#very important things in my room they need to be displayed .

[mayprilayunely]

for a dtiys on instagram <3

[gender-trash]

I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

[cutielando]

i worry | lando norris

synopsis: in which you’re both worried about him

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

Ever since he could remember, Lando has always been a vocal advocate of how important mental health was to him, always encouraging people to get the help they need and not feel at all embarrassed about needing it and asking in the first place.

It was one of the many things that you loved about him, how passionate he was about making sure his words would encourage people all around to get better.

But that also meant that he sometimes forgot to take care of himself. The last couple of races before the 2024 summer break were very tough on Lando, both physically and mentally, but they especially took a toll on his mental health.

You had seen it ever since Silverstone, after McLaren had clearly fucked his strategy and jeopardized yet another chance at a win, he was heartbroken. Hungary was especially hard for you to watch, especially because you were in the garage when everything went down.

For days after, you couldn’t get the radios out of your head, the way the team had spoken to Lando, basically emotionally blackmailed him into giving up his position to Oscar. Lando’s broken expression when he finally made his way back from the trophy ceremony; his eyes searching for you in the crowd of personnel he couldn’t bear to see at that moment.

It was a very hard pill to swallow, especially in the days following the race, once everything had really settled down into his mind, once he had time to talk it through with the team as well. He never should have been put in that position, and the team knew they fucked up, but that still didn’t help how your boyfriend was feeling.

Let down by the people in whose hands he puts his life in every race weekend, by the people he trusts with his life and who have helped him make all of his dreams come true. He was let down by the people he considered a second family. And he didn’t know how to feel about that.

With the summer break, you figured that he would finally disconnect from everything, find himself again and recharge his batteries for the remainder of the season. 

But then came the videos from Grill the Grid.

You always watched the videos, finding comfort and laughing wholeheartedly at the competitiveness all the drivers displayed in such meaningless little games, it was heartwarming for everybody watching.

However, this time, that wasn’t the case.

From the very beginning of the first video, you had noticed something was off with Lando, in every single segment that he was in. He was quiet, he didn’t have the energy he always showed when doing the challenges. He seemed like it was the last place where he wanted to be, he was doing something he would rather not even hear about. At least, that’s what his demeanor showed.

Seeing the way Lando was through the entire video, it only added to your worries. 

You had just touched down in Greece with a couple of your friends, and you were laying on the soft bed of your hotel room while Lando was taking a shower. He hadn’t heard what you were watching, he probably would have stopped you from even clicking on the video. He didn’t want you to see him like that, he didn’t want to make you worry even more than you already were.

Pausing the video and putting your phone on the bed next to you, you sat there, chewing your bottom lip while thinking things over in your head. Should you ask him about it? Should you just ignore it? 

No, you had to check up on him. You knew him better than anyone, and you knew he tended to bury his feelings deep down and just shut everyone out whenever he was feeling down. And sadly, you feared that was happening right before your eyes, and you hadn’t noticed until then.

You hadn’t been waiting on the bed for long before the bathroom door opened and Lando walked out, a towel hanging low on his hips and water dripping from his freshly-washed curls. 

“Hey” he said, glancing your way briefly before he made his way to your shared walk-in closet to find some underwear and clothes to sleep in.

You smiled at him, your eyes following his every move. You went back to chewing your lip, your mind overwhelmed with dozens of thoughts attacking you at high speeds. You were itching to just blurt it out, make him sit down and talk to you about whatever it was that was bothering him.

But you knew you couldn’t do that. He would never open up if it felt like you were pressuring him into doing so. You were aware of that, but you also knew that he desperately needed to talk to someone, and you preferred that someone be you.

“Hey babe?” you called out, waiting for a hum in reply before you continued. “Do you think we could have a little talk?” you called out, your eyes stuck on your fingers while you waited for a response.

There was silence for a couple of minutes before Lando emerged back into the bedroom, now freshly dressed in a pair of boxers and a white T-shirt. His eyebrows were furrowed, worry settling into the pit of his stomach.

“Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly, taking a seat next to you on the bed and resting his hand on your knee.

You sat up and crossed your legs, shuffling closer to him and taking his hand in yours.

Looking up at him and admiring his beautiful eyes, you noticed the turmoil going around behind his irises, making you smile sadly at the poor boy in front of you.

“You know they posted the first Grill the Grid video today, right?” he nodded, still looking at you eagerly. “Well, I was watching it, because you know I like the little challenges they make you all do. And I couldn’t help but notice a few things about it” you carefully worded your ideas, trying not to seem like you were attacking him in any way.

“What do you mean? What things?” he asked, the worry in his stomach growing stronger and stronger.

You sighed, looking down at your joined hands on your lap. 

“Baby, are you okay?” you asked, looking back up at him with worried eyes.

His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, his heart suddenly beating out of his chest. He was okay, right? He had to be okay, he didn’t have time to be anything but okay.

“I’m fine, why are you asking? Babe, what’s going on?” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m worried about you, Lando. The person I saw in that video is not you, baby. You didn’t smile once during the video and I know how much you love filming Grill the Grid. It looked like you didn’t even want to be there, baby” you explained, shuffling closer to him until your knees were touching.

Lando had since looked away from you, his gaze stuck on the fuzzy carpet at the foot of the bed. 

He knew you were bound to notice he wasn't himself. As much as he had tried to hide it and pretend like nothing was wrong, he knew he couldn’t hide from you for much longer.

Truth is, he was tired. Tired of always pretending everything was okay, tired lt making it seem like he was positive and trusting in his team, a team which had let him down in the last weeks more than anybody else in his entire life.

He couldn’t pretend anymore, he didn’t want to pretend that he was okay when everything inside of him was screaming for help.

“Yeah, I’m worried about me too. I was hoping I’d get better before you noticed” he mumbled, chuckling sadly as he took your hand in his and started playing with your bracelets.

Your eyes widened, worry sinking even deeper into the pit of your stomach. You had so desperately wanted him to tell you what he was feeling, that everything you had thought you had seen was in your head, but he did the exact opposite. He had confirmed every painful suspicion you had had, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about it.

“Talk to me, baby. What’s going on?” you urged him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He sighed, biting his lip. He really thought he would have had more time to prepare for the conversation, but he might as well just tell you everything now. It would make it easier on him.

Looking up at you, he turned around so he was facing you, making you sit up straight and look at him worriedly.

“Truth to be told, I haven’t been doing all that well these past couple of weeks, and it’s got nothing to do with you or our relationship” he said, putting some of your concerns to rest. “Ever since Miami, everything’s been feeling half-done, or thrown away in a way. Max took me out in Russia, the team fucked up my strategy at Silverstone, they made me give up my win in Hungary, they fucked everything up in Belgium. I just don’t understand why they’re behaving like this” he confessed, making your heart break a little.

It was extremely disappointing for you to see how let down Lando felt by his team, a team that he considered to be his second family. He had dedicated his entire Formula 1 career to make sure McLaren would become great again, and now that it was finally happening, he and Oscar were taking the brunt of it, and he wasn’t okay with that.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry you feel this way. I know how tough things can be, and I wish you'd told me sooner. I hate knowing how much you were hurting and I wasn’t there to comfort you” you said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him into a side hug.

“I didn’t realize how much it was bothering me until the summer break began, you know. I finally had some free time to think about everything, and I don’t like the conclusions I’ve drawn” he said, his voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

“And what are those, baby?” you urged him on, knowing he needed to get everything off his chest before he truly felt relieved.

He sighed, changing his position so he was now laying down on the bed with his head in your lap, your fingers almost immediately latching onto his curls.

“I’ve given them my entire career, I’ve stuck with them for such a long time and I signed an extension for even more years, and yet they seem to forget about all of that. Even when everyone was telling me to look elsewhere, when I got offers from Red Bull, I never even thought about leaving the team. I just sometimes wish they would show me the gratitude and respect I think I deserve after sticking with them for so long” he explained, shutting his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of your hands playing with his hair.

You bit your lower lip, nodding softly as you stared off into the distance. 

“I understand how you feel, and I wish there was more that I could do to help you. But I think you just need to disconnect from everything during this break, like not even think about racing at all for the entire month. You need a break, spend some time with me and your family, enjoy just living your life for a little and then you get back with a fresh mind” you suggested, your other hand cupping his cheek.

He hummed, but eventually nodded.

“You’re right. I just want to spend some time alone with you, I haven’t been able to just enjoy having you with me these past couple of weeks and I need to make it up to you” he said, opening his eyes and giving you a little smile.

You smiled back at him, leaning down and pressing your lips against his.

And even though you knew you and Lando still had a long way to go until he would finally feel content, you were determined to get through this.

Together.

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[lovelookspretty]

not so bad

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

college!rafe cameron x reader au

warning(s): n/a. just a bitchy rafe whos generous n gets awkward as fuck when it comes to u

authors note: college!rafe is lowkey nicer to y/n since he can’t help his buried feelings !! but he’s still an ass. i wouldve casted drew as himself but drew is too sweet i cant even imagine him having like a female sworn enemy that he lowk has a crush on

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

the door swings open, revealing rafe himself. he’s silent as soon as he sees you. “lock the door,” he says as he turns around and starts to head further inside, leaving you at the entrance.

“lock the door,” you mock-mumble under your breath as you enter, closing and locking the door behind you like you’re told. you look around, realizing you’ve never actually seen rafe’s dorm before. his friends’ dorms maybe, but never his.

his dorm is surprisingly clean, with only empty to fully filled water bottles scattered around, but very few. both sides of the room are displayed with posters on its walls, you can fell which bed is his and it’s made with its sheets tucked tightly in the crevices with two large pillows at the head of it.

you watch as he walks over to his desk and sits in the chair, opening up his laptop to the online textbook provided for the class.

he peers over his shoulder to glance at you, “can you fucking—i don’t know—sit down somewhere? the furniture isn’t coated in poison, you know.”

you fight the urge to make a remark, and you just sigh and let it go. “kay!” you say, and carefully making your way over to sit on the edge of his bed, placing your bag by your side. you catch his eye when you reply so eagerly without a problem, but you ignore this.

“where’s your roommate?” you ask him, looking around. “just wanna make sure when i need to expect someone- also, typically i charge for tutoring, and if crawford is making me tutor you then i’m charging you double. hundred-fifty an hour.”

rafe looks pissed, shaking his head and opening his mouth like he’s about to argue before closing it again. finally, he sighs, leaning against the wall by the kitchen. “my roommate’s just . . . out . . . today. he’s running errands. whatever, can we just get this over with? i’ll pay you after.”

you grin, feeling even satisified that rafe has to use his own cash to pay for however long this will take. “have a girl coming over tonight?” you guess from the way he’s rushing you. you reach into your bag for your ipad, “this wouldn’t be happening if you’d just pay attention in class, you know.”

“i know," rafe mutters, still annoyed but trying not to show it. "i just don't get how humanities could be important in the real world," he says, running a hand through his hair before resting the side of his head against his spread index finger and thumb, looking at you. “or my world, i mean.”

“still trying to do real estate?” you puzzle, pulling up the notes you took during class for him to look at. “it’s like your dad’s job, right? the cameron department thing.”

“cameron development,” he corrects you, hissing through his teeth.

“whatever. just surprised you’re not pursing sex work from all the girls i see you pull into bathrooms at parties,” you mutter out the end of your sentence under your breath, in a way not wanting to bring up that you’ve even noticed that before . . . again . . . and again . . .

“yeah?” he seems amused. “sex could sell more homes than fuckin’ humanities ever could.”

“sex?” you repeat with raised brows. “damn near prostitution versus political science, sociology, journalism, anthropology,” you name off as you lean left and right in your seat, pretending to think and weigh out your options. “yeah, maybe passing your humanities class can be a good thing! pull up your notes, please?”

“i did," rafe grumbles, gesturing to his laptop.

“i said notes, not the textbook. i wanna see what you’ve even written down while in class,” you say.

he’s silent as he opens up his documents, and he pulls up his most recent document filed under notes. he hands his laptop over to you as he leans back in his seat. you look over his text.

furrowing your eyebrows, you say, “okay, so you . . . you wrote the title of his lesson yesterday. that’s good. but under that you didn’t even write down any notes, you just have someone’s phone number. are you that predictable?”

he chews on his dog tag necklace and shrugs, taking his laptop back. “she was new. just wanted to make a friend,” he insists, closing out the tab.

you hum. you don’t really believe him but it isn’t like you care enough to argue over that. you hand him your ipad to show him your notes. “we’ll start at the beginning of the unit,” you tell him as he takes it.

rafe lets out a breath from his nose as he matches your energy from before, “‘kay!” he skims over your writing, gnawing on his pencil quietly.

you almost catch yourself smiling that he does this, but you refrain.

the lesson seems to be going better than you thought, though there are some pissed glances here and there from both sides. it takes two hours to go over the unit with examples and practices. you’re already exhausted.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the lesson ends. rafe slumps back in his chair, relieved to be done with the humanities assignments that you made him do for now. he looks up at you, barely casting a smile your way. “thanks for the help,” he mumbles, awkwardly meeting your gaze.

“thanks for the money,” you say, half-reminding him that he needs to hold up his end of the deal as you stand from your seat.

as he stands, he bumps into your ipad on his desk. it collides with his opened water bottle he’d been drinking out of the past hour or so and both of you know what’s about to happen. you blurt out a noise and try to dodge the water coming your way but fail, getting his water on your legs and even more pouring at your crocs that invite even more liquid in. you can just feel your socks absorbing it now.

rafe grimaces as he stares down at your wet legs, and the least he does is reaches down to grab the bottle and the cap that flew off the desk. he closes it up and sets it on his desk as you take off your shoes and socks, holding them with barely your fingers.

“i have uh . . . towels, paper towels,” he says, and you just nod immediately, accepting whatever to dry yourself off.

when he comes back, you grab the paper towels and shove your soggy socks into his chest which he takes out of instinct before exclaiming and dropping them on the floor. you can’t help but look back and glare at him before patting your legs dry, and then tossing the paper towel into the nearby trash can that sat at one of the ends of his desk.

you can see rafe shrug as he picks up your socks and hovers over his trash can too. “might as well,” he murmurs.

“wh— are you serious?” you try to catch the socks, but then again, he’s too far and you have no business carrying some wet ass socks back to your dorm. your hands fall to your sides as you sigh.

it’s like he’s visibly contemplating (or debating with himself) before he walks over to his dresser and rummages through a drawer, finally pulling out a pair of socks. “here,” he says, tossing them to you, which you almost fail to catch from the sudden surprise. “they’re clean. swear.”

you give him a doubtful look. “i didn’t need your socks. i have plenty in my own drawer, thanks,” you say, placing the pair on his desk to reject them, and he stares at you.

he shakes his head and turns around. “so difficult,” he murmurs under his breath, and he quickly cleans up his drawer before closing it.

he grabs his wallet from on top of the dresser too, pulling out the wad of cash. you can tell from the look on his face that he’s not only doing this to count his money properly but also to subtly flex right in front of you. you roll your eyes and look away.

he counts out his three-hundred before handing it to you, scrunching up his nose as he stuffs his wallet into his pocket. you stare at the money, then take it while giving him a glare.

you quickly count it but bless, there’s two hundred dollar bills and then five twenty’s. perfect.

“okay, good luck on your exam,” you say and grab your bag, heading for the door like you’re in a hurry this time.

“wait,” rafe says, and you almost groan from annoyance. you just want to go back to your dorm. “here,” he mumbles to himself, and he steps over to the mini-fridge in the corner. he opens it up and grabs a water bottle, then tosses it to you.

“rafe,” you say, not really expecting all of these ‘gifts’ just for screaming at him for two hours about humanities. you toss it back to him, which he catches.

“just for the road,” he insists with a shake of his head. “since i spilled mine on you.”

you stare at him like he’s stupid. “dude, i live down the hallway.”

when you see his awkward reaction, you almost feel bad. actually you do. and it’s weird. usually you don’t notice this at all, but something about rafe feeling dumb about trying to thank you just makes you feel guilty for how you’ve treated him. fine.

you give him a look like you’re saying okay. that it’s okay to give you gifts and that you’re okay with receiving them. rafe doesn’t even cast a smile, he just nods. you squint your eyes at him before heading for his door again.

rafe meets you there and holds out the water bottle for you. you look up at him and take it. you almost smile, and it seems like he might too, but you both catch yourselves and quickly look away.

“ace your exam so you won’t have to hear from me like this again,” you say, half-joking to keep up their normal behavior.

“i’ll try, i’ll try,” he says simply, and stands at his door while you leave. you raise your eyebrows once before heading off to your dorm, taking your bag and your water bottle with you. you hear his door shut from behind you.

as you walk away, you can’t help but replay the moment in your head, the weird sense of camaraderie that just occurred. maybe, just maybe, rafe cameron isn’t the most horrible person on the planet. and it doesn’t help that he’s unfortunately attractive, which makes it slightly more difficult now to keep up the mutual hatred you have for each other.

from inside the dorm, rafe stands there for a moment, staring at the closed door. he shakes his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“not so bad,” he mutters to himself before turning back to his desk, ready to tackle his upcoming humanities exam thanks to you.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Do you write for charles xavier?? If so cloud we get a reader who just keeps bothering him while he is working cause they want his attention and every one else is busy? I hope you have a good day!

I hope you don't mind I wrote this Pre Wheels Charles

The afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the Xavier Institute, casting warm, golden light across the vast room where Charles Xavier sat, surrounded by papers, books, and a holographic display projecting data from Cerebro. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his mind focused on the delicate task of tracking mutant activity across the globe. The mansion was unusually quiet, with the other X-Men off on various missions or training sessions. It was a rare moment of peace, one that Charles was determined to use to catch up on work.

And then, you appeared.

“Charles?” Your voice broke the silence, drawing his attention away from the screen.

“Yes?” He looked up, his expression patient but slightly distracted.

“What are you doing?” You leaned against the doorframe, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Just some work,” he replied, hoping that would suffice as an explanation.

You nodded, stepping further into the room. “Looks important.”

“It is,” Charles confirmed, his eyes drifting back to the hologram. He tried to refocus, but he could feel your presence, still lingering, still watching.

“Everyone else is busy,” you continued, moving closer to his desk. “Scott, Jean, Logan—they’re all off doing something. I’m bored.”

Charles glanced up again, his lips quirking into a small smile. “And so you’ve come to bother me?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a grin, leaning on his desk now. “What’s that?” You pointed to the hologram.

“Mutant activity tracking. I’m trying to—”

“Sounds complicated,” you interrupted, picking up one of the pens on his desk and twirling it between your fingers.

“It is,” he said, still smiling despite himself. He could sense your playfulness, and though he knew he needed to focus, he couldn’t help but be charmed by your persistence.

You sighed dramatically, putting the pen down and plopping into the chair across from him. “Can I help?”

“I’m not sure this is something you’d find very interesting,” he said diplomatically, though the idea of you sifting through the data with him did amuse him.

You groaned and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Why is everyone always so busy? It’s like this whole saving-the-world thing never ends.”

Charles chuckled softly. “It does tend to keep us occupied.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, Charles thought you might have given up. He returned his attention to the hologram, his fingers hovering over the controls.

But then, you spoke again. “Charles?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever just—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Do you ever just want to take a break from all this? From being the wise professor and the leader of the X-Men? Just…be Charles for a while?”

Charles looked at you, truly looked, and saw the sincerity in your eyes. It wasn’t just boredom driving you to seek him out; it was a desire for connection, for a moment of normalcy in a life that was anything but.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, the work momentarily forgotten. “Yes, I do. More often than you might think.”

You smiled, a warm, understanding smile that made something in his chest loosen. “Then maybe you should take a break. Just for a little while. You deserve it.”

Charles regarded you thoughtfully. “And what would you have me do during this break?”

“Well,” you said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin, “I was thinking we could take a walk in the garden. Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, we could raid the kitchen for some of those cookies Hank made yesterday.”

Charles laughed, a genuine, light-hearted sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Cookies and a walk in the garden, you say?”

“Maybe even some tea,” you added with a playful wag of your eyebrows.

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re very persuasive.”

“It’s one of my many talents,” you said, standing up and holding out your hand.

Charles looked at the work spread out before him, then back at you. The world could wait a little while longer. With a nod, he reached out and took your hand, letting you pull him to his feet.

“Alright,” he agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Let’s go see about those cookies.”

As you led him out of the study, chatting animatedly about all the things you wanted to do, Charles couldn’t help but feel grateful for the interruption.

[linnienin]

🍰 T h e ⁕ m o o n ⁕ a n d ⁕ I C 🍰 : how are you behind closed doors?

Disclaimer: Take what resonates. I'm not a professional astrologer, i just am an avid researcher and i use my personal experience when writing my posts (Also, pls, don't copy my work, i spend lot of time on it, thanks)

We all know the Sun and Ascendant play important roles in our chart, but they are often what people see at first and what we usually display to the public.

Once we get home or we meet someone that makes us feel at home, this is when another unexpected 'part' of us unleash, that part comes from our deepest place of our personality, we don't hide our emotions anymore, we feel completely free to express ourselves in our rawest form (can also be interpreted as 'getting in tune with our inner child')

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Aries moon/IC : The forever child, kinda like a Peter Pan, and hella CHAOTIC. If you think this person appeared as balanced, laid back and diplomatic, well, you were very wrong lol. You'll soon realize he/she is the most spontaneous of all. Behind closed doors they'll sing loudly, they'll laugh loudly, they'll throw things at you (be ready to catch them or they'll break for sure 😂). Clumsy as hell, and they like it. Endless energy. Gets touchy in an aggressive mode (like when a child put their head violently against their mother's head, they don't mean to be violent, it's just the way they express love, it's bold and uncontrolled hehe) The type to workout at home and be LOUD about it (how many times did i write loud 🙈), has noisy heavy footsteps. Can burn the food lol. Can also be prone to burn themselves accidentally. Constantly finding new distractions to turn their head to. "THAT THING IS MINE, DON'T TOUCH IT". The bed is their personal trampoline. At night, they change position at least 10 times before actually find a decent one to sleep in (they'll make the bed appear as a gym, be ready for the earthquake), heavy sleeper.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Taurus moon/IC: 'AHHHHH, finally my dear bed'. I see you tauruses, first thing you do once you get home is jumping on that comfy bed and hug your pillows (yeah, you still have your coat,scarf,hat,backpack,shoes on, why bother taking them off 😂). Not picky when it comes to food, they love all dishes, just the act of eating gives them pleasure (they're here to ✨enjoy✨, that's also why you'll rarely see them cook 😂). The living ghost (that maxi blanket looks good on you, but remember to wash it from time to time since you basically slide it on the floor wherever you go lol). The hugger, literally a safe and calm space for everyone, you'll see people comes to them when stressed just to feel their healing aura. Touchy, but in a sensual and calm way, like gentle little massages/strokes on shoulders, or waist (especially when the other person is cooking, to give them extra support and maybe get a taste of that sauce they're cooking👀) Fall asleep FAST. Usually stays in bed until late morning even if they wake up earlier (spends that time fantasizing)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Gemini moon/IC: The multitasker. They can't stay still a second. Cooking while doing laundry, while listening to a podcast, while cleaning (superficially lol),while playing with their cats, while sending emails, while preparing for that exam, and oh...wait what is this smell? OH GOSH, THE OVEN! (of course of all things you forgot the food, sometimes you forget you are even human, you need those calories bby😂). Has the messier room, but also the most interesting one. Have a difficult time with silence, it's uncomfy to them, that's why they are always listening to something (tv shows, podcasts, youtube videos, music) even if they don't really care about what's being said (that's also why they know everything about anything, they absorb these facts like a sponge). Changes hobbies at the speed of light. You see them throwing ceramics one week, the next they're playing the cello (they secretly can't stick to a single hobby because it becomes too boring). Have difficulty sleeping, their brain can't seem to shut down, so usually they can take hours before falling asleep (they find sound comforting and helpful so lots of them listen to ASMR before going to bed or even listen to the sound of breathing of the person next to them to calm themselves)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Cancer moon/IC: Home sweet home. There's nothing that feels better for these natives than a good relaxing day at home (or maybe an entire life between those walls 👀). They literally can feel the mood changing the moment they pass the line that separate the outside world from their inner bubble of the home. They love to take care of their environment, they don't feel the chores to be so exhausting because it feels like helping an old friend out, and they take pride in their home too (they won't let you in easily, you need to really conquer them and show them you respect and cherish other's surroundings). They make very good cooks, but not the type to be super detailed with the ingredients, they are more intuitive, a bit like old grandma style (probably learnt to cook from a female family figure too). Make traditionals meals, can make meals from recipes thet have been passed on by previous generations in the family (and they take pride in this too). Has probably a personalized cookbook they wrote by hand with cute doodles on it. Has a specialty for making excellent sweets (and love to eat them too hehe). Has a welcoming aura. Has the coziest room. Loves to make forts with bedsheets. TV series binger. Pretends life only exist between those 4 walls. Bawl their eyes out for no apparent reason at a random time (well, they accumulated the stress from outside so now that they feel safe they let go). Likes to be held when sleeping, and if there's no one beside them, they like to hold a plushie or to curl up in side fetus position 😂

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Leo moon/IC: The beef. Oh yeah, as soon as the door closes, they can't wait to spill tea on all the people that bothered them during the day (i see u 👀). The funny and spot on imitator. Gets very touchy and loving, until you don't give them attentions anymore 😾, then they'll put on a show, and if you're still apathetic, they might break something lol (don't get them to this stage pls ). Has lots of lights decor in their room, also lots of... mirrors 👀. 48393983902 hair products, their hair routine is absolutely a ritual, if you interrupt them they'll give you the death stare (but deep down they like being caught while taking care of their beautiful mane, cus they feel sexy with wet hair, or even when blowing them, feeling like a superstar). Don't you dare telling them the food they cooked wasn't good, they take pride in it and they try their best to provide for others. Also they care for their family and friends a lot, so never talk bad things about them or you'll hear the roar of the lion. Are the best entertainers, sometimes the show gets a bit too real and you don't know where the fine line lies anymore (that's how good they are, but are you good enough to handle them?). At night, they wanna be hugged from behind to feel the heat on their back (it helps them relax when trying to fall asleep)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Virgo moon/IC: Picky af. Especially with food. They don't let you enter their room unless they like you. Everything in their home is accurately chosen and has a function, no useless stuff (even if it seems 'useless' they might use it to relieve stress or whatever). Tidy room. Don't decorate much, they're into the clean look aesthetic, usually they don't have lots of things and they're put in strategical places so that it's easier for them to clean (and they clean the home quite often). The one that knows how to do anything PERFECTLY. They become masters at what they do. Cooking? They know all the secrets. Doing laundry? They have a baggage of knowledge no one else has. Oh, wanna have segss? I just got my PhD in sexology 😂. Is into way too many hobbies, but unlike geminis they actually go deep into it until they have reached a level of satisfaction (honestly...they never reach it because it's never enough, so that's why they say they putted on hold that hobby and not that they got over it, while geminis are like well..who cares, it wasn't for me, next). Reflecting on that conversation they just had with a person 1 hour ago and re-write it to perfection in case they get to experience the same thing another time. Control freaks, i knoooow, but it's true cm'on, why would you get a panic attack when you're home? Your brain never leaves the outside world right? You overthink way too much, pls, it's okay to let go sometimes ok? Light sleeper, has difficulty falling asleep because of they're constantly ruminating.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Libra moon/IC: Lives in a castle... i'm kidding, they only wish they did lol (i mean maybe there's really someone out there that is a Libra and lives in a castle and they're reading this post laughing at me, sorry for the generalization). Loves when they have people do the things for them, it makes them feel appreciated and evalued (but also because they don't have to choose or they'll be the forever indecisive). They are the mediators in every family discussion because of their ability to remain calm while others easily fall into rage. Have a room with posters of their idols or fav celebs, is into photo collages of memorable moments. Everything in their room is somehow cohesive because of the ✨aesthetic✨. Sweets lover🧁. Randomly tries all the clothes in their closet just to see if they can make new outfit combos (and spend an entire day on it). Sips wine (or blackberry juice if they're not into alcohol, just because of the old money aesthetic) while watching rom-coms. Loves to try new foods, but don't exactly love to cook it, i mean, they try but... at some point they just lose focus, and when they see the immense chaos of mess they just did, they lose faith lol. Good listeners, probably not the best at giving advices tho (they usually don't even know what they'd have done in that situation😂).

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Scorpio moon/IC: Collectors. You enter their room and thay have all type of weird stuff like miniatures and gadgets looking at you like... ok wow, it's a creepy good kinda feeling (i found they're into animal's skulls too). It's not rare to hear them talking to themselves, they're not crazy, it's their way to release stress lmao. Headphones on 24/7. Not available for your bullshit, they got stuff to do. "Don't disturb or i'll kill you" on the door. Plan a whole murder but archive it because in this world it's not worth making it. But they have a heart i swear, just for those they love, that's it. Likes playing with kitchen tools, to test all their abilities. Just in case. They plan all the best hiding spots. Just in case. Learning that new taekwondo move. Just in case. Yeah, they're a liitle paranoid 😂. Can leave a bit of dust specifically so they see if someone touch their things. Likes boiling hot food and beverages. I swear, how can you even drink that tea and not burn your tongue, i'm impressed. Is the last one to fall asleep in the whole building, or family members, usually stay up until very late. Sleep few hours, i honestly don't know how they can even stand, they're for sure resilient. Don't like hugs, but gives them when they feel like it. They're like cats, 100%, you got a cat? Good, that is not a cat, it's a scorpio moon. (I love them tho hehe)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Sagittarius moon/IC: Clumsy af, but has great humour. Tell the best stories ( can add quite a lot of beef in them, but they don't make it sounds like they're saying bad things hehe ). Has the jungle room, i swear, they have all type of things dangling from walls and the ceiling, sometimes to the point of almost looking like a laser room lmfao (prepare yourself to train like Catwoman). The one that pushes others out of their comfort zone (and kinda use this excuse to escape outside with them too 'cause can't stay inside a building for too long 😂). Probably lives somwhere in the countryside or dreams of living around nature, like in the mountains, in a forest, near a river etc... Constantly jump between rooms and hit themselves with some furniture, has constant bruises on them legs (their energy is too big to be contained between walls sigh). The big portions eater, they can eat all the leftovers from others and still not feeling heavy, i admire their digestive system lmfao (i could never). The funny face eater too, they're the living anime's characters. Binge watch survival shows. Wanna be free, so don't force them into stuff they're not interested in (they'd join by themselves if they want to). When don't know what to do, scroll endlessly their phone through meme pages. Send memes to EVERYONE , even when it's like... why did they send me that? Well, ok let's laugh (ya know, they don't have reasons, they are pretty simple people after all). The first one to try that weird stuff because you only live once so why not make it an adventure? Leaders, but need a counselor. Loud sleeper, can snore. Usually spread their limbs to the whole bed, and if you need to join them, well, good luck (you'll be sleeping on the couch sometimes😂)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Capricorn moon/IC: your pacific homie. They do the same things every time they come home (like a programmed robot lol). Routine lovers. They need a predictable environment because their energy gets sucked by the chaos of the outside world. They aren't into decorating much, but they do have a passion for artistic hobbies, some of them can paint or play an instrument/sing, they have their tools for that hobby and that's it, the rest is quite minimal and practical. Can wear the same outfit on repeat too, it's like they don't care, or they have better things to care about (Mark Zuckerberg kinda vibe with the same tee over and over again). Loves traditional meals, meals they always ate since they were a child, not so open to try new food. Have a...peculiar relationship with the family (particularly their mother). I have noticed they usually don't talk much when having lunch/dinner at the table, they don't express much, and don't make eye contact to avoid people making questions. Quite reserved, need a lot of alone time to recharge. However, there's a need for them to have someone by their side to share those things too, they're absolutely afraid to end up alone, it's their worst fear, so even if they don't open up much, they want someone that understands them with just a look (however, communication is key guys, sometimes you succumb to the other person, especially if they have a strong personality, to just avoid conflict, and this is to your own detriment, you deserve better!). People say that this placement don't like physical touch, however, i'll say they veery rarely initiate the contact, but deep down the like it when others take initiative and show affection to them, it makes their heart warm even if they might not show it (but i can still see that subtle change in the expression 👀). The stable sleeper, they sleep in a position and that's it.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Aquarius moon/IC: Step into home=step into my fantastic spaceship and leave earth for a while bye. The crazy calm gal. Constantly crunching their bones (why tho). Tries to walk on walls just to see if they can bend gravity. Wanna try to glue their shoes with the Pattex and attach themselves to the ceiling like the guy in the advertising(Can be content even with swinging from the chandelier). Throw random parties and invites everyone (even strangers lol). Likes when people stay over to sleep, just to see them all in their worst condition (usually drunk)😂. Have the tech room, and when they enter it, they turn off their lights, turn on their displays and pick up their hood, and voilà, they're in a Mr.Robot mood (can be good hackers for real tho). Don't know how to show emotions so they instead react with a weird funny expression that could mean everything and nothing at the same time. Yeah, they can be confusing as hell (is this part of their plan? I dunno). Record a video of themselves everyday talking about their experience on this earth, just in case someday someone (maybe an alien) finds these recording and place them in the Interspatial Galactic Museum. Thanks for your contribuition. Can sleep with eyes open. I'm kidding hehe, they actually can sleep well, because they know they did their job that day, so rest in peace (and you'll never know when the world will end, might be today, so gotta enjoy the sleeping hours). (but honestly, there's some truth behind the sleeping with eyes open, because of all the screen time on their devices, the melatonin production is at 0 basically lmao, turn on the night filter when looking at your devices!)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Pisces moon/IC: Walks in, continue walking, get to their room, get on the bed. Wakes up. Moment of realization: ohh, i didn't know i just got home, i was in my head thinking, but good thing that now i can relax. Proceed to search for food ready to be eaten (without too much cooking involved). Free to daydream with 0 consequences (hmm...maybe you should organize your time better cause that exam won't pass by itself). A literal softie, their room is full of plushies and pillows where they can drown in. Always lose track of time. Has a messy but cozy room (very bad at tidying their things). Leave 3789132789 clothes piled on the bed lol. Lost in their thoughts. Intuitive eating (can binge eat tho if not careful). Can burn the food because they just forget they even put it on the first place. The master procrastinator. Has a calm vibe , and won't disturb anyone (you probably won't even notice them). Have artistic hobbies, but can't focus on them for too long because they get easily distracted. Can lose the entire day to watching videos or social media, and even if they're aware, they still continue doing it. Are into spiritual stuff, probably got 17932701 cristals and a personalized altar for them too, with others meaningful pieces and some candles. They're always in the bathroom, even when they shouldn't be there, it's just their favourite place. Can take veeery long showers, if you live with them, be ready to wait A LOT before they actually get out (or just sneak in😂privacy who?). Loooove to sleep. That calming time at night when everything shuts down is the best feeling in the entire world to them. They can't wait to go to bed honestly, they even get excited. Afternoon naps are also a thing for them. Like to sleep on their stomach.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

A n d ⁕ y o u ⁕ h a v e ⁕ r e a c h e d ⁕ t h e ⁕ e n d !

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

I hope you enjoyed this post,

and i wish you all a great day! 🍰

⁕ L i n n i e ⁕

[dreadfuldevotee]

I'd like to discuss the elephant in the room. Why did we get zero Loumand sex scenes? We got hints and implications, but season 1 was pretty explicit. Do we think that that's a creative choice or something else is happening?

I'm glad I ended up ruminating on this for about a week because episode 7 & 8 really solidified my opinion on it.

I do wanna start by saying that it's very clear to me that there was supposed to be more explicit scenes between them. There has been some thoughts tossed around that censorship happened with the 9 pm timeslot (as opposed to the 10 pm timeslot of S1). I believed this hearing Assad and Jacob talk about the BDSM dynamic between Louis and Armand, but what really sold me on this was Production Designer Mara LePere-Schloop talking about the bedroom set and more specifically about their beautifully carved custom headboard. (If you're a production nerd like me or just want to know more about the design philosophy of IWTV I recommend giving the entire thing a listen!).

I think there are several reasons I think as to why they decided to leave any more explicit scenes on the cutting room floor but above them all is: you cannot separate Armand's sexuality from his abuse. I am really against pulling a "well if you read the books" card but reading just the first couple chapters of "The Vampire Armand" makes me understand so much about not only Armand as a character, but the care being taken to his adaptation. It's clear to me that alongside Rolin & Co.'s commitment to not watering him down to a one-dimensional villain they are also trying to not fall into Anne Rice's tendency to romanticize his trauma.

Sex and sexuality is not the same pillar of Louis and Armand's relationship it was in Louis and Lestat's and so I don't believe their story suffers from the lack of on-screen sex. But I also firmly believe that maybe we don't need to be slutting out the character who we literally just watched talk about how he doesn't remember his life before being sex trafficked. And even when he was "freed" he was still being repeatedly assaulted at the hands of, and under the eye Marius de Romanus. Like it is extremely important to remember that Armand's craving for dominion in his relationships is a manifestation of trauma that deserves the same level of care and depth given to every other trauma portrayed in this show.

I think people have gotten too comfortable calling IWTV a romance when it has always been Gothic Horror. Romance and sex are pivotal to the story but I have found the demands for sex scenes this season a bit absurd and also? unfounded? Loustat share more kisses on screen but there are two sex scenes and both are very plot relevant. I truly figured we were all in agreement that the eroticism of this show is found in the various displays of power, and the dynamics it creates and not the actual clapping of ass-cheeks...which also wasn't happening in S1 either. S2 does not suffer because of the lack of sex-scenes, but the likelihood if it suffering trying to make one work is

[concreteangel92]

Acting up

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

18+

Warnings: spanking, clit spanking, dom/sub relationship, oral (m&f receiving) PiV sex, over simulation, aftercare of course

A/N: so I got this idea into my head last week and just had to bring it to life!

Apart from the small writing I uploaded the other day, this is my first proper one shot and deffo the first smut I’ve done in about 7/8 years so I felt incredibly rusty and have prayed that this turned out ok haha I’ve re-read and changed things so many times in the last week 😂 but after finally feeling more or less happy with it, here we are and I hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

You knew you were in trouble, you’d been winding Noah up all day at an important work event.

Noah hadn’t long been home from yet another tour, but he’d hardly paid you any attention over the last couple days, he was either sleeping or working in his studio and although you love and support everything he does and you understood work has to come first sometimes, you were feeling incredibly needy now.

So you started off small, you wore a dress that left little the imagination. I’m talking bending over too far and everyone sees everything kind of dress to which Noah wasn’t impressed.

“You’re not wearing that to the event.”

“Yes I am.”

Noah’s eyes locked with yours and he had an irritated expression on his face.

“No, you’re not! I’m not having every persons eyes on my girls ass all night because she can’t be bothered to dress appropriately. The car is already outside, I’ll meet you in there. Go change, now.”

You turned away and headed to your shared bedroom with a small smirk on your face, he was too easy to wind up. Instead of changing the dress, you put a long coat over the dress to give the impression you’d changed and jumped into the car.

Noah, having been on his phone texting the whole journey, didn’t seem to notice anything until you arrived at the party, it was full of his management team, the rest of the band, friends, crew, you name it and they were there. Drinks were being served, music was blasting out and everyone appeared to be having a good time already.

You slipped your coat off when you walked into the main room, all eyes were immediately on you but Noah’s became dark.

“What did I say back at home?”

“Can’t remember to be honest”

Noah stood very close to you and put his hand firmly on your upper arm. “I need you to behave yourself tonight.”

All you heard in your mind was “test me more.”

You smiled up at him sweetly, playing the innocent and said “I always behave baby, especially at such an important event.”

Noah gave you a firm look but relaxed his grip on your arm and he let his fall around your waist to guide you around while he mingled.

The night seemed to go well, Noah became a bit more relaxed and was enjoying himself and never strayed too far from your side, often you felt yourself leaning into him, his hand always rubbing small circles on your side absentmindedly. Noah wasn’t someone who displayed massive amounts of affection in public but he loved to always have you in touching distance. And he probably wanted to hide how short your dress was from prying eyes as best as he could.

You let Noah do his thing for a few hours before you started to become impatient, and you knew Noah better then anyone and knew he would be drained by now, he doesn’t do well in big crowds of people and avoids them unless he has to for work, so you decided it was time to start upping the game.

A few throw away comments or jokes at his expense is how it started, your particular favourite was when you offered to grab a drink for him and Jolly but only returned with two and you started to drink one yourself.

“Did you get my drink babe?”

“You have legs right? Do what comes after February….March”

Noah tensed next to you every time and then when you both walked over to both the Nick’s and Jolly who had excused themselves to the sofas, you knew it was time.

You said hello and sat yourself right next to Jolly and Folio which meant Noah had no choice but to sit with Nick opposite you on the other sofa, Noah looked a bit disappointed as there was room for both of you but that look didn’t last long.

After glancing around and making sure that Ruffilo wasn’t watching, you uncrossed your legs and opened them up just enough for Noah to realise that you hadn’t got any underwear on tonight. Noah’s face instantly hardened and he glared straight at you, you couldn’t help but smile and giggle quietly to yourself as you knew this was it, Noah would never let you get away with this, you could feel yourself growing wetter just at the thought of what he’s going to do when you’re alone.

Jolly turned to you after hearing your giggle and said “what’s got you giggling?”

You crossed your legs back over and replied with “oh….erm I was just thinking that if it rains tonight, I don’t have a hood or umbrella so I’d end up getting very wet tonight”

Jolly looked ever so slightly confused but commented back that he didn’t believe it was forecasted to rain. You looked back over to Noah with a smile and you watched as his jaw clenched and his eyes were dark, he gave a very menacing look in your direction at the comment you’d made, he suddenly cleared his throat and jumped up.

“On that note guys I’m not feeling very well, I think I’m going to call it a night now, come on y/n.”

Ruffilo looked concerned “you alright man?”

Noah didn’t take his eyes off you “bad headache”

You stood up and fixed your dress, you smiled at the guys and said goodbye, Noah made certain to pass you your coat and grabbed your hand very firmly and said under his breath “we’ll talk about this at home.”

The ride home was silent, Noah’s grip hasn’t left your hand, and although it was starting to hurt slightly, it was simply causing you to ache elsewhere. You knew Noah was extremely angry, you’d technically crossed a line and was playing up in front of his friends which he doesn’t like but you couldn’t help it, he looked very attractive to you right now.

Not a word was said until you both walked into your house, you went to turn around and then found yourself pinned up against the door with Noah’s hand wrapped around your throat.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what baby?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, you knew exactly what you were doing, you’ve been acting like a brat all day and at one of my work events, are fucking serious?”

You stared up at him with big eyes, between your thighs was already wet and his hand became just that bit tighter which made your breath hitch.

“I just wanted some attention off you for a change.”

Noah ran his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

“Is that so?”

Without any warning he stuck one of his fingers into you and your mouth fell open with a silent moan, head falling back onto the wall.

“You’re so wet for me baby, been thinking about this all day eh?”

“Ye-yes.”

“You want me to make you feel good?”

You nodded while he moved his finger slowly but then removed it, take a moment to clean it off with his mouth.

“Too bad, you think after your performance tonight that you can just get what you want? I don’t think so. Get up those stairs and into our room, only good girls get rewarded.”

Your brain felt fuzzy with excitement as you followed his orders, you went up to your room, Noah not far behind you closing the door and then he sat himself on the edge of the bed.

Noah then stretched his neck from one side to the other, as if preparing for what was about to happen and watching him do that, you practically came on the spot.

“Lay across my lap.”

You went to remove your dress but he stopped you

“Leave it on. You wanted to wear it so badly.”

You walked over to Noah and got comfortable across his lap and he pulled the dress up so he had complete access to you.

“Now for your punish today, I think 15 will do, count each hit and if you miss then we shall start again, understand?”

You nodded in response.

“Use your words angel”

“Yes I understand”

“Remember your safe word?”

Your heart swelled at that as he asks every time he knows he’s about to be rough.

“Yes I do”

“Good girl”

That phrase made your pussy throb, as much as you love being a brat, you also adored his praise.

Noah ran his hand over the back of your legs, he gently parted them slightly and saw the slick coating on the inside of your thighs. Your heart rate increase and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“My dirty girl is looking forward to this huh?”

You were going to respond when out of nowhere he spanked you hard and you let out a deep groan.

“One”

He spanked you again, on the opposite cheek, making sure to keep his hand slightly cupped and not to go to high up so not to hit your lower back.

“Two”

“Are we starting to learn our lesson yet?”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “No.”

“Very well”

Noah was then smacking your bare behind multiple times in a row and you done your best to keep up calling out the numbers with his fast pace, all while you could feel the beautiful stinging pain begin the more he spanked you.

“Ten!”

“That’s my good girl, you’re going a beautiful shade of red baby, shall we take it up a notch for the last 5?”

“Yes sir”

Noah hummed in approval of the name you used, the pain was coming through more now but Noah started to rub you down to soothe you. His hand pulled away briefly and you felt it be replaced with your leather paddle that you didn’t even realised he’d got out ready.

“5 hard smacks angel and then it’s over, you’re doing so good for me.”

You squeezed your thighs together more to try and get relief from the aching you felt, you prayed Noah would reward you soon.

He smacked the paddled down extra hard then he normally did and you cried out and called out “el..eleven!”

“You know what that was for, you get your reward when I say so.”

You nodded and moaned and your body jolted when he then continued the last 4 smacks on you.

“Fifteen!”

You relaxed down on his lap, your backside feeling hot to the touch and was no doubt bright red but you felt his soothing touch as he rubbed over his work for a minute.

Noah gently brought you up and gave you a soft kiss

“You took that so well baby, almost made me feel bad seeing how red you’ve gone, that will definitely bruise later.”

You leaned in and kissed him harder, now straddling his lap and feeling how hot your whole body was. You could feel his erection through his trousers and you started to grind yourself down until his hands stopped you.

“Oh no you don’t angel, we haven’t finished yet”

You stared at him and he brushed your hair out of your face.

“You may have taken your punishment but I don’t feel like I’ve had a proper apology yet”

“I’m sorry Noah…”

“On your knees.”

You dropped down onto your knees immediately, wanting nothing more than to please him however he wanted.

“Suck my cock baby and then maybe I’ll forgive you for acting up today in front of my friends, show me how sorry you are.”

He pulled his boxers and trousers down his hips and legs, just enough to give you access. You watched as his dick fell back onto his stomach, a small amount of precum already leaking out. You wasted no time and licked up his shaft before taking him completely in your mouth and hollowing out your cheeks

“F-fuck baby that’s it”

You grabbed his base with one of your hands while you bobbed your head up and down, no teasing tonight, you cupped his balls with your other hand and gently massaged them making Noah throw his head back letting out guttural growls that you’d normally only hear on the stage while his hand came to rest in your hair guiding you up and down on him.

Next thing you felt was Noah pulling you off him and he brought you in for a kiss, while lifting you onto the bed and pushing your thighs apart so he could rest between them.

“You really are so perfect for me angel”

Noah gave no warning before he dived straight in. A choked cry fell from your lips and he sucked onto your clit and parted your lips with his fingers, to then move down and push his tongue straight in for a taste. Noah was the type of guy who could be between your legs for hours, he was like a thirsty man in a dessert, and he was very smug that he was the first man to ever make your legs shake uncontrollably while eating you out, man is a munch for a reason.

You reached your hand down into his hair and pressed his face into you, trying to grind onto him as you felt yourself getting closer, Noah pulled back and slapped your clit which caused you to jump and moan out.

“Don’t forget your place tonight baby”

You nodded in response but clearly that wasn’t good enough as he delivered another spank down.

“Words”

“Yes Noah, I’ll be good I promise”

You were desperate to cum now, you’d been on the edge for ages and those last two spanks nearly sent you over but you had a feeling Noah wasn’t done with you yet.

Noah kissed your shaky thighs gently, he then gripped your hips down and went straight back in, his face being literally buried in your warmth and your hands are gripping the sheets beneath you while he groans against you, still licking and sucking all over you like you’re his last meal

You could feel your orgasm building up again, your thighs started to shake more and as Noah was sucking on your clit, you felt his fingers at your entrance. Your back arched as he pushed one in, your walls finally having something to hold onto, your cries getting louder and louder. Noah continued as he was, almost with no need for breath, his mouth and fingers working together while he grounded your hips down on the mattress.

“I’m so close Noah”

Noah then pulled away once more with a devilish smirk while you let a choked gasp.

“Have we learned our lesson yet princess?”

You had tears in your eyes, he couldn’t be serious, you were nearly there but Noah loved to edge you as a punishment, he loved to see you beg for him.

“Noah, please I’m so sorry, I won’t ever be a brat in front of your friends again. Please, please let me cum, I’ll be so good for you I promise!”

Noah leant forward, wiped a tear away that had slipped out and gave you a sweet kiss.

“Shhhhh it’s ok baby, I’ve gotcha you”

Noah ran his hands down your sides and settled himself back, he licked a big strip from your opening up to your clit and attached his mouth there while he pushed two fingers back in, Noah wasn’t playing this time, he relentlessly brought you back up to your high, legs shaking, back arching and tears forming in your eyes as you cried out

“Please don’t stop Noah”

And he doesn’t, the arm that’s been holding your hips down, he moves his hand onto your lower tummy and pushes down while he curls his fingers up inside and that’s all it takes for you to feel your orgasm wash over you with a scream.

He doesn’t pull away from you until you’re whining and crying from the overstimulation, you push his head away as the aftershocks are still shaking your body every few seconds and Noah crawls up from between your thighs with his face drenched in your juices. He held you while you came back around, placing small kisses around your collarbone.

“Colour?”

“Green, so green”

Noah let out a small laugh “ok baby, you ready for me?”

You could feel him hard against your thigh, you nodded and leaned up to him for a kiss which he returned. He pulls away and gently removes your dress up over your head and quickly removes the rest of his clothes.

“Turned around, ass up for me.”

You rolled onto your stomach and Noah helped positioned your hips up for him, he ran one hand over your cheek which was definitely sore now but that was forgotten when you felt his head at your entrance. Noah pushed in with no resistance and bottomed out straight away with a loud moan.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good”

Noah held onto your hips and then started a fast, unrelenting pace which caused you to cry out and push back into him. You swear you could feel his tip hitting your stomach with every thrust and Noah wasn’t shy about letting out his own growl’s and groans. You felt your walls closing on him again, your head pressing into the sheets as you called his name. You could only imagine how beautifully sinful he must have looked right now. Noah reached around and started rubbing your clit again.

“One more angel, give me one more, I know you can do it”

Practically screaming you felt yourself crash over the edge and Noah soon followed, his body coming down onto yours, both sweaty and breathless.

You felt Noah pull out gently and rolled you into him, he held onto you as you snuggled into him, your body sore but beautifully spent.

“You ok baby? I’ll be back in a minute ok?”

You nodded as you curled up on the bed, Noah came back in a few minutes later with a glass of water and a warm wash cloth. He gently cleaned you up in between your legs, made you drink some water and then got some cream out of the draw and he rolled you back over to gently rub it over the bruises that were already starting to appear.

You scrunched up your face a little bit, something Noah didn’t miss.

“You done so well for me tonight princess”

Noah got out a comfy t shirt for you and he put on a pair of sweats and then got you both under the covers.

“Is there anything else I can get you baby?”

“No, all I want is a cuddle”

Noah smiled “I think I can manage that”

You curled up into side and he wrapped his arms around you, you felt so warm and safe with him.

Thinking back to the last few hours you let out a small giggle.

“What’s funny?”

“I should play up in front of your friends more often.”

[mischievousmoony]

𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜' ⟡ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸

⟢ james potter x black!reader (fem)

⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters'. however, things don’t go so smoothly at first . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 3.6k

⟢ warnings/tags: abusive parents, james’ clothes are described as baggy on the reader, siblings fighting, fluff then angst

⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ masterlist

note: my writing's so rustyyyy the dialogue is so off but im so done editing. and this is gonna need a few more parts, i keep getting carried away.

The Potters' house was very different from yours. It was the first thing you noticed when you woke up. Back home, it felt like Grimmauld Place existed under a perpetual storm cloud. Here, sunshine cannot be escaped. The curtains were drawn closed, but light still filtered in from both sides, almost pleading for them to be opened so that it might do its duty of brightening the house.

Another thing you noticed were birds, who sang pretty songs from right outside your window. You can't remember ever hearing any birds outside your home, and there were plenty of trees for them to nest in. In fact, you started to believe that the aura of your house scared all living things away. Realistically, it was probably all of the yelling and screaming.

As you lie in an unfamiliar room and think of all the reasons why you preferred it over your own, three gentle knocks beat on your door. They sounded different than James' quick staccato, and nerves bubbled in your stomach because you couldn't guess who was on the other side.

You took a deep breath, told yourself that you didn’t have to be so on edge here, and called for the person to come in as you sat up. The knock pattern automatically filed itself away in your brain as belonging to Mrs. Potter. She walked in, carrying a silver tea tray.

"Good morning, dear. Sleep well?" She greeted you as she made her way to your bedside.

"Yes, Ma'am." You said politely.

"Oh, please call me Effie," she insisted as she placed the tray on the bedside table and moved to draw open your curtains. You imagined the sunshine saying thank you for finally letting it in.

“I’ve brought up some tea for you. I wasn't sure how you liked it, alas..." Effie waved her hand over the tray.

The tray had the basics: a teapot, sugar, and a small milk pitcher. However, Effie had also laid out various tea bags for you to choose from, along with some warm biscuits.

“Thank you,” you said in awe as you stared at the display. It was a simple tea setting, really, but the thoughtfulness still had you feeling choked up.

"I spoke with James this morning. May I?" Effie gestured to the edge of your bed, and you welcomed her to sit. "He woke Monty and me up at the crack of dawn, insisting that we let you and your brother stay permanently. Even had tears in his eyes. I tell you, that boy has his father’s big heart."

"Anywho, I nearly tossed a pillow at him for waking me up so early, as if I’d even consider an alternative! But I got to thinking, if James felt like we needed convincing, then we better make sure you and Sirius don’t feel any unease either.”

Effie reached for your hands that lay folded in your lap. “So,” she paused a moment to allow you the chance to shoo her off before placing her hand over yours. “I felt it was important to tell you personally that you are welcomed in this home and this family, assuming you’ll have us, for as long as you need us. That sounds like a good deal to you?”

You bit back tears, “Yea- yes. I think that sounds lovely.”

Effie smiled and squeezed your hands, “Can I give you a hug, dear?”

“Yes, please.” you croaked.

Effie wrapped her arms around you, and you let a few tears loose while she couldn’t see you, wiping them away with your thumb as soon as they appeared. The hug felt warm and unfamiliar, and you wondered if there was a time that your parents ever hugged you like this. If they did, you didn’t remember it.

From behind Effie’s back, you watched James waltz over through your blurry vision. He became distracted by the surprise that the bedroom door was already opened, eyeing it before anything else in the room as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Good morning, sunsh- Mum! You’re in here!”

Effie pulled back from you and craned her neck to look over her shoulder at her son, who was standing up as straight as a board in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at him, sensing his sudden weirdness.

“I was just welcoming Y/N to our home, like we discussed. Are you alright, dear?” Effie tilted her head.

“‘m splendid, Mum.” James said it with a goofy smile, rocking back and forth on his heels.

She drew her eyebrows together and said, "Lovely, James. What can we do for you?"

"Me? Do for me?" James' eyes widened.

Effie shook her head, perplexed by her son’s reaction.

"I'm wondering what brings you here, James?"

"Ah. I was just in the area," James said, doing a poor job at acting casual. "Y'know, the upstairs... area. Uh, so I thought I'd say good morning... Good morning!"

You thought that this must be the kind of thing people face palm over.

“Hm,” Effie squinted at her son, studying him for a moment before deciding to worry about whatever that was later. She turned back towards you, “Anywho, this is your room now, so I hope it's to your liking. We can see about changing these sheets and painting the walls however you’d like-”

“It’s perfect!” You interrupted, looking bashful for doing so, but Effie didn't seem to mind.

“Well, feel free to customize it any other way. Any posters?” Effie offered.

"I didn't have time to grab that sort of thing,” you admitted, and immediately felt stupid for doing so. Effie clearly just wanted you to feel at home, and you felt like you were being a downer.

But if it phased Effie, she didn’t show it.

"Well then, that means we get to go buy some new ones, yeah?"

She gave your hands a final squeeze before standing up, saying, “I better let you wake up and enjoy the tea,” and walking towards the hall.

Effie affectionately patted James on the cheek as she passed him.

“Have you had breakfast, dear?”

“Mum!” James shrank away from her, his face growing hot. “I will in a minute!”

She tsked at him, gave his cheek one last pinch, and made her way out of the room. James hung from the doorframe into the hall to watch her go. When she was out of sight, he dipped into your room and shut the door silently behind him.

James' back pressed against the closed door as he shot you a toothy grin.

"Good morning, sunshine," he repeated.

You can't help but giggle at him while saying, "Good morning, Jamie."

As he walked over you, his smile slightly faded as a hint of sadness crept onto his face when he noticed your teary eyes.

One thing you loved about James was that he never resorted to any of those hollow phrases like "don't cry" or "stay strong" when he tried to make you feel better. Instead, he always concocted the perfect cure for the situation. Today, it was goofiness and a lot of kisses.

James made a big show of acting innocent as he approached. He whistled some tune and looked anywhere but you before he suddenly dived at you, embracing your waist with a gentle yet decisive sweep of his arms. He flung his body into the mattress, dragging you down with him. You yelped and chided him through laughter.

When you landed, you were tangled awkwardly—your body twisted so that your torso was on top of his, but his legs were draped over yours. James' arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you trapped as he peppered kisses on your face. He kissed your cheeks and the corner of your eyes, then your eyelids, effectively kissing away any stray tears.

You were a fit of giggles by the time his lips reached the tip of your nose. Next up, he dipped his head to kiss each side of your mouth before finally capturing your lips with his. You giggled through the feathery kisses he pressed on your lips, and he couldn't help but follow in your footsteps as he smiled against you.

Soon, laughter overtook you both. Yet you remained close, with your noses brushing against each other and your foreheads pressed together, as your happy laughter filled the room.

Eventually, James' laughter began to die down. He removed one of his hands from your waist to help brush your hair back into place, it having gotten disheveled from his attack.

You settled down as well, letting the touch of his fingertips in your hair calm you. He took notice and continued running his fingers through your hair, even after it was all brushed out of your face.

For a peaceful moment, you gazed into his eyes, which were filled with admiration and mirrored your own. James watched as a glint of mischief suddenly sparkled in your eyes.

"So," you voiced.

"Mhm," he hummed.

"You've clearly never tried to hide something from your mum before."

"Why would I 'ave had to hide something from my mum before?" James pouted, briefly bringing your giggles back. "Only reason I haven't gushed to her about my beautiful girlfriend," James gave your waist a squeeze, "is 'coz she would have qualms with me lying to a friend."

"Oh, so I guess we better go tell Sirius then, yeah? I wouldn't want to make you lie to your dear mum, I like her." You teased, amused by James' eyes widening nervously.

You've talked about telling your brothers before, but it's something neither of you were quite ready for—you were too fond of the blissfulness you found in the privacy of your relationship.

"Er, I don't particularly feel like getting socked in the face today." James said.

"Oh, come on. You think he'd react that badly?" You carried on.

"I think Sirius punching me would be a mild reaction for him." James grimaced, "He'll probably hex me into the next century. And I get chills thinking about what would happen if Regulus were to find out. Oh, I'd be a dead man. Or he'd put an irreversible curse on my bloodline. It's a tossup, really."

Your smile faltered at the mention of your twin brother, suddenly remembering your situation. You let yourself get distracted by the warm welcome from Effie and James' affection. How could you lay here happily while Regulus is still stuck at that house?

Your expression suddenly grew very solemn as you began squirming out of James' grip. "Where's Sirius?" you asked.

James seemed to choke on his own spit. "Uh, pardon? You're not really planning on telling him today?” Despite his protest, James loosened his grip, not wanting to keep you somewhere you didn’t want to be. “At least let me put my Quidditch gear on, I might need the protective padding."

You had tunnel vision the moment Regulus’ name was mentioned, but you realized what James was saying by the time he mentioned protective padding.

“Not that, James. I need to find out about Reg.”

His mouth formed an O shape as you stood at the foot of the bed with your hands on your hips.

“So do you know where he is?”

“Uh, eating breakfast probably,” James guessed, “in the dining room.”

You stared at him expectantly and after a while of him not moving, you huffed, “I don’t know where that is, James!”

“Right!” James scrambled up from the bed so he could lead you through the house. You could’ve found it if you wandered long enough, but the Potters’ house was fairly large, and you wanted to talk to Sirius as soon as possible.

By the time James had led you to the kitchen, you could see Sirius in the next room over through the open archway. You pushed past James at once.

Sirius was alone at the head of the table, various platters of breakfast food surrounding him. The kitchen was hot when you passed through it, so one of James’ parents must have just been cooking, but they were nowhere to be seen now. Sirius was shoveling some sausage onto his plate when he saw you.

“Sirius,” you said sternly as your hands returned to your hips.

“Look who’s finally up!” Your brother cheered, “Just in time to eat.” He gestured at the seat next to him.

James appeared at your side, and said, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Maybe you should have some before you-”

“Where is Regulus?” You interrupted, ignoring James altogether.

James’ utterance of “Yeah, didn’t think so” was lost on your ears.

With a scowl on his face, Sirius turned his attention away from his meal. His eyes scanned over you, and his scowl twisted into an amused expression. “Nice outfit!” he snorted.

You looked down briefly to see yourself drowning in James’ clothes. Being much taller than you, James' sweats pooled at your ankles. You rolled your eyes.

“Stop it, Sirius. Where is our brother?”

Sirius squinted at you. You thought he was finally going to give you answers when he decisively opened his mouth, but instead, “You should sit and eat. James is right, breakfast is the most-”

“Sirius!” You raised your voice, your hands molding into fists as your arms dropped to your sides.

Sirius threw his fork down with a clatter, “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why he’s not here with us.” Your pleading voice cracked as you begged your brother for answers, stepping closer to him.

Sirius had a stormy, faraway look in his eyes, as if recalling something poignant. “The only one who can answer that question is him, so you’re out of luck,” he said bitterly.

The simmering anger in your chest started to bubble, rising up to your throat until you were spitting words that you would later regret. “You left him there!” you accused.

“Excuse me?” Sirius sent a deadly stare your way as he slowly pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Woah,” James tried to interrupt, moving to stand between you two, “Maybe we wanna take a moment and-”

You stepped around James, and his remaining words were drowned out by your raised voice: “I said you left him there. He’s not here because of you.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Sirius bellowed, growing more irritated with you.

“Then why not enlighten me, Sirius!?”

“He chose to stay!" he disclosed. "Alright? I know you think so highly of your favorite brother, but he chose that place!”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed, crossing your arms and looking away.

You ignored Sirius' choice words of "favorite brother." You weren't going to let yourself get distracted by that conversation, which you've had a countless number of times already. Sirius was sensitive to the fact that Regulus was your twin brother, and Sirius would always just be your brother, no matter how many times you told him that you loved them the same.

“I told him to pack, just like you, and he said no. I told him he had to and he refused," Sirius said vindictively.

“Then you should’ve tried harder!" You snapped, spewing words you didn't mean, "Now he’s there alone. He would’ve come if you would've just tried harder, I know it. This is all your fault!”

Sirius reeled back as if you had punched him in the gut. For a moment, he looked hurt, but then anger overwhelmed him. “How could you say that? You weren’t even there!”

“Because you never let me be! I stayed in my room, like you said to, and was out of my mind with worry. Next thing I know, we’re leaving and Regulus isn’t, and that feeling hasn’t gone away because I have no idea how he is. You should’ve grabbed him and dragged him along! You should’ve-“

“Why is everything my fault!? Why is it what I should’ve done!? You don’t even know what he did!” Sirius' nostrils flared with rage.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how your dear Reggie isn’t as good as you think he is," he sneered. "If you only saw him…”

“I don’t care what he did, he’s our brother!" You shouted, "He should be here. It doesn’t matter!”

Sirius slammed his hand on the table, “IT DOESN’T MATTER!?” he screamed, causing you to jump back. Tears immediately began welling in your eyes. No matter what you did, when you were being yelled at, you started crying. You weren't like your brothers, who could hold stone-cold, emotionless expressions despite whatever was swirling within. It was one of the reasons your brothers did what they could to keep your parents away from you—to Walburga and Orion, emotion was weakness.

Your tears didn't phase Sirius like they normally would have. He was too furious. “You want to know what he did?" he asked harshly. "He watched. He watched our parents torture me, and then he just walked away!"

“What did you want him to do?” you cried, “He- he was probably scared,” you hiccuped, “you- you should’ve-“

“I shouldn’t have done anything, goddammit! She crucio’d me! THAT’S what he watched our mother do. THAT’S what he let me deal with alone. I was on the ground unable to get up for damn near thirty minutes, and he knew it!"

Sirius nearly doubled over, grabbing the table in front of him for balance so hard that his knuckles blanched. All of the yelling gave him a head rush, but he wouldn't relent, "So don’t you tell me that I should’ve tried harder. That I should’ve grabbed him. He doesn’t care about me, so why should I care about him?”

Your hand clasped over your mouth as you sobbed. Your parents were cruel, but the Cruciatus Curse? You couldn’t fathom it. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and bile bubbled up in your throat as you recalled Sirius’ scream from the night before.

Neither of you seemed to have anything else to say. You both just stood before each other in your most vulnerable states. It was a miserable sight—you crying your eyes out and Sirius looking sick as a dog.

Neither of you had noticed James leave until he returned. His parents followed closely behind.

"Snitch," Sirius choked out, glaring at his best friend as a fit of coughs hit him, his throat strained from the yelling. He ducked his head down and screwed his eyes shut suddenly, like the light in the room was starting to bother his head.

James didn't seem to care what Sirius thought of him. He was too busy being concerned for you both. Besides, James didn't really snitch. You two were being so loud that his parents were already on their way. He happened to run into them in their pursuit.

"What's going on?" Effie's gentle voice rang through the room, "We could hear yelling from the other side of the house."

Even though James' mum was being stern, she didn't sound angry or upset. Her voice only carried notes of concern and motherly authority.

Neither you nor Sirius answered her, too busy crying and coughing. Both of you would've probably been too sheepish to answer, anyway.

James' parents shared a look with each other, deciding what to do about the situation through eye contact alone.

Fleamont spoke with a firm voice, "Alright, son, we ought to get you up to your room. I think it'd be best for you to lie down." Fleamont clasped a hand on Sirius' shoulder. Your brother let Fleamont assist him in the walk to his room.

Euphemia moved to comfort you, but James stopped her. "Wait, let me."

She raised her eyebrows at her son, skeptical of the idea that her young son was equipped to handle this situation. But James had already started reaching for you, and like a moth to a flame, you melted into his arms the moment you felt his fingertips graze your skin.

Effie's eyes darted between you and her son, settling on him when her features melded into a look of understanding. A million questions raced through her mind. How long had this been going on? Why didn't James tell her? Did James tell Sirius? But the one thing she knew for sure was that you found comfort in James, and comfort was the one thing you needed right now.

She took a deep breath and decided to trust her son. "We'll talk about this later. I'm going to check on Sirius."

"Thanks, Mum." James let out a relieved breath.

"Just... behave."

"Mum!" James blushed, his hands swiftly traveling up to cover your ears with his palms.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that!" Effie waved a hand in the air as she followed in the direction of Fleamont and Sirius.

James noticed your shoulders had started shaking intensely.

“Lovey,” he cooed. He moved his hands to cup your face, tilting it up to look at him. He was surprised to find that the reason for your shuddering shoulders was not because you had started crying harder. You were still crying, but it was mixed with a bit of laughter.

"I guess neither of us are very good at hiding things,” you said, thinking of how you jumped into his arms right in front of his mother.

James shook his head, a single chuckle escaping from his lips.

“Guess not.”

Your moment of humor quickly passed, your eyes turning sad again as more tears spilled out.

James sighed, brushing away your tears with his thumb before pulling you close to his chest. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, pressed kisses to the top of your head, and whispered professions of love and sweet words in your ear while he let you cry. Sometimes, he knew you just needed to let it all out.

Eventually, you let James’ touch and loving words relax you. When your crying was reduced to a sniffle, James veered back so that you could see his face.

“Let’s go on a walk.”

[ninii-winchester]

Crossed Allegiances

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 7.5k

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, spn spoilers, language, canon violence. Not proofread.

A/n: had to split in two because the long fic has become too long.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

"Hurry up." Said the man in hushed whisper, his voice barely audible in the dead of the night.

"You're going to regret this, you know?" She whispered back, her voice was soft. She wasn't threatening him, rather she was scared for what might happen after.

"Don't make me change my mind." He replied. His words held no malice. They were more of a plea for her to hurry up. Before he could speak any further, she pulled him into a tight hug. He wasn't shocked at her action. He was used to her embracing him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Although he hated when she did so, this time he held her back and cherished these last moments with her.

"I'll owe you. For the rest of my life." She whispered lowly.

"You won't. You just be safe." He said pulling away from her. She nodded her head in a silent promise that she wouldn't be reckless and be safe. She looked at face, remembering every last detail, his short dark brown hair, the scar on his right cheek, his eyes, knowing this would be the last time she ever sees him in a very long time.

With a loud gasp Y/n sat up in her bed. Her forehead was covered in sweat as she heaved looking around. She relaxed a bit as she realised she was in her room, in her apartment.

It wasn't a nightmare per say that woke her up from her slumber. It was a memory. A memory buried in the back of her mind that she doesn't want to forget or remember. She wants to remember the last time she was with the most important person in her life but she wants to forget how she got here. She wants to forget how it was the last time she ever saw him and how she has no way of contacting him without risking his life.

With a heavy heart she dragged herself out of the bed, making her way towards the bathroom to get ready for her day.

Y/n L/n, a twenty four year old woman, who lives in Lebanon, Kansas for the past five years. She lives alone in her one bedroom apartment. Works two jobs, at the local bakery, near her place, during the day and as a bartender at the bar during the night.

She doesn't necessarily need the money. She works to keep herself busy. To keep herself from sitting idle and remembering the things she desperately wants to forget.

Making her way towards the bakery, she was the first to arrive there. It has always been like this, she's the first to arrive and the last to leave. She fumbled with the keys, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp morning air. With a soft click, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, the familiar scent of fresh bread and vanilla greeting her.

Y/n flipped the sign from "Closed" to "Open" and stepped inside, her movements practiced and efficient. She turned on the lights. The countertops were spotless, and the display cases were lined with freshly baked goods from the previous day, waiting to be restocked.

Soon her coworkers arrived and the bakery came to life with the customers filling in, and the aroma of rising bread and sweet pastries, filling her with warmth she lacked in her life.

Y/n's day went as usual, being in the back, finding solace in the warmth of the kitchen and  taking pleasure in baking goods.

"Hey Y/n." James, her co-worker called out. "Can you take the counter please? Ellie isn't back from her break but mother nature's calling me!" Y/n laughed, nodding her head. "Thank you you're a life saver. I owe you." He yelled running towards the bathroom and she just grinned. She didn't mind helping out.

Y/n made her way outside and stood behind the counter. Rush hour had passed and there weren't many people in the bakery. Just an old man enjoying his cupcakes, and a young couple having donuts with coffee.

The front door opened and the bell chimed indicating someone had walked in. Y/n prepared herself to greet the customer but the minute she looked at him, the air was knocked out of her lungs. He was gorgeous. She stared as he came closer, noting his eyes were the greenest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Hello!" The man said as he finally stopped in-front of her. His voice snapped her out of her trance, it was velvet smooth.

"Hey, what can i get you?" She cleared her throat flashing him a smile.

"Pie." He said with a childlike excitement. "The banner outside said it's Special Pie Day."

"Sure is. And it seems to be your lucky day mister, we're down to our last slice." She smiled before moving to get him his pie. She placed it in a takeaway box and gave it to him and he thanked her before paying for it.

"Have a nice day!" She said to him.

"You too." He replied before walking out.

The rest of the day Y/n spent thinking about of the handsome stranger. After closing up, she went home, she ate the leftover pizza and took a shower. Dressed in her jeans and a blue crop top she left home for her other job.

Time went by as usual, drunk fights, pool hustling and bad karaoke. After serving another patron Y/n wiped the counter top. She threw the paper towel into the bin it missed, so she squatted down to pick it up and throw it in properly this time. She jumped a bit when she stood back up and saw green eyes sitting on the stool.

"What can i get ya?" She questioned the handsome stranger. He recognised her from earlier.

"A beer please."

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're stalking me." She teased him putting the bottle in front of him.

"Nah, sweetheart. You just happened to be at two of my favourite places." He flashed her a charming smile.

"I haven't seen you around here before." She leaned a bit on the counter trying to remember if she's ever seen him before.

"Just passing by. But a good pie and beer, key to my heart." She nodded her head in understanding, it wasn't the places that were his favourite rather the items.

"Did you like the pie then?" She couldn't help but ask. She knew she was at what she did but it never hurt to ask for a bit of validation.

"Best damn pie I've ever had." He exclaimed.

"Then I guess I've unlocked your heart." She grinned at him.

"You made it?" He questioned and she nodded eagerly. She didn't know what it was about this stranger that made her act like a high school girl but she was having fun. She liked that she had his attention. She wanted to get to know him, even if he was just passing by.

"Well it was some pie..." he trailed off looking at her, hoping to get a name.

"Y/n." She filled in. 

"Dean." He introduced himself.

"So what brings you here Dean?" She asked hoping to find more about the extremely gorgeous man sitting in front of her.

"Work." His vague answer told her he didn't want to talk more about it. So she dropped it. He asked her a few questions about her life here, he didn't ask her any personal questions so she was happy to indulge him. After he was finished with his third beer, he got a call and had to leave, much to her dismay. Fifteen minutes after he left, her shift was over and she headed home.

It was a silent night as she walked in the dark. She could feel another presence behind her and she knew she was being followed. Whoever it was, it's his bad day. She wasn't just a girl and she was really waiting for him to jump her just so she could beat the daylights out of him. But he didn't, and she couldn't risk him follow her all the way to her home so she slowed her steps, and then completely stopped.

"I know you're there." She called out. She moved towards the alley behind the dumpster and saw a figure in the shadows. The figure moved back as she approached him. Another pair of footsteps could be heard from outside the alley. She grabbed the shadow's arm and placed her forearm over his neck, pressing him into the wall, slightly cutting of his oxygen. As she pushed him to the wall, the light from the street lamp shone on his face. "Dean?" She questioned. "So you are stalking me!" His eyes widened as she said that.

"No, this isn't what it looks like!" He replied in a hushed voice.

"Three time's not a coincidence, Dean." She snapped. The sound of another pair of footsteps was getting louder. Dean rolled his eyes, not at her but the approaching footsteps.  Soon enough a man appeared in-front of them and Dean managed to break free from her hold and pushed her behind him. The man in front of him snarled as he barred his teeth in a menacing display. They weren't teeth Y/n noticed. Fangs.

The vampire lunged at Dean and the hunter was quick, getting his machete out of his jacket he charged at him. The vampire pushed at Dean's chest, throwing him against the wall, his machete slipping off his hands. The creature, closed in on Y/n. With calculated moves, she kneed the monster in the stomach.  The green eyed hunter watched as she reached over and picked Dean's machete, beheading the monster in one swift motion. Dean stood up but his jaw was still on the floor.

It was true that he was following her but the other two times he met her was purely coincidental. When he met her at the bakery, he just thought she was pretty. The next time he saw her at the bar, it was pure coincidence, after talking to her, he found her enticing. But then he got the call from his dad asking about his hunt and he remembered he was here for work. So he went back to his motel for research, however during his research he noticed that vamp was taking a certain type of females. Girls with Y/e/c eyes, y/h/c hair and the ones with a specific body type. His mind flashed with an image of Y/n and he immediately left his motel. His assumption had been true since the vamp actually came after her but he didn't expect her to do what she did.

"What did you do?" He asked her.

"Killed him, obviously! And saved your ass." She snapped folding her arms across her chest.

"Damn it Y/n, I could've followed him to his nest." He argued. "I'm gonna have to start over now."

"You wanted to use me as bait? Are you fucking kidding me?" She glared at him. "Stop hunting if it's such a bother to do your job in the first place."

"I wasn't using you as bait, I came to save you. If you hadn't killed him, I would've made him tell me where the rest of them are." He retorted. "Are you a hunter?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"No." She replied unfolding her arms and walking over to the dead creature's body. She patted his pockets hoping to find something that could lead them to his base. Dean scoffed at her response.

"Are you seriously going lie to my face after I just saw you decapitate a vampire?"

"I'm not a hunter Dean." She answered through gritted teeth. She found a cellphone in the vamps pocket, she threw it at Dean who caught it effortlessly. "That might help you." She said walking away.

"Hey.!!" He ran behind her and grabbed her arm as he caught up to her. "I could use the back up, you know." He tried to convince her with his captivating smile. She gave him a deadpan expression. "C'mon sweetheart, I'll owe you." He didn't give two shits about back up. He just didn't want her to leave too soon. Now that he knows he can be himself in front of her, he just wants to spend a bit more time with her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, he fidgeted under her scrutinising gaze and she smirked. "C'mon, out with it, sweetheart." She demanded in a teasing tone. Dean let out a huff.

"I thought you were pretty. But now I think you're smoking, you're badass and it's hot so can you blame a man for wanting to spend some more time with you?" He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Besides you seem to know about this stuff and it's just a cherry on top."

"You could've just said so. Besides now that I think about it, you actually might need backup." He rolled his eyes at her teasing, knowing he's completely capable of holding on his own. "Lead the way." She motioned him to lead the way.

He took her to the Impala and she settled in the passengers seat. It wasn't long before she found herself out a cheap motel. He guided her inside his room and she could see the beds were still made, a few empty beer bottles were placed on the table with his laptop sitting on it. 

"May I?" She gestured to his laptop and he shrugged. She took a seat on the chair, before she could open the computer he jumped a bit before snatching it from her. He gestured her to wait a minute and closed all the tabs before giving it back to her. She gave him an amused look and he looked sheepish. "The phone." She raised her palm out in front of him. She went through the messages, the recent one stating,

Get back ASAP. -Rick

Y/n quickly traced the number and a few minutes later the computer pinged. "I got it." She turned the screen towards Dean and he was impressed by how quickly she found their target.

"Let's go, sweetheart."

It didn't take them long to arrive at the vampire's nest. They quickly sneaked inside the abandoned building, Y/n's grip tight on her borrowed machete. She scanned the area before moving in stealthily. Dean right behind her. As they ventured further into the building, a bit of chatter could be heard over loud music coming from upstairs. The duo nodded at each other and made their way upstairs. It all happened in a flash, Y/n noticed they were seven of them and charged fearlessly. Slashing heads after heads. One of them had managed to knock the machete out of her hand but she didn't falter, she jumped a bit and spin kicked the vampire which made him fall a few feet away with a loud thud. That gave her the opening to grab her weapon and end his life.

Y/n and Dean panted, covered in blood with victorious grins of their faces. Dean had witnessed how she'd kicked the vamp and he was impressed. This girl was astonishing him every second. He wanted to know her, he needed to know the girl who denied being a hunter but fought better than one.

"I believe a celebration is in order." Dean said holding his hand out to her. She grabbed it without hesitation.

"My place, Deano." She whispered in his ear and he swore he felt his blood rush to all the right places. After burning the bodies the two got into the Impala, driving to her place. She let him inside her apartment and closed the door behind her.

"Drink?" She questioned walking into the kitchen. Dean nodded. "Have a seat, make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the couch.

"Nah, don't wanna ruin your couch, sweetheart." Dean replied as she came back with two bottles of beer. He took one graciously and took a big swig.

"Then why don't you strip, sweetheart." He mentally groaned as he's never met a woman like this before. He swore if he was capable, he would've fallen in love with her. Her eyes watched how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Leaving her bottle on the coffee table, she moved toward the bathroom. She tossed her top at him before disappearing inside.

"Fuck, this woman." Dean groaned before joining her inside. She was waiting for him under the shower in all her naked glory. Dean didn't waste anytime before stripping off his clothes and joining her. He stepped under the warm water his chest pressing against her back. She could feel his length pressing into her back. She turned around, slamming her lips into his. He grabbed the back of her head, pulling her closer, their lips met in an incredibly intense kiss, charged with a raw, electric heat. The kiss deepened, becoming fierce, that left them both breathless and craving more. He groaned into her mouth.

"Fuck i gotta take you to bed." He growled. As much as he loves a good shower sex he needs to take her to bed, he needs to have a taste of her sweet nectar, he wants her to fall apart on his tongue at least twice before has his way with her, before he spilts her open. Most of all he wants her to enjoy this as much as he does, he wants her to be comfortable.

She nodded before turning off the shower. He picked her up effortlessly, and threw her on the bed. He kissed her once before making his way down between her legs. He buried his head in her core. Lapping at her juices like a starved man. As much as his body ached to be inside of her, he needed her to come undone on his tongue. And she did. Hard.

"I could eat you all day, fuck you're sweeter than any pie I've ever had." He praised kissing the inside of her thighs.

"Dean." She whimpered. "Need you." She was needy for him, she had never wanted a man as much as she him and she didn't even know his last name.

"Patience, baby." He rasped. Fuck, his voice alone was enough for her to lose every last thread of her sanity. And his expert mouth and fingers had her wanting, begging for more.

He hovered above her, his hand resting beside her head. His other hand tracing all over her body as his mouth left open mouth kisses over her neck and chest. Although she was loving being submissive for him, she was running out of patience. Pulling him down slightly she flipped him on his back, moving up to straddle his waist.

"Easy, princess." Dean teased as she positioned herself and sunk down on him. He groaned loudly as he sheathed inside her completely. "Fuck baby." He grunted as she started moving.

"Dean." She gasped as running her hands all over her body. Throwing her head she moved faster.

"Say my name, just like that." He flipped them over so she was under him again. Pulling her legs over his shoulders, he pounded into her. She didn't remember the last time a man had her screaming his name over and over until it was the only thing she remembered. He pressed his lips onto hers, one of his hands wrapping around her throat, adding slight pressure making her roll her eyes in the back of her head. She kept repeating his name like mantra, with each snap of his hips.

After hours of immense pleasure, she'd lost sense of her surroundings, lost count of the times he's made her come, she didn't even know if it was night or day anymore. All she knew that this enigma of a man was making her feel things she'd never felt before. She came back to her sense as she felt Dean rub gentle circles on her skin.

"You okay, sweetheart?" She nodded slowly. "You were amazing baby girl." He grinned at her handing her a glass of water he brought for her.

"You were fantastic." She responded as he settled in the bed with her. He laid back pulling her down to rest her head on his chest. Pretty soon the day's exhaustion took over and she drifted off to slumber.

"We have to. I have to." A blonde girl muttered with no emotion.

"No we don't." She replied looking somber.

"You don't understand, there is no other way." The blonde girl took a step closer.

"We will find a way. This doesn't have to happen.!" She exclaimed walking backwards.

"I am sorry." Was the last thing she heard the blonde girl say.

A loud scream, woke Dean from his slumber. He shot up and watched Y/n sit up beside him. Her eyes were wide open and she was out of breath.

"Hey hey! Sweetheart, just a nightmare, yeah?" Dean nodded at her, slowly coaxing her.

Not just a nightmare.

"Yeah!" Dean gathered her in his arms, placing a kiss on her head. He didn't know why but his is heart was aching for the girl in his arms. He felt the need to protect her. He gently laid her back on the bed, his arms tightening around her. She felt safe in his arms. She wanted to ask him to stay forever. But she knew she couldn't and she knew he wouldn't.

Dean's woke up as he heard vibrations coming from somewhere. He snuggled into her neck further, but his eyes flew open as he realised it was his phone buzzing. He slipped out of the bed, tripping on his feet as he rushed towards his phone. He somehow managed to pull it out of his jeans before it stopped ringing.

"Fuck." He cursed as he saw the called ID. It was his dad. "Yeah Dad!" He said answering the phone. "Yeah. No, I forgot. It's done." Dean waited for his father to finish speaking so he could go back to the baddie in bed, cuddle her, wake her up with his head between her legs. But his father ordered him to be back in three hours. Since there's no use for him to stay there if the job's done. "Yes, Sir." Dean muttered before hanging up. He knows it's a long drive and he'd only make it in there in three hours if he left right now. There's no time for a quickie and the thought made him groan.

Y/n yawned and stretched as she woke up to an empty bed. She tried not to feel disappointed that he was gone; she knew he would leave eventually. But she had hoped for at least a goodbye. She heard footsteps approaching. Dean emerged through the doorway and flashed her a smile.

"Good morning."

"I thought you left," she mumbled, pulling the covers closer to her body. He inched closer, then kneeled on the bed before her.

"You really thought I'd leave without saying goodbye?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with surprise and amusement. He nugded her nose with his before pressing his lips to her. She gasped as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. She pulled him closer, pulling him above her, but he pulled apart. "As much I'd love to, I have to leave. My dad called." He explained kissing her pout.

"Alright."

"This is goodbye?" Dean questioned.

"You can stop by whenever you want." She shrugged. Dean nodded.

"Do you think I can call you for backup?" He asked getting dressed.

"Don't you even dare." She threatened even when they both knew they hadn't exchnaged numbers, they didn't even know anything about each other apart from their names. He chuckled placing one last kiss on her lips before leaving her house.

Over the years Dean often thought about Y/n. She was the only woman ever that made Dean's heart leap out of his chest. He was beautiful, fierce, a badass when it came to hunting, but still had a graceful feminine touch to her personality. He was pretty sure she had ruined every other woman for him. His hookups were all meaningless and never enticed him to go for another night. He had every intention to go back to Y/n, visit her, maybe beg her to come with him. But due to this life, he never got the opportunity. Part of him stayed away because she didn't want to do anything with hunting, and he wasn't sure if he could bear her rejection. So he never tried.

Ten years had passed the bakery owner Mrs. Reed passed away and left the bakery in Y/n's name as she had no kin of her own. And she loved Y/n dearly. The old woman knew she was passionate about her job and was worthy of owning the place.

Dean never came back. Y/n never expected him to or even remember her. Y/n was thirty four now. Dean had managed to leave an impression on her. She tried not to think of him often. But this is life. You meet people, you remember some, you forget some. But there's some people she desperately wanted to forget but yet her mind wouldn't let her.

She stopped working at the bar ever since she inherited the bakery, but she still visited the bar on weekends. Having a drink or two. Had she known what awaited her, she would've never left her house that day. Y/n was by the pool table, a glass of whiskey in her hands as she watched the game between between two bulky men.

Her eyes wandered around the place ever so often. Her breath caught in her throat as she made eye contact with those blue eyes. She gulped down her drink in one go. She hoped he didn't recognise her but the smirk on his face said otherwise. She watched as one of men was positioned to take his shot, she accidentally stumbled into him ruining his shot. The large man turned to her and she cowered back in fear.

"He told me to do it." She pointed to his opponent and the large man turned to him. Grabbing him by his collar he threw a punch at his face. A fight broke out, creating enough diversion for her slip away.

"That was clever Y/n." A voice said from behind her as she walked out of the bar. "But you should know it isn't enough to outrun me." She stepped dead in her tracks as turned to face him. There was no way to run. Now that he knows she's alive, there's no way she could ever run. 

"Mr.Ketch." She stuttered taking a step back.

"I never believed you died." He took a step forward. His thick accent still the same as she remembered. "Even if you were nineteen, you were one of the best." She watched in anticipation as he inched closer. "Though I never thought I'd run into you in America."

She was terrified of him. If it had been anyone else, she would've tried to run. If it had been anyone else, she might've felt relieved that they hadn't hurt her yet. But this was him—ruthless, calculating. The more he stalled, the more her fear grew. He liked to make his prey think they had a chance to escape. He liked the chase.

"Mr.Ketch." She spoke again, but she didn't even know what else to say.

"I just don't understand how'd you do it? How did you run from the Men of Letters. And more importantly why?" He circled around her. "Ah you know what, don't bother. I'm not interested."

"Why are you here?" She finally mustered the courage to question him. "I have been living a normal life, I haven't told anyone anything about the Men of Letters." She added feeling the need to explain.

"Don't flatter yourself, darling." Arthur snipped in his usual tone. "I'm not here for you, though it is a pleasant surprise to see you here." A moment of silence passed and Ketch gripped her arm tightly. "Now that I think about it. You're coming with me." She knew struggling against him would be a waste of her energy. He dragged her towards his vintage looking motorcycle.

The ride was short, she didn't recognise where he was taking her. They stopped in front of what looked like a base, located in a hidden bunker. It appeared to be deeply hidden and fortified. He placed his hand on the biometric scanner, the security gate opened and he dragged in her inside the by arm.

He nudged her move on her own, he opened a door to what seemed to be a briefing room. There were screens placed all over the place, some showed maps, locations and security footage of God knows what places. A huge table with chairs was set up in the middle. The door opened for a second time and someone entered the room while her back was to the door.

"Look what I found." Ketch announced, turning her around forcefully. Her heart stopped for a minute when her gaze landed on the newcomer. Those eyes, the ones she memorised fifteen years ago, stared back at her with an unreadable expression. That scar across his right cheek was the same as she remembered.

"Mick." She breathed out. He was frozen in his place. He never thought he'd ever get to see her. He had always hoped and prayed for her safety. Seeing her back in the same hell again, the one he rescued her from, he didn't know how to feel.

She didn't care if she shouldn't have done it in front of Ketch but she ran straight into his arms. Her best friend. The one that helped her when she it needed the most. The one who risked his life help her run. As the initial shock wore off, Mick wrapped his arms around her. Hugging her tightly, not wanting to let go. He'd missed her.

"Well, isn't it heartwarming." Ketch said sarcastically, from behind her, making them pull apart.

"What do you want from me?" She snapped, her fear now turning into anger and frustration.

"Now that is a very good question, darling." Ketch clicked his fingers before towering her. "What do you think will happen when the Elders find out a rogue hunter is alive?" He sneered as he spoke. "They'd issue your death warrant. And trust me I would love to carry out those orders."

There was no doubt that he was right, Y/n knew and Mick did too. They would have her killed. The main reason Mick declared her dead was to ensure they would never look for her ever again. And that plan had been successful for fifteen years- until today. Until Ketch found her.

"I have a job for you. Complete it, or you won't live to see another sunrise." Ketch said retrieving his gun from his gear. "So what's it gonna be?" He questioned pointing the gun to her head.

"What's the job?" Ketch smirked at her answer and Mick let out a resigned sigh.

"Eliminate the Winchesters. From within."

Y/n didn't know who the Winchesters were or why the British Men of Letters were so concerned about them. But knowing Ketch as she did, she was sure he wouldn't hesitate to assassinate the Winchesters if it weren't so complicated.

"Mick here will tell you whatever you need to know," Ketch said, grabbing his stuff. Turning to her, he added, "And Y/n, one wrong move." He warned, pointing his gun at her to emphasize that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot. She nodded meekly before he left.

"Oh god." She let out a breath as the menacing man left the room. She turned to Mick embracing him again. He patted her back, calming her down. "How have you been?" She asked pulling away to look at him.

"I've been better. I'm ecstatic to see you, but I'm terrified for what might happen to you." He replied, his familiar accent soothing her. She gave him a small smile.

"Don't worry about me, Micky." He rolled his eyes at her for using his old nickname she'd given him. "I've had a great life thanks to you. After I'm done with these Winchesters, I might end up killing Ketch and maybe we can run away. I'm not leaving my best friend behind this time." She said sounding determined.

"Sure thing kiddo." He ruffled her hair. She pouted slapping his hand away. She hated when he did that.

"Fill me in about these Winchesters." She said plopping down on one of the chairs.

"They're brothers. American hunters, currently residing in a Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas." Mick stated sitting beside her.

"What's Wretch's beef with them?" She questioned. Mick let out a laugh knowing who she was referring to.

"It's not a personal conflict. They're meddling with business." Mick replied.

"Such as?"

Mick gave her a look. She immediately understood that the Winchesters weren't fond of their methods. The British Men of Letters had no regard for collateral damage, as long as their goals were achieved. It was one of the reasons Y/n got out. She had had enough of having innocent blood on her hands.

"And why can't that cunt deal with them himself?" She asked.

"They've proven to be a bit unpredictable. They've outsmarted him. And they're resilient as hell." Mick informed her, a smirk appeared on her face.

"I like these Winchesters. At lease someone gave Wretch hell." She snickered. Mick chuckled before dropping a file in front of her. The file was labeled as 'Winchesters'. She flipped the file open and read through it.

Sam and Dean Winchester. The name Dean brought back memories, her mind flashed with the images of the green eyed hunter. Her eyes widened as realisation hit. Dean, American Hunter. She flipped through the file for a photo. When she found one attached to the page with a paperclip, she removed it and inspected closely. The man in the photo looked familiar, he no longer had that boyish charm on his face, he looked her older. But those eyes. Those green eyes.

Son of a bitch.

Y/n mulled things over, he probably won't even remember her. But does she want to play puppet for Ketch. She ran away from this god forsaken organisation for a reason. But then she knew Ketch wouldn't just kill her. He would torture her, mentally and physically. She could bear the physical pain being inflicted onto her but she knows he would drag Mick into this to break her. And she can't let that happen. She owed him her life, her happiness, those fifteen years she spent as a normal human being. He'd always treated like a little sister and she'd seen him like the big brother she never had. She can't let anything happen to him. She won't.

"I guess I got work to do." Y/n mumbled closing the file. "Call Wretch." She told Mick. The man nodded and called Ketch. The man came back with a stoic look on his face. "Final goal?" She questioned.

"On our side or dead." Ketch replied.

"When I do this, you'd better keep your pestering ass out of my way. And don't you dare show up anywhere near me!" Ketch scoffed at her threat. "I'm serious, those guys hate your guts and I don't want to be seen with you. Don't want your incompetence to mess up my work." This triggered Ketch and his face twitched a bit but he held back.

"Be my guest." He taunted before leaving again.

Mick helped her get back to her apartment. She dropped on her bed as she formulated a plan.

Plan A, get them to be partners with the British Men of Letters.

Plan B, Elimination.

She hoped it never came to Plan B.

Y/n knew her best shot at getting close to the Winchesters would be Dean. She'd read about them, the British Men of Letters had kept an eye on them for a long time. She knew Sam would be a bit suspicious of her but given her past with Dean, she could manage to accomplish her mission. Out of all the places in the country, Y/n never thought Dean would settle down here, in Lebanon. How come she never ran into him she wondered, but then again, she never went out much, just the bakery or the bar. It makes her question why he never visited her. Maybe he did forget about her.

Y/n visited the bar Dean visited frequently, according to the files. She'd been here for the fourth day in a row and he hadn't showed up yet again. She wanted to run into him accidentally, just so he wouldn't get suspicious of her. It wasn't unlikely for him to bump into an old fling at the bar. It would be completely coincidental. The door to the bar opened and walked in the green eyed hunter she'd been waiting for.

If he looked gorgeous back then Y/n didn't know how to describe him now. His features a bit more rugged, his hair a bit tousled, a bit of stubble present on his jaw and she pressed her thighs together, wanting to feel that scruff between her legs.

She downed her drink quickly as she watched him take a seat on one of the stools by the bar. She quickly made her way towards him. She lightly tapped on his shoulder and waited for him to turn around.

Dean wasn't in the mood to be bothered by anyone, and he certainly didn't want to deal with an annoying woman clinging onto his side. He presumed if he'd act uninterested, whoever it was, would leave him alone. But they persisted, tapping on his shoulder once again. He grumbled before turning around, ready to tell the intruder to fuck off but time froze as he did.

Dean didn't believe his eyes, it was Y/n. She was right in front of him. In the flesh. She logged a bit older than the last time he saw her. Her y/h/c was a bit longer, her body had grown, in more ways than one. She was a pretty girl but she's turned into an even more beautiful woman. He blinked a bit when he heard her call his name.

"Dean? Dean, you zoned out."

"Fucking hell. Y/n!" It wasn't a question. It was an exclamation. He remembered her. "Goodness, sweetheart. Look at you." Dean beamed. "Still beautiful as ever."

"And look at you, still charming as ever." She replied with a grin. He missed her. He missed this. She was the only woman who could tease him and match his flirty banter.

"How have you been?" Dean asked her.

"Been good. Though I'm a bit upset." She pouted. Although she was doing a job, she couldn't help but say what she felt.

"Why is that, sweetheart?"

"Well you're here, and you didn't visit." She replied honestly. He hadn't expected her to say that. He never thought she'd want him to visit her. "Is there a girlfriend or a wife I should know of?"

"None." He replied. At his answer she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, his arms immediately circling her waist.

"Missed you." She whispered in his ear making him shudder. The woman that has been invading his dreams for the past ten years is back in his arms and he was losing control. He dragged his nose through the column of her neck, inhaling her scent.

"Missed you too baby." If she was being honest, being back in his arms made her forget why she was there in the first place. Although she'd barely spent 24 hours with him in total, she'd missed him immensely over the years. "Let's get out of here, yeah?" She nodded, he turned and threw a few bills to cover for his beer. His arm never leaving her waist, he pulled towards the Impala. "You still live at the same place?" She nodded again as he pulled the car out of the parking.

They reached her place soon enough but none of them were eager to rip their clothes off of each other. With his hand tightly clutched in hers, she pulled him to the couch Dean's strong arms encircle Y/n, holding her close against his chest, where they can feel the steady beat of his heart. His warmth surrounds her. Dean's fingers lazily trace patterns on Y/n's back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Y/n nestles her head against the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent she missed so much. It hasn't even been an hour since she was back in his arms, and she's already considering telling Ketch to fuck off.

"What have you been up to these days?"

"Hunting. What about you?" Dean shifts slightly, pulling Y/n even closer, and presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. There's a quiet contentment in the air, the kind that comes from being with someone who makes you feel safe and cherished. Neither of them knew just how desperately they wanted each other, until now.

"Ah same old. I'm the owner of the bakery now. And i stopped working at the bar."

"That's amazing, sweetheart."

"When are you leaving?" Her question echoed through the quiet apartment. He tensed slightly; he hadn't told her he lived here now. He wasn't ready for her reaction upon discovering he'd been living here for years and never bothered to visit. Not this soon But he knew he had to come clean sooner or later. If he wanted something more with her—something real this time—he needed to tell her the truth.

"I'm not." She looked at him with curious eyes, although she knew he was living in the Men of Letters bunker with his brother. She knew almost everything about him— yet here she was, pretending. She hated doing it. "I live here with my brother. Have been for a while."

"I see." She replied looking down at his chest. A part of her was hurt that he had been living her and he didn't come find her. If Ketch hadn't appointed her with this job, she would've never met Dean again.

"Cmon, don't be like that, sweetheart. I wanted to come see you. I just thought maybe you'd moved on, had someone in your life. We didn't exactly make any promises." He rubbed the back of his head. "Besides, I don't think I would've been able to handle seeing you with someone else." A smile broke onto her features at his admission.

"There hasn't been anyone. No one was the flirty green-eyed hunter." She grinned up at him. It was the truth, she did meet other people over the years but they weren't Dean.

"I was wondering, if you'd want to give us a real chance? I know this is sudden, we just met again-" she didn't let him complete, she stopped him mid sentence by pressing her lips to his.

"I'd love to." Y/n was now questioning her own skills; she hadn't been on a job for fifteen years. The lines were blurring for her. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to complete this job or get herself killed by Ketch. Whatever it was, she didn't care in that moment. She wanted Dean. And he was willing to himself to her.

Dean stayed the night but nothing happened. Y/n served Dean the pie in her fridge, she loved how his face lit up like a child. Even after years his love for pie was still the same. The curled up in bed, catching up on each other's lives they missed over the years.

"Your best friend is an angel?" She looked at him incredulously. He chuckled at her reaction and nodded.

"Yeah. He's more like a baby in a trench coat."His laugh made her smile sadly. The more he told her about his life, the more she was second guessing this job. Is she really going to kill him and his brother if they don't cooperate with the British Men of Letters.

"I'm sorry Dean." He looked down at her with a questioning gaze. "The years haven't been kind to you." She pressed a soft kiss to his chest. "I can't even imagine how you'd felt, going to hell, purgatory. I'm so sorry." She cupped his cheek, staring in those green eyes that'd seen so much. There's pain but there's adoration, for her.

"It's in the past." He shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't know what possessed him to tell her his life story but he wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to be emotionally connected with her, he wanted it to be real, more than just a physical relationship. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead as she snuggled closer to him.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

[archesnalleyways]

Doctor!Coriolanus Snow x Naive!Reader

power imbalance, dubcon, corruption kink

dead dove do not eat

You’d go in for a full checkup, trying to stay ahead of your health. He checked your blood pressure, reflexes, listening to your breathing.

Doctor Snow has a habit of wanting to work in a cold room, and that’s made very evident from the way your nipples are straining against the thin fabric of your dress, creating two pebbles which made eye contact near impossible for him.

And you’d been so quick to follow his every task, looking up with expectant, nervous eyes. Lifting your arms with barely any prompt, twisting your torso for him to roam his stethoscope over your body. And something dark is starting to tug inside of him, something unstoppable.

“You seem nervous, miss” he starts with a voice full of fake concern, “is there any reason for this?”

Your face flushes and you twist your fingers in your lap.

“Oh.. well, um, it’s just my first, real doctors appointment” you mumble.

First. First. The word rings in Coriolanus’ mind. First means clean, first means uncorrupted. He wants to change that.

“I understand your nerves, miss, but there’s no need for them” he answers with a sweet smile, but he can’t hide the sinister glint in his eyes.

He goes over to his desk, ‘checking’ what else there’s left for him to check.

“Next thing I need to check for is for breast cancer” he states in a professional voice, walking back to the examining table where you’re sitting. “So I need you to lay down and, if you’re comfortable, the exam is best done on bare skin.”

Your eyes shoot up at his face but you’re met with a calm, almost knowing, look. In practically a trance your hands move up to unbutton the three buttons over the bust of your dress before pulling the fabric down to reveal your breasts to him.

It takes everything in Snow to not groan, to not ravage you on sight. But he knows that this is a delicate situation and too much desperation from his side will push it to break. So he just motions for you to lay down, which you do, and he places his hands on of your boobs.

“What I’m doing is checking for lumps” he explains in an attempt to prolong the façade that this is completely routine, “just say the word if I’m pushing too hard.”

His fingers start to move over you, digging into the fat of your breast. To his credit he does do a check for breast cancer. And he makes sure to check both of them very thoroughly. But then he can’t help himself from just touching you.

Roaming his hands over your tits, moving them together and then apart. He moves the tips of his fingers to your nipple, moving in tight soft circles.

And you let out a small, small gasp. It’s embarrassing, a professional just doing his work and you’re about to moan. But the pleasure was so overwhelming, so unexpected.

“There’s a lot of nerves in nipples” Dr Snow starts to explain, focusing on keeping his breathing controlled, “it’s important to check to see if there’s proper blood flow.”

He moves his hands so his knuckles are supporting your tits, either thumb on either nipple as he continues playing with them.

Your lips part and there’s a very faint line from your furrowed brows, but it feels so good that it’s hard for you to stop yourself from moaning.

And the sight is making something else hard, Snows eyes flicking between your boobs in his hands to your face mixed between embarrassment and pleasure. He can’t stop his fingers from giving your nipples a slight pinch and tug before moving away from you.

“Now I only have to give you a gynecological check..” he tries to say authoritatively, and turns around to grab gloves, “may I remove your underwear?”

And you’re in such a haze, brain already slightly fried from his fingers, so you just let your head fall in a nod.

He backs his chair down so he’s sitting by your legs, hands moving up your dress to pull down your pretty panties decorated with flowers. He folds the skirt of your dress over to get a better display of you. He feels his cock twitch obnoxiously in his pants at the sight of wetness that’s already pooling in your slit.

The doctor’s hands spreads you apart, forcing down the groan moving its way up his throat, and moves the tip of his middle finger to your hole. He pushes in gently, your self-made lubrication making it almost too easy, and he hears your breath hitch.

And you’re so tight, almost too tight, around just one of his fingers and it’s making his head spin. It also fills with dirty fantasies and the sight of it disappearing into your heat is not helping. After a few pumps he moves to add a second finger, and it’s a little stretch but you take it so well.

He moves his other hand so his thumb can move over your clit, and your teeth push into your bottom lip to stop every moan threatening to spill out.

“This is another very important nerve” he mutters, putting some extra pressure on your clit to clarify what he means.

His eyes move from your pretty pussy to your face, contorted in pleasure and obviously keeping your sounds in.

“It is very normal, and encouraged, to feel pleasure from this exam, miss” Snow explains, like this is protocol, “it is completely fine to.. emit sounds.”

With the blood for his brain drained to his cock he has a hard time keeping up with professional jargon. Even so his words of calming makes you release your lip from your teeth, letting your mouth hang open at first. But then his fingers graze your g-spot and the moan just falls out.

“To.. um, to make sure everything is working properly I need to bring you to orgasm.”

Coriolanus knows he’s pushing it, but your own words are still ringing in his head. It’s your first, how are you supposed to know this isn’t how doctors treat their patients. Plus after hearing your cunt squelch around his fingers he can’t possibly stop now.

So he’s pushing his fingers into you faster, curling them when they’re in the deepest parts of you, his other hand is working idly against your clit.

Your mouth is now, almost, shamelessly emitting all those sounds you swallowed earlier. He looks up at you with dark eyes, seeing how in your haze of pleasure you had not yet buttoned up your dress again, your tits still on display for him.

He feels you start to clench around his fingers after switching from circles over your clit to moving them back and forth, “yeah? That feel good?” He mutters, desperately wanting to feel you clench like that around his cock.

You feel your stomach starts to twist, legs tensed to the point of shaking and your eyes squeezed closed.

“You’re gonna cum, huh?” Snow taunts, moving his fingers impossibly faster.

And a moment later you’re stunned by white hot pleasure, gushing around his fingers. Every sound is muffled like your ears are stuffed with cotton, you can’t even register the words Doctor Snow are saying as he throws away his gloves before helping you button up your dress. He offers his hand to you and passes you your bag, bidding you adieu.

You’re so out of it that you don’t realize that you’re not wearing your panties as you walk out of his office, unaware that they were placed in Doctor Coriolanus Snows back pocket.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lack of Focus

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt comforts you when your forgetfulness seems to be ruining your life.

warnings: swearing, weepy reader, period mentions, Matt being adorable, reader's no good very bad day

a/n: this is heavily inspired by my own life last month where my unknown disability gave me such intense brain fog on my period that I thought I’d somehow gotten brain damage.  Thankfully, it’s passed but what the FUCK y’all. That has never happened to me before and it was terrifying. So here is a little emotional hurt/comfort based on that! Also it takes place in the "In All the World" verse, but it can be read as a standalone. As always, please reply/reblog/DM me feedback!

w/c: 3.7k

Elbows planted firmly on your wobbly desk, you tried to ignore the way the large gouge on the left side dug into your exposed skin. You could feel the splintering fiberboard prickling your flesh, but you were too exhausted to adjust your posture. Your body felt heavy, as if you’d been transported to a different planet overnight and hadn’t quite adjusted to the intense gravitational force. Invisible strings attached to every cell that composed you, anchoring your movements to a far away point, making it difficult to even sit up straight.

Lifting your chin from atop your clammy hands, you strained to reach the coffee cup that you’d stupidly left on the far corner of the desktop. The minuscule weight of the mug made your hands shake, your strength sheerly depleted even though it was barely 8:30 in the morning. The watery coffee slid over your tongue, leaving the gritty residue of undissolved powdered creamer behind. You were used to crappy break room coffee, but it tasted especially bitter today, like a poor consolation prize for a contest you hadn’t entered.

In a word, you felt…groggy. Which made no sense, since you’d been sleeping ten or more hours a day the whole week—if you included your frequent naps. Your period-exhaustion and raging brain fog were apparently in cahoots this month.

The heat wasn’t helping either. New York was currently jumping between excessive, brutal sun and pouring rain. Each day felt like a Greek myth, Apollo and his father battling it out in a wretched display of strength, leaving you and the other mere mortals of Long Island to cope with the muggy weather until their spat was over. Walking through the streets felt more like swimming, given there was so much water vapor in the air you practically needed gills to process oxygen every time you stepped out of your apartment. Nearly suffocating on the 15 minute walk from your apartment to work surely wasn't helping your inability to think clearly.

With a massive sigh, you hauled another box of sheet music into your lap, thumbing through the pages of crumpled and coffee-stained paper. The district had been especially aggravating this summer, trying to appease the school board with promises of low budgets and high rates of success. As much as you’d love for that to be your reality, you had yet to decide on a starting piece for either of your choirs, and the fall musical was barely on your radar. Your mind was plodding through quicksand, grappling for steady ground. The last thing you needed was added pressure from a handful of men who refused to understand the importance of the arts, let alone your career.

Fingers rifling over the blurry text of one particular song selection, you paused, considering the technical skills you’d need to rebuild with your students after their summer break. Removing the pages from the box, you set it aside to ponder further, turning your attention back to the endless stacks. Before you could feel too proud, having stepped incrementally closer to actually  accomplishing something today, a shrill buzzing sounded from your desk. 

You jumped at the noise, losing your grip on the heavy box which toppled to the floor, spewing its contents across the grubby tile of your office. “Shit,” You cursed, snatching your phone up to answer it as you bent down to gather up the sea of scattered papers. The former organization system you’d meticulously sorted them into was nothing but a distant memory. Add it to the growing list of “to dos”, you thought miserably.

Swiping absently at the screen of your phone, you crammed it between your ear and your shoulder, trying to uncrumple the ancient cardboard box that had collapsed during the fall as you greeted whoever had disturbed you. “Hello?” Your tone was less than upbeat, and you could hear a small, slightly-miffed scoff across the line as the caller came to that realization as well.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything ok?” Your hands froze around fistfuls of paper, embarrassment clawing at your throat as you registered your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey, Matty. Yah, I’m fine. Sorry for sounding like..that. It’s been a tough morning.” You explained, messily gathering the papers into your lap as you fell into a criss-cross position on the floor. 

“I can tell,” Matt chuckled sympathetically. “Are you still coming?” 

Forehead scrunching with confusion, your brain valiantly attempted to decipher the question’s meaning before you eloquently asked for clarification.

“Huh?”

Staring at the walls of your office dumbfounded, your posture became less relaxed as Matt explained what he’d meant. “To the coffee shop? You promised to meet the three of us for breakfast.” 

“Oh god.” You absolutely had. Matt had been moping all week about his busy schedule and the resulting lack of time you’d spent together, so you’d readily agreed when he’d suggested coffee. He’d even been sweet enough to schedule it on the one day that you didn’t have any early meetings so you wouldn’t be too rushed after meeting him. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot.” His response was patient, but even over the tinny speaker his hurt was obvious. Your eyes stung as you pictured his face falling, silently conveying your failure to his coworkers. 

“I’m so so sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s the little cafe off of 7th and 42nd?” Clambering to your feet, your voice was slightly choked as your throat constricted—your disappointment and frustration squeezing it like a vice. 

“Hey, it’s ok, love. It’s almost 9:00, we have a meeting with a client in 45. If you’re all the way across town—“

“I’ll barely get to see you anyways.” You finished his thought, eyes falling shut as your hopes of not missing another activity were dashed. This wasn’t the first time this week something important had slipped your mind, despite being on your calendar. You’d already had to reschedule a dentist appointment, scramble home fifteen minutes late to meet with a student for a private lesson, and you’d filed the application for a grant three hours too late because you’d misread the instructions. The constant mistakes were quickly spiraling, leaving you to wallow in confusion and despair as your brain fog only grew. “I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. It happens,” Matt reassured you. He was disappointed, you had no doubt about that, but he wasn’t angry. A wave of gratitude for Matt’s endless compassion crashed into you swiftly, nearly bringing you to your knees. Your tongue felt heavy, cheeks dampening as tears began to fall. “I was just worried something had happened. It slipped your mind?”

“I don’t know what’s up with me, Matt.” You whimpered, dropping heavily into your squeaky desk chair with a shaky exhale. “I know my mind has never been a ‘steel trap’ but..I’m starting to think something might be wrong.”

Your voice broke off on the admission. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth to bite down on, you refused to sob into Matt’s ear over the phone. He didn’t deserve that after you’d stood him up.

“I know. I’m sorry the past few weeks have been so hard. Do you have plans tonight?” Matt asked softly, voice laden with concern. Even through the phone, his voice bundled you up in a comforting warmth, a layer of protection between you and the world. He was eternally patient with you, loving you endlessly despite your recent bout of ditsy-ness.

“Not sure I’d remember if I did,” You chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. Anything on your calendar?” Acknowledging your frustration, Matt tenderly redirected you—trying to keep your mind from wandering without blaming you for it. God, you loved him.  

“Let me check.” You sniffled, drawing the phone away from your temple so you could flick through your schedule. “Not after 4:00.”

“Ok well I should be done here around 6:00. I can come over for dinner, if you’d like.” Your lips formed a tiny smile at Matt’s loving persistence.

“Yes please. Can we meet at yours instead?”

“Of course! You can go straight to my loft after work, if you feel like it. You can use the spare I gave you.”

“Are you sure?” You suddenly felt a bit timid, being handed so much trust after letting everyone down for over a week.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy you being there. Besides, I’ve missed you like crazy.” His voice was a rumble, making you feel far more loved than you thought you deserved at the moment.

“I miss you too, Matt. I wish my stupid brain would’ve remembered coffee so I could’ve seen you earlier.” Your vision shifted as saline flooded your waterline, tears wobbling as they fought to escape.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight.” Matt purred, definitely waggling his eyebrows even though he was not in your line of sight.

Laughing in surprise, you felt heat rush to your face. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that needs to be making it up to you.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart. We’re going to go open the office, but I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” He lingered over the last three words, tone dipping into pure reverence—the exact pitch that made your stomach flutter as he revealed just how much he cared about you.

“I love you too, Matt. Apologize to Foggy and Karen for me? Tell them I owe them at least three bagels a piece.”

“Three? That’s a pretty steep fee, love. I think I can talk ‘em down.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you bit your lip. “Thank you for looking out for me, Matty. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, angel. Call me if you need anything, ok? If I can’t talk right then, I’ll call back when I can. But I’m here if you need me.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Listening as the line disconnected, your heart clenched with disappointment as reality set in—you had an entire day of work to get through before you got to see your partner. Gaze dropping to the haphazard stacks of sheet music draped over your knees, you groaned, hefting them into your arms and dumping them on your desk to organize. Hopefully your sluggish mind could handle the repetitive task without too much issue.

Meandering up the stairs at a snail's pace, each bend of your knee took intense concentration. You were ready to keel over and pass out, letting the guilt and frustration and embarrassment that had amassed over the day fade into oblivion as if it had never happened.

After missing your morning coffee date, and ruining a week's worth of office organization, your day had not improved. Your murky brain had managed to sort the piles of sheet music into the correct songs, but it had taken every drop of your energy. In an effort to perk up before your hours of meetings, you'd thrown back a few more cups of coarse break room coffee—which tasted disgustingly similar to pond water as the day progressed. Each forced swallow stung with the reminder that your forgetfulness had cost you a decent latte and a much needed outing with your boyfriend.

Even four cups of the bog water masquerading as your beloved caffeinated drink couldn't solve your boredom when the administration started rambling on about test scores and parent satisfaction. Graph after graph flashed before your eyes, blending into a drab collage hung on the walls of your brain. When you hadn't shown enough enthusiasm for the new district mandates surrounding attendance and compulsory study hall, your principal had chewed you out—scolding you for not being a team player, for putting your own interests ahead of the success of your students. It took every ounce of resolve you could muster not to burst into tears right there at the conference table.

Finally, they'd dismissed you and you'd gathered your things to leave—only to be caught in a downpour on your walk to Matt's. Though your things were protected by the thick fabric of your messenger bag, you hadn't brought any form of poncho or jacket, so you were utterly soaked when you reached his building.

The fates were clearly determined to drag you down. And, given the exhaustion seeping out of your every pore and the harrowing tightness in your abdomen, you were ready to submit to their malevolent will. You wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a week. If nothing would go right, what was the point of squandering your energy day in and day out to achieve mediocrity?

Bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down your cheeks, you stumbled across the landing to Matt's door—sticking your spare key into the lock and wiggling it. The damn thing didn't budge.

”C'mon!“ You muttered, fresh tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you jiggled the key furiously. ”Open you stupid—“ As you pushed at the small piece of brass with your fingers, it slipped from your grip, your hand smacking against the door frame with the residual energy.

A sob escaped you, your frustration boiling over when your psyche was presented with another obstacle. Yanking the key out and dropping it to the floor, you slid down, back against the cool wood, your sopping jeans squelching as they hit the floor. With a heaving breath, you brought your shaking hands up to your face, trying to soothe your frazzled heart before deciding your next move.

Inhale for 7. Out for 11. Just like you told your kids when they got jittery on the night of a big performance. It wouldn't fix your mood, but it could help you get a grip.

Staring down at the offending hunk of metal on the carpet, your brain flickered with realization. It wasn't the right key. Your own apartment key and Matt's were the same color because you'd made copies together, but the bows were shaped differently. The key to your apartment had a rounded head, while the spare to Matt's had a pointed one. He'd suggested the difference in design to help him keep the two separate.

Heat creeping up your neck, you shoved the damn thing back in your pocket, pulling out your lanyard and singling out the correct key in the line up. 

Your legs shook tremendously as you clambered to your feet, barely functioning enough to keep you upright as you hauled yourself into Matt's apartment. With every step into the loft, your soggy flats squished with your weight, surely leaving a trail of sweat and rainwater behind you. Dropping your bag against the wall where it wouldn’t be a tripping-hazard for your boyfriend, you scrubbed at your clammy cheeks with a fist, padding into the bedroom.

It was quiet, beyond the sliding door. The brick walls and insulation muffling the New York ambiance into a gentle hum, barely noticeable over the buzz of the central AC. A soft, manufactured breeze whirled around you, raising the hair along your limbs. Your damp clothes did nothing to protect you from the temperature change, the frigid air sliding right through them, latching on to the thin layer of moisture against your skin.

With numb fingers, you fumbled for the buttons on the back of your top, ripping off your drenched blouse and replacing it with one of Matt's warm hoodies. As soon as you had shoved your arms into the garment, your discomfort began to fade away. It smelled distinctly of Matt, rather than the stale stench of wet cotton you'd been carrying around. Unzipping your pants, you stripped out of those as well, replacing your underwear with a pair of clean boxers. Mental breakdown stalled for now, you lifted the comforter strewn across the familiar mattress and sunk into the silk sheets with a fatigued exhale.

You were out like a light.

Matt’s lips quirked up at the sound of rustling sheets, his fingers still tapping away on his laptop. Momentarily pausing, he tuned in to your vitals, listening carefully as you roused. Your heart rate picked up, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving you as you wriggled about in his bed.

With a pitiful groan, you untangled yourself from a cocoon of his sheets, ambling out of his bedroom on heavy feet. He was pretty sure you thought you were alone–the tiny gasp as you opened his bedroom door confirming his suspicions.

“Matty?” Your lilted voice was dipped in precarious optimism. Baring your teeth with the tiniest smile, you readily accepted his lifted arm as an invitation to snuggle in beside him on the couch. Setting his laptop and headphones aside, Matt engulfed you with his arms, grinning into your hair as you went limp against his chest with a pleased hum.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” You pouted at his teasing comment, grumbling against his chest. He chuckled, cradling the back of your head so he could plant a kiss on your crown. “I'm not judging you, pretty girl. I'm glad you got some rest. Seems like you had a bad day.”

“How did you know?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as Matt adjusted until you lay steadily across his lap.

“You missed breakfast and you hate the school's coffee, your clothes in my hamper are drenched, and I ran into Mrs. Gomez who warned me of an amateur burglar outside my apartment earlier.” There was a soft slap of skin against skin as you dropped your head into your hands with a moan.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to relive that particular detail.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have stopped by the office. No need to commit a petty crime to get my undivided attention.”

“Ma-att” You groaned, jabbing him weakly in the stomach with a knuckle.

“I mean, I'm sure Foggy would agree to take your case, but seriously it would save a lot of paper if you–” He broke off into a genuine laugh when you shoved off the couch, pouting profusely he was sure. Chasing after you with ease, he caught you by an elbow, angling you back towards him so he could gently kiss your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But the image of you trying to break in was too adorable to let slide.”

“That's mean, Matt. Kicking your girlfriend when she's down. Bullying.” You glowered, your arms loosening from their tight cross over your chest as he peppered your head with soft kisses.

“Mmm you're right,” Matt murmured, lips brushing over the bridge of your nose. “I'm sorry to bring it up. Do I need to worry about any broken locks or windows?”

He could practically hear your exaggerated eye roll. “I didn't break anything. I have a key.”  You grumbled, not seeing the humor in the experience.

“What happened, angel? Did you leave it at work?” His question was genuine, but his teasing smirk seemed to push you over the edge.

Tears pooled in your eyes as your chin dropped to your chest with embarrassment. “It just took me a few tries to open the door. I did manage to remember the one thing I needed to get into your apartment.”

You didn't mean for the comment to sound so snarky, but you weren't really in the mood to be picked on. Matt's banter usually cheered you up, enticing you into joking right back with him. Today, though? The idea that Matt expected you to have forgotten another important thing was far too realistic to be humorous.

“Hey,” Matt tutted sympathetically, his amused grin morphing into a slight frown while his brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not being oblivious on purpose, Matt. I don't know why I'm like this right now.” You sniffled, hastily wiping away the tracks of moisture forming on your cheeks.

“I know, sweets. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun.” Swaying you from side to side as if he was comforting a fussy infant, Matt stroked your scalp as he shushed you. It would've been easy to see the change in his behavior as offensive, but Matt's small repetitive movements and hushed tone were comforting, so you leaned into what he provided.

“I'm tired, Matt. I'm so tired and I'm trying so hard to remember everything but I..I can't.” Lips quivering, you squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears pooled in them.

“I know, love. I know you're trying.” Matt assured you, scooping you into his arms and settling back on the couch. “It's just been a bad week. It'll get better.”

“What if it doesn't? What if this is how I am now?” You worried aloud, the hormones clouding your brain triggering a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Then we'll deal with it.” Matt shrugged, speaking as if this was the only possible outcome.

“I love you.” You whispered, nudging your nose into the hinge of Matt's jaw. His throat rumbled under your cheek as he echoed your declaration.

“I love you too, angel. Always.”

“Even when I'm scatterbrained and overly emotional?” You asked timidly, your own discomfort with your unusual period symptoms skewing your expectations.

“Without a doubt, my love.” Matt craned his head to kiss your hairline, frowning as you shuddered into the touch. ”Still tired?“

You nodded against him with a frustrated sigh. “I don't know why, I feel like all I've done this week is sleep.”

“You had a tough day, sweetheart. That would wear me out too.” Matt reasoned, tugging a knit throw off the back of his couch and tucking it around you securely.

“But I want to spend time with you,” You groused, the edges of your words muzzy as sleep tugged at your consciousness.

“There’s plenty of time for us to spend together, ok? Just rest. I’ll wake you when food gets here.” 

“You ordered food?”

“I did,” Matt murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today, so I ordered Thai and pizza. Whatever we don’t eat tonight, you can take for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered gratefully.

“Anytime, sweet girl. I love you.” Repositioning so you were sprawled against his chest, the two of you fully horizontal, Matt rubbed circles into your upper back, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[queers-gambit]

Menace

prompt: ( request that i accidentally deleted ) in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: cursing, OC!Tangerine, we talk mental health (social anxiety), established relationship, busy public work settings, the request and then some, alcohol consumption, smut, bathroom sex at a work event (Cherry, what the fuck?), handguns and mild depiction of violence 'cause it's Tangerine, i give him a 'real' name (Aaron), not edited.

"This is such bullshit, sugar, c'mon, fuck are we doin' here?" Tangerine snipped in your ear, his arm curled protectively around your waist as he glared at those in rich suits and expensive colognes around him. "We don't belong 'round this lot, they're just here t'wave their money. There's no real reason for us bein' here, sweet girl, c'mon, let's just shove off. Better than chokin' on whatever this lot's wearin' - I mean, Christ Alive, smells like a bloody Bloomingdales, don't it?"

You smiled prettily in case of watchful eyes, telling him sternly in a sweet tone, "Lovie, I told you, my boss said we were needed for at least cocktail hour. We can leave before dinner, okay?"

"This is gonna last fuckin' hours, princess, c'mon, we should just go," he grumbled. "Fuck these people and these bullshit fundraisers."

"We'll be okay, I promise," you soothed sweetly, the honest opposite of Tangerine - leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You were constantly touching one another and early in your relationship, you realized how much you loved kissing him and completely forewent lipsticks or glosses because of it. Another peck and you told him in a soft tone, "C'mon, just remember we said we'd pick up Changs on our way home and there's that bottle of nice Merlot A - I mean, Lemon gave us," you almost used your boyfriend's brother's real name, but caught yourself with plenty of time.

"Hmm," he smirked, his favorite takeout place being a happy distraction. "Cheat day sounds nice, yeah, but still don't make this go any faster, now does it?"

"No, but we're not gonna be here forever," you soothed, turning into his chest to pet the expensive material of this navy three-piece suit. "You look so handsome, my love. Really love seein' you in navy suits, and the white button up looks really clean with it." Tangerine smiled down at you, the bustle around you melting away as he could only hear, see, smell, feel, and focus on you. Then, you spoke coyly as you fixed his tie, "If you behave the rest of the night, I promise I'll make it up t'you. Yeah? Maybe wear that li'l white thing you love?" He perked up, but before he could respond, you ended, "Or maybe I already have it on - anyways, so, listen t'me, I have to go talk t'some people and do the job that pays me, so I suggest you just take a deep breath; get another drink, find Lemon, and then we'll go soon, okay?"

He looked around the usual investors his private employer had to shmooze for donated funding and frowned when he was acutely aware of not just the sheer number, but how many "important" people attended the evening's gala. The Black Market was funded by multiple someones; most of whom were in this very room and while under the radar, it still made Tangerine feel as if a huge target was painted on the building's wall. There was always a need for services outside the law and these richie-riches couldn't take the money with them to the grave, so, they donated money if it meant they were "well taken care of".

The Twins' handler insisted they attend the gala tonight; being well aware that they were more like show ponies for being on display for investors to see. Putting a face to names made myth into reality, and your boyfriend was a hot commodity due to his skill as a contract killer. He and his brother were legends around the various active agencies, investors happy to see their money going to good use; all wanting to know what they had bought for a price-tag of several billion.

The common conversation of the evening was how readily available The Organization was able to offer their services with no questions asked, no matter what. Tan hated these events, feeling nauseated, overstimulated, overwhelmed; overall, exploited by his employer as attendees gossiped about the Bolivia Job, the Kyoto Crash, the Libyan Disaster, and a few other memorable jobs Tan and Lemon were involved in. Their beady little eyes followed him around, mouths hidden behind crystal flutes of champagne, and bodies always shied away from him as if he were a wild beast.

Sure, they pay to sit and gather in the arena, but flee when the raging bull they've helped antagonize gets loose.

Then you came along and took on the brunt end of these social events. Tan was never quite sure how you got involved in this life, you always giving a new answer, but knew you had gone to university for multiple degrees - one being in something called "communications". Now, if you had asked Tan a few years ago, he'd've said that was a bullshit job, bullshit degree, a total waste of time. Now that his popularity had grown and he was exposed to more social obligations, he was was beyond grateful to have someone navigate this with him. Tangerine's bad attitude most of the time was just a deflection, being why you and Lemon could handle him; knowing the lad's anxiety often choked him past logic and made him a sarcastic, violent cunt.

When Tangerine forced himself back to reality after glaring at the other warm bodies mingling around, Tangerine's arm contracted tight enough that he could bring you in for a quick kiss. Quietly, he muttered in your ear, "I'll give you half an hour, darling, no more."

"No less," your eyes rolled but your lips were spread in a grin. He chuckled and softened his expression; whoever might've been watching feeling something akin to shock and awe (like one felt when they saw a lion in person for the first time), knowing Tangerine was a horribly stoic, violent, and short-tempered man. To see him now, amused and soft with such a beauty of a woman - well, it was jarring. He was still known to be an asshole, but it seemed you had a stronger leash on Tangerine than his handler ever did. But perhaps, no stronger than Lemon.

"Right," Tan sighed. "What was first on your list fa' me t'do?"

"You're gonna take a deep breath, get another drink, and then find Lemon," you repeated softly, "but I'm gonna say you owe me a kiss before that drink."

Tan huffed.

"That wasn't a deep breath, Tan, c'mon, we've been over this," you mock glared, feeling both his hands secure to your hips. He pet the expensive silk you wore with his thumbs, the pocket square resting over his heart a tailored square of the same material.

"Sweetheart - "

"In through your nose, out through your mouth, Tan," you cut him off. "Together, I'll do it with you, c'mon. In..."

Tangerine adjusted his stance in those shining Italian leather shoes you gifted him for Christmas that year. He took a steady breath in through his nose when you did, watching for your subtle nod, then exhaling slowly through his mouth - when you did. Again, together, in through the nose, your nod after about seven seconds, then exhaled through the mouth. After one more, you smiled at him in encouragement, both hands splayed on his lapels; his own moving so they coiled around you.

"All right," he grumbled, "yeah, it helps, pretty girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Feel better?"

"Don't push it, plum," he mumbled, bringing you in closer so he could kiss the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear while stroking your spine with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered, mustache tickling your skin, "always know how t'get me out me head, don't'cha?"

"I try, but you don't always make it easy, you know?" You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth to smother your grin, leaning into his chest. "Kiss me, please, then go get a drink and find Lemon. Don't talk to the investors," you warned, adding, "please."

This made a mischievous smirk spread across his lips, "Awe, hey, c'mon, aren't they here t'see me? I can say hello. You won't even 'ave'ta introduce me, they'll know me."

"Okay, yes, they're here t'see the lot of yah, but they're not here to get yelled at, yeah? Or called cunts? Insulted in any manner?" You sang in a light tone; caressing his cheek to guide him to your lips for a long desired kiss. The hand on his cheek curled around to grip the back of his neck, gently tugging the neat strands of hair as you tried to convey your pride.

Social anxiety was a bitch and though he'd deny it vehemently, Tan was riddled with it. Seeing him endure this evening (despite the constant complaining) was a mighty feat, wanting your kiss to spark something in his gut that would cause his confidence to soar so it'd put a bit of "pep in his step" to get through the rest of the evening.

And boy, did it.

After parting ways, Tangerine was left to get his drink with a full-chub that made him shake both legs out in an attempt to hide his arousal. Yet as he watched you melt seamlessly into the crowd, he couldn't get the picture out of his mind that maybe you were wearing that white thing he liked. Tan leaned on the bar top, cock stirring to life with each passing second; watching you mingle and mix and shmooze investors and wanting nothing more than to interrupt and get you alone. With his drink, he located Lemon, trying to forget the way his cock was begging for attention while you worked your magic on these walking-talking-money-bags.

"All right, bruv?" Lemon asked, the two standing with a few other agents that were wrangled in for the event.

"Hmm?"

Lemon glared, then snickered to himself. "Oh, fuck me, mate, you're fucked, aren't you?"

"Come off it," Tan took another slug from the expensive whiskey glass. "'S only me second."

Lemon blinked in shock, "That's not possible. You hate these fancy things, you don't like bein' sober at'em."

"I've been distracted."

"No shit, 'cause your lady's here, gotta be on your best behavior, don't yah?" Lemon snickered, sighing as he shook his head and accepted the champagne being passed around by a waiter with a full tray. "But enough that you ain't been drinkin'? Yeah, right - oh, shit, wait," he beamed, "didn't Y/N get that administrative promotion? It's that, ain't it? Ho-ho!" He laughed, "Yeah? Don't tell me you've been her arm candy all night, mate?"

"We've been tucked away, actually," Tan admitted, missing the way Lemon blinked in shock 'cause he was searching for you in the deepening crowd. "She knows I don't like these things, right, so, we stood away from 'em all, ova there," he pointed off to where Lemon knew was roped off for VIPs. "We were just talkin', laughin'. She makes these shitty li'l jokes, you know? Kept us more entertained than the rest of these fucks," Tangerine chuckled, hand hiding his grin of amusement as he wiped around his mouth to play it off.

This made Lemon nod with impression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but," Tan sniffled, "duty calls, she's gotta work a bit, get some donations goin'. Apparently, I'm not allowed t'talk t'the fancy donors."

Lemon checked his watch, "Fair enough, you did punch that Sultan - "

"Oh, come the fuck off it, that was three years ago! He was fine."

"You broke his nose, mate. You want another?"

Tangerine skulled the last of his drink, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate. Might be time t'go soon."

"I'll leave when you two do, wouldn't wanna be stuck here alone," Lemon agreed, the two turning away to stand at a cocktail table together and away from the others. "This is why we don't work inna office, this lot - Jesus, fuck. Oh, shit, oi, mate, you seen who all's here tonight? Fuck's sake..."

"Yeah, mate, I've seen 'em all, but there's too many t'know who the fuck you mean specifically." He pulled his phone out as Lemon rumbled on in excited impression about the evening's guests to send you a quick text,

wrap it up, pretty girl. i got things i wanna do to you that ain't for others to see unless they pay.

He could see you from where he and Lemon stood; and when your phone chimed, you checked it almost instantly, smiling at the message. He waited for your rapid reply,

if my panties had a crotch, they'd be soaked. love you in blue 💙

That was enough for Tangerine, who nodded at his brother, "Gimme a minute, yeah? Gonna pop off t'the loo before we go. Have another," he pointed to the drink in Lemon's hand as he backed away, "but not that frilly shit, mate, have a real fuckin' drink. Oi!" He snapped his fingers at a passing waitress, "Sorry, sweetheart, yeah, my bruva, there," he pointed at Lemon, who waved awkwardly, "will take a double whiskey, on the rocks, yeah, and he likes them lemon twists. That somethin' you can grab for him, love?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, high-strung ponytail swishing.

Tangerine snickered lightly, shelling out a hefty tip that she accepted, "And bring him a Lemon Drop shot, too, please."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Ah, if you'd like, maybe your number for him, too?" Tan instigated, hearing Lemon groan and grumble in embarrassment. "My bruva, there, he's bloody golden, yeah? Can't do no better, man just has no flaws - less we count tha' he's a wee bit shy, innit? Pretty ladies intimidate him a bit, but he's the bravest man I fuckin' know. Just gotta warm 'im up a bit, don't'cha know?"

"He sounds like a real gentleman. But maybe I can give mine if you give your number to my friend?" The waitress countered, pointing towards the central bar that the servers operated out of. There was a decently pretty girl with dark hair, twiddling her fingers at them with a pearly grin. "She's sweet, kind, absolutely wild in bed - "

"Sounds like an even deal, sweets, but you see - I've got a woman, yeah? And my lady? Well, she's kinda one of your bosses tonight, so, uh, might not be a good idea now, would it? She gets all territorial, protective, likes what's hers t'be just hers - ain't real big on sharin'." The waitress flushed in embarrassment. "But my bruva, here," Tan pointed back at Lemon while unlocking his phone, "he's a fuckin' don, yeah? Ain't nobody gonna treat cha' t'a better night. Oi, hey, I'll be back, bruv," he called to Lem with a smirk, then reminded the waitress, "double whiskey, lemon twist, on the rocks. And that Lemon Drop, please."

"Of course, sir, right on it," she agreed, Tangerine finally backing away fully. He typed you a new message,

meet me in the bathroom right now

Inside, it was decently spacious; unisex, six stalls, made of pristine marble, veiled fluorescent lighting, and there was a lock on the door - which Tan cared most about.

He planted himself behind the two other men at the walled-off urinals, hands clasping together in front of him. "Right, then, you two," he gestured between them, "got 'bout 30 seconds to finish yourselves and get the fuck outta here." He pulled the usual gun from his waistband, threatening, "Or I'll give you fuckin' fucks a show 'bout all them stories you love whisperin' 'bout. Yeah? How's that? Hey? Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

They were barely zipped up and gone by the time Tangerine got to second 21; you entering right as the two were scurrying for the swinging-open door. You yelped a little, jumping out of their way, offering Tangerine a strange look and musing, "Uh, what was that? You fightin' in the privy, again?"

He put his handgun away as he stalked towards you, "Just makin' sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Tan, hell no, there's so many people!"

He yanked you from the doorway, making sure it was shut before locking it loudly. "Then we gotta be quick, don't we? C'mon, doll, real fast, bosses won't even question you bein' gone."

"I still have work - "

"Nah, nah," he pawed your gown's skirts upward, "you been teasin' me all fuckin' night, lookin' too fuckin' good - I can't wait, baby. Just look so Goddamn pretty, feels like I'm losin' my mind. Lemme see yah," he got the silk bunched around your waist, gasping loudly when he saw your panties. "You really did wear 'em... Like the good girl you are," he purred, one hand dropping the silk to run his hand over the strappy and lacy material you wore. "Swear I'll take my time with yah at home, the way I want - but can't do that here, just needa be inside yah, sugar, c'mere."

"Baby," you gasped when his fingertips ghosted around your cunt that was bare due to the crotchless cutout. "I only need a-a-a," you trailed off, panting when one finger suddenly plunged into your cunt, "ohhh, shiiiit. Yes, baby, oh, God!"

"Keep talkin'," He smirked, backing you up towards the marble counter. "C'mon, tell me off. Tell me what's more important right now, huh? More important than this? Is it work? Huh? Work got you distracted? Wanna get back t'it instead of bein' here with me?" The heels of your palms slammed into the pristine counter, whimpering when he pumped erratically. "Aht, here you go," he smirked, pausing to pull his hand free of your warmth; seizing your waist and helping hoist you back onto the sink's ledge. Your lips meshed sloppily with his, Tan letting you dominate the kiss because you were mewling - so desperate for him, you were nearly suckling on him; hands trembling as they held his cheeks with your manicured fingertips. When your legs instantly spread to accommodate Tangerine's hulking form, grinding your hips into him, he seethed, "Good girl," before sinking his digit back into your wet heat that halted your ministrations out of pure relieving pleasure.

"You're a menace," you panted against his mouth when you remembered reality, Tangerine's belt rattling open and his zipper teeth shrieking when you shucked them open. "Gimme," you whispered, reaching for him; dropping his pants the rest of the way to take his pulsing cock in hand. "This what you wanted? Right? Why you texted me? Interrupted me?"

"Exactly," he licked his lips before smashing them to yours in a suffocating kiss, always the one to help you push boundaries and do things you never thought you'd ever do if not for him. "Why're you so wet? Huh? Why's that? Had this on your mind, too, didn't'cha, dirty girl? Why else would you wear my favorite?"

"'T reward you for tonight," you panted, giving his cock a few pumps. "'S my scene, not yours, just so fucking proud of yah - for how you did, gettin' through it," you guided him to your weeping entrance after pushing his hand from you, both gasping when his cockhead notched on the lip of your cunt. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, praising him as he sunk his hips into your own; effectively blurring your mind.

He grunted, needing a single moment to press his balls between you two as he waited for you to accommodate to his size. Forehead to forehead, your eyes remained shut; breathing the same air, feeling your insides fluttering at the size of him. His mouth was at your ear, demanding, "Tell me again, pretty girl."

You knew what he wanted, letting your legs spread a little wider and held onto his shoulders since this position didn't allow for much else. You whimpered, "You did so good tonight, baby. Oh, fuck, I'm so proud of you - you did so fuckin' good." He groaned and retracted his hips, beginning a brutal pace and messy rhythm to pump himself in deep strokes. You had to hold onto his upper arms now to allow him space to move. "Always so good for me, but tonight? Fuck - you're so good, Aaron. So fucking good - and tonight you were fucking amazing. I'm so proud, so fucking proud of you," you whimpered, his hands holding your hips so the counter could pose as leverage to allow him the angle to pound up into you while shifting you down on him.

"Almost there, baby," he begged, eyes all over. He loved the sight of your 'panties' still on; the criss-crossing of the straps and pattern of the lace still in place while his cock made a mess of you. Your gown glittered in this light, your skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat from your arousal that made him dip low and lick a bold stripe between your breasts. "Lemme see - lemme get a taste, doll, want you in my mouth," he muttered against your cleavage, still holding you on his cock as you pulled a tit free. You gave a shrill yelp when Tangerine surged forward suddenly and bit harshly on your budding, sensitive nipple; but it was in-sync with him changing the pace of his thrusting to something borderline painful.

It wasn't a secret he was well-endowed, there wasn't much to the imagination with the way his suits are tailored.

But having ten(plus) inches; fully swollen, engorged, jackhammering into you at this angle? It wasn't the most pleasurable at first, but with Tan licking, nipping, and sucking at both nipples now, you endured until moaning authentically. You were all but hanging off the counter by now, Tan the only reason you weren't on the floor; using upper body strength to hold onto him while slithering a hand toy your stomach to toy with your enlarged clit.

It took very little time of harsh pressure from your fingers to come undone, pleasure mounting to a crescendo before shattering your grip to reality. With a gasp, your hips humped into Tan's by your own blinding vocation; arms tight around his shoulders to remain upright as you milked yourself.

The contraction of your cunt was all Tangerine needed, and four slaps of his balls later had him doubling over and pinning you in a small slam, chest-to-chest, to the marble.

"Oh, my fuckin' God," you panted in appreciation.

"Shit," he realized, "shit, fuck, did I hurt you? Fuck - baby - "

"I'm not hurt," you panted, keeping a tight hold to refuse him from standing up, "just happy."

He deflated with a small chuckle. In your neck, he mumbled, "I can't feel my legs."

"Wanna sit?"

"Nah, not here," he mused, licking the sweaty skin of your pulse point. "Just had t'wear the li'l white ones, didn't'cha?"

"You get all worked up when I do."

"With good reason, should see yourself the way that I do - Goddamn, doll. My girl's divine, too good for these fuckers out here."

You were about to retort, but there was a loud, rapid banging at the locked door. "Hey! Hey! Whoever's in there! There's people that need in, you fucking arseholes! Get your dick wet at your own place, you broke bitches!"

You gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth as Tangerine finally stood off you, keeping you balanced on the counter as you sat up. "Oh, my fucking God, Tan! I-I-I-I'm gonna get fired! Oh, holy shit! This isn't happening!"

"No - "

"Aaron, we were literally just caught - "

"Hey, hey, just breathe," he paused, sighing as he caressed your cheek. "Let me handle this for us, okay? The way you protect me, let me protect you. Yeah?"

You nodded mutely, looking ready to burst into tears. After Tan pulled out and helped you clean up (ignoring the warm cum that dripped down your inner thighs), he simply wrapped you in his navy suit jacket, rolled up his crisp white sleeves, and pulled out his handgun. "Oh, baby, don't - "

"Trust me," he purred, arm secure around your waist. "Oh... Shit, hang on," he set the gun down to use his hands and fix your hair, your heart soaring by the sweet, domestic gesture. "I got'cha, pretty girl, one sec - there we go, yeah," he smirked, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, all right, there we go," he cupped your cheeks, "all perfect."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Now, we're gonna walk out with confidence. Just don't stop, don't look at anyone. Actually, look a li'l smug," he instructed. "And we're just gonna grab Lemon and get outta here, yeah?"

You pouted lightly, "After I get the O-K from my boss."

"Nah, we don't ask permission, just forgiveness."

"Terrible philosophy."

"I prefer effective. Ready?" He asked, picking his gun up again. You nodded, latching onto him as his arm secured around you again, then approached the door. He unlocked it loudly and yanked it open, glare instantly taking over his expression as you were met with a gaggle of angry, grumbling patrons. "We got a fuckin' problem?" Tangerine sneered, his gun winking in the dim lighting; those who were waiting instantly backing off.

You did as he advised: didn't look at anyone, didn't stop, looked a little smug. He lead you through the throng of people, hearing a woman sneer under her breath - gasping when Tan turned his gun on her. "Tangerine!" You snapped, the people around you all freezing.

"Got somethin' t'say?" He taunted the woman, who shook her head. "No? You sure? Now?" He asked, shifting the weapon over to her date's forehead. She shook her head again. This made Tan smirk, "Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, love. Keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

"Let's go, now," you insisted, tugging on his unbuttoned waistcoat to walk away together. "Can't shoot everyone who offers insult."

"No, but word will spread," he smirked. "Ain't nobody gonna say a fuckin' word to yah now. And if they do," he shrugged, "you'll tell me. All right, now, uh," he paused you both, nodding ahead, "that's a bit of my doin'. Question is, do we interrupt?"

You peered around a person or two until Lemon and a pretty waitress was in sight. She was giggling and grinning, the two deep in conversation; just enraptured and toying with each other's hands.

"We should probably let him know we're leaving. Maybe text him?"

"So, we are leaving, huh?" Tan smirked. "No more precious work to go run off to?"

Your lips moved beside his ear, licking the shell before speaking so your cool breath fanned over the wet skin, "I can't work with your cum leakin'."

His hand groped your arse cheek tightly, "If you do, I promise t'make yah my li'l Twinkie, huh? Fuck you all night, like you deserve."

"Oh, now you wanna stay? You fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, but, now it's a game."

"You're a fucking menace!"

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Drabbles of MC reflecting M6's love language or doing things for their beloved that their beloved does for them?

So like, carving wood figures for Muriel and getting him new tools when his wear down too much, getting Nadia thoughtful gifts that she would appreciate, spending time with Portia and Asra, and I think Julian and Lucio would love big dramatic displays of love

The Arcana HCs: Reflecting M6's love languages

Julian

Oh. Oh my. Be still, his rapidly beating heart (he really needs to cut back on the caffeine, but at least half of this is genuinely because of you) You're giving him affection?? In the best possible way???

You're fussing over his physical wellbeing when he's had a long day and helping him wind down?

You're playing music for him or telling him a story from your past?

By far your best stunt was when you decided to visit his clinic while it was closing to surprise him with a picnic dinner date

The front door was locked when you got there, so you decided to go through the back instead with the spare key he put in your bag a while back and completely forgot about ...

On your way through the back room, you spotted some of the spare uniforms and decided to throw on one of the coats and masks (as one does) to better surprise him

The surprised fumble, dramatic "en guarde!", and theatrical flourish with his own doctor's coat that you got when you surprised him was so typical of your first meeting that you fell apart laughing

The picnic on the docks afterwards where you reminisced on your (very successful) relationship so far was delightful

Asra

Oh, they're not used to this, and it's making them feel safe and loved and grounded in ways they don't know how to handle

You're offering constant reassuring physical touch, but leaving it up to him to accept it/only going ahead if he says yes first?

You're going out of your way to make safe, comfy spaces for them to take quick catnaps and breaks from the world and bringing them tea when they're deep in thought?

You're constantly bringing home things that reminded you of him and finding new niche experiences to treat him to?

They are turning into a puddle. They are melting through the floor. If this keeps up there will be water in their eyes and there is never water in their eyes -

It's not that he's incapable of accepting love, it's that he's become accustomed to carrying so incredibly much of it for you and expecting nothing in return, finding his reward in your happiness

But now it's like you're turning it all back on them and the connection they already feel with you is vibrant and alive in ways they never dreamed of experiencing

He can't help it, he is returning every single gesture no matter what

Nadia

This is a little hard to pull off, at first, given how much of Nadia's love language shows up in the way she uses her vast resources to pamper you and make you feel special and important

Unlike her, you have about as much money as you need to live comfortably in the apartment above your shop. You don't have enough to commission seven gold owls in her honor

However, what's quickly obvious about her gifts isn't how much money she put into them, it's how closely she noticed your little wants and went out of her way to meet them

And now you can do the same

Keeping a small heating surface and teapot in her suite so you can have her favorite brew hot and fresh when she wakes up

Stitching a pouch of soothing, memory and focus boosting herbs onto a decorative scarf for her to use between meetings

Tending to Chandra for a little while every day so she doesn't have to worry about her familiar going neglected for very long

Introducing her to the glorious (though not very fashionable) concept of long underwear for the chillier Vesuvian months

You doing this without making her feel small is what she loves

Muriel

... help

This is so, so strange to him, he has no point of reference for this and therefore little to no means to control how he reacts

You noticed how he likes to take care of the charms around the hut and repaired one for him when it was starting to fall apart?

You spent hours sitting next to him quietly until he found the words for his troubles, and then listened to him??

You even learned how to embroider so you could start putting together a new tapestry of the life you're building with him???

What nearly breaks him is when you start to cook dinners for him when he already has a habit of cooking breakfast

Sure, having a life where food is consistent is something he doesn't take for granted, and he's held onto the value of it long enough to make sure anyone who stays a while gets something (eggs)

But now it's a whole new level of safety and care where he can trust that neither of you are going to bed on an empty stomach, and he doesn't even have to worry about there being enough

If you start carving little companions for the wooden animals he's made and set them up like they're snuggling he'll implode

Portia

Is she used to receiving affection? Yes. She's a fairly well-adjusted adult with unmatched people skills, her friend group and social network are vast and she rarely goes forgotten

Is she used to being somebody's first affection recipient? ... not so much, no. She's the person who gets called up after her important people have called up their most important people

So to be your most important person ... that's new

She's hearing something from you before you've told anyone else?

You're not deciding on whether to attend an event until you know if she's going? She's the person you look at when you find something beautiful or funny because you want to see her reaction first?

And let's not even get in to the ways you praise the efforts that usually go unnoticed or the work you've put into knowing her

Not only do you check in on how she's feeling, you don't even need her to tell you half the time. You can read it on her face

And you don't act like it's below you to support her when she's so used to supporting others. You even bring her lunch so she eats!

There's always plenty of affection when she's around, but to be noticed and known and important - that matters to her most

Lucio

Just. Be proud of him? (yes, he's grown enough to know that that's a big ask, depending on the situation -)

His instinctive way to show you how much he loves you is to make a big deal out of you and what you mean to him. Bragging about what a good person you are, what a happy life you have, etc

But if you do the same for him? After years of knowing (even though he wouldn't admit it) that he wasn't necessarily someone whose fondness people would be especially proud of?

Man, you make being a good person sound amazing

If you brag about his swordmanship and survival instincts to other journeymen in a tavern after a finished job, he'll stare at you with stars in his eyes. If you call him handsome, he'll melt

Don't even get started on the massive boost to his security if you show him off. You ask him to give you a flourish while he's trying on a new red cape and compliment it to the vendor?

He'll be thinking about it all day (he might walk into a tree)

He remembers being a source of social discomfort for his ex-wife (and worse, his mother's shame for raising him poorly) but the moment you loudly call him yours it gets just a little bit lighter

[pigdemonart]

Battle Subway Depot Agents (by pig-demon)

When I made designs for these guys last year I didn’t really think they needed colored references/master post, but since then I’ve drawn them a lot! Also people have added them to their fanfics and drawn fanart! So I figured it was time I made a post for easy ref. :]

These designs are obviously free to use, just give credit (and link me your work if you're comfortable, because it makes me happy to see!) All I request is to stay respectful to their pronouns and skin colors, ya knooow… 👍 note: The pokemon on their cards are all companions, not the ones they use on the Battle Subway. Except Jackie...the litwicks are just there to fill space/give them company.

More info under cut:

Edit: Important disclaimer:

These are again my designs/interpretations for the agents. Please don’t treat them as canon or as the only, quintessential designs for these literal background npcs. Many people have done takes on them before and after me, even back in 2010. It feels silly to ask, but due to past experience, I ask that you please DONT hunt down anyone that does a different take on the depot agents!! 👍

Tags:

I'm gonna start tagging them individually, but for now all Depot Agent comics and art on this blog are tagged under Depot Agents.

Height chart:

I’m not too strict about heights, so I don’t really care about actual measurements. Here’s an approximation of what I tend to visualize though:

Sexualities/Gender Identities: I don't have official labels for each and every agent because I like keeping things fluid for characters to develop these traits on their own. However, as a queer person, I enjoy designing characters who are also queer, therefore I can safely say none of these characters are straight. The ones who are set in stone are Ramses (gay man), Cloud (lesbian woman,) Jackie (non-binary.) Furze uses he/they pronouns but their gender is undetermined. I also welcome anyone giving the agents a different gender identity to suit them (as long as it's done respectfully.)

Notes about each agent...

Cameron:

- Cameron dyes parts of his hair blonde and keeps other parts in black. This is because he is a big fan of Elesa and her fashion choices.  - Though there have been a few occasions to meet his idol, he is always way too nervous to approach her, feeling deep down that he'll mess up somehow. - He practices modeling poses in secret. He loves flourishes and flare, but is simply too insecure to put it on display. - Of his coworkers, he gets along the best with Furze. He's the easiest to talk to because Furze will do most of the talking. - Cameron is easily intimidated — even mean Pokémon can make him nervous. Though, his two worst fears are being left in a room alone with Jackie, and being left alone in a room with Isadore. - He takes advantage of his height to sometimes hide behind some of his coworkers. - Cameron is much better at Pokémon battles than he gives himself credit for. Emmet and Ingo were pleasantly surprised by this, since Cameron was promoted to fit a temporary role on the Battle Subway. They happily made him a permanent member when he proved himself capable. - His Dwebble (Pebby) is secretly very strong, and rushes to protect Cameron when it can. Cam sometimes thinks Pebby helps him feel more confident in himself too.  - If he stumbled into any of his coworkers outside of work, he would simply explode of embarrassment. - He is the youngest child and only son of his family. He lives in his own apartment in Nimbasa.

Cloud:

- Cloud (like Ramses) knew the twins when they were very young. - She used to be an ace trainer in her youth, even going so far to compete in the Pokémon league. Winning and becoming the champ was the most important part of her journey, but something happened along the way that changed that outlook. - It seems with age, her competitiveness has mellowed out. However, she maintains an intense energy when battling.  - Her favorite types are Psychic and Flying types. Swoobat (Sweetie) is her ace.  - Her favorite hobby is baking, and she often bakes sweets for the crew. She knows all their favorite flavors by now! - She prioritizes keeping a friendly relationship with all her coworkers and thinks of them fondly. She considers Ramses family after all the years of working together!  - She is a big fan of Brycen's movies and can recite the lines. - She lives with her wife in Anville. - Cloud loves doing maintenance work both at home and in Gear Station. She enjoys bringing her own tools and industrial flashlight.

Furze:

- Furze only has one volume setting (mid loud,) but he finds himself feeling right at home when talking to either one of the twins. - Furze has ADHD, and this is reflected in some of his habits, most visibly is his fidgeting when sitting still for too long. - He rides a bike to work every day. When he is late, Cloud clocks in for him so he doesn't get in trouble. - This is a kind of a guy that sits crouched gargoyle style on chairs. Only outside of work, of course. Bad posture could get him in trouble. - While working on the Battle Subway, there will be times Furze feels sorry for his opponents and offers to quietly let them pass anyways. This...has also gotten him in trouble. :[ - He went to the same elementary school as Isadore in Castelia. Though Isadore seems to have forgotten their short-lived acquaintance, Furze has not. This is part of the reason Furze claims they are in fact good friends!!! - Furze is the middle child of a big family. He lives with his mom and takes care of her, along with his many Darumakas and Darmanitan. All of his Pokemon have famous trains names. - He collects model trains. Naturally.

Isadore

- Isadore had plans to become the station master the moment he was hired as a depot agent, but alas... (sad trumpet sound.) - As a youth, he was more interested in science and engineering over Pokemon battles. He enjoys the strategizing aspect, at most. Not so much the competitiveness. - In addition, his Pokemon are all rescues and not used for battling. He's had his Watchog (Winston) since he was in his late teens. - His Electrode (Gregor) and Voltorb (Leonard) were rescued from the likes of Team Plasma. - Isadore admits he understands Pokemon better than humans. This has been apparent his whole life. - In spite of acting like a sitcom villain, Isadore cares about the management of Gear Station and the safety of the passengers to an incredible degree. He sees it as a personal life goal to assist in the management of Gear Station, as well as the success of the Battle Subway. - Though it pained him to become a subordinate to the twins, he begrudgingly accepts it for the greater good. - His almost militant efficiency certainly made up for his years of antagonizing the twins before they became the bosses. Ingo and Emmet understand this better than anyone. - Isadore keeps tabs on all of the staff members. So he very well knows all their birthdays and makes it a point to celebrate it. This is by no means a -happy- or -festive- event. It's just customary. - Like Furze, he was originally from Castelia, but now resides in Nimbasa. Isadore's only family is his mom and she lives in his childhood home with their Stoutland. - Isadore would have probably been voiced by every glasses guy ever J. Michael Tatum had he not already been cast as dear Emmet lmao

Jackie

- Jackie is a mystery and they like keeping it that way. When they talk, it's practically impossible to determine what is a lie or truth, especially if the subject is themselves or their background. - They love scaring Cameron the most and will ask to be paired with him whenever possible. They claim Cameron is their "favorite coworker," while Isadore is the least favorite. - It's plain to see why -- Jackie is the only one that doesn't passively tolerate Isadore's tirades. - Though my comics sometimes may allude to Jackie being a ghost/supernatural, this is not confirmed nor canon. I just personally enjoy toying with the concept. : ) That being said...

- Item #: SCP 7453

- Object Class: Euclid

- Special Containment Procedures: The ████ ██████ is ██████ within ████-██████. - Ingo and Emmet choose to not question anything about Jackie, since it's clear they're one of the more efficient workers. However it can be a safety concern... - Cloud and Ramses have worked with Jackie for a long time, though they've forgotten somehow. They believe Jackie is a new hire since they appear to be young. - Anyone trying to make sense of Jackie's employee records simply can't bring themselves to any conclusions. It's better to ignore the inconsistencies. - Jackie has never been seen to leave Gear Station. Jackie has never been seen in anything but their uniform. Jackie has never been confirmed to eat, drink or blink. Jackie knows your secrets. Jackie thinks it's... amusing.

Ramses

- Ramses sometimes misses having a full head of hair, but he thinks his signs of age make him look distinguished. (he is correct.) - Ramses is sort of the "mom friend," making sure everyone's concerns are heard, as well as trying to keep the peace whenever a conflict might arise. - If another coworker is feeling low, Ramses will try to cheer them up with a lighthearted joke or offer advice if they'd like it. - When the twins were promoted to bosses of the Battle Subway, Ramses cried because he felt so proud. - In most circumstances, he is a very simple and logical man. He is quick to find solutions and tries not to fret over the little stuff. It's not good for his heart after all. - His ace is his Pikachu (Musa,) though the mouse is more of a lap pet now. At home, he also has an Audino (Sara) and a Manectric (Nubi) who keep Ramses' husband company. His Klinklang (Moli) is the only one of his personal pokemon that accompany him to work nowadays. - Ramses considers Cloud family. They are best friends and love having family gatherings outside of work. They also gossip a lot, and don't mind when Jackie decides to join. - Ramses jokes about looking forward to retirement, but really doesn't want to leave until he is physically incapable of working anymore. Gear Station is like a second home to him.

In-Game Quotes

The most important reference of all are their in-game quotes, of course, so I'm adding it to the post. A lot of their personality traits can be extracted and interpreted from these few lines. And I personally love that about Pokemon NPCs -- there's a lot of room to explore and play with. Some appear very obvious. Cameron practically announces that he isn't ready for the battle that's about to ensue and seems genuinely surprised to win. Furze comes out the gate talking about the subject they actually care about, which is their job and their love for trains. The two of them are very easy to understand. Now, Ramses lines allude to a gentle and simple personality. He views himself with humility, and maybe even with a bit of humor comparing himself to a train and to his opponent to a station. If he loses he shows no signs of disappointment, he just accepts defeat with one last honest quip. It s also amusing to see the Depot Agents all use train metaphors to describe themselves since it falls in line with how Ingo and Emmet talk.

In comparison, Cloud does the same thing calling herself the terminal instead. Immediately, she is way more daring, though still keeping a sense of professionalism. To me, it's obvious she is competitive as she even admits she was expecting to win ("Ah...I didn't see it coming.") Jackie's lines are fun since it's up to interpretation if they are being literal or lying. It's almost like they are more interested in confusing/creeping out their opponent than actually beating them. To me, it gives off a mischievous vibe. Isadore's opener "There are only two roads in life." is a curious one because it almost feels like he is trying to be philosophical. Definitely a guy who views himself as an intellectual, regardless if that’s true or not. I like to think it's a saying he really believes in, and it applies to his life. The road he likes (long route) vs the road he hates (shortcut) -- fighting tooth and nail to become boss vs biting his tongue and accepting Ingo and Emmet as the Subway Masters.

Those are just my thoughts on how I write these characters. Please have fun playing with these lines too!

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Heyy!! I absolutely ✨LOVE✨ your work I've basically been stalking your blog😅. But anyway I was wondering if you could please, please do Nozel, Fuegoleon,and William where their s/o (preferably f!) yells or very calmly (your choice, does not matter which or how) says their full name in front of family/friends/squad (again your choice could be all, depends on you) and their reaction to it. I completely understand if you don't want to do it or it takes you a while to get to it thank you for your work regardless! I wish you well!! ❤❤❤

Hiya! I am overjoyed that you like my fics!!! And though I took my sweet time with this, I hope that you still enjoy it <3

Pairings: Nozel x f!reader, Fuegoleon x f!reader, William x f!reader Fanfic type: Headcanons Genre: hurt-comfort?, and some giggles ?? Total length: ~2k (about 650 words each) Contains: misunderstandings, reader raising her voice to the guys/displays anger to them, they make up in the end ('cause it was a misunderstanding), hurt-comfort, so fluffy ends

Nozel

You had a favourite pen. The kind in which you could change the ink cartilage, and thus keep using the pen for years and years. Though the ink dispensing mechanism had broken some years ago, you held onto the pen itself for sentimental value.

And it was always in a specific drawer in your room.

However, one day when you opened the drawer, the pen case nor the pen were there.

You scrambled through the drawer, first thinking to yourself that it must’ve just been pushed back, but after scouring through the drawer, the box, nor the pen, didn’t surface.

Your mind jumped to the idea of a servant having taken it, but quickly realized that it didn’t make sense. They didn’t go through drawers such as this one. ‘Such as this one’ because they obviously folded your clothes and put them into your clothing drawers. But this one was of no importance to the servants. And even if they had, for any reason, chosen to go through other drawers in the room, the pen case was among the least likely things to take.

Which meant that there was only one other person, who could’ve likely taken it. Your husband.

He was currently with the rest of the Eagles at the squad’s training grounds, and though he was occupied, you wanted to, needed to know now why he had discarded your favourite pen. Yes, sure, it was broken, but there was no harm in holding onto such a small item. You had space!

So, you stomped through the corridors to the training grounds, and spotted him some distance away, looking at his knights. Seeming somewhat uninterested. Or just held his poker face.

This was where he held his poker face. Looked as if nothing had happened.

And it spiked a kind of annoyance, anger even, in you, which made you yell out to him: “Nozel Evander Silva!”

He turned to look.

Other knights turned to look.

The trainings halted for a moment, and everyone just looked at you, glaring at Nozel.

He looked to the knights standing next to him, and said something, before walking towards you, as you crossed your arms and waited for him to get to you. And as he did, he looked at you, with concern on his face, hidden behind the mask of the squad captain.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, the syllables revealing more of his feelings than the expression that quivered, trying to upkeep the facade of a strong, unfaltering squad captain.

“Where. Is. My. Pen?” You asked, feeling the annoyance, almost anger, bubbling to the surface. “You know how much it means to me!” You said with a grave tone, without raising your voice, so that the knights wouldn’t hear. There was no need for them to know such details of your personal life.

His eyes closed in a slow blink, and a sigh escaped his lips. “I was hoping to surprise you,” he said with a hint of melancholy.

You frowned, not sure what, exactly, he meant by it.

“I thought to get it fixed, so that you might use it again, instead of just having it sit in that drawer,” he admitted.

And you... felt a wide variety of emotions. Affection, joy, but also guilt, guilt for having thought that he would have discarded it.

So, you took a step forward, and wrapped your arms around his middle.

He tensed in your embrace, and you could feel the ever so slight movement of his head to look back towards his knights. The look over his shoulder due to the public display of affection.

But he didn’t push away.

And you did let go, after a brief moment. You just needed him to know that he was important to you, and you appreciated the gesture he did for you.

Fuegoleon

Fuegoleon has asked you to find his calendar for him, so that me might go straight from the training session with his knights to the meeting at the castle.

And you happily obliged with the request. After all, you did want to help him with his duties and make his life easier, just like he did for you.

So, you entered his office, and begun looking for the calendar. It wasn’t on the desk, not on first glance at least, so it must’ve been in the desk drawer. Or that seemed like the most likely conclusion to make, which is why you made your way to his desk, circling onto the side of his chair.

Your hands moved to the drawers, but... as your gaze became directed down, you noticed your name on a piece of paper, which made your curiosity pique. After all, because your name was on it, it must’ve concerned you, right? So, it was alright if you looked at what it said on that piece of paper. Right?

You slid the paper along the surface of the desk closer to you, and started skimming it through. But... as you did, and your eyes landed on the line of “...will not be ordered on another mission” anger bubbled inside of you.

What did he mean you weren’t going to be assigned another mission?! Did he not think that you could handle it?!

You clenched the paper in your hand and stormed out of the room with one intention, and one intention only: to find your husband and demand an explanation.

Luckily, you knew exactly where to find him, so you made your way to the training grounds, and locked eyes on him as soon as you were outside.

You walked up to him, as his knights slowly, while trying not to seem like they were looking, looked at you. After all, perhaps there was a need to pause the training, because the captain was overseeing it, after all.

“Fuegoleon. Alexander. Vermillion,” you spoke in a calm manner, but enunciated every name, every syllable, while looking straight in the eye.

You could see his eyes flicker, but he continued to look at you. “Yes?” There was hesitance in his tone, as if puzzled what was the cause of all this.

“What did you do?” You asked, with an equally cold tone as before.

“I... really couldn’t tell you,” he replied with a frown and an uncertain, confused tone as he continued to look at you.

“Mhm,” you hummed with a quirked eyebrow.

“Could we perhaps go to the side to discuss this through?” He suggested, to which you agreed with a nod. There wasn’t, really, a reason to make this into a public spectacle after all, and, he did deserve a chance to explain. He was a reasonable man. After all. It seemed. You had supposed him to be one.

But even before you had stopped on your way to the sidelines, you looked at him while holding that paper forward.

“What does this mean?!” You demanded to know. “Do you not trust me on missions? Is that why you wouldn’t assign me on one anymore?”

He blinked. Looked at the paper. And then back to you.

Then his lips became laced with... hints of amusement, and an apology. “My love... you’re more than welcome to partake on missions in the future. The formulation of ‘will not be ordered’ is simply a technicality to give you more freedom of choosing your missions,” he explained. “Of course the difficulty level of your missions would be expected to only grow, but this is more to give you, on paper, a say as to which mission you will embark on, if there are multiple ones of similar difficulty level active simultaneously.” He pointed to another line on the bottom of the page. “See?” There was another apology in his tone.

“Oh.” You uttered, looking at the line.

“But I do apologise,” he continued. “I should have discussed it with you, instead of having you find out this way.”

“You should,” you said, while looking down to the side. “But... I also... shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions... I know you well enough,” you continued, because, it really would have been out of place for him to just make such a decision as to pull you away from missions entirely all on his own.

“Truce?” He asked, looking at you with a gentle gaze that bore all his affection and devotion to you.

“Truce,” you agreed while feeling warmth on your cheeks.

It had been a simple misunderstanding, and miscommunication. But. It wouldn’t come in between of the two of you.

William

William’s office had been so barren before you had entered his life. Which is why the first thing you got for him, was a plant into his office.

He was a little bit confused about it, but didn’t turn down the gift. And as you explained that it’d make the air in his office better, by producing more oxygen, and would add some life and colour in there, he nodded in understanding.

And he begun taking good care of it. Watered it regularly, changed its soil and gave it nutrients if there was a need. Which really warmed your heart, because ... in a weird way, it was like he was tending to your relationship through the plant.

However, one morning when you entered his office. The plant wasn’t there. Which you thought was odd. So, you looked around the office, and the bedroom, but... it didn’t seem to be... anywhere?

Your mind begun circling with all kinds of possibilities, until... it landed on the plant having died and him having thrown it away. And that made you feel hurt. Sad. Angry.

You had looked at him tend to the plant so carefully, and now he had just thrown it away? You would’ve helped him take care of it, if he had only asked, but instead he has just... disposed of it.

So... he would hear about it. Oh, he would most certainly hear about it.

You walked out of the room with a mission to find him, which is why you begun circling around the base. You looked at every, single, possible room in which you thought he could be, until you spotted him from the window while talking to his knights.

Your hand grasped onto the handle of the window, and you opened it with a swift motion.

“William Thaddeus Vangeance!” You yelled, making him look at you. “Don’t. Move. One. Inch! I need to have a word with you!”

And you closed the window before racing down and outside, where he was still standing, and his knights were... still there? This didn’t really concern them, and it looked like they intuitively realized it as you marched over to William.

“Where is the plant?” You asked, looking straight at him.

He frowned, and his eyes flickered to his knights, to whom he said as a side note: “You’re dismissed,” to which the knights nodded and begun walking away.

“Where is the plant?” You repeated.

He frowned again, as if to connect the dots.

And then it dawned on him.

“Oh, the plant is on the balcony to get a little bit more sunlight,” he replied with a baffled look.

You blinked.

And looked at him.

“It looked a little down so... I thought that some more sun would do it good?” He said, sounding a little but uncertain.

“So... you didn’t .. throw it away,” you uttered out loud, without really meaning to.

“No..?” He said with a questioning frown. “Why would I throw it away?”

“No reason,” you said while cupping his face.

And he continued to give you a baffled look as you placed a kiss onto his cheek.

He really was tending to it. The plant, and your relationship