#yes i know that is not quite what he meant but also it was what he meant

[stormberry-12]

sunshine and sarcasm // P1: oh god, it talks? ~ lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x fem!introvert!piastri!reader

warnings: slight language, creepy guy.

notes: Let me know if I should make another part, wasn't really sure if I wanted it to end here. Also, ignore that the timeline doesn't line up... xxx

You walked through the bustling paddock in search of the bright orange garage-

Sorry, papaya.

Your older brother, Oscar, had his face and race number plastered above the overhead door. It was the Australian Grand Prix and your entire family had been invited to experience it in person. You actually didn't even live in Australia anymore. You had been working out of the country for many years, perfecting your craft and experiencing great opportunities outside your hometown. So this early pop-up to free practice was surely a surprise for Oscar.

"Y/n/n?"

"Osco!!" he crushed you in a hug.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had work, mum wasn't even sure you'd make it for the race Sunday-"

"I wanted to surprise you," you grinned back at him, "If I can only make it for one race a year I want to experience the whole shebang! Even the practice sessions,"

"Oh mate, I'm so excited!" Oscar exclaimed, with the most enthusiasm his personality offered. To some, his tone may have sounded sarcastic but you knew, by the glint in his eyes, that he was genuinely happy you were here. "Shit- I have media, but then I could totally show you around, the second round of free practice doesn't start for another few hours,"

"Sounds good!" you smiled, Oscar's gaze trailed over to his teammate standing on the other side of the garage. You knew who Lando Norris was, from interviews with Osc, but you had never actually met him.

"I can introduce you to Lando too, he's great,"

"I'm good," you mumbled and your brother chuckled. There were definitely similarities, personality-wise, between you and your brother. You didn't need to meet Lando and you didn't want to meet him. From certain clips online you were sure his loud persona would be way too much for you-

"OSCAH!" The Brit yelled making both of your heads turn back to him. Proving your previous thought. "GET OVAH HERE YOU'RE SLOW!"

"Oh god, it talks?" you hissed.

"He is a person, and yes he talks." Oscar scolded, "He's very nice, don't be rude."

He gently elbowed you in the side, before walking towards the other racing driver and a set of cameras. You went and sat upstairs at some tables, putting your headphones in and waiting for your brother.

Once you were out of earshot, Lando turned to his teammate, "Who's the lady?"

"Oh, my sister. Well one of them, I have three." Oscar replied.

"Huh..." Lando hummed, hesitating, "Think you could introduce me?"

"Mateee," Oscar grumbled, already knowing where this was going. It wasn't the first time he had to tell one of his friends that you weren't interested.

"Pleaseee Osc?" Lando pleaded, Oscar side-eyed him hard.

"You know, I offered to introduce her first and she said 'I'm good.'"

"Ouch,"

"I'm sure it's nothing personal, she's just a bit introverted and grumpy-"

"Runs in the family I see..."

"-and then you proceeded to yell very Britishly across the entire room," Oscar finished, ignoring his teammate's jab.

"What do you mean 'Britishly'?" Lando chuckled.

"What do you mean 'runs in the family'?"

"Touche,"

"Oh my god," a loud giggle interrupted your peace, you lifted your head to see the two Mclaren boys on the floor playing Twister. You hadn't meant to catch them in the filming process but you couldn't deny it was quite entertaining.

You removed an earbud to hear Lando mumble, "What a sight that is..."

You chuckled to yourself, Osc was squatted with his butt right in Lando's face, both giggling uncontrollably.

"I'm in... such a bad place right now." Oscar sighed.

"I'm like in the splits," they giggled once more.

"Left foot yellow," one of the Mclaren media team instructed, after spinning the wheel for them. You stood up and walked over to the crew, exchanging smiles and waves with some of them.

"Oscahhh,"

"We can't be on the same sticker can we?" Oscar shook with laughter.

They mumbled something incoherent, Lando's voice cracked slightly, "Ahhhh, my voice is gone. Oscah call it quits. YOUR LEFT FOOT IS NOT GOING BETWEEN MY LEGS!"

Everyone laughed, both drivers looked up noticing your presence.

"Y/n/n help me!" Oscar pleaded.

"Y/n/n tell your brother he's lost!" Lando countered, smirking over at his teammate. You houghed, wondering who this guy thought he was, using Oscar's nickname for you. To be fair though you hadn't properly introduced yourself.

"Sorry Osco," you smiled at him, "It's not looking too good for you..."

Oscar tried to maneuver his body once more, before standing up and accepting defeat, "That's it, I'm done-"

"Yeh, he's called it. I win!" Lando cheered.

They cut the cameras and you waved at your brother, "Alright, I'm going to find lunch Osc, I'll find you later,"

The bustling paddock was a lot to take in, you had asked around the garage to see if anyone knew of a nice outdoor spot to eat. But after noticing that the few picnic benches close by were all occupied, you sighed in defeat. Holding your food bag close to your chest, you retreated to the McLaren garage.

However, a hard hit to your back made you stumble and drop your food, content spilling all over the ground.

"Whoops, sorry gorgeous," A man snarled, chuckling. His eyes were narrowed at you as a sickly grin spread across his face. "Hey, what's a pretty lady like you doin' all alone around here,"

"Just getting lunch," you replied curtly, avoiding eye contact. "And I'm not alone-"

"Well, that hasn't gone too great so far has it," He put an arm around your shoulders and you froze. "My apologies, come with me let me buy you something to eat,"

"No. Thank you. I'm headed to—uhm—find my boyfriend anyway, " you lied, scrambling out of his grasp and towards the garage.

"Oh come on gorgeous," his large strides met yours as you walked away.

"Please leave me alone, I'm not interested."

He grabbed your wrist pulling you to face him, hot breath hitting your face. You shook slightly, preparing to kick him with all your might, and start screaming-

"Y/N/N!" a voice yelled.

British.

The accent gave away who it was, but honestly, at this moment you didn't care, as Lando Norris' arms wrapped firmly around you from behind. You pulled your arm out of the other man's grip and he took a step back.

"Do we got a problem here mate?" Lando spoke, his sharp tone catching you by surprise. You clung to the top of one of his arms that draped around your shoulders and the man eyed the both of you in annoyance.

"No. Just trying to help the lady out," he houghed, you felt Lando's chest heave against your back.

"Well, I believe as she probably told you before, she's quite all right on her own," Lando responded cooly. By this point crowds of people, which often formed when Lando Norris was around, watched and whispered at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"Okay-" The man turned to leave.

"Hey, asshole." Lando spoke again, the anger you felt radiating off his body now leaving his mouth. Wishing you could see his face at that moment, you squeezed his bicep in a silent plea to let it go. Not wanting to cause more of a scene than you already had. "Don't just walk away, apologise to her."

You hesitantly made eye contact with the man across from you. And after spoiling your lunch, pestering you, and invading your space he mumbled one simple half-hearted word.

"Sorry," and walked away.

Lando gently released you and you slowly angled your body to face him. Not making eye contact, you scanned the people around that had clearly watched but were now avoiding your gaze.

"Oh god, I've caused a scene," you whispered.

Lando chuckled, making your face heat, "You're so much like your brother," You met his blue gaze, "It's okay. Are you okay?"

"Oh um- yes thank you for..."

"No worries, that guy was pissing me off," he mumbled, something flashing in his eyes, suddenly shy he added, "Sorry if I uh- crossed the line there-"

"It's alright..." you said softly, "I should get going, thanks again-"

"Wait! Let me walk you?" he offered with a small smile, "We need to get you more lunch right?"

You nodded and started towards the McLaren garage for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Lando followed by your side in silence, glancing over at you multiple times, seeming to ponder a conversation starter.

Hating small talk you quickly offered something else, "Want to see some embarrassing photos of Oscar?"

His face split into a grin, shaking his head excitedly. You pulled out your phone and started scrolling through some of the most horrendous photos that you had taken of your brother over the years. Including baby photos of course, and 'Vines' that you had made in your teenage years that made Lando squeal with laughter.

Your chest fluttered slightly at his warm laugh, so engrossed in your memories that you hadn't even noticed how casually he held your elbow and pulled you to the side. Only a few steps away from the garage and not wanting to end the moment.

"Wait, go back!" he giggled. You had landed on a horribly angled photo of your brother at the ripe age of 13, glaring at you angrily through the camera.

"His hair is so bad!" You wheezed.

"Can I just-" he held out his hand and you offered your phone. He took it and quickly typed in a phone number to send himself quality Oscar photos. "Thank you so much. My life is complete," he joked, handing the phone back to you.

"No problem," you laughed, smiling up at him.

His cheeks turned pink, and he spoke softly, "So are you-"

"LANDO!" he was suddenly called by one of the McLaren mechanics.

"Oh shit," he cursed checking his watch, slowly stepping away from you, "Sorry, I gotta go- shit -um I'll see ya around okay?!"

He gave you a wave, turning before you could answer, and jogging over to his team. You waved back hesitantly, but just like that he was gone. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and began walking in the other direction, wondering if he had turned back over his shoulder.

Why did you want to look back?

You continued your adventures around the paddock, getting food and the tour that Oscar had promised. You had missed him truly, he was one of your best friends as a kid and still was. It still felt strange adjusting to your lives as adults.

Eventually, it was time for him to head back and get in the car for another practice session. A group of fans surrounded Oscar for autographs, and he shot you a sympathetic look which you waved off with a smile. Standing off to the side, you pulled out your phone in an attempt not to look awkward, surprised by the many texts you had missed.

Oscar looked over your shoulder, catching you by surprise, "Who are you texting?"

You jumped, "No one-"

He gave you a confused face and then smirked at your screen, "Heh, is mum mad?"

Your face snapped back down to your phone, one of the other people to text you was your mother. You noticed her last message was in all caps and quickly opened it, color draining from your face.

Turned out Lando didn't need to tattle on you anyway.

And good god indeed.

[reiding-writing]

YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end

263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!

a lot can change in 263 days.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.

a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending

DAY ONE

You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.

The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.

The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

You’re here. You made it.

“First day?”

The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.

He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.

“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”

He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”

You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”

He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”

“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”

“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.

You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”

“You too,”

His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.

“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”

A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”

This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”

You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.

But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.

“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.

The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.

“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”

His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”

The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”

“Any initial impressions?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”

The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.

“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”

You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.

Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.

As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.

Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.

The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.

But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.

By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”

He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”

The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.

As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.

Maybe you do belong here.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE

The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.

By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.

Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.

It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.

Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning starts like any other.

A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.

“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.

You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.

“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.

“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”

“Maybe a little,”

The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.

Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.

“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.

“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”

“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.

The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”

He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”

“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”

He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.

—

Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.

It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.

“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.

You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.

He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.

The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.

—

The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.

“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”

He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.

His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Of course,” you say, watching him.

As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR

It starts with the little things.

You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.

A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.

It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.

But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.

You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.

He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.

You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.

Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”

You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”

His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.

He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.

“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.

His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.

“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”

“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.

He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.

For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.

You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.

You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.

It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.

Reid’s gaze.

He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.

It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.

The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.

Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.

How had you missed it?

But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.

The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.

Oh no.

Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.

“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.

Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.

It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.

You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.

Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.

And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.

By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.

As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”

“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.

His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.

As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO

The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.

“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”

But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.

It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.

—

Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.

At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.

But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

“Peace offering?” he says lightly.

You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.

“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”

He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.

“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.

“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.

“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”

As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

—

That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.

Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?

The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.

But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.

He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.

But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE

It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.

“Can we talk?”

You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“Reid, I’m really tired—”

“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”

You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.

He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”

“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”

“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”

You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.

By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.

Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.

The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”

He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.

Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.

“I have been avoiding you,”

He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.

“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Reid.”

His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.

“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.

“Spencer...”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”

His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.

It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.

The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.

You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.

The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”

He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”

“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”

Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”

You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.

The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.

There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.

“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”

You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.

And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.

The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.

It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.

“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.

Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”

From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”

“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.

“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”

Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.

So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.

“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”

He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”

Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.

“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”

You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.

When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.

“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.

As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.

He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.

This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.

[sturnslutz]

matt assigns you a specific job.

heh. dilfceo!matt dare i say? lowk long fic to make up for lost time of matt and bee. im sorry if this is horrible it took me 6 hours to write it☹️ fluff and smut.

it was another day at work for you. come in, work on whatever you needed to, and see your oh, so favorite boss. matt and you continued seeing each other secretly but never actually fucking. it mostly consisted of dirty words getting passed back and forth, you giving him blowjobs, and kissing.

sure, you loved it all. but you just couldn't seem to get the fact out of your mind that matt hasn't actually pleasured you, once. he acts like he wants to, but in all seriousness you both really haven't had the time, and from his words, he wants to "take his time with you."

you weren't sure what he meant, but you weren't hesitant on waiting. just becoming more impatient by each day passing.

you were in the middle of writing some email when you got a text. you were allowed to be on your phone while working, but you just preferred not to, and your friends were aware of that so they knew not to text you unless it was an emergency.

so when you got the notification, to no surprise you were confused. you stopped typing and picked up your phone and looked at the name. 'Matthew Sturniolo (work ;))'

you looked at your phone even more confused as you open up the text.

"Come to my office when you can."

you weren't necessarily busy, so you just decided to go now. sure, you guys do something almost everytime you go into his office, but other times, he did actually need something from you as his assistant that didn't consist of getting his dick sucked.

you knocked on his door softly, waiting for his response. you heard a simple, "come in." and you walked in with a certain caution you rarely get. not because of matt, but because he texted you. even coming from him, the guy who made you suck his dick the first time meeting you, it seemed "unprofessional" to him.

you walked to his desk as he doesn't take his eyes off his computer. "sit, it won't take long." you sit in the chair across him and he finally lets his big blue dark eyes look up at you through his glasses. "are you good with kids?" he states calmly, but almost making you choke on your own breath from the abrupt question.

"a-am i what?" you state, looking up at him with the most confusion all day. why is he asking you this? "good with kids. you got any siblings or anything?" he says again, calmly, taking his glasses off so he can get a better look at your expression.

"um, no. i don't have any siblings, but i have babysat a couple times. wait- why are you asking me this? matt. are you asking because you think im pregnant?" you whisper the last sentence as if anyone else is in the room, cautious of what he might say, despite never fucking once so there's absolutely no possibility you're pregnant.

"what? no. we haven't had sex, bee. you wouldn't be able to be pregnant unless you were seeing someone else. besides that, i'm asking because i need someone to watch my 6 year old daughter tomorrow night. i'm going out with a couple friends and my brothers aren't available to watch her, so i'm asking you, the next person i trust."

your jaw quite literally dropped. "matt, you just dropped some crazy info to me. you've literally never told me anything about your family before! when the hell did you get a daughter, you have siblings, and you trust me? wait, im gonna need to take a breath. but i don't know i'm not seeing anybody else i just panicked!" you rant to him with your questions.

he chuckled softly at you. "yes, bee. i trust you. and yes, i do have a daughter. her mom and i broke up about 2 years ago, when i was 26 and now it's just me and my girl, amelia. i also have 3 brothers, 1 of them being my half brother, but the other 2 and i are triplets. my half brother is justin, and my brothers are nick and chris. you'll probably meet them one day."

you nod, taking in all the information and calmed down. "okay.. um, i think i can tomorrow. would you want me to stay the night with her also?"

he shrugs. "i'm not sure yet. i'll probably leave around 6 and possibly be back late. if you wanna stay after she falls asleep, you can sleep in my bed. i'll pay you anyways. she's a really chaotic kid so you might fall asleep right after she does." he laughs at the memory of his daughter being so energetic.

"you don't have to pay me, it's fine, really." you say, trying to reassure him. sure, you needed the money and would love to make some especially as a college student, but you didn't want him to feel obliged to.

"don't worry about it, bee. i know you need it, and it's the least i can do if i haven't fucked you yet after you've sucked me off multiple times." he says with a certain calmness and smirk. "don't think its not happening soon though, kid."

you nod, smiling and looking down at your palms, unsure of what to say. "i'll text you the address and everything she needs. i'm sure she'll like you." he reassures you. "you can go on your lunch soon and get off early, i don't need anything else done today. just finish whatever you were doing before and go on your break."

you nod again, looking up at him. he had a very calming demeanor today which helped a lot with your worries. "c'mere, kid." you stand up and walk to him and he turns his chair, facing you as he looks up and grabs your jaw and kisses you softly. "you're gonna be great, bee." he mutters against your lips and kisses you once again before patting your cheek and you pull away.

you couldn't deny the heat rushing to your face at the kind words, something you rarely see out of him. it's not like he's ever mean to you, he just usually as a more professional, non-smiling side around others, even you sometimes. you notice that demeanor polishing off him once the conversation directed towards his daughter.

you walked out of the office and finished sending a couple emails, and leaving for your break. you go to a cafe you and matt have visited a couple times and order your usual. you quickly texted him if he wanted something, to which he reacted a thumbs up to. it wasn't much, just a plain black coffee and blueberry scone. you got everything and sat down near the window, watching the buzzling city just outside.

you got back to the office and clocked in, and knocked on his door once again and walked in, delivering his coffee and scone, to which he kissed you again and said thank you.

you got back to work, not having too much to do and clocked out once again about an hour later and head back home.

the next day, you walk into the office and knock on matt's door, just like usual. he lets you come in, and he looks up. "good morning, bee." you smile softly at him as you walk up to him, rubbing his shoulders from behind his chair and kiss his cheek.

"morning. so, i checked my plans and i'm free tonight for amelia. so, do you want me to come in around 5:30?" he nods, "yeah, 5:30's fine. it gives me time to show you where everything is and for you girls to get to know each other a bit before i leave. i'm telling you, i think she'll like you especially because you're younger than everyone else around her, besides her friends. me and my brothers are 28 and the other 35. her mom's 27 too."

"i'm not that young, matt. i'm only 22." you roll your eyes. he always loves getting a tease of you being younger than everyone at the company, despite also being one of the smartest there. "i know baby, 'm jus' teasin'," he says as he kisses you softly, smiling against your lips. "i'll text you everything when i'm done with all this and then you can just head out again whenever you're done and get ready."

with a final couple words, you leave and begin working on whatever needed to be done. you clocked out about a couple hours after that, not even taking your break so you wouldn't be missing too much.

you went home and got a text from matt which just gave the basics. his address, the time, and stating how you can bring pretty much whatever you would like to keep you busy when amelia and you weren't too busy.

you got ready into some basic clothes, something matt hasn't ever seen you in. you drive to his house and notice how big and extravagant his house is compared to your small apartment. you knock a couple times, waiting for the man to open the door, but instead was met by a little girl, no more than 3 feet with brown curly hair and big blue eyes just like matt.

"hi! you're bee, right? daddy said you were watching me tonight!" she says, smiling up at you with her big, pearly white teeth. you nod, already overwhelmed by how cute she is and she looks almost identical to matt.

"hi, yes i am. you must be amelia, right? such a pretty name for such a pretty girl." she nods and giggles as she opens the door wider for you. you walk in, and step out of your shoes and see matt appear from around the corner. he was wearing his familiar glasses he usually wore, but he was wearing a white long sleeve and a pair of black sweatpants and smiled softly at you.

"hey, bee." you smiled back at him and close the door as amelia rushes back to the couch. you walk up to him as he kisses your forehead sweetly. "c'mon. i'll give you a tour before i go." he takes your bag and sets it down on the couch and gives you a small tour of the house. he shows you where amelia's room is, where all the snacks are, where his room is and all the other basic stuff.

once it was time for him to go, he brought you both back to the living room to say bye to amelia. "lia, c'mere." he says as he stands next to the couch, grabbing his bag and adjusting his clothes. she plops off the couch and runs to him, gripping onto his leg as he lifts her up and kisses her cheek. "i'll be back late, tonight, okay? be nice to bee, and don't break anything. same rules when your uncles stay with you, okay? be good." he kisses her forehead once again and she nods as he sets her on the ground.

he looks to you, and kisses your forehead while holding your hip tightly as amelia runs back to the couch, not wanting to miss a moment of her precious bluey. "jus' give her food at around 8:30. there's some leftover food from last night, but if you don't want it, you can order food to the house or make some, whatever you prefer. she usually lets me know whenever she's tired so just let her eat and watch tv and she'll probably be passed out after. if you stay the night, let me know."

you nod at everything he says, and he says his goodbyes and walks out. you plop down on the couch next to amelia as she starts ranting about whatever her 6 year old self has to say. you listen intently, even if some of the things she says doesn't make sense.

once she relaxes a bit, you ask if she wants some food, and get up and warm up some of the leftover food they had. you made some for yourself, and brought over a couple snacks for the two of you and watched some more bluey.

you finally notice her getting a bit more tired, so you bring the now empty plates to the sink, and make a mental note to wash them after she falls asleep. "bee.. im tired." she mutters as she rubs her eyes. "let's get you in bed, baby." you say softly as you pick her up and carry her to her room. you don't turn on the big light for the sake of yours and her's eyes, so you walk over to her bedside light and turn it on, the soft, warm light radiating throughout the room.

you set her down on her soft bed, as she rubs her eyes again. "where are your pajamas, sweet girl? which drawer?" she opens her eyes faintly and points to the middle one of her 3 tier pink and red dresser. you walk over and grab out a soft, light blue matching set which had a mermaid on it.

"do y'like this one?" you hold it up for her to see and she opens her eyes again and nods. you walk back over and help her get changed. you toss her worn clothes into her hamper. you turn her around so her back is facing you, and grab her brush that was on her bedside. you take out her well-done braids and brush her soft brown hair while humming a soft melody.

she practically falls asleep at this and when you're done, you help tuck her into her bed. she laid on her stomach, so you sat in a criss cross position and scratched her back and head softly so she could go to sleep while still humming the same melody.

once you heard her soft snores, you rubbed her back a couple times more to soothe the scratches, and stood up and turned off her light. you closed the door quietly and made your way to the kitchen and began washing the dishes.

you obviously knew you didn't have to, but it felt the best to do. once you were finished and put the dishes in the washer, and tidied around the house a bit, you washed your hands and made your way to your bag. you planned on staying the night as you didn't feel very comfortable leaving amelia all on her own, so you brought some extra clothes. you made your way to matt's bathroom and washed your face and got changed.

you noticed a couple tampon boxes next to the toilet which were half full, but brushed away the weird feeling you got, as it's probably matt's ex girlfriend's. you knew it wasn't right to feel jealous over some guy, who was more importantly your boss, whom you sucked him off a couple times.

you finished getting ready and made your way to matt's room. it was dimly lit with an identical light to amelia's. you set your bag down on his desk, and noticed how clean his room was. the faint smell of his cologne lingered around and filled your nostrils as you took a few, calm breaths.

you made your way to his bed, and pulled out your phone to let him know everything.

"hey, i hope you're having a good night. just to let u know, im staying the night if that's alright. i fed lia and put her to sleep, she was an angel all night. i ate some of the food i warmed up for her also. i washed the dishes btw, it was no biggie. im prob heading to sleep soon."

you typed out while you set your phone to the side as you turned on his tv to watch something before you sleep. about 10 minutes into watching, you heard a text emit from your phone.

"Hey, everything's great, thank you. You're more than welcome to stay, don't worry. I'm glad she was good, and I'm glad the both of you ate. Bee, you know you didn't have to wash them, but thank you. I'll honestly probably be home soon, maybe in like an hour. I'll see you."

you heart his message before turning off the tv and calling it a night. you knew you would probably wake up when matt gets home. deep into your sleep, you couldn't hear the soft opening and closing of the front door. matt had walked in with such quietness, you would need to be right next to him to hear it.

he set his stuff on the table, and noticed how much cleaner the house was than before he left and cursed himself for allowing you to do that. on the way home, he just couldn't take his mind off you. he remembered the conversation you guys had the day before and how he noticed your shyness towards him when he mentioned how the two of you never had sex.

of course he wanted to, but he felt like he wouldn't be good enough for you since he hadn't fucked a girl in 2 years. but he decided to truly go ahead with his words and give you the pleasure he and you both realized you should be getting in whatever the two of you were, even if it wasn't a relationship.

once he dropped his stuff down, he made his way up the stairs and walked into amelia's room to check on her. he opened her door and noticed how her clothes were changed and how again, the room looks tidier.

he closed the door and made his way into the bathroom to get ready for bed. he noticed the lingering smell of your perfume and couldn't tear his thoughts away from you, and neither could his growing hardness. he scoffed at himself and finished getting ready.

once he was done, he quietly entered his room, and noticed you sleeping peacefully. he got into bed and rubbed your back. "bee, it's me." you hummed and rubbed your eyes, looking at him. "oh hey. how was your night?" you say, your voice scratchy. he laughs softly at this as he brushes a few hairs out of your face.

"it was good, baby. i couldn't tear my thoughts away from you though, the whole night." he says smirking. "oh yeah?" you say with a newfound confidence. "what were you thinking about?" you say as you turn onto your elbow, looking up at him.

he tsks teasingly. "mm. too dirty to say. maybe i should show it instead?" he says, rubbing your cheek. "matt, amelia's right next door." he shrugs. "so? we'll be quiet." you sigh, a smirk forming on your lips. you start putting your hair up, thinking it was going to be the usual blowjob, but his hand stops you. "no, no. i would love that, trust me. but, i wanna fuck you instead, if thats okay."

your eyes widen at this. "w-wait. are you sure? we don't have to. i mean of course it's okay, and i would love it but-" "yes, bee. i feel like i should be the one worrying about all this." he laughs.

"are you a virgin?" he continues and you shake your head no. he nods and kisses you softly. as time goes, and breaths get heavier, most of the two of yours clothes have been discarded onto the ground, leaving you in your bra and panties, and him in his boxers.

he's painfully hard right right now and you straddling him with your wetness isn't making it easier for him. you're grinding yourself on him as you both kiss each other deeply, your tongues intertwining."mmph- bee, stop. needa fuck you." he says, muffled as he can't tear his lips away. he reaches around, undoing your bra and pulling his lips away so he can see your tits pool down.

his eyes fill with lust as he latches his mouth around your tit, making you moan softly. he reaches his hand down, rubbing your clothed clit, eliciting another moan from you. he pushes aside your panties and slips his fingers inside you. you let out a high-pitched squeal and bury your head into his shoulder.

his fingers slip in and out of you effortlessly as he finally pulls his mouth away from your right tit and moves to your left, sucking and licking on it. as you get close to your release, he goes faster and pulls his mouth off your chest. "go 'head, baby. cum all over my fingers." with a final muffled moan into his chest, your juice gets all over his fingers as he slows his movements, riding out your high as he pulls them out, and brings them to his mouth and licks them clean and groans.

"fuck, you taste amazing." you look up at him with a flushed face, mascara already dripping down your face. his cock was painfully hard and twitching even inside his boxers, waiting for release. you moved your hand down and latched your fingers into his waistband and pulled it down, letting his long length hit his stomach.

he groans softly as you lift yourself on top of him, wasting no time to sink down. the both of you moan deeply as you lower yourself, inch by inch, until you sit fully on top of him. his fingers are gripping into your hips so hard, you're sure it'll leave marks.

"take your time, baby. get adjusted." he says through a groan. as much as he would love to fuck you reckless right now, he knows you need a bit to adjust, and the two of you need to be quiet for dear amelia right next door.

you nod and start moving up and down him slowly, your fingers gripping into his shoulders for stability. he helps you move and watches the way your pussy swallows him completely like he was made for you.

your movements grow faster and your moans increase. the headboard hits the wall continuously so you slow your movements so it doesn't hit too hard.

he can tell your getting close again by the way you hold your breath and the way you dig your nails into his shoulders. he's close too, so he forgets about the cautious movements and halts your body and thrusts into you, the wall sure to have marks.

"matt!" you say, squealing again. "shut up, bee." he says, drilling into you. he didn't mean his mean words and you knew that, he was just so focused on the two of you getting your release.

"fuck- matt i'm cumming!" you say, clenching up as he nods, groaning and halting his movements, filling you with his release to the brim. once he was finished, he pulled you off him, letting you fall back into the bed carefully.

he had some tissues next to him so he leaned over and spread your thighs open, cleaning you carefully as you wince. "i know, i know. 'm sorry, baby." he throws them on the ground as he grabs some more and cleans himself up, and then drags his boxers back up.

he notices the distress in your face as your panties were now dirty, and he stands up and grabs a pair of his boxers and hands them to you. "y'can have tomorrow off, so you can rest by the way." he says as he lays back down.

"yeah, thanks boss." you laugh as you toss your shirt back on. he rolls his eyes and smirks as he grabs a waterbottle next to him and hands it to you. as you drink it, your movements are halted by a few gentle knocks on the door. "daddy?" a small voice is said from behind the door. you and matt look at each other as he tosses his shirt back on and cover the two of you with the blanket.

"yes, lia? you can come in baby." he says, rubbing his face. the door opens and a small figure walks in with her holding her stuffed bear and her hair going in every direction. "are you guys okay? i woke up from banging on the wall and i heard bee screaming." his face drops as he realizes he actually woke his daughter up. "yes, we're okay baby. 'm sorry we woke you up, c'mere." he gestures for her to get closer to the bed as her feet patter against the ground and reach the bed.

he kisses her forehead and rubs her head as he whispers reassuring words into her ears. he looks over at you for your response as her big eyes look over. "yes, lia. i promise i'm okay. im sorry we woke you up also." she smiles softly. "it's okay." matt gives her one last kiss on the forehead before she walks out and closes the door.

he huffs and falls back on the bed. "sorry i woke her up." you mutter softly and he looks over, his face softening. "don't worry about it. we both did, actually. and she falls asleep fast, i guarantee you she won't remember in the morning." you nod as you take a deep breath.

"y'alright though?" you nod again to his question. "jus' tired." he nods. "me too. let's get some sleep." he kisses your lips one last time before you rest your head on his chest and fall asleep.

this took WAY longer than it needed to. started writing at 8:30pm, it's currently 2:18am. so if this is horrible i apologize.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @sophand4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris comment to be added or removed.

[hannahbarberra162]

Clogged Duck (Milking Hours with Luffy)

TW: lactation, breast worship, smut, fluff :)

OS, Luffy x Reader, ~2.7k wc

Inspired by @otkuhotgirl ‘s Kinktober Day 1 piece. I’ve been thinking about it since I read it, this idea bouncing around my head like a windows screensaver.

You’d never really thought about lactation despite having tits for your whole adult life. Until now. You’d been hit in a fight with the Stork Captain and the lingering consequences were still with you. Your tits had been leaking milk for three days and Chopper said it would be a few more weeks until it stopped. The problem was you had to express the milk otherwise your boobs were painful and tight. You did it by hand in the shower but the process was long and tedious. And now, by some goddamn stroke of bad luck, you had a clogged milk duct. You didn’t even know it was a thing until a day ago but now the red, tender, painful area of your boob was all you could think about.

“Ugh, so what do I do, Chopper?” you asked the little reindeer. You were sitting on the bed in the infirmary as Chopper examined your boob. He was maintaining his professionalism quite well despite the fact that you’d leaked a little milk on his hoof. Sanji was passed out in the next room from nosebleed related blood loss.

“Well, it needs to be unclogged or it can turn into mastitis, which is a serious condition. So you’ll either need to hand express and massage the area until it clears or it can be helped by sucking out the clog,” the doctor explained.

“Sucking? Like -”

“Yes, someone could pull on your teat with their mouth -”

“Don’t call it a teat, that’s weird,” you said with a frown.

“I’ll do it,” Luffy said, standing in the doorway. You blinked - the door had definitely been shut a moment ago. You flushed crimson as you hurriedly covered your tits back up from your Captain. You’d always had a little thing for him but a clogged milk duct was not the way you imagined him seeing your tits for the first time.

“Uh. L-luffy, I don’t think you understand -” you started before Luffy interrupted.

“I do. You’re making milk and need it out of your boobs or you’ll get sicker. I like milk, so I’ll do it,” he stated with a tilt of his head. His unblinking eyes had you in their sights as if you were the weird one for not wanting your Captain to suckle on your tits.

“It’s just that - um - it’s a little...intimate, don’t you think? Also, it’s human milk not cow milk -”

‘It’s weird that humans drink milk meant for baby cows,” interrupted Chopper. You sighed, you didn’t want to have this discussion right now.

“That’s true, it makes more sense for me to drink human milk,” agreed Luffy, his fingers tapping his chin. “So let’s get to it! I’m thirsty,” Luffy whined, sitting down next to you on the infirmary bed. 

“Ok, I’ll give you some privacy. Let me know if Luffy can’t get the clog out, we’ll have to think of something else,” Chopper agreed, making notes on his clipboard.

“N-no, Chopper, I don’t know - I -” you tried to stop the little reindeer from leaving you with the Captain but he was already gone.

“So how should we do this, hm? Side by side wouldn’t be comfortable for me…I know! Come sit on my lap,” Luffy said, already moving you with his arms to face him as he positioned you on his lap. 

“Wha- Luffy! Wait,” you said, pulling on his shirt. Luffy looked at you with a little smile. The bed in the infirmary was small, not meant for two people but you had room to sit on Luffy’s lap. You were facing the Captain, your tits nearly at mouth level, your shins resting on the bed while you straddled him.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, holding the hem of your shirt in his hands.

“Y-yeah, of course I do,” you said, putting your hands on his shoulders. In truth, you’d imagined Luffy sucking on your tits - and much more - many times. Your crush on the Captain had started the first time you met him, his silly and adventurous nature capturing your heart from the moment you saw his radiant smile. You hadn’t ever planned to actually act on it, it was a bad idea for crew members to mess around. You’d been on ships where the dynamics were off after a bad breakup or two and it wasn’t worth it.

“I’m gonna make you feel better. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop,” Luffy said with a smile. You were disarmed by his genuine offer and frankly, you needed the pain to stop.

“Alright, Luffy. Can you shut the door? And just - they kinda hurt so be gentle,” you said, letting him pull your shirt over your head. It was dirty from the milk that had leaked out of your tits already. He used a rubber arm to shut the door from across the room and nodded solemnly as you unhooked your bra in the back and pulled it off your arms. You were now topless in front of your crush and you couldn’t look away as he studied your boobs. His eyes were wide and round, like you had a treasure chest filled with jewels.

“So big,” Luffy said in awe, putting his hands on the undersides of your breasts and lifting them up. “Filled with milk for me,” he said, kissing the top of one of your boobs. It already felt better to have the Captain’s strong, calloused hands holding them up and relieving your back from the pain of heaving them around.

“Hah, y-yeah. So to drink you’d need to -”

“I know what to do,” Luffy said, not taking his eyes off your tits. “It’s this one, right?” he said, kissing your left breast. You nodded trying not to moan as he began kneading your breasts. Without warning he popped your nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. You could feel the milk being drained out and you felt immediate relief. You ran your hands through Luffy’s short, thick hair, moaning as he sucked and licked your breast. Looking down, you saw the evidence of his efforts dripping down his chin.

“I - aah - um, is it ok? Do you want to stop?” you said with a heaving breath, hoping he didn’t. You’d always liked nipple play and now it felt even better as it alleviated your pain. You didn’t think Luffy meant anything romantic or sexual with this, but your body didn’t know that as you felt your panties getting wetter and wetter. Luffy let go of your nipple with a pop, picked up his head and gave you a smile. His hands remained on your breasts, massaging them and rubbing your nipples gently with his thumbs.

“ ‘S great! Oh, no! I’ll help you too, don’t cry, I don’t like cry babies,” Luffy said as he noticed your other breast was now leaking milk. He moved his mouth over to your right nipple and began pulling on the other side. You moaned out loud, you didn’t think you could do this again with the Captain. He kissed his way from the underside of your breasts all the way back to your nipples all while his hands toyed with your breasts.

“L-luffy, you don’t n-need to do thaaaaaa -” your protest trailed off as Luffy gently bit your right nipple while tweaking the other.

“Wanna,” was all he answered before resuming flicking his tongue over your tight bud. He took one of his hands and splayed it over your upper back, keeping you in place to devour further. Luffy massaged the side of your left breast, switching back to your affected nipple. Your breathing picked up as he sucked harder than before, trying to work out the clog.

“Y’wanna move on me?” Luffy asked, while keeping your nipple in his mouth. 

“Huh?” you asked, mind confused what he was asking you.

“You’re rubbing yourself on me. You can sit on me if ya want,” he said with no shame. You looked down to see your hips grinding against his own without your knowledge, moving on Luffy’s impressive cock. Your face flamed but…you were already this far with the Captain…

“Luffy, that’s sex,” you said quietly. You’d never seen Luffy expressing romantic or sexual interest so you wanted to be sure that he understood what he was offering you.

“So let’s have sex then,” Luffy said off handedly, picking his face up from your boobs and looking you in the eyes. He continued to keep your breasts in his hands, squishing and massaging them like they were stress balls.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be part of -”

“I’ve thought about it before. Having sex with you. I wanna if you wanna,” Luffy said with his characteristic smile. That damn smile got you every time. 

“Alright, I - I’ve thought about it before too. Having sex with you, I mean,” you said, your face burning with embarrassment. You loved how honest and sincere the Captain always was but it was difficult to reciprocate his openness. You had been going through a dry spell and hadn’t had a partner in a while - ever since the Captain had caught your eye and your heart.

“Take off your pants and underpants,” Luffy commanded, laying you down on the infirmary bed. He loomed over you but gave you space to do as he asked while taking off his own. You’d never seen Luffy’s cock before, it was larger than you had anticipated as it sprang out from his pants. The thick, veiny shaft ended with a beautiful mushroomed top, complete with a pearl of precome. You were having cold feet now that you saw how big he was, but that one drop was making your mouth water. To your surprise, he ran a finger down your stomach, making you giggle.

“Your skin’s so soft,” he said with wonder in his voice. Suddenly, he was on his knees, pulling you onto your upper back to look at your pussy in the air, spreading your legs over his biceps.

“L-lu, I thought we were -

“I wanna see it first. I wanna see if it’s as juicy as I imagined. Ooh, lookit that,” he said, running his fingers through your wet folds, ending by rubbing your clit for a moment. You shivered as Luffy studied you with curious eyes. He repeated his movement, which made you repeat yours. This time he used his index finger to rub only on your clit, changing his movements when you made different noises. He tried tapping, stroking, and even pinching your clit before he settled on rubbing your clit with two fingers in tight circles - which made your legs shake over his arms. You weren’t sure if this was Luffy’s first time with a partner but his intuition was as good in bed as on the battlefield. 

“Aah, Luf- Luffy, if you keep doing that, hah hah I’m g-gonna come soon,” you stammered as you watched him focusing on your quivering pussy.

“ ‘S for me, right?” he asked, his other hand gripping your ass to keep you in place.

“Y-yeah, for you, L-lu,” you replied, closing your eyes tight.

“No, look at me, I wanna see you,” Luffy said softly. Your eyes snapped to his as he let go of your ass and put a finger inside your hole.

“ ‘S tight in there,” he said, pushing his finger in and out. “Could use a friend though,” he said thoughtfully, adding a second finger. Now you couldn’t contain your mewls as he worked your body better than you could, pumping his fingers like a makeshift cock.

“I’m uhng I’m c-close -” you said, gripping his thighs for support.

“So go,” Luffy said quietly, pushing down on your g-spot. The tight coil inside you snapped as you came undone. You tried to keep quiet but you couldn’t help but cry out his name as he brought you to climax. Luffy kept going as you shook under his care, wrenching every last moment of pleasure out of you before setting your ass back on the bed. You were trying to catch your breath as you watched Luffy put his fingers in his mouth, sucking your juices off the digits.

“ ‘S as good on bottom as on top,” he declared, nodding his head. He leaned over you, planting his thighs between your own for missionary position. Luffy lined himself up to enter you but not before kissing you on the forehead.

“I gotta get back to your boobs, make you feel better,” he said, like he was undertaking a mission. He entered you in one stroke, making your back arch off the bed.

“Aah Luffy! G-gimme time to adjust!” you cried out, gripping his arms. Luffy stilled above you, no small feat for a man who couldn’t sit still for a single moment. He dropped to his knees between your own, dipping his head down to your breasts. Still inside you, he resumed sucking on your tits, making you grind up against him.

“O-oh ok, you can move, Lu,” you suggested, seeking more friction than what you were getting. When you imagined sex with Luffy, you thought his normal actions would translate to the bedroom - all silliness and fast movements. But Luffy surprised you, taking you in long languid strokes as he sucked on your sensitive and sore nipples. You raised your legs up and around his waist, crossing them behind his back. Luffy set a slow but compounding rhythm with his hips, bouncing your boobs with every thrust he made in you.

“Mmmh I gotta nnh help your boobs,” Luffy gritted out while pumping into you. He was so focused on the task at hand, he wasn’t chasing his own pleasure, just making sure you met yours. He nipped and sucked on your nipple, leaving no part of your breast untouched or unloved. You kept one hand tangled in his hair, pulling him ever closer to your chest. He kissed his way through the valley between your breasts, making his way to the other, only to resume suckling and gently biting. He was driving you crazy, your over sensitive and tender breasts aching now from the attention he was giving you and not from pain. Luffy took your free hand and entangled his fingers with your own, pinning it above your head.

“Almost t-there,” Luffy grunted, putting his forehead against yours. 

“So go,” you said, repeating his words back to him. Luffy picked up speed and the sounds of his thighs slapping against yours filled the infirmary room. His thrusts became more erratic as a few soft moans spilled from his lips. At the last moment before he came, he leaned closer and kissed you on the lips before spilling inside you. It wasn’t a deep kiss, it was shy and sweet but it made your heart soar. 

“Hah hah is the clogged duck gone?” Luffy asked, breathing hard while pulling out and laying down next to you on the bed. The twin sized bed was hardly large enough for two but side by side you could just fit, one of his legs dangling off the side.

“Duct. Yeah. Think so,” you replied, your fingers still entwined with his. You relished the body heat radiating from your Captain and turned to lay your head on his chest.

“I wan’ ‘em to get clogged again,” he said with a smile, putting his free hand behind his head. You picked your head up off his chest to protest.

“Well I don’t! It hurt. Besides, we could always do this…without a clogged duct?” you said, trying not to project any of your feelings. You didn’t know how Luffy felt and didn’t want to assume or make anything awkward.

“‘Sa good idea. I liked eating below too, shishishishi,” Luffy giggled, making you laugh too. 

~~~

“Luffy! You can’t just grab them in public!” you hissed, trying to pry Luffy’s hands off your tits and his fingers off your nipples discreetly.

“ ‘S not public, ‘s my ship. Besides, I’m thirsty and they’re full, I can feel it,” Luffy pouted, still groping your chest under your shirt. His fingers were pinching your nipples, making your shirt wet.

“That’s not the point! What if - HEY!” you yelled as rubbery arms encircled you like rope and carried you off to the Captain’s quarters. The other Strawhats had the decency to pretend they didn’t see anything, except for Sanji who was crying while cooking lunch.

~~~

[n0vazsq]

Love shot | MV1 x Reader

pairing . . . hitman!max verstappen x mega!rich!reader

summary . . . You never suspected to fall in love with your assistant, but when he tells you something groundbreaking, you don't know what to believe

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i feel so bad for reader omg like girl you dont deserve that?? also yes i am acting like i didnt write this shit

. . . You had never been one for grand parties or society's shallow circles. You were the heiress to a vast fortune that seemed to grow larger every day, yet it never seemed to fill the emptiness inside you.

After your father’s passing, the inheritance came with a weight you never asked for, pushing you into a world of power and danger you barely understood.

The mansion where you lived, nestled away from the prying eyes of the city, was meant to be your sanctuary, but it often felt like an extravagant cage.

You preferred the solitude of your home, away from the pressures of high society and endless obligations. That’s when you had started to notice him, the quiet figure in the background.

He wasn’t like the others. While your estate was filled with a rotating cast of servants and security, there was something different about Max, or as you had come to know him, Marcus.

He introduced himself as a personal assistant, a new hire who would help with the day to day operations of the house. His professional demeanor and neatly pressed uniform made him seem like just another cog in the machine.

But Max, Marcus, wasn't like the others. He moved with a practiced ease, slipping between tasks without drawing attention to himself, yet somehow, you found yourself drawn to him.

At first, you thought it was just the feeling of having someone new in your otherwise quiet world. But the more you saw of him, the more you began to notice things that intrigued you.

There was a quiet strength about him, an air of mystery that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He never stayed long in any one place, his presence often fleeting, but you caught glimpses of something deeper when his eyes met yours, something more than just professionalism.

It was on a chilly evening, weeks after Max had started working for you, that the first real conversation between you two happened.

You had been sitting by the fire, absently flipping through a book when you heard footsteps approaching. Without looking up, you assumed it was just another of your staff, but the voice that interrupted the silence made you glance up.

"Is it too late to bring you something warm, Miss? Tea, perhaps?" Max’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

You smiled, gesturing to the seat across from you. "Tea sounds perfect."

As he moved to prepare the tea, you watched him carefully. The way his hands worked with precision, the way his body language was always so controlled; it fascinated you.

He wasn't like any of the other assistants or servants you had encountered. Most of them treated you with a kind of cautious respect, but Max seemed different. His eyes, though polite, didn’t shy away from meeting yours.

They weren’t filled with the usual fear that people often had when they dealt with someone of your status. There was something in his gaze, something that made you wonder if he saw you as more than just the heiress of a fortune.

After a moment, he placed the tea down in front of you with a small, respectful nod. "I didn’t mean to intrude, Miss. But I thought you might enjoy some company."

You looked up at him, surprised by his words. He had always been so reserved, never seeking attention or conversation. It was strange, and yet it made you feel a little less alone.

"You don’t have to be formal with me, you know," you said, offering him a soft smile. "I know you're just doing your job, but I appreciate the company."

Max paused, his eyes flickering toward the fire before looking back at you. There was something about his gaze that was softer now, less guarded. "It’s… not a bother. I find it nice, talking to you."

The words hung in the air between you two, and you both fell into an easy silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space where words would’ve been.

Over the next few weeks, your interactions with Max grew more frequent, and you found yourself looking forward to his presence.

It was subtle at first; a quiet conversation over dinner, a brief exchange in the hallway, the occasional shared look across the room when you were in the same place. But it wasn’t long before you began to feel a connection with him, one that went beyond just the formality of employer and assistant.

One evening, as you both worked late into the night, you looked up from the papers spread across the table to see Max standing by the door, watching you. His gaze was focused, his expression unreadable. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, what he saw when he looked at you.

"Max," you said softly, your voice breaking the silence. "You don’t have to stay this late. I can finish up myself."

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don’t mind. You’ve been working hard. Besides, I… enjoy being here."

The words left you with a flutter in your chest. There was something so genuine in his voice that it made you rethink your previous assumptions. He wasn’t just a hired hand, he was different, and you felt it.

Days turned into weeks, and with every passing day, the space between you two seemed to shrink. He would find ways to help you with little things; bringing you coffee in the morning, offering quiet advice when you were stressed, and sometimes even staying to talk about things that weren’t about work at all.

You learned small details about him; how he liked to keep to himself, how he didn’t share much about his past, and how his eyes seemed to soften whenever you spoke to him.

In return, you found yourself opening up to him more than you had to anyone else. You shared your fears about the empire your father left behind, your loneliness, your struggles to fit into a world you never chose.

In those moments, you didn’t feel like the heiress; you felt like just a woman, speaking to someone who didn’t look at you with judgment or expectation.

And then, one day, it happened. You were sitting together, talking about your father, when he asked, almost out of nowhere, "Do you ever wish things were different? That your life wasn’t so… tangled up in all this?"

You stared at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. You had never expected Max, of all people, to ask such a question. But in that moment, you saw something in him, a depth that you hadn’t noticed before.

"I wish things were different every day," you said softly, meeting his eyes. "But I don’t know how to make it stop. How to be free of all of this."

Max’s gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts. He opened his mouth to say something but then hesitated, his expression clouded with something you couldn’t quite read.

"Max, what’s going on with you?" you asked, your voice soft but firm. "You’ve been acting different lately. What’s on your mind?"

For a long moment, he said nothing, and then, almost reluctantly, he spoke. "I… I never meant to get close to you. That wasn’t part of the plan."

Your heart stopped. The words hung in the air, and you could feel a lump form in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. Was this the moment you had been dreading, the moment he would reveal the truth about why he was really there?

"I was hired to watch you," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "To make sure you didn’t become a problem. I was supposed to kill you."

The world seemed to freeze in that moment. All the warmth, the connections, the late night talks, the quiet laughter; it all felt like a cruel lie.

"You…" you whispered, trying to process his words. "You were hired to kill me?"

Max’s eyes were filled with regret, but there was no way to undo the truth. "I didn’t expect any of this," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I didn’t expect to care about you."

Silence settled between you two like a heavy fog. The world around you seemed to collapse, leaving you with only the bitter reality of his confession. You had trusted him, you had opened up to him, and now you didn’t know who he was anymore.

"I don’t know if I can trust you," you said, your voice shaking. "How do I know that you really care about me? Or if this is all just part of your plan?"

Max stepped closer, his expression softening. "I never meant for it to happen like this, but I do care. I swear to you, I do."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your emotions a tangled mess. You wanted to believe him, but could you? How could you be sure he wasn’t lying?

But before you could ask another question, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps; heavy, purposeful, coming down the hallway.

Max’s face hardened. "We don’t have time for this."

He turned to face the door, and you realized that whatever came next would change everything.

And as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, you knew that your life, your future, was no longer in your hands.

 taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[carriagelamp]

My favourite books from 2024! Another really strong year of books for me -- every year will have some stinkers and a bunch of middling reads, but the highs of this year were really high so I'm pretty content

As always, I give more detailed descriptions and opinions of the books in my month reviews, but here's a quick breakdown for anyone who's interested:

The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt

A non-fiction book that looks at how childhood has been “rewired”, focusing specifically on the increase of overprotective parenting, increase of tablet/social media usage, and decrease of unstructured, independent play. It was a fascinating read that really looked at how children need to be given lots of opportunities to play, take risks, and make mistakes in order to learn and grow and how a loss of that might be impacting people’s mental health. As someone right on the cusp of the age bracket that’s being focused on, it felt very exposing.

Apothecary Diaries v1-2 by Natsu Hyuuga

Maomao is kidnapped and sold as a servant to the imperial palace, where she serves as a general dogsbody in the rear palace, home of the emperor’s various consorts and concubines. She’s determined to keep her head down until her contract is up… until she helps solve a mystery and catches the eye of the powerful eunech Jinshi who soon learns about her in-depth knowledge of apothecary work and anything to do with poisons. Very funny premise, Maomao hates Jinshi soooo much and he is such a simp for it. She just wants to eat poisons and be left alone and he says “no<3” to both of those

Bury Your Gays (and Straight) by Chuck Tingle

Both of these are very explicitly queer horror novels. Straight is a novella that riffs on the format of a zombie story, but with straight people becoming inexplicably violent towards queer people one day a year. Bury Your Gays is about a Hollywood screenwriter who realises his horror creations are begin to stalk him in the real world. Both are very intentionally built around social commentary on queer issues, and despite have audacious premises they completely own their camp and end up producing really well thought out, insightful stories. I can’t say I liked either as much as Camp Damascus but either is worth a read.

Console Wars by Blake J. Harris (and Blood, Sweat, and Pixels by Jason Schreier)

Console Wars is a nonfiction book I’ve meant to read for years on my brother’s recommendation and I quite enjoyed it. It explores the history of the video game console market in North America, with a focus on how Nintendo revitalized it and how Sega then swooped in to upset the monopoly it held. The book is written in a very narrative, personable style and I found myself really rooting for the various people and companies being portrayed ahahaha. A shockingly fun read. I also read Blood, Sweat, and Pixels which wasn’t quite as narratively compelling but a related read that looked at games with complex development cycles.

Defekt by Nino Cipri

Technically the sequel to Finna which I also read this year, but Defekt works as a stand-alone and is, imho, the better of the two. Both deal with a surrealist horror Ikea setting, where the sheer density and liminal-space-ness of it all allows strange wormholes to open up between these stores from different dimensions. Finna deals with actual wormhole hopping, whereas Defekt focuses in on one employee who gets assigned to a very strange overnight inventory shift.

The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish v1-2 by Xue Shan Fei Hu

Fish isekai book. Is this a good book? No. Is it a really really fun book? Yes, in spades. In this book, Li Yu wakes up in a court drama novel… but not as a character but rather as the tyrannical prince’s pet fish. He is given the task to improve the prince and is stuck figuring out how the hell to do this as a fish. This book knows exactly how ridiculous it is and leans into it. Li Yu and Prince Jing are both idiots in very unique and exciting directions. No one knows what the fuck is happening.

Down Among the Sticks and Bones by Seanan McGuire

A prequel to Every Heart a Doorway, though it works perfectly well as a standalone. Honestly I liked it more than the first. This book has deliciously gothic horror vibes, and it plays with all the tropes you would expect from gothic horror / fear of the sublime. It’s about sisters who find a strange chest that lets them descend to the sinister land of the Moors. This is where vampires rule, werewolves stalk, and mad scientist’s ply their craft. The girls end up separated on and very different trajectories as they grow and acclimatize to the brutal existence of the Moors.

Escape From Incel Island by Margaret Killjoy

Exactly what it says on the tin. Completely insane book that is very worth the read if you feel like something that is patently insane. I strongly recommend treating this as a read aloud with a friend or loved one because I read it with my brother and couldn’t stop laughing. Top notch mercenary Mankiller Jones is sent to escort a computer scientist to Incel Island to retrieve lost governmental data. There they have to survive the hoards of Nice Guys, Volcels, Betas, and every other violent inhabitant of the island if they ever want to… escape from Incel Island.

Heaven Official’s Blessing v6-8 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

I finished the main series of Heaven Official’s Blessing (without reading the extras yet), and man what an ending! I could not have asked for a more epic or satisfying conclusion! The final battle and its various stages? The character reconciliation? The villain reveal? Perfect, no notes. The series itself follows Xie Lian, a prince who has ascended to godhood twice and been cursed and cast out from Heaven just as many times, giving him the title of the Laughingstock God. The story begins with him, to everyone’s dismay, ascending a third time.

Horrorstör (and Paperbacks from Hell, My Best Friend’s Exorcism) by Grady Hendrix

This book also deals with a Strange Alternate Ikea, but is the superior book. This was one of my top reads for 2024, and it was flawless horror. It is essentially a haunted house story set in an Ikea, that manages to be both chilling, disgusting, and a shockingly insightful critique of capitalism and retail. Very worth the read. 

After reading this I also read Paperbacks from Hell (a nonfiction book that does an analysis of horror fiction from the ‘70s and ‘80s, very good read) and My Best Friend’s Exorcism (which was decent but not my favourite of Hendrix’s since possession and exorcism isn’t my favourite brand of horror. The vaguely queer undertones and ending I found interesting, and it did some cool things throughout.)

Jeeves and Wooster books by P.G. Wodehouse

I ended up listening to so many of the Jeeves and Wooster audiobooks this summer while I was travelling. There were some I really really loved and some that fell very flat for me. I think I listened to too many in a row by the end… These books are like popcorn, not deep but very fun, and follow the airheaded but good natured Bertie Wooster and his man Jeeves who unfailing swoops in to solve all the strange and inane problems the Bertie gets involved in. They tend to be funny, light-hearted, and clever in their resolution of plot problems… though some of the issues do get rather repetitive. My favourites were: The Inimitable Jeeves, Very Good Jeeves, Right Ho Jeeves, and the Code of the Woosters.

Kaiju Preservation Society by John Scalzi

Some excellent science fiction, especially for my Pacific Rim loving heart. This bordered on the cosy fantasy genre, while mixing in plenty of science, world-building and a good dash of excitement. During the Covid-19 lockdown, Jamie Gray is stuck trying to make ends meet as a food delivery driver… until he runs into an old acquaintance who suggests he might have a very different job offer for him. Jamie ends up joining this very secretive “animal rights group” and finds out just how massive, dangerous, and otherworldly these “animals” are by being risked to an entirely different dimension filled with giant, radioactive monsters.

Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books by Kirsten Miller

One of my favourite books from this year! Tthis book managed to hit on very topical subjects with both tact and humour. Lula Dean has spearheaded a book banning crusade, managing to get a number of “problematic” books removed from the library and has made a show of setting up a Little Free Library in her yard full of “appropriate” books instead. When Beverly Underwood visits her mother and hears about this she’s so exasperated with it all that she quickly hatches a plan swapping out the dust jackets of some of the banned books with the ones in Lula Dean’s Little Free Library. The rest of the story is about various people in the town who borrow a book from Lula Dean’s library and how the book they got instead ends up impacting not just themselves but their town. The first story involves a penis cake. Can’t recommend it enough, starts out humour and quickly becomes something you want to rally around.

My Happy Marriage v1 by Akumi Agitogi

This was pure mindless fluff, it was honestly a delight. This is a low-fantasy, Cinderella-esque story set in the Taishō era. It focuses on Miyo Saimori who lives under the thumb of her cruel step-mother, haughty step-sister, and indifferent father. She’s resigned to being treated like a servant in her own home and ekeing out a strained existence, but her life takes a turn when she finds herself nominally engaged to the allegedly cold and cruel Kiyoka Kudou. It’s just absolutely overwhelmingly cute and I really enjoy the contrasting POVs.

A Series of Unfortunate Events and Poison for Breakfast by Lemony Snicket

I’d never finished The Series of Unfortunate Events when it was originally coming out, so I finally sat down and did that, and honestly it was well worth the wait! It was a very interesting series to read as an adult, especially all in one go, because it really let me appreciate everything that Snicket was trying to say. It was a much more clever and philosophical read than I was anticipating, and The End was fucking superb. He absolutely stuck the landing, it completely blew me away. Poison For Breakfast was also a very interesting standalone novella that felt like surrealist philosophy. I might have even enjoyed it more than the basic TSOUE.

The Poison Squad (and The Poisoner’s Handbooks) by Deborah Blum

Poison Squad is a very compelling and topical nonfiction about the formation of the American Food and Drug act. The state of unregulated food processing in the late 19th century was, in a word, nightmarish. Don’t read this book if you have a weak stomach. But it’s completely fascinating to see how one person, Dr Harvey Wiley, made it a personal mission to scientifically prove what all these mysterious food additives were doing to people and put limits to what could be sold to consumers. I liked it so much I went to read Blum’s other book, The Poisoner’s Handbook which is set during Prohibition and explores the rise of forensic medicine and again exposes how people were being poisoned by simply living their standard lives.

The Pushcart War by Jean Merrill

The real, true history of the New York City Pushcart War!! For real!!! This is a delightful underdog story that is really written in the style of a history textbook recounting the fictional Pushchart War. This war started in New York City as the roads get increasingly congested with traffic, the worst offenders being the increasingly massive and arrogant trucks. The trucking companies hatch a plan though: if they begin to push out the little pushcarts, framing them as the problem for the congestion, then how hard would it be to push out taxis next? Or buses? Or motorcars? How long until they can make the road a perfect habit for trucks and trucks alone? How can something as small and poor as a pushcart owner fight back?

Railsea (and This Census-Taker) by China Miéville

I heard Railsea described on tumblr and it sounded sufficiently insane that I had to read it for myself. This author is truly unrivaled when it comes to bizarre worldbuilding that feels both very, very grounded in reality while also being completely unexplained and impossible. Railsea is essentially a Moby Dick meets Treasure Island retelling but with trains instead of boats and giant, mutated, vicious moles instead of whales. Unhinged. Can’t recommend enough. I followed this up by reading his novella This Census-Taker which was not as much of a frolicking adventure but fucked with my brain just as much or more than Railsea did. Genuinely not sure I even know what happened in that story but I enjoyed the experience of being completely fucking baffled for some 200 pages.

The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw

Another book to ideally not read if you have a weak stomach. This novella is very big on unrelenting body horror. This is a twisted fairytale retelling in which a cannibalistic Little Mermaid meets a plague doctor Frankenstein. Both of them are walking away from cruel past lives, along a trail that’s soaked in blood and viscera. You feel how painfuly and disgustingly human this book is, while also being so wildly separate from anything that resembles human anatomy or morality. Superb.

Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System v1-4 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

The last of MXTX’s three series I needed to read. It was the one I was most hesitant about, but I ended up having a really great time with it. It is simultaneously the most light-hearted and silly of the three series, while also the one that most gleefully dives into torture and sex. So you get a bit of everything with this, and as usual MXTX does a really good job of mixing the humour and series in a way that keeps things constantly interesting. The story is about Shen Yuan who dies our of pure, frothing fury after reading the shitty ending to the shitty, porny webnovel he’s been reading for hundreds of thousands of words. He dies cursing the lousy author and the lousy writing so he’s given a chance: step up and do it better! Which is easier said than done, when he finds himself waking up in the body of the series’ villain who is destined to be gruesomely tortured to death. Better get on that!

Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent by Judi Dench and Brendan O'Hea

This is the written result of a number of interviews held between Judi Dench and Brendan O’Hea and she discusses her time as a Shakespearean actress. It looks into what her time working with theatre companies was like, summarizes the plays she took part in, and delivers into some fascinating character analysis of the roles she played. An absolute treasure of a book for someone who enjoyed their Shakespeare and/or Judi Dench.

Singing Hills Cycle v1-5 by Nghi Vo

Probably my favourite series that I read this year, I can’t wait for the next book! This series follows Chih and her magical bird companion who come from the Singing Hills Monastery, an order that is devoted to keep recording tales and keeping a history of the land. Chih travels all over in these various novellas, collecting stories, memories, and histories that they come across. The first book has them entering the recently unwarded palace of the late Empress to learn about her marriage, imprisonment and rise in power. The second has them trapped by a pack of tigresses with nothing to do but frantically lure them into comparing stories. 

The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Ten year old Ada was born with a club foot and because of it has never been allowed to leave her apartment. She lives a hard life trying to care for her younger brother and suffer through the abuses of her mother. Things change though as the Second World War truly begins and London begins to evacuate children to the country. Ada is determined — she and her brother will evacuate, they will escape their mother’s house, even if it means her learning how to walk on her club foot. Even if it means facing how different life is for unwanted slum children in the country, and confronting how much she and her brother don’t know about life. This was a very touching book, it did a great job of balancing Ada’s justifiable pain and anger with an optimistic story. Queer elements are all subtext but there — they aren’t the main focus of this story.

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill

This book absolutely took my breath away, it was a next level literary experience. It’s very, very solidly magical realism, so don’t go into this expecting true fantasy, everything going on here is allegorical and a beautifully done allegory at that. This story is set during the 1950s, in a time surrounding an event known as “The Mass Dragoning” when thousands of women suddenly, spontaneously, transformed into dragons and flew away. The story follows Alex Green who was a child during this event. Her aunt transformed. Her mother didn’t. Both of these things have profound impacts on Alex as she grows up, and a woman’s role in society, a woman’s anger, her joy, her desire are all questioned and explored.

[nualaofthefaerie]

Everyone chill. Op just asked a question. It was cheeky. It wasn't meant like that. It's not like everyone gets everything. Defensiveness gets us nowhere, on both sides. Whenever someone asks one or the other side about their ship, they jump as if Viktor's a cookie that can't be shared.

I'll be glad to explain. Skyvik is not my "THE" ship. They either come in pack of four or I'm not interested:

But I spend enough time in all the tags to the point where I can explain each of their individual dynamics quite easily.

Is Skyvik based on guilt? Kinda actually.

On one hand, the acquintances to lovers pipeline is appealing to people, it's a tale as old as time. But I do think the guilt/grief angle is much more romantic. Now granted, I am a freak 😔 i do like them doomed from the get go.

Super important I subscribe to 'death of an author'. What Christian Linke or Amanda Overton tell me about any of these four is like air to me, it wasn't in the show it doesn't count. "Jayvik are friends"...like hell they are. "Sky was a stand in for Jayce" I'm afraid visuals do not subscribe to that notion.

Now, to go quickly through the usual Skyvik denial arguments:

1. "He calls her Miss Young"

Viktor's character is based on Slavic men. In most slavic cultures nicknames, first names and last names are used interchangeably without indication of how close someone is to another person.

He calls her Sky more times than he calls her Miss Young ever. At some point it became this Mandela Effect where people act like he didn't know her name.

2. He shows no interest in her before she died

By the time we are shows any sort of interest on Sky's part about Viktor, he's already too obsessed with the Hexcore and saving himself.

Relationships are kind of obsolete to a man who knows he has no time left to spare and the "cure" is a puzzle that's dangling over his head

That scene where he "rejects her" is also the scene he ignores Jayce more or less because he is too focused on the idea that the core can learn.

So all in all we do not know if he cared. And then it's Schrödinger's cat since their backstory was stripped from the final versions of the script

3. She tells him "No, you won't" when he says he'll miss their conversations

He needed reassurance he can let her go. He wasn't ready to do that. That's the shot on their hands where she's letting him go. His hands are shaking, he's teary eyed, he doesn't really want to let whatever she is, go.

Now! Is Sky his humanity? Yes. Does that mean she wasn't herself in there? No. I don't think so. We see she has free will. She is not pleased with the violent turn of events and if she can be displeased, she can argue, if she can argue she can be herself.

She let's him go so he can finish what he started. I believe she told him he won't miss her because that was the last of his emotions and then he is just numb, therefore incapable of missing anything or anyone. Missing someone is deeply intertwined with having any sort of positive opinion or feelings for someone. And he let's these things go.

Now, onto the real juicy stuff.

Was it guilt? YES. Yes it was. BUT, in many literary pieces grief and guilt are the strongest soldiers of romance. They are inherently romantic.

Viktor felt SOMETHING for her. Be it that he's in love with the idea of her or her, it doesn't really matter. Not really. But the acts he engages in post her death are quite in line with those of a classic gothic romance novel.

He scattered her ashes where he met her and was ready to just follow her to death. Jayce stopped him. Which (the implications of that...we can talk about the Hexteam some other time) but Jayce prevents that. When he's resurrected, it's against his will and his body is now the thing that killed the person who loved him.

So he takes the one object left from her (the notebook) and leaves his "creator" (who at that point betrayed him twice - made weapons and didn't destroy the core) behind with a body he detests. The only way to attone for him being alive at that point is to try to do what she wanted - make their home better.

At that point everything saviour Viktor does is FOR Sky as much as it is for him. The commune? Highly implied that was the project she wanted his help on. That's her commune he built for her. Healing people? For her. To attone for her being gone. He needs her approval constantly or at least the illusion of her approval. As seen ⬇️ down here and when he looks up to her in Arc 1 s2. He wanted to make sure telling Singed to go was the right choice. Which is NOT the hexcore manipulating him into doing anything as in the end all he did, he did himself.

The symbol that holds the blanket is her broach, which is a favorite symbol of mine about how Viktor is an amalgamation of the two people who loved him unconditionally. REGARDLESS.

Her spirit is also allowed to touch him. Something others are not. The followers were touched BY him, she and Jayce are allowed close enough to touch HIM. Also in a "single consciousness" she is not shared with the others. Its only for him to see because he is the only one who knew her.

But in doing everything to make it up to her, Viktor triggers the end of the world. And world ending grief and guilt is just something different all together. If Sky doesn't die...Viktor will never end the world. There is only an end to pursuit if Sky Young dies. There is only reversal to that if Jayce Talis saves Viktor's soul. Their fates are intertwined for eternity to chase after one another and take the entire world down with them.

I hope that's not too long, i tried to be as detailed as possible but I'm also tired and my tummy aches 😥 I'm sorry.

I hope that makes a bit of sense to OP. 🪷

full offense to skyvik shippers but literally what basis do yall even ship them on? guilt?

[sysig]

Self-contradictory (Patreon)

[poppyseed799]

I have this problem that’s like the opposite of nostalgia or something where some things I remember liking a lot as a child I look back and only remember the bad times.

This is specifically about Animal Crossing, loved that game as a kid, but I have literally no idea why, cuz it was just pure hell for me from what I can remember.

[babycharmander]

(BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

I just finished reading The Book of Bill and I am kindof losing my mind over some of this stuff.

I had wondered if Alex Hirsch might make Bill sympathetic in some way and oh boy I was not expecting him to do it so successfully (and without cheapening Bill's character).

So, we learn that Bill was born into a 2D world... as a mutant who can see into the third dimension. He claims he was absolutely loved by all, but when talking about his powers, he mentions under Pyrokinesis:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane / Starting fires with his brain." The kids in grade school could be so cruel. But where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

So probably not quite as liked as he was letting on. To add to that, there's the silly straw page, which looks like silly nonsense until you decipher some of the codes:

"EYE DOCTOR OF A DIFFERENT KIND / WHO WANTS TO MAKE HIS PATIENTS BLIND" "THE DOCTOR SAYS / THREE SIPS A DAY / WILL MAKE THE VISIONS / GO AWAY"

I wasn't sure what this meant until I saw someone point out... he was seeing a third dimension that no one else could see. His parents probably took him to the eye doctor to try to "fix" him. Which, speaking of his eye doctor, the coded message in the section about human eyeballs says something interesting:

"MY OPTOMETRIST NEVER SAW IT COMING"

It could be a joke given beforehand he's talking about dissecting a human eye, but given the previous hints of medical abuse, I wouldn't put it past him that he tried to get revenge on his eye doctor.

Oh yeah and the whole thing about him setting his entire dimension on fire? Yeah it turns out it was entirely a mistake (he just wanted everyone to understand the third dimension he was seeing so they could be free of only two dimensions), he was so traumatized by it he blacks out when trying to recall it. He deeply, deeply regrets it, and...

"What? Your ENTIRE home dimension? destroyed? How? By what?" Bill looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him. "By a monster."

He sees himself as a monster.

And yet, he's not some innocent, misunderstood being. He still revels in causing pain and chaos. He's terrible in general, but becomes incredibly abusive toward Ford.

"YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?"

Which... speaking of him and Ford...

Yes, yes, I know people ship them. But like, whether you see their relationship as romantic or platonic (I see it as the latter), there's some interesting parallels to be made here.

Both Bill and Ford are mutants who were mocked for their being different. (Bill was not physically a mutant, as far as we know, but more in the sense of him having vision stronger than that of everyone else in his dimension, and also having special powers. And he does describe himself as a mutant.) Both became social outcasts, separated from their families but still haunted by them (Ford seeing commercials of Stan on TV and running across old photos of him and his brother, Bill being haunted by his family in some form). Neither could return home for one reason or another. Both more powerful than their peers (Ford intellectually, Bill in terms of actual powers). Both of them isolated and alone. (Yes, Bill does have the Henchmaniacs, but they seem like shallow friends, and only really seem to follow him out of a desire to have a place to party.)

Ford was not aware of most of this, aside from knowing that Bill could not go home because his dimension was destroyed. But Bill absolutely saw himself in Ford. There was no other person he tried to use whom he felt a stronger connection to.

And he actually seems to care about Ford--he actually gave him a birthday present, and when Ford didn't like it, he decided to get drunk and party with him instead to make up for it.

And then when Ford realizes what Bill's plan actually is and refuses to go along with it, and fights back no matter what Bill does, Bill completely breaks down.

After living for trillions of years, he met someone who was like him, and that person rejected him.

He goes berserk, wreaking havoc, being caught by the dimensional authority that he's been taunting for most of his life.

And then after dying and being cast out of hell for being too annoying, he winds up faced with the Axolotl, who sends him to therapy, where he continues to break down further, sending out the book in a desperate attempt to find someone, anyone who will help him break loose and wreak havoc once again.

"You have no friends, and if you died ... who would even miss you?"

I don't know, Bill. Who would even miss you?

In short,

[ID: The front and back of one of Bill's Valentines cards. On the front is a black void with Bill Cipher lying down without his hat, gazing blankly upwards, with the text "I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" above him. On the back is a simple white "TO/FROM" in red, with a red outline illustration of Bill spontaneously growing a mouth and eating a realistic, bloody heart. /end ID]

[pavel-chekov-appreciator]

My interpretation of Unification is that when Kirk died, because he and Spock are literally one soul/Katra in two bodies, he can’t pass on without his other half.

So he’s being sent to fetch the missing piece of himself-but he doesn’t know right away that the missing piece is Spock. Just that there’s something missing he has to find first. That’s why we get that scene with the three different versions of himself. He doesn’t know quite what he’s looking for yet, so he’s first looking inward.

And yes, obviously it’s TOS Kirk and Movie Kirk because those are the Iconic Looks for the character, but also, within the story itself? I think he’s specifically seeing the two times in his life he lost Spock-right at the end of their first five year mission when Spock resigned, and then after Spock died in TWOK. Those are the two times in his life he had felt like a piece of himself went missing, and when he realizes that, Kirk immediately understands what he’s meant to do.

His missing piece is Spock.

[miharuki]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒) 2

You woke up with a headache, feeling your head throb painfully. For a moment, you really thought you were in your real-life home until you looked up and saw the bed canopy, adorned with fine, luxurious fabrics. A typical bed of ancient nobility, you couldn't even sit up without your head pounding from the pain. Who would have thought that crying so much could make you feel this bad?

In pain, you turned, now looking out of the bed. For a moment, you began to notice that the furnishings in the room were more refined, even though they were of a different color. You started to think that this room wasn't, in fact, yours. Looking at the door, you noticed the luxurious details that accompanied it, making you realize that you were neither in your real-life bedroom nor in your noble bedroom in this world.

You started to think a lot, which made your head hurt even more. But you finally managed to understand what happened last night and how you agreed to go with the young man. Now, finally turning to look at the ceiling, you sighed, knowing you were probably not in extreme danger and that being kidnapped was off the list since you had agreed to the situation.

Placing your hands on your face, you thought about the situation at the ball, now considering how your family in this world would probably disown you. What initially seemed like a simple matter turned out to be much worse. In this world, being disowned didn't just mean being removed from the family's inheritance; it meant being officially regarded as not part of the family at all. It was as if they erased you not only from their will but also from their lives. In more extreme cases, it could even mean being expelled from the house.

"Are you alright? You were quite warm last night; you had a fever," said a familiar voice. Turning, you confirmed it was the same young man from yesterday.

Forcing your aching body, you managed to sit up in bed, placing a hand on your forehead as the dizziness from the headache set in. "Yes, it's nothing serious. I apologize for my manners," you said. It was evident that simply lying in a bed that wasn't yours while the host stood by was considered almost impolite in this world.

"Liar… please, miss, don't push yourself too hard. You still seem unwell," the young man said, his voice calm and concerned. If you could look now, you would see the care and worry in his eyes.

"I've been sick many times before," you found yourself thinking, almost mocking your own situation. The boy seemed to sense your sadness and silence. He raised his hand and gently placed it on your shoulder.

He had already felt he was violating your space by touching you the night before, but the pain of seeing your sick body had pushed that feeling aside. Now, with you safe, he felt he needed your permission, but he couldn't help trying to comfort you, the same person who seemed broken and exhausted when he brought you here.

"Forgive me… you went to the trouble of bringing me to your home because of my actions. This is not appropriate behavior for a girl like me. I apologize profusely for invading your residence like this," you said, lowering your hands to your lap and bowing your head in a formal gesture of apology, even while lying in bed.

Nomura noticed that you referred to yourself merely as a girl, not as a lady, which would have been more appropriate. He understood that what happened yesterday had deeply wounded you, so much so that you began to see yourself as inferior, no longer worthy of being called a lady.

His free hand clenched into a fist as he thought about the castle and the ball from last night. He knew who was responsible for this, and he couldn't help but feel anger. At that moment, all he wanted was to drive a sword through the heart of the crown prince, the first prince, and especially his former best friend.

"Please do not apologize, miss. The events of last night were not your fault, and bringing you to my residence was my decision. I had every right to do so, especially when I saw you in such a vulnerable state," he said in a sweet and gentle tone. You turned your head to look at him, observing those kind eyes that looked at you as they had last night. But just making that movement caused your head to throb again, and you placed a hand on your head, wincing in pain. This made him place his hands on your back, gently guiding you to lie down on the bed.

"Please, miss, you are not in the best condition. Lie down and rest. I will accept nothing but your rest," he insisted. With your eyes squeezed shut from the pain, you allowed yourself to lie back down, sighing as you felt his touch slowly fade away.

Nomura watched as you complied, stepping back slowly. He looked at you with sadness before leaving the room. As he walked down the corridor towards his office, he couldn't help but look at the floor, feeling nothing but anger. Calmly, he entered his office and closed the door behind him. His teeth clenched in fury, and only one thought filled his mind: "I want to kill him!" Finally, he sighed, running his hands through his hair before sitting in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

"Even after countless times, or timelines, you remain the same Prince Luka."

"Miss? Your tea." An maid entered the room with a cart carrying a teapot and a white porcelain cup. She sat down on the bed, and you were beginning to feel a bit better. Before you could say anything, the maid delicately placed a tray on your lap and set the cup on it.

You pondered for a moment. You couldn't stay here forever, even if your parents had disowned you. Eventually, you would have to return home just to gather your belongings, assuming your country in this game had indeed expelled you. If so, you needed to plan where to stay, especially since the Diamond Wars were looming.

"But what stage of the game are we in now? I mean, why should I worry? She's the protagonist and a princess, not me. She can handle things on her own," you thought to yourself as you glanced down at your lap. Your head still ached, but it was less intense compared to when you first arrived at the lord's house.

"Miss?" the maid's voice called out, and you lifted your head to look at her. She was pointing to the cup of tea. "Your tea, if you don't drink it, it will get cold." You turned your head, picked up the cup, and murmured a thank you before taking a sip. Lowering the cup, you continued to stare down, then glanced back at your lap.

"If I may ask, do you know of a good area where there might be houses? Preferably in the countryside," you asked calmly, surprising the maid with the sudden question.

"With all due respect, ma'am, why do you ask?"

"I need to find a place before I'm kicked out of home all because the protagonist is a little princess with her harem on her side, not to mention they humiliated me and literally labeled me a liar in front of high-status people and people from other regions," you thought of saying, but bit your tongue and shook your head. "Forget about what I asked," you said, looking down at the empty cup in your hands.

A few minutes of silence passed before the maid carefully took the cup and bowed respectfully before leaving with the cart.

"It's what she said," the maid recounted the situation to the man in front of her, who could only look thoughtfully out the window. "Poor Lady," Nomura thought, watching from the window as the carriage took you back to your home.

"I apologize, my lord, but do you think Lady might be considering moving away?" The thought of you being away from him was making him nervous.

"I need you to deliver a letter for me…"

pt1

"I'll possibly do Part 3."

@aiimee9 @chlov @uhkaey @notleclerc @taylorazureeee @sassykitkat22 @zuumaa @mononlogue @party-9 @endaculi @heartless-tate @mel-vaz @poptrim @kitty-chan33 @surprisemodafakas @reni502 @slowlysweetnightmare @hotnbloodied @yandereoverlord @mel-star636 @aphrodit333 @hotvinimon  @cupidsgift @bien-bonjour14 @l0v3rrl @heraxochi @yamekocatt @lovorette @acenby-weirdo @kisalovesoobin @wutap @ron000 @lazydelusionsimp @kthehoeforfictionalmen @forbidden-sunlight @bubbles2416 @rosegracewood09 @b2mmyy

@julietdelamare @snowlotr @kitkatmochi @happydeertraveler @lem-hhn @crazytacokoala @mitzukichan18 @hey-im-bored504 @resident-cryptid @thefbiiswatching @beardedblizzardexpert @mymemd @smilefortae @emperatris-rinaka

@pinkrose1422

[ellecdc]

no fondling in the dog house

Sirius Black x fem!reader who has to pick him up from the kennel [1.1k words]

CW: talk about fondling bollocks, a police station, Sirius being the least serious person, a good humoured argument between partners, threats of neutering/castration

“Now, ma’am, you are aware that under the highway code, dogs must be kept on a lead?”

“Yes sir.” You offered as earnestly as you could, though you couldn’t help the indignance that coloured your voice at the fact that you were the one being scolded for this misdemeanour right now. 

“And that they must be accompanied by their owner.” The enforcement officer continued, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow at you for your insolence. 

“Of course; I really am sorry, sir.” You offered more sincerely; you were really very sorry that you were here at all. 

“They’re also meant to be microchipped by the time they are 8-weeks old.” He continued, sifting through the numerous documents you signed after proving that the large black dog that had been picked up by muggle animal control did, indeed, belong to you. 

“Oh, he’s going to be microchipped alright.” You grumbled, adding a quiet “gonna look at having him neutered, too” under your breath. 

The officer ignored you as he called to his coworker to bring the stray out. 

“What did you say his name was again?”

But before you had a chance to answer, his coworker let out a surprised ‘oof’ when you heard the sound of paws galloping down the kennel hall before a large, long-haired black dog came barrelling through the doorway and sat excitedly at your feet.

“Padfoot.” You offered reproachfully, both in answer to the enforcement officer you just spent the past forty minutes being chastised by and in greeting to your boyfriend who was officially in the dog house. 

Padfoot offered you a bark back in response; the enforcement officer still seemed rather displeased with the both of you, but the kennel attendant let out a pleased laugh at the exchange. 

“What the fuck?” You asked the dog, to which he responded by nuzzling against your hand with his snout. You gently shoved it away from you. 

“He’s really quite a well behaved dog.” The attendant offered, either missing the disbelieving and reproving looks from both you and the enforcement officer respectively, or choosing to ignore them. “Usually strays are all stressy and anxious, but he sat patiently during intake and followed me right to the kennel without any hesitation.”

Padfoot looked between you and the attendant as if saying “did you hear that? I was good!” whilst you and the officer both stared at them a little bit longer before you ultimately broke the silence. “Yeah,” you deadpanned, “I’m sure he was a real treat.” 

“Don’t forget to invest in a tag for him.” The officer called as you slid a collar and lead onto Padfoot.

“Will do, officer. I really am sorry for all of this. I swear, it will not happen again.” 

Seemingly appeased, he waived you off, and you and Padfoot exited the police station. 

You dropped the lead and let Padfoot drag it himself as you turned down the alleyway - nearly snapping your wand with the force you used to tap the enchantment that brought you back to the magical side of London - and stepped right into Diagon Alley. 

“Baby-”

“Oh don’t you baby me, Sirius.” You hissed as you turned on your heel to glower at your boyfriend; you watched his cupid’s bow flatten as he folded his lips over his teeth in an attempt to keep from laughing, though you were pleased that the furrowing of his brows and the fact that he was wringing the collar and lead between his hands let you know he was at least somewhat contrite. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?”

“Uhm, I think it was a little bit more embarrassing for me, doll. The intake form asked if I was altered or not, which ultimately saw that attendant fondling my bollocks.”

“Oh, and I’m sure you hated that.” You spat as you turned on your heel, fighting against the smile that threatened to take over your face at Sirius’ bark of laughter. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. You know you’re the only one I like fondling my bollocks.” He laughed as he jogged to catch up to you.

“Yeah well, it won’t be happening any time soon, I can tell you that much for free.” 

“Oh come now.” 

“What were you even doing!?” You asked then, stopping in the spot and nearly causing Sirius to collide with you. 

“I may have said something to James, Remus, and Pete about how stags love Padfoot, and they argued that Prongs didn’t exactly count as a stag, so I wanted to prove them wrong.”

“They dared you, didn’t they?” You surmised, hearing Sirius’ half truth for what it was.

“It wasn’t so much of a dare as it was a scientific experiment-”

“Sirius.”

“Okay! Okay, yes, they dared me. So, I figured I’d head over to Richmond Park and befriend myself a stag. I would have, too! If that fuckin’ auror hadn’t gone and foiled my plan.”

“They’re called officers, Sirius.” You corrected darkly. “You were caught by muggle officers.” 

“Why do you think you had to pick me up!?” Sirius exclaimed then. “I couldn’t very well turn back into myself and explain the situation away. And you know I’m pants at obliviation.” 

“Shame.” you huffed as you carried on towards Gringotts. “I was hoping you could obliviate this entire memory for me.”

“I would, too. Better than being stuck in the dog house.” Sirius muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “Where are we going?”

“The bank.”

“Why?” 

You halted in your quest again, this time causing Sirius to trip in his attempt to avoid slamming into you. “You owe me - I had to bail you out, Sirius! They charged me fines; I have a record now.” 

“Completely fair, doll. I’ll be right back.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to your cheek that had you pretending to shove him away before he started towards the bank. 

“And take out enough to buy yourself a collar and a tag with my contact information on it!” You shouted, pausing before you added “And enough for ice cream!”

“Consider it done, babe. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” you called as you started walking towards Flourish and Blotts, “you’re getting microchipped.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know that Sirius was looking at you quizzically. “What’s a microchip?” He called as you kept walking. “Babe? Oi, babe! What’s a microchip!?”

[auroracalisto]

with all the power in oz

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 2.2k words summary: the reader, rather anxious and studious, finds their self head-over-heels with none other than fiyero, supposed boyfriend to galinda upland. to placate this, they somewhat agree to meet him at the ozdust ballroom. a/n: YOU pronouns are used to address the reader, but there is no usage of y/n. just watched the movie today. tried to find a fic, couldn't. here I am writing one instead. reader worries a lot. so me. you're welcome. also, I'm going into this blind. I have unfortunately never seen the actual musical (downsides to living in the middle of nowhere) so I'm only going off based on wikis and the movie. it should be gn as I read through it like... five different times, but please let me know if I missed something!

Breathtaking. That's what he was. But could you truly refer to a man like him as breathtaking?

The very features that graced his face were absolutely mesmerizing, and you felt like a fool watching him at times. How could you not? He seemed so full of life, so full of... well, not a care in the world, really. It was as if he brushed everything off of his shoulders without hesitation.

You could only wished you were the same way.

No cares, no worries. How lovely that would have been.

No, you hold onto the things that happen to you as if you have no other way to live. You hold grudges, you think over things that happened years ago that no one could possibly remember.

For someone who wished to be a sorcerer, you had a hard time simply letting things go. Your emotions often got the better of you, even when you knew better. Even when you wished it could be the opposite. But perhaps that was the way of the world.

Not a man in Oz could tell you otherwise.

Books in hands, you crossed the path to your dormitory, brows cinched together in mild concentration.

You had a project in your history class, and an extensive paper to complete on the study of mathematics—of all the things you could have had, a paper in mathematics. You'd rather perform magic in front of the entire student body, but you couldn't.

As you walked, you heard your name come from behind you. Eyes flicker back, a soft frown on your lips. You see him—Fiyero. The one fool you meant to avoid with all the gumption within you.

You'd melt just being near him.

"Fiyero," you softly greet.

He gave you a charming smile, coming up to walk with you. "Heading back already?" he asked.

"I am."

"Working on the project, hm? We could work on it together if you'd like. I'm sure our minds could do wonders," he said, a playful wink coming from him.

"I'm fine," you simply said.

He blinked slowly, but his smile never wavered. "Come now," he said, your name leaving his lips rather sweetly. "Surely you're not going to spend the rest of your evening alone. Why don't you come to Ozdust tonight?"

You looked back at him, frowning. "Ozdust. Me. I don't think so, Fiyero."

"And why not? I'm sure you'd be as dashing as ever."

You stopped in your steps, eyes searching his for but a moment. "Dashing. Are you in earnest, Fiyero?"

"Yes," he said, smiling.

"And what of Galinda? You'll be with her. Why invite me?"

"She doesn't need to know. It's not her business," he said. "Besides, she will be busy with Elphaba. I'd much rather spend time with you."

"And I think you're just pulling my leg," you said defensively. You crossed your arms over your chest, careful to keep your books close.

"Pulling your leg? I haven't even touched you," he said, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Come now, don't play coy. You should come."

"And if I do?"

"Then I'll be quite happy."

You rolled your eyes and went to walk away.

A hand wrapped around your bicep, and you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His eyes widened a bit and he dropped his hand, albeit hesitantly. Perhaps he didn't think he would actually reach out to you. He cleared his throat.

"I really would like you to be there. You'll have the time of your life."

"The time of my life," you repeated. "I don't think you realize how much I dread parties."

"Have you ever been to one?"

"No."

"Then how do you know you dread them?"

"I just know," you said. "I feel it in my bones. I know going will just get on my nerves."

He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. "I think you're foolish for that," he said. "Come on. What are you losing? A couple hours to work on a project that you know you could finish in a morning session? You'll be fine. Come to the Ozdust tonight. I'll show you a good time."

You clenched your jaw. "I don't want—"

"—I would like you to be there. That is all. I won't ask again." He gave you another small smile before he looked away. "I'll see you around. Perhaps tonight?"

You stared him down. He would like to see you there? Was he being honest? And what of Galinda? Would he be going behind her back? Wasn't he madly in love with her, or something? Or was it the other way around?

He said your name once more, and you looked up at him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Right. Perhaps tonight," you softly said.

The smile on his lips was rather... hopeful than anything else. There wasn't anything smarmy by it. He seemed as genuine as the glint in his eye—the one he used when he spoke with anyone he trusted. At least, you hoped so.

The night came quickly as you finished up your outfit—one you would hope you didn't look completely foolish in. The color you chose seemed to fit well with almost anything, but you still worried. You always worried about something.

Time was of the essence. You weren't even supposed to leave Shiz University's campus, but here you were, sneaking like some scoundrel.

Well, perhaps you were, listening to the requests of a man who already had a girlfriend—a fantastically beautiful one at that.

But you paid no mind. You did what you could, and soon, you found yourself walking down the steps of the Ozdust Ballroom.

Never had you been in a place like this. It was almost... breathtaking, had it not been for the overpowering smells of perfume and some kind of drink wafting from the bar. Your eyes flitted from patron to patron until you finally spotted him—Fiyero.

He looked just as handsome as ever.

Good Oz, what in the world were you doing? This was foolish.

You took a step back, staring at Fiyero for a moment as he spoke with another man, drink in hand. You needed to leave. This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous! Never in a thousand years would you ever imagine yourself to do such a thing—

"You made it!"

Fiyero's voice rang out above the music.

You look to him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Because of course he saw you as soon as you had decided to leave.

Fiyero smiled and made his way to you, taking your hands in his, drink left with the confused man behind him. Surely he didn't just up and leave in the middle of his conversation.

You part your lips and go to speak, but to your dismay, Fiyero is instant.

"I was afraid you had changed your mind," he said. "You look ravishing, darling."

Your eyes widened. Ravishing? You'd been called many things in your life, but never ravishing.

"Galinda couldn't make it?" you asked.

"Wha—no, she couldn't. But what of it? I didn't ask her to the Ozdust, I asked you. I'm glad to see your face."

Warmth blossomed in your cheeks as you watched him. "Fiyero, please... I shouldn't be here."

"Oh, nonsense," he said, grinning all the while. "Come. Dance with me."

"But I don't—"

"—do not say you don't dance. I can teach you."

"Teach me?"

"It's as easy as breathing," he said.

"For you, maybe, but not for—"

"—humor me," he said, smiling.

You pursed your lips. Of course he had to give you that charming smile and the sweet bat of his eyelashes.

"I do not dance," you repeated.

"I think I will be the judge of that."

He grabbed your hands once more and pulled you out into the ballroom floor, smiling all the while.

"You'll be a natural. I can just see it."

"I feel like if I were a natural, you wouldn't have to teach me," you said, gasping as he pulled you close to his chest. His face was dangerously close to yours, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"You know," he began, eyes flickering back to your eyes. "We all start somewhere, do we not? You should know that better than anyone."

"What? What does that—"

He interrupted you by spinning you by your arm, back into his embrace. The music was rather ambient, not quite one for dancing so enthusiastically, but Fiyero embraced it. Hand to your hand, face close to your face.

"See? A natural."

"You merely spun me around, Fiyero. Do not be foolish."

"You could have fell flat on your face," he said, a boyish grin evident on his lips.

"Stop looking at me like that," you defiantly said. "You are far too close to me for my liking."

"Oh, feisty, are we?" he asked, moving his body along to the music and forcing you to go along, too. You nearly stepped on his toes several times. "I do not think there is anything wrong with the way I'm looking at you. You're rather breathtaking, if I may."

Breathtaking. The same way you had described him only hours before. He wasn't a mind reader, was he?

No.

Of course not. That was foolish. He was merely a man. Nothing of great importance—no power within him other than the power he held in every single eyelash as they batted down at you, making you melt over and over again.

"What of Galinda?" you repeated.

"What of her?"

"You shouldn't be calling someone who isn't yours breathtaking. It's quite..."

"There is nothing wrong with admiring the beauty in front of me," he said, your name playfully leaving his tongue. "Look at me. Galinda and I are only friends."

You rolled your eyes. "Do not lie to me."

His eyes widened a bit. "Lie? I do not lie. We are friends and nothing more. Though I do believe she thinks differently..."

"She must," you said, huffing softly.

"But that does not make it true. I have eyes for someone else."

"Eyes for someone else?"

He tilted his head once more. He was rather endearing when he did that.

"Who did I ask to their very first party?" he asked, smiling. "It's quite a feat, isn't it? Afraid you wouldn't show, and then you do, questioning me and everything I stand for, hm?"

Warmth found its way to your cheeks once more. You looked away from him. With the crescendo of the music, Fiyero pulled you closer, fingers lacing with yours. His lips hover dangerously close to yours.

"You know, if you would just give it a chance, perhaps you and I could make some magic of our own."

You let out a curt laugh. "You—oh, good Oz, I hope you never use that line on anyone! Has that worked for you before?"

He gave a cheeky smile. "It seems like it's working on you."

"Absolutely not!"

"Not even a little!"

"No!"

His smile only seemed to grow. "Truly?"

You looked away, swallowing thickly. "I mean... no. Not even a little. Not at all."

"You're lying," he said.

"I am not."

"I do think I know what I'm talking about," he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin of your cheek. "Come now," he said. "Stop with the lies."

You looked up at him, a soft huff escaping you.

"Fine. I lied. It may or may not be working. But it's not just because of what you said."

"Oh? Are you saying you like me for more than my suave words?"

"Suave words? Who in Oz said they were suave?"

He just smiled, his eyes flickering to your lips once more. "Do you think instead of just a dance, I could try something more?"

"Try what?"

"I think you know."

You blinked slowly at him, your fingers gently gripping onto his tunic. Your lips part in mild surprise, but you realize that you shouldn't have been. He'd been eyeing you the entire evening.

"Very well," you softly said.

"Wonderful," he replied, and in a swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours. It was short as he pulled back almost as soon as he had kissed you, but it was enough to keep you wanting more.

"Fiyero, that wasn't—"

"—come with me," he softly said, lacing his fingers with yours once more. "Somewhere without so many prying eyes, yes?"

Your answer was almost instant: "Yes."

Fiyero led you back up the staircase, and he didn't look back once at the ballroom.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Somewhere where I can see you and only you," he said. "If that's alright."

"Oh," you softly said. "Yes. That's alright."

"Then follow me," he said. "Do you trust me?"

You smiled sincerely for one of the first times in the evening. Did you trust him? What kind of foolish question was that? If you had the chance, you'd do whatever he'd ask of you. You found your answer rather quickly, knowing within yourself that it was far truer than any other statement you had ever uttered.

"With all the power in Oz."

[zentraex]

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 

_

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened. 

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 

"The keys?" 

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him. 

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  

What were you going to do now? 

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped. 

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

_

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

_

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

...

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

Shit. 

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol? 

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again. 

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 

You pressed the green button.

_

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

_

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened. 

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

_

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 

But honestly? 

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.