#i’m not to proud of the colors i assigned them
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Breaking Point
Summary: In the way where you start to lose your shit after teaching the children in Xavier Institute for so long, your partner Logan decided it's time to take a break.
Pair: Husband!Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Curse words, reader have regenerative healing factor like Logan so she is actually as older as as Charles but look young, reader is married to logan, blood mention,
A/N: it might seems crazy that I only come back here to write about Logan but damn I just cannot take my mind off from Logan. I might make one for Wade Wilson too tho. Also in all honesty I am not 100% proud with this one, but I just need to write this man so bad. So maybe I’m gonna make another one.
Wc: 1,8k
Beep... beep... beep...
You quickly turn off your alarm with a groan as you push yourself to sit on your bed. Another groan escaped your lips when you realized you broke another alarm for the third time this week and your husband is not beside you. You wipe your face harshly as you walk to the bathroom.
You take a cold quick shower in hope it can help you freshen up. A tired sigh was heard as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Eye bags can be seen even though it's not very noticeable. You quickly grab a concealer to hide your eye bags. Once you are satisfied with your concealer you quickly put on your daily-go-to make up and decide to put on a more neutral color outfit instead of your usual colorful one.
A black turtleneck paired with your favorite jeans, as you put on a worn-out brown leather jacket, and you decide to wear your boots for the last touch. You quickly put your wedding band on your finger before you forget it. And you decided to put the necklace your husband, Logan, bought for you almost 10+ years ago. You smile a little bit as your fingers carefully caress the vintage looking necklace.
As you grab your bedroom handle, you stop to kiss your wedding band, a habit you do before you start your day. Deep down in your heart, you hope today will be a more bearable day than the previous day. But of course your wish is only a mere wish when the moment you open the door you see students running past you with full speed almost hitting you.
"Kids! No running in the hall!" You warned them before you carefully stepped out of your bedroom.
"Good morning!" Ororo quipped when she saw you step into the kitchen. A mug of coffee in her hand and a muffin in the other. You give her a sweet smile before you grab yourself a cup of coffee.
"Good morning, ro. Have you seen Logan?" You softly asked as you sat yourself in one of the stools. Ororo looks at you for a second before blinking, trying to remember where the last time she saw the rugged guy.
"Oh I saw him walk to the classroom, looks like he has History class to teach today." You hummed a bit as you took a sip from your mug. Eyes slowly darting to the clock beside the fridge.
"Ah shoot, I have class too. See you later, Ro." You quickly downed your coffee and put your mug in the sink before you walked to your class. You can hear Ororo wish you good luck as you walk away.
As you approach the classroom you can hear some of the students chattering. You take a deep breath before you open the door. Revealing a bit of chaos the students cause. You can feel the corner of your eyebrow twitch but you just let it slide as the students quickly take a seat when they see you.
"Good morning, everyone. I hope you had a nice rest last night. And I hope the assignment I gave last week is finished and ready to be submitted. Please put your work on my desk so I can grade it later." You speak as you grab some of the old literature books that you have. Students start piling up in front of your desk to put their assignments. All of them except one, John. He's known for not being punctual when it's about submitting assignments.
"John, where is your assignment?" You softly asked him as you try to calm down yourself as you can feel your patience running thin. He scratched his head before he let out an apologetic look.
"Sorry, Professor. I kind of forgot about it." He answered with full honesty. You close your eyes for a second before you give him a smile.
"It's okay, but as an exchange I want you to write a resume about this Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and I want you to submit it tonight." John almost let out a protest but decided not to when he saw you giving a look. His body slumped down on his desk before he nodded. You then continue your teaching session.
Suddenly there's a knock on your classroom door. You let out a quick come in as you write down something about old literature on the board.
"Professor, Professor Hank asked you to meet him in his class." You turn around to see Rogue standing on the entry door.
"Okay, thank you, Rogue. The class ends for today then. Make sure you do the assignment that I give you for today and I want it to be submitted next week. John, please do your assignment. I will wait for your resume tonight." Students start to pack up their belongings as you tidying up your desk. Then you walk to Hank's classroom to meet him.
A very chaotic sound can be heard in his class. You also hear Logan screaming. Your brows furrowed as you opened the classroom door. Suddenly you see a beaker with some weird color liquid in it flying and hitting your face.
The classroom went quiet as sizzle can be heard. You stare at the people in the classroom blankly as your hand slowly touches your face. You can feel your skin sticky with both the weird liquid and blood. Eyes darted to Logan, Hank, and the students making sure no one else hurt as you feel pain on your face start to numb out due to your healing factor.
"Shit." Logan quickly went to you as he held your face to make sure you heal properly. Ignoring the residue of the weird liquid that is still on your skin. You stare at him before your eyes start to become glossy. You rapidly blink your eyes while Logan pulls you into a hug. Trying to calm you down by swaying both of your body softly. Muffled sobs can be heard as he strokes your back.
"Hey, it's okay Bub. I got you. I'm here." Logan tries to pull you impossibly closer than he already did. He quickly looks behind him, telling Hank that he will be right back. Hank just gives him a quick nod before he starts to instruct the students to tidy up the mess they created.
Logan quickly picks you up with bridal style and starts walking back to your shared room with you still crying in his arms. Your hands held to his neck as you shoved your face to his neck. Try to find comfort in his musky, pine, and mixed with tobacco scent.
Logan then proceeds to put you on your shared bed softly as soon as you both are inside the bedroom. He quickly picks his shirt and your shorts for you to change as he knows you always find comfort in his shirt. He went into the bathroom to grab your makeup wipes before he came back to you who was still sobbing with hands covering your face.
"Look up, pretty girl." He carefully pulls your hands and holds your chin. Frowning a bit when he saw your mascara ran down on your cheeks and red nose. He carefully wiped your makeup away and his frown deepened as he saw your eyebags. He leans down to kiss your forehead and your sobs get harder.
“Take a deep breath darling. I’m not going anywhere.” Logan starts to cup your face as he starts to lead you on taking deep breaths with him. You follow him soon after and a thin smile creeps up his face.
“Atta girl.” his calloused hand softly stroking your head as your sobs start to calm down. Your husband then continues to clean your face from makeup. You slowly lift one of your hands to hold his wrist that is still busy cleaning up your face. Logan then leans in to give you a quick peck on each of your eyes, nose, and lastly your lips before he pulls away. His hands carefully took off the necklace that he gave for you before carefully storing it back in the box. You slowly peel off your jacket and jeans as he walks back to you.
“Hands up, baby.” He instructed you as he took a seat beside you and he pulled your turtleneck up. You obeyed him by putting your hands up in the air. Allowing him to pull your turtleneck. He then starts to stroke your almost naked back, making you feel his warm palms to let you know that he is with you.
“I’m gonna take your bra off okay?” he softly asked while his palms were still rubbing your back. You give an affirmative nod and his fingers skillfully take off your bra as he has already done so many times. You let your bra fall to the floor. Logan then pulls you to sit on his lap. Your hands immediately circling around his neck. He then pulls you into another hug while giving your shoulders a lot of soft kisses. It's a different kind of kisses. Nothing sensual, just comfort and love. And you hug him tighter. Letting his stubble tickle your skin.
Logan then pulls away and gives you his shirt and your shorts. You carefully take it from his hands. He stares at you full of love and adoration before he softly pushes you from his lap and walks to the bathroom to clean himself. You quickly put the clothes on and lay down on bed. Pull your blanket to cover your body and wait for your lover. Eyes blankly staring at the wedding band on your finger while your thumb carefully rotates it.
Suddenly a warmth starts engulfing you from the back. For the first time on that day you genuinely let out a soft smile. You quickly rotate your body so you can face your husband.
"What's on your mind darling?" His voice is rough but there's softness and care behind it. His hand pushes your hair away from your face. You smile again and pull him into a kiss.
"It's nothing. Just been tired from all of the work I have to do these past few days…" you answered in a low voice. Logan let out a low growl as he looked at you with sympathy.
"Let's take a few days off then. Let's go somewhere quiet. Just the two of us." Logan suggested while rubbing your sides before letting his hand stay on your hips. You stare at his face. Remembering every detail you can catch with your eyes.
"Okay. Thank you, Lo." Logan smiles as he rolls to lay on his back. Pulling you with him to sleep.
"Anything for you princess." His words and his touch is the last thing you remember before you drift off to sleep
#wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman#hugh jackman x reader
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5 Hours
tara carpenter x g!p bottom reader
summary - tara had been teasing you for the entire day, and as it came to end, she realized she couldn’t anymore, and had to take matters into her own hands.:
minors dni
5 hours. 5 hours had Tara been teasing you. 5 hours have you been hard. You were on the verge of tears, on the verge of grabbing Tara and fucking her so hard she’d forget her name, but no: that would come with consequences.
Why had Tara been a tease all day? She only wanted to see how long you could hold off without touching yourself or touching her.
“Tara..” you whined, you were laying on the bed with a pillow stuffed to your face to suppress your moans, your cock hard, laying up against the covers beneath you as you bucked your hips now and then.
“Please..”
Tara was at her desk working on whatever assignment she had. The fact was, it was due at the end of the week, and Tara was known to do her work at the last minute. You heard her snicker. She loved seeing you all work up and flustered, knowing it was all because of her.
She looked back at you. She almost gave up the assignment and cared for your needs, but she had a job to stick to. She checked the time on her laptop. ‘5:38 pm,’ it said. She sighed. She didn’t want to do this crappy assignment on English, though it was her favorite subject.
She was wet, oh so painfully wet looking and thinking about you. She didn’t know if she could hold off for 5 hours but the time was going slow now, and as you were right there squirming and bucking your hips every second she needed to do something. Fuck, she needed you.
She saw a wet spot underneath you, your pre-cum was leaking through your boxers, a very wet noticeable patch in them. She got up and swiftly sat in the spot you left open beside you and rubbed your back.
“Aww, look at you.” She cooed. Tracing shapes on your back until you turned around, your face visibly red and sweat cascading down your forehead.
You whined again, “Tara, please, I can’t go any longer..” You sat up uncomfortably, locking eyes with the brown-eyed girl. Tara looked down at the tent in your pants. She loved your cock. You stood at a proud 7 inches, and that itself would hit every single spot inside of Tara, making her say, and do the most unthinkable.
Tara looked up at you, smiled and tilted her head, her hand palming your cock. God you were hard. She felt how hot it was, and how it pulsed every second.
She heard you sigh at the touch, and lift your hips up.
You were such a sucker for Tara and did anything she said. It was clear who was the bottom and the top of the relationship. The way you let Tara handle you during sex was almost mad, but were you guys complaining? Fuck no you weren’t.
Giving up, Tara took your boxers off in a swift motion, hearing the smack of your cock hit your stomach. She wanted to go slow, she didn’t want to exactly cater to your needs just yet.
She took your cock in her hands and jerked it off slowly, the clear liquid pumping out as she did so. She heard your whines and cries, as you tried not to be so loud, you put your hand over your mouth.
She stopped.
“Wha.. why’d you stop?” You cried out.
“I don't want you to muffle your moans, I want to hear you, or I’m going to stop, okay?” She said, glaring at you. You nodded, and once more, Tara grabbed your cock. She bent down and kissed the mushroom shaped tip, as it was swole, and the perfect pink color, and took you whole.
“Oh….”
The way Tara’s mouth felt sent you into a state of euphoria. Her wet, warm tongue guiding it’s way around the tip and the base, the way you felt her teeth touch your cock a bit. You almost grabbed a fistfull of her hair and rammed her down because of how slow she was going, but you couldn’t, fearing that she may stop again.
She looked up at you, her spit dribbling down your dick as she sucked you off clean.
“Tara.. m’gonna cum.. i’m gonna—
— she stopped.
You grunted and let your head hit the pillow beneath you in frustration. She laughed at you.
“I’m not done with you yet, baby. I still want to feel you inside a’me….” She said, as she straddled your lap, and grinded against your still-wet cock.
“Mm, all hard for me, so big..” She grabbed your dick and aligned it with her dripping wet center, and sunk down, letting out a guttural moan. Your hands found themselves grabbing a fistful of the sheets, you sputtered out curses, and grunts of your own. The feeling inside of Tara’s pussy made your eyes roll back.
You were yearning to touch her, to touch all of her. Her hips, her boobs, you needed to feel her bad.
And as if she read your mind, she said, “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N touch me, please touch me.” You nodded and grabbed her hips, slamming her down on your cock. The wetness sputtering out as you did so. The way her vagina squeezed your cock, and the way you stretched her out sent her into a state of ecstasy. Being inside of her was overwhelming, the hotness inside of her made you want to come then and there.
Neither of you could take it anymore.
“Tara, i’m gonna come, please.. let me come, fuck.. fuck fuckfuck…” You looked up at her, she seemed to about to come undone as well. Her mouth open, and her eyes closed, as her tits moved every time your cock would hit the certain spot.
“Me too, shit, Y/N!….” You felt her come, and squirt on you as well. Not a second later, you felt spurts of your own cum fill her up, it was the most you had came in a while.
You felt the squeeze of her walls clench around your cock, your grasp on her hips loosening as you both came down from your highs.
“If holding you off for 5 hours lets you fuck me that hard, I might have to do it again.” she murmured, her head laying on your chest.
You let out a breathy laugh as you stroked her hair, “Please, no.”
#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x y/n#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x you#lorraine day x reader#wednesday addams#wednesday addams x female reader
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˚ ♡ ⋆。˚ ❀ eres mi regalo mejor, querido
type: viktor x reader
summary: viktor with a reader whose love language is gift giving
word count: 1250
First of all, why?
Not that he’s ungrateful or anything! Far from it, in fact
See, he just isn’t used to receiving gifts “just because”
Growing up in Zaun, moving to Piltover, and now dedicating his life to Hextech meant that he doesn’t exactly have time to enjoy the little things. He has no desire to be speaking in front of crowds. His comfort zone is being in the lab, his focus on his latest passion project, and he has control over what he’s doing and what he knows
Also, he’s not used to surprises. Didn’t reckon he would ever be fond of them
And I’m totally projecting here, but Viktor is also one of those people with the really awkward reaction to receiving gifts. He doesn’t know what to do or say that would seem appropriate enough, you know? He’s extremely touched that you thought of him and not just that, but saw it fit to get/make him something
Over time, accepting that he’s loved through the means of gifts becomes easier
He’s not the best at it to start with, because most his purchases have strictly been on a “necessity” basis
But he isn’t one of Piltover’s brightest minds for nothing
Babygirl’s hypothesizing, observing, and applying. Got that scientific method approach when he’s getting you gifts
Overall, you’re both doting on each other now in your ritualistic exchanges of presents
It’s a mix of hand-made and bought, and both forms of acquisition doesn’t matter when the thought behind the choice is explained with such love 💕
˚ ♡ ⋆。˚ ❀ DRABBLE TIME !!!
While the holiday season was a time of rest and relaxation for most people, things within Piltover's labratories were in complete mayhem. The department's end of season party was quickly approaching, which meant Viktor and Jayce were consumed with decorating the halls. That was their assigned task, and they were determined to do a good job.
Sky had went home to her family a week earlier. You and the boys had bid her a sweet farewell, sending her home with a collaborative handmade stopwatch. It had a GPS built in (thank you, Viktor), a widget for the weather and traffic predictions (shoutout Jayce), and you had drawn up the blueprint for its internal mechanics.
Viktor returned home a little after 6:00 PM today. It was well beyond dark outside, even with the lamps lighting up the streets. This was the last breather before the actual event in about three hours.
"Here, eat something," you encouraged, handing him a bowl of soup you'd made earlier.
"Thank you. You always know just what I need," he smiled wearily.
While he got to work on the meal, you went about getting ready. You were Viktor's plus-one, and while most of the department knew your name and face from your frequent visits to see your beloved, you were still nervous. Even so, you were determined to enjoy yourself, and hopefully Viktor would too.
He wasn't too fond of crowds, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself the people person in a duo. That was working out well. You have slowly gotten better at getting out of your shell, and Viktor too, began to pick up on your mannerisms when around others. He has now talked to a handful of people of his own accord, an accomplishment you were extremely proud of, and him pleased.
"Oh, and before we go! Our gift exchange," you piped up. That caught Viktor's full attention.
Right! Your gift exchange was today. He was nervously excited, despite himself. He had put in much thought and effort into your gifts, and while you would never have a negative reaction, he couldn't help the small anxieties that repeated in his mind. But it would be alright.
You went first. Handing him a deep green paper bag with white snowflakes around the border, you waited with bated breath.
"This was the color you said looked good on me, yes?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Yep! Ok, now open your gifts," you encouraged.
He did, eyes widening in delight. There was a clothing set, made in soft, fine material that felt like flowing water between his fingers. There was a rich, brown dress shirt, with forest green silk vest, a black leather belt with silver gear buckles, and brown pants to match the dress shirt. While those articles were commissioned from a local tailor, you had added in a handmade lapel in the shape of narcisscus. The flower for his birth month.
That wasn't all. You had included a candle scented with coffee and a muted hint of pine. Then there was a copy of a philosophy book, writtern by an academic you knew he was fond of. The author had done a recent meet and greet at one of the bookstores downtown, and you had made sure to clear your schedule that day in order to attend.
"Look on the inside!"
He did, and nearly cried. There was a note in the author's handwriting, signed off too.
To Viktor,
I was heard that you were fond of my works. I hope this latest volume of mine brings you as much joy as I felt knowing I had such a devoted reader like yourself. Best Wishes!
"How did you even- I mean, the event was all booked when I tried to get a spot," he laughed breathlessly.
"Why did you think I stayed up all night?" you grinned.
"All of this is so much," he whispered. "God, I feel so...,"
"No, none of that now," you chided. "Whatever you got me will be just as wonderful because it's from you. Don't compare your hard work to mine, Viktor."
He took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
"Thank you. Will you open your presents now, love?"
You were more than ready. The bag he handed you was a simple brown one, belying the efforts within. The first thing you got was a copy of a newly released book, one you had been eyeing for ages. Not only that, there were stickers and tabs throughout, and when you opened to a random page, you were met with his familiar handwriting, meticulously annotating in the margins with his commentary. It was a dream. You basically get to read this treasure alongside his thoughts. You've mentioned on multiple occasion how you wanted to start annotating your books, but never quite found the time. Now Viktor had went above and beyond.
"Viktor. Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
Not waiting for his response, you reverently set the book down and went to open the rest. There was a custom CD! The tracklist was accompanied by another note, explaining that he wanted to chronicle the love he has for you through music. Jayce, Mel, and Sky had been great helps in finding him some of the songs and getting it all burned and made into a disk.
And then there was his letter. Beautiful swirls and some words crossed out, the multi-page declaration of adoration was something you couldn't wait to sit down and read fully.
You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt Viktor's hand around yours.
"Before we go to the party tonight, I want to tell you that you will always be my greatest gift. I may not be perfect at showing it to you quite yet, but I have found myself more and more at ease in this love we share. Happy holidays, moje miláčku."
#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#arcane imagine#arcane x reader#viktor fluff#viktor nation#viktor x you
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How to be Little in public without others noticing ♡
If you find yourself slipping into littlespace in public (like in class, at work, or around people who don’t know about it) and want to stay in that safe, small headspace without drawing attention, here are some subtle ways to comfort yourself, stay present, and embrace your little side quietly.
This post contains:
1. Internal Littlespace – Staying in Your Head
2. Secret Fidgeting & Comfort Items
3. Secret Little Treats & Sensory Comfort
4. Writing & Secret Notes to Yourself
5. Discreet Listening & Digital Comfort
6. Body Language & Subtle Self-Soothing
7. Positive Reinforcement & Secret Rewards
8. Planning for Later
‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞ ୨୧ ‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿͞‿
Internal Littlespace – Staying in Your Head
• 🧸 Use Your Inner Little Voice – Instead of speaking in little talk out loud, let your thoughts be playful and soft. Tell yourself, “I’m being such a good little one doing my work,” or imagine your caregiver praising you in your mind.
• 💕 Create a Secret Game for Yourself – Try giving yourself little challenges, like:
- “If I write five more sentences, I get to doodle a tiny heart.”
- “If I finish this task, I get to take a sip of my juice box.”
• 🎀 Assign Cute Names to Objects – Your pen can be Mr. Scribbles, your phone can be Blinky, and your backpack can be Adventure Pack.
• 💭 Imagine Your CG (or Comfort Character) Watching Over You – If you have a CG, picture them watching proudly as you do your work. If you don’t, think of a favorite plushie, cartoon character, or even a pet, encouraging you!
Secret Fidgeting & Comfort Items
• 🖊 Use a Cute Pen or Pencil – A soft pastel pen, a squishy pencil grip, or a character-themed writing tool can make work feel fun.
• 🎀 Wear Something Small That Makes You Feel Little – A bracelet, ring, necklace, or hair clip with a small charm that reminds you of being little.
• 🧸 Keep a Tiny Comfort Object in Your Pocket or Bag – A mini plushie, small sensory stone, soft fabric, or a keychain can help ground you.
• 🎨 Doodle Secretly – You can draw in the margins of your notes, on a sticky note, or in a small journal. Even tiny stars, flowers, or smiley faces can feel comforting.
• ☁️ Squish Something Soft – Keep a stress ball, slime, or soft scrunchie in your pocket to fidget with subtly.
Secret Little Treats & Sensory Comfort
• 🍎 Pack a Fun Snack – A juice box, fruit snacks, goldfish crackers, or anything fun and nostalgic that won’t stand out too much.
• 🍬 Keep Hard Candy or Gum – Sucking on something sweet like a lollipop or chewing bubblegum can feel comforting without anyone noticing.
• 🌈 Use Lightly Scented Hand Lotion – Pick something soft like vanilla, cotton candy, or strawberries. Applying lotion can feel soothing and help you stay grounded.
• ☕ Drink from a Cute Water Bottle – A pastel bottle or one decorated with stickers can feel like a secret little comfort.
Writing & Secret Notes to Yourself
• 📒 Use a Cute Journal or Planner – Decorate it with stickers, colorful pens, or washi tape. Writing things in a playful way can keep you feeling small.
• ✍️ Make To-Do Lists in a Fun Way – Instead of “Finish Essay,” write “Write Smart Words!” or “Do Big Girl Work!”
• 📖 Write Yourself a Love Note – Tuck a small sticky note in your notebook that says “You’re a good little one!” or “CG would be proud!”
Discreet Listening & Digital Comfort
• 🎧 Listen to Comforting Music – If allowed, wear earbuds and listen to soft piano, Disney instrumentals, lofi beats, or cozy soundscapes.
• 📱 Set a Cute Phone Wallpaper – Pick an image of a plushie, a soft pastel aesthetic, or a comfort character.
• 🖥 Use a Cozy Study Timer App – Apps like Forest, Study Bunny, or Pomodoro let you gamify work while keeping a gentle, comforting theme.
• 📚 Read Something Cute on Breaks – Whether it’s a lighthearted story, a favorite childhood book, or a short fanfiction, reading something soft can help.
Body Language & Subtle Self-Soothing
• 🧦 Wear Soft Socks or Comfy Underlayers – Even if no one sees, fuzzy socks, soft leggings, or a cozy bralette can make you feel safe.
• 🌸 Hold Your Sleeves or Play with Your Jewelry – Holding onto something, like the edge of your sweater, a pendant, or a ring, can be a secret comfort.
• ✋ Rub Your Fingers Together or Tap Your Thigh Lightly – A repetitive, gentle motion can help regulate emotions and keep you grounded.
• 😌 Take Deep, Quiet Breaths – Inhale slowly, hold for three seconds, and exhale gently through your nose. This keeps you relaxed.
Positive Reinforcement & Secret Rewards
• 🌟 Give Yourself Silent Praises – “Good job, me!” after completing a task can feel rewarding.
• 💖 Pretend Your CG (or Comfort Character) is Watching – Imagine them smiling, hugging you, or patting your head when you finish something hard.
• 🏅 Set Tiny Rewards for Yourself – “If I finish this paragraph, I can sip my juice box,” or “If I complete this page, I get to hold my plushie later.”
Planning for Later
• 🏡 Think About Your Littlespace Routine at Home – Plan what you’ll do when you get home, like coloring, watching cartoons, or snuggling a plushie.
• 💤 Promise Yourself Rest Time – Remind yourself that even if you can’t fully be little now, you’ll have time for it later.
💖 Remember: It’s okay to feel little anywhere! These small, subtle tricks can help keep you happy, safe, and comfortable no matter where you are. You don’t have to show anyone your littlespace unless you want to.
Your little self is valid, loved, and adorable. 🌸✨
#bd/sm mommy#domme mommy#mommy#mommy k!nk#bd/sm blog#lesbian nsft#bd/sm community#sapphic nsft#bd/sm relationship#lesbian#sfw littlespace#md/lg little#sapphic#sapphic smut#lesbian yearning#lesbian smut#wlw#wlw yearning#wlw nsft#wlw mommy#wlw smut#wlw community#wlw post#wlw blog#wlw love#wlw ns/fw#ns/fw community#ns/fw content#ns/fw blog#queer ns/fw
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Scary Dog Privilege
Ijichi x Reader
a/n: IJICHI BABES, WE ARE HERE.
Your relationship with Ijichi made sense.
If awards for couples that made the most sense existed, you and Ijichi would win them all.
He was the greyhound to your cane corso. The Sphynx to your Siamese cat. Ijichi was your devoted lover and you were his world.
You just wanted him to see his own value in every situation. Remind him that he has a say so even if everyone else disregards it. And maybe your anniversary trip could help him.
The suitcase lay half-packed on the bed, its contents a colorful jumble of folded clothes and travel essentials on top of the surprise bikini dress you’d packed for the beach.
You hummed cheerfully to yourself, holding up a sun hat and tilting your head. “What do you think, baby? Too much for the beach, or just enough to keep the mysterious wife thing up?”
Across the room, Ijichi stood awkwardly by the doorway, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. His gaze darted to you, then away, his lips parting as if to speak before closing again.
“It’s perfect,” he mumbled, though the way his fingers fidgeted with his glasses said his mind was elsewhere.
You narrowed your eyes at him, setting the hat down. “Kiyotaka,” you said in a tone that made him stand a little straighter. “You’ve been pacing like a nervous puppy for the last ten minutes. What happened today? Did someone die, or worse, did they cancel our anniversary reservation?”
He flinched. “No, no! Nothing like that!”
“Then what?”
Ijichi hesitated, his cheeks flushing. “I... um... I’ve been assigned as the lead administrator for a mission next week.”
The cheerful hum of excitement that had been buzzing in your chest came to a screeching halt. Slowly, you slipped your slippers back on and walked over to him. “Next week? As in, the week of our trip?”
He nodded, his hands wringing. “I-I didn’t say no. They said they needed someone dependable, and I—”
“Didn’t push back,” you finished for him, your tone flat. You let out a long sigh, and wrapped your arms around his next. “Honey. Do I need to come to these meetings and say ‘no’ for you?”
His shoulders slumped, and he gave you a sheepish look. “I know I worked through my day off last time but I didn’t want to let anyone down…”
You crossed your arms, giving him the look only an understanding wife could give. “Kiyotaka, I get it. You’re kind and genuinely such a pleasant guy —two of the many reasons I love you. But you’re also allowed to have a life outside of work. It’s okay to tell people no. Even me.”
“I know,” he muttered, but the doubt in his voice was as clear as day.
“Hmm,” you said, rolling up your sleeves and taking a few paces back. “Let’s roleplay.”
“Huh?”
“I’m Principal Yaga, and you’re telling me you can’t take the mission. Go.”
His eyes widened. “What? I—”
“Go!” you barked, dropping into a gruff impression of Yaga. You stroked an imaginary goatee and squinted at him. “Goddamn man! Speak up! I don’t have all day! I’ve got sunglasses to buy and cute cursed dolls to make!”
Ijichi blinked at you, flustered. “Um… excuse me, sir, but I…”
You interrupted, shaking your head dramatically while speaking in a hushed tone. “No excuses, Ijichi. You’re too valuable!”
That finally got a laugh out of him, and you couldn’t help but smile. “See? Not so scary when it’s just me,” you teased. “Now try again. Confidently, this time.”
He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders.
“Principal Yaga, I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me, but I’ve already committed to important personal plans next week. I’ll need to decline this mission but maybe ask Akari and she how she feels about taking it on.”
You broke into a grin, clapping your hands. “There it is! That’s my guy! See? You can do it!”
Ijichi looked surprised by his own success, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “You really think they’ll respect that?”
“Absolutely,” you said, stepping closer kissing his cheek then lips as he pulled you into a hug. “But if they don’t, just let me know. I’ll show up and demonstrate my cursed technique. Bet that’ll make them think twice.”
He chuckled, relaxing in your arms. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft with gratitude.
“Anytime,” you replied, squeezing him gently. “Now, let’s finish packing. You’ve got a mission to refuse and an anniversary trip to enjoy.”
👓
The sun was dipping low over the courtyard, warm orange hues painted themselves across the campus.
You were heading back from a training session with Nanami when you spotted Ijichi standing stiffly near the fountain. Across from him, Gojo Satoru leaned lazily against the edge, arms crossed and trademark grin plastered across his face.
“C’mon, Ijichi,” Gojo drawled. “You’re the only guy I can trust with this. It’s just a couple of reports, nothing too crazy. Besides, you know I’d do it myself if I weren’t so…” He gestured vaguely. “Busy.”
You could see the classic Ijichi’s polite smile from where you stood. It was the same tight-lipped expression he used when he wanted to refuse but couldn’t find the words.
“Ah, well, I suppose I could…” he started, trailing off as Gojo’s grin widened.
That was enough for you. Without thinking, you marched over, planting yourself between the two of them.
Gojo,” you almost barked, sharply, staring him down. “I think you can handle this one yourself. Ijichi has enough on his plate and he has to speak with Yaga.”
Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh? Didn’t know the wife became the spokesperson! But come on, Ijichi’s the best man for the job! He loves this type of work!”
“Maybe,” you retorted, eyes squinting and arms crossed, “but even the best deserves a break. Right, Kiyotaka?”
Ijichi blinked, caught off guard. “I-I suppose…”
Gojo shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You’re right. I’ll ask someone else.” With a cheeky grin, he sauntered off, calling over his shoulder, “But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me!”
You turned to Ijichi, a triumphant smile on your face. “There. Problem solved.”
But instead of looking relieved, he seemed troubled, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Thank you,” he muttered, barely audible.
🍵
Later that evening back at home, dinner was quiet. Ijichi kept conversation short and even excused himself early to go to his study.
“Jichi? Honey?” You softly called out as you made your way down the hall, a cup of fresh tea in hand for him as you peered at his relaxed figure from the cracked door of his study. “Can I come in?”
He smiled and waved you in, “Come in. Just reading.” He slipped the bookmark in and sat the book down. “Is that tea for me?”
You nodded and the cup it down before leaning against his desk. “Fresh ginger tea. With a bit of mint from the garden.”
He smiled and took a sip, the warmth filling his chest as he sat it back down. “Thank you darling.”
Watching him intently, you gave a warm smile. “What’s on your mind?”
He hesitated, then sighed. “About earlier… with Gojo. I know you meant well, and I appreciate you stepping in, but…” He looked up at you, his expression pained. “I don’t want people to think I can’t fend for myself.”
You frowned, guilt tugging at your chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He saw you thumbing with the edge of his desk and stood up, bringing his hands to your waist. “I’m just really not a big fan of seeing people take advantage of you.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But sometimes I need to handle things on my own, even if I mess up sometimes.” His gentle disposition was the sweetest. A level headed man even when he was feeling bogged. “Gojo can be a lot and you were right, I didn’t have the capacity for the work he was trying to pass on to me. But I would’ve figured it out.”
You nodded, rubbing up and down his forearms as you looked to see his unperturbed face. “You’re right. From now on, I’ll let you decide when and if you need me to step in. But if it ever gets too much…”
“I’ll tell you,” he finished, offering a small smile. “I appreciate that you care so much for me. You are my life. And knowing I have you in my corner is enough to make me speak up more. So when I need you, I’ll tell you..”
“Deal?” you asked, holding out your pinky.
He chuckled, linking his pinky with yours. “Deal.”
A playful grin spread across your face. “But you’ve got to admit, I rattled Gojo pretty well.”
Ijichi laughed, his cheeks flushing. “You did. Honestly, I think he’s a little scared of you now.”
“As he should be,” you said proudly, resting your chin on his shoulder as he swayed you for a moment. “But don’t worry—I’ll save my scary side for when you really need it.”
He smiled against the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your crown. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d probably have a lot less drama in your life,” you teased, earning another laugh.
“You make things more lively. I’d be a lost man without it.”
The moment lingered, warm and sweet, the tension from earlier melting away. Ijichi knew you meant every word. Your devotion to him was truly a gift and you were always going to be the reason he felt like a winner.
#ijichi x y/n#ijichi x you#ijichi kiyotaka#jjk ijichi#ijichi#ijichi x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen ijichi#jjk#I hope I did this man justice#jjk crack#jjk fluff#Lu.logs
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selfish waltz - j.yh
pairings : jeong yunho x reader
genre : angst (no comfort)
word count : 2k
author's note : PLEASE KEEP IN MIND ANYTHING YOU'RE READING HERE IS FICTION! the characters are portrayed in fictional manners, so nothing is real here! yunho is kind of shitty here so yeah :'D
🎵 take a bite - beabadoobee, malibu nights - lany, color blind - maddox, i don't wanna love you anymore - lany
masterlist
—
anon asks :
was falling in love ever a mistake? if it wasn’t then why is everyone ridiculing me for it? is it ever my fault for wanting to be loved? i crave love and i want it. i can’t keep on living like this. i feel like an outcast whenever people talk about love. i hate feeling like this.
posted on 21/07/2016 00.21 AM
—
anon replies :
hi anon! i just wanted to reassure you that it’s not wrong to fall in love! in fact, love is such a wonderful thing you know! i hope things get better for you. wishing the best for you anon!
posted on 21/07/2016 03.23 AM
—
friday, 22/07/2016
click not again. click ah, why isn’t it working at all. click oh! it’s good now. your old camera has been through a lot but it is a memoir you can never get rid of. you photographed almost your entire life with it and you definitely have a little bit of an unhealthy attachment to it. “boo!” you were startled and almost dropped your camera. “jeong yunho.” you glared at the person. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i didn’t think you’d be that scared” yunho quickly took a seat next to you and gave you a sheepish smile. he was trying to make you not get angry at him and well, his puppy eyes are hard to resist. “that’s still working?” he points to your old digital camera. “i take good care of it, so of course it would” you said proudly. if there was one thing you could be proud of is that you are extremely good at taking care of your things. heck, your phone from 2009 still works up to this day.
yunho gives you a mocking smile in response, in which you shoved him jokingly and that made him laugh. you both then fell into a rather comfortable silence where you continued your previous shenanigans again.
“still taking photos?” he asked curiously. you only nodded before adjusting your camera to zoom in to the daffodil in front of you. “you like daffodils?” he moved closer to you. “they’re pretty” you replied, still focused to your camera. “mmm, it’s my birth flower” he states. “so?” you moved your gaze to stare at him. “mmm nothing. just wanted to say that” he moves back with a grin on his face. he is completely unpredictable, but guess that was what you loved about him.
—
anon asks :
is it wrong to love your best friend? i’m scared, i feel like i want him too much and it might be bad for our friendship
posted on 22/07/2016 08.34 PM
—
anon replies :
hi anon! like i said before, falling in love isn’t bad! but when it comes to friendships, it might be hard. i’m rooting for you though! you can’t control love anyway ^^
posted on 23/07/2016 07.29 AM
—
saturday, 23/07/2016
it was a sunny saturday afternoon, you’re currently in yunho’s house doing group work with several other classmates. this group work has been something you’ve been dreading to do. after all, you only got there because of yunho. you bet he pitied you, that’s why he took you in but none of that matters. yunho was nice enough to let you in but that didn’t mean others accepted you.
for some reason, none of yunho’s friends really liked you. some were neutral, some hated you. you weren’t a clingy friend to yunho, nor were you forcing him to be only friends with you. well, you can’t control them. yunho was your polar opposite anyway. perhaps they just thought that you were annoying and not talkable with.
“um, is this part supposed to be empty?” you asked to your group mates. one part of the assignment is left empty even though it’s not supposed to be empty. “seriously? you have to ask us that?” one of them replied, in a snappy tone. “i wanted to make sure” the room fell into an uncomfortable silence as your voice quieted down. you quickly went on your way to work on that part while staying silent. they purposely left out the hardest part for you to do. it’s not hard, just tricky and they just don’t want to deal with it.
“hey, want me to help? i know it’s tricky” yunho apporached you while you were working on the problem. of course, you accepted the help. who would want to do a tricky calculus problem alone? having two brains working on it is much better than just one. “sorry about that, we had chosen the parts we were going to do before but i forgot to inform you. sorry” it seems that he feels bad but it’s alright. you’re here not really welcomed either. “it’s okay” you reassured him despite feeling uncomfortable. the thing with yunho is that he’s a big people pleaser. he won’t stand up for anyone if he knew it wasn’t beneficial for him. it’s an annoying trait of his but you weren’t anyone to call him out for it. you knew where you stand and you had to stay there because you weren’t anything special for him. just a friend, who hoped for more.
—
sunday, 24/07/2016
the problem was trickier than you originally thought. even with yunho, you couldn’t finish the problem yesterday. so, you went back to his place to finish it off. it had been three hours since you started working on it again and the problem was only 70% done. mathematics is a pain in the ass but it’s fun if it’s solved. however, you both were only humans so just like how any humans would, you took a break after the three hours work time.
“why did mr. park think this was a good idea!?” yunho groaned as he threw his pencil. “you know him” you laughed as you opened your phone to scroll around qforums. “you use that too?” he asked. “what?” you instinctively moved your phone away from him. “i just wanted to knoww! i also use it too you know!” he whined. you only smiled before saying yes. it was a harmless question anyway. he goes on to tell the stories of the weirdest asks he ever read in the forum. from the story of a laughing dog to a hidden underground tunnel in someone’s house, he told it all. you realized having someone keeping you sane through mathematics is very important. thankfully, yunho was there.
—
monday, 25/07/2016
“give it back!” you desperately reach up. one of your classmate, jisung decided it’d be a great idea to take your phone and open qforums. “i said give it back!” “class! listen up! is it wrong to love your best friend? y/n, is this about yunho!?” he asked loudly, unti; the entire class’ attention was to you. you froze, you couldn’t answer anything. everyone’s eyes were focused at you. staring straight with a mocking smile. your head started spinning from the pressure. “shit! this is so funny. oh my, you’re really in love with this friend huh? so, is it really yunho?” jisung kneeled slightly to ask you. “earth to y/n? i’m asking you a question here!” he shook your body. cold sweats started to break out of your body before you took your phone from him and quickly ran away to the bathroom. you could hear laughters from people as you ran. you could feel their gaze.
as you reached the bathroom, you quickly went to one of the stalls and sat down to recollect yourself. it was going to be widespread for sure and of course, yunho would know. what would you answer if he asked? would you lie and ignore the fact that you had been in love with him since forever? it was a shitty day and you just want it to end.
your prediction was correct. it became widespread, even videos were shared everywhere. everyone was making fun of you. you’re sure yunho knows it too. knowing yunho, he would ask you about it. he would want answers. were you ready to give answers though?
—
yunho : can we talk, after school?
yunho : i’m not mad, i just want to talk
you : ok
—
“is it true?” yunho immediately asked you. “i didn’t want anyone to find out” your voice was small, just like how you felt right now. “what the heck y/n?” his response caught you off guard. “what?” you were confused now. “why?” he asks, with a tone unpleasant to your ears. “what? i can’t control my feelings, yunho. what do you mean why with that tone? is it a crime?” “did you seriously fall for me just because i was kind to you?” your heart fell into million pieces. you couldn’t say anything after he asked you that. the man in front of you wasn’t the yunho you knew. you don’t know this person at all. the yunho you knew would reject you kindly but this man? he’s not yunho.
“is it that easy for you to fall for people? i was kind to you because you had no one and we were friends back then so i felt inclined to but, falling in love? i’m sorry y/n, i just feel that you’re being too, how do i word it, selfish?” yunho continued. “why the fuck is it selfish for me to love?” your tears started to fall at this point. you were fine with rejections, after all he was above your league. but this? nothing could prepare you for this. “love isn’t selfish but shouldn’t you at least realize your situation? i never thought that person who kept asking about love in the forums was you” he replied. “were you the one who answered?” you asked him. “shit.” he wasn’t meant to say that. he knew he would look like a shittier person to you if you knew that fact. however, cat’s out of the closet and you couldn’t even explain how shitty you feel right now.
“what the hell jeong yunho?” you felt so incredibly betrayed by him. it was as if thousands of thorns pricked your heart open to the point it bled to a sea, your heart hurted, so bad. “shit, i didn’t mean to say that but just, fuck i look like a shitty person now” “you are.” “what?” he was visibly taken aback by your response. “you’re a shitty person and i regret falling for such a shit person like you now. i never expected anything from you and yet you treat me like this? i genuinely loved you, i knew you wouldn’t like it if we were more than friends, that’s why i kept it to myself. i always kept it in, yunho. i never expected anything from you. i didn’t want more of your kindness, i was always fine with everything.” you tried to continue but your heart just hurts so much, you couldn’t handle it. you broke down and cried, because your heart just hurts.
he only stood there as he saw you cry. doing nothing but stare. you couldn’t care enough to look at him but cry. “i’m sorry” he muttered as he left. he left you alone, in pain, crying. this day was truly a shitty day.
—
some day in 2006,
a kid moved into your neighborhood on a random sunday morning. their family approached yours and made you befriend their kid. naturally, your parents would bring you to play with him in the nearby park. you quickly ran to the swing, which the kid followed.
“what’s your name?” you asked the kid. “yunho! jeong yunho! you?” he excitedly says. “i’m y/n! han y/n! nice to meet you yunho!” you shook your hands with his.
“i hope we can be friends forever!” the kid states.
but 10 years later, that same exact kid would break your heart to the point it’s irreparable now. so what the fuck does that forever supposed to mean?
end. or is it the end?
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tbh i dont know if i’ve ever made a single piece of art i actually like in an academic setting. they’re always haphazardly done last minute and the subject matter is always so. hm. it’s a little boring. the only times i think i’ve come close to making something i was proud of in school is when i was pushed to my mental breaking point and i just started fucking doing whatever i wanted. so today i’m rating them
in my sophomore year i was in sculpture class and had to make a smooth plaster sculpture. the amount of manual labor required to sand down a sculpture that had to be at least 3 feet in some direction is not something i wanted to deal with. as you can see my sculpture is not smooth. the design i was happy with— the sculpture itself i was not.
it was titled “Mistakes” or something along those lines. my classmates stood up for me in critique when my professor said it was lazy and unfinished. not one of my peers said a bad thing about it. we smashed the sculptures apart behind the building when critique was over. i still want to cry when i think about it, it was an extremely special experience for me.
10/10 i actually wish i still had it and i have been meaning to make a tiny version out of clay. such a special piece to me, very formative
this piece was made at the end of my college career when i first started testosterone. i wanted to make some sort of tribute to it for my final piece— i’m of an extremely divided mind when i think about it. there are parts that look clunky and not developed properly… thrown together, as i believe my professor Jason said. i am, however, happy with certain technical aspects of the piece! the formation and shading of the hand and the syringe is something i really like, and did a lot of layering to achieve. i used a paper cutout to make the repeated syringes on the bottom left, another new technique i tried and was happy with the results of.
the text WAS thrown on last minute in an effort to spice up the piece but it’s a reference to the song Crosseyed and Painless by Talking Heads. it’s a song i’ve always identified with in a gender way, with the first few lines being “Lost my shape, trying to act casual./Can’t stop, I might end up in the hospital.” i felt on the verge of collapse constantly in the early days of my transition. it was like i had lost my shape and was destined to end up hurt in some way. i wish the text was more well thought out, it could have been done in a more uniform way and i think it would have looked a little better.
the wasp head is also a reference to an old oc of mine, who was a man with a wasp head named Gene. i wish i would have used different colors, the black and yellow i used should have been warmer. mars black instead of ivory. whatever again it’s technical stuff.
6.5/10 i could technically go back and fix this one bc i still have it, but i have better things to do rn.
the hand dino came into the world in a fiery manner. for the final project we had to make a piece with the dimensions of minimum like 4ft by 4ft, and by this point i was burnt out and the most exhausted with art i’d ever been (besides maybe sophomore year ig 🤔) and i told my professor i couldn’t do a project that big. he made the mistake of telling me to do what i could manage, which ended up being a roughly 12in by 12in piece of oil painting paper.
in many ways i like the concept of this piece. the idea of it. it’s fun! it’s combining realistic elements with cartoonish ones in a way i enjoy.
however. looking back, i genuinely think it would have been a cooler concept on a bigger scale 😭 which is so frustrating.
7.5/10 i wish i’d had it in me to do it better.
and how could we forget dear body horror babe? made in my first semester of sophomore year and done with ink and charcoal and conte crayons, it was an assignment one of my more eccentric teachers wanted us to do where we randomly splattered ink on a paper using ink-covered coins and tried to come up with a drawing just from the happenstance of where the ink coins landed.
i chose a more abstract route and basically turned every ink splat into an eye and tried to come up with somewhat distorted body imagery to evenly fill all the space on the paper. you can find a lot of stuff going on in this piece.
11/10 but also not done at my lowest point, just during the steady decline.
ok can i be frank for a second. i fucking hate this piece. so what you’re seeing is an 8ft by 4ft thin block of particle board, carved by hand in low relief to ink and print on old bedsheets.
my professor for this relief class was strict about the theme of the class, which was political art. she insisted we make art relating to a political topic and our beliefs on it. and this isn’t to say political art is bad in any way, but it’s truly not something i want to FOCUS on creating necessarily. the fact that it was MANDATORY is the issue here. one of my classmates refused to make purposely political art and instead chose to make a beautiful piece of the sun and moon as lovers. i wish i had just done the same and refused to make strictly political art. if i’m honest i just wanted to make an epic wood carving scene of a dark and eerie night outside draculas castle. instead, as you can see, i chose (somewhat arbitrarily in an effort to make the project into something i could enjoy carving) environmentalism.
technically i don’t mind this piece. the composition is fine and the detail in some areas i’m very proud of. other areas not as much. my teacher also forced me to do what i think is over-carve some areas to fill the piece with texture. i do not like it and i wish i had kept some areas fully un-carved, even if it didnt print right. i don’t care.
also what’s worse about the whole experience of this piece is that it was part of an event called Blocktoberfest and my school partnered with a local state college to make and print these huge blocks on their campus. the reason this is bad is bc the state college students did whatever the hell they wanted for their designs and we saw some really cool subject matters, from aliens to occult symbolism. and their school’s art department had a couch in it and ours didn’t. :/
also blocktoberfest was an insane amount of physical work bc rolling those big ass rollers in ink and then a giant block and then ink and then the block and ink and block was a lot of effort. i was sore after it. and it lowkey felt like me and my classmates were doing all the work and like maybe 5 people from the other school were helping. whatever. whatever anyways
1/10 genuinely pisses me off to look at. wish i would have just done draculas castle
^i also think it’s worth mentioning about this professor: no one really liked her. she made it very clear that she thought there was a right and wrong way to create art. and she fully believed she was right about everything bc she was old and wise. and she was also gay so maybe she had some credit. but her art to me always felt a little uppity and she was also really rich. she let us visit her studio and we did our final critique there of a piece i made that i absolutely hated everything about. i dont even have a picture of it bc it pissed me off so bad. she also was lowkey racist towards a few of my classmates so i really don’t like her.
anyways that’s all the pieces i want to review currently. let me know what you guys think about em if you want. i hereby ask for you to critique my art.
the difference between making art for a deadline vs making art purely bc you enjoy the process and outcome is so crazy. it actually makes me sick with sadness. i don’t have the resources to create freely yet. anyways art under the constraint of academia is so frustrating for me specifically. like whatever. whatever
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Somethings the queer community does that I will never understand as a queer person:
1) why people in the community invalidate other peoples sexualities ex: bi/pan and aspec. Yall know we’re apart of the acronym right?
2) why some folks want “LBG without the T” congrats idiots. You have trans black women to thank for most of your rights today
3) why queer people “assign sexualities” to other queer people (usually aspec) or straight people who “don’t act straight” like ??? A) the closet is a closet for a reason. Some people aren’t comfortable or don’t feel safe coming out and B) don’t invalidate someone’s identity or label?? It’s what’s working for them at the time they’re discovering them self???
4) hate on queer people who may not be “loud and proud at pride” and vise versa. Like it’s their pride. Let them display it how they want as long as it isn’t hurting anyone else. I literally wore jeans and a black button up to my first pride (I’m just not into loud colors)
I’ll probably add more later idk these are the things that are currently in my mind this pride month.
#go to bed moth#pride#pride month#lgbtq#lgbtq community#lgbt issues#aspec#trans#bisexual#pansexual#guys I just have a lot of feelings about a group that’s supposed to represent love and inclusiveness
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flowers of every color | 3. lilies of the valley
overall summary: when your father is assigned as the new head gardener to the royal family, you are also tasked with helping him maintain the castle's many gardens and extensive floral arrangements. by chance you find yourself crossing paths with the "ice-cold" crown prince, choi yeonjun... who turns out to be not as ice-cold as everyone says he is.
chapter summary: the royal family throws a ball and you're in charge of floral decorations. along the way, you spy on some official business and meet two other princes of the house of choi...
word count: 1.9k
warnings: a character yelling at another but it's very minor
author’s note: this is more of a transitional chapter but it's gonna set up some things for later in the story! also WE'RE FINALLY GETTING SOOGYU HERE ヽ(⌒▽⌒)ノ yes the choi line are all distantly related in this fic, they belong to the same royal house but are like... very very distant cousins or something lol. easier for me to do than to make them unrelated and part of 3 different houses of choi and me explaining "no they're all different" ksljdfkls
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“those look amazing, y/n. you sure they aren’t ready yet?”
yeonjun watches you as you walk through the greenhouse, showering a long row of lilies of the valley with your watering can. the flowers arrived just that morning and you need to treat them with care before they’re planted. as you water them, the droplets stick to the little white bulbs of flowers and catch the sunlight. you smile at the sight and spy yeonjun smiling at at them, too.
“give them a few days, your ma- yeonjun. they’ll look even more beautiful planted at the front entrance.”
you notice his smile grow just a bit bigger at you using his name, a habit you haven’t quite gotten used to yet. “can’t wait,” he says, and bends down to talk to one of the flowers. “you need to grow up well, okay? make y/n proud! don’t disappoint them!” he laughs and you start giggling yourself.
“they’ll have to make you proud too, you know. we can’t have your ball guests thinking poorly of you and your family because of a few wilted flowers.”
“i know, i know...” yeonjun wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, and you put down your watering can to accommodate him. “but you should be the one getting the credit. you worked so hard to get these shipped here and take care of them, so you should be proud of yourself.”
you nod, feeling warm at his touch, and lean into him as he pats your shoulder.
there’s only a few days left until the welcome ball that the royal family is hosting for some diplomatic envoys, and you and your father have been tasked with preparing the gardens and floral decorations for the event. the two of you have been up to your necks in work: surveying the gardens, planning the theme and the floral arrangements to go with it, going through your inventory of flowers, and preparing them for planting once they’ve started to bloom.
that means that you simply haven’t had the time to do your usual errand of leaving specially chosen flowers in yeonjun’s bedroom. you’re grateful, then, that he took matters into his own hands: he declared that he would be in charge of overseeing the gardens and floral decor for the event, which was really a thinly veiled excuse to see you.
“can i try?” yeonjun picks up the watering can you set down. “let me help you too.”
“careful, i’m the one with the green thumb around here,” you tease. “we don’t want the flowers withering and dying before ball day.”
“hey! c’mon, that’s not fair.” he pouts and brings the watering can close to his chest. “i haven’t even done anything yet, you don’t know if they’ll die! maybe i’ll do a great job and they’ll bloom even more!”
you laugh and shake your head. “fine, fine. maybe the flowers will be awed by your majesty.” you see him sigh as you mention his title. “here, you can try watering this row, i haven’t worked on them yet.”
一
on the day of the ball itself, you change out of your usual faded gardening smock into the plain navy blue uniform assigned to servants of the castle. it’s not as comfortable as your usual attire, but the fabric is not as stiff as you feared it would be, and you move around the castle grounds freely.
while you are neither a guest at the ball nor one of the servants working in the ballroom itself, the chamberlain wanted anyone who lives or works on the castle grounds to look presentable, just in case the envoys saw them while walking around. besides, he told you and your father, you need to be on call in case one of the flowerbeds or vases gets ruined and needs to be replaced.
you spend the early afternoon wandering around the southern gardens, admiring the work that you and your father did over the past few weeks. the lilies of the valley sway gently in the breeze, their white bulbs rustling like tiny bells. as you gaze at the horizon, the flowers you planted seem to meld together into a symphony of colors: white and yellow, light and dark blue, pink and purple. you can’t help but marvel at the sight, and at the realization that you and your father managed to do all that. you should be proud of yourself, yeonjun told you, and you do feel a bud of pride swell in your chest.
you spot movement from the corner of your eye and turn towards the southern castle entrance facing the gardens. there you see yeonjun dressed finely for the occasion, meeting with a pair of middle-aged men in heavy grey jackets adorned with medals. you tilt your head at the sight as curiosity gets the better of you 一 because of how busy you are, you’ve never actually seen yeonjun on his princely duties. you move closer, but out of their line of sight, wondering what on earth they could be talking about; soon you are able to examine their faces, yet remain far enough that their words are only unintelligible noise.
the shorter of the two middle-aged men appears to be raising his voice, his eyes bulging as he goes on a tirade that you can’t hear. the other man, almost as tall as yeonjun himself, is smiling but his expression is strained as if trying to hide something. you glance over at yeonjun and notice that his face has turned cold. he stares at them as if he sees right through them, and his lips are pulled in a taut line. when the short man finishes his tirade and the prince is allowed to respond, his expression barely changes.
of course. the ice-cold prince, you remember. the more you get to know yeonjun, the more you realize that the moniker is a carefully crafted facade. since he is the only child and heir of the house of choi, the future of the kingdom hangs on his shoulders; he knows that there are too many people who see him as a weak spot, waiting for him to make a mistake so that they can take power for themselves. to keep them at bay he puts on an air of haughtiness, signaling that he is not the weak spot they think him to be.
but he is nothing like that, you think 一 you know. you know how he smiles at the smallest of joys, how he loves the company of friends, how he knows the right thing to say to bring comfort or encouragement; there is nothing cold about him. yet not only is that side of himself hidden from others, but also that side must remain hidden from certain people to protect his kingdom. you feel a sting in your heart at the thought.
the two middle-aged men start to leave, and yeonjun turns to head back to the castle. you wonder what they have been discussing, though you assume it’s something you probably have no involvement in. before you can think about it any further, you are distracted by distant shouting at the edge of the gardens.
“hey, you’ve had several turns now, let me try!”
“just wait, i’m trying to beat my record!”
“you said that last time and you haven’t beaten your record yet! just accept that you’re never going to beat it!”
“hyung, how could you say that?! i thought you were my biggest support一”
their words are cut off and you hear rustling, followed by a panicked shout. then something gently bumps against your feet 一 a small rubber ball.
the ball is soon followed by two young men around yeonjun’s age running towards you. one of them is lanky with a slender face, the other tall with high features. you notice that their coats also bear the embroidered insignia of the house of choi.
“look what you did, you almost scared one of the servants,” the tall one chides.
“relax, they’re doing just fine. right?” the lanky one gives you a charming smile.
you stare for a moment, unsure what to make of these rowdy young men, until you remember your manners and make a hasty bow.
“i’m alright, thank you. don’t worry about me. here.” you pick up the ball and hand it to them.
“i’m terribly sorry for troubling you like this,” the tall one says and returns the bow. “let me introduce ourselves. i’m choi soobin, prince of the central branch of the house of choi.”
“i’m choi beomgyu, prince of the eastern branch,” the lanky one says. “nice to meet you.”
your eyes light up as you recall yeonjun mentioning just how extensive the house of choi is, with rulers in different kingdoms. yeonjun’s own family, he once said, is from the main northern branch.
“pleased to meet you, your majesties,” you say, bowing again more deeply. “i’m y/n, and i’m one of the gardeners of the castle. i hope you’ll enjoy our gardens.”
at the mention of your name, soobin and beomgyu exchange knowing looks. beomgyu breaks out into a wide grin.
“you一 you’re y/n! you’re the one yeonjun hyung mentions all the time in his letters!”
“e-excuse me?”
“a-ah, pardon us...” soobin flushes and gives you an embarrassed smile. “we’ve heard a lot about you from yeonjun hyung. he writes to us and tells us about a gardener friend that he made. that’s you... right?”
now it’s your turn to flush at his words. “i-uh... unless he made another gardener friend, i suppose that’s me.”
the two of them are now grinning from ear to ear, and you flush even deeper. just what did yeonjun tell them about you?
as if on cue, your friend appears behind soobin and beomgyu and wraps an arm each around their shoulders. “found you!”
“yeonjun hyung!”
the three young men tackle each other in an embrace and nearly fall over, cheering and laughing as they do. you hear shouts of “i missed you!” and “i got more handsome, right?!” amidst the chaos, and your heart grows light at the sight. gone is the ice-cold prince from moments ago, and here again is the friend you know.
once the greeting is over, yeonjun pokes his head from the tackle-hug out at you. “y/n! you’re here!” he releases himself from his companions and pulls you into a hug of your own. “i’m so glad you made it out,” he says, pulling away. “and how come you met soobin and beomgyu without me?! i was going to introduce you in a dignified way!”
“anything is more dignified than running into gyu trying to beat his football record,” soobin snorts.
“i was going to beat it if you didn’t distract me! and my record is still better than yeonjun hyung’s.”
“hey, why are you bringing me into this?!”
you can’t help but snort at their banter, and all three of them turn to look at you.
“c’mon, you two. you’re embarrassing me in front of y/n.” yeonjun links your arm with his and turns to the others. “let’s do a tour of the castle gardens? i need to show all the work y/n did. they did an amazing job.”
“he never shuts up about you,” beomgyu says to you.
you smile before you even realize it; you only feel it when your cheeks begin to hurt. “sure, i’ll show you around,” you say. “let me tell you all about the flowers for tonight’s ball...”
end notes: alright! for chapter 4 we're getting the actual ball (kinda-sorta), and we're getting a nice lovely yeonjun x reader moment ;~; ch4 is my favorite one so far so i'm excited to finish it and post it aaaaaa
#txt x reader#yeonjun x reader#txt x you#yeonjun x you#choi yeonjun x reader#kpop x reader#txt imagines#kpop imagines#yeonjun imagines#txt angst#txt fluff#yeonjun angst#yeonjun fluff#tomorrow x together#tomorrow x together imagines#fic:flowers of every color#bhj: violet's works
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For a school assignment I had to summarize a book so i chose fablehaven secrets of the dragon sanctuary. I chose to go the extra mile and make a puppet show here are some of the puppets I made I had to ask my sister to color the characters because in between drawing and coloring I hurt my hand so it didn’t turn out perfectly but I’m really proud of them.
#fablehaven#dragonwatch#brandon mull#kendra sorenson#seth sorenson#Gavin rose#navarog#warren burgess#i didn’t make any dragon puppets instead I used stuffed animals
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A Watchful Eye
For @iseltwalds, this is the fic that I wrote back in 2022. You can probably tell my writing skills improved a bit since then, and it’s a bit cringy to say the least. 😅
Nevertheless, this fic is what started all my other DonLuca fics! Enjoy! 😁
The newly-decorated castle of Montenaro bustled with many guests as they each mingled amongst one another. It was Lady Margret’s idea to throw a ball in honor of her future crowning as queen. And while she was hesitant to at first, she luckily had Stacy and the others to give her some encouragement during what could be the most important day of her life.
Her royal adviser (at least, that’s what she refers to her as), Mrs. Donatelli, viewed the area from the upper balcony of the ball room, keeping watch for any unusual activity. Unlike everyone else, she usually didn’t wear overly fancy attire unless for special occasions (such as Stacy and Edward’s wedding). Her hair was up in it’s usual style while at least wearing a blue formal dress. The outer layer was a jacket-type look, while the underneath was a normal dress. Her flat heels sported a similar color as she continued leaning on the railing with a sigh. Margret would be called out soon, and she needed to be sure nothing was amiss.
Behind her, she could hear footsteps approach as her eyes snapped to whoever could be approaching. When she saw Frank instead, her body relaxed.
“Shouldn’t you be downstairs with the royals?” She asked before facing forward again.
He tilted his head. “I should be asking you the same thing. I would think you would be assisting her highness in getting ready.”
“The royal dressers are taking care of that.” She said. “Even so, Margret insisted she could do most of the fitting by herself.”
Frank hummed, carefully approaching the woman and leaned on the railing next to her, though being sure to give some space between them.
The sound of a trumpet suddenly caught the two’s attention as Margret herself strutted out into the ballroom, her dress a mix of grey and white along with some floral design to it. The older woman gave off a small smile as she admired how strong she was despite the challenges thrown at her during the past six months.
“Well, she certainly is regal.” Frank commented, giving off a proud smile. “She certainly has come a long way.”
His companion nodded in agreement. “Indeed she has.”
“I wonder where she’d gotten it from?” He said, looking as though in thought. “You’ve certainly taught her well.”
Donatelli looked over at Frank for a moment, slightly dumbfounded at the complement as her cheeks gave a slight blush. “I-I didn’t teach her anything.” She responded, not looking him directly in the eyes. “All I did was simply give her the encouragement she needed. That was all her.” She paused for a moment before continuing, feeling confident enough to look back at him.“ Where exactly are you going with this?” She asked intently, raising a brow.
“I’m merely saying you’ve done so much for her already over the years.“ He replied in defense. “From what I’ve seen, she truly cares for you, as if you were family to her. Rare do I ever see such form of relationship bloom between a monarch and their servant. Or, ‘royal advisor’ in your case.”
The woman looked at her friend in bewilderment as she slightly tilted her head in confusion. “But you served Edward most of his life, did you not?” She asked.
“I merely assisted the king and queen. I was never around him as often in his youth. Only as he got older was I assigned to him more regularly.”
The room then started to fill with classical music, as the patrons below began to ball-dance with their partners, Margret even sharing a dance with Kevin as the two advisors above them looked down at the pair for a moment before back at each other.
“Are we going to join the others? I wouldn’t let a gorgeous woman such as yourself stand alone with no one to accompany you.” He gave off a sly smirk.
The woman’s blush returned at full force as she tried turning her head away.
“P-Please. I can usually handle myself. I’m quite used to it at this point.”
Frank frowned a bit at that, a pang of sympathy ringing in his chest. “Even so, it wouldn’t be so harmful if you did have someone, would it?”
Donatelli turned back towards him as she couldn’t help but crack a small smile, letting out an amused sigh as she did so. “No, I suppose not.” She felt her body leaning closer to his, their hands now intertwined. “But…just so you know, this is only for companionship. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Right…” The man said, getting lost in the woman’s cyan-blue eyes. “Nothing more…”
As they started to inch closer, a booming voice suddenly burst through the whole ballroom as the pair above jumped at the sudden interruption.
“Yo! Let’s get this party started, shall we?”
The voice seemed to carry an English accent as Frank and Donatelli looked to see who made the sudden announcement. She appeared to be young (possibly around Margret’s age) and had blond hair and stylish clothing. Behind her were appeared to be her lackeys as they followed suit. Donatelli urged to resist an eye-roll in the realization of who it was.
“Fiona…” She said in a flat voice. “I should have known she would show up eventually.” She muttered.
Frank looked between the two and blinked. “As in, Fiona Pembroke?“
“Yes, that’s her.” His friend rubbed the bridge of her nose in slight irritation. “She and Margret grew up together before being sent off to boarding school by her mother. Seems to me it did her no good.”
Frank had no response as he watched Fiona take a selfie with her ‘Maggie Moo’, as she called Margret. He thought to himself how and where that nick-name even originated from to begin with.
“Should we do something about it?” Frank finally asked after a few minutes of awkward silence. He had since then removed himself from her warm embrace, straightening out his clothing a bit as he tried to calm himself after the awkward event.
Donatelli shook her head reluctantly. “No. Not yet at least. She appears to be harmless enough, but I fear what she could truly be after from coming here.”
“Of course.” Frank nodded, noticing the advisor’s still-flushed face but said nothing of it. In fact, he actually found her to be quite adorable when not being threatening. At least, towards him. They would usually have their back-and-fourth banter time and again based on the situation, for that’s how they were.
Whenever Frank would accompany Stacy and Edward’s visits to Montenaro, he would usually greet Donatelli right after Margret, and that would be that. The duo sticking side-by-side as they accompanied the royals to wherever they went. Overtime they began to grow used to one another’s company, even enjoying it on occasions. The past two years showed just that, and Frank couldn’t be happier about it, even he wouldn’t admit it out loud.
His thoughts were then interrupted as he noticed Donatelli leaving the balcony towards the stairs the lead to the ballroom. Frank quickly dashed to catch up with her as his little legs struggled a bit to keep up.
“And where are you going, exactly?” Frank asked, impressed, yet curious at how the woman beside him could walk so fast.
Not looking back, she responded. “Where else? Keeping a closer look-out. And I suggest you do the same thing.” She then stopped for a moment, giving off a gentle smile to him as she nodded. “But, thank you, Frank. For earlier, I mean. I might hold onto your offer in the future.”
Frank remained speechless as he simply stood there dumbfounded, watching the woman stalk off. He then quickly composed himself as he let out a long breath.
“Oh…my.” He breathed, his face rising with heat once more.
#I’m honestly glad I was able to improve a bit over the years. :)#I was still learning how to write these two at the time so hopefully I did them justice.#I might do a re-write of this fic someday when I have the time but will keep the original for archival purposes.#Also because it shows how far I’ve gotten from being in the fandom. 😊#mrs. donatelli#frank de luca#DonLuca#the princess switch
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Interesting Writing Prompts - Take #1 📖
❥ Hello! 👋🏽 everyone! I apologize for not posting as much lately, I’ve been very busy academic wise but for now I’m just taking a break! So I wrote this to get the juices flowing lol, but thank you & enjoy!
A magical tavern is owned by a boisterous old wizard, who wanted to use his abilities to make people happy! It’s the only place where you’ll find ale that changes your hair color, or encounter sandwiches that make themselves.
One person is assigned a very special animal when they come of age, and have the ability to communicate with them. Those creatures are bonded to their hearts, reflecting the inner self by what type of animal is at their side. However, sometimes people can’t fully understand their partners until they are older, as they have yet to discover their true selves or what they desire in life.
A man and a woman from two different kingdoms both attend a royal ball together, in hopes of finding a suitable partner. They both manage to get away from the scene and they end up meeting in a hidden space. Once they reveal themselves, it turns out one of them is a tiny person.
There is a large magical foundation that is responsible for creating all the mythical creatures in the world. This includes mermaids, dragons, fairies, etc. What happens when a human comes across it, wanting to become such a creature?
Beneath the catacombs of an old yet proud theater, lies a society of tiny people. Using props and items left behind by humans, they put on their own shows to spread their culture. Until one day, a curious individual finds themselves on the center stage of the surface.
A dragon-like being is found by a human couple as an egg and raised in a human town! Naturally all the residents enjoy him: he even helps them by carrying heavy things, heating their homes, or scaring off any vicious predators. Until one day a group of knights pass through and start to cower under the dragon’s gaze! Unaware he’s very friendly!
A princess from the moon resides alone in a secret palace. Sent there by her people to keep her safe from any danger or wrongdoers. What will happen when an astronaut comes crashing down on her doorstep?
#fantasy au headcanons#fantasy prompts#fantasy headcanons#fantasy writing prompts#mythical creatures headcanons#mythical beasts#otp writing prompts#romance writing prompts#writing prompts#writers of tumblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#g/t writing#dragons#sci fi#sci fi writing#sci fi prompts#princess oc#mermaid aesthetic#mermaidcore#unicorns#dragon headcanons#moon princess#princesscore#g/t community#g/t fluff#sfw g/t
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Can't Get Enough
Darren x Reader
a/n: i think this drags on but whateverrrrrr i finished it and im proud i finally finished soemthing. 6 hours. 6 long miserable hours she had to endure in a cramped plane all because her boss wanted to be a bitch and make her miss out on her weekend. Y/n should’ve been out on her two day-relaxing wilderness retreat but instead she was stuck here, carrying all of her boss's luggage as she hauled ass right behind the terrifying woman. Luckily, she managed to put her phone into her purse before all the luggage was assigned to her. If she was going to be forced to be here, the least they should let her do was listen to her audiobook by the hotel pool.
She had safely made it into the giant glass box of a hotel without tripping and stared in awe. The hotel was lavish! She looked forward and there stood a giant waterfall in the middle of the lobby. The splashing water made it feel refreshing inside and brightened the already very luxurious place. Maybe she could find time to come back to the lobby and pretend she was far from work. She zoned out imagining all the fun she could be having right about now, failing to notice the dastardly woman calling her name until she saw old wrinkly fingers snap in her face.
“HELLO!!! Are you going to get my room keys or not?” Her boss’s shrill voice ringing in her ears. “Sorry, Ms. Featherington.” The older woman snapped her fingers and held out her hand. The assistant looked over to the receptionist and put down some of the luggage. “DONT DO THAT! These carpets are utterly dirty with everyone’s steps, my bags should NEVER touch the floor.” The shrill voice spoke up again.
The younger woman took in a long breathe. “I’m sorry, I won’t let it happen again.” She hobbled over to the desk with the bags all hanging on her, grabbing the key from the stranger. The receptionist gave her a small pity smile and pointed them in the direction of the elevators. “Your room will be that way.” Y/n noticed how the keys were different. One was a shiny goldish color, while the other was a plain grey color.
“Where will I sleep?” She asked. Ms. Featherington smiled. “The expenses could only cover for ONE penthouse suite, you’ll be sleeping in the ‘quainter’ rooms underneath. Now take my bags to my room and organize my things. I’m going for a trip to the spa and I’m expecting a spectacular reservation at the best restaurant around here at 7pm WITH a car pick up and I better not see a single thing out of place in my room when I get back.” With that the older lady put on her sunglasses and walked away. The poor assistant could just sigh and carry the heavy bags to the elevators.
She successfully managed to put all the bags into elevator and push the button to the 16th floor without falling over. Now she just needed to make it to the room...easy right? She had stacked all the luggage she could carry in a straight pile in her arms and weaved her way through the long hall. 'A few more steps and I'm there.' She thought to herself. She let out a sigh and started to feel the bags wiggle in her arms. 'Fuck.' It's all she could think of as she tried to catch the bags before they hit ground. From across the hall, Darren, Alexx and Joel had all finished cleaning the penthouse and were grabbing their cleaning items. Darren stretched his arms up until he heard a satisfying 'CRACK'. "I think we did a great job with this room. We deserve a little prize." He reached into his shirt's pocket and pulled out a pipe. "Dude! Seriously?" Joel reached out for the pipe. Darren extended his arm above Joel, making it hard for the scrawny man to reach it. "Come on man! Thats not good for you." Joel huffed. "Dude, if Darren wants to get shit faced, I think we should let him." Alexx said as he patted Darren's back. Darren nodded and took a hit from the pipe. Joel shook his head in disbelief. "You only think Darren should continue cause you're his supplier!" Alexx hushed Joel. "Not so loud man! Someone is going to hear you!" Darren blows out a ring of smoke and smiles. "Oh please, we're the only people here." Joel looks behind Darren and points. "Us and that person." The two other guys look behind themselves and see a giant stack of luggage wobbling. "Woahhhh technology has come so far! Luggage's can deliver themselves now." Alexx beamed. Joel rolled his eyes, "Thats obviously a person. Come on let's go help." Alexx shook his head. "No way man, we get paid to clean, NOT to carry bags, I'm not doing extra work." Darren shrugged and walked to the person struggling. "Here." He grabbed a couple of bags, just enough so it wouldn't be so heavy anymore for the person. He was able to see the person behind the luggage tower and smiled. He didn't expect to see a frantic looking woman. She looked up and saw him, her quivering lip turning into a smile. "Umm, let me help you." He chuckled as she loosened her grip on the bags. "Thank you." she said sheepishly. She looked tired, nervous, almost like she didn't want to be there and yet, Darren thought she looked beautiful. The woman took in her savior's features. Scruffy stubble, unkept fluffy hair, and glazed over hazel eyes. He looked like an angel to her. They hadn't noticed Joel grabbing some bags from the woman. She looked over at the second man and smiled up at him. She thanked him and reached into her pocket for the key card. Much to Alexx's dismay, all three men helped her bring the bags in. Alexx and Joel put the bags down near the entrance of the room and headed out of the room.
The woman called out before Darren could leave. "Wait!" She said just a bit too loud. She felt her face go red as Darren turned back to look at her. 'God was he cute.' She cleared her throat, "Let me at least tip you guys." She instinctively reached to her side, aiming to grab her purse but found air. She usually carried her purse on her person all the time in case Ms. Featherington needed something.
She looked up at Darren and gave a nervous chuckle. “Whoops, looks like I can’t find my purse, just give me one second.” She started scrambling around the luggage, in hopes it was just piled around there. Darren tried to reach out to her. "Oh no you don’t have to worry about that. It really wasn’t a problem." He grabbed ahold of her shoulder. She stopped her frantic searching and looked up at him. He noticed how tense she looked. Shit! She felt tensed! Almost like if she was on edge all the time.
She reached for his hand that laid on her shoulder. "I insist, you guys didn’t have to help, and I really do appreciate your help." He felt his face warm up from the lady’s touch…or maybe the drugs were staring to hit, he couldnt tell. The woman went back to looking for her bag and had become to look frantic every second she couldn’t find it.
"FUCK!" She threw her hands into her hair. Darren’s eyes widen at the sudden burst, walking closer to her. "Is everything ok?" She looked at him and started geting teary. "I must’ve left my bag on the elevator or in the lobby…I can’t remember…FUCK these stupid bags!" She huffed and covered her eyes. ‘Great. Just fucking great. She managed to lose her purse AND embarrass herself in front of the cute brunette.’
The other two men had come back into the room. "Darren we gotta go, as much as we like slacking off, Cassie is on her way checking the rooms weve done...which isnt a lot." Alexx whispered to Darren. Darren looked over to the crying woman. he couldnt leave her there, something about her just called to him. He turned back to Alex and Joel. “You guys go on without me. I’m going to hang back.” Alexx looked back at the woman who’s taken a seat on the couch. “Ohhh, getting her while she’s at her low. Nice move dude, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” He smirked up at Darren.
Darren smacked Alexx on his arm. “Obviously I'm going to help her look for her bag, dumbass." Joel rolled his eyes, a habit he's gotten used to since he met Alexx. "Come on, Cassie will be here any moment." Joel grabbed Alexx's collar and pulled him out of the room. "You owe us!" Alexx yelled as Joel dragged him out.
Darren huffed out. This is why he never got girls. He walked up to Y/n and crouched down in front of her. He put his hand on her knee. "Hey, it's going to be ok. I'1l help you look for your bag."
She moved her hands from her face and sniffled. "Really?" Darren's heart leaped. 'Even with teary stained cheeks, she looked absolutely vibrant. ' He patted her knee. "Of course! I have access to any room and any floor. We'll find that bag in no time!" He stood up and stretched his arm out to her. She took a hold of his hand and smiled. 'His hand was soft for a cleaning maid.'
"First things first, where do you remember last having your bag?" Darren intertwined his hand with hers. Her face reddened. "I remember definitely having it in the lobby, I put my phone in it an——“. It had dawned on her that Ms. Featherington could have blowing up her phone this second with messages and complaints. “FUCK! My phone is in there! My boss is going to be pissed!” Darren gently squeezed her hand as he felt her start to get anxious again.
“Hey hey hey, it’s going to be fine. I’m sure she’ll understand, it’s a small hiccup.” He calmed her down. She sighed. “You don’t understand. She’ll literally rip my head off for not answering right away. I can literally get kidnapped and she wouldn’t care, she would still hassle me to get her a hot Venti, caramel latte, with triple shots, no foam and extra caramel all made with skim milk.” She squeezed his hand.
The most he had to worry about was his sexist boss but even then he was mostly sexist with the women. Disgusting but he got away with getting high so he stayed. “Ok ok, here’s the game plan, let’s check the elevators first and we’ll go from there.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Ok, I trust you.”
This had started an 1 hour and a half long wild goose chase from avoiding Cassie, checking all the elevators, the downstairs lobby and even the parking lot but to no avail, they couldn’t find the purse. “It’s no use, I’ve lost all my contacts, my boss is going to be pissed I haven’t answered her and worst of all I won’t know if Colin and Penelope ever end up together!” She huffed as she leaned back in the elevator that was taking them back upstairs.
Darren chuckled. “Well it’s so obvious Penelope and Colin are gonna end up together, why wouldn’t they?” The girl glared at him. “Or maybe they don’t! I don’t know it’s not like I read the book or anything.” He gulped. The girl just hung her head low. The doors to the elevator beeped and opened to reveal a red head in a white button and a navy blue skirt. “Darren! I’ve been looking for you! You haven’t been getting high in the rooms again, have you?” She yelped.
Y/n lifted her head to give Darren a quizzical look. Darren gave a nervous smile. “Actually Cassie-“ he grabbed y/n’s hand to help her up from her slumped position. “I was helping the wonderful lady look for her lost purse. She can’t remember where she left it.” Cassie blinked. “Oh my, have you tried checking lost and found?” Darren just stood there.
“We have a lost and found?” He questioned. Y/n’s head turned slowly to glare daggers at Darren. Cassie huffed. “Come with me ma’am, I’ll take you there.” Y/n stepped out of the elevator and followed the poised woman. Darren followed suit. Y/n grabbed Darren’s shirt and pulled him down, enough to whisper to him. “How come you didn’t tell me there was a lost and found?” She looked absolutely charming while she was mad. Darren gave a small smile. “To be fair, I’m high like half the time I’m here.” He removed her hand from his shirt and held on to it. “Besides, even if I did know we had one, maybe I was just trying to get to know you more.”
Darren stood tall again, not letting go of her hand as they continued to walk. Y/n had to take a second to compose herself, feeling her cheeks turn to a dark shade of red again. This guy was going to be her downfall.
Silence stretched between them like a taut wire during the elevator ride back to the penthouse. Her bag, retrieved thanks to Darren, sat forgotten on the floor. Her gaze flicked between it and her phone. Should she confront the messages waiting there? Lost in thought, she barely registered the elevator doors sliding open, and only Darren's gentle hand on her arm brought her back to the present. She stood frozen, the weight of the unaddressed phone a burden in her hand. Darren's voice, softer than she expected, cut through the suffocating silence. "You should check it." (Y/n) lifted her head, eyes clouded with apprehension. Darren offered a hesitant shrug. "Here," he said, extending a hand. "Let me." Before she could voice a protest, his fingers brushed hers, sending a jolt through her. He took the phone, a silent decision made. He began scrolling through the messages, his jaw tightening with each new tirade. A frown etched itself onto his face as he read the vile attacks. He switched to the voicemail, the notification displaying a staggering number – fifty missed calls. He pressed play, but the speakerphone's harsh amplification only served to distort the voice on the other end. It was a torrent of obscenities, impossible to decipher. He couldn't focus on the words, his concern fixated on the woman beside him. (Y/n) flinched with every venomous insult, her shoulders hunching inwards as if trying to shrink away. The stark contrast between her earlier vibrancy and this fragile shell hit Darren with a force that left him speechless. All he could think about was the way this strong, bright young woman would crumble with each hateful message, the light in her eyes dimming with every attack. Darren took a deep breath, his eyes flickering from the phone screen to (Y/n)'s tense posture. With a determined swipe, he deleted the entire voicemail history. "Let's just forget about all this." He said, his voice firm yet gentle. He slipped her phone into his pocket before she could protest. (Y/n) stammered, a flicker of worry crossing her face. "I can't just ignore them. I need to respond." Darren shook his head, his gaze holding hers. "No, what you need right now is a break. Relax, unwind. This place is huge, explore it. Let's take advantage of that." (Y/n)'s eyes darted between the room key and Darren, a war raging within her. Responsibility versus escape. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she blurted, "Screw it." She thrust the key at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Darren's face broke into a relieved grin. "That's the spirit!" He took the key, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "ever heard of salvia?" (Y/n) cocked her head, intrigued despite herself. "Salvia? What's that?" He chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Oh, this is going to be interesting," he murmured, his hand reaching for hers.
#my fic#anders holm#x reader#darren#darren game over man#game over man#darren x reader#anders holm x reader
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Happy birthday, Refaat.
A letter
Dear Refaat,
I wrote a letter for your birthday. It’s a cliché, I know, but I had to, considering you spent years terrorizing us into becoming better writers!
I think back to when we first crossed paths in 2014, right after that 51-day Israeli military assault. The air in Gaza was thick with smoke, grief, and rubble, and Gaza felt like it was still bleeding. Everyone was picking up the pieces of what was left of their homes and lives, yours included. Israel had killed your brother, and your family home had been reduced to dust and memories from the past. Yet somehow, you stood tall, the daring man from Shijaiyah you were, like a resilient age-old olive tree that refuses to bow to the storm.
A year later, I joined "We Are Not Numbers," a space you helped create for young writers in Gaza to tell their stories to the world. I was full of self-doubt; writing had always been my refuge, but in Arabic. English felt like a mountain I wasn’t sure I could climb. I doubted my ability to pour my heart out in English, to capture the same depth, the same sincerity. You were our creative writing mentor, and let’s be honest, you were terrifying at first. Not because you were unkind, but because you could see right through us. There was no room for mediocrity around you. You’d look at a piece of writing, smirk, and say, “You can do better,” and we’d all collectively feel like we were back in kindergarten, trying to color within the lines. But that’s where your magic lay. You pushed us so hard that we had no choice but to grow. And suddenly, the mountain I feared didn’t seem so steep.
Harsh but kind. Patient but merciless. You didn’t give out compliments freely, and when you did, it felt like scoring a banger in a World Cup final. I remember those early days when I’d turn in a piece of writing, hoping it was good enough, and you’d read it with that poker face of yours. I’d sit there sweating, waiting for the verdict, and you’d say something like, “Well, this is a start,” which meant, “Back to the drawing board.” But deep down, we all knew that’s what made you brilliant. You never let us settle. Always dropping knowledge and resources like breadcrumbs, you forced us to dig deeper, to think harder, to write with more heart. You turned every assignment into a long but exhilarating battle between us and our own potential. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
A year later, you taught me Romantic Literature in my senior year at the Islamic University of Gaza. For the final project, you gave us the option to write a short story or an article. I went for the article, thinking I was being smart, sidestepping all the creative fluff. I was so proud of that piece until you handed it back with a “B+”. When my inner nerd was about to fight you on the grade, you said it was one of the best pieces you’d read written by a student of yours. I spent the next several years waving that compliment around like a trophy, as if it overnight made me a literary genius. I’m pretty sure I drove my friends crazy bragging about it. Even after I graduated, even when we had moved from being teacher and student to friends, you’d remind me of that piece. You’d bring it up, laughing, just to remind me that you still kept it because it was one of your favorites. I didn’t need an A+.
Then in 2018, when you asked me to be your teaching assistant for that program training Gaza’s youth to help them seek online self-employment jobs, I was honored and slightly terrified. We were teaching them everything from basic English communication skills to translation theory, and you were the same relentless caring mentor, following up with trainees even after the program ended, checking their progress, reviewing their work like a proud father.
That time gave me a whole new perspective. I wasn’t just the student sitting in the seats before you anymore. I had moved to the assistant standing right beside you, catching a glimpse of your two worlds. In one, you were under the spotlight, practicing your signature tough love as a mentor and showering your students with knowledge and wisdom. In the other, behind the scenes, I saw you carefully and painstakingly preparing teaching materials and doing research. You’d even come to me seeking advice. Me? You said I was closer in age to the students, so surely I had some insights that could help you connect better with them. It was your subtle way of empowering me, nudging me toward confidence, and preparing me for the day I’d stand on my own feet in front of my own class. And when that day came the following year, there I was, leading my own sessions, using the materials you had spent years refining, which you handed over to me with ultimate generosity. It was as if you were saying, "I’ve cleared the path a little, and now it’s your turn." And it made all the difference. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
We could spend hours dissecting every football match, exchanging memes and jokes, and diving into the absurdity of imagining how Shakespeare himself might have poetically narrated that jaw-dropping Messi goal or that flawless perfectly timed assist. But it wasn’t just football. We bonded over everything: shows, movies, books. You were a magnet for creativity, drawn to it wherever it lived. You had this infectious love for memes. You didn’t just enjoy them; you liked being the subject of them. You'd proudly send me a meme or a WhatsApp sticker and type with childlike excitement, "Look what a student sent me today!" It was like you were collecting little tokens of joy from everyone around you, and they kept coming because you gave so much of it yourself.
Even in our final conversation, just a week before you were killed, you sent me a meme you'd made about your car, abandoned somewhere in Gaza City, stranded between Israeli tanks and the Palestinian resistance. You were forced to leave it behind, yet you found a way to laugh about it. That was just who you were: a lighthearted soul even amid war. You joked, even as you were running from one shelter to another, trying to find a place safe enough for your family and children. You had lost more than 10 kilos from the lack of food, but somehow, you hadn’t lost your spirit.
And even in those darkest moments, when survival was the only thing that should’ve mattered, you still checked on me. I wasn’t even in Gaza, yet you asked if I needed anything. You asked about my family, who had fled to the south, offering to help with money, food, water… whatever they needed. In the middle of your own chaos, your instinct was still to care for others. Even as war tried to strip everything from you, it couldn’t take your heart.
Refaat,
I can picture you in heaven, just as I saw you in life. If I were to draw a cartoon of this picture, it would be of a tall, thin man in constant motion, a pen always tucked into your chest pocket like a loyal companion, your fingers typing away on your phone, capturing bits of a story or idea that just popped into your mind. Above your head, I’d sketch dozens of glowing lamps, floating like a cloud, never running out of light, just like you never ran out of ideas. These lamps would illuminate your path and extend their light to every corner you passed, giving others who follow the chance to walk with fewer stumbles, fewer bumps, because you’d been there first.
Dear Refaat,
When hope abandons me, when despair grips my heart and I question the purpose of all this endless suffering, your memory saves me. The weight of living in a world that has taken so much from us, sometimes feels unbearable. But then I think of you, how you lived, how you fought, and how you were taken from us too soon. I think of you and all those I’ve lost because of the Israeli occupation in these nearly 30 years of my life. I think of the way you fought for us, for our right to exist in a world that seems to offer only cruelty in return. I refuse to accept that your sacrifice, your life, was in vain. You, and all the others, cannot simply be gone without purpose. You can’t just disappear into the void, as if you were never here, leaving your work unfinished. You walked so that we could run, and I will run, crawl, swim, fly, and move mountains to make sure you didn’t leave for nothing. When the strength to continue eludes me, when getting out of bed feels impossible, when I’m too broken to keep going, I think of you. You stood tall in the face of unspeakable horror, in a world full of cowards. You fought with every breath and with every “expo marker” you held. For you, for me, for all of us, and for the long life you should have had, I’ll fight back.
Happy birthday, Refaat. I’m looking at you and waiting for you, as you wield a red pen, to meticulously edit this letter and send it back with corrections.
Haya Abu Shammala is a writer who works in PR and communication. She is a former student and a friend of Dr. Refaat Alareer.
Subscribe to Refaat writes back. A biweekly newsletter where writers from Gaza keep Refaat Alareer's legacy alive
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Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 14: Unexpected
This time when I enter Q’s apartment it feels normal instead of having to hide here. It’s a shame Moneypenny can’t join us but the crowd of 3 cats welcoming us is enough to make up for that.
“Sit down and relax. I’ll start the meat.” Q waves me over to the couch and then goes about pulling out beef and all kinds of vegetables.
“No, no. You’ve been through Hell tonight. The least I can do is help chop something.” I walk over to stand at the island counter. “Being a 00 agent has taught me plenty of skills with a knife. Maybe I can put them to another use besides stabbing people.”
Q laughs and brings over some celery. “If you insist. I’ll- Um. Would you like a new shirt?”
His question draws me to look down at my ragged uniform with a hole still ripping through. “Do you mind?”
He shakes his head and goes for the stairs. “Not at all. Wait right here.”
While he’s gone I bend down to pet the needy cats. Cricket takes the liberty to hop up on my shoulder while the other two climb onto my lap. Who says I need a therapist? Cats are far superior to any help a person could give.
“This is the closest- Oh!” Q stops in his tracks when he sees the pile of fur I’m trapped under. “I see you’re occupied.”
“You can’t invent this kind of love,” I chuckle as I lift the happy felines off me and carry them to the couch. “Maybe when I’m old and gray then I’ll retire to a cat café.”
Q strides up behind me holding a gray sweater. “This is the closest thing that fits your size. Sorry if it’s not as colorful as you’re used to.”
“Anything is appreciated, Q. Thank you.”
I take the garment and tear off my tattered shirt, noticing Q takes this moment to busy himself with preparing the meat. I appreciate his modesty but I don’t see a reason to be so. He’s seen me with only a bra and boxers, so what’s the difference? Ignoring this I give one last scratch to Cricket’s ears when I spot a picture frame of Q’s family. There’s unmistakable resemblance between Q and a man I’m assuming is his father. Same lanky build, crazy dark hair, and wild eyes. His mother has the same kind expression. I also see he has two sisters.
“I didn’t know you had siblings,” I comment out loud.
Q looks up from where he’s working. “Yes. That’s Clarice and Alice. That was taken before I joined MI6. By now they’re both married.” His face grows stern and he returns to pounding the meat. “Unfortunately I was not invited to attend the celebrations.”
This intrigues me. “Why’s that? Are they mad at you?”
“In a way, yes. Partially it’s my fault. Since I’m part of such a top-secret government program I’m not allowed to communicate with my family on a daily basis. When I joined they said I was ignoring my family just for a big paycheck.”
They thought…? I can’t believe this!
“Well they’re wrong,” I say stubbornly. “They should be proud.”
Q grunts and hastily washes his hands looking more stressed. “They’re partially right. But I’m not abandoning them for a paycheck. I was doing it to make them proud, but now I know I signed my life away until I decide to retire.”
I frown. “Q, you don’t always have to, what’s a good way to put it? Stress to impress. You already do that without trying. Your inventions are magnificent!”
“It’s not just inventing,” Q goes on to explain and walks over next to me to point at his two sisters. “My family is also disappointed that I’m not striving to copy my sisters and start my own family.”
It’s sad that Q disagrees but at the same time I can’t ignore my own thoughts. I turn and place a calm hand over Q’s.
“At least you could if you wanted to. Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan out a life as a 00 agent? Every time I’m sent on an assignment I’m expected to die.”
Q flinches a bit at my touch but keeps a stiff face. “I couldn’t. In my line of work being Quartermaster is my top priority despite others’ disapproval. No one would be willing to put up with my schedule.”
So that’s his problem? He’s sad because he can’t find a date? Why didn’t he just say that?
“Q, anyone should be thankful to be in your life. But not just anyone. You deserve someone who respects your judgment and your position as Quartermaster, and won’t pressure you into something.” I’ll admit I’m a tad crushed that he’ll be looking for a relationship with someone else but I can’t be selfish and discourage him. “If you ever need any help I could always scout around for any suitable candidates.”
By now Q’s grip is all but squeezing the blood out of my hand. His head is shaking, almost as if he’s about to explode, and he keeps staring at me.
“I don’t think you should stay here tonight.”
His words grasp my heart and tear it into a million pieces. My whole body freezes and all I can do is repeat Bond’s words in my head: do whatever it takes to make the enemy lower their guard. But Q isn’t playing me, he’s sincere. He really wants me to leave and head into the dark streets; maybe to be snuffed out by a street mugger.
“After all you’ve talked about me being reckless, wanting to do everything by the book, this is very hypocritical of you.” I pull my hand away and go for the door. “If you wanted me dead you could’ve just pulled the trigger yourself.”
Q groans and, before I know what’s happening, grips my shoulders to make me face him.
“I don’t want you dead, Levie. I don’t think you should stay here because I want to keep things professional.” He used my nickname.
I frown. “‘Professional?’ Is there some clause or something against coworkers meeting after hours?”
Q, still gripping my shoulders, hangs his head in frustration. “No. I’m afraid that if you stay then I’ll do something I might regret.”
This only confuses me more. Is he planning to kill me? “I don’t understand-”
“Oh for God’s sake!”
Q cups my face and does the very last thing I’d ever think he’s possible of. He kisses me.
I’ve only been kissed a few times throughout my life. All during missions, nothing serious. This kiss towers above all romantic gestures I’ve demonstrated. It’s desperate and sweet. I don’t even notice my hands snaking up to grip Q’s hair until he moans in response. This makes him go stiff and abruptly pull away, his eyes wide and worried.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to- Well, I did want to- But we can’t- I’m not- Ugh. You must think I’m a joke.”
I take another deep breath and lean over to catch Q’s lips again. Now I’ve got him pinned on the couch and he seems to melt under me.
“Q, that was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I say as I press kisses down his neck, gripping his tie. “You are anything but a joke. I never even thought you’d care about someone like this.”
His eyes never leave me as he pants to catch his breath, wrapping his arms around me. “I never intended to have romantic intentions with a coworker. But with you it- It just sort of… happened. You’re- you’re not upset?”
“Why would I be? I may not know what love is yet, but if it’s what I feel whenever I see you then I don’t want to give it up.”
My answer sparks excitement in Q. But why is he shaking his head?
“I’m not a perfect man. You should find someone else.”
This will not do. I set my face straight. “You’re perfect to me, Q. You shouldn’t sell yourself short.” I add a smirk. “It doesn’t suit you.”
Q smiles appreciatively and kisses my cheek, then whispers: “You know, it always makes me jealous when I see you flirting with other men. I know it’s your job but I still can’t help it.”
I lift my eyes to his chocolate ones. “Can I tell you a secret?”
He grins. “Been keeping secrets from your Quartermaster, have you?”
“I think of you.” Q’s eyebrows raise. “Every time I have to flirt, I always think of you. Because a part of me wishes it was you I was flirting with, and that it somehow could be real.”
Q gets off the couch, kneels in front of me, and takes my hand. “This is real, I assure you.”
This is real. Is this what I’ve been missing? Maybe I should take a better look at how I want to live my life and stop putting off the future. After all, Q is a good man. One who I think will make me happy. But happiness can always be taken away. A new thought surfaces and makes my happy emotions fade. “The only regret I’d have is if my feelings for you put you in danger. It’s happened to Bond, it could happen to me too.”
Q nods, yet is unfazed by the idea. He presses a kiss to my forehead and leans his forehead against mine.
“I’m very well aware of the risks of this job, Levie. We don’t have to jump into this right away. We can test the waters and see if it’s safe. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Likewise. I know you’re not the most emotional person and I’m trained to block out emotions, so we should each get a feel of where we stand.” Fighting against the urge to keep lying with him I sit up in an attempt to make the conversation more professional. “Where exactly do you intend for this relationship to go?”
Q mirrors my posture and gets a deep thinking look. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to keep this confidential to the workplace. Not just for safety but to also avoid the drama that will come with it. You know M won’t be entirely open to it.”
I nod. “Agreed. I don’t wish for M to think I’ve gone soft or else he’ll pull me from missions. You already know I’m not one for desk work, and I don’t plan on retiring anytime soon.”
Q copies my nod and jumps up to go tend to the vegetables in the frying pan. Once the meal is done he portions it out onto 2 plates and sets them on the kitchen table. We both sit and eat in a new comfortable silence; each of us coming to terms with what just happened.
“I’m curious. Everyone only calls you 0011 or Levie. Why is that?”
It makes my heart hum to know that Q is eager to use real names. I just wish I had one to give him.
“I have no real name.”
He tilts his head. “Really? You must have a name.”
Giving a dark chuckle, I take another bite of beef. “You should know why, Q. When I was assigned to you M gave you my file. If you did your research correctly, which I know for a fact you did, you read that my father was a Brit who knocked up an American woman, who dropped me off at M16 the day I turned 16.” Another bite. “Not as dramatic as Bond’s past. It’s nice actually, not having to worry about family getting in the way. I never knew my last name because my mother homeschooled me. She was too embarrassed to have a child out of wedlock so she kept me home. She never gave me a real name, only called me ‘girl’ or ‘child.’” I take a deep breath and turn my face up to meet Q’s eyes. “The day I joined MI6 was the day I finally got my freedom. I don’t need a name.”
The whole time Q’s been listening respectfully. Now he grabs my hand. “I did read your file. I just wanted to hear your story from you. Would you like a name?”
“Do you have one?”
“I do, actually. I was Geoffrey Boothroyd before I joined.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “We don’t have to use names if you don’t want to.”
After thinking a second a new idea surfaces. “Could you give me a name? We could use them during times out-of-office.”
Q’s eyes light up. “O-Ok! Um, hm… Let’s see…” He puts a finger to his chin and looks me up and down, making me feel like a test subject. “I like… Eleanor. How’s that sound?”
I- I straight up love it. It sounds powerful and elegant, it sounds… me. And the fact that Q is giving it to me makes it even better.
“Thank you, Geoffrey. That name sounds perfect!” I throw my arms around his neck and give him a deep kiss.
“Y-You’re welcome,” he stutters. “It’s strange hearing my name after all these years. It sounds good coming from you.”
I start to respond but get stopped by a yawn. Q laughs at this and moves to clear the dishes.
“I’m not tired! I can help-!”
Q cuts me off with a kiss. “Work can wait ‘til tomorrow. Right now you need rest. Ok?”
“You’ll be upstairs?”
He nods and sets the dishes in the sink, switching the kitchen light off once he’s finished. “I’m doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you your privacy.”
“Aw. That’s sweet. Thanks.”
“Goodnight, Eleanor. If you need anything just call.”
Q gives me one final kiss on the head and climbs the stairs. How did my entire life change in the span of 15 minutes? Life’s never given me what I want and now I have everything. Focus, 0011. You can’t jump head-first into something like this. For all I know this could turn into the type of heartbreak Bond’s always going on about. I can’t let my emotions get in the way, no matter how ensnaring it is to think about having a somewhat normal life with Q.
The darkness is too taunting and I feel myself slipping into sleep once again, only this time I’m much more relaxed. Tonight’s events have left me exhausted but I know I’m safe now. No matter what criminals try to kill me tonight I know Q will have their heads before they can reach the door.
#quartermaster x reader#quartermaster#q x reader#james bond#daniel craig#ben whishaw#skyfall#spectre#no time to die#007#james bond 007
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Green Is The Color Of Control: A Owl House Poem
The twins have dark green hair
It’s not like mom’s
Her’s is neon green
How they got dark green hair, I don’t know
It doesn’t matter though
They have green hair
And I don’t
My hair is brown
Like my dad’s
I look a lot like him actually
Though I doubt he notices
He’s so busy
I think he forgets he has three kids sometimes
Mom notices though
She sees that I look like him
I don’t think she likes it
The dye smells gross
Like iron mixed in with plastic
I tell mom I don’t want it
That I don’t want my hair to smell bad
Besides I already had a bad day
I had to stop being friends with Willow
Dying my hair will probably make today worse
She tells me that I’m being overdramatic
The twins watch nervously from their spot on the bathroom floor
Part of me wishes dad was here
Maybe he would stop it
But I’m not sure he would
I close my eyes as she starts to dye my hair
When it’s done I look at the mirror in shock
I don’t look like dad anymore
I look like mom
Mom looks happy
The twins look worried
I feel weird
Like this isn’t me
Maybe it isn’t
After mom dyes my hair there are more expectations put on me
Dad continues to do nothing about it
The twins start to distance themselves from me
Mom gets angry if I get less than a 105 on my assignments
The friends she picked out for me don’t seem to get that I need to study
They say I’m being a stick in the mud
I’m not I just don’t want to get scolded for something that could have been prevented
I miss Willow
Mom seems annoyed when I ask her to help me with my hair
“You should be doing this yourself” She tells me
She always complains about this while she does my hair
She pulls way too hard
I ask if I can dye my hair the twins’ hair color
Maybe if my hair looks like them they’ll want to hang out with me more
She scoffs before shaking her head
“Their hair color is too common”
“A Blight must be unique”
It’s the same thing every time I try and ask for a new color
I’m really starting to hate green
I hate how I can’t dye my hair any other color
I hate how proud mom looks when she sees it
I hate the feeling of pride that runs through me when she looks proud
I hate that it’s hard to look at the plant track uniforms
I hate all of this
Green used to be one of my favorite colors
It was the color that reminded me of Willow
The color that reminded me of safety
The color of two of my favorite people on the Isles hair
Before they were mean to me
It was the color of plants Willow would name for me
Now it’s the color of my mother
The color of my father’s negligence
The color of my sibling’s pranks
The color of broken dreams
The color of control.
#the owl house#Toh#Toh poem#amity blight#willow park#edric blight#emira blight#alador blight#odalia blight#toh willow#toh amity#toh edric#toh emira#toh alador#toh odalia
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