#i practically live in this office and it's right next to that of my boss who is basically NEVER THERE so WHY

[apoloniaspiegelgold]

Now that my boss has hired a new PhD student, he literally straight up kicks me out of my office by the end of the month with no warning just so that the new girl can move into my office instead. So now I have to move into an office at the far end of the corridor whose inhabitant was at least asked if he'd be okay to move out of there into an empty office. And I'm just sitting here like ... why? Why not put the new girl into the empty office? What is this insanity?

#i practically live in this office and it's right next to that of my boss who is basically NEVER THERE so WHY #he's literally forcing two people to move out of their offices just so the new girl is right next to his own #our secretary came by today after she got the news to see how much stuff we are going to have to move around the entire institute #and she also said that she doesn't find this okay in any way. i just don't get it. i doubt the new girl is happy about this either like ??? #and he didn‘t even tell me anything about this he literally just put me in cc of an email that was like ‚yeah let‘s just kick her out‘ #the thing that's bugging me the most about this actually is that my office is opposite of one of my favourite people in the whole world #so we always know when the other is there and we can always hear each other coming and always just pop by to say hello #and now i'm supposed to move like a mile away from him and for what? #maybe i'm overreacting i mean it's just an office but it's MY office i've spent thousands of hours in there and he could've at least asked #ramblings

[justauthoring]

naturally [3].

you fit into their little family perfectly - naturally → in which you meet satoru gojo

a/n: yall this one was a blast to write.

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader, yuji itadori x f!reader (platonic), satosugu as well!

want to support your local writer? send me a coffee!

I won’t be able to pick up Yuji today from daycare, do you mind heading there alone?

No worries at all, Kento. You know I don’t mind. Is everything okay?

Yes. My boss is being particularly pushy about getting this project done by today. I’m sorry to leave you alone.

I’ll be fine. But please don’t push yourself too hard, love. 

Thank you, Y/N. I’ll try not to.

I’ll make your favourite for dinner, okay? Love you.

That would be wonderful, dear. I love you too.

When you’d received the text from Nanami, you hadn’t thought anything of it. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked you to pick up Yuji, and that was way before the two of you ever were in a relationship. It hadn’t been much of a hassle then, given that you lived next door to him but it was even less of a worry now since you’d moved in with Nanami and Yuji into their apartment. Often, the two of you would pick up Yuji together and since you’d started joining Nanami, Yuji had been ecstatic about the whole thing that you made it a goal to go every day.

You’d already been out doing some errands, just about to make your way to the school with the assumption that Nanami would meet you there, when you’d gotten his text. You’d shrugged the whole situation off, mentally thankful you’d gotten all the necessary ingredients for Nanami’s favourite dinner when you’d grabbed groceries with a light frown at the realization of how hard Nanami’s office had been pushing him recently. Luckily it was the end of the week and you could spend the weekend making sure he got the rest he definitely deserved.

Your walk to Yuji’s daycare isn’t long at all and your thoughts are filled with the wonderful and loving family you’ve found yourself. None of it was in your plans for your life but you couldn’t deny how incredibly happy you were. Yuji was an absolute bundle of joy that you loved like your own son, and Nanami was the best boyfriend you could ask for – understanding, loyal, and loving. He checked off any and all boxes that may exist and made you incredibly happy.

You wouldn’t trade any of it.

“Y/N/N!”

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the familiar sound of Yuji’s voice. You blink, not having even realized you’d reached the daycare until a blob of pink comes crashing towards you, slamming right into your legs as Yuji hugs you as best he can with his small arms, peering up at you with bright, shining eyes. You smile at the sight, crouching down to his level as you distantly catch his teacher’s eye and offer a smile when she waves at you, before putting your full attention on Yuji.

“Hi, Yuji-kun,” you giggle, ruffling his hair. You notice his eyes drift past you, and are quick to explain. “Your father is stuck at work for a bit but I was thinking me and you could make his favourite dinner together, how does that sound?” 

Yuji beams; “perfect!”

You let out a laugh, nodding your head. “How was your day?”

“Amazing!” Yuji practically cheers, and you blink slightly at the pure excitement in his voice. Suddenly, he’s letting go of your leg to take your hand in his own, his grip quite tight for such a small child as he starts pulling. “I want you to meet my friend, Y/N/N. His name is Megumi!”

You internally laugh at Yuji’s short-attention span. You’d thought he’d be more disappointed about Nanami not being able to show up, but as usual, the boy was effortlessly positive and didn’t seem to let himself get phased by many things.

That, or he was just happy as long as one of you came.

“Okay–just, slow down a little, Yuji, I–”

“MEGUMI!”

Your lips part as Yuji practically bellows the name, eyes drifting ahead of yourself to the direction Yuji’s yanking you towards. You see a small boy, just slightly taller than Yuji, with black, spiky hair (it’s quite amazing actually), in a similar uniform as Yuji but he looks a lot more neat and put-together than Yuji does–even though every morning, you make sure Yuji leaves with his buttons all done and his collar straight, something or another is amiss every time you come to pick him up.

The boy glances back at the call of his name, seemingly unphased by how loud Yuji was, and it’s then you notice the man standing next to him.

He’s tall. Very tall. He’s got startlingly white hair that falls effortlessly around his head, shaping his face perfectly and he’s wearing a pair of black sunglasses but yet as his eyes drift in the direction of you and Yuji, it still feels like he’s staring directly into you.

“Y/N/N! Y/N/N! This is Megumi,” Yuji tugs at your hands and you pull your eyes away from the man, moving to smile down at Megumi. “Megumi, this is Y/N/N. The one I was talking about.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Megumi,” you offer gently, smiling softly down at the boy.

Meeting your eyes, you’re shocked as Megumi bows, offering a small ‘nice to meet you’. You don’t think you’ve met such a polite young boy, even if he was a little quiet. It’s funny, you think, how Yuji could’ve made such a friend–someone so quiet and calm compared to your loud and boisterous boy. But then again, didn’t they say opposites attract?

“I certainly don’t know where he got that from.”

You glance up as the man with white-hair speaks up, grinning at you as he steps forward, ruffling Megumi’s hair. The boy instantly frowns as he does, batting the man’s hands away as he he grumbles to himself all whilst Yuji giggles, moving to point out Megumi’s frown and the two of them fall into a chatter amongst themselves as the man with white-hair sticks his own out towards you.

“Satoru Gojo,” the man introduces, “and you must be the famous Y/N Yuji keeps telling me about.”

Slowly, you let your hand fall in his, nodding. “Yes, I, um… I’m Kento’s–”

“Wife,” Gojo cuts off, smirking. “Yes, I actually work with your husband.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks burning red; “oh… oh no! We’re just dating, not… we’re not married, Gojo-san.”

“Ah, please, call me Satoru,” he brushes off, “and sorry. I just assumed Nanami would’ve put a ring on you already with the way he talks about you. He’s absolutely smitten.”

Your cheeks stay flushed, glancing at your feet. “Ah, well… you know…” desperate for the conversation to change, you glance back up at him. “Are you Megumi’s father?” You only ask because the two of them don’t really look all that related–of course, that didn’t mean much.

Still, it was a shift in conversation.

“Not biologically, no,” Gojo nods, “but I do take care of him.”

“Barely.” Megumi cuts in, glowering at the man.

You press a hand to your mouth to stifle your laughter–for such a young boy, he was rather quick-witted.

Gojo sticks his tongue out at the boy, and you find yourself unable to stop the giggle that leaves your lips at the sight. They were a rather odd pair, weren’t they? 

Gojo glances at you as you giggle and your eyes widen.

“Oh, my apologies, Satoru-san! It’s just–”

“No need to apologize,” he waves you off, stepping towards you. “Now, where is Nanami?”

“Oh, he had to stay at work to finish something up. Speaking of, Yuji and I should be heading home. We’ve got to start making dinner. But it was lovely–”

A huge gasp cuts you off. You blink, glancing down at Yuji who stares up at you with an expression like he’s come up with the best thing in the entire world.

“Y/N/N! Can Megumi and Gojo-san stay for dinner?”

-

After a long and grueling day, Nanami is more than excited to come home to you and his son and have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening.

At least, that was the plan.

Until he sees Gojo Satoru standing in his living room.

“What the hell are you doing here.”

He ignores his rather sharp language in front of the children. Never, ever has he ever wanted to see Gojo standing in his apartment, in his living room and least of all, has he ever wanted Gojo to be anywhere near you–talking with you, making you laugh, offering to help you with dinner–any of it.

Your wide eyes fall on Nanami the second you hear his voice, and Nanami feels a flash of guilt when he sees the panicked look in your eyes.

Gojo just beams. “Nanami! You’re just in time for dinner.”

Yuji comes bounding towards Nanami, hugging his father tightly and Nanami, despite the annoyance standing in front of him, of course returns the hug to his son, as Yuji beams up at him; “I asked Y/N/N if Megumi and Gojo-san could come for dinner and she said yes!”

Nanami’s eyes drift to you then, noticing the way you step towards him nervously. “I hope that’s okay,” you offer quietly and Nanami frowns at the look in your eyes. You look positively worried, and he curses himself silently when he realizes it’s because you think you’ve upset him. “Satoru-san said he was a friend from work and Yuji seemed super excited, so–”

Stepping towards you, Nanami gently pulls himself from Yuji, wrapping his arm around your waist to lean forward and press a kiss against your forehead. “It’s no worries, love. It’s not you I’m annoyed by,” he assures you, smiling down at you before his gaze hardens and he faces Gojo who continues to stand smugly in the living room. “It’s him.”

It’s then you learn that while Gojo may consider them friends, Nanami certainly doesn’t.

At least, not outwardly. You can tell Gojo definitely annoys your boyfriend, but Nanami still tolerates him nonetheless and it’s proven in the way he doesn’t immediately kick Gojo out. 

You also notice how Nanami is particularly clingy the entire night – he sticks by you, as if attached to your hip, constantly offering to help, barely allowing Gojo to step within a few feet of you. Gojo notices, of course, and he uses it to his advantage to constantly tease Nanami but you find you hardly care – Nanami was hardly ever possessive and it made you feel giddy that he was so desperate to make sure Gojo didn’t flirt with you all whilst making sure not to be too overbearing on you or do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

It was a feeling that had you tingling all night.

“The dinner was fantastic, Y/N/N.”

Nanami grunts at the nickname Gojo had decidedly started calling you halfway through dinner, a name he’d picked up from Yuji, but you just smile at the man. Gojo is standing by the door to the apartment, a passed out Megumi in his hands. Yuji’s already been tucked into bed by Nanami twenty minutes ago when the two boys had promptly passed out on the couch together. Gojo had moved to excuse himself shortly after, of course with slight pressure from Nanami, who continued to have his arm around your waist, you tucked into his side as the both of you stood across from Gojo, seeing him and Megumi off.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you smile, leaning into Nanami. “I’m sorry we kept Megumi up so late.”

Gojo shrugs, “nah, it’s fine. Suguru might be a bit upset, but…”

Your brows furrow, “whose Suguru?”

Gojo grins. “My husband.”

Your eyes widen and Nanami shakes his head from next to you; “yet you continue to flirt with my girlfriend.”

“Kento,” you mumble, turning to him embarrassed.

Gojo just laughs; “your girlfriend is very beautiful,” he grins over at you, and you glance down at your feet in embarrassment. “Besides, Suguru knows I love him.” Gojo rolls his eyes at Nanami, before turning back to you. “He’s actually out on a trip with the girls for the weekend. Left yesterday.”

Your lips part; “girls?”

“Yes, Megumi’s sister, Tsumiko, and two other girls, Mimiko and Nanako that we adopted.”

You let out a gasp, “oh my! That’s so wonderful,” you beam up at the man. “The six of you must be so happy.”

Gojo laughs; “I wonder about Megumi sometimes… He didn’t wanna go on the trip, said it would be boring but I think it was because he didn’t wanna miss seeing Yuji at daycare. The two of them are like two peas in a pod.”

Truly, you feel like your heart could melt. Turning to Nanami, you beam at him; “we’ll have to have Megumi over more often then.” Then, turning back to Gojo, you add; “and of course Suguru-san and the girls!”

Nanami frowns, but you don’t see it as Gojo grins back at you; “I’ll make sure to let Suguru know.” He assures, “now, I should go. I think I might’ve overstayed my welcome.”

You glance over at Nanami at that, noticing the frown on his lips and let out a light giggle as you nod at Gojo. With one final goodbye, Nanami opens the door for him, before shutting it the second he’s sure he’s gone. You watch as the man’s shoulders instantly sag the second Gojo’s gone and tilt your head.

“Do you really not like Satoru-san that much?”

His eyes widened; “no… no, it’s not that. I’ve known Gojo for a long time. He’s annoying, but he’s a… friend.” Then, stepping towards you, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love. I’m just tired.”

His hands fall on your waist, tugging you towards him and you fall into him with ease, letting your head fall on his chest as you hum out softly. “I know. Don’t worry about cleaning up, I’ve got it.” Leaning back slightly, you press a kiss to his jaw. “Just get some rest.”

Nanami shakes his head; “no, you already made dinner for me tonight. I can help clean.”

“But–”

“No buts,” he smirks down at you. “I want to help.”

With a moment more of hesitance, you nod. And the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you work to tidy up from dinner. With the two of you, it’s cleaned a lot faster and before you know it, the two of you are already tucked into bed, kitchen clean, clothes swapped for more comfortable attire and feeling ready to pass out completely.

Just as Nanami presses a final kiss to your cheek, arm wrapped around your waist with your back pressed to his chest, you can't help but ask; “were you really jealous of a married man? Married to another man, no less?”

There’s a pause. Then, “...maybe.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #yuuji itadori #gojo satoru #satosugu

[ddejavvu]

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: the hotchner family has some big news for the bau

You know you're glowing when you walk into work. Not only from your smile, but your skin is especially dewy, not from the product you'd smeared into your cheeks.

It's Emily that greets you, waving at you with her coffee rather than her hand, "Morning, Mrs. Hotchner."

"Morning Miss Prentiss," You gleam, leaning in to kiss her cheek, "How's my lovely lady doing this morning?"

"Not as good as you," She laughs airily after a moment's stunned hesitation, "What, did you win the lottery?"

"Nooo," You trek to the kitchen, ruffling Reid's hair on the way, "Just in a good mood. Derek?" You peer at the man pouring his own coffee, "Do we have any decaf left?"

His nose wrinkles, "No, we're not monsters. Why decaf?"

"Oh my god," Emily murmurs, a smile growing on her face, "Decaf?"

Penelope's head pops out from her lair at the sound of your voice, brows scrunched, "Mrs. Boss Man, you drink decaf?"

"Not normally," Emily gloats, "Does this have anything to do with you coming to work late from an unspecified doctor's appointment practically glowing?"

Penelope gasps, but at least waits for your guilty smile to start squealing.

"Oh my god! Oh my god, really? Really really?"

"Really really," You gush, accepting the hug that she nearly rams into you with, then eases up on your stomach for, "I had my first ultrasound today."

"Oh my god," Emily croons, taking the next hug, "Y/N, that's amazing. Does anyone else know?"

"Just my husband," You tease, "Where is he, by the way?"

"Right here," Rossi steps into the kitchen first, straight from a meeting with Strauss, Aaron hot on his heels, "Why are we hugging?"

"She's pregnant!" Penelope blurts, and Aaron looks only slightly mortified that you've revealed your sex lives to the team, "She's pregnant!"

"Congratulations," Dave smiles kindly, tugging you in for a side hug, "So, boy or girl? Do you know yet?"

"Well-" You start, but JJ - who'd seen everyone gathered and joined, filled in by Reid while they linger at the doorway - interrupts.

"I didn't know you were trying for a baby," She muses, remembering the last girls' night where you'd neglected to tell them any baby information at all, "I thought you said you were done?"

"Yeah," You glance at the floor, and Aaron's cheeks turn pink, "We thought so, too."

Penelope stifles a giggle into her cardigan. Morgan isn't as kind.

"O-kay," Rossi drawls with an amused scoff, "So it's an 'oops' baby. But is it a boy 'oops', or a girl 'oops'?"

"Uh, Aaron," You round on your husband, taking his hand, "There's something you should know. There's... maybe, two oops babies?"

Not even Aaron Hotchner is good enough at controlling his facial expressions to stay neutral now. His eyes widen and his lips part, words escaping him.

There's another round of squeals, a hearty slap on Reid's back from Morgan that you're sure the young doctor resents, and a jeer from Prentiss.

"Two." Aaron repeats, glancing down at your belly.

"Two," You confirm, "Erin and Aaron? Alex and Alexis? Megan and Morgan?"

Derek gives his stamp of approval with a loud, poorly-timed cheer, and when paired with the man's new knowledge of your sex life and his tendency to tease, it's Aaron's cue to disapprove.

"Absolutely not," He shakes his head, jumping into action to slip a hand down the small of your back and usher you out of the kitchen towards his office, "I'd rather go with Cain and Abel."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

[dilfismz]

Such a Tease

Pairing- Perv! Matthew Lillard! William Afton X reader

Summary- You’re just so goddamn pretty, William can’t help himself. He tries his hardest to be professional at work around you but it seems like you just LIVE to push his buttons.

Warnings- age gap (reader is in her 20s, William is like 50), William being creepy, inappropriate boss/employee relationship, suggestive language, and implied smut.

Pt. 2

A/n- this is definitely gonna be on the shorter side

Holy shit is the first thing that crosses William’s mind when he catches a glimpse of you cleaning through the security cams. Your tight uniform pants cling to your ass as you bend over to pick up a misplaced item. As you stand up William notices the way you’ve styled your hair for the day, a loose ponytail, his favorite. He can’t help but fantasize about gripping you by your hair and forcing your mouth all the way down his length.

“Goddamn sweetheart”, William mutters to himself as he watches you, your hips swaying as you walk.

He picks up his phone and eagerly dials your number. He’s had it practically memorized since the day of your interview. He watches your eyebrows furrow through the camera as your phone starts to ring. You answer the call and William (“Steve” to you) begins to speak.

“Hey hun, need you in my office right now”, he croaks out excitedly.

“O-okay”… wha-, you begin before Steve hangs up abruptly.

Watching you through the cameras he waits anxiously. He bounces his knee under the desk, awaiting your arrival.

You firmly knock on the door before letting yourself in.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Ah yes, I wanted to show you some old security footage. Come, sit”, he responds.

You walk up next to his desk before coming to a paralyzing conclusion, “Umm sir, there isn’t another seat for me.”

Steve smirks at this and pats his lap, inviting you to take a seat.

“You can’t be serious…”

Steve just continues to look up at you and pats his leg once again.

Your face flushes red as you take a seat. You can feel his erection pressing against you immediately and try your best to push those thoughts away.

Steve takes notice of your blush and wraps his arms around you whispering in your ear, “Comfy isn’t it? I could sit like this all day.”

#fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #william afton #matthew lillard #x reader #steve raglan

[danikamariewrites]

im so in love with ddlg azriel, i was wondering if i could please request one where reader is fed up with work (me fr) and it stresses her out. she just wants to stay at home and bake and do cute stuff and live life (me fr) and she tells azriel this, she tells him she doesn’t even care ab money she wants a break from her horrible boss. he says he’ll take care of her, he already does, her own money is her own, even though azriel provides literally everything in her life. So they decide she’ll quit and do what pleases her instead. Maybe volunteer at the library in the house of wind with the priestesses. She looks so much more happy and azriels heart swells with love. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ pls

Done With Work

Azriel x reader

A/n: me too anon 😫 like what do you mean I have to work for the rest of my life?! I’m sick of it now 😭

I see this as the story for first few points in this headcanon

Warnings: ddlg, daddy kink, not proof read sorry lol

Your whole body felt heavy as you dragged yourself up the stairs to Azriel’s office. Without knocking you push the door open, giving your mate a tired look. “Y/n, what’s wrong my love?” You drop your bag and wordlessly walk over to him, plopping yourself on his lap and burying your face in his neck.

Breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar calmed you. Azriel brought his hand to rub up and down your spine. “I’m so sick of working Az.” You mumble. He adjusts you so your head rests on his chest and he can hear you clearly.

“Did something happen today?” You shrug lazily. “It’s just so draining. And I’ve worked all my life, I just want to do something for myself. I feel like I have no free time. And I’m just done.” Azriel hugged you tighter. “I want to quit Az. I need a break from terrible people. I have money so you don’t-“

Azriel cups your face cutting you off. He moves you so you’re looking up at him. “You are going to quit because I hate seeing you like this. You’re my mate and I want to keep you happy and comfortable. And don’t you dare bring up money. What you have is yours, let me take care of everything.”

Tears escaped your eyes as you smiled up at Azriel. “Thank you, my love.”

The next day you went in to work to quit. Your bosses look of shock brought you so much joy. You practically skipped out of the building and all the way home to Azriel. He swears he’d never seen you this happy about something so small.

From that day on Azriel told you to do whatever your heart desired. So you took your time getting into your new routine. First thing was to catch up on your sleep. Your sleep schedule was atrocious so you spent the first two weeks sleeping in.

Then you finally got around to decorating and rearranging the house the way you wanted. Azriel’s heart soared when he came home after a quick mission. The house felt warmer with you in the center of it.

You took your time exploring Velaris. Visiting a new part of the city everyday. Of course you spent most of your time in the Rainbow and had taken a liking to staying at Feyre’s studio some days.

You spent more time with Feyre and Elain. You helped Gwyn in the library and even started going to training in the morning. And when Nesta had time you two would read together. You started going out with Mor and Feyre a few nights a week too. Azriel felt like he was watching you, his beautiful and wonderful mate, come back to life again.

What you loved most about your new life style was the care and attention you got from Azriel. Not that you didn’t get it before. But now you have time to really enjoy it.

Everything he did for you put you back together. From spa days to simple lazy mornings in bed he made sure that you were happy and cared for. After the conversation about your relationship you were both insanely happy.

Azriel loved taking care of you, and with this new dynamic and nicknames it all just felt right. He felt like you could truly be open with him.

Your happiness really hit him on a day where you slept in and he made breakfast. Az wanted to bring you breakfast in bed but you got up before it was ready. His shadows altered him to your presence. Turning, he saw you rub your eyes with a smile. You looked so cute in just his t-shirt and panties.

“Good morning princess.” “Morning daddy.” You pad over to him, standing on your tiptoes you plant a kiss on his cheek. “Breakfast smells delicious. Did you make coffee?” “I did.” You let out a small happy sound and filled up two mugs bringing them over to the kitchen table.

You sit waiting for Az to bring your plates over. When Azriel finally sits you’re adding an obscene amount of sugar to your coffee. Azriel takes the spoon from your hand, “That’s enough princess or your teeth will rot.” You let out a huff and pick the syrup up to drown your pancakes in them.

“What can I say, I have a sweet tooth.” You let out a small giggle at Azriel’s fake stern face. Quicker than you can comprehend Azriel tickles your sides and you let out a scream of laughter. “Daddy stop, I can’t, aahhh!” Azriel pulls you onto his lap leaving small kisses all over your face as you continue to giggle.

Once you calmed down you snuggled into Azriel, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “I love you so much daddy.” Az hugged you back equally as tight, “I love you too so much princess.” You lean back smiling up at him. You peck his nose quickly and cup his face in your hands. “Thank you. For everything. I’m just, I’m so happy.”

Azriel felt tears from behind his eyes. He could feel your happiness radiating down the bond. That made him feel like the luckiest male in the world. The two of you loved each other and he has the best mate. “You never have to thank me princess. I told you, it’s my job.”

He turns you to face the table and lets you get comfortable as he pulls your plate over. “What do you want first.” “Hhmm…bacon!” Azriel took a strip of bacon from your plate holding it up to your mouth. Taking a bite you let out a satisfied hum. He kissed the back of your head as he began to cut up your pancakes.

If there was a moment you could live in with Azriel forever, it would be this one. You both had nothing to do today. He was feeding you. And he was holding you close, making you feel more loved than you had in your entire life.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel

[blueicequeen19]

Charter Ch. 6

Warnings: drama, angst, threats of violence, oral, protected sex, age gap, boss & employee

Chelsea is here and she brought friends from the rougher side of the Cut. Baseheads. Big, buff friends covered in tattoos that look like they’re here for a fight. JJ takes a deep, murderous breath and I find myself taking his hand.

“Stay here.” JJ doesn’t look at me as he moves to the door but I tug on his wrist.

“Call the police!” I plead, reaching up to capture his face between my hands. His blue eyes are ablaze, his chest heaving with every angry breath.

“The cops in this town don’t give a shit about a Maybank.” JJ bites back, trying to pull away from me but I shake my head.

“There’s four of them and one of you. Do not do this.” JJ pulls free of my hold and steps back, going to a shelf next to the tv and grabbing something off the top shelf. A gun.

“JJ, wait, let’s just—.”

“I’m done with these fucking clowns. Stay in here. I mean it.” JJ steps onto the enclosed porch with the gun in his hand as his ex and her friends yell profanities and threats. I’m frozen for a moment before I run back to his bedroom to find my phone.

I quickly dial the sheriffs department and on the sixth ring an annoyed sounding female dispatcher answered.

“I need the police to my location for a.. break in. I’m not sure the address but it’s out on the marsh, a fairly newer build.”

“Ma’am, is this not your residence?”

“No, it’s my.. friends.” There’s a pause and a lot of clicking of a keyboard.

“I have your location. Is Johnathon James Maybank the owner?” I pause, having never heard JJ’s real name before. No wonder he went by JJ if John B was practically his brother.

“Yes.”

“Okay ma’am, all our officers are currently busy on other calls but we’ll send someone out there as soon as we can.”

“Are you serious? They have guns! Someone could get shot!” I was only assuming but at this rate with all the craziness, I wouldn’t put it past these people who decided to trespass.

“Ma’am—.” I hang up and look up John B on social media before sending him an urgent message. I quickly throw my phone down and pull on a pair of his shorts before running back down the hallway to the front of the house. I stop to grab the wooden baseball bat next to the front door and step out onto the enclosed porch where JJ stands on the steps, gun in hand.

I try not to let my gaze linger too long on the marks I made all over his back and arms as I move next to him.

“I’m not going to tell you again—.”

“Look who it is! Your little employee putting in her overtime! Is she even legal, J?” Chelsea laughs, pushing her blonde hair off shoulder with a wicked grin. She looked worse than the last time I saw her.

“Looks like she wants some of this too.” One of her goons says, looking to the bat in my hand.

“The cops are on their way. Better leave while you still can.” I announce, swinging the bat up to rest on my shoulder. Their eyes widen in alarm and JJ’s head snaps towards mine.

“You know what happens to snitches?” Chelsea spats at me, her face scrunched up in a snarl.

“You know what happens to trespassers?” JJ counters, the click of the safety being released echoing between all of us.

“My child lives here. I have a right to be anywhere she is.”

“You have no rights so therefore you don’t. Crawl back into whatever hole you’ve been in and fuck off.”

“You gonna back that mouth up, Blondie? Your daddy still owes us money.” One of the guys calls, cracking his knuckles. His dad? But JJ only smirks.

“Come and get some. You wouldn’t be the first bitch I’ve put in their place.” The guys all stiffen, nostrils flaring as their hands ball into fists.

“J.” I whisper softly, wrapping my hand around his wrist. He was terrifying like this. Just then the bloop of a police siren startles us all and a cruiser turns into the yard since the driveway is blocked. Shoupe steps out, hand on his gun, as he faces the trespassers.

“There a problem here?” Shoupe asks, his voice and posture dripping with authority.

“No, officer. No problems here. Just having a friendly chat. We’ll be going now.” Chelsea shoots us both a deadly look before her and her goons pile back into the piece of shit truck they came in and back out of the driveway.

What were we going to do now that they know where he lives?

Shoupe turns back to us, his hand still on his gun as he looks from JJ to the piece in his hand.

“You got a permit for that, Maybank?” JJ’s body visibly relaxes after the taillights for Chelsea’s truck can no longer be seen and he smirks at Shoupe.

“For what?” JJ counters, clicking the safety on and tucking the gun into the waistband of his shorts.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Shoupe asks, finally taking his hand off his own gun and approaching. JJ shrugs.

“Hard telling.” I shoot a look at him. Why is he not saying anything?

“Uh huh. Word around town is your ex is causing trouble and asking about you and your daughter. Do you have a protective order in place?”

“A piece of paper doesn’t stop anything.”

“Maybe not but it’s a paper trail and if it gets violated, people end up in jail.” JJ stays silent for a moment, staring back at Shoupe.

“Just come down to the station and we can get the paperwork started.” Shoupe presses but JJ shows no sign of giving in.

“J.” I try to take his hand but he curls his fingers away, like a punch to the gut. I have to fight to keep my face neutral as Shoupe looks between us.

“I’ll think about it. See you later, Shoupe.” JJ dismisses Shoupe before turning and disappearing into the house. Shoupe gives me a look I can’t quiet pinpoint - like pity - and gets back into his cruiser. I watch him exit the driveway before heading back inside.

I hear the shower turn on but I know for some reason I’m not invited. I quickly redress into my own clothes and throw my hair up into a bun. Emotions choke me and my throat is tight. This was a lot to deal with. It’s no wonder he kept me at arms length. But why was he mad now? Because I called the cops? Did he really want to face them alone? I startle at a knock on the front door then I hear it open. I emerge into the hallway to see John B walking in, obviously comfortable enough to just walk in. His eyes lock on me and he gives me a nod of acknowledgment.

“Everything good here?” He asks, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Yea. Shoupe came after all.” John B nods just as JJ enters the hallway in a towel. He looks from me to John B and shakes his head.

“It’s all good, Bree.” JJ sighs, going into the kitchen to get a beer.

“What did Shoupe do?” John B asks, taking a beer from JJ.

“Nothing but piss them off.” I scoff at JJ’s words. Why was he insisting on fighting this battle alone? His eyes narrow at me just as John B glances between us.

“He wants JJ to file a protective order against Chelsea so if she comes around Summer, she’ll be arrested. He’s also pissy that I called you and Shoupe.” I announce, crossing my arms and staring back at the heated blonde. I can feel John B look between us again.

“Yea, JJ don’t like cops or people helping him. He’s the only one allowed to be put at risk. Been that way since we were kids.” John B says, drawing JJ’s glare to him.

“I got shit to do. I’ll be there to get Summer in a bit.” John B chuckles at JJs dismissal.

“Whatever you want to do. Sarah says she can stay again if needed.” John B rounds the counter and they do some tacky handshake before John B makes his way to the door, only pausing to look back at me.

“Keep him out of trouble.” He says, before closing the door behind him. I nod, my heart racing a mile a minute as I turn to face JJ. His glaring at me, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders and down his chest. Why was he so sexy when he was pissed off?

“You should probably head out. And watch your back now that there’s a target on it.” JJ says, tipping his beer up and draining the rest of it.

“I’ll just call the police again.” I shrug, crossing my arms as we glare back at each other.

“People on the Cut, especially Baseheads, don’t fuck around when it comes to snitches. It’s an unspoken rule not to talk to cops. That’s a Kook thing.” JJ snaps, drawing my attention to the Pogue tattoo across his knuckles.

“So, what? You were just going to take on all of them? Four vs one? End up in jail yourself? What happens to Summer if you go to jail?” I throw back and he growls, taking a dangerous step towards me. I crane my neck to look up at him, refusing to back down.

“If you wanted someone you can tell what to do and control, you picked the wrong girl.” I breathe, my body heating just being this close to him. JJ’s eyes trail over me, down the skimpy outfit I came in last night and back up to my face.

“I didn’t pick anyone.” His words have their desired effect and I try not to wince. “Now go. I’ll see you at work.” JJ nods to the door and for once I don’t have a single smart comment to make so I simply grab my things and leave.

I refuse to cry or show my wounded heart so I do the only thing I can.. fake it. The rest of the week slides by with ease and I pretend that JJ means absolutely nothing. I don’t stay until close like normal so I’m not tempted to let him bend me over the nearest flat surface. And I know id give in.

I manage to keep myself busy by picking up another job for the evenings on weekends, flirting with boys closer to my age, then masturbating until I’m weak. The only problem being that I get myself off to the memory of him. The way he feels. The sounds he makes when he cums. The way he tastes. The feel of his callused hands and rings on my body. I can make myself cum three times in a row and it still doesn’t dampen the fire that he’s lit in me.

I manage our shifts together just fine as long as I don’t look at him. When work needs to be discussed, I busy myself and keep my head down while giving one worded answers. I can feel the tension between us growing. I’m sure he’s just as pent up as I am. I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown me over his shoulder yet and hauled me to the back. But he would think that’s him giving in and he’s not one to lose.

I’m scrolling through my phone on my break, hiding in the tiny room with enough room for a fridge, microwave, and a sink, when I stumble across a video I took of him going down on me. Heat erupts all over my body and my clit throbs like the horny bitch she is at the memory. I can’t stop myself from lowering the volume and watching as he works my pussy with that skilled tongue, his heated blue eyes staying on mine. My own moans have me squeezing my thighs together. He sucks my clit into his mouth, making my hips jerk in the video and as I’m standing here watching. When he pulls back to reveal his arousal covered mouth and pushes two fingers inside me, I turn the video off, my body on the verge of combusting. I drop my phone on the table and grip the edges to try and ground myself. I squeeze my thighs tight but the ache doesn’t subside. I’m literally on the verge of slipping my hand into my shorts when a throat clears behind me. I snatch up my phone as I turn to face him, my heart in my throat and my pussy pulsing. Just by the look in his eyes, I can tell he knows what I was doing. Or about to do. I love and hate that cocky smirk of his and the way he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.

“I have a video similar to that.” JJ props his shoulder up against the door frame as he pulls out his phone, swipes a few times then turns it to face me. I remember this video too. My back was pinned against the wall as he fucked my face while keeping his hands on his phone. My throat had been so sore but it was worth it. I tear my gaze away from the sight of his cock jackhammering into my mouth, and glare at him.

“I think I have another one too. Ahh, yep.” JJ plays another of me riding him in reverse cowgirl, his free hand grabbing and slapping my ass as I bounce on him.

“Oh, this one is my favorite.” JJ changes the videos to one I instantly recognize from the last time we were together. My heart hurts because somehow this one felt more personal. He’s fucking me from behind, his body flat on top of mine as the phone rests against the headboard, capturing both our faces and his cock disappearing inside me. It was probably the most intense sex we’d ever had.

“Look into the camera.” JJ whispers in my ear in the video. I whimpered as he cupped my throat and forced me to look up, my eyes hooded and my lips parted.

“Watch yourself fall apart for me.” He’d whispered into my ear as he delivered rough, deep strokes. My entire body shivers and I turn away, goosebumps coating my skin as my panties soak further with my arousal. The fucking bastard.

JJ’s hands are suddenly on me and I don’t even fight him. I’m too weak. I miss him so much. I take it when he bends me over the table with a growl and enters me in one hard, deep thrust. His hand fists the back of my shirt as he fucks me hard and fast. I cum quicker than I ever have before, tears in my eyes, as I fight to keep from moaning loudly. His hands slide between us to stroke my clit before I’ve even come back down and my body clenches even harder around his.

“One more. Come on. I know you need it.” JJ urges in my ear. He’s right and I hate him. I shatter into a million pieces before going limp on top of the table as he releases in the condom. I can’t breathe or move as he pulls out, discards the condom and pulls my shorts back up. JJ pulls me to look at him but I don’t want to. It hurts too much.

“Your break is over.” JJ whispers, looking at my lips for a moment before walking away from me. Again.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #jj maybank #outer banks x reader #tw dark content #blueicequeen19 #outer banks fanfiction

[imtrashraccoon]

Uh, this one I had planned from the beginning and I honestly love how it turned out. It definitely got away from me though.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Dust - Vibe Check

Word Count: 1,865

As you entered your apartment, you closed and locked your front door. For a moment you debated putting the deadbolt in place before just doing it, as you never knew what could happen nowadays.

With a sigh, you slipped off your shoes and hung up your coat. Today had been exhausting and your back was killing you from sitting in those office chairs for so long. Still, you could relax now, at least until you had to return to the dreaded grind tomorrow morning. The moment you turned around though, you gasped.

Dust was sitting on your couch.

His skull was propped by his arms and he was hunched forward in a way that couldn't be comfortable for long. He was sitting so still, that you couldn't tell if he even knew you were there or not.

"Hey... Are you okay, buddy?" you asked carefully.

He shifted and glanced up at you, although he was still clutching his skull with his gloved hands. Did he have a headache? There were dark grooves underneath his eye sockets reminiscent of eye bags that humans got when they didn't sleep well. His mismatched eyelights seemed quite as well and almost glossed over, like he wasn't quite focusing on you, or anything else for that matter.

His gaze seemed to pierce through to your soul and yet, he said nothing. It was almost as if the person you knew as Dust wasn't actually there at the moment and you were looking into the hollow eye sockets of a husk.

"Oh boy... I'm gonna guess that you've had a rough day so far."

He didn't respond.

You shifted uncomfortably under his steady gaze and looked around for anything that might solve the mood of Mr. Spooky Scary. "Do you...mind if I just go get changed out of these work clothes? I'll be right back, okay?"

You didn't expect an answer and didn't receive one either. So, you decided to just give him a bit of space for a few minutes while you settled down a little now that you were home. At least he seemed passive at the moment and not hostile like you'd previously witnessed.

Once you were in comfy clothes, you re-entered the living room and found Dust in much the same position you'd left him in. You elected to unpack your bag and put things away though before trying to interact with him further.

Although, you couldn't help hating the silence and decided to try to engage in conversation with him. "I had a bad day too. I mean, it probably wasn't as bad as yours but still... I get it," you said quietly.

No response.

"One of my coworkers neglected to finish a report last week and the client practically raised hell until we got it done. So the big boss has been on us all day."

You sighed and shook your head, "It's frustrating getting punished for a problem an idiot caused that I had no involvement in."

Dust was still ignoring you, or at least, you couldn't tell if he was actually listening or not. Maybe you should try cheering him up? Although, you'd have to do something to shock him out of his current staring contest with the floor first.

You had to be careful not to startle him too badly though as you generally quite liked being alive. Plucking a small throw pillow from its place on the couch, you hesitated for a moment before actually following through with your "prank."

You lightly smacked the top of his skull with the pillow; not nearly hard enough to hurt of course, just to get his attention.

"Vibe check."

He was startled more than you'd expected and sort of jumped to get away from your rather pathetic assault. His eyelights flickered wildly before focusing on you and his expression morphed into one of annoyance.

"what are you-!?"

You hushed him with an outstretched finger and pursed your lips in a thoughtful way. "Hm...your vibe seems...annoyed and bewildered," you said in the most serious tone you could muster.

"no kidding! do you have no survival instincts or something?!" Dust growled.

You tilted your head and pretended to think for a moment. "Huh... Considering Axe once asked me pretty much the same question, no... I think they're probably broken, at least when it comes to skeletons anyways."

He stared at you in disbelief before collapsing back against the backrest of the couch. "well that explains a lot..." he muttered and ran a gloved hand over his face.

You frowned slightly as you studied him. It really bothered you to see him, or anyone for that matter, upset like this. He'd come here on purpose though so that must mean he actually wanted to be with you. However, you were a little confused why, as he hadn't been exactly nice in the few interactions you'd had so far with him.

Sitting down on the couch next to him, you reached over and gently put your hand on his arm. "I'm sorry for scaring you like that just now, Dust. If you need to talk about whatever's bothering you, I'm here, okay?"

He shook his skull and remained silent.

You stayed there for a few seconds but when he didn't respond further, you decided to let it go. You'd tried, but if he didn't want to tell you, then you couldn't make him. Just as you withdrew your hand though, he seemed to realize that you'd actually touched him and his mismatched eyelights flicked over to you.

"how do you do that?"

"Do what?"

He vaguely gestured with his hands in the space between you two. "that...thing... how..." He seemed to be having a hard time articulating his thoughts all of the sudden. "how do you make your intent so...gentle...?"

Now you were also confused. "I don't know? Is it not usually like that?"

He stared at you blankly like you'd just asked an incredibly dumb question. "no...it's not. most humans only utilize it to attack other people."

"Oh."

"did someone teach you or something?"

You shook your head slowly. "No...? I don't have magic so I wasn't ever considered for mage training."

"so you just do this? like all the time and you never noticed? in fact, not even a monster noticed before now?" His tone of voice sounded skeptical but there was also a twinge of disbelief.

"I suppose so..." You crossed your arms when his jaw fell open slightly in shock. "What? I don't have any monster friends besides you and Axe, okay? I'm basically a shut in except for when I need to go to work or go shopping."

"wow...you're actually crazy..." He shook his skull and lightly massaged his temples. "my headache is only getting worse just listening to you..."

"Oh, is that what's bothering you then?" you asked, purposely ignoring his insult.

Dust sighed and frowned at you. "it's one thing i guess...among many others..." he muttered.

You gave him a warm smile in return. "If it'll help you feel better to tell someone, I don't mind."

He muttered something unintelligible and quickly looked away.

"Sorry?"

"fine... just...give me your hand back..." he grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow but held out your hand again.

He hesitated and then reached over, wrapping his pinkie finger around your own. You didn't make any comment and just waited patiently.

"do you know what lv is?"

His voice sounded rather hollow all of the sudden, like all previous emotions had bled away, and you felt a small chill pass down your spine. You did know what LV was, or at least you vaguely knew, thanks to general magic education in school anyways.

"Yeah," you murmured. "Levels of Violence, right?"

He nodded slowly. "do you know what happens to someone with too much lv?"

You didn't like where he was going with this, but you had basically promised to listen to whatever he had to say and weren't about to back out now.

"I'm afraid I don't... They never covered it in school beyond how bad it was to get."

He let out a bitter sounding laugh. "figures..."

A few moments passed before he spoke again. "it's like an addiction... once you have some, you want more, and more, and more... and if you don't get more...well, you go through withdrawals."

You grimaced at the mental picture his rambling brought on. It sounded awful to go through and you couldn't help the immense wave of concern for him that washed over you.

"So, that's why you came here?" you asked.

"yeah..." he murmured, although his voice sounded a little hoarse all of the sudden. "my skull feels like it's gonna explode and my idiot colleague was being annoying."

"Can I try to help you?"

He looked over at you again with surprise almost plastered across his skull. It disappeared quickly and he regained his trademark neutral expression.

"sure, whatever, knock yourself out..." he said with a shrug.

You went to stand up but hesitated when you realized his pinky was still linked with yours. He noticed as well and quickly pulled his hand away, ducking further into his hoodie as he did so. You restrained yourself from teasing him over this school kid behaviour, for now anyways.

First thing on the agenda was to make the room darker and you turned out the lights except for the one in the kitchen for now. It wasn't too dark outside yet, although you didn't want to potentially trip over something when it did get.

"Do you want some water or maybe tea?"

"water's fine."

"And do you prefer an ice pack or a hot bean bag?"

He seemed to mull this over for a moment. "ice pack would be better," he finally said with a shrug.

You disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the items. The ice pack was easy to prepare and the glass of water was even easier. After you'd wrapped the ice pack in a soft cloth, you returned to the living room with the water.

Dust glanced up when you approached but said nothing. You sat down and gave him the items, which he excepted and downed half the water in moments.

You couldn't help but stare at him as he did so. Where did the liquid go? Was he like a bottomless pit or something?

He quickly noticed your staring and shot you a weird look. "what?"

You felt your cheeks heat up from embarrassment and shook your head. "Sorry...I was just thinking is all," you muttered.

A moment later though, you had a question. "Would a head massage be of any benefit for you?"

He seemed actually intrigued by this and pondered it over for a moment. "can't hurt i suppose."

"Then just turn a little so I can actually reach you, okay?"

You spent the next few hours just sitting together in relative silence. Dust was surprisingly mellow considering your first encounter and he basically just tolerated whatever you did. When supper time came, you got up to go make something for the both of you.

He was gone when you turned to ask if he had any particular food preferences though.

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dusttale #dust sans #dust sans x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

[adharastarlight]

Tis The Season

Four: Mail

Jegulus, where Regulus lives with Sirius and Sirius is... alluded to being the boss of some shady shit and James is a bodyguard. Idk it was late and I was sleep deprived

Regulus never got letters, which is why it was so odd that for the past few days he’d practically run to the letter box and retreat into his room. It was even odder that Sirius could hear him giggling from his office. He’d never actually seen what happened, he’d only heard it from the first room next to the front door. But today? Today, he stood in their kitchen and stared at the door, trying to figure out what magic it now possessed.

At exactly ten twenty five, Sirius heard Regulus’ alarm go off. At exactly ten thirty, Reg walked out of his room, stifling a yawn and went over to the door. At exactly ten thirty two a letter fell through the slot into his waiting hands. It had been the same for almost a week.

“Reggie?”

The younger brother froze where he stood for a second before turning to face him. Sirius usually had a meeting at ten fifteen which lasted until eleven. “Good morning, don’t you have a meeting?”

Sirius held up his phone, the screen showing he was indeed on a call, but muted. He tapped his ear where he had his headphone and smiled, “I’ll know if they need me, it’s the same boring drivel.”

“You’re the boss, why do you even need to be in all of the meetings?”

“I’m a hands-on boss. What’s the letter?”

“It’s nothing.” He shifted the weight of the paper between his hands slightly and forced a convincing smile, “do you want to order in tonight?”

“You never get mail.”

Regulus shrugged, “well I wouldn’t know what it was unless I’d opened it, hm?”

“Oh, right of course. But our mailman does his deliveries at eight and no one else has access to the foyer. Unless you’ve given them the code?”

“I’m not an idiot, Sirius, besides, plenty of people have the code.”

“People who work for me.”

“You are indeed the boss.” He shifted his weight again and rubbed at his eyes, feigning more exhaustion than he was experiencing. “Can I go back to bed now?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at him, “is there a security breach, Reggie?”

“What? No!”

“You can’t trust everyone, you know?”

The younger scoffed and moved to walk past him but he was stopped in his tracks by his brother stepping practically into him. He glowered at him, “move.”

“This is serious.”

Reg rolled his eyes, “no, that’s you. Now budge.”

“You might like them, Reggie, but it’s not safe for anyone to have that code other than the people I directly give it to.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I know all about the bloody business. No need to remind me. I’m perfectly safe. I don’t even open the bloody door.”

The older brother straightened up, “Regulus.”

He groaned and lifted his tee slightly to show the gun resting in the elastic of his shorts, “happy?”

Sirius stared at him for a moment, “where did you-”

“Oh please. Did you think I thought you were the CEO of a tech company? I’m twenty-three, Siri, I’m not naive. You could keep me locked in this apartment forever and all it would show me was the ways out.”

“I told you not to… it’s not safe, Regulus!”

“Well, I’ve not died yet. You might as well train me, I’ll be joining the others anyway.”

“Don’t be absurd, and don’t change the subject. Who did you give the code to?”

Regulus just smiled, “I didn’t.”

“Then-”

“You did. They’re on your payroll.”

“Everyone on my payroll is in the meetin-” he broke off and stared at the letter, then at his brother’s face, at the door, back at his phone. He hung up without a word and called a different number. “My baby brother? Are you kidding me, James?”

“Hello to you too.”

Sirius cursed under his breath and Reg was mildly worried he’d snap his phone in half, “did you tell him?”

“No, of course I didn’t. He’s not an idiot. He’s known for years.”

“He’s- you’ve known for years?!”

Regulus shrugged and smiled again, “most of your plans would have failed.”

“You messed with my plans?”

“I fixed them.”

He glared at him somehow more but turned his attention back to James, “I told you to guard the fucking perimeter not drop off love letters.”

“You can’t assign me as the bodyguard to someone so beautiful and expect me to just be fine.”

“I will kill you.”

James scoffed and the brother’s heard the door to the foyer open. Reg felt his cheeks heat and he quickly ducked into his bedroom to change, “no, you won’t. I’ve kept him safe for years.”

“Whilst what? Flirting with him?!”

“Sure… flirting… yep. Anyway, I'm almost there, one second.” He hung up the phone and there was a very smug sounding knock on the door. You might be wondering how someone could make a knock sound smug but if anyone could, it would be James Fucking Potter.

Sirius typed in the code to unlock the door and flung it open with a dramatic huff, “you’re dead, Potter.”

“You’ve said. Where is he?”

“I hate you. I’m the bloody boss and-”

Regulus walked out of his room in a hoodie Sirius distinctly remembers not buying, “hey, mon amour. Sirius, breathe. I mean, this is really your own fault. If you’re going to lock me in here and the only man I’d have access to is this fucking hot? Your own fault.”

“I-”

“Careful, mate, you’ll catch flies if you keep gaping like that. Hi, sweetheart, c’mere.”

He smiled and walked over just slow enough that it could be considered walking before jumping up and giggling when he was caught by the brunette. He wrapped his legs around his waist and knocked their foreheads together, “hi.”

Sirius was staring at them again, his mouth still agape, “you- he- you’re… you’re dating?”

“What did you think it was?”

“I don’t know! A secret admirer thing! How did you two even-”

James smiled, “when you go out on business, I mean, really he’s far safer with me in the apartment than me just strolling around outside.”

“And I’m much safer going out with him than sneaking out alone.”

The older brother threw his hands up in defeat and walked back into his office, holding out a gun to Reg, “come on then, we better get started on that training. And get rid of that piece of shit, you need a proper gun now.”

#im not too pleased with this #but i didnt have time to write something better #soooo yeah #tis the season #marauders #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #dead gay wizards #james x regulus #sirius black #remus lupin #starchaser #wolfstar #sirius orion black #regulus arcturus black #the black brothers #james fleamont potter #jegulus microfic #microfic #marauders microfic

[radiant-reid]

hiii could you do like a blurb on spence when he’s in crutches in season 5 and he’s not resting he’s does cases and everything but reader wants him to rest so gives him head or something i don’t know🤭

no bc he is so cute and he deserves so much head

"Spencer Reid, you'll sit down right now if you don't want me calling Hotch." You warn your boyfriend as he tries to sneak into your home office. It's part of his reinstatement that he can't do any extra work from home. He can't understand how it's meant to protect him from overexerting himself while he's not 100% healthy.

Even though he's usually the rigorous rule follower, you have your turn when it comes to making sure your boyfriend is healthy.

He sighs loudly as he does what he's told, making sure you know he's in the living room by turning on the TV. "Sorry, I forgot you were the boss of me." He grovels.

"Well, you'll stop complaining if you want your juice." You tell him, treating him like he's a child. You hand the cup to him before sitting down next to him. "Feel okay?"

"I promise I'm okay." He assures you. "And thank you for my juice. You know, we should really get to the grocery store, and I did say I'd vacuum."

You shake your head. "Nope. You're going to sit here all weekend and watch TV or read. No chores and no errands."

"I get antsy when I have to sit around." He complains, throwing his head back against the cushion.

"I know." You agree with a laugh. "I guess, I just have to find a way to help you relax." You say suggestively, reaching down to touch his pants.

Spencer's head and eyes snap to you, focusing on what you're saying with excited interest. "Yeah, how will you do that? I mean, I'm bored."

You continue to palm his pants as he grows harder, making him groan a little. "Well, I'm quite entertaining, aren't I?" You ask with a smile.

"Going to put on a show for me, darling?" He asks with a grin.

You nod, slipping down onto the rug-covered hardwood floor. He's already got his injured leg elevated, and he moves his other thigh apart so you can get between them. He rests his palm on your cheek, thumb stroking over your cheekbone as you get him worked up over the top of his pants.

"Need more." He grovels, still fidgeting. "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely." You agree, unzipping his pants and pulling them down as far as you can without him having to move. You take him out of his boxers, pumping over his length. "So pretty, Spence." You trace over his head, mesmerized by smearing his pre-cum around.

In the interest of not making him wait too long and become whiney, you take him into your mouth, tongue tracing each popping vein. You continue to take him further down your mouth, bobbing your head up and down.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He moans, threading his fingers through your hair and scooping it up into a ponytail.

You smirk, holding eye contact as you sink your head completely down, fitting his full length down your throat. It's not an easy task by any means, but you're well-practiced.

You trace the underside of his cock with your tongue, earning a plethora of moans from his lips. It's easily your favorite sound in the world.

He keeps his beautiful lips parted while you keep yours moving along him, gagging lightly each time he hits the back of your throat in a way you know he loves. You move your hand to cup his balls, something that drives him even closer to the edge.

"Shit." He groans, rutting his hips up into your face. There's no rhythm, and you know it's a clear warning sign he's about to cum. "G-gonna cum."

You wink up at him while swirling your tongue over his tip, and it's enough to have him bursting in your mouth, balls tightening. He lays there blissed out, head against the cushion with a smile on his face.

"That's all I had to do to stop your bitching?" You joke, getting up with the help of the hand he offered you.

"Yeah, and it'll work every time." He agrees, pulling you closer to him so he can kiss you. He's never been afraid to taste his own cum in your mouth, always willing to kiss you. "Also." He trails off slightly, and you know the next thing that comes out of his mouth is going to be cheeky. "You need to call Hotch and explain what you just did. I'm technically not allowed to have sex for another two weeks."

You punch him in the shoulder. "You're such a dick. If I have to call our boss to tell him you've had oral sex, I'm saying to was with someone else."

Spencer scoffs. "He'd never believe that."

"True." You agree. "He knows you're obsessed with me."

"And your lips and tongue." He adds on.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb

[prolix-yuy]

Reflective

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader

Summary: His management style is effective AND refreshing. And as his executive assistant, you're partially to thank. But as your professional relationship blurs, are you getting too close to the middle manager monster of nightmares?

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, horror elements and themes, graphic descriptions of blood including drinking, background character un-death, violence, fingering (f-receiving), vomiting (not descriptive), descriptions of a panic attack, a dabble of sleazy coworkers, playing fast and loose with vampire lore.

Notes: Heeeeeeere's LJ! I'm back from my October hiatus just in time for a Halloween fic! Thank you again to @harriedandharassed for the prompt "How does Max Phillips handle not being able to see himself in the mirror?" I was grasping at something to write for Halloween and this prompt came at the perfect time.

This story will include horror elements such as violence, descriptions of blood and some graphic scenes. If that's not your cup of tea, scroll on friend! It was fun to go back to some of my horror writing roots, especially mixing it with the dry comedy of Bloodsucking Bastards. It's Max season babes, and I could not resist writing for this smarmy boy.

There is a part 2, which will post tomorrow. The Discord besties made an excellent suggestion right after I finished the story, and it was so good I needed an addendum. So without further ado, enjoy lovelies and Happy Halloween!

Cross-posted on AO3

If anyone asked Max Phillips what the worst part about becoming a vampire is, he’d probably tell them things like “not getting a tan” or “swearing off Italian food” or “always getting complaints about cold feet”. The last one was often followed by a lewd comment to get a pretty young thing in bed with him to prove it. It’s all farce, of course, clever little quips you’re sure he practiced just like you’d rehearse for a job interview. It gives you a funny little trill when you catch one of those lines again, because you know the truth.

He hates that he can’t see himself in mirrors.

Being Max’s executive assistant, you’re trusted with more than some of your colleagues. Well, that’s debatable, you’ve heard horror stories. But your friend Carla’s stories about her boss’ wife choosing his Peloton instructors for minimum hotness pales in comparison to your early morning runs to blood banks and private contracts with hospital cleanup crews. Max might not be a centuries old vampire, but he’s planning on getting there. You can’t live several lifetimes with a messy trail anymore.

Enter you.

The job listing had been normal enough: Executive assistant. Five years experience. Good references. Not squeamish. Discreet. It was the last three words that piqued your interest the most. You wouldn’t call yourself delicate, at least not for the things Max needed you to do. Your stomach turned when men wanted to stay the night, or your parents begged you to come home for Thanksgiving. Not so much when you had to bag a severed hand. 

When it came to the interview you almost walked straight back out of his office before saying a word. The moment you saw him you knew his type. Arrogant, self-centered, prideful, smooth with a customer and cruel in the next breath if you were in his way. You’d seen too many people like him, avoided working with them at all cost. He was young enough that boomer sexism probably wouldn’t be an issue, but you could smell the demand coming off of him. He’d be a yeller, a paperweight thrower, or worse require you to be on call 24/7. You clocked him in a glance and felt the claw of escape behind your ribcage.

And then Max Phillips did something that convinced you to reconsider just as quickly. He stood from his desk, ushered you in, looked you and your resume over for a moment, and spoke.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Max Phillips, Director of Sales, and I’m a vampire.”

The quick introduction, complete with another curious word at the end, made you bark out a laugh.

“What kind are we talking about? Emotionally, mentally…” you rattle off, tight posture relaxing just a fraction. If he was joking with you, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Oh you know, the usual kind. With the blood,” he says nonchalantly, baring his teeth dramatically when your eyebrows raise. 

“You don’t say.”

“I do, actually. And you want to be my assistant.”

The conversation flows, with some fits and starts as you realize he’s not kidding. He is indeed a vampire, tossed out like his zodiac sign. The questions he peppers off range from highly professional (tell me a time when you performed well under pressure) to unsettlingly irregular (do you know how to remove blood stains from silk?). You shoot the answers back just as quickly, waiting for the moment when either the charade will drop…or you’ll get the job. Because you want it now. It’s easily the most interesting thing you’ll do in your whole life. 

“I think that’s all I need,” Max ends abruptly, shuffling your resume into a pile with some others. Panic grips you, and you rush into your next sentence without breathing.

“Are there any concerns you have about my qualifications?” 

Max raises an eyebrow and smiles, one that is much too charming to be in its path too long. Casting your eyes down, you glance at the worn-out toes of your nice interview heels, bemoaning getting them out of the closet for another failed interview.

“On paper you’re perfect,” Max says, and being in the same sentence as perfect skitters up your spine for a moment. You bat it away peevishly. “I only worry that you don’t have the constitution for what I’m looking for.” You shift on your feet, pull one corner of your lip between your teeth while you think. It makes you miss Max’s too-long glance at your mouth.

“I’ve watched all of the Saw movies,” you finally say, meeting Max’s eyes with determination. It makes him bleat out a laugh. 

“Okay, not squeamish. Those are movies, though, and this is the real deal,” he teases. “Favorite vampire movie?”

“Let the Right One In,” you answer quickly, your face scrunching with regret seconds after. “Or Only Lovers Left Alive. I watched Queen of the Damned three times at a sleepover once. Have you ever seen Vampire’s Kiss? The one with Nic…” Max’s chuckle lets you trail off into silence.

“And you didn’t even say Twilight.”

You were signing employment paperwork the next day.

Most executive assistants put up with a certain layer of bullshit on a daily basis. Booking flights, picking up paperwork, schedule maintenance. You’d stood in line for four hours to pick up a previous employer’s new iPhone once. 

Max had very different needs. 

You were briefed on your duties in the privacy of his office. While he did reveal to you how many of his sales force were turned by his hand (or fang, you thought with a giggle), discretion was still a priority. He needed someone to go to his blood bank hookup a few times a week, take care of daytime activities when the sun beat down too hard. Body disposal on very rare occasions (so far only the one time) among all of the normal activities you thought you were signing up for. 

The one duty that gave you pause, made you tap your nail on the printed line, was close to the bottom of your orientation packet.

“You need me to ‘maintain your appearance’?” you asked, looking up at Max from across the shiny acrylic tabletop. He was lounging back in his chair, knee pressed against the edge of the desk and spread out with boredom. He rolled his head to his shoulder as you flipped the page around to show him.

“Oh that. Yeah, I need you to check me over, make sure everything looks sharp, especially if I’m going to a big meeting.” You quirked a brow at him.

“Can’t you just look in…a…oh,” you said, slowing to a molasses vowel by the end. 

“Yeah, mirrors and I haven’t been on speaking terms since Romania,” he sighed, one heavy thumb tracing the crest of his full lower lip. You tried not to notice the subconscious stroke. 

“So you need me to…be your mirror. Make sure your hair isn’t a mess and you don’t have spinach in your teeth.” You were rewarded with a sheepish nod from Max. “Huh.”

“Huh what?”

“What else is true about vampires? Or fake, I’ll take either,” you asked, crossing your legs and settling into the wildly uncomfortable modern chair. Max’s smile turned secretive, and that was the first moment you felt him brand you his confidant.

“The sunlight thing is a bummer. I miss the beach, and swimming in the ocean. Garlic just makes my mouth go numb. Inviting someone into your home has a lot more loopholes than you think. And the sign of the cross does jack shit.” You nodded, making a mental list of even more questions to pepper into everyday conversation.

“Why do you think that all is? Because you’re essentially…undead?” you prodded, getting another bark of a laugh from Max and a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hey, undead is a little harsh. It’s more like…a virulent vitamin deficiency. If I don’t get what I need, everything starts to shut down.” Max pondered on this analogy for a long moment, looking at a dull mass-produced corporate painting. 

“But all the superstitions…like why are those true?”

Max shrugged, running his thumb along the inseam of his dress slacks in a way that pulled your eyes to his thick thighs.

“It’s not like there’s a manual for this. Half the stuff is supposed to be because I ‘have no soul’,” Max made finger quotes as he says this. “But mirrors stopped being silver backed ages ago and I still have to be careful when I go into the men’s room.” He shrugged, taking an exaggerated sip from his iced coffee straw. “I just know what works and what doesn’t, and you just need to help with those gaps, pretty girl.”

You almost choke on your tongue, shooting Max a warning look. He raises his hands in deference, but keeps a raised brow.

"Sorry, I call it like I see it. Can't have someone with poor taste in charge of my appearance."

"Yeah and if you don't want to walk in to a meeting with HQ with a Kick Me post-it on your back, you'll be mindful of that mouth of yours."

The crinkles around Max's eyes deepen, something knowing passing by, but he nods in acquiescence.

It’s honestly not as bad as you thought it might be. You could even call it boring. Max thankfully isn’t a paperweight thrower, though he does speak to most of his subordinates like they’re idiots. Never you, thankfully, he’s all smiles and winks and traded comments during your daily interactions. You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

Routine is your master, and you follow its pattern to the letter. It’s what makes you a great assistant. First thing in the morning is Max’s coffee order, set on his desk atop a coaster you provided when you saw the coffee cup stains. He whirls in, all noise and breeze, and you help him get ready for his morning meetings. A straightened tie - you can practically knot one blindfolded now - a quick sweep of fingers through his short hair, a pantomimed smile so he shows you his teeth. It’s all utilitarian, fast, not thrilling or intimate in a way you’d rarely been with a man. Of course not. That would be…unprofessional.

Lunch involves a teakettle, a blood bag, and a deep bowl that you use to warm his meal. All done in the safety and privacy of the kitchenette in his office. You pour the contents - a balmy 98.6 degrees by the time you’re finished - into a silver to-go cup, which he takes with appreciation when he bursts in. The first few weeks you left right after, but once you were more settled he asked you to stay while he sipped on his “lunch”. The conversation was always interesting, if not a little one-sided.

“You really don’t want to eat like, a salad or something? It’s just O-Positive Capri Suns for the rest of your life?” you asked, stabbing at some lettuce in your tupperware. Max laughed, a braying short one, and put his chin in his hand.

“You can technically eat cardboard and not be hungry, but it’s not food, pretty girl,” he replied, a shit-eating grin stretched across his broad face. You'd scolded him enough about the nickname that it's almost a joke now, except for how those words made you feel. His lips were a deeper red, and the sight plucked at something forbidden in your chest. Not disgust, more like morbid fascination. The sight pulled something primal to the surface, his tongue several shades darker when he licked an errant drop back into the lush cavern of his mouth. 

You are not allowed to be lusting after your vampire boss is your mantra when thoughts run rampant.

The afternoons tend to be boring, filled with schedule juggling or email management. Max is often occupied through to the end of day, so you’re left to your own devices. You have a lot of “guys” now, as Max calls them. A blood guy, a disposal guy, a law enforcement guy. It makes you feel important in a way other jobs have lacked. You spend your afternoons making arrangements, both professional and personal, for your boss. It’s when you get the bulk of your work done, but it’s also when you have to be most on guard. 

You see, Max has a few other “hungry” employees, and as the day grows long they tend to saunter by and watch you with barely veiled appetites. Brad in sales is the boldest, leaning over your desk and making a show out of smelling you with half-lidded eyes. Creepy. You’d told him off several times, but as he likes to say with just the right amount of douche, “I’m a closer baby, I always get the deal.”

In the metaphor you’re not sure what part of the “deal” you are, but you have no intention of finding out. Enough polite excuses and faked phone calls have kept him at bay, but you worry what might happen if he gets bolder, or gathers a few more vamps to sway your opinion. Is there a clause in your contract about not getting turned into a creature of the night? You should have checked.

The end of the day is often a quick affair. Max gets a debrief of anything important that came up, and what’s on the docket for tomorrow. Normally he packs up his suitcase with a little small talk, bids you a good night, and is off to do…whatever a vampire does when he’s off work. 

Today, however, the script has a few additions.

“What’s wrong?” Max says, movements slowing as he takes in your shaking hand placing an itinerary on his desk. You tighten, smile forced.

“Nothing! Just fine,” you spit out, which only increases Max’s suspicion.

“Did something happen? Did someone say something to you?” he asks, voice dropping to a low fuck-that’s-hot register. You swallow hard and will something, anything to come to mind.

“Just Brad being Brad. I don’t think he’s turned anyone in a while and he’s getting desperate,” you try to chuckle lightly, but Max’s eyes darken. He stands to his full height, shoulders straining against his jacket. Planting his hands on his hips, he pins you in his sight.

“Did he touch you?” This is a true growl now, and Max’s face changes into a terrifying mask, perfect teeth suddenly lengthening to points as he fights against the rush. Your mouth drops open, but only monosyllabic words come out.

“No. Safe,” you gasp, and the simple admission sobers Max. His jaw ticks, rolling his shoulders and jaw until the transformation recedes. You wish your heartbeat could slow that quickly. After a few steadying breaths, Max finally turns back to you.

If his gaze was electric before, it’s damn close to lightning when your eyes meet. The jolt pulses in your veins, and his nostrils flare briefly.

“I’ll take care of it,” he says, all smooth professionalism like you haven’t just watched him vamp out because a coworker was a sleaze. You nod once, grateful, trying to ignore the sweet friction taking a step back gives to your core. 

“Will there be anything else?” you ask, the customary end to your daily exchanges. Max gathers his briefcase, movements purposeful but fast. 

“Nothing more, enjoy your night,” he answers, slipping past you with a wave of copper and musk that can’t be hidden by his Hermès cologne. You echo the sentiment but wait to take a full breath until you hear the elevator ding.

The next day Max walks in like a goddamn gladiator, powerful strides and testosterone rolling off his wool jacket. You can sense him before you see him, sometimes wondering if that’s part of the power he wields.

“Good morning!” he booms out, coming to a stop in front of your desk. You type out the end of your sentence and turn to him, smile at the ready, when your eyes drop to a box in his hand. The smile twists to confused amusement.

“What’s that?” you ask as he places the box in front of you with a pat to the silk bow neatly wrapping it. 

“Happy six months of working here,” he says with more pomp than necessary. You narrow your eyes; it’s only been four, but his face is eager so you shrug it off. The bow is buttery soft under your fingers, and your heart rate ticks up rapidly. The box hinges open, and nestled inside is a women’s Rolex watch. 

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s stunning, the perfect mix of feminine and authoritative. Gleaming oystersteel and everose gold, diamonds circling the watch face laser etched with delicate leaves. It’s easily worth four months of your pay. Your mouth drops open in disbelief.

“Max, I can’t…” you start, but he places his palms on your desk and leans close, tilting his head to one side to favor your cheek with his spearmint breath.

“Wear it. No one will dare touch you, pretty girl. I promise.” His eyes are darkly confident, and the reassurance does ease the shock of the gift. 

“Okay,” you manage to squeak out. “Thank you, Max.” He nods once with a lopsided smile before returning to the usual routine of your day. While he settles in, you slide the ungodly expensive timepiece out of the box and onto your wrist. It snaps shut in a perfect fit, and the thought of Max demonstrating your wrist size to the sales person makes heat radiate in your cheeks. 

Miraculously, he was right. Brad spies you in the afternoon but one look at the watch has him about-face and leaving twice as quick as he came. At lunch the next day you ask Max about it. He smiles conspiratorially, leaning up against his desk to look down at you seated with your sandwich. You might have thought he was trying to cop a peek at your cleavage, but you had a turtleneck on today, and his eyes didn’t roam from your face.

“The sign of the cross doesn’t do shit…for me. I wasn’t a church-going kid, never got into anything organized. For a talisman to work, the belief has to be twofold. You have to believe it will protect you, and they have to believe it too. So if you want real protection against something out to get you, you have to know them intimately.” He pauses, thumb absently rubbing along the line of his bicep where he’s folded his arms. “If you both believe, anything can work.” 

“Like this?” you ask, lifting your wrist with a twist. A flash of something passes over Max’s face before he gives you a lopsided smile.

“You believe it protects you?” he asks, his voice dropping into a softer lilt. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“You told me it did.”

“And they all believe it does, because I gave it to you.” An unspoken phrase hangs between you.

I’ll protect you.

“Could have chosen something less flashy,” you joke, needing to cut through the heaviness in the air. Max’s smile cracks his face, shaking his head as he moves to his side of the desk.

“Where’s the fun in that? You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

"And you're on thin ice, Max."

"My favorite place to be."

When it’s actually your six month anniversary, Max schedules a dinner for you. Private chef, live music, a beautiful venue. He told you to bring whoever you wanted, and his name dances on the bow of your lips for a moment. You thought hope might be in his eyes that you’d let it spill. But cowardice struck, and instead you brought your two sisters. They gush over the decadence.

“Are you sure he doesn’t want to fuck you?” One says, forking another mouthful of the best chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted into her mouth. “This is like, fourth date level extravagance.”

“He’s my boss, god. Just shut up and eat.”

“I’m just saying, my husband takes me to the Cheesecake Factory, and while I will never say no to another round of Bang Bang Shrimp, this is above and beyond what anyone would expect from your boss.” 

Your other sister doesn’t say anything until you’re alone.

“Just…be careful. This could get really messy.”

Oh you have no idea.

You nod, folding your hands under your chin and looking out at the glittering skyline.

“I will, I promise. We just have a…different working relationship than anyone’s used to. But he’s never made me feel uncomfortable.” 

Quite the opposite, really. You’ve never been so comfortable with another person in your life. You’d given him floss picks and wiped shaving cream from behind his ear, smoothed flyaways and cupped his chin to inspect an uneven sideburn. He’d let you touch every part of him without comment, brushing lint from his broad shoulders and tucking inside-out pockets back into their rightful homes. 

In return, he treated you with respect. Apart from the nickname, which you won't admit you've come to enjoy, he treated you kindly and professionally. He was a womanizer, but not with you. You weren’t naive, he was definitely fucking plenty of women in the last few months you’d been working for him. Sometimes you saw the ghosts of them in his suitcase, or crumpled in pockets. Once you’d been ready to knock on his closed door but high, breathy moans held your hand at bay. Janet from Web Design left an hour later (impressive, though you’d never say it) and Max called you in shortly after, hands freshly washed and the heavy musk of sex combating faux floral notes of air freshener. Neither of you addressed it.

The difference, you assumed, was professional. He lauded your work, told you how much he appreciated how smooth you made everything for him. He wouldn’t want to fuck that up for a quickie over his desk. Or against the mahogany door. Or on the kitchenette floor, his reddened lips leaving sticky trails on your breasts. 

The blast of chill outside the restaurant sobers your thoughts. You send a text to Max, thanking him for the dinner and sending a couple selfies of you and your sisters. His return text is swift.

You deserve it, pretty girl. Looking gorgeous.

The wine loosens your inhibitions just enough to send a text back. 

What?

Instant response.

Guess.

Your hands start shaking too hard to respond, suddenly feeling much tipsier than you thought. Typing a hasty, “Thanks again, good night,” you get into the cab and spend the ride home regulating your breathing. Max doesn’t respond.

Minor issues aside - a rowdy employee or two, some tense negotiations, a race to the finish one month for sales - you like your work. You’re considering settling in, maybe not looking for the next big thing for a little while. The pay is good, the benefits are better than most, and you’re happy. For the first time in years, you actually look forward to coming to the office. And a tiny part of you that you hide away knows why.

The start of October is always a favorite time of year for you. Scary movies in abundance on TV, fall decor, and the excitement of heading into the darker months. Thanksgiving and Christmas are fine in their own rights, but Halloween is your personal favorite. You don’t add frivolity to your desk beyond a tiny pumpkin next to your pen cup, which Max eyes with a wry little smile, and a bucket of Halloween candy that anyone is welcome to dip into. It twists the mood just a fraction away from corporate dullness to corporate-appropriate holiday spirit. You even catch Max with his hand in the candy jar once or twice, waving a snack-size Twix or KitKat as he comes and goes. 

You do wonder if the childishness of the holiday is something Max dislikes. 

“It’s a little naive,” he bemoans, swallowing the dregs of blood from his insulated mug as you wash your tupperware in his kitchenette sink. Wordlessly you hold a hand out for the empty cup to clean. “Seeing everyone gallivanting around, pantomiming monsters, when they’re all too real.”

“More than vamps? Friends with any werewolves?” you tease, soaping up the sponge designated for Max’s lunches and scrubbing the congealed mess out of the lid threads. 

“Would you like to meet one?” he answers, a sing-song mockery of your own joke. 

“God no, I have enough supernatural shenanigans with you,” you laugh, washing your hands clean so you don’t smell of copper. You’re careful to slide the gifted Rolex back around your wrist when you’re finished, a ritual Max watches closely every time. Clearing your throat, you gather up your lunch bag and move to leave.

“Maybe a Halloween party would be good for morale,” Max says nonchalantly, voice stopping you in the door. You wrestle the smile off your face before turning back to him.

“Would you like me to arrange something?” you ask, failing to keep your expression breezy. Max flashes that conspirator’s grin that drums up excitement in your chest.

“Please.”

The office latches onto the party date, only a couple days before Halloween proper. There will be food, drinks, a few small prizes for best costume and raffles. You count down the days with mounting excitement, the spirit of the season making you bouncier, lighter in and out of work. Max teases you about it.

“So you’re not going to tell me what you’re going as?” he wheedles, watching you lay piles of paperwork in neat folders on his desk. You shake your head, clucking your tongue when you notice you’re one short.

“Half the fun is the surprise,” you call over your shoulder as you speed back to your desk and return with the final folder. Max doesn’t even pretend he’s interested in the documents. “What are you going to be?” His eyebrow cocks, shaking his head with derision.

“I’m a vampire, honey, I am my own costume,” he drawls, making you roll your eyes.

“So I should expect a cape with a high collar? Some dollar store plastic fangs? Hair gel?” you tease, making your hands into claws over the desk. “I vant to suck your blooooood!” you mime in your best Dracula impression, getting your own eye roll in return.

“If you’re not telling, I’m not,” he throws back, finally scooting forward in his chair and opening one of the folders. You straighten up, triumphant, and leave him to his work.

The day of the party greets you with excitement. You made the decision to go subtle, since you’ll be sitting in costume all day. Your coworkers would have time to change before the party, but you were organizing and didn’t have that luxury. So on went a sensible white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and sheer black nylons. Slipping them up your legs, you grind your lip between your teeth. The back seam of the nylons, paired with the black stiletto heels you found in your closet, turn the dress from something mundane to possibly recognizable. When you turn your back to the mirror, crossing your ankles prettily, one of the most recognizable movie posters in history pulls to the forefront. 

You could give Maggie Gyllenhaal a run for her money.

The last piece - an addition that turns the costume from seductive to silly - you tuck into the chest pocket of your blouse before leaving. 

The day passes quickly, Max calling to tell you he’s meeting with HQ through lunch and to get the festivities started without him. You usher in the caterers, laughing with your coworkers when they ask what your costume is. So far the cover story works, and they all enjoy the clever play on words. 

The party is in full swing, raffle tickets being handed out and drinks starting to flow, when Max enters. His voice precedes him, and it’s a good thing it does because if you didn’t have that brief moment to gather yourself your mouth would have dropped open.

It’s a perfect recreation of Gary Oldman’s Dracula costume. It’s so on the nose a laugh almost bubbles out if you weren’t breathless. He’s swathed head to toe in dove gray, save for the sharp shock of black around his neck, the shine of his shoes, the rich dark leather of his gloves. The waistcoat pulls tantalizingly against his stomach, a bright silver pin at the base of his throat. He’s slicked his hair into a side part, small blue-tinted glasses perched halfway down his curved nose. Leaning on the walking stick and crossing his ankles, he makes a sweeping “ta-da!” motion with his hand. Applause erupts, giving you cover to gasp in some much-needed air. 

“To All Hallows' Eve,” he croons, sharing secret looks with the team members you know are his brethren. By the time he catches your eye across the room you’ve finally comported yourself, smiling brightly at his nod. 

It takes him some time to get to you, fighting through the crowd of people wanting to rub elbows and make an impression. He gives them all their five minutes of fame in his presence, annoyance slowly ticking up with each stop. You keep busy organizing the raffle, handing out voting sheets (Max will certainly win best costume) and watching him out of the corner of your eye.

It’s at the first lull in your duties that Max slides up next to you, a warm hand on your lower back. It makes you jump, but settle quickly when his impressed smile comes into view.

“I think I know what you’re supposed to be,” he murmurs, coming to stand in front of you to get a better look. His brow furrows when his gaze lands on your breast pocket. “Hmmm, maybe not. So spill, what’s your costume?” he says, leaning on the cane and dragging his gaze up and down your body. Aiming for a carefree smile, you tap on the little calculator peeking out of your pocket.

“I’m someone you can count on,” you enunciate, the confusion and realization swirling in his eyes until a laugh bubbles out, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you came to the party as a pun,” he chokes out, both of you now giggling next to the bags of chips and finger sandwiches. When he finally gets control of himself he nods approvingly.

“Well, you might not win best costume with that…” You shrug, conceding, “but I’d give you the prize if you admit what you actually came as, pretty girl.”

Time slows to sticky seconds as Max inches closer to you, eyes sliding over your shoulder, tracing the curve of your neck, lighting for much too long on your lips. He knows, knows you wore the outfit from Secretary and for no one else but him. You keep your stare trained on his face. It’s not the first time you’ve considered throwing out professionalism in favor of hunger. It’s not like anyone else has been upholding your rigorous standards. Would it be so bad to let Max chase his desires with your body? To bloom underneath him, above him, around him? Would you like the taste of his mouth, coppery and thick? 

He’s close enough to be more than professional but not so close to be indecent, hot fingers tracing the band of the Rolex circling your wrist. Your mind blearily wonders if that’s when you let down the wall that kept him out. His eyes finally meet yours, a question in their depth, before his face contorts and he steps back quickly, a grimace painting his features.

“Are…” You swallow, mouth torturously dry. “Are you okay?” 

He nods, fighting on a smile and straightening with effort.

“Yes, sorry, I was…busy this afternoon, haven’t eaten yet.” He raises his hands in defense at your scolding glance, the tension back to a bare simmer. 

“Well go get a drink, I won’t announce the winners until you get back,” you say breathlessly, giving him a dazzling smile that he returns shyly. The tables are turned for once in your favor, and you savor watching Max on unsure footing. “Do you need me to heat something up for you?”

“No, I’ve got it taken care of,” he assures you, making his way to his office. A wave back at you is the last you see before he closes the door.

Finally able to make sense of what’s going on, you get back to the party, mingling with the girls you like from marketing and keeping tabs on the liveliness of the party. Max doesn’t return, the time to announce the costume winner closing in. You worry at your cuticles, his absence starting to toll on your mind. What if he was passed out in his office, weakening by the second? While you were out here with coworkers that had never given you a second glance?

Your resolve snaps, mother henning be damned, as you move to Max’s office. The din of the party muffles your voice, stepping close to listen at the door.

“Max?” you call, with no answer. Heart thumping, you test the handle. Locked. A quick trip to your desk has the spare key in your hand, ready to slot into the lock. 

“Max, it’s time for the announcement, I didn’t think you wanted to miss it,” you say, and this time you hear something. A low, pained groan.

The key slams into the lock, turning frantically as you whip the door open, two steps in with it shutting heavily behind you before you register what’s happening.

Max is not alone. And he’s…

He’s…

Oh fuck.

It’s easy not to see the monster when it looks like a middle manager. It’s easy to pretend the blood is a beetroot smoothie, or that the stains on his shirt are red wine. When Max makes it seem so dull, so boring, you sometimes forget he’s something strange and powerful.

But when you’re face to face with the truth, it all comes rushing to the forefront.

Max has Janet, the pretty thing from Web Design, spread out on his lap, her hands gripping the armrests of his chair. One hand is covering her mouth, leaning her head back to loll against his shoulder. The other is buried under her skirt, and from here you can see wetness shimmering inside her thighs. The lewd flexing of his forearm working her with those fingers you covet day in and day out almost distracts you from what’s actually happening. Almost.

Dragging your eyes up, you take in the true horror of the situation. You recognize the change, his face contorted with lines of deepening purple and red streaking his skin. The same that you saw when you told him about Brad. His mouth is latched onto Janet’s neck, red oozing around the seal of his lips. He’s groaning, swallowing thickly as you imagine mouthful after mouthful of her blood pouring down his throat.

The slam of the door drags Max’s eyes up, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline when he sees you. Mouth popping off Janet’s skin, he growls your name, deep and drunken. The loss allows blood to spurt from Janet’s neck, thick droplets spraying across her bare legs, the carpet, his desk, staining papers you laid there just this morning. Your stomach churns violently, legs weakening as Janet thrashes against Max’s hold. He tears his eyes from you to look down at the mess, a rough, “shit,” falling from his blood-stained lips before he fits his mouth back to the ring of teeth. 

There is nothing darkly romantic about this now, no suave vampire lover sipping delicately from a young debutante’s neck. Blood sluices down to stain Janet’s pink top a deeper red, her face painted with rusty smears that gather between his fingers. Max pounds his fingers inside her, the telltale spasm of her orgasm accompanied by the liquid squeak of her flats slipping in her own blood. He withdraws, a sticky string of her cum trailing across her thighs. Pressing her flush to his chest, he sucks and growls and hums until Janet goes still, fingers falling away and body slumping. The pop of his mouth off the wound lets a dribble slip between the swell of her cleavage, more still smeared and dripping from his mouth. He sighs with relief, thick tongue lazily licking at the mess around his lips. He bands his arms around Janet and lifts, folding her face-down on his desk, legs dangling limply over the edge. Her eyes are sightless, blood smearing onto the Meyer report. 

A maddening thought - you’d have to reprint that - spikes through your consciousness.

Max stands, swaying slightly as he rolls his shoulders, finally looking at you trembling in his office. His eyes are blood red, human only in that he sees you with them. Realization flits across the face you barely recognize, smile going predatory. As if a body isn’t lying mere inches from him, he places his hands on his desk, leaning over to give you a sultry look.

“Come here, pretty girl,” he purrs, a sound that vibrates in two tones. It makes your fight or flight instinct claw up your spine. Specifically the flight part. The fight part is warring against the fiery arousal burning in your belly at Max’s slick mouth, the generous tenting in those gray pants, and the rabid desire in his eyes. Fear sharpens your pulse, and you know it would take barely anything to make you cum with a wail if he’d only touch you. 

“Can smell you from here, little secretary. Know you want me to devour that juicy pussy.” Max lengthens his neck, closing his eyes and inhaling with a satisfied moan. Flecks of blood dot the gray waistcoat, jacket abandoned in a heap on the floor. The black shirt hides the color but not the wetness of what Max could not eat. “I would, you know. I would eat you even if I was full to bursting. Let me taste you, pretty little thing. I want you on my tongue. I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll wash me clean.” 

He’s prowling around the table now, steps soft and light, and you’re a frozen gazelle with a tiger approaching. No, that’s too grounded, too finite. You’re a candle flame in the middle of an ocean, a moment away from being swallowed up. Your face is wet; you’re crying. You’re scared. You’re so aroused it hurts. You’re so in over your head you’re drowning. 

You can’t breathe. 

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

Realization flickers over Max’s face and you watch him change. The veining and depth of his features recedes, eyes clearing back to soft brown as he slows his advances even further.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, I’m not…I’m not gonna hurt you.” He turns his palms up, keeping his distance as you struggle to let air back into your lungs. The first whoosh makes you so lightheaded you stumble back, falling to your knees. Max goes down to his knees with you, one hand outstretched but still too far to touch. You can’t stop shaking, taking in big gulping breaths. Max waits, a drip of blood from his chin shocking him into scrubbing his sleeve over his face. Most of the gore vanishes, but the pink hue remains. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he tries again, scooting another pace forward. “I’m sorry, you were never supposed to see that. I fucked up, please…” 

His hand brushes your ankle and you know you’re going to be sick. Bile rushes up your throat and you scramble blindly for the trash bin. You make it just in time, emptying your stomach with retching sobs. A warm palm strokes your shoulder and you snap your arm out, head still hanging.

“Don’t touch me!” you rasp, and the hand is gone, letting you finish shuddering and coughing into the bin. When your stomach stops cramping you crawl away, ignoring Max’s concerned face in your periphery. You lost one of your shoes, picking it up from its topple onto the floor and holding it in your hand like a weapon.

“Please, look at me,” Max begs, and you finally take him in. He’s much more the Max you know, but so different now. Same hair you arrange for him, same soft-shaved face you touch more than you actually need to. Same brown eyes that look to you for guidance. But when you look closer you can see the film of blood on his teeth, droplets clinging to his eyebrows, and a never ending hunger in the depths of his eyes. 

You scramble to your feet, hobbling in one shoe. Max stumbles back up to your height.

“Pretty…?” he begs again, but you’re opening the door, striding out into the ruckus of the party. A couple people turn, eyes expectant until they see you. Confusion, or realization, turns them back around to ignore you. Heart thumping in your throat, fear pangs through your chest. Is there any blood on you? A quick inspection finds none, so it must be your haunted expression and disheveled appearance that inspires discretion. 

Unable to spend another moment in this building, copper still strong in your nose, you stuff your shoes in your bag and try to hurry out the back door. You need to get home, behind a locked door, maybe several. Somewhere you can think, get a level head, figure out what to do. 

Then Brad steps into your path, and your stomach plummets again. 

“Hey, where are you going? You haven’t announced the costume contest winner yet!” he laughs, blocking your path. Stepping to the side, you watch in dismay as he does the same. Again, but the other way, and he follows. Tutting, he nods at your Rolex.

“Seems like this is just an expensive gift now,” he bemoans, dunking you in clarity. 

You have to believe it will protect you.

Nothing can save you now. 

Only yourself.

Another step-dodge hides your hand diving into your bag, and when Brad grabs your wrist you swing your arm back and drive your stiletto into the side of his neck.

“What the fuck?!” he shouts, hands coming up to staunch the dark blood seeping around the wound. Faintly you hear Max’s door open and the party drop to silence, but you leave the noise as you burst into the stairwell, racing to your car and away from the hell behind you.

Max stumbles out of his office as the door slams behind you, clothes sticking to his skin and mouth full of metallic tang. 

“Bitch put her heel in my goddamn neck!” Brad shouts, stomping up to Max. “Your assistant needs some fucking discipline Phillips.” He must have more to rant about, but two swift hands snap Brad’s head clean around and off, letting his body crumple to the floor. Max watches with disinterest, pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling long and deep before tossing the head to join. 

“Okay people, cleanup protocol,” he calls out, and the vampires in the crowd all look at each other. 

“Boss?” one of them says, making Max snap his attention to them in frustration. 

“You heard me, we’ll start relocation tomorrow.”

Max ignores the screams of his turned subordinates feeding on the human ones, his eye catching the glint of something on the ground. He kneels, heart sinking at what he finds. The Rolex, her talisman. Picking it up, he turns it grimly in his hands. Brad shouldn’t have been able to touch her, not with this. As long as she still believed it worked. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the face, an errant smear of blood clouding the crystal.

You get the call on Sunday afternoon, a whole weekend spent locked up in your apartment and stressed over what Monday would bring. The unknown number is the district manager letting you know that your office is being outsourced, effective immediately. Do not return to the building, please ship company property back to HQ, on and on. Part of you is relieved to not have to step foot back there. The morbid voice in the back of your mind whispers that there’s more to it than cheaper labor. You let that voice fade in favor of relief.

With enough savings for a few months out of a job, you begin the search anew. HQ gave you a generic recommendation letter, which should be enough for your new employer. It would have been preferable to have one from Max, but thinking about what it might say gives you hysterical giggles.

Can warm blood up to body temp perfectly.

Handles high stress situations such as scheduling a body dump.

Looks into my eyes like she’s known me forever.

You force yourself out of this line of thought. 

Three weeks after you ran out of that building for the last time, you get an email.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Can we talk?

<no body copy>

Your fingers hover over the keys, throat tightening. The hysteria died down after the first week, your trips outside cautious over the second, and finally a sense of calm had settled back into your life. Did you want to invite chaos back in?

To: [email protected]

Subject: When?

<no body copy>

Your reply sends and moments later your inbox pings again.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Now?

<no body copy>

Your face scrunches in confusion before the sharp buzz of your front door bell jars you out of your chair.

“Fucking…Max, give a girl a minute,” you curse, smoothing a hand through your hair and shrugging at your loungewear attire. Padding to your intercom, you click the button to activate the video screen. No one is standing on the stoop of your apartment. Confused, you press the talk button.

“Hello?”

“It’s Max.”

You’re stunned into silence before a smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re not visible on cameras too?”

“Ha ha, yeah I know, it’s great for a life of crime,” he drones out sarcastically, and even though you can’t see him you can imagine that mocking face.

A ball appears in the back of your throat. You missed him.

Buzzing him up, you wait at your door, leaning in the entryway. You don’t think he’s here to violently tie up a loose end, but you could be wrong. Your good judge of character has been suspiciously absent in the last eight months.

Three swift knocks and Max is standing in your doorway, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. You’d assumed he’d be in a suit, but this one is more casual, no necktie and his collar open. He’s wearing a cocky I-knew-you-missed-me face, but underneath there’s a current of worry, concern, and care that warms you.

“Oh, you never told me,” you say, holding the door open thoughtfully, “what are the loopholes for entering someone’s home without being invited in?”

Max’s eyes crinkle up as he rolls his eyes. There’s the man you’d been falling for.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Shit, that’s the first time you’d thought that.

“So in the movies it sounds so formal. Like ‘may I enter your home?’ and the other person has to say ‘yes, you may,’ but nobody talks like that anymore. You can just say come in, and that’s it. Or I can ask if I can come in and if you say yeah, that’s good enough. I’ve even had people tell me to come get a hug, or get out of the cold, and that worked too. Human language has evolved so much and…I am absolutely babbling like an idiot right now.” Max trails off and you stifle a smile behind your hand. It pulls a relieved one onto his face.

“I missed you,” you say, the words coming easier than you expected. Max’s eyes soften.

“I missed you too.”

You look at each other in silence before you snap back to the previous conversation.

“Oh, shit, right, yeah come in,” you stutter, Max crossing the threshold and handing you the sunny bouquet. The plastic wrap crinkles around your fingers, making for a good distraction as you move to put them in water while Max hangs his coat. 

It takes you a few minutes to snip the stalks and place them in a vase, and then a few moments more to ask Max if he’d like something (“whatever you’re having”) and brew two cups of black tea. Entering your little living room, you find Max sitting at one end of your couch, thumbing through a travel book. He puts it down to accept the tea, setting it to cool on the coffee table. Placing yours beside, you settle into the couch and try to think of where to begin. Thankfully, Max starts.

“I’m sorry you had to see any of that after all that you’ve done for me. It was inappropriate for me to feed at work, even more so to scare you. It was wildly unprofessional and I completely understand if you don’t want to be associated with me after that.”

You blink slowly at him, absorbing this carefully rehearsed apology. He waits for your response, damnation or salvation.

“Is Janet okay?”

You watch his face cooly as he struggles through a few different emotions. Confusion, incredulity, amusement, relief. 

“Yeah, Janet’s fine, I turned her. She’s moving to England, not as much sun.”

Silence slips between you before you break into giggles, Max following along as the tension unwinds. When your breath stops hitching you give Max a warm smile, picking up your mug to take a sip. 

“Sounds like HQ just wanted to sweep all this under the rug. Would it always have ended up this way, or was the party to blame?” Max shrugs, arm slung over the back of the couch and ankle resting on his knee.

“It’s different every place I go. Sometimes it’s longer, other times it’s only a few weeks. You made it easier,” he says, a blanket of fondness warming your lap. Tracing the lip of the mug with your fingernail, you sort through what you want to say next.

“Before the party…was something going on between us? Or is that some weird vampire thing to make humans easy to manipulate?” Peering through your lashes, you think you see Max blush.

“I can assure you I did not use my supernatural powers of suggestion on you. Only on difficult clients,” he laughs, tilting his head lazily onto one shoulder. “Yeah,” he adds quieter, face turning to his lap. “Yeah, there was something going on between us.” Slowly, giving you time to shy away, he reaches out to brush his fingers along the inside of your knee. A trill of excitement flutters through you. “I hope it’s still there.”

Just as cautiously, you reach out and let the tips of your fingers meet, his hand turning over to cup them in his palm. The softness of his skin entices you to stroke along his broad palm, the undersides of his fingers, until he moves to lace them with yours, joints stretching pleasantly around his larger ones. When you get the courage to look up he’s regarding you with quiet wonder, lips parted. You smile at him, eliciting one in response.

“I have something for you,” he says, voice tight as he digs into his pants pocket. It’s a smaller box than the first gift he got you, and you release his hand to take it. Sliding the top off, you’re treated to a delicate silver chain. 

“I don’t think the Rolex quite expresses what I’d like us to be now,” Max says, lifting the chain out of the box. It’s even more dainty in his hands, thick fingers struggling briefly with the clasp. 

“So you’re not asking me to keep being your assistant?” you say, pulse pounding in your ears so loud you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Put this on and I’ll show you what I’d like us to be,” he says, a soft challenge but no fire in his eyes. Instead there’s a question, one that you’d struggled with in the weeks following the party.

Could you handle this? 

Pushing up on your knees, you gently lift one leg over Max’s lap, settling on his thighs. His eyes widen, then that bratty smile comes back to grace his face. 

“I’m waiting Max,” you tease in a sing-song lilt. He lifts the chain to loop around your neck, fastening the ends together. It hangs cooly against you, sensation slowly disappearing as it warms to your skin.

“This will protect you, if you believe in it,” he says, and as he breathes the words he leans up to place a soft kiss to your collarbone, pressing the chain between his lips and your skin. “It will protect you from those with ill intent,” he continues, trailing his lips along the necklace as he places another kiss at the base of your throat, “because I will never let another creature, living or undead, bring harm to you.” Here he places an open-mouthed kiss on your sternum, a tentative lick pebbling your skin. “And it will protect you from me,” His mouth moves up the other side of your neck, peppering kisses along the way, “because I will never lay a hand on you that you’re not begging for.” 

You bury your hands in his short locks, scratching your nails along his scalp. The groan he lets out makes him circle you in his arms, sliding you down his thighs to sit tight against him. His breathing becomes erratic, and he rolls his hips below you.

“I’ll never…fuck, I’ll never drink from you. I’ll never bite you, I promise,” he growls, and now his mouth is hot and possessive on your neck, sucking and scraping teeth up to worry behind your ear.

“I like biting,” you whisper back, grinding lightly on him. “Only these teeth, though, not the sharp ones.” 

The dark chuckle he makes precedes him pulling you back, looking up at you with wide eyes and a damp mouth. 

“I still want you to be my assistant, though, I’m a mess without you,” he pants, eyes glittering with mirth. Shaking your head with a sigh, you dip down to capture the mouth you’d been coveting. He tastes like bitter tea leaves, coffee, and the primal coppery heat of blood on the back of his tongue.

It’s a taste you could get used to.

NEXT

#max phillips x f!reader #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #bloodsucking bastards fanfiction #prolix fics

[miamochi-writes]

Treading Carefully

a/n: Hi everyone! This was a request from one of my friends who also loves Vash! Let me know what you think :) 

You were a mercenary just living day by day to get by. You learned how cruel it was to live and survive in No Man’s Land when the cops robbed your family of their basic necessities. In order to help out, you traveled to each city hoping to raid or steal a couple of supplies from people who were well off. Because of that, you racked up a high bounty on your head from previous cities you’ve visited. Thankfully, you weren’t on the bounty list yet. 

You ended up in Jeneora where the heat was brutal and slowed you down to your destination as you were slightly dragging your black combat boots. You got a tip from someone that the next town over had some homes that the rich weren’t occupying at the moment. You might as well raid it if no one was there right?  You could tell Jeneora was suffering just from looking at the water they offered you with your beer. From the way you walked in everyone was looking at you. 

You didn’t blame them since you dressed pretty differently in your forest green and white jacket that trailed down your thighs that hid your dark attire. You looked at the bartender and even she was pregnant and running the place herself. You looked at some of the kids and pitied them, no kid should have to struggle like this.

“So what brings someone like you here?” the bartender asked.

“Just doing some sightseeing before I see my family. I would have continued, but this heat is insane,” you replied. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but you couldn’t give away too much info.

“Yeah, that’s Jeneora for you. Sorry about the water. Our plant is busted somehow, so we’re stuck trying to buy water at the next town over,” she apologized as she cleaned some of the glasses.

You felt for her as you took a sip of your beer. 

“How far along are you?” you asked looking at her swollen abdomen.

“Just a few more months until the baby arrives,” she replied rubbing her belly.

You thought about it and figured you might as well get some extra items once you make it to the next city.

Just then you heard a couple of men yelling from outside and sounded like it was coming closer. Three cops busted into the bar as you sighed. So much for the peace and quiet.

“Anyone seen the Humanoid Typhoon? If so start talking!” one of the guys shouted as the other guy held up a Wanted poster. You heard about Vash the Stampede and the rumors about him causing chaos in cities. You’ve seen that poster before, but honestly something felt off about it. You couldn’t place your finger on it, but as long as he didn’t get in your way you didn’t make a big deal out of it.

“Hey lady!” you heard someone shout by your ear.

You rolled your eyes before you turned around to see the cop was standing next to you with the wanted poster.

“Yes officer?” you asked.

“Have you seen him or not?” he asked.

“Hm maybe buy me a drink first and I might answer,” you replied getting closer to him as you put your hand on top of his hand that held the poster so he lowered it. That slightly caught him off guard as you made your next move.

“After all, someone as hard working as you must be tired after searching high and low in this hot weather. Why don’t you relax?” you added as you moved your hand to his back to move him closer to you. The guy was practically caught off guard as you took the chance to pick pocket him.

“You drive a hard bargain young lady,” he commented as you felt some double dollars in his pocket.

“Hey! Get a move on officer!” one of the men yelled as you retracted your hand.

“Maybe next time, but since you’re interested I might have seen him outside the city limit in the desert not too long ago. Saw that hairstyle and can’t mistake it,” you answered with a small smirk.

“Boss! We got a lead!” the guy said as he went back to the group and left.

You turned around to see the bartender looking at you with wide eyes.

“I honestly don’t know, I just made it up on the fly,” you told her as you finished your beer. You then flashed her some money that you stole from the officer.

“Courtesy of the loud mouth himself. Hopefully this helps with the water issue,” you mentioned as you took your leave.

Once you stepped out from the bar, you bumped into someone as you landed on the ground from the impact.

“Hey are you okay? I didn’t see you there!” you heard a panicked voice. You were annoyed with how your day was going, first a cop and now you got knocked to the ground without seeing it coming? You looked to see it was the wanted man himself. You couldn’t mistake that face anywhere , except you noticed how vibrant his blue eyes were even with his orange spectacles. He was tall as he loomed over you with his figure and his bright red jacket. You knew he was good looking, but the wanted poster didn’t do him justice when you were looking at him in person. He was way too beautiful to be a criminal.

He extended his prosthetic hand to you for grab as you looked at him. You grabbed his hand and felt how warm it was as he lifted you up.

“Are you hurt? Any bruises? Scratches?” he asked looking you up and down.  You dusted yourself off and checked your arms.

“No I’m okay, but watch where you’re going next time. You might bump into the wrong person,” you warned still keeping your guard up.

“Ahaha sorry about that. I was in a bit of hurry. But I’m glad you’re okay! The name is Vash,” he introduced himself with a smile. This guy was way too kind, and he seemed genuine when asking you those questions. Was he really that bad of a criminal? You were a bit hesitant to answer but you trusted your gut.

“The name is y/n, but it’s best you keep that information to yourself,” you replied. He gave you a confused look with his eye furrowing.

“I’ve got my reasons, but just a heads up. Some cops came by earlier here looking for you. I told them you went outside the city limits so best to stay away from that direction and hang low,” you told him as you put your hands in your pocket as you walked past him.

“Wait really? Thanks a bunch! I appreciate it y/n! I owe you!” he replied walking up to you with his face close to yours. You were startled by him and took a few steps back as your heart started racing.

“Oh, sorry about that! Force of habit,” he apologized as he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. What an interesting guy.

“It’s nothing, but if you really want to treat me, do it the next time we meet,” you said half jokingly as you started walking away from him.

“Oh why not now?” he asked.

“I have some business I need to take care of outside of here. Can’t be late if I stay here any longer,” you mentioned as you looked back at him.

“Okay, well next I see you, dinner is on me!” he yelled while waving. You couldn’t help but chuckle at him.

“What makes you think we’ll meet again?” you ask.

“It’s a gut feeling!” he answered with a warm smile. You waved back and made your way to the next town over. There was no way he was worth that much or causes that much trouble with how much of goofball he was from that interaction you had. As you walked, you kept thinking about him and wondering if you would ever meet again.

~*~

You made it to the next city and found a few of the homes you targeted by nightfall with the help of a Thomas. You slipped into two homes and stole the necessities for your family, for some people at Jeneora, and a little for yourself. You were about to raid a third house until you heard the cops were nearby. You high tailed it out of the city making sure you weren’t being followed. You rode your Thomas to the desert and hid near one of the dunes despite the cold. You couldn’t risk staying in the city with how much stuff you took and with how you stood out from the crowd in your outerwear. You laid low and took a few detours just to be sure you were in the clear and that no one was tracking you. 

Eventually you were able to see the outskirts of Jeneora as dawn broke. Finally some civilization and a place to rest instead of the endless sand. You placed your Thomas at a resting station, and made your way into the inner heart of the town.

“Hey! Have you seen this lady? She was in this city last time we saw her,” you heard someone call out. You looked to see the same group of officers interrogating the townspeople.

“She stole from the law and she’s wanted alive. If you know anything there’s a nice reward waiting for you,” the officer continued as the townsfolk studied the paper.

You cursed internally as you quietly jogged to some of the homes. You hoped to stay hidden long enough for them to leave. You could tell that they were searching and questioning everybody in the town. You kept running until you made eye contact with one of the city men. You were so screwed, you couldn’t take any chances as you ran as fast as possible. This was not how you wanted to go down as you looked for other hiding spots. Your mind was racing, how could you have been this sloppy with your work? As you ran, you felt someone grab your hand as you panicked.

“No! Let me-” before you could finish you were pulled inside a building and found your mouth being covered. You looked to see Vash was covering your mouth and gestured you to keep quiet as he peaked outside. You were so confused, you didn’t think this was how you meet with him again. You looked inside to see you were in the bar and found the bartender stepping outside not looking at both of you. Your heart was practically beating against your chest as you felt Vash pull you to his side while he kept your mouth covered. You squirmed, but Vash kept you in his hold as you were panicking internally. You didn’t know what was going to happen to you as you felt so helpless.

“Officer! I saw her ride a Thomas that way. You better hurry before you lose her again,” the bartender said as you heard the officers run away from the bar. Then, it was silent until you heard footsteps walk back into the bar. It was the lady as she smiled at you both.

“Coast is clear, we sent a pack of Thomas the other direction so they should be following that for awhile,” she told you as Vash let go of you with a sigh of relief. Your eyes widened as you slid down to the floor. Your breath was ragged, your mind was spinning, and your legs felt numb from the adrenaline. What in the world just happened? You thought

“Hey! Are you okay? Follow my breathing,” Vash asked as he grabbed both of your shoulders. He then started breathing slowly as you followed him with his inhales and exhales.

“Why did you help me? I'm a wanted criminal,” you finally spoke looking at him.

“You helped me remember? And you helped Rosa last time you were here,” Vash pointed as she came up to you.

“Anyone that’s a friend of Vash is a friend of mine that I can trust. Plus, that money helped with the water. We heard the commotion earlier, and Vash and I wanted to repay the favor,” she explained with a soft smile.

You looked at Vash as he was smiling at you.

“Can you stand?” he asked as you shook your head.

“I’m a little out of breath from running and everything else,” you explained as he grabbed your waist while you held onto his shoulder for support. He then led you to a table with a couple of seats for you to sit in. He gently sat you down as you thanked him.

“Well aren’t you both lifesavers, I really thought it was the end for me. I guess we’re even now,” you explained with a sigh of relief.

“Not exactly, I still gotta treat you to dinner, remember?” Vash mentioned.

“You still remember that? I was kinda joking about the whole owing me,” You asked and looked at him a bit taken a back. 

“Well I meant what I said. I would treat you the next time I see you. I saw you earlier, and here we are,” Vash explained as he flashed you that toothy smile of his.

You stifled a chuckle as you looked away slightly.

“Okay then, a deal is a deal. Besides how can I turn down that offer when you saved me in a pinch,” you said and scooted closer to him.

“Great, because I’d like to know more about the person who helped me out earlier,” Vash said as he got comfortable to look at you.

“Good because I’d like to know more about the real Vash, not what the cops or rumors say about you,” you replied feeling safe around him

You didn’t think helping the most wanted man would lead to this, but now you were especially grateful to have bumped into him and earn a tasty meal out of it. You could afford to take a little detour before returning home anyway if it meant spending time with someone cute right?

#vash x reader #trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #miamochi writes #vash reboot #trigun fic #trigun reboot #vash x you #vash the stampede x reader

[miley1442111]

hii love ur content!!! single-handedly carrying sydney adamu x reader fans rn LOL. was wondering if u could write something w femreader x syd where reader is filling in for marcus as he takes personal leave for his mom? like something with buildup and clear romantic tension in the kitchen btwn them and possible hesitation to act on it from syd’s end when they work together but immediately get tg afterwards ?? if you get the vision!! thank uuu <3333

thank you for requesting this, i love this idea so i'm going to give it two parts if that's ok!

i will always push the sydney adamu x reader agenda

in a minute- s.adamu

a/n: this is PART 1 of most likely two but i'm not sure yet. this is intended for a femreader but you can ignore that and imagine what you want :)

summary: you get a call from carmen berzatto to fill in as a pastry chef, you have nothing better to do, right?

pairing: sydney adamu x reader

warnings: mentions of a difficult workplace environment, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of not communicating, cursing

Getting the call from Carmen Berzatto made you sick. He was your replacement in New York, he hated you, at least you thought he did. You were leaving New York for Paris, becoming a pastry chef after being sick of the stupid pressure and disgusting abuse you had gotten from restaurants over the years. Don’t get me wrong, being a pastry chef was difficult too, the insufferable people and bosses made you want to rip your hair out, but anything was better than New York. You had trained Carmen for a week, giving him your number in case he needed to ask any other questions. You assumed he’d deleted it. But no, four months into living in Chicago, teaching masterclasses and subbing in for people in various Michelin-star restaurants and bakeries, Carmen Berzatto called and asked if you could cover his pastry chef for a few weeks. You agreed and showed up the next day to see a restaurant that was not yet finished. Residue from walls lay on the floor, mould on the ceilings and an empty kitchen, bare of appliances met your eyes as you walked in. A pretty girl with headphones in stood in the locker room as you turned the corner and she startled when she noticed you. 

“Jesus! Y-you scared me,” she smiled, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you smiled, stretching out your hand for a hand shake. “I’m y/n y/l/n, is Carmen Berzatto here? Or his partner, Sydney Adamu?”

“Oh my god, you’re Y/n y/ln. Like the only woman ever the International Union of Bakers and Pastry Chefs named ‘best pastry chef’,” she said, shocked that you were standing in front of her. 

You felt heat crawl up your back. You still couldn’t get used to people knowing who you were, it was strange. “The very same,” you practically grimaced. “So, are chefs Carmen or Sydney around?”

“I-I’m Sydney,” she smiled, shaking your hand. “Sorry if that was weird, I just… yeah.”

“It’s fine, I’m just awkward about it, don’t worry.”

“Ok,” she smiled, then snapped out of it. “What are you- I don’t know how to say this politely-”

“What am I doing here?” you finished for her and she nodded. “Carmen called me a few days ago, I trained him in New York and he apparently still has my number. He asked me to fill in for Marcus?” 

“Yeah, ok. So… umm, yeah ok. That’s cool,” She said, still coming to grips with it. 

“He didn’t tell you?” 

“No,” she admitted, sighing. 

“He always was kind of a dick. Don’t worry, I bet he’s just cooling-off or something, he used to get so angry we’d shove him in the freezer for a few minutes to let him calm down.”

Sydney looked at you in bewilderment. 

“I take it that he’s still like that?” you chuckled. 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Only sometimes though.”

“‘Sometimes’ is too much for me, if he starts pulling that shit I’ll send him out. He’s such a baby sometimes,” you reminisced. “Sorry, if that’s rude since he’s your partner.”

“Well, he doesn’t really feel like a partner,” she sighed, leading you to the office. 

“Not communicating?”

“Never. I didn’t even know we were pulling down walls until they were down.”

“Shit, that’s awful,” you sighed. 

“I’ll call him and see where he is, just wait in here,” she smiled and opened the door for you, then left you alone. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 1

Working at the Bear was different to anywhere else you’d worked. The people there were interesting in a way that only people outside of the Michelin-restaurant world could be. None of the bullshit you’d dealt with in New York, none of the crap you had to put up with in Paris. They were professional, but they cared about each other. Tina had become a good friend in only the one week you’d been there. Richie was pissing you off enough to warrant stabbing- something that had apparently happened before, and Carmen was either there all the time, or nowhere to be seen. 

And then, there was Sydney. Sydney had essentially fucked you up. From the moment you’d met her, you knew you were fucked. Her soft smile and endearing awkwardness made her basically irresistible. It was embarrassing how in just one week, you felt like you couldn’t be in the same room as her, yet you craved to be near her all the time. 

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

“Yo, you good?’ Sydney asked as you mapped out dessert ideas Marcus had sent you.

“Huh? Oh-yeah, all good,” you smiled.

“How do you like it?” she asked, cleaning the new silverware. 

“Like what?”

“The Bear?”

“It’s nice. Calmer than the restaurants I’ve worked in,” you answered and she laughed.

“This is calm for you?” 

“You should’ve seen Carmen and I’s boss in New York. Every night he’d make me stay until after closing, fixing any mistakes I’d made if I’d made any. After a while, it was just verbal abuse,” you chuckled and she smiled half-heartedly at you, her eyes missing the certain glow she usually had. 

“Sounds fun,” she joked, but it fell flat on both ends, then she walked away. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d made a fool of yourself, or made her uncomfortable. 

You internally kicked yourself. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 2

You liked to pride yourself on two things, your standards in the kitchen, and your ability to stay calm under any circumstance. One of those didn’t apply to the current situation, and the other had been thrown out the window 3 minutes ago when this conversation started, more specifically, when Sydney started touching your arm. 

Carmen had finally come in and you’d gotten in a fight over the menu. You wanted something Marcus had suggested and Carmen wanted fucking fig rolls or something, you didn’t exactly know but you do know that it ended in you storming off to the back of the Bear and Carmen storming off to his office. You felt a swell in your heart when Sydney had come to you first, before she went to talk to Carmen. 

“You good?” she asked, accompanying you in the freezing air. You didn’t respond, still annoyed from the conversation. “Earth to Y/n?” Sydney had grabbed your arm and your eyes trained themselves on hers. 

“Yeah, just pissed,” you sighed, answering her first question. “He really doesn’t listen, does he?” You yawned. Sydney’s hand felt like it was burning itself into your skin. 

“No, he kind of refuses to,” she joked. “But if it makes you feel any better, I like your ideas more.”

“They’re Marcus’s ideas, just my drawings,” you were quick to deflect the compliment.

“Well they're beautiful,” she declared, with some uncertain meaning behind her words. ‘Well, you’re beautiful’ is what you picked up from her insinuation and your heart beat much faster than before. “Coming back in?” She dropped her hand and you finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“In a minute.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 3 

Ok, so maybe you could pride yourself on just one more thing, the effect you had on Sydney. 

For the past two weeks, it’d been fleeting glances, the creating and taking of opportunities to touch each other, and small flirty conversation. Sydney had asked you to taste test some restaurants with her, and you had a great time. Conversation flowed, you felt relaxed for the first time in what felt like years, and you were spending time with the girl you liked. 

“Y/N?” You heard Sydney’s voice from behind you. “Behind!” she said. 

You had asked an old friend if you could borrow his restaurant's kitchen and he obliged, knowing he owed you a favour from when you saved him from being fired 7 years ago. 

“Yeah?” You called back, focused on your plating. 

“You almost done?”

“Almost,” you added the finishing touches to the plate and stepped back, a silent victory. It looked delicious. “Done!”

She handed you a fork and you took a bite at the same time. It tasted… terrible. You both spit it out into the sink behind you, then looked at each other and laughed. 

“That is god-awful,” you coughed, a laugh making its way out of your mouth.  

“Oh fuck that’s bad,” she laughed with you, a hand on your shoulder to brace herself. 

Both your laughters died down and her hand remained. She looked so beautiful, her hair pulled back in a blue bandana, her regular chef-white swapped for a green t-shirt and white overalls, and a smile on her face. You seized the moment and kissed her, it started out soft, cautious. Though it quickly divulged into something less sweet. Her tongue was in your mouth and your hands were roaming her waist. She gasped when you bit her lip and you smirked into the kiss. A buzzing noise pulled you two apart, heavy breathing and an uncomfortable stare of ‘what did we just do?’. You grabbed your buzzing phone, bag, and jacket, and left her in the restaurant. 

Was it the coward’s way out? Yes. Did that matter much to you? No. 

Not one bit.

#sydney adamu #the bear hulu #the bear #carmy berzatto #the bear fx #syd adamu #sydney adamu x reader #the bear fic #fluff #sydney adamu fluff

[professional-benaddict]

I'm back on my MoB kick and all I can think about is

Tony and Stephen either married/partners/friendenmies

Tony gets hurt

Stephen wants to take care of him, but his job is a surgeon. After care is someone else's job. But Tony deserves the best.

Enter at home Nurse Peter Parker. [ Stephen pulled strings to get him]

Who may or may not know who Tony is or atleast his connection to the mob.

- WinterSpiderPurrs

@winterspiderpurrs YOU BRILLIANT THING AHHHH💗💗💗 i literally cannot remember the last time i wrote smth bUt here i am with this!! i’d be so flattered if you continued it and maybe i can continue your piece?🥴🥴💗💗

Mafia boss Tony, surgeon Stephen, Tony and Stephen are married, nurse Peter, mentions of gun violence

Peter has never been headhunted for a job before. It made him feel important and special among the thousands of nurses who are more qualified and experienced than him. They didn’t get the job offer, he did. There must be someone who finally sees value in Peter’s skills, and the young nurse has to take the rare chance offered to him.

However, he may have jumped into this too soon, because now he is stood across the street from the address he was given and the house looks intimidating.

The house is practically a mansion, and an old one at that. But, the house seems resilient and well kept. The lush garden must look beautiful in daylight, but now in the October moonlight it looks haunted. There is a large black metal gate in front of the house and black shapes move back and forth with confident footfalls.

“What the fuck…” Peter whispers to himself. He checks the address again, and again. It is the right one and he is in the right place. The number of the house and street is correct. “Here goes nothing…”

Peter walks up to the gate, and he is about to say something awkward to one of the men guarding the gate, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Mr Parker?”

“Uhm- yes. Yes, that’s me.” Peter squeaks.

The guard says nothing, but he makes a gesture with his hand and a built in door opens up from the gate. Peter steps inside and follows one of the guards up to the house.

The house is well-lit and warm when Peter steps inside. There are lush carpets and expensive furniture in the entrance hall, which hints to even more richness inside the rest of the house.

The guard wipes his shoes, but keeps them on, so Peter does the same. The guard says nothing still, but he turns back to look at Peter while he wipes his shoes and waits for him to catch up before walking on.

They head upstairs and make a turn around a corner before the guard gestures for Peter to wait. The man knocks on one of the doors and steps inside before closing the door. Only now does Peter notice how quick his heart is beating in his chest. His limbs feel jelly-like, and he takes this small moment of alone time to calm himself.

“You’re okay, you’re okay…” Peter mouths to himself.

The door opens again, but another man steps out and Peter snaps his head up. Finally, a familiar face.

“Doctor Strange!” Peter breathes out in relief. He hopes it is not too obvious, and that the doctor doesn’t notice how shaky Peter’s hand is in their handshake.

“Peter, thank you for coming. I know I didn’t tell you a lot about this assignment, but all will be revealed soon. You can ask any question you’d like.” The doctor says and leads Peter down to the next door and opens it.

It is an office and Stephen heads to the desk to look through some papers. The doctor returns quickly though with a paper for Peter and a pen.

“So, this is how you live…?” Peter asks before taking the paper. An NDA.

“Some of the time, yeah.” Stephen answers shortly. “I’d like you to sign this before I tell you anything about the assignment. You can quit whenever you like, but you-”

“Cannot talk about it, got it.” Peter chuckles and Stephen gives in a smile. The doctor gestures for Peter to use the desk to sign and the young nurse does so.

“Great! Now that’s settled.” Stephen says after checking the signature and leaving the paper on the desk. They head out into the hallway again. “I’ll show you your patient now.”

Stephen opens the door he came out from before and lets Peter step inside the room. It is a bedroom and a king-sized bed takes up most of the space. And on the bed, is a man, fast asleep. Peter cannot see him well from where he is standing, but he sees some dark hair and facial hair. The room looks quite ordinary, although much classier than Peter could ever afford with a nurse’s pay. However, the medical equipment and machines in the room stand out.

Peter recognises all of them, of course. All the tubes and wires connected to the sleep man on the bed. And based on them, he deduces that the man should be in hospital, not at home.

“Who is he?” Peter asks.

“Tony Stark. Your patient, and my husband.” Stephen answers.

Something about Stephen’s tone of voice makes Peter feel uneasy.

“What happened?”

“He was shot in the abdomen. Stupid.” Stephen says the last part through slightly gritted teeth.

“When? Who treated him? He needs to be in hospital still, surely.” Peter says in disbelief.

“I did.”

Peter takes a step from the doctor. The guards, the NDA, gunshot wounds, treated by family… The headhunting. It all starts to make sense.

“He can’t go to the hospital.” Peter says quietly. Or else, the police will find out…

“No.” Stephen says simply. “But, he won’t need to when he has you taking care of him. I cannot be here all the time, plus, I’m a surgeon. I’ve done what I can.” The doctor steps closer to Peter, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Now I need your help, and you will need the money. Trust me, I know. So, you will take the job, yes?”

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. He lets out a breath and then opens his eyes.

He nods.

“I’ll take the job.”

#my prompts #starkerstrange #starker #ironstrange #strangespider #spiderstrange #tony stark x stephen strange #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #stephen strange #ask

[blythebewitched]

Her Name Was Bobby: Smiling Critters Oneshot

Two years . . . It was crazy to think he'd lived in this town for two years now. From a young age, Sunny had always been the center of attention everywhere he went. From his band all the way to his modeling career. At some point, the spotlight started to dim for him. So when Kickin brought up moving into town where he could be with his brothers, and try something new, he moved immediately. 

After two long grueling years, he'd finally managed to finish his nursing schooling. It started out as a hobby. Helping the elderly at retirement homes as a volunteer. But now he could really get into Hospice and care for the elderly properly. Sunny loved being around old people. They were sometimes far nicer than anyone his age.

About three weeks prior, Dogday recommended a hospital nearby to apply to. And of course, he was accepted immediately. Today was to be his first day.

Sunny practically swung out of bed. Firey determination pumping his blood. With a killer outfit and some stunning makeup, he was practically ready to go . . . Oh wait . . . Breakfast!

Dogday jumped at the sound of his front door opening. Peering from the kitchen, he saw his brother strut through to the kitchen doorway.

“Mourning Angel~!” Sunny chirped.

“Hiya Sunny. Lemme guess. First day of work and you forgot breakfast?” He passed his brother a plate of food. 

Sunny sat and munch happily as a response. He always forgot something! Dogday chuckled to himself. 

“Say. Speaking of the hospital? Have you met Bobby?”

Bobby. Dogday and Kickin had a gracious number of friends. The only ones he remembered were Catnap and Picky. So, he shook his head. Not really interested in meeting the guy.

“Bobby is the head nurse of the hospital! You should say hi!” 

Sunny took one last bite and headed towards the door. “I'll think about if that's my boss or not.” And he headed out the door and to work.

. . . 

A few hours into the day and Sunny was already sore. He didn't really mind it though. The staff in hospice were really nice and patient. And the elderly were, for the most part, sweeties. As he was bottling pills, he reached for his left shoulder rubbing out some pain that was there. 

Nurse Nip walked up behind him and grabbed his shoulder. “Hard day?”

“Nah. Its just some pent up tension. Thats what hard work'll do.”

“Mm okay. You should probably have the head nurse check that out though.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Well we don't want the new star nurse to keel over after the first day right?”

“Hahaha! True. Well, let me finish up here and I'll see . . . Umm . . . Who again?”

“The head nurse! Bobby Bearhug!”

Bobby. Dogday mentioned that earlier. He was a little annoyed to have to see someone he wasn't keen on meeting, but he kept his promises to his bros. 

Sun suppressed a groan and gave the other nurse a thumbs up before they left. 

. . . 

The head nurses office was on the top floor. Rather than going up the stairs, Sunny decided to take the elevator. The elevator chimed as it reached his floor. The doors opened and he stepped inside. He had planned on a silent ride on his way to see the nurse, but he oddly felt eyes on him.

Sunny curiously looked down next to him through a side eye. There was a girl, another nurse in the elevator with him. Her uniform looked slightly different so he could tell her position was different. The girl was looking up at him. 

Their eyes locked for a moment. Both curious of the other. “You're very pretty.” Was the words that broke their silence.

Sun now fully turned towards her. “What did you say?”

“Haha. Sorry. Was that too blunt? I just think you're very pretty. I've never seen such a colorful bird before.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He was known to be a charmer. A smooth talker. But when it came to flirting or compliments, he flopped hard. His forte was getting people to do what he wanted. So it was safe to say he didn't know what to do when the girl complimented him.

Sun's first thought was to compliment her back. She was substantially shorter than him. Though he was very tall compared to most. The girl was a bear in a deep red coat of fur. Like fine wine. He couldn't say that though. Perhaps something else? Her blush? Her hair? Her smile? . . . No. 

Often when he attempted to establish relationships in the past, he came across as either creepy. A lot of the time, his pride and vanity made him look full of himself. Nobody ever gave him a chance . . . It was the reason he spent so much time alone or with the elderly. 

So, he said nothing. Afraid of making her uncomfortable in such a small space. Suddenly, he felt a hand run through the feathers of his right arm. He had to force himself not to ruffle and fluff up at the touch. His head swung down facing the nurse admiring him.

Both her hands went up the length of his arm. Her eyes looked up at him through her eyebrows. The look was sultry, making Sunny nervous. He couldn't tell if she intended for the interaction to be so personal. 

“You really do have nice feathers. I like the colors. And you're so fluffy!” She gave him the biggest smile. Sweet and elite. “I haven't seen you around before. Are you new?”

“Y-yeah . . . I'm the new hospice nurse . . . Sunshine. But e-everyone calls me Sunny.” 

“SUNNY!?” She stopped and stared at him wide eyed.

The elevator chimed and the door opened to the top floor. Sun was dragged out and led down the hall. 

“By any chance, do you know Dogday? Or Kickin Chicken?” 

“They are my little brothers. Why? You know them?”

The little bear spun around on her heels and gave him a silly smile. Expecting him to guess. “Didn't DD tell you something about meeting someone today?” She chimed. 

It took Sunny a moment, but when it hit him, he felt his face turn red. When DD mentioned his friend Bobby, HE ASSUMED BOBBY WAS A DUDE! Not some cutie . . . In a nurses outfit no less. He cursed his brother internally. The last thing he wanted to do right now was scare her off, but he couldn't help but like her. 

Once outside her office, Bobby asked, “So! Is there anything I can help you with while you're here?”

Sunny almost completely forgot about it. “One of the nurses recommended I see you about some tension in my shoulder.” . . . It was only after saying it that he REALLY thought about it.

“YOU DON'T HAVE TO THOUGH! IT'S NOTHING!” He was praying she would let him go. 

“WHAT!? Get your behind in here now! I'll have that checked out in a jiff.” Bobby grabbed his arm again and dragged him to the couch in her office. Why was it so easy for this lil mini bear to drag him???

. . . 

The next thirty minutes was torturous. They had a really good conversation and Sunny's original doubts had easily been squashed. But he was falling. HARD. And how could he not!? She was perfect. Super polite, great personality, beautiful and well composed. His problem here was that he couldn't say any of it. They'd just met! She'd think he was a sleaze if he said what he really thought of him. 

The worst part was the intimacy of the situation. Sun and Kickin had a habit of having their feathers ruffled at the slightest touch. Bobby's hands were on his shoulder for a good portion of his visit. It made hiding his delight near impossible. When she was done, she prescribed him a minor pain killer and sent him on his way. 

Walking home, the only part of his wonderful first day that stayed on his mind was Bobby. Her name wouldn't leave his head. Her touch had a phantom shadow imprinted on his body. Nothing about those thirty minutes left his head. He didn't even notice Kickin had walked up next to him. 

“SUN!”

“AH! Kickin!”

“Lmfao! What the hell's on your mind?”

The brothers stopped by DD's house where they met up with their brother on his porch. “How was work? You meet Bobby?” 

Bobby. The name stirred excitement he couldn't contain. “YEAH! Why didn't you introduce us sooner!?” Sunny began to ramble uncontrollably. 

DD and Kicks looked at each other slowly. The realization slowly but surely sinking in. Sinister smiles started creeping on their faces. 

Sunny hadn't noticed his brother's on point suspicions. He rambled as he thought of her. The perfect girl from the elevator who was stealing his heart. Sun wondered if this was love at first sight. The thought that he still had so much to learn about her was exhilarating. Bobby. Her name was Bobby. And for the first time in his life, he was truly in love.

#my art #do not steal #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime #headcanon #smiling critters #the smiling critters #dogday #catnap #kickinchicken #sunny phoenix #sunshine phoenix #bobby bearhug #smiling critters oc #oc x canon

[softxsuki]

Hello! Could I request a letter for your Valentines Day Letter Event? I’d like one with Pro!Hero Bakugou with Pro!Hero Fem Reader. Her quirk is Storm (like the marvel character) and she can affect the elements (earth, wind, fire and air) . I’d like if he called me ‘pretty girl or baby girl' in the letter! We’re not in an established relationship, but everyone is sure he has a crush on me since we work so well together.

Tone/Genre: adoration and angst to fluff (ish) where he apologizes and confesses his feelings after i told him friend that he doesn't treat me like i am his type.

Location: we live near each other and we're around each other often; we basically work in the same office. i went to work to see the letter and other trinkets left on my desk.

Other info: We work super well together and i also like him, but i feel as if i’m not his type that he would go for, so i hope he would explain how dumb it is for me to think that way. He also only allows me to work with him, even though he finds my flirting "annoying" We are also 23. Thank you!”

Bakugou's Confession Letter to His Patrol Partner

This event is now CLOSED, but you can view the masterlist for the other letters here.

| Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader | Genre: Fluff | Post-Type: Letter | Word Count: 600 |

Warnings: slight language bc hellooo he's bakugou

Note: Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you enjoy your letter from Bakugou!

Your mind keeps running over what happened just a few hours ago. Kirishima had heard rumors going around that you and Bakugou were dating, and all you did was laugh him off, saying how Bakugou would never like someone like you.

But had you said too much? Did it make it obvious that you liked Bakugou even if your feelings were most likely one-sided? What if Kirishima told him and Bakugou started avoiding you? You had been up all night overthinking the situation. It didn’t help that today was Valentine’s Day and you felt sad that it would be another year that you were alone, mentally occupied by your grumpy work partner. 

What you didn't know was Bakugou had been listening in on your conversation with Kirishima as you practically gave away that you liked him and he immediately came up with a plan to make sure you knew he felt the same way. Though he was a little dejected that you thought he wouldn’t like someone like you.

The next day you show up at work and see an envelope on your desk with your name on it. Thinking it was a letter from your boss about a mission or something, you casually sit at your desk and open it;

Y/N,

Look, I don’t know why you’d think that I couldn’t like someone like you. What does that even mean? But…I’m sorry if I made it seem like I wasn’t interested in you, because I am. You’re the only idiot in this place I can actually tolerate. You don’t annoy me like the rest of these extras that call themselves heroes, and you’re talented and good at what you do.

So yeah, I do like you and that’s just how it is. If you’re wondering how I know this, shitty hair didn’t say anything to me, even though he should have because he’s my so-called friend and already knew how I felt about you, but I overheard you speaking with him yesterday.

I’m sorry for listening in, but I’m glad I did otherwise I probably wouldn’t be doing this right now. I’m an idiot for thinking your flirting was just you being playful. I thought maybe that’s just something you did to everyone, as much as the thought of that pissed me off. Just flirt like that with me from now on, okay?

So now you know that i like you and I know you like me. What do you want to do about it? If you want to give it a shot, come to my office later and we can make plans for tonight. Might as well take advantage of this shitty ‘holiday’ everyone raves on about.

See you later,

Katsuki.

You look up in the direction of Bakugou’s office which was a few feet away from your desk, your heart racing in your chest. The shades to his office were open as you see his eyes already on you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, of course you were embarrassed that he had overheard you say that, but it turns out your overthinking was for nothing as the angry blond actually liked you back and was practically asking you out in his own way.

You see him raise a brow, as if questioning your choice. With a small smile, you nod in confirmation, you face getting a little hot before turning back to your computer screen.

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, yet excitement bubbled up in your stomach at the thought of going out with him later as something more than just coworkers.

Posted: 2/14/2024

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n

[emlee81]

Javier Pena-Don't Go part 1

***

You've been working with Javi for several weeks now and you two become close.

Then there's a chance you'll have to leave Colombia and return home. Javier does everything I his power to stop that from happening.

Some swearing and innuendo and violence.

..............

"I won't let it happen!" Javi is adamant.

"Hey, Javi. Ssh. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay! Not until you can stay here with me." Javier kisses you tenderly and you can see the moisture beginning to form in his dark eyes.

You gently wrap your arms around him as Javi buries his face against your neck. You just hold him. You, of all people, know that Javier Pena loves to come off as a complete asshole.

Like he doesn't give a shit about anything or anyone. That couldn't be farther from the truth. Shit got to him. It tore at his mind and soul. How he would awaken many times during the night, screaming out.

Then you would do just as you're doing now. Hold him until he could fall back asleep again, your limbs tangled together and pressed up against each other's bodies.

Javi pulls away, his blood shot eyes moist. You gently kiss his forehead. Then he lips. Javier sighs heavily.

"There has to be something I can do to make them change their mind. I'll do whatever I have to, chica."

Javi pulls you close to him and you just hold each other.

..............

"What the hell, Pena?" His boss was not impressed. Asshole, Javi fumes.

"She's a valuable member of my team. I need her to stay. Or else find yourself another leader!"

"Fine! Two more months. That's it, Pena! Now get the hell outta my office before I change my damn mind!"

Javi turns and hurries out. He's glad his back is to that asshole. He has a grin as wide as the sun.

...........

"Mi amor!" Javi catches you up in his arms and spins you around. You laugh. It's nice to see Javi in such a fantastic mood.

He sets you down, kissing you hungrily. You kiss him back. Javier's hands clutch the bottom of your shirt tightly. You clutch his leather jacket tightly.

"God, I want to devour you right here and now." Javi looks so damn intense, it's making you squirmy. You kiss his mustache and Javi shifts.

"Not now," you gasp. "Later." Javier reluctantly releases you and groans in frustration as he scrubs a hand over his face.

"I don't know if I can wait that long." You laugh and hug him.

"We'll just have to." Javi grins ruefully.

"Unfortunately."

..............

Once you and Javi leave the office, you practically rush back to his place. Javi doesn't waste any time and it feels so damn amazing!

You cuddle with Javi, loving the feel of his solid body lying next to yours. You touch his mustache as much as possible. He chuckles softly and kisses your fingers.

Javi slings his arm over you as you're pressed up against his. You gaze at him. He suddenly squirms and you frown.

"What?"

"He said, two months, tops. I don't want that. I need you here with me permanently." You stare at him.

"What aren't you saying?" Javi suddenly grasps one of your hands in his.

"Marry me, Y/N. Please." You pull your hand away and sit up.

"Javi, we've only known each other for a few months. You don't know me well enough to ask that of me."

"Damnit!" Javi somehow manages to look both pissed and hurt at the same time. You gently kiss him.

"If that's what you really want. We need to think things over." Javier sighs and nods.

"Then we will." He gazes at you. "Because, I know I can't speak for you. But I can't live without you."

To be continued.....

#fun times #pedro pascal #angst #sad thoughts #javier peña #narcos #hurt/comfort