#words: 1186

[abdanisnotonfire]

CHAPTER SIX

The lunch was...fine. Perfect! Amber and Brook's lunch had gone perfect, or at least, that's what she had thought.

She got Amber out of the orphanage for awhile, and the two got to catch up. She had seemed really happy, and Brook was able to account for the time that Amber was out so she hadn't gotten in trouble.

And yet, Amber still hadn't messaged Brook back since they had last hung out, and Brook was concerned. It wasn't like her friend to just ignore her like this.

At least, not without an explanation; without talking to her about it.

She would at least talk to Brook.

Brook had a doctors appointment coming up that she really didn't want to go to. It was a follow up, just to see how she was healing.

But Brook just wanted to be left alone.

The girl ran her hands over her sides, providing some comfort in a place she hadn't known ached. Every thing felt different, and she wasn't used to it. She didn't like it.

A small knock was placed on the bedroom door, sending a jolt up her spine and down her ribs. It wasn't that she didn't trust Dan and Phil, but she still didn't know them. She was still a stranger in their home.

In her home.

As the door opened, Brook was met with one of the most pleasant scents she had ever encountered.

"We made you breakfast!" Dan spoke, beaming over Phil's shoulder through the doorway

She always felt lost-- until she actually spoke to them.

"Oh! You aren't uh-- allergic to anything, are you? I probably should have asked.." Phil added, the two of them ushering into the room with a proud stride.

"We didn't burn the house down" Dan finished, before handing Brooklyn the plate of omelettes and ham.

"Oh-- That's probably for the best--" Brook replied, a wry smile creeping onto her face

"Okay, but more importantly, you aren't allergic to anything, right? We just got back from A&E and I don't know what kind of parents they would think we are!" Phil said, a hint of anxiety seeping through his words.

"Stop it, you're going to make her think she cant ask for help if she ever gets injured-- you can go to the A&E for anything you need!" Dan butted in, nudging Phil back with his shoulder as he spoke "But uh.. you aren't allergic to eggs, are you?"

A giggle escaped her lips as she picked up the fork, shaking her head. "No, I'm not allergic to anything yet." The girl began to eat, the silky egg causing her to cringe.

"Yet?" Dan pipped up, before Phil pushed his way through.

"Hey! If you aren't allergic to eggs, why don't you want your omelette?!" He joked, handing her a a salt shaker. Dan shot Phil a glare, mouthing the word 'heathen' to him.

"I don't know my family history, my medical history-- you two know more than I do, I think. I don't know what my forms said, but I was never told anything." Brook finally answered, while salting her plate. A sense of woe filled the room, causing her to look up.

"Oh.."

"It's fine, really." The girl stated, before setting her half eaten plate down and standing up, stretching.

"You know, you really have to stop doing that. The whole Sad Girl thing? It doesn't work for me" Brooklyn finished, before walking past the two, and out of the room.

Dan let out a soft sigh, as Phil quietly closed the door behind him. "I think..- I think we might have to get her a therapist, or psychologist, or..- or.. I don't know. But she won't eat, and I don't know if she's coping.." Dan rambled, taking a seat on Brooks un-made bed. "You know what they said, Dan.."

"What, the people who let kids attack each other without supervision?"

"You want them to fight with supervision?" Phil joked, nudging his partner. "You know we can't expect these institutes to have the funding to help every child, and we of all people know how dangerous that can be. but its better than-- what? Where would she have been? A family friend of hers? The streets? We have to give her some time to settle in. It's only been a week"

Dan sighed, resting his head against Phil's shoulder; a silent sign of agreement between the two.

Down the hall, Brook was sat in the living room, staring at one of the boys plates of food on the coffee table. A feeling of stress welled up inside her.

She had been thinking. A lot.

The thought of wasting the time of her new family-- it frightened her. She had never been in this position before, she hadn't had to question the consequences of her actions. It wasn't that she wasn't trying; really.

Nobody had taught her.

She still wasn't sure if she kept saying that because it was the truth, or if she kept saying that to convince herself.

Brooklyn stood up, anxiety welling up to a pit in her stomach. She brushing past the door frame and quickly bustled down the stairs. Brooklyn felt the cool doorknob beneath her hands as she twisted it, before glancing to her left.

She was met to a hanging coat rack with a few pieces of clothing on it. She slinked on a dark coat, and walked out the front door. She just needed some fresh air, and to get away from her thoughts.

The brunette girl seemed to be in autopilot mode, walking to a place she wasn't quite sure existed.

She didn't focus on any of the sights, or the people; or the cars. It was like something inside of her had taken over, and was walking for her. She passed tall buildings, and multiple streets, the busy sounds of the vibrant city ringing in her ears.

She turned down a side street, and was met with a park. It was full of green grass and trees everywhere. There was a walkway down the middle and a playground in the center. There was a lake farther down the side of the playground, following a hill, with a picnic table.

She walked towards the playground, finding a seat on the swings.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, opening up Ambers messages. She started intently at the multitude of blue messages, all sent; never responded to. All the times Brook begged for a response. She felt the tears forming in her eyes, threatening to cloud her vision.

She typed out another message, the words reading "Did I do something wrong?" and stared at the message, her tears finally falling as she hit send.

She felt her sadness turn to pain as her message sent as green.

She was blocked.

Brooklyn burst out sobbing, tossing her phone away in anger. She didn't understand why this was happening to her. She felt alone, and suddenly, the world felt very big. 

[egypt-museum]

Detail of Ramesses girdle which is woven from linen and decorated with rows of ankh signs, a hieroglyph used to write the word for ‘life’.

New Kingdom, 20th Dynasty, ca. 1186-1155 BC. Now in the World Museum, Liverpool. M11156

Read more

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 28

double penetration - kita shinsuke x reader x miya osamu

word count: 1186

warnings: smut, swearing, kita and reader are in an established relationship, fluff towards the end

kinktober masterlist

You liked to believe you knew your boyfriend, Kita Shinsuke, pretty well.

You had met as mere kids in diapers. You had grown up with him. You knew of his careful routine, his vigilant schedule. You knew how caring he was, how wonderfully attentive. His love for his profession, hours and hours put into his precious fields, to earn a living for himself and you, his loving, doting housewife. All of these qualities, and more, were what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Kita would ever suggest something like this.

You stared into his burning gold eyes with tears in your own, mouth dropped open, struggling to breathe. He reached for your face, careful thumb brushing over your wet cheek. You inhaled deeply as your body was jostled forward again, your stare with Kita breaking as your eyes squeezed shut and a low groan sounded from behind you.

“Go slow, Osamu.” You heard Kita say. “She’s hurtin’.”

A huff from the man in question. “I thought ya said ya prepped her for this.”

“Apparently not enough.” Came the reply.

It took another few minutes before Osamu was fully buried inside you, both men finally filling you up to the hilt. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shaky and broken.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You heard your husband’s voice, gentle and doting in your ear. You felt his hand run through your hair where your head rested against his shoulder, trying with everything in you to undo how tense your muscles were. You weren’t used to this. You and Kita enjoyed a very vanilla sex life. It wasn’t even until one month ago that Kita had started playing with your ass, experimenting by prodding it, then entering, fingering, fucking.

You had loved it.

“Shinsuke,” you lifted yourself up, supporting your weight with your hands on Kita’s chest. You felt your back brush against Osamu’s front, felt his breath hit the back of your neck as your movement caused both men to shift inside you.

“You okay, baby?” Kita intertwined the fingers of his right hand with your left, the other running slowly down your side for comfort.

You nodded. “Feels- feels good.”

Kita’s lips turned up slightly in a smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

Kita shifted his hips then, just enough to change the angle of his cock in your pussy, causing you to whine. Behind you, Osamu groaned.

“Don’t do that, Kita-san.” His voice was so strained it caused worry to stir in your chest. “She’s clenchin’ round me so tight. I’ll cum too quick.”

Your cheeks burned at how crude he sounded, and you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so preoccupied with how stuffed you were. Growing up with Kita meant growing up with Osamu too. He was your friend. And now here he was, buried balls deep in your asshole.

“Move, Osamu.” Kita finally said, before holding your hips tight with both hands, planting his feet steadily on the bed, and thrusting up into you.

You cried out and Osamu groaned, immediately following suit. You felt the breath get knocked out of you, eyes rolling up as both men began moving in earnest.

The sounds filling the air were nothing short of filthy, wet squelching that caused your body to heat up in embarrassment, yet somehow made you even more horny. God, you had never felt like this before. Never for one second were you left empty. If Kita pulled out, Osamu thrusted back in, and when Osamu left you, Kita filled you up. You couldn’t breathe with how shot every nerve in your body was, eyes crossing when Kita quickly found your sweet spot, making you yelp and arch back, once again making soft contact with the sturdy torso behind you.

Osamu’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against his chest. His teeth grazed the side of your neck before leaving a tiny bite on the skin.

“Watch it,” Kita choked out. “No marks.”

Osamu’s lips replaced his teeth then, moving up to nibble at your earlobe. Throughout all of it, neither men even slowed their pace. You felt your body jerk and jolt, manhandled by these two men as they used you for their pleasure. You moaned loudly at the thought.

“F-fuck.” Osamu groaned into your ear. “F-feels so good, Y/N-san. Yer tight as anythin’.”

The undulating of three bodies felt heavenly. Touches felt on every part of you at any given time. Your holes ached, as if protesting the intrusion, the carving of big cocks inside your tight insides. Kita’s hands ran over your thighs, soothing any ache that formed with your position, while Osamu’s big hand ran over your front, groping and squeezing your breast with eager motions. Kita’s noises were low and consistent, small groans leaving his lips every few seconds. Osamu was louder, whining and cursing in your ear as if he was losing his virginity all over again.

You were so turned on you couldn't think straight.

You felt a familiar thumb find your clit, clenching hard when Kita started working it in tight, hard circles. You wailed at the feeling, almost trying to push away from it. It was too much. It was all so overwhelming-

“I’m gonna cum,” you weeped, eyes catching your husband’s while your nails dug into the arm Osamu had wrapped around you. “Shinsuke, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby.” He replied, tugging you down onto his body again and holding your hips still as both him and Osamu picked up the pace. You screamed and cried as your orgasm hit you full force, briefly whiting out your vision and making your body twitch and jerk all over. You heard Osamu moan, low and loud, before he buried himself in you to the hilt and warmth spread inside you. Kita was next, thrusting a few more times before he came as well, groaning and huffing in your ear.

You fell limp onto Kita, wincing when Osamu slowly pulled out, his cum dripping down to where you and Kita were still joined. Kita made no move to do the same. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, turning you both to your sides.

You heard Osamu mumble something about a shower before pattering out of the room, leaving you in the warmth of your husband’s arms. You let your eyes fall shut.

“You okay?”

You hummed and nodded, hugging him tighter. You felt him lay a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I take it that you’ll wanna do that again?”

You giggled and looked up at him, grinning sheepishly. “Was it that obvious?”

He ran a hand through your hair, pushing it off your forehead. “You shoulda’ seen yerself, baby. Pretty little thing, moanin’ and cryin’ on our cocks. Ya looked like ya were gonna pass out.”

You groaned and buried your head into his chest again, feeling it vibrate with his laugh. A smile tugged at your lips when you heard the shower turn on in the next room.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats s @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[oookay68]

An Unexpected Plus One

Luke Castellan x gn!reader

Word Count: 1186

Summary: Luke sneaks into your bed after a particularly bad nightmare only to find something unexpected

Warnings: none

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

A hot night in August followed an even hotter day. As Apollo’s golden chariot descended, Artemis’ silver took its place and with it, the stars. The once loud and busy camp is now deserted, traces of the day’s activities evident on the ground. Disturbed grass, arrows strewn messily by the targets, unorganized climbing equipment by the lava wall. In the dead of night, Camp Half-Blood was silent. 

Save for the cicadas buzzing throughout the night. The mixture of the familiar bugs and the humid air brought a smell of warmth and comfort to one Luke Castellan. He quietly crept out of Cabin Eleven, cautiously avoiding puddles of mud and cringing every time his shoe squelched in the wet grass. 

It was common for him to sneak out of the cabin in the black night. Nightmares plagued every demigod and every one dealt with them in different ways. Luke’s favorite way was to crawl into your bed and seek the comfort of your arms and smell. It was a ritual that you both did. Falling asleep with each others’ warmth was the only way you guys could rest after whatever demigod dreams you had. 

Luke thought about his dream on the way to your cabin. A disembodied voice whispering in his ear to steal. The object itself was unclear. But it wasn't like stealing was a foreign concept to Luke or that he felt it was a moral wrong. He was the son of Hermes, he and his siblings had a knack for thievery and were kleptomaniacs to varying extents. 

He ducked behind the front porch of your cabin when one of the lights turned on. He held his breath in anticipation, waiting for a harpy to come out and bust him for breaking curfew. When nothing came he continued on, muttering something about a stupid motion light. 

Luke pressed his face to your window. It was one he could find in his sleep, in fact, you once woke up to him repeatedly sleepwalking into your window. It was a memory that you would never let him forget no matter how hard he tried, a swim in the River Lethe wouldn’t be enough to erase that from your mind. He peeked through the window and smiled when he saw your face, peacefully asleep facing him.

Quietly sliding the window open, Luke stepped in and slipped off his shoes, knowing how much you hate dirty sheets. Your small bed faced the wall so he had to awkwardly throw his sneakers onto the wooden floor before he gently stepped onto your bed. You turned onto your back and mumbled something in your sleep that sounded a little bit like a cat’s meow. 

Luke stroked your hair softly and pressed a warm kiss on your forehead before crawling underneath the covers with you. When he laid down he was met with strong resistance. Sleep deprived and uncaring, he persevered and wrapped his arm around your frame. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off before being rudely jolted awake with a kick to his side.

He bit back a groan of pain before shoving your light limbs over onto your side and snuggling into your neck. Another hit to his side disturbed his attempt at falling asleep. But you were still blissfully asleep, unaware of your sleeping jabs. 

Luke did his best to ignore your kicks and just assumed that you were having nightmares too. With that thought he kissed your head again and pulled you into him. But his mind wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. Vigilant of your sleepy assaults, Luke stayed awake and stared at the bottom of the bunk above, focusing on your breathing. 

Your heavy breathing reminded him that you were still alive, that you both were still alive. Usually he lets you sleep and waits until the morning to talk about the nightmares but something about this one disturbed him. Your chest moved up and down, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling and then exhaling again. 

Wait, what?

Luke sat up and looked at your rising and falling chest. A sleepy, “ow” drew his eyes to your face. You were still knocked out as if you were Hypnos himself. A sharp punch into his side startled him. Luke lifted the sheets up quickly and let out a surprised, “oh” when another pair of eyes stared back at him. 

“Who are you?” the quiet voice asked him groggily.

“Oh, uh I’m sorry I think I wandered into the wrong bed by mistake.” Luke said. It wasn’t like your relationship was a secret but it was private. And he had to think of a fast explanation for the seven year old currently occupying your bed. 

The little girl sat up and rubbed her eyes, “Why are you here?”

“Uhm…”

You started stirring awake and lifted your arm to crack your knuckles and elbow. Slowly opening your eyes, you stroked your little sister’s hair before Luke’s red face caught your attention. Even in the darkness of the night you could tell how embarrassed he was by the sheer heat his body was radiating, preparing his body for a fight or flight scenario. 

“Baby?” You croak, voice deep with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

Luke smiles sheepishly and pats your sister’s head. “Just uh, wanted to make sure that you guys were sleeping well.” He shoots an awkward glance at the seven year old sitting on your leg. “Sorry for waking you guys up.”

It hits you slowly that there’s only one reason as to why he’s sneaked into your bed in the middle of the night. And no, it wasn’t to do any nefarious activities. “Oh,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, uhm…this is Lacy, she’s my little sister. She was a little homesick so I let her sleep with me.”

Luke smiles genuinely, you’re always there for your younger siblings, taking on a parental role for the young ones who miss home or have never felt that kind of love. He looks down at your sister and pats her shoulder, “You’re lucky to have Y/N as a sibling, Lacy.”

Now fully awake, Lacy gives him a toothless smile. “I know.” She says sweetly and lays back down to snuggle into your embrace. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll head back.” Luke says.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry Luke, we can make some space.” You pick up Lacy easily and move her to the wall. It was no wonder why your leg felt so light to Luke. Lacy was so small and looked five rather than seven.

“No no, it’s fine.” He looked at the small single bed that held the three of you, “Three’s a crowd, I didn’t know that I’d be an unexpected plus one.” 

“Are you sure?” You ask. You’d hate to leave him alone especially after he just had a nightmare. “It’s no problem at all.”

Luke shakes his head, “Nah don’t worry about it. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He gingerly kisses your lips and Lacy squirms and shies away from you two. “Sleep well you two.”

[runnning-outof-time]

K, congrats on 3.5K and I was wondering if you can make something about “Why’re you looking at me?” and it’s Tommy or John having a crush? AAAAAAA

Thanks for sending this in, E!! @writers-hes I’m sorry it took me so long to write!! I just had to go with Tommy for it because (if you haven’t noticed already) he’s my fave to write for! The thought of this made my giddy haha. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Strictly Business

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: smoking, drinking

Word Count: 1186

Summary: When a business associate doesn’t show, Tommy and (Y/N) make the most of a dinner…and try their best to keep their true feelings under wraps.

“Do you really need me here?” (Y/N) asked for the umpteenth time as she sat down across from Tommy at the table they’d been led to. She didn’t expect to be dining at some posh establishment today, but for Tommy Shelby, she’d drop her plans and do just about anything if he asked it of her.

Yeah…not the best mindset logistically thinking, but what can she say…she was smitten with him. Problem was that he hardly gave her the time of day with it came to that. Strictly business. That’s what they agreed on.

“I do,” Tommy nodded, fishing a cigarette out of its packet so that he could perch it between his lips and strike a match to light it. He cleared his throat then as he crossed his one leg over the other and sat back, looking around for the person he’d be meeting.

“Guess that’s that then,” (Y/N) commented, more so to herself than anything, as she grabbed the napkin and draped it over her lap. She then began to peruse the menu because hey, if she was going to have to be in this fancy establishment, she was going to sample their wares.

The waiter came over to their table moments later and (Y/N) took her time to chat with him, asking him what he recommended, what was popular, and what would pair well together. She must’ve took around ten minutes trying to figure out the dish she wanted to order. Once she did, the man turned to Tommy. He kept it simple, ordering a whiskey.

“You’re really not ordering anything?” (Y/N) asked him after the man left.

“I figured that if I got hungry, I’d take something from your plate,” he answered honestly, a grin teetering on his lips.

“Bold of you to assume anything will be left,” she countered, her grin matching his.

Tommy just pursed his lips at her statement, trying to stop his grin from growing bigger than it already was. He then accepted the whiskey from the waiter and brought it to his lips, thankful he had it to hide what he was really feeling. Strictly business.

Time passed as the two waited for the business associate to show up. Nothing much was said, but nothing really needed to be said. Tommy and (Y/N) had become accustomed to sitting in silence, and more often then not, they found it peaceful. It was comforting in a way.

About a half hour had passed now, and there was still no appearance of said business associate.

“Is this man coming?” (Y/N) questioned, her brows furrowed.

“He said he would be,” Tommy dismissed her question, sipping on his third whiskey. The fact that he was sat here instead of out making sure everything else was running properly kind of irked him. The only reason he wasn’t marking it as a complete bust was the fact that (Y/N) was there.

“At least we get a meal out of it,” she commented as the waiter brought her dinner out. She smiled up at him as a thank you before surveying the delicious plate of food that was placed in front of her. A wider smile grew on her lips as she looked back to Tommy. “Well…at least I got a meal out of it.” She couldn’t help but correct herself, her teasing statement making Tommy roll his eyes at he fought his grin back.

(Y/N) dug into her dinner, making sure to make an exaggerated comment about how absolutely delicious the food she chose was. She was enjoying her dinner so much that she momentarily forgot he was even there with her.

Which is why when she looked up to see his eyes focused on her with the slightest smile dancing on his lips, she thought her heart was about to jump out of her body. She’d never seen Tommy look at her in that way. It was almost as if his eyes were twinkling, the shade of blue present in them just about making her breathless.

“Why’re you looking at me?” she broke the silence. While she didn’t want to ruin the reverie that had been created the second their eyes met, she had to say something or else she might have combusted on the spot.

“Hmm?” he simply hummed, and (Y/N) wanted to groan. He’s purposefully making this hard on me.

“Why’re you looking at me like that…like you just were a few seconds ago?” she repeated her question.

“What was I looking at you like?” he asked, his brows now raised.

“Don’t make this tough for me, Tommy,” she huffed, her heart going at about a mile a minute. His expression didn’t change. (Y/N) huffed again. He’s really gonna have me spell it out to him. “You were looking at me like…I don’t know, like you were dreaming or something,” she tried her best to explain it.

“I wasn’t dreamin’,” he shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Well you looked like it,” she shot back, sending him a glare that a smile was trying so hard to break through. Tommy lazily shrugged off the conversation, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. (Y/N) shrugged also, focusing - well trying to focus - on her meal once more.

“I was watchin’ you,” he stated after a few minutes had passed.

“Oh yeah?” (Y/N)’s eyes shot up to match his once more.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, taking a deep drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out slowly before continuing, “I enjoy watching you. Brings some quiet to me mind.”

“Oh yeah?” she answered with the same question she asked before, although her voice was softer this time around.

“Yeah,” he nodded again, leaving it at that, even though he wanted to say so much more to her. He wanted to tell her just how much she had helped him since he met her. Tell her how he couldn’t get her off of his mind, even if he tried. Strictly business.

The conversation ended there, and (Y/N) tried her best to focus back on the meal in front of her. Something was burning in her mind though, something that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried.

“Tommy…?” she spoke again after a few more minutes had passed.

“Yeah?” his eyes were on her in a second. They never really left.

“There was never someone coming to this dinner, was there?” she just had to ask him.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he answered with a vague statement, although his eyes told her a different story. See what Tommy didn’t know was that (Y/N) had gotten pretty good at reading his eyes. She’d never call him out on the truths he brushed over though.

Instead she pursed her lips to hide her smile. “Strictly business?” she checked with him after a few beats of silence.

“Strictly business,” he answered with a nod, ending the conversation there. His answer was short and succinct, but his eyes told her differently.

*tags in reblogs so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

[madhattervanessa]

Chance

Summary: How did these two even meet? Well, it all started in a coffee shop.

Warnings: look, they are weird and they flirt weird but it works for them

Words: 1186

A/N: I typed all of this in like barely 2 hours bc I was posessed by the idea of these guys and I missed them so this is what you get instead of the next thing in the series lmao

Requests are open as always.

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

next Part

-

“I’ll have your coffee done in a minute, go on and get dressed.”

“Thanks, Trish.”

“Oh and don’t forget to put up your flyers before you leave!” You smile nervously and wave back at your colleague behind the counter as you shoulder your bag. 

After putting some of your smaller flyers down on the counter for customers to see, you turn towards the windows with one of your posters. After putting one up to face the outside, you take another poster and turn it to face towards the inside of the café. As you tape it to the glass, the door opens and closes.

You briefly hear Trish greet the customer as you tape that last corner down.

You feel like you’re being watched.

When you turn to leave, a giant, hulking man is blocking your way, dark gaze staring at the flyer you had just stuck onto the window.

“Oh-!”

You furrow your brows as your eyes do a quick flick between his eyes, to his face mask, back up, then over his body.

“Uhm.” You turn your head sideways a little, half expecting another harrowing experience with a guy from the nearby military base.

When his eyes finally meet yours, the intense gaze makes your breath stutter.

“Do you do the veteran evenings-”

“What the fuck is your problem-”

You both shut up and you feel your cheeks heat in both irritation and embarrassment.

And then his eyes soften. 

“I’m sorry,” you both say, in unison again, and you feel yourself flush, this time. He has a nice, deep voice that cracks a little as he speaks, as if he had been yelling all night. Or drinking. That thought efficiently leads your train of thought away from developing any kind of positive feelings, too fast, for a man you do not know.

So you just stare at him, as he stares right back at you.

“You a veteran, then?”

You nod and steal a look over towards the counter where Trish is currently talking to another customer. She glances your way.

“I really have to get going.”

“Alright.”

He doesn’t move and you huff before you move past him, not bothering to tuck your elbows in so as to not nudge against him.

As you leave, you swear you can feel him looking at you, but when you try to catch him, he is currently making Trisha smile at the counter.

-

He’s back just two days later, infuriatingly towering over the counter in front of you, just minutes after you’ve opened the café.

“Hi.”

You just blink at him.

“What can I get you?”

He doesn’t look at the menu behind your head, just holds your stare.

“Two black coffees, one oat milk latte and a cappuccino. All large. To go.”

His voice sounds a little softer today. Like a warm, gruff hug. 

You type in his order.

“That’s 11.20£.” 

He puts the change you give him back straight into the tip jar and you give him another glance before you go on to start working on his order.

As you look up while steaming the milk, you catch him typing away at a phone that looks tiny in his large hands.

He wears gloves but you can see the hint of old tattoos peeking out from underneath the sleeve of his thick hoodie.

Before you can go down the rabbit hole of admiring the tanned skin of his wrist or his thick arms, you turn your gaze back to the task at hand.

You assemble the drinks quickly, already putting yourself in the mindset of the inevitable rush that would be running through the door in about half an hour.

When you glance up at him again, he is watching you, again.

You find yourself noticing the blonde lashes framing the dark brown of his eyes and smiling back up at him.

You cringe and grind your teeth as you put the coffee cups into the cardboard holder.

“D’you want some chocolate coffee beans or biscuits?”

“Little of both.”

You put them into the divots of the cups’ tops, before gently pushing the cupholder towards him.

“Here you go. Have a great day.”

“You too.”

-

“What the fuck.”

Coffee-Guy just keeps loading the washer as you gape at him, your own basket still pressed against your hip.

When he is done, he finally gets up and meets your eye.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t really ‘ave the time to bother, love.”

He almost sounds like he is smiling underneath the black mask he wears.

You glare at him and pointedly start loading up the washing machine furthest away from him.

When he speaks again, you are convinced he is on the phone with someone.

“How was your day?”

You scowl into the wide maw of the washing machine as you stuff the last of your clothes inside.

“Hey.”

You can feel your ears perk and you turn, the tone of voice activating something slumbering inside of you, commanding you to look at him.

“What?”

He is leaning against the machine he had loaded up.

“I was talking to you.”

You blink and rub the back of your neck before you close the door of the washing machine and turn towards him.

“Uhm. My day ways…good. I guess.” He hums in acknowledgement. You clear your throat. “I didn’t realize you lived here.”

“Not around much with deployment ‘n all.”

“I see.” 

He fidgets with the stickers on top of the washing machines. You pour some detergent into the washing machine and put some coins into the machine to be able to start washing.

“I like your shirt.”

You look down and frown. You’re just wearing a plain black shirt and as you look up, you catch the quirk of his brow, as if he is waiting for you to catch on to a silly joke.

“I bet, this stuff is really your style. Just your color, as well.”

He huffs out a chuckle. You smile, despite yourself, and push the Start button on the machine.

“Yeah, exactly. Looks good on you, too.”

You collect your basket again and prop it up against your hip again.

“I know.” You take another calculating look at him. “What’s your name?”

“Simon.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Simon. You better not be stealing any of my clothes. I count my panties.”

“Understood, Ma’am.”

-

It’s 5 am when you step outside of your apartment.

Just like clockwork, a minute later, your neighbor’s apartment door opens and he steps outside. Except, this time, instead of walking right past you, he stops just in view as turn your keys in your front door lock.

“Can I walk you to work?”

“I’m just getting coffee.”

He hums but doesn’t walk away.

“Can I walk you there and buy your coffee for you, then?”

You finally turn and let your keys fall into your tote bag.

“Fine.”

You meet his eyes.

“No funny business. Just coffee.”

“Yes ma’am.”

It escalates to a ritual after a week.

After being gone for two months, he returns and takes you out for brunch.

-

Thanks for reading!

Requests are open and always appreciated

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ROLES REVERSED.

tangerine x fem!reader — fluff/ comfort

summary. as the eldest daughter, you’re used to taking care of others. tangerine notices, and wants to be the one to care of you.

requested by @sdddoobydoobydoo here <3

word count. 1186

warnings. couple blood mentions. no established relationship

As the eldest daughter, you're naturally gifted with traits that stem from your role as the second parent: the ability to help and care and nurture and understand and peacekeep in ways most will never.

You appreciated your broad span of empathy, loving how easily and seamlessly you could help others. But it was tiring, and yet, it all you've ever known.

It was normal for you to sit on the back burner when it came to getting care, always being the one to give and never receive. It was why Tangerine took your interest more than any other guy before.

It was like all he wanted was to tend to you, love and care for you - do things for you. Something about him was so unlike the other men in your life; they'd let you exhaust yourself for them, let you work yourself silly, but that was not Tangerine. That's not the man he is.

He noticed how you seemingly always knew what to do, all this infinite wisdom and knowledge swirling inside your poor, tired mind. Anytime he was snappy, you'd assume he was hungry - heading into the kitchen to whip something up for him, or if you were public, always offering to buy him lunch. Anytime he stopped past yours, all battered and bruised, you'd fetch things from around your house to patch him up - wanting to mend him as fast as possible. Anytime he had that distant look in his eyes, you'd always sit him down - suggesting that he talk his problems over with you.

You always seemed to know what he needed - what anyone needed. And while he appreciated your simple, loving and, albeit, persistent gestures, he knew you needed the same treatment. Maybe even, more so.

He wanted to give you that care you give to everyone else, though he didn't want to step over the romance line. Well not yet, anyway.

Tangerine was over yours for the evening, the casual hangout designed for dinner. He had previously made you promise to keep it small, to not go overboard with the food. Though, when you started cooking the meals, you could not seem to stop - all the prior dishes making you question if it would be something he even liked at all. So, in your mind, preparing four different meals to choose from would be a safe bet.

"Sit down, would'ya? Stop faffing," Tangerine calls out to you in the kitchen, his arse parked on a dining seat you had previously directed him to.

"I'll be five minutes, ten max— shit... think we're looking at fifteen."

"You gonna let me help you?" he questions, getting ansty from his unhelpful sitting. He wanted you to let him help. "Give me something to do."

"Got it all covered," you call out, poking your head through the door to see him. You were frazzled, and you took on more than you could handle.

His head tilts softly, a faint tut of his mouth letting you know he didn't buy your lies. "Oh yeah?" he entertains your fib, eyes playful. "What was that all that swearing for then?"

You look down at your bleeding finger and subtly move to hide it - putting it out of Tan's view. "Dropped my teatowel," you shrug. "Pasta is almost cooked— so uh, that's good. Okay, then. Just pick at the bread there. Will be done soon."

You head over to one of your cupboards and search for something to stop the bleeding, a plaster hopefully. But all you can find is a lonely, crumpled-up one in the crack —all your others going to Tangerine's cuts and scrapes— and you sigh. Picking it up, you attempt to unwrap it, but your bloodied finger makes you lose your grip.

"You alright?" Tangerine asks, his stealth-like walk peeking up on you from behind. "What you doing?"

"Yeah," you hum, looking at him over your shoulder. "Just waiting for this water to boil," you partially lie, nodding to the pot on the stovetop.

"You're a shit liar," he scoffs in his usual way, walking to get closer to you. "What have you done?" he asks, voice reaching a pitch that can only indicate worry, his eyes glued to your finger.

"It's just a cut. It's fine— it'll stop in a minute," you deflect, acting casual as you fiddle with the wrapper, still trying to open it.

He shakes his head and inhales harshly, reaching for the plaster in your hand.

You protest, tightening your grip. "It's alright, I got it."

He shakes his head again, clearly displeased. He loosely holds under your hand, guiding you towards the sink, where he directs it under the water - trying to stop the bleeding quicker.

"Seriously, it's okay. I'll put—"

"Just," he interrupts, tone pointed, though it holds no malice. "Let me help you for chrissake."

You close your mouth with a snap, his comment halting any further dismissals.

He holds your finger under the warm, flowing tap, watching the water turn slowly from a soft orange and back to clear. He's quiet, silently taking care of you in the ways he's almost longed for. The moment when you finally allow his help - all of it feeling like a small step forward.

He reaches for a piece of kitchen paper and wraps it around your finger, drying it with his gaze focused down.

"Why won't you let me help you?" he asks quietly, his question cutting through the comfortable silence. It sounded like it was weighing heavy on his mind.

"What do you mean?" you question, unsure what he meant.

He glances up to look at you, head cocking to the side. "Come on," he chuckles faintly. "You know what I mean."

"I do let you help."

He's amused, or so you think. He was too hard to read. "Hardly… I want to do things for you. I want to help you. Why won't you let me?"

You pull your hand away and hold the paper compress by yourself - feeling embarrassed from his mild ridicule. "I always have it covered, that's all," you shrug. "I don't need help."

He could tell you were shutting yourself off, though he's adamant not to let that happen. "I ain't gonna disappoint you, you know that?" he says, words firm, but they were filled with something far softer: unexpressed, repressed love. "You look after everyone else... I want to look after you."

A soft frown-like smile lines your lips, and you finally look up to meet his eyes. He really meant it.

"Just give me a piece of cucumber to cut or a towel to fold— something," he attempts a joke - trying to lighten the mood. "Just let me be useful to you, yeah? Let me in."

You nod, even more progress.

"Good," he nods back, a faint grin spreading across his face. He reaches for the plaster, opening it as if it were nothing and grabs your hand - carefully holding your finger. "Now let's cover this fucker up before it gets all over your pretty top, hm?"

so independent reader coded

[ariseur]

This is a stupid request so iUEOE IF U DONT LIKE IT ITS FINE but . A cloud x reader where Cloud, even after months from the start of their relationship, keeps getting a bit flustered, all blushy, whenever he gets kissed? ITS STUPID ITS LILE. IT COULD BE A DRABBLE TBH CAUSE ITS YEAH. BUT YEAH . Sow wy.

red kisses 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

cloud strife x fem!reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

ughhh this request was so cute!! i made it into a fic instead because i just had some ideas :) hope you guys enjoy 💕!!

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of kissing, cloud gets flustered, intended lowercase, tifa teasing cloud for having a big fat crush on you, reader is referred to as clouds girlfriend, lmk if i missed anything!!

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1186 words, 6519 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“shit!” you yelled, ducking under the rapid gunfire on the shinra infantryman. your hand reached for your sword before a gloved hand came to stop you. eyebrows furrowed, you looked back at cloud who just shook his head before pulling out his buster sword and stepping out into the gunfire, using his weapon as a shield from the bullets as they ricocheted off the metal.

you watched in awe as he cleared out the group. you knew he was always good at his job but seeing him in action never failed to make your jaw drop.

“hey, you comin’ or not?” he called out for you, his extended leather clad hand beckoned you after the coast was clear while numerous infantrymen laid on the ground unconscious below him. snapping out of your thoughts, you peeked your head out from behind the storage container and jogged your way towards him, beaming.

“my hero.” you extolled, leaning closer to lay a quick chaste kiss on cloud’s cheek before skipping over towards a metal door, eager to continue your mission. he made a noise of surprise, hand ghosting over where your lips had touched his face as a shade of pink tinted his freckled skin. his eyes followed your footsteps as he turned around and caught up with you, quickly following behind just in case you were caught off guard. you couldn’t help but smile as you heard him pitter-patter after you.

you definitely noticed the faint blush on his cheeks when he returned, and thus began your journey to flush cloud whenever given the chance to.

more time had passed, and cloud had actually gotten to know you. even if you never let him forget that one instance on the mission to the mako reactor.

and here cloud sat— in a bar stool at seventh heaven drinking the strongest of whatever tifa’s got while she talked about the newest mission avalanche was planning. she cut herself off mid-sentence, noticing how cloud continued to swirl his drink around while his eyes stayed glued to the ripples created in the glass, mind clearly elsewhere.

she put her arms behind her back as she leaned forward and tried to get his attention. “cloud?” she called, causing his eyes to peer back up at her. he made a small ‘hm’ sound in response.

“what’cha thinkin’ about?” she asked, inquisitive smile still painted on her face as usual. resting her arms on the wooden bar countertop, she watched as cloud contemplated to say what was really on his mind right now. he exhaled through his nostrils as he took another sip of the red liquid in his glass, “nothing.”

tifa’s brows raised as she finally understood. “so,” she began, “thinkin’ about your girlfriend, huh?”

“what makes you say that?”

“every time she’s around you, i never hear any of that ‘hard-ass’ complaining you’re always doing, as wedge would call it.” she grins, now knowing she hit the head right on the nail. “it’s like she placates you.”

“‘m just tired, that’s all.” he huffed, throwing his head back and downing the liquid as a weak attempt to try and hide the growing blush that grew across his face.

tifa simply laughed, standing up straight and greeting marlene as she walked in through the double doors with her dad, squealing about whatever new things she found today. always so excited to explore even in the slums of midgar. he placed a few coins on the bar counter as a payment for the drink, walking out of the bar and praying that tifa didn’t notice the money on the counter in hopes that she wouldn’t try and sneak it in his room like last time.

as for your new “mission” of trying to fluster cloud, it grew harder for him to ignore as everyday you’d press a kiss to his jaw or his hand or even the tip on his nose. he started to take his behavior into consideration after what tifa said. did he really act all that different around you?

your goal started making more progress as time went on and your relationship got more serious. often, your invites to your place ended up just being a torture chamber for him as you had managed to root yourself deep within his brain. he couldn’t get you out, and although he acted like he didn’t care, it haunted him. you were everywhere around him. but maybe, he thought, just maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to get close to someone.

he’d look at marlene and his mind would think back to you. the way you’d sit with her and talk to her about her weird dreams where she’d become a dolphin or something like that. barret would throw a glare at him and all cloud could think about was how you mentioned how barret scares the absolute shit out of you. you were everywhere, your presence, your perfume, your—

“hellooo—?” earth to cloud?” your hand came into view, once again snapping cloud out of his thoughts. he hummed.

“space out there?” you smiled at him, and ugh, that smile. it made him feel obnoxiously warm. he never got used to those butterflies that would travel along his stomach, even if you guys had been together for a while.

he huffed as he looked away, lolling his against the soft pillows you had on your bed. “yeah, uh.. yeah.” he finally said, eyes trailing off as he narrowed his eyes at shinra’s public service announcement that broadcasted on tv. cloud let out quiet groan at the man’s face and turned it off, the remote dropping from his hand and onto the blanket as he turned back to you.

“you always seem to glow, cloud. did you know that?” you blurt out, finger tracing the taut muscles of his arm.

“well.. maybe it’s just because of the mako—? SOLDIER, remember?”

“no, not like that,” you giggle behind your hand, “i’m just saying i think you’re handsome, cloud.” that makes him let out a small noise of surprise, stiffening as he’s unsure what to say next.

“oh.” he said, ears heating up as he looked away from your intense gaze. he crossed his arms, trying to avoid the way your head craned to try and see his face.

“and you’re so fit,” you lifted a finger up with each compliment you listed, just trying to get a rise out of cloud, “and intelligent, and sweet, and—“

“okay, i think that’s enough.” he must’ve been flushed right now, he though.

“and you’re just so breathtaking.”

“you are such a liar.”

you dramatically feigned offense, putting a hand on your chest as your jaw dropped. “how dare you assume such things about me? i am simply loving my boyfriend, is that such a crime?”

he scoffed as a weak smile made its way to his face, “you’re loving torturing your boyfriend, there’s a difference.” however, his eyes widened as he felt your lips press against his jaw. he gave you a pointed glare, “see what i mean?”

“oh hush, you love it.”

[crusera]

The Sultan, they said, was a good man. Soft, quickly moved to tears. Out of compassion, he bought the freedom of a Christian woman's stolen daughter. Even Walther von der Vogelweide, the minnesinger in distant Germany, praised the "mildness" of the powerful ruler in the Orient, whose name has a good reputation in the West: Saladin, a righteous man.

He was a man who always kept his word, even to his enemies.

He let his subjects drag him to court, because God's laws applied equally to everyone. Also for him, the ruler who managed to do what no one had ever managed before: to unite the Islamic world of the Middle East after centuries of discord and to wrest Jerusalem, the holy city of the Muslims, from the Christians in 1187.

His name translates as "righteousness of faith", and Saladin is indeed a devout Muslim. Nevertheless, after his conquest of the Holy Land, he allowed the Christians and Jews there to continue praying to their God. This is another reason why, more than half a millennium later, Western Enlightenment thinkers would make him the epitome of the tolerant ruler.

But this al-Malik an-Nasir Salah ad-Din Abu'l-Muzaffer Yusuf ibn Ayyub ibn Shadi, known as Saladin for short, also had other sides.

He could be treacherous, vile and mean. He did not shy away from murder. Nevertheless, this man fascinated his contemporaries. He became one of the most revered rulers of the Islamic world and the most important opponent of the Crusaders.

Saladin was born in 1138 in Tikrit (in present-day Iraq), the son of a Kurdish officer. During his political career, Saladin was the first to bring Egypt's army under his control.

Saladin, a Sunni, now founds two universities where theology is taught according to Sunni theology - a signal that he is on the side of the population. He also abolished a number of taxes that contradicted the Koran and the teachings of the Prophet.

Saladin's subsequent conquests shock the Christian world. By 1174, his power extended from North Africa to the southern tip of the Arabian Peninsula. In 1186, he ruled from the Nile to the Tigris.

At the height of his power, the Sultan even dreamed of taking the Holy War to Europe, conquering Rome - and putting the Pope in chains.

The Crusaders conquered Jerusalem in 1099 and held it until Saladin besieged it in 1187 and handed it over to the Ayyubid dynasty, a Muslim sultanate that ruled the Middle East at the beginning of the 12th century.

Saladin wanted to recapture the city, which had previously been ruled by Muslims.

For Muslims, Jerusalem is a place where important events in the life of Jesus and other important personalities took place. It is also the place where the Prophet Mohammed ascended to heaven according to the traditional interpretation of the Koran and other texts.

In Sunni Islam, Jerusalem is the third holiest city after Mecca and Medina. Muslims believe that Muhammad was brought to Jerusalem during his night journey (Isra and Mi'raj).

The name Jesus is mentioned twenty-five times in the Holy Qur'an, often in the form 'Isa ibn Maryam, which means "Jesus, son of Mary". In the Quran, he is given the unique title "Messiah" (al-masih in Arabic), which means "anointed one". He is considered one of many prophets from the lineage of the Prophet Ibrahim, or Abraham (peace be upon him). Many Muslim traditions regard it as an ideal example of spirituality. Unlike Christians, who generally believe in a triune God, Muslims believe that Jesus was a great prophet who was to lead mankind on the straight path of monotheism and obedience to God (Allah).

When Jerusalem also fell, two kings and an emperor set off for the Holy Land with their armies from 1189 onwards. One of the monarchs is King Richard I of England. Even before the armed pilgrimage, he had already earned himself an honourable name: "Lionheart."

Saladin lies in wait for the Christians in the forests of Arsuf near the Mediterranean coast. But King Richard of England had anticipated the attack; on 7 September 1191, his troops won a clear victory. Nevertheless, the Muslim army is still strong enough to block the road to Jerusalem.

Saladin's reconquest of Jerusalem in 1187 prompted Pope Gregory VIII to organize the Third Crusade. From 1189 to 1192, Saladin lost Acre and Jaffa and was defeated in the field at Arsūf. The Crusaders retreated to Europe without seizing Jerusalem, but Saladin's military reputation had been damaged. He died in 1193.

[the-bi-space-ace]

A Quick Cuddle - Part 2 - Tech

Ao3 Link

Part 1 - Wrecker - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 3 - Hunter - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 4 - Crosshair - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Summary: Echo hugs Tech for the first time.

Words: 1186

Part of leaving the 501st to join with Clone Force 99 was always going to involve a sense of longing. Walking away from Rex that day had been one of the hardest decisions of his life. Regret wasn’t the word he’d use. He didn’t regret choosing to leave with the batch. It was one of the things that allowed him to move forward with newness and embrace what had changed without expectation of who he used to be. Regardless, he couldn’t help the way he missed people at times. Rex, Kix, Jesse, even Cody - who he saw more often than anyone else - all held space in his heart and their absence left him melancholic. 

The downness had been worse that day. His new squad was good company most days but part of him truthfully wanted a good night surrounded by the broadness of the 501st, people he knew and trusted already. People that already knew him. It would shrink as time passed, that he knew, but that didn’t stop the ache as he entered the cockpit. 

The only one sitting up, as he expected, was Tech. Tech was a constant. A variable that refused to change. He liked what he liked, said what he meant, and not a single moment went by when Echo didn’t feel completely and utterly accepted by him. Like another part of himself he found through sheer will and chance. Tech made his thoughts quiet so he thought it best to steal away in the cockpit until the urge to cry passed. 

Tech was sitting in the pilot’s seat, a box of trinkets on the floor by his feet, and a screw driver held in his hand as he drilled away into a machine Echo didn’t recognize. A new scanner, perhaps, or a new invention altogether. Often Echo didn’t know what it was that Tech was working on, simple that he was. He took a seat in the empty chair, leaning back into it and staring at the blue of hyperspace as it sped past them. He’d always liked the way it moved, the way he could stare at it for hours and get lost in its glow. Beside him Tech rummaged through the box, pulling out an object with wires hanging out of its metallic body. He had to smile as Tech talked to himself, yanking out a wire before digging his tool into the empty socket. One day he’d hurt himself doing that then go right back to it again. 

“What’re you up to?” Echo seemed to interrupt his squadmate’s thoughts as Tech jerked his head up towards the voice. He blinked then shook his head, finally opening his mouth.

“I am attempting to repair a power cell meant for one of the Marauder’s engines.” He pushed his goggles back up onto his nose. “My ship needs an upgrade and I have been far too busy to finish it.” He screwed something into the socket then cranked it to the side, several metal pieces falling out that were then scooped into his palm. 

“Our ship, Tech.” Echo reminded, although he knew Tech wouldn’t hear him, not entirely. The entire reason he came to the cockpit was for distraction and now he’d set off a bomb. The man next to him rambled, falling into full detail of the upgrades needed and how he was accomplishing them. Several claims of ‘unseasoned mechanics’ and ‘superior design’ were made that Echo just shook his head at. Something about Tech’s voice always soothed him. This early on he wasn’t expecting to latch quite so fast but there was something about him that calmed the racing thoughts, quieted the anxiety that rested in his chest. The noise was appreciated. After Skako Echo found himself craving company, attention, more than he ever had before. The change hadn’t exactly been welcome, he’d always prided himself on a certain level of independence, but that had shifted along with many other things he was still growing comfortable with. If Fives were here he’d say Echo was always a ‘clinger’ but that was more about teasing him than anything else. 

“Oh,” Tech held up his finger and  stood, drawing Echo’s attention.. He fished through the box then pulled out a gray square pad. A cord hung from it with a box at one end, a finished edge creating a plush box with little divots evenly spaced throughout. “Battery powered heating pad. I know your back hurts often and I thought, since we can’t continue having the heavier pain medication on hand, this would assist with your sleep cycle.” Echo looked from the little pad to Tech. He remembered him complaining about his back? He remembered the aches and the pains that plagued Echo each time he laid in one spot for too long. Not only that but he’d gone out of his way to create something that he could use wherever they were. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised but he couldn’t help it. The idea that he’d taken up some sort of space in Tech’s mind was… well… nice. It made a warm spot glow in his chest, bright and airy. A grin split his face before he could hide it. He stood to take it, turning it around in his hands to feel the fibers. The plush fabric felt nice against his skin, no scratchiness detected. 

“Thanks, Tech.” Echo shook his head, almost too overwhelmed to hide it. Words didn’t roll easily off of his tongue as his eyes started to sting. In an attempt to release the joy he felt he threw his arms around Tech’s neck, hugging him tightly. It felt like the right thing to do. The man seemed startled for a moment, rocking backwards then readjusting to account for Echo’s weight against him. 

“Oh, physical contact. I see. You’re one of those.” Tech’s statement didn’t sound judgey but Echo could see how he may have crossed a line. He’d jumped in a little too quickly, didn’t warn Tech, so he pulled away to put an arm’s length of space between them. And Tech was a words guy. He spoke, he listened, but he didn’t initiate anything physical with Echo yet. 

“I can let go if you want.” Echo started to drop his arms but Tech’s wound around his waist before he could step away, stepping forward to allow shared space again. 

“No, this is acceptable. Proceed.” Tech said as he burrowed his face into Echo’s neck. It was much snugglier than he anticipated, a prickling on his skin where Tech’s warm breath hit his neck. Regardless, a sigh of relief left Echo in a contented huff, hugging back just as tightly as he did the first time. 

Tech’s hugs were great. Perfectly snug enough to chase away whatever sadness he’d been feeling. It reminded him of the hugs Hevy used to give - very sweet and kind - but with a certain exactness that had him thinking Tech had somehow perfected hugs. Studied them, researched them. Something. Whatever it was, Echo wasn’t complaining. 

That warm spot in his chest grew as his previous melancholy drifted away. 

[slasherbvnnie]

Omg- I would love a continuation whenever you get a chance! Maybe size kink within the smut section or even them getting caught or almost getting caught?

This part 2 is brought to you by learning Stu is a foot and three inches taller than me. I hope you enjoy this, I did my best with the smut. I'm still trying to work on smut, but I think I did a good job with this one.

Dirty Little Secret | Part 2

Part 1

Context: Stu and reader are in a secret relationship behind Tatum's back. Modern Scream Au. All characters 18+

Word Count: 1186

Every other night was always new. Whether it be because you were thinking of a new lie to tell your friends why you couldn’t meet with them or if it was because your heart was racing as Stu climbed up into your window.

Tonight, he chose to once again climb up through your window, which he did even after asking him to come in like a normal person. The reason why he did it was because of the exhilaration he got from sneaking in, not only because he was trying to evade your parents, but because your house was only two houses away from Tatum’s.

It was risky, especially with his car parked not too far away, but both of you loved the thought of potentially getting caught.

You heard the thumps of him climbing up, looking out your window and rolling your eyes. “You know, I’m glad your parents have money, you might be owing me a new wall,” you said as he smirked. “Oh will I,” he asked as you nodded, kissing his cheek as he threw his leg over the windowsill and climbed in. “Tate’s having a little sleepover with Sid tonight, so I figured we could have a little party of our own tonight,” he said as he put his hands on your waist, leaning down and kissing your neck as you smiled. “I’d love that, you haven’t come to see me in a few days,” you pouted as he chuckled against your skin.

“So the other day in that empty lab room meant nothing to you?” He questioned as you hummed, “no, but I do prefer when we can go longer than just a quickie,” you said, moaning softly as he bit down on your neck.

“Then I’ll take my sweet time with you today, sweetheart,” he promised as he pulled you towards your bed.

He smiled, beginning to undress you from your clothes, leaving kisses and hickies in his wake. “So pretty, so fucking gorgeous,” he said as he groped your chest. He smirked, kissing down your body before he got to your panties. He moved his hands off of your chest and instead pulled off your underwear, lifting your thighs to rest on his shoulders and planting little kisses on your inner thighs. You bit down on your bottom lip, letting out a needy whine. “Hurry up already,” you huffed out.

“What happened to not wanting a quickie,” he teased, laughing when you pouted down at him. He flicked his tongue against your clit, moaning at your taste. You whimpered, one hand curling into his hair as the other grasped at your bedsheets. He moved slightly to have his mouth on you, sucking on your clit as his right hand began to play with you. His middle finger teased your entrance, you could feel his smirk against you when you moaned as he slipped his finger inside of you, your grip on his hair getting tighter and holding him in place.

“Fuck,” you moaned out, whimpering when Stu added a second finger. You felt his mouth leave your clit with a little pop from releasing the suction, arching your back when his tongue joined his fingers. You attempted to squirm away from all the pleasure, but his free arm wrapped around you and pulled you back down onto his tongue. “Please, Stu, I need you,” you whined out, feeling happy when you heard him groan. “Don’t say that unless you want me to ruin you,” he murmured against your core as you whined.

“I want you to ruin me, Stu, please. I need you to ruin me,” you pleaded, smiling when he pulled away from your cunt and instead rose to plant a hard kiss on you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he chuckled against your lips, holding your face as he kissed you again. He groped your breast with his other hand, taking the chance of you moaning to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You didn’t fight him, simply letting him do what he wanted with you. Even though you enjoyed teasing him sometimes, you both enjoyed when you gave him full freedom and let him use you as a toy.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? Let’s see how much of a slut I can make you into,” he hummed, pulling away from you. He pulled off his jeans, quickly getting out of his shirt and underwear before grabbing you and getting off the bed. “Let’s try something new,” he said as he took you over to the window, your legs wrapping around his waist and connecting your ankles behind the small of his back. “Stu, but-“ “what? Afraid tate will see?” He asked with a smirk as you pouted, “Oh come on baby, who fucking cares. I want your neighbors to see how fucking hot that ass looks, especially when I’m fucking that pretty pussy of yours,” he said, kissing your neck again.

He pulled down the window, not wanting you to fall out mid fuck, pressing you against the glass after. He held onto you tightly, pushing inside of you, the two of you moaning as he pushed all the way inside. “Fuck, look at that, barely fucking fit inside,” he groaned, looking down at where the two of you connected. You grew wetter at his comment, moaning as you looked down and he thrusted all the way in.

You clung onto him, clawing at his back as he took no mercy on you. Stu knew exactly how you liked it by now, wasting no time to get the both of you off, not when he knew how many rounds you two could last together.

Your climax was beginning to build until you heard your phone ring, the two of you huffing as you looked over and saw Tatum’s id call. “Fuck, stu, hand it to me,” you requested, Stu rolling his eyes as he reached over and handed the phone to you. You thought he would stop, but was only met with him thrusting even harder into you.

“Holy shit, are you getting fucking plowed right now?” Tate asked as you blushed, “Tate! What are you doing outside,” you asked, trying not to moan and doing your best to not notice Stu’s shit-eating smirk at hearing your question. “Me and Sid made some cookies, came to give you some but it seems like you found something better,” she said as you whined. “Just leave them at the door okay!” You said before hanging up, moaning as Stu pushed even harder against you.

You moved your head to the crook of his neck, moaning into the crevice before hearing a loud exclamation from outside. You looked to Stu, blushing when you realized he was staring out the window down at whoever was yelling outside. “Fuck,” you huffed out, whimpering when Stu didn’t stop, instead quickening his pace. “S-Stu, Tate’s-“ “Getting a show along with Sid, come on, let’s at least get off before getting into a fight,” he laughed, kissing your neck as he continued to thrust inside of you.

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 1. Teatime

💕🎃YAY another Owlcatober begins 🎃💕

Summary: the Count makes an unlikely friend

cw: drug dealing

Words: 1186

The Knight-Commander’s Field Attaché and Advisor Plenipotentiary Without Portfolio waited, posterior poised, while his majordomo wrangled an heirloom chair through the mud and positioned it to receive the Count’s exceedingly well-bred and oft-admired hindquarters.

From his arm the majordomo then deployed an embroidered tablecloth and flicked it over the folding camp table, smoothed it carefully, and hurried off to the Count’s private mess tent.

Daeran passed his bronze, manicured hands over the embroidered roses. No reason this Crusade had to be dreary and irksome every moment.

The rest on AO3

[strawberryfairi]

Synopsis🌹: After discovering a strange yet alluring red book in a boutique bookstore, you find yourself sucked into a strange world, where all of your inner most desires exist…

Pairings: Wakasa Imaushi X Musician! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Author AU, scifi, Musician! reader, reader is a talented nerd, smutty (slow burn) romance, tiny doses of angst, adventure, futuristic city, magic?, !!sexual tension!!, etc (just find out the rest, lol)

w.c: 4.2k💠 Released: November 3

Previous | Next | Chapters Masterlist

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Lowkey the ending of this chapter...idk like it's kinda not giving to me idk. Like it's ok but it's not at the same time. I'm probably just in my head😭 But anyways I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! Also, the smut is coming very soon so don't worry....gotta love a lil "slow burn"😈

C.W: None

Tags: @nixalozt @lilthana @wakasaishot

↳ (Let me know via inbox or the comment section if you would also like to be tagged here for this story🩵). Enjoy guys!!

𝟔 || 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

The scent of old wood and a faint metallic hum filters through your foggy mind as you stir. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, met by the dim glow of muted blue and purple neon lights seeping through the cracks of a wooden ceiling.

You wince as you shift into a sitting position, a dull ache spreading through your limbs. Your fingers flex against the cold, hard surface beneath you. You're lying on a white floor.

"I'm gettin' tired of waking up in random places like some drunk..." You grumble under your breath, massaging your lower back with a hand.

As you move, something warm slips off your shoulders—a blanket quilt that must have been thrown over you while you were unconscious. Confusion gnaws at you. Simultaneously, you hear a small thud on the floor right next to you. You shift the blanket off of you, noticing that same purse from the first time you were here is next to you. 

You grab it, checking the contents like before. 

This time, it's different. Yes, there's a handy lipgloss and liner, but now there's an actual wallet inside. 

"Where the hell were you when that robot was all up in my face...?" You grit out, narrowing your eyes as you snatch the wallet. 

It's sleek, and actually metallic which is strange to you. Leather is usually the go-to for wallets back on earth. Metal is mind blowing. There's an ID inside, your picture and a citizen number like that cyber police bot was asking for. 

Citizen ID: 1186-25

It shows your status as immigrant, your sex, it even somehow has your birthdate on it too. 

How is this possible?! 

A slight unwanted panic begins to rise in your chest, but before it can fully take hold, the sound of muffled footsteps reaches your ears. Your head snaps towards the source—a door just beyond the workbench, cracked open with the words "Employees Only" etched into its wood in fading silver paint.

Then, the door creaks open fully now, revealing a tall figure in the doorway. For a split second, you tense up, but then you catch sight of his face—a kind face. The man standing there is older, though not elderly, with gelled back dark hair that has a striking silver streak running through the front. His lavender-colored eyes, oddly familiar, were filled with concern.

"You're awake," the man says, his voice low but gentle. He takes a step forward, hands raised slightly as if to show he means no harm. "You had me worried. I found you passed out in the back here, but there weren't any sign of injury, so I figured I'd let you rest."

You blink, the fog in your mind beginning to clear as you take in your surroundings. The room around you is small and cluttered, filled with what looked like old tools, spare parts, and strange devices you don't recognize. There's an unmistakable smell of dust and the faint hum of something electronic, though not in the modern, sleek sense you've become used to in Neon City. Everything here seems...dated, though not necessarily from your world.

"Where am I?" You ask, your voice raspy from the lack of use.

The man smiles softly. "You're in my shop. It's called 'Echoes.' I deal in musical instruments, sound systems, and the like."

"Is this...the underground?" You ask cautiously.

The man lets out a hearty laugh, "No, but I can see why you'd think so."

"So, I'm in Neon City?"

"Yup. You're on the Lower East side of the city." He nods, "You must've had a crazy night."

"I definitely did." You chuckle, recalling the events of the last time you were "dropped" in Neon City.

"Well, feel free to look around if you're feeling up to it. Take as much time as you need."

You smile lightly, genuinely appreciative of his thoughtfulness, then nod. "Thank you."

You stand and make your way out of the backroom, stepping into what was clearly the main area of the shop. As soon as you cross the threshold, your breath catches in your throat. The space before you is a literal treasure trove of musical artifacts—some familiar, some utterly alien.

Shelves line the walls, crammed with instruments and sound equipment. Old record players with intricately detailed designs, boom boxes that looked half-scrap and half-art installation, and microphones that seem to shimmer with a life of their own.

Curiously, you wander down an aisle, fingertips grazing the objects as you pass. A sleek, silver device caught your eye—it looked like a cross between a violin and a guitar but had no strings. Instead, it hums softly when you pick it up, vibrating beneath your touch.

"What is this?" You ask aloud.

The shopkeeper, who had followed you out of the back, smiles faintly. "Ah, that's a Virelax. It's a stringless instrument—well, stringless in the traditional sense. It uses sound waves to produce music. You control the pitch and tone by adjusting the frequency with your hands, like so." He demonstrates, running his fingers over the air just above the device. A soft, ethereal melody began to play, the notes shifting with each subtle movement of his hands.

Your eyes widen with a gasp. "Woooow!"

The shopkeeper chuckles. "It's one of the newer instruments in my collection."

You set the Virelax back down carefully and continue exploring, your heart filled to the brim with excitement. You come across a large, circular object with glowing blue orbs embedded into its surface. When you touch one of the orbs, a deep, resonant bass note echoes through the shop.

"Oooo! What's this one?" You ask, intrigued.

The shopkeeper nods appreciatively. "That's a Tymbrys. It operates on a similar principle as percussion but it's entirely digital. Each orb represents a different frequency, and you can create complex rhythms by pressing them in sequence."

"Ha, an electric bass..." You murmur with a grin.

Your fingers dance over the orbs, creating a spontaneous rhythm that pulses through the air. You grin, momentarily forgetting your confusion and the strange circumstances of your second arrival. For now, you're completely lost in the world of sound.

As you move further into the shop, something else catches your eye—a large object in the center of the room, partially covered by a thick, dusty cloth. There's something about its shape that tugs at your memory, something so familiar. Without thinking, you approach it and slowly pulled the cloth away.

You gasp loudly, your eyes sparkling with excitement. It's a concert grand Steinway & Sons piano!

The sleek, black surface is worn with age, but the instrument is unmistakably from Earth. The keys, though dusty, gleam faintly under the neon lights, and for a moment, you can almost hear the soft hum of music that had once been played on it.

The shopkeeper appeares beside you, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "That's an odd one," he remarks. "I found it many years ago, though I never could figure out how it worked."

You can't help the small giggle of amusement at his deep wonder of the instrument. "It's a piano," You inform, your voice soft with reverence. "It's from Earth; where I'm from. An acoustic instrument."

"Earth..?" He murmurs with furrowed brows.

"You can get real interesting with the keys—that's another name we call it. You just press down on the keys and there's—have you never thought to try it?" You ramble, thoughts coming out a mile a minute.

The shopkeeper chuckles at your burst of enthusiasm. "Of course not. I didn't know what it was."

"No no, I feel that. That's valid." You nod. If there was a strange object as huge and heavy as a concert grand piano, you'd leave it alone too.

"Can I...?" You trail off, pointing towards the pretty instrument. 

"Please. You're the expert." He raises his hands in surrender. Without another word you go and take a seat on the piano bench, adjusting your skirt as you do. You sit there for a minute, grazing your fingers along the keys before finally striking the first note, and slowly building a song.  As your fingers get accustomed to the new chord changes your heart makes up, some lyrics begin to follow after, meshing with the melody line you made.

The shopkeeper's eyes widen in awe as the music washes over him. "Incredible..." He murmurs under his breath. Nearly stumbling in the process, he goes and places his hand on the holographic panel by the front door of his shop. The door slides open, and the neon sign that say "OPEN" flickers to life.

The sound filters out for the outside world to hear. Almost instantly passerby's stop in their tracks. The citizens of Neon City are accustomed to synthetic, electronically produced music. The natural, acoustic sound of the piano is foreign to them—alien, yet captivating. One by one, people begin to gather outside the shop, peering through the windows to see where the strange sound is coming from.

As you play, more and more people gather until there's a large crowd, their faces pressed against the glass, eyes wide with wonder. Some even venture inside, drawn by the unfamiliar yet beautiful sound. Soon, the whole shop is filled with a crowd, all listening in rapt silence as you play. You aren't sure how much time's gone by when your hands finally slow to a stop, your right foot on the damper pedal creating a soft resonance from the last chord you played. And the, as you lift your hands from the black and white keys, a roar of clapping and cheers nearly makes your heart leap out of your chest. You turn around, just now noticing the crowd that's formed. There's strange looking phones out, recording still or just finishing up as others continue to cheer for you. 

Your cheeks warm from the praise. It's something you've never been able to get used to even after all these years of performing. It's crazy having so many eyes on you, so much attention. But it's heartwarming nonetheless. 

The people begin to disperse, going back to their regularly scheduled programs. You fiddle around haphazardly with the keys some more before the shopkeeper makes his way over to you with a warm smile. 

"Here," He says, handing you a small handful of what you could only equate to reddish pink, gem-like coins. "You put on quite a show earlier, something I've never seen, and I figure you need something to eat after that. Consider it a 'thank you' for...whatever that was." His expression softens, and his tone takes on a more serious note. "I haven't heard sounds like that in...well, I've never heard them."

You smile flattered as you look at the foreign currency in your hands. "Thank you, really. But... I don't want to take your money," You mumble, feeling both touched and conflicted. "I'll be fine."

The shopkeeper chuckles and shakes his head. "You're not from around here, right? Look, let me help out—it's no trouble, really. Just a couple credits for a bite. And who knows, maybe I'll see you around again."

After a moment's pause, you smile gratefully. "Alright...thank you so much." You clutch the "coins" in your purse, glancing back to give him one last appreciative look before stepping out onto the streets.

In the morning light, the streets look almost ethereal. The glow from the enormous holographic ads seemed less intense in the sunlight, more muted yet still mesmerizing as they pulse across towering screens. Large advertisements hover above the streets, holographic models and products being promoted by smiling faces and energetic gestures. A soft hum fills the air from the thousands of small mechanical parts working in perfect harmony throughout the city, powering its lights, transportation systems, and other technologies you could hardly recognize.

You wander down a broad avenue, marveling at the towering buildings that stretch up to meet a bright, cloudless sky. Many of the structures seem designed with metallic finishes, causing them to glint and gleam as the sunlight hits their polished surfaces. The streets are bustling with people of all different looks and styles. Many wear clothes embedded with tiny, flickering lights, some with holographic patching that changed designs as they moved. Others have more minimalistic but edgy styles, their eyes shielded by sleek, transparent visors.

Lost in the flow of the city, you let your feet carry you forward, absorbing each new sight. Vendors line the sidewalks, with food carts offering strange, colorful snacks that you can't even begin to name, and tiny drones buzz around, delivering parcels or providing live updates about city happenings. You feel yourself moving in tune with the morning vibe—a different rhythm from the nightlife you'd experienced, but captivating in its own way.

Eventually, your eyes caught sight of a small diner on the corner of a bustling intersection. Its design was a blend of sleek metal and soft, ambient lights, and a neon-blue sign flickered with the words "Circuit Diner." The place seems busy enough but not overly crowded. Through the large, clear windows, you can see customers seated in metallic booths with robotic waiters gliding past them, delivering plates of vibrant food.

Curiosity got the better of you as you push open the glass door, and the inside is even more entrancing than it looks from outside. The walls are adorned with minimalistic light strips that cast a soft glow, making the space feel both futuristic and surprisingly cozy. Screens play holographic images of abstract art that seem to move in time with a soft, ambient soundtrack playing in the background.

"Good morning, citizen," Chirps a robotic voice, and you turn to see a sleek, mid-sized metallic server gliding over to you, its faceplate reflecting your curious, semi-bewildered expression. "Welcome to Circuit Diner! May I recommend our most popular breakfast combination?"

You blink, unsure of what exactly a "breakfast combination" would entail here in Neon City, but nod nonetheless. "Uuuhh, sure, I'll try it."

"Excellent! Your order will be ready soon." The server says with a polite and chipper "beep" before gliding away.

As you wait, you take in the sight of other patrons around you. Some sat alone, scrolling on transparent screens projected from tiny devices worn around their wrists or in their hands, while others sat in groups, chatting animatedly about topics that sound damn near alien to you. You catch snippets about racing, new tech upgrades, trending styles, and names you don't recognize but file away, curious to learn more about this city that feels both familiar and otherworldly.

After a few moments, the robot server returns, setting down a tray with a strange yet appealing meal. The food looks almost too beautiful to eat—perfectly shaped and colored in a way that makes you wonder if it's meant to be eaten at all. There's a glass of ombre purple liquid that seemed to shimmer slightly, along with a small plate of neon-colored bites that look vaguely like fruit but don't smell like any you know.

Taking a tentative bite, you're surprised by the burst of flavors—sweet and slightly tangy, with a soft texture that melted in her mouth. You can't help but smile, savoring each bite and sipping the purple drink, which tastes like a refreshing blend of berries and mint with a hint of something you can't quite place, but it's amazing.

As you sit by the window, enjoying the quietness of your breakfast, you feel a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, an unshakable feeling that someone was looking at you. You glance outside, and your heart involuntarily skips a beat.

Wakasa stood there, just beyond the glass, his lilac eyes locked onto yours. A storm of emotions passed across his face—surprise, confusion, then something darker, almost like hurt or frustration. You can't look away, mesmerized by the intense gaze he had fixed on you, like he’d been searching for you without even realizing it. For a second, you forget where you are, that you're just two people in a bustling, neon-lit city; it feels like the whole world has gone quiet, leaving only the two of you in a strange silence.

Your heart began to race, and you quickly drop your gaze down to the table, hoping he didn't notice the flustered look on your face. But by the time you look up again, he's already pushing through the diner door, his steps quick and purposeful.

You watch, your nerves on edge, as he moves through the space with that effortless confidence of his, like he's barely aware of the way people turn to look at him. He scans the diner, eyes narrowing until they land back on you. In an instant he's at your table, his expression unreadable. A strange mix of irritation and relief, but his gaze is intense, like he has something he needs to say but can't quite find the words. You decide to speak your piece first. 

"Hey, Wakasa!" You smile brightly, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again-

"Are you serious? Where the hell have you been, huh?" He cuts you off, not at all interested in your little chit chat.

You're completely caught off guard, your face contorting into a look of bewilderment. He looks so genuinely upset, and you've never heard his voice come across so stern before.

"I-I was..."

"You-you were? Do you realize it's been three whole days? You had me out here searching for your ass thinkin' something happened to you! You got the audacity to be sitting here in your little cutesy ass outfit eating breakfast!" His words spill out in an uncharacteristic rant, frustration and annoyance evident in his tone. He shakes his head, glaring down at you as if you'd committed some grave offense.

You try not to laugh at the sight of him—the usually laidback, stoic man, standing in the middle of a diner, upset because he couldn't find you. It's actually sweet, in its own strange way. You can't help but mess with him a little.

"Well, yeah," You shrug casually, forcing yourself not to laugh too soon. "I mean, don't they say to always keep a man on his toes—"

"Don't play games with me," He snaps, his tone serious, though there was an edge of something softer beneath it. "You disappeared. Like a ghost. No trace, no word, nothin'. I thought—"

"Not you being worried", You giggle, hovering a hand over your smile, "Not you...caring."

You laugh out loud at the way his eyes narrow at you, his jaw tensing up as he tries to keep his annoyed expression. "You're pissin' me off..." He grumbles.

"I'm sorry! Ok, really, I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry." You reply, forcing the smile down so you can try and get serious. He only gives you a low grunt in response.

"You forgive me? Com'ere." You say softly, taking his hand and looking up at him with your best doe eyes you can muster. His scowl deepens, but it doesn't last very long. He sighs heavily, his shoulders relaxing just a little.

"Yeah, whatever." He glances at the seat across from you, then back to your beaming face. "You gonna let me sit, or am I just s'pposed to stand here while you finish eating?" 

You chuckle and scoot over, gesturing to the seat across from you. Wakasa takes a seat, still grumbling under his breath about how you're such a pain, but the relief in his eyes is unmistakable.

"You know," Wakasa starts, leaning back against his seat, "I've got a race later tonight. Pretty high-stakes one, too. How 'bout you come and watch me?"

Your eyes light up immediately, a spark of excitement unmistakable in your expression. "You want me to watch your race?" You couldn't even try to hide the enthusiasm in your voice. Last time he was so adamant about you not coming along to watch that kid Jaxon's race, now he actually wants you to go. 

"Yeah. I mean, you missed the last one," He replies, the corners of his mouth curving upward, almost like he's enjoying your reaction. "Figured you'd wanna actually watch a race this time." 

Another rush of excitement washes over you; after all, you'd heard Wakasa and even Benkei briefly talk about street racing and its wild world of high stakes and pride, and whatnot. So to be able to see Wakasa in action makes your heart race. You laugh lightly, "Yeah, for sure, sounds like fun. I'll be cheering for you."

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Why my name for that instrument (virelax) sound like a damn medication for people 60 and above with like 99 different symptoms that come with it😭💀 absolutely do not entrust me to name instruments🤡

[myfandomlikesandstories]

Spaces

Marc spector x gn!reader

Genre: angst, hurt comfort

Summary: Marc has a panic attack and some intrusive thoughts following a simple, innocent request from you.

Warnings: heavy angst and crying, suicidal ideation, mention of Nazis, panic attack, intrusive thoughts, extremely negative self talk.

Word count: 1186

--------------------

Marc and you were lying in bed, cuddling after a long day. You've been together a few years, and been through quite a lot, yet always on each other's side. You were surprised when you heard about his alters, Steven and Jake, but welcomed them into your heart. The three of them, in turn, filled every crack of your heart and mind with their unending love. All four of you became a whole.

Marc's arm was draped across your body, his hair tickling your skin pleasantly. You were pressed very close together. Usually, that would have been wonderful, not too warm or suffocating, but tonight:

"I need some space." You declared, thinking nothing of it. You draped the blanket away from yourself, and Marc scooted back, somewhat confused.

"Okay," he said, nodding lightly but concerned. "Whatever you need, babe." He rolled on his side turning his back to you, and lied down on the far edge of the bed. You were so tired, you didn't notice the shake in his voice, or how he inched farther and farther away from you, until his bent knees were hanging in the air.

"It's cold, here, now." He thought, and didn't understand why his throat was closing up. His body became stiff as the familiar record started to play in his mind. "Just until a moment ago, you were in the warm embrace of heaven. How did you fuck that up? You'll always be alone. Cold and alone. Even the stray dogs won't like you. You always ruin it for everyone. Steven deserves a life, goddamnit! You don't even deserve this bed."

You heard a sharp inhale as a chill went through his body and he shot out of bed. "Sorry." He managed to croak out, eyes filling with tears and he left the room.

Marc's legs carried him to the tiny guest bathroom, where he slid down the wall onto the floor, and closed the door behind him. He couldn't breathe, only in tiny little gasps and whimpers. He buried his head in his knees, trying to muffle his cries into his hand.

"No one will hold that hand again," a thought floated into his head. "You're pathetic. You're nothing. You don't deserve any of this. Look at yourself, disgusting! DISGUSTING!" The word echoed in his mother's voice, making him flinch from the belt that was no longer there.

Tears were now flowing from his tightly shut eyes. "Some space! You're so dramatic, you're such a burden, you're strangling, you're horrible, kill yourself! Give all the world some space from Marc Spector, smallest, shittiest and worst man on earth! You're thinking that, it makes you evil! You want to kill yourself, and you want to kill Steven and Jake too because you're trash! That's why there's Nazis! For you! SOME SPACE!!! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE NOT WANTED! YOU CAN'T EVEN GIVE YOUR ABSENCE!!!"

--------------------

You thought for a second that he just went for a wee, and closed your eyes. You just wanted a few minutes to breathe and cool down, and then you'll turn around and cuddle up to him. You love to press your face into his warm chest.

Wait.

He didn't go to the en-suite.

You opened your eyes, came back to your senses, and heard a muffled cry. Not 5 seconds after, you were banging on the bathroom door, your heart breaking at the uncontrollable sobs coming from inside.

Marc didn't open the door, and you decided it was enough. You warned him, and opened it yourself. Your boyfriend leaped away from you, hitting his head on the tile and squeezing himself to the best of his ability between the toilet and the wall.

"Marc, honey, hey-" you started, crouching down to him.

"That's where I belong." He hiccuped. "The piece of shit that I am." His voice wavered, he gasped sharply and sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He pleaded through the tears.

His face was red and wet with tear tracks. His eyes were completely bloodshot and mostly closed, and he was shaking all over. You kneeled in front of him, and took one of his hands in yours. Your other hand went to scratch his soft curls and rake them over. He did it a lot to sooth himself, and you figured it might help.

"I'm here, baby," you told him. "Everything's okay. I love you. I love you, Marc." You moved your hand to cup his cheek and caress it, and saw that he was continuously mouthing the words "I'm sorry" through his anguished expression.

"It's okay. It's okay, honey. I promise. It's alright." You reassured him, and pressed his hand to your lips for a quick kiss. That drew loud, ugly cry from him. "Try to breathe with me, hun." You said and moved his hand to your chest, to feel your deep breaths.

He tried, bless his soul he tried, and ended up coughing and choking on his own tears, causing him to sob even harder. "I- Ah- I'm sorrrryyyyy" he whimpered miserably, so deep in his self flagellation he couldn't stop apologizing. For crying. For making a fuss. For not giving you space. For not being able to give you space. For making excuses. For existing.

"Okay," you took a deep breath for yourself and sighed with determination. "Let's get you up." You said and grabbed your boyfriend from under his arms. He grasped onto your arms to steady and pull himself up, as much as he could on his shaky legs.

You kissed his forehead, and the spot of his head he accidentally hit. You kissed his knuckles, and where he bit down on his hands. You kissed his cheeks, and his nose. That made him smile. You kissed his lips, which induced a fresh wave of tears, and then you kissed those as well.

Eventually, you got the both of you safely to bed. Marc looked horrible. Well not that he could really, being Marc, but he certainly looked like he was feeling horrible. At least it seemed as if the journey across your home shook him up enough to get his bearings. He was starting to realize what was going on, that none of his terrifying, intrusive thoughts were real, and that he had his very loving and loved partner right next to him.

Marc was starting to calm down. Loud, painful sobs reduced into sniffles. He probably disassociated a bit, as managing these attacks was still hard for him. But he had you. You laid him in bed, covered his shaking body and helped him take his slightly sweaty shirt off. You gave him a box of tissues from your nightstand to wipe his runny nose and tear stained face with. You hugged him when he clung to you like his life depended on it. Maybe it really was. Damn. You really fucking love him. Through EVERYTHING. And he loves you so, so much too.

He was safe, loved, cared for, important, appreciated, and for the first time in his life, thought he might deserve to feel that way.

You were each others' safe spaces.

--------------------

MASTERLIST

Just tagging some mutuals, no pressure!

@ivystoryweaver @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @romanarose @my-secret-shame @luke-o-lophus @spider-starry @eyelessfaces

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 24 - tattoo artist

pairing: tattoo artist!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you come home to your husband and daughter

word count: 1186

warnings: you have a daughter, lots of kid stuff, mention of pregnancy and marriage and also you have a cat

spence-tober masterlist

Coming home from work used to be a dreaded part of the day for you, back when you were living alone in an empty apartment that didn’t feel like home. No roommate, no pet, no one to greet you or be happy when you walk through that door.

Coming home didn’t feel like that anymore. Not since you had started dating the love of your life.

It had forever changed. You worked longer days than your tattoo artist boyfriend, Spencer Reid, and so more often than not, Spencer was there to greet you when you walked in after a long day. Whether that was him fixing dinner in the kitchen or sitting in his beloved armchair doodling more tattoo ideas, you weren’t coming home to a lonely apartment.

Then one day, you didn’t just come home to Spencer, but to him holding a small gray and white emaciated kitten in his tatted up arms. He had found the kitten on his walk to work and had kept it near a heater in the shop all day long, finally bringing it back to your shared apartment when no one claimed it. Now, you came home to a little kitten pawing at your pant’s leg.

The kitten, named Walter after Spencer’s middle name, grew up, you and Spencer grew closer and soon got engaged and married. Now he was your tattoo artist husband and it wasn’t long after you got married that you both had decided to expand your family even more. It started with all three of you moving into a larger apartment and then trying to get pregnant. After a full year of trying, you fell pregnant and subsequently gave birth to your daughter, Luma. 

Suddenly, you didn’t just come home to a cat meowing at you as you walked in the door or to your husband showing you a tattoo design, but a small child who would laugh joyfully as you ran to hoist her up into your arms.

However, today when you walked through the front door of your brownstone home, the only thing to greet you is Walter. You close the door behind you and hang your keys and coat up. Then you give a small cat treat to Walter to stop his incessant whines for attention.

A giggle echoes out from the hallway leading out of the combined kitchen and living room. You follow the sound, your work shoes clicking on the wooden floors, and are led to your daughter’s room.

“Hello?” You call out, being sure to knock on the door before entering.

You and Spencer were trying to teach your now five year old daughter privacy and were trying to instill knocking before entering.

“Mommy!” You hear a small, light voice call out. You open the door fully now and a smile grows on your face at the sight.

Luma has a matching bright smile on her face as she slips off her pretty purple canopy bed and rushes with her little legs towards you, hugging your legs once she gets to you.

“Hi, baby!” You greet her, removing her hands from your legs and bending down to properly hug your daughter.

She’s been sick for the better part of the week and was finally on the mend. Per the school instructions, you still needed to keep her at home for today and you and Spencer had been taking turns calling off from work to stay with her.

Today, Spencer stayed home with your daughter and you certainly could tell she was in better spirits than the days prior. 

Judging by your husband who was in your daughter’s bed, which is much too small for his thin, tall frame, Spencer had been through a lot today. Not that he ever minded.

His hair was put up in small ponytails with thin plastic elastic bands and there were discarded towels on the floor which meant that they had a spa day. Spencer also had his arm propped palm side up on a pillow with his sleeve up as far as it could go.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” You ask your daughter.

The both of you have learned to never assume the intentions behind your child’s actions. 

“We’re playing!” She simply says, still snuggled into your arms. When she got sick, which wasn’t often, she got clingy. Much like your husband when he fell ill.

You look to Spencer for a more clear answer, “Tattoo shop.” He clarifies.

“Ah,” You say, still holding onto your daughter. When she was a baby, you would often take her to Spencer’s shop as a surprise and then as a toddler and now, it was one of her favorite places in the world.

A closer glance at the bed would allow you to see some doodled hearts and circles on your husband’s arm and some washable tattoo markers lying on her duvet.

You should have known, Luma’s favorite game was Tattoo Shop where she would doodle on your arms or legs. At first, you let her do it with crayola marker, but after that one time she found a sharpie, Spencer had gotten her some washable kid tattoo gel pens to use.

“Look at Daddy’s arms!” Luma said, taking her small hand in yours and tugging you closer to her bed. On your way, you shuck off your shoes clumsily.

“I see, baby, you did such a good job!” You praise her, smiling as you look up and down your husband’s decorated arms.

At first, Luma would just draw random doodles usually over Spencer’s already existing tattoos. But now, she would incorporate them and work around to make it look ‘cohesive’, a fairly new word she learned after watching Project Runway with the two of you at night.

You lean over your husband’s arm and give him a sweet kiss in greeting and then thumb over the skin on his wrist that holds your matching tattoos. Ones you got in honor of the birth of Luma. A small little lightbulb that sat on the inside of your wrist.

“How’s your day been?” Spencer asks you, propping himself up a little bit more on the bed.

Before you can answer, Luma joins you in her bed and gently pushes down at her dad. 

“Be careful! Don’t move.” She tells him. Spencer nods and settles back into the bed as you hold back a chuckle.

“It was good,” You answer, “Glad to come home to you two!” You tickle Luma a little bit and laugh with her giggles. 

“I hadn’t gotten the chance to start dinner yet.” Spencer informs you, he nods to his arm which he is not allowed to move.

“That’s okay,” You say, then turning to your daughter, “How about we order pizza?” You ask her.

She cheers and all of you laugh in the room. “I’ll place the order in a little bit.” You say, settling yourself back into the bed a bit more.

You take your hand and pull up the sleeve of your long sleeve shirt and show the clean slate to Luma.

“Now, do you have time for another appointment?”

a/n: this was super fun and quick to write! i've been writing half of it during the day and then half at night, but i finished this super quick since i already knew the ending and so i don't have to stay up late tonight! woohoo!

[egypt-museum]

Ramesses Girdle

Originally described as a ‘linen belt’ but since at least 1913 it has been called the ‘Ramesses Girdle’. Paintings of Ramesses III show him wearing similar long lengths of cloth wrapped several times around the chest in a herringbone fashion, like a girdle, before being fastened around the waist.

Cartouches of Ramesses III were inscribed in ink on two faces of the plain linen at one end but this is now almost completely destroyed (Stobart’s 1855 catalogue has a copy of the text as it was when in his possession).

The girdle is woven from linen and decorated with rows of ankh signs, a hieroglyph used to write the word for ‘life’. As a piece of clothing it provided upper body support and encircled the pharaoh with life-giving protection in the battlefield.

It measures 5.2 metres in length and tapers from 127 to 48 mm in width. This tapering is achieved by taking out bunches of unbleached threads from the centre at regular intervals and ensuring that the warp ends per cm remain the same.

New Kingdom, 20th Dynasty, ca. 1186-1155 BC. Now in the World Museum, National Museums Liverpool. M11156

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