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seraphicsentences · 1 year ago

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pleaseee could you write an abby anderson x weather girl reader where they’re at the WLF base and abby catches reader staring at her hehehe

IM SORRY FOR TAKING 100 YEARS TO WRITE THIS AND THEN DELIVERING THIS MID ASS PIECE. i do hope you enjoy though i love you babe 😚😚

tags: abby anderson x reader, abby anderson x weather girl, EXHIBITIONISM, cunnilingus (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), kinda mean abby anderson? idk man, the whole WLF base is probably a lil traumatized

AN: thank you to @insanermin and @f3mme-f4tale for reviewing this for me i’m endlessly grateful for the two of you bless your beautiful souls. credits to my favorite girl for helping me come up with what to write for this request. i love youuuu

it was the crack of dawn, sun just barely peeking its way over the tops of WLF’s buildings, yet the heat was unbearable.

“83 fucking degrees Fahrenheit, jesus christ,” you muttered to yourself, checking the stationed thermometers posted around the perimeter.

the base was, for the most part, quiet. only few unlucky individuals working mindlessly at their respective morning assignments.

you strolled down your usual path, squinting at the streams of sunlight cast on the side of your face, dancing into your vision.

“hey weather girl,” a voice called from behind.

abby anderson. as if you even needed to turn around to recognize her unmistakable, raspy, teasing tone.

you whipped around, watching intently as abby bent out from under a stock-filled tent, arms filled.

“need some help?” you joked, stifling a giggle that arose when abby dipped abruptly to catch a bag of bait between her teeth.

what you wouldn’t give to be that bag of bait, you bit your lip, eyes trained on abby’s busy mouth.

hmphmpsh abby sarcastically laughed against the plastic, snapping you out of your dirty-minded haze and sending a flush across the back of your neck.

you meet her examining eyes, breath hitching as she squints slightly, a smirk etched into her gaze. embarrassed at the thought of her catching you, you open your mouth in attempt to sway the conversation— but she beats you to it, breaking the stare-down a beat later, spitting the bag out into a small pile on the wood deck.

god, you would let her spit bait into your mouth if she wanted.

“so what’re we at today? it’s gotta be at least 90 out,” abby wipes at her forehead, making small talk as she organizes the rest of the stock.

“try 83. though i wouldn’t be surprised if we do reach 90 once the sun is fully risen,” you reply, raising a hand to block some of pesky rays ruining your god-sent view.

“no fucking waaaay!” abby drags out, astounded. “we are definitely at 90 by now, do you see me? im drenched!”

so am i, you think to yourself.

“trust the expert. your body temperature’s just extra high from physical exertion. whoever put you on for outdoor stock at this hour has it out for you,” you comment, eyes dragging as abby lifts the bottom of her tank to wipe her face, revealing a rather impressive display of rock-solid abdominals.

you catch her gaze, this time her having an eyebrow raised, and immediately look away, the flush on your neck spreading to the tips of your ears. as hard as you tried not to stare, abby wasn’t doing much to help, especially not while decked out in a translucent white tank, black bra beneath a stark contrast, begging for your attention.

abby’s dark green cargos hugged her thighs deliciously, highlighting her thick, defined quads as she shifted about.

lifting a large sealed box of who knows what from one end of the deck to the other, she grunted under the weight, leaving your mind to wander yet again to a different sort of situation where you might find yourself blessed enough to hear that pretty sound.

“yeah, whatever- i’ll tru-trust the expert,” she breathes out, voice strained. strands of her blonde— almost golden in the sun— hair stuck to her face with sweat, which glistened perfectly on her skin, making abby look almost angelic as she crossed into the sun’s direct heat.

“yeah,” you exhaled, at a loss for words under the confines of her entrancing beauty. you stood there a second longer, before suddenly snapping out of your daze, clearing your throat. “i’m, uh, gonna head to the station, i think,” you stuttered, despite your usual propensity for word flow heard throughout the WLF base every morning.

“desperate to get rid of me?” abby faux gasps.

you sputtered at her accusation, “no-no, i-“

“shhhh-shhh, i know honey, i know,” she cuts you off, bitable lips curling up into a half-smirk.

traitorous feet already walking their way towards the radio station, you desperately try to recover from your embarrassment, tripping over your words, “i-you, uh,” you try.

abby twists her head over her shoulder in your direction, cocking it in a way that makes your heart twist in your chest and a pulse thrum between your thighs.

“you can come!” you blurt without a second thought. “with me— i mean, to the station,” you add, trying to clarify.

faced with an jaw-dropped confused-yet beautiful abby anderson, you continue rambling, “it’s indoors! i mean obviously, because of the, um, radio equipment, but you know, you’re probably hot— well you are, but- shit- that’s not what i-“

“okay, okay, okay,” abby bursts out chuckling, which you’d enjoy a whole lot more if it weren’t at your sake, “you don’t have to convince me, sweetheart, i’m already there,” she holds her hands up in surrender.

your heart skips a beat at the nickname, brain racing at a million miles per hour when you catch the sight of abby’s built frame sauntering it’s way over to you, small towel slung lazily over one shoulder, braid swaying slightly with every step.

you swallow harshly at her approach, turning promptly around to lead the way in a brisk pace.

abby laughs to herself as she follows, “aw, don’t run, i want to see your pretty face.”

your face heats at the compliment, before proceeding to flush a nuclear red at another comment she mutters haphazardly under her breath, “though i’m not complaining about my view from here.”

she half jogs to catch up with you, though your supposed speed-walk is no competition for what she’d consider a stroll with her long limbs.

you see her looking-no, ravishing- your figure out the corner of your eye, her tongue pressed to the side of her cheek, as you silently yell at your cheeks to cool themselves down.

your eyes can’t seem to deny themselves such an appeasing view, though, darting to the side to steal a glance at abby’s translucent tank, and your attraction is clear, at least to abby.

“want something, honey?”

you cough in response, choking on the saliva you didn’t even notice gather as a physical response to abby’s presence (me), as the two of you, thankfully, arrive at the station at last.

“ladies first,” you joke, swinging the door open with the backwards weight of your body.

“such a gentlemen,” abby quips back, winking at you as she strolls through the opening.

the pair of you let out a collective sigh at the blast of cold air blowing softly from the studio. it’s a vacant space, but the constant flow of electricity needed to notify the base in the face of an emergency allows it to stay up and running.

you make a beeline to your set-up area, tangled wires running along every side of the desks, hooked up to all sorts of peculiar devices: microphones, barometers, fancy thermometers. abby finds herself surprisingly impressed by the sophisticated knickknacks you mindlessly twist and turn to read, as if flipping through a toddler-level picture book.

“where’d you learn how to work all of this?” she asks.

“stole some books off an old lab,” you reply, shooting her a shy smile, “like to read, i s’ppose.”

across the room, abby rests her elbows on the table behind her, crossing her legs and letting her head drop to one side. “smart girl,” she praises, cheeky smile slipping onto her face.

you bite the fat of your cheek, holding back a grin of your own before turning back to finish jotting down the day’s data into a tattered mini notepad.

you grab a sleek broadcasting mic off one of your shelves, shoving some of the wires aside on the main desk to make room for it to rest, before hooking one of the tinier cables into the mic, and twisting around to find an audio interface to plug the other end into.

“what am i doing here?” abby says all of a sudden, breaking your hustling focus.

you freeze, letting the cable drop as you look down. “i don’t know.”

abby pauses. “let me rephrase,” she strolls over, positioning herself lush behind you. she runs her arms down the sides of your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake in spite of it being blisteringly hot out.

“what do you want me to do here?” she rasps by your ear, your head subsequently tilting to feel the heat of her breath on your neck.

“i-i don’t kn-“

“yes you do. just like i know exactly the mess i’ll find under these itty bitty shorts of yours.” she whispers, “you’re a terrible liar, sweetheart.”

a whimper slips out from your lips, head rolling back onto abby’s shoulder as you meet her sharp eyes with your pleading ones. your legs cross, squeezing shut, humiliated by the arousal that had gathered in reaction to, what, a 5 minute conversation with her? how pathetic.

“don’t think i didn’t notice your ogling earlier,” she continues, tracing her big hands lighting across your stomach, feeling your skin rise and fall with your increasingly rapid breaths. “your eyes give you away. i know what’s going on in that pretty little mind up there.”

your lips part as you roll your head further, almost completing a circle. the way you’re faced, you’re breathing desperate huffs directly into abby’s own mouth. she grazes a hand up between your two breasts, hard and pointed from a combination of the room’s dropped temperature and your arousal, then sliding her grip gently around your neck, holding your face close in place.

“you think you can get away with those slutty thoughts of yours? makin’ everyone think you’re such a good innocent girl, but no, you’re just a fucking whore aren’t you? isn’t that right, pretty?” she presses, tsking at your averting gaze.

“eyes on me, honey. you can’t hide. tell me what you really what,” she says into your mouth, lips just barely brushing over your own, the fucking tease.

you pant, eyes glued to her tempting mouth, desperate to close the distance. but you’ve got a job to do, and what’s fun without a bit of teasing? she deserves a taste of her own medicine, the bitch.

“what i really want…” you whisper back, “is to tell the base how fucking hot it is today,” you say at a normal volume, pushing off her back, and finally plugging the mic into the audio interface.

“duty calls!” you joke, trying to calm your racing heart and ignore the dampness between your legs. you hook the final plug into the wall, hearing a whirring that lets you know everything’s ready to go, before stealing a quick glance at abby to see how she’s taking your unexpected change of demeanor.

abby stands frozen in place, mouth gaping, but tweaked into an almost-smile, evidently shocked. your stomach flutters at the hungry look in her green, now nearly black, pupils, roguish thoughts brewing.

you bring a hand to your heart, dropping your jaw to match hers as you shoot a mocking who me? look in her direction paired with a shrug. winking, you turn back to your morning duties and take a seat, tuning in the frequency.

a click of a switch, an automated voice, and that’s all there really is to it. you’re live.

and your heart’s pounding out of your chest.

and though you’re usually hit with the slightest bit of anxiety over the idea of being listened to by every single individual on the very base, that’s not what you’re thinking about. well, not exactly.

“good morning, WLF!” you chirp, standard lines slipping off your tongue with ease, “hope you all had a great night’s rest! i know i sure did. today is august 2nd, 2038, and boy, you guys in for a sweat today! let’s check in with sophie and see what she has to say— sophie, you’re on!”

shaking out a breath, you click a button to tune in a livestream from the second weather station across the base, sophie’s station.

“hey girl, what’s up?” sophie’s cherry voice comes crackling through.

“the usual. wanna tell us how things have been looking on your end?”

“you betcha! good morning WLF, you heard it from our girl yourselves, it is goddamn hot out! my readings say that…” sophie continues, rattling off her collected data in a long, number-filled ramble.

you tune out, waiting for your cue to list your end’s data as you bounce your leg mindlessly up and down.

“oh you’ve really got everyone fooled, huh?” abby drawls behind you. you jump, temporarily forgetting her presence in the midst of your reporting.

you swivel your chair around to her, smiling cheekily as you press a finger to her lips in silence’s universal sign.

oh? abby mouths. we’re still live? she asks.

you nod your head slowly.

“then you’re gonna have to keep quiet for me sweetheart,” she leans in to whisper at a decibel just barely above zero. “unless you want everyone on base to know how much of a slut you are,” she adds, dropping to her knees before you.

“what are you-?!” you whisper hastily, stopping yourself to mutter lowly, “i’m the slut? look who’s on their fucking knees in a fucking radio station.”

she presses a chaste kiss to your thigh, smiling and shhhhing against your skin, mumbling, “shut up and focus. the base depends on you.”

with even just the lightest brush of abby’s buff frame against your knees, your legs fall open, beckoning her between them.

invisible hands to pulling her into your trap.

“abby,” is all you can get out, panting in need of her touch.

“focus, baby.”

she pulls your shorts and underwear down to the floor with a swift tug, smirk haughty as faced with your dripping mess.

“knew it,” she mouths, looking up devilishly at you. keeping your eyes trapped in her hypnotic gaze, she leans in slowly, tongue out, to catch your weeping pussy in a french kiss.

“fuck,” you breathe out, thighs trembling in resistance to clamp her head between them only just to keep her tongue against you.

she makes out sloppily with your folds, hands gripping your waist tightly to lock your body in place, pressing you firm against the chair despite your incessant squirming.

the point of her tongue traces down in a tease, slipping just barely into your pulsing hole to steal a taste of freshly dripped slick, before running it back upwards to firmly press into your neglected clit.

“ah!” you hiss, head thrown to the ceiling as your nails dig into the arms of the chair, hips attempting to buck further into abby’s warm mouth.

“you there, station one? i think the connection’s a bit warbly today,” a crackly voice interrupts your mind fog.

shit. sophie must’ve finished her report by now. you situate yourself up as best as you can— seeing as how abby won’t let go of your hips, or move away for that matter.

“hey sophie, yes i’m here! sorry ‘bout that, i-uh, yeah. there must be something up with the frequency today,” you sputter out.

“no worries! why don’t you go ahead and share your mornings data with us?” she laughs back.

“yeah, yeah, so my rea-fuck-“

you sharply take in a breath, sucking in your teeth. you look down. god, if that isn’t the hottest sight you’ve ever seen.

abby’s looking up through her eyelashes, your arousal smeared across the bottom half of her face, dripping to her chin. she dashes out a tongue to catch the corner of her mouth, smirk wolfish from her mischievous actions. she lifts an eyebrow, matching your prior who me? mock, as if she didn’t just set every nerve ending of your clit alight.

and while you could be absolutely furious with her for fucking with you on live, all you want from her is more.

“everything alright, station 1?”

you jump. “i-sorry- just, uh banged my knee up.” you mean to shoot a scolding look at abby, but just wound it up to be embarrassingly pleading.

she pouts sarcastically, and without breaking eye contact she bows in again to capture your puffy clit between her lips, sucking softly while flicking her tongue over and over again. it’s downright sinful.

“oh!” you whine, right hand darting to tug at abby’s braid, keeping her moving face moving against the place you need her most.

“um, station 1, i can take over if you’d like?”

your face flames. caught up in abby’s dizzying ministrations, your body’s screaming to say yes. yes, as in, yes sophie please fucking take over. and yes, as in, yes abby right there.

and you almost do, say yes to the first one, i mean. but a stinging pinch from abby tips you the other way.

“i, shit, sorry- i mean, yeah, sorry. sorry kids! don’t listen to me!” you babble, eyebrows scrunched and hips still grinding.

abby continues to torture your clit: her warm, wet tongue lapping up every last drop of your slick and pressing it rhythmically against that swollen button. your cunt tightens around nothing, desperate for something, anything, to fill ‘er up.

shit, you mutter to yourself, thrumming pussy impossible to ignore. “the temp-ah-temperature o-on my end read 83 degrees on my e-enndd-god,” you carry on, breathless, “ahem. we’re looking at clear, s-sunny skies all day, so be sure to wear some sort of- mmph- heat protectant,” you finish off your sentence sounding quite a bit more like a pornstar doing a dirty beach-scene than intended, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“give me one, uh, one sec-cond to double check the read- readings,” you stumble out quickly.

“no problem! while we wait on our girl, WLF, i’ll tell you about what last minute assignments we still need people for, so listen up…” sophie entertains.

“abby,” you whine, covering the mic with your free hand in attempt to muffle your sounds. you can barely form a sentence with the way her nose nudges your clit while her tongue runs zig zags along your folds.

“i know,” she cooes, chucking, “keep it down, you’re on live.”

you silently will yourself not to cry out when abby stretches your legs further apart, shaking her head left and right to stimulate every crevice of your weeping cunt. back arching off the chair, you whimper out a strangled noise, “i cant, i cant, i cant” you chant.

abby’s drags turn to kisses, watching your legs tremble with an endearing gaze as she makes her way up your stomach and to your face. pressing a kiss against your cheek, then your nose, and alas, your parted lips, she whispers, “this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? so shut up and be good for me, yeah baby?”

you nod feverishly, heavy-lidded and staring intoxicated as abby bites bruises into your neck, only to soothe it a moment later with a flat-striped lick of her tongue.

“mmm god, abby, i need you,” you practically slur out, moaning her name like a ritual.

“you’ve got me,” is all she says. her calloused hand slides up from the bottom of your shirt, squeezing your breast harshly, as if she can’t get enough, needing to completely ravish you.

“here, abby, need you here,” you groan, emphasizing it with the buck of your hips.

“alright, alright,” she shushes you with a kiss, hand sliding back down to cup your heat gently, feeling your desperation. “right here, huh? you aching for it, sweetheart?”

your only response is to catch her lips in a needy kiss, tongue pushing into her mouth, eager to taste yourself on abby.

hmmph abby groans against your lips, fingers dipping shallowly into your coated hole.

“you can scream my name as loud as you want once you finish your report.“

“but-“

“you don’t want to let the base down, do you? how else are we supposed to know how dripping hot it’s gonna be out today?” she murmurs, emphasizing her words with a push of her thick fingers deeper into you.

your eyebrows scrunch, vision dizzy with need as you look up at the sight before you. a pretty pink hue glazing her sun kissed cheeks, abby tilts her head, finding delight in your struggle to come back to reality.

“c’mon, honey, you got it,” she purrs, running a hand to push the hair away from your face.

you narrow your eyes, pushing majority of the fog to a corner of your mind and uncovering your shaky hand from off the mic.

“sorry about that, folks,” you shakily speak up, “-and thanks soph. i’ll be out of your hair in just a second. as for today, we seem to be getting a light breeze coming in from the east at about 8 miles per hour, so it might hopefully provide a little bit of relief from the heat.”

in the meanwhile, abby hoists your figure up off the chair, shorts and panties still hooked askew around one of your ankles. a hitch in your voice signals your end’s confusion, but you continue on regardless, slave to abby’s actions.

she pushes your torso over slightly, having you put most of your weight on the desk as you hover over your mic, hair flicked over one shoulder.

“as for the air quality, it’s testing to be relatively clear. the spores don’t seem to be getting passed over by the wind, so no need to worry with the masks today! i’ll check in in the afternoon to see if that’s cha- nhghh,” you jolt forward, voice breaking and hips hitting the table as abby thrusts two fingers tightly into your heat from behind, twisting them to reach that ridged, aching spot.

“-changed,” you correct, exhaling sharply. your eyes roll involuntarily as abby picks up her pace, curling her fingers on every outstroke, other hand delivering languid circles to your puffy clit. you can feel the burn of her stare down your spine, head turning over your shoulder briefly to confirm, and catching sight of the two of you in the mirror on the back wall.

your flushed face, rumpled top, and trembling, kiltered, bent over position contrasted with abby’s working muscles as she stood strongly gripping your waist was a sight to behold.

“what would you do if i made you scream for me right now?” abby breathes out, grunting. “should we let the base know how much of a slut you are for me?” she asks, “fuck your special spot real good in front of everyone? right here?” she punctuates with a downright sinful massage against your g-spot.

she huffs out a quiet laugh when you rush to stifle a whimper against your forearm.

“nah, i think i’ll keep you for myself,” she says, tugging you by your hair to hiss “you’re mine.”

your legs nearly collapse right on the spot.

“like that, huh? now be good for me baby. you can take it,” she says lowly by your ear, fisting your hair back even more to take in your disheveled state before shoving your head down nose to nose with the mic.

you grip onto the stand in attempt to ground yourself. fucking abby.

“for now you sh-should be okay withou-ooout a mask on hand t-though,” you stumble through your words, racing to finish the report. “our trusty barom-meter indicates stable conditions— so i g-guess that means the- mmph- the world isn’t gonna expl-plode today?”

you fall to your forearms, losing balance with the aggressiveness of abby’s thrusts, walls clinging to her fingers, as if not to let a second by without her magic touch. abby kicks a leg between your two, sliding one to the side to spread you further before her as she slips a third finger in easily. your lips parts in a silent scream, hand racing to stuff it’s knuckle in your mouth to bite down on.

nails digging into the table, and mind begging forgiveness from god for all the fucking sin you’re committing, you speed

through a shitty conclusion, “overall, it’s a g-great day to sweat. that’s all i’ve got for you to-today. stay safe, stay cool, and enjoy the sun! bye!”

you rip the cord out of the audio interface before you can get the entirety of your final word out, loud moans borderline pornographic from being held back for so long.

“aw, you didn’t enjoy having an audience?” abby teases, fingers speeding up to coax more of your sounds out.

“fuck you, abby,” you gasp out, collapsing face-against-the-desk in pleasure.

“it’s okay, honey, your drenched pussy answers my question— i mean, look at you dripping right down my fingers,” she rasps, pinching your clit meanly.

god, you wanted to shove her fucking face into your cunt. at least that would get her to shut up.

“abby, i’m gonna-!” you cry, knees threatening to buckle.

“show me, pretty girl. fucking come all over my hand,” she spreads your sticky folds with a spare finger, swiping at the edges to effectively stimulate every part of your core.

you buck your hips back with every thrust, desperate to finish as you scream abby’s name like it’s the only word you know.

“fuck,” abby curses under her breath, arm curling around your front to hold your crumbling body up, hands busy bringing you to heaven. she wanted to live in this moment.

“ah- god, abs!” you weep, forehead digging into cables as you shudder in ecstasy, cum dribbling out of your overworked pussy, coating abby’s hands in your mess.

“god, abs,” you repeat between gasps, slowly regaining your vision back as abby lifts you up to lean your sweating figure against her matching one.

“so much for escaping the heat, huh?”

~ man oh man i tried guys. hope this satiated your weather girl needs ;)

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so-i-did-this-thing · 20 days ago

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hello. any advice for a fresh 18 year old? i want to get to the future where i am happy. it gets better and all that. but jesus fuck man

Christ Allmighty, I know. I'm assuming you're trans/questioning, but even cis folks can follow this general advice. Your best weapon right now is to be informed. Trans existence is highly politicized right now, and trans youth even moreso. You have some tough decisions ahead of you about your healthcare, where you go to school, work, and live. Some resources to get you started, mainly in the US:

Erin in the Morning - reports on trans issues, especially per-state legal changes. She also maintains an informed consent clinic map.

Anti-trans bill tracker

Assigned media, covering anti-trans propaganda

Trans literature preservation project

You will need to carefully weigh your mental/physical health against your safety. Get in charge of your own finances, if you're not already independent. Consider a career that would make you hirable in other countries. I hear HVAC is a popular choice, but do your research here and keep an eye out for what jobs look stable in this mess.

Download and print as many resources and contact lists as possible - we don't know when queer content will start getting scrubbed off the greater internet. Consider getting up a VPN to mask your internet behavior and access country-locked content. Cultivate trusted networks both in-person and online. Use encrypted programs like Signal for chat. If you go to protests, make sure trusted friends know where you are, switch your phone from biometrics to a pin to unlock, be as unidentifiable as possible, and be constantly vigilant of your surroundings.

To have the best shot at happiness in this world requires a lot of knowledge and effort on your part. It sucks that we all have to be quasi-experts on legal and health matters, but we must step up to save ourselves.

Always have both a long term and an emergency plan to get yourself someplace safe(r). Set goals for yourself and break down every little step you'd need to achieve that goal. But also remember to seek joy. Go to pride events. Attend queer music and art shows. Buy art from trans artists. Create your own queer art, even if it's just self-indulgent fanfic. We have always been here and we will continue to be here, and that includes living as unapologetically as possible. Take care, you are loved. <3

#trans stuff #other folks welcome to pipe in

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swiftyangx12 · 4 months ago

Text

Continuity Crossover #4

[D/N] = Designation (Your name)

Cybertronian!Reader

TFP![D/N]: Remember, this is a stealth mission. We keep everything quiet and do not set any alarms off, got it?

TFA![D/N]: Loud and clear.

G1![D/N]: You got it, “boss”.

[The three were assigned on a mission to gather intel reside in the Decepticons’ base. As both TFP![D/N] and TFA![D/N] snuck inside without a sound, unfortunately their G1 counterpart had other ideas.]

G1![D/N]: *Runs into an open area filled with Decepticons* What’s up, motherfraggers?! *Pulls out their blasters*

TFP![D/N] & TFA![D/N]:

G1, NO!

[Hours Later]

[Autobot Base]

TFA![D/N]: We forgot how unhinged G1 can be during missions.

G1![D/N]: I think we did quite alright.

TFA![D/N]: You literally ran straight into the enemy’s view and started blasting everywhere.

G1![D/N]: *Shrugs* It got the job done. We got the intel we needed.

TFA![D/N]: You shot Ironhide from the Bayverse. He was our extra defense.

[Bayverse!Ironhide was rushed into the Med Bay after the mission had failed successfully? The weapons expert is in stable condition, so he’ll be okay. “I’ll be fine!”]

TFP![D/N]: Optimus, with all due respect, please don’t partner us with G1 again.

TFA![D/N]: We can’t handle their kind of chaotic energy compared to ours.

TFP!Optimus Prime: Granted. In the foreseeable future, [D/N] from Generation One will only be with you for more dire missions rather than stealth-based ones.

G1![D/N]: So…No more stealth team-ups with you, huh?

TFP![D/N]: I’m sorry, [D/N]. We can’t risk our covers blown due to your approach on handling things.

G1![D/N]: That’s fair. At least I’ll hang with my Oppy for other assignments.

TFP![D/N]: What’s that supposed to mean?

G1![D/N]: Meaning I have a little more time to hang with Optimus from my universe while you two have to work your afts off. Heh.

TFP![D/N] & TFA![D/N]: …

[Twelve Seconds Later]

TFA![D/N]: *Ex-vents tiredly* Oppy, could I borrow your axe for a moment?

TFA!Optimus Prime: *Grips on his axe tightly* No way, [D/N]. We’re not disciplining your variant by chasing them like a serial killer.

TFA![D/N]: *Pouts* Then how come TFP me is chasing them?

[TFP![D/N] chasing behind G1![D/N] with their weapons out while G1!Optimus and TFP!Optimus chase after the two from killing each other.]

TFA!Optimus Prime: Probably since they’re more equipped with firearms and more experienced in battles compared to us.

TFA![D/N]: Uh huh. You’re just afraid I’ll hurt myself.

TFA!Optimus Prime: That’s…true. Since you joined us, I’m afraid something will happen to you.

TFA![D/N]: Oppy, I understand you’re worried for my safety. However, you forgot about that one time I kicked some Decepticons’ afts, by myself. They can barely lift a digit while escaping from me.

TFA!Optimus Prime: *A little intimidated* R-Right. You reported that last time. “Frag, they’re a beast.”

#Transformers #Transformers Prime #TFP #Transformers Animated #TFA #Transformers Generation One #Transformers G1 #TFP x TFA x G1 #Crossover #TFP Optimus Prime #TFA Optimus Prime #G1 Optimus Prime #Optimus Prime #Optimus Prime x reader #Cybertronian!Reader #Autobot!Reader #Transformers x reader #TF x reader

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wherefore-whinnies · 2 months ago

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some facts about endometriosis:

it is estimated that about 10% of people assigned female at birth have endometriosis. that makes it pretty common! it is similar to the prevelance rates of asthma and diabetes in adults in the US (n.b. it is kind of hard to find one definitive number for each of these, as rates I've seen have ranged from 11-17%, but around 11% is what these pages report.)

unfortunately there isn't a more specific and helpful term I can use than "assigned female at birth" because no one knows exactly what causes endometriosis and no one knows how to cure it. removing the uterus does not cure endometriosis (it is a disease outside the uterus). removing the ovaries does not definitively cure endometriosis. going through menopause does not definitively cure endometriosis.

endometriosis does not always solely affect the pelvic area/reproductive system. endometriosis has been found in every organ of the human body.

a normal ultrasound does not mean you don't have endometriosis. a normal MRI does not mean you don't have endometriosis. endometriosis usually does not appear on these scans. it can be diagnosed by a specialized ultrasound (even then, the specificity of this is only reliable for certain kinds of endometriosis), I believe a specialized MRI (but I don't know much about these), or via laparoscopic surgery (previously thought to be the only way to diagnose endometriosis until the specialized scans came around).

you may hear about people who have significantly worse symptoms than you (vomiting during periods, passing out, being completely unable to leave their bed). not having these symptoms does not mean you don't have endometriosis. don't compare your symptoms to other people's. it's not normal to have to plan your life around your period, even if your period doesn't seem "bad enough" compared to other people's. remember that endometriosis is pretty common! you've probably met dozens? hundreds? more? of people with endometriosis without knowing it.

you may hear about different "stages" of endometriosis that are used to describe its complexity (1-4). there is no correlation between the stage of endometriosis and the severity of symptoms it causes. stage 1 endometriosis can cause someone horrific symptoms. someone can have stage 4 endometriosis and not feel pain at all.

while endometriosis is common, there are other potential causes of pelvic pain. you may also want to read about adenomyosis and pelvic floor dysfunction. of course, these can absolutely co-occur with endometriosis. one resource you could check out is /r/Endo's list of other conditions to test for (currently the last link in the Resources section).

the averages I've read vary, but one estimate is that it takes between 7-10 years on average for someone to finally be diagnosed with endometriosis. it took me 15 years. if your periods are interfering with your life, please don't let people gaslight you into thinking that's normal and you should just suck it up and deal with it. it can be extremely hard to find doctors who are educated about endometriosis and will actually refer you to an endometriosis specialist (/r/Endo has a map of endometriosis specialists that their users have seen - currently the first link under Resources). as much as you can, please try to keep believing in yourself - you are the expert on your own body.

#ask to tag

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logicbutton · 10 months ago

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Hey guys what's up I learned bookbinding to make @cindthia a physical copy of Synchronized Cardioversion for our anniversary :3

Pics and process documentation below!

I used the following resources:

How to Make a Book by ArmoredSuperHeavy

Bookbinding Resources Master List by Renegade Bindery

r/Fanbinding

the fanbinding tag on AO3 - shoutout to r3zuri's fanbinding of a FFVII fic for their extremely informative cliff's notes version of the process

the Intro to Hand Bookbinding class at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts, an incredible resource for anyone in or near Minneapolis interested in learning how to bind their own books.

First, I typeset the fanfic. I did this by downloading it from AO3, trying to figure it out myself, checking How to Make a Book for help with a problem I was having, and realizing that I should have just used it from the beginning in the first place. I used Microsoft Word 2013.

Fonts: Palatino Linotype, Helvetica (for the characters' text messages), Beatline (for titles) Margins: .88" top, 1" bottom, .75" inside, .75" outside, .25" gutter Front matter: - Title page with only the title - "Praise for Synchronized Cardioversion" with comments from the fic - Title page with title, author name, and a colophon I made - Copyright page with fic copyright, fic URL, TLT series copyright, disclaimer, AO3 fic summary, first chapter author's notes, copyright for in-text art, book design credit, font info Back matter: - Acknowledgments (from the fic) - "Also by CindFourth" with all their TLT fic separated into Synchronized Cardioversion Extended Universe (might make another book of this at some point); Other Camgideon, Campal, and Team 69; and Other Locked Tomb

I set the page layout to "book fold" with 16-page signatures. As for the art, one of Cind's requests in last year's TLT Holiday Exchange was for art of this fic and they got not only a fantastic one-page comic from their assigned creator, our friend @anaeolist (who also did a sketch of Cam and Gideon kissing - we'll come back to that later), but also a lovely piece as a treat from our friend @kat-hikari. I got permission from both artists to include their work in the book.

The finished file was 408 pages, so I added four blank pages (two sheets) to the beginning and the end to make 26 signatures even.

Next, I printed the pages. I used my Brother DCP-L2550DW and Hammermill 11x8.5 24/60 lb. cream bookbinding paper from Church Paper. I'd read that sometimes using short-grain paper in a regular printer could cause it to jam, but it went fine. The cream color made the pages look so professional.

I folded the pages into signatures and then pressed them overnight. Since I don't have a book press, I sandwiched them between two sheets of bookboard and put a heavy box on top, and that worked well.

The next step, punching holes and sewing, was my favorite. I'd made a punching cradle using instructions I got in my bookbinding class. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, and it only used bookboard and PVA glue, so I didn't even need to buy anything I hadn't already bought for the project.

I used three pieces of tape and sewed them on using a kettle stitch.

Then I went to MCBA to use their guillotine on the text block and their board shear to cut boards for the cover.

I chose orange cardstock for the endpaper, and because I am a novice making novice mistakes I unfortunately forgot to get a size of cardstock that would let me fold it on the grain, but anyway. I trimmed it to the exact size of the pages and glued it to the text block. Next I glued the spine of the text block, rounded it a bit (not the way an expert would; you learn that in Intermediate Hand Bookbinding), added a strip of super mull and headbands at either end, and sat it under a weight to dry while I made the cover.

The Bristol board I cut for the spine was probably 1/8" too wide, which makes a bigger difference than you would think. Next time I'm going to err on the side of slightly too narrow when I'm already giving myself three board widths of a buffer on either side.

Aside from that, the cover turned out great! I could have done a better job lining up the endpaper when I glued it in, but that's the kind of thing you practice I guess.

I love the way the navy blue bookcloth looks with the cream paper, the orange endpaper, and the red and white headbands.

Now that I had the exact dimensions of the book, I could finally design the dust jacket. Remember that sketch of Cam and Gideon kissing that anaeolist did for the holiday exchange? I commissioned them to turn it into a finished piece for the cover, and boy did they ever deliver. I also asked some of our other friends who had read the fic to give me blurbs for the back cover, and they delivered too. Cind's and my relationship wouldn't have been possible without the wonderful community we met in and I wanted this gift to reflect that.

I created the jacket in GIMP at a print resolution of 300ppi and saved it as a pdf. The final step was to get it printed, which I was nervous about because it was the only part of the process that I had no control over at all. Long story short, I ended up with something I was very happy with done by a small chain print shop where I had to go in and talk to a human about what I needed.

I also posted this to AO3!

#fanbinding #the locked tomb

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miz-chase · 9 months ago

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Bones crime au aka The Reverse Broadsky

There's a sniper loose in DC who has a tendency to hit targets recently investigated by the FBI. Special Agent Jared Booth was put on the case but kept ending up in dead ends. Frustrated by the lack of progress, his boss FBI Assistant Director Hacker enlisted the Jeffersonian Institute's Medico-Legal Lab to aid the investigation. They worked with the remains, particulates, and other evidence to try and pin down the sniper, getting closer than ever before.

In another place, Seeley Booth was lining up the angle for the perfect shot. There's an apartment that just overlooks the falsely-exonerated criminal's home, and it didn't take much to break in. What Booth didn't plan for was the apartment being occupied in the middle of the day. Instead of an empty room, he found a woman with a nasty left hook who took quite an exception to him breaking into her place.

Seeley rolled with the hit and sent a little prayer up for remembering to keep his mask and hat on. Now's not the time to get sloppy. He's able to subdue her, gag & bind her, and lock her up in the bathroom so he could do his work in peace. It took a few hours of patient waiting (and ignoring the intermittent kicks at the bathroom door), but he got his perfect shot. It's quick work to pack up his rifle and get his ass out of there before anyone notices something's amiss. He was a gentleman, though, and unlocked the bathroom and dropped a knife beside the absolutely furious woman. Pretty blue eyes glared daggers at him, but he figured with a mask, a hat, and a bulky jacket, there's not much to see. He took off, not realizing he'd made a huge mistake.

Temperance Brennan was furious. After a decade of personal defense training, being pinned and shushed like she was just a child throwing a tantrum was beyond the pale. And for it to be the very man they were hunting for in the lab? Completely unacceptable. As soon as she's able to free herself, she's on the phone with Jared, getting the apartment scoured top-to-bottom for evidence. Security cameras yielded nothing of value, the man clearly an expert. What he didn't account for was the fact that she was an expert, too.

Working with Angela and her own exceptional memory, Brennan was able to sculpt his likeness. It took a lot of tweaking from Angela and back-and-forthing, but they're able to pull together a decent likeness. Paired against the military records of advanced snipers, there's only one close match: Sergeant Major Seeley Booth.

Suddenly Special Agent Jared Booth's lack of progress on the case didn't seem so much like an accident. It all of a sudden became very remarkable that, while all the sniper victims were from FBI cases, not a single one included Jared's cases. Without explanation, a new agent was assigned to the Jeffersonian and Jared isn't seen again.

Seeley Booth was used to dodging the FBI. He'd been doing it for years now. Admittedly, having his face blasted across every news station was a new and exciting wrinkle to his efforts, but he could lay low. What he's not used to is attracting the attention of local lowlife Max Keenan, who turned up in Booth's garage hidey-hole one night. Now, Keenan doesn't sink so low as to report him to the feds, but he does have a word or two to say about putting his daughter in danger. With a few friendly threats, Keenan suggested Booth could make things right by dealing with a certain Robert Kirby.

Always a good man for taking orders, Booth doesn't ask questions. He just gets the job done. He really shoulda laid low, though, because on his way out of his sniper's perch, a cop recognizes him. Booth took a nasty shot to the hip before he's able to disappear into an alleyway and lose the tail.

He did his best to zigzag his way through the city, leaving no obvious trail to follow. Unintentionally or not, he realized he's wound his way back to the damn apartment where all this mess started. It's a stupid idea but he's losing blood at an alarming rate. He climbed up the back balcony, slipping in through the sliding door, pistol in hand.

Out in the living room, she wasn't facing him when he creeped in.

"Temperance, right?" His voice was low.

She jumped, spinning around, whipping her phone out.

"Easy, easy. Just drop the phone and everything will be alright." He gestured with the gun from her hand to the floor. She dropped the phone with a clatter. Her eyes were big and wide, hands raised in surrender.

"What do you want?" There's a quaver to her voice but she held herself upright with a steel spine.

"I just need a quick favor, that's all. I swear I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You're pointing a gun at me."

"Yeah, cause I know if I don't, you're gonna try to kung foo my ass again."

"Judo." She squinted at him disapprovingly.

"Whatever." He's starting to feel dizzy. That was not great. "Y'got a first aid kit or something?"

Her scowl deepened. "Why should I help you?"

"I got shot doing your father a favor." She flinched at that.

"I don't owe him anything. He's a criminal."

"Yeah, well, here we are anyway. Just... all I need is some gauze and a hand, alright?"

"I could wait you out until you pass out." She jutted her chin up in a stubborn glare.

"I'd really rather you didn't." He gestured with the gun towards the kitchen sink and, reluctantly, she moved that way. "You must have a first-aid kit around here somewhere. You seem the type."

"'The type'?"

"Yeah. Girl scout. Over-prepared."

She knelt, pulling a box with a big red cross on it from under the sink. Brennan plopped it on the table in front of him, crossed her arms, and glared.

"I'm not going to help you."

"Please don't make this difficult?" He gestured with the gun at the plastic box, but she didn't move.

"If you shoot me, everyone in this building will hear it." Her petulant frown dared him to try.

"Yeah, and if I knock you out, my life will be much easier, but that big ole brain of yours isn't really going to appreciate the damage." Her scowl deepened.

With every move clearly telegraphing her disapproval, she set to work putting him back into one piece. She roughly tugged his t-shirt up, revealing a bloody mess. His gut flinched as her hands traced over scarred bare skin. Capable hands harshly pulled padding and gauze around his middle, covering the wound. He hissed in pain as she pressed down firmly, probably firmer than she really needed to. Still, it was good enough. It would do.

She sank back down into one of the kitchen chairs, still glaring at him with arms re-crossed. Booth collected himself pulling his shirt back down with a grimace and smoothing his hand over the bandaged wound. He gave her a long, considering look.

"What would you do if I needed to rest here a while?"

"Call 911." Her look was all grumpy disapproval.

He exhaled a frustrated sigh. "Have you considered not being a pain in the ass?"

"Why in the hell should I help you?" There was disgust in her voice.

"I did take care of your good friend, Heather Taffet."

"The judge was... 'taking care' of her just fine. Legally."

"They were going to let her get off. Everyone knew it."

"Well, now we will never know if that's true or not."

"So that's it then, complete and utter faith in the judicial system? The system that lets criminals go and jails innocent people?"

"It's not faith." She apparently didn't like that word any more than she liked him. "My job hinges on adhering to the logics of evidentiary proof, allowing a jury to deliver correct verdicts in the court of law." She regarded him with a sneer. "Society cannot function with arbitrary, extra-judicial killings as a means of providing justice."

"And police shooting up anyone they feel like is different because...?"

She scowled. "Police reform is not under my purview. Evidence, and its use within the justice system are my only responsibility."

"So the fact that I pick my target utilizing evidence you personally compiled means....?"

That earned him a death glare. "The quality of my work does not excuse appointing yourself judge, jury, and executioner." She huffed. "You're no better than my father."

"If the person with the better lawyer always wins, rather than the better evidence, then--"

"I am done speaking justice theory with you. Sleep on the couch, clearly my opinion has no bearing on the matter. I am going to sleep." She shoved past him, stormed into her bedroom, and shut & locked the door.

Alone in the empty kitchen of a stranger, Booth pondered his next move. What were the chances that she would climb down three floors of balconies to escape? It wasn't impossible, but it wasn't easy either. Probably she'd stay where she was. Picking her phone off the ground, he scrolled through her texts until he found Max.

It's done. Took a hit. Laying low here. She's pissed but fine, Booth typed and sent off the text. Max wouldn't be pleased, but this meant the old criminal would be stopping by in no time.

Taking the lady's advice, Booth laid himself out on the couch and dozed off. Hopefully when he woke up, it would be to Max with a back alley surgeon, not the bone lady whacking him in the face with a frying pan. Hopefully.

#bones tv #booth x brennan #an old au ive had kicking around for a while #covid brain drabble #booth's first victim is his father #he comes to jared for absolution and eventually together they build a plan #a small idea becomes something bigger

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deadsilkmoth · 2 months ago

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Harley x Elliot nsfw alphabet, lets gooooooo

A = Aftercare

Elliot deems it very important, he likes to cuddle and take care of Harley, somehow he has energy after sex.

Harley just lies there motionless, but he will always offer a cigarette and even lit it up for Elliot

B = Body part

Elliot takes a liking to Harley's hands and waist, he always holds on it or just strokes it.

Harley likes kneading Elliot's stomach and burrying face in his chest. Everything that's soft and squeezable

C = Cum

Elliot is very neat when it comes to cumming, he wants everything to be clean. It either in the condom, or in Harley's mouth, so he won't have to clean himself or bedsheets.

Harley stains sheets a lot and doesn't mind swallowing, he is thinking of wearing a condom too when bottoming,he doesn't like the mess either

D = Dirty secret

Elliot once thought of making a small plushie version of Harley with a hole to release his frustration

Harley humps pillow with Elliot's perfume on it,it's the only enjoyable way of masturbation for him

E = Experience

Elliot is a sex pro

Harley is a sex noob

F = Favorite position

Missionary and doggy style for Elliot

Cowgirl position and spooning for Harley

G = Goofy

Elliot is a goofball and he embarrasses Harley with jokes a lot

Harley treats it like a surgery, very serious

H = Hair

Elliot has a well groomed bush, happy trail and chest hair

Harley's pubes exsist, but it's not confirmed yet

I = Intimacy

Elliot is very sweet and caring, gentle. He values intimacy more than the act itself

Harley, despite the fear of being vulnerable, slowly gives in to intimacy, getting more and more into it.

J = Jack off

Elliot's libido is pretty low but he does occasionally masturbate. Ofcourse it's better when Harley's skillfull hands help him

Harley treats masturbation as solo sex, not being able to connect, he fills the need himself

K = Kink

Elliot discovered he's into medical attribures through Harley

Harley has a praise kink and likes the hair ruffling, headpats and everything(his scalp is his erogen zone)

L = Location

Home. Only home for Elliot.

Same for Harley, he is the main guest at Elliot's bedroom.

M = Motivation

Elliot usually wants to unwind, relax after work. And it helps him fall asleep faster. And it feels like a way of bonding with his lover

Harley's motivation is tactile hunger and desire to make his former mentor feel good.

N = No

Elliot is strictly not into bodily fluids and cnc

Harley's no go is extreme sadomasochism,things involving needles or electrocution. No ammount of coaxing will convince him into injuring his body for pleasure too much.

O = Oral

Elliot is bad at giving oral, but enjoys recieving it

Harley likes oral more than anal in fact, it's less work and he doesn't need to prepare.

P = Pace

Q = Quickie

Elliot is all in for slow and sensual

Harley thinks faster pace is better

R = Risk

Elliot is not into quickies, he prefers longer sessions, taking his time

Harley is aaaaaall in for quickies, he thinks it fits his busy scheldue

Both are into experiments(I want to assign them more kinks)

S = Stamina

T = Toys

Elliot is not that young anymore, but still very capable, can go for multiple rounds

Harley stamina is enough for one session, but he needs to regain energy afterwards, immideatly going for reload(sleep)

Ofcourse, we have a toy expert here, that includes adult toys

Harley is all in for testing them. They're both professionals ;3

V = Volume

U = Unfair

Elliot teases Harley a lot, keeping him on edge and everything

Harley attempts teasing too, but he himselt doesn't have enough patience

Elliot only grunts quietly(he's shy to get more vocal), Harley whimpers pathetically

W = Wild card

X = X-ray

Elliot gets inspired after sex and immideatly goes to worktable,sketching new toy out, making blueprints. It makes him productive

Harley sometimes gets too aroused when getting recognized at work, it gives him an instant boner he has to hide

Y = Yearning

I assign both of them tattoos

Elliot has a military tattoo in the process of removing

Harley has a scar coverage tattoo on his chemical burn scar

Elliot's low, but he gets infected with Harley's high sex drive

Z = Zzz

Elliot is the last to fall asleep. He has energy to read something before going to sleep, normally workaholism gets to him

Harley passes out immideatly and wakes up in the 3 of the morning, then goes to sleep again

#harley sawyer x elliot ludwig #elliot ludwig #harley sawyer #dr sawyer #the doctor poppy playtime #;333

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sashaisready · 1 year ago

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Chapter One - The Mouse

Under the Radar Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, smut, some angst, drinking and getting drunk

Wordcount: 2551

‘Click clack clack’ went your keyboard. Your eyes darted between the two monitors as you typed up research on the location you’d been assigned. The information you’d pulled together was to be used in a mission briefing for a field agent, so it was essential that you included all the background they needed while keeping it concise. Some of your colleagues dismissed these reports as trivial admin, but you never underestimated their importance. You understood that an agent needed to know exactly what they were getting themselves into when they were out in the field.

You leaned back in your chair as you proofread the text, carefully tuning out the steady hum of the office noise around you.

Your eyes briefly caught his from across the office floor. Bright blue, ocean blue even. They seemed to sparkle back at you, even in the dreary office lighting. He shot you a hint of a smile so quickly you were barely sure you’d seen it. You smiled back, but he’d already walked away. Typical Nick…always throwing you a few meagre crumbs….

…but still, you’d always gobble them up gratefully.

Nick Fowler. One of the most respected and appraised agents in the CIA. Suave. Unflappable. Fearless. If confidence was cash, Nick was Bill Gates. Everyone in the CIA knew of Nick. Everyone wanted to work with him.

…but none of them knew you were sleeping with him.

In fact, none of them even knew who you were.

Quiet, unassuming, you. Assistant. Hard worker. Tech whiz. Research expert. Your briefing reports were some of the best in the CIA. Thorough. Assured. If someone needed a drive decrypted, they asked you. If someone needed hours of surveillance footage analysed, they asked you. In short, you got shit done. And you got it done well. The agents relied on you to do their jobs.

Yet in spite of your impressive output, you didn’t have a reputation like Nick’s. No. Nothing like it. Your colleagues barely knew your name. You were the quiet one, the shy one. The little mouse diligently working away at her laptop in the background. It was almost as if being a constant high performer meant nobody was ever impressed. It was just taken for granted that you’d work at the standard you always had.

Not that you minded too much. The idea of being the centre of attention didn’t really appeal to you. You liked working with computers more than you did with people. You didn’t always know the right thing to say, you weren’t charismatic like Nick. So you didn’t really mind blending into the background, quietly working out of the spotlight. It was safe. Comfortable.

Still…you couldn’t deny that you sometimes dreamed of working out in the field. Of actually going to the locations you wrote the reports about. Of completing a mission, finding your target. Using actions rather than writing text. Wielding weapons rather than wrangling computers. You knew you were smart enough. You knew you were resourceful enough. You knew you’d probably do a good job of it if you just had the chance…

But you didn’t.

So you kept on. Typing away like you always had. Occasionally dreaming of a different life. Unseen.

Nick had seen you though.

You’d written a report for him a few months ago. It was detailed, comprehensive. You’d cross referenced previous missions in that area and pulled historic records to give him the full picture. You’d meekly knocked on his office door once you’d finished, holding the binder in slightly trembling hands. Nick always made you nervous. Maybe it was his prowess…or maybe it was the teeny tiny crush you’d developed on him over the years. You occasionally stole glances at him from across the office, marvelling at his chiselled jawline, the strong line of his back. You once saw him in a tight white t-shirt after a training session, sweat dripping off his taut muscles, and you had to rush back to your desk to calm down.

Not that you’d ever really spoken to him beyond emailing him his documents and occasionally making him a cup of coffee (he liked milk, not cream, only a dash - the colour shouldn’t be lighter than a walnut).

He’d eyed you with interest as he called you in, watching you carefully as you reminded him of your name (you were sure he wouldn’t remember) and handed the report over.

He picked it up and flicked through as you moved to leave and he asked you to stop.

“This is good” he’d said.

You had smiled in response. “Uh…thank you, Agent Fowler. I worked hard on it”.

“Call me Nick…”

“Oh yes. Uh…thank you Nick”.

I can see you worked hard” he said as his scrutiny switched between you and the report. “The assistants don’t normally pull the archives for these things…”

You nodded. “Yes…well I thought the context was important as this is quite a sensitive area. I thought it would help to…uh….paint the full picture”.

He nodded back solemnly. His face was impossible to read. “I agree”.

He put the pages down and looked up at you. “I appreciate people who go the extra mile”.

You had blushed slightly, the weight of his full focus leaving you uncomfortable in a way that wasn’t altogether awful. You weren’t used to being the centre of anyone’s attention, let alone someone like Nick Fowler.

“You coming to the drinks tonight?” He asked.

Ah yes. The famed after work drinks in the Irish pub downtown. Most of the department went every week, the agents too if they weren’t out on a mission.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh…uh. No…it’s not really my scene…”

He stared back at you, unperturbed by your response. “You should come” he said plainly. “I’ll buy you a drink as a thank you for your hard work”.

You laughed again, assuming it was an empty gesture just to be polite. You didn’t want to inconvenience him. “Oh you don’t have to…I mean it’s fine I-“

“Great. So you’ll come” he said, his face stony.

You just nodded. What else could you say? ‘No’ simply wasn’t an option. If you’d learnt anything in all your time at the CIA, it was that Nick Fowler didn’t take no for an answer.

He went back to his laptop and you took your cue to leave, unsure of what exactly had just happened. But one thing was clear, you’d be there for happy hour tonight. With Nick Fowler…Who had invited you personally. You disguised a smile as you went back to your desk.

Later that night you sat nursing a drink at a busy table as your colleagues chatted and laughed rambunctiously. You didn’t quite fit in like the others did, but you smiled in the right places and laughed along. Some of them had even said it was nice to finally see you out, which somehow felt like both a compliment and a jab at the same time.

Nick was circulating. It made sense, he was in demand. You watched as he seamlessly moved from table to table, making people laugh as he regaled them with war stories from the field and bought everyone rounds of drinks. You felt stiff and uncomfortable in this environment, but clearly this was his natural habitat. You marvelled at his poise in this scenario, he was in his element. You supposed this was why he was so good at his job, he could adapt and thrive in any context.

He hadn’t spoken to you at all. Certainly hadn’t bought you that promised drink - but that was okay. He was busy. He probably forgot. No big deal. Eventually you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, thinking about curling up under your blanket at home and watching an episode of your comfort show. You didn’t want to say you were leaving, knowing your colleagues would drunkenly berate you for heading out early like the goody two shoes you were. So you snuck off and headed to the exit, pulling your coat on as you mentally went through what you had in your fridge at home.

“Leaving so soon?” Said a voice, and suddenly you collided with a wall of muscle. You gasped, peering up into the arresting eyes of Nick Fowler. Your heart pulled in your chest.

“Uh I’m sorry Agent Fowler. Uh yeah I was just..”

“I told you, call me Nick” he scolded. “You can’t go yet…I need to get you that drink.”

“Oh that’s okay…you don’t have to. I was just doing my job I don’t need to be thanked like that-” you babbled.

“What are you having?” He asked casually, as if you hadn’t just declined.

“No really it’s fine…I should really get going-”

“If you don’t tell me I’ll just pick for you so…hope you like vodka soda”.

“Ew…no” you scoffed, then frantically clamped your hand over your mouth when you realised how rude you’d been. “Oh god, sorry I-“

He just chuckled. “Well. That’s more like it”.

So you’d relented and he got you a drink. And another. Then one more. Then suddenly you were in the corner of the bar telling him a terrible joke as he watched you with amusement, his hand propping up his chin. His eyes were on you again and you had quickly discovered how much you liked being on the receiving end of his gaze.

“…and so the CIA agent said, that’s no Russian intel, that’s my Uber Eats account!”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “That is…terrible”.

You laughed in response, even through your tipsy haze knowing that his eye rolling would’ve crushed you if you hadn’t knocked back those drinks. But you had, so you merely grinned at him.

“Oh hush. Lighten up, Agent Fowler…”

“…Nick”.

“Right! Saint Nick…”

“You mean Santa?”

“No!” You scoffed derisively. “I mean you’re the great Nick Fowler…agent extraordinaire…loved by all. Basically a super hero apparently…”

He smirked. “But you don’t think so, huh?”

You scoffed again, your slight inebriation igniting a confidence you never knew you had. “Of course I think so! I read the report from Belarus, heard the story about Vienna…saw the pictures from Edinburgh too. You’re so damn good at what you do it’s…intimidating.”

His smirk grew wider. “Oh, really?”

“Oh shut up” you spat. “You know exactly what kind of reputation you have. Hell, you revel in it. Take tonight for example, you’re Mr. Cool…making everybody laugh and buying drinks like a hotshot. You love it”.

He chuckled. “You got me all figured out, do ya?”

You shrugged, downing the final drops of your drink. The alcohol all went down way too easy. A small voice in your head squeaked in panic telling you to stop talking, but you somehow couldn’t.

“I guess! Am I wrong?” You asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

“There’s more to me than you think” he explained, his gaze suddenly all the more intense. “It’s important that you all of people understand that”.

You blinked at him, confused. “Huh? Why me of all people?”

“Because,” he said calmly. “Your opinion means a lot to me”.

You laughed. “What?? Me? How many drinks have you had - you barely know me…”

He doesn’t blink. “I know you’re smart. I know you’ve been here five years and you’re the best assistant we got. I know that your work makes your senior colleagues look like interns. I know the department basically falls apart when you go on vacation. And I know that, despite all these facts, you don’t get half the recognition or reward that you deserve”.

You swallowed, shocked that he knows anything about you…let alone something like this. “I..uh…”

“…so yes. Your opinion is important to me. Because I respect you immensely and I wouldn’t want one of the smartest colleagues I have to think I’m just some CIA frat boy who thrives off being ‘Mr Cool’…as you so eloquently put it”.

You gawp at him open mouthed, unable to fully grasp what he’s just said. The sheer fact that Nick knows who you are, that he knows all that you do is dizzying. Here you were thinking you were under his radar the whole time…just like everyone else’s…but of course you’d underestimated him.

“I….” You stammered. “No…I don’t think that. I think…you’re a brilliant agent, who deserves all the praise he gets”. You were earnest now, all joking forgotten.

He smiled.

“Well…that’s nice” he took a sip from his whisky. “Wanna know what else I think?” He asked quietly, leaning in so your faces were almost touching. His cologne practically seeping into your shirt.

“W-what?” You whispered.

“I think you’re very pretty” he said lowly.

You gasped, unable to hide how flustered you were. You tried to speak but no words came out, you just looked at the floor - any previous bravado from the alcohol immediately snuffed out. Your shyness was back in full force, you simply didn’t know what to say.

He seemed unperturbed.

“So…” he sighed, picking up his coat. “Am I taking you home?”

And that’s how it started. He’d taken you home and leaned in on your doorstep. He’d kissed you and you’d kissed him back. Your heart had felt like it might burst. You were vibrating. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

You invited him in and he kissed you again. He moved onto the couch where he’d pulled you onto his lap and nibbled on your earlobe. Your hands surveyed his shoulder blades as you melted to his touch and he pulled a way for a moment to check you weren’t too drunk for this. You weren’t. The alcohol seemed to metabolise the second he’d called you pretty. Your head was clearer than it had ever been. This was all you had ever wanted. He’d grinned and said soothing ministrations into your ear as his hands explored every inch of you and his mouth became acquainted with the softness of your skin. His fingers in your hair. His moans against your lips. The cocky, suave Nick Fowler became a different man as he worshipped at the altar of your body and cooed and coaxed, watching you intently with those dangerously blue eyes that seemed to see you entirely. All of you.

He held you tightly as he fucked you in your bed and told you how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how wonderful you were, how perfect it was to be with you. You almost cried tears as you came that first time, overwhelmed with pleasure and your head spinning with the revelation that Nick wanted you the way that you wanted him. You vowed you’d remember this moment forever as he spooned you afterwards, his chin resting on your shoulder as his heavy breathing morphed into gentle snores and you drifted off to sleep in his arms..

And now?

Idiot. What an idiot you’d been. How foolish to think he saw you how you saw him. A few nice words and he had you in the palm of his hand. How easy it must’ve been for him.

You were simply Nick Fowler’s dirty little secret. A hidden shame he didn’t want the rest of the office to know about.

And the worst part was...

…You always came back for more.

>Chapter Two - Beige

#Nick Fowler #nick fowler x you #Nick Fowler x reader #the 355 #sebastian stan #under the radar fic

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ead13 · 3 months ago

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I would not be the first to suggest the great potential of MWRook x Emmerich, but have you considered...

...that despite what the game would have us believe, MW Rook absolutely knows who he is during their time with the Mourn Watch, because honestly, how many people are higher than he is within the organization? The man was on track to become a lich lord, and even if the average Mourn Watcher doesn't know about the lich lords, that still puts him at the forefront of Mourn Watch business, to say nothing of his work as senior necromancer, professor, and one of the few corpse whisperers alive in this era. Dude is at the top of his game! Meanwhile...

...MW Rook is a novice. Maybe that's because they are young and haven't had many years of training, especially due to leaving the Necropolis for a time. Or maybe they are actually fairly advanced in age and just don't have the skills needed to advance. Bonus points if they can't use magic, and that holds them back from advancement, keeping them relegated to more of the chores around the necropolis. Before the whole War of Banners incident, their sole claim to fame was being that one baby who was found by undead workers in the Necropolis. Simply put...

...MW Rook is totally out of their league, and they know it. When they go to fetch Emmerich, they struggle to call him anything but Professor Volkarin, despite his insistence that they use his first name. Their entire leader persona that they have been developing as Rook goes out the window as they instinctively defer to him. Despite all the ways they find themselves attracted to him, they sincerely believe they don't stand a chance in heck, but hey, world might end, so may as well shoot your shot, right? Except....

...while Emmerich may not have known them in the Mourn Watch, when he sees glimpses of the true Rook that appears when with the other companions, he is smitten and frankly a bit jealous. Why won't they be as open with him? He has never once been described as unapproachable, so this genuinely confuses him. And the flirting? Can't be serious. They probably see him only for his influence and wealth, or maybe the living embodiment of several kinks. It wouldn't be the first time, not by a long shot. Given his age, and the fact that they know very well who he is, this is particularly likely. This relationship is dead in the water until...

...they start talking shop. MW Rook is not a fade expert on par with Emmerich, but sometimes he makes a comment about life in the Necropolis and they can't help but chime in with memories of home. It turns a bit sentimental, and Rook realizes Emmerich really is approachable. Emmerich realizes they care more about the necropolis than they let on. The walls lower and things start to click but the journey is just starting, because...

...Rook needs to work on assigning themself worth beyond their role as "the one who will make decisions, damn the consequences". Being abandoned as a baby has never helped their self-esteem, and the glaring difference in status between them and Emmerich is hard to surmount. They just don't deserve the love of someone as amazing as Emmerich! Meanwhile, Emmerich doggedly builds them up, finding all the small ways he finds them wonderful and making them known. The man doesn't lack confidence, after all, and this is strictly platonic. However, once Rook has more confidence...

...the flirting gets even more serious, and Emmerich can't keep hiding behind his assumption that this is just a game to Rook. What starts as a "hey, world might end so what do I have to lose by flirting back?" situation quickly becomes more tangled as he grapples with his age and how desirable he actually is to a romantic partner. He KNOWS he can please them, at least for a time, but no one ever sticks around for the long term. Plus, there's the issue of him wanting to become a lich. If this isn't going to be casual fun, is it really fair for Rook to burden them with all the baggage he brings into a relationship?

In the end, their genuine love for one another, built on a foundation of trust and respect, is enough to push the issues into the open. They talk it all out, all those fears and lies they tell themselves, exposed to one another. MW Rook and Emmerich come to see each other for the human beings they are rather than the reputations and roles they have been assigned, and once that clicks for both of them, it is game over, power couple.

So, yeah, it's great that MW Rook and Emmerich share common experiences and knowledge, but have you all considered the potential for delicious angst that stems from power imbalance in this scenario?

#dragon age veilguard #rook ingellvar #emmerich volkarin #emmrook #dragon age emmerich

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angelasscribbles · 1 year ago

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Savage Love Chapter 37: Gone

Series: Savage Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: R

Warnings: Mature themes, violence, guns

Word Count: 987

A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's been five months since I posted an update for this! I've known since before I started writing it back in December 2021 how it's going to end. This is the downside of having so many ideas.... I can't work on all of them at once.

That said, this is a bit shorter than my regular chapters, but I just needed to see what Drake was doing while Riley was in Hidar in her quest to take down the Via Imperii and Leo was in Rivala getting the shock of his life. The next chapter will bring everyone back together again in Cordonia.

A/N2: I realize it's been a while and readers may be confused with all the OC's in this chapter, so here's a rundown. Nick is Riley's ex-fiance and also another GIA agent. Frederico Sanchez is Nick's informant. Saguaro Laurent is the head of The Gladius Company. Lorenzo is not in this chapter but is mentioned as a loan shark to whom Tariq owed money and who, on Saguaro's orders, leveraged Tariq's gambling debt to get him to abduct Riley (Tariq failed and was murdered for his failure, Lorenzo is in custody at the palace). Rico Mendez is the son of a former mafia don who wants revenge for Riley using him to take down his father's organization.

My other stuff: Master List.

Series Premise: Agent Riley Brooks is undercover on assignment in New York when she has a one-night stand with a handsome, mysterious stranger. Both of them hiding their true identities, names are not exchanged. After one scorching night, they part ways, both returning to the duties they have pledged their lives to. Fast forward several months later and Agent Brooks is assigned a new case: investigate and infiltrate any Via Imperi influences in the small, Mediterranean country of Cordonia. Her cover? Posing as a suitor competing for the hand of the crown prince. Her way in? Civilian contractor and cyber security expert Maxwell Beaumont.

Drake…..

Nick and I arrived at the warehouse where we were meeting his contact in the Liberation Core. The one that had gotten me a meeting with the head of the Gladius Company.

The air in the dimly lit warehouse was thick with tension as we made our way through the maze of crates toward their rendezvous point. The echo of our footsteps ricocheted off the walls, adding to the sense of foreboding that permeated the atmosphere.

Nick's informant, a wiry man named Frederico Sanchez, stood waiting nervously near the entrance. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning for any signs of danger. As we approached, Sanchez straightened up and extended a shaky hand.

"Drake," Sanchez said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nice to finally meet you. Nick here has told me a lot about you."

I nodded curtly, assessing Sanchez's demeanor. I could see the fear etched into the man's face, evidence of the high stakes involved in the mission. Time was of the essence; we needed to infiltrate The Gladius Company as quickly as possible.

"Likewise," I replied as I returned the man’s handshake. “Now let’s go over the plan before we meet with your guy.”

Being on the same page was crucial. If any of these guys got a whiff that this was a setup, we were both dead. Nick would stay in the surveillance van, ready as backup if necessary. He couldn’t be seen by Saguaro or any of the men he’d brought with him from New York. They’d recognize the GIA agent that had brought down their last organization in an instant.

We poured over the plan twenty times, looking for inconsistencies, committing our cover story to memory, and working out the kinks. When it was time to go, I waved goodbye to Nick and got in a nondescript sedan with Sanchez. A quick check-in with headquarters told me that they had picked up Lorenzo’s contact, but he wasn’t talking.

With any luck, we wouldn’t need him to. I was hoping to set eyes on Rico when I met with Saguaro. If he was there, I was giving the order to breach. I knew what Nick’s objective was, but I didn’t give two shits about arresting Saguaro Laurent. It was Rico I was after. The man that had sent a kidnapper, albeit a bad one, after the woman I love.

The American justice system had failed and released a known mobster, allowing him to slip through their security net. But he wasn’t in America anymore. He was on my turf, and I had a literal license to kill.

Rico Mendez would spend the rest of his life in a Cordonian prison, or he would die, and it didn’t matter much to me which one it was. All I cared about was getting him off the streets and keeping Riley safe.

We arrived at the rendezvous spot, but nothing went according to plan.

I found myself in another damn warehouse. This one was on the waterfront and, if our intel was correct, not far from the empty factory that was serving as headquarters for The Gladius Company.

We arrived first and waited. Saguaro and his men were late, which only served to ramp up the already rapidly percolating anxiety in the man at my side.

Sanchez was too damn twitchy. Saguaro picked up on it instantly. He barely glanced at me before fixing Sanchez with a piercing stare. “What’s the problem, Freddy?”

“What?” Sanchez tried to laugh it off. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

Saguaro’s flinty eyes squinted at him, then flicked to me as his hand went to his waist. I had my gun in my hand before he could pull his. “Don’t do it! I really don’t want to shoot anyone today, but I will if I have to. What’s the problem?”

Saguaro moved his hand away from his piece and put his arms in the air. A flash of metal in my periphery caught my attention. “Get down!” I hit the ground just a shot rang out. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down.

Men scattered everywhere. We were outnumbered, but not for long. I could hear Nick in my earpiece giving the order to breach. Sanchez was hit. I drug him with me out of the line of fire, ducking behind a stack of metal barrels as the rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire spattered all around us.

“Hey, Laurent!” I craned my neck to peek around the barricade.

The only answer I got was more gunfire. I retreated back behind the stack of barrels for safety as my team poured into the building.

Now they were outnumbered, and the warehouse was surrounded. Less than fifteen minutes later, Saguaro and his men were cuffed and being loaded into the back of several guard-issue SUVs.

“Johnson, hold up!” I jogged quickly across the asphalt to intercept the lieutenant escorting the head of Gladius Company to one of the waiting vehicles. I grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him roughly up against the car. “Where’s Mendez? Was he with you?”

“Fuck you!” He lurched forward in an attempt to headbutt me, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. I snapped my head sideways, causing him to stumble forward.

I grabbed his shoulders to steady him, then brought my knee up hard into his gut. “I look forward to interrogating you, asshole.”

I beelined for the tactical van. Bursting into the mobile command center, I demanded, “Did we get Mendez?”

“Sorry, man, no,” Nick shook his head. “No sign of him. But the good news is, we got Saguaro and his second in command. There’s a second team sweeping their headquarters now. We successfully took The Gladius Company down!”

He was far too jubilant for what I considered a botched mission. I slammed out of the van with a huff. Goddamn it!

Rico was in the wind.

#savage love #agent riley brooks #captain drake walker #prince liam rys #trr fanfic #trr au #angelasscribbles #trr poly #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #trr #choices #liam rys #drake walker #choices fanfiction #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play #drake walker x mc #liam rys x mc

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is-this-plural · 1 year ago

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Hey plurals just wanted to ask, for years I got through all my school assignments by "talking to myself" in different coloured pen inks in margins around questions, eventually each colour got a personality.

We used to be an organise our thoughts thing, but recently I gave the three of us names and we take turns on rotation being in charge of assignments. That turned into each of us getting an entire day to just bask in our own self, and one of us, our Astor, started organising tasks and studying willingly for assignments that fall on days for the other two.

Now all of a sudden our little assignment council turned into gaslighting ourself into doing self care by doing it for our dear friend, stuff like "If I don't eat today Orion won't feel good tomorrow", and such.

Anyway, I never thought of it like plurality till I found this blog, so chat, is this plural?

let me preface this by saying that telling real people whether or not they r plural is not the focus of this blog, and we are not any kinds of experts, i will say, as my PERSONAL opinion, that sounds plural. you dont have to call yourself plural, but if the arrangement is working out for you and you like the label plural, youre free to do so. of course, u know urself best so if you DONT think youre plural thats great too. tl;dr do you want to be

#the asks are plural #the anons are plural #mod 🐾#other mods feel free to add to this

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caramel1mochi · 2 years ago

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Hi! May I request a fic or HCs (if you’re comfortable with one of these choices) involving Ryo Kiritani (Yoru) with VP agent![Reader] [Gender Neutral or Female] [Romantic] gifting him a new knife to add in his collection? I think it’s canon he has a hobby like that and [Reader] happen to pick one up from their previous mission.

Surprise! [Request]

Here you are, hope it's a good one! The request was kinda short. I tried my best to make due, haha.

Words: 1500+

❤ฺ·。

You and the cold never got along well. And that includes any country that involves it. Like Russia, Canada, Norway, that sort.

So when you were assigned a mission in Icebox, of course it felt like the longest day of your life. From the fur on your coat making you sneeze every other second, to the enemies bringing every single person who had a flash along. Now, your eyes were burning too.

But after what felt like days, it was thankfully over, and you were making your way to the aircraft from mid with something in your pocket for your other half.

Then, you felt a slap on your back.

“Hey bestie! Did you see me back there? It was insane! I would’ve gotten all of them if it wasn’t for–”

You sneezed, a quiet achoo. And as per usual, Jett couldn’t stifle her laughter, slapping your back again.

“Your sneezes are so cute!”

“You’re making the fur fly into my nose!”

“I’m doing you a favour. Just sneeze around Yoru and I bet he’d act like he was under a love spell!”

You met her gaze in confusion.

“He’s already my boyfriend, remember?”

“Tomato tomato.”

She shrugged. And with a sigh, you pulled out the object in your pocket, the gentle rays of the sun reflecting off of it.

“Hey, when’d you get this?”

“Not mine. Yoru dropped it when he ran in behind them, I wanna give it back.”

“Cool! I’ve never seen this before. He’s been whining about his collection lately, did he get this?”

As blunt as her statement was, Yoru had been thinking about getting a new knife to spice things up. You went to a bladesmith secretly to find something a few days ago, but none of it seemed like it would impress him. Of course, you were disappointed he bought a new knife before you did.

She suddenly took it from your hands and began playing with it.

“Careful, Yoru gets mad if there’s one imperfection.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, I’m an expert at knives. I killed two of them today with just two! I think all the practice is finally paying off.”

“Yeah?”

But before you could continue the conversation, the distant chatter of your teammates took over the sound of the ice crunching under your shoes, the aircraft sitting right next to them. Viper, who had her hands on her hips, noticed you whilst she was talking and waved you all over.

Jett quickly handed you back the pocket knife.

“I have to go yell at Phoenix, he ruined my killstreak!”

And with that, she disappeared into the aircraft, leaving you to join the conversation Viper was having with Yoru and Sage who seemed relieved to see you. But what caught your eye was that Yoru was flipping his signature butterfly comb in his hand. Did he seriously bring two knives?

“Good, you’re here. Are you hurt at all, Y/N?”

Sage asked and you shook your head with a smile, struggling to suppress an upcoming sneeze.

“Then let’s go back. This weather is sickening.”

Viper noted before she and Sage quickly entered the VLT/R, leaving you alone with Yoru.

“Hey, princess. What took you so long?”

“Oh, you know, Jett was bragging about toda–”

You sneezed, cupping your hands on your cold, cold face.

“Yea, I saw her. Keep this between us, but it was pretty good.”

Unlike your friends, Yoru didn’t react to your sneezing and simply continued the conversation. After the fifth time, it got old and he didn’t care as much as your friends did. But to be fair, when did he ever care?

“Yo, how many knives did you bring today?”

“One. Why?”

Though you asked in a way to somewhat tease him, his reaction left you confused.

“Just one?”

“Yeah, this one.”

He flipped his butterfly comb shut and held it up, raising an eyebrow.

“Is the cold getting you, or something? Hurry up, let’s get you warm before something happens to you.”

“I’m not a kid–”

Before you could complete your sentence, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside the aircraft, shutting you up as politely as he could. But that doesn’t mean you weren’t weirded out by what he just told you.

If this wasn’t his knife, then whose was it? On the handle, there clearly was an oni engraving. Even down to the way the horns would stick out with impressive sharpness, how the creature’s devilish eyes were slanted downwards and providing a formidable villainous aura. It screamed Yoru in every possible sense.

…whatever. You’ll worry your head off when you’re warm. You lay your head on Yoru’s shoulder and were basically half-asleep the whole ride back to the base.

❤ฺ·。

Your nose was red, and so were your cheeks. Your hands were ice cold, lips and the tips of your fingers a light shade of blue.

With all of this combined, you were now locked up in your room covered with, at the very least, three thick wool blankets, one Yoru brought himself in order to keep you warm, and one of his thick hoodies before he had left to make you that drink to warm you up. Which you hoped would be hot chocolate.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but he knew what he was getting into by dating you. He calls you ‘princess’ for a reason, after all.

But this situation was perfect for you.

In your hand lay that pocket knife. Clean from the soot after today’s mission. And now you knew now where it came from.

Considering that Yoru wanted a new knife for his collection, and this wasn’t something he bought recently, it would make the perfect gift for one reason.

What knife could possibly impress your pedantic boyfriend? That’s right, a knife he himself would have.

The door slid open and Yoru’s familiar footsteps echoed through the quiet space, before it slammed shut. You lifted yourself from the blankets with a smile, hiding the weapon in your sleeves with a cheeky idea in mind.

“Hey. Still up for tea?”

“Tea? Pshh. You’re so lame.”

“You’re out of cocoa powder.”

“I’m out of what?”

He shrugged and sat next to you.

“Phoenix took it, but you didn’t hear it from me. Call me if you guys start fistfighting, though.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him closer to you, wrapping the blankets around him as well. But you couldn’t help but be annoyed at Phoenix. Though he’s your friend, he stole the last remaining cocoa.

You’ll cancel his Christmas, for sure.

You grabbed the cup of tea with your free hand so as to not let the weapon accidentally slip out. The herbal scent of the drink filled your nostrils, the heat of it gently warming up your trachea. You never liked tea before you met him, but he somehow made matcha anything taste heavenly.

Then, you straightened your back and stared at his face.

“What?”

“Yo, I think there’s something behind your ear.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“My what?”

“Let me get that for you.”

You brought your hand to his right ear out of his vision. Then, you slowly drew it back, the pocket knife slowly appearing within your hands like magic.

“Woah, babe, what is this?”

You called out with faux shock, unable to keep yourself from grinning. His eyes glimmered with an immense amount of confusion as he watched you dangle the object between your fingers, before smiling and lightly slapping your arm.

“Stop. That’s so cheesy.”

You giggled. It really was.

Yoru took the knife from your hand and observed the handle the same way a critic would. Though his expression remained as vacant as it always was, you could tell he was impressed.

The oni on it was something he’d definitely come up with, so it left him awestruck in every sense of the word.

“Woah. Where’d you buy this?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets, babe.”

He clicked his tongue and met your gaze.

“Cut me some slack, princess. Didn’t I show you my knives before?”

Yoru jokingly pouted, earning a chuckle from you.

He was fairly hush hush about his collection, considering how much his friends liked to ask for his things. Knives, food, hair gel, jackets, that stuff. Not even Raze saw a single knife from it. But so what if he showed you something he’d never ever show to anyone else unless he was six feet under, right?

Okay, that sounded bad.

You took a sip with a shrug, allowing the fluid to warm up your digestive system. And only within a few seconds, it succeeded ten times more than the blankets ever could. At least you weren’t senselessly sneezing.

As he observed the open knife in his hand, you cuddled up to him, closing your eyes.

“Fine, you big baby. I stole it from your double’s body.”

…

Yeah. From the look on your face, he could tell you weren’t joking whatsoever.

“Weirdo.”

You lightly laughed, taking another sip of your matcha tea.

#yoru x reader #yoru x f reader #yoru x femreader #yoru x fem reader #valorant #yoru #yoru valorant #fanfiction #valorant fanfiction #valorant oneshots #x reader

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