#Trying to decipher his body language to see how this conversation is going. Is this working??

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

I'm not saying this method of flirting isn't working, just maybe next time skip the fact he could be outrun by sharp-eyed butterflies, Frank.

#welcome home #welcome home fanart #frank frankly #eddie dear #eddie x frank #frank x eddie #Frank *desperately flirting by dropping horrifying facts about insects to someone who is wary of them* #Trying to decipher his body language to see how this conversation is going. Is this working?? #Sort of is. Eddie loves and supports Frank's interest of course and thinks he's very very smart! #Later on tho he will voice a plEASE don't tell me about how they can smell me from miles away #Frank went from finding him slightly annoying to liking being around him to having a crush pretty quickly #Eddie's a hard worker a great person to rely on and an excellent listener #Gentle and helpful in ways where Frank is more sharp. He couldn't help it really. #Unaffiliated with the incredible Welcome Home creation I'm just a fan having fun!

[dollfacefantasy]

Baby Bunny

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: leon helps his sweet baby bunny through her heat.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, breeding kink, daddy kink

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i'm not sure how i feel about this one, but let's go with it. again, thank you everyone for reblogging and commenting, it means the world to me <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld

In his personal life, Leon never wanted to be depended on. That was his job. He didn’t want that stuff following him home. He didn’t want to be tied down, to be responsible for someone like that. People depended on him in Raccoon city and look how that turned out. Every mission he’s been on for the last few years, he’s responsible for someone. It’s exhausting.

But as he nears 30, he starts to look at it differently. An aching sense of isolation grows in his heart. He starts to think about what it would be like having someone, having a companion of some sort. Suddenly, he’s not looking at being relied on as a detriment. Being depended on means having someone to care for, someone to love. There would be someone at the end of long days and the starts of his currently lonesome nights.

That’s how he finds himself with you scampering around his house. The sweetest little thing he’d ever seen. Your long floppy ears, cute little cottontail, those big sweet eyes. From the moment he saw you, he was a sucker for all of it.

A while back he had briefly heard of human-animal hybrids, but he didn’t think much about it. It didn’t really apply to him. If anything, the idea weirded him out a bit.

That was until he started thinking more about his dilemma. It seemed like one of them might be a good solution. He talked to a few people and did some online research and decided to at least look into it. It couldn’t hurt to visit an adoption center right?

He visited the place and was still a little freaked by the whole concept. He walked through the rooms, watching different hybrids move about and mess around. The lady guiding him throughout asked him different questions, trying to decipher what type of hybrid would best fit his needs. But all of her questions were irrelevant as soon as he spotted you.

You were undoubtedly the one. His baby bunny. Not only did he not want any other hybrid, but he didn’t think he could physically leave that place without talking to you at the very least.

He walked over to you cautiously. You kept to yourself, and he could tell from your body language alone how timid you were. He spoke with the softest, most soothing tone he could manage, but you were still so shy.

You’d told him your name so quietly he could barely hear. He didn’t touch you at all, fearing you may cry at something that personal. But he kept talking to you because while others may have found it challenging, he could see you fitting right in with him.

You’d be dependent, sure, but clearly you wouldn’t be overly needy for affection. It would be a good way for him to transition from being alone into having someone.

He kept getting to know you and trying to get through some of your walls. He talked with you about all sorts of things and let you ask your own questions so you could get to know him. By the end of the day, you hesitantly allowed him to stroke your ears.

It was that exact day he told you that he was interested in you coming to live with him. You were still very reserved, but you seemed receptive. You did a little trial run over the course of a week, and just as Leon thought, you were a great fit.

You had grown more comfortable with him in the months since that week even though your core personality hadn’t changed. You were still generally quiet, never asking for much and being appreciative of whatever he gave you. You’d talk with him openly now, mostly responding to him rather than starting conversations but speaking nevertheless. You slept in your own room, but as soon as you woke up, you’d come find him to hang out. It was a nice balance with you.

But Leon still wanted a little more. He would never push it on you, knowing it would make you withdraw again, but he always cherished the moments of progress with you. You warmed up enough that you came around to enjoy cuddling. Leon couldn’t believe how soft he’d become when you curled up to his side and tucked yourself under his arm. The first time you fell asleep in his embrace, he loved it so much he felt chest pains. Once or twice, he’d gotten you to fully sit on his lap, and he couldn’t stop beaming.

He could give you little kisses on your face now, and you’d give him a sweet smile in return that he couldn’t get enough of. You’d never kissed him yourself, but you would nuzzle his cheek in return which was enough to make him happy.

You were just such a sweetheart, a perfect companion for him. You didn’t complain when he had to go to work, but it wasn’t like you didn’t miss him. He could see the way your ears would slump and your eyes would dim as he gathered his stuff and headed for the door. But you also got so happy when he came back. You tried to seem as subdued as possible, but the way you lit up again in his presence was obvious.

The only thing you were still completely closed off about was when you went into heat. Leon understood what it was, he had been nervous about it since bringing you home, but he had no clue about how you dealt with it at all. Every time it happened, you’d shut yourself up in your room for however many days it took, and then return to him as if nothing had happened.

For your sake, he played along. He got the sense it was a touchy subject after bringing up the possibility of getting you some more toys for it and having you immediately shut it down. Your voice had become higher pitched with defensiveness, and your eyes wouldn’t meet his for the next few hours.

He had only wanted to help, but he couldn’t tell you why. Couldn’t tell you that your desperate moans kept him up at night when they echoed down the hall. Those broken whimpers that made it sound like you were crying, so worked up and in need of release that it brought you to tears. 

He also couldn’t share how it made his cock rise to attention. How those pretty little noises had him fucking his fist, other palm covering his mouth to muffle his grunts, searching for relief of his own. His precious baby bunny didn’t need to know all of that.

Today had been a long day. He was tired after dealing with all the bullshit that came with his job. Although, unlike in months prior, he wasn’t all doom and gloom driving home. The thought of his sweet girl at home waiting for him by the door kept his spirits somewhat up as he made the commute back.

To his surprise, you weren’t in the living room like normal. He walked through the room cautiously, a little on edge from the disruption to his routine. He goes into the kitchen and still doesn’t find you. He starts to walk to the back of the home and that’s when he hears something. Those soft, needy sounds of pleasure.

His eyebrows raise, but he continues walking. As he gets closer, he realizes something that adds another level of shock to this situation. The noises were coming from his room.

At this point, he was more concerned than anything else. He makes his way down the hallway to his room and slowly opens the door, cracking it open to peek inside.

His eyes widen as he sees you on his bed. You’re kneeling, doubled over though so your face is in the blankets, his pillow between your legs, and your hips rocking back and forth violently. You’re nude from the waist down, only wearing a shirt of his. One of your fists is clutching the blankets while you keep your face shoved against them in a weak attempt to muffle those cute noises.

His jaw goes slack at the sight. He wills himself to remain calm and not succumb to some of his own primal urges. He carefully steps into the room, trying to be quiet even though he couldn’t see a way to not startle you with his presence.

“Baby…” he says, using the most gentle voice he could manage.

You shoot up in bed, now kneeling vertically. Your eyes are wide like you’ve had the fright of your life, your expression clearly horrified that he’d caught you like this. And even though he tries not to look, he can’t help but notice that despite your reaction, your hips don’t stop rutting against the pillow.

“Daddy!” you gasp.

That short circuits his brain. He pauses for a good five seconds to grapple with what you just said. You’d never called him that before. Not that he minded necessarily… but it still gave him whiplash.

His reaction seems to cause you to realize what you had just blurted out. In the blink of an eye, you go from visibly horrified to completely mortified. Your eyes fill with tears as you whimper out “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

Oh god, and now you’re crying. Leon was still silent as he tried to keep his composure, force the heat building inside of him to cool off before he approached you. Looking at you though, that sweet face with tears leaking down those round cheeks… It made him want to bounce you on his lap till you were crying for a whole other reason.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he reassures you as he walks to the bed. He sits on the edge, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on your face. “Is it… Are you in heat?”

“Yes,” you say, tone dripping with shame. You bite your lip and try to restrain any further whimpers. Your hips were slowing down but still moving. After a few moments though, another wave of choked cries erupt from your throat and more hot tears of humiliation slide down your skin. Your hands fly up to cover your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down. It’s ok,” he says softly. He cautiously takes your wrists and pulls them away from your face. He takes one of your hands in his, soothingly rubbing the back of your palm. You whimper at the touch, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s ok, honey. I’m not mad. You can’t help it. I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

You look into his eyes with your tearful gaze. Your breathing was a little ragged from crying, but it seemed like he was calming you down slowly. You nod with uncertainty, waiting for him to make the next move.

He was also unsure of what to do. This was so unlike you, he’d never seen you this emotional for one, but he’d also never expected to see you in this position. And the entire time your hips were still grinding on that pillow, back and forth like a pendulum.

“Is it more intense this time?” he asks, keeping his tone gentle to not upset you again.

“I guess,” you whimper, “I just… I wanted you.”

It pained him to see you so uncomfortable and stressed out. He wanted you to be able to come to him with these types of things, to trust him with yourself when you’re in your most vulnerable state. It was clear that you desired that too, to some degree. You were in his room, humping his pillow, wearing his shirt.

“Well… I’m right here, baby. I want to help if I can. If you want me to,” he says.

Your skepticism is written all over your face. But you needed this even if you were a little nervous. He pats his lap encouragingly, and that’s the final push you need to let go of the pillow and crawl into his lap.

“There’s my baby bunny. Sweet girl,” he says softly as he gets you situated. He peppers a few tender kisses on your head and strokes your back.

You had only been there for a few seconds, but your hips were already squirming.

“What do you need, baby? Just tell Daddy, and you can have it,” he whispers. The title rolls off his tongue as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It had caught him off guard when you said it, but after it rattled around in his head for a bit, it took root. Now, he just wanted to hear you say it again.

You whimper, looking at him through your lashes with those sweet eyes. At this point, you were all but riding his thigh. There’s a pause as you decide how to articulate your desire.

“I need… I need you,” you offer timidly.

“I know that, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “Try to be more specific for me. Daddy only wants to know so he can help you. Give you exactly what you need.”

He reaches up and cradles the back of your head, bringing you in to rest it on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around you and rubs your back. He holds  you as close as he can to give you that physical reassurance he knew you longed for in your condition.

You still hesitate, obviously working up your will to explicitly state your cravings.

“I want Daddy inside, wanna be bred,” you whimper, turning your face against his shoulder to hide your eyes. Your whole head felt hot with the weight of what you said. It was almost dizzying, but he swoops in with his cooing voice and gentle praises to keep you together.

“Poor baby,” he croons, “I don’t know how you handled this alone for so long, honey. That’s so unfair to you, all these big feelings you had to work through by yourself. So frustrating.”

You knew he was being excessively caring now, but you had no complaints. The loving cadence of his voice made your mind melt. All you could do is whimper and nod against his shoulder.

“You could’ve come to Daddy anytime you wanted. I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny, especially not about this,” he says, kissing your head and giving your ears a few loving strokes.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Nothing to be sorry about, sweet girl. I’m here now. We’re gonna fix it. Daddy’s gonna make it all better,” he says.

He shifts you around a little so he can slide his pants down and free his hard cock. Your curious eyes dart back to his face after a quick look at the flushed tip and the veins spanning the shaft.

“You ready?” he asks softly.

“Mhm, need it,” you whimper in return, helping him get your hips into position.

He lowers you on to his cock. Both of you let out hushed noises of pleasure as the sensation strikes pleasure within you. His fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips as he slides further into you. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes already start to flutter at the snug fit.

You whine and babble out some nonsense when you’re finally flush against him. His cock twitches inside of you.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. You could hear the tension in his own voice from exerting so much restraint. “You feeling any better?”

“Little bit, need more Daddy,” you mewl.

“Just give yourself a second to adjust, angel,” he grunts. You were pulsing around him, making it harder for him to not let go. 

But it seems you’re feeling the same way. You shake your head in response to his words and start haphazardly squirming around, trying to move up and down while still in his hold.

“Need it Daddy,” you whine, “Can’t wait. Pretty please.”

Like he’d said, he couldn’t say no.

“If you’re sure, honey,” he says and loosens his grip, “Be a good bunny and bounce for Daddy.”

That’s all you need to hear before you’re bouncing up and down. Wet noises fill the room as your slick pussy takes him in and out. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the embarrassment fade and just feeling the pleasure running through you.

Leon focuses on helping you keep your balance as you ride him. His own belly was twisting with ecstasy as your heat engulfs him over and over.

“That’s it, good baby,” he grunts, “Keep going, honey. Get it all out.”

You whine and continue on, up and down, up and down. More cute noises spill from your mouth as the head of his cock nudges all the right places. You ramble on, mumbling things like “love my daddy” over and over.

“Daddy loves you too, sweet girl,” he says softly.

He notices you starting to cling and whimper more. You were still riding, but your rhythm was becoming more awkward. You seemed more desperate even though you literally had him as close and as deep as physically possible.

He tries to help and do more of the work. He pulls you in close again and holds you against his body. Your face is pressed to his neck while he rubs the back of your head. His hips start to do the majority of the thrusting, bucking up into you fervently.

More incoherent strings of words escape you as you melt into his chest. You press a few sloppy kisses to the base of his neck. Despite him taking over, you were still being whiny and squirmy. He knew you were in discomfort, but it should be getting better, right?

“What is it, babydoll? What else do you need?” he coos.

Your head falls back and a sound of general pent up frustration escapes you. Your hips roll into his thrusts in large, needy movements.

“It’s not enough,” you cry, almost near tears from the ache between your thighs, “Need you more. Closer. Need it.”

You tug at his arms trying to get him to wrap them tighter. There wasn’t much Leon could do though. You were already as close as possible, any closer and you wouldn’t be able to move, which he was sure wouldn’t go over well with you. He felt so bad for you though. His sweet baby bunny suffering like this.

He watches you, your weak attempts at getting yourself off by rising and falling on his lap. He can’t take watching you struggle like this. Doing the only thing that could think of, he boosts you up and quickly flips you over.

You’re now pinned beneath him. His toned body is all over yours, heated skin pressed to you in every way. He spreads your arms out and holds your wrists down. His hips are against yours. He’s just grinding into you now, not even pulling out with his thrusts. He was as deep as possible. If this wasn’t enough, he didn’t know what else to do.

“How’s that, pretty girl? Is that how my baby bunny wants it? Wants Daddy nice and deep, ready to spill his cum and breed her cute pussy,” he breathes.

You nod eagerly, eyes rolling back at the relief you felt. This is what you needed. Feeling his weight on top of you, unable to move anywhere else.

“Mhm, this is what you need, sweet baby. You’re gonna take every last drop. Gonna keep it all in to make sure it takes too. If any leaks out, that just means I’ll have to fuck it back in. We’ll just have to go as many times as we need to,” he groans.

“Yes Daddy. Wanna take it all. Gonna be full of your cum for days,” you whimper.

“Yeah you will be. I think that’s what I’ll do from now on. Whenever my baby bunny goes into heat, I’ll have to stay home, make sure to keep you in bed, keep you plugged up full of Daddy at all times. That pretty little head won’t have to think about anything but being bred,” he says.

You just nod again, unable to get proper words out at the minute.

“I feel you squeezing, sweetheart. You getting ready to cum for Daddy?” he coos and reaches up to stroke your ears. He hikes your thighs up more, giving him a deeper angle to drive into you with. You gasp from the change, and your noises get higher as he rams in as much as he can without it being painful.

“Daddy!” you cry out. It’s all you can say. You had more, but it could only come out in the form of that one word right now. He’s all that was on your mind. Daddy daddy daddy.

“Yes, baby. Yes. Daddy’s here. Gonna fill you full of cum and then love on you for the rest of the night,” he purrs, “My baby was so brave, dealing with this all by yourself. But doesn’t it feel so much better when Daddy takes care of you?”

“Mhm, mhm,” you agree quickly.

Your hips start bucking while your body spasms. Leon knew this was it.

“Good girl, baby. Cum whenever you want. Let it feel good baby, get perfect and tight,” he says.

You do just that. You let the release wash over you. You shudder and dig your fingers into his muscles as the feelings bubble over.

“My perfect little bunny,” he praises softly while watching you let go.

It’s not much longer until his cock his pulsing violently within you. He thrusts as hard and as deep as possible before letting out a loud groan and burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, baby, baby, baby,” he mumbles.

He spills it all inside you, hips twitching and arms locking around you. In the end, you’re both panting. He pulls back a little to kiss your forehead again. He looks down into your eyes.

“How’re you feeling now, sweet girl?” he asks softly.

“Better for now,” you answer. Your head starts to clear and return to its normal state.

He nods and kisses your head again. He rolls over onto his back, scooping you up against his chest while staying inside you. He rubs your back gently.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispers, “Now you see you don’t have to do that alone. You can trust me, sweetheart. I only want to help you. Keep you happy.”

You nod and look up at him lovingly.

“If this is what you need, this is what you need. We can get through it together,” he says softly.

“Together,” you agree softly and scoot up slightly, kissing him gently on the lips.

He smiles big and holds you closer somehow. He leans in for another kiss and another. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get enough.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

[thatdeadaquarius]

That language SAGAU but the Reader can only communicate writing on paper.

Either the Reader is mute and they (characters) don't know/understand sign language or they somehow lost their voices on their transmigration to Teyvat and can only write now. But the characters are left trying to decipher what the Reader wrote.

Examples:

Kaeya: "I may say, that was very unexpected your grace. One such as yourself should be more aware of who you are."

Reader: "wat, y u sayin dat?"

×

Gorou: "Oh, your grace! Careful now. I am most certain that you stepped on something unsightly right now. Let me clean your feet, your grace."

Reader: "r u srs rn? Fml"

Ooooo, this is nice, this is niiccceeee /ref

this would be the energy⬇️

Man I love this show, I gotta finish it (it’s Komi Can’t Communicate for those who want to see it) where she basically is too shy/introverted to speak (non-verbal neurospicy it seems like to me actually lol) and really wants to make friends and do normal things despite not speaking, her main way of communicating is writing (and her first guy friend who can just read her facial/body language really well lmao)!!

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them)

Planet: Headcanons-ish?

Stars: dashes/mention of most characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Reader/”you” are mute/lost their voice, & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

☆

This kinda falls into that post I made abt texting lingo, abt us being nigh incomprehensible when using texting lang. (its basically a code lol)

but i think it’s always neat to see nonverbal rep so here we are (also i think imma go ahead and say it is both selectively mute but also enforced by video game laws!)

u know a good explanation would be for this is actually abt how we technically are only allowed to freely communicate when we’re in chats,

so I could see that still being the only way we can commnicate in Teyvat (look am i little excited abt taking “video game world” a little too literally in every genshin AU ever- maybe.)

tbh i could see so many allogenes having to either learn to make room for you in convos and u also having to get wayyy more expressive in body language/facial expressions

tbh i think itd be pretty easy to get ur meaning, like in a battle or smth fast-paced where u couldnt write, like how Tinker Bell can?

if u dont know what i mean just search “tinkerbell scenes peter pan” on youtube and u can see ppl just having a full conversation with no words with her, which i think would deffo happen with ppl like Kaeya, Lisa, Lumine, Venti, Heizou, Ayato, Yae Miko, Thoma, Beidou and Itto surprisingly i could see it (ppl in the distance just think theyre all talking to themselves sometimes when ur not as visible hehe)

OMG they get u nice gifts for writing all the time, like the newest compact pens from Fontaine, the finest small, medium, and large notebooks from Inazuma,

like a little compact pocketbook so u can easily fit it in pockets!

u know Im absolutely sure you could literally start the texting appreviation trend in Tevyat like this-

like just so it’s easier to communicate with you, a lot of people are willing to adapt/take on abbreviations like “ttyl, gtg, wth, lol, lmao” even stuff like “etc”

lol u start a whole trend in the writing letters business, hehe silly medieval Teyvat is silly and medieval

yknow I think the quieter vision users would definitely find you to be peaceful to be around and easy to understand just with writing (also deffo most likely to adore the soft moments together of just ur pen scribbling and the sounds of nature or a cafe or something around them),

tbh i also think these ppl would be motivated to talk to you alone, or get you away to just talk the two of you for all the reasons above, like Xiao, Aether, Kazuha, Ayaka, Chongyun, Zhongli, Diluc, Sayu, Ei, Sucrose, Eula, Ganyu, Ningguang, Tighnari, Alhaitham omg he might literally be able to take his headphones off around u bc youd be in such quiet spaces all the time, and bc u dont talk he doesn’t have to worry abt u getting loud either lmao

…and then ofc, there’s the bitches that try and guess what ur writing ahead of timeeee 😭

bein all like, “Uh… you.. would like.. to go to… a restaurant… to get some- OH OH I got this one this time! Some pita pockets! …Oh. A drink. Right. Sorry, again.”

definitely Itto, Cyno, Heizou, Xingqiu, Fischl, Amber, Collei, Dehya, Wanderer, Childe, Venti, Keqing (she just used to being fast ok), Kaveh lmao

☆

I hope my reply was a little fun!! THANK U FOR SENDING THIS I LOVE THIS SM!! Man it’s so hard to make you feel my appreciation for this idea thru the damn screen

like how do i send a virtual hug

ANYWAY, if you or anybody else had an idea for celebrating 1000 followers lmk bc i am STRUGGLING with this same issue for that,

like how to make u guys feel my love 😩 ❤️‍🔥

☆

Safe travels ignihideous,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonderss / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin isekai #my asks #genshin impact sagau #gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #idk my tags help #also pls if u got follower celebrate things for me to do lmk #genshin imagines

[ghostybat00]

"OUR CUTE HACKER 👾..." KÖNIG YANDERE AND HORANGI YANDERE

(I need more Horangi content, but I also need more König yandere content, so I said fuck it, both of them as yanderes for a hacker reader, and here we are lol)

Reader gender neutral.

👾:Imagine being a hacker at the Kortac base of operation, you are someone who wants to go unnoticed. It's a shame that these two soldiers won't allow you to be alone anymore.

👾:You met the two quickly after you were hired as a hacker operator, specialized in stealing data from enemy bases and extracting important information on missions.

👾:First you met Horangi, he was a quite energetic man, a good soldier of Korean nationality, you caught his attention from the beginning, was it your cute little face? How your beautiful hands move around the keyboard and mouse, extracting data while you look so irresistible?He didn't know it, whenever you were around he would make jokes and sarcastic comments, he camouflaged himself that it was to break the tension with the team, But it was only to have even a minimal chance of seeing a nice smile or laugh from you.

👾:Horangi quickly told König, König hadn't really met you, but if he was a little tired of Horangi never shutting up talking about you, of course, he didn't know what he was missing when had the opportunity to meet you on a mission, you helped them and the others to open a database and finish the mission easier.

👾:Then he saw you physically...he swore he thought he saw a "Engel", You were so cute, so intelligent, the blood rushed to his face that fortunately for him, his piece of cloth on his face covered, from that moment on he understood why Horangi never kept quiet about you.

👾:They both tried to be friends with you, but it was a bit difficult since you were a bit quiet. They always tried to get you to spend time alone with them, inviting you to eat with them during breaks. Protecting you a lot when you had missions with them.

👾:Horangi used to use his humor to get the better of you, more than once making a cute laugh or small smile escape you, god how he loved that.Also, in his free time he used to write poems, so what's better than making some for yourself and leaving them in your locker or room?, The poems were very beautiful and always came with nicknames, but in the Korean language, he liked to see how you tried to decipher what meant each new nickname he gave you, such as "내 꽃" (My flower) "내 아기" (My baby) "나의 별" (My Star).

👾:It was obvious that König was more reserved, he wasn't shy, but he definitely wasn't very talkative, at least when it came to you if he usually made the effort to strike up conversations outside of the professional. Also, one of his favorite things was to help you train, of course, you were military too, but you were a hacker, so you were not in the same physical condition as them, So he helped you exercise more, taking the opportunity to touch you more, like helping you use a gym machine, putting his big hands on your hips for much longer.

👾:This was the nice part that you knew about them, not the obsessive and possessive part of these two.

👾:The two used to work together to eliminate any man or woman who would try to take you away from them. Did a rookie soldier try to flirt with you? Oh! You never saw that rookie again, he magically decided to quit after being brutally beaten!, Did an enemy even give you a mini cut? He died in the most brutal way possible, leaving his body unrecognizable!

👾:Another thing about them is that, worshiping it was a daily requirement for them. They see you as a god/goddess, you are so cute and unreal that sometimes they wonder if you are real or the both fell into a beautiful fantasy.They love you so much, that even the smallest thing about you drives them crazy,so much so that they keep them as if they were sacred objects simply because they were with you.Things like a ring that you dropped that was on your pretty finger? You never found it, and the plastic water bottle you just threw away a few seconds ago?, is magically no longer in the trash can.

👾:Speaking of item collection, yeah, they share a fucking sanctuary of you, hidden in the closet in König's room. Mundane things you used, even intimate things like a toothbrush you no longer needed, underwear you wore etc.

👾:They continue to act as your "just friends", although of course in the future they plan to make you their wife/husband, They are also very protective, thanks to König's status as a Colonel, they can keep you safe better, such as ordering soldiers not to get too close to you, excluding you from the others unless it is necessary for a mission, after all you already have them, what else would you need?.

👾:And they are very intelligent, especially Horangi who is a better manipulator than König, they know strategies so that you don't discover them and if you ever suspect them they cover it up as a coincidence.

👾:They really like "friends" nights, where during your free time at work you are squeezed between their muscular bodies in a comfortable bed,while watching some movie or series, you definitely have them around your finger, with the disadvantage that now you had 2 huge soldiers obsessed with you, and who will never let you escape.

#obsession #yandere #tw stalking #cod mw2 #konig #konig mw2 #konig x reader #horangi #horangi cod #call of duty #reader #konig x you #horangi x reader

[fixfoxnox]

Ice Skating is Romantic (NikPrice) (Day 3 of COD-mas)

Description: Nikolai finds out that his husband doesn't know how to skate. He takes it upon himself to fix that.

Warnings: Mentions of death

“You don’t know how to skate?” Nikolai sounded shocked and more than a little bothered by the confession that Price had just made while leaning against his chest. Price hadn’t known that he was making a confession, or that the casual words he’d spoken would cause Nik to react so violently, but it was certainly too late to take them back now. 

Price gave an unbothered shrug and continued glaring over the reports in front of him. His boys had certainly caused a bit of a mess on their last mission and he was the one stuck writing everything up. He was going to have to make sure to never make the mistake of putting Gaz, Roach, and Soap on a team together. It was far too destructive apparently. “Never learned, not many opportunities around being shipped out to fuck all by the military.” 

Nikolai gave a few shocked sounds for a moment, stumbling over his words as he tried to find something to say. Price couldn’t understand why Nikolai was so bothered. His husband had never said anything about skating before and it wasn’t that big of a deal that they wouldn’t be able to go skating for their weekly date like Nikolai suggested. 

“Have I never asked you to go skating before?” Nik sounded horrified by himself, his accent growing stronger with his clear upset at himself. Price caught a few words in Russian mumbled under the other’s breath, though they were far too quick for him to figure out what they meant, even with his years of learning the language and deciphering Nikolai’s little phrases. 

He shook his head, “I think it came up as a possibility once while we were in Russia. We were on a mission though, and you know how conversations on a mission go.” He shook his head again and clicked his pen rapidly, trying not to grow anxious at the line of dialogue. “What’s the issue with me not knowing how to skate?” He nudged at Nik’s arm before playfully adding, “Don’t tell me this is divorce worthy?” It was a quick joke, one meant to diffuse his own nerves. 

Nik cracked a slight smile at that and turned to gaze down at Price properly, “John, how long will it take you to realize that there isn’t a thing in this world that would make me want to divorce you? You’re stuck with me remember?” The words pulled a bit of a laugh from Price’s chest, reminding him pleasantly of the early moments of their relationship when Nikolai had sworn the same thing, albeit with a less romantic meaning behind it. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Price snuggled closer to Nik, pressing a short kiss to his clothed shoulder. He thought perhaps that might have ended the discussion of ice skating, but it seemed that he couldn’t be so lucky. 

Nik tugged him closer to his chest, tucking him just under his chin. There were a quiet few moments before he spoke again, “I will have to teach you to skate.” Price gave a short groan at the words, but Nik seemed unbothered by his unwillingness. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“Will I?” Price gave a short grumble, abandoning his reports in favor of pressing his face into Nik’s chest, “Because I adore falling and busting my ass over and over in front of my husband.”

He couldn’t see Nik’s face, but he could feel as the man’s body shook with amused laughter.

“What if I fall and cut my leg open with the blade,” Price’s voice shook with worry as he spoke, his eyes trailing down to look at the ice skates that Nik was lacing up tight for him. He thought it would be better to call the things on his feet knife shoes rather than anything, he’d nearly cut himself on the blade at the bottom just while walking to find a place to put them on. 

He wouldn’t admit that he was anxious about the entire thing. He didn’t even know why he was anxious. All that he knew was that the entire drive to the little frozen lake where they’d be skating, all he could do was bounce his knee and pray that the ice wasn’t thick enough for them to skate on. It was and he was forced to put on the pair of pristine white skates that Nik had gifted to him. 

Nikolai gave a small chuckle at the words. “You doubt yourself, John. And worry yourself.” He leaned forward, bullying his way between Price’s legs to place a short kiss on his lips. “I promise that you will enjoy this,” he spoke with such softness that Price could only nod along and agree with him, even if he didn’t particularly think it was true. 

The two held there for a short moment, just holding the other's hand and taking comfort in their shared warmth. Nik was the first to move, rising to his feet and easily hoisting Price up to join him, a joyous grin on his face. He didn’t let go of Price’s hands as he led them over to where the ice of the lake began. Price couldn’t help but wonder if Nik just wanted to hold his hand or if the man was doing it simply so that Price wouldn’t try to take off. 

“I’m going to twist an ankle,” Price’s voice broke a bit as they stepped toward the ice, “or break a hip. Do you know how much shit the team is going to give me if I break a hip?” 

Nikolai only chuckled at the concerned tone of his husband, showing no signs of hesitation as he easily stepped onto the ice. He was surprisingly graceful with the movement, stepping onto the frozen lake before spinning in place to face Price and join both of their hands together instead of just the one. “Come now, Captain, have a bit of fun.” 

Nik gave a beaming smile before pushing himself back further onto the lake and tugging Price with him. The result was a distracted Price who was so busy admiring his husband that the sudden movement sent him stumbling forward on the ice. 

He could feel his feet slip out from under him even as he tried to catch himself. A flash of panic ran through him and he gave a frightened yelp as he was sent sprawling forward, doomed to hit the ice. Except he didn’t. 

Instead, he found himself saved by his husband’s arms. 

Nik had caught him just before he could go all the way down and hauled him against his chest, allowing Price to use him to catch his balance. Price felt out of breath from the near fall and he looked up to Nik, ready to spill apologies and pleas to just leave from his lips. Those died on his tongue as he met the adoring gaze of his husband. 

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice shaking just a bit. Nik didn’t say anything for a moment, he just continued smiling at Price and gazing at him with those adoring eyes as he helped him right himself on the ice. 

The moment was quiet between them, Nikolai helping Price to balance and Price doing his damnest not to melt a hole in the ice from both embarrassment and the heat he felt for his husband. He couldn’t help it, he loved it when Nikolai got like this. 

It made it harder to focus on the task at hand, something that was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that Price was no longer so focused on the skating aspect. No longer so worried about falling and breaking something or dying a horrible embarrassing death at the hands of an ice skate. It did, however, mean that he was really struggling to pay attention to Nikolai’s directions. Nik seemed to recognize as much. 

“Focus, John.” Nik gave him a soft smile and started to skate backward a bit, pulling Price with him by his hands. Price nearly fell again, but managed to find his footing before his husband was forced to save him. He had to force himself to pay attention to the movement of his feet rather than Nikolai skating right in front of him, looking so charming in his winter wear and being so charming while guiding him over the ice. 

“Sorry, Kolen’ka,” he muttered under his breath, his mind trying to focus on the task at hand. Despite that, his mind wasn’t so focused that he didn’t notice the quick twitch of Nik’s hands at the use of the diminutive. He laughed internally at that, knowing that the name that had just slipped off of his lips had likely driven his husband wild. Even if it was for only a moment. 

There were several long moments of the two just skating around the little lake like that. Price had a death grip on his husband’s hands, frightened of falling again and Nikolai just let him hold on and get used to the feeling of gliding around on the ice. It was terrifying to Price but exhilarating all the same. The movement was so fluid and everywhere they went they left little tracks behind them, lines in the ice that showed their paths. 

There was something else about it. The trust involved, Price was sure. He trusted that Nik knew what he was doing, that his husband wouldn’t let him fall and wouldn’t let him skate over a part of the lake where the ice was too thin. Too dangerous. He trusted Nikolai to ensure his safety, to make sure that he didn’t have to worry. That, in itself, was more romantic than he’d expected. 

“Ready to try on your own?” 

Price gave a nervous laugh and gripped tighter to Nikolai’s arms, “Do you really think that's necessary?” He pulled himself closer to the other man, as though afraid that he might be left on his own if he didn’t. “I’m enjoying myself just fine like this.”

“It’s more enjoyable to do it on your own,” Nik’s voice was laced with amusement and he managed to give Price a grin even as Price tugged him closer, intent on not giving Nikolai even a chance to release him. 

“I disagree.” Price glanced up to give him a smile of his own when he suddenly found his supports taken out from under him. Nikolai had pulled away from him in a flash, leaving him practically shaking like a leaf on the ice. All on his own. “Nik,” he gave a warning call, panic flooding him. 

“Calm down, dusha moya.” Nik wasn’t too far, only about five feet in front of him. He had his hands placed on his hips and a shit-eating grin etched across his face. “Don’t panic, just do what we’ve been doing and come to me.” 

“I’ve been doing everything with you,” Price complained. He looked down at his shaky feet and, for a moment, he felt dizzy. 

“Look at me,” Nik’s voice cut through his panic. Price didn’t even think before taking his eyes off the ground and looking up to meet Nik’s eyes. “Trust me. Just come to me.” A short moment passed before Nik gave him an encouraging nod.

Price held still for a few moments, trying not to seem as annoyed as he felt at his husband. He reminded himself that it was only a few feet and that he would be more than able to give his husband a good smack for leaving him on his own the second that he crossed that distance. 

He said nothing, instead, he clenched his jaw and began to move his feet like he’d been doing while holding on to Nik. It was odd and he clearly didn’t have the movement down yet as it took him a long moment to even get himself started, but he was able to get started. He found himself inching forward across the ice. Little by little, the distance between him and Nik closed. 

When he finally found himself face to face with his husband, all thoughts of hitting him were gone from his mind. Now, he only took a shaky breath before tugging the other man down for a harsh kiss. The warmth in his chest and the feeling of success rushing through him had left him feeling airy and all too light on his feet. The kiss managed to ground him. 

It was a press of cold lips and warm breath, perfect pressure, and adoring attention. Hands finding one another, neither of them could be bothered to do anything other than wrap the other in their arms and hold close, warming each other from the cold. 

“Never make me do that again,” Price muttered the words against Nikolai’s lips, pulling a short laugh from the other man. 

“Whatever the Captain orders,” Nik responded playfully, tugging Price with him across the ice even as he pressed their lips back together. Whatever fear that Price felt at the move melted away with the kiss, leaving him feeling light on his feet and filled with such adoration that even he had to begrudgingly admit that his husband had been right. 

Ice skating was quite romantic. 

#call of duty #captain john price #cod nikolai #nikolai cod #price x nikolai #nikprice #call of duty fanfiction #cod fanfic

[sinnasfanficcafe]

Growing Pains : Prologue

(Draco Malfoy X Reader)

Disclaimer: This story is set in the AU created by the SuperCarlinBrothers where Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor. Reader is female & a Hufflepuff, also the title is a work in progress. May keep it as Growing Pains, may not.

Synopsis: 'Your strange relationship with Draco Malfoy began in your third year at Hogwarts, but it ended as quickly as it had begun. The reason for this was never clear and it plagued your thoughts ever since, however when you return to school for the next year, Draco wriggles his way back into your life, but things are different this time'.

This fanfic is a slow burn following your's and Draco's relationship from when you first meet in your third year (prologue) to the end of the book series (final chapter). Also, as mentioned in the disclaimer, this story is set in the AU created by the SuperCarlinBrothers where Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor. If you haven't see those videos please check it out as it will make this fic make a lot more sense. With that, I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Foul language, physical contact (kissing mostly), angst, Draco being a bit of a creep and a dickhead initially when him and reader first meet, mentions of the term 'mudblood'.

Word Count: 4,354

Genre: Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, AU, X Reader

Your relationship with Draco Malfoy had always been convoluted to say the least. It infuriated you, trying to decipher everything he did; his soft and sweet nature when he spoke to you, contrasting the cold shoulder he offered when around the other Slytherins. Since the two of you met, things had always been this way and only grew more frustratingly confusing over time.

You had initially met during your second year at Hogwarts. It was brief, accidental.

The halls were cramped, the mass of bodies writhing as students attempted to get to their next class. Your house, Hufflepuff, attended classes with Ravenclaw, leading to a friendship sparking between you and the slightly strange Luna Lovegood. Despite the reputation she had already acquired, you thought she was wonderful company. There was always something to talk about with Luna. The conversations never dipped or dulled.

The two of you had been discussing taking Care of Magical Creatures next year as you were a muggle born witch and found the multitude of creatures the wizarding world had lurking across the globe to be fascinating. Gradually, the crowd grew frustrated and began to push and shout, causing you to lose your footing, stumbling into another body as your skull collided with theirs.

“Watch where you’re going! Did your parents not teach you about personal space?”, a boy spat, a vicious venom in his tone. Wincing from the sharp searing pain blossoming across the right side of your forehead, you finally opened your eyes and locked eyes with him.

Your heart seemed to serge into life, giving a prominent thud against your ribcage, while simultaneously feeling as though it had skipped a beat. You felt breathless and weightless. It was a feeling that was difficult to describe. You had been on roller coasters before, and that was the only thing you could compare it to. It scared you for a moment, unsure how to react.

You scanned his features; platinum blonde hair slicked back, looking as though each strand was practically glued down to his scalp, grey eyes with tinges of blue, pink tinted cheeks and Slytherin robes.

You only managed to mumble out a small ‘Sorry’ before scrambling to get out of his line of vision, quickly continuing on your way to potions class, Luna following at your heals.

That initial meeting had sparked something in you.

You didn’t see Draco Malfoy again until the end of the year. After hearing the whispers and rumors that riddled everyone’s conversations about how Draco had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets and how his housemate Harry Potter saved him, seeing the blonde in a shaken and unsettled state in the Great Hall before the summer holiday was somewhat depressing. He continued to make jabs at others, making jokes and such, but you noticed he never actually laughed. Not once. He was putting on a front. A shell of his former self.

After the summer break, things had changed for everyone. The boys came back taller, some broader, some with faint traces of facial hair. The girls came back taller too, some wearing makeup now, some having learnt how to style their hair. You were no exception, getting compliments from your fellow housemates, such as Hannah and Susan, about how pretty you looked at dinner during your first night back. It did feel like more eyes were on you than usual which, you were reluctant to admit, felt good.

You glanced around the hall, soaking up the atmosphere, happy to have returned to what had become your second home. The smell of the food, the chatter of friends catching up, first years buzzing with excitement to socialise with their new housemates, and then through the crowd you spot a pair of eyes staring at you. That same cold stormy colour you had seen last year. From the opposite side of the hall, you spot Malfoy. Upon your lines of site meeting, he instantly tears his gaze away. And there it was again, that same feeling from the first time the two of you had met. The rest of dinner was tense, you and Draco stealing glances at each other every so often. Although, with Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban and the dementors patrolling the grounds, everyone was feeling tense .

Later that year was when the two of you officially met.

You were in the library, scouring shelves for a book to help you with the goblin rebellions you had been studying in your History of Magic lessons. You were secure with the basic facts, yet you struggled with the smaller details that occurred during the time period. You had hoped to find a book solely on the topic which in turn would hopefully delve into the rebellions in greater detail, instead of repeatedly searching through the generalised texts found in your class textbook.

It was quiet, the occasional murmur and flipping of pages filled the air along with the musty smell of books and fresh parchment. There was a group somewhere closer to the library entrance that you could hear,  completely disregarding the idea of the library being a silent place of study; their faint giggles, laughter and chatter carried all the way to you, hidden away between the bookshelves. Along with their cacophony of noise, you hear footsteps  here and there, one set approaching your Isle, another heading for the door. Some slower some faster.

You’re muttering to yourself about the options displayed before you, debating which ones would be the most useful, until your thoughts are abruptly silenced as someone pressed against your back; their pectorals against your shoulders, their breath against the back of your head, their cologne, deep, rich, expensive. You spring away, turning on the spot before backing yourself against the shelves. It is then revealed who was behind you, now just inches away, their arm just above your head pinning you in place.

Draco Malfoy.

“What are you doing?”, you blurt out, your eyes wide and cheeks burning as you glance up to meet his gaze. He had grown over the summer. He was now an inch taller than you.

“Just getting a book”, he smirked, pulling out a thick leather bound book from just above your head as his eyes trailed over you, a flicker of a frown appearing before it was quickly replaced with that same smug look from moments before.

“You could have just asked me to move”, you huffed, which only caused Draco’s smirk to grow into a taunting grin.  

“I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy”, he introduced himself, holding out his hand to you. You eyed it cautiously, wondering what he was up to, yet against your better judgement placed your hand in his. His hands were surprisingly soft, as if he hadn’t done a day’s work in his life, but his skin was cold. Before you could register what was occurring, he had flipped your hand in his and placed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You quickly snatched your hand back, mortified, and hurried down the Isle away from the blonde, your knuckles burning from the contact. But to your embarrassment, Draco had followed you.

“You do know it’s rude to leave mid conversation”, he grumbled. You turn on your heels to face him once again, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach this time.

“What do you want?”, you ask, attempting to sound as calm as possible.

“I just want to talk. Is that a crime?”, he shrugged casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You look like a deer in headlights”, he chuckled to himself. “Like a rabbit being stared down by a fox-“.

“Okay, you want to talk. Let’s talk”, you cut him off, which you were sure he’d sneer at. But to your surprise, he didn’t.

“What’s your name?”, he asked, cocking his head to one side.

“Y/N Y/L/N”, you answered simply.

“I’ve noticed how you stare at me during dinner”.

“Trying to act as if you weren’t the one caught staring first?”, you shot back, causing Draco to let out a scoff of amusement.

“You’re feisty for a Hufflepuff. Not meek and mild like the others”. This comment caused your expression to sour, and you sidestepped the Slytherin to leave, but Draco had grabbed you by the wrist. “Hey, where are you going?”.

“We’ve talked haven’t we?”, you rolled your eyes, once again turning back to face him. Now fed up, you asked, exasperated, “Draco, what do you really want?”.

“I just think you’re attractive”, he confessed, your cheeks heating up as he tugged you a little closer to him. “And judging by that reaction”, he spoke softly, stroking your cheek with the knuckle of his index finger, “You must think the same about me”. You had to swallow the saliva that had built up. You tried to stop your hands from trembling and you couldn’t understand why he had this effect on  you. “What I would give to have a pretty thing like you on my arm”, he practically whispered in your ear which caused you to snatch your hand away from his, storming off without saying another word, leaving him between the bookshelves, alone.

After that, you and Draco had two more interactions of a similar nature. The first was the Friday following, where he had once again been watching you during dinner. Once your eyes had settled upon him, he looked you up and down before throwing a wink at you and biting his lip just to tease you, which left you in a dizzying daze for the rest of the night.

The second happened the weekend after. You were relaxing and reading a book you had brought from home- a muggle book. You had settled down by the whomping willow to get some peace from the bustling Hufflepuff common room, wrapped in your thick cosy Hufflepuff scarf and jumper, although that peace was short lived as Malfoy had managed to find you. You had no clue how, but before you could question him, he had sat himself down, draping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close. “What are you doing out here, Y/L/N? Aren’t you cold? You could always borrow my jumper if you want”, he offered as your nostrils were filled with the scent of his cologne once again. He teased you about reading muggle literature for a bit, calling it ‘crap’, which you disregarded as him joking around. However, despite this, you both held a conversation this time; asking each other about your interests and such. You explain how you enjoyed muggle literature because you had grown up reading it, so it brought you comfort, and then proceeded to delve into a conversation on how your favourite lesson was Herbology, (leaving out the detail of your parents also being muggles, since you knew many Slytherins were obsessed with ‘pureblood’ and you didn’t want to open  the floodgates to that conversation of discourse with Draco just yet). Suprisingly, he returned your openness, explaining how he was- to his surprise- enjoying the Care of Magical Creatures class and how when he was very young, he used to make biscuits with his mother, who sends him a batch once a month. He had a nostalgic look settle over his features at the memory. As you were looking at him, studying his features, that roller coaster like feeling returned again.

The following day, as you sat at the long stretch of table for breakfast, you recalled to Hannah and Cedric how Draco had been acting around you. “What a twat”, Cedric scoffed in disbelief at your recall of how he had introduced himself as he ate the last morsel of his scrambled egg from his plate.

“I know right!”, Hannah joined, “Who does he think he is?”.

“I’ll admit though, that move with the hand kiss was pretty suave”, Cedric laughed. “The kid’s got confidence”.

You silently sipped your tea in response, unsure what to make of the situation. Your head was swimming with questions and part of you questioned whether or not all the meetings that had occurred between you and the Slytherin had been some strange hallucination. A pure figment of your imagination. After all, Draco had been the last person you had expected to ever show a romantic interest in you.

“Well, I’m off. I’ll see you both later”, Cedric beamed before drumming on the table with his hands and standing to leave.

“Oh! Cedric! Wait a second!”, Hannah shot up from the table, almost bashing her knees on the underside and sending a tremor across the giant slab of wood, before jogging to catch up with Cedric, leaving you alone.

You continued to munch on your toast, absentmindedly staring at the table as you did so, lost in your thoughts, until you heard the fluttering of paper wings. You look up just in time to watch as an enchanted paper crane lands on the table in front of you. Glancing around in attempts to find the sender, your eyes instantly fall on Malfoy. After the incident that occurred in the library, you had assumed he was the sender. He was standing from his place at the Slytherin table, dusting his robes from any crumbs.

You cautiously open the piece of paper, curiosity gnawing away at you, to reveal pristine cursive handwriting.

‘Meet me on the edge of the Forbidden Forest next to Hagrid’s Hut during lunch’.

You felt your heart leap into your throat  as you felt your stomach flip. You scrunched up the paper and shoved it into the pocket of your robes just as Hannah returned to the table, taking a seat with a huff. “Sorry about that. We were talking about that pompous Malfoy boy, right?”.

During lunch, you had done just as the note had said and made your way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Your stomach was churning, your heart was pounding and you felt sick with nerves. Under any other circumstances, these feelings would have been unwanted, yet it was somewhat... pleasant? Thrilling even?

The only sounds out by Hagrid’s Hut was the tweeting of birds, the gentle caws of Buckbeak and the rustling of leaves. It was tranquil out here and you made a mental note to return here when you needed a break from the busy school. As you approached the edge of the forest, you spotted a crop of almost white hair. You locked your eyes onto the icy grey ones that sent shivers up your spine. He flashed that signature smirk your way before disappearing behind the treeline, leaving you to chase after him, following the hint of Slytherin robes that bellowed out from behind him.

As you weaved wearily between the trees, twigs snapping beneath your soles, you remained alert, glancing in every direction before your world went black.

“Guess who”, you felt him whisper against your ear, causing you to jump slightly which amused Draco greatly. You could feel him laugh against you, the rumble deep within his chest against your back.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?”, you asked, finding yourself laughing along with him, much to your suprise. Draco paused, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek before diverting his gaze.

“Can’t have anyone spotting us, can we”, he spoke in a matter of fact tone, turning his attention back towards you.

You can’t deny, upon hearing this, you felt as if Malfoy had jammed a dagger into your heart and twisted it. He was embarrassed to be seen with you. But then again, what did you expect from a pureblood Slytherin. You should have left him in the dense woodland without another word. You should have saved yourself the heartbreak. But you were young, naive and somewhat selfish. You wanted him for yourself, and if that meant secret meetings within the Forbidden Forest , so be it.

And it was there in the forest that you shared your first kiss. It was surprisingly tender and, in contrast to his hands, his lips were warm. You had expected them to also hold a chill to them, but they didn’t. He snaked his hands around your waist, pulling you in close until your chests were pressed against each other’s. You could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, just below where you had placed your hands against his chest, and he tasted like mint. Spear mint. You spent the rest of your lunch break with Malfoy propped up against a tree and you in his lap, his hands resting on your hips and his teeth occasionally nibbling at your ear, jaw, neck and bottom lip while he told you how pretty you were.

“Prettiest Hufflepuff in the school”, he purred, playing with a strand of your hair.

This happened a few times, lunch breaks hidden away from the eyes of your peers and teachers. The two of you fuelling each other’s egos with sweet whispers in secret that never seemed to seeped below the surface. You’d tell him how powerful and handsome he was and in return he’d tell you how you were the prettiest girl in the school. Yet, you never mentioned how you had grown- in your short time together- to adore his smile, or how the sound of his laugh sparked a flame in you like no other.

But things changed when he found you crying under the shelter of a tree one rainy Wednesday.

It was your scheduled day to meet up, yet things hadn’t gone according to plan for you. During your morning break a member of the Slytherin House had overheard you discussing with Luna about how you had to explain to your parents who Sirius Black was, and what him breaking into the castle meant for you students. You were in the midst of explaining to Luna that because your family were muggles you often had to do this, while simultaneously not knowing much about the wizarding world yourself, that the Slytherin was prompted to torment you about your blood status.

“That’s why mudbloods are the weakest people. You hardly know the knowledge that us purebloods have had since birth. If I were you, I wouldn’t have even bothered coming to Hogwarts. I doubt you’ll be able to pass a single class”. The use of the term ‘Mudblood’ made your breath catch in your throat as pure hot rage began to bubble to the surface. You had heard the term thrown around before and knew what it meant, but this was the first time anyone had used the term to address you.

You bit back, “What does it matter? I know for a fact I’m probably doing better than you in most classes, so what does that say about your ‘pureblood mind-set’”. Meanwhile, Luna tugged at the cuff of your sleeve, saying it would be best to just leave him be.

“There’s no sense in arguing with those sorts. Their brains are mush and can’t be changed”, she spoke softly.

“Shut it, Looney Lovegood”, the boy spat back. “I’m not going to bother wasting my breath on vermin that don’t even deserve to be alive”, he growled before spitting on you, leaving a thick glob of saliva on the front of your robes, and turning to leave. But it was as he was leaving that it dawned on you why you recognised their features... It was Gregory Goyle, one of Draco’s best friends. Someone he had been close with since their first year at Hogwarts. Why he hung around with anyone like this you couldn’t tell. And at once, like a fuse being tripped , it suddenly all made sense. The jokes Draco had made about muggles, they were his genuine feelings towards them. He hadn’t been teasing you.

Tears of frustration filled your vision, brimming over your eyes and threatening to fall as you fled to the one place you knew you could be left in solitude to cry in peace. Luna called after you, but you didn’t turn back. Not for a second.

Rage and frustration singed every nerve in your body. Your tears had now fallen, running down your cheeks leaving hot wet tracks in their wake, your sniffling being drowned out my the sound of the rain. You wanted to hurt Gregory. You wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt you. To prove how wrong he was... and you were mad at Malfoy. The nerve he had to pursue anything with you when he supported those beliefs...

“Are you okay?”, his voice made you physically curl in on yourself. You held your tongue, feeling not blessing him with a response was punishment enough. That and you feared that opening that line of communication would release the tsunami of emotion which would ultimately display just how attached you were becoming to the Slytherin. He slowly edge closer before settling himself next to you. “Are you going to talk or sit there and sulk”, he huffed, yet despite the harsh tone, there was no venom to it. No bite.

“Goyle called me a mudblood”, you broke your silence with a pained murmer. “He’s your friend, isn’t he? Someone you’re close to”, you added, still not bothering to even look in Draco’s general vicinity. Especially when his silence only caused more tears to spill from your eyes.

“Do you think I’m a mudblood? Do you think I have dirty blood too?”, you sobbed, crying into the sleeve of your jumper, feeling your heart clenching in anguish.  

The pureblood Slytherin prince then surprised you when he placed his arm around you, like he had so many times before, and pulled you in to him, allowing you to cry into the side of his robes. “No... I don’t think you’re dirty”, was all he managed to choke out.

The rest of that lunch, you spent cuddled up listening to the pitter patter of the rainfall, away from the rest of the school, from the opposing houses you had been placed in and from the role Draco had been given to play as the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, a pureblood Slytherin. You let your guard down and allowed yourself to find comfort in his embrace, his scent, the soft sound of his breathing and the gentle hums he offered as comfort.

You met up once more after that before the dementors attacked during the Slytherin and Gryffindor quidditch match. This time was different. Draco was a lot more talkative. Between moments of sweet stolen kisses, he would ask you questions; How were your classes going? What had your boggart  been in your Defence Against The Dark Arts class? What were your plans for Christmas? You in turn asked him the same questions, as well as wishing him luck on his quidditch game.

Then a couple of days later you had heard about what occurred on the pitch. Both Draco and Harry had fallen from their brooms during the quidditch match. It had been a dementor attack. A sickening pit formed at the bottom of your stomach and you felt as though the life had been temporarily drained from you. That evening, you visited Draco in the hospital wing while the others were at dinner. He seemed thankful you were there, yet simultaneously tense, eyes darting from you to the door every so often.

“I can leave, Draco”, you spoke with a sombre tone, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know you don’t want anyone seeing us together”, you added as you reached out to adjust the curtain surrounding one side of his bed to seclude you more. Thankfully, Harry had been asleep when you entered the room earlier, otherwise that could have been an awkward conversation you’d have to address, knowing Harry would discuss with your mutual friends how he had seen you at Draco’s bedside.

“No! Please. Stay”, he pleaded softly, squeezing your hand back with a sad smile. “I like having you around. It’s a nice change of pace”, he soothed as his thumb gently rubbed the back of your hand and at that moment it felt as though your soul was singing.

Then it all abruptly ended the next day.

“I don’t think we should see each other like this anymore”. You stood dumbfounded amongst the trees of the Forbidden Forest for a moment. It was as though all the happiness from your world was being drained. Slowly and agonisingly. You were back on that roller coaster, but this time the drop was too harsh. Your throat was dry and your chest ached. 

“What?”, was all you managed to utter out, truly caught off guard by the sudden declaration.

“I don’t think this will last”, he stated plainly, which left you at a true loss for words. He was still scratched up from yesterday and looked as though he hadn’t slept properly.

“Oh...”, was all you’d managed to say.

The two of you stood silently, you staring at Draco and him staring at the ground, kicking snow that had fallen and settled over night with  the toe of his shoe gently. You were searching his face for a trace of something. Anything. Anything that would tell you why he had changed his mind so suddenly to the point it practically gave you whiplash. Draco Malfoy was an enigma to you, and he forever would be. When he finally looked you in the eyes, he remained silent, not gracing you with an explanation or an apology. Nothing.

 “Well... thank you for telling me”, your tone was plain, void of emotion. You were genuinely confused by the abrupt end to whatever the two of you had brewing between you.

With that, you left the Forbidden Forest, confused, cold and a little numb, and leaving Draco behind in the shadows.

For the rest of the year, you tried not to think about the Slytherin that sat on the opposite side in the Great Hall every day. And you tried your best to forget everything else; his kisses, his touch, his smell, his eyes, his smile, his voice... everything.

You tried to forget everything.

You tried to forget Draco Malfoy.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #prisoner of azkaban #ron weasley #hermione granger #alternate universe #cedric diggory #susan bones #cho chang #hufflepuff #slytherin

[cheesy-mak]

Not sure if this is what you meant by the kratos x heimdall scenarios, but this was this first idea that popped into my head.

Y'know how kratos is a man of very few words and his vocab is mostly grunts (faye: am I suppose to decipher your grunting?) And how heimdall has a very... colorful language that is centered around sarcasm and dry humor? What about them two trying to figure out their love languages with each other?

Like, since heimdall has probs never felt what love is and has no idea what it means, he gets super self conscious whenever he hears kratos responding to him with his signature grunts? Even if he can read his mind he still can't really pin if kratos truly likes him.

And with kratos, maybe he doesn't understand heimdall's choice of words and stuff like that.

Idk i kinda rambled lol but thats just what I thought. You def do not have have to listen to me but I thought I'd share 😊

LOVE your writing!!!!

I find this adorable for some reason, so let me just write something for this. Its gonna be short but i might continue it

Consider this as the sequel to Humiliation for Pleasure and Mercy (and it's rewritten version which I will finish later on lmfao)

.

.

.

As Kratos carries Heimdall back, he stops for a moment. Heimdall was still fairly limp, but still messy. His outfit had a few tears in them, but what worries Kratos is the stains and leftover liquid. He takes out a small rag that he occasionally uses to clean his weaponry and sits down, laying down Heimdall across his lap, almost cradling him. Heimdall felt small in the god of war's arms, it almost felt calming and protective.

He starts to clean the smaller god, getting stains out of his clothes the best he can, and being gentle when it comes to the leftover liquid that was stuck on his skin. Heimdall reddened at how gentle and soft Kratos was being towards him, feeling his hardened, calloused hands glide on his soft skin shot some sort feeling up his spine.

"Why.. Why are you being so soft to me? After everything I've said to you, and about your son.. Why?" Heimdall is curious about Kratos' intentions, so he looks up to him and looks at him in the eyes. Surprisingly, there isn't anything he could see. "Mn." Kratos murmurs. Heimdall seems a little confused with Kratos' response. "..Why?" He asks once more, and Kratos gives the same response, which confuses Heimdall more.

He picks up Heimdall once more after cleaning him up, and he continues onward to meet up with Freyr, Freya, Atreus and the others. "How do you think the others will react? With me being alive?"

"I suppose they will be surprised and shocked."

"What about your son?"

"Perhaps glad."

"Really?"

"Mnm." Kratos grumbles in an agreeing tone. Heimdall processes that for a moment before nodding.

.

.

.

As they reach nearer and nearer to their destination, where Kratos and the others reside, Heimdall decides to strike up a conversation. ".. Why do you grumble so much?"

"It is apart of the way I converse, I am a man of few words."

"Use so little words, yet uses them wisely. You're an interesting man, Kratos.." Heimdall can't exactly tell if Kratos likes him, or if he just deals with his bullshit, and would kill him if he wanted to. It's confusing him, and he tends to overthink, which makes everything more confusing. It irritates the god of foresight. Heimdall then feels a bit, lightheaded. "..I feel, like I'm going to pass out.. What's happening..? Kratos..—" He attempts to reach out to the god of war out of panic, before his body fully goes limp and ragdoll, him going unconcsious. This was one of the side effects of the medicine that healed Heimdall's wounds from earlier.

Kratos sighs, continuing to traverse further, hoping his companions wouldn't freak out too badly about bringing home an Aesir god.

#god of war ragnarok #gow ragnarok #heimdall #kratos #gow kratos #god of war kratos #kratos god of war #thank you for this ask anon!

[urdinosaurs]

i can't stop thinking about that one fanart of hobie's concept art. it's actually taking over all of my mental capacity

.・✭ very suggestive/explict details ✭・.

i just can't help but imagine them in hobie's apartment, smoking weed and lying across the living room, chatting languidly since they last saw each other. some are splayed across the rug, others slumped on the sofa, passing the blunt as they discuss their dimensions while music hums from the record player. then, the door creaks, announcing your arrival from your late-night shift as you step through the threshold, and lord, it would be a sight.

you stand there, shocked, in front of five men (who look suspiciously similar to hobie) smoking in his apartment. it doesn't take much to tell he's smoked through his first blunt and is higher than he lets on. if the suffocating smell hanging thickly in the air isn't anything to go by, his hazy irises tinged with red and flippant body language are every sign you need. hobie greets you like normal, his words slurring at the edges in introducing you to his friends with a wave of his hand.

and they're all looking at you hungrily, eyes cloudy at the weed coursing through them and the thought of sex. you present yourself, though the introduction doesn't seem to be needed by how they greet you as if you've known them your whole life.

unbeknownst to you, it's because, in their world, they have. each of them is lusting after a version of you, all stuck in the label of mere friends despite secretly wanting so much more, and seeing this hobie, with everything they crave and fantasize about, makes jealousy and spite prickle at their skins. how could hobie, the nerdiest version of themselves, pull the girl they have been in love with for years so easily? how is it you're able to fall for him when every other version of you ends in pining?

it's not until hobie explains who they are when he catches your unasked questions that your eyes shine with understanding and you shrink away from the increasing weight of their stares. you already know his identity as spiderman and the spider society he occasionally visits because of how often gwen drops by from her dimension, but this is something else entirely.

amid the hazy mindset, your hobie catches on quick. being the only one in the room with enhanced senses, he deciphers the atmosphere in seconds. he invites you over using the same two fingers that had been pumping inside your cunt just this morning with an amused smirk to drive you crazy, patting his thigh. it takes a second for the initial shyness to wear off from literally being surrounded by hobie to sit in his lap.

and oh, the glares he receives are intense, irked by his blatant boasting.

you try to converse with the rest, who are incredibly unbothered about the same things you are trying to wrap your head around, while his hands grow bolder, much to their displeasure. envy replaces the carefree atmosphere the longer his hands wander, and you might have swatted his long, teasing fingers in spots they shouldn't be in front of others a long time ago if it wasn't for the lecherous stares you receive that have you rethinking the purpose of their attendance.

they're hungry, starving for any ounce of yourself you can give them, freely displaying the jealousy consuming them of how much of yourself your hobie has. how you're inexplicably his while they can only wistfully dream.

you can tell they crave it, fantasize about being the one to skillfully manipulate your body, and your breathing picks up just as one of them adjusts himself in his pants.

"you look just bloody like her." comes the deep, seductive rumble of the hobie sporting striking spikes with streaks of red running through the cut. he's referring to the version of yourself somewhere in the depths of the punk rock in his dimension, his far away yet very feverish expression saying everything.

the weed is long forgotten as your hobie pridefully grins, showing you off without inhibition. carefully, giving you time to refuse, it starts.

the variant, with headphones wrapped around his neck and dreads pulled into a messy bun, runs the back of his hand over your arm, the smooth surface of the metal rings eliciting pleasurable shivers down your spine. as if testing your boundaries, his fingers glide up your arm, dancing across your collarbone and settling at the base of your neck.

when you don't refuse and even go so far as leaning into the contact, the others take it as their queue to join. bodies crowd around yours snugly against hobie's lap, his relaxed posture hiding the arousal poking into your lower back. his demeanor, however, remains inviting and smug while they move in with perverted intent, a multitude of hands, fit chunky jewelry descending upon your body. you're not sure you ever want it to end.

TAGLIST: @alicefallsintotherabbithole

#🦕 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝓁𝓎𝓁𝒶 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓈 #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown imagine #hobie smut #spider punk #atsv hobie #spiderpunk #hobie brown x you #hobie spiderverse #urdinosaurs spider verse

[jamiewintons]

I'll be here to hold your hand (Helmut Zemo/Reader)

Summary: Zemo takes you to the Sokovian memorial.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, fluff, Zemo cries a lot.

A/N: This is the first ever fic I’ve written for Zemo, Marvel, and Character/Reader, so please bear with me. This is essentially just what I thought about when I watched the scene with Zemo at the memorial in the latest episode, but this is set at an unspecified later date. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 711

AO3 link

*

You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, not used to the Sokovian cold, and followed Helmut as he walked. The trip from where he’d landed his private jet hadn’t been very long, but it felt like an eternity since it had been conducted entirely in silence. You didn’t like it, but you weren’t going to push him to make conversation. This wasn’t going to be easy for him.

Finally, you stopped in your tracks before a large stone monument, on which was carved the faces of some people and some words in Sokovian you couldn’t decipher -- Helmut had been teaching you how to speak his native language with some great success, but you weren’t at skilled when it came to reading and writing.

Once you’d cast your eyes over the monument, your attention turned to Helmut. He was staring at the memorial like he was staring into space, but you knew better. He was thinking about the past, about his father, his wife, and his sweet little son -- the family that had been torn away from him and caused him to do many, many awful things. He told you often that he hadn’t felt like he had anything to live for anymore before he’d met you, making you cry almost every time. But though you’d brought light back into his life, you couldn’t entirely take away the pain that the loss of his family had caused him. You never stopped trying, regardless.

For a few moments, everything was silent -- even the wind didn’t seem to be blowing -- until you heard a strange noise coming from Helmut, sounding like he’d been punched in the stomach. It was a sound that you’d heard before, usually in the middle of the night when Helmut woke up from one of his occasional nightmares. You noticed his legs begin to give out from under him, and you immediately rushed to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to hold him against you.

“Everything’s alright, Helmut, I’m here,” you whispered, bringing a hand up to stroke his hair softly, something that always managed to calm him down. He buried his face into the collar of your jacket, and you could feel his body shaking slightly with his nearly silent sobs. “I’ve got you...”

“I wasn’t there,” Helmut told you, his voice quiet and strained, struggling to get the words out through his tears. He paused to take a few deep breaths before speaking again, “I failed them, Y/N, I wasn’t there when they needed me...”

He shifted slightly so he could look up at you, his deep brown eyes wide and filled with tears. Seeing him look like that broke your heart, and you nearly burst into tears as well, but you forced your sadness down. You wanted to be strong for him, like he’d been for you on so many other occasions.

“What... what if I fail you too?” He asks, and you hold him even tighter, squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears inside. Hearing the usually confident Helmut sound so broken and vulnerable was like a dagger in your heart. “If anything ever happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to--”

“Helmut, you didn’t fail them, there was nothing you could have done.” You moved a hand up to touch his cheek, wiping away the falling tears gently with your thumb. “And you won’t fail me, either, okay? You don’t have to worry. We’ll both take care of each other.”

Helmut stared at you for a moment, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly like he always did, searching your face for anything that indicated you doubted what you had said. He didn’t find anything.

You leaned in to place a feather light kiss on his cheek, and heard him exhale a contented sigh. “I love you so much, Helmut.”

“I love you too.” Helmut took both of your hands in his, holding them like you were the most precious thing in the world. “What did I ever do to deserve you, meine Schatz?”

“You’re just lucky, I suppose.” You give him a soft little smile, aiming to lighten his mood after all of that emotional exertion.

“Oh, I know I am, Y/N.”

#helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo fluff #baron zemo imagine #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo fluff #zemo imagine #zemo fanfiction #zemo fluff #helmut zemo #baron zemo #tfatws imagine #mcu imagine #im nervous posting this lol #i mainly wrote it last night as i was lying in bed #mari's stuff

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

A Fool of Me

A/N: Hey guys! This one’s a request from @peachylemasters​. I hope I did it justice, I had to tweak some details to fit the plot but I think I hit all the notes. If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Spencer runs into a toxic ex-girlfriend at an event a kind receptionist saves him from himself.

Category: Equal doses of smut, angst, and fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, spanking, alcohol consumption, brief descriptions of panic/stress, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 4.7k 

Request: “Hey good morning or afternoon I heard you were taking requests. I thought of an idea we're Spencer Reid goes to a party and meets his ex. Things start off smooth and knows if he goes back to her, he will revisited bad and the good moments he had with her. Until a hostess see's Spencer going insane because he's talking to his ex. She helps him out and they start to know each other. Things get out of hands between them. So that was an idea. Don't know if I made it confusing. Have a great day✨❤”

   Spencer had had enough socializing for one day. It was enough that he had to attend panels all day, which really, he didn’t mind that part. He just hated having all the conversations afterward.

So his battery was really draining by the time the post-convention event was supposed to take place in the hotel’s ballroom. It was supposed to be a time for all of the people who’d spent the whole weekend working to finally blow off some steam. Have some non-work related conversations.

But Spencer hated parties. He didn’t like being surrounded by so many people, or having to have the same little nothing conversations over and over all evening. At least he was put up in a hotel this time around so he could retreat to the quiet of his room for a little while in the middle of the day, but that could only last so long.

She’s the very first thing he notices as he walks through the doors to the ballroom. Rachel. Perched on a high stool at the bar, hair cascading down her back, in perfect contrast to her dress. It was red and hugged her perfectly, like it always did. He’d seen her in it before a few times, he knew it made her feel confident.

He has no idea if he wants to talk to her, part of him wants to race over and give her his room key without a word. The other wants to turn on his heel immediately and bolt out of there. But he doesn't get to make the decision, she’s spotted him in the doorway and is more sure of herself. Beckoning him over with a wave.

He takes the stool next to her, and already he doesn’t feel great about it. She had this way of bewitching him, over and over he’d end up lying next to her in bed and waking up to an empty space in the morning. They couldn’t seem to keep their distance for very long.

When he sits she’s already ordered him a drink, and it’s his usual, and he hates that she remembered it. Or he hates that he likes the way it makes him feel warm inside. That it wasn’t just him who held onto some of their shared memories. So he takes a sip.

—

It’s been a slow night on the reception desk, so when Y/N sees him walking down the staircase into the lobby she can’t help but gawk. His suit is navy and impeccable, it fits him so snug on the shoulders that it must’ve been made for him. Which is a funny juxtaposition next to his hair which looks like he ran his fingers through it at best, curly, and unruly on top of his head. But it suits him.

She follows him with her eyes from her perch at the desk, watching him until he stops abruptly at the doorway to the ballroom. There’s a swarm of people gathered inside so maybe he was just the kind of person who was nervous around crowds. But that doesn’t feel right, the look on his face is all together terrified until it softens and he walks inside.

She has to move along the desk a little so she can see where he ends up once he makes it inside. And of course he’s next to a woman, a beautiful one too, in a tight dress. So that solves the mystery of why he looked so nervous. But that does little to actually satiate her desire to keep her eyes on him. On them.

Something doesn’t feel right about it, as thought it might not even be a date, like maybe this guy really didn’t want to be there. It must’ve been the way he looked at her, or the way he sat so awkwardly in his seat, his body language betraying him.

—

Spencer lets himself take her in for a moment, his eyes raking up and down her figure as she takes a prolonged sip from her wine glass. She might actually look better than the last time he’d seen her.

It had been a whole year. And they’d already been broken up, and back together, and broken up a few times over at that point. So it really was his fault that it happened again, they’d slept together, and she’d promised him more, and left him again. Like always.

He knew, he really did, deep down he knew she was bad for him. But she was magnetic.

“Do you like my dress Spence?” she asks, sultry and smooth. And she already knows he does, he’s told her before.

“You look very nice” he tries not to give too much away.

“I seem to recall you thinking I looked a hell of a lot more than nice in this dress?” she leans in a little as she speaks and it makes his heart flutter in his chest. But it somehow makes his stomach drop in the same instant. She turns her body towards his completely. Leaning in even closer now, and she puts her hand on his fucking thigh, and for a second he forgets how to breathe entirely.

“As a matter of fact” she coos, “I think I remember you telling me to keep it on while you fucked me, what was it, a year ago now?”

“372 days” is all he can force out. And he wants to lean into her touch, he wants to melt into her, let her do whatever she wants with him for as long as she wants to. But he knows it’ll just break him all over again. He wants to pull away but he just can’t, and he’s absolutely transfixed on her fingers squeezing his leg when they’re interrupted.

“Sorry, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” the woman enquires, glancing at his little hand written name tag. He just forces a meek nod, “There’s a call for you if you want to follow me?” she motions for him to stand up and so he does, pulling himself from Rachel’s grip.

His immediate feeling is of overwhelming relief. He knew he was out of his depth from the moment he’d sat down. He was silently thankful for whatever case was about to whisk him away from this stupid convention.

He followed behind the woman, she led him out of the ballroom and down a quiet hotel hallway until she just stopped in her tracks in the middle of it, leaning against the wall. He could only look at her confused.

“The uh? The phone?” he tries to ask.

“Sorry,” she forces out a deep breath, “there actually wasn’t any call, I could tell— you looked like you needed some help?” she chances, “I’m really sorry if I overstepped, or misread that”

He lets out a huge sigh of relief, “Oh thank god”

“So I read it right?” she asks, relaxing against the wall now.

“So so right, you’ve got no idea” the relief only lasts for another moment before his eyes blow wide and he starts to pace frantically in the hallway.

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, trying to decipher his sharp change in mood. He starts to breathe in short panicked bursts and he seems like he’s really about to freak out again. She ushers him to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs that litters the hallway. So he does, and he immediately braces his head between his knees.

“Can I ask what’s wrong? Do you want me to get you some water?” He just shakes his head, his breathing unsteady and ragged, she recognizes it well.

“Spencer” She says it firm and commanding to get his attention, but soft enough not to startle him, “I want you to breathe in through your nose for me, we’re gonna do that for 4 seconds” she counts down for him, “now hold that breath for 7 seconds” she counts again, soft and slow, “then I want you to breathe all of that out through your mouth this time, and we’re gonna do that for 8 seconds.” He sits up straight and nods at her.

She counts out the cycle for him again and again until Spencer can feel his heart rate fall, settling into a steady rhythm of breathing until he feels calm again. And in this state he can finally take a good look at this girl. She’s crouched down next to him as he sits, with one of her hands resting against his knee. And instead of earlier, her hand feels comforting, grounding. It feels nice in an entirely different way than Rachel’s hand.

He looks down at the little gold name tag pinned to the lapel of her dress.

“Thank you Y/N” he says softly, and she smiles up at him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she tries again, gentle, not prying, just hoping.

“I left my jacket in there” he rubs his eyes with his hands like he’s in pain, “It’s got my phone and my wallet, but I can’t go back in there. If I go back she’ll suck me in again and I don’t want— I can’t!” she tries to soothe him, gently moving her hand along his leg.

“Don’t worry about that” she encourages, “Have you got your room key?” He quickly fumbles and pulls it out of the pocket of his slacks, and nods, awaiting further instruction.

“What room are you in?”

“407?”

“Great, you go on up, splash some cold water on your face and relax. I’m going to go get your stuff. I’ll tell that woman that you had an emergency and had to leave. Then I can can bring your jacket up to you. No problem” she says it like it’s obvious, and Spencer can barely contain his relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he asks,

“Positive” she confirms with a soft smile and a pat on his shoulder as she stands up.

—

Once Y/N’s confident he’s making his way back up stairs she heads straight to the ballroom. Now that she’s actually about to talk to this woman she’s nervous.

“Sorry ma’am” she starts, and the woman turns to look at her, and she’s so intimidatingly beautiful up this close, “your friend had an emergency and he’s got to leave. He asked me to send you his apologies.” her perfect face falls, unable to hide her disappointment. Y/N takes his jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over her arm.

“Can you give him a message for me?” the woman asks, gripping Y/N by the elbow just as she makes her move to leave, she nods politely.

“Just tell him that I’ll get him next time” she says it like it’s some inside joke he’ll understand, but Y/N knows what she means and it honestly makes her feel a little sick. As she walks away she’s already decided she’s not going to tell Spencer anything.

—

Spencer’s been pacing around his room for the last 17 minutes. Y/N shouldn’t be taking this long, he wasn’t entirely sure why but he was getting himself worried again, working himself up over nothing. But his body relaxed when he heard a soft knock against the door, he all but sprinted over to open it. To her standing right there, his jacket draped over one arm and a room service platter gripped in her hands.

“Thank you” he exhales, pulling open the door so that she can could walk inside and leave both items down on the bed. He points to the platter, its contents covered by a large silver dome. “What’s…” he’s not really sure what to ask.

“I hope you don’t mind, I stopped by the kitchen on my way up, thought you might like some comfort food?” as she explains she pulls the dome off the tray, showing him the plethora of desert she’d taken from the kitchen.

“There was no need” he starts but she cuts him off.

“Nonsense! The guys in the kitchen don’t mind. If there’s nothing you like here I can have something else sent up?” she says it in a polished ‘customer service voice’, sickly sweet. And all of a sudden he feels a little silly that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. She was just a good employee, going the extra mile for a customer. This wasn’t about him.

“No, god no. You’ve done plenty already, and besides, I’m sure you’ve got to get back to work?” he tries to give her an out as they stand awkwardly looking at each other.

“Actually I’m good, I wont be missed” she begins but stops her train of thought, of course this was overstepping, she was probably freaking him out, “But you probably want to relax, I’ll get out of your hair” she nods politely and starts to make her way back to the door.

“Unless” it rushes out of him and he's not sure where it really came from, “When your shift’s over would you maybe want to— This is an awful lot of food—“ he just gives up on his original sentence and tries it all over again, “When’s your shift over?” her asks plainly and it startles her. But she can’t really do much to contain the grin that spreads across her cheeks.

“What time is it now?” she asks, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

“Uh, 11:43pm?” he offers.

“So 43 minutes ago” she feels silly saying it out loud now. That she’d gotten carried away watching him while she waited for her co-worker to take over the desk, and she just couldn’t stop herself from intervening the second her shift was over. But he doesn’t look freaked out by her admission, he looks genuinely happy for the first time since she’d laid eyes on him.

“You— You’ve been off this whole time?”

She gives him a little nod, bashful, “You looked like you needed help” she shrugs, trying to play it off.

“But I— You should’ve gone home, I would’ve been okay” no sooner does he get the words out than he realizes they’re a blatant lie, “That’s not true” he confesses, “If you’d’ve gone home I’d probably have already made so many stupid decisions by now and I’d be having my heart broken as we speak”

“Would you maybe want me to stay with you for a bit? Just to make sure you don’t go doing anything stupid?” she asks sultry, and it’s the first time she’s overtly flirted all night. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he nods wholeheartedly.

Admittedly he knows that if Y/N stays he’ll probably just make a different kind of stupid mistake, but he can allow himself this one.

“I’d like that a lot”

—

They sit cross legged on his bed for a while, sharing a slice of chocolate cake. Spencer had started trying to explain what his relationship with Rachel had been like but decided against it. She wasn't going to get to ruin any more of this night than she already had. Instead he changes focus in the only way he knows how.

“Did you know that chocolate can actually affect your mood significantly?” he says as she scoops a forkful of cake off the plate between them, “A key chemical in cacao stimulates the brains level of naturally occurring endorphins and increases the production of serotonin?”

She chews thoughtfully for a moment, “So that’s why cake makes me feel so good?” and he giggles, nodding enthusiastically, “Got any more genius?” she asks with a grin.

“Did you know that chocolate contains the amino acid L-arginine which can be an effective natural sex enhancer for both men and women?” he can already feel his face start to flush, why did he start saying this, “It increases nitric oxide and promotes blood flow to the sexual organs” he finishes the thought and feels like crawling in a hole.

She’s got no idea if he’s just passionate about facts and chocolate, or if this is just his version of putting on the moves, but what has she really go to lose here. So she takes the opening.

“You got me.” she says with a coy smile, “That was actually my plan all along, to ply you with chocolate” she scoops some of the chocolate icing from the top of the cake with her fingertip, popping it in-between her lips and sucking it off slowly, deliberately. She looks over at him and his eyes are fixed on her lips and the finger caught between them. When she removes it to talk she feels confident that she’s got his attention now.

“Did it work?” she almost moans it and his breathing pretty much stops.

Working on instinct he moves his body so that he’s right next to her, leaning right in, and he presses his lips to hers. She opens them right away and he can taste the chocolate that’s lingering on her tongue and it’s perfect.

It doesn’t last for long, but when they break apart she picks up the plate between them and places it safely on the nightstand. With the bed clear she sits up on her knees so she can move closer to Spencer, throwing her legs either side of his and straddling his lap. The skirt of her dress hiking up in the process to expose the smooth skin of her thighs.

Spencer’s hands fly straight down to them automatically, digging his nails in and pulling her closer, further up his lap. Her hands end up tangled in that perfectly messy hair of his, making it worse, but even more perfect at the same time.

They stay tangled like that for a while, grinding against one another, mouths moving frantically, hands squeezing, pulling. Desperately seeking contact.

It’s when she can feel him start to get hard beneath her that his mood seems to shift, changing his position so that he can flip her over completely. Laying her flat on her back on the bed, one of his hands pinning both of hers above her head as his other hand moves up the hem of her skirt. Inching further and further until he reached her panties, grazing the damp patch between her thighs.

“Fuck Spencer” she moans out at the contact, encouraging him, and he seems to appreciate it. His mouth attaching to her neck, sucking and biting in an attempt to leave his mark on her.

He lets up a few moments later, releasing her hands mostly so that he could begin to undo the buttons along the front of her dress, taking his time to unfasten each and every one of them so that it would fall open, exposing her to him.

“You’re so beautiful” he moans out, his hands starting to roam along all bare skin he could see. And she could feel every little touch, but she needed to see him, to touch him too. So she sat up as best as she could and began to undo the buttons of Spencer’s dress shirt. With his help they were both lying on the bed together in nothing but their underwear. Lips ferociously working against one another yet again.

“What do you like Spencer?” it comes out as a breathy moan when she can finally remove her lips from his for a second, “What do you want?”

He’s caught of guard by the question, Rachel never cared what he wanted. He looks down at her, the erratic rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips were slick and a little swollen, and the pure kindness behind her eyes. For a second he thought he might be in love already, but he knew that was silly. He had to think for a moment before he found the answer.

“Control” it escapes him before he realizes why. He’s never had it before, not in his love life, not in his sex life. But now, now he feels safe enough to ask.

“You want to be in charge?” she asks and he nods his head in confirmation.

“Okay” she smiles, “So tell me what to do” her eyes lock on his and he swears he can feel his heartbeat all over his entire body.

“Turn over” is the first thing he thinks of, and so she does.

Flipping over beneath him, her face tilted sideways so he can still see her as she lays on her front on top of the crisp white linen. He plants a soft kiss at the base of her neck and slowly snakes down along her spine, coming to a stop around her hips. He places his hands either side of her, gripping her hips with probably more force than necessary.

“Up” it’s just shy of a growl, and she complies, lifting her hips up off the bed, bending her knees beneath her. “No” he breathes out against her ear, “Just your hips” she adjusts her position a little and can hold it just long enough for him to slide one of the fluffy hotel pillows into the gap between her and the bed. Tilting her hips ever so slightly. “Perfect” he groans right against her ear.

He continues to move back down her body, once he reaches the swell of her ass this time though he grabs it roughly, his nails scratching the delicate skin as he paws at her. She can’t keep her moan contained as it rushes out of her.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice absolutely dripping with lust.

“Uh huh” she whines into the pillows. He takes that as a sign of encouragement, taking his hand off her before coming down swiftly on her ass cheek, she could feel the heat of it right away, the sharp sting of pain it left behind felt way better than it had any right to.

“Ah fuck” her moan rips through her without warning, so he does it again, a little harsher this time. And the noise echos throughout the room, followed by the filthiest moan Spencer’s ever heard in his life. It gets a little muffled in the pillows but he can still hear it.

“Harder” she lets out, and it’s such a small little voice.

“What was that Y/N?” he teases, leaning over her grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her face out of the pillows with it.

“Ah, harder, please” she begs this time and it makes him feel so, so good.

He returns to his position behind her again, raising his palm and letting it come down again in the exact same place where a raised handprint was starting to form already. The noises that escape her are pornographic and he had no idea his cock could even be this hard.

He takes some time to remove her panties, hooking his fingers into them on either side and peeling them down along her legs. The first thing he sees is how incredibly wet she is, dripping down the inside of her legs already.

“Oh you really liked that” he teases, “You’re fucking soaking wet from just a little spanking” she whines beneath him.

“Want you so bad” is all she can manage to say. He moves her legs a little further apart fully opening her up to him and he bites his lip at the picture in front of him. Taking two of his fingers he brings them right to her entrance, sinking them in slowly, curving them against her walls as he works in and out of her at an agonizing pace.

“Fuck, Spencer, oh my god” her breathing is frantic already as she squirms from the stimulation.

“Good girl, you think you’re ready to take my cock?” he asks, pushing in a third finger as deep at they’ll go, her back arches into his touch, forcing her ass further up against him.

“Yes, Spencer! Please!” she rasps as he drifts his thumb over her swollen clit.

“Okay baby” he pulls his fingers out of her, leaning forward again he brings his fingers up to her, and hooks them into her mouth, pulling her face up out of the pillows so he can hear her little whines. She sucks on the fingers in her mouth, tasting herself on them and at the same time she can feel Spencer’s cock pressed up against her ass.

Once she lets his fingers go he’s bracing himself above her, an arm either side of her torso, and his legs between hers. He takes some time to line up properly, before teasing at her entrance. When she’s practically begging beneath him he sinks in slowly.

“Spencer” she moans out uncontrollably. He’s not even fully inside of her yet and already she feels full.

“So fucking tight, so wet for me Y/N” he gasps, the feeling of her warm and clenching around him is almost too much. After she’s gotten used to the feeling of him he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, hitting right against her walls every single time.

She’s nearly crying at the stimulation, getting fucked into the bed, his cock pushing into her impossibly deep each time, hitting spots she didn’t even know she had. And there’s the added pleasure of the way his hips slam right up against her bruised ass each time he thrusts into her that just makes it all the sweeter.

She can tell he’s getting close now, by the way his movements are growing faster and a little less controlled by the second. But she wasn’t far off either, she couldn’t take much more.

“So close Spencer, feels so fucking good” she mumbles out.

And then the does the unexpected he changes his position, leaning down closer, so he was nearly flush against her back, almost pinning her down with his weight but not quite. The angle he hits her from now is definitely something new, she’s pretty sure he’s hitting right against her g-spot with every motion and she can’t contain herself now.

“Fuck! Spencer! Gonna cum” she’s pretty much screaming into the pillows and he continues to fuck into her. He’s releasing himself a moment later, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he spills inside of her. Riding it out for another moment to two.

They stay like that for a little while, collapsed in a heap on top of one another, completely spent. When he does pull out he’s so careful, making sure she’s comfortable, racing to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and whatever lotion the hotel had.

He takes some time to clean her up before any of the mess they’ve made can dry between her legs. Then he takes some of the lotion and smooths it gently on the skin of her backside, taking care not to irritate it. He puts on a fresh pair of briefs and grabs her a t-shirt from his suitcase for her to sleep in, and her heart softens at the gesture.

When they both snuggle up under the covers, completely exhausted, she takes him in her arms, cuddling up to his back and spooning him. He needed to feel in control earlier, but she could tell what he needed now was comfort, safety, and reassurance that she wouldn’t be gone in the morning.

“Spencer?” she whispers against his ear,

“Y/N?” he responds in kind.

“Are you free for breakfast tomorrow?” she asks, and he knows she can’t see it with his back turned but he can’t contain the sleepy smile that he breaks out in. He’s only known this girl for a few hours and she was able to read him like a book.

“Absolutely”

--

Masterlist

--

Permanent Taglist:

@pinkdiamond1016​

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[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Relic Coffee Shop

Prompt

.

.

.

Prompts:

1: Lemm finds an odd fellow at the Blue Lake. Normally he wouldn’t bother to approach a stranger out of nowhere, but something in his gut urges him to take action. Quirrel, feeling the effects of age on his body, stares incredulously at the bearded face of a stranger who apparently wants to have him over for coffee. 2: Lemm sets up shop in an abandoned cafe. It’s roomy and pleasant at first, but there are _stacks_ of these disgusting old bitter coffee beans clogging up the rooms. It doesn’t help that bugs keep coming in to order a drink even though he’s posted signs to _KEEP OUT!!_ However, once they start offering Geo be begrudgingly takes it as an opportunity to achieve funds to pay for relics. 3: At first, the coffee was just an excuse to get Geo to pay for relics, but Lemm’s begun to notice that bugs who wandered into his shop with the telltale early symptoms of infection no longer have them on their return visits. He tells himself he’s not an altruist. He’s _not._It’s just a waste to throw out old coffee when someone just needs a pick-me-up.

By @bluwails​

------------------------------- By @hydrochlorinate​

“Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Else.”

Those were the words that came out of the grumpy barista’s mouth that fateful day. One’s that you completely ignored, as you had already been drinking what could only be the drink of HIgher Beings, with just how heavenly it tasted.

Grinning like a lunatic, you give him 45 geo, not a small sum. If anything though, it was hilariously cheap for a drink that was this good. The bug doesn’t complain about the amount though, so he’s probably fine with it. Wings fluttering in excitement, you leave the shop, ready to tell any remaining survivors about the amazing drink shop you just found.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

The next time you come in, the store is absolutely packed. Denizens from all across the ruins of Hallownest are here, ranging from some uninfected moss knights to that one ladybug that you had a dance off with a while back. There's even a noble here, and- is that a mantis?

Anyway, it looks like your very subtle method of giving publicity to this cafe by talking about literally nothing else to whomever you talked to over the following week paid off. Good, this place deserves all the atte-

“You.”

Oh? You snap out of your thoughts, and look towards the counter, where the barista is levelling a glare at you that could instantly wither those delicate flowers that have been spreading around recently.

You stroll on up to the counter, a grin stretching across your face. The barista narrows his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep this a secret? Why is my establishment filled to the brim with bugs? Who are these people?!”

...huh. Did he tell you to keep it on the down low? It seems in character from your limited interactions, but you don’t remember exactly. Oh well, time to play it off. You tell him that, well, what can you say except you’re welcome.

You’ve never seen a bug go from “Irritated” to “Ballistic” as fast as this barista. Usually they make a stop at “Angry” or “Absolutely Livid”.

“YOU’RE WELCOME?!?!”

No, see, he’s supposed to say thank you.

“THANK YOU???”

You tell him he’s welcome, before laughing. No, really, you tell him, look around, the place is packed! Business is booming! The barista (you should really ask for his name) manages to bring his volume under control, taking in a deep breath.

“That’s part of the problem. I’m a relic seeker, not a-” He gestures around the cafe, as if looking for the right words to use. Barista, you suggest.

“Exactly. I’m not made to brew coffee-” Oh, that’s what it was called. “-or to be dealing with customers all day long.”

Sure. That’s why he decided to allow people to keep purchasing coffee, or why he decided to put on a cute green and white visor.

You didn’t just come to check in on your new favorite bug though, you have coffee to order! Taking out a sheet of paper from your bag, you begin to read out both your order, and those of your companions. Even with the end of the infection, the leftover damage to hallownest’s caves and architecture makes it dangerous to travel alone.

As you begin to read out your order, the barista shifts from crotchety old bug to attentive worker. You really wish you had come back earlier, instead of letting some of your other traveling buddies pick up the coffee for you. Something about the atmosphere here is… relaxing, despite the amount of people.

After your order is finished, you leave the cafe. Back to the real world bucko, as an old friend of yours would always say.

...Wait a minute you never got the barista’s name.

===============>(Coffee Shop AU)

It’s been 3 weeks. You think. Time gets a little funky down here, what with the sudden influx of void. Sure, most of it has cleared out by now, but every so often your exploration party comes across a tunnel that hasn’t quite been fully illuminated, the shadows just a bit too thick to be natural.

You enter the coffee shop again. It’s gotten a lot quieter as time went on and bugs started coming in on a schedule. There’s still plenty of other customers here, but it’s nowhere near as packed as the first couple of days. Lemm (yeah, you finally got his name) stands at the counter, still slightly disgruntled, but a lot less so than he was at the beginning. In fact, he’s actually talking to someone right now! An actual conversation too, not just an exchange of witty remarks. You can’t see their face, but they appear to be a pillbug wearing a blue hood. 
As you step up to the counter, you can hear their conversation a bit better.

“...of course, I couldn’t just leave it sitting there right? So I move to pick it up, only to find out that the desk I dropped it on was magnetized! So here I am, trying and failing to pick up this one plant hanger for a solid 10 minutes.”

They both laugh at this, before noticing you. The unknown bug turns to face you, allowing you to see his mask.

“Oh, hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before!”

You greet him back, introducing yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Quirrell. I’m… well, I can’t really call myself an explorer, because I’ve already been everywhere! I’m more of a wanderer, really.”

Ahh, a free spirit, you see. You point out that just because he’s been everywhere doesn’t mean he’s seen everything. After all, who knows what could’ve gone down during Hallownest’s peak. Both Quirrell and Lemm get amused by this, for some reason. Seeing your confused look, Lemm decides to speak up.

"He probably knows more about Hallownest than everyone here, having lived here since before the infection and all."

Your eyes widen, and your wings begin to flutter. Truly? An original denizen, and not someone else trying to piece together its history? Quirrell waves off the words, though.

"I wouldn't go that far…" He begins, but Lemm cuts him off before he can go any further.

"Hah! Next you'll be telling me that you weren't the head assistant of the kingdom's best scientist!"

Giving off the equivalent of a blush, Quirrell rubs the back of his head. Lemm turns back to you.

"I'm sure you didn't come in just to chat, though. What can I get for you?"

It's nice to see him making friends.

------------------------------- By @schyrsivochter​

Lemm wasn’t a sociable person. That was a fact. He wasn’t good at talking, or at being friendly. (It wasn’t like he needed it, anyway. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed conversing with another bug.)

No, Lemm was much more of a person for reading. Deciphering the journals of the long dead, the writing and languages, was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Other artefacts spoke differently: the materials from which they were made, the way they were worked, the artistic style. It was a different kind of reading; some might say a more figurative one. But it was just as interesting.

Of course, architecture was part of that. It had not been a coincidence that Lemm had set up camp in Hallownest’s abandoned capital. When he’d arrived, he hadn’t dared to think that he’d ever finish exploring and finding new things. And it was true; he’d only explored a little bit before he’d realised that collecting and gathering relics was no use if he never took a proper look at them, instead letting them gather dust on the shelves, the tables, and the floor of the long-abandoned shop he’d moved into. So he’d decided to stay there, poring over his collection. His picture of the world of Hallownest in times past grew ever more detailed, more complete.

He’d opened the shop because people did not seem to stop wanting to sell him relics, and it never hurt to appear a little professional. And it had been a reliable source of new artefacts; new knowledge. He’d never sold anything, of course. His collection was his, and his alone.

And then came the dark. The cleansing void. It had taken him by surprise; he’d been working, and only noticed that anything was amiss when the light dimmed and he was finally bathed in darkness. He must’ve fallen unconscious at that point, and there’d been no telling how long it had been until he’d awoken. It hadn’t been until later that he’d learned that this was what had obliterated the plague, leaving in its wake hundreds of confused survivors and thousands of dead. No, the next thing to happen that told him things were not as usual was that a bug had come in, asked if he was open, and, upon his affirmative answer, asked for a hot drink, holding out a piece of ten.

Taken by surprise, he’d offered to make tea. He’d immediately regretted it, since it meant the bug would be staying for a while, probably without selling him relics, but it was easy enough to do and would get him geo, his supply of which had been running low. So he put a kettle on and took the money. The bug had thanked him profusely, while he had elected to remain quiet.

Not long afterwards, the same bug and four others stood in the doorway. Whether they had relics for him, he’d asked. They’d looked amongst themselves, and one had asked, ‘Is this not a coffee shop?’

‘I suppose it might’ve once been,’ he’d said. ‘Now it’s mine.’

More confused looks and standing around, and then the bug he’d seen before asked if he’d make more tea. He’d said no, not unless they paid him twice as much as the last time and stayed quiet and didn’t disturb him in his work. To his horror, the five bugs had agreed, and so he’d dug out cups from the coffee shop’s former stock and afterwards found himself a little richer in geo but with a significantly worse mood.

He had his peace afterwards, though. At least for a while. Now a bug had arrived, taller than the others, wearing a headscarf. Lemm had mentally prepared for the bug to ask for coffee, but the bug had halted in front of one of the tables that Lemm had repurposed for his collection of relics.

‘Admiring my collection?’ Lemm asked.

’Yes, quite!’ the bug answered, chipper and friendly. ‘I’m curious how you managed to get a hold of so many texts in such diverse languages! These are journals, are they not?’

‘They are,’ Lemm acknowledged. ‘From all over Hallownest.’

‘But most of them aren’t any Hallownest language.’ The bug put a hand on his mask. ‘I suppose they’re from travellers that came to the ruins and perished?’

‘Quite right,’ Lemm said. He had to admit, begrudgingly, that the bug standing before him was sharp and knew his history. A trait not many others shared.

‘Can you read all of them?’ The mask turned towards Lemm, inclined in question.

‘No,’ he answered truthfully, making his way around the counter to stand next to the bug. ‘I haven’t had the time to decipher all of them yet. But I’ll get around to it eventually.’

‘Interesting,’ the bug said. ‘I can—huh?’

He turned towards the entrance, and Lemm followed his gaze. Lemm was about to ask what the problem was, when a bug appeared in the entrance. The one that he’d made tea twice for. Ah yes, he thought. A customer. Two of them, in fact; one of the others from before had joined the one who’d taken a fancy to paying Lemm to make tea.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Lemm said, ‘there is any way to convince you to find tea somewhere else?’

The bugs shook their head.

Lemm sighed, and muttered an apology to the tall visitor. Time to get it over with.

He went to the back room to prepare the tea, and overheard the two visitors conversing in the front.

‘What’s this, anyway?’

‘Historical documents. Journals of travellers.’

‘What’s it doing here?’

‘I think the shopkeep collects them.’

‘That’s correct!’ Lemm called. ‘I’m always buying, if you have anything of historical value.’

He grabbed the cups and walked back to the front. ‘That’s fifty geo. Unless you have relics.’

The bugs complained under their breath, but paid up, and Lemm could direct his attention back to the visitor.

‘So is this what you do?’ they asked. ‘Opened the coffee shop again and collecting relics in your free time?’

Lemm was dumbstruck for a moment. Then he remembered to be outraged. ‘No! I am not opening this place as a coffee shop! People just keep coming and demanding tea and I cannot let an opportunity to earn easy money go to waste!’

‘Relic business not exactly booming, then, I assume?’

‘I’m—’ he spluttered, ‘It’s not a business! I don’t sell my relics, they’re mine!’

‘So you wouldn’t have any income if you weren’t selling tea?’

Lemm had the distinct impression that the bug was making fun of him. He didn’t answer, but simply walked up to the table, grabbed a random journal, and took it to his desk to try and get some work done.

He had not yet prepared his quill and ink when he was interrupted yet again.

‘You know,’ the visitor called, ‘that one is from a traveller from Greynest. Came here looking for his brother, never found him. No doubt said brother also perished in the ruins.’

Lemm turned around to see the bug standing in the doorway, having followed him halfway. ‘And how do you know this?’ he asked.

The bug shrugged. ‘I read it.’

Lemm regarded the bug. They didn’t seem to be joking.

‘You mean to tell me,’ Lemm began, slowly, ‘you know this language?’

‘Yes,’ they said nonchalantly. ‘I think I’ve been to Greynest? Must have been a while ago.’

‘Are you a traveller, then?’ Lemm asked. ‘You don’t seem the type.’

As soon as he’d spoken the words, Lemm became aware how utterly ridiculous it was of him to make observations about people. He didn’t like people, he wasn’t interested in people—

The bug laughed. ‘I am, in fact. I have travelled far and wide.’

‘Hmph,’ said Lemm, unsure what else to say. He turned back to his work, looked at the angular shapes carved into the stone, but now it seemed senseless to try and make sense of it when he knew that it was no mystery to the bug standing behind him.

At some point, he looked up and found that he was hungry and the visitor was gone. Oh, well. Time for a meal, then, and afterwards he might be able to find something else to do.

* * *

The next time the tea-drinker returned, they asked for tea and then asked Lemm about the relics, and he was in a favourable enough mood to talk about them. They asked some fairly stupid questions, but it seemed to come out of a genuine interest in the topic, so he indulged them. Plus, he had to admit that he enjoyed having a reliable source of geo. Not that he needed it much for buying relics, these days, but he supposed that his supplies of food – and of tea – would not last indefinitely, and he didn’t particularly fancy having to go back to scavenging, now that there were actual people living in the vicinity again. No, he’d rather find some place where he could buy what he needed fair and square.

The traveller with the headscarf returned, and it was an odd sort of feeling Lemm had about them. Like he actually liked having them in his shop and talking to them. And the perplexing thing was that the bug also seemed to enjoy conversing with Lemm. Which one one hand was absolutely preposterous, on the other … it was a refreshing change.

The bug introduced himself as Quirrel, apprentice to Monomon the Teacher, and Lemm could hardly believe it. Monomon the Teacher, one of the most brilliant minds of Hallownest? It couldn’t be! And yet it was not all too difficult to imagine. He’d seen stranger things in these lands.

Quirrel also was the one who later suggested Lemm officially open the shop as a coffee shop again. Lemm had thrown him out at that and gone back to work.

Now, a short while later, he looked up and Quirrel was back, standing at the counter, watching Lemm silently.

Lemm rose and went to the front, choosing to stare back equally silently. Lemm was good at that. Probably.

‘So,’ Quirrel said at length, his voice still as annoyingly friendly as ever, ‘have you thought about it?’

Lemm kept staring.

Quirrel held up his hands. ‘You need money, you don’t have much else to do, and besides’ – Quirrel shrugged. – ‘people like your tea.’

‘I certainly have enough to do,’ Lemm started. ‘These texts don’t decipher themselves. What’s so funny?’

Quirrel stopped his giggling and said, ‘They sort of do. Have you forgotten who stands before you?’

‘You don’t read all of these languages.’ Really, Quirrel’s ego was getting on Lemm’s nerves.

‘But most of them,’ Quirrel said, shrugging, ‘and most of the Archive’s records are intact. And we do have a nice section on language and writing.’

Lemm was silent for a moment, mostly because he could not think of a good comeback. Quirrel had a point, and Lemm did not like that in the slightest.

‘Let’s make a deal,’ Quirrel said. ‘I help you translate your texts and catalogue your artefacts, and you’ – Quirrel jabbed a finger in Lemm’s direction – ‘you sell your tea officially.’

‘Out of the question.’

‘You’re already doing it.’

‘I am not!’

‘Yes, you are.’ Quirrel said this with absolute certainty and no anger, and there was a voice at the back of Lemm’s mind that said: You really sort of are. And you could use the help. You don’t like the busywork anyway.

‘All right,’ Lemm grumbled. ‘Deal.’

‘Thank you,’ said Quirrel, audibly grinning.

‘I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’ Lemm asked under his breath.

‘I don’t think so,’ Quirrel said. ‘I’m curious – what else can you make? Tea alone is a bit boring, don’t you think?’

‘Shut up,’ Lemm said, ‘or I change my mind.’

* * *

Lemm did not change his mind, even though Quirrel didn’t shut up. It had been a while, and Lemm hated to admit it, but he enjoyed doing something different for a change. Customers were now plenty, and Lemm had a menu with more than one item, and his relic collection was no bigger, but more orderly and better understood than it had ever been, thanks to Quirrel’s – and the Archive’s – help.

Another thing that Lemm was not quite ready to admit was that people could be nice. The more he talked to customers, interacted with them, observed them, the more he began to appreciate them. He used to be content in reading historical texts and artefacts, preferring to learn about people that were dead and gone. Living bugs had never really interested him.

Nowadays, however, it seemed that people could be just as interesting to read as anything else. And, as Quirrel entered, greeting him, and he could not help his mood being lifted just by the prospect of learning something new and interesting that Quirrel learnt on his last trip to the Archive, Lemm supposed that sometimes, very rarely … people were something he could enjoy.

------------------------------- By @gardening-clown​

------------------------------- By @buglife​

Lemm was five seconds away from throwing someone through the window.

His shop was now occupied by five bugs of various species, talking, laughing, and sitting around when he could be in the back doing literally anything else. It took weeks of bugs thinking that his relic shop was a coffee one before he simply gave up and made peace with it. At least he got some geo from it to pay adventurers that did come by to sell legit relics. How they mistook his shop for a coffee one, he would have never guess.

All he had was a little brewer that was barely put back together that he scavenged from some random shop, but other bugs seemed to like it, for some strange reason. It wasn’t even good coffee he was making, but they seemed to accept it. After all, who else in this dead kingdom was even selling coffee? He had looted plenty of shops and took as many sacks of beans as he would when he first arrived, and there was no way he could drink them all, so he might as well do something with them.

But he was steadily losing his patience with the amount of bugs around him. They were talking and loitering. Loitering was probably the worst of it all as it made the loner bug feel his shell crawl with the forced social interaction. He just wanted them to leave. He couldn’t stand the feeling of a crowded space, which is why he went to a dead kingdom in the first place.

Hell, he had to take his beloved odds and ends down from the shelves to keep some curious bug from touching them all up with their dirty fingers and breaking something.

He found himself dreading the sound of the bell above his door, and when it rang he wondered if someone else was coming to ask him for some random drink or be an annoying thorn in his side.

To his hidden delight however, it was the little wanderer. They looked like a grub, to be honest, with a black body and a stark white horned shell for a head. The nail on their back seemed to be a little put together the last time he saw them, perhaps they visited the Nailsmith? He never asked for their name, he didn’t want to learn it to avoid attachments, but he found them oddly endearing. They liked to listen to him ramble about his theories on various relics they bring him, so they can’t be too bad. Plus they were quiet and polite, something he was immensely grateful for.

They bounced inside the door and came to a stop, looking at the five other bugs sitting around and chatting. They tilted their head to the side, watching the bugs for a moment before looking at Lemm. They stretched out a stubby arm from under their cloak and pointed at him.

Lemm sighed. Of course, the little Wanderer had been gone for a while, and obviously didn’t know what had become of his beloved shop. He gestured for them to come over, which they did and looked up at him expectantly.

“Bugs keep thinking that this is a coffee shop.” He explained. “So here they are, drinking coffee that I make on a terrible little brewer. I gave up trying to kick them all out all the time, it stopped being worth the effort.”

The little wanderer blinked a few times, looking somewhat confused. They pointed to the cup being held by the beetle on one of Lemm’s chairs and mimed the action of drinking it.

“Yes, that’s coffee they are drinking.” He raised a brow as he looked down at the grub. “Haven’t you ever seen coffee before?”

They shook their head.

“Really now? Hrm…” He wasn’t sure where the little wanderer had come from if they never saw coffee before. It was a fairly common drink besides tea. They must have grew up in a rather isolated place If they never saw it. He decided he might as well explain it, it would be better to do it now than later.

“Coffee is a drink that bugs like to drink to give them energy.” He saw them perk up a bit at the ‘energy’ part. “It’s rather bitter, so some like it with sugar. I like it plain. It keeps me awake when I am working.”

They somehow made a face when he said it was bitter, tilting their head and angling their eye holes to look affronted. Lemm squashed down a laugh at the expression and decided to get to business.

“Anyway, they trade me geo for it, which lets me compensate bugs that get me relics. Do you have any for me today?” He hoped they did, he needed something to brighten up his day.

The wanderer nodded, reaching under their cloak to pull out a black orb. Lemm recognized it immediately to be an arcane egg. He loved working with those. Peeling back each layer revealed new information and new discoveries. He was in fact, still working on the one he got weeks before. He needed to be careful with them, and he reveled in the intense focus and work it needed to discover it’s secrets. His day instantly got better.

“Very nice, I’ll be glad to take that off your hands for the usual price.” The old beetle held out his hand and the wanderer gently placed the egg it in. They held up a hand once it was free and shook their head, pointed to a cup sitting on the counter.

“Ah, you want to trade this for a cup of coffee?” He wasn’t going to say no to that. If the wanderer was okay with it, it was a perfectly reasonable business transaction. His suspicions were confirmed when they nodded and bounced in place, looking as excited as they were able to. “Well I can certainly do that.”

Thankfully, the two bugs occupying the chairs in front of the counter left, leaving behind their dirty cups and a few geo for the mess. They thanked him and he grumped out a ‘have a good day’ as they left, seemingly indifferent to his mood. Oh well, at least it brought down the occupancy to a more manageable level for his social batteries. He pushed the dirty cups out of the way and gestured to an open seat. “Here, sit down and I’ll get you a cup.”

They bounced upwards to take a seat, swinging their legs back and forth as they waited. It didn’t take Lemm long to throw some ground up beans and water into the grinder, watching the brewed coffee pour into a clean cup. He carefully carried the hot cup down and set it in front of the wanderer. “Be careful, it’s very hot. I’ll bring you some sugar, you didn’t seem to like the ‘bitter’ description.”

They nodded and watched as he pushed over a bowl of honey sugar and a spoon. It was the least he could do after they got him another arcane egg.  “There you are, help yourself.”

They bowed their head in thanks and took up the spoon, poking it into the bowl.

“Excuse me,” One of the bugs by the window got up, the one with a bent antenna and holding their empty cup. “Could I get a refill, please?”

Lemm held back a sigh and nodded, taking the cup and heading back to his brewer. He had to smack it a couple times for it to start working again, but in the end he got a passable cup of coffee out of it. He returned just in timed to hear said bug exclaim, “Woah there buddy, you must really like sugar!”

He looked to the wanderer, who had added so much sugar to their cup of coffee, that he could hear the sugar that couldn’t dissolve scrape against the ceramic as it was stirred. It looked like fresh cement, there was only a bit of brown to denote that once, it was indeed a cup of coffee.

He wordlessly handed the other bug their coffee, who took it and retreated back to sit by the window. He was about to say something to the wanderer, when to his horror, their head tilted backwards. A maw of sharp black teeth opened wide, and he watched, astonished, as the mix of sugar and coffee oozed into their mouth and to who knows where. A long black tongue lashed out to get every last bit of sugar out of the cup, before the mouth closed with a quiet click. They must have felt him staring, because they turned to look at him with their fathomless, dark eyes. He stared back, wondering what the hell was actually sitting in front of him.

They then bounced in place and gave him a thumbs up. They made a shape of a heart with their hands, a way that they say ‘thank you’. They seemed rather happy.

“Um…you’re welcome?” He managed, after he gathered his composure again.

They sat still for a moment, seeming to ponder on what they had just consumed. He figured that they were probably trying to figure out if they liked it or not. He doubt they even managed to taste the coffee from the sheer amount of sugar in that cup.

Then, to his horror, they began to vibrate. At first it was a few twitches, and then it steadily became more and more severe, until they were a literal blur. The chair rattled under the stress and the bugs that remained in the shop turned to look at the commotion.

It was then, Lemm realized he fucked up.

They suddenly dashed away, slamming into the shop door with such force that it caved outwards. There was only the short sound of shattering glass and the scream of metal before it flew off it’s hinges and rattled down the hallway. He could hear the hurried pitter-patter of the wanderer’s tiny feet, now fast enough to blur into one continuous sound, race down the hall and out of sight and hearing.

He just stood there, looking at the wreckage of his shop door, wondering where the hell is he going to get a replacement, if there even was a replacement. He looked at the three shocked bugs, standing and looking at the wreckage, and then he got himself an idea.

“Hey fellas,” He said, as he turned and looked at the bugs next to the window. “How would you all like some free coffee if you find me a door?”

------------------------------- By @radical-mudkips​

------------------------------- By @unregisteredcookie​

Lemm's 'shop' was empty.

Actually, no, that… that wasn't right. Lemm's shop wasn't a shop in the first place--it was a haven for relics and ancient knick-knacks, and the shelves were filled to overflowing with stone tablets and peculiar eggs that held unimaginable information. Not that Lemm was ever able to crack into the eggs' shells, but he knew--he knew there was more treasured information sleeping beneath. If only he were able to open it up without risking that information being damaged.

And that wasn't right, either. The shop being empty, that was. Right now, the shelves were empty, but that was less because of the absence of relics and more because they were all stowed away in the back room to be sorted. He had a notebook he was combing over, quill in hand as he scribbled out little bits of information that might relate to one another.

'Might', because Lemm wasn't really from Hallownest. So he didn't know for sure whether this smooth L-shaped contraption was a door handle or a piece to a lost work of art.

It was while Lemm was scribbling about in this journal bound in parchment (hand-made and flimsy, using the paper he found around the area that was clean and allowed to dry) that he heard it: The distant clattering of the elevator. There were about seven options he could think of off of the top of his head, each more dreaded than the last. It could be that scarcely-seen Nailsmith who seemed to know more about the history of this ruin than he let on. It could be the peculiar little silent bug that stared up at him now and again, the one that sometimes passed by with a relic to sell. It could be that talkative windbag, droning on and on in his droning voice, so grating and persistent that Lemm struggled to ignore him. He was probably the worst.

Lemm stopped writing, tilted his head, and listened for the telltale sound. The rattling stopped, and all that he heard for a while was silence. And then.

Ding.

He sighed, getting to his feet. A customer it was, then. How delightful. Here's hoping that the customer wasn't 'Zote the Mighty'.

He had a small moment of dread when he saw the horn, a critical blow of dismay that tempted him to retreat back into the back room and pretend to be out for a walk, but then he saw the second horn and breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, it wasn't the Zote person after all. It was… them. The other little one.

They looked up at him as he approached the register and looked down at them. Their eyes were vacant as ever, face impossibly unreadable. Lemm doubted that he'd ever get used to it.

Lemm liked this little bug, if for no other reason than they were quiet, kept their hands to themself, and brought him relics to purchase. They were the only one willing to sell these relics, and they were the only reason Lemm often said what he said next.

"Cup of coffee, or looking to sell?"

He never had much company in this place until the Nailsmith (Lemm never caught his name, never bothered asking, really) first came in looking for materials for his smithing. Almost took one of Lemm's Pale Idols from under his beard while he was noting in his journal. After the initial yelling that followed and a cup of coffee, the Nailsmith apologized by paying for the cup. And he did it again. And again. Until the mapmaker came in, saw, and bought a cup himself. Until the hooded pillbug came in, hummed, and bought one for himself. And then--

Well. And then he had a coffee shop.

Lemm wished he could say that he hated it, and he did, at first. But over time, he found the company rather pleasant. Besides, the geo paid for this little bug's relic collection well enough, so he wasn't complaining.

So. Did they want a cup of coffee, or did they want to sell their relics? Lemm didn't get an answer. Instead, they looked around at the empty shelves for a moment before turning their empty eyes back onto him, tilting their head to the side slightly.

It took Lemm a moment.

"Oh, I moved the relics into the back room," he said. "I've been needing to work on sorting them out and writing notes about them. Never would I have thought that I would have so many to study."

Satisfied, they reached into the confines of their cloak. Lemm leaned forward a little, watching as they rummaged about for a moment, heart skipping a beat as he pondered what sort of relic they were going to sell this time.

And then they withdrew their small hand, reached up, and dropped a fist full of geo onto the counter.

Lemm blinked and stared at the geo for a moment. Something wispy and thin clung to them, and when he picked it up and opened the register, it was sticky. Was this webbing? Lemm wasn't aware of there being any spiders in Hallownest, aside from maybe that red-cloaked bug he saw very rarely flitting about outside his window.

So. No relics today. Fine, at least he'd have more money to buy another one later.

"One coffee coming up," he murmured, rummaging around behind the counter. Underneath the register was where he kept the coffee pot, which he refrained from moving just so he could be prepared if a 'customer' came by. He busied himself with it for a few moments, filling the filter and checking the water, before clicking the button and letting it steep. Granted, he didn't know what kind of coffee they'd drink, but they didn't make it clear anyway, so he doubted that it mattered.

Besides. They seemed a little preoccupied by something else at the moment. After a few minutes, the coffee was finished, and Lemm poured them a cup. He chose a caramel-like flavor, because they seemed about the size of a child and a little bit of sweetness never hurt anyone. Lemm reached over the counter and held it out to them, which they took in their hands and stared down at for a moment. Lemm was about ready to head back into the back when it happened. A crack. It almost sounded like something breaking, but when he turned to look behind himself at the small knight, they still stood there. Another crack, one that made his fur stand on end and his body stiffen, and Lemm caught the glimpse of something sharp and white shifting beneath the bottom of their mask.

A mouth?

They tilted their head back. A jaw opened. Many layers of teeth glimmered in the dim light, cracking as they did so, the noise chilling him through his chitin and making his hemolymph freeze. Lemm stood there, stock still, as they lifted the cup up to their face, jaw extending outwards to drink it, and then-- --they set the scalding hot coffee in their mouth, cup and all, closed it, and crunched.

Lemm had never seen a bug eat a cup of coffee before. He could still hear the crunch, crunch, crunching, muffled and quiet and growing quieter, noise sounding like a particularly crunchy tiktik being eaten.

Lemm shuddered. When the knight looked back at him, he turned around quickly and went into the back room.

Okay. Suddenly they weren't the second most welcome sight for sore eyes. Suddenly Lemm wished that it was that talking, yapping Zote fellow who came in instead.

------------------------------- By @doodle-chris​

------------------------------- By @payasita​

There was no shortage of open real estate as far as the City of Tears was concerned. But that certainly didn't make every option an equally viable living space.

First, Lemm wanted something enclosed away from the rain, and insulated enough to stave off the humidity. That discounted anything open to the outside, as he wouldn't risk his relics to even the threat of exposure. A leaking roof dripping down onto crumbling tablets or fragile spider silk could devastate hundreds of years worth of history, so that also discounted any room without a few protective floors above it.

Next, it had to be out of the way of any and all shambling husks and infected critters. They weren't the brightest of creatures, so a room only accessible by elevator was ideal. He'd never seen anything plague-cursed have enough wherewithal to operate one, and the noise of it would give him plenty warning of visitors otherwise.

Lastly, he wanted someplace with plenty of shelf space. He needed little in the way of actual living space, so long as he had ample storage room set up in such a way that things could easily be organized.

All of these qualities described, in his opinion, the ideal relic storage and research dwelling. And in the end, he was lucky enough to find it.

Unearthing the previous tenant's belongings informed him that it also, apparently, described the ideal setup for a small café. On his first day in his new residence, he'd uncovered an antique coffee machine and a few other ancient tools, kept miraculously free of rust and wear. The room's conditions must be far better than he thought.

He'd dusted his findings off and set them back up on the counter, having quickly deduced where they'd once been put to use through old nicks and rings left on the shellwood by years of service. Lemm had felt a small swell of pride at finding this small bit of the city's history, and began a set of notes on his theories about this tower complex and its surrounding culture from everything he found around. Perhaps the whole place had been a shopping centre.

On the second day, he pried open the crates in the back room, and they had spilled forth bags upon bags of beans and teas. There were so many of them that he was able to rationalize cutting one open and examining its contents without much guilt. The beans were coffee, that much was obvious at a glance.

Biological samples weren't exactly his area of expertise, but smell and texture alone all but convinced him that they'd been perfectly preserved in their airtight prisons, well dried and perfectly edible.

Most likely.

For the sake of research, and because the bag was already open, he put them through the machine. He committed some time to studying the machine beforehand, as he was afraid mishandling it may destroy it. But an hour of trying to figure the damn thing out was frustrating enough that he finally reasoned that if he did break it, he could at least take it apart and examine its insides for anything interesting. Lemm was a relic keeper, not a tinker. So he winged it with a bit of rainwater and the beans, and got wet beans and hot murky water all over the counter to show for it. He figured out the grinder and filter after his second attempt, and by the third, he had a mug of fresh coffee to show for his efforts. The scent that filled his shop and the outside corridor must have been nothing Hallownest had experienced in centuries. Lemm had little taste for the stuff himself, but in his experimentation he'd gone and made a whole pot. So he supposed he needed to acquire a taste for it rather quickly.

Luckily for his health, that turned out to be unnecessary. The smell, perhaps amplified in the ever-present petrichor, quickly attracted guests of the still-living variety. There turned out to be far more travelers and treasure hunters bumping around this old city than he'd initially expected, prone to tucking himself away in solitude as he was. Introverted or no, he happily gave the coffee away rather than waste it or risk giving himself a coronary. There were even a great deal of disposable mugs stacked away that just made it all the more convenient.

Just over the course of an hour, Lemm was graced with a fair amount of odd characters intruding on his doorstep. There was a surly fellow wielding a metal shield of some foreign make, who announced his intentions towards finding and conquering Hallownest's old colosseum. He was convinced it was still in operation somewhere. Lemm decided that if it was, the place was more than likely not populated with the sorts of honorable warriors this poor bastard was looking to prove himself against, but he kept his thoughts to himself and sent the boy off with a steaming cup of acrid bean water. Next came another traveller who gave off a more scholarly air than the first had, and who carried a more conventional weapon at his hip. The pill bug certainly acted more like a student than a warrior, all bright-eyed and curious and talkative. But no doubt he must know how to use that nail of his to have survived this far down and still be so cheerful. His stay wasn't entirely unpleasant; the two actually talked a short while about Hallownest's history and their shared learnings. The bug even tried to insist on paying, but Lemm was adamant that his reliquary wasn't a damn breakfast nook, thank you, keep your geo. But if he really wanted to pay, Lemm would certainly take any interesting artifact or trinket the bug happened to pick up on his travels. They eventually came to an agreement: A journal pilfered from a shrine somewhere in Greenpath for an extra cup for the road. Lemm's next visitor was, of all things, a cartographer. This one was far too involved in his work for much conversation, which was fine by Lemm. But he did manage to barter a cup for a map of the city. It was incomplete and bare of any landmarks, much to Lemm's disappointment. Finally, an odd little wanderer walked in almost soundlessly. They did not speak to Lemm, nor did they give any indication that they were here for any specific reason. But they had acquired an old city crest and a King's idol on their path, and Lemm had a more typical exchange of geo for relics with them. And then because it was the last of the coffee in the still warm pot, and because the little wanderer did not refuse, he sent them off with a cup on their way out. Thankful to be rid of all the blasted coffee and done with the uptick in social interaction, he then washed the pot and continued with his normal studies. It was nice and quiet, now.

But then the next morning, the pill bug returned. And he was surprised (and clearly disappointed) to see the coffee pot empty. It was a shame, he'd said. For he'd gone and found himself another journal, and considered a relic he couldn't use for a hot morning's drink to be a fine deal indeed. Lemm was inclined to agree, for how it saved him his geo in case of a more potentially significant find down the line. He turned the machine back on at once at the prospect. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to brew just one cup, and was still rightfully intimidated by the old, fussy contraption, and not inclined to mess with what worked. So he made another full pot, and talked shop.

The pill bug wasn't the only one to return that day. The would-be gladiator came back, still not having found his destination, and had the gall to just expect another drink. After the deal he'd just made, Lemm was feeling markedly less generous than he had been the day before, and informed his nasally guest that he'd have to barter something old and interesting for it.

The ant grumbled and left, but returned a few minutes later with a guardsman's crest. He'd apparently seen old treasures all over the place, but had found it beneath him to go and pick them up." A warrior has no need to weigh himself down with baubles," he'd sneered over his cup. Lemm privately thought that the plague-crazed beasts who were doubtlessly running the colosseum now would soon show this haughty kid what they cared for his warrior’s creed in due time, so he said nothing.

The silent wanderer came later. This time when they held up an ancient journal, they made no move to take the geo held out to them. They only stared at Lemm, with their little mask so perfectly unmoving he could easily think them a sudden corpse. Then his hand drifted towards the pot, and the creature set the journal down on the counter.

"...News of a relic keeper bartering goods for coffee has already spread among your lot, then? I suppose even wanderers must have a rumor mill," Lemm talked to himself while pouring their cup. Predictably, they padded away without an answer, drink in hand. Lemm would soon learn how right he was.

- The coming days were more lucrative than his business had ever been. All the travellers he'd met before all came back with various oddities found around Hallownest, as did anyone new. Though not everyone quite understood what constituted a relic, and Lemm had to turn down more than a few shiny rocks and petrified lake detritus. But they all got the routine down soon enough. And, well, Lemm did have an extraordinary amount of coffee that'd just go to waste for another thousand years otherwise, so, may as well.

The pill bug, Quirrel, came to be his best "customer", though Lemm would be twice damned before he ever said the word aloud. Either way, Quirrel often stayed long enough just chatting to warrant a second cup.

"I ought to have you bring double the treasure," Lemm griped once while handing that second cup over. Quirrel's response was a good natured laugh.

"Perhaps elsewhere, that'd be fair. Coffee was a luxury in some lands, and remains so to this day, but by my understanding it was quite in abundance here. Though I couldn't tell you where in the world they must have been growing it," he mused. Lemm raised a brow, wondering once again where in gods' names this bug was educated. But as asking would be an invitation to hear his life story, Lemm deferred.

"Is that right?" he asked instead, "I don't care for the stuff myself, luxury or no." "Really? Not an uncommon opinion, I suppose. I picked it up as a habit at one point... Though, I couldn't tell you when, now that I think of it," Quirrel trailed off, adjusting the oversized mask over his head. Lemm found it an odd choice of protection from the rain, though he supposed it was better than nothing. He only shrugged, "I hear many students do make a habit of caffeine. Your sorts can never get enough hours out of the day."

Quirrel stared at him for a brief moment, and then huffed a laugh again. "Student? You mistake me, sir. I've only ever been a traveller for as long as I can remember."

Lemm didn't bother to mask his surprise, and Quirrel's eyes crinkled. "You're right on that second part, though. So much to see, and never enough time." He took a sip.

-

The mapmaker came back one day with an order for two drinks. He had no relics, but offered an extra inkwell and quill instead. Lemm found equipment for keeping good notes was lucky to come by, and reluctantly made the trade, much to the old bug's gratitude.

"Thank you, the second is for my wife running our shop surface-side. It was her suggestion you might want materials for your research."

Lemm cleared his throat, blustering slightly under his beard.

"Ahh. Hm. I can appreciate that, then."

"Oh, on that note, have you any sugar you can add in for her?" The bug peered over Lemm’s shoulder, which rankled him for some reason.

"...I did find a jar back here somewhere, I think." Though he couldn't promise it was good. Could sugar go bad? It still just looked like white sand.

"Thank you. ...Err, actually, is that a box of tea on the shelf, there?"

Lemm paused in his rummaging, and looked back at the open storeroom door. The room now made a good home for his relics, though he never bothered unpacking the open crates.

"...It is," he eyed the bug neutrally.

"Ah. Iselda enjoys her coffee, though I quite prefer a good cup of tea myself. ...Erm, if it isn't too much trouble, of course," the bug grinned politely over folded hands.

Lemm, to his credit, did not sigh. There was indeed a kettle back there, too. And at least he knew how to brew tea without making an entire day's worth of it.

He brought up the jar of sugar, and leveled the bug with a grumpy look.

"Fine. But next time, you bring relics."

The cartographer acquiesced immediately, and that was the point where Lemm realized he'd invited them both to expect a "next time".

-

The silent wanderer came back again, on the tail of a group of treasure hunters who came in and left up the elevator. Shortly after, there was the sound of struggle above them.

This had become commonplace. Anyone who showed up had to contend with the violent husks above and beyond the shop, and some were more prepared to deal with the dangers of Hallownest than others. Lemm only poured the wanderer's cup in bored silence, tuning out the thumping and shouts above. "You know this stuff stunts your growth, right?" Lemm asked flatly. The wanderer only ever stared.

"Dehydrates you, too. You active types probably ought to stick to water. Imagine having to deal with the horrors of rotting sentries and whatnot with a diuretic sloshing about in you." Unbothered, they leaned forward and took their cup in both hands, still staring up while he spoke. Lemm honestly had no idea if they even understood him, and considered the possibility that their muteness was compounded by a language barrier. But they at least always made the effort to appear attentive.

There was a thundering crash above them that made Lemm flinch, and then a silence that kept him tense. The voices started up once again after a few seconds, and the sound of footsteps hurrying away as fast as they could. By his guess, his last customers had just had a very close encounter with a belfly. He'd likely not be seeing them again.

He turned his attention back down to the wanderer with a sigh.

"...Let me see what you have, then."

The tiny thing set their cup carefully down by their feet, and fished a genuine void egg from the depths of their grubby cloak. Lemm was struck with the brief impulse to give them the entire coffee machine for it.

-

There was a new visitor one morning, just as Lemm brewed the pot for his regulars. He rarely got anyone so very early, and was guiltily nursing his own cup of acrid sugary heart disease before anyone would be around to see. Alright, so he'd acquired the taste for it. It was hardly unreasonable with how much time he spent around the smell, and it helped him make up for lost time studying his relics later in the night. Perfectly understandable, and so he definitely did not freeze mid sip like he was caught in a crime when the door opened unexpectedly. The red-clad stranger who walked in wore a wicked-sharp needle slung across her back, and fixed him with an even sharper gaze.

"...I hear you sell tea." Her voice was quiet enough, but cut clear without the normal hesitant lilt of a question.

Lemm slowly put down his mug, and the soft thunk it made against the countertop sounded awfully loud in the morning lull.

"...I don't sell anything. I buy," he insisted.

The altogether frightening lass glanced between him, the full coffee pot, and the kettle sat next to a stack of assorted loose leaf teas. Then back at him.

He grunted, hiding an inane flush of indignation behind another swig of his drink.

"...I seek artifacts. Relics of this place's past, and anything that may help me understand it, for geo. ...Or for a cuppa, for those who'd rather." He shifted behind the counter, nearly trailing off into a mumble. But at this point, there wasn’t much use in fighting his reputation.

The girl just scrutinized him until she seemed to come to a decision. She then turned and left without saying anything else, opting to hop down the elevator shaft rather than waste a moment calling the lift.

Lemm rolled his eyes and gulped down the dregs of his coffee, vaguely annoyed. By this point, he was used to the rude and half feral sorts of vagabonds that only came by out of curiosity. At least she was quick about leaving.

All the better for him, as far as he was concerned. He doubted such a young thing would have anything of note to share with Hallownest's foremost historian.

#telephoneknight #hollowknight #hollow knight #RelicCoffeeAu #lemm #tiso #ghost #quirrel

[aerosiderwrites]

Rumors ... Yandere Diluc x Reader

warnings for genre typical unhealthy portrayals of relationships and implied minor character death

Word Count: 1.2k

Diluc didn’t often pay any attention to the idle gossip of the maids at Dawn Winery, many of them coming up with fantastical theories about the estate and the people within it. However, when your name crossed their lips, along with the word boyfriend, he couldn’t help but listen in.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t wondered about [Y/N] and… Master Diluc,” Hillie’s voice went quiet when saying her intimidating boss’s name, as if saying his name would summon him.

“He does seem to like having them around, but they have a boyfriend,” Moco explained.

Hillie stayed hushed as she continued, “He could be paying them extra, but they could be two timing them.”

“I don’t think [Y/N] has it in them to pull a scheme like that.” Diluc noted the patronizing tone in Moco’s voice before tuning them out as they continued to chatter away, and into his own thoughts as he considered their words.

He was slightly amused that his favoritism of you hadn’t gone unnoticed, not that he particularly tried to hide it. But did you notice? Was your boyfriend the reason you seemed to avoid his gaze? Was he the reason you declined any gift he offered?

Regardless of whether your boyfriend was the reason why, he was definitely in a role that he wasn’t fit for. You shouldn’t have to work another day in your life, and if you were at Diluc’s side, then you wouldn’t. Diluc didn’t consider himself particularly materialistic, but the thought of dressing you in the nicest clothes stirred him. As nice as you looked in your uniform, you deserved better. You deserved him.

So Diluc got to work.

“Ah… seeing [Y/N] like this makes me so sad.” Hillie sighed to Moco quietly as you walked past, unable to bring yourself to rid yourself of the raincloud that had been pouring over your head the past couple of days. You carried on to sweep the foyer, your work pace slowed.

“They boyfriend left them, I heard. Barely a word to them. He just… left.” Moco explained.

“Poor thing…” Hillie shook her head, watching as you continued your duties so pitifully, “I wonder what happened.”

“Maybe [Y/N] is having an affair with the Master and he found out,” offered Moco.

“Who knows,” Hillie gave in, resigning herself to not knowing, since the only one who would know for sure was you.

But truth was, you didn’t know yourself why your boyfriend left. You came home, and all he left you was a goodbye note, and all of his stuff was gone. You felt empty and betrayed at his sudden departure. It was hard to do anything, but anything was better than nothing.

“—[Y/N] are you hearing me?”

You jumped at what felt like a sudden intrusion, clutching the broom in your hands tightly. You looked up to who was speaking to you, mortified that the Master of the estate was addressing you.

“M-Master Diluc I-I’m sorry,” you blurted, bowing slightly, horrified by your blunder.

“It’s alright,” he said, his voice even, “When you’re done with your current task, please see me in my study, I want to talk to you about something.”

“Ah, yes sir,” you answered. Diluc gave a nod and left you to your work. You picked up your pace, now afraid of making your master wait. You had seen how impatient he could be, and anxiety motivated your movement.

When you had finished with the foyer, you hurried upstairs to Diluc’s study. You took a few deep breaths before knocking and announcing yourself.

“Come in and close the door behind you.”

You did as you were told before approaching his desk, making sure to keep a decent distance between yourself and your boss.

“I wanted to check on you. You’ve seemed… down these past few days.” Despite the genuine concern of the words, the coolness of his voice made you question his intent. Was he angry? A part of your job as a maid was to be pleasant to the members of the guild, especially Diluc himself, so was your misery that obvious to others?

“I’m sorry, I’ve been moping haven’t I? I promise I won’t let my personal life interfere with my work any further,” you rambled, afraid of earning his ire.

Diluc sighed, doing his best to mask any disappointment. He didn’t understand why you were so skittish around him, “That’s not what I was asking. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” you said, shifting uncomfortably under Diluc’s heavy gaze, “I’ll be better soon.”

“Tell me what happened,” Diluc was aware that he gave an order, but he had an objective in this conversation, and you were going to reach that goal.

You pursed your lips and took a deep breath, “My… boyfriend left me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Diluc nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that, [Y/N]. You didn’t do anything wrong,” You found yourself surprised at how gentle Diluc sounded, your eyes hitting the floor in embarrassment.

“Thank you,” you responded, unsure what else to do, or what else he could want.

You heard him stand up and his footsteps come around his desk. You stilled yourself nervously, as if being still would stop him from approaching you. In your attempt to keep your eyes on the ground, you couldn’t help but notice how close Diluc stood in front of you.

Diluc’s hand touched your face, his warmth seeping through his gloves. Your eyes met his, and you couldn’t decipher why he was looking at you like that. “You deserve better.”

You desperately wanted to slide away and forget this is happening. Why was he doing this? What was he thinking? What did he want from you?

Diluc’s mouth formed a grim line as he noted your tense body language. You were no longer taken, and yet you still behaved this way. He moved his hand away from your face, his frustration building further as he watched your body ease up slightly. He maintained his resolve, he had made the decision to act, and he would see through his actions.

“I want to take care of you,” Diluc confessed, furthering your discomfort and confusion.

“You want to— what?” You sputtered in disbelief, forcing yourself not to back away and leave the room, and the winery itself, “That would be very unprofessional, the other maids already think you favor me over—“

“I do favor you. I care about you.” The words came out with practiced precision, Diluc aware that his full and honest feelings would startle you further.

Your face grew warm with embarrassment at the situation, “That’s… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stay here with me, and that you’ll let me take care of you,” Diluc urged as gently as he could manage. Watching your panicked expression saddened him, but he had his opportunity, he had to take it before someone else could try to seek your company again.

“If you don’t agree of your own volition, I will order you. Either way, I will make sure you will never want for anything as long as I breathe.”

You recoiled slightly, “This is a lot to take in.”

Diluc thought for a moment. Perhaps you just needed time. He believed that giving you time would soften the shock you clearly were going through. “You have until tonight to make your decision. See me here by eight o’clock or I will find you, to get the answer myself.”

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere diluc #yandere diluc x reader #aerosiderwriting #diluc is my fave man in this damn game. glad i finally pulled him yesterday <3

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

--

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

--

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

“So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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More Amazing People I Want to Share This With :)

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #reid fanfiction

[pkg4mumtown]

Signs of Attachment - Ch. 1

Summary: Having an auditory processing disorder never slowed you down, but it mean you were confined to the Temple when the Clone Wars started. Will the frustration of not understanding people at times make for a rather lonely existence?

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G (for now)

Warnings: Hard of Hearing Reader, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first Star Wars fic, so have mercy on me. This request was for my friend, Jaime, who gave me all sorts of information and I’m forever indebted to them for it. The timeline is probably very off, but…oh well!

To clarify before we start:

“Text.” Means someone is speaking.

“Text.” Means someone is speaking and signing.

Text, Means someone is signing.

Chapter 1 - Effort

I slid the last tool into place and closed its drawer, the Halls of Healing finally back in order after the last rush of injured Jedi passed through. I thought bitterly about the war that I was barred from, except for the occasional medic deployment to forward operating bases. My saber hung uselessly at my side despite every test I passed to prove my worthiness to the Council.  It’s not that they didn’t have faith in me, they just saw me as a liability, which is probably just as bad. Despite how hard I tried to explain it, they were convinced that I could never be focused enough to be on the front lines. Yet, I passed every test while purposely being fully deafened and even being both deafened and blinded, which was somehow easier than the former.

Being assigned to the Halls of Healing seemed almost harder than combat, considering I had been far better at fighting than healing throughout my entire knighthood. Semi-dangerous solo missions before the wars? The Council saw no problems. A full scale war with plenty of droids as target practice? A big problem, apparently.

I was so consumed in my thoughts that I had barely registered someone, no two someones, or rather their force signatures, entering the Halls.

Swoosh

I didn’t even have a chance to decipher any of what they were saying as their words and voices started to blend together immediately due to their arguing.

“Sop.”

“Yaioyu satowep beeineg doifficultat.”

“Lletat muoe gaorn.”

“No."

“Atnakin, ei doon'tat noeead tolorn beoe heneroe.”

I glanced over at my Droid for help, but its signing was a mess as both voices talked over each other. I eventually stopped looking at it and took a deep, calming breath. I tried to pick apart the voices and focus on one but both faded in and out, making it nearly impossible.

Shove. Scuffle.

“You do…”

“Eeim f—ine”

Slap.

“Yu figelol otan muoe.”

“Ei tolrippead.”

“Muaster, poleasoe tolelol heniem.”

Silence.

“Muaster?”

More silence.

“Muaster…?”

Oh. The closeness of the strongest signature was behind me now, poised and ready to—

Tap.

I turned and faced the two, rather loud, intruders to this calming place. My Droid wasn’t yet in place behind them, so I couldn’t quite get everything but I got enough. I had never gotten quite good at lip reading with Master Plo as a teacher, so he had learned Basic Sign Language to help supplement what was missed in speaking. I relied on my droid to sign to me quite heavily when dealing with patients to understand what was wrong with them, but it was only helpful if one person was speaking at a time. Definitely not whatever this train wreck of a duo was.

“Master?” the spikey-haired Padawan asked, staring straight at me.

“Forgive my Padawan, he toakess atfteer muwy Muasteer,” the older Jedi rolled his eyes, noticeably leaning on his Padawan and clutching his side.

“I do not.”

Feeling another round of arguing bubbling up, I held my palm up, “Both of you stop, please, and start from the top.” My Droid finally stepped in place behind them so I could see the signs over their shoulders.

“We just landed back at the temple, everything was fine—"

“Things are fine,” the Master snapped.

“—and he just collapsed on me. He wouldn’t let me check over him—," the Padawan continued.

“There’s nothing to check, Anakin.”

Ah, yes, the infamous Master Kenobi and his Padawan, Anakin.

“Obviously theroe iss.”

“Eim fignoe.”

“Stop,” I sighed and closed my eyes and opened them after centering myself. “Padawan Skywalker, please leave us.”

“B—”

“Now, please,” I urged, not bothering to give him an explanation. Not that I needed to give him one.

The Padawan made a face of displeasure before bowing to both of us and leaving the room.

“—overreacting—,” Kenobi sighed.

I blinked at him, then glanced at my droid, who filled me in on the whole sentence.

Anakin is overreacting, really.

“Master Kenobi, please sit and take off your tunics and tabards,” I ask and look away, not that it was going to matter because I was going to see him shirtless regardless.

I tried to ignore the broad expanse of his chest, littered with scars and copper hair. My eyes lingered a little too long while raking over and looking for injuries. I was just being thorough.

When I saw the wound that caused this whole ordeal I sucked in a breath quickly. The skin on his side was badly burned and the wound was at least a few days old, so naturally it had infected because he neglected to take care of it.

“It’s infected,” I shook my head almost hurriedly grabbed the large tub of bacta we kept on hand.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” He brushed off my comment, obediently lifting his arm when I nudged it.

“Have you looked at it recently?” I scoffed as I further inspected the wound.

He was silent for a moment, making me look at my droid confused as if I had missed something but the Droid confirmed that I hadn’t.

“Master Kenobi?”

“The less I acknowledged it, the easier it was to manage the pain,” he grumbled back. “And surely, you can call me Obi-Wan, we were in the crèche together.”

“That hardly constitutes a first name basis,” I squinted at him. “I don’t even recall speaking to you. They were troubling times for me, it was easier to keep to myself. Less to…process.”

“Oh, believe me, that message was loud and clear,” Obi-Wan chuckled, making me roll my eyes in an attempt to not focus on the way it lit his face up or brightened his eyes. “I also seem to remember that you were one of the best saber wielders out of all us.”

“A lot of good that did me,” I gestured to the sterile room.

“You still have the honor of humiliating an advanced saber instructor in class while being completely shut off to auditory and optical input.”

A blush rose to my cheeks, “Ho—”

“Every Padawan in the temple knew about it…”

“Well, it couldn’t have been that impressive if it wasn’t enough for the frontlines,” I slipped bitterly.

“They’re not all fun, unfortunately,” he murmured.

“I’m a guardian trapped as a healer, Obi-Wan, anything is better than this.” I took a deep breath, “Anyway, you might feel some discomfort.”

I closed my eyes and hovered my hand over the wound and focused on purging the infection first, feeling it attacking the cells around it as I finally attuned with said infection. I pulled the infection away from his body, pleased when there was no resistance and it begun to trickle away. I tilted my head as I sensed another pain but in his leg, so I investigated without breaking the healing I was already doing. The pain visualized as five red dots, the cause hard to place while my mind was otherwise occupied.

Then, it dawned on me that he was gripping his own leg so tightly as a distraction to the pain in his side that even I could feel it. Blindly, I found his knee and then his hand clenching his thigh. His hand relaxed slightly as mine touched his, allowing my hand to worm under his for him to squeeze instead. With the infection released into the force, I focused on knitting the wound back together. In response, Obi-Wan’s hand squeezed mine even tighter. If I could have sent something calming to him, I would have, but didn’t want to break my concentration when I was almost done. Instead, I let my thumb brush back and forth over his knuckles.

Finally, the wound was completely covered with new skin so I let the force healing trickle away. I blinked my eyes open, a little woozy but nothing I wasn’t used to, especially after a long day of healing.

“—that—pleasant,” I vaguely heard through the humming in my ears. It always took a while for the force to stop thrumming in my head after force healing, only amplified by my condition.

I knitted my brows at him, knowing it was anything but pleasant and then looked over at my droid.

Stars, that was not very pleasant.

“Oh, well, yes I suspect the day it becomes pleasant will be the day that Jedi actually seek out treatment, rather than avoid it,” I stressed the end just for him.

“Sorry, I should have waited until you opened your eyes.”

“It’s fine,” and really it was, I was used to it by now.

“I’m sure it gets tiring having to have a conversation with someone over their shoulder,” I didn’t get to appreciate the sincerity in his eyes because I had to glance at my droid again, only proving his point.

“Well, it was a little hard to learn to lip read growing up with Master Plo…,” my mouth turned up into a smirk, clearly trying not to laugh.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, didn’t hold back and snorted; laughing immediately after, “Sorry, sorry…”

“But, he did learn and teach me BSL, so at least I have something. Even if no one else here knows it, the droid helps. Though, in the field I don’t bring it, so I just tell everyone to shut up at let me work.”

“That’s…unfortunate.”

“It gets taxing, if only because I don’t always catch everything so conversations are hard to carry without the droid. Especially if someone starts talking to me without getting my attention first.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head like he was deep in thought, “Maker knows we learn enough languages here, they should teach BSL, too,” Obi-Wan squeezed my hand, making me realize I’d never actually let go of his hand. Though, with his hand now squeezing mine, I’d have to rip my hand away and to be honest? I didn’t want to.

“I don’t think we have anyone fluent enough to teach besides myself and Master Plo…”

“Hmm, I’d still like to present it to the Council. Someone has to be able to teach it,” he smiled gently.

I had no words to express how grateful even the thought of presenting it to the Council meant to me. So I didn’t speak. Instead, I sent my feelings of gratitude through the force and our joined hands. I took the time to read the genuine twinkle in his eyes as I hadn’t been able to this whole time, and the subtle way his eyebrows relaxed as he realized what I was doing. My eyes drifted lower to the way the corners of his eyes and cheek wrinkled just slightly with the upturn of the corner of his mouth, a subtle smile for me. Lower still, to the coppery mustache and beard on his face, with flecks of gray from the war. Or his Padawan…probably his Padawan. I let my eyes drift over the endearing way his mullet curled just behind his ears and rested against his shoulders.

He was right about one thing; I had taken for granted just looking someone in the eyes as they spoke to me. It was something that was necessary for BSL, and while Master Plo didn’t have the most expressive face, it gave me back a semblance of normalcy to be able to carry on a conversation face to face. It helped bridge the gaps between any words I had missed and ensured I had the whole picture, even going so far as to express words or ideas I was having trouble expressing with speech.

I cleared my throat, realizing I was staring far longer than I should have been, “Sorry, um, here…”

I reluctantly untangled our hands and grabbed the container of bacta, scooping a generous amount on to my fingers. I applied the cool gel to the new, pink, raw skin, which looked far better than the angry, red and purple open wound he had come in with. He jumped at the first contact, whether it was because of the cold or not, I didn’t know, but his sigh of relief after was a good sign.

I wiped my hand of and grabbed a new travel bottle of bacta for him, before pausing and grabbing two more, “Here, try not to lose these…”

He took them gratefully, knowing we normally didn’t give that much to just one Jedi, “Thank you, I—I didn’t lose mine. I gave it to my men, they needed it more.”

His men, his clones, whose health he put above his own.

“I’m not surprised,” I shook my head, “but do try to take care of yourself. They need you to lead them as much as you need them to succeed.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

My brain halted for a moment, my eyes widening slightly. This was the first real conversation I’d had with him and yet he knew my first name without hesitation.

“You shouldn’t be all the surprised, our masters were good friends after all. Master Koon, talked about you a lot with Master Jinn. He just never brought you along, I suppose,” Obi-Wan shrugged.

I hummed, “He was quite protective of me and tried to overwhelm me as little as possible…”

“I wish he had brought you, though. You would have gotten along well with Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan had a far away look in his eyes that I almost missed.

“I’m sorry, about…”

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled. “Now, I should get out of your hair lest my Padawan get into trouble.”

I stepped back to allow him to stand and handed him his discarded clothes from earlier, before turning and giving him privacy.

“Thank you,” he murmured, casually watching the droid out of the corner of his eye as it automatically translated into sign language.

When I turned back around, he was fully dressed again and stowing away the bacta in his belt, “Have a good rest of your day, Obi-Wan.” I bowed my head slightly to him.

“And you, Y/N,” he smiled, waiting for me to meet his eyes.

Thank you, he signed with a small smile adorning his face.

He bowed his head and took a a couple steps backwards and exited the room, offering a wave just before the doors closed behind him. My stomach flipped as I replayed the scene over in my head, realizing he had mimicked the droid in order to sign.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2

#Obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi #gender neutral y/n #gn!reader #gn!mc #hard of hearing reader