#Fresh from the printer! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachesofteal · 25 days

Text

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

Six thirty in the morning might be your favorite time of day.

It’s the before.

Before anyone else comes in, before the morning rush, before the chime of the front door’s bell, before the shop is filled with lines of people, before it all upends you.

At six thirty in the morning, you sit in the back, perched on the prep table, with a fresh cup of coffee. You leave the side door open, screen separating you from the world, fresh air mixing with the smell of strawberry basil scones, cinnamon coffee cake and mini kolaches, fruited with whatever jam you’ve managed to throw together. Steam rises, semolina spills, the sun dawns, and the world wakes… all well after you’ve had your breakfast.

This corner of the city is busy, and the shop always hums like a well-oiled machine in the dregs of a rush, the front counter team churning out specialty coffees and teas effortlessly. It’s cyclical, similar faces every day, morning commuters rushing in and out, locals settling in a nook with their laptops and lattes, people swinging in for a quick bite. You hide in the back, usually, elbow deep in sudsy warm water with your mountain of dishes, answering the occasional shout of 'do we have more of-' and 'just sold the last-'

This morning in particular, cranberry orange scones, pumpkin muffins and mini quiches are the only things left cooling on the speed racks, waiting patiently for their turn to be placed in the display case, an endless cycle of replenishment lasting until the rush dies down, morning fading into afternoon, triple shot monstrosities turning into decaf coffees.

It’s laborious, this routine. Five, six, sometimes seven days a week, going to bed with the sun, rising before it. Your wrists ache from rolling dough, cutting dough, scraping dough. Your back weeps when you lift the bowl from the mixer stand every morning, and your joints fare no better. You need new boots, and new insoles for your new boots, and probably a new standing mat, though you know your boss will never go for it.

You’re tired.

The exhaustion settles into your bones easily today, wearing you down until you’re allowing your eyes to close, wilting atop the butcher’s block-

The shop phone rings.

You heave yourself down and swing through the double doors to the front, scrambling for the classic corded receiver, nearly fumbling it in your hands.

“Hello?” Shit. You always forget to answer with the shop’s name. You’re not exactly the customer facing part of the operation. “Galaxy’s.” You correct and… wait.

There’s no response.

You think you can hear someone breathing, something rustling, but it’s too faint and difficult to make out.

“’Lo?” You try again, but still, there’s silence. It’s an unending moment, you on one end… who knows what on the other, and you hold your breath, straining to hear, to listen.

The line clicks dead in the next second.

Odd.

The shop girl is chewing gum.

You’ve told her a million times not to chew gum when she’s working the counter, but clearly, she’s never heard of norovirus, and you’re not the boss, or the owner, so being the broken record only gets you so far.

“There’s someone out front to see you.” She snaps it between her front teeth, and your molars grind together like stone.

“Who?” You toss a clean towel on the stainless steel table in the middle of the kitchen with a frown. You don’t really get visitors here, most of your friends are in the same industry, and either work the line too late to be up in time to even get coffee somewhere, or are already at work, buried beneath a bain-marie and the never-ending sound of a ticket printer.

There’s dried, caulked dough caked to your fingers, shoved up underneath your nails, and you brush them self-consciously against the ratty old apron stretched across your waist.

The surprise lingers on your tongue, and then explodes when you spot the massive dusky blonde from the other day, the one who was with the guy who split the coffee all over your favorite dress. He’s too tall, and too broad, and too imposing, everything in your sense of self-preservation screaming at you to run when he notices you approaching, gleam of a predator sparkling in his eyes.

Still, somewhere, tucked away, it thrills you, the idea of them, the balancing act, two halves of a whole. He’s etched from stone, strong and steady, while his partner is saporous, vibrant, and riotous, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun.

You wonder what they're like. What they talk about. What they do.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Your skin prickles once you fall into his orbit, immobilized by the molten toffee pooling around his irises. You float for a second, tracing his knife’s edged jaw, the fullness of his lips, imperfect pieces puzzled together to make a masterpiece, and then crash back to earth quickly, realizing you’re standing in front of him… staring.

“Uh. Hi.” What is he doing here? How did he know where to find you?

“Sorry to barge in on you at work.” He starts immediately, wallet appearing from his back pocket like a magic trick. “Wanted to make sure we settled up.” Thick fingers hold a folded nest of notes, and you stare down at them, slowly processing what he means.

Cash?

“Oh, I… I have… venmo. Or we could use apple pay, you didn’t have to come all the-“

“Don’t have venmo.” His mouth tilts, and you go with it, head listing to the side like a wayward buoy. “This is easier.” He pushes it into your hand, peeling your fingers back to enclose the money in your palm, heat sparking up your spine.

“How did you know where I worked?” You blurt, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The question singes, settles uncomfortably in the sparks between you.

“Saw you in the back yesterday, when we were in for a cuppa.” Oh. Suspicion sheds, snakeskin left behind on a cold, dusty trail, suspension of disbelief settling in the back of your mind. Sure. After all, this is where you ran into them last week, on your day off. They do come here.

“Well. Thanks.”

“It’s our pleasure. Hope the stain came out okay.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s… still at the cleaners.” This is absolutely false, but he doesn’t need to know that. The spare bills will probably go towards your energy bill, and the ruined dress will go in the trash.

It is what it is.

“Couldn’t help but notice when I was comin’ through the parking lot that the back door is open.” His voice swoops low, dropping into a rumble, and you blink, lips parting.

“Oh, um y-yeah. I like the breeze.” He shakes his head, a simple rejection, leaving you spinning.

“City’s not the safest right now, yeah?” Oh, yeah. Of course, you knew. Rival factions of organized crime were leaving a red sea of bodies in their wake all over town, a new murder popping up in the headlines nearly every week.

But you were safe. You were fine. Galaxy’s had never been stained with the bloody touch of any of them, and you took it as fact. Permanence.

You agree reluctantly, watching the storm clouds roil on across his expression before evaporating. You shrug, hands clutched in your apron, doubt and skepticism clear on your face.

His expression shutters. His eyes turn cold.

His thumb and forefinger dart through the air, latching onto your chin.

You freeze. You should tug away, jerk backwards, yell and scream and hiss, but all you can do is stand there, caught in a trap and trembling as he leans forward to murmur in your ear.

“Lock the door, little doe.”

#peaches writes #guess the au?#ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #still written on the phone so #mind the mistakes

1K notes · View notes

credince--writes · 1 year

Text

Scary Dog

You need a new printer. Sometimes you need to bring negotiation aids.

Useless, shitty little one-shot because I need something else to work on.

Konig x Medic!Reader

Scary dog privileges

Your pen tapped against the desk you sat at. The smell of sanitizer and printer ink was fresh on your nose.

And, well your skin too.

That goddamn printer, it was always breaking, half of the time you thought it would just catch fire.

It would be easier that way if it just did, then you'd be able to get a new one.

But, alas, you weren't the head bitch of the armed-with-alcohol-pads crew. That lovely position was reserved by Lud.

All the other doctors lovingly refer to him as Dud.

Because that is what he is.

A Dud.

A lazy, selfish, piece of-

You were getting sidetracked.

He would always deny your requests for a new printer, and at this point, it was a hindrance to your job.

The black ink splattered all over you, staining your shirt and skin was proof of that.

You prided yourself in your work,

your efficiency.

Your ability to get the things others couldn't get done, done.

Just so happened that because of this, you got the....

How could you phrase it?

Well,

you got the scary dogs.

They were big, and they looked mean as hell.

But all it took was a threatening glance and they were rolling over showing their soft puppy bellies to her.

Maybe it was the dum dums you brought back from America to give them as a treat for being a good patient.

"That's it!" You slapped your hands on your desk, throwing the muddled papers scatted across the floor as you swiped your arms across the desk.

All of the papers were useless, all thanks to that fucking printer.

Stomping out of your little office, you made your way through the hallway and into the main living space for the team.

"I need a dog!" You yell, catching everyone in the space's attention.

"What?" One of the men ask.

You promptly ignore him, scanning the room and walking- angrily - might you add to find the perfect scary dog.

"A big- scary fucking dog!" You flail your arms in the air.

And your eyes landed on him.

Oh.

He'd do.

He'd do just fine.

"König." You call out, sickly sweet.

He was already staring at you, giving you a cautious glance.

"Did you fight an octopus, doctor?" He asks.

His accent, it was thick.

Just like the rest of him, you suppose.

Music to your ears.

"Would you please accompany me to Doctor Dud?"

He stands, lifting his body to its natural heigh, towering above you.

Perfect.

"Is everything alright?"

"I just need you... to be my big scary dog." You smile.

That smile could make him do horrible things.

"Uh...?" He asks, confused.

"Be intimidating. Be my persuasion, can you do that for me? Please König?" You bat your eyelashes- not too much. A subtle blink or so.

His name falling off your lips.

He had to catch himself for falling forward as he zoned out, looking down at you as you so sweetly begged for his presence.

"Of course." He nodded.

"Great!" You grinned, that evil toothy Cheshire smile.

Pulling him along- not this his long stride took up two of yours- you stood outside of Dud's office. Knocking on the door twice, you pushed the door open and made eye contact with him.

He never really took the time to work with the special teams.

They were a little rowdy for him.

"What do I owe the pleasure....." His voice trailed off, looking up and meeting the narrow, deadly gaze of König.

"Oh, I think the printer is on the fritz again!" You laughed lightly, innocently.

Oh, how evil.

"... I can see that." He said.

"I think it would be best if I just got the new printer." You said, tilting your head to the side. "You see, König was in my office but he can't go about his day until his paperwork gets finished!" You laughed.

"Well... I don't think a new one is in the cards right now-"

"Oh no!" You fake pouted. "I'd hate to cause your mission to delay König." She glances up at him.

His eyes were fixed on Dud.

His presence loomed.

It was as if he sucked the heat from the room, leaving the air in a suffocating freeze.

"Oh- well-" Dud stammers.

"We wouldn't want to cause any inconveniences to König here, would we?" You ask innocently.

Dud swears that a red glint flashes in König's eyes.

"Of course not!" He all but heaves out, sweat collecting on his brow.

"So, new printer?" You ask happily.

"I'll have it brought down right away."

"Great!" You smile, turn, and quickly walk out of the door.

König doesn't move, opting to leave an impression by standing there in silence a few seconds longer, staring into his soul.

"König!" You call.

His head snaps back, releasing him from his trance. He spins on his heel and quickly exits the room, tailing you.

Man, maybe next you could get new linens!

#könig x reader #könig x you #mwii #call of duty mw2 #König

8K notes · View notes

faeriekit · 9 days

Text

Salt Mirror

phic phight fill with two prompts; for @echoghost1 and @fuyuthefoxwriter

(Sister fics are Snow Day, Snowdrift Sanctuary, and Frozen Out)

********

The first thing Danny noticed was the teeth.

Or. Well. The first thing Frostbite noticed were the teeth. What Danny noticed was that suddenly he was being offered bigger and bigger bones with his meal, which were very much not typical human-appropriate food.

“You break them,” Frostbite showed him, pinning the bone between two sharp canines and biting down. The bone broke clean in two. Hot-dog style. “Then you are free to eat the marrow inside.”

Danny stared. “I don’t… I don't think my teeth do that.”

“Try it,” his guardian encouraged.

…Well. He hoped Far Frozen had as good a dentistry practice as they did medicine. Danny shoved the bone between his canine teeth, and clamped down—

—And the bone broke clean through.

Huh. That was…new.

Well. Marrow tasted good, anyway, and scooping the butter-soft marrow out with a spoon was easy. Danny might have clunked the wooden spoon against his teeth a couple times (man, was he clumsy today) but he was very happy with the results.

The next day Frostbite offered him an arm-length rib bone, Danny didn’t even hesitate to chomp down.

He ate through four ribs before he felt full. He was happy.

The second thing Danny noticed was how pale he got.

Like. As in ‘his arm matched the snow-white fur of his tundra-proof coat’ level pale. ‘White as a glacier and just as blue’ level pale. Like. There was no red left in his skin.

He pressed his thumb to his palm. It went yellow, and then flushed back to white as his blood went back in.

…Spooky. Uh. Danny blinked loudly. Maybe he was…sick…?

There wasn’t a mirror in their cave dwelling, and nothing was shiny enough to reflect in— everything that wasn’t medical was cast iron, or not quite mirror smooth, like Frostbite’s round cooking knives.

Danny needed a mirror.

He bundled up and walked through fresh snow drifts to the closest medical facility: an ice cave across from Ledyanoy and Avalanche’s home, carved into one of several dozen pillars of ice embedded into the floating island. Danny knew that there was a mirror there, since Frostbite went in for mirror therapy every time his ice-carved arm began to itch psychosomatically.

He darted inside. Pritla was the only one in there, so they ignored him in their quest for additional data. Great. All Danny needed was the mirror set up in the corner, ready and waiting to be rolled into place for Frostbite’s next session.

Danny peeked at his reflection. He looked…wow.

For one, Danny looked spooky as hell. The blue went all around his eyes, now— no whites to be seen, creating an uneasy, inhuman look. He was pale. He was very pale. He looked like the printer had run out of any colors that might have given him some sort of standing to wander reality with.

The insides of his lips were blue. The wet inner linings around his eyes were blue.

…What.

And. Speaking of…lips…his gums were a deep, sapphire blue, as was his tongue. None of that was as important as his huge freaking fangs, though!

Like! Huge! Not yeti huge, of course, but still!! Danny had no idea how they weren’t sticking straight out of his mouth when he closed it. Big, pearly fangs.

What the heck was happening to him?

“I think you’re turning into a Yeti,” Tundra decided primly, and flung himself at Arctic without any further thought. The teenage Yeti— still taller than Danny by two heads and a half— squawked, barely seeing the projectile cub in time to dodge appropriately.

“No,” said Danny. It was more outright denial than certainty. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself.

Avalanche, who was the closest to adulthood out of all of them, watched the two wrestle balefully. Tundra was barely out of cub age, and Arctic wasn’t much better than Sidney Poindexter when it came to having his crap together, so it was kind of like watching two frogs mud-wrestle in knee-high snow.

“I mean,” said Avalanche, mostly bored by the spectacle of Arctic getting his butt whipped by what amounted to a kid, “I’m pretty sure it’s normal for human-born ghosts to adapt to their Obsessions after they form. You have to change a little to match your environment. And we have a lot of snow.”

“So much!” Tundra howled from where he was perched on top of Arctic. His victory lasted as long as it took for Arctic to get his legs underneath himself, push himself to standing, and launch Tundra into a snow drift with a surprised squeal.

Arctic shook himself off. His fur fluffed up with the effort, which made him look larger in size than usual. “I think that if you were turning into a yeti, Frostbite would have noticed. Or said something. Or done something.”

Avalanche shook her head, gamely ignoring how Tundra had turned from a fallen-in-the-snow position to a crouching-and-ready-to-pounce position. Danny had seen this a million times now; either Arctic would notice (he wouldn’t) and dodge, or he’d once again fall victim to Tundra’s childish enthusiasm.

Danny and Avalanche largely had no comment on Tundra’s second leap of faith, nor for their mutual struggle for pubescent dominance that ensued.

There were other questions to ask.

“Am I turning into a yeti?” Phantom asked.

Frostbite looked down.

The half-ghost looked nervous— picking at his lip until green beaded under his teeth, his hands in the sleeves of his coat.

“No,” Frostbite confirmed. He didn’t smile, as it would have seemed condescending in the face of Phantom’s genuine worry. It was better to keep calm. “Why are you worried about turning into a yeti?”

Phantom stared up at him, eyes deep and luminous. Frostbite had seen similar coloration on deep-sea creatures, long-travelled things desperate for any sort of light. The sight was compelling, yes, but could not substitute for a verbal answer.

“...Because I’m changing colors and now I have sharp teeth and I think I’m growing claws,” Phantom pointed out. All of these things were true. They were very good, sturdy teeth, and very good, sturdy claws, which was a good sign; anything otherwise would have indicated a lack of support on Frostbite’s end.

“It is a very normal thing to want to explore other forms of expression at your age,” Frostbite pointed out. He threaded his paws through Phantom’s pale hair, and found, to his pride, little buds of ice horns. “And I am very flattered that you think so highly of us that you are interested in mimicking some of our more obvious traits; that being said, if it distresses you, you are always free to change back.”

Phantom’s face turned…lost. “Oh.”

Frostbite continued petting. More explanation would come, or it wouldn’t— but in the meantime, the human tinge returned to his charge’s cheeks, flush with red blood, and the bud horns collapsed where they grew. His charge’s hair turned dark once more, his teeth flat and human.

Phantom’s eyes were always blue. The human color was not as deep, but was just as nice. Now, there were tears in them.

“What is wrong, little one?” Frostbite rumbled, concerned. Phantom took his paw and pressed his face to it in search of tactile comfort.

“I didn’t know why I was changing,” Phantom admitted, sniffing. His voice was wet and raw. “I was scared I couldn’t go back. Humans don’t just…change like that, 'cause we're made of matter. I was scared…”

Frostbite rumbled wordlessly. His charge had adapted very well to a non-human environment, but there were knowledge gaps that would have come naturally to any Realms-Borne being; most intuitively was knowledge of the self, as well as the rigidity (and fluidity) of one’s own manner of expression.

Changing without realization would be distressing. Frostbite still remembered what it felt like to wake up some mornings and realize that his arm was gone.

“You are alright,” Frostbite reaffirmed. “It it healthy to change, and it is a good time to find out how you will want to present yourself. That being said, there is no rush.”

Frostbite paused.

“There is one rush. If you intend to partake in eating marrow with our dinner tonight, you may want to manifest your teeth again—”

Phantom laughed, little cub’s fangs poking out between his teeth. All would be well; but first, there was dinner to be had, and a good night’s sleep to be found.

#phic phight #phic phight 2024 #phic phight 24 #i cannot remember what tags I have been using and it's kind of distressing ngl #danny phantom #far frozen #Frostbite #Danny Fenton #Yeti!OCs #'what do yeti teenagers do' idk babysit n roam around n hit each other probably #Danny's having an identity crisis which is p fair for cross-species adoption after your parents rejected you for expressing inherent traits #faer fic

247 notes · View notes

carionto · 7 months

Text

"OMG, that's so cool! We want one."

The United Federation have unveiled a monstrosity.

On the border before the Neutral Zone, a barren planet now has a new moon. Upon closer inspection, it was indeed a moon, but also not. When it turned, we saw an abomination of a surface. Innumerable laser batteries, shield generators embedded within the core of the planetoid, endless rows of mass printers, underground hangars, and a constant supply of fresh pilots and crew from their subservient races.

The Galactic Coalition are not at war with them, currently, but this kind of provocation cannot go unanswered! We debated long into several cycles before the Human delegates joined us. They took one look at the images of the Federation Battle Moon and exclaimed all at once:

"Holy shit!" "That's awesome!" "It looks like a giant face!" "With GUNS!" "Fuckin' rad." "I want one!" "Yeah, same." "Can we build that?" "I dunno, probably?" "Quick, get the engineers!" "Right on!"

"Sorry, but we gotta show this to everyone, we'll be right back."

In a flurry of motion and excitement, the Humans left to contact the rest of Humanity. Their comments in the blur of the moment gradually filter through to us and we begin to worry. This Battle Moon is the largest structure anyone has ever built! Well, that is until the Humans finish their Planetary Warp Gate and Dyson Sphere...

Okay, the largest military structure. We suspect that will soon change though.

---[Aboard the Department of Strategy (Space Pentagon)]---

"Message from the Coalition delegate team, the Joint Chiefs have to see this."

As the message plays and the Joint Chiefs examine the documents, a variety of expressions hide deep internal thoughts and deliberations. Here they sit, the fifteen people responsible for all of Humanity's decisions and matters of import regarding our expansion and existence on the Galactic stage. Once silence began to reign, Grand Admiral Ekaterina is the first to stand and speak up:

"This is certainly an impressive display on the Federation's part, and further solidifies their stance as a likely aggressor. Given what we know, there is little chance for a diplomatic solution and a long-term peaceful coexistence. Thus, only two questions remain:

Which moon are we gonna use? And what's our Battle Moon gonna look like? I vote giant skull with horns!"

#humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #carionto

625 notes · View notes

writersblockedx · 1 year

Text

Crashing

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - It just so happens that girl's night is taking place at Y/n and Spencer's favourite restaurant. Warnings - None, I don't think! Words - 1.2K

Masterlist

Spencer wassn't one to be cocky. He wasn't one to show off to those around him. He also adored the idea of privacy. Something which was difficult with his nosy co-workers who craved every speckle of his current life activities. So, somehow, somewhere along the lines, his new girlfriend had slipped through their attention.

Derek had made a quick jab at some of the marks which painted his neck, but he never asked many questions other than mocking the young boy. So you had been kept a secret. Something of which Spencer was silently grateful for. As much as he would adore for you to meet Garcia and the rest of the team, to have something so tranquil separated from the violence and chaos which encompassed his work was nice. And he strived to keep it that way for as long as possible.

A weekend following a tough case had been in need of time together. Something of which had involved a fancy restaurant, an even fancier dress, two chairs facing each other, plates of expensive food and captivating conversation. "And then, of course, the printer had to break." You had huffed, in the middle of a very mundane story that the FBI agent across from you probably couldn't relate to.

Specner was about to let out a chuckle, his drink hovering over his lips when such a tranquil atmosphere had become bombarded. "Spencer?" A squeaky voice called, excitement written in their tone.

The boy tensed. He could barely glance to you before he turned in his chair, spotting Garcia as she rushed over from the bar side of the restaurant. Of course, he recalled, girl's date. They had been getting ready for it all week...only they failed to mention they were going to be drinking at Y/n and Spencer's favourite restaurant. And now any idea of privacy and keeping such a solace situation away from his other life seemed impossible.

"Garcia," He pushed out a smile that came off just as awkward as he felt. "Hi."

Her eyes were straight over to the girl sitting across from him. You were sat like a bunny in the lions den, a slight grin which was nothing compared to the smile that was shining across Garcia. "And who is this lovely girl?" The woman asked.

You leaned over, offering your hand for her to shake. "Y/n," You introduced. Garcia took it in a rush, an exaggerated shake following. "You must be Garcia," You glanced to Spencer and raised a brow, "Right?" You wanted to be certain. From the description Spencer had given you of all his team, the pretty, bright lady in front of you did best to fit it.

Spencer had given you a nod. And just as Garcia was about to open her mouth again, start to nag at you to find out who you in fact were to Spencer, the other two girls trailed along. In a similar fashion, they stopped, took a glance at the couple in the midst of a date and their eyes widened. "Oh," Slipped from Emily's lips first. At least you assumed it was Emily with her straight black hair.

You let out a breath like it were fresh air. "Hi," You sighed as if the tension around the group wasn't building.

Finally, Spencer stepped in. "Erm, this is Y/n," He looked between you and the girls who were all just as shocked as each other. "My girlfriend."

That had really left them stunned. They each could barely mumble words. At the time, a jumble of hi, nice to meet you, was said, ignoring the very thick tension which was suffocating the air around them. And so, just as quickly as they had crowded the table, they left. Their voices muttering and whispering, each asking if the other was aware. The three girls came to the quick conclusion that Spencer Reid had in fact been keeping this girlfriend of his a secret from them.

The Monday after followed the consequences of Spencer's actions. No one had said anything so far. For that he was partly grateful, but he assumed this was the calm before the storm. He assumed right. By the time he made it into the conference room, he knew he was in for it. He made sure he was the last in. And for the very first time, the whole team was sat around the table in silence.

Spencer didn't say anything at first. Rather, he wandered into his own seat, glancing at the file in front of him. Still, no one said anything.

The boy peered up, finding all eyes on him. A huff escaped his lips, "What?" He questioned, thinking maybe he could play this dumb.

Another moment of silence followed. One of which could only be broken by Penelope Garcia. "You have a girlfriend?" She was drooling in offensive, a sort of sense of betrayal that had evoked some sympathy from Spencer.

He looked over at the rest of the team who were just as eagerly waiting for an answer as Garcia was. "You weren't really meant to find out." He muttered, avoiding eye contact at any moment.

JJ leaned forward, her brows twisting, "You weren't going to tell us?" She scoffed.

Spencer seemed to only be able to shrug, "You never asked." And like that, he seemed to sink back into his seat.

Another awkward moment passed before Emily finally spoke up, "Well I say it's about time."

Spencer's head turned to her, "What?" He asked with furrowed brows.

"It's about time you finally get a girlfriend." She reiterated.

Morgan, who Spencer had been most anxious over, finally added into the conversation. "I thought it was a joke when Garcia told me."

"Hey!" The young boy snapped in response.

"What was her name again?" He questioned, ignoring the irritation laced in Spencer's tone.

"And what exactly does she do for a living?" Emily added.

Something which seemed to start a trend in the piling questions, "Do she live with you?" Garcia had said, sitting upright in a sudden excitement for him.

"How long have you even been together?" JJ asked.

And with the many questions, Spencer seemed to not even be able to answer one of them. Luckily for him, just as they had been asked, Rossi came to save him the stress. "How about we just be happy for the kid?" He suggested, leant back in his chair with one brow raised at the rest of the team.

That within itself had done well to shut them up. And, for the first time since Spencer had entered the room, Hotch finally spoke up. "Now, Garcia?" The woman tensed, expecting some comment about personal and work lives. "The case?" She relaxed - as had Spencer. The privacy of his own life would return to the backburner as the woman stood, ready to lead the meeting.

By the time she had started talking, everyone had long forgotten about the grilling they were giving him. And when Specner caught glance of Hotch, he gave the younger man a wink, silently telling him that it was okay. Maybe it hadn't been ideal, but suppose this was one way to introduce his co-workers to the girl in his life.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #imagine

1K notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 8 months

Text

there is no cure for jealousy

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: While there are definite perks to being a military pharmacist (a steady job, respectful patients, and a comfortable income), there are some downsides. At first, you don't mind the newest addition to your routine, a recruit who visits and makes light conversation, but the 141 recognizes he might not be just an innocent patient.

pairing: Task Force 141 x pharmacist!Reader

some other parts of the pharmacist!series:

counseling the 141 - first part to the pharmacist! story

weird dreams when they are injured on the field

being sick and having the 141 come to the rescue

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and violence

a/n: okay first! i ran out of gifs fo use so i’m trying this new header idea :) also the pharmacist is back! I was so surprised that next to the stripper!reader, this one was almost as popular :) thank you for all the love you bring to this series

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Week 13, the last to final week for the newest Army recruits. It was better known as Attack Week. Everyone was familiar with the time as it was an entire week the recruits would put their newly learned skills to the test and experience the adrenaline of the battlefield. This was your 5th one as a pharmacist so you knew the drill. You hummed as you checked over your items. It was all hands on deck as the number of injuries was high and you were preparing for the newest scripts and deliveries to the infirmary. "Here they come," your technician called out as you heard the printer whir with the amounts of newly verified scripts. "Just on time," you said as you looked down at your watch. "You fill and I'll verify," you commented to him as you settled down at the computer, "hopefully there isn't too many DUR's and I can help with the queue." Through the corner of your eye, you could see the tech say a silent prayer before he went to retrieve the medications from the aisle.

Thankfully, there hadn't been too many scripts requiring extra clarification or absolute contraindications. You took the bin of recently filled prescriptions and walked over to the window filled with waiting young faces. "Good morning," you smiled at the teenager who couldn't be more than 18 standing in front of you. "Morning, Captain," she replied formally, "Alexandra Davidson." "Alright, Alexandra give me a moment and I'll give you your goodie bag," you joked and you could see her serious expression crack with a smile. That was how the majority of the morning went, fresh new faces and minimum conversation as they all feared their superiors. You knew the experienced soldier avoided the pharmacy unless absolutely necessary. Around 12, you saw some familiar faces and gave a small wave to the 141 as they passed to the mess hall. "Doin' great, Cap," Soap called and you forced a smile on your tired face. Around 1:30 you closed for a break and quickly scarfed down a sandwich and cup of soup before the clock struck 2.

When you walked back to the window, the line had gone down significantly and more familiar faces began to appear in the queue. "Hello there," a young man said and you recognized he was one of the newest recruits. His eyes scanned your figure as he looked down at you but you just brushed it off. "Good afternoon," you replied, "name?" He smiled and leaned on the counter before replying, "Jason Powell." "Alright, Jason," you smiled as you pulled up his file. You looked to the right and saw the bin his bag right on top. "I have yours right here," you said and handed it to him. "Must be my lucky day," he smirked as you gave him the bag. As he looked at it, he had a curious expression on his face. "Is something wrong?" you asked as he opened it to hold the small blister pack. "This is embarrassing, Captain, but I've never had to go to the chemist's before," he said sheepishly and you listened intently, "how-how do I take these?"

You were no stranger to patient counseling and in fact, loved giving your mini-lecture whenever someone needed it. "Oh don't worry!" you replied as you looked up at him, "this is paracetamol probably because of an injury on the field?" He nodded in response and you continued. "It'll help with any aches or pains you have. What you want to do is take one of the capsules and drink it with water," you explained, "You can take it every 4 to 6 hours but remember to take no more than 8 in a 24hr period." With that, you smiled and he thanked you before leaving. After a few more patients, Gaz finally came to the front to pick up some paracetamol and antihistamines. "The young recruit had a lot of questions," he remarked as you went to retrieve his prescription. "Never took a pill before so I was happy to explain," you said and handed him his bag of pills. "Watch out for them, this new batch is something else," he commented and left the pharmacy with that ominous statement.

He might have been correct as the same recruit kept appearing at your pharmacy for the next week. First, it was for a dose change because his pain was still severe from his sprained wrist. "Still the same way to take these," you joked as you handed the bag to him and he held your hand gently. "Thank you as always, Captain," he replied and you ignored the confused look from Soap who was right behind him. "Just a nice kid," you sighed before you entered your own long conversation with the Scotsman.

The next day, you sighed as Jason appeared at your window. "Another dose change?" you asked as you hated seeing repeat customers, especially for something that wasn't a prophylaxis treatment. He shook his head before replying. "Heard this was the place to let you know I think I have a penicillin allergy," he responded and you sighed. Price was only behind him in the queue and nodded as you apologized that adding an allergy would take a moment. As you typed it into his file and marked it so the appropriate individuals would note it, you couldn't help but wonder why he was here. "The medical wing does know they can add this in themselves? Hate to have you come all this way," you muttered and you failed to catch his small smirk. "I don't mind at all, just means I get to see you!" he replied happily and you returned his cheery demeanor. "Well you'll all set now, shouldn't need you to come down unless you need a refill," you replied and he waved before exiting.

"I thought it was a rumor, but I believe my sergeants when they say that little one fancies you," Price joked and you rolled your eyes before finding his bag. As you checked to verify the correct amount of bottles, you couldn't believe he was feeding into this. "He just has lots of questions and wants to get the best care the military can offer," you corrected but Price raised an eyebrow. "Captain, there's a fine line between stupidity and acting like an idiot to flirt," he clarified, "you should've seen what recruits do when they see Lt. Riley walking their way." You both shared a laugh as there were plenty of stories of those who fancied the tall, mysterious man. "They may like Lt. Riley but that changes on a dime when Ghost appears," you added and Price nodded in response. "Took the words right out of my mouth, Captain."

The final straw was when he returned for a fourth time. "Hello again, Jason," you said with a tired smile, "what can I do for you?" "Just wanted to say hi to my favorite pharmacist," he mused and you tried to hide your slight annoyance. "Well, here's your hello," you responded and his optimism faltered, "sorry, just been a long day." "Can I do anything to make it better?" he flirted and smoothed out his non-existent short hair. "You can by leaving them alone," Ghost suddenly spoke and you realized he was next in the small queue. "And why would I do that?" he challenged as he turned to Ghost. Ghost was in his uniform exercise gear and there was no display of his rank. You couldn't help but smirk when Ghost walked forward and stood a full head above him.

"What are you a recruit?" Ghost commanded and he nodded with fervor. "Then, I expect you to get out of here," he continued but the receipt stayed in place. "You're not my commanding officer so I don't see why I need to listen to you," he replied and you could practically see the veins appear on his forehead. Before he could say anything further, the rest of the 141 entered with Price in uniform and Gaz and Soap in their gym attire. "Something a matter here, gentleman?" Price asked as he walked up to you. Before you could respond, Ghost spoke up. "This recruit here thinks its funny to bother our pharmacist," he muttered and the recite stood taller and straighter seeing the Captain rank on Price's uniform. "Well then," Price began, "I don't think it's appropriate for you to be here any longer, Jason." He was just about to reply when Price cut him off. "And you should show some respect, your pharmacist is not someone to be flirted with and is an out-ranking Captain to you," he said, motioning to you, "and this here is Lieutenant Riley." Jason looked like he was about to cry when he said that. "So if you don't want your life to be a living hell, you should leave," Soap interjected and the recruit ran out of the pharmacy.

When he was gone, you all shared a long laugh. "I thought you were about to pummel him with your paracetamol,"' you said through giggles as you began to relax. "Is this a good time to say I told you so?" Gaz questioned with a smirk and you rolled your eyes. "Thanks for saving the day as always," you breathed out. You noticed the time and saw it was right when you closed the pharmacy for lunch. "I'm actually off to lunch if you would like to join," you offered, "could use the company!" They all nodded and you went about closing the pharmacy down. As you grabbed your lunch bag and pulled down the gate, you smiled seeing them waiting for you. You walked in stride with them to the mess hall before someone spoke up. "You should wear a wedding ring, it'll save you the trouble next time," Soap piped up and you shot him a look. "No, I think that'll invite more questions unless one of you lot can reasonably act like my spouse," you said as you laughed slightly. Before anyone else could respond, you added to your initial statement. "On second thought, I don't think I could marry any one of you," you mused, much to their disappointment, "heard that KorTac guy has a pretty successful sibling that's a doctor."

826 notes · View notes

novlr · 3 months

Note

how to describe? Houses, rooms, interiors, palaces, etc?

Creating immersive descriptions of indoor spaces is more than just scene setting—it’s an invitation to the reader to step into your world. Describing the interior of buildings with vivid detail can draw readers into your narrative. So let’s explore how to describe interiors using multiple sensory experiences and contexts.

Sights

Lighting: soft glow of lamps, harsh fluorescent lights, or natural light.

Colour and textures; peeling paint, plush velvet, or sleek marble.

Size and scale: is it claustrophobically small or impressively grand?

Architectural features: high ceilings, crown mouldings, or exposed beams.

Furnishings: are they modern, sparse, antique, or cluttered?

Style and decor: what style is represented, and how does it affect the atmosphere?

State of repair: is the space well-kept, neglected, or under renovation?

Perspective and layout: how do spaces flow into each other?

Unique design features: describe sculptural elements, or things that stand out.

Spatial relationships: describe how objects are arranged—what’s next to, across from, or underneath something else?

Sounds

Describe echoes in large spaces or the muffled quality of sound in carpeted or furnished rooms.

Note background noises; is there a persistent hum of an air conditioner, or the tick of a clock?

Describe the sound of footsteps; do they click, scuff, or are they inaudible?

Include voices; are they loud and echoing or soft and absorbed?

Is there music? Is it piped in, coming from a live source, or perhaps drifting in from outside?

Capture the sounds of activity; typing, machinery, kitchen noises, etc.

Describe natural sounds; birds outside the window, or the rustle of trees.

Consider sound dynamics; is the space acoustically lively or deadened?

Include unexpected noises that might be unique to the building.

Consider silence as a sound quality. What does the absence of noise convey?

Smells

Identify cleaning products or air fresheners. Do they create a sterile or inviting smell?

Describe cooking smells if near a kitchen; can you identify specific foods?

Mention natural scents; does the room smell of wood, plants, or stone?

Are there musty or stale smells in less ventilated spaces?

Note the smell of new materials; fresh paint, new carpet, or upholstery.

Point out if there’s an absence of smell, which can be as notable as a powerful scent.

Consider personal scents; perfume, sweat, or the hint of someone’s presence.

Include scents from outside that find their way in; ocean air, city smells, etc.

Use metaphors and similes to relate unfamiliar smells to common experiences.

Describe intensity and layering of scents; is there a primary scent supported by subtler ones?

Activities

Describe people’s actions; are they relaxing, working, hurried, or leisurely?

Does the space have a traditional use? What do people come there to do?

Note mechanical activity; elevators moving, printers printing, etc.

Include interactions; are people talking, arguing, or collaborating?

Mention solitary activities; someone reading, writing, or involved in a hobby.

Capture movements; are there servers bustling about, or a janitor sweeping?

Observe routines and rituals; opening blinds in the morning, locking doors at night.

Include energetic activities; perhaps children playing or a bustling trade floor.

Note restful moments; spaces where people come to unwind or reflect.

Describe cultural or community activities that might be unique to the space.

Decorative style

Describe the overall style; is it minimalist, baroque, industrial, or something else?

Note period influences; does the decor reflect a specific era or design movement?

Include colour schemes and how they play with or against each other.

Mention patterns; on wallpaper, upholstery, or tiles.

Describe textural contrasts; rough against smooth, shiny against matte.

Observe symmetry or asymmetry in design.

Note the presence of signature pieces; a chandelier, an antique desk, or a modern art installation.

Mention thematic elements; nautical, floral, astronomical, etc.

Describe homemade or bespoke items that add character.

Include repetitive elements; motifs that appear throughout the space.

History

Mention historical usage; was the building repurposed, and does it keep its original function?

Describe architectural time periods; identify features that pinpoint the era of construction.

Note changes over time; upgrades, downgrades, or restorations.

Include historical events that took place within or affected the building.

Mention local or regional history that influenced the building’s design or function.

Describe preservation efforts; are there plaques, restored areas, or visible signs of aging?

336 notes · View notes

multiwreckedmess · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 3

Prompt: Hate Sex Pairing: Designer!Hyunjin x femCoder!Reader WC: 2260 Summary: Hyunjin wants one thing from you, stop calling him “pretty boy”, he can’t help he was born beautiful. This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Hyunjin or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy. TW/CW under the cut.

Warnings: reader implied/is a bully, older reader (age gap not specified), name calling (”slut”, “dumbass”, “asshole”, creative insults around genitalia, gendered/misogynist insults), crying during (reader), PWOP, cum in mouth, unprotected intercourse. I’m also going to call out, sort of dubcon-y as most hate sex is.

Pretty boy was not a compliment when you said it. Always laced with venom or a sneer. It was as though you’d branded Hyunjin as worthless with two words. Only good as a person to look at. Objectified and demeaned. Even he couldn’t deny that he was in fact a very pretty man. Long brown hair, full pouty lips, deep irises, with a slender yet muscular frame. Not exactly effeminate but not exactly masculine. A beautiful human no matter how you slice it. Which is why your nickname angered him so much.

It wasn’t easy for you either. Years in the tech field had hardened you. It was a man’s world and you were used to the bro code that had been instilled in you from the early days of voice chat. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, bully or become the bullied. The tech sector was the same.

Hyunjin wasn’t even in your cohort but you hated him from the moment you saw him. Fresh intern class filing into the large hall for their orientation. You’d hoped that he’d get eaten alive, the soft sensitive looking man thrown unceremoniously into the pool of piranhas. Instead he was gifted to the design department, a soft job for a soft kid. What was worse was his lack of coding knowledge, mostly having worked in print materials the world of internet and tech was foreign and frustrating. Worse still was that despite this he was good at his job, rising through the ranks to be your equal, forcing the two of you into the same project groups quarter after quarter. Any rank you could pull, you did, age included, and he seemed to take it.

He hadn’t meant to follow you into the windowless supply closet. It just so happened both departments were in dire need of different items. Somehow you’d been conscripted into packaging fancy boxes for capital contributors and design had sent a large order to the floor’s printer with no paper nor ink to spare. The door opening startled you, locking eyes with him as you stare at each other for once devoid of the low boiling slurry of distaste and distrust. Quickly the moment snaps. Returning to the status quo you sigh, “oh, just you, pretty boy.” “Stop calling me pretty boy.” Hyunjin states simply. He doesn’t want to make it a huge fight, trying to assume only your best intentions. Part of him figured this would be the only private moment he’d ever have with you, so might as well make use of it. “Why? It’s true.” You shrug, busy peering in drawers and boxes for your extra packaging supplies. “You’re a very pretty man who is younger than me. A boy. A pretty boy.” “It’s dismissive. I’m more than that,” the tension strains his voice. “You know I’m more than that. I put in work, effort. I have a passion. Just because I can’t translate it to whatever arcane language you use doesn’t-” “Listen pretty boy,” you stand up and sneer at him, eyes locked and narrowed. “If I could afford to be as lacking as you, I would. The world has taught you that all you need to do is the bare fucking minimum and doing anything more is considered a large effort. So, pretty boy, count your blessings if I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” Hyunjin sucks his teeth, a snort of disbelief escaping. “The only people who have ever called me pretty have either wanted to fuck me or be fucked by me so which one is it for you?” His eyes narrow and study you as he steps closer. Your pulse quickens, blood roiling. How dare this brat? How dare he challenge you. “Neither,” you answer him with daggers in your eyes. His lips twitch at the corners. “Are you sure about that? You’re barely breathing right now. I wonder if I stepped closer,” his voice trails off. “Or maybe brushed against you, by accident of course.” “Even HR couldn’t mediate the amount of lawsuits I’d hit you with.” He’s right. You hold your breath as he gets even closer, just staring. You start to dodge around his side but his body blocks yours, shoulder sinking into his chest as he backs you against the shelves, forcing you to tilt your chin to look up at his face. The way your body so quickly betrayed you was concerning to all the ideals you’d upheld for years, tingling and burning endorphins flooding you with dizzying speed.

Slowly he leans his torso forward almost nose to nose, hands holding onto the shelf and caging you in. “Bet you’ve just been waiting for someone to do this to you, slut.” The sting comes before the sound, your hand crossing his cheek as swiftly as the word leaves his mouth. “Call me a slut again.” “Slut.” He hisses, leaning into you. There isn’t quite the surprise to dull the pain of the hit this time, his body is ready for it as you wind up and slap him again. He half smiles, half smirks, tongue bit between his teeth. “Fuck that’s hot,” your tone is hushed, almost reverent, a revelation as more for yourself than for him. Your lips and tongue clash and fight for dominance as he claims your mouth with his. It’s more a battle than a kiss, both of you unwilling to break first, chasing the other, gasping and groping like teenagers at each other's bodies. He finally breaks, lips pink and puffy and shining with saliva. The clink of the metal buckle of his belt has you practically dripping. Forcefully he spins you and shoves you, face into the roughly coated cinder block wall. “Gonna fuck you like the bitch you are.” He mutters, plosives laced with venom. You moan pathetically as his arm presses to your mid back. “Give it your best shot pretty boy, this making your micropeen hard? Can’t get laid so you have to fight your way into a quick fuck?” Hyunjin laughs, cackles, harshly grabbing your ass. “Could ask the same for you. Truly I can’t imagine anyone wanting to stick their dick anywhere near your cobweb cunt. Should I check? Should I check to see?” “Go ahead dumbass, if you can even find it.” You hiss. “All talk no-” A rip of your stockings and cool air hitting your soaked panties halts the verbal sparring match. Pushing your panties aside he sinks a finger into your hot core, gasping together. “Who’s all talk now? So soaked I slipped right in. Dumb needy hole trying to milk my finger. Gonna thaw you out ice princess.” You hope he does. Dragging your torso down the wall, your back arches into him, pushing his single digit deeper, wiggling your hips. The swish of his pants crumpling to the floor “I’m waiting, pretty boy, or is it already in and I just can’t feel it?” Your negging continues, heart fluttering in anticipation. Everything he does is just out of your range of vision, you have no idea what to expect. Even in your heavy petting you hadn’t grabbed for him. Finger withdrawn he drags the head of his cock along your slit. Hyunjin knows what he’s about to do is mean, he’s felt how tight you are. For a second he considers properly prepping you, stretching you out nicely before abusing your hole. Poised at your entrance he grabs a fistful of hair at the nape of your neck, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. “Ready princess?” “On you pretty boy,” you sneer in response. The blunt pressure of his thick member ripping through your walls twists your stomach. Filling you in a single push, Hyunjin muffles your scream with his lips. It steals your breath as your body fights the intrusion. Your legs alternate kicking and shaking below you, suddenly happy to have Hyunjin’s weight pinning you up to the wall.

“Dumb slut, do you want to get caught? Screaming like that you’ll let the whole company know you’re bending over like a bitch for me.” Hyunjin chides, holding still inside you. His harsh words soothed by his hands, gingerly fixing your hair to the opposite shoulder. Arms wrapping around your chest and waist he holds you close, face buried in your neck. “Big right?” The soft words are muffled by your skin. “Mhmphf.” His teeth run over sensitive spots along your neck, sending you shivering and shuddering in his grasp. “Good right?” “Yeeehsthhh!” You lisp and writhe. “Embarrassing right? Getting run through by some kid like me. Gonna slut you out princess.” Turning your head so you are nose to nose you growl, “shut up and fuck me, pretty boy.” Hearing his nickname he laughs, blood boiling a bit harder, and unceremoniously pulls out. A pitiful whine escapes your lips with the loss of pressure in your gut. Before you can scold him again he pushes all the way to the hilt again, hearing the air catching in your throat from words lost to pleasure. Each thrust is slow and torturous, felt to the fullest by your walls hugging him in. Despite not working hard you pant like a cat in heat, overwhelmed by the ache of your cunt. “Afraid you’re gonna cum first?” You jab between groans, frustration clouding your senses. He’s just too slow to build past the agonizing beginnings of your orgasm. “‘M being kind, can’t have you passing out on me.” “Bold of you.” Sucking a small bruise into your neck he buries himself deeply inside of you. “If you insist.” Instead of withdrawing again his hand skims down your belly to your mound, long thin fingers circling your clit. Each passing swipe coordinates with a shallow thrust, just enough to stimulate you inside and out. All you can do is take what he is giving you, body giving up to his ministrations. “Shit I think-” you gasp and shake, “I’m gonna cum.” “I bet you are.” Hyunjin sneers, “and who is to thank for that?” “You. You are. You.” You burble. “Who?” His grasp harshens, hips snapping harder. “HYUNJIN. Fucking asshole. You. Hyunjin. Fuck.” You cum violently around him, walls of your sex baring down on him as a fresh wave of arousal coats the both of you. You cry out, fat tears welling in your eyes as overstimulation hits you like a train, moans turning to choked sobs as you try to catch your breath. Both of you are sweaty, you shake. Hyunjin maneuvers the both of you to your knees on the ground, your body leaving a shine to the wall where it was pressed. He pulls his slacks under your arms to cushion what they could from the cement. “I made you cum, your turn.” “Wha?” His hand comes down hard on your ass, snapping you out of your lusty haze. “Fuck yourself on my cock.” The demanding and demeaning tone has your blood rushing even in your sensitive state. With a sniffle you start moving your hips back and forth, each slide making a grotesque sloppy slick sound. Hyunjin pushes back his sweat and hair from his brow, eyes locked to where he disappears inside of you. “Cunt looks good hugging my cock like this.” If he’s all about visuals, you’ll be a feast for his eyes. You gorge yourself on him, taking your time like he did to you. Rolling your hips decadently and letting your greedy pussy work itself around him. Hyunjin tries to keep his hands from you, to make you do the work, to take a small petty revenge for the multitude of emails politely thrown back to him by you. He can’t, finally folding, grabbing fistfulls of ass and hips and thighs. He joins you, bent over and caging you again like an animal. Together, writhing as one, grunting as one, your chemistry has never worked better. But it can’t last forever, you can feel his thick muscle seizing inside of you, lower abs and thighs tensing against the cleft of your ass. “Where,” chokes in a stuttered hurried whisper. “I’m gonna-” Summoning strength you push up, righting the both of you, pulling him out. It’s the first good luck you’ve gotten of him, flushed red and sweaty and fucked out. He’s impressive for a skinny guy, thick and veiny and heavy in your hands as you continue to stroke him out of habit. Fingers covered in slick release precum flows freely from the tip. “Mouth. Hurry.” Standing shakily he leans back into the wall, “gonna swallow like a good slut?” Holding the head of his dick to your tongue he pumps pointed down your throat. Your tongue flexes against the underside, massaging the ridge. Hyunjin can’t believe his eyes, you kneeling in front of him, defiantly staring him down as you wait for him to cum. Almost daring him to spill his load anywhere else. With an airy whine a globule of release hits your tongue, hot and bitter. Hyunjin’s hips kick forward, fucking his palm and the top of your tongue, pushing his cum deeper into your throat and making you gag. “Shit,” he hisses as you gag again, another string shooting directly into your throat. Palm to his hip you slide his cock further back, using it to force the bitter seed into your stomach. “Holy shit you’re really-god your throat-that-keep that.” Gulping the last down you pull from him grimacing and wiping your face. “Two words; pineapple juice, pretty boy.” “That’s four.”

I always get carried away lmao. This is definitely towards the rougher end of my comfort zone with characters. I can’t help be aware of the fact that some people do take fanfic as a guide to what to expect or hope for with their relationships so it’s a little difficult for me to push that to the back of my mind.

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids hyunjin smut #hyunjin kinktober #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #kpop kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023

352 notes · View notes

petermorwood · 7 months

Text

Sunday lunch, or - since what with one thing and another we ate closer to dinnertime, it might be more of a Sunday dinch. :->

It was Moroccan-style braised lamb shanks, and it was really good; after 24 hours or marination and about three hours of slow cooking, the lamb was literally off-the-bone edge-of-the-fork tender.

Because the spicing was so complex (though NB like most North African dishes, not hot) we went for a simple accompaniment, plain couscous with a few strips of home-made preserved lemon to balance the deep, rich flavours.

I also included a dab of harissa with mine, and a couple of pickled chillis for zing.

Meat and recipe both came from Irish on-line source James Whelan.

I think this would work well in a slow-cooker.

BTW, on-line recipes like this can change with the seasons, so I'm adding it below the cut.

*****

For a more fragrant and pungent dish, the lamb can be covered in clingfilm and marinated in the fridge for up to 24 hours to allow the spices to penetrate the meat. The accompanying couscous can be jazzed up with pistachio nuts and dried fruits.

Moroccan Style Braised Lamb Shanks – Printer Friendly Download

Ingredients

4 lamb shanks, well trimmed

1 tablesp. paprika

1 teasp. each ground coriander, cumin, cinnamon and turmeric

Sea salt and cracked black pepper

2 tablesp. olive oil

1 large onion, roughly chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2½ cm piece peeled fresh root ginger, chopped

450ml chicken or lamb stock

2 x 400g cans chopped tomatoes

1 tablesp. clear honey

Squeeze of lemon juice

Serve with a bowl of couscous

Serves: 4

To Cook

Cooking Time: 2¾ hours

Preheat the oven to Gas Mark 3, 160ºC (325ºF).

Heat a large frying pan.

Mix together the paprika, coriander, cumin, cinnamon, turmeric and one teaspoon of pepper in a large bowl.

Add the lamb shanks and using your hands rub in the spices.

Add a little of the olive oil to the heated pan and quickly brown off two of the spiced lamb shanks.

Transfer to a casserole dish with a lid and repeat with the remaining lamb shanks.

Meanwhile, place the onion, garlic and ginger in a food processor or mini-blender and pulse until finely minced.

Add another tablespoon of the olive oil to the pan, then add the onion mixture and sauté for 3-4 minutes until well softened and coloured from the spices left in the bottom of the frying pan.

Pour a little of the stock into the pan, stirring to combine and then tip over the lamb shanks.

Add the remaining stock with the tomatoes and honey, stirring gently until evenly combined.

Cover with the lid and cook for 2-2½ hours until the lamb shanks are meltingly tender and the meat is ready to fall off the bone.

Add a squeeze of lemon juice and season to taste.

We hope you enjoyed reading this post by Pat Whelan of James Whelan Butchers. Pat is a 5th generation butcher, cook book author and the director of James Whelan Butchers with shops in Clonmel, the Avoca Handweavers Rathcoole and Kilmacanogue, Dunnes Stores Cornelscourt, Rathmines and Swords in Dublin.

#food and drink #recipes #Moroccan-style braised lamb shanks

382 notes · View notes

upagainstthewallwithme · 7 months

Text

The Domestic Approach

Neighbour!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Kinktober Day 4: Thigh Riding @flightlessangelwings

Word Count: 1.8K

You moved in next door to Wanda Maximoff over a year ago. You knew her by sight, giving an occasional polite wave.

No matter the time, she always seemed in a flushed hurry, too busy to stop and talk. Still she always returned the wave.

You wondered if she could tell how much you wanted to fuck her.

The first time you spoke to Wanda was at the library.

Her back was to you but she still caught your attention. She was stretching on her heels as she lifted down a heavy book.

She opened the book, her finger trailed through the book’s index. As you got closer, you saw her mouth moving silently as she read each heading to herself.

She bit her lip in obvious disappointment, dropping the book onto a pile that was forming by her feet.

‘Need any help?’ You offered spontaneously.

Wanda startled, her cheeks flushed in recognition and then she shook her head.

‘I’m just looking for a recipe.’ She admitted, tucking a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear. ‘But I can’t remember the name of the cookbook.’

Your eyes wandered to the heap of books on the floor beside her.

Wanda looked mortified as she dropped to a crouch.

‘And I was just putting these back.’ She promised, hurrying to pick up a book and placing it on a shelf.

You didn’t tell her that you didn’t care where she left her books.

Instead you watched the way her cream blouse fell forward, exposing the top of her breasts. The soft alabaster skin was hypnotizing, partly hidden by a blush camisole underneath.

You walked over to help, taking another book from the pile. You placed it next to hers on the shelf. You let your hand brush her bare arm as you reached.

You watched fresh goosebumps flare along her skin until the edge of her sleeve covered the evidence.

You heard Wanda’s shaky breathing as you continued to help.

When you were finished, Wanda took a deep, steadying breath and tried to smooth the creases in her burgundy skirt. She looked at you, her gaze hesitant. You smiled readily. You liked that.

‘Thank you.’ She said with another hesitant smile ‘I’m so stupid. I don’t think I’ll ever remember the name of that book.’

‘There’s always the internet.’ You said, letting the suggestion float. You wanted more time with her.

‘I’m terrible on-line’ Wanda laughed a little self consciously. ‘I’m always touching the wrong thing.’

‘I bet.’ You said, enjoying yourself too much. ‘Maybe we’ve found a way for me to help?’

A few minutes later, Wanda was sitting at the old library computer. Her purse was in her lap. She leaned towards the monitor, reading the words on the screen quietly to herself as she tried to follow your instructions.

‘And, do I click here?’ She asked unsurely.

‘Exactly.’ You encouraged, your body barely touching her shoulder.

You caught Wanda’s pleased smile in the monitor’s reflection.

A moment later, she was flummoxed again. She’d clicked the wrong link on the search page.

The cursor moved uncertainly toward the close window button.

You leaned forward, quickly covering Wanda’s hand as you guided the mouse to the ‘back’ button she was trying to find.

She opened her mouth and you knew she was going to chastise herself again.

‘Don’t worry, you were close.’ You murmured, your face inches from her.

You felt Wanda’s breath hitch.

You lifted your hand from hers and stood back again.

At last, you heard the printer in the corner begin to churn out a copy of the recipe. You left for the leaf of paper and brought it back to the desk.

Wanda’s face lit up in pleasure.

‘Thank you so much.’ She said, folding it carefully into her purse.

‘No problem. I hope you have a good day.’ You took another step back. You hoped she’d turn away first, you wanted to see her ass again in that skirt.

Wanda stared at you with an expression you didn’t recognise.

‘Would you like to come over?’ She asked suddenly. Your eyebrows raised at her forwardness.

Wanda flushed again. ‘To try the recipe.’ She clarified, swallowing nervously. ‘I wanted to make it tonight. And there’s only me.’

You thought about her soft breasts when you agreed.

You knocked on her door at 7pm. Barely a moment later, Wanda opened it. Her white apron was tucked neatly around a neat red dress and matching heels. Her hair had been styled carefully, accentuating her face.

‘Oh good, you’re here.’ She said breathlessly. Her eyes wandered over you for a long moment. Then her gaze flashed back up to your face guiltily as if she was scared to be caught.

‘It smells good.’ You said encouragingly as you followed her into her kitchen. Her dress sleeve was almost slipping off her shoulder.

‘I hope so.’ Wanda hummed pleasantly, hesitating as she checked a timer. You checked it too. Thirty more minutes.

Wanda poured you both a drink and you sat together at her kitchen island. She tried some small talk. You nodded along, half listening. The sleeve of her dress was about to slip off her shoulder completely.

Wanda stopped talking, self conscious about your lack of focus.

You leaned forward, lifting the sleeve back into place. Wanda froze perfectly at your touch.

‘Thank you.’ She whispered hoarsely. Her fingers moved to touch the top of the sleeve thoughtlessly. You watched her play with the fabric between her thumb and forefinger.

You knew then, without doubt, that she was attracted to you. You took a sip of your drink. You’d wanted to fuck her since you’d caught sight of her that morning.

Wanda glanced at you and looked away again. Her gaze landed on your lap. She bit her lip.

You could feel her thoughts radiating out. She wanted to touch you.

‘I’ve wanted to fuck you since this morning.’ You said out loud. The air changed at Wanda’s sharp breath.

She looked nervous as if she’d been the one to say it. Her breathing went shallow.

‘Are you sure?’ She asked, not looking at you.

You smirked then. You touched her thigh.

Wanda shuddered, legs parting on instinct. She stared down at your hand in her lap. You cleared your throat and she finally looked up at you. Her hair was already mussed.

‘This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.’ She told you nervously. ‘I didn’t think. I didn’t know if you’d want me like this.’

You kissed her softly. When your lips met her full ones, she gave a soft ‘Oh’ of surprise. Her hand brushed lightly over your hair. Uncontrolled want .

You pulled back and regarded the warmth still flushing her cheeks. Her green eyes took a moment to open.

You brushed her cheek. You could tell she was caught between something fragile and desperate.

‘I want to fuck you every way I can think of.’ You promised her. Wanda swallowed and you knew if you tried to touch her now, she’d already be wet on your fingers.

‘I think I’d like that.’ She confessed.

She leaned forward and kissed you. Her mouth was hesitating, gentle. Then needy, urgent as she tasted you. You dragged your teeth across her lower lip.

A moan escaped her mouth.

Without daring to look, Wanda slipped her hand under your top, moving until she found your breasts. She squeezed softly, over and over. Unable to lose the urgency she was trying to hide.

You saw everything clearly now.

‘You’ve thought about this before.’ You accused lightly. Wanda’s eyes darted to you as she pulled back from your mouth.

‘Did you watch me through the window?’ You continued. You pulled her dress sleeves down again, baring her pale shoulders. Your fingers trailed lightly over the exposed skin.

Wanda shifted uncomfortably in her chair as your touch continued.

‘Just once.’ She breathed. ‘That first night. I saw you changing. You left the blind up.’

You pulled Wanda gently from her seat, letting her arms drape over your shoulders. You kissed her collarbone slowly, nipping and sucking at the skin. You could hear every gasp leave her lungs.

‘Wanda.’ You corrected. ‘I know you watched more than that.’

You watched her swallow, eyes glassy as she nodded. You knew. She’d thought about you at night in her bed. You could picture her, touching herself to the image of you.

You cupped her ass, drawing her closer. She stumbled obediently, a heel clacking to either side of your leg.

You lifted her dress up, apron still attached. Wanda pressed herself needily against your thigh.

‘Oh.’ Wanda moaned, holding your shoulders to steady herself.

You slid your palm along her underwear. The soft cotton was soaked through. Wanda squirmed at your touch.

‘I’ve never been so wet before.’ She told you, voice strangled.

‘I don’t think that’s true.’ You corrected, pressing a little harder as you brushed her clit. ‘I think you get wet all the time Wanda, with your little fantasies.’

You took your hand away, focused now on peeling her dress down to her waist.

Wanda hummed mindlessly, still rocking herself against your thigh.

When her breasts were free, you kissed the soft pink areolas with satisfaction. You ran your tongue over her hardened nipples. You’d been thinking about this all day. Wanda whimpered at the light sensation.

You rolled your thumbs back and forth over her nipples and looked up at her. Her eyes were half closed. She gripped your shoulders tighter.

‘It’s okay, honey.’ You promised, leaning up to leave a kiss under her ear. ‘I just want to treat you nice tonight.’

‘Oh.’ Wanda sighed as your lips touched her skin. Her hips moved like it was her only instinct. You felt her damp underwear sliding along your leg. You tensed your thigh and she pressed her clit needily against you. You felt her legs begin to tremble.

‘Oh.’ Wanda said again, breathier, more urgent now. Her fingers moved now to tangle in your hair. She rocked back and forth more quickly.

Her breasts came even closer and you squeezed them as you gave them your best attention. You kissed her hardened nipples, grazing them against your teeth and she kept up her pace.

You murmured low encouragements.

You could feel her legs tightening around yours. She couldn’t speak at all now. Any words had been lost to soft moans.

She dragged herself hurriedly against your skin. Your nails dug into her ass as you moved her back and forth.

Wanda whined louder. She called out your name, eyes still closed. You knew she’d called it out before.

You whispered hers. You told her that she needed to come.

Even as her body relaxed and the hazy look entered her eyes. Wanda’s hips moved rhythmically back and forth.

Slowly they came to a stop.

Wanda looked at you. Cheeks flushed. Relaxed smile. Hair messed.

You slid your hand between her legs.

You dragged your palm against her one last time, just to make her pelvis twitch.

Wanda gave a happy sigh.

A timer beeped in the other room.

#wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #fawktober2023

344 notes · View notes

sits-bound · 6 months

Text

Bound: Nature and Nurture by @earlgreytea68

What an utterly fantastic fic! I'm happy with how the bind came out, but I have a few things I'd change if I did it again:

I wouldn't forget to put the ribbon in before the endbands

I would make the style more consistent. The chapter headings and the cover do not match at all.

I would be more careful when ironing the HTV on the spine

Not put a dang ampersand in the title on the header and the cover page. Argh.

I WOULD NOT MISSPELL THE AUTHOR'S NAME wow this is embarrassing

Also to note about this bind:

I was going to print the chapter pages in color. I used this lovely graphic and beautiful drop caps, but a 57 chapter fic when you don't have a color printer is maybe not the best choice. Half the sheets would have had color on them, and it would have cost a fortune to print.

I scavenged the end bands and the boards from a book I bought at a library sale. Just to see. I feel like the glue didn't stick as well to the smooth cover as it does to bare chipboard.

The HTV on the spine got messed up a little bit when I was ironing it on, but I was able to pick off the bits that were messed up and iron on a fresh set of lettering/graphic and you really can't even tell now! Whew. (Note to self: Cricut brand metallic htv has been the best of all the brands I've used as far as application goes.)

But all in all, I'm happy with it. It's just for me, after all, so it's okay if it's not perfect. That said, if I do this one again, I'd make a different cover that's more consistent with the chapter headers. (Like, if the author wants a copy?)

Bookcloth: Allure Bookcloth Indigo Body Text: Corundum Text Light Chapter Headings: MrKeningbeck Pro Drop Caps: FLOWER Inside title: FLOWER and MrKeningbeck Pro and Filson Pro Cover: Filson Pro All icons from The Noun Project

#fanbinding #ficbinding #bookbinding #sits bound #bbc sherlock #sherlock fic #earlgraytea68 #nature and nurture

179 notes · View notes

fictionalmenmakemecry · 7 months

Text

Carmy Losin' Cool

Characters: Carmy Berzatto x reader

Summary: Things getting heated in the kitchen making Carmy emotions runs high. This leads to him acting out of character and making you beg for mercy.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing

Author's note: Thinking of doing more The Bear fan fiction. Please let me know if you would like me to continue on this!

"Carmy, I need you to calm down" I grabbed his arm wanting him to draw his attention to me instead of the chaos around him.

"Fuck! This can't be happening..." His eyes were darting everywhere.

He pulled his hands up to his hair, tugging it, completely overwhelmed.

Hearing the printer continuously burning through paper as more tickets appeared.

"I-I'm so sorry" Sydney muttered coming to the realization of what was happening.

"I told you. I told you over and over. OVER AND OVER!" He raised his voice pointing aggressively at the takeout tablet.

" I checked it! It said that- " Sydney quivered.

I looked over and caught her line of sight. She had the look of fear in her eyes. She never saw Carmy like this. This heated. This angry.

"Get the FUCK out of the kitchen!" Carmy yelled picking up the fallen tickets that were now overflowing the shelf.

She didn't budget. Frozen.

"Syd, come on" I tried to usher her, getting in between her and Carmy.

"NOW!" He shouted feeling his breath on the back of my neck his arm extended to the door.

I pulled her by the arm leading her out of the kitchen. She followed like a zombie, completely hazed. I grabbed her bag from her locker and brought her to the front door.

I could hear Carmy giving aggressive orders in the back, still hearing the rage in his voice.

"I fucked up" She had finally caught up to what had happened.

I just nodded, wanting her to go home and let the everyone calm down.

"What's going to happen?" She looked at me, half way out the door.

I paused for a moment holding the door open but not looking away.

"Just stay away for the next two days. I'll talk to him" I said wanting this day to be over.

She nodded gently before giving me a fake soft smile but still seeing the sadness in her eyes.

I watched as she left and locked the door. I took a deep breath for a moment knowing I was going to have to stay calm in the whirlwind of emotions in the back.

I made my way back and continued to hear the dominant voice of Carmy still dictating away.

I walked in slowly and watched everyone work frantically, The only noises were Carmy, the banging of pans and the occasional 'Yes Chef'.

I turned around and went into the office. I was going to busy myself with overdue bills until this nightmare burnt out.

_________

"Hey" A soft voice spoke out.

I popped my head up from the mess of paper piles that were on my lap.

I saw Carmy leaning against the doorframe. His usual white t-shirt covered in fresh stains.

I didn't say anything. I was trying to read his mood before opening my mouth.

"I'm sorry about that in there." He gestured behind him.

I pressed my lips together but didn't say a word.

"Uhhh.. I know I'm a shit head for shouting at Syd the way I did." His head dropped.

He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his eye, I could feel the exhaustion just by looking at him.

"You're going to have to apologize. We really need her." I murmured playing with the corner of the fold pages on my lap.

"Yea, I know. I fucked up" He whispered.

The kitchen doorway opened behind him and I saw a black curly hair behind Carmy.

"Goodnight Tina" I smiled

"Goodnight Boss" I heard back.

Carmy faced her and I could see half of her through the the doorway.

"All done?" He asked

She nodded giving a half smile.

"Everyone else gone home?"

"Yeah, you should both too. It's getting late" She pointed at the clock on the desk beside me.

1:30am. I swore it was 8:00pm a couple of hours ago.

She gave one more smile and gave Carmy a reassuring arm rub before leaving us.

I could feel the heaviness in my eyelids now that my body was aware of the time.

"I'm gonna head out" He looked back over at me.

I nodded pulling myself off the ground and bundling all the papers off the floor.

"Okay, well I'm going to check that everything is off and I'll be out in a min" I smiled.

We looked at each other for a moment. The heaviness I felt in my stomach when I realized how we got to this moment. The death of his brother, the immediate burden of this place on his shoulders and letting go of his old life.

I walked over closer to him and leaned into him. I wanted to give him a hug. I felt his arms wrap around me. The smell on onions off of him was stronger than usual. His skin burning hot. I could even feel it under his t-shirt. I was about to let go and felt him still holding the hug so I continue to hold him until I felt him lean back.

"Thank you" He whispered looking at me with his constant melancholy eyes.

He left the doorway and made his way to his locker.

I went back into the kitchen. The usual darkness except for the emergency exit lights. Giving the room a green hue. I ran my eyes over to check nothing was left out and everything was off.

I turned around and bumped into a body.

I let out a little yelp completely startled.

I looked up and saw Carmy looking down at me. Very close.

"Is everything okay?" I asked worryingly.

He nodded softly but never leaving my eyes.

My mind froze. I looked down at his lips. I felt him leaning into me. I couldn't stop myself if I tried. I brought my hands up to his chest. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to feel his lips against mine. His tongue against mine.

Our lips met. His were soft and warm. Our lips moved making the kiss deeper and deeper until I could taste him. Feel his mouth. His tongue gently caress mine. I relaxed into him, releasing a small moan in the back of my throat.

I felt him pull me in closer after that. He was hungry for me. That delicateness was fading away. I brought my hand down to his crotch to feel his hard bulge underneath. I heard his immediate appraisal from deep in his throat.

He pulled away, us both taking deep breaths.

He grabbed my hips and placed me on the steel surface urgently.

He looked at me his hands on my thighs but making their way further up. He paused for a moment.

I mouthed "Please". The heat coming from between my thighs was unbearable. Him looking at me that way made it worse.

A small smile appeared on his face, which made me more wet.

He hovered his hands over my clothed pussy before reaching up to unbutton my jeans. His nimble fingers popped them in a second. I glanced down at him to see him still looking at me.

He started slowly pulling down my pants, I raised my hips wanting to move this faster. He seemed to enjoy me begging at his mercy,

"Fuck" He leaned in his lips barely touching mine.

"I need this" He continued with his blue eyes taken over by lust.

The crack of a door was distant, pulling us out of our trance of neediness. We stayed still for a moment waiting for other sounds.

"Carmy, Y/n? You still here? I always forget my fucking phone." Tina voice travelled as she walked further into the restaurant.

We both snapped into gear. He pulled me fast off the counter and grabbed my hand. We raced to the walk in fridge. He closed the door gently behind us. We both stayed still try to listen for anything. But it was so insulated there, it was no use.

I looked down to see my jeans still unbuttoned. I looked up and redid them to see Carmy smiling with his hand in his hair.

"Close one" He whispered smiling back at me.

Masterlist for other fics

Let me know what you think!

#The bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #fluff #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #love #the bear hulu #jeremy allen white #chicago #hulu

177 notes · View notes

tim-shii · 1 year

Text

the stakes are high, the water's rough.

pairing: nagi seishiro x reader

tags: office au, office worker!nagi, he is not a football player in this, established relationship, fluff, introvert office worker nagi my beloved 😓

a/n: i love love love the ours mv by taylor swift so i was like ykw why not nagi office worker ,, makes u wonder what would happen if nagi didnt play football and became a pro hmm HAHHAHA my irls also helped w what do people even do in an office so ty to them theyre the best 🫶 enjoy this mwa also thank u nie babe (@fuyuluvr) for beta reading may kith ka sakin 😚

the morning air is definitely not good for the lungs. in a busy city, long gone were the fresh and cool winds of the province. instead, fog and vehicle smoke fill the atmosphere, smothering people on their way to work.

what a dull world to live in, nagi thinks. making his way towards the elevator after mindlessly showing his identification card to the probably half asleep desk attendant and high-fiving the friendly janitor who never fails to greet him every morning.

ding! as the doors slid open, nagi could feel himself melting to the ground. it’s 7:54 am, office hours start at seven. he’s late but so what? it’s not like his boss cares enough for attendance. because of this, he gets an extra 10 minutes to sleep in. so why? why is the elevator so full of people that he has to squish his 190 cm build who’s carrying a briefcase? sighing dejectedly, nagi thinks he should’ve just taken the stairs.

it was silent. other than the constant whirs of the elevator going up, no one dares speak a word. it makes nagi cringe, to be honest. he feels like he’s in a room with a bunch of npc’s just trying to do their role. as soon as the lift stops at the thirteenth floor, nagi is pushed left and right as his fellow employees rush to their desks.

nagi walks over to his desk sluggishly. each step just adds to his growing boredom. the office is still the same as ever. the coffee that toppled over yesterday is still left unclean and the corner plant who has seen better days.

dragging his feet to his assigned cubicle, nagi sat down with a huff. looking around, he notices mr. takahashi, his senior who has worked here for more than ten years, standing in front of the water dispenser just staring into space. yep. this will be a long seven hours.

throughout the day, nagi felt nothing but exhaustion and endless boredom. his boss was nowhere to be found, as usual. he went to three different printers in the office and not a single one of them worked. he couldn't even concentrate on the report he was working on because the beeping from his co-worker's game almost made him pull out his own console and neglect his duty. during lunch, two people whose names nagi didn't even care to know about kept snickering while looking back at him eating his melon bread. how bothersome, indeed.

as soon as the clock strikes four, nagi wasted no time in tidying up his things. rushing towards the exit, nagi even ditches the elevator and ran down the stairs instead, he high fived the janitor for the second time of the day.

while on the bus, nagi decided to play games to pass time. taking in his homescreen wallpaper. a picture of you two at a park, his arms around you from behind, his cheek squished against your own. you beaming at the camera and him having the most miniscule smile ever known to man.

two years ago, you got an offer to study abroad in an exchange student program. at first, you refused, not wanting to leave nagi behind and came along were the doubts if you're even gonna survive in a foreign place all on your own. but nagi talked to you about it and urged you to just go, he'll be fine. he was not fine. during the first week, nagi couldn't sleep. he felt homesick in his own home. at some point, he's even thankful his job is everyday and keeps him away from home, nagi can't believe he ever thought that.

and now, nagi's on his way to the airport. to pick you up. because finally, after two whole long torturous years, you're coming home. to him.

nagi waits at the doors, anxiously tapping his feet. looking ahead, his eyes met yours and all of a sudden, the world doesn't seem so dull anymore. he watches as you run towards him, dropping your baggage at your wake and throwing yourself at him. arms around his neck and legs around his waist, nagi holds you tightly as if he's afraid to let you go again. he pulls your face back, his palm feels warm on your cheek.

"hi, sei. did you miss me?" you whispered, oh so delicately. nagi didn't utter anything back, only staring at you. eyes wandering around your features, rememorizing the face he's only been seeing inside a tiny box for the last two years. nagi leans in slowly, taking your lips in his. he kisses you with longing and fervor.

"missed you. i missed you so much." you heard him mumble into the kiss. pulling back only to hide his face in your neck, nipping at the skin before putting you down.

"let's go home?" you ask him, hands cupping his face. he nods.

home. nagi thinks it's a nice word when you say it.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #blue lock nagi #seishiro nagi #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #tim writes.

446 notes · View notes