancy brain fog, but you forgot where you were.

Spencer Reid lived in this apartment. He didn't need to knock on the door or ring the doorbell. He'd never done it before. But you'd already swung the door open quickly, and you were so relaxed and ready for it to be him that when a hand extended and covered your mouth with a cloth, thick with a scent that had your body protesting, you could do nothing but crumple to the floor with your hands cradling yourself, protecting the life growing within you.

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readwritealldayallnight · 1 month ago

Text

Right With You (Part 3)

Captain John Price x Reader

wc: 6.7k words

(18+ MDNI) warnings/tags: fluff, mutual pining, tension, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, no protection (use protection kids!!), finishing inside🫣

You might have bitten off more than you could chew this time.

The sound of your heels clicking and clacking against the marble floor are completely drowned out by the din of the many hundreds of party goers mingling throughout the lavish ballroom, glasses clinking together in cheers, uproarious laughter bellowing out between songs being played by the live musicians. The outskirts of the room are difficult to maneuver without bumping into one another, as the centre of the space has been cleared for dancing.

You’ve been inside the target’s home for all of five minutes and you’re already feeling like you’re way in over your head. You know that amongst the elegantly dressed men and women, there are people here on your side, posing as guests but keeping an eye out for your safety. They’re connected to the comms, as are the approaching men of the 141, intent on finding their own way in as well.

You should really only be using your earpiece if you have no other choice, the whole point of this operation being to go as undetected as possible. If a scene can avoid being made altogether, all the better. You know better than anyone that if John the men hear you sounding anything other than confident over the line, they’ll be barging in, stealth be damned. Right now however, you’re almost wishing you could use it if only to get some help in spotting your target amongst all the moving faces.

Before either of you had even had the mansion in sight, John was directed to pull the car into the long queue of vehicles slowly making their way in the direction of the actual driveway. He’d sent you a glance in the rear view mirror, his eyes betraying the gears that were already beginning to turn in his mind. There might be more people in attendance tonight than expected.

“You’re trying to tell me all these people are also fashionably late?” You’d question, eyeing the long line of fancy cars in front of you, another one having already pulled in behind you. You were purposefully showing up several hours after the party began, the more guests there were there the easier you could blend in. And the later the party, the more intoxicated and distracted party goes would be. But this seemed like a lot of people to still be showing up considering the increasingly late hour.

“I think there might be a guest list we don’ know about.” He had gritted out, gripping the steering wheel with more force. “Or they’re lettin’ any fuckin’ muppet walk in-”

“John,” you’d cut him off. “It’s fine, this doesn’t change anything. Might just take me longer to spot him, but we’ll manage.”

“Gonna be harder for ‘em to keep sights on ya.”

“Well then when I need help I’ll be sure to wave a hand up in the air so they can see me.” You had attempted to joke, but you’d spotted the near imperceptible narrowing of his eyes in your direction. “John, they are there as a precaution. I won’t even need ‘em, you’ll see. What? Unless you don’t believe that I can seduce a man?”

Though he had only been moving at a snails pace with the cars still ahead of him, the mansion only then coming into view around the bend, John slammed on the breaks, lurching you forward ever so slightly at the sudden stop.

“Seducing is not your job tonight.” His knuckles had gone white he gripped the steering wheel so tight before he’d released his death grip, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. “You are a soldier, that’s the only job you’ll do tonight.”

“My superiors have asked me to sneak into a party, discreetly convince a man to follow me to a room alone together, and gave me this to wear as gear.” You emphasized, waving a hand down at your attire. He didn’t want to take the bait, but while you’re in that dress and close enough he can smell the sweet smell of your perfume, he’s a weaker man then he’d like to admit. He glanced down at your figure, admiring not of the first time tonight how utterly ravishing you appear.

You weren’t trying to complain, you yourself had agreed that the plan made sense, but you also wanted him to be realistic here. The expectation was that you were going to get the target alone, as subtly as possible, whatever means necessary. At the very least you were going to be flirting and flattering your ass off tonight.

Undoing your seatbelt, you’d sat on the edge of your seat, inching closer to John in the driver’s spot, leaning in until your painted lips were mere millimeters from his ear, a soft hand landing on his shoulder.

“Orders are orders, after all.” Your lips barely grazed the shell of his ear as you whispered to him, trying to disperse his worries with your teasing. “I would never want to disobey my Captain.”

He’d let out a long, deep sigh through his flared nostrils, the internal conflict within him raging on. You were right, as odd as the circumstances of this mission were, it was nothing more than exactly that, another mission. They’d each been tasked with a job to do, and he knew that as with everything you set your mind to, you’d blow them all away.

As a Captain, he had full confidence in you as a soldier. But as nothing more than simply a man, who so rarely in his life allowed himself to be selfish and do something for no reason other than his own self centred wishes, a man who could no longer deny the way he was falling madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with a woman, well that man despised tonight’s plan.

The extravagant front entry of the target’s home was now within sight, multiple footmen waiting by to open the doors to arriving vehicles, welcoming guests and taking names. John knew you didn’t have much longer now before he’d have to let you go.

One of his hands snuck up to reach for yours, still laying as a delicately as a butterfly perched on his shoulder. His fingers gave yours a squeeze, thumb gently stroking the soft skin of your inner wrist.

While the thought of anyone other than him having the privilege of seeing you dressed up to the nines, getting to chat you up, putting his hands on you all under the guise of a respectable dance, got his blood boiling, he could never, would never ask you to go against your job.

Not for him, not for anyone. You were more than capable and had earned your position on this team. He wasn’t going to allow his rose tinted glasses to cloud his judgement, not even when the animalistic, testosterone raging, possessive side of him was pleading for the opposite.

“Well then your Captain’s orders, my dear,” he says in a low voice, stretching your hand far enough to plant a kiss onto it, unable to help himself really. “Are to knock ‘em dead. Not literally though, we do have questions for ‘im.”

You offered him a genuine smile, hearing the playfulness returning to his tone. Begrudgingly releasing your hand from his hold, John steered the car directly in front of the door, the heavy tint of the windows concealing him from any prying eyes.

“Sooner I’m in, sooner I’m out.” You reassured him. “Maybe I’ll have time to save you a dance.” You added at the end, catching his eye on final time, returning his nod subtle nod in the mirror just as your door was opened for you. As the footman offered you his hand, helping you out of the car and shutting the door behind you, John kept is gaze trained on you, not driving away until he saw you disappear through the doors, already counting down the seconds until he had you with him again.

A fake name given at the door, slightly modified version of the guest list having been slipped into the security’s grip earlier that evening, and you were allowed into the party without a second glance. Getting in was never going to be the challenging part of this operation. The challenge now was in spotting your target amongst the crowd.

Having decided the ballroom would likely be the best place to start, seeing as this was where the most people seemed to be gathering, you slowly strolled through the swarms of dresses and suits, wondering to yourself just how many of these people were involved in illegal affairs, and how many were feigning ignorance to their hosts choice of career.

Plucking a drink off the tray of a passing waiter, you brought the glass to your lips, taking the opportunity to more carefully glance through the many unknown faces. You manage to hide your grimace when a scratching noise comes through your earpiece for a moment, before a familiar Manchester accent crackles instead.

“Bravo 7 to Rookie. We’re in.” Ghost informs you. “Second floor. East wing. Guest room by the library.”

“We’ll cover the west side. Aim at taking the office on that end.” You’re less subtle at covering up the small gasp that slips from your mouth at the sound of John’s voice coming through the line. Clearing your throat, you take a small sip of whatever liquid you’ve grabbed, spotting another strolling waiter, sauntering over to her.

“Good, thank you.” You say, returning your still nearly full glass to her, speaking more in response to the men chatting in your ear than to the confused looking woman, who still smiles politely and takes the drink from you.

Knowing that the 141 are inside now, you go over the blueprints again in your mind, picturing where they are, taking a deep breath to steel yourself as you continue your search. Continuously bumping elbows with everyone gathered on the edges on the ballroom, yours and many others heads turn when a large group of gathered men all burst into uproarious laughter. Scanning the faces of the well-dressed guests, you nearly do a double take, eyes landing on the face you’ve spent countless hours memorizing.

Your target is stood there, one arm holding onto his friends shoulder as he continues to laugh in the way only rich men with no problems can. He and his friends are evidently intoxicated, each with a drink in hand, if not two. The man stood directly in front of him is telling the apparently hilarious story, hands waving about as he animatedly gestures, alcohol sloshing out of his glass.

An idea comes to mind, and you see your opportunity present itself before you on a golden platter. Slipping through the crowd, you come around the other side, so that you’re walking in your target’s direction, in his line of sight. You purposefully slow down your gait, running a hand through your hair carelessly, eyes gazing about the room absentmindedly, you even slightly push your chest out, catching the man’s eye just as you come close to walking past his friend.

The drunk man continues to flail his arms and spill his drink carelessly, larger and larger spills landing on the marble floor. It looks purely accidental to anyone watching when you attempt to walk by him, his arm knocking you off balance, and your heeled foot slipping on his spilled alcohol. Luckily, someone catches you before you fall to the ground, a few small gasps ringing out front the people around you who notice your fall.

“You alright ma’am?” You look up at the man who caught you, wearing what appears to be an embarrassed smile when in actually is your attempt to conceal your satisfied smirk, glancing up at none other than your target.

“Oh! Well, suppose I am better now.” You murmur with a small giggle tacked on at the end just for show. Based off the way this man’s eyes have yet to meet your face, gazing down only at your chest, you’re thinking this whole plan is about to be a lot easier than anyone anticipated.

“Sound like she’s made contact.” You hear Soap’s accent ring out through the earpiece.

Oh, right. They get to listen in on your interaction with the target thanks to the open comm line on your end. Good, in the sense that they’ll know which direction you’re headed in and will be ready, not so good, in the sense that John is about to overhear every word of your faux flirting.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” he finally breaks eye contact with your cleavage and pulls you up to stand, noticeably keeping his touch on you. “We were just cutting him off for the night, in fact, but are you sure you’re alright?”

He’s got one hand on your waist, the other is holding onto you elbow to steady you. You open your mouth to politely insist again that you’re okay, when he interrupts.

“Please, allow me to get you a drink. The very least I can do.” He implores, hardly waiting for your reply before he begins to lead you by the arm, in search of said refreshment.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before.” You say to him, batting your eyelashes at him when he offers you a glance.

“Trust me darling, I would remember meeting someone like you.” He doesn’t even attempt to hide the way he scans you up and down, ogling every bit of skin that your dress reveals, leaving you feeling exposed, though you hide any trace of discomfort behind a flirtatious facade.

“Someone like me?” You question coyly.

Your new friend walks you into an adjoining room where a bartender is mixing drinks for the dozens of people milling about the space. Sliding up to the edge of the bar, he leans against the bar top and signals to the man working.

“Certainly you must know how, appetizing you look this evening.” Your face does not betray the way his words make you groan internally, fighting not to roll your eyes. The bartender approaches, and as your target is distracted for a moment, you glance at the new space, spotting a staircase leading to the second floor not far around the corner. With how easy everything has been thus far, you wonder if you’re pushing your luck by trying to expedite the process even further.

As the target turns his attention back to you, beginning to introduce himself, you bring a hand to your forehead, interrupting him.

“I’m sorry, I’m starting to feel a bit dizzy actually.” You say, shaking your head when he sets the drinks down and goes to pull out a bar stool for you. “You wouldn’t know of anywhere you could help me sit down, would you?” You slowly reach a hand out, to stroke his hand. “Somewhere you could help me lay down, maybe?”

You watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly, eyes widening slightly in surprise at your suggestion, before quickly turning to excitement.

“Lucky for you ma’am, I’m good friends with our host tonight.” He snakes an arm around your waist, drinks long forgotten, and you’re relieved when you see he’s leading you towards the very staircase you were hoping he would take. “I know just the place.”

“Are we allowed to go upstairs?” You giggle obnoxiously, letting your men know that you and the target are on the move.

“Copy. Target’s headed for second level.” Ghost acknowledges over the line. As you come to the top of the staircase, blueprints sprawling through your head to picture where your teammates are currently placed, you realize that against your better odds, he doesn’t try to lead you towards either the east or west wing.

“Like I said princess, you’re in good hands.” Instead of leading you towards the 141, your prince charming is supposedly headed towards the washroom at the top of the landing, exactly in the middle ground where your team could not go, due to the handful of security guards patrolling the hallways. You’ve no doubt that in each of the rooms that the men were waiting for you in, there likely lay a few injured guards that had been tasked with watching those unfortunate quarters.

You knew your luck was going to run out eventually, but now you had to think fast and on your feet. Sliding out of the man’s grasp, you took a step away from him, tracing a finger along the bannister in a way you hoped came across as seductive.

“I don’t know. I feel like maybe I’ve been a bit too easy on you.” You wink for added emphasis that you’re trying to toy with him now. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Nor do I know yours.” He tried to challenge, raising a brow at your behaviour, though still slowly stalking towards you, not yet willing to let you go. “We do not need names to be friends, do we?”

“How do I know what kind of man you are, hm?” You question him, continuing your slow walk backwards, eyes scanning the room and you realize you’re slinking towards the west wing. Price and Gaz. They said they would be in the office in the west wing. You just have to get him there.

“I did help you just now, did I not? I believe I am a good man. Let me show you how good I can be.”

“And if I wasn’t looking for a good man? What then, hm?” He halts momentarily in his steps as he continues to follow you in what he believes is a game of playful banter, foreplay if he’s lucky. You’ve spotted a total of three guards so far, though none of them are very near this moment. Making up your mind, you steady yourself as you say, “What if I wanted someone who would chase me?”

Still keeping him in sight, you quicken your pace, hoping that he really will gave chase to you, allowing you to lead him like a fly to a trap.

“Whatever the lady wants.” He humours you, following you when you break into a sprint without hesitation, hoping your memory is doing you justice and the door you’re headed towards is indeed the one concealing one half of the 141. The sound of both your pairs of footsteps echoing down the corridor, you’re gripping the door handle the moment it’s within reach, turning to glance over your shoulder, seeing your target is only a few paces behind you.

You shove the door open with your shoulder, and just as you’d planned in all those briefings, you enter the room, grip never leaving the door, allowing the target to follow you in, and shut the door behind you, revealing the two large men who’d been hiding behind it, now with guns trained on the man before them. Before he even realizes what’s happening, Price has got him knocked out cold, hitting him with the blunt end of his weapon, letting his body crumple to the ground where he falls unconscious on the spot.

You’re thinking up a clever response to say about how easy this mission has been, before either of them can beat you to it, when your earpieces all buzz apiece.

“Alpha 5 to Bravo 6. Over.”

“Go for Bravo.” Price replies, pressing his finger to his ear, stepping over the unconscious target to come closer to you. Gaz has crouched down, examining the target, preparing to restrain him for transport back to base.

“Guards saw a woman get chased by a man on the second floor. They’ve sent someone to check it out, you’ve got one headed your way now. Less than 30 seconds.”

At those words, the three of you are glancing at each other, before Price is already acting.

“Garrick, help me get his jacket off then get him out of sight.” He orders his sergeant, who without question begins assisting the captain in removing the target’s suit jacket, before dragging the unconscious man towards the window they had apparently entered from. To your utter bewilderment, Price’s fingers then begin working speedily at his own tactical vest, pulling it over his head and off of himself, tossing it in Gaz’s direction.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, half wondering if he’s forgotten you can’t actually read his mind. He’s continuing to pull weapons off of himself until there’s nothing left, leaving them with Gaz.

“Guards saw two people walk in here, then two people will walk out.” He says, slipping the man’s jacket on over his shoulders. Price’s shoulders are without a doubt wider and bulkier, the sit being too small, but it’s not so bad that he looks outright odd. “Trust me here, love.” He asks of you, receiving a nod from your part instantly.

All in the blink of an eye, Gaz has tossed the equipment out the open window, and is carrying the unconscious target over his shoulder as he slips out that same window and vanishes out of sight. The door to the room is being tossed open, and John is grabbing you with a force you haven’t personally felt from him before. One of his large hands is in your hair, the other is grabbing the fat of your ass, and he pulls you flush against his own body, sealing his warm lips to yours in a kiss so passionate, so needy, it knocks the breath out of you.

“Oy!” The guard shouts at you two. “Fuck are you twos doing up here?”

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate.” John breaks the kiss, before he answers apologetically, holding a single hand up in peace, the other keeping its tight grip on your behind. “The missus got a little eager. We’ll get going, don’t mean to be any trouble.”

Playing the part of a couple nearly caught in the act, John takes ahold of your hand and keeps his head ducked as he quickly leads you towards the door. You squeak out your own bashful ‘Sorry!’ as you step past the man, following along with John in your feigned shame at being caught. Your mind was absolutely reeling with all the adrenaline of the last five minutes coursing through your veins, your captain holding you against his muscled body being at the top of your list.

“Now hold on just a minute-” the guard tries to shout after you both, taking notice of John’s unusual appearance compared to the other well dressed men walking about, but the pair of you are hurriedly making your way towards your escape.

“Stay with me now.” Price gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he keeps a steady pace down the hall, headed for the staircase, intent on making a swift exit.

“Bravo 6 to Bravo 7. Slight change o’ plans. Garrick’s got our target. Help ‘em get to the rendezvous point and Rookie and I’ll meet you there.” John hurriedly mumbles under his breath, placing a steadying hand on the small of your back as you begin to descend the steps.

“Copy. Out here.” The Lieutenant replies diligently.

“Nicely done, Rookie. Think that’s record time.” You hear Soap’s playful tone come through the earpiece.

“We’re not clear yet, Sergeant. Stay alert.” Price tells him as you both land back on the bottom step. With the guards now on higher alert, one likely still hot on your heels, you need to blend back in with the crowd before sneaking your way towards the first convenient exit, still keen on avoiding drawing any further attention to yourselves. With all the confidence in the world, your captains steady hand leads you back through the bar and into the still crowded ballroom, musicians instruments playing with an much enthusiasm as they had before.

John’s keen eyes spot the handful of security patrolling the room with their gazes scanning the crowd. Turning to face you now, John brings your clasped hands up higher, placing your free hand on his shoulder before landing his own palm on the small of your waist.

“John, what are we-” Your words are cut off as you recognize he’s placed you both in the familiar position for a waltz, your eyes looking up into his own with questions unspoken.

“Follow my lead.” He whispers to you so softly that you nearly miss it with the sound of the music picking back up. You don’t even need to answer him before your body is instinctually doing just that, following his lead as he begins to softly move to the beat of the song.

Your eyes never break apart from one another, gazes locked in their own private choreographed moment as the captain smoothly dances with you from one end of the room to the other, going unnoticed amongst the swarms of other dancing couples. His hold on you is searing hot, sending sparks shooting though every nerve receptor he touches. He’s feeling just as affected by you, his heart hammering in his chest so strongly he’s certain you must be able to feel it against your own sternum.

Spinning you close enough to the edge of the ballroom that the front entry is once again in sight, John needs only cast a glance to the door for you to understand his message, gripping your clasped hands tighter together. You offer him a small smile and nod in agreement, letting him know that yes, you’ll follow him anywhere.

“You should be sleeping. Sun’ll be up soon.”

You’re holding a steaming cup of tea in hand, one hand on your hip with a look on your face that says ‘Really?’ pointed at your captain who has yet to leave his office since you’d all returned from the mission hours ago. You slowly approach his desk, your feet eternally thankful for the comfort of your boots over the heels you’d ripped off. In the time since you’ve returned to base, the target’s been secured, you were all dismissed for the night as well as the following day, considering it already was the early morning hours of the next day. You’d combed your hair out of his hair sprayed style, wiped all traces of makeup off your face, intent on following your captain’s orders and making your way to bed.

“I won’t even bother telling you the same. Both know you wouldn’t listen.” You set the mug down on his desk for him, your hand lingering along the surface of the wooden top.

“Thank you.” He smiles gratefully up at you from his seat, genuinely appreciative of your thoughtful gesture at this late hour. “Though, think I’ve heard the lads arguin’ once or twice ‘bout how you’re the only one I do listen to.” John’s smile widens as he notices the faint blush creeping along the apples of your cheeks.

“Well,” you playfully rolls your eyes at his comment, coming to step nearer to the broad man, turning slowly to present him with the back of your dress.“Help me out of this thing would you? So I can actually get some sleep.”

The black of your dress is open down to the middle of your back, where a short zipper begins. You don’t need any help with it, you’d been able to put it on without issue before the mission. However as you stood in your room, preparing to take off the garment, you couldn’t erase the image in your mind of John’s eyes landing on your figure as he hungrily took in your appearance. You couldn’t forget the feeling of his wide hands holding you against him, pressing every inch of his muscled physique to yours, lips desperate to chase the taste of your mouth.

Your heated thoughts brought you to the small kitchenette in search of a glass of water to cool yourself down, however as your eyes landed on the kettle, and your thoughts continued to swarm your head, you’d begun heating up your Captain’s tea and walking in direction of his office before you’d been able to convince yourself it wasn’t a good idea.

Now, peering over your shoulder to see John’s face as he takes in the expanse of exposed skin displayed before him, his breath catching in his throat, grip tightening on his pen in hand, you’re certain this was an excellent idea.

Taking a deep steadying breath through his flared nostrils, John’s eyes meet yours, a playful mischief hidden behind his gaze as you recognize that he’s just as well aware you can undo your dress without his help, without his hands to assist you, but still taking the bait you offer him. Part of John’s chest had swelled up with pride when you’d led the target to him and Gaz earlier tonight, even knowing that the odds had been 50/50 depending which direction the target went towards. He’d only been more than happy to oblige when you, the cunning little spider, lead her fly into the trap of her web, and broke the bastard’s nose as if you’d served him up on a platter.

He feels almost similar now, a bug being led into your sticky trap, watching you dangle the enticing bait in front of him that could lead to his ultimate demise, his unavoidable detriment. Though from the look in his eyes, it seems more likely that John is the one intent on devouring you whole tonight. His throat bobs as he swallows, spinning his chair to face you better, hands twitching for a moment before he brings them to trace the edge of the fabric where your dress meets your bare skin.

Your own breath comes out as a soft gasp as the feeling of his digits teasing along your back, the warmth emanating from his touch a thousand times hotter than the blood pooling in your face. You can feel his hot breath fan across your skin, just as his fingers bring themselves to grip your zipper firmly. Achingly slow, dragging the process out as if to torture you, John inches the zipper down at a pace only a hardened military man could maintain when face to face with more and more of your bare body appearing before his eyes.

The both of you are now holding your breaths as he finally drags the last of the zipper open, his fingers now grazing the top of your ass. You hear him let out a deep sigh, before his hands are sliding along the smooth material of your dress, the chair creaking beneath him as he comes to stand behind you. His hands tease along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his digits skim higher and higher up your back until he reaches your shoulders.

You can feel every inch of him pressed up against you from behind, his body emanating heat like a furnace. But more noticeably, you can feel his rock hard member through his slacks pressing up against the swell of your ass.

“You know how proud you made me today, hm?” He asks softly, before pressing a kiss to your temple. You feel hardly in control when your eyes flutter shut, leaning back to put your full weight against him, letting him embrace you like this. He brings his mouth lower to kiss your reddened cheek, your neck, behind your ear. “Had the muppet in the palm of your hand soon as he laid eyes on ya.” His warm breath is fanning across your skin, rolling your neck to the side to allow him better access.

“And who could fuckin’ blame him?” He nearly growls, slipping one of the thin straps of your dress off your shoulder, allowing it to fall down your arm, his palm now coming to land on your exposed, bare waist, fingers spreading wide as he takes in your softness. Your eyes open as you feel a finger stroking your cheek, tilting your face to meet his, his shining blue orbs, glazed over in obvious desire, asking what he dare not speak out loud. You nod all too eagerly, telling him everything he needs to know.

John’s hand is sliding away from your cheek, fingers dancing across your shoulders as he gently tugs at the final strap holding your dress up, the tension that has been building and heating between the two of you for far too long now coming to a head. As the fabric falls from your figure and pools at your feet, leaving you bare before your captain, wearing nothing more but the necklace he’d put on you only so many hours earlier. John wastes no time in pulling your lips to his, curious hands exploring the expanse of your skin as you practically melt into his touch.

His large hands are squeezing your waist, your hips, one hand is reaching to grab ahold of your breast, fingers teasing your sensitive nipple. He hears you try to hold back a small moan, and he thinks you’re the sweetest thing in the world. Believing that you can hold back any of your delicious sounds from him. In the blink of an eye, John is turning you around, clearing everything off his desk in quick swoop of his arm, before lifting you up by your thighs and seating you atop his desk.

“Now, gorgeous,” he says almost sternly, putting on a faux captain voice, though he’s certainly never sounded quite so lustful over comms before. “That’s the first and the last time that I ever want to hear you try and keep a single one of your pretty little noises from me. Understood?”

You’re nearly panting you’re breathing so hard, watching as John pulls his chair up and takes a seat in front of you, his hands coming to pull your legs further apart until his shoulders are between them your thighs, your face going beet red as his own head is merely inches from your bare, completely soaked folds. In reality, you had been dripping down your thighs since you’d walked into his office with nothing underneath your dress.

“Seeing as you did such a good job tonight however,” he adds, fingers massaging the soft skin beneath his touch. “and considering you never even gave the bastard a chance to ask you to dance,” his gaze locks with yours at that, his eyes communicating the sentiment behind his words. “Lettin’ your old captain steal a one from ya,” his mouth comes to plant a kiss on your thigh, then another, and another, working closer to your centre. “Suppose you deserve a reward.”

Your moan would be embarrassing if the feeling of his warm lips sucking your clit wasn’t so heavenly. He spreads you open, tongue working at your sensitive bud with a fervour only a starving man could match. He is starved for you, has been since he’s met you and now that he’s tasting you, he doesn’t know how he’s survived without it. He can’t decide which is sweeter, your taste or the noises you make, so responsive to his touch, as if you were an instrument he’d memorized the most beautiful melodies to.

As his tongue continues to work feverishly at your nub, one of his fingers comes to tease your throbbing hole. His digit slowly slips in until he reaches his knuckle, slipping back out, wasting no time before slipping in a second, earning a lustful gasp from above him. Your hands are threaded in his hair, trying not to rock against him, but quickly losing grip of your self control, as he brings you closer and closer to that peak.

His two fingers begin to curl inside you, searching for that soft, sweet spot that has you seeing stars when he reaches it with his long, skilled digits. Your thighs are beginning to shake, one of his hands coming to steady you, but never dropping his pace, as his tongue and fingers work in tandem to bring you to that crest.

“Come on sweetheart,” he mumbles into you, his voice barely reaching your ears over the sounds of your own pleasure. “Give it to me. I’ve got ya, cum for your captain. Give me a good one.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your wet folds, attacking your clit with renewed vigour.

John clamps a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your scream as you cum all over his hand and mouth, soaking his beard with your arousal, his movements never slowing down until you’re pushing his head away from you, unable to take any more of the intense pleasure having you seeing stars. The both of you are panting now, as he slips his hand away from your mouth and around to the back of your neck, standing to his full height before you. He’s memorizing the look on your face at this moment, the glazed expression over your features, eyes gazing longingly into his as though you’re the only two people on this base, maybe the world. Fuck, how he wishes he could give you the world.

He brings his lips to yours, caught up in his undeniable feelings for you, going much, much further than simple attraction. Yet he’s having a hard time thinking very hard about that, or anything at the moment, when you’re kissing him back with the same intensity, one of your hands sneaking down his torso, reaching for the front of his trousers.

John can’t help the deep groan that comes up his throat at the feeling of your hand wrapping around him through the fabric of his pants. All too eagerly, he’s fumbling with the buckle of his belt, never letting your lips separate from his. Practically ripping the belt out of its place, he tosses it aside, feeling your deft fingers quickly pulling at his zipper, glancing up to meet his eyes when your fingers creep along the edge of his boxers underneath.

He gives you a single, confident nod, torn between rolling his head back in pleasure and keeping his eyes locked on your every expression as you tug down his trousers and underwear together, freeing his aching cock. His member springs to life, precum beading at his red, swollen tip.

“John…” you murmur as you size up his cock, excited and equally concerned about his impressive length.

“I know love,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll make it fit.”

You spread your thighs wider, arms coming to wrap around John’s shoulders as he lines his cock up with your entrance, already groaning at the feeling of his head touching your warm, wet folds. The both of you gasp as he slips his tip inside you, foreheads pressed together, as one of his hands tenderly holds the back of your head, fingers threaded through your locks while the other wraps around your back to squeeze your hip, holding you close to him.

Inch by inch, John rolls his hips forward and back, taking his sweet, sweet time in discovering the bliss that is being inside of you, wrapped around you, simply being with you, until he’s filled you up entirely to his base, hairs at the base of his groin coming to rub against your already sensitive clit, creating a delicious friction that you know will have you finishing quickly already.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he groans out, rolling his hips back, earning a pleased moan from your lips as he rocks forward again, filling you completely. “Gonna be the death of me.”

You haven’t a single functioning brain cell left to answer him, and he knows it, your continuously flowing arousal seeping down between where the two of you are joined, echoing sinful sounds throughout the small room. As if your moans wouldn’t be evidence enough as to what was happening in Captain Price’s office, should anyone walk by. Keeping a steady pace, the captain fucks you against his desk relentlessly, earning more and more of those very noises from your lips.

“Oh my god, John! Oh fuck! John!” Hearing you, John feels like he’s about to burst. He hasn’t cum in ages, and he’s been so hard for so long now, he doesn’t think he can hold back much longer. Not when he’s hearing you whimpering his name so sweetly, not when you feel as incredible as you do wrapped around him like this, squeezing him so tight. He’s pressing hot, open mouth kisses against your neck, your collarbone, any skin his lips can reach.

“Love,” John grits out through a clenched jaw, holding himself back as best he can as he continues to move with you, bodies rocking back and forth as if in their own choreographed dance. “Where can I- where do you want me to-”

“Inside!” You plead wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Inside John, please! I’m- oh fuck!” You say as he delivers another deep thrust. “On the pill. I’m on the pill.”

John needs no further permission, his cock continuing to hit that sweet, sensitive spot inside of you, that has your eyes rolling back in please. Just as his fingers reach between your two bodies to press against you throbbing clit, you moan out his name, reaching your blissful peak for the second time tonight, all at your Captain’s doing. John groans out, feeling himself begin to burst, holding his hips against yours.

“Fuck!” He shoots thick, hot ropes of his spend deep into you, his member twitching inside. “I got you love.” He talks you through both your cresting orgasms, grinding impossibly further into you, never letting go of the tight hold he has around you. “I’m with you, love. Right with you.”

Later on, as he walks you back to your room, insisting he has to see you make it there safely even though it’s technically become so ‘late’ that some of the early risers are awake by now, John asks:

“You did have panties on under the dress durin’ the mission though, right?”

If you’ve made it to the end of my first ever completed series, then thank you for making it this far!

I felt very bleh about the ‘mission’ part of writing this but hopefully my first ever attempt at legitimate smut made up for it!

This is the end of this little three part series, but I’ve got some more Price fics lined up for sure

I know I said it in the initial disclaimer but seriously y’all, wrap it before you tap it, fan fiction is fiction, pregnancy and STDs are real, use protection! (But like me, read all the filthy, filthy fics your heart desires)

-M 🫶🏻

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realcube · 5 months ago

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WRATH & LUST . t.kei / y.tadashi

synopsis ✧ you hate tsukishima kei. you do everything in your power to make his life miserable but nothing works. now you have no choice but to fuck his best friend

cws/tags ✧ college au , enemies to enemies who screw, cursing, slut-shaming (both ways)

parts ✧ i. ii. iii. iv.

your friends call it 'inexplicable hatred', 'misdirected anger' and 'envy' but they couldn't be more wrong.

your feelings towards tsukishima kei were completely rational in your mind. he carried himself as though he was better than everyone and treated those around him like filth, yet he's still tolerated and his shitty attitude is even deemed charming by some self-loathing girls at your college.

it irritates you to no end how he behaves. too cocksure and too sassy; no dignified man should never act in such a manner, you believe. you could go on about other reasons you dislike him — his style atrocities and his punchable face, to name a couple — but you shan't.

you intended on going about your life, simply hating him from afar as you didn't see the need to stir up petty drama. but he made it impossible for you to do so.

one day he was sat behind you in a maths lecture. the seats are tiered so he is slightly higher up than you are. while making notes, his pen slips out of his hand and tumbles forward, landing somewhere under your desk.

you do the polite thing by making an attempt to search for it, but it is dark under the table you can't seem to find it.

a couple moments pass, and he remarks lowly, "are you just going to stare it?"

white hot rage courses through you at his comment. what ever happened to 'please'? to 'would you mind'? you were about to do him a favour by fetching his pencil and he still has the audacity to be snarky.

fuck that, he can pick up his own damn pen. you leave it alone and try to focus on the lecture.

you make it through the whole thing without him bothering you again, probably using a spare or borrowed pen. once the class has been dismissed, you gather your things and wait for the people in your row to start filtering out so you can leave, that is when you feel a gentle tap on the shoulder.

you turn around and lock eyes with a tan, freckled boy with mousy brown hair, he wears an awkward smile and point to your desk, "excuse me, my friend dropped his pencil and i think it landed under your desk. could you get it, please?"

his voice is meek and demeanour similar to that of a shy puppy, which is why it almost pained you to scoff at him and say, "tell your friend to stop being such a cunt, then maybe."

you rush out of the door, keen to get as far away from those two boys as you can. yet as you leave you hear the blonde's voice mutter in your wake, "what a moron."

after marinating on the situation during the retelling to your friend group, and a group vote, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your response to yamaguchi — you learned his name from one your friends — might have been a bit severe. but in your defence, you were peeved by the comment tsukishima had made prior.

it's as though manners and etiquette are totally lost on him.

ೃ⁀➷

two weeks passed since your last little altercation with tsukishima, and you were proud to say you haven't been involved in any conflict with him since then. mostly making snide remarks in passing or exchanging dirty looks in the hall.

however, that all changed when your professor was late to one of your classes. they expressed in the past that they prefer students to wait outside the lecture theatre when they aren't present, so naturally this caused many people to be clogging the hallways.

there was a long queue of people waiting to enter, you stood far away from the door, while tsukishima and yamaguchi happened to be standing opposite. you couldn't help but notice the outfit tsukishima had on: skinny light brown trousers with a black belt, and a pressed short-sleeve white shirt, that was a bit see-through.

you didn't know much about this guy but from his slightly toned figure, which was made apparent by his choice in clothes, you could tell he does some sort of sport. probably basketball, considering how tall he is, but maybe golf. he acts like a golf player.

lost in thought for too long, your finally yanked out of your own internal monologue by a familiar voice snapping, "what are you staring at?"

you blink, and before you even have time to process what he just accused you of, you blurt out, "has anyone told you that you're dressed like a slut today?"

yamaguchi must slap a hand over his mouth to suppress his burgeoning laughter. tsukishima's eyes narrow at his friend's offensive display, before they snap back to you and he argues, "really? me? i'm dressed appropriately. take a look at what you're wearing."

he motions to your outfit: jorts and a tank top. maybe not the most stylish choice but definitely not as whorish as his attire. "it might be more revealing but still not as slutty as you."

he rolls his eyes like what you said was contradictory, wearing smug smile. he wants you to believe what you said is nonsensical and 'proved his point' but all it does it anger you to no end.

not fond of his facial expressions, you retort, "don't pull stupid faces and play dumb. you're already dumb enough as is, so it isn't a very becoming look on you."

with furrowed brows, he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, "and i can see your chest through your shirt. no one wants to see that!"

"you say that while your tits are out, have some self-respect."

"at least i have tits. you're wearing a short sleeve to show off the muscles you don't even have!"

yamaguchi is thoroughly entertained by this squabble, which is why it pains him to chime in, "uh, tsukki. the lecturer is here, let's go."

as much as he wanted to get the last word in, tsukishima glances between tadashi and the empty halls before he decides his education is actually kinda important and begins to make his way inside the theatre. it was good timing because he didn't have a witty response anyway.

your heart is beating rapidly, though you're unsure why. you gaze at the empty walls for a minute to collect yourself before heading into class as well. you totally won that fight, is what you tell yourself.

ೃ⁀➷

ever since the disagreement you had with tsukishima in hallways of the maths building, what was once comments and glares has escalated to threats and insults being made boldly in each other's face.

despite the fact you ate him up the first time, you've been on a losing streak since then. you feel as though nothing you say gets under his skin anymore.

you've tried belittling his face, his smarts, his personality, his mother but nothing seems to work. you even tried to ridicule his glasses but that didn't work either!

"hey, four eyes!"

"hey, five guys."

what the fuck? you weren't sure if that was a dig at your diet, your weight or your quantity of sexual partners but regardless, you could not let that slide.

verbal abuse wasn't working so naturally the next option was physical. you attempted to trip him in the halls but his legs were so long he stepped over you without even noticing. you attempted to pour milk over him but tadashi noticed and pulled him out of the way. you considered pushing his knees while he was standing in front of you but you realised that if he fell backwards his weight would crush you and you'd probably die.

all of that was so elementary and childish though; high school bullying at best. you need college level bullying. you thought about planting weed in his bag and calling the campus police on him but your friends said that was 'too far'. you thought about leaking his nudes but firstly you don't have them and secondly, he's already walking around college half naked anyway so he likely wouldn't be phased by it.

the hard thing about trying to torture a boy like tsukishima is you don't know enough about him to know what will truly drive him insane. you know he cares about his grades but sabotaging his test scores is beyond your means. he doesn't have any dignity so you can't humiliate him. even if you tried, his little gremlin of a best friend would probably catch onto you anyway.

that green haired boy was just as bad as his handler. always gawking at you to make sure you don't try anything; literally glued to tsukishima's ass at all times — it's so gross. and it gave you the most disgustingly perfect idea.

#kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x y/n #kei tsukishima x you #hq yamaguchi #yamaguchi x reader

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yvesdot · 1 month ago

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How To Get Roughly 50 Notes On An Original Writing Post And Possibly Net A Single Reader

I had someone ask today how I get people to click through and read my writing, and I'm realizing that I've never actually made a post all in one place of everything I do to get a new piece of short fiction off the ground... so here you go! How to get (some) eyes on your work, even if it is not published anywhere of interest and you don't have a marketing team behind you.

The #1 thing is presentation. You want to get people's attention, and once you have it, convince them to keep paying attention. Fortunately, people tend to be both reasonable and predictable, which means all you have to do is follow The Formula.

(original post link)

Here's the formula from the above post broken down:

[giant horizontal title card, preferably animated to catch the eye] OR [a few tasteful parallels, if you're good at parallel posts]

TITLE (linked to where you can read the piece) / wordcount

a quote that is representative of the tone, themes, prose style, and/or the "promise of the premise"

A longer pitch, featuring the overall subject of the piece (transsexual reality TV drama), any comp titles (Detransition, Baby), the main draw (in this case, watching trans people be awful to clueless cis people), major themes (performance), and any other promises you'd like to make (food romance and tigers). You can see that the quote I chose delivers on the promise of trans people intellectually outperforming cis people-- if I were a reader, I would be more likely to trust that the rest of the pitch was accurate based on that assurance.

If you have any positive reviews on your piece, say so. If it has won any awards or contests, say so. If your work has made people cry, Doja Cat - Say So. Always. Generally speaking, more personal and more detailed is better, but keep it to one or two people-- e.g. "when I gave this to my S/O to read he shot milk out of his nose so far I had to go clean under the couch" or "my favorite review of this piece is the reader who said they read it chapter-by-chapter under their covers because they wanted it all to themself." This should be one sentence.

Depending on where the story is published, what you usually promote, etc., it may be worthwhile saying the story is free. Use your judgment on whether the reader can tell.

I also like putting my links at the bottom so someone seeing this on a friend's dash can easily track me around the 'Net. They make me look more professional (I now include a link to my website) and they visually balance the post, in my opinion. This post also happened to have some additional links for bonus content.

This is not as high stakes as it seems. I'm not 100% happy with the pitch here, and I'm not 100% happy with the graphics I've used in other cases. These are some bones that help to sell the piece even when the details aren't as sharp.

REBLOGGING

When is the last time you read something the first time you saw it on your dash? I schedule reblogs of all important posts at least twice over the next 2-3 days, often three times so I can get the morning/afternoon/evening reblog. If your followers tend to be more active at certain times, go ahead and use those. In the past I've intentionally scheduled posts for times I knew more popular mutuals were active, and it has paid off!

I also schedule a reblog for a week and a month and sometimes even a full calendar year out, because I know there is going to be that person who tags the piece '#to read' and instantly forgets about it, only to get excited when they see it weeks later. I am very often that reader. The goal is to catch people when they're ready to read immediately, and this is a game of chance.

Every so often, I go through my entire #writing or #important writing updates or even just #popular tag(s) and queue two dozen posts before shuffling my queue to redistribute matters. This keeps my older work circulating, ensuring new readers get a chance to see older pieces and giving those older pieces another shot at dashboard space. (More on #popular later.) This sounds like a lot, which is why you have to space everything pretty far apart. Fortunately, this is the world's best site for cool things to reblog. I guarantee you that you can find something new you love to post in the meanwhile.

COPING WITH FAME

The post above is what I, a published author, consider "doing well" for a post about my writing on Tumblr. As of October 10th, 2024, over two years after its initial posting and over five years into my posting doggedly about my original fiction, it has 77 notes. More than half (43) are likes. Around half of the reblogs are me promoting my own work or the same very sweet person dutifully reblogging me every time I do so. Glancing through the reblogs now, I know of four people whom I can confirm have read it. Presumably, there are more who are completely silent and have never interacted with the post whatsoever. Genuinely: wahoo!! I am so grateful and happy for the attention and reception of my work.

This is the number one thing I suggest: focus on what you have, and not what you lack. Imagine your post from the perspective of an outsider: even one reblog means you convinced that one person to spread your art! How cool is that! This is also good advice because moping is simply not helpful; it will not get you more reads. (And no, neither will guilting others. Kill that vent post in your head!)

GETTING FOLLOWERS

I don't have that many followers. Of the followers I do have, people are very unpredictably active. When I hear about other people's follower counts I am consistently surprised, because people with half of mine will have fans and haters the likes of which I could not possibly dream of. I follow 500-follower folk who post "I ate a strawberry today" and get 6 asks ranging from "Wow I respect you so much for eating that strawberry" to "I'm going to come to your address at [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED] and shove bananas down your throat for hating on my favorite fruit."

I point this out to establish three important things. 1) Be grateful for what you have (in my case, 0 anonymous hate asks about fruitpinions), 2) followers have far less impact on interaction than one might think, and 3) followers don't engage with the things you might like them to.

Think about yourself. Are you more likely to reblog a photo of a cat in a pumpkin (alright, here) or something advertising fifteen minutes' worth of writing, which could be, for all you know, bad? Or, for that matter, by a person you should not like to support? Reblogs on generically interesting things are 'safer' (unfortunately) than reblogs on art, and it makes perfect sense that people are skittish around the latter. People don't often reblog things they haven't read, and nobody can reblog every artpost on their dash. Having someone else put it there, however, is incredibly powerful—someone's vetted this post as Worth a Reblog, after all. Having more followers allows for much more of this.

(Followers don't guarantee any one sort of interaction, but having more of them is rarely bad. Rarely.)

Across my most popular posts, one theme becomes very obvious: people like things that apply to them or their blog. I try to post writing advice/opinions/memes every so often, because I know I have a loyal base of writerfolk who like to see that from me, and it's "easier" to reblog than my writing. This is simply the nature of the universe. I used to pretty frequently go into the #writeblr tag and check out what was recently popular so I could figure out how to serve the same base, and from time to time it worked.

You're welcome to examine the list of #writing posts that made it to 100 notes, because each tends to have a notable reason behind its success: a reblog with an exceptionally good review, a contest win, a wordcount that lends itself to pasting the whole thing in one go.

(Posts about my book's release are a notable exception, in part due to Blaze and in part due to my absolutely relentless flogging of their reblog buttons during the ~year of promotion. Also in large part to a dedicated circle of friends who passed the post around nonstop! Thank you so much!!)

A lot of people will tell you to attempt covert reciprocal promotion. You know—reblog a lot of stuff, in the hopes that people will reblog yours. If I could change one thing on Tumblr, it would be this: the culture that quietly encourages disingenously interacting with other people with a secret True Goal in mind. (On the autism website.)

Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, do not do this. If you comment on other people's work, do it because you're happy to do so. When I released Paper Tigress, I went through everybody else who responded to the same prompt and read their work, because I had the day off and I was curious. This has led to Paper Tigress having more comments on Reedsy than one of my contest winners, and even outranking the shortlisted story in the same prompt category. However, this would have been a waste of my time if I did not genuinely enjoy reading the other stories. I read 80+ stories, taking several hours, and gained 30 comments from the venture (half my comments are my responses).

Crucially, I do not promote other writers' work on Tumblr in the hopes of them reading or boosting mine. This is the #1 tip I see thrown around that I viscerally disagree with. While, again, I am grateful for engagement with my work regardless of the context, I do not want people suffering through my work in the hopes that I will promote them. I work a full-time job, and my reading calendar is perpetually overbooked, including with work by my absolute best of friends. Even if it wasn't, I think it would be quite insulting if I were posting works in the hopes that someone would choke it down like medicine. I post what I think is good so that people can read and enjoy it. If you are not enjoying it, I do not want you to feel as though you have to read it. My aim is to give to others what my favorite authors have given me, which is most certainly not A Bad Time Spent Being Dishonest In The Hopes Of Getting Something Back. You have better things to do with your time. Please be honest.

CONCLUSION

Realistically, the readers I have, I gained through being a published author for five years promoting my behind off on Tumblr, the least forgiving social media for promotion. People like it when you have a book they can buy, especially if it has Goodreads reviews that make it look like you have been vetted for them. Many people who follow me have read only Something's Not Right and nothing else. (Many people who follow me have read everything but Something's Not Right.) I have posted dozens of pieces on Tumblr and Wattpad (and AO3). I gained a small number of readers writing and posting fanfiction for the Locked Tomb Tri(?)logy, even though I marketed it absolutely terribly.

Just keep writing. Keep writing, keep posting, and keep making sure everyone who follows you knows you write. And keep writing because you want to. There's no better advice than that.

#writeblr #writeblr advice #writeblr tutorial #writeblr tips #writeblr community #writing advice #writers on tumblr #important writing updates #txt

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greenplumbboblover · 1 year ago

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Simblr.cc

I made a website!

Now you've probably seen the attempt before, people getting mad at tumblr and then making a 'Simblr' (Tumblr clone). Though, despite tumblr being sometimes a bit frustrating because of their changes, that's not why this site came to be...

I wanted a place where Storytellers, Creators, and just generic sim players can all be together and get the exposure and fun that they deserve.

Not only that, but also for a place where the TSM community and TS1 can belong somewhere too without the use of a forum.

And eventually, I hope we can make it the home for Life by you and Paralives when that comes out :)

Plus, it's also NSFW friendly! While the site is initially PG-13, we've got tags and profile settings that allow you to browse NSFW items as well.

Simblr.cc:

Discord:

What can I find on Simblr.cc exactly?

Anything for all sims games, really! TS1, TS2, TS3, TS4 and TSM

Practically anything you technically can find on Tumblr and really other sim websites. We've got...

Mods

I've specifically made filters for different games, and their needs in mind. For example, for TS2 there are so many awesome game fixes out there and clean templates, that you'll be able to navigate and find this easily.

Not only that, items can also be put in multiple categories! Especially great if you've uploaded a set!

You can also find Testers wanted only mods here if you feel like helping out fellow simmers with testing!

NOTE:

Mods do go through a "queue", but not in the same way as you may have experienced on MTS or TSR. I merely check if it's flagged as NSFW correctly, and then it's good to go! :) So the waiting time will be much less!

See TOU: Click me!

Eventually, I may see if I can get a bypass system in place, but that really depends on if NSFW isn't too confusing.

Work In Progress

To show off your work to others! Even if it's project #94882 that may never get released, any WIPS are fine!

Stories

It's really difficult to find new Sim stories or Legacies on Tumblr, let alone for these writers to get people to read their awesome stories! Hopefully this should make the process much easier now!

Also! You got any comic or "movie/cinematic" like stories? No problem! Just check the "carousel only" option, so no description needed!

Feed

... and for the Simblrs here, a feed to see all the people you follow, their content (stories, WIPs, mods and general posts)! Or, simply check out sitewide, or even game-related, what people have been posting!

Customizable profile pages

Just like tumblr, you can make your own profile page! With it's own colours and a pre-made theme. (if you need a different profile page, though, Let us know on the discord)

Want a peek? Here you go:

What about moderation?

While there's a report system in place, and the items in the queue are checked for NSFW, but users could still turn their non-NSFW to a NSFW, items may be stolen. So do report these as that will never be condoned!

Additionally, all comments you get on your mods, story, etc. Those are primarily moderated by you. You can delete them, you can turn comments off even if you'd like. If things really go wrong, you can always ask an admin.

Got any ideas? Feel free to share!

Since I really wanted it to be a website we all create together in some degree, if you have any features you're missing or would like to see, feel free to share on the discord!

Where are the Advertisements?

If you're currently not seeing them as of reading the post, that's because that's still being set up. This is merely to cover the cost of the website! Though, I promise you I won't bombard the site with ads, as that's just annoying.

#The sims 1 #the sims 2 #the sims 3 #the sims medieval #the sims 4 #sims 2 #sims 3 #sims 4 #sims medieval #ts1 #ts2 #ts3 #ts4 #tsm #sims 1 #simblr.cc #simblr

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deerspherestudios · 11 months ago

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📖FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS📖

Regarding asks, I typically avoid:

stacked questions (asks that have more than one question, so honestly, sending them one by one is better than writing a bunch in one go)

hyperspecific scenarios (while I enjoy answering these, some can get incredibly specific to the point where it doesn't even feel fun anymore)

questions that have already been answered (obviously)

To manage the blog, I usually queue up asks instead of posting them instantly, so it might take several weeks for me to respond. Please be patient! And while I appreciate the time and thought taken to writing me a message and the growing interest in the game, understand I'm still one person and will sometimes leave a message unanswered. Thank you. ❤️

Below is a compilation of questions I get a lot about Mushroom Oasis and Mychael, so if you have a question feel free to check if it's already been answered! The list will update as needed:

🎮 F.A.Q ABOUT THE GAME 🎮

1. What is Mushroom Oasis❔ What is the rating❔

Mushroom Oasis is a visual novel made in Ren'Py that was initially released for the 2023 Yandere Game Jam. It's currently still in development as a solo project. I post updates almost exclusively on this tumblr so if you're interested in the game, you're in the right place. The rating is 16+. How did I come up with the concept?

2. How many days will the game have❔ When will it release❔

I initially planned it to have 4-5 days! But with some new ideas and routes I'm considering, it might extend to 5+ days. As for a release date, it's done when it's done. So please allow me the time to develop it at my pace <3

3. Will the game be translated to other languages❔

I'll be honest, I had no plans to. However, a few people have reached out volunteering to. I'll say for now I'm open to the idea, but I prefer people asking permission first. First and foremost, ask first.

4. Will the game be available for mobile❔ Will the game be free❔

For now, a hard no. I have zero clue how to make it available for mobile. Maybe I'll consider it once the game is fully released, but it's only for PC and Mac for now, as those are the default builds in Ren'Py.

And yes, the game will be completely free.

5. Is NSFW content allowed❔

Considering the main love interest is an adult, that's fine. However I'd appreciate proper filtering of NSFW content considering the game's age rating means there's more than a few minors in the fandom. NSFW questions aren't allowed on the blog.

Keep it where it's meant to be with proper tagging separate from the '#mushroom oasis vn' tag. Using '#mushroom oasis nsfw' should be enough? I hope.

NOTE: Now, I understand some people are really passionate about Mychael being asexual, but I can't bring myself to police people for mischaracterizing his asexuality, nor would I want to gatekeep him either.

He's a fictional character first and foremost, and while representation is important!!!/gen /srs I don't want to bring attention to any such content in case it brings unwanted harrassment on that creator for posting such content.

Please don't do that. Let people make what they wanna make. It's unfortunate, but fandom will be fandom.

6. Will there be other love interests? Will it have multiple endings❔

Due to project scope, the only romance-able character for MO is Mychael himself. The game will have multiple endings however, ranging from romantic ending, platonic ending to creepy/bad endings (because, y'know, yandere).

7. Will there be official merch?

Since I'm just done with college and newly married, the extra income would be nice! I have to plan for it and work out some logistics, but I will be working on something on the down low.

🍄 F.A.Q ABOUT MYCHAEL🍄

1. What are his pronouns and sexuality and age❔

He identifies as male, uses he/him pronouns and is a panromantic asexual. He's older than you think. ::-)

2. Is Mychael's name based off 'mycelium'❔

Yep!

3. What is his height❔

He's 6'2. He used to be 5'8.

4. When is his birthday❔

Initially it was 15th February! Simply because I happened to start designing him that day, hence his 'creation'.

I might pick another date though; for now, his birthday is undecided.

5. Favorite food and drink❔

He loves fried mushrooms and tomato juice! He hates spicy food though, as the smell and taste makes him physically ill.

6. Do you have a voice claim for him❔

Jonathan Groff, specifically his role as Kristoff in Frozen. The fandom has kinda associated it with him now, so it's here to stay haha.

7. What is Mychael's love language❔

I explain it in-depth here!

TL;DR: He likes giving gifts, and likes receiving words of affirmation.

8. How is Mychael's affection towards MC (blog-centric only)❔

So for context, as I manage the blog sometimes Mychael makes an appearance in answered asks. His answers can change depending on when you ask at the current state of the demo:

Day 1:

Day 2:

Day 3:

EXTRAS:

Mychael's Character Ref

Firefly (MC)'s Character Ref

Mychael's Playlist

Mushroom Oasis' Playlist

Bad Ending 1 Explained

#mushroom oasis vn

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idyllic-ghost · 29 days ago

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hi! i'm leaving tumblr, and i wanted to put out an explanation post before i do.

i mainly write ff because it's a fun interaction with a fun community. recently it hasn't been so fun.

yes, i'm busy with work so i haven't had time - but even if i did have the time, i wouldn't reach to start writing like i used to. people always say this, but because of lack of interaction (i'm specifically referring to comments and/or reblogs) i've lost interest.

i have a few fics lined up for the next few months, they're all waiting in my queue to be posted once a month up until march. they were all written during the summer or earlier, i've just been putting off posting them. after that, i don't have more, and i'm not sure that there will be more.

i have a lot to say, and i'm not expecting anyone to read it, but if you want to know why i'm leaving then this is it.

(if you've been tagged in this and wonder why, but don't want to read further: don't worry! i didn't tag anyone intentionally, i took from my moots and my taglist to spread the word that i'm leaving this blog. you haven't done anything wrong, and i'm not expecting you specifically to read the rest of this!)

the only reason i stayed on here was because i loved seeing people interact with my writing, it made me happy to see that people enjoy my writing. nowadays, i basically get nothing. since i'm not doing this for anyone but myself, i'm not going to continue doing something that ends with me being disappointed and envious.

my writing feels lifeless to me because i'm not actually interested in what i'm doing anymore. i write, get it done, send it out, and hope that at least someone will tell me that they like it. it feels pathetic to write out, but i feel like some people may agree. the only times i ended up getting that kind of interaction was when i wrote smut.

i was never a smut writer, it wasn't something i was extremely comfortable with. i think there are a lot of people who do it very well, and that's good for them. i'm just not one of them. after being put in sexual situations in my personal life that i, in hindsight, did not feel comfortable with and deeply regret, i don't see myself being comfortable with writing smut again. (the posts with nsfw content that come out in the next few months were written before i came to this realization, for context.)

it's weird and embarrassing when you feel like you'd never fall for pressure of norms and then suddenly you do! i look back at this blog and it doesn't feel like me, and now i get it. it's not wrong or upsetting, just a change of perspectives.

i think it's great that people can write smut and share it on here, and i don't want anyone to think that i am against it. i have simply come to the point where it makes me uncomfortable, so i'm taking myself out of those kinds of situations (as anyone should do if they feel the same way, do not harass people who write smut simply because of its nsfw content that you're personally uncomfortable with). if i do return to writing in this way, in this forum and genre, again, i know that i won't be writing smut.

all of this to say, i'm not going to be on here anymore. i might read a few things here and there, because i do still really love reading fluff from the amazing fluff writers out there, but i won't post. maybe i'll create a new blog for reblogging fluff fics or something. i've lost interest and that's that. i'm hoping that i can write my own book some day, and if i do i've only managed to do so because i got to practice writing on here.

this was fun while it lasted, and i definitely don't regret making this blog. so, thank you to everyone who supported this blog, i've loved reading your comments. thank you to the people who have helped me in my writing, i hope that you know who you are.

tumblr is filled with blank blogs and people who won't comment on fics they actually like. if you ended up reading all of this, i encourage you to go comment on a writer's fic with some nice words. it's always appreciated, i promise.

that's all!

tagging a few people so that this post is actually seen:

@enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan,

@userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck,

@fantasy2wonderland, @k-fic-collection @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303,

@lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @svthub @stariightjoyy,

@hyneyedfiz, @cali-snow, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @wonuvs,

@dokyeomkyeom, @kyeomiis, @gyuguys, @notevenheretbh1 @iamawkwardandshy,

@wonuskie @kvanity-main

#bee buzzed εїз✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*#this is becoming a literal ghost blog now

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velaenaa · 3 months ago

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strawberry chocolate parfait \ nanami kento x reader (ch.1)

word count: 1.1k tags: slight slow burn, pining, romance, fluff, added as i go! setting: you are a worker at a bakery that nanami kento frequents ♡ authors note: hello ^_^ i hope you are doing wonderful! this is my first time writing for nanami. pls enjoy! chapter: 1/? <next>

Chapter 1 - Vanilla Cake

‘Does this guy need help….?’

‘He’s staring real hard at the bread…. Omg- is it ugly? Aw hell- I made that this morning…’

Your thoughts were cut off by the towering figure of a man, with two loaves of baguette in one hand and one container of cake, that happened to be your favorites, in the other. You smile up at him, “Will this be everything?” He gives a stiff nod, locking his eyes with yours, then you giggled; “Then.. I guess I'll bag-uette up for you..”

No? No reaction..Damn, tough crowd..

He thanks you and you bid him farewell and to come back soon. You could’ve sworn he almost smiled… maybe that was a look of irritation..?

After he leaves eyesight, You make haste by sitting down behind the counter, face flushed with embarrassment and agony. It made you cringe. Why would you say that? Your coworker giggled at you, making sure to add salt to the wound, “You tried.. That’s all it matters.” she gives you a head pat and continues, “He’s a regular here. He’s probably gonna come back in another couple of hours on his way home or something.”

“Then how come I’ve not seen him before?”

“Dunno.. He’s been away for a couple months now.”

“What’s his name?”

“You should ask when he comes back.”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“Oh but asking some other random person, who doesn’t know him at all, by the way, isn’t weird?”

She has a point.

You looked down at your phone and idly texted your friend Nobara about your day and fashion related topics.

You met when Nobara came down to the bakery to get some pastries for her boyfriend. You hit it off right away due to shared interests, albeit you being 7 years older. Nobara enjoyed having an older sister with an affinity for style, love for shopping, and interest in all the cool girl stuff that Maki wouldn’t normally talk to her about.

Right now you two are discussing weekend plans. Nobara and her boyfriend Yuji, along with Megumi, and their teacher Gojo were going to a karaoke room cause it had been a while since Gojo had gone out with his students. He was stuck on oversea assignments for the past couple of weeks and he dearly misses them, or so he says. As always, you had been invited and of course you said yes!

You are very fond of the kids and Gojo. The 3 of them reminded you of your siblings back home, and well- Gojo is Gojo. Plus, if you had declined, Gojo would pester you non-stop.

After a mini rush, you sit down, tired, ready to bite down into your sandwich, when on queue, the door swings open, revealing the tall blonde man, taking his glasses off as his eyes pierce you again. You wave at him and he just nods. You get a bag ready as the man collects another slice of the same cake he had bought earlier. He also got another dessert, this time, a small vanilla custard tart w/ fruits on top, made by yours truly. He comes up to the counter, and you stiffen up in shyness, “Is this everything for you?”

The man looked tired, but he let out a soft, yet stern ‘yes.’

As you rang up his order you looked back up to him, your lips curling into a small grin, “How was work?” This caught them both off guard, “Oh- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to assume-” I mean.. Unless this guy enjoys walking around in a whole business suit for funsies.

He actually lets out a chuckle, “It’s okay. It was a busy day.”

You both stayed silent for a second before he asked in return, “How was your day, miss?” This made you feel warm and your smile only got bigger, “It was wonderful! I got to serve a lot of customers. They bought their kids in. It was so fun.”

‘And cause you came into the shop twice.’

“Ah sorry.. I’m trailing. I didn’t mean to ramble- you must be dying to get home.”

‘No, I could get used to listening to you.’ is what he wanted to say;

Instead he lets out a relieved sigh, “It’s alright. I’m glad you had a good day today.” This caused your cheeks to tint red. Dying from embarrassment because you just knew that your coworkers were listening in, she redirects the topic, and points at the cake, “Do you like those?” He nods again, “They’re the best I’ve ever had. Compliment the baker for me.” Oh your heart, you could hear it beating so hard from your chest.

You do a mental fist pump before clapping your hands with glee, “Oh I’m so glad you liked them!” You go around the counter and grab another slice just for him. You stared up at him in absolute awe, because behind the counter was elevated by at least a foot.

This man was tall, as hell.

He just looks down at you eyeing your move. You push the cake towards him even harder, “This one is on the house!” He tilts his head in question. You double down and nod your head, affirming the choice. He grabs hold of the cake with one hand, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

‘Ask for her name Nanami’ He repeats to himself in his head

“What is your name?” She beats him to the punch.

‘Have you lost your touch?’-- “Nanami”

“I really like your name. It’s beautiful! My name is Y/N.”

‘Y/N, huh.. What a nice name..’

You give him his bag as he recollects his thoughts, “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve got to get going. Work” You shoot him one last smile before waving him off, “Thank you for coming! It was nice to meet you! Don’t work too hard!”

An hour goes by and it's time for the bakery to close for the night. You turn the lights off as the ladies load up the delivery car with food that wasn’t sold for the day so they could give it to the local kitchens and homeless shelters. You bid your coworkers farewell before hopping into your car and collecting yourself, before driving home.

After you get home you jump into bed, eager to text Nobara.

[Txt] Y/N - “I met such a cute guy today!”

A second later there’s an audio msg from her of Gojo;

[Voice Recording] “Wahh?! Y/N I wasn’t there today!” in a whiny bit.

You laugh as Nobara actually sends a text;

[Txt] Nobara - “Tell me all about it when you come to karaoke… matter of fact, he should come!”

But you just met.. How are you going to pull that off… and will he even want to go is the better question… what if he thinks you’re weird … oh lord… so many overthinking possibilities.. Ok but what if he actually says yes?

[Txt] Y/N- “Are you sure?”

[Txt] Nobara - “Yeah! Gojo-sensei is paying anyway.”

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento fanfic #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #kento x reader

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 8 months ago

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Going Up

Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: The elevator is packed.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: So this is what happened in the elevator before the spice in What A View. Really, I should have written this first? Why didn't I? I have no answers.

Warnings: swearing, Steven kinda having an exhibition kink, and thinking about and being like oh no, also some negative thoughts about being into it because self-doubt, PUBLIC BONER, overuse of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 559

The queue to check your tickets and wait for the elevator wasn’t too bad, but the lift itself was surprisingly busy when you and Steven stepped inside. You were two of the first people in, so as more and more walked on the space seemed to grow smaller and smaller.

You shuffled back a little and Steven instinctively put his hands on your side as he took a step and rested against the elevator wall.

You moved closer to him as more people got on, pressing your back up against his chest. Sheepishly you glance over your shoulder and smile, “this okay?”

He nods and beams back at you, “of course love.” He gives your hip a little squeeze. “It won’t be for long.” He kisses the top of your head as the doors close.

The first few floors are uneventful, but then there’s a little jolt. Nothing major, just the mechanisms working together, but you stumble back a little, brushing your backside against Steven’s crotch.

He swallows, heat flushing downwards, cursing internally.

You move back to your previous position practically a second later, barely having contact with him. But that’s all it took.

Being in public made it so much worse. Made the blood rush so much quicker.

Other people being around shouldn’t make his dick jump to attention practically instantaneously, should it? That wasn’t ‘normal’, was it?

Marc and Jake weren’t into this. They didn’t get hard the second there was a chance of an audience. Though… well, he’d never really asked to check. What if they did too? What if he asked and they didn’t?

Steven bit the inside of his cheek, trying to focus intently on unsexy things. But you were standing so close, barely an inch away. Your scent wafting around him and pulling him close, soaking the fire that was already ablaze.

He could nudge you back against him, grind into your ass until he came in his boxers.

He bites back a moan at the thought, his cock now painfully hard.

He’d have to be quiet, move slowly so he wouldn’t be noticed, muffle his mouth against your neck and…

He swallowed. He should not be thinking about that.

Steven shifted his weight, foolishly thinking that it would do something to help the ache. Of course it didn’t.

Was it the thought of getting caught that turned him on? Or was it that he wanted others to watch? He scowled as he thought hard, trying to tackle the problem like a puzzle. There must be some straight forward answer as to why this happened. And it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d got a bonker in public.

But he just couldn’t think straight, as, well, most of his blood was a little preoccupied somewhere else.

He couldn’t deal with this. He needed to come. There was no way he could walk around and hope for this to calm down.

Maybe he could sneak to the bathroom and jerk off.

Maybe he could drag you there with him.

The thought of your body pressed up against his made him lightheaded.

The elevator dinged as it reached the viewing floor. Steven grabbed your hand and practically ran out.

“Steven?” You say, a little surprised as he pulls you, having to jog a little to keep pace.

He must really want to see the view.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @pimosworld @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87@lunar-ghoulie @dumdaradumdaradum @plastichearts @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @spxctorsslxt

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#steven grant #moon knight #moon knight mcu #steven grant x reader #x reader #steven grant x you #x you #steven grant x female reader #x female reader #steven grant x f!reader #x f!reader #steven grant x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #moon knight bingo 2024 #moon knight events

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monstrouslyobsessed · 9 months ago

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love’s lethal bouquet

concept: in which the floral shop boss is in love with you—and isn’t a human. —momster

—a/n: well i havent posted in ages because of how bad my writers block was :( and i’m vvvvv iffy about this one. this is much more subtle and tamer than my usual too, but at least its something for the valentine’s day?

anyway, ima try and tackle a commission i owe next so please take care yall<3

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied drugging intention, implied teratophilia, implied exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the floral shop boss / plant monster (implied)

Valentine's Day proves to be one of the busiest days at the floral shop where you work. Breathing in the heady floral scents that permeate the store, you find yourself in continuous motion, assembling bouquets of pink roses, carnations, violets, and every red flower known to man into the van. With your back straining from the constant lifting, you absently listen to the gentle voice of your boss reassuring an irritated customer about their belated delivery—

and you wince.

Although you should be in a rush taking care of the deliveries, you tiptoe inside the back of the shop to avoid interrupting your boss—

But he merely hangs up the phone upon seeing your flustered face.

“S, sorry—” You begin.

He shakes his head with a gentle smile playing on his thinly bearded lips and says, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

The way he addresses you as ‘love’ used to bother you. It always seemed so…formal, old-fashioned, but coming from him—your boss—he somehow makes it work without needing to force the romantic undertone. Perhaps it is because he is on the older side and being a foreigner in this little town of yours.

The town lies deep within the trench of an endless forest, and you wonder how your boss had found his way here.

His arrival several years ago stirred many gossips about him, with him keeping his lips sealed about his past, but everyone slowly warmed up to him. His succulent blooms, never seen before even in the gardening magazines, certainly helped. Now, your boss is a familiar face among the townspeople, with very few not knowing who he is. And, of course, his handsome and charming demeanor won the hearts of many too.

“But I would’ve made the deliveries on time if I didn’t eat brea—” you try.

His piercing green eyes soften as you nervously fixing your rolled sleeves. You halt when he suddenly leans in.

“Boss—?” You rasp at the new weights on your shoulders, trying to pay no mind to the strange dark strains on his thick fingers.

The way he held you was almost…fond—

And he pushes you outside to the doorway. “Go finish the deliveries, won’t you?”

“Really?” You huff, trying to ignore the red tinge to your cheeks and the heavy thumping of your heart.

Your boss smiles that damnable handsome smile of his and pats you on your head, saying, “Get to it. The sooner you finish, the sooner I can give you your little Valentine’s Day bonuses for working so hard.”

While giving his employees gifts during holidays and special events is not new to your boss, you still perk up in eagerness and reward him with the biggest smile you can muster. As you dart away with a confident promise to complete the deliveries, he watches you scurry to the van, inhaling sharply,

“Soon.”

Your boss murmurs, rubbing his knuckle with his other hand—as if to hide the sudden green spot on it. Tiny vines emerge briefly, before he rubs them away and pivots back to his cash register where his impatient customers have started to queue. Flashing them with a dazzling smile to reassure frustrated customers with a wordless apology, your boss absently peers over to his office.

There, on his desk, is the special bouquet he prepared for you and only you.

Imagining you burying your face into the fragrant cluster of your favorite flowers, oblivious to the true intention of its purpose, the toxic drugging qualities meant to lure you into his arms—into his ivies and his binds of vines and creepers—had him biting back a shudder. Restraining himself before the antsy crowd, your boss rings up a customer with an invisible countdown ticking in his head.

A countdown to have you.

The blooms nearby writhe and shudder, with most dismissing it as mere breezes from the air conditioner.

It was not.

—end…?

#my writing #monster's writing. 👹#yandere #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #tetrophilia #exophilia #reader insert #long post #unedited #sfw #concept #gn reader #implied drugging intention #plant monster #floral shop boss #[[idk what to tag him lol]]#short #valentine's day

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ranaissingle · 29 days ago

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Whispers and Melodies (Pt. 2)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a faraway place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (For now)

Word Count:

A/N: This story is shaping up to be over 10 chapters so I am trying to queue up some chapters to post with some kind of regularity lol. I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I have created a tag list so comment below if you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts!

★──────────★─────────★

Past (Sometime before Amaranths's Rule UTM)

Rhysand sat at his office in Velaris pouring over mountains of paperwork that he had allowed to pile up right before starfall. He’d spent the better part of 3 days working through the aftermath of the holiday, and he sat now at his desk, he wished he had some type of escape or distraction from the mountain of work that always seemed to follow him.

A melodic breeze seemed to enter from the window as the trees and winds intermingled before filtering their way through the large windows. The breeze carried notes that came in quick succession and seemed to echo off of each other. The soft feminine voice almost caressed Rhysand's cheek and winded itself around him in a blanket of warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was until that very moment. His back and arms slowly untensed themselves as he relaxed further into his chaise and as soon as Rhysand felt like he could finally go to sleep, the voice seemed to fade back out the window and only left Rhysand craving more.

Page break and POV switch (Same time period)

Y/N sat out enjoying the weather amid the hot summer. She had laid out various fruits, bread, and spreads to snack on while she read and hummed away her evening basking in the sun. The wind carried a gentle breeze and various little creatures scurried their way across the grove. All at once, it seemed like the ambient noise around her had become muffled. As if someone had placed a pillow over her ears. Slowly, a voice from the outside seemed to filter through whatever was muffling her hearing. It was laughter. Booming laughter made some deep unknown emotion bubble up inside her. Something that made her heart ache most deliciously. A small smile crept upon her face as she looked out into the distance the first to find where the sound had been emitting from. Nothing but trees and willowing branches blew in the wind, not a soul in sight. The laughter slowly fizzled out as if the sound was creeping back into the forest from whence it came. The retreat left her feeling cold as if a winter breeze had made its way to her from the winter court.

Rhysand slowly pulled open the door to the room he had been occupying and stepped outside the threshold of the door. As the hinges creaked, the woman’s chopping ceased as she placed her knife on the cutting board before wiping her hands on her apron and turning around. Rhysand strengthened his stance even as the muscles of his thighs burned with the strain.

“Who are you and how did I get here.” Rhysand’s voice came out firmer than he had thought himself capable of. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head to the side.

“I found you passed out on the beach. You are quite lucky the tides did not pull you into the depths before.”

Her lips quirked up at the idea as if she was thinking about that very outcome. Rhysand squared his shoulders and steeled himself further. He couldn't be sure that this woman did not have evil intentions. If there was anything he had learned in his 500 years of life, it was that he should never underestimate an opponent just because they were a female.

“Why would you help me then? Is there something you want in return?”

Rhysand was grateful enough for the help that she had provided that he was willing to give her something in return. The female rested all of her weight on one leg as she turned her eyes up to the roof and began to contemplate what she would want. She was likely going to ask for a pile of gold or a new cottage of some sort. She looked like she had run through a million possible answers to his question when all at once her eyes widened and her posture stiffened as she blurted out;

“Waterdrake scales! Could you get me water Waterdrake scales? A lot of them?”

POV Switch To Y/N

Why did his voice sound so familiar? She swore she’d heard it before but couldn't

Y/n’s hand tightened on the side of the counter that she had been gripping with all of the mother’s strength. What ingredient could possibly stabilize the potion she was working on? She had tried every single combination of Honey possible but it always reduced the potency by some amount. She needed it to be as potent as possible in order to ensure its effectiveness. Firedrake scales were known to increase the shelf life of a potion, but that wasn’t exactly what she needed. She needed something to make sure that the reaction between the crawfish shell and fennel root did not take place and that their effects were enacted on the patient independently of their effects on one another. Could dragon bone work? No, that would just react with the fennel root and make the whole mixture useless. But waterdrake scales? Yes, those could work; it would keep the potion cool enough to prevent reaction while also having a cooling effect on the body when administered which would help with the fevers that often accompany blood loss. Yes, this was perfect! Before she could get any sort of reign on her excitement.

Y/n blurted out, “Water drake scales! Could you get me waterdrake scales? A lot of them?”

POV Switch to Rhysand

This female had gone insane. Water Drake scales were the rarest type of scales. Asking for them was equivalent to asking for something more valuable than the cauldron itself. Never mind that he was sure Velaris did indeed have Warwe drake scales, what could this female possibly need water Drake scales for? Rhysand lets his lips quirk up on one side as he takes in the female.

“What would a spritely female like you need with water drake scales and how are you so sure that I could be the one to provide them for you?” Rhysnad crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down.

Y/n rolled her eyes while she looked him up and down. “You carry yourself in a manner that befits whatever rank you possess.” She takes a deep breath before continuing,”I have seen a great many males like you, they traipse around as if they own the land they walk on, they trample over the plants and never leave a place the same as when they found it. Your kind is the reason our world will never have any semblance of peace for more than the time it takes to heave a breath.”

“Oh? You have come to this conclusion after knowing me for all of 10 minutes have you?”

“Not quite I think. You seem to be less…? Just less I suppose. I can’t exactly put my finger on it but you do not suck the air out of a room the way your brethren tend to. I’ve come to conclusions about your brethren, not necessarily you, it seems.”

Although Rhysand still did not look pleased, he had already decided to acquiesce to her demands as soon as she had spoken it. He was grateful, after all, for her help in his recovery. But, he was not going to fetch the scales by himself. If she wanted to get her hands on those scales she would have to contribute to the journey.

“Alright, if you want the scales you shall have them. However, I am not going on this journey for the impossible by myself. I know where to find them so we can get started whenever you are ready.

She smiles slightly before speaking. “I think that our journey might have to be held off a couple of days at least.”

Rhysand took the bait. “What, not up for the challenge?”

“No, I’m up for the challenge. You, however, are not.” The smirk on her face was undeniable and Rhysand felt a laugh make its way up his throat. The female was right he was not up to any kind of journey where he would be forced to sleep on the cold hard earth and eat whatever gruel he could salvage. All at once he felt the exhaustion flood him as his body realized he would not be traveling anytime soon.

She seemed to notice this and anticipated Rhysand’s legs giving out under him before he realized he was getting closer and closer to the polished wood of the floor. She skillfully wrapped her arms around his torso and slowly lowered him to the ground.

“We need to get you to bed. I already made breakfast so I’ll bring some to you as soon as you’re tucked in.

Rhysand chuckled, “I’m not a child, gods, you’re more demanding than my brothers.” She cocked her hips to the side before placing her hands on her hips as she stared him down. Rhysands smile never left his face as he raised his palms in defeat and raised himself to his knees before turning on his heel and entering the room he had previously come out of. As the door clicked shut behind him, Rhysand stood in the middle of the cozy room. He hadn’t smiled in 50 years. The muscles felt strangely tight from lack of use. He knew he had to get back to Velaris as soon as possible; his family was probably wondering where he was. But, despite his best efforts he couldn't bring himself to winnow home. It was quite peaceful in this little cottage by the sea. Rhysand eventually sat on the bed and leaned back on his arms as he stared out of the large window across from the bed. It seems Amaranths's reign managed to evade this section of the fae kingdoms.

Y/N rapped on the door 3 times before opening the door and walking inside. Rhysand smelt a fragrant aroma of ripened fruits and something else warm and minty. She walked up to the small wooden table next to the bed and placed a tray on it.

“I’ve made you a fruit salad, bread and herbs, and tea. I would make you something more hearty but, considering how malnourished you were upon your arrival, I feel it’s best to start you off on some simpler foods.” Rhysand looked up at her, “Thank you for the meal.” She tilted her head to the side slightly and smiled. “Could I check your temperature?” She raised her hand up towards his forehead but kept her hand from actually touching him. He took the time to look up at her from where he sat on the bed. He nodded his head and waited as she brought the back of her hand to his forehead and placed her hand on her forehead as well.

“You’re temperature is slightly above what is normal..” The frown on her face deepened as the gears in her mind began formulating some combination of herbs and elixirs to lower the fever. Rhysand kept his gaze on her as she started counting on one hand and mumbling soft indescribable words. Her eyes flicked down to his and she said,“ I’ll have to give you some ginger and chamomile to help lower your fever. ” Her touch felt cool on his warm forehead when he swore he felt his temperature lower a fraction. She then slowly brought her hands down to his neck before looking at him to ask for permission once more. Again, he slowly nodded his head and she pressed one of her delicate fingers against his skin. She removed her finger quickly and kept her gaze on that section of her neck. “It appears as if you are also dehydrated.”

Her voice trailed off as she continued moving his head slightly. Curiosity overwhelmed him so Rhysand asked, “ You could have done all these tests while I was asleep, could you not?”. She smiled slightly at him as she removed her hands from his cheek and neck and placed them back in her lap. “I don’t think you would have wanted that.” Her gaze settled on him in a way that made shivers run up his already sore spine. Rhysand answered with his own poor excuse of a smirk.

“Eat up, I will start preparing the provisions for our journey and bring you some more water”. She turned to the door and softly clicked it shut behind her.

Y/N did not expect that being so close to the man would have made her heart beat so fast. The hair on her arms stood up as she attempted to take deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She needed to get started on the preparation as well as figure out the dilemma of how she was going to replicate the properties of water drake scales without having to put them in every single batch of her remedy.

Rhysand relaxed back into the bed cradling him and felt the tension in his muscles trickle out and gather underneath him in a pool of warmth. They wouldn't be going on a journey, he was sure Majda had some water drake scales stocked up and he planned to winnow them into Velaris as soon as he was better. But she didn't need to know that yet. He quite liked the tranquility of the little cottage on the sea and intended to stay here as long as she would permit him to. Funnily enough, he didn't care to go back home.

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A/N: this had too many POV switches for my taste so I won't be doing that again lol I know it's been a while since I posted but I am trying to get back into the groove of things haha

TAGLIST: @nebarious

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