#the white dappling on her is so cute

[atoltia]

A Feline Distraction

You head over to one of Sylus' villas in the suburbs only to find him... being yelled at by a cat?

In which Sylus got chosen by the cat distribution system.

Sylus x !femMC

Fluff, domestic fluff, a cat

-0-

You really didn't know why you came by so early.

When Sylus sent you the invitation to come to one of his villas - the same one where you sought out shelter from the rain that one time you had a mission in the suburbs - he didn't set any time, just the open message that he will be there and he does not have any work that day.

Which was his way of telling you that yes, he was aware that it is your day off and he wanted to spend the day with you. The invitation sounded innocent enough, if the man that you were thinking about wasn't Sylus. You knew very well that if you didn't go, he'd have gone to your apartment instead whether you liked it or not, and considering that Xavier just came back from one of his long missions - it might just be best if you indulged the man.

And besides, it wasn't like it was going to be unpleasant. It's a nice day out and you remember that house having a pool and a lovely garden. Maybe you could convince him to take a dip with you, clothes being optional.

And Sylus - well, it's been a few weeks since the two of you spent some time together and you do admit that you've missed the man. Besides his seemingly gruff persona, he's pleasant company to be around with (and you definitely didn't miss the way he would hold you, just keep you in his arms whenever the two of you were together. Definitely not).

So there you were, pushing through the gates of the villa while the early morning sun shone bright overhead, admiring the way the blossoms of the nearby flower bushes were blooming as the sunlight dappled through the trees.

You looked up, your lips curling into a smile when you saw him by the rose bushes, standing tall and proud with his arms folded over his chest, his face contorted into a frown -

Hm, what?

You stopped, blinked as you watched Sylus stand there beneath the shade of the nearby trees, long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as a kitten was trying - and failing - to climb his pants leg while an open can of tuna lay undisturbed by his feet on the cobblestone walkway.

It was a pretty little thing. White, wispy fur with a cute dark spot at the top of its head covered a tiny little baby about the size of your hand. It couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, maybe a month, by your estimate.

It was stubborn though, judging from the way it kept climbing Sylus' pant no matter how much it fell, and the loud shrills of its mews was very present in that lovely morning as it desperately demanded the man's attention.

"Sy." You smiled when he looked up, those ruby, ruby eyes that were swirling with frustration mere moments ago shifted, warmth blooming into them when his gaze landed on you. He didn't move to meet you as he decided to stand his ground as his leg kept getting barraged by one tiny cat, although his arm outstretched to grasp you the moment you were within his reach.

"Hi," he murmured into your hair, twirling a lock of it between his long fingers as he pressed you to his body, careful to not agitate the still climbing kitten.

"Who's this?" you asked as you looked down at the little rascal, now chirping at the both of you. It's gotten up to his waist now, claws fully dug into the leather of his belt.

Sylus sighed, and you could see his attempt to dig for patience. "She's been trying to climb me for the past half hour now," he grumbled, his fingers tapping into the length of your back. "Like a certain kitten that's insistent on her bedtime schedule."

You laughed, brightening his day almost immediately, as you leant slightly to cup the kitten within your hand. It didn't make a fuss, but it now directed it's insistent mewing at you.

"Aren't you a pretty baby?" It wasn't lost on you the way Sylus' eyes softened as you cooed, his head tilting to the side as he shifted his bodyweight to his other foot. You bent down to the ground to where the tuna was, nudging the baby so it could eat.

Before it immediately jumped back to climb Sylus' leg.

He turned towards you.

"Do you see the problem now?"

You inhaled from your nose sharply, his eyes narrowing when he saw you struggling to keep your composure. "Wow," you exhaled as you hid your smile with the back of your hand. "Such a problem, indeed."

He clicked his tongue before drilling a finger into your side, which resulted in you being unable to hide your glee of the situation anymore as you doubled over in delight.

So hilarious was your partner's plight that you just had to lean up, used his wide shoulders as support as you stood on the tips of your toes, to give him a noisy kiss on his jaw.

The kitten mewed between you.

"Yes, yes," you chided, picking the baby back up and holding her up to his eye level. "She wants you."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"The cops certainly do."

He snorted, once again folding his arms over his massive chest as stared at the cat in your hands. It took him a few moments, but you've spent enough time with him to know that there were hundreds of thoughts circulating in that man's head as he tried to figure out the best course of action.

Yet, he sighed in defeat.

"Come here." The kitten was dwarfed within his hands, her big eyes impossibly bright as he turned her over to be cradled in his arms. The incessant mewing stopped and was already replaced by purring that could rival his motorcycle engine.

You were ecstatic.

Now within the confines of the house, the kitten went absolutely feral over the tuna that it ignored for over half an hour, making a mess of its tiny face and his marble countertops.

"What are you naming her?" you asked, your fingers gently petting the top of the cat's head.

It wasn't often that you saw Sylus to look so affronted, but to see him like that over a cat was a hilarious experience.

"I'm not keeping it."

"Why not?"

He looked at you, one wonderfully sculpted brow arched at your direction. "Do you really expect me to keep a cat?"

You raised a brow in turn. "You have Mephisto."

"Sweetie," he said, digging for patience from his already lowered supply. "He's a mechanical bird."

"His battery died once in the middle of watching me and you freaked out and came to get him yourself."

"He's my eyes on you," he insisted. "I needed him fixed immediately."

Your brow stayed lifted. "I still have video of you cradling him like a baby," you said evenly. "Or did you forget that ever happened?"

He lifted a shoulder, shrugged. "I'm merely protective of what's mine."

"Great," you said as you clasped his hand, pumped it once. "You'd do great with Sofia."

"Excuse me."

"Nice dealing with you, love." Mirth flashed in your eyes as your lips quirked with laughter.

He tugged your hand, pulled you towards his chest. Frustration mixed with amusement danced in his eyes as he leaned down and nipped your lower lip. "If that's how you proceed with negotiations, I'm going to have to sit you down for lessons."

"If it works, it works." You kissed his throat, hummed, rocked him as you stood. "I'm gonna go for a swim. Make sure you get the tuna off her face." And with a slight push, you were off him, making your merry way to the pool.

"What am I going to do with the both of you?"

You laughed, and the last thing you saw was him standing, both hands on his hips as he watched the cat.

-0-

It didn't take long for the photos to come.

Sylus wasn't averse to taking photos, certainly when it came to you considering the last time you checked his phone there were hundreds of pictures of just you.

He sent you several pictures of little Sofia with the excuse of giving you "updates" but you know full well he was as smitten with the cat as you were.

It's hilarious, really. He was a terrifying man. The mere mention of his name could make even the hardened of space criminals second thoughts. You've seen this man in combat, and even utilized his skills to aid you with your work. To the common folk, Sylus was the boogeyman that wasn't meant to be messed with lest you wanted to die.

Cats adored him.

Or at least curious about him, even with the smarmy look he always has on his damned beautiful face. Since the very first time you've met him, he'd be sending you a photo or two of random cat interactions, most of which he never invited to happen.

You remembered that one time he sent you a photo of one of his sitting rooms and asked you to find a black kitten that managed to get into his manor without anyone knowing. You had to come over and help him scour for hours because, as you found out, finding a black kitten in a room with dark furniture was nearly impossible.

And there was that other time, in the same villa where you found him being scaled by little Sofia, you two had quite a close encounter with another kitten that was stuck in his basement.

Many dates, many vacations, and you could always recall him being stopped by at least one cat and the occasional bird along the way. It was adorable, and the fact that he didn't quite agree with your assessment made it even more so. So you weren't that surprised to find him being hounded by a one month old kitten.

It became part of your morning routine. Beginning the day with cat photos was certainly a strong starting point, elevating your mood considerably. Practiced and posed, elegant photos of a quickly growing kitten graced your eyes, preparing you for a day filled with Wanderers, no doubt.

But Sylus' texts weren't the only ones you look forward to.

The moment Sylus stepped foot inside the manor in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran immediately added you to a group chat where they sent you all the other... media that your partner vehemently refused to send you.

The first stream of texts were several photos and videos of Sylus using his evol to help him bathe the kitten, with the front of his shirt and his hair already soaked.

And another one, a few days later which you assumed was taken from outside his bedroom window, of Sylus with his eyes closed, fingers digging deep into his biceps as Sofia and Mephisto were seemingly having an intense argument (the last photo in that set was Sylus directly looking at the window while streaks of red and black were lashing alarmingly close to the camera).

Many more photos of Sylus asleep either on his office or living room couch, fast asleep in the way you know he liked, with a cat sprawled directly on his stomach happily dozing the day away.

Kieran sent a photo of Sofia wearing a frilled collar decked out with sparkling rubies. The caption read: this cost more than six months of my salary (¬_¬")

You stifled a laugh, sending a quick reply before Captain Jenna caught you using your phone in the middle of your work hours.

You mean your allowance?

We don't get an allowance!, came the indignant reply seconds later. You get an allowance.

You grinned before sending him a crow emoji.

Your favorite one, however, was of Sylus frowning over what Luke said to be a legal document, the insult of having to read such a mediocre piece of legality plastered openly on his face all the while having a fluffy cat laying belly down on top of his snowy hair. It quickly became your phone wallpaper.

Mm. It has been a week since you last visited, and Jenna has been not so subtly pestering you to take some leave (it wasn't your fault you were a workaholic, but Jenna didn't want to hear it).

So that was that.

-0-

The sun was setting when you reached the manor, a large bag of groceries in one hand and a parcel on the other. The twins made quick work with the groceries the moment you stepped in, most likely because they knew you bought that new candy bar from Linkon City that they've been raving about for weeks.

You tried to not be too loud, as you knew Sylus would be asleep during this time of day. Soft footsteps padded on the polished hardwood floor

You remembered the first time you were given free reign to explore the manor, the amount of times you got lost amongst its many rooms, its many corridors. It used to feel so cold to you, so vast and cavernous even with the plush furniture and expensive art. No matter how many hours you've spent in front of one of the fireplaces in the many sitting rooms, no matter how many plushies you added to the bedroom he designated for you, no matter how many times you tried to make it feel like home.

It wasn't until that one night, more than a year ago now, that you felt the frost slowly dissipating. It wasn't anything special, just the two of you in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to make for dinner as the chef called in sick.

You didn't figure him being the type to know how to cook, seeing as he commanded his own business empire, but he was more than adequate. Still, you weren't about to let him do all the work. You were eating, too.

It was a mess, mostly because you two kept bickering about the recipe - with you being too stubborn to yield and him thoroughly enjoying the look of competitive frustration on your face. It wasn't fair that his reach was longer than yours, and even with your training, you couldn't take the recipe book that he held up in the air.

Cursing your hunter's training for a lack of a decent vertical jump, you landed a little bit wrong, a little to farther back than you anticipated. You remembered the surprised look on both of your faces and the sudden swishes of the black and red of his evol. A lot of cursing, a lot of pulling, and suddenly both you and him were on the floor covered in flour.

You barely registered the snickers of two voices by the doorway, didn't register the clicks and shutters of multiple photos being taken, and definitely didn't register immediately that you were on him, straddling him as the bag of flour rested on the top of your head (and yes, you still do remember the way his large hands rested protectively on your hips, which explained why you were on his lap rather than having a broken tailbone with an impact with the floor).

You two dusted yourself quickly, still bickering but with less heat, you decided to just order pizza all the while the two of you trailed flour on the floor.

It's a nice memory, one that you've come back to whenever you arrive here. And you were sure Sylus thought of it often too, considering the fact that he gives you a teasing look whenever you were in proximity of a bag of flour.

You basked in that warmth as you threaded the corridors, taking your time to get to the west wing to get to his bedroom. Opening the door as quietly as you can, you peeked it, smiled when you were met with a small mew.

Sofia laid at the foot of the bed, her tiny head raised in greeting. You shuffled in, careful to not make any noise. The parcel you carried was placed on the sofa as you secured the curtains, knowing full well that Sylus would be annoyed to wake up to open curtains.

You turned, smiled as you watched your partner just doze on the massive bed, hair mussed and squished to one side. Gone was the look of tension that he often had, the stress he carried momentarily held at bay. Taking off your coat, you moved to the bed, careful to not nudge too hard.

With one hand you patted the tiny cat's head just before you crawled beneath the covers, sighing when a strong arm reached out to wrap around your waist.

You let yourself get pulled into his warmth, get pulled into the safe and comfortable. With the utmost tenderness, you placed soft kisses on his bare chest, on his neck before nuzzling in.

It was still pretty early, you thought as the sleep was slowly overtaking you. A few hours wouldn't hurt. So long as it was with him.

Sylus woke an hour later, ruby eyes still bleary, and yet he was pleased to find himself being sandwiched by the two kittens in his life. He smiled that rare smile that was only reserved for you and sighed.

Maybe keeping the cat was a boon after all.

---

Listen. Sylus' Tender Curve has me in shackles.

Check out my masterlist for more Sylus fluff!

[heartkaji]

2O WOMEN VS 1 EGOIST !

bllk boys if they were in the videos by the sidemen + beta squad

includes: michael kaiser, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

MICHAEL KAISER !

“kaiser, ask her if she’d let you put your balls in her jaw.”

isagi’s voice is only a static crackle through the ear piece speaker, but it’s more than enough to have kaiser gnashing teeth & wrinkling nose. it was taking everything in his power not to snap the headset between his fingers. kaiser wasn’t even sure why he had to do this ; fuck yoichi and fuck bastard münchen’s publicity team.

he tries for an exhale but his dignity accompanies it, “would you let me put my balls in your jaw ?”

you’re the third girl who’s sat with kaiser so far & fuck his heart is aching— you’re far too pretty for this, blood drenched cheeks & freckled nose & silver draped around your neck like rings of vined ivy. kaiser can’t help but wonder why a pretty thing like you is here seeking male validation in thigh highs & skimpy bralette. surely someone of your beauty would know better, no ?

“what ?”

you ask so sweetly, lashes fluttering as you blink hurriedly as if it’ll help you hear better. if you were actually somebody, michael kaiser would be almost embarrassed by now, but you’re only pink painted lips & syrupy sweet voice so kaiser clears his throat & swallows his pride. he parts his lips to repeat the query but a hiss in his ear interrupts him, “she didn’t hear you, say it a—“

kaiser snaps the headset between his fingers & tosses it somewhere behind him. “i said, can i take you out sometime ?”

ISAGI YOICHI !

“try to sit on her lap while she’s talking.”

“you lot can’t be serious.”

unfortunately for yoichi, hiori & kurona were dead serious. he picked at the earpiece as you babbled on about your ideal first date, teeth kissing as he plotted on how he’d sit himself between your thighs.

“— and i’m not trying to be different or anything, but i think dinner dates are rather boring. i’d rather go to an amusement park or—“

“same, honestly,” yoichi was a charmer with a voice heavier than tree sap. his baritone alone had your guts knotting & spilling. “rides are way more exciting, really get your adrenaline going huh ? and then at the end of the date you share a kiss on the ferris wheel. i fuck with that.”

you blink, flesh pinkening & blush crawling up your throat as your fingers play with your bag strap. yoichi thinks you’re cute. you’re a fucking doll really, a pretty little thing isagi has decided he likes staring at.

yoichi can’t help but tease your further, “you wouldn’t mind if i kissed you on a ferris wheel, right ?”

you bite your inner cheek & yoichi swears you’re the cutest thing in the world. as if rehearsed, you cross your legs, shoulders tucking as you straighten your spine,

“on the first date, isagi ? quite the manwhore aren’t you ?”

it catches him by surprise but also pulls him back to earth. he bites his tongue, “oh ? when would you let me kiss you then ?”

he gets off his seat as he speaks, striding towards you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. you choke on your tongue, “um, me ? on the first date is a bit too— isagi ? what are you—?”

he positions himself on your lap. “you were saying ?”

yoichi’s ear piece blares with booms of laughter. “nah this man’s not real ! man said—“

NAGI SEISHIRO !

“are you a magician ? because when i look at you, everyone else disappears.”

“next.”

this was the eighth girl nagi had rejected. each girl came in with a new pick up line, and to nagi, each one seemed to be worse than the last.

“nagi, you have to say yes to someone already. you’ve rejected almost every— don’t listen to chigiri, nagi ! you don’t have to say yes to any of these bitches—“

nagi was about mid eye roll when you walked in.

you were rose dappled cheeks & fluffy jacket upon crème tee. your eyes met the room before his, scanning the seemingly infinite white walls & high ceiling. you even did a little wave to the camera before taking your seat. cute

even then, your eyes settled everywhere except him.

“hi,” he broke you out of your trance.

“ah— hello !” you flash him a shy grin, dimpled cheeks & freckled nose. “i was supposed to say a pick up line, right ? are you french, because—“

“no, no, please don’t,” nagi interrupts. you’re a pretty thing, red bruised knee bouncing over the other as you tuck away a strand of hair. fuck, you’re like candy for the eye.

“you get a pass.”

“huh ? but my pick up line—“

“no need, it’s a yes from me.”

pretty pink lips bend into a pout & nagi is almost tempted to let you say your line, but he shudders at the thought of your incomplete statement. you nod a bow & show yourself out with another tiny wave to the camera. perhaps this game isn’t all that bad after all.

mid thought, nagi’s earpiece crackles to life. “nagi, why’d you say yes ?! what’s she got that—“

ITOSHI SAE !

“ask her if she’d get with a bisexual dude.”

“what ? stop it shidou he doesn’t like dudes. ask her if she—“

“how about i ask her to shut the fuck up?”

sae says it a bit too loudly so your eyes widen a bit before you seemingly shrink in on yourself. sae hadn’t actually meant it—he was only trying to put a stop to the squabbling in his ears but now your nose is red & you’re biting your lip like you’re about to cry.

truthfully, he doesn’t give a fuck.

but his PR team sure does. sae was live right now & his public image already wasn’t the prettiest. he’d also rather not receive yet another lecture from his manager.

“um, girl number nine ?”

the sound of a facepalm rattles in his earpiece. “isn’t she like, the fourth girl ?”

sae bites his bottom lip. you’re fidgeting with your nails & your breathing seems heavy & your eyes seem to be everywhere but his. you don’t even respond to his call. he sighs.

“that wasn’t meant for you, sorry.” he swallows. “you were talking about red flags in a relationship, right ?”

you seem to perk up—perhaps you thought he wasn’t listening ? you were going on & on but how could sae not pay you any mind when your voice seemed smoother than redwine & myrrh ?

“yes—yes i was ! um, what about you ? any red flags ?”

“when they’re too horny.” a damn-it ! blares through his ear piece.

you nod, “i get that. though honestly, i’m a bit of a freak myself.”

you say it like you didn’t just admit to being a professional dick sucker. “sae, ask her for her number—“

he taps a button & the humming in his ear ceases. “a freak, you say ? do elaborate.”

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, edit, translate or reupload

[pedropascallme]

Celebrity Crushes

Pairing: Damien Haas x gn!Reader

Summary: "He had never said it was for a video, though maybe at this point you should’ve been able to guess that being asked for a list of three top choices was for this series."

Warnings: Brief mention of being drunk but otherwise none :)

AN: Hi guys!! I wrote this in 20 minutes so it’s…rough around the edges….but you’ve been so sweet and patient with me while I get my shit together now that I’m back from school!! I have many many WIPs that I plan on publishing soon that will have much more substance than this, but I still hope this helps hold you over for another week or so <3

You delayed your own emergence from sleep. Your bed was comfortable, warmer than usual, maybe thanks to the open blinds that let sunlight dapple the room. It was so easy to fall back into the snug embrace of slumber as you stretched against your sheets. You rolled over, eyes still heavily lidded and blinking to avoid the light as you felt around for your phone on the nightstand.

You yawned, stretching again; you let your back arch off the bed, feet poking out from beneath your blanket as you let your ankles crack—a quiet, congenial noise, and an even more satisfying feeling.

There were several messages waiting for you when you unlocked your phone.

Ang: UM??

Ang: New games vid????

Ang: 😵‍💫😵‍💫

You: What?

Ang: Dude🫠

You: What??

You: Isn’t it a Shayne guesses

You: I just woke up

Ang: Hold on

They were not the messages you’d been anticipating on a peaceful morning off from work. Angela’s texts woke you up immediately, her words burying themselves in your head as adrenaline took hold, muscles tensing, and you felt something pull at your stomach.

Had someone said something? Had you said something? Had you been somewhere you weren’t meant to be? Did it even involve you? Was she simply acknowledging something fucked up or funny that you had played no part in?

You held your phone in a vice grip, white-knuckling it and waiting to hear how exactly the new upload pertained to you—if it pertained to you—and whether you’d still have a job or any friends by the end of the day.

You felt a soft buzz on your fingers and snapped your attention to the screen, hoping to see Angela’s name.

Court: Was the new video planned or…

You: What is happening

You: Angela texted me too

You: I literally just woke up

Court: omg🥹

You felt hot. Not in the cozy way you had been when you woke up, but in a burnt cheeks and stomachache way. This was not something you had ever woken up to before, it was not at all routine, and you worried that your time at Smosh was up based solely on the manner in which your friends were texting you.

Another buzz. Kiana this time.

Kiana: I told Spencer not to keep it in the final cut

Kiana: But it’s really cute actually

You wanted to throw up. Shakily leaning back in bed, you tried to type out a response to Kiana that would help you wrap your mind around what exactly it was that you should be worried about.

Another buzz alerted you to Angela’s late reply, and you abandoned the message you had been drafting for Kiana.

Ang: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzUs87BMpsc

Ang: 26 minute mark & then watch to the end

Ang: 🥴🥴🫶🏻

You had been right. It was another installment of Shayne Guesses, but you had no recollection of sending in a formal submission of…

“Can I identify someone, based on their top three celebrity crushes?”

Your heart jumped to your throat.

If this was going where you thought it was, you’d send in your letter of resignation by tonight.

You found the timestamp Angela had sent you, and immediately grimaced, folding your body into itself. You wiped a hand over your face, as if rubbing your eyes hard enough would make this all go away, leaving you to wake up fresh and unabashed.

“Ok—ok, I can work with this,” Shayne’s eyes darted over the screen, shouting a laugh when he took in the options given to him. “So Pedro Pascal—expected—Cillian Murphy, and he looks younger there. Is that what he looks like now? No…”

“No, that’s from like, 2000-something,” Spencer responded off camera, “I did not choose that picture.”

“Ok, 2000s Cillian Murphy, Pedro Pascal, and Damien Haas.” Shayne paused to stifle a chuckle. “This is the second time you’ve broken your own rule!” He stared pointedly at Spencer.

“Bro, that’s Shez from Fire Emblem!” Spencer argued, still out of frame, and Shayne bit the inside of his cheek.

“I mean,” Shayne looked at the list of names in front of him, “I feel like, you know, maybe it’s not…maybe it isn’t super obvious to people watching, but I think it’s a pretty easy guess for anybody in the office.”

“So what’s your answer?” Spencer asked.

“Oh, come on, like you need to ask,” Shayne crossed his arms before triumphantly declaring your name. “Final answer, look—” He clicked to the next page, and there was your headshot.

Your headshot.

Because Damien was one of your celebrity crushes.

One whom you worked with, and were friends with, and hung out with, and ate lunch with.

You felt your eye twitch.

You paused the video in a huff, too mortified to follow Angela’s instructions and watch it to the end.

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so besides yourself with embarrassment. You were deeply confused as to how that list had even made it into the upload when you hadn’t sent it in.

You racked your brain, trying to remember if you’d drunkenly sent an email, or given an ok when you were only half awake.

You could recall, vaguely, a text exchange with Spencer a few weeks ago, where he had asked, out of the blue, about your top three celebrity crushes. And you gave your answers, sent a few googled pictures, all in good fun, to your friend.

He had never said it was for a video, though maybe at this point you should’ve been able to guess that being asked for a list of three top choices was for this series.

You: Charles.

You: What happened to confidentiality.

Spence: I CNA EXPLIAN

Spence: CAN

Spence: EXPLAIN

You: 🤨

Spence: LISTEN

Spence: I THOUGTH YOU KNWE

Spence: I THOIGHT IT WASSON PURPOSE

Spence: I THOUGHT HE KNEW??

Spence: BECAUSE HIS??

Spence: Please don’t kill me I have a family.

Spence: And I’ll buy you lunch.

You: You’ll buy me lunch for a month.

Spence: A week

You: Two weeks

Spence: Deal🤑

Spence: I love you❤️❤️

Spence: And I’m sorry I went over y’all’s heads

You weren’t mad.

Honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to be genuinely angry; it was hard to be mad at one of your dearest friends over something that was so clearly a misunderstanding. Especially when it had no real bearing on your career or public image.

This just meant that people would now be fully aware that you had the hots for a coworker.

And said coworker would also be fully aware of it. You tried to push down the shame.

You: Accepted

You: I love you too❤️

You: I want Thai tomorrow

Spence: Would you settle for shirt?

You: I'll kill you.

Spence: Don’t you have another smosh man to bother🧐

You smiled at your own reassuring words, and Spencer’s acknowledgement of his fuckup was equally as helpful in improving your mood, as was his casual banter. For a moment that was enough to make you forget why your stomach was still in knots.

It could be argued that it was an open secret, it certainly seemed as though your friends were more shocked to see your list make it into the final cut of the video than they were to see the list itself. You counted on your fingers: who had you told, who figured it out like a child's simple jigsaw puzzle, who had asked point-blank after seeing you interact with Damien.

You ran out of fingers.

Still, you felt that you’d been cautious enough about it, to the point that Damien himself, at least, hadn’t seemed to figure it out, despite the amount of time you spent together, and the large portion of that time that you spent with a dopey grin on your face and a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Maybe he hadn’t seen the video. Maybe he’d never see the video. Maybe he wasn’t even planning on being online today at all.

Or maybe you could change your name and disappear for a while.

Maybe you’d be in the clear.

You took deep breaths, trying to settle your brain and your heart and the shakiness of your hands.

And then Damien’s name lit up your phone screen, and the results of your impromptu meditation were immediately gone, thrown out the window with your composure.

Damimen: Very interesting list

You: I’m so sorry

Damimen: What?

Damimen: Why?

You: I didn’t mean for you to find out this way

You: Very publicly on a Wednesday morning

Damimen: Who said I was just finding out?

You: Shut up

You: I’m good at keeping secrets

Damimen: I know

Damimen: Angela and Chanse aren’t tho

You: Oh god dammit

Damimen: Which is why I knew not to tell them anything about my list

Damimen: And I mean

Damimen: Stuff that I'd generally like to be kept under wraps

You: So the launch codes are safe?

Damimen: Are they safe if they're with me?

Damimen: 🤯

You: MR PRESIDENT!!

You: Wait

You: Joking aside

You: What are you talking about

You: Wdym “not telling them about your list”

Damimen: Did you not watch the whole video?

You: Got kinda distracted

You: Needed to make Spencer fear for his life a little

Damimen: ???

Damimen: Watch til the end

Damimen: And then come over?

Damimen: If you want?

You furrowed your brow, questions still unanswered, but pleased that he wasn’t upset with you.

You found your way back to the video, clicking forward again until you saw Damien’s headshot and then rewinding to see his list.

Pictures of you.

Three pictures of you. Pictures he had taken when you were together; at the ren faire, getting coffee, in the office.

And now the texts from everybody remarking on how cute the video was made sense. They hadn’t been referring to your list, they’d been referring to Damien’s more than forward response that worked in tandem with yours.

“Not a lot of variety to this one,” Shayne laughed into his hands, “I don’t really have to guess cause there’s only one name left on this list, but even if there wasn’t…This is Damien. Yeah, no, this is Damien. Final answer.”

“How do you know?” Spencer pushed.

“Well I mean, I, y’know, I received these pictures from Damien when they were taken,” Shayne spoke as if it should’ve been apparent, “But also. Come on. I know. See,” he clicked to the next page, where Damien’s name and picture appeared. Shayne raised his arms in triumph.

Your mouth fell open and your lips curved up into a subtle smile.

If you hadn’t been obvious, you’d certainly been oblivious.

The pictures of you that Damien had taken lined up on the screen paired with Shayne’s assurance in his answer, the knowing chuckles from off screen, it all made your heart skip. You felt it sinking from your throat and back into your chest where it belonged, thrumming contentedly.

Damien’s handle on your heart didn’t worry you. If anything, it relaxed you, made you feel safe, collected despite the rollercoaster of a morning you’d had. The discovery of a crush requited made you feel giddy; young and in love.

You: On my way

You: Gimme 20 minutes

You: And send me those pictures

You: 😘

Damimen: 🫡🥰

[celeryb1tch]

how you and spencer meet!

receptionist!reader starts a new job at the BAU, and a very handsome coworker shows her around!

content: meet cute, fem!reader, pov you’re an idiot who’s sensitive to blood, fainting for the plot and not in the way it works in real life lol, confident-ish but pretty canon compliant mid-seasons spencer!

—

the FBI certainly isn’t the place for squeamish little pansies…

at least, that’s what you were told in your interview. and you had nodded diligently, ignoring the lump in your throat as you thought about how you almost fainted the last time you had bloodwork done. but as a secretary, how bad could it get, right? you tried to assure yourself of this when you got the job offer.

on a brisk friday morning, you were wandering through the FBI Academy campus in an attempt to find your office. everyone around you seemed to be in a hurry, and no one had given you the time of day when you attempted to ask for directions. so fifteen minutes before your first day started, opposed to the promised half hour, you entered the NSAVC building with your tail between your legs.

the bullpen was empty. you had expected to be met by a trainer, or perhaps the person whose job you would be taking over, but you instead faced a grouping of empty desks. as you peered around the open area, your eyes landed on a conference room with large windows, allowing you to see a group of agents. with a sigh of relief, you headed up the stairs and knocked on the door lightly before letting yourself in.

before you was a circular table seating five people, all with their eyes trained directly on you. “hi!” you chirped. “i was looking for-“

“i think you’re lost, miss. students shouldn’t be allowed access into this department,” demanded a man in a full suit, who seemed to be in charge.

your smile faded as you saw the various displeased faces looking back at you. “oh no, i’m not…” in an attempt to avoid eye contact, you raised your sight to the opposite wall, projector casting images of open wounds and a dismembered corpse. and in only a second, your vision was going black.

—

the white of fluorescent bulbs seared even through to the inside of your eyelids, but despite this you still blinked a few times to shake the disorientation and open your eyes.

your legs were eased up in the air with a chair, brand new pencil skirt hiked slightly up your thighs. you felt the texture of carpet against your back through your blouse and the cool of ice on your forehead. your first instinct was to sit up and reorient yourself, which you tried to no avail.

“hey, hey, easy,” an unidentifiable voice said soothingly. you scanned your surroundings, finding a man with chin length chestnut hair in your periphery who couldn’t be much older than you. he was crouched beside you, apple juice box in hand and concern in his eyes. god, his eyes were pretty, you thought. like pools of dappled sunlight.

it took you a few seconds to recognize him as one of the displeased members of the conference room, and the previous events rushed back to you, bringing a flush to your cheeks. “i am so sorry, sir. um, agent. detective? there was a misunderstanding, and that was so unprofessional of me.”

he had a small smile playing on his lips as he scanned your face. he seemed to be entertained by the fact that you were so flustered, letting you finish rambling before he replied. “doctor spencer reid, and no worries at all. a freeze response to gore is a fairly common reaction. while you were unconscious we were able to identify you as the new front desk secretary, we thought you were starting next week so we weren’t expecting anyone.”

you visibly relaxed at his explanation. it seemed possible that you wouldn’t be fired on the spot for this. you took the hand he outstretched to you, helping you up from the ground slowly. he offered you the juice box, to which you shook your head. “i’m okay, but thank you.”

“i would recommend it. after fainting it’s likely that your blood sugar is low, and fruit juice is packed with natural sugars that will allow you to feel better almost immediately.”

“doctor’s orders, huh?” you joked, to which he cracked a smile again.

“i’m not exactly that kind of doctor. but yes, i do strongly advise it.”

so you took the juice box, and spencer walked you down the few steps from the office you’d been laying in toward the bullpen. suddenly you were filled with anxiety once again as the faces you had seen minutes ago holding inconvenienced stares now looked on with concern.

the man from before who was so clearly the leader of this operation approached, offering a hand to shake. “supervisory special agent aaron hotchner, i apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you winced away from him slightly, worried that any further mistake would result in you losing the position you had yet to start. “thank you, sir. i am so sorry for interrupting a meeting like that, and fainting. that wasn’t exactly the first impression i wanted.”

he had an easy smile, that of a reassuring father. “i can assure you that no punitive action will be taken, if that’s what you’re concerned about. if we knew you were coming today we would not have left graphic case evidence up on the screen.”

oh, thank god. you exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest subside. you stepped back toward spencer, whose gaze had never left you. “what should i be doing now? i was never informed of what my training would be, not to mention where my desk is.”

“linda’s out sick today, which is why we thought you weren’t coming until monday,” said the woman sat in the desk rightmost of you. her hair was pure black, with straight, blunt bangs that suited her well.

“we don’t exactly have training for you today without your predecessor here, so i thought you could shadow my agents to familiarize yourself with the office. and i’m happy to show you to your desk, but since you’ll mostly be seeing our faces daily, we should get introductions out of the way first,” agent hotchner said.

you glanced at spencer beside you almost unconsciously, in search of reassurance. despite knowing him for about three minutes, he was the closest thing you had to a friend or ally so far. and seeming to sense this, he shot you a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes. you felt your anxiety melt a little, and you realized that everything was going to be okay.

—

by lunchtime, you had your things at your desk and nothing to do without a computer login or training. you remembered that hotchner had suggested shadowing someone, but the idea of asking one of the agents made your stomach churn. they sat only a dozen feet away from you, laughing and bantering as if they’d known each other all their lives. who were you to butt into their dynamic? so you sat twiddling your thumbs for the rest of the lunch hour, peeking at the group occasionally to confirm that you hadn’t spontaneously gained the confidence to approach.

spencer specifically appeared to be deep in thought once he got back to work. you thought that it would be best to shadow him if possible, given you were most familiar with the tall brunette, but you really had no business to interrupt his work. still, you worked up the courage to advance to his desk.

“would you like some more coffee, dr. reid? i could go get some for you, you seem pretty busy,” you offered in an attempt at nonchalance. but uncertainty and regret crept up quickly when you received no reply.

emily prentiss, the previously unnamed woman with dark hair, noticed the interaction. with a slight grin on her lips, she interjected. “don’t take it personally. he gets so into his case readings, it’s hard for him to pick up on anything else.”

“hey, pretty boy,” cooed derek morgan from another desk. “someone’s trying to talk to you.”

spencer lifted his head reluctantly, eyes following a moment later. he looked dazed, not quite focused on anything in particular. “sorry, what?”

“i noticed your coffee was almost empty, would you like some more?” you asked meakly. it took everything in you not to run and hide of embarrassment.

he finally registered the question, shaking his head fervently. “no, i couldn’t ask you to do that. i’m perfectly capable of refilling my own coffee, but while i do i could show you the kitchenette? it’s crucial to the operation of the office.”

and with a nod, the two of you headed to the tiny kitchen adjacent to the bullpen. you stood slightly out of the way as spencer placed his mug on the counter, refilling the drip coffee maker for a fresh batch. you watched him card his fingers through his hair, looking around casually.

“so, the kitchen is important why?” you inquired, head tilting slightly to emphasize your interest.

spencer finally met your eyes again, letting out a little breezy laugh. “oh, it’s not. i noticed that you were having trouble potentially asking one of us to show you around, so i thought this was an opportune moment.”

you flushed slightly at the confession, apparently caught red-handed in your effort. “wow, you’re pretty good at reading people. or was i just that transparent?”

“is that a joke?” his eyebrows knotted as he looked at you, no air of humour on his face.

you stared back, equally confused. “am i supposed to know that? do you have a particularly well known judgement of character?”

“well yes, you’re in the behavioural analysis unit.”

and with that, you were sure that you had damaged your ego and reputation in this job position irrevocably.

—

after a brief explanation of the lack of background information provided when accepting the job, spencer assured you that he wouldn’t tell the others. he expressed his surprise that the FBI hadn’t been as diligent as they usually are, and you had to agree.

“i mean, i told them that this was my first job after graduation. i was doing my field placement two months ago, and that was in a law firm!” you stifled a giggle, feeling at ease leaning against the kitchen counter with spencer taking occasional sips of his coffee.

“that’s astounding. they hired me young, but i’d argue that i was overqualified for the position,” he admitted. “you, however…”

you gasped in feigned offence, rolling your eyes. “hey, i learned a lot in that law office! i can photocopy anything you need me to, and schedule dry cleaning for same-day pickup.”

it had been well over a half hour at this point, with you and spencer getting gradually closer until your clothed elbow rubbed against his. no one else had come in, until mid-reply spencer was greeted by agent aaron hotchner himself, who happened to also need a fresh cup of coffee.

“reid, i see that you’ve taken it upon yourself to let our new team member shadow you. but maybe you should show her some places other than the coffee counter?” he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

spencer looked caught, eyes flitting from you to his boss. your boss too, you supposed. “of course. sorry hotch, we got a little caught up.”

“i can see that. as long as you get your files finished by end-of-day, it’s really none of my business.”

“yes, sir,” spencer yelped. he gestured rapidly for you to follow him, exiting the kitchen to return to his desk.

you watched him put his mug down and shuffle some papers around before his eyes lit up in recognition. “i actually do need you to photocopy this for me,” he admitted shyly.

“of course!” you replied, just before your smile dropped. “you actually never showed me where the copier is.”

spencer chuckled with you, getting up from his chair once again. “no problem, i’ll show you.”

and as the two of you began walking down the hallway together, the others laughed upon hearing, “by the way, would you like to go for dinner with me once we clock out? i have a lot more to tell you.”

derek grinned. “i didn’t know that kid had the balls.”

—

(hi guys!! thank you for all of the love on my first spencer post!! i’m having so much fun writing these! psa tho: as i said before, i’m a lesbian i just have a weird thing for this one particular fictional man- so if u follow me, pls expect woman-centred content mostly!!)

[moonlit-midnight]

Kissed by Spring’s Delight

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Genre: AU, Domestic Fluff, Married life, Romance.

Summary: Every morning is delightful when you wake up with the love of your life and your little bundle of joy by your side.

Warnings: Reader is a female and has a daughter.

—

The luminous rays of the spring sunshine filtered dazzlingly through the windows, casting a warm glow over the vast, cozy bedroom.

It shone down beautifully upon you and your husband like a bright spotlight.

You and Malleus were still fast asleep. Your arm wrapped around his waist in a gentle way, limbs tangled underneath the smooth white sheets, and his unkempt hair covered his beautiful face.

You were having a pleasant dream until your lovable, energetic little daughter unintentionally decided to disturb your peace.

“Rise and shine, Mama and Papa!” The four year old girl’s cheerful voice resonated across the room as she lightly shook your shoulders with her small hands.

You were the first to arise from your sweet slumber, a dappled glint of warm sunlight greeted your sight, making you squint for a second to get used to it.

You gave your daughter a smile filled with adoration before your eyes drifted to your husband’s serene, sleeping figure.

“Wake up, my loved one!” you murmured drowsily as you gazed at Malleus lovingly, fingertips tracing his eyebrows and his eyelids ever so gently.

Drawing yourself closer to him, you planted a few soft kisses on his messy black hair and on the crown of his head.

“Papa!” your daughter shrieked. “Mama says wake up.”

Upon hearing his daughter’s gleeful shriek, Malleus suppressed his laughter, a playful grin gracing his face.

Sensing what he was up to, you brushed his bangs aside, placing a hand on his forehead.

“Your dearest father wants a morning kiss from you too.”

“Okay.” your child giggled adorably. “Get ready to be showered with affection by your little princess.”

Puckering her cute coral-pink lips, she peppered his forehead, his temple and his eyelids with the sweetest kisses.

“Give me a few more.” Eyes still closed, Malleus pointed at his cheeks.

Your darling, little girl simply complied.

Content and satisfied, he finally fluttered his vibrant green eyes open.

Sitting up, Malleus pulled you and your daughter into one of his warmest embraces, feeling a great rush of love for the both of you.

“Good morning to you, our beloved sunshine girl.”

The two of you kissed her tiny hands, greeting her between hearty giggles and adoring, bright smiles.

[pictureinme]

Fic idea: reader takes kitten out on a picnic for her birthday or their anniversary and treats her the way she deserves to be treated and like reader gives her all these cute gifts and treats and it's just a cute moment

thank u so much for this request !!! i felt so inspired by this ;-; it may be a bit more than you expected !

autumn breeze

patricia ‘kitten’ braden x f!reader word count: ~1.2k tags: romantic fluff, established relationship, marriage proposal, kitten appreciation hour is in full effect

(ao3)

Kitten walks blindly through the park, unaware of just how beautiful the falling leaves look across the grass. You’re guiding her through winding paths, all the way to a secret spot you paid the caretaker off to leave undisturbed.

Her outfit was as beautiful as ever, and the only criteria you gave her was to dress for the season. While she giggles incessantly, you take it in: a roomy brown sweater which nearly enveloped her hands, tucked into orange corduroy flares, paired with brown mule heels.

You uncover Kitten’s eyes, revealing the surprise she has been anticipating for a week now. Her eyes darted quickly, taking in the set-up before her: a yellow gingham blanket, and atop it was an overflowing picnic basket. She could only imagine what else could be awaiting her, but she could definitely see a familiar wine bottle and accompanying glasses.

“Oh, darling…” Kitten’s hand comes to cover her agape mouth.

You grin, hugging her tightly from behind, “Happy anniversary, my love.”

“Even bought my favorite wine…” She spins around, and her hands come to rest on your shoulders. Her eyes are sparkling, hints of tears threatening to spill. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Don’t thank me just yet!” You guide her down to the blanket, kicking off your flats before sitting. “You haven’t even seen the records I brought.”

Kitten daintily takes off her heels, grinning almost maniacally as she kneels on the fabric, “Do tell!”

“I brought all of our favorites,” gesturing to the case against your hip, she notices you had the portable record player, as well as your book of 45s. “Goldsboro, Rubettes, Sweet… even some Stevie!”

You rifle through the binder, and pull out your Bobby Goldsboro “Honey/Danny” single– something you bought for Kitten on your second date. She glowed when she unwrapped it, revealing the orange magenta label with her favorite song’s title plastered onto it.

Kitten holds the record carefully as you set up the portable player, its wood grain stark against the gingham, a holdover from your parents’ generation. She places the disc onto the center spindle, and you place the needle. The sweet, sweet sounds of adult contemporary fill the space.

The warmth of the afternoon lay dappled on the ground, wrapping the two of you in something like a yellow aura. Kitten’s nails were adorned with an orange polish, with delicate flowers– painted by you– in white. Her hand is on top of your own, and you bathe in the feeling of contentment. The autumnal breeze was cool, but welcome.

From her reclined position on the blanket, she hums, “We should probably eat before whatever it is goes stale, hm?”

“Perhaps,” you groan as you move from your own lounging, “You do tend to be the voice of reason.”

You shuffle towards the picnic basket, and hand her the bottle as well as the glasses. Opening it further reveals to Kitten the true lengths you went to for this event: cucumber sandwiches, various berries, cheeses, and crackers, and even more she couldn’t see.

“Goodness, you pulled out all of the stops, didn't you, dear?”

Laughing slightly, you take the bottle back from her and pop the cork, “I’d pull the stars from the sky if it could make you happy, my love.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as you pour the Sauvignon blanc into her awaiting glass, “Oh, such a poet you are.”

You pour your own glass as she takes out the sandwiches and charcuterie set-up. Kitten splits the sandwich triangles between the two of you.

“Thank you, my love,” Kitten bites into her sandwich, careful not to smudge her meticulously painted lips, “Truly.”

“It’s our third anniversary, and you always do so much for me,” you pop a cube of chèvre into your awaiting mouth, “You deserve so much more than this, Kitten.”

Cocking her head, she hums, “Well, you’ve certainly outdone yourself! Can’t remember the last time we could do something so romantic together in public…”

You bite your lip slightly as her lidded eyes meet yours, “Me neither, I had to bargain for this spot, you know. Sold all our assets away!”

“Shame, I was just about to blow it all at the slots tomorrow night with Charlie.”

“And you weren’t going to invite moi?” You hold your heart in faux offense, “Now I don’t feel so bad about auctioning off your precious silk slips.”

“You did not!”

Laughter erupted from your throat, “Dear, I would never do such a thing! You really must pick up a book on sarcasm.”

Rolling her eyes yet again, Kitten smiles as she tosses a blueberry in her mouth, “Silly, silly girl. On our special day, too.”

You grin widely, and the pair of you continue to eat away at your borderline rabbit food and white wine. The way her head is thrown back after a particularly raunchy joke you made, or how her blonde curls bounce when she’s truly excited, you couldn’t get enough of it.

The two of you make it through almost all of the records before you decide to reveal the true surprise of the afternoon.

“Doll, could you check the basket for me?” You coyly ask, busying yourself with cleaning the stray napkins and empty berry containers. “I’m sure I forgot something.”

She cocks an eyebrow, “You, forgetting something? Believe it when I see it, love.”

You watch as she leans over the picnic basket, moving her locks from her eye-line to properly check. As she investigates, you feel your heart begin to race. What if she said no, what if–

“(Y/N)!” Kitten practically shrieks when she finds the so-called missing item. “Is this what I think it is?”

She moves back to sit in front of you, an expression of pure joy written all over her face.

“Patricia ‘Kitten’ Braden, saint of my heart… will you marry me?”

Her hand was held open to reveal a golden ring, within the center was an oval diamond cushioned by two smaller ones.

“Oh, God, yes, yes!”

Before your hand reaches to slip the ring onto her finger, she’s caught your lips in a kiss that would’ve knocked off your feet, had you been standing. You could feel her heart beating out of her chest, and you raise a hand to cup her cheek.

“I love you more than anything in the universe, my Kitten. I know it may not be easy, getting married and all, but–”

Kitten shakes her head slightly, a tear falling from her eye, “Don’t say such things right now, we’ll be okay.”

Nodding, you smile through what you realize are your own tears, and take the ring from her still outstretched hand. You hold her left hand in yours, and slowly slip the delicate ring onto her finger. Her breath hitches, and so does yours.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming, darling,” the desperation in her eyes made that knot in your throat hurt so much more.

“Far from it,” you kiss her sweetly on her plush lips, “This is as real as it gets.”

[ninoxmeeki]

Felt a little nostalgic about these horses so I drew up my own interpretation of them <3

[Image ID: 7 Digital drawings of the artist's interpretation of the mane 6, the first one, with them all together and the latter images being each character separately. The first one is Applejack, she's depicted as a big and sturdy clydesdale horse. She has an orange coat with light orange sock and nose bridge markings, along with freckles on her cheek and her shoulder blades. She has a dirty blonde mane and tail with both of them wrapped in pony tails. She is wearing a red plaid neckerchief and chewing on a piece of hay. The next is Pinkie pie who is short and chubby like a cute pony. Her coat is light pink with her mane and tail being a darker pink with a coily hair texture. She has afro puffs that are wrapped by yellow and blue beads. She's also wearing a variety sort of kandi bracelets on her front hooves, one that spells smile, and another carrying cute smiley faces. A kandi necklace on her neck features beads all shaped as the elements of harmony and their respected colors. Rainbow Dash comes after. She's lean and sporty looking, wearing sports wristbands on her front hooves and goggles on her head. She's light blue with dappled light blue markings on her flank and on the back of her neck. Her mane is short and rainbowy, with the back of it like a mohawk. Her tail also sports a rainbow color with wit shaped like lightening. Fluttershy is tall and competes with Applejack in height. She's got a long horse face with a light yellow coat, and a wavy long pink mane and tail. There's all sorts of leaves, twigs and flowers in her hair from spending a lot of her time outdoors with helping animals. She also is wearing a green poncho. She has a muddier yellow muzzle, flank and legs. Rarity follows after, being petite and curly. She has a beauty mark on her left cheek she's wearing makeup. She has a clean white coat, and a curly purple and pink mane and tail. She also has a unicorn beard and a small unicorn horn. She's wearing a diamond studded collar around her neck and earrings. Last is Twilight and Spike. Spike looks very similar to his official g4 design but he's slightly pinker. Twilight is short with a purple coat that has light purple diamond markings on her muzzle, chest and legs and facial acne on her forehead. Her mane and tail are straight haired, being colored dark blue with stripes of a light purple and pink. Her horn is longer and more impressive and she also has a unicorn beard along with her alicorn wings. She is wearing glasses and looking over at Spike. /.End ID]

[rom-e-o]

Just for us. (Modern AU) (Constance and Ebenezer)

I'm feeling rested and wanted to bring another fluffy, slightly spicy, saccharine sweet story for these two cute-patooties. 💗 

This fic is 18+ and includes sexual, post-coital scenarios and descriptions (nothing is explicit, but better safe than sorry, haha).

Full fic is below the cut.

The distant honking of a car horn was not the best way to awaken from an otherwise peaceful slumber, but it was Constance’s fault for falling asleep with the bedroom window ajar.

Hours before, she’d opened the window to enjoy the evening’s spring breeze. After all, she and her husband had just emerged from a fête held by the Lord Mayor himself. While it had been a beautiful event, it had felt like a crime to spend the golden midday inside. She had basked in the sun during the brief walk to the private car, and again when they returned to the flat and she entered the bedroom.

It was spring – a magical time of year where the skies stayed light blue even late into the evenings, and clouds rolled over from angelic white to a deep mauve. When the sun set at the perfect angle, the light dappled across the airy shapes in kisses and crescents as pink in color as strawberry cream.

The air wasn’t as sweet-smelling in London as it was in the upstate New York countryside – where honeysuckle grew unhindered, and the humidity thickened the nectar-tinted air into honey – but it was enough. She’d opened the shades and leaned into the light, still in her glittering gown and diamond choker.

Moments later, her husband had followed her. He slowly walked up behind her, giving her time to notice his presence before he reached out to hold her. Once his arms were about her svelte waist, he proceeded to place kisses upon her bare shoulder as they looked over the sunset.

He then hummed against her skin, the burr sending a ripple of gooseflesh across her tanned, freckled body.

“Gorgeous,” he had whispered, both in regarding to the view and the woman resting betwixt his arms. “Bloody gorgeous, you are.”

He nosed her neck, encouraging her to tilt her head back. She did so, and he inhaled a heavy lungful of her tangerine and vanilla perfume like it was pure oxygen. After doing so, he kissed the velvety skin, and Constance practically melted.

Moments later, his kisses upon her neck traversed a path from her sun-warmed shoulders. He noticed she had a bit of a sunburn on the protruding edges of her clavicle, right where the sun could caress the skin directly. He didn’t touch the skin as to not irritate it further, but made a mental note to apply some aloe there later.

After giving the flesh there bouts of proper worship, he moved to her lips. When their mouths met, it was his turn to whisper praise. His soulful voice created the most stunning moans when their mouths and bodies met, which she eagerly swallowed and returned with her own expressions of heady praise.

His hands remained wrapped around her waist, nestled around the narrowest part of her, even as she turned in his arms to help deepen their kiss.

After returning his enthusiasm and adoration tenfold with her hips and hands, he lifted her and carried her to the canopied, four-post bed behind them. It was a short journey, but that didn’t mean it didn’t require ceremony. For him, every moment with her called for cheers and celebration, as well as a flair of romanticism. If his former self could only see him now, he’d be disgusted … then secretly jealous.

With a twirl and a laugh, she landed on her back … and stayed in exactly that position through the rest of the evening.

Then, later that night, the spell was broken by a car alarm.

Groggy from the interruption, Constance glanced up and over to the antique clock her fiancé kept on his bedside table. The hands reflected a somber reality in their crooked placement; it was five past three o’clock in the morning.

The alarm was distant, but persistent enough to be annoying.

Did she really need to shut the window? Perhaps she could ignore it.

… It was quite persistent, unfortunately. It wasn’t one of those steady alarm tones that eventually blended out with the other ambient noise, like the hum of cicadas. No. This alarm had a rhythmic, pulsing tone that made it impossible to get used to.

She’d get it in a moment, she decided. Just ten more seconds, she concluded. She was so warm and comfortable.

After hitting the metaphorical ‘snooze’ button for the decision at hand, she allowed her head to drift back down toward the bed. Her copper curls cascaded down her back and curled into her peripheral vision in the form of lightly tousled spirals.  

When she felt her cheek collide with cologne-scented flesh instead of bedsheets, she paused. With a hum, she lifted her head again and directed her gaze to the top of the bed.

She found herself laying atop her husband, her cheek pressed to his chest and her bosom weighty against his abdomen. Her arms had found purchase wrapped around his torso. His legs caged her on either side. His spent cock nudged the softness of her bare stomach. His hand, large and lightly calloused, rested upon her upper back, his long fingers splayed across the planed of her shoulder blades. The placement was equal parts tender and protective, as he held her tightly enough to keep her close, but not secure enough to keep her captive.

He stirred sleepily as he felt her move. Blinking awake, he slowly lifted his head and glanced around. Reality slowly coalesced around him in blurring flashes of lightly and shifting shapes of shadows.

Upon laying eyes on her, a grin caressed his cheekbones. Somehow, his jaw remained sharp, even when his brow and the wrinkles around his eyes softened during slumber.

“Well, well. Good morning.”

His grip tightened around her, and he let out a pleasant hum. “And what a lovely sight to awaken to, I’d say. I could get quite used to this.”

His voice was still groggy from sleep, and his adorable smile caused a matching one to bloom upon her own face. By reflex alone, she reached a hand up to caress his cheek. He tilted his head to burrow against her hand, his sideburn scrubbing her palm as he did so. She giggled, slightly ticklish and enjoying the sensation all the same, stroked his cheekbone with the tip of her thumb.

“Good morning,” she whispered back, “Albeit barely.”

His confusion was belated as he registered the darkness of the room. His icy gaze darted to the window, noting the blue-pink swirl of the pre-dawn sky. Then, and only then, did the sound of the alarm seem to register.

With the next strident blare, understanding touched his gaze. “Ah.”

“Ah.” Constance chuckled as she parroted him. Crawling up hand over hand, she aligned their bodies so they could be eye-to-eye.

He scooted over to make room for her on the large pillow he relined against.

“One of the cons of living in a city, I suppose,” he said, rolling over onto his side to better face her. “Noise. People. Cars. The tube.”

As soon as she laid her head down, she turned her nose toward the fabric and inhaled the scent of cologne, musk, and him. “Mmhmm.”

“Though, I suppose you’re used to it, living in New York before London.”

“A little bit,” she said, shrugging guiltily. “I’ll confess, the sound woke me up a few moments ago, but I’m finding it a tad hard to get out of bed.”

He laughed and placed a kiss atop her crown, between the part on her slightly waved bangs. “Understandable. I’m certainly in no hurry for you to go anywhere either.”

“Here, let me…”

As Constance rose from the bed, beautifully nude before the window, Ebenezer was quick to wrap and arm about her waist and pull her back. She giggled as she felt him tuck her back in so he could sit up and reach for his dressing gown, which had been discarded nearby.

“We’re quite high up,” she said, “Nobody would see, sweetheart.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but just in case.”

The woman wasn’t going to opt out of any reason to stay in bed. The comfortable position was made all the better by the pleasant view she had of his wide back, long legs and adorable bum as he pulled on his robe. Such a simple task still caused his back muscles to ripple pleasantly, even concealed beneath the shimmering brocade of silk. Her fingers tightened their grip on the sheets slightly as she recounted every moment his fingers had skimmed the planes of his back, sometimes to hug him close, and other times to hold on when he felt like the sturdiest rock in the universe.

Once the robe was fastened about his svelte waist, he stood and went to the window. Pulling it shut and latching it back into place, he then backtracked to the bed. While doing so, he undid the ties on the bedpost in the upper right corner of the bed, which was nestled right near the headboard.

The velvet bed curtain fell back with a swoosh, casting a long shadow across the bed. She felt the weight of her fiancée tip the mattress as he climbed back onto the mattress. While he had opted to leave his robe on, Constance still ushered him back under the covers to cuddle. He, of course, obliged happily.

Once they settled, her head resting over his chest and their legs in a tangle, he let out a content sigh.

Darkness shrouded them in intimate secrecy, and a soft silence hummed through the room.

Constance purred her appreciation. “Thank you. That’s so much better.”

He couldn’t help but agree. It was better, but not just because the sound of the alarm had ceased.

“You know, it’s a pity it’s so early,” he croaked, a yawn nearly cutting his sentence off early.

“Why?”

“I’d like to stay awake a little longer. Enjoy this.”

She tilted her head back so she could lay her chin on his chest and stare up at him. Her cornflower blue eyes coaxing further explanation from him.

“Not that I mind showing the world that I’m engaged to a human Aphrodite,” he started, his voice shifting to a pleasant burr, “But this ... moments like this are what I treasure most.”

Ebenezer was a man who had spent many decades of his life alone and in complete solace. He’d grown used to not having another soul to whisper platitudes to or confide secrets in. When amazing news crossed his desk, there was nobody to call to share it with. His brother, of course, but he had his own life.

Now, Constance was part of his life, just as she was part of his.

“It’s just us here,” he whispered. “It … calms me. I never thought I’d feel so comfortable being so close to another person, but now that you’re here, I-I … love being with you. I like sharing moments with only you and keeping little moments like this to ourselves. Like little secrets.”

The words softened her already tender heart further.

 “Perhaps that sounds childish.” The admission came after a beat of silence.

“No,” she said, and the comment was genuine. “I understand what you mean. At least, I think I do.”

“Really?”

With a nod, she continued, “It’s like we’re sharing little love notes. When we’re declaring our love publicly by getting married and wearing rings, and doing the grand photoshoot for the local newsmagazines –”

“Oh, blast, I forgot about that.”

“—but those little gestures are nice to keep private. Just for us.”

He paused to taste the words on his tongue. “Just for us. Yes. Like feeling you under these blankets.” Scars, stubble and all.

“Or knowing all your favorite foods and sweets by heart.” Cognac, oysters, and sturgeon caviar.

“Or knowing the places where you’re secretly sunburnt.” Shoulders, and right above your bum.

“You saw?”

“Of course.”

After momentary shock, she laughed musically. “You always do.”

“Always.” The words settled comfortably over his heart as she laid her head down again on his chest. “Hey.”

She glanced up again, only for him to bring their lips together in a surprising kiss. It was dark, so his lips grazed the corner of her mouth at first, which resulted in a soft giggle. They swiftly corrected, aligning their lips and sharing a lingering but chaste kiss.

When they parted, Ebenezer raised a hand to her chest.

There, squarely over her heart, he wrote, “I love you.”

Another secret love note.

Realizing they’d be working themselves into an early morning sweat if they kept kissing, they mutually relented and sank back onto the mattress. After the exhaustion of the evening prior, sleep returned to the pair quite easily.

When the morning did come, Ebenezer stole out of bed at the first opportunity to head into the flat’s large kitchen. Once there, he filled a MacKenzie-Childs kettle (green with a purple and red floral pattern) and put it on heat. Then, he set their coffee pot to start brewing a fresh pot. He’d have his tea, and she’d have her drip coffee. Just like always. To him, it was routine poetry at this point.

After setting out their mugs, he reached for kitchen shears from the knife rack near the sink.

The walk to the flat’s balcony was short. The space was large, modern, and adorned with a modest smattering of plants that decorated it. Neither of them had the greenest thumb, but the smattering of practical offerings that grew in the heavily shaded space suited them just fine.

He walked to one plant in particular, and after a moment of examination, he clipped something off the end.

By the time Constance had awakened from the aroma of percolating coffee, Ebenezer returned to their bedchamber with another love note in hand.

On this occasion, it came in the form of an aloe leaf.

Thank you for reading! I had a ton of fun here but I always do with these guys and their world, haha.

What are your favorite foods? Mine are poi, M&Ms, mangoes, and musubi (preferably fresh from the convenience store).

TAGS: @quill-pen, @crimson-phantom-designs, @thedivinelights

[aqua-the-smiter]

Decided to be a lil quirky and silly and write a part 2. Featuring a surprise guest! Selkie!Ferrus Manus x Argena Seeva Argena returns the next day and finds out a little more about her new friend. SFW Ferrus's seal form is a leopard seal Thanks to @bispaceual for the idea of squish seal Ferrus Iron Hands divider by @squishyowl

Her heart was starting to beat faster and her hands shook as she tied her bay’s reins to the post again. The mare gave her a look that seemed thoroughly tired of her mistress's antics, and after a moment she instead removed the bridle all together.

“You put up with too much, Fox.” Argena told her, stroking her muzzle. “You’d better not wander off too far, or else.”

She shook out her long black mane and bent her head down to graze. Gena smiled, patting her neck before turning and walking to the edge of the cliff.

She’d been thinking about it all day. It was the only thing her mind really could focus on, and she’d breezed through her day’s work as fast as she could without it becoming sloppy. Practically counting the minutes as she worked, replaying their conversation the day before over in her head. A part of her still wasn’t convinced that it hadn’t been just a lovely dream. But her hand remembered the texture of his fur on her skin. It had to have been real. She was going to meet her selkie again today. He’d promised he would be there, and something told her he wasn’t the lying type.

A real selkie. The thought was thrilling and a little terrifying.

His name was Ferrus, and he had entirely too many crappy brothers.

A part of her wanted to tell everyone she knew about him. Sheer excitement and wanting to share the joy of her discovery with others. Magic was real, and it was still here. Just hiding. The more rational side of her knew that was a very bad idea. At best he would be chased off. At worst, hunted, or have his sealskin stolen again. Not that she thought anyone in her village would be a threat to him. Even the strongest men were dwarfed by her selkie. He was so tall and strong.

She was greeted once again with the sound of waves and the scent of the sea mingling with heather and thistle. Gulls flew overhead, and a group of perfectly ordinary seals rested a ways down the shore. From somewhere behind her a raven crawked in a nearby tree.

But as for her seal…

Scanning the shore where he’d been initially turned up nothing, and her heart clenched for a moment. He wouldn’t lie to her, surely. Either he hadn’t expected her this early, or something had happened to him. Maybe one of his brothers had found him…?

She hoped not.

Where was he…ah, there! Picking her way carefully down the rocky slope, she made her way over to him, bare feet sinking into the sand.

The problem was that she had been looking for him in his human guise. But down the cliff, in a sunny patch of warm, soft sand lay an absolutely enormous seal. His coat was different from the others. Dark gray on his back, light gray on his sides and a white belly, dappled all over with dark spots. His shape was different too. Narrower, sleeker. Longer jaws, a slimmer snout. Clearly, he was a predatory creature. His coat was shorter too, but very dense.

There he was. Curled in a crescent on his stomach, snoozing peacefully in the warm late summer sun. She had to cover her mouth to suppress a squeal of delight. 

He was so cute like that. His seal form would probably be actually quite intimidating if he was awake, but he just looked so…squishy and content laying there. That’s it. He looked squishy. Without the water to support his impressive bulk, all his natural seal blubber just kind of squashed against the ground. He definitely wasn’t as plump as the regular seals that frequented this beach, but clearly he packed enough weight to look just as soft when he relaxed.

“Hello Ferrus.” She sat down next to him and whispered where she thought his ear would be. He didn’t stir, and she contented herself by just sitting with him and watching him nap. The selkie must have been setting a very good example, because soon she’d fallen asleep as well, resting against his side, though unintentionally. 

She awoke to a wet snout pressing against her forehead.

“I didn’t expect you to be so forward.” Ferrus said, with a definite lilt of amusement in his voice, his neck craned around so he could look at her. Also confirming he could still talk in seal form.

Argena sat bolt upright. “I’m sorry! I must have fallen asleep waiting for you. I didn’t want to wake you up since you looked so comfortable.”

He laughed, and this time it was definitely a seal’s bark. “No harm done. I don’t mind at all. You are the only person I’ve been pleased to see in a long time. You can lean on me if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

“That’s very flattering to hear, honestly.” She said, doing just that. He seemed far less grumpy than he had the day before. Maybe the nap had done him some good.

He stretched and gave a bone-cracking yawn, his jaws gaping wide. Showing off a maw full of sharp teeth. Then that bear trap of a mouth shut, and he went back to being rather cute.

“There’s something I forgot to ask you yesterday.” She broached, a little hesitantly. 

“Hm?”

“Why did your brother hide your sealskin?”

Ferrus curled his lip, showing off those teeth again. “I did leave that rather vague, didn’t I? He did it because he thought it was funny.”

“...That’s it? He stole your ability to transform for a prank? What the hell is wrong with your brother?”

“Yes, that is it. At least, that’s what he told me, and I don’t care enough about him anymore to dig deeper. I don’t know what he was thinking, and it doesn’t matter now. I’m not going to talk to him again.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She agreed. “What was his name?”

Ferrus didn’t answer for a moment. “Fulgrim. The more I think about it, the more I’m not sure how we ever became so close. We had some similarities, yes, but we were fundamentally different in far more areas. A part of me wonders if he was ever sincere.”

“Were you close with any of your other brothers? Before…all of this?”

“A few. Vulkan and I always got along. Before I left for good I used to forge things. Weapons, armor, the like. He did too, and we got along very well due to that. He was always kinder than I was, but we still got on. I had no real quarrels with Roboute or Leman or Sanguinius either. I regret not cultivating better friendships with some of them. Maybe I would have had help then. But it’s too late to dwell on that, and I won’t mourn it.”

“It must have gotten lonely though. And your brothers have some very odd names.”

In truth she doubted he would have been so lenient with her if he hadn’t been isolated for so long. On one hand it made her wonder if this would last very long. But on the other…he clearly did place some value in honor. 

“It did. Truthfully I am glad I met you. I doubt I would have gone to seek out anyone of my own volition. It is in my nature, but you have proven yourself good company.” He admitted. “And indeed, they do. But it is what Father called us.”

“Wait. You have a father? Why didn’t you go to him for help? Or are things strained between you and him as well?” She could believe it, with how long Ferrus seemed to be able to hold grudges.

“I didn’t wish to get him involved in what amounted to such a childish spat. I thought it would be easy enough for me to handle. It was, in the end. Even if it required me dirting my knuckles with Fulgrim’s filthy blood. But no. I have no quarrel with Father. He is strange, and distant at times, but he is not bad. To myself or any of my brothers.” 

“Fulgrim was the one being childish. But…maybe that’s why nobody else stepped in.”

“I asked!”

“I know.” She held up her hand. He let out a huffy snort and rested his head back on the sand. “But you said you’ve always been more of a loner. Maybe nobody was sure what to do. You being the way you were, and only really close with Fulgrim. Family spats are always ugly, and not fun to be in the middle of.”

He sighed. “You may have a point there. I suppose if any of them came and apologized I’d be willing to put things to rest. It’s funny, really. With one breath they would make fun of me, and with the next they would praise my work and ask me to make them things. I am not as thick skinned as I thought I was.”

“Or you just got tired of hearing the same thing over and over. I know I would.” She paused, thinking of a way to change the subject. “What did you make? Anything really special? My father makes things out of metal too. He’s a goldsmith. He’s been teaching me to do it too, since I’m the only one of my siblings who seems to have the talent for it.”

“Impressive.” He nodded in genuine approval. “I’ve made a few things like that too. Once Roboute was trying to woo an elven maiden. I made him a diadem to give to her.”

“Did it work?”

“She hadn’t left his side since the last time I saw him, so you tell me.” Ferrus said with a smug smile that looked very odd on a seal’s snout. “It would be nice to work a forge again.”

“Will you be sticking around long?” Maybe she could find a way to help him with that.”

“Aye. I found a decent little cavern in some of the large cliffs down that way.” He gestured with his tail. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving again. This is my home, and I missed it. So maybe I’ll be able to pick my craft back up. I’d like to see what you make as well.”

“Me?”

“Why not? I never thought I would have found such a kindred spirit with you.” He was very pleased with the prospect. It had been one of the reasons he and Vulkan got along so well. “Although it is a little unexpected. I didn’t think women usually took up that kind of thing in this part of the world.”

She shrugged. “Usually no, but Da doesn’t really care. He’s very proud of his work, and more than happy to have one of his children take after him. He’s always been well respected, and so casual about it that I don’t think anyone else really minds enough to make an issue. And it’s not like I don’t want to have my own family someday either. I just haven’t been approached by anyone I consider a good match. Besides, I enjoy the work.”

Or at least, anyone I could show my family. She thought, her mind wandering back to Ferrus’s human form. And it was pleasing to know she had something in common with the selkie.

“Is that why your hands are tattooed? Does it help you with your work?” She asked, remembering another question she’d wanted to ask.

“They do.”

She felt him shifting underneath, and she scooted forward so he could sit up, his sealskin around his shoulders as he shifted back to human. He offered her one of his massive hands so she could take a look. The only unmarked part of them were his fingernails, which were maybe a little bit too long but otherwise as pink as they were supposed to be. She took his hand between hers, studying the inked lines. There was an odd sensation of underlying power in them as she traced the knotwork with a finger. Amusing herself by picking out one line to follow.

“They’re beautiful. How did you get them?”

“Oh, it was a long time ago. I was much younger then. I suppose more adventurous than I am now. But they have proven their worth. And I like the way they look.”

“So do I.” Gena voiced her agreement. “They suit you very well.”

“Heh. Do they now?”

“They make you seem very fierce. Like a warrior.”

“I was, back in the day. All my brothers and I are, actually. There hasn’t been much fighting to do in a long time though. That seems to be all behind us. I can’t say I don’t miss it. And some of my best works were weapons.” The smugness returned. “I was the strongest of them, you know.”

“Oh I just bet you were.” She grinned up at him, taking his mild boastfulness as a jest. “Are you sure being the tallest also makes you the strongest?”

“I was!” He said with feigned offense. “Both of those, actually.”

“I can believe it. You’re such a big seal after all.”

“Oh hush up.”

But there were no teeth in his words. Just amusement. He really did seem more open today. More at ease. She would have been concerned that it was going a little fast, but he had been alone for so long. Whether he acknowledged it himself or not, he must have been at least a little lonely. And for the length of time he hinted at. Centuries, if she was reading it right. He must have been his own beast all right, because that much time alone would surely drive a mortal completely mad with isolation.

And she felt a small thrill as well. His first contact with anyone in centuries had been her, and he’d decided he liked her after a small conversation the day before. She realized that she had been granted a rather hard-to-earn thing, and was determined to make the best of it. She definitely liked him too. He was rough, sure, but there was warmth underneath it. Then of course, there was the mind bending realization that she had, by sheer luck, befriended a real selkie…

They had fallen into a comfortable silence after that, watching the waves. A few pelicans dove in, scooping up fish with their oversized beaks. Once a pod of dolphins had breached a ways away from the shore. She always loved to watch them. They were immensely graceful creatures. Although Ferrus seemed more than pleased to go over just how much faster he was in the water when she asked. Once there was a glint of greenish-blue in the water that made him narrow his silver eyes in suspicion, But he never elaborated on it, and the way his hackles had seemed to raise made her think better of asking. If there was real danger, he would have said something.

The time came for her to depart. As she stood brushing sand from her skirt, she turned to him. 

“Will I see you again tomorrow?”

Ferrus tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I will be here. But we should probably figure out an easier way of meeting up.”

“I’ll give it some thought.” She promised. “I doubt I'll be able to make excuses every day anyway. Much as I would like to. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to talk to someone like I have you.”

Maybe we were both hungering for companionship

“Agreed. This has been remarkably pleasant.” 

Putting it mildly on his end.

“Tomorrow then.” She gave him a bright smile then, and squeezed his hand before clambering back up the cliff. He rubbed his fingers together. Her hands did good work, but they were still so soft…

He stayed out long after she had departed again. But this time he wasn’t left alone. 

There was an odd prickle in his hands, erasing the warm feeling that Argena’s touch had left him with. A raven fluttered down, hopping on its skinny black legs over the sand. Ferrus’s head shot up, and he glared at it.

“Brother!” It-he-crawked at him. “It has been a while.”

“Has it?” His voice was dripping icicles.

In a moment, in the bird’s place was a tall, pale young man with long black hair and glittering black eyes. He was draped in dusty black traveling robes and a cloak, and in his right hand he held a plain wooden staff. 

“What do you want?”

“Oh don’t be like that. You haven’t been seen in centuries. It was pure luck I caught sight of you. I wanted to know how you’ve been.” Corvus said, his tone mollifying.

“As you can see, I’m just fine. You’d better not start spying on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I can see that temper of yours is still as hot as ever.” 

“Indeed, it is.” He hissed. “How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough to see the young lady, if that’s what you were wondering about.”

“If you-”

“I won’t! Ferrus, come now. You know I’m not like that. I only came here out of brotherly concern, nothing more. Father is concerned. So are many of the others. I will tell them you’re alright, and nothing more. Does that sound good to you?”

“No.” Ferrus snapped. “I would prefer if you said nothing at all. You remember what I said before I left?” “I do. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you felt you needed to go to such extreme measures.” Corvus confirmed. “Fine, fine. I won’t say anything unless I’m asked.”

“I suppose that’s the best I can get from you. Storing pieces of information like a dragon hoarding gold. Why can’t you like shiny things like a real raven?”

“It is what I do best. And I do, actually. I just like my shiny things to be of high quality.” He said with a razor grin. “Would you-” “NO!” “I jest, brother.”

“Of course you do. Now get out of here before I actually lose my temper!” “I’m going, I’m going!” He squawked indignantly, before returning to bird form and flapping off with indecent haste.

Ferrus sighed. Seems things might not remain so quiet. Then he cured himself, realizing belatedly he’d forgotten to sing for her. Damn it all. Next time, then.

[halcyonwrld]

— SATIN RIBBONS

PAIRING. Park Chaeyoung/Rosé x Reader

Your morning routine is simple, peaceful. A quiet moment away from the drivel in the real world that inevitably awaits you. All it takes is one incidental encounter with the princess and her hyper puppy for things to change completely. (2K)

NOWPLAYING. Amy - Alexandre Desplat

TAGS. royal!au, mutual pining but roseanne is an obvious dork, self-indulgent fluff, typical helpless dog owner shenanigans, ft. lisa as roseanne’s personal maid who definitely needs a break

There is no better view than this one here, you decide.

Spring mornings are calm, quiet, and soft in every way. Standing in the gazebo as you do every morning, you look out into the pink and violet sky.

Just beyond the castle, a thick fog muddles the outline of the surrounding walls. The sun is so orange it looks to be drawn by a child. That saffron orange light gives a soft, dreamlike glow to everything in its reach.

Petrichor permeates the cool air. Dew from lastnights downpour slinks from the trees, coming down like drizzle in the gentle winds. Cattails along the rivers edge sway. Though the geese scattered along it remain unperturbed, suspended in time.

(That ethereal, rich light falls upon them in such a way that makes you wish you’d been a painter instead of a florist, if only to immortalize this moment forever.)

All you can do is appreciate it for what it is.

Opening the pouch on your hip, you take a handful of the birdseed inside, and toss them out into the river. Used to this routine, hardly any of the geese startle, simply drifting closer to eat.

Might as well join them.

You split open a golden-crusted loaf and lather on a thin layer of melted butter, mouth already salivating just from looking at the platter before you.

Birdsong whistles overhead as you set down your cutlery on the empty side of the dish.

You toss a bit more seeds into the river. They dapple the shimmering water, creating ripples that look like fully bloomed roses.

You’re about to gather your things and take a seat when you hear noise from below the gazebo, moving fast. The source doesn’t take long at all to reveal themselves. Hank skips up the stairs with a few excited barks. The terrier is nothing but a white and brown blur charging toward you, nails clicking all the way.

You smile as he reaches your feet, wanting to lean down to pet the pup but deciding against it. You still have to eat, and you’d rather not have a mouth full of dog hairs… no matter how cute said dog is at the moment.

“Hello to you too,” you mutter fondly.

Hank yips enthusiastically in return, spinning himself dizzy around your feet.

A few of the geese startle at the ruckus, lifting off from the foot of the gazebo and settling back closer to the empty bridge.

You shush the canine nonsensically, only seeming to make his frenzy worse. His wet snout tickles your ankles. Searching. You shake your head in amusement when he seems to settle just enough to look up at you with those expectant, glittering eyes.

“Sit still, boy..”

Hank obliges without you needing to ask twice, though his tail thumping against the mahongany planks doesn’t quite seem to get the memo. The puppy stares up at you with big guileless eyes and a panting smile that tells you he's never had to beg for a thing in his life.

You give in with a long, dramatic sigh, and a defeated fine you win. You rip off a small chunk of sausage from your platter to share with the canine. “Spoiled little thing, aren’t you? Always causing trouble these days..” 

Hank takes it gently between his crooked teeth, and it’s only after you’ve pulled away to eat some yourself do you realize you’re a part of the problem as much as anyone else. Spoiled mouths hardly ever feed themselves.

Hardwood creaks as someone else steps into the gazebo, causing you to turn.

You both pause as soon as you lock eyes, dumbstruck by each other’s presence.

Princess Roseanne.

The woman looks absolutely radiant in the morning sun. Light frames her soft edges. She’s like a walking daydream. Closer to angel, than mortal. Pink hair rollers wrapped in her blonde locks. Nose tinted pink. Satin bunched between her pale fingers to hold up the frills of her nightgown. Robe falling off of one of her sun-kissed shoulders.

You think you’d do anything she’d asked of you, if only to forever bask in the fond recognition that overcomes her face after her shock settles.

“Morning, your highness,” you greet, slightly bowing in courtesy.

Her smile falters. She gives you a look.

It takes you a moment to understand, but when you do, you immediately bow again in apology, face becoming far too hot for so early in the day. “Sorry sorry, still a habit.”

You straighten up and try again, “Good morning, Rosie. Lovely to see you out bright and early on such a beautiful day.”

Roseanne smiles, and just like that, all is forgiven. “It’s nice to see you too, petal.”

She finally takes in the scene. The full plate and mug on the railing, Hank sitting patiently at your feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a pant.

“Here he is… thought I’d heard him making a fuss over here! I’m so sorry about him, he has a frantic mind of his own in the mornings, I swear." She briefly bends to smooth down the wild fur around his eyes with an exasperated look, "One second he’s playing with the butterflies and next thing I know he’s halfway to the bridge…”

“He’s just lucky he’s as cute as his owner,” you say unthinkingly. There's little time to retract the statement because the moment Roseanne looks down —unable to hide behind the curtains of her hair like she tends to— you know you've said something right.

She turns away, but you catch the reddening apples of her cheeks before she can get too far. An overwhelming amount of fondness blooms across your chest.

You’re still biting back a smile when her stomach grumbles.

“Want to share?”

Roseanne looks over, still flustered from your last comment. You offer a good chunk of your loaf. The tension eases as she gives you a grateful smile.

Finally, you take a bite of your own food, buttery goodness melting on your tongue.

“So, have you—”

“Is this why—”

You both stop short, glancing at each other with secret smiles.

“You first,” she says, beating you to it.

You hum thoughtfully, picking up your mug filled to the brim with fresh spring water. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Ah, no.” She confirms your suspicions as you take a long swig, covering her mouth to speak around her bread. You give her a stern look, making her laugh. “Your concern is sweet, but I was planning to, swear! Hankie has been sick for the past few days and he finally wanted some fresh air, couldn’t pass up the opportunity, you know?”

“I see..” you murmur. “In any case, I’m glad he’s feeling better then. And please have a real meal after you’re back inside the castle. Picking berries off of my plate surely can't be fulfilling in any sense.”

Her blush deepens at being caught red-handed, but you just laugh, lightly bumping your shoulders together. “Now, your turn."

“Ah- this,” she gestures to your setup along the gazebo railing, a hint of mirth in her tone, “is why I’ve never seen you during breakfast? You’re out and about making friends with the local wildlife?”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Nothing like that, no. Just… another one of those habits I can’t seem to shake, I suppose you could say.” You look over the railing into the water. A few geese glide across the river in search of birdseed. “I don’t garden for the mere motivation of wage. Nature is just where I’ve always felt most at peace. And so, my days tend to be far more productive the sooner I can get outside and simply,,, take a moment to breathe.”

When you look over, Roseanne stares at you like you’ve just given the most interesting spiel in the entire universe, with that fond quirk to her lips.

You offer a nervous smile in return, “If I may ask… why the inquiry? Has someone asked for me?”

The princess looks away to tear off another chunk of her bread, meek as she is hopeful when she asks, “Does it count if I’m asking you now?”

You can’t help the way your smile widens, finding her madly endearing. “I suppose so, princess."

Roseanne doesn't quite fluster this time, but you swear you've never seen her face so red since the first time you introduced yourself to her.

(She'd kissed your knuckles like you were more than the head of gardening staff, said your dedication in the months you'd been serving had really shown… then minutes later she tumbled into a roseberry bush full of thorns. That was how you met Lisa, too, who couldn't hold her giggles when you retold the story while plucking the twigs out of her hair.)

Roseanne even opens her mouth to retort, but is stopped by a shrill voice in the distance.

It takes another few times for either of you to realize it’s nothing dangerous, and that they’re calling for the princess herself.

Who rubs the back of her nape with a sheepish smile, “Ah right, I’m not supposed to be out here quite yet..”

One look at her attire —feet bare and draped in delicates— and surely anyone could’ve guessed that.

You notice movement on the bridge.

Not even a few moments later, Roseanne’s name rings into the air, clearer than ever.

“I take it that’s your maiden?” you ask knowingly, failing to keep your laughter out of your words. Lisa has never been known for her subtlety.

Roseanne blanches, “Shoot.”

In a rush, she gathers up her satin drapes all over again, pink pins wobbling atop her head but no worse for wear when she stops abruptly in her departure, spinning to face you once more. “I won’t ask you to stifle away in the castle… but maybe, we could come back tomorrow?” she asks, smile shy, eyes glittering.

You open your mouth, but she cuts you off.

“If it's okay with you, of course,” she tacks on as an afterthought, genuine as ever for someone of her status. You tilt your head, as if there was ever really anything to think over. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Roseanne smiles as bright as the sun, blinding you with her beauty.

You're only pulled out of your daze by the clink of cultery, and you by the time you realize what she's doing, she's already got your empty mug and platter in hand.

You frown, stepping forward. "Oh no, I couldn't ask you to-"

She steps back. Brandishes another one of those disarming grins that makes your heart flutter. "Please, we're headed back to the castle anyway. No need for you to waste your energy on a second trip back over the bridge."

You sigh.

"Fine… but, next time I'll walk with you. Alright?"

Roseanne nods, smile seeming to widen if anything.

“Come on, boy, we have to go now." Hank perks up at the tone shift, happy to finally be addressed. “Say bye Hankie!"

Hank barks as if he really understands the princess, making you chuckle.

You wave them off, watching them leave the gazebo.

Roseanne meets her maiden halfway. Lisa promptly snags an arm around her shoulders, mouth running a mile a minute as she tells the princess off, equal parts exasperated as she is playful. Hank zips toward the bridge. You catch word about Roseanne’s lack of shoewear, her bundled hair, and… a patch of dandelions?

You can't make out much more as they get too far out. But you were sure you'd figure it out eventually, as it was literally your job to oversee all of the plant life around here.

Oh well, nothing to fuss over as of now.

You toss the last of your birdseed, and the geese are eager to reform back near you with Hank's ruckus. The princess and her maiden follow the cobblestone path back down the river. Their figures become smaller and smaller amongst the green grass and the pink, hazy sky.

Just a little before they reach the bridge, Roseanne looks back, and you both share one last secret smile.

[kae-eee]

charming sibling yap session bc im obsessed

apple forced daring to have playground weddings with her but she never let it get to the kiss

she said that that part should be saved for when he wakes her up

i think raven has had at least a little crush on darling sometime before dexter

darling absolutely had a crush on cerise

i also think darling may have romanticized the idea of apple but never did really like her

daring and rosabella qpr??

i understand him as aroace but her as straight so is that a thing she can do? idk

heres where the real yapping starts

darling really and truly resented her brothers at some level for such a long time

daring much more so than dexter

imagine living your whole life watching two brothers constantly being trained for everything that you want to do and be in life

one of them, your twin who you share everything but a “purpose” with, doesn’t even want it

you’d probably give anything to take his generic prince charming destiny

he’d probably like to switch with you too.

it’s not his fault and you would never hate him for it, but it’s gotta hurt.

your other brother seems to really love his destiny of saving princesses and slaying dragons, and being the most handsome prince in ever after, mostly because he loves himself and that’s all he really is

he couldn’t give a shit about loving or caring for his princess, but you would.

you would pick flowers for your princess, sing her songs and fight for her honor, not just your own

you would be a better prince than he could ever be

you really can’t hate him for that either, he was born into it and you weren’t, it’s not his fault.

when it’s time for his destiny to play out you sit back and watch and still kind of wish it was you even though you’ve found a purpose in being the white knight

blah blah blah dappling kiss goes on

now it’s his turn to resent you and wish he was you because you took his purpose, his destiny, really his life away

but it’s not your fault either.

end of that spiel

not a single one of them is cisgender i just know it

i don’t think that darling really has any feelings for apple

my reason behind this is that huntlynn are clearly in love, but they aren’t destined true lovers

so clearly your destined true love and your hearts desires don’t have to agree

anyway the destiny system is bullshit and im an applebeauty/darling x anyone else really truther

maybe dexters destiny was prince siegfried

i know the go to fandom headcannon is that he’s ashlynns prince but i feel like siegfried fits him more

correct me if im wrong ive never read swan lake

i really love a good transfemme daring headcannon

once someone tagged my post saying we should call her dearest or something else i cant remember but it was cute as hell

but just think about transfemme dating seriously for a second

daring canonically has so little identity outside of being snow whites prince charming

she has insane expectations placed on her to be the bravest, kindest, most handsome prince in ever after

shes obsessed with mirrors

but deep down she really does hate how she looks

after epic winter i think she would start to figure herself out and even post transition she wouldn’t let herself become that vain again

i sort of think dexter would be into dancing

he has fully recorded and edited videos of him doing a dance routine but is too scared to post it

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 18 (Spanking)

Kink: Spanking

Pairing: Fem!Werewolf x GN!Reader

Other Kinks: Slight Masochism, Dom/Sub vibes, Pet Names

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1137 words

Kinktober Masterlist

Adeline kicks the door closed behind her, shaking out the dew drops of rain on her fur. With the rainstorm coming as quick as it did, she was lucky she wasn’t soaked to the bone. Even in her shifted form, which she often used when she was chopping wood, she had barely reached her front porch when the rain came pissing down, just enough to dapple her flannel and mist her coat. Seems she’d have to finish chopping later.

She’s in the middle of shrugging off her thick jacket when her nose catches the scent of something, something odd. Not the fresh dinner in the oven, which you were often cooking this time of the day. Not even the candle you left lit on the window sill, slowly burning to the edge.

No, this is a smell she’s well acquainted with.

“Hi sweetie!” You run around the corner, voice as sweet as sugar. Your hair is slightly disheveled, the top button of your pants forgotten in a hasty move. Your eyes dart all over the place. “D-did the rain get you?”

Adeline smirks, letting her flannel drop to the ground, leaving her in a white tank and working pants.

“Nope.” She pops her ‘p’, eyes rolling up and down your body. “Came back just in time. Though it seems I interrupted something.”

You rub the back of your neck, giggling uncomfortably. “I'm not sure what you mean-”

“Oh, honey.” Adeline strides over, heavy boots clanking on the hardwood. “You know you can’t lie to me. I can hear that little heart racing.” It only takes four strides for her to be chest-to-chest with you, cornering you against the wall. You gulp as you look up at her. “I can smell you, baby. Now, tell me,” Adeline runs a claw up your jaw, admiring the way your throat bobs, the way the blood pumps across your pulse, “were you touching yourself while I was away?”

Adeline presses her hand against the wall, boxing you in further. Your eyes dance all around, trying your best to obfuscate, despite its futility.

“...Yes.” You whisper.

“What was that?” Adeline chides, a big smirk showing off all her pearly white canines. She could hear you perfectly, you know that, but she likes to toy with you.

“Yes,” You say, looking at her from underneath your eyelids, “I was…touching myself.”

Adeline shakes her head, kissing her teeth. That claw rails down your neck, now drawing circles around your clavicle.

“Little lamb, you know that ain’t allowed.” Adeline tips your jaw up, admiring your flared nostrils and your blown-wide eyes. “Is my lamb a rule breaker?”

“...Yes.” You whisper again, a hesitant tone to your voice, knowing you’ve been outmaneuvered.

“That’s a shame.” Adeline sighs, now resting her elbow against the wall, boxing you in even more. Enough that you can smell the faint pine on her fur, feel it brushing against you. “Because I have to punish rulebreakers. Even cute ones like you, lamb-chop.”

That gentle claw switches retracts, quickly replaced by a hard grip around your neck. You gasp, hands grabbing at her massive paw instinctually.

Adeline yanks you forward, dragging you with her to the couch. She sits down, throwing you across her legs in one fluid motion. She can hear your heart pounding in your chest, nearly skipping a beat as she digs her hand under the waist of your jeans and yanking them down. She stops once they reach your middle thigh, giving her just enough access.

“Do you know what to do, little lamb?”

“Y-yes ma’am.” You stutter out, keeping your voice loud so you don’t get punished anymore. Adeline hates it when you mumble. “I gotta count out the hits.”

“And what happens if you mess up?”

“We start over, ma’am.”

“Good, good.” Adeline rubs her palm across the fat of your ass, loving the trails of goosebumps she leaves. “Seems my lamb remembers some rules after all.’

You nod, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and setting it under your chin. Adeline allows you that as a comfort. She’s not cruel.

“Let's start, lamb chop.”

Adeline slowly reels her hand, giving only a fraction of her strength for the first hit. It’s enough to make you yelp, to make your ass jiggle and send your hips forward.

“O-one.” Your voice is already breathy, moans getting caught up in your throat. This is a punishment, you’re not supposed to like it. Adeline would chide you for that.

Adeline slaps again, still restraining herself, the soft skin already beginning to darken into a large handprint.

“Two.” You choke out.

Adeline smirks, seeing you dig your fingers into the couch cover. You always start off so obstinate, so quiet, trying to be good.

She likes seeing you come undone.

So she reels back and gives you three quick successive slaps to the same cheek.

“Three, four, five!”

You fight the urge to bite onto the pillow, knowing you need to keep talking.

“Good, little lamb.” Adeline slaps your other cheek, harder than the others, getting a squeaky “Six!” from you. “I might make a rule follower out of you yet.”

She slaps three more times, alternating which cheek and keeping it slow, lulling you into a false sense of security. If Adeline's nose didn’t tell her already, she could see how horny you were getting. Your hips have started to wiggle after each hit, breath coming out in pants as pheromones leak out of every pore.

Such a slut for me.

Adeline thinks to herself, licking her chops at the thought of ravaging you after dinner. Getting you all riled up, then making you wait for it. Seeing your desperate face, biting your lips as you wait for her to finish.

Maybe she’s a bit of a slut for you too.

“Only one more.” Adeline says, rubbing your lower back. “You’ve been good, so far.”

Adeline reels back again, nice and slow, deciding to use about 50% strength for this spank. The impact has you whining, halfway to a shout.

“Ten! Ten!” Your hips shift again, thighs rubbing together at an attempt to chase your high.

Instead you find a warm hand between your legs, cupping your sex. You gasp.

“Ma’am?” You look back, seeing Adelines tongues lolled out of her math, taking a deep sniff as she begins palming your crotch. You voice is caught in a moan, but you can still make out a “What are you-”

“Fuck it.” Adeline growls, sitting up and grabbing you by the hips to throw you over her shoulder. You squeak, her broad shoulders digging into your stomach. She stomps over to your bedroom, completely bypassing the kitchen. She rubs gently into your sore ass.

“Screw dinner, I’m hungry now.”

A small smile comes across your face, trying not to vibrate with giddy.

[tinydancerandthemoonchild]

Alright guys, we're starting this up again! I know it's been a while, but I'll break down where we are so that we're not in some weird sort of limbo.

- We're timeskipping to the Snowlight Festival. This is a holiday shared by all the kingdoms- it's essentially Christmas, and it's a whole month long, celebrating some of the gods (god lore will be dropped at a later date when it's finalized, I'm still cooking on that) and a time of showing your care for loved ones with gifts (fantasy santa lore is also still cooking). There are other festivals during this time that vary between kingdoms- the moon kingdom, for example, has the Snowmoon Festival, which takes place a bit earlier and overlaps with the first bit of the Snowlight Festival. Due to this timeskip, Pri is about 7 months pregnant- the announcement was made at around 4-5 months with Leo officially telling his brothers at around 1½ months (as for when Pri made her announcement to her siblings, you'll need to ask her mod). It was revealed that Pri is pregnant with quadruplets, and Leo helped with the nursery, and aside from some of his duties, is almost never away from Pri's side. - With still far too little information on the people who took Asmodeus, Michaelangelo has taken on the responsibility of assisting in rehabilitating her. She's still rather uncomfortable in her life as a princess, but has started warming up to her siblings. She has also met Leo and Donnie, attacked Michaelangelo exactly once due to a flare-up from the traces of the "medicine" that was forced upon her at the facility, and he has been gentle with her, causing even greater confusion as to why his brothers are terrified of him that is chalked up to a fear of the unknown and rather little time for them to hang around each other. Asmodeus later met Raph, and she is still rather uncomfortable with all of them, but is civil (for being Asmodeus, at least) and tolerates them. Michaelangelo states that they should not have been able to obtain the flower required for the "medicine", as it is in a place only his kingdom can reach, and has stated it is partially his responsibility due to this, as well as stating that such a thing is illegal and once the perpetrators have been caught, he will ensure they are punished accordingly. - After the crossover event, Asmodeus has Roxy's number and likes to text her, still clearly having a thing for the wolf from another universe. Leo and Donnie still have Freddy's number, Leo having Monty's, and they tend to keep in touch when they have the chance. Asmodeus also has Moon's number, as she found him slightly comforting, and has figured out when to message to reach him. As for what happened to the older cat animatronic, she's... around. The pizzaplex is not the main focus of this blog, but Pencil willing I'll happily send in anons on a blog of their choosing for people to check in. As for what happened to the children that appeared on the glammed-celestials blog, that blog was unfortunately deleted, so I cannot review what occurred, but unless Pencil would like to redo it now, they have presumably been adopted by Leo and Pri (if my memory stands correctly, that is). Freddy is still a Lord of the Sun Kingdom. - We are adding a few more characters to the roster! We have Churro, a cute young woman who's design was directly inspired from the food. She's from the Star Kingdom and has light brown skin with long white hair and short sideswept bangs, along with a set of darker brown freckles and white freckles, making the pattern of dappled light on her skin like a fawn's coat, looking as though it could be a map of the stars under all those clothes. She has white eyelashes and irises, with her pupils looking as though they contain nebulas of the sky and her hair glittering as though they, too, contain the stars. She works at a Taco John's with coworkers who almost all speak a language from one of the Lesser Kingdoms- which, seeing as she has a grand total of two braincells at the most, she obviously doesn't understand. As of recently, she's also been wearing a beautiful comb in her hair whenever in public that has a design of vanilla flowers engraved in it.

[duckapus]

A few Project Thunder prep ficlet ideas:

Ash is gathering up his Pokemon (all his Pokemon, though since this is just starting he hasn't had time to retrieve the ones that don't live in specific spots like Oak's Ranch, Kukui's house or that one reserve Goodra lives on) to set up training for the rescue mission (because he's bringing everyone. all his Pokemon, all his old companions and allies, actually cashing in old favors and making use of his titles, the works), and notices that Squirtle isn't there. Snivy mentions that he went through one of the Hyperlink Gates with the Squirtle Squad a few days ago saying something about his expertise being needed elsewhere. Then Laharl calls to complain that Ash's crazy turtle got a bunch of his vassals hooked on some weird anime. Cut the Squirtles and Flonne doing code-proofing refits on Mecha-Flonne (yes, Flonne canonically has her own giant robot) and upgrading its arsenal in the process. Flonne questions whether the number of drill-based weapons they're adding is a bit overkill... and then she and the Squirtles laugh a few seconds later and keep going.

We get Peach checking on the progress of the Meme Alliance's Codeship fleet. We find out that they're using Battlerock Galaxy as a shipyard (they're making a bunch of huge spaceships, there's no room for that on the ground), and that most of the ships that are actually new instead of just refits look a lot like boats (that's mainly due to the Koopa Troop being heavily involved due to having some experience with this sort of thing what with all the airships. You ask Koopas to make a flying machine the size of a building that isn't a plane, you're gonna get a boat). She's informed that most of the fleet's construction is proceeding on schedule. Something called the Jubilation has apparently hit a few snags, but they were already weeks ahead of schedule, and considering it's apparently a Phineas and Ferb project they figure the problems won't take long to deal with. We also get a glimpse of just what the Jubilation is, because in the background we see a half-completed mushroom-shaped space station that dwarfs every other ship in the yard.

Dapple runs into Tonio while helping with the refugees in Game Dreamland, because apparently he's been an oc this whole time. Also, he notes that her fur is slightly singed and all she says about it is that she picked a fight with a thunderstorm. And won.

Cursor goes to the Snake-Eyes Casino because apparently she and Roulette knew each other back when Roulette was still a Moderator and Cursor was still Algorithm (they even call each other Roulz and Al [THAT IS AL NOT AI!], it's cute) since as the Admin of a pleasure server Roulette and her employees hear a lot of internet gossip, so she might have a lead on the CCC servers. And good news, she's heard about some unusual activity over in L33T territory! (leading into that one Doctor Who quote with Blotch) And once they're out of sight and earshot from each-other we're reminded that they are on opposite sides (though they don't know it yet) and very good at what they do. Because Cursor pulls out a silver scale she found sticking out between some seat cushions and makes a note that he was at the Casino at some point, while Roulette tasks her Moderators, Cloak (who is a disembodied white hooded cloak) and Dagger (a very pointy vaguely humanoid array of iridescent black polygons) to learn whatever they can of Admonspace's current situation, and to keep their "VIPs" informed.

[tommymllrr]

coffee shop cowboy [ch. 1]

agent whiskey x barista!reader (coffee shop!au)

summary: if you were being honest, you’d had an absolute garbage day. up until the moment he strode through the front door of the cute little café that you worked at in those stupid cowboy boots.

rating: Explicit, 18+ (MINORS DNI)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: none for this chapter besides some swearing

notes: as someone who works in a coffee shop, i wanted to make a fic that catered specifically for me okay. reader is afab, but no pronouns or gendered terms are used so it can be read as gender-neutral. also i'm not super active here so find me on twitter if you're interested in seeing me talk about my upcoming fanfics and talk about pedro pascal and oscar isaac. :-)

chapter 2 on tumblr // read fic on ao3

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

If you were being honest, you’d had an absolute garbage day up until the moment he strode through the front door of your job in those stupid cowboy boots.

Well, in reality, you weren’t even supposed to be at the café. It was Monday, which meant you should have had the day off to relax after working long shifts all weekend. But no. You had decided to do your coworker, Mara, a favor by picking up her shift. All of a sudden, she was frantically texting you at 11:36pm that she had a “dentist appointment” she had forgotten about when you knew deep down in your bones that she was out late with her friends getting plastered downtown. So, being the people-pleaser you were (and needing the money), you dragged your ass out of bed and drove to work while the sun was still waiting for the moon to run its course through the sky to sling coffee and overpriced lattes to customers for eight hours. You knew Mondays were slow, so you hoped you had an easy day ahead of you as you unlocked the front doors for the day.

Nope. Everything went downhill about an hour into your day. Your coworker for the day showed up for their shift and took over barista duties, meaning you were to be the friendly face customers saw when they came in and placed their order. Which normally would have been fine. But you guessed everyone had woken up with a stick in their ass that particular morning because almost everyone was either rude, condescending, or obnoxious. You could count on two hands the number of people that had come up to you to complain that their drink tasted burnt or that it was too sweet or too bitter and demanded a remake, a refund, or both. You were sick of it and on the verge of having a breakdown.

And then he came in.

He stood in the middle of the café for a brief moment of time, looking around at the various folks scattered among the dining room working on their laptops or chatting among themselves while enjoying their drink of choice. He may have still been wearing the pair of aviator sunglasses he’d walked in wearing so you couldn’t be certain, but, by the way he was facing, you knew that his eyes had settled on looking at you. The man sauntered his way up to your counter and oh god he was gorgeous. 

Once in front of you and the cash register, he slid the aviators off of his face and perched them along the rim of the black cowboy hat he was currently wearing. He looked up at the menu for a moment, squinting his dark brown eyes as he tried to read the small lettering on the boards that hung above your head. While distracted, you took the opportunity to take him all in. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a plain white T-shirt underneath and blue jeans and had an impressive mustache on his upper lip. His chin was dappled with a beard that was patchy in a couple of places and graying a little. But the thing that caught your eye the most was his belt buckle. It was a small silver flask with the logo for Statesman Whiskey on it and you wondered if it was a gift of some kind or if he had actual connections to the distillery. (You, actually, currently had a bottle of said whiskey among your very poor selection of alcohol at home - it had been an expensive gift from a close friend so you usually saved it for special occasions and days when you had a really bad shift at work.)

Finally, he spoke up, looking down at you with a frown.

“Do y’all just serve plain coffee? None of this fancy latte shit?” he asked, his hand waving vaguely to the menu board. God, he even had a Southern accent. Being in upstate New York, you didn’t hear Southern accents often if at all. But man. You would definitely let this man read you the most boring piece of literature, his words dripping like honey off of his lips as he drawls on and on.

“Uh, yeah, I, um, just started a fresh pot a few minutes ago. It’s our featured roast, um, a dark roast with notes of chocolate and caramel and citrus,” you rambled. And he was just staring at you with his rich, brown eyes and made you feel so incredibly small. “If you, uh, like dark roast coffees, you’ll like it. It’s good. We also have a medium roast available. Or, um, we also have cold brew and straight espresso shots that we can do hot or over ice. You, um, don’t have to order a latte.” You really wished the earth would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Would be a lot better than having to deal with embarrassing yourself in front of the really hot guy in front of you because he most likely did not care a single bit about what you just said.

The cowboy blinked at you a few times, not saying a single word, and it made a wave of anxiety crash over you. And then he chuckled and flashed you a smile. “Well now,” he drawled. “Sure do have a lotta options. I’ll try a large cup of that dark roast you mentioned. No room for cream. I’ll take it black.”

“Um, sure. Yeah. What, uh, name should I put the order under?” you asked. If you were being honest, you technically didn’t need his name for the order. You were the one that poured the coffee - the fifteen-gallon containers you brewed coffee into were literally less than five feet behind you - and the tickets for them didn’t even show up on the screen over at the barista station. It was only because your curiosity was getting to you. Even if you never saw him again after today, you had to know his name (especially since you had a feeling that you’d be thinking about him for at least a few days).

“Just… put it under Whiskey,” he replied with a smirk. 

Whiskey, you thought. Your eyes flashed back down to his belt buckle. There’s no way that’s his real name. And yet, it fits him.

You poured the dark roast from the brewing container behind you into a large to-go cup with a coffee sleeve over it. Your fingers brushed along his when you handed him the cup and it took all your strength to not drop the drink. You retracted your hand, shoved it deep into the pocket of the hoodie you were wearing over your apron. Whiskey nodded his head to you slightly as a sign of thanks and took a sip from his drink. 

“Mmm,” he sighed after he was done drinking. You exhaled the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “That’s one damn good cup of coffee. I think I found my new fix.” He winked at you, immediately feeling yourself blush like an idiot.

“G-Glad you liked it,” you managed to sputter out. “Um, our pastries are also really good. If you, um, like that kind of thing. I eat them all the time.” You shifted your gaze to the pile of scones, muffins, croissants, and other baked goodies that had been sitting in the space next to the register since you set them out before you’d opened. Whiskey’s eyes roved over the selection that was left before pointing at the last butter croissant you had left for the day.

“I’ll take that last croissant with me too,” he said finally. “Looks too good to pass up.” You nodded and used a sheet of wax paper to slip it into a pastry bag with the café’s logo on it. The pastry and coffee came out to just over six dollars and when you told Whiskey, he sat down his coffee to fish his wallet out of the back pocket of his blue jeans. He pulled out a worn-looking leather wallet that was covered in scuff marks and a dark-colored stain. When Whiskey opened it and started rifling through the cash he had on him, you immediately saw that he had a few hundred dollar bills in there. You tried not to let your eyes pop out of your head at the sight. Where the fuck did he get that kind of money? While your mind raced, Whiskey handed you a twenty dollar bill with a grin and told you, “Keep the change.”

The thoughts in your brain came to a screeching halt. You blinked at him, mouth open just slightly in shock.

“Wh- Huh?”

Real fuckin’ eloquent there, dumbass.

Whiskey just chuckled and repeated, “Keep the change.” He leaned into you a little, invading your personal bubble, but it only made you blush even harder. “As thanks for helpin’ me out and bein’ so informative.” Whiskey’s eyes cut over to look at your coworker who was currently making someone’s drink and had her back turned to you. You immediately cashed out his order and hastily shoved the remaining bills and coins into the front pocket of your apron.

“Um, Jesus Christ, thanks, man,” you blurted out. “I, um, really appreciate it.” 

“You’re welcome, darlin’,” he replied and you felt butterflies burst through your stomach. This man was trying to kill you. He’d been sent specifically to murder you where you stood. “Well, I gotta head out. Have a good day now.” And with that, the cowboy who had just tipped you more than anyone had tipped you in the seven months you’d been working at the coffee shop exited the building. 

You were a little embarrassed to say how smitten you were with him. 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

About a month and a half had passed since Whiskey made his appearance at the little coffee shop you worked at and, since then, he’d been at least twice, sometimes even three times, a week ever since. You usually worked the register during your shifts, very rarely stepping away to work barista duties, so you were the one to always help him when he came in. (A bonus to this was the fact that Whiskey liked to slide you a couple extra dollars to keep for yourself in addition to the ones he put into the communal tip jar.)

You hadn’t meant to develop a crush on him. You had told yourself that, after your last relationship ended poorly, you weren’t looking for another one any time soon. But when Whiskey was so fucking handsome and he was always so charming and quick-witted and called you things like “darling” and “sugar”, his usual terms of endearment toward you that got under your skin in the best way possible, you couldn’t help but fall for him.

After the first few times that Whiskey had come in, when he’d reached the status of being a regular, you’d convinced him to branch out to try new drinks that weren't the large cup of dark roast coffee that he’d been ordering. One day, he’d come in looking like he hadn’t slept in days and you offered him just straight espresso shots poured into a cup. 

“That sounds like exactly what I need right now, darlin’,” he grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Gimme as many as you’ll allow in a large cup over some ice, if you would. Already feelin’ like death warmed over, can’t stand the idea of somethin’ hot right now.” Not wanting to disappoint Whiskey, you’d ended up filling the cup with roughly six shots, which you were sure should be illegal somehow, and handing it over to him. But he’d slid you a twenty dollar bill for his seven dollar drink and told you to keep the change, like he always did when you served him. The very generous tip was nice, but you were still a tad bit concerned that his heart would explode from the amount of caffeine you’d served. Once the drink was safely in Whiskey’s hands, he’d taken a big gulp out of his straw, draining about a quarter of the cup in one sip. A wide grin had spread across his face when he’d stopped.

“Thanks, sugar. Already feel more like a human again,” he had drawled in that accent you couldn’t get enough of. You laughed and told him you felt the same way after having your coffee for the day too, especially during your shifts when you had to be there before sunrise to open the café. You two had chatted for another minute before he said he had some business to attend to and had to leave and you’d told him to have a good day with a genuine grin on your face.

Your biggest accomplishment, however, came when you had managed to talk him into trying one of the lattes on your menu and you had even been the one to make it for him. He’d told you early on that he didn’t like milk and had grimaced over the idea of ruining the bold, bitter flavor of coffee or espresso. You swore up and down that lattes were really good and promised to make something you were sure he’d enjoy. Whiskey had squinted his eyes at you, a skeptical look on his face, but he eventually relented and told you, “Alright, darlin’. If I hate it, you can have the rest. Free drink on me.” You’d quickly shooed your coworker Noah out of the way and told him to take over the register so you could make this drink.

Eventually, you’d settled on making him a latte with an extra espresso shot - a little on the bitter side and highly caffeinated, just how Whiskey liked it - and added in a couple pumps of your café’s cinnamon and vanilla syrups. You finished it up and handed it to Whiskey, who had been watching you make his drink behind the bar. He put the cup up to his lips and took a sip. And then immediately took another sip. And another. You were sure your grin was so wide, it was going to hurt your face.

“Alright. Maybe you’ve got something there,” he huffed out and you did a little victory dance internally. If you could make Whiskey like something out of his comfort zone, maybe you weren’t as shit at making drinks as your anxious brain had told yourself time and time again.

It was a couple days later right as you were just about to clock out for your thirty minute break when Whiskey walked up to the counter. Your apron was already off and you had a chocolate croissant set aside and ready to be devoured while you scrolled Twitter, but, for Whiskey, you’d make an exception.

“Hey, sugar, can I get my usual large dark roast today?” he asked, already reaching for his wallet. You turned around and poured the coffee into a to-go cup. Sitting it down on the counter in front of Whiskey, he handed you a twenty.

“Not another latte?” you fired back, teasing, as you counted out his change. He rolled his eyes at you, but he was smiling. “Also, I was just about to go on break and leave you to my coworkers, but you’re my favorite so I had to make sure I got your order before I clocked out.”

Whiskey’s face changed, his brows rising toward his hairline, taken aback by your admission. A shit-eating grin replaced the shocked expression a split second later.

“Oh, I’m your favorite now, am I?” He leaned on the counter, got slightly into your personal space like he did sometimes, and it made your face flush even more than it already was.

Shit. You honestly hadn’t meant to say that out loud, well, it was what you thought if you were being honest, but you had meant to keep that fact a secret. Let alone say that in front of Whiskey himself.

“I-I mean… well, I guess you are,” you mumbled once you found your voice.

“Well, would it be too bold of me to ask my favorite barista if they’d like to accompany me while on their break?” Whiskey inquired, looking at you from over the tops of his thin-rimmed glasses. The corner of his pink lips was upturned in a playful smirk.

If your face wasn’t on fire already, it sure was now. You nodded dumbly and grabbed the iced coffee you’d made for yourself earlier and the chocolate croissant, following Whiskey to a table near the window that looked out onto the busy city outside.

Your eyes darted back over to the bar once seated and you saw Aubrey give you a grin and a thumbs-up. It was the one day a week you guys work together and this happens. God, you were going to get asked a hundred questions and teased as soon as you come back from your break and maybe for the rest of your time as friends.

You munched on your croissant and Whiskey sipped his coffee as conversation flowed easily between you two. Teases and playful remarks and jabs at each other were weaved carefully through the entire interaction, just like always between you two. You can’t pinpoint exactly when Whiskey had opened up enough to you that he added the occasional flirt into his talks with you, but he had one day and those comments had made a little home in your brain to live there rent-free. You were in too deep when you found yourself returning fire with your own attempts to be smooth and playful. Granted, most of the time, Whiskey just smirked or gave you a smug smile or even a chuckle or two, but you couldn’t help it.

Whether or not Whiskey actually had feelings for you was a mystery, but you were too anxious to even think about telling him. Plus you didn’t want to ruin literally the only reason you had started looking forward to coming into work.

A lull in conversation had been reached, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you, when Whiskey suddenly piped up. “You know, I honestly don’t really care for coffee shops that much,” the older man admitted as he took a sip of his coffee. Your attention was drawn away from Aubrey - who had started making kissy-faces at you from behind the bar a couple minutes ago - and back to the very handsome cowboy that you had a crush on across the table. “Prefer to brew my own shit at my place. But, I was in the area for work and was still a tad hungover from the night ‘fore when I stumbled upon this li’l ol’ place. And I came to find out that there’s some damn good coffee here.” Whiskey’s eyes roamed over the café with the corners of his mouth upturned in a tiny smile.

“Thanks. I guess. I mean, the pay is shit and we get a lot of assholes sometimes, but the free coffee and pastries are good,” you said, taking a bite out of your croissant. Something he said struck you, though. You chewed and swallowed before continuing, “You know, in the couple of months that I’ve known you, you’ve never said anything about what you actually do for work.”

That smile slid off of Whiskey’s face in an instant. “Don’t really like to talk about it. Let’s just say I’m retired an’ leave it at that,” he replied in a low voice. His eyes were staring down at the cup clasped in his hands and you noticed his fingers were twitching ever so slightly. You might have been able to cut the sudden tension with a knife. Right as an apology was about to tumble out of your lips, feeling suddenly very awkward on prying into someone you only casually know’s personal life, Whiskey looked at you again with his usual smirk. “You know, I did my fair share of bartendin’ when I was younger, growin’ up in Texas. Also worked security. Rough-housed with quite a few drunk assholes in my day.”

You blinked a couple of times. The rate at which the mood changed yet again had given you some serious whiplash. You ignored the anxious voice yelling at you in your head and went on. “O-Oh… yeah?” you replied lamely as you stuffed another bite of croissant into your mouth.

Whiskey nodded. “Was a pretty sweet gig,” he continued. “Don’t think I’d ever go back, though. If I liked ya, I liked ya, and if I didn’t, I didn’t. Didn’t necessarily go well with havin’ a buncha customers. But I will say… watchin’ you reminds me of those days sometimes. You’re a damn hard worker and good at whatcha do.” 

His compliment had a warm feeling spread through your whole body like wildfire. Your heartbeat went a little faster, sweat gathered on your palms, your face flushed. God, he had you so intoxicated, so under his spell, you felt like you were going to go mad as a result. You managed to squeak out a “thank you”, averting your eyes downward, attempting to hide your face from him.

(You were so engrossed by small splinters in the wood grain of the table that you missed the way that he smiled at you fondly, clearly able to see that he’d flustered you by how pink your cheeks had turned.)

Your phone lit up with yet another spam email notification and you realized when you saw the time that you should have clocked back in already. You quickly shoved the last two bites of croissant into your mouth and hopped up, chewing hurriedly. Whiskey’s eyes went wide at your sudden movements, watching you intently. Swallowing the sweet pastry, you sputtered out, “I have to go back to work now, have a good day, Whiskey. See you later this week?”

Whiskey nodded and moved to stand up from his chair, pulling on the leather jacket he had slung over the back of his seat. You tied your apron back on and started scurrying back behind the bar to finish the last three hours of your shift.

“Have a good rest of your shift, sugar,” he called to you as he exited the café. A wide, goofy smile was on your lips as you watched him head towards the parking lot.

Yeah, you’d never get tired of him.

[warpedlegacywrites]

Happy Friday!!! For Theresa/Cullen - ❛ all we do is think about the feelings that we hide ❜

Happy @dadrunkwriting! This one was probably meant as an angsty prompt, but sorry, I made it fluffy and cute instead! ^_^

Theresa,  I thought we’d try something different for your next lesson. Meet me in the stables in the morning.  Cullen

Theresa enters the stables at the scheduled time, dressed for a ride through the mountains. Cullen is already there, saddling the first of two young stallions newly brought up from Dennett’s farm. Both are bred for the mountains, with coats of rich sable. 

“This isn't our usual routine. You don’t strike me as spontaneous,” she says as she passes him to pick up her own set of tackle for the second. Cullen’s already claimed the white mane, so she heads toward the black mane.

“Actually, I’ve had this planned for over a month.” Cullen adjusts the stirrups, hands moving automatically. “Just needed to wait for the right mounts.” 

“I have a mount,” she answers. 

“Whom you have yet to name, from the sound of it.” 

“Let me guess – Cassandra told you?” 

He chuckles. “Of course.” 

For as grumpy as she usually was, Cassandra was an insatiable gossip – who pays far too much attention to Theresa in particular. She’s not sure what the great concern is. She’s been riding her even-tempered dappled grey mare since before the Breach was sealed, and it’s never steered her wrong. 

“Bull’s named it,” she says instead. “Basala-ras.” 

“What does it mean?” He finishes with the stirrups and pulls himself into the saddle with ease, allowing the skittish stallion a moment to adjust. His hands are steady at the reins. Theresa endeavors not to stare. 

“He won’t tell me,” she answers with a smirk. “Which means it’s either grossly offensive, or he thinks he’s being clever.” 

“He usually does. Shall we?” 

Theresa has mounted as well by now, and immediately senses the purpose of today’s lesson, as the horse beneath her begins to shift and fidget, clearly inexperienced with having someone in the saddle. 

“Are we training me or the horses today?” 

“Both.” Cullen grins, evidently quite proud of that one. Before she can think of something devastatingly clever in response, however, he nudges his out along the path and toward the wilderness beyond. “Keep up.” 

He’s lucky he has that smile. 

It’s a lovely day, especially for the Frostbacks. The sky is covered and grey as usual, but the wind is gentle and the sun is strong enough to poke through the unceasing canopy for once. Theresa wants to tilt her face up to meet it, wants to spread her arms wide and enjoy this rare pocket of peace, but her horse has other ideas. 

It fights her for every step, too easily distracted and scared of its own shadow, requiring her full attention. 

“Today’s lesson,” Cullen announces when she finally gets within shouting distance again. “Horses are very sensitive.” 

Theresa would glare at him if she could trust her eyes off the path for even a moment. “Is this part of all your recruits’ training regimen?” 

“Just yours.” Her stomach flutters at the subtle drop in his voice as he says that. “Managing your team in the field means managing emotions – theirs as well as yours.” 

“Hence the skittish horses?” 

“Exactly.” 

For the next good while, there’s very little talking, and far too much thinking. They’ve been doing these private lessons for some time now, and each time it gets harder and harder to hide behind the smokescreen she’d invented and he’d readily latched upon. To pretend this is still – or ever was – even remotely about her learning to be a better field leader. 

Harder not to say all these thoughts out loud. 

She knows he thinks them too. The man is an open book. It’s there in his smile when she enters the room, and in the lingering looks he thinks are discreet. She wonders how much longer it’ll be before one of them breaks, but she's in no rush to take that leap herself. There are far too many questions left unanswered, for them both.

They meander through the path until they come out onto a ledge that offers a view of the valley below, and Skyhold floating above. Here, they stop to catch their breath, and allow the horses a short rest. 

“How’ve you been feeling?” Theresa asks, glancing askance at him rubbing at his forehead. 

He smiles wryly. “No worse than usual.” 

It’s been a week since he told her he no longer takes lyrium, and the revelation has scarcely left her mind for a moment since. 

She hesitates, then asks what she really wants to know. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?” 

He frowns, considering her. “At first, it felt too personal. And then, too much time had passed, and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.” 

“What finally persuaded you?” 

“In a word?” His lopsided smirk returns. “Cassandra.” 

Theresa laughs, and silently blesses the nosy, pushy Seeker. 

“She convinced me that, as Inquisitor, you had a right to know about our arrangement. I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

“Don’t be.” She meets his gaze. “I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me now.” 

His face relaxes – he’d been worried about this. She smiles at him, and he blushes and turns away. “We should head back.” 

The journey home is easier, less arduous. Perhaps that is why Theresa feels comfortable letting down her guard. 

“Careful!” 

Cullen’s shout catches her unawares, making her flinch and further spooking her horse just as it slips one hoof. It rears and, with her hands not properly gripped, Theresa goes flying. Instinctively, she summons a barrier before striking the ground. Unfortunately, she lands with her foot under her at an awkward angle, and she both hears and feels a pop. 

Cullen curses, and in a blink he’s at her side. 

“I’m alright,” she says, more angry at herself than anything. “It’s just my ankle.” 

He takes it in his hands to examine it, and she goes quiet watching him unlace the boot and carefully remove it. His fingers squeeze gingerly where it’s already swelling, and she winces. At his direction, she manages to flex and extend it without wincing, but putting weight on it is too painful. 

“I… didn’t think to pack any healing potions.” Cullen’s guilt is just as plain as his blush, and she can already see the lengthy diatribe going through his head. 

“It’s not your fault,” she insists. “I’m the one who got careless.” 

“I still should have anticipated—” 

“My incompetence?” 

“Yes! I mean, no! What I meant was…” But he’s cut off mid-panic by the sound of her laughter. It breaks through the shadow covering his features, and he shares in her amusement. 

He pulls her up and wraps her arm across his shoulders to support her as she hobbles back to her horse. She’s sure he feels her heart hammering against her chest. Sure he notices her unintentionally leaning into him, even when he pulls away to help her into her saddle. 

“Do me a favor?” he says, once he’s on his own mount. “Let’s keep this just between us.” 

She grins. “Cassandra?” 

“Cassandra.” 

Back at Skyhold, Theresa asks Solas to mend it, and though he’s no healer, he agrees. The particular quirk of his left eyebrow and the firm line of his mouth indicates he has a wealth of questions, but he asks none.