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noorpersona · 2 months ago

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Rivalry: Suna

This was supposed to be a career-maker.

You’d been selected to shoot the promotional campaign for the Japan National Volleyball Team’s off-season fundraiser—portraits, motion stills, and digital spreads for press releases. High-profile. High-pressure. This was the kind of assignment that could land you on the map, get your name known, secure you work for the next five years. You’d planned meticulously: shot schedules, lighting plans, subject rosters, backup batteries labeled by time stamp.

And still, you were already behind schedule because some players couldn’t grasp the concept of being on time.

Most were manageable. Bokuto was loud but sweet, Hinata actually listened, even Sakusa—grumpy and allergic to public attention—cooperated if you kept things sterile enough. You had to work around quirks, sure, but it was doable.

The only real problem?

Rintarō Suna.

Tall, smug, unbothered—he made disinterest an art form. It wasn’t just the tardiness (though that was frequent and infuriating). It was the casual disregard, the deliberate poking. Like he enjoyed watching you unravel, one eye-roll and bored shrug at a time. Like he thrived on getting under your skin.

You were halfway through setting up for his shoot—adjusting the overhead lights for the third time, irritation clawing at your spine—when the door creaked open.

12:17. Seventeen minutes late.

You didn’t look up. “You’re late.”

A pause. Then, his voice—dry, bored, and tinged with something close to amusement.

“Traffic.”

You glanced at him, eyes cold. “You live five minutes away.”

Rintarō Suna leaned against the doorframe like he’d just wandered in off the beach. Hoodie loose, hair messy, sweatpants slung far too low to be appropriate for professional media. His duffel bag hung lazily off one shoulder, and he was sipping a drink from a vending machine cup like he had all the time in the world.

“And yet,” he said, taking another slow sip, “I’m here. Aren’t you glad?”

“Take off your jacket and shirt,” you snapped, already adjusting your camera settings, fingers tight on the dial.

He blinked, exaggeratedly. “That’s aggressive.”

“No. You’re aggressive to my time.”

He didn’t move. Just gave you that flat look, the one that made your blood itch. “So bossy. Did no one ever teach you how to ask nicely?”

You dropped your hand from the camera, straightened to your full height, and glared. “Did no one ever teach you how to respect someone’s job?”

That actually made him smirk—low and slow, like he was settling into a familiar game. You watched his gaze flicker across the studio, land on your lighting setup, the gear cases lined up against the wall, the stool you’d carefully marked with tape for positioning. He took in every detail like none of it mattered.

You crossed your arms. “Shirt. Off. Or I’m switching you out with Komori and sending you to the end of the rotation.”

He gave a soft whistle. “Cold.”

“And still warmer than your sense of professionalism.”

Suna sighed like this was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked of him, but peeled off the hoodie in one slow pull. Then the shirt followed—revealing lean, cut muscle, smooth planes and sharp lines that even you had to admit photographed well. Unfortunately.

“Happy now?” he asked flatly, chest rising and falling with deliberate boredom.

You lifted your camera. “Hardly.”

Flash.

He winced, and you didn’t hide the satisfied smirk that flickered over your face.

“Consider that payback for last week,” you said, angling for another shot. “You were thirty-five minutes late and came in with an iced matcha.”

“Should’ve brought you one,” he muttered, half to himself.

“You wouldn’t survive the fallout.”

“I’d go down smiling.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “God, you’re infuriating.”

“I get that a lot.”

He settled into the chair you’d positioned, slouching immediately, arms dangling over the sides like a ragdoll. You hissed under your breath and gestured for him to sit up.

He stared at you. “You’re fun when you’re mad.”

“And you’re only photogenic when you shut up.”

You lifted the lens again. Behind it, you scowled.

I hate him. The thought pulsed with every snap of the shutter.

And of course—of course—he looked like a goddamn magazine cover. But in the same fashion, he rarely made it easy for you to capture it.

Because here you were, staring down the barrel of a nightmare: the man himself, draped across the chair like it was a hammock, posture all wrong, arms sprawled like he didn’t have a single working bone in his body. Slouched so far down he could have been auditioning for the role of human puddle.

"Back straight," you barked from behind the camera, adjusting your focus ring with a little more aggression than necessary. "Stop slouching."

He didn’t budge. If anything, he leaned further into the chair, eyelids heavy with boredom, like your orders were more of a gentle breeze than direct instruction.

"Suna."

He tilted his head at a lazy angle, all dry amusement and half-lidded interest. "I am straight."

You set the camera down. Firmly. The slap of the base against the table echoed far louder than it needed to.

He didn’t flinch. Of course he didn’t. He just watched you approach like you were the most interesting thing to happen all day, which you knew damn well wasn’t a compliment. His gaze slid over your body with that practiced, bored sort of curiosity, like he was cataloguing all the ways you might explode.

You stepped into his space, squatted slightly behind the chair, and shoved a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t react. Didn’t resist. Just let you press into the muscle there and guide him upright like he was a mannequin.

"There," you muttered, voice tight. "Like that. Hold it."

A beat of silence. Then: "You touch all your clients like this?"

Your hand dropped instantly. "Only the ones who act like toddlers."

He chuckled, low in his throat, and the sound crawled over your skin like static. "That explains a lot."

You turned on your heel, ready to toss something back, but froze mid-pivot when you saw his eyes.

They weren’t where they were supposed to be. Not on the lights, or the set, or even your face.

They were on your hands.

Lingering.

He blinked slowly, like he wasn’t even pretending to hide it. And when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, there was something in them that hadn’t been there before. Something molten. Heavy. A heat that made your stomach pitch and your spine go stiff.

"You done staring?" you snapped, jaw clenched.

He shrugged, as if the motion took effort. "Didn’t say it was a bad view."

You turned so fast you nearly tripped over a light stand, heart thundering in your ears. The temperature in the studio was suddenly unbearable.

You didn’t want this heat.

"Hands on your thighs," you bit out. "Chin down. Eyes here."

He obeyed—not quickly, but without any more smartass comments. For once, the air between you felt still. But it wasn’t calm. No, it was charged. Like the moment before a summer storm—hushed, tense, humming with something about to break.

You snapped three photos. Then five. Then a dozen more. Through the viewfinder, he was a dream. The kind of subject you could build an entire portfolio around. Not because he was cooperative—God no. But because he was magnetic in a way that made you want to curse.

Every line of his body, every tilt of his head, the lazy sprawl that shouldn’t have worked on camera but did? It translated into something raw. Compelling. Something that sold.

You adjusted the lens. Moved closer. Framed his face in the shot. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just stared straight through the camera like he knew it would rattle you.

And then he smiled.

Not a real one. Not the wide, winning kind the sponsors loved. Just the faintest pull of one corner of his mouth. Just enough to sharpen his cheekbone and twist his mouth into something between a smirk and a secret.

Click.

The flash snapped.

You dropped the camera from your face, brow furrowed.

"You smiled."

"You looked like you needed the win."

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you checked the preview screen. And sure enough, it was perfect. Lighting. Angles. Expression.

Damn him.

You turned the screen toward him like it was a slap.

"You’re welcome," he said, not even looking.

"You’re not that charming."

"But I am photogenic."

Your teeth ground together so hard your jaw ached.

You hated that he was right.

And you hated even more that he knew it.

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lawslinger · 8 months ago

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𐚁₊ 𓂃 DIVINE MACHINERY id pack ( req. )

┄⠀NAMES⠀;⠀gabriel,⠀azrael,⠀cain,⠀inias,⠀vessel,⠀code,⠀axio,⠀myth,⠀haunt,⠀link,⠀voice,⠀bite/byte,⠀dante,⠀nano,⠀script,⠀mechael,⠀rot,⠀pathos,⠀matic,⠀faux,⠀auto,⠀faith,⠀omen,⠀genesis,⠀paethon/python,⠀model,⠀circuit,⠀anubis,⠀excalibur,⠀talos,⠀order,⠀mikhail,⠀sabel,⠀deimos,⠀sacril/sacrilesse,⠀print,⠀sacred,⠀revenent,⠀sachiel.

┄⠀PRONOUNS⠀;⠀make/maker/makerself,⠀holy/holys,⠀cir/circuits/circuitself,⠀wire/wires/wireself,⠀beep/beeps/beepself,⠀chain/chains/chainself,⠀code/codes/codeself,⠀ware/malware/malwareself,⠀script/scripts/scripture,⠀cor/corrupts/corruptself,⠀00/00s/00self,⠀01/01s/01self,⠀halo/halos/haloself,⠀machi/machine/machineself,⠀cel/celestiels/celestielself.

┄⠀LABELS⠀;⠀angelprogram,⠀angelwired,⠀angedien,⠀virtualonogia,⠀bluescreengender,⠀techoccuae,⠀futechinel,⠀inventechal,⠀angelesque,⠀viscerangliere,⠀aiwarix,⠀bluescreenerric,⠀angeldigital,⠀mutcodic,⠀futechinel.

┄⠀TAGGING⠀;⠀@id-pack-archive

#⌖ swing low sweet chariot ˳#mogai #id pack #id packs #name list #name ideas #pronoun list #pronoun ideas #xenogender #xenogenders #neopronouns #divine #divine machinery #angelgender

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mentally-gone002 · 6 days ago

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is it too early to love you? - part 9

Summary: a good day begins with Spencer but it very quickly becomes turned around after another case has been assigned.

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

Warnings: descriptions of victims body, vomiting

A/n: hey yall… I don’t rlly have anything to say in this one other than ENJOYYYYY

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Bright sunlight blinds me through my closed eyes when I roll over in bed and I hear my dryer go off. I don’t remember starting it. Slowly, my eyes open, and I’m met with the sight of curtains that I don’t own. I sit up and look around with panicked breaths. “What the…” I trail off before recalling the night before. I smile in embarrassment and rub my eyes with my hands.

The front door to Spencer’s apartment opens and then a few seconds later it closes loudly. I listen as there’s a paper rustle, a bag opening, water running and then being poured and a few more sounds I can’t determine and then a few buttons being pushed. I reach a blind hand for Spencer but he’s not there. I stare at his unoccupied space with a sigh and swing my feet over the edge of his bed to get up. I walk to the door quietly and open it wider so that I can see into the bright living area of his apartment.

There I see him standing by the coffee pot that brews away with a book in his hands. He reads fast, and it never ceases to amaze me. I step out of his room and walk to him. “Good morning.” I say quietly.

“Good morning.” He doesn’t look up at me until after he’s finished the book, which takes only a few seconds since he was on the second to last page. He places it down on the counter. “How did you sleep.” He eyes my bare legs, which I didn’t particularly care to cover before I left the safety of his room.

I smile at his messy hair. “Good. So good in fact that I need the brand of your mattress.” I crack a smile and look around his kitchen. I see two coffee cups on the counter beside the coffee machine. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. Better than I usually do, which was… strange, but I was tired.” His eyes bore into mine as he rambles. He smiles and it makes butterflies erupt in my stomach.

I approach him and we stand toe to toe as I’m staring up at his face. I note how the bags under his eyes have disappeared, mostly. I reach a hand to brush the hair that fell towards his eyes away. “Did you go somewhere this morning?”

He looks at the front door apologetically. “Did the door wake you?” He asks with guilt.

I shake my head with a smile. “No. But I got freaked out when I heard it. I thought you were still beside me.” My fingers trace his jaw slowly. “Where did you go?” I whisper.

He shivers and keeps his eyes on me. “To get coffee. I ran out while trying to make us some.” His words are so gentle. He speaks as if he’s afraid one day he’ll break me.

I nod at him. “You’re sweet.” I stand on my toes to quickly press my lips to his jaw. The coffee maker beeps, signaling that it’s finished and I pull away from him. He looks at me and I want to kiss him, for real, but then he turns slowly to pour us coffee.

He places a mug down on the counter and I stand in front of it. “That one is for you.” He hums with a lingering glance down at me. He darts his tongue between his lips before he quickly leans down to kiss me. “Sugar is there,” he points to a small container labeled ‘sugar’, “and the creamer is in the fridge.”

I lean against him for a moment, relishing in the feeling of it all. Then I walk the kitchen for creamer and sugar that I place in front of us both.

Spencer reaches for the sugar and drops four full spoons of it into his mug and doesn’t touch the creamer. I giggle as he stirs his cup. “What?” His eyes meet mine.

I shake my head and make my coffee the way I like it. “How you drink that everyday will never not surprise me.” I tell him before taking a sip of coffee. I watch as he does the same and makes a contempt expression.

“It’s good!” He tells me. I stare at his cup and nod slowly. “Try it.” He pushes his mug towards me, but I stop it with my own hand.

I shake my head as I sip more of my own. “It’s too early for cavities, Spence.”

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

Spencer drives us both to the office after we drank our coffees and I put on my fresh clothes from his dryer, which I thanked him excessively for. Before we both get out of his car I give his a chaste kiss, which he gladly reciprocates.

Upon exiting the elevators and walking through the glass doors, which Spencer held open for me, into the bullpen area, Morgan’s eyes were on us. He smiled at us and swiveled in his chair.

Spence whispered that he’s going to make more coffee, hand on my shoulder before leaving my side.

I sit at my desk that is adjacent to Morgan’s. “What?” I ask him, looking over the papers I have yet to complete.

The man chuckles and wheels his chair over to me. “Did you and pretty boy carpool?”

I look up at his with only my eyes. “No, we just got here at the same time.” I look away, hoping he can’t see right through my lie.

Morgan hums to himself, looking off somewhere different. “What was that, when he opened the door for you and touched your shoulder?”

I sigh and look up at him, frowning. “He was just being nice.” My words are an octave higher than I intended and the man cracks a smile. “Whatever your thinking is going on, it’s not.” I shut him down the best I can just as a mug is placed down on a clean part of my desk. I turn in my chair to watch Spencer walk away.

“Well now it’s very hard to not think what I have been for the last few weeks.” He laughs. “How long?”

“‘How long’ what?” I ask him without looking up again. My pen glides over the blank spaces of my papers.

Morgan rolls his eyes and sits back further in his chair. “How long have you and pretty boy been… you know?” He smiles cheekily and I sigh.

“We aren’t together, if that’s what you mean.” I reach for my coffee and take a sip, being immediately hit by a wall of sweetness. I swallow with a look of disgust and spin around in my chair to face Spencer’s desk where he works quickly. “Why the hell would you do that?” I ask him over the distance between us. I can see him smirk before he even looks at me with his puppy eyes.

“Do what?” He asks.

I stand up and march to his desk, hearing Morgan laugh behind me. I place the mug on his desk and look at him. “You poisoned me.” I whispered in betrayal. He smiles apologetically and grabs the other cup he had made to hand it to me.

His smile says it all. “I may have switched the two.” He tells me.

I nod. “I figured.” We both laugh lightly as I smack his shoulder. “Thank you, but never do that again.” I take my cup of coffee and walk away, back to my desk. I sip my coffee and hum.

The man at my desk only smiles at me. “There’s definitely something there.”

I shake my head. “No, there’s not.” I tell him. “James and I are still together.” I lie. No one, except for Spencer and my mom, knows about me and James being over, so hopefully he takes that.

“Poor James then, because I still see somewhere between you and pretty boy.” And with that, Morgan goes back to his desk.

I turn around to look at Spencer, and he’s already looking. His face looks hurt, and I frown, mouthing to him that I’m sorry. He smiles and nods, going back to his work while I keep staring at his brown hair.

My phone rings abruptly and I take the call. “Hello?” I ask, not knowing who it is because of not reading the name.

Silence and then someone speaks. “This is Amber McGillen, from the Washington DC coroner’s office. I was just giving you a call to see if this is the correct number on James Quinn’s emergency contacts. Are you his girlfriend…” she says my name but i my ears are ringing so I barely hear her.

I nod before speaking. “This is she. Is everything alright? Where is James? What’s going on?” all of my thoughts tumble out of my mouth in a matter of seconds and I feel bad for Amber in the other end.

The woman sighs. “I’m afraid not, ma’am. James Quinn is dead.”

I cover my mouth, stifling my gasp as tears well in my eyes. I’m not exactly sure why I’m crying for him, he’s an asshole, but I still spent a long time with him. “I… do you want me to come down there?” I ask.

“You can take your time with this, ma’am. We’ve called his mother as well, and she will be here tomorrow.”

“Okay… I’ll come in tomorrow. Bye.” I hang up and run my hands through my hair.

He’s dead? How? What happened?

“Hey guys,” Garcia’s voice breaks through my thoughts as she stands beside the door to the briefing room. “We have a case.” She smiles softly and then walks back into the room where Hotch is already sitting. I run my hands down my hair, smoothing it out and stand slowly.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer comes up behind me. He knows something is wrong and I hate to lie to him.

I look up at him and shake my head. “Nothing, just a weird prank phone call.” I brush it off and begin walking behind my team to the round table. Spencer sits beside me and brushes his hand over mine. I give him a tight lipped smile.

“Okay, my lovely’s,” Garcia starts speaking. “We got a call from the DC police this morning, telling us that they have bodies pulling up in the morgue and they don’t know why they are coming in so fast.”

Morgan speaks up. “A spree? In DC?”

Garcia nods and presses a button on the iPad in her hands. “Their most recent body was…” she pauses and glances at me, making my stomach drop before an image of my dead ex boyfriend appears on the screen. “James Quinn, a 29 year old male was found in an alley beside a strip club and his… insides have been removed along with his lungs and heart. His ribs are intact but the…” she stops talking and I start shaking.

The image of him is the worst thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Everything Garcia has said to have been done to him is obvious, but she didnt get to the part where the skin from his torso was cut open like a jacket.

I look away at Spencer and his eyes are wide, glued to the screen. I feel my stomach heave and I stand. “Excuse me for a second.” I choke before quickly walking to the nearest trash can to vomit. I feel tears run down my face and I sob.

Who could have done this?

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #is it too early to love you series #doctor spencer reid #stranger things fanfiction #spencer reid imagines

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altruistic-meme · 8 months ago

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rip this poor damn coffee maker. im putting her through the ringer rn.

i didn't get the specific one i was after, but i DID get a k-cup coffee maker!!! fuck yeah!!! and it came with a coffee filter too, so i can still make regular coffee in it :D

#it is a used coffee maker so OFC im cleaning it first #i bought a little descaling/cleaning kit :)#but it requires me to run the poor machine like 7 or 8 times in a row 😭#its doing well for being a cheap maker being forced to keep running tough!#im just sitting on a chair in my kitchen with it though fjajjfjajfja #i alsoc bought a variety pack of kcups to try :3 and i put them in my little stand and then i labeled the top!!#bc there's 4 different roasts. a cappuccino blend. and hot coco :)#and i wanted to make sure i could tell what KIND of coffee i was gonna make fjsjfjjsjd #shh ac

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yesihaveaobsession · 11 months ago

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Memory Loss

Alastor x female reader

Summary: The reader (you) somehow gets your memory wiped and can't remember ANYTHING, so Alastor is chosen to "babysit" you as the others go find a cure.

A/N- For those Supernatural fans out there "Regarding Dean?" Anyone?? Anyways enjoy. ALSO, I ONLY SKIMMED THROUGH SOO SORRY IF IT MAKES NO SENSE

Something had happened. It was either when you had to defeat that very powerful witch in the battle a couple of hours ago, hexing you, or it was just to piss off Alastor with a prank by the Vees. Either way, it led to damage, not towards the hotel but to you. Your memory was completely wiped out, and you didn't know anyone at the hotel, where you were, or who you were.

After a group meeting, which you had no idea had happened, Charlie and Vaggie volunteered to go find answers or even just a cure. Angel was at Valentino's studio, and Husk was nowhere to be found (probably passed out drunk in a closet somewhere), leaving Alastor to "babysit" you until Charlie and Vaggie returned.

"Charlie, Husk, and Vaggie are on the hunt for a cure," Alastor said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "In the meantime, it looks like you’re stuck with me!" Now, Alastor isn't one to babysit, and even though you're a grown adult, you had the mind of an infant at that moment.

You blinked at him, tilting your head in confusion. "Who are you again?" you asked as you sat on the couch in the lobby, tense, on high alert, and most of all, afraid. But your eyes were filled with curiosity as you looked at the strange tall man in front of you.

Alastor's smile widened, and he chuckled softly. "I'm Alastor, darling." He saw the wheels turning in your head as you tried to process his name and his face, trying to remember.

Hours passed with no sign of Charlie and Vaggie, and Alastor didn't want to wait any longer, so he took up the challenge, taking a more hands-on approach. He disappeared and reappeared with a pen and post-it notes. You tilted your head like a puppy trying to understand.

He began labeling everything in your room with brightly colored post-its: "Bed," "Mirror," "Closet," "Lamp," and even "Door." You watched with wide eyes as he methodically placed each note, explaining their purpose with an amused grin. You followed him around the hotel like a lost puppy, listening as best you could. Finally, you stopped in front of a door. With one arm behind his back clutching his microphone, he used his free hand to gesture to it.

"See, my dear? This is a door. You use it to enter and exit rooms. Quite ingenious, don't you think?" he teased, his tone light but his gaze attentive to your reactions. You followed his explanations with innocent curiosity, nodding earnestly at each one.

Just in case Charlie and Vaggie didn't arrive by daylight, he brought you over to the kitchen and showed you how to use the coffee maker, which was labeled with a colorful and bright neon sticky note. The word "coffeemaker" was scribbled in the radio demon's handwriting. The buttons on the machine were also labeled, and he even wrote down the steps.

All the concentrating and thinking made you tired. He sat in his armchair, reading a newspaper with an old tiny radio playing soft jazz quietly on a small table next to him. You had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up sometime later to find he was missing. Getting up and pretty much getting lost in a place you had once known, you heard humming and figured it was him. So you followed it, and it led you to the kitchen. You forgot you were in there earlier.

Alastor was preparing dinner in the kitchen. You stood close by and then peeked your head in, watching his every move. "What are you making?" you asked, your voice filled with innocent wonder.

"Just a little something to keep us energized," Alastor replied, glancing at you with a fond smile. "Would you like to help?"

You nodded eagerly, stepping closer. He handed you a knife, standing behind you and guiding your hand as you chopped vegetables. Your concentration was intense, and Alastor found it adorable how seriously you took the task. After you finished dinner and cleaned up, which he helped with, it was delightful. Charlie and Vaggie returned with a cure, and your memory soon went back to normal.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #i have an obsession

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nctsplug02 · 2 years ago

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okay but like smth i’ve been having on my mind is that johnny LOVES when he’s gets to have ur thighs around his head ,,, like that man is in HEAVEN especially with thick thighs…

(♥️)

GENRE: fluff, smut, hot dilf next door, older male!mc and younger fem!mc (age gap).

WARNINGS: age gap; (41-25), thick thigh reader, kissing, flirting, possessiveness, praising, thigh fuck, face sitting, oral sex (F receiving), and cum eating!

you rub your eyes with a yawn while you walk down the staircase.

“oh, hey there.” you gasp, biting back a scream when seeing your 6’2 giant boyfriend in the kitchen, half naked and holding a coffee mug with the labels; “i♥️my girlfriend.”

“i’m so glad my throat is worn out, otherwise i would’ve woken up the whole neighborhood.” johnny laughs and grabs your waist, pulling you in and giving you a kiss. “i’m pretty sure you already did last night.”

you smack his chest. “i’m kidding! maybe,” he mumbles. “g’morning, princess.” you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him once more before pulling away.

“morning, love. how’d you sleep?” you ask and fix his messy bed hair. “slept like a perfect baby. especially after eating your pussy.. slept amazing.”

you giggle and hide your face in his chest as he cups your ass cheeks.

you pull away and press a kiss on his jaw. “can you make me a cup of coffee, love?” johnny nods with a soft hum and taps your thigh.

you jump and instantly johnny catches you. he brings you over to the counter next to the coffee maker and sits you next to the machine.

“how are you feeling after last night?” johnny asks, grabbing your matching mug (i♥️my boyfriend) and pouring the black coffee into it.

“sore; my thighs, hips and clit are so sore, right now.” you rub your hips while watching johnny add creamer into your coffee. “aw, i’m sorry, princess.” johnny hands you your mug.

you take a sip and nod, groaning at the sweet taste. “you make the best coffee, i swear.”

“well, i do own the best café in the city.” you set down your mug and nod. “mhm, that’s where we first met. i’m sorry, again.”

johnny laughs and shakes his head. “it’s fine, princess. i know you didn’t mean to spill coffee on me.”

johnny, your boyfriend of four years who owns a small coffee shop and is a CEO at one of his parents companies.

“that reminds me. what time is it, don’t you have to get ready for work?” johnny shakes his head and spreads your legs, wedging himself between them and picking up his mug.

“it currently is,” he looks behind him and turns back to you. “ten in the morning and no, the meeting i was supposed to have at the company was postponed for next week.”

you frown, “that sucks but yay, another day for us!” you say with a small cheer.

“mhm,” johnny sets down his mug. “and, what would you like to do today since it’s a day for us?” johnny rubs your thighs and bites his bottom lip.

“you think we can go to ikea? i need a dresser for my guest room.” johnny groans and rolls his eyes. “can’t you just move in already?”

johnny, your boyfriend of four years, who’s also your next door neighbor.

“love, we’ve already talked about this.” you cup his face and smoosh his cheeks so his lips pout. “i love you but i don’t know if i’m ready to move in yet.”

“baby, you’ve moved almost all your stuff into my house already. i think it’s kind of a waste to be paying rent on your own place when you’re over at my house 24/7.”

you bite your lip, he was right.

“i’ll think about it, alright?” johnny nods.

you set your mug down. “what should i make for breakfast?” you ask after hearing nothing but silence.

johnny smirks and it was a smirk you knew. “i’m craving for something sweet and juicy.” johnny plays with the end of your shirt.

“you want stake for breakfast?” johnny presses his lips together and glares at you. “i’m kiddingg,” you giggle and kiss his lips.

“you want my pussy, you gotta use your words and ask.” you wrap your legs around his waist and rub his bare chest. “c’mon, baby. just a little taste. i’ll order you waffles and boba?”

“extra boba?” johnny nods. “i promise.”

you pull off the oversized shirt and toss it on the ground behind johnny. “fuck, you aren’t wearing anything under?” besides a thong, you were bra-less. “i got a little lazy.” you shyly admit with a shrug.

“you’re so sexy.” johnny groans and grabs your hip, pulling them a bit forward and then slowly pulling off your thong.

johnny lowers himself onto his knees. “have i ever told you how much i love your thighs?” johnny smacks and watches the recoil from your thighs. “always.”

you gasp feeling his mouth come into contact with your inner left thigh. “n—not a day goes by without you telling me how much you love my thighs.” you sigh in relief when his nose brushes against your pussy.

“you smell so sweet.” johnny sighs and smears your folds. “i love your pussy so much.” johnny bites his bottom lip and then ghosts his thumb over your clit.

“stop being a tease and eat me out!” johnny chuckles at your impatient cry. “please?” you add.

johnny chuckles, again and shakes his head. “so impatient.. it’s pathetic.”

johnny presses a kiss on your folds and pulls back. “while i eat your pussy, i want you to think about you moving in with me, got it?” you nod in a hurry. “okay, okay! just.. please hurry?”

you moan in a dreamy way when feeling johnny mouth your pussy. his tongue laps your folds and flicks your clit.

your hands find themselves tangled in johnnys hair. moans pour from your throat and groans spill from johnny as he laps up your juice.

“j—johnny,” you gasp and pull on his black locks. “y—you’re a menace.” your gasp pitches up when he sucks your clit.

johnny pulls away and licks his lips. he looks up at you through his lashes with hungry eyes. “i just.. mm.. love how sweet you taste.” johnny licks your right inner thigh and begins sucking a hickey where he’d just licked.

your legs hang from johnnys shoulders, toes curled, thighs suffocating your boyfriend who doesn’t mind.

your fingers tighten around johnnys locks as he goes back to eating your pussy but this time his fingers are slipped inside you.

your chest is lifting heavily and falling back at the same pace. your moans are filling up the perfect sized kitchen. your eyes are shut tightly to keep this as a memory.

“mm,” johnny pulls away and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “gonna cum yet, princess?” johnny asks, looking up at you through his lashes.

you nod with an uncomfortable face.

“c’mon,” johnny sucks on your clit and groans, “cum on my tongue, baby.” your legs hanging off his shoulders begin to tremble, johnnys fingers had hit the best spot causing you to fall weak.

with a cry of pleasure, you cream on johnnys fingers and tongue.

johnny pulls away with one last kiss on your clit and comes up with his fingers in his mouth, he groans as he sucks them clean.

“mm, boy am i full.” johnny smiles and rubs his bare belly. “tch,” you sit up and allow your legs to slowly shut. “lucky you.” johnny helps you off the counter and holds you by the waist.

your chest pressed against his bare chest, you on your tiptoes and your face making a fake angry face.

“i still want my breakfast, suh.” johnny lifts you so you’re off your feet for a split second and kisses your neck. “of course, it’s what i promised and i don’t break my promises.”

johnny grabs his phone which is on the counter behind you and begins ordering your breakfast. “babe, can i get a side of hashbrowns and eggs? i really like the eggs, they have cheese in them!” johnny chuckles and nods.

“anything for you, baby.” he rubs your thighs and ass while confirming the order.

“babe,” you clench your thighs together and hold onto johnnys arm. “yeah, baby? what’s wrong?” he holds you up in front of him. “my thighs—the baby powder isn’t working anymore!”

you and johnny were at the club with his friends and yours combined.

while getting ready, you were torn between two dresses; a barbie pink thigh cut dress with the straps tied around your neck or a black and nude dress with a long v-cut in the middle.

johnny being the fashionista he is and picks the barbie pink dress, saying it fits the club better and saying how you’d outshine (glow) everyone like you always do.

“what’s wrong with your thighs, baby? are they starting to chafe?” you nod as johnny rubs the peeling skin. “okay, let’s go home. i’ll take care of you, baby, don’t worry.”

johnny finds one of his buddies and tells them to tell the rest that you and him were taking off because he wasn’t feeling well.

your heart melted by how he took the blame.

“i think i have some vaseline and bandaids in the car somewhere but i’ll have to look as soon as we get to the car.” johnny says guiding you out the club.

you wince and stop when reaching a stop sign. “dude,” you laugh in pain and grab the pole that holds the stop sign. “my thighs are absolutely killing me!”

johnny laughs and watches with his hands now in his pockets as you rub your inner thighs. “my skin is peeling, i can feel my skin burning and my thighs scraping against the other.”

“alright, baby. take your heels off.” a bright glow outlines your body when hearing johnnys command, you knew exactly what he meant by that.

“yay!“ you clap your hands and do little hops before undoing your heels. “piggy or shoulder?” you shrug and hand johnny your left heel. “whichever is easiest for you.”

johnny smirks, “both are easy but there’s only one of you and i’d like to keep it that way.”

with one hand, you hold both your shoes while johnny picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. “you alright, baby?”

“perfectly fine!” you say with a giggle and a little kick.

“this is absolutely perfect.” johnny says as he begins to walk. “how so?” you ask while hanging lifelessly. “because, my face is facing your thighs and i fucking love your thighs.”

“you love my thighs or you love fucking my thighs?” johnny stays silent. “both, of course.” you roll your eyes.

“that reminds me,” you hum. “how are your thighs now? still hurting—? oh, look. our car!” you grab your bag and dig around for the keys, holding them out by your ass when finding them.

you close your bag and let it hang lifelessly with your arms. “my thighs are fine for now. i can feel the skin just.. absolutely stinging.”

johnny sits you in the passenger seat after unlocking the car and opening the passenger side. “can we get food on the way home?” you ask while seat belting yourself. “sure, what are you in the mood for?”

“i don’t know.” johnny glares at you. “i’m not really craving for anything specific, i’m just hungry.” johnny doesn’t say anything and shuts your door. “uh, rude!” you shout.

“figure out what you’re in the mood for and i’ll take us to go get some.” johnny says when entering the drivers side and buckling himself in. “i’m feeling beef tacos right now.”

“beef tacos it is! let’s go to our favorite taco truck?” you look at the time, 11:23PM. “it’s almost midnight, i’m not sure if they’re open.” you look at johnny with a sad pout. “we can go check and if they’re not then we can go find another place to eat at or something else to eat.” you nod and johnny drives off.

“c’mon, babe. it wasn’t bad last time, we loved it.” you shake your head and toss the folded jean on the jean pile.

you pick up johnnys barbie pink boxer and sigh. “babe, for the last time. we’re not doing anal tonight! the last time we did anal, i could barely sit for a week straight!”

johnny giggles and scratches his head. “i know, i’m sorry. but, hey! you told me i could go at whatever pace and you just felt so damn good, i couldn’t resist.”

“please, baby.” you look back at johnny with a glare. “maybe another time, johnny. tonight is not the night for anal.”

“can we thigh fuck, then?” you snort.

you look back at johnny who stands against the door frame with his arms crossed. “i’ll think about it, okay?”

johnny goes silent and stays silent for a few minutes. “okay, can you hang up our shirts?” you ask johnny and fold the last pair of shorts. “of course, baby.” johnny takes the basket and goes into the closet.

you finish shoving all the neatly folded clothes into a drawer and you walk into the closet, watching as johnny hangs the shirts in a color coordinated way.

“johnny,” you wrap your arms around his broad chest. “you still up for a quick thigh fuck?” johnny tosses the shirt that was in his hand back into the basket and turns, grabbing you and guiding you to the bed.

you sit in the bed with johnnys tap of demand and watch as johnny pushes down his sweats. your eyes widen and blinks repeat several times when seeing johnnys cock spring free.

“i will never pass on a thigh fuck with you. your thighs are my favorite body part on you.” johnny says in the softest yet nastiest tone ever.

it was mixed with both honey like and sultry.

johnny goes for your leggings. “what happened to my boobs being your favorite?” johnny pauses with the leggings scrunched on your knees. “that was yesterday but today it changed to your thighs.”

he pulls off your leggings and tosses them behind him. “does that make me look sexy?” johnny asks. “you’re always sexy, john.” he laughs. “i know but, did me throwing your pants behind me make me look sexy?”

“yeah, i’m so wet from that.” johnny groans and reaches down, rubbing your pussy through your damp panties. “fuck, baby.”

“nuh-uh, no mind changing. stick to what you wanted and fuck my thighs already.” johnny clenches his jaw and glares at you.

his stare is subtle and dark.

you gasp when johnny lands a slap on your pussy. “don’t tell me what to fucking do, brat.” he lands another slap on your pussy and this time you don’t make a sound, only barely whimpering and pouting at his meanness.

johnny stands straight and grabs the bottle of oil from his nightstand, spreading your legs a bit and dropping a few drops of oil on your thighs.

johnny snaps the oil bottle shut and tosses it next to you. he rubs the oil in between your thighs and uses the leftover oil on his hand and rubs his cock with it.

“fuck,” johnny whispers when feeling his hardness and rubs the precum from his tip.

just as if it was your pussy, johnny slips between your thighs. “shit,” johnny sighs when feeling your warm thighs around his cock.

you let out a wince when johnny slaps your thighs.

johnny has your legs propped against his shoulder while he fucks your thighs. you watch as his tip disappears and reappears from between your thighs.

“fuck, baby.” johnny hisses and moans.

you raise your arms above your head and rest your arms on your forehead. you only look up when your thighs don’t feel johnny thrusting anymore.

“johnny—?”

johnny pulls your lavender pantie so that they’re stuck above your knees. “i can’t resist your pretty pussy, baby.” johnny says and enters you, you gasp and grab his hand on your thigh.

“god, you’re so big, johnny!” you mumble and moan as he fucks you.

johnny lets out groans and pants as he thrusts his hips like there’s no tomorrow. “you feel so amazing, baby.” he hugs your legs and lifts his shirt, peeking at how well you take him.

“you’re so good for me, y/n.” johnny pauses and reaches down, grabbing your shirt and lifting it, pulling up your bra after not succeeding the first time. “fuck, you’re so, so, good for me.”

your breasts bounce every time his abdomen hits your ass. “you’re just perfect, baby. so fucking perfect. too perfect.” he spits out.

“look how well you’re taking me. you’re taking me so fucking well, baby.” johnny groans when seeing his cock being swallowed by your glistening pussy.

“urgh—i’m gonna cum!” johnny growls and tightens his grip on your thighs.

johnny reaches forward and grabs your large breasts, fondling and pinching your nipples.

“c—cum in m—me, johnny.” you grab his hand. “my baby wants me to cum in her?” you nod and slip his finger in your mouth, placing the finger pad on your tongue and suckling the saltiness.

“fuck me!” johnny groans and pulls his finger away, hugging your legs tightly.

his thrusts grow sloppy as he grows closer to his climax. you gasp and clench the bedsheets when johnny shoots ribbons of cum on your walls.

johnny chants a few curse words before spreading your legs and falling between them, laying his heavy breathing body on top of yours.

after sitting for a few minutes, you strike a conversation. “i’m hungry, are you?” you rest your hand on johnnys back. “a little, yeah. i could go for some food.”

“can we go eat out at a restaurant?” johnny lifts his head. “sure, why not.” johnny stands and pulls out of you, his cum slowly spills and a satisfied grin appears on johnnys face.

“i hope i don’t get mistaken as your uncle or dad, again. that shit is so fucking embarrassing.” you laugh and sit up. “it’s so funny whenever they mistaken you as my dad or uncle but, i can’t blame them. we are fourteen years apart after all.”

johnny rolls his eyes and stands, running his hand through his sweaty hair. “let’s take a quick shower and then we can go, okay?”

“uhh, i still have to do my makeup, do my hair and then pick out a pretty outfit that’ll make you wanna rip it off in the middle of the restaurant and fuck me on our table.” you pout.

“so, my pretty girl needs her time getting dolled up, i get it. but, every outfit you wear always makes me want to rip it off and fuck you on every surface.”

johnny slams the door after you stumble in, full on dying of laughter. your body shakes as you attempt to quiet yourself.

“it is not that funny, y/n.” johnny sighs and yanks off his tie.

“it is so funny!” you hold the wall for support as you die from laughter.

“i don’t get why people can keep their comments to themselves. i mean, seriously. do i really look like your dad?” johnny points to his face.

you laugh even harder and you cross your legs. “i’m gonna pee my pants!” you let out a cry and continue laughing.

“you aren’t even wearing pants, you dummy!” johnny glares at you with a pout.

johnny yanks you by the waist and stares down at you while you continue laughing. “y/n,” you look up at him and attempt to shut your laughter up.

you fail with snickers breaking your silence. “i’m sorry, it’s just so funny!”

after johnny holds you up for another good minute, you’re able to calm yourself.

“i appreciate and love that you find humor in a younger man asking for your number and assuming i’m your dad when finding out that we’re dating but, i find that rather disturbing and disrespectful. do you like younger men, y/n?” you look up at him with a now worried face.

“tell me, y/n. do you like younger men rather than older men? do younger men hitting on you give you better satisfaction than i do? can younger men please you the same way i do?”

johnny smirks when hearing no response. “that’s exactly what i thought. please go to the room and strip on the bed.”

“you party pooper.” you mumble while walking to the bedroom with your arms crossed and lips all pouty.

“what was that?” johnny shouts, cuffing his sleeves and undoing a few buttons of his button up.

“i said you’re a party pooper!” you shout back and pick your pace up while going up the stairs when hearing johnnys sarcastic chuckle.

oh, this was gonna be an amazing night.

#ash talks #nctsplug02 #anon #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #nct 127 #johnny smut #johnny suh #johnny angst #johnny fluff #johnny seo #johnny x reader #johnny seo smut #nct johnny #johnny suh smut

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rottenpumpkin13 · 7 months ago

Note

A long time ago, you received an ask about what languages the Firsts would like to learn. It went something like "Zack wants to learn Spanish because of -insert reason-" "Sephiroth wants to learn Latin totally not because of One Winged Angel" "Genesis wants to learn French to sound better than everybody". But the one I actually remember is Angeal:

Angeal: "If I had to learn another language, I would like to learn English, because nobody understands when I say to PUT. YOUR DISHES. IN THE DISHWASHER. PUTTING THEM ON THE COUNTER BY THE SINK DOES NOTHING."

I would like to counter this response by saying I put all the dishes neatly in the dishwasher for years until a new member of my family straight up refused to learn how to do it right. If the bowls aren't balanced the right way, they won't get washed. If you put things in the wrong location, you waste a lot of useful space. But this man flat out said "I refuse to learn how to do this right because I don't care".

So out of SPITE, dishes now sit on the kitchen counter because I refuse to be bothered when no one else gives a shit. What does Angeal think about this if this is something one of his fellow Firsts did?

Angeal may try to project an image of humility and honor, but he combats petty with petty. If he realizes people who have the privilege of owning a dishwasher are being disorderly out of spite, he'll do things to be even pettier. This includes:

• One time he witnessed Sephiroth dump a perfectly good mug of coffee down the drain, and made it his personal mission to mess with him. Over a month, he methodically swapped all of Sephiroth's coffee with decaf and watched Sephiroth slowly descend into madness.

• When Genesis couldn't be bothered to wash his dishes in the break room, Angeal turned it into an art show. He'd collect the dirty dishes and created elaborate display outside Genesis' office, complete with angallery-style label like "Exhibit 17: A Study in Neglected Responsibilities"

• Changed all the settings on Zack's computer so it would autocorrect "SOLDIER" to "SHOULDER" in his official emails to Director Lazard. Lazard received three reports about "SHOULDER Second Class performance reviews"

• Orchestrated a three-week psychological campaign to convince everyone—including Sephiroth himself—that he was allergic to coffee. Every time Sephiroth took a sip, Angeal would squint and ask about non-existent rashes until even Sephiroth started second-guessing himself.

• Loves cooking extravagant meals just to send photos to his friends with captions like "Made your favorite dish… Not for you though" or "This could've been yours."

• Claims everyone's preferred spots, especially Sephiroth's cherished right-side aisle seat in their usual mess hall booth. He'll sit there with a straight face while watching Sephiroth's internal blue screen. (punishment for the coffee)

•Steals Sephiroth's favorite coffee mug, making it mysteriously appear in increasingly bizarre locations around the 49th floor. like inside the copy machine, balanced on top of the water cooler, in the middle of board meeting tables, and once inside the vents.

• Changes Zack's training sessions into "essential SOLDIER skills" that suspiciously look like chores, like organizing the filing room, polishing all the doorknobs in the building, alphabetizing Angeal's spice rack, and putting coffee beans in the air vent in Sephiroth's office, so that Sephiroth constantly smells coffee whenever he's working.

• Weaponizes his infamous lectures. Once subjected Genesis to a 45-minute lecture on "proper pizza etiquette and the spiritual implications of throwing out the crust." Gives Sephiroth an hour-long lecture about resource conservation whenever he spots him with coffee. Sephiroth is in hell

• Takes malicious delight in creatively misinterpreting Sephiroth's requests:

Sephiroth: The coffee maker needs cleaning. Angeal: *Completely disassembles the coffee maker and spreads all its parts across Sephiroth's desk and cleaning supplies* Sephiroth: *visibly fighting the urge to cry*

• Maintains a detailed "incident log" where he documents everyone's minor transgressions. Once pulled it out during a board meeting to remind Genesis about "The Great Stapler Misplacement of Last Tuesday." Adds a tally mark under Sephiroth's name every time he spots him with coffee.

• Started a rumor that his office plant can sense irresponsibility. Strategically moves it around the office to "watch" people. Zack is completely convinced it's judging him.

Zack: I swear it droops when I forget to hand in my reports! Angeal, watering plant: The voice of nature speaks the truth.

• Sephiroth has quit coffee.

#ff7 #ffvii #sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #ff7 crisis core #crisis core

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timetoletmyimaginationfly · 2 years ago

Text

Coffee

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song inspiration: Coffee Breath by Sofia Mills)

“We have one already?” Nanami said.

“But this one is different.”

“Our coffee pot makes a bunch of coffee. Why this?”

“It makes espresso.” Nanami was quiet and put in a bunch of pros and cons in his head. You held his hand and placed your head on his shoulder. “Please! It’ll save money because I won’t have to buy eight dollar lattes!” Nanami sighed. It was a good reason and you convinced him more with puppy dog eyes that he could never resist.

“Alright,” he said. “Go pick one.” He watched your smile grow.

And when you two arrived home, you happily set up the new coffee/espresso maker next to the coffee pot. Nanami watched and smiled. He loves doing anything to make you happy. Once you finished setting up, you sat on the couch next to him and went on the website.

“What are you doing now?” he asked curiously.

“Ordering the espresso. We need to go to the store so I could buy flavored syrups and more milk for my lattes,” you said.

“Can we go tomorrow? We should’ve just gotten it before we arrived home.”

“I forgot.” Nanami shook his head at your sheepish smile. He pulled you in closer and looked at your phone screen.

“That looks good,” he said. “Caramel.” You added it to the cart. “Really? An intense one? I thought you hate bitter.”

“It won’t be after I add all the sugar and milk in it.”

“So when are they coming in?” Nanami asked.

“It says sometime this week,” you said, reading the notification. “That’s really quick. Do you want some coffee, Kento?”

“Sweetheart, it’s four in the afternoon. You really need coffee?”

“I’m gonna need it for the grocery store.” Before you could add coffee grinds to the filter, Nanami grabbed you by the waist. “Kento!”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about it right now. I promise you’ll get your things before the espresso comes in.” He leaned in and kissed your pouty lips.

“Sorry, I’m just too excited.” Nanami lightly chuckled.

“I know. It’s very endearing on you.” You gave him a bright smile and kissed his lips. “Now, you keep bugging me all week about this new show you found.”

“I totally forgot about that! Kento, it’s so funny!” And you grabbed his wrist, excitedly dragging him to the couch.

You stirred in bed. You swore you could smell coffee in your dream. The idea of your new coffee machine made you so excited. When you woke up, Nanami’s side of the bed was empty. But with the door slightly ajar, you could hear the news from the TV. And the smell of coffee…it smelt different. You got up as you rubbed your tired eyes. When you left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen, you watched Nanami place your coffee mug on the counter. He smiled when he saw you.

“The espresso came, sweetheart,” he announced. Your eyes widened.

“Already?!” you exclaimed. Nanami nodded his head. “Wait, did you make one?” Nanami nodded to your mug.

“I went to the store,” he said. He opened the cabinet, where it used to contain the spices, were various syrup flavors. “I bought one of each. Except the vanilla and caramel. I bought three of each. And I have a project for you.”

“Which is?”

“I bought a new spice rack since the syrups are taking over. And I bought those empty spice containers with the cute labels that you love showing me on Pinterest.” You hugged him tightly and kissed him.

“Thank you, Kento.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Go try your latte.”

“Okay!” You skipped over to your mug. You smiled. He added whipped cream on the top with sprinkles of cinnamon. You took a sip and smiled. “Mmm that’s delicious.” Nanami walked over to you. You took another a sip and before you swallowed it, Nanami passionately kissed you. He pulled away and licked his lips.

“Very tasty,” he said with a wink.

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dhruvdymoindia · 1 year ago

Text

The durable alternative to sew-on name tags, DYMO LT Iron-On Fabric Labels make it simple to create easy, machine washable labels for all your clothing, towels, and backpacks. Adhering to a variety of fabrics and textures, these cloth labels are faster and more reliable than sewing your own patches.

#DYMO LetraTag #Iron-On Labels #Fabric Labels #machine washable labels #label maker

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e-rated-beardo · 4 months ago

Text

Scorn and the Saint-Maker, chapter 32: I can’t face this life alone

Scorn and the Saint-Maker is a murder mystery/ineffable husbands romance/who-turned-them-human Good Omens fanfic, set at a university in Scotland, with lots of (as-yet skippable) level-5 smut, ✨sexy maths✨ (reportedly), and one trans angel

Of course Tumblr's link block got fucky again when I wanted to post. Of course. (And yeah, I know it's because of AO3's request throttling, but it's still Tumblr's fault for not making their post UI able to deal with that at all. A new request every time someone pastes a link in the post UI is just irresponsible coding tbh. GROW BETTAH)

Chapter 32 summary: The aftermath.

Rating: Chapter rated T; fic E (for skippable smut and some heavy topics).

Notices/warnings: Further hospital/medical stuff. References to all the recent drama and to the sick from a few chapters back (also non-graphic).

Excerpt:

“You had a breathing tube,” Ruaraidh said without looking up. “Said they were worried you might ‘aspirate’. I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds like something you’d want to avoid.” Anthony looked around as well as he could to assess the situation. A number of cords and tubes connected him to a collection of interesting-looking machines on a wheeled trolley; one machine looked very much like the heart monitors he had seen in medical shows on TV. There was a tallish steel rack on which was hung a rectangular bag containing a near-clear liquid. The bag had a label, but he could not read it. “Apologies for the less than enthusiastic ‘welcome back to life’ speech,” Ruaraidh continued dispassionately. “I’m told you came in with a blood alcohol content of about fifty basis points. That’s over six times the legal limit and more than enough to kill most people. Too bad,” he added as an afterthought. “Would’ve saved us all a lot of trouble.”

Read chapter 32 on AO3 ➡️ or start from the beginning ↩️ (141k words, WIP)

...or go back to chapter 28, where the cliffhanger run starts ➡️

For the sake of my sanity (and the quality of my coursework, and the continued quality of Scorn, frankly), I’m going to slow down posting to fortnightly instead of weekly for a while.

This last run of chapters... was pretty unpleasant to write, not going to lie, and probably contributed to the slowing-down (*coughs* near-complete cessation) of my writing mid-autumn. Writing about people having an awful time makes one feel kinda down... go figure. For the past few weeks – since I’ve started seeing the end of the current angstfest, which I’m sure is a complete coincidence – I’ve somehow managed to write about one new chapter a week again, but given that’s not been my average for a while, I’m sure you can understand my worry. 🙂

I’ll be posting chapter 33 next Thursday on the normal schedule, then it’s two weeks per after that. There might be the occasional bonus chapter or bullshit spinoff or drawing posted in the gaps, but Scorn proper is going to have to take priority.

Hi @goodomensafterdark as usual, hi also @addledmongoose who I know has been waiting for the end of cliffhangers ❤️ (and hi to everyone else who also has, who I don't know about!)

#good omens #fanfic #my fics #fic update #scorn and the saint-maker #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable angst #welcome back everyone who doesn't like cliffhangers!

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rdng1230 · 5 months ago

Text

the beginnings of a severance coda

that episode made me feel things (spoilers under the cut)

So I wrote a little bit of Irving and Burt in the afterlife's art gallery. Depending on how my day goes tomorrow I'll finish it.

——-

There’s nothing but darkness until he can feel a cool leather seat underneath him, and the vibrations of footprints on a wooden floor. Light pushes past his eyelids, and a promise of high ceilings and open spaces once he opens them.

“Hello old man. I wasn’t expecting you till later.”

The voice is recognizable anywhere, with lots of ingredients that shouldn’t work together. Coffee maker grind and rubber squeaks and wooden cabinets opened to reveal their secrets. There’s a fondness to it too, like the warm static that emanates off his workstation computer for several moments after it’s been turned off.

“Hello Burt.” He turns his head toward the voice and opens his eyes to find his love’s staring back at him. There’s a flattering stutter in the other man’s chest Irving can’t help but catch and he laughs despite himself. “Don’t worry, your hair looks very nice.”

Burt’s mouth falls open, fiery red erupting across his usually pale cheeks. Blushing suits him, Irving thinks. The sun suits him. He looks straight up at the inviting rays shining down from the domed skylight high up above him. It makes him want to lie down and bathe in it.

“Take your time,” Burt reads his mind. “I know napping is a specialty of yours.” Irving smiles again, bumping his shoulder against Burt’s. He misses the mark slightly and ends up brushing their cheeks together, not having the strength to pull away.

“They took you from me.” The emotions bubble up suddenly, coming out in hot tears and clenched hands. “I tried to find you and-” “Shhhh.” Burt hushes. “You’ll ruin your nice suit.”

Irving looks down to find himself dressed in strange clothes. They’re nothing like the fare his outtie would put on for him. The fabric is lighter, freer. He’s sure that if he checked the labels right now they would have words on them. Proof of life, history, and external humanity he was never afforded.

He doesn’t know the currency of this place, knows enough to know that it’s probably not vending machine tokens, but he feels like the richest man in the world all the same. Irving catches the side of Burt’s face in his hand and pulls him in for a kiss. Soft but candid. Declaring that he won’t wait another minute.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do that before.” He says, in a bizarre combination of smugness, satisfaction, and ruefulness. Burt just shrugs, looking dazed. “I don’t think you’ve got anything to be sorry for, but if it makes you feel any better, apology more than accepted.” Irving takes an extra second to rest his nose to the side of Burt’s, breathing the man in and reacquainting himself with joy when moments earlier there was only woe.

He sees something past Burt and gasps at the riots of color adorning the walls. “Was wondering when that penny would drop.” Burt grabs Irving’s chin playfully and hauls himself to his feet, offering his hand.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

#severance fic #burt x irving #irving b #irving bailiff #burt g #burt goodman #severance spoilers #severance

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 6 months ago

Text

Remembrance of Things Past: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fearing for your life

Summary: Someone leaves an unmarked package by your door that sends you into a spiral of fear. Meanwhile, the team joins forces with Virginia police on a case Rossi was on decades earlier, one that he will have to go back into in order to figure out the one that's staring at him in the face.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

"Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were." - Marcel Proust

"I swear I'm not making it up," you say as you turn the coffee machine on. "I felt eyes on me last night. Like someone was watching me. Like someone was in my apartment. I don't know. Maybe I'm going crazy."

"Was anything missing from your apartment?" JJ asks over FaceTime.

"No."

"Maybe you just had a bad dream or something."

"Yeah, maybe." Spencer walks into the kitchen as he finishes tying his tie, and he walks over to the coffee maker. He looks at your phone propped up against the flour container and smiles when he sees JJ. "Hey, Spence."

"JJ! It's good to see you."

"I miss all of you."

"We miss you, too." Spencer pours himself a cup to go before kissing you briefly. "I'll see you at work, okay?"

"Okay," you nod.

Spencer loves to get to work early when he can while you like to take your time in the morning and enjoy it before heading out.

"So, this mysterious person... Is there any energy left behind?"

"No or none that I'm seeing."

"I thought you saw them all."

"No, not everyone. I barely notice Spencer's. I don't notice half the team's anymore. I guess the ones that I've gotten to know personally, I don't see anymore."

"Hmm, I'm sure it's nothing."

You grab the coffee pot and pour what's left into your thermos so you can take it to work even though you know Spencer will have a cup waiting for you on your desk.

"So, are you excited for your new job?" you grin.

"It's going to be new, that's for sure."

"You're going to do great. Seriously, you're really valuable."

"Thank you. Listen, I have to get Henry ready before my meeting with the Pentagon."

"Give Henry my love. Oh, and JJ?" She looks at you through the tiny iPhone screen. "I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you," she smiles back.

You two hang up and you finish getting ready for work. You grab your purse and open the front door but frown when you see a package sitting at your front door. Was this always here? When did it get here? Who dropped it off? Spencer would have noticed a package when he left so it had to have come after he left. Why didn't anyone knock on the door?

You set your purse and thermos on the small table near the door and pick up the box to inspect it. There is no label or anything on it indicating who it's for but curiosity gets the better of you. You only realize how stupid of you it is to pick up an unmarked box when you hear something click inside of it. Rhythmic and steady beeping comes from inside the box and your entire body is paralyzed in fear.

Someone sent you a bomb in a box and you're holding it. Any slight movement will cause it to go off, killing you and potentially everyone else in this building. You have both hands underneath the box so you can't lean over and grab your purse which has your phone in it.

"Siri!" you yell loud enough for your phone to hear. "Hey, Siri!"

No response comes from her. You must be too far for her to hear. You're forced to wait until someone comes to your rescue, and you let tears fall at the many possibilities this can have.

After making a cup of coffee for you, he expected you to be at your desk. Since you're not, he takes the cup to the briefing room, passing by JJ's empty office. He pauses by the door and sees Penelope already inside of it. This is the first day since JJ left and not everyone is ready to do this without her.

"I miss her, Penelope sighs.

"Me too."

Penelope removes the nameplate from the door and heads back to her cave while Spencer walks into the briefing room. He sets the coffee on the desk where your spot is and takes his seat. Derek and Emily walk into the room with Derek nose-deep in his phone. He chuckles at a text he gets and sits down.

"Is that Ellie again?" Emily asks.

"She texts me every morning on her way to school."

"How is she doing?"

"She's already got herself a bff named Jill, and she thinks she wants to play soccer."

"She's adjusting. That's good."

The rest of the team walks in to start the briefing, and Hotch looks at your empty seat. Rossi isn't here since he is on vacation.

"Where's Y/N?"

"She should have been here by now," Spencer frowns. "Probably morning traffic. She'll be here shortly."

"Alright, we can't wait for her. Let's get started." Hotch hands out files to everyone. "The body of twenty-five-year-old Jenny Delilly was found yesterday in Bristol, Virginia. She had been tortured, sodomized, and electrocuted before being forced to make a goodbye call to her parents. Her body was then dumped off Elden Street. A week ago, the body of Kara Kirkland was found in the same area having suffered identical injuries."

"This reminds me of the Butcher case," Derek says.

"Why does that name sound familiar to me?"

"The Butcher was a sexual sadist who killed twenty women in the same area of Virginia from 1984 to 1993 and then vanished. He tortured blond women in their twenties who lived in or near Bristol."

"That was one of Rossi's old cases, wasn't it?" Emily asks.

"Yes."

"Does he know?" Rossi walks into the briefing room holding an opened box in his hands. "Some vacation. Did you get any sun?"

"I never got any anything."

"Do you think the Butcher's back?"

"I doubt it. We profiled him as a white male in his late forties back then. He'd be in his seventies by now."

"Didn't you almost catch him?"

"In the spring of '93, we narrowed the geographical profile. We alerted every blonde in their mid-twenties in Bristol and the surrounding counties. The pressure got so intense that the killings just stopped," Rossi sighs.

"Well, the Copelands killed into their seventies. This could be him coming back," Spencer suggests.

"It's probably a copycat. If he's emulating the Butcher, he could just be getting started. Alright, let's go over victimology."

"Both Jenny Delilly and Kara Kirkman were single professional women. Jenny had just gotten a job as a web designer, and Kara worked for a nonprofit. Each woman was taken from a populated area with no witnesses. Jenny from a crowded drugstore parking lot and Kara from the back patio of a ground-floor apartment when her roommate went inside to answer the phone."

"Why not take the roommate?" Derek asks.

"She's brunette. He prefers blondes."

"These vics were forced to make phone calls. Jenny left a message and Kara spoke with her fiancé."

"Garcia, were you able to trace the calls?" Hotch asks.

"My pretties, they're using disposable cells so I'm coming up empty."

"We do have a timeline, though. According to the ME's report, both victims were dead for about three hours before they were found which means based on the times of their messages, they endured five additional hours of torture after making their goodbye calls."

"It wasn't enough that he caused his victims pain and suffering, it extended to their parents as well?" Spencer wonders. "Rossi, were the phone calls the Butcher made his victims leave similar?"

"Yeah, but the content varied. Thirteen vics left answering machine messages for loved ones, five actually talked to someone before they died, and two reached no one."

"Didn't the Butcher make his victims end their messages by saying they were enjoying it?"

"That was his signature."

"Wouldn't that make a sadist flaccid?" Derek asks.

"It wasn't about him. It was about the parents. He wanted to make sure that they knew he had complete control and dominance over their daughters," Rossi shrugs.

"Alright, Morgan and Prentiss, go to the ME. We need to compare the ritual and MO. Rossi, Reid, and I will interview the families and go over the messages. Reid, where's Y/N?"

Spencer frowns at your absence and takes out his phone to call you. It rings six times before going to voicemail, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He tries you once more but the same thing happens again.

"Something's wrong. I need to go home. We'll drive up together once I figure out what's going on. It's only a thirty-minute drive to Bristow."

"Okay. Keep me informed."

Spencer is out of his seat before Hotch can finish speaking. Spencer races home and practically sprints up the stairs to your apartment.

"Y/N?" he calls out.

"Spencer," you cry. He steps off the top stair and pauses when he sees the brown box in your hands. You're trying hard not to shake and sweat is rolling down your forehead. "Don't come near me."

"What's going on?"

"I think this is a bomb. There's something ticking in here."

Spencer's eyes widen in concern. "Don't move. I'll call it in." He takes out his phone and calls the head of the bomb squad. Yes, he's been in enough situations to have him in his contacts. He quickly explains the situation to the man who says he'd be right over with his team. He dials Hotch next and keeps a close eye on you. "Hotch, we have a problem."

"Is Y/N okay?"

"She thinks someone sent a bomb to our house. She's standing in the doorway holding a brown box terrified. I don't know much more about it but I'll let you know when I do."

"Is the bomb squad on the way?" Rossi asks.

They must be in the car and the call went through Bluetooth.

"Yeah."

"Should we turn around?"

"No, you keep working the case. I'll be right here with her. As long as she doesn't move, she'll be fine."

"Please be careful and call when you know more."

"Of course." Spencer hangs up and looks at you. "It's going to be okay, Y/N. You're going to be okay. The bomb squad is on the way. Just try not to move."

"I'll try," you cry, trying to keep yourself from shaking.

The whole team is worried about you and Spencer but they have a job to do. They get to Bristow and meet with Detective Green who is eager for their arrival.

"This isn't the Butcher, believe me. Unless the Butcher is Jack Lalanne, this is a younger copycat."

"We need a room with a whiteboard, a window, and six chairs," Rossi says. "The bodies were left in the exact same location."

"Everybody knew the details of this case. The paper even printed part of the answering machine messages. It's a copycat."

"Have you been able to step up police presence on Elden Street?" Hotch asks.

"It's a seven-mile stretch that runs through the city. I've done what I could considering our budget."

"Are detectives Clemmons, Benton, and Gallagher still here? They worked on the first case," Rossi says.

"Clemmons and Benton both died two years ago. Gallagher retired from the force when his wife was killed at the Pentagon on 9/11."

"So, you're the lead detective on this?"

"Unfortunately. Look, the families of the victims should be here any minute. If there's anything I can do to help you guys, let me know."

"Thank you."

Both victims were assaulted with an electrified object based on the burn wounds that could have been by a curling iron, poker, or some other object. Both also have lacerations on their bodies with slight ones near the throat and deep ones on the chest. Whoever did this used multiple knives. The unsub was creative. There are also contusions on the backs of their heads likely sustained during the abduction.

It's a slightly different approach than the Butcher's abductions. Based on Rossi's profile, the Butcher was a smooth-talker who lured his victims without initial physical force. Clearly, this unsub doesn't have the same confidence or finesse. He's sloppy.

Derek and Emily head to the place where Jenny was taken and watch the security footage to understand what might have happened.

"Alright, this is right where she parked her car," Derek points to the empty parking spot, "and then she rushed in there to get a prescription. Then, she comes back to her car and somebody gets her attention."

"They call out to her. She throws her stuff in the trunk and runs off that way," Emily points, "and that's when we lose her. So, how do you snatch someone from here? Push her into a car?"

"It's way too crowded, but there is a blind spot right there. There's enough of an obstruction here to park your car, blitz her from behind, and then push her into the vehicle. Could you do that alone?" Derek asks.

"I doubt it. Two people would explain how the first victim was abducted so quickly from the patio when her roommate went in to get the phone."

"It would also shed light on the ME's findings. There wasn't one unsub with two knives, it was two unsubs with their own weapons."

Derek turns off the iPad and looks around the parking lot with a sigh.

"I'm worried about Y/N."

"Me too." Emily takes out her phone and calls Spencer. "Hey, Reid, is there an update?"

"The bomb squad is here and they evacuated everyone out of the building including me. I hate waiting knowing she's up in there terrified out of her mind."

"She's going to be okay. You have to believe that."

"Yeah, I know," he sighs.

"Keep us informed."

Spencer looks up at the building in wonder and wishes you're doing okay.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite

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