#betta reader

[quarterlifekitty]

give us more tropical fleshlight reader dont be shy pls

You know I read abt mating behavior of fish for this and found out

1) apparently mating between barracudas is largely mysterious and unknown

2) male bettas will wrap around the females to help them release their eggs

So I’ve been thinking of reader being all uncomfortable because she can’t release her eggs on her own and Soap being soooooooooo slow to realize she needs his help

Don’t look at me

[riaki]

santa claus and his treats | satoru gojo x f!reader pt.1 of christmas event! wc: 3.4k oops i went overboard | cw: petnames, literally j pure fluff ur both STUPID in love, he’s the cutest! happy birthday pretty boy 🧸

"'toru?" you called, voice filling the dimly lit room as you peeked your head in through the door. the curtains were drawn, the iridescent green tinsel dotted with soft yellow lights framing the doorway of your bedroom scratching your neck as you spotted the white-haired boy sitting on your shared bed, picking at something on his lower lip.

you took a moment to drink in the sight— his soft white hair that fell over dazzling sky-blue eyes, the color of the lake dotted with fragile crystalline snowflakes that melted into fresh spring streams that fed nature with new growth and fresh flower buds, a tangible warmth when his gaze fell on you and an easy smile stretched across his pink lips. a little too easy, you think. easy enough for you to miss the way he swipes a coffee brown crumb from his cheek; the smile has too much sugar and cream for you to buy it.

your eyes slowly drift from his charming grin to the rest of the room. there's a forest green tuft of leaves hanging from the ceiling on a thin golden string; you recognize the crimson red berries and waxed leaves with spots of pearl dotting as a bunch of mistletoe, hanging right over the mattress. clearly, he thought ahead.

you snuff the flush from your cheeks as he perks up at the sight of you, straightening his back. "hey, baby! you must be my present from santa this year," he laughs, holding his arms out, an invitation for you to crawl into his arms and curl up on his lap like two warm cats by the fireplace. you almost gave in— until you remembered why you were looking for him.

"you're getting coal this time, satoru." you said, huffing as you walked over to the mattress and put your hands on your hips, attempting to come off as intimidating in front of your boyfriend as you leaned over and stared down at him. he just giggled that sweet, boyish laughter of his, scooting closer and capturing you between two strong arms to tug you onto the bed with him. the sheets were soft, and they smelled like him as he pulled you onto his lap and cuddled you like a life-sized plushie, all warmth and soft comfort that he craved so much.

"aww, really? but it's my birthday today," he sighed loudly, shaking his head as he firmly planted his hands on either side of your head to prevent you from worming away and planting a loud smooch on the top of your hair, before laughing as you pulled away from his grasp and gave him a glare. “besides, you’re anything but a bad gift.” he smiles.

“don’t sweet talk me, ‘toru. you’ve been naughty this year.” he wiggles his eyebrows at that, and you shoot him a sharp glare which just earns you a light scoff, but there’s a smile mirrored on both of your lips.

(maybe they’ve met so many times in the past that they know how to copy the other flawlessly.)

"but you're already here, my love. lookin' all pretty like the angel on top of our tree." he hums, crossing his legs and holding his ankles as he rocks back and forth; the teddy bear he won you from the arcade on your first date is face planted into the pillows by his side, donning a festive red santa hat. the white fluffy pom pom looks like satoru's hair, and you stifle a laugh at the thought.

"how kind of you, satoru." and you mean it— he looks like his own christmas angel; snowy hair and pretty blue eyes clad in a loose black tee with cheap printed red and green christmas lights over his chest. he looks unfairly attractive with those gray sweatpants on, too. you wouldn't mind wrapping him up in yellow ribbon and presenting him to your parents this year as your holiday present from santa, and then having your own fun with him later. you suppose you must've been perfectly good to land him; so pretty and fun, bubbling laughter that speaks of his care in volumes. and he’s their soon-to-be son-in-law, after all. and he’s a golden catch.

but it’s time for this white betta to be put in his place; he’s gone snooping where he shouldn’t have— or rather, scavenging would be the more appropriate choice. and he’s about to be skinned for entering the lion(fish)'s den. your matching red-green plaid pajama pants won't save him this time.

"sorry, baby, but you can't talk yourself out of this one." you said firmly, scooting closer to him as you sat back on your knees and gave him a look as pointed and narrow as the icicles melting on the frosted awnings. to anyone else, you might look like a wet, angry cat— but to satoru, it was enough to strike fear straight into the center of his heart. his fight-or-flight response kicked in (it only ever did with you)— and it was as if you could see the change in his demeanor. his eyes voluntarily softened, lids drooping as a lazy smile drifted over his lips like fluffy white clouds over a pale sun on a winter's morning.

"aww, don't be like that. my princess looks so much prettier when she's happy," he coos, all milk and honey as he reaches out and catches your wrist, rubbing his thumb over your pulse beating beneath your soft skin as he brings it to his lips and kisses your knuckles. so he chooses to fight, and you almost fold— almost.

you twist your arm in his grasp, eliciting a whiny yelp of pain; getting him to let go of you as you quickly flick his forehead. even so, he lets you-- he never turns infinity on around you, even at the price of his own sanctity.

you sighed when he gave you a dramatic pout, sticking out his bottom lip as he hung his head low in defeat like a golden retriever being scolded by his owner, soft hair falling over his pretty blues. his hands come up to cradle his head, rubbing the spot where you'd knicked him. "don't play around, satoru. where are the cookies i baked last night?" you asked, reflecting his frown with a pointed glare. if looks could cut, he'd be a red christmas on the cloudlike sheets. you were tired of beating around the bush, especially when satoru had a knack for making it utterly exhausting. nevertheless, it went on.

"maybe santa came early," he quipped, giggling at his own joke. "you never know, huh? he's an unpredictable old geezer. likes his milk and cookies, or so i heard."

"didn't know santa claus had the six eyes." you deadpanned, crossing your arms over your chest and looking him square in the eyes. "and he shaved his beard off, apparently." he feigns hurt, holding a hand over his heart in mock anguish.

"i'm no thief! it hurts me to know you think of me so low, sweetheart." he sighs dramatically, shaking his head. outside, the snowy wind howls in agreement. "besides, it's my birthday. you're suffocating the spirit, honey." he drawls.

you just roll your eyes at that, crossing your arms and shifting to sit closer to him. you will your irritated expression to soften, and it's reflected in the way satoru immediately relaxes, shoulders sagging as the anxious look in his eyes vanishes like the wilting ghost of fall on a christmas eve, leaving behind the scent of bluebells and frost on the wind. he thinks you've forgiven him.

that's just what you need. for him to let his guard down so you can spring the trap on him. santa may be able to get away with his yearly trespassing, but satoru's entered the property of more than your heart this time, and it's time for his holiday retribution.

"give me your hand, satoru." you said softly, voice barely a breath above a whisper. he obliges almost immediately, scooting closer on the bed so that his knees graze against yours, and you hear him suck in a little breath at the contact as your hand finds his.

you take his palm in your own; his hands are considerably bigger than yours, but you still manage to run a thumb over the ridges of his knuckles, gently massaging the soft skin over weary bones. a sweet little noise leaves his breathless lips; it's almost like a purr, and when you glance up at him he's almost as red as the glittering velvet bulbs dangling from the primmed branches of your christmas tree. he looks away, a subtle pout weighing down on his lips as he coughs loudly, as if the amber sap of a pine tree has caught in his throat, scratchy like tree bark.

"what are you doing?" he whispers, voice rough and hoarse, like someone took a fireplace stoker and poked his throat. almost a protest.

but you can feel him melting into you, and soon enough, he’s sandwiched you between his warmth and the fluffy blankets, the scent of apples and cinnamon weaved between the strands of his soft white hair as they tickle your flushed skin. his lips are soft and pliant and warm against your own; he's all over you, hands finding your wrists to trace tender, wobbly circles over your thrumming pulse with his thumb. he's robbing your lungs of air, needy in the way he cages you between his lanky limbs, lock and key with his free hand threading through your hair. he can never get enough of you, and he throws his inhibitions to the frostbitten wind if they mean learning to resist you.

it's spread around you like ripples on the surface of a misty lake, and when he draws away to stare down at you, eyes blown wide with a certain shine in his eye that reminds you of glowing embers, jumping from the lively blossom of fire on the grated dark metal of a hearth, there's a cheeky lopsided grin on his glossy lips. his fingers are slender, pale and callused, a gentle flushed at the tips.

"there was a mistletoe," he says breathlessly, as if that'll excuse him. as if he needs an excuse to kiss you. you just laugh, reaching up to trace his jaw with a finger, and he shudders despite the heater inside your room. the bunch of green leaves and red berries hanging above you sways in agreement.

but you can't focus on the dreamy look on his face; that lazy smile that dances over his lips and illuminates his features like twinkling christmas lights catching on each edge of a carefully cut snowflake, the sky's jewels. every time he looks at you as if you've crafted each intricacy of his world; patched the colors together and taught the light to reflect, you feel as though there are bubbles in your throat, and you have to cough them away when they're accompanied by a familiar rush of heat to your face.

it's all overpowered. strongly, by the rich taste of cinnamon. rich, sweet, distinctly festive, mixed with brown sugar and cookie batter; flour on the matching aprons satoru bought for the two of you, except the 'he' on 'he cooks' has been messily crossed out and replaced with a scribble that says 'she', and vice versa. it's on his tongue, his lips, the little dips on the corner of his mouth that makes him look like a kitten every time he grins. it tastes like wearing matching christmas sweaters, sampling sweet treats fresh out of the oven and laughing cheerily in your little cozy kitchen of warmth when he burns his tongue, a sour look on his face that wrinkles his nosebridge.

but, most importantly, it tastes like condemnation.

you sit up, briefly (and painfully) knocking foreheads with him when he's too slow to mirror your actions, but the complaint that's ready to stain the air like chimney soot dies on his tongue when he sees the look on your face. you look the same as you did the first time you found out he'd forgotten to pick up megumi and tsumiki from school. in other words, pissed.

"hey, pretty girl. you should smile; you look less like an ogre when you do—" he hastily starts, laughing nervously as he runs his hands through his messy hair. you've noticed that whenever you neglect to toy with the silky soft strands when you're tangled with him, whether it be kissing, cuddling, or... something else, he'll do it afterward as if to emulate the feeling of your fingers in his hair, even if it 'screws it up'. apparently, his skyscraper ego is too fragile to ask for headscratches.

"just a minute, satoru." you cut him off through gritted teeth, lips that should be stretched in a wide smile pressed together in frustration. your eyes narrow as you straighten up, sitting back on your ankles. "you ate them, didn't you?" your fingers dig into his skin, pinching his cheek. if his skin wasn't already stained crimson with boyish excitement, it would be an angry red now. you give killer pinches; he knows firsthand.

which is why he should've thought ahead and listened to the angel on his shoulder when you were knocked out earlier, curled up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, snoozing away. what was he to do? the cookies you'd made were calling his name. and it was for his birthday, and they were made for him. so why couldn't he indulge?

this was why.

and you know you've pinned him with your accusation like a throwing dart on a cork board; the way his gaze bounces around the room and his smile turns a hint sheepish and a handful guilty speaks volumes enough before he can even protest. but he can feel your wrath like an entire mine's worth of coal in his stockings, so he quickly throws his hands up, shimmying away from your angry pinch. the sheets bunch beneath him.

"listen, sweets, i just thought that— well, i'm sorry, baby, they just looked so good. and i only ate a few! i swear." satoru says solemnly, getting on his knees and throwing himself before you. he knows you're unamused— sitting there, crosslegged, looking down at him as if he's some chewed up gum you found on the bottom of your shoe. he might as well be. blueberry flavored, maybe? or mint, he's fine with that too—

"so you did." you just sigh, flicking his hunched shoulders, before you go soft again, and he sees pink. you reach forward, fingers creeping beneath his chin to tilt his face up. his skin is soft and warm beneath your skin, thrumming with a life and heat the poor overworked radiator in your room could never measure up to. and when he does look up, his starstruck gaze meets your own; you look ethereal in the warm light, and he wonders why he hasn't put a ring on your finger or started a family with you yet. maybe that can be the last gift to top off the cake of your overflowing knitted stocking, hanging from the kitchen counter; a mahogany box with golden hinges who's shine pales in comparison to the diamond ring in the center of the velvet.

he tucks the idea into his mental notes and grins, a cheeky flash of teeth. "so you forgive me, right?"

wrong. he should know better than to push his luck. especially when it comes to you.

the hand beneath his chin creeps up his face to squeeze his cheeks together, forcing his lips to pucker like a fish out of water as he tries to escape to no avail. you glare down at him, all needles. not at all in the holiday spirit, if you ask him. his face is squishy as a pillow beneath your fingers, and a smile resurfaces on your lips after a long struggle to keep it submerged.

he opens his mouth, no doubt to wail like a newborn, and you quickly withdraw, knowing better than to continue your assault. "geez! okay, fine. sorry. i ate them, you grinch." he grumbles, rubbing his squished cheek as he pouts and looks away, shrinking in on himself. his shirt is bundled beneath his arms, slipping off one of his shoulders to expose a pleasant flush on his neck. "seriously! you're such a killjoy. there's no fun in waiting," he smiles mischievously, wiggling his toes and nudging you with his foot. the fabric of his fuzzy reindeer socks bumps against your thigh, and you make another face at the red pom poms on the crudely-knit rudolph face.

"apologize." you emphasize each syllable, letting them fall off your tongue. they jut into his side like blows to his ribs; he falls back onto the bed for extra dramatics, letting it squeak beneath his weight.

"oh, the horror! to think that i'd be reduced to such a state—"

"satoru."

"—that i, head of the gojo clan, the honored one—”

"satoru gojo."

"should be forced to bow to such pious customs at the foot of scrooge—"

"gojo!"

you reach over to threateningly pinch him again, and he rolls away, tossing a fuzzy pillow into the air and kicking it at you like he's playing some cursed form of tennis. you scowl, catching the cushion and tossing it back at him. it lands square on his face, and he whines, crying about how you've ruined his beautiful, youthfully full, gorgeous face; how is he ever going to pretend to be santa and let pretty girls sit on his lap now? —and that one earns him another pinch to his arm.

"okay, okay! i'm sorry, my love. you're not the grinch, or scrooge, and i shouldn'tve eaten the cookies." he sighs, excruciatingly slow as he inches towards you again, wary of but wanting your warmth all the same. it's too cold to be alone this morning, anyway.

"without me." you corrected, unable to wipe the light grin from your face, and you watch as his face lights up, like a kid seeing his dream christmas present in the window display of a bright shop, hidden behind frosted glass and cold air.

he sits up again, scooting close and opening his arms once more. this time, you oblige, throwing yourself onto him and wrapping your arms around his neck. now he’s the one with his back flush against the mattress, soft as a cloud of cotton candy. he laughs, and it rumbles through his chest when his hands find the back of your head and he tucks your head beneath his chin, cradling your neck.

"without—" punctuated with a kiss to the top of your head, "you." satoru finishes, and you can hear the grin in his voice, cheery as a christmas carole. his arms snake around your waist, squeezing lightly as one hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt to gently rub your back. his fingers against your skin feels like the touch of a butterfly, wings like stained glass.

"how about this, pretty? we can make more together." he suggests, resting his chin on top of your head. you're smushed into his chest, the printed material of his christmas light t-shirt scratching your face, and the only thing you can manage to breathe is the cheap cologne you bought him (you don't understand why he uses it when he could afford the best of his own), but suddenly you can't bring yourself to mind. so you nod, and he chuckles.

"d'ya still wanna do cinnamon?" he asks softly, slipping his free hand into your hair to play with the strands, holding you close and cozy in his embrace. the burning heat of friction between your numb hands or a roaring fireplace don't compare to the warmth he brings you, soft and sweet and painfully human. and you can't really make yourself feel upset at the pretty boy with snow-white hair holding you anymore.

"nah. let's do peanut butter chocolate chip." you hum, muffled, and he laughs, hearty and full, the kind that makes his entire body tremble a little. and you can feel it, so you tilt your head up to peer up at him. there's a stray pine needle in his hair; must've been from your hazardously decorated christmas tree. he looks down at you and smiles, brushing your hair from your eyes and leaning in to kiss your forehead. it’s like a crimson wax stamp sealing his love letter to you.

he cuddles you close, tufts of his soft hair tickling your face like a tacky christmas sweater. "sounds unhealthy. but whatever you want, baby. santa's gonna give you all you ask this year." and this time, he doesn't use the mistletoe as an excuse to brush his lips against yours when you move to pick the pine needle from his hair. he smells like vanilla, swirled like espresso with a hint of cinnamon.

he may have enjoyed his cookies and milk without you, but there's nowhere else he’d rather be— no one else he'd rather share the rest of his time with, be it baking, decorating, or lazy naps in each other’s arms. after all, half the jolliness of the holiday season comes from being with you.

fish analogies went crazy… happy bday gojo !!! my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[luvsizedfrellie]

In a big need of Ellie x femme!reader fics where the reader is a cocky lil' shit!!! like, be so fr… i ain't no shy, innocent-ass girl, my mind filthy, got so many nasty thoughts they need to lock me up and when i like somebody? oh i do not play that subtle shit, 'm droppin' hints so fat you could trip over 'em!! more readers who know what she want and gon' get it!!

[it-happened-one-fic]

Play the Fool - Dottore (Part 3)

Author's Notes: I've finally figured out how many fics it's going to take for me to finish this unplanned series. Just like the previous parts, I listened to "Black Sea" by Natasha Blume while writing this. Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Mer-Dottore/ Merman AU/ gender-neutral reader/ I'm not gonna label this as fluff since that doesn't feel quite right, but know that it's NOT angst, yandere, or anything like that

Word Count: 1468

Trigger Warning: Discussion of past crimes including murder (Dottore), Fatui are generally shady

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three: You're Here!} {Part Four} {Part Five}

EDIT: Entire series now available on AO3! (link deleted due to glitches)

My cover job of cleaning Dottore’s tank was slippery work, but I’d managed to get some of the Fatui employees to bring over yet another, curiously identical wheeled tank for me to dump the green gunk that the harbinger had concocted into.

I clambered out of the newly cleaned tank, glancing around and noting that there was no one left in the room save for myself. Which was exactly what I needed, but was also very suspicious.

I couldn’t help but feel that this was all going a little bit too smoothly. But I also didn’t really have a choice but to accept it, at least for now. So I went ahead and flipped a heavy black tarp over the tank’s open lid to help with both the scent and the  generally revolting appearance of the green algae.

If I were lucky or if someone really was behind the scenes, then the rest of the headquarters would be equally barren while I wheeled Dottore out under the guise of the trash that I now pushed in front of me.

I stopped next to Dottore’s tank, tapping it lightly to let him know it was just me before I reached over to shift the tarp. In response a webbed hand appeared on the glass. Dottore himself remained lying sluggishly on the bottom of the tank. The twitching of his blue fins was the only sign of life.

I frowned at the sight of him, pausing in my motions to look worriedly into the tank. He barely moved, but somehow I could feel his gaze shift to me. He made no motions to communicate or rush me. Instead he only pulled his hand back into a more relaxed position and remained laying, the gills in his side fluttering tiredly.

He reminded me of some of the less-than-healthy fish I’d seen in pet stores before when I’d looked into possible ways to care for him when I’d first been given my job. Then, I’d been more fascinated by him, though I’d still maintained a careful distance that made my current actions laughable.

But I’d always been less afraid of him than the scientists and I’d always viewed him as more than just a fish, unlike some of the other Fatui that came and went.

After all, no mere fish could incur quite so much horror in people nor could it kill quite so easily. There was always a cleverness to the merman that was decidedly human in the most malevolent way possible.

I was torn between offering words of reassurance and staying silent. A cold part of me argued that he was a horrible man who’d killed numerous scientists solely in the name of revenge and seemed to take a certain degree of delight in it. While they had betrayed him, two wrongs didn’t make a right, and who knew what all horrors this man had committed in his past scientific tests.

 The other, more sympathetic part of me argued that he was a captive, treated little better than a discarded pet or scientific oddity that was known to be dangerous but also viewed as less than human.

I pursed my lips, my hand remaining on the glass, and the words slipped from my mouth as the more sympathetic side of me won over, “ I know you’re uncomfortable, but hang on just a little bit longer. We’ll be out of here and back at my home soon, and then I’ll at least be able to get the lid off this thing. Maybe then you can recover from whatever that gunk you created has done to you.”

He shifted, almost like he was trying to roll over to better look at me when I spoke. But I didn’t linger to watch his reaction. He needed action more than kind words right now. So instead of continuing to comfort him awkwardly, I stood and hurriedly shifted the tarp over to where he was before moving the algae filled tank off to the side.

Now, at a mere glance, people would hopefully assume it was just his tank and not go near it for fear of his past behavior.

I grasped the handles that stuck off Dottore’s tank and inhaled deeply before taking off down the hallway. Moving at a brisk pace that made it look like I was busy, but not like I was rushing. I couldn’t afford to get stopped by any suspicious Fatui now. 

Something told me pushing a tank holding the former second of the harbingers would be frowned upon and lead to a not so pleasant end for me.

The halls were worryingly but also blessedly empty, making me frown even as I continued on the path of our escape. I was certain now, there was someone else involved in this little escape plan. 

By playing the fool with both Dottore and Pantalone I was no doubt playing exactly into someone’s hands. But I was far enough down this path that I certainly wasn’t going back.

Clever, Dottore had called me. More like stubborn.

And, unsurprisingly at this point, our escape was a success. No one even tried to stop me as I left the Fatui base and turned down the path that went to home. In fact, one of the final guards we’d passed, Makism I believed his name was, had even waved.

I hadn’t paused until I had reached my home which was provided and paid for by Fatui higher-ups and thereby incredibly, but uncomfortably close to their headquarters. Because if nothing else, the Fatui paid their employees well. Even if said employee just took care of the mysterious and revenge-driven merman who served as both a terror, curiosity, and maybe even a warning.

 It was almost distressing to be bringing this man, who could kill me the very second I opened his tank’s lid, into my home. But I did so. Grimly opening my door and pushing the tank into the building and then directly over to the secondary bathroom that I never used.

I yanked the tarp off, letting it flop down to the cold floor in a most condemning fashion as I looked at the locks on the tank’s lid. It was not the first time I’d realized exactly how risky of a plan this entire ordeal was and on what uneven ground me and Dottore were on.

He was far more dangerous than I and, if he so wished, he could easily get rid of me. I was relying on the idea that I was necessary to his survival, but how true that was I didn’t know.

After all, if he did kill me then Fatui would no doubt take one look at the fact that he’d gone missing on the very same day that would coincide with my death and draw one, not entirely wrong conclusion. 

That I’d stolen their merman.

After that it wouldn't be hard to manipulate those scientists, ever eager for some new, grandiose finding, that I’d stolen from him because he knew something. Dottore would ensure that they kept him alive for that much longer by simply killing me. An act that I knew he would have little to no difficulty with.

My hand rested on the first lock as I stared blankly down at the metal. A single shift of my wrist and the lid would open and I would be risking it all by doing exactly what had landed me in this mess in the first place.

But, despite all the risks, the locks clicked open and I pushed the lid off, letting it fall to the floor with thud as I looked down into the water.

Dottore’s tail slid along the bottom of the tank from where he looked up at me like he was ready to spring out at any moment. He still looked weak, but I had no doubt that he could do far more damage than he let on.

And that was exactly why I was surprised when he uncurled and stretched his way up to the top of the tank.

I stepped backwards, my eyes never leaving him as he easily cut through the water’s surface, his fins wrapping around him and before fanning back out as his long, webbed fingers curled over the glass edges of the tank.

“Clever and efficient,” The words slipped from his lips and I found myself going still. I wasn’t, as of yet, used to him talking yet and his sonorous voice still caught me off-guard. Calling to mind old folk stories of merpeople using only their voices to tempt their prey closer and thereby foolishly condemn themselves to a watery death.

“It seems I was right to choose you,” A smile spread across his face and I felt myself, foolishly and despite everything, relax.

[vargskelegore]

totally not dead. might write smth matthew lillard related for my black readers... :)

[readerviews]

"Poems for Princesses with Peas Under Their Mattresses" by Maithy Vu

What did those fables and fairy tales lie about? #books #bookreview #reading #readerviews

Poems for Princesses with Peas Under Their Mattresses Maithy Vured betta publications (2024)ISBN:  978-0996382274Reviewed by Jennifer Bisbing for Reader Views (05/2024) Is “Poems for Princesses with Peas Under Their Mattresses” for those in the pursuit of being a princess, or is it a cautionary reimagining of the fairy tale misnomers and myths of being a princess? I kissed a frog and never…

[quarterlifekitty]

obsessed obsessed OBSESSED with barracuda!soap and betta!reader good god if you have anything else at all on that please share and if not please take all my love and appreciation regardless

You know I love a scientific setting

Honestly I’ve been thinking more about the world and I’ve been considering. Research Lead!Price and Research Assistant!Gaz who are studying soap and like. Before they acquired you that man was constantly swimming laps. Rubbing his throbbing cock against the glass. And Price and Gaz are like on GOD we gonna get you some pussy bro

And of course they’re supposed to be observing behavior so they can’t really interfere, so they’re just stuck watching him fumble the fuck out of you for the first few weeks that you’re in the tank. I’m imagining in this setting that it’s really rare to catch a live mer specimen, and it’s insanely rare to catch a live female specimen, so you being different species is something they just have to roll with for science.

Anyways I’m torn between Johnny actually successfully courting you or him just snatching you at an opportune moment to fuck you raw and stupid

Either way I imagine you start using certain fish bones from your feeder fish as rudimentary shivs to threaten him (tropical mer are well known for using tools more often than others), and instead of disarming you, he just gets you more. Cleans them really well and leaves them by your hiding spot. Gets you ones that are tough enough to crack serrations into some of the smaller ones.

And then maybe Price and Gaz interfere a little. Introduce a new feeder fish that’s insanely fast and full of gristle and bone. You’re not fast enough to catch them, but Johnny is. Johnny doesn’t have the dexterity or tools to process the fish, but you do. They watch with bated breath as you feed him a sliver of the fat-streaked meat from your knife for the first time. A few days later you linger after eating together, letting him cup your jaw near the gills (an incredibly vulnerable and sensitive area) and nuzzling you.

It’s not long before you’re pressed with your back to his chest, both full of his hunting and your carving, while his fingers gently tease and stroke at your slit to try and coax it open.

[storusangel]

STUDY SESSIONS

a/n: ohhhh my god, i finally finished this. it's been half finished for months but i did it!! hope you guys enjoy!

cw: fem!reader, dom!satosugu, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby, sweet girl), slight petplay (like if you squint really hard), fingering, manhandling, double vag pen., biting, squirting, creampie, oral f!receiving, overstim, aftercare, MINORS DNI

word count: 4.5k

satoru and suguru are the stars of your university.

they have it all — the looks, the grades, the girls (and guys). and in your shared BIO 141 class, better known as your human anatomy and physiology class, they’re known for being top of the class, never having failed an exam. you, however, have been falling behind in that said class. 

but it truly isn’t your fault. you can’t help that the two men sit at a perfect angle for you to gawk and stare at them for the entirety of class. yeah, it’s not your fault at all! in fact, it’s your stupid professor’s fault for placing the two pieces of eye candy directly in your line of view!

it’s tuesday again and your professor is rambling on about the limbic system or something of the sort. you don’t really comprehend what he’s saying because it seems the two pieces of eye candy have gotten matching tattoos. a dark betta fish on suguru’s right bicep and a lighter one on satoru’s left. 

you can’t help but let your mind wander to how those arms would look holding you up as they’re pounding into you. dirty words being whispered into your ear as you try your best to keep up with them. “such a good slut for u-“

your name being called out by your professor yanks you out of your trance. you blink twice, ripping your eyes of the two boys but not before they could catch you staring at them. 

“i asked you a question.”

“s-sorry professor” you wince at how silly you sound stuttering after being caught daydreaming in class.

your professor just sighs and instead of repeating his question, he tells you to stay after class to meet with him. you can feel the eyes of your classmates boring into you, the immature snickers make you want to go back to your dorm and stay there forever.

or better yet, go to satoru and suguru’s shared apartment and let them fuck the embarrassment away.

you shake your head in an attempt to refocus your attention. before you can tune in to what your professor has to say, you see satoru and suguru steal a quick glance at you and whisper to each other. 

“gojo and geto, i’d like you two after class as well”  

once more, the class erupts into whispering to their nearest friend before the professor regains their attention once and for all. you also stop your mind from wandering too far into your daydreams about what could happen after class and return your attention back to the professor who was clearly irritated. 

in an effort to save yourself from embarrassment, you head down to see your professor as soon as class ends to end the conversation before the two boys can tune in. 

“i assume you understand why i wanted to see you?” his voice is sharp, an underlying tone of dissatisfaction.

“yes sir, i know my grade in your class need some work but i will do my best to bring it up” 

his reply is quick. “i know you will because gojo and geto will be tutoring you.”

you truly don’t know how to feel. getting the chance to be around your crushes is both amazing and horrible. thinking about how they definitely know you’ve been staring at them every class makes you feel nauseous. thinking about being perceived isn’t your favorite thing, but thinking about how they’ll be around you, teaching you the course that you’ve completely missed out on due to your very vivid daydreams. 

“wait, what?” god, satoru’s voice sounded much sexier when it was right behind you. 

“you heard me. both of you will be helping her understand her classwork until the end of the semester.” and your professor's voice sounded much scarier when it was in right front of you. “i’ll know if you two have truly put enough effort in when i see her grade on our next exam.”

you’re too ashamed to make eye contact with the two boys, a wave of embarrassment flooding your face knowing that your two crushes now know your biggest academic insecurity. the room is silent until suguru speaks up, “okay, we’ll need your number though” yeah, suguru’s voice was just as sexy as satoru’s. 

you hear your name being called. you finally make eye contact. “sorry, what?” your voice is meek, smaller than you remember it to be. satoru laughs, “your number, sweetheart. so we can set a date for our sessions. you know, the tutoring ones?” satoru calling you sweetheart makes you want to implode, he has to know what he does to you. what they do to you. 

“oh, here” you leave as soon as you give them your number. suguru’s “we’ll text about planning later” giving you the greenlight to get the hell out of there before you somehow manage to embarrass yourself even further.

-

xxx-xxx-xxxx added you and xxx-xxx-xxxx into a chat

unknown: you free this weekend?

you: who is this???

unknown: aw man :( all that staring in class and you can’t even remember who we are, we’re hurt baby

- 

you stare at the message. okay. so you know who it is. and you also know that they know your grades are horrible because you’ve spent almost every class openly drooling over them. no big deal. it’s not like your sessions will be in a private area.

-

unknown: satoru and i talked, we think it’ll be best to tutor you at our place since there’ll be less distractions there.

-

okay then. you’ll just have to work on your nerves before this weekend. you have time. right now you’ll be using that time to try and get over the fact that satoru called you baby.

the next few days pass by a little too slow for your liking but soon you’re getting ready for your date with the two boys. wait, tutoring session with the two boys. you couldn’t help but dress up a little, adding a matching set underneath your skirt and blouse.

-

satoru: i’m outside, come out whenever you’re ready

you: coming out now! which car is yours?

satoru: you’ll know it when you see it ;)

-

you head out slightly confused but when you see a white corvette flashing its blinkers at you, you understand what satoru meant. before you reach his car, satoru gets out to open the door for you. the small giggle you let out doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

a wave of confidence runs through your veins as you tell him he’s “quite the gentlemen” when he buckles your seatbelt for you before sitting in the driver's seat himself. his response is a quick wink and then you two are off to their apartment. you try not to stare too hard at him throughout the ride but you can’t help but let yourself indulge in a few glances that lasted longer than they should’ve.

soon enough you two have reached the apartment and satoru parks the car. this time you don’t hide your staring. his effortless moves have you squeezing your thighs together. why is this turning you on??? you have got to be ovulating. 

satoru calls out your name. “you ready?” you blink. “o-oh, yeah i’m ready.” he grins and unbuckles you before sliding out the car to open your door. their apartment is cleaner than you expected, and also way larger than you expected it to be. “you finally back satoru?” you turn around to see suguru in sweatpants and stark contrast to satoru’s shorts. “hi, thanks again for tutoring me” you say. they both let out a soft chuckle and suguru returns the greeting.

they show you to a room that you truly didn’t expect for them to have in their place. there’s a shelf stacked with different books and another bigger one beside it with their trophies. there are two desks but one of them is currently situated with three chairs. you’re deep in thought about how you would love to be bent over the desks as the two boys make you take them over and over and over again.

this time it’s suguru calling your name to draw you out of your daydream. “you can take a seat on the middle chair. do you have anything in specific that you need help understanding?” oh right, you came here to be tutored. “um, everything? well not like everything but maybe the latest subject? i haven’t had the time to actually go over the notes i took.” 

a lie, you didn’t take any notes. your notebook is filled with small doodles and occasionally a sentence from a slide the professor left on the screen for too long. you place your hands in your lap when the two boys take a seat on either side of you. “no need to be nervous, sweetheart. we’re here to help you.” satoru has got to know that him and his stupidly attractive voice aren’t helping you and you want to turn to suguru for help but he’s just as bad. “he’s right, pretty girl. you’ve got to relax, you won’t be able to remember anything when you’re shaking like that.”

to make it even worse, they each place a hand on your bare thighs. satoru rubs his soft fingers up and down while suguru squeezes your thigh gently before using a thumb to make circular motions in a single spot. you can feel your body heating up and it takes everything in you to not squeeze your thighs together because it would make your want need for them way too obvious and quite frankly, you’re still embarrassed they caught you staring.

satoru makes eye contact with suguru, a silent communication between the two of them. he gives your thigh a gentle pat before he starts to speak. “do you work better with rewards, baby?” you turn to look at him. you aren’t sure what he means exactly and you’re feeling a little overstimulated by all the touching, the pet names, and their attention in general. you’re by no means a virgin, though you aren’t too far from it, but for some reason they make you so nervous you can’t think straight. 

suguru says your name in a voice that sounds like it’s reserved for scolding puppies but right now it just turns you on even more than you are. “answer satoru, he’s not big on being ignored” apparently you don’t turn your head fast enough because satoru’s hand moves from your thigh to grasp your face gently, but not too gently, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “he’s right, baby. i don’t want to be rough with you just yet. i’m gonna ask again and i expect an answer. would you like us to give you rewards?” despite his words being slightly threatening, you bite your lip to hold back a whine. you squeak out a “yes please” and return to suppressing your whines because suguru still has moved his hand further up your skirt, his fingers grazing dangerously close to your soaked slit. 

“good girl. now let's get started” satoru removes his hand from your jaw but suguru only moves his hand back down to your lower thigh, giving you one more squeeze. the tutoring session goes something like this; suguru and satoru take turns explaining different topics covered during your last class. once they’re done, satoru quizzes you. everytime you answer correctly, suguru moves his hand up and satoru praises you. but every time you fail to answer a question correctly or fast enough, suguru slips his hand away and satoru reminds you that “only smart girls get rewards”. 

this method seems to work because you’re starting to answer correctly more often until you’re only answering correctly and suguru’s fingers are grazing your panties. “oh, she’s soaked, satoru. i think this sweet thing deserves a bigger reward. she’s been listening so well” a small whimper leaves your lips and you turn your head to satoru, your eyes begging for something more than some light touches accompanied by a few praises. 

to prove his point even further you really do start to beg. “please satoru, i need it so bad. ‘ve been so good, please” you can tell it works because he immediately coos at you. “d’awh, i think she deserves a reward too, suguru. we should give it to her” and with that satoru leans in, pressing his lips into yours. his soft, pillowy lips against yours make you almost forget suguru’s hands are on your panties.

almost. 

suguru pulls your panties to the side, raking his middle and ring finger through your folds, collecting your slick. he traces them downwards before bringing them back up to circle around your clit once, twice, three times and then he repeats the process. once he’s deemed his fingers wet enough, he slips one in pumping and curling wasting no time before adding in a second one. 

kissing down your neck, satoru rips your blouse open and pushes your bra down. lithe fingers trace around your nipple making you arch into satoru. you let out a breathy moan into satoru’s mouth, followed by more whines when suguru adds a third finger and starts to scissor them to stretch you out. you can feel satoru smirk against your lips when you start to struggle to kiss back. 

satoru removes his mouth from you, drinking in the sight of you. the sweet, shy girl in their class who couldn’t help but keep her eyes off of the two boys. the same girl who struggled to keep eye contact and who was barely vocal when they were present is now writhing in their chair. your back arching into satoru, a silent plea for him to keep touching you. and your hips grinding on suguru’s fingers, begging him to keep going. 

and most importantly, your voice has finally found itself to be heard. your pleas of “can’t, ‘s too much” and “wan’ more, please don’t stop, please” echo throughout the room. satoru takes two of his own fingers and pats them on your lips, a signal for you to open your mouth. you comply, wishing they would keep praising you. as if he can hear your thoughts, satoru mutters a “atta girl” when he slips his fingers into your mouth. 

he lets them hit the back of your throat a few times and when you gag, he pulls them back. not entirely, but just enough so that you’re still drooling on them but aren’t entirely gagging. he moves his fingers in a scissoring motion for some time and then he pulls them out. before you can even think about missing his fingers in your mouth, he moves them down to your clit, rubbing calculated circles. 

suguru moves his fingers faster, curling them upwards till they hit your sweet spot repeatedly. “i think our sweet girls about to cum, satoru” suguru breaks the silence between him and satoru. “i think so too” you can’t tell if it’s the way they’re talking about you as if you weren’t there but you cum the second the two speak, your body shaking as they help you ride it out. suguru shallowly pumping his fingers in while satoru slows his circles on your clit. suguru leans in to give you a kiss, his lips doing most of the work as your body recovers from your mindblowing orgasm. 

you yelp into suguru’s mouth when satoru pats your clit a little too hard. you want to say something but he taps your clit one more time before watching more slick dribble out of your cunt and onto the chair. suguru is the first to speak. his lips trail towards your ear leaving soft kisses in each place he covers. “you did so well for us, sweetheart. how’re you feeling?” as he speaks, satoru wipes the tears from your eyes and rubs comforting circles on your cheek.

your heart throbs at the attention. you understand what suguru is asking; are you still up for more? or are you done for the time being? you bite your lip before you speak.

“m-more, please. want more. want both of you. please.” satoru places a gentle kiss on your lips. “you’re so good for us, baby. a perfect listener. you think you can take us both? you think your tight little hole can fit both of us?” you moan out loud at his words.

“i don’t know, satoru. she might not be able to handle us.” suguru’s teasing you and you know it, but you don’t care. the thought of them leaving you so wet and needy for them may have your cunt clenching on nothing but you think you might die if you don’t feel them stretching you out.

“nonono, please. please don’t. need it so bad. need you two so bad. wan’ your cocks in me, now. don’t care if it hurts” you think you might’ve broken them because now it’s them who can’t wait till you're done speaking. 

suguru stands up, dragging you up with him before he rips your panties off in one go. satoru, now standing behind you, is pushing your skirt as far up as it can go before pulling his dick out of his pants. suguru following his lead. 

they each keep one hand on a hip, keeping you upright. you feel satoru slip his dick between your folds from behind you, coating himself in your slick before pushing the tip into you. “oh, fuck. satoru, you’re so big” you hear suguru groan from in front of you. he’s using the same hand he fingered you with to stroke himself, waiting for you to adjust to satoru. 

satoru slowly pushes all the way in, stopping every inch or so when you let out a whine of discomfort. “breathe, baby. breathe” satoru may think he’s helping but his velvety voice in your ear is only turning you on more. your pussy doing anything but loosening up. after some time, you slowly grind your hips back onto him, letting him know you’re ready for him to move.

he starts with shallow thrusts and soon he’s going all the way back out before slamming his hips forward. your body shakes in their arms. you’re sure if they let go, you’d fall onto the floor. satoru’s pace doesn’t stay that way forever, though. you cry out a “s’toru, mo-move please” when you feel him slow his thrusts until he comes to a complete stop. 

“shhh, baby. suguru needs to feel you too, doesn’t he?” your eyes widen. you recall your words from earlier, you still want them more than anything but a feeling of uncertainty hits you. as if they can feel your unease, satoru nuzzles his nose into your neck while suguru rubs comforting circles into your hip. suguru gives you a kiss, wet and open mouthed. “you’ve been so good for us, yeah? we’ll take care of you” suguru whispers in your ear. his voice makes you clench harder around satoru.

you know satoru felt it because his mouth hasn’t left your neck and you can feel a grin spreading on his face. “we’ll go slow for you, sweetheart. you don’t need to do anything but be good for us. you can do that, right baby?” they wait for your response. though they’re both aching to be inside of you, they want to make sure you feel the same.

the room is silent when you speak. “p-please, wanna’ be your good girl” and they’re off. satoru stays still inside of you, instead moving one arm to wrap around your waist and his other hand to spread your pussy for suguru. “you gotta relax, sweet girl. there’s no way suguru’s gonna fit when you’re clenching down on me like that” suguru chuckles at the other man's words before he starts to squeeze his way in. satoru moves the fingers that were spreading you open to your clit, rubbing circles as suguru continues to push himself inside of you. 

your whines only get louder when they’re both finally inside of you. suguru is the first to speak. “you look so pretty like this. all stretched out on our dicks. i think we should keep her satoru.” satoru hums in agreement. “i think we should too. it’d be so nice to come home to her waiting so patiently for us to fuck her, take care of her” he lowers his voice adding a “and to love her” before you can process his words, satoru pulls all the way out and all the way back in. you let out a borderline pornographic moan and you feel them both twitch at the sound. 

“p-please move” you sniffle. and move they do. when suguru pulls out, satoru pushes in. and when satoru pulls out, suguru pushes in. the room filled with your whines and cries of “‘s too much”, “can’t take it”, and “wan’ more”. they do their best to give you everything you need. satoru uses a hand coated with your slick to make you face him so he can smash his lips against yours. 

he’s rough with his kiss. shoving his tongue down your throat, making you suck on it and pulling it out just so he can nibble on your lips. suguru, on the other hand, has made himself busy with your neck. he leaves bite marks wherever he can, kissing the same area he bit softly as if he was soothing the pain. “ha-harder”

satoru breaks the kiss with a groan. “our girl is so greedy, suguru. should we give her what she wants? i’m not sure i heard a please” suguru, still busy with your neck, grunts softly in feigned disappointment. “i thought we had trained her better than that. maybe we shouldn’t give it to her” you shake your head at their words “no! n-no please. i’m sor-ry, i’ll be good. don’ stop, please”

this seems to satisfy them because they listen. and they listen well. they not only move harder, but somehow deeper too. suguru has one of your legs lifted in the air while satoru keeps you steady at your waist. your moans get louder and louder, a warning that you’re getting close. you know satoru and suguru are aware but you know better than to cum without asking. 

“c-can i? please ‘ve been so good, wanna cum s-so bad” you’re practically sobbing and they can feel themselves throbbing around you. satoru kisses your cheek and says something along the lines of “you can cum, baby” but you aren’t listening because suguru bit that spot on your neck and satoru hit that spot in your cunt and you’re seeing stars when you squirt on them. 

they only get in a few more thrusts before they fill you up with their cum. “holy shit” satoru chuckles “didn’t know you were a squirter, baby” you whine out in embarrassment, wanting to hide your face in your hands but you feel too tired to do anything.  

you whimper when suguru pulls out, followed by satoru. the feeling of being empty being foreign after being stuffed so full. suguru carefully places your leg down, making sure satoru is still holding you up. you’re not sure what he has planned because he has that stupid grin on his face that he and satoru share when they’re about to do something devious. 

when around forty seconds have passed and the only thing that’s happened is satoru leaving wet kisses along your back, you think you’re in the clear but your legs being moved. each one gently placed on the shoulder of a very handsome suguru who is currently on his knees between your legs. you want to protest, tell them you’re still recovering from the last orgasm but suguru presses a kiss to your clit. 

the constant stimulation has your clit protruding out, begging for attention, so how could he not kiss it some more? the sounds from between your legs are no less than obscene. suguru is groaning into your cunt. he kisses, sucks, bites, and you would be a fucking liar to say that it doesn’t feel as good as it hurts. “you have the sweetest pussy, pretty” he moans out between kisses “tastes so good”

satoru thinks he’s going to go insane. he would much rather be between your legs but he knows there’ll be more chances for him to do so in the future. for now, he’ll focus on pressing those kisses you seem to love on your back and neck while using one hand to show each of your tits equal amounts of attention. and also whispering dirty words into your ear that only shove you closer and closer to the edge you’ve been teetering on. 

“does suguru’s tongue feel good, baby? you like being used by us? you wanna come all over his face like a good girl?” you do. you want to be nothing but the best for them. you wish they would never stop praising you. “y-yes, fuck, wanna be your good girl. wan’ to cum so bad, please can i?” you know nothing of pride, you only know suguru and satoru are making you feel so good that you can barely remember your own name.

it’s only when suguru says your name in that rough voice of his before telling you to come that you remember. you cum hard on his face, his mouth never stopping but only slowing down and moving to place gentle kisses on your clit. “you did so well for us, sweetheart” satoru moves his hands up and down your sides to sooth your trembling body. when suguru leaves to grab a washcloth to clean you up, satoru is still whispering comforting praises into your ear. he backs up to sit himself in a chair and tugs you into his lap. “shhh, it’s okay, baby. i got you”

suguru returns with a wet washcloth. “can you open up for me, pretty? jus’ gonna clean you, nothing else” satoru knows your body is capable of moving just yet so he takes your whine as the okay for him to spread you open for his friend. once suguru’s done, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

suguru dresses you in one of his oversized shirts before satoru takes you to his bed. they let you sleep while they clean themselves up before joining you in bed as well. you wake up later that night to two sleeping boys and an ache between your legs. they each are touching you in their own ways, suguru nuzzled into your neck and satoru’s hand wrapped possessively around your waist. you find yourself drifting back into sleep and the next time you wake up, there’s a note on the bedside table.

“we stepped out for a bit but we’ll be back soon with breakfast, baby ;)” 

-

tuesday comes by again once more and this time you’re the only one staying behind. the past three days have been spent “studying” at suguru and satoru’s place and you’re finally ready to hear about your test results from your professor. when he returns your paper, you know there’s only one thing to do.

you text the two boys a picture of your grade on your exam making sure the big 98% written on top of a “nice work!” is clearly shown.

-you: i think i deserve a reward

©storusangel. any and all forms of modifications, reposts, and translation of my work are prohibited.

[gf2bellamy]

i have a very specific request that has been ITCHING at my brain!! idk if you remember spencer mentioned for like a second once that he has fish and we never hear anything else about it, i was thinking about the reader going to his apartment for the first time and seeing his fish and thinking its so cute that hes a fish dad😭 and him telling reader their names (probably after some literary figures or authors or something) and about their species or their little fish personalities or something god fish dad spencer😭❤️

fish — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: just fluff a/: hi hi hi !! i hope you like this <3

You had been nervous all day.

It wasn’t every day that Dr. Spencer Reid invited you into his apartment. You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater as he unlocked the door, stepping aside to let you in first.

The apartment was exactly what you expected—neat, cozy, lined with bookshelves that looked like they could topple over at any second. But before you could even take it all in, something else caught your eye.

“Is that an aquarium?”

The words burst out of you before you could stop them, your voice pitching upward in surprise. All your nervousness evaporated in an instant, replaced by sheer delight. You barely let Spencer take your jacket before you were crossing the room.

Spencer chuckled behind you, the sound warm and fond as he carefully hung up both your coats.

“Yeah,” he admitted, stepping up beside you. “I, uh… I don’t talk about them much.”

“Oh my god, they’re adorable.” You pressed your palms against the glass, watching as a small school of colorful fish darted through the water.

One—a vibrant betta with deep blue and red streaks—flared its gills at you before swimming away with what you could only describe as attitude. You laughed. “You never mentioned them! How could you keep this from me? What are their names?”

You turned to look at him, already knowing the answer before he even opened his mouth. The way his eyes lit up, the shy, almost proud curve of his smile—of course he’d named them after something intellectual.

Spencer adjusted his sleeves, before pointing at the betta. “That one’s Hemingway. He’s… kind of dramatic. Likes to flare at his own reflection.”

“Hemingway,” you repeated, grinning. “Perfect.”

He gestured to a smaller, silvery fish darting near the bottom. “That’s Poe. He’s shy. Hides in the plants a lot.” Then, to a pair of tetras swimming in synchronized circles: “Those are Fitzgerald and Zelda. They’re… inseparable.”

You melted. “Spencer Reid, you are a fish dad.”

He ducked his head, but you didn’t miss the pleased flush creeping up his neck. “I just—I like taking care of them. It’s… calming.”

“It’s adorable,” you corrected, bumping your shoulder against his. “I can’t believe you have this whole secret life as a fish parent.”

Spencer laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, if you think that’s impressive…” He checked his watch, then nodded toward the tank. “It’s actually feeding time. Want to help?”

“Yes.” You clapped your hands together.

He grabbed a small container of food from a nearby shelf, his fingers brushing yours as he handed it to you. “Just a pinch,” he instructed, leaning close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his shampoo. “Too much and they’ll overeat. They’re kind of… greedy.”

You sprinkled the food into the water, watching as Hemingway immediately darted to the surface, his fins flaring like he was demanding more. You giggled, resting your fingertips against the glass as Hemingway circled the spot where the food had been. 

“I think he’s judging me,” you said, tilting your head.

Spencer let out a soft laugh. “He does that to everyone. Even I don’t meet his standards half the time.”

You grinned, leaning closer to the tank as Poe, the shy silver fish, darted out from behind a frond of aquatic fern—just long enough to snatch a flake before disappearing again. 

“And Poe’s like the mysterious loner who only comes out for the necessities,” you mused.

“Exactly.” Spencer’s voice was fond, his gaze flickering between the fish and you, as if he couldn’t decide which was more fascinating.

You could feel his eyes on you and it sent a warm flutter through your chest.

Fitzgerald and Zelda, the inseparable tetras, wove through the water in perfect unison, their tiny bodies glinting under the soft glow of the tank’s light. “They’re like a little married couple,” you said, smiling.

Spencer hummed in agreement, shifting just slightly beside you. His shoulder brushed against yours, a barely-there touch that sent a spark skittering down your arm. 

“They’ve been together since I got them,” he admitted. “I tried separating them once—just to clean the tank—and they both freaked out until I put them back.”

“That’s adorable,” you whispered, your voice barely louder than the hum of the aquarium filter.

A beat of silence settled between you.

Then, slowly, as if testing the waters, Spencer’s fingers grazed the back of your hand where it rested on the edge of the tank. His touch was feather-light, tentative, but it sent your pulse skipping all the same.

You didn’t pull away.

Instead, you turned your hand just slightly, your pinky brushing against his. A question. An invitation.

Spencer’s breath hitched—just a tiny, barely-there sound—before his fingers laced through yours, his palm warm against your skin.

Hemingway chose that moment to flare his fins again, splashing a tiny droplet onto the glass, as if giving his approval.

You laughed, squeezing Spencer’s hand. “I think he’s on board.”

Spencer’s thumb traced a slow circle over your knuckles, his smile small but so bright. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Size queen betta fish reader x blue whale konig/simon

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

[it-happened-one-fic]

Play the Fool - Dottore (Part 4)

Author's Notes: Just one more after this one this series will be done! It's kind of odd in a lot of ways to write a series that unfolded the way this one did. But overall, I'm satisfied. Just like the previous parts, I listened to "Black Sea" by Natasha Blume while writing this. Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Mer-Dottore/ Merman AU/ gender-neutral reader/ I'm not gonna label this as fluff since that doesn't feel quite right, but know that it's NOT angst, yandere, or anything like that

Word Count: 2307

Trigger Warning: Discussion of past crimes including murder (Dottore), Fatui are generally shady

[Part One], [Part Two}, {Part Three}, {Part 4: You're Here!}, {Part Five}

EDIT: Entire series now available on AO3! (link deleted due to glitches)

“You’re out, now what?” I sat on the toilet at a safe distance from Dottore’s tank, my head resting in one hand as I questioned the now unmasked merman.

He emerged from the water once more, an indefinable smile on his face as he resurfaced. He’d recovered from having been in proximity to that strange algae at an impressive rate. But then, he’d made that gunk himself, he’d no doubt formulated it so that his recovery would be fast.

“The final step. It's time I returned to my lab to continue my work,” I stared at him dumbly before straightening as his words registered.

I could hardly believe what I was hearing, “You’re going to reverse your own mistake, get your legs back, and take back over as a harbinger?”

He nodded, rising just a little more out of the water and gripping the edge of the tank with a slow roll of his fingers, “And you will help.”

I swallowed, determined to not let myself be threatened even as I refused to merely accept his orders, “And why would I do that?”

My voice came out level, and, if anything, he appeared to be pleased as he responded, “Do you really have a choice? With us both having disappeared from their headquarters the Fatui will rightly assume that you have taken me.”

I crossed my arms, shifting into a more comfortable position myself, “Who said I was disappearing? I intend to go back tomorrow and act like I know nothing. I’ll face punishment, but that's better than being condemned as an enemy of the Tsaritsa. And something tells me you can’t return to your original state before dawn.”

“And that is why you’ll get me what I need from the lab tomorrow. The longer I remain missing the worse your punishment, and it will reach the point of death. After all, you’re of no use to them if I’m not there.” 

His words were true, frustratingly so. My position had not greatly changed even if his had. I still had to play along with his plans or face death in some form or another.

Either way, I was in way over my head now. It seemed that it was do or die.

“What do you need?” That knowingly confident smile spread across his face once as soon as I spoke. But he’d won. Again.

“There’s a vial. It holds a small amount of what appears to be black water. That is the cure. It will no doubt be in the head scientist’s office.” I grimaced at his words, knowing they meant I would have to deal with the person who would be most upset by this entire situation. The head scientist.

It wasn’t long before I was frowning slightly though, noting the other meaning that Dottore’s words held. 

He had already crafted himself a cure that the head scientist had been holding onto this entire time. Meaning it had already been made by the time Dottore had been found. So Dottore had known what his experiment might cause and had created himself a fail-safe.

But I didn’t question any of this. Instead, I focused on his instructions and the potential problems they held, “And if he doesn’t have it anymore?”

Dottore’s tail curled languidly under him as he smiled just as smoothly, “He does. He needs it.”

I frowned, but remained silent as I stood. Assuming that the cure was needed because no one else knew that Dottore could still speak. That cure was, no doubt, the head scientist’s get out of jail free card. If Fatui ever made demands… If he ever needed his maniacal genius to save his own skin he would have to cure him. 

I glanced at the clock as I tucked the list into my pocket and realized, with yet another frown, that I hadn’t gotten any sleep and now needed to head back into work. This time with the intentions of faking innocence and then stealing from the very people who’d be the most upset by the disappearance of Dottore.

I let out a sigh, turning towards the door only to get stopped by a wet hand wrapping tightly around my wrist and causing me to go tense. I didn’t even have to look to know who it was, but I turned nonetheless.

Dottore was leaned out of the tank, one arm reaching out to grasp my wrist while the other held him braced against the thick glass that surrounded him. I felt myself go slightly cold at the realization that I’d been well within his reach this entire time without even realizing it.

His mask was still off and his red-eyed stare now seemed to root me to the ground as he spoke once more. Only two words.

“Be careful.” It wasn’t a warning, but rather an order. With only those words he released me and slid back into his tank, his eyes staying on me even as I turned and walked away, feeling his gaze drilling into my back. A firm reminded of that singular order that had thrown me completely for a loop.

Even by the time I was walking into the room to face those who would doubtless condemn me, those words stayed with me. Puzzling me slightly since this whole time our interactions had been a delicate balance filled with questions of who would burn first. Me or him?

It was true that he needed me in order to get this potion or whatever, but Dottore was not the type to tell someone, or rather order them, to be careful. He was more the sort to ignore them since he quite simply had no care for a fellow person.

Dottore was not a man of compassion, but rather, was one of imposing intellect that was unconstrained by matters such as empathy. That was what made him so dangerous and so feared by the scientists.

But I didn’t truly have time to question his motives or reasoning. I would simply have to accept that all I understood was that, evidently enough, I was still quite necessary to whatever plans he held.

“You!” The head scientist’s head whipped around and he was pointing a condemning finger from the very second I’d opened the door. I ignored him though, staring at the empty tank that once held Dottore in mock horror. As if I’d had no clue that he wouldn’t be here.

My acting did little to convince the man in charge here though, and he crossed the room at surprising speeds.

“Where is he?” Bony fingers dug into my shoulder as the head scientist gripped me tightly, growling out his question in the most accusatory fashion possible.

I shook my head, my mouth gaping open in the appearance of shock, “I… What? What happened?!”

I pitched my voice high enough to draw the attention of others. It was something I’d done in the past when having to stop scientists from drawing too close to the merman who would drown them if given the chance. And just like always, it worked.

Play the fool and those who deem themselves greater will always come at the mere scent of possibility. It was something I’d learned during my time here, and though I didn’t understand why people here did it, it always worked.

“Hey, they obviously don’t know anything. There’s no way they could’ve made off with that monster anyway. They’re just the caretaker.” One of the other men stepped over and I recognized him as one of the soldiers who sometimes passed through. Nikita, I believed his name was.

He looked at me in an almost pitying fashion, but he did exactly what I’d needed him to. Make the head scientist appear foolish so that he would want to do any further interrogating in private.

“True, though that may be, they were the last person known to be near him.” The head scientist defended himself with a sniff before looking down at me with a special amount of irritation. But his hand had already been forced and he didn’t even know that I’d orchestrated it with a bit of amateur acting.

The man maintained his hold on me, steering me around so that I was walking in front of him like some sort of  criminal being taken to a cell, “I must interrogate them further. The rest of you keep working!”

His words were barked as he shoved me through a door and into a large lab that I could only assume was his office. Especially when I noticed a small vial filled with about a tablespoon of black-looking water. 

I was shoved roughly towards a seat right in front of the vial, placing it in tantalizingly close reach as he rounded the table.

“Where did you last see the creature?” His tone was dry once more as he looked down at me. He'd calmed down now and had once more reached the perspective that I was no more than a lesser worker. Which was exactly what I’d needed.

“In the tank, where he’d been placed for the cleaning. I left him there after feeding him his supper. That’s the last time I saw him… Really.” It was an excuse that lined up perfectly with what had been Pantalone’s plan.

I fidgeted with my fingers, pretending to be nervous about the man who now peered down at me as I tried to figure out how to swipe the vial in front of me. I had been incredibly lucky up until now and had relied on whoever it was that was pulling strings behind the scenes. But now this little conundrum fell to me and me alone.

Or so I thought it did until a polite knock was heard on the door. 

The head scientist cursed almost silently under his breath before lifting his head and barking out a sharp, “What is it?”

The door opened and I got to watch as the head scientist went pale as not one, but two harbingers, stepped into the room.

One was Pantalone, who wore that same falsely polite smile that always served as his mask as he stepped in. His eyes flicked over to where I sat, now truly nervous, before they shifted back to the head scientist, “I understand that our merman was stolen. How did this happen?”

The head scientist floundered slightly before drawing himself up and spouting some sort of explanation that went entirely unheard by me since I was far too busy staring at the other harbinger.

I had never seen this one before, but if the gigantic suit of armor was anything to go by, I knew who he was. Il Capitano. Possibly the most famous of all the harbingers.

He stood silently, but even his mere presence was imposing, making it difficult to concentrate on the situation at hand.

He had none of the oily, false charm of Pantalone, nor did he possess the curious draw that Dottore held. But then, I had never met him and knew only of his supposed sense of justice.

“And what of this person?” His voice startled me, causing me tense and he gestured to me with an armored hand, sending both Pantalone and the head scientist’s gazes my way.

“They are the last person known to have seen Dottore in his tank, I am questioning them as to what they know.” The head scientist looked down his nose at me, almost like he was a principal gazing at a particularly naughty student.

“So they are the prime suspect,” Capitano now turned to look down at me and I shifted uncomfortably. Looking nervous was becoming less and less of an act as I pondered exactly how I was going to crawl my way out of this situation and get the vial for Dottore.

“Indeed… I recall they were to clean the tank,” Pantalone spoke in an almost solemn manner before he twisted to look at the armor-covered man. “They are the ones in charge of taking care of Dottore and his tank. Outside of that, they are no one of any real import.”

I almost slipped up and let my eyebrows jump up at his words. They almost sounded like he was trying to shift blame further away from me by making me sound as unimportant as possible. But, in the same sentence, his description of my job was not inaccurate.

“If that is the case, haven’t they had plenty of other opportunities to kidnap the merman or harm him in some way?” Capitano’s voice resounded once again, filling the room with its heavy, cultured tone that brooked little argument and I felt my eyes widen slightly at his words.

I watched, stunned, as the conversation slowly drifted away from me and back to the circumstances of the situation as the blame piled more and more onto the head scientist who’d let a precious commodity be stolen while under his care.

“You will help us look around the premises, after that we shall decide on your punishment…. The Tsaritsa is most displeased.” Capitano’s voice was dispassionate as he delivered his weighty decision that had the head scientist going pale.

I watched as all of them began to file out, Pantalone in the back of the line before he paused to look back at me, “You are free to go, but this matter will be revisited.” 

A warning, but also a chance.

By now I was certain that there was someone helping Dottore from behind some curtain. There was no other way that this entire ordeal would go over so smoothly otherwise. I also had a feeling I knew who, but I would deal with that later.

I swiped the vial quickly, tucking it into a pocket inside my shirt before rebuttoning my jacket. Right now I had more pressing matters.

[vargskelegore]

holy shit i didnt realize that while i was on break, my will poulter fics would blow up THIS much because i havent written for will in a really long time, but its definitely related to the release of gotg vol 3 so i understand why its happening.

truth be told im not super duper fixated on him atm but if i ever do get fixated heavily again, ill be writing for him again. i also wrote those fics in the mindset of 2017-2022 will so think detroit to bandersnatch to dopesick to gotg vol 3 filming, meaning id have to do a more modern take on my boy lol, but id be willing to do it if yall want me to;)

[queers-gambit]

Blue Bunny

prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname [ Bunny ], Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.

"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"

"The pink's rather nice."

"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"

Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.

"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.

"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."

"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.

"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"

"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.

"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"

"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.

You blew on your nails, admiring the color.

Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.

"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.

"I'm here," you smiled.

"Right, what color did you go with?"

You grinned, "Take a guess."

"Blue's your color."

"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."

He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."

"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"

"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"

"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."

"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"

"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."

"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"

"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."

"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"

You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"

"Collette's doing my nails."

"Ah, very good. What color?"

"A pretty pale blue."

"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."

You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."

"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."

"One of our associates is late on payment."

"How late?"

"A week."

"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"

"I'm stuck in Prague."

"Daddy."

"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."

"Who's the associate?"

"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."

"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"

"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."

"How much is the debt?"

"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."

"US dollars?"

"Yeah."

"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.

"Not the question I think you want to be asking."

"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"

"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."

"I'd rather take Samuel."

"No, he's doing a different favor for me."

"Daddy."

"He's making a delivery, all right?"

"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."

"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."

"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."

"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."

You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"

"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."

You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."

You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.

"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"

You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.

Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.

Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.

Gunther checked the rest of the house.

"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."

"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.

"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."

"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "

"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."

"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.

"Up, up," you demanded.

Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."

"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.

"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."

"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "

Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.

"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."

"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.

"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.

"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.

"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.

Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.

"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"

"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"

"Collecting debt payment."

"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."

Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"

"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"

"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"

"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.

His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"

"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"

"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."

"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"

"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"

"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.

"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"

You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "

"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.

" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"

"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.

"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."

"I-I can explain, please - "

"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."

"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."

You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."

"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"

"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."

"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"

"Priceless," you nodded.

"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"

"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."

Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"

You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."

"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "

"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"

"Fucking do it, Dad!"

"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"

"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"

"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.

"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."

You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"

Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"

"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"

You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"

"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"

"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"

"I don't have it! Please!"

"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"

"Please - "

"You want a dead son!?"

"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"

You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."

"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.

You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."

Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.

"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.

Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.

"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."

"Like it?"

"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."

"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"

"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"

"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"

"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.

"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"

"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"

"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"

"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"

"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.

"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."

Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.

"Watch your tone."

"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "

"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.

"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.

"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.

"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.

"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.

"Yeh all right, Bunny?"

"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"

You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"

"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."

"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"

Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"

"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.

Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.

Call it morality.

Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."

He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."

"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."

"What happened?"

You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."

"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.

"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.

"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "

"That's my girl!"

" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "

"WHAT!?"

"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."

"Did you say contractors?"

"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"

"You mean hitmen?"

"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."

"Who? Who exactly was there?"

"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"

"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."

"What?"

"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"

"Daddy."

"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"

"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.

"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"

"Not entirely."

"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.

"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."

"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.

"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."

You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."

"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."

Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[readerviews]

"Squid Season" by Maithy Vu

A Journey of Discovery #books #bookreview #reading #readerviews

Squid Season Maithy Vured betta publications (2022)ISBN: 978-0996382205Reviewed by Paige Lovitt for Reader Views (07/2023) The adventure begins when four young adults discover that the captain, who is supposed to be piloting their ship, has disappeared. These people must band together as a crew to sail the ship into the unknown. This ship isn’t just any old boat. It is special in that the masts…

[quarterlifekitty]

Barracuda mer!Soap chasing and terrorizing the betta mer that’s been dropped in his enclosure (“‘s our tank now, pretty minnow”) because he’s been alone in there for months and the scientists that keep you wanna observe some mating behaviors

Him leaving the best cuts of the prey fish they fill the tank with right by your hiding spot (the one he’s too big to squeeze into). Cooing at you to come out as if he’s not going to grab you and use you like a little tropical fleshlight as soon as you do.