#t: museum assistant

[mymindisneverhere]

warnings: 18+, SMUT, dirty talk, unprotected sex, & more but don’t say I ain’t warn you.

Summary: Aaron is head of an architect firm who just hired a new assistant who is very nervous yet severely attracted to him.

(this is my first time writing one of these but I had to cause this man got me in a chokehold. enjoy!) 🩵

Assistance

She watched as his back muscles flexed with every rep. He had been exercising for the past 30 minutes and she didn’t want to interrupt but this was an emergency. Meagan had been Mr. Pierre’s assistant for 3 months now and she was enjoying her time with him. He was a kind yet stern gentleman who took his business endeavors very seriously. He needed her to send the final blueprints of a new building his architect firm would be preparing to build this coming fall. The deadline was in an hour and there were still bits and pieces of information missing. She knew how much this meant to her boss but she also knew how much his private workout routines meant to him as well.

She didn't mean to stare but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his glistening body. This man was sculpted by the creator themselves. Every muscle flexed perfectly and the veins in his arms went well with his masculine physique. She studied his movements as he brought both of his arms up and down above his head, doing what they called “Shoulder Press”. After a few more reps he slammed the dumbbells down and leaned forward to catch his breath. She had been in such a trance that she didn’t notice him looking up to see her staring in the mirror.

“Do you like your job?” He asked in a stern tone.

”Uh y-yes.” She stammered, shaking her head to bring herself back into the present moment, pushing her curly hair behind her ears.

”Then I suggest you get back to it then.” He stated, reaching for a towel and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Um, Mr. Pierre sir, th-there are a few details missing from the blueprints. We h-have an hour and uh, I-I didn’t want to send them t-to the contractors until-“ She stuttered. She hated when this happened. She’d get so nervous that her words would struggle to leave her mouth. She always struggled with her speech impediment since a child but it had gotten better over the years, that is until she met Mr. Pierre.

He walked over to her grabbing the papers from her hand reviewing the layouts of the new fine arts museum that would be built right in the center of downtown. As he looked over the paperwork the two sat in silence. Well he was silent but he could hear her struggling to breathe as he stood a few inches away from her. He made her nervous and he liked it. It wasn’t anything new to him though.

Being the man that he was with a million dollar business caused women to gawk at the sight of him. What he didn’t enjoy about these women were the ones who were obviously bothered by his presence but chose to put on a front. He knew that he could be intimidating and he hadn’t done it on purpose. But the women who tried so hard to match his aura always failed tremendously. The over talking, over sexualizing themselves, practically throwing themselves at him when they weren’t even prepared for the type of man he was, irritated him.

But his assistant, Meagan, was a different story. She’d get nervous from time to time when speaking with him but she’d never force herself to hide it. He’d notice that she’d take a few deep breaths, take a sip of water and then get right back to it like she never missed a beat. He liked that. He had to admit watching her struggle around him fed his ego a bit.

He looked to her and handed her the papers, giving her the corrections to make before sending it off to be finalized.

“Is that all?” He asked, staring down at her with a stern expression.

“Yes sir, thank you.” She grabbed the papers with a steady hand, slowly to be sure she didn’t drop them or make it obvious that he had her shook. She placed the folder with the paperwork under her arm and turned to leave his in-home gym.

He stood watching her walk away, admiring her natural body from her defined hips that slightly dipped into deep dimples to her voluptuous ass. No matter how many pairs of tights she’d wear, they would never stop the natural jiggle that happened when she’d walk. He felt his dick jump in his workout tights and he knew he had to have her. He immediately grabbed his phone and made his way to his bedroom to shower.

Meagan sat at the kitchen island, her fingers going a mile a minute as she sent email after email. They had done it, they had just secured the lot for the new Museum of Fine Arts and this meant Mr. Pierre would have a large check coming to him very soon. This was her first big win as his assistant and she couldn’t decide how she would celebrate. Although she couldn’t focus on celebrating because every time she did, images of him flashed in her mind. Images of him in the gym, images of him staring down at his sketches for the new buildings, images of him fucking her-

“Did you get it to them on time?” He asked, interrupting her thoughts. She silently thanked him before responding.

“Uh yes sir.” She replied. She turned the laptop toward him so he could see for himself. “Everything is confirmed, the deal is done!” She said looking up at him. Her eyes were so soft and pleading, almost childlike. It’s like she wanted to impress him badly. She wanted to finally get the approval she had been working for these past 3 months.

“Good job.” He said dryly.

She frowned a bit, somewhat in confusion and frustration. What was with this guy? She had just helped him secure one of the biggest deals for his firm and all he could say was “Good job”. She turned the laptop back toward her and went back to doing her daily emailing.

As she confirmed meetings and lunches for him she tried to sneak a peek at him but he was already staring at her. She didn’t know what this meant but she was afraid she’d be in the unemployment line real soon. He didn’t say anything, he just stared at her. When the silence went on for longer than she expected her mind went into overdrive. She couldn’t be getting fired, they had just closed a 7 figure deal, but she did overstep a boundary by going into his gym without his permission. But it was an emergency, hell it was for his business. He couldn’t have been that much of an asshole.

”Look Mr. Pierre, I-I’m sorry about coming into the g-gym without your permission. I just d-didnt want to mess up y-your b-big-“ She struggled to get out before he interrupted her.

”Breathe.” He suggested.

She stared down at her hands as she took a few deep breaths before mustering up the courage to meet his stern gaze again.

“You’re not in trouble.” He said, calming her mind first and her body second. He studied her as he watched her chest rise up and down slowly. Her jaw became unclenched and her shoulders more relaxed.

He looked down at his watch to see the time was nearly 11p.m., it was too late to send her on her way. He had enough bedrooms in this house, she could just pick one to rest for the night and be on her way in the morning.

“I don’t want you driving back home so late tonight.” He spoke.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. It’s no prob-“

”That’s an order.” He interrupted. “I wouldn’t be a man if I let you leave so late, I know you have a far drive to make.”

She nodded, refusing to look him in the eye.

“You know your way around the house, you can stay in a guest suite tonight.” He said before leaving the kitchen. “Great job by the way.”

She looked up at him in surprise.

“You’ll be around for a while so get comfortable.” He finished, leaving her in the kitchen alone.

Once she heard his footsteps become silent, indicating that he was no longer within ears reach, she jumped up in celebration. That is exactly what she wanted to hear.

”Yes!” She yelled, covering her mouth. She giggled to herself as she grabbed her laptop off of the island and made her way up to one of the guest suites.

After placing her things in the chair that sat near the window, she unbuttoned her dress shirt and kicked off her heels. She chose to stay in the guest suite on the far west wing of the house, it was in the opposite wing from his bedroom. She walked into the large bathroom that was attached to the suite and turned on the lights. She looked over to see a walk in shower and a large garden tub. She had chosen to take a shower instead, she was already a guest in his house, the last thing she needed to do was spend hours in his bathtub.

She turned on the faucet, pulling it all the way left to get the water as hot as possible. That was the only way she’d take showers. Closing the shower door, she walked over to the mirror to continue removing her clothes while the water warmed to her liking. She got down to her bra and panties, a matching set, as she admired her reflection. When she unbuttoned her bra, causing her natural 34 C’s to drop a bit, the images began to flash in her mind. Only this time she had imagined Mr. Pierre in the bathroom with her, staring at her with those icy blue eyes that sent chills down her spine.

This made her pussy tingle. The thought of her tall, broad shouldered, smooth skin, no nonsense boss staring at her with pure hunger and desire. Him touching all over her body, feeling her breasts in his big hands, feeling his soft lips on her neck. Her fantasies were making her wet but it was fine because she would hop right in the shower to wash her lustful thoughts away.

She stepped out of her panties and into the shower, letting the hot water run down her body. Her hands ran up and down her figure as she tried hard to stop the fantasies of her boss joining her in the shower. She had pictured what he’d look like naked a few times, she had already gotten half of the picture today when she saw him shirtless. His toned arms, each one covered in a single tattoo, his chiseled chest, his brown nipples, his defined abs and that V cut that she had stared down at while he reviewed the blueprints. She knew that V cut led to a heavy dick, carved with thick veins and a head that would feel soft against her lips.

She was so deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that her hands had been playing in her pussy. Her middle finger and ring finger toyed with her clit as her hands began to wrinkle from the wetness her boss had brought her and he didn’t even know. As she played with her pussy she imagined his tongue there.

“Fuck.” She had let out a moan, sure that she wouldn’t be heard. She was positive that the water would drown out her cries.

“You feel so good in my pussy Mr. Pierre.” She said aloud, not worried about being heard by him or the house keepers. “Eat this pussy Daddy.”

She moaned and groaned, begging and pleading for her boss to make her cum until she came all over his face in her mind, her fingers in reality. After a few breaths she opened her eyes to realize where she was and that she needed to get clean so she could get some sleep.

A few minutes passed and the water was turned off. She stepped out of the shower, one foot at a time before realizing she had no towel to dry off with. She searched through the drawers in the sink vanity and found nothing but toothbrushes and toothpaste. Not a towel in sight.

“Shit.” She said to herself. She needed to dry off but stepping outside of this bathroom uncovered was too much of a risk for her. She didn’t even want to think of being caught by the house keepers let alone her boss. She sat thinking for a few minutes, contemplating on whether or not she should just air dry and slip on the pajama sets he had stored in the nightstand next to the bed. She hated air drying in the bathroom though, it was so wet and humid, she needed to get out of there.

Once she remembered his beautiful mansion came with intercoms in each room she figured she'd just politely ask for some towels to be left outside of the door. Finally satisfied with her plan, she headed for the bathroom door. When she swung the door open her heart sank as she met his blue eyes first. Her boss, Mr. Pierre stood on the other side of the door staring down at her.

Panic was written all over her face as she remembered she had just orgasmed to the thought of him eating her. She had called out his name and many other things, confident that she wouldn’t be heard. But by the look on his face, she knew he had heard everything.

“I remembered the housekeepers didn’t stock this bathroom with towels, so I thought I’d bring you some.” He started, still staring down at her with those beautiful eyes, that seem to change to a light hazel color now. He walked into the bathroom causing her to step back until her back hit the wall near the shower.

“Did you need me for something?” He smirked, towering over her. Her 5’4 frame didn’t stand a chance under his 6’3 build.

She stood there speechless, she didn’t know what to say. She was too embarrassed to speak. No matter how hard he stared at her, she refused to meet his eyes. So she stood staring at his chest, his muscular and defined chest.

“I- um, I- was j-“ She struggled, this time understandably.

He bent down, burying his face into her neck, sucking on her vanilla scented skin. She was still so caught off guard, not coming to terms with the fact that her fantasies were coming true in real time. He dropped the towels and reached down to grab her legs, wrapping them around his waist. He sucked and licked on her neck, planting kisses all over her.

“Sir, I-I didn’t m-mean to-“ She stuttered, struggling to breathe correctly or at all.

“Don’t be nervous now.” He mumbled, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “This what you wanted right?” He pulled her off of the wall and sat her on the bathroom sink.

“Um…” She managed.

“Right?” He asked, looking into her eyes, demanding a response.

She looked up at him before taking a deep breath and responding “Yes.”

“Yes what?” He asked, still staring intensely at her.

“Yes sir.” She breathed.

He smirked. He enjoyed having women at his mercy but this woman was different. He didn’t expect her to be pleasuring herself to the thought of him. She appeared innocent and sweet but that was clearly a front. She craved him just as much as he craved her.

He looked down at her freshly waxed pussy still glistening as a result of her own pleasures. He licked his lips as he admired the sight of her body in front of him. He didn’t know where to start, he just knew he didn’t want to go wrong with this masterpiece that sat waiting to be devoured by him.

She looked down at his sweatpants and saw his print. She wanted so badly to find out what he felt like, what he tasted like, how his dick would feel hitting the back of her throat. Without hesitation she stood from the sink and dropped to her knees. She ran her fingers around his waist before pulling his pants down, coming face to face with his dick. It was exactly how she imagined, thick, brown and beautiful. She grabbed his length with her hand, noticing the precum that sat right at the head.

She licked the sweet cum off of him, locking eyes with her boss as she did so. He was taken aback at the sight of his once nervous and jittery assistant who was now bold and fearless. He was used to being the dominant in the situation, he would have his women responding to his touch and the feeling of his tongue in their pussy. But this night was a total 180, he found himself being the subject of a woman who had dreamed of devouring him months ago.

She licked the entirety of his dick before taking him into her mouth, wrapping her lips around his hardness. She jerked her neck back and forth, her tongue rubbing against the bottom of his dick so that he could feel only the wetness and warmth of her mouth. She sucked and slurped, moaning out of pure satisfaction and enjoyment. She watched as his face frowned in pure bliss. He had placed his hands on her head to help guide her but she didn’t need any guidance. She could tell by the look on his face he wanted something more, but he was in too much ecstasy to bring himself to say it.

“Fuck my face.” She said, rubbing the head of his penis against her full lips that were covered in spit. She liked the fact that she was watching her super tough super masculine boss fold at her touch, it was all because of her.

He tightened the grip on her head and forced himself into her mouth touching the back of her throat. She relaxed the muscles in her neck so that he could get better access, all the access he hoped for. He fucked her face, pumping in and out of her mouth pausing when he got all of himself into her. This caused her to gag slightly, building more saliva in her mouth which would make for an even better experience. He thrusted his hips back and forth, pausing between strokes to trigger her gag reflex. He loved the sound of her struggling to take all of him in. The more she gagged, the more tears built in her eyes. Before she knew it, the tears had fallen and the spit that built in her throat and ran down her neck onto her breasts.

This sight caused him to clench his jaw reluctantly. His assistant who he perceived as innocent had turned into a slut all because of him. The way she moaned as if she was the one being pleasured, the way her eyes would roll into her head and then focused back into his, hedidn’t want to cum just yet but the way she locked eyes with while he fucked her pretty face sent him over the edge. How she sat and took in every inch of him without tapping out made him let out a loud groan before sending his nut down her throat.

”Fuuuuuck!” He groaned, holding her head in place as he rode out his orgasm. She sat still as he struggled to catch his breath, her eyes still locked onto his. He pulled out of her and took a few breaths, still coming down from his climax. She swallowed every single drop of him.

“Stand up.” He demanded, his voice deep and impatient.

She stood with a slight smirk on her face, proud of her performance. In a swift motion she spun around facing the mirror as he kicked her legs open and slightly bent her over the sink. His hand was still wrapped tightly around her curls so this sudden change in position was all his doing. He pressed himself into her ass while he eyed her through the mirror. He could see that this had caught her off guard, the ball was now back in his court. He stared down at her ass, biting his lip in anticipation.

“Don't get nervous now.” She said, eyeing him through the mirror, a small smirk on her face again.

Without warning he pushed himself into her slowly until all of him was inside of her, every single inch. She let out a small wince from pain from the size of his dick. It had been a while since she’d had any, let alone one this size. With a hand full of curls in his left hand, he pulled her head back wrapping the other around her throat as he began to fuck her from behind. The sound of her ass slapping against him and the wetness from her pussy sent her into another realm. It was so good, better than she’d imagined.

He stroked her pussy, barely tightening the grip he had on her lower jaw. He pulled in and out of her, slamming himself into her with a quick thrust and then returning back to his steady pace. As he began to roll his hips into her, he saw her face twist in complete pleasure.

”Is this how you wanted it?” He said into her ear.

“Mhmm.” She replied, still so caught up in the pleasure she was getting from him.

“Use your words.” He said, tightening the hold he had on her hair.

“Yes sir.” She quickly responded.

“Good girl.” He spoke into her ear.

She felt him moving in and out of her, his dick hitting every spot with every stroke. She could feel the head of his dick rub against her spot over and over again. It was only a matter of time before she would cum all over him like she had imagined for months. The more he spoke into her ear, the crazier he was driving her. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it. His deep and calm tone right in her ear sent sensations to her clit, it was so swollen that it damn near stung from pleasure.

“You gone cum on this dick for me?” He asked, tightened the grip he had around her neck.

“Yes!” That was all she could manage at the moment.

“Cum on this dick baby.” He said into her ear, still hitting that spot that made her eyebrows wrinkle in pleasure.

She could feel her stomach tightening and pussy began to contract around him, she was cumming.

“Yes daddy, I’m cummin’” She yelled out in pleasure. He continued stroking her, feeling her creamy goodness run down his dick and onto his balls. He wanted all of her, he wouldn’t leave her until she was completely undone. He slowed his pace giving her time to come down from her orgasm before he made her cum again.

After a few long and slow strokes, he gradually picked up his pace aiming for another climax from her.

“Oh fuck yes!” She cried out. She had never cum multiple times in one day. For her orgasms to be back to back like this, there was no way she would ever meet anyone else who would top him.

”Give me that shit.” He spat, his lips brushing her earlobe. He needed his demands to send blood rushing right to her pussy.

”Yes!” She screamed, cumming all over him once again. Her clit jumped as her pussy throbbed naturally after her second orgasm. Even after that powerful flood that ran down her legs, he still hadn’t stopped stroking.

“I can’t.” She said, pleading for him to let her come down.

“Yes you can.” He said, now picking up the pace. His strokes became harder and faster, this time it was his turn to become undone and he wasn’t stopping until he did so. He fucked her like he was running a marathon and he could see the finish line a few feet away.

“Please.” She begged. Her hearing was starting to fade and breathing was becoming harder and harder by the second. On one hand she wanted a break, she needed a break from all of this back to back pleasure. But for some reason she didn’t want him to stop, she could feel his dick throb in her pussy. She knew he was about to cum and she wanted to have the last laugh.

“I’m almost there baby.” He said, his eyes closed as he felt the nut build in his lower abdomen. She watched in amazement as his face turned in pleasure. She took this opportunity to watch him fold yet again.

“Cum in my pussy daddy.” She moaned.

That was it. He leaned forward, placing his lips on her neck, closing his eyes even tighter than before. He grinded deeply into her until he felt his muscles in his stomach flex.

”Fuck!” He groaned into her neck as he shot his cum deep into her pussy. He stroked forcefully until he felt all of himself empty inside of her, before stopping and letting go of her hair.

There they rested against the bathroom counter struggling to catch their breath, holding onto each other for dear life. After a few minutes they both opened their eyes and stared at each other through the mirror.

“Sleep in my room tonight.” He began. “Or you’re fired.” He finished, pulling himself out of her and leaving the room.

She felt her knees buckle as she struggled to keep herself upright.

”I love my job.” She said to herself.

(I hope y’all liked it 😭 excuse any mistakes)

🩵

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WAYS TO COME UNDONE

this is part 2 of WAYS TO DESTRESS but can be read as a standalone

summary: coriolanus keeps his promise about making you squirt all over him. what better way to do it than in front of the mirror.

pariring: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, fingering, sex in front of mirror, squirting, pussy spanking, p in v, use of safe word, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people), I DESPERATELY NEED A CORYO IN MY LIFE

a/n: hi 🌚 many wanted this, myself included hehe. it took a turn towards the end where it basically wrote itself. i have no control over what tickles my brain. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do. hopefully this oneshot shows more about the machinations of their relationship.

requests open ✨

From the moment Coryo showed you the racy clip of him using you while asleep, you have not been able to stop the waves of heat that consume your cunt.

You're a stellar student who always concentrates on the lectures and participates in class. Today, you find yourself in the back of the classroom, daydreaming about Coriolanus and his tongue. Focusing was out of the picture for you as you tried not to sneak your hand between your thighs and soothe the ache.

One of the many reasons your relationship works so well is that both of you are extremely perverted. Coriolanus has always been more in tune with that side of himself, but you needed assistance to bring that side out. Coriolanus saw it in you long before you did, and he patiently gauged it out and molded it to fit his crooked ways.

It's why Coriolanus using you while you were knocked cold has you acting this way. He pleasured himself when you were at your most vulnerable, and instead of feeling violated, you thanked him. You savor that instead of finding another whore to fuck his frustration out, he stays with you, no matter the state. If that makes you sick, then be it.

When your last class was over, you rushed to the apartment. You needed Coriolanus to stop this burning inside you. Sadly, he's a teacher's pet and workaholic who only managed to get home at eight at night.

He walks into the apartment calmly, humming under his breath while you watch him like a hawk. Coryo sees you on the living room couch 'lounging' and approaches you to leave a kiss on your head. Your eye twitches when he announces he's going to shower.

His upturned lips give him away. He's tormenting you. As if waiting for him all day wasn't torture enough. It could be worse, though he could've stayed longer at the lab. God knows he has a ton of experiments to work on.

With a huff, you follow him into the bedroom.

"How was your day, darling?" He asks, taking his clothes off.

He's like a masterpiece that has escaped a museum. His fair skin is unblemished except for the scars on his back that you've spent hours running your fingers over. Sometimes, he feels them burn, a reminder of what he's done in the past, but then you're there kissing over them to ease the pain.

"Long," you dryly respond, crossing your arms, inadvertently accentuating your chest.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Coryo says humorously, stepping into the steaming shower.

The foggy glass hides him from you, but you remain watching by the bathroom door. Despite your short answers, he continues to talk to you, successfully getting under your skin.

He's entertained by your lingering presence. Privacy is not in your vocabulary anymore. Coriolanus likes it when you get this needy. It's like an experiment where he tests how far you're willing to go.

It's not complicated; all you have to do is ask, and he'll give you the world, but you're too modest for your own good. It prevents you from coming right out with it. You could've had him the moment he stepped into the apartment if you had only asked.

You look at him hopefully when he steps out of the shower. Shamelessly, you take every inch of him. Coriolanus strong shoulders, his chiseled chest and abs, his pretty pink cock that hangs half hard most of the time.

He deprives you of it as he wraps a towel around his hips. Coriolanus approaches you, water droplets falling from his blonde hair and down his body.

Coriolanus is so close to you, and when you think he'll dip his head down to kiss you, he grabs your hips and moves you to the side to give himself passage into the bedroom. "'Excuse me."

You want to throw him with the vase of roses settled on the bathroom counter. You resist since you need him to be conscious for what you have planned. You're aware of how Coriolanus can read you like a book. So why isn't he asking about your mood or if you need anything?

He sits against the headboard, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his cock clearly outlined by the fabric. Coriolanus doesn't wear underwear to bed, he doesn't like the tight fabric when he's asleep. Having you hugging him throughout the night is enough.

With a huff, you strut over to the bed and straddle his lap. Expecting it, Coriolanus reaches for your hips, holding you tight onto him.

"Do it again," you say, placing your hands on his chest and provocatively arching your back as if offering yourself to him.

"What, darling?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow. He tilts his head towards you as if he didn't hear you properly.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Make me squirt," you say blatantly. It sounds wrong coming from your lips.

Coriolanus chuckles, shaking his head, "I said another time, darling. I'm tired tonight."

You punch his naked chest weakly, with your frown turning deeper. He grabs your hand midway through the air as you try to smack him again.

Amused at your boldness, he opens your palm and laces your fingers together. He kisses the back of your hand and holds it to his chest.

"You are mean and cruel, Coriolanus," you spit out, hoping to annoy him by using his full name. Maybe this will make him do it or at least provoke him to do something.

"You knew that when you accepted to marry me." His gaze hardens as he taps on the engagement ring on your fourth finger.

It glints delicately, catching people's attention and letting them know you're taken. He spent months searching for the right ring for you. Coriolanus had to find the perfect balance: nothing too simple where it would pass unseen but nothing too gaudy where you wouldn't wear it.

"I don't care how cruel you are to others as long as it's not me," you respond, cradling his jaw in your hand.

"Give me a good reason why I should do it," he asks, kissing your palm.

"I'll do anything, Coryo. I'll suck you off in the lab, cockwarm you in my father's office, let you tie me up, fuck my throat, anything! Hell, I'll even let you try anal again," you huff, winding yourself up.

You must really want it if you brought up anal. It's the one thing you've tried and haven't wanted to do again. You're pretty open to his suggestions, but that one is your hard limit.

He won't make you do it again. Seeing you needy like this is enough. Although he might take your offer of blowing him under the desk in his lab.

"You make a compelling case," he hums, looking at you carefully. You're flushed without him even touching you, and your nipples are hard under your nighty.

This isn't a whim, your body is visibly begging for him. Coriolanus has to pat himself on the back. This is all his doing.

"Coryo, you don't know how many times I've watched that video," you say as if to prove how much you need him.

"Kiss me," Coriolanus sighs, giving in.

You slam your lips against his, eagerly kissing him until you're breathless. Your fingers curl around his hair, tugging the strands and making him groan into your mouth. Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting him.

Coriolanus smacks a hand down on your ass cheek, leaving a red imprint behind. In retaliation, your teeth bite harshly onto his lower one, causing a drop of blood to surface.

"I love you, darling," he growls as his eyes darken with lust, and he cups your face with both his hands. You've turned so bold under his tutelage, stealing pages from the book he wrote.

"Yeah, I love you too, come on," you pant, taking off your night dress to reveal yourself to him.

"I've created a monster," Coryo murmurs, pawing on one of your breasts as he mouths the other one.

"Don't act like you don't like it," you moan, rolling your hips down on his bulge. Your lack of underwear is apparent as a wet patch forms on his pants.

Coryo involuntarily unwraps you from his body as he stands from the bed. You chase his lips with a whine when he pulls away from you. Coriolanus sets a chair in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room, sitting on it and motioning for you to sit on his lap.

If he's going to give you what you want, he will do it his way. You need him to make you squirt, so he's going to have you watch so you never forget about the moment. He'll engrave in your brain how it was he who made it possible.

With his hands on your waist, he turns you to face the mirror and pulls you down to sit with your back to his chest. Just like a doll, he positions you with your legs propped up on his knees, exposing your dripping cunt.

"No matter what, you're going to look at yourself in the mirror, or there will be consequences," he growls into your ear, licking the shell of your ear and biting your earlobe.

"Yes, Coryo," you moan, excitedly biting your lip.

Looking at him through the mirror, you notice his wicked stare. He begins to roll your clit on his fingers steadily, earning a sigh of contentment from you.

He's memorized everything about your body. Each stage of arousal is burned into his brain at this point. It's how he knows you've been touching yourself today.

"How many times did you touch yourself?" He questions, digging his nose into your neck to smell the remnants of your lotion and perfume.

"Two before I left for university, one during lunch, and two when I got back," you admit between moans as your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

You were late to class because of Coryo's video. Still, your arousal persisted so much that you locked yourself in one of the bathrooms of the university and rubbed your clit till your legs shook with an orgasm. You walked out of the bathroom, ashamed of your behavior, but it got you throughout the rest of the day.

When you got home, you fell on the couch, pressing one of the decorative cushions between your legs. You rocked against it for nearly an hour, edging yourself to give Coriolanus time to get home. The last one was in the shower with the detachable head minutes before he arrived.

"Five times and one in public," he chides with a click of his tongue, "What do I do with you?"

Your confession is music to Coriolanus' ears, but you can't know that. So he delivers five sharp slaps down your spread cunt. He covers the reddening flesh with his hand, putting pressure on it to ease the sting.

"Ow, Coryo," you cry, digging your nails into his thighs where you are barely hanging on.

"You should've come to me. I could've helped you much more than your fingers," he tells you mockingly.

Uncovering your cunt there is a dash of red on your skin. Coriolanus didn't hold back with his slaps. It's hard to explain why, but you like it when he manhandles you like that. He makes you cry just to console you later.

"You're busy," you sniff, hiccuping when he gathers your slick to spread it over the stinging skin.

Coriolanus takes his studies and lab work seriously; you never wish to interrupt him in any way, no matter how many times he reassures you it's okay.

"I'm never too busy for you, darling," he responds, resting his chin on your shoulder. His touch returns to your clit, rubbing it round and round until you're moaning out his name.

Finally, Coriolanus slips his finger into you, giving you the relief you desperately want. Even if it is your pleasure, his fingers are better than yours. They are long and strong and know precisely how to curve to give you the pleasure you seek.

The relief that takes over you is so much that you let your head fall back with your eyes closed. In an instant, the fingers are gone, and another slap is deposited on your sensitive skin.

"Eyes on the mirror," Coriolanus reminds you. He wants you to see how he's the only one that can make you crumble.

His free hand, which had been wrapped like a vice around your waist, comes up to your chest to squeeze your breasts and nipples. His eyes darken as he observes how your supple flesh spills between his fingers.

"Look at how pretty you are," he whispers in your ear as he adds another finger into your dripping cunt.

A sense of bashfulness settles on your chest as you do as he says. You follow his hand as it trails down your sweaty skin, your face and chest flushed because of the heat. He traces your nipples with his fingers, and you watch how they turn hard in response. Next, he touches your stomach, his fingers ghosting your belly button from which he has licked his own cum from.

It's like your body harbors memories of Coriolanus Snow, from the multicolored lovebites in your chest and neck to the thick arousal that coats your thighs. Each one was caused by him, for him.

Sensing your mind is slipping, he lightly taps your thighs, bringing you back to focus on the body he considers so beautiful. He takes his wet fingers out of you and spreads your cunt even farther with them.

He traces your pearl, which is bright red, frustrated from arousal and the constant touching it has endured today. Then, your pussy lips that puff out as blood surges to it.

Coriolanus gathers the drop of slick that hangs from your fleshy pink opening. "See? All beautiful and all mine," he says. Only now does he allow you to turn from the mirror because it's to kiss him.

Remembering why you're in this position, Coriolanus slides two fingers into you, fucking them with precision into your g spot. No more teasing and prolonging.

"It feels so good, Coryo," you whine, holding onto his arm as your hips grind further into his hand.

"It looks good, too," he mutters, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallows his fingers. Not even your nails digging into his arm snaps him away from the pretty sight.

With hooded eyes, you keep looking into the mirror, waiting for the moment Coryo promised you. Coriolanus hand presses down on the spot above your mound. It's the key to make you squirt. His fingers bully your spot more forcefully, feeling your walls clench with an impending orgasm.

"Oh, fuck, C-coryo," you choke out, breathing heavily. It's like an orgasm is coming but so much better than the needy, desperate ones from today. It feels much more fulfilling.

"Relax for me," he prompts, slowing his pace. You're always so fucking tense even as he fucks you senseless.

"Ah, ah, ah," your moans staccato as you near your precipice and tears accumulate in the corner of your eyes.

It's a constant climb where you feel the excitement of nearing the top, and then suddenly, you slide back down. A sudden burst of pleasure consumes you as a gush wets Coryo's fingers and mirror. His fingers whip out and furiously rub your frustrated clit, causing a smaller gush to stream down.

Your mouth is ajar as you gasp, your hands bunching up the fabric of his pants. Your cunt visibly spasms as your orgasm prolongs itself.

"You did it, darling," Coriolanus sweetly says, kissing your cheek as he looks at you adoringly, "How did it feel?"

He touches you all over, spreading the drops of squirt that adorn your thighs. Your legs fall down limply as you relax back onto Coryo. He continues stroking your skin, looking at the beautiful, wet mess he made.

"I-I don't know, there was this just sensation of release like everything left my body," you say between pants as you try and catch your breath.

Coriolanus smirks and hugs you tightly, lost in his own world. It's like the post-orgasmic bliss affected him rather than you.

"Can we try again?" You ask minutes after, feeling the spark reignite by just thinking about the stream of fluid that came out of you.

"Whatever my darling wants," Coriolanus agrees, spanking your ass playfully when you get up from the chair.

You kneel on the floor to pull down his pants and find his leaking cock. Going straight for it, you suck him off like there is no tomorrow, swallowing around him and taking him deep till your nose rubs against his pubic bone.

Coriolanus doesn't allow himself to cum, even if his body screams at him to shoot his load into your warm mouth. Pulling you up from the floor, he pushes you towards the bed. You get on your knees and hands, shaking your ass for him cheekily.

Coriolanus has a feeling that today it will be a quick one. You're both too wound up to prolong this any further. His hand curves over your hip as he pushes his cock through your folds, wetting it. Without a warning, he snaps his hips, stretching your walls.

"Love your cock, Coryo," you moan as he fucks you harshly. "So big and thick and so deep," you mumble, acting cockdrunk.

You bury your head on the sheets, arching your back so your chest presses against the bed as you splutter nonsense. The tension of the day gets to you, and you allow yourself to go dumb on his cock.

"It's all yours, darling," he grunts, gripping your waist to push you back onto his cock. At this point, you're a cocksleeve to him as he chases his release. The sounds of his balls slapping against your clit are loud and obnoxious.

Keeping a steady rhythm, he fucks you until you're fluttering around him again. Coriolanus bends over your back, splaying his hand on your pelvis. He had promised he'd make you squirt again. It works as you drench his cock again, soaking the sheets and his thighs.

"Oh my god," you cry as your legs shake. You would've fallen flat on your face if it hadn't been for Coryo, who holds you up as he continues to push into you.

Tears soak the pillow you're hugging. It's too good. His cock is brushing repeatedly over your spongy spot. You don't want him to stop, ever, but you're so sensitive. It's a push and pull. You want more, but you're unsure if your body is up to it.

In a moment of lucidity, a wave of emotions grabs you and pulls you down. It snaps you out of your trance and hurts your chest. Shame, pleasure, desperation, joy, embarrassment, arousal.

Questions invade your brain. Since when have you been like this, letting yourself be treated this way? How are you not ashamed of yourself? This is not how a lady behaves. You're no better than a whore in a whorehouse. You should be ashamed of yourself.

"Rose!" You cry out with a sob as the shakiness localized in your legs spreads all over your body.

Immediately, Coriolanus stops all movement, startled by the use of the safe word. Your soft cries snap him out of his shock, and he, as gently and carefully as possible, pulls out of you.

Your whole body shakes as you cry, worrying Coriolanus to no end. He questions if he did anything that hurt you but comes up empty-handed.

"Darling, are you okay?" He asks, helping you sit up on the bed. He takes the clean blanket by the end of the bed, covering your body.

"Too-too much. I-I'm sorry," you hiccup, hugging the blanket tighter against you.

Coriolanus carefully respects your private space since he's unsure if you want or need his touch. He sits beside you, though, listening to anything you might need.

Humiliation fills your body. You were the one to ask for more and couldn't handle it, worrying Coryo about something that was not his fault.

"It's okay, nothing to be sorry about," he speaks with the softest voice he can muster, "Do you want me to bring you water?"

"Just hold me," you say as more tears trickle down your face.

So, he does. Coriolanus kisses your temple and runs his hand across your back until your sobs settle. He holds you close and whispers reassuring words in your ear.

You desperately want to tell him it's nothing he did. He wasn't being terribly rough or mean. You loved every moment of tonight until your emotions and unwanted thoughts got the best of you.

In your vulnerable state, the pent-up frustration of the day and the negative emotions you kept locked bubbled up and caused a sensory overload. Even now, you can barely speak, trying to regulate your emotions again.

"Don't go," you hiccup, reaching for his hand when Coryo stands from the bed. Terrified, he believes the same things your brain is feeding you.

"I'm not going anywhere, darling. Just looking for our clothes," he says, squeezing your left hand and kissing your knuckles.

Coriolanus grabs his pants from the floor and slips them on. Digging through the drawers, he finds one of his t-shirts and grabs a pair of your underwear. Your comfort is his priority, and he knows how comforting you find wearing his clothes. He helps you put the garments on, wrapping you back up on the blanket.

Leaning back on the pillows, he pulls you towards him, hugging you to his chest. You hug his middle, burying your head in his neck, falling asleep like that.

He stays awake, feeling the puffs of breath on his neck. Coriolanus hand keeps running up and down your back, under your shirt. It works to comfort himself as well.

You've only used the safe word twice, and both times, you had been doing worse things by far. He had understood twice and had been alert in any case. Today took him off guard, and it scared him.

Coryo debates on waking you the following day. He decides to do it to check how you're doing. You can decide if you want to go to university or not. He will walk you there personally if that is what you choose.

He wakes you by running his hand up and down your arm, softly shaking you out of your slumber, "Darling?"

"Mmm," you groan, your eyes fluttering open. He'd kept the curtains closed so they wouldn't bother you.

"How are you? Do you need anything?" Coriolanus asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

You stay silent momentarily, gauging your mental state, "I'm good. Am I running late?" You ask, sitting up on the bed.

"No, it's still early. Want me to walk you to school?" He asks, watching as you get up and head into the bathroom.

"Please?" You ask, turning to look at him before closing the bathroom door.

"Of course," he nods.

"Coryo, I think I know what happened last night," you speak loudly through the door, not a moment later.

"And what's that love?" He asks, standing by the door.

"I got my period," you say simply.

The blood staining your underwear is the reason you lost yourself last night. Your hormones must've been all over the place yesterday. It explains your sudden breakdown and why you were acting like a bitch in heat before that.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He's glad it's just that and nothing he did. He feels calm now as most of his worry is swept away. "I'll go make breakfast," he tells you before he heads out to the kitchen.

His worry is replaced by disappointment in himself. He lost track of your damn period because he was so busy at the lab. He has to share part of the blame. Ever since he started living with you, he noticed those subtle mood changes you got as your period neared and passed through.

First is the neediness, constantly touching him and asking to be touched. You got freakier when you were ovulating. Then there is the bad mood you get whenever he just as breathes the wrong way or places something where it doesn't belong. You try hiding it and holding back your scoffs, but he notices. Lastly, it's the tears. Your emotions are delicate when this time of the month comes around.

Last year, you got your period around the time of The Hunger Games and couldn't watch them. Tears instantly tracked down your face when you usually don't care. Coriolanus had to record them for you to watch later because you wanted to see everything that was implemented, thanks to him.

Because he recognizes how you get, he took it upon himself to make those days more bearable for you. Not to say he tiptoes around you, but he's gentler, more restrained. He tries not to be too mean. Had he known your period was right around the corner, he wouldn't have teased you today or made you wait for it.

He scolds himself as he pieces the puzzle together. That must've been why you took the sleeping pills the other day. You had an emotional day, and your overthinking mind didn't let you sleep.

Sensing he's kicking himself, you hug Coryo's waist from behind as he places the food on the table. "I love you, Coryo," you say sweetly, pressing a kiss on his spine.

Now, this is more in line with your normal, sweet behavior.

Coriolanus turns around in your embrace, hugging your shoulders and pulling you tight against him, kissing your hairline. "I love you so damn much," he speaks into your hair. "You had me worried last night," he admits, kissing your lips slowly before he lets you go.

"I don't know what happened. One moment, I was alright, and the next…well, you know," you shrug, sitting on the chair Coryo pulls out for you.

"Your emotions got the best of you. I know how that feels," Coriolanus nods, understanding better than anyone how it feels to lose yourself in the moment.

That day in the forest of District 12 will forever haunt him.

There we go! That was the part 2 I promised you! It took an unexpected turn but it felt right to me. Sorry it couldn't be kinkier :(

If you'd like to read more of this pairing you can also read The Mentor. It's a small prequel to this one shot set around three years back when they started dating. That being said The Mentor Pt. 2 is FILTHY.

If you liked it don't hesitate to let me know!

[directdogman]

hi hound, got a question for ya . kind of related to phone sex. Yippee

anyway, so i feel its kind of established in dialtown that being a phone head is equal to being amab, and being a typewriter head is equal to being afab (based on oliver and karens refusal to date types/phones respectively ofc) so i was wondering - what about people born with neither, like karen? would she be considered a form of intersex by society?

followup - how do like. Genetics work? like are they born with specific heads based on their parents (would karen be more likely to have a printer child, for example)?

Appologies for the long and strange questions, your game is rotting me as we speak

anyway, so i feel its kind of established in dialtown that being a phone head is equal to being amab, and being a typewriter head is equal to being afab (based on oliver and karens refusal to date types/phones respectively ofc)

Kiiind of. It's mainly a cultural thing. Basically, the tradition is to assign heads to babies based on the gender assigned at birth. Because of this, someone with a phone head is widely considered by others to be male, and vice versa for typewriters, and this is why many trans people in-universe switch, in the same way as someone might style their hair or change their wardrobe in ours. However, because the heads are modular (and can be changed), it's best to view this correlation as more of a cultural trend rather than a rigid system that everyone follows without exception, one of which I'll explain in the next part of the answer.

what about people born with neither, like karen? would she be considered a form of intersex by society?

Karen actually HAD a typewriter head before she was given the printer. A little bit of background context here: Callum Crown, the inventor of the phone head, invented his first ever cybernetic augmentations (his revolutionary prosthetic limbs) in order to help other disabled people gain mobility and independence. He wanted to give other people the same opportunities that his technology had given him.

When he moved onto the phone head concept, he never forgot about his initial goal of using technology to help people with disabilities. Karen's typewriter head was actually a developmental adaptation. Basically, it allowed a young averbal Karen to produce images, which assisted her in communication before she could learn to speak (and helped her learn to speak sooner than if she had never gotten the upgrade.) While it's quite a modern solution for a disability that wasn't well understood in Crown's time, it's absolutely in line with his philosophies and it's an application he'd be very enthusiastic about, if he was still fully conscious.

Similarly, there are NPCs in-game who have non-standard heads and aren't trans or non-binary, like Rachel at the Dialtown News Network, who has a teleprompter head! In much the same way Karen's head was switched for utility purposes, the same is true for many people who work certain jobs where these heads come in handy. Therefore, I think it's safer to say that someone's head type more or less correlates with their overall identity, with gender, occupation, or any other relevant circumstances factoring into what kind of head they might have.

There's a few NB NPCs in-game and the cultural way many express that is by having hybrid heads, or heads with elements of both phones + typewriters. Take Curie, the curator of the DT Modern Art museum, who has a typewriter head with a phone dial added to it. Gabby (the store clerk who sells phone parts in Uptown Dialtown) also mentions that this practice is common.

followup - how do like. Genetics work? like are they born with specific heads based on their parents (would karen be more likely to have a printer child, for example)?

Genetics don't factor into it outside of the cultural tendency to give phone/typewriter heads based on the gender of the child. Basically, all babies are born with an adapter, and right after birth, the baby is given their new head. Think about how difficult it would be to give birth to someone with a FULL-SIZED typewriter head! There's more than one reason it's set up the way it is, but that's the most important thing to mention. Hope this helps!

[shortstrawberry]

So, we never got the proper slowburn transition we deserve of Bela going from heartless to her heart beating for the MC. So here's some headcannons and plot bunnies for how things would go after Bela finally got her heart back. Heck, how about we make it even more complicated and let Bela have her memories from previous time loops as well?

Okay, so here we go!!

(Also, quick note. MC is super dense here and can't get a hint)

You really didn't expect that just marching up to Headmistress Miranda and demanding Bela have her heart back would work. But it actually did. And it turns out, Bela did have her heart all along. It was just buried away under layers of whatever hoodoo magic Miranda used. You saw the change happen the minute those layers were taken away.

Bela even without her heart was a person who cared too much. That woman was willing to protect you from crazy cult leader Miranda even at the risk of her own life. Bela's care also showed in the love she has for her family. Let's just say Daniela is out of so much trouble only because Bela intervened all the times from background.

And now, Bela has her heart back. So, are there any noticeable changes? Oh, there are plenty! Although not as drastic as you thought. For starters, Bela still had her crazy work ethic to the T. She just doesn't force you to adopt it now. You are too sick to come to the council room? Bela will come to your dorm room with her soup and take care of you. But she'll also work besides your bedside while you sleep.

Another welcome change is Bela's trust issues piping down a bit. Older Bela refused to drink your coffee. Now, she'll actually pout if you forget to bring her coffee. And yes, you heard it right. Bela actually pouts these days. Especially at you, for some reason.

There is one thing though where Bela has gotten even more uptight ironically. And that's her interactions with her Playgirl sister Cassandra. Whenever Cassandra opens her mouth to ask you out on a date, Bela would make sure to threaten Cassandra with blocking funds for the theatre club. You're glad that Bela is being such a protective friend, but you do think blocking theatre funds is a bit overboard.

You also notice that Bela now shows animosity towards people she was completely fine with before. Exhibit A: Donna Beneviento, Angie's aunt had approached you with a job offer as her assistant at her flower shop. Before you could even reply, Bela popped up behind you, gripping your shoulders in a tight grip as she seethingly replied "No, my Vice President is too occupied in Student Council work with me." Hmm, strange. The interaction was almost like Donna has taken something away from Bela in some past life.

You also wish Bela would kind of stop paying for everything you buy. You get it, Bela feels indebted to you, but c'mon, buying you a rose gold necklace that has Dimiterescu family crest for your birthday is totally overboard! And can someone please ask Daniela and Angie to stop teasing you about how you got a sugar mommy for yourself?

Bela also is less uppity about being touched now. At least when it comes from you. You both have actually started to hug each other before going to your respective dorms. Bela now even initiates a lot of touches on her own! Like one time you fell asleep while working in Library with her, and you woke up with feeling Bela's long fingers lazily carding through your hair.

Lastly, you are also happy that you are getting to spend more time with Bela outside of student council work. Bela is a through and through Dimiterescu when it comes to setting up their hangout places. From museums to extraordinary cafes, Bela has taken you to all the places you can never dream to afford. You're no slacker either though, as you too are finally getting Bela to try fast food burgers and arcade games that Alcina will probably turn her nose up at. But Bela assures you that these hangouts mean the world to her. You're curious though why Bela always stumbles at the word "hangout"

Got anymore ideas you want me to write on? Let me know! Requests are open!

[thebubblesareevil]

Jobs are hard…humans are harder

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5

Danny was bored, there was no other way to describe it. School wouldn’t be starting for another month and he barely knew anything about this world, which unfortunately meant he didn’t know anyone in this world. No one but Diana that is, and the nice old lady next door who sneaks him candy. Unfortunately Diana spends half the day at work and as such Danny was bored. You can only watch the news concerning meta human rights before you go mad. True she would be home soon, they would have dinner and talk about her day, hopefully with no calls for Wonder Woman.

Danny groaned as he flopped over the side of the couch, trying to come up with something to do. Diana found him like that, half hanging off the couch, asleep, with the news playing in the background. With a chuckle she silently creeped over to the side of the couch. With groceries in one hand, she grabbed Danny by the back of his shirt and lifted. He startled awake as she lifted him to eye level.

“You do know I’m not a cat, right?” She smiled

“Really? I couldn’t tell, you play the part so well.” She snarked back setting him back down on the couch. “I’ve got the ingredients for dinner, wanna help?” She asked.

Danny nodded, slowly rising from his place on the couch. “Sure, what’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti, grab the cutting board and start cutting the onions for the sauce.” Danny grinned

“Aye, aye Captain!” He said with a laugh. He grabbed his tools and got to work. “So how were things at the museum?”

“Things are going steady, with the new exhibit up and running we are getting an influx of visitors. It’s nice seeing the younger generation taking an interest in history.” Danny paused

“By younger generation, do you mean my age or Mrs. Gertrude’s age?” He asked with a raised brow.

“Very funny, back to chopping you. Garlic is next.” Danny laughed but did as he was told. “Speaking of your age, you turned 16 recently right?” Danny nodded. “There’s a position open at the museum, it’s nothing to hard, just leading a few tours. It may not be your ideal way to spend your time, however it would give you a way to get out and make some friends before school starts. As a bonus, you’d be getting paid.” Danny slowed his dicing.

“It’s better than anything I’ve come up with. But… I don’t know, maybe?” Danny shrugged. “I’ll have to think it over. I’ve never had a real job before, mostly just helping out around the lab. What’s the job? ” Diana gave him a sly grin.

“No pressure, they’re looking for someone to help run the space show. Of course, if you aren’t interested…”

“I’d get to run the space show?!?!?” Danny interrupted “Scratch that, I’d be getting PAID to run the space show?!?!” His face was split in a giant grin. Diana laughed.

“You would be getting paid to HELP run the space show. That means assisting guests, answering questions, doing a bit of clean up and anything else Dr.Scott needs help with.” Danny was nearly vibrating with excitement. “The application is in my purse, which you can fill out After we finish making the sauce.” Danny grinned and got back to work. Between the two of them they managed to get the sauce on the stove in record time.

While the sauce cooked, Diana gave him the application and she walked him through his new information. As they were talking they were interrupted by the news announcing a break-in at a bank nearby. Nothing to draw Diana from helping Danny… until they announced that the perpetrator was Cheetah.

“Danny, I’m so sorry. I promise I won’t be gone long.” She apologized. Danny shrugged giving her an understanding look.

“It’s all good, I can’t t lol you how many times I had to tell run out on my friends because a ghost attacked. I’ll be here when you get back and dinner will be ready. Stay safe, okay?” And off she went. Danny finished up the application, excited at the prospect of getting to tell people about SPACE. Once he was done he turned up the news to see how Diana was doing.

He watched as she fought like a true warrior, no hesitation, not a single motion wasted. The way she interacted with Cheetah though…seemed oddly familiar. The back and forth… there was no way.

He pondered on the thought as he got up to start the pasta. There was no way, right? That seems like the kinda thing you tell someone. It was possible of course, but well... only thing to do is ask.

About a half hour after Danny's "epiphany" the spaghetti was done and Diana was walking through the door. Once the food was served, Diana poured herself a lovely cup of wine. Of course she did this not realizing how much of an utter gremlin her newly acquired cousin was. She had fully settled into her seat, taking her first sip of wine when Danny decided to confront her.

"Are you dating Cheetah?" Diana spit out her wine, coughing as she tried to clear her throat.

"I'm sorry, care to repeat that?" she asked

"I asked, are you dating Cheetah? It's fine if you are, no judgement here. I mean, Ancients know I have some crazy exs, and gender has never been an issue..." He stops as he takes in the look of confusion. "What?"

"How... exactly did you come to that... interesting conclusion?" She asked. Danny shrugged.

"Honestly just the way you guys were bantering. Reminded me a lot about how me and my ex fought, sure she didn't know we were fighting, but I did." He said with a straight face. Diana couldn't help it, she burst out laughing.

"No, cousin, I am not dating Cheetah. Though we were once close friends." she said with a smile.

"Oh, okay then." Danny blushed. "Sorry for assuming."

"All is well, I will admit that among the women of Themascyra such things are commonplace. I too am not bothered by gender." she smiled "Now come, eat your food. I will be bringing you to the museum tomorrow so you can turn in your application. I’ll even show you around where I work.”

“Sounds great! Can we stop by the space exhibit? I wanted to check it out even if I don’t get the job.”

Diana smiled “That should be fine, I don’t actually have work tomorrow so barring another alien invasion we should have the day to ourselves.” Danny nodded and started to take a bite of his spaghetti.

The fork was halfway to his mouth when he froze “What do you mean ANOTHER alien invasion?!”

———————

Danny was practically vibrating with excitement, the meeting with Dr. Scott had gone well, and Danny had to be physically dragged out of the space exhibit by Diana once he realized they had a full section with an interview from a real live Martian! Next on the list to do was checking out Diana's section of the museum, then they would get ice cream like civilized human beings.

As they approached her section the woman at the desk looked up with wide eyes.

"Why Diana what a handsome YOUNG man you've got here, what's your name sugar?" she proclaimed with an obvious wink. Danny blushed, while Diana laughed.

"This is my cousin Danny, I told you about him. Danny, this is Doris, the world's best receptionist, I don't know how I'd survive without her." She said with a smile.

"Oh I'm sure you'd soldier on somehow. How're you like'n the museum Danny? I hear your lookin to work with Dr. Scott." Danny grinned.

"It's great! I turned in my application today and we did an impromptu interview, which I think went pretty well. We were just headed over to check out Diana's new exhibit."

"Oh well don't let me hold you up. You enjoy yourself hun." she said with a smile. The two headed further into the exhibit as Diana explained what it was she did at the museum. The more they explored however the more Danny was quite clearly trying to keep the grin off his face. It wasn't until they were walking to the ice cream parlor that he explained the cause of his glee.

"I just can't get over the fact that you are an ancient greek demi-god, telling people about ancient greek mythos as though it was nothing more than a religion, y'know like a liar. You are being paid to lie." Diana raised an eyebrow.

"It's not technically a lie. Many people worshiped the gods and so it was in fact a religion, I simple choose to leave out the fact that they were real." Danny grinned.

"Agree to disagree, now let's get some ice cream." the two walked through the doors of the unsuspecting ice cream parlor and, after much debate, each ordered a whopping ten scoops of ice cream. Which they then proceeded to eat at one of the tables, in less than 15 minutes, with no visible signs of brain freeze.

(The girl behind the counter might having an existential crisis as this was after the teenage boy talked the fully grown woman out of fifteen scoops. They don't even have fifteen flavors!)

All in all it was a good day.

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

Danny was not having a good day. He was slumped over the table in the break room as Diana patted him on the shoulder.

"Three tours in one morning, with two more after lunch! And every single one had a Jeremy!” Diana quirked an eyebrow.

“A Jeremy?” Danny nodded.

“That one kid who tries to climb on all the exhibits and refuses to stay with the group no matter how many times his chaperone scolds him.” Diana gave him a solemn pat on the back.

“I know of them well, though for me, they will always be Misty. Don’t worry though school will be starting soon and the tours will slow down a bit.”

The timer on Danny’s phone went off and he groaned, taking one last swig of his toxic sludge from his thermos he dragged himself out of his seat. "Yeah, yeah, but then I'll be going to work AND school. I'm so happy I dropped heroing in this world, I don't know how you find the time!" Diana shrugged "I'm gonna swing by the coffee shop in the geology section after work with Travis, you want anything." Diana thought for a minute.

"Call me when you get there, depending on the rest of the day I might get a Frappuccino or solid black coffee with three shots of espresso." Danny nodded.

"Ah yes, the nectar of the gods, you got it!" He said with a grin as he took off. Diana smiled, happy that Danny was finally making friends, before she threw away her trash and headed back to work.

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

By the time the end of their shift ended Danny had found a second wind. The last group of the day had been very well behaved with not a single Jeremy in sight, and all enthusiastic about SPACE! Travis was trudging along behind him in shock as he watched the teen who looked like he was going keel over not even an hour ago, seemed like he was about to start floating. He shook his head in disbeief.

"Danny, my man you are not human." He said not noticing Danny stiffen. "I wish I had your energy." Danny gave him a stiff laugh.

"What can I say? I just really love taking about space. I mean, considering the amount of known extraterrestrials currently active on earth! I can't understand how anyone could not be into space." Travis shrugged.

"Eh, it pays the bills at least." The two walked into the coffee shop, looking at the specials.

"Dude, you're 17, what bills do you have." Travis shrugged.

"I pay my phone bill, plus I'm saving up for my car." Danny nodded accepting the answer.

"Fair enough, hey you go ahead and order. I'm gonna call my cousin and see what she wants." Travis smirked.

"The hot cousin who runs the Greek exhibit? For her I will get all the coffee." Danny rolls his eyes as his phone began ringing.

"Calm down lover boy, she's way out of your league." a laugh sounded from the other end of the phone as Diana picked up. There was a slight commotion outside the café.

"And who is out of his league, exactly?" Diana asks, Danny smirks as Travis frantically shakes his head. Things started to get louder.

"Oh just this girl he's got a crush on, we're at the café. Did you decide what kind of day it is." Diana hummed on the other end, but before she could answer a security guard went flying down the hall. "What the hell!" he shouted. Danny ran over to the guard ready to help him up as Diana frantically tries to find out what happened. Before he can say anything though he feels a pressure against the back of his head.

"Look who's tryin to be a hero boys!" comes the shout from behind, Danny is roughly grabbed by his arm with a gun to his head. He started to shake as the attacker laughed. "Now we don't want any trouble y'hear? We're just gonna grab that pretty rock over there and be on our way."

Danny watches as the security guards point their guns at the thieves as the start to break down, a display on Dunite? Danny looks at the thieves confused. What could they possibly want with a fertilizer? Heck the only reason he even knew what is was is because he got bored waiting for his coffee! Danny flinches as the gunman pushes into his head harder.

"Not so brave now, huh kid?" he says with a smug tone. "This is what happens to heroes." he is practically shivering at this point as the gunman laughs. "Look at this! He's shaking in his shoes." Danny on the other hand has begun repeating a mantra in his head, practicing an inordinate amount of restraint.

'Don't break the human, don't break the human, Don't BREAk the HuMan!'

Danny clenches his fist in annoyance as the gunman continues to blather on about something called Kryptonite? and making his boss happy. He wasn't really paying that much attention, repeating his mantra over and over again. His concentration only broken by the gunman suddenly being jerked away. He turns around to find none other than his cousin standing behind him, sans glasses, in her full Wonder Woman armor with a rather angry look on her face.

It didn't take long for her to disarm and capture the criminals, with a quiet remark about a Frappuccino as she passed by Danny. She turned them over to the police before flying off, only to rush over to him minutes later frantic talking loudly about how worried she was. Travis ran to his side, shaking with fear.

"Are you okay man? What were you thinking! You could have been killed!" Danny gave him a sheepish grin.

"Honestly? I wasn't, sorry for scarring you dude." Diana put a hand on his shoulder.

"Danny? They need you to make a statement, you'll have to speak with security as well before we head home okay?" she asked in a soft tone as if he might break at any moment. And Danny might have believed the concern as well, if it weren't for the hidden mirth in her eyes. Danny nodded along saying bye to Travis before heading over to the police.

It was a full hour of telling the same story over and over again, to different groups before they finally let him go. As they walked out of the museum Danny drooped his shoulders. Diana wrapped an arm around him.

"I know you can handle yourself, grandfather told me that much, but are you okay? That was probably a bit upsetting." Danny groaned.

"That was embarrassing! I could take them all down in seconds, without even breaking a sweat if it weren't for one thing." Diana cocked her head to the side as Danny visibly deflated.

"Perhaps the fact that you don't want to be a hero?" Danny huffed,

"Well that and... you have to promise not to laugh." Danny said with pleading eyes, Diana used a finger to cross her heart in agreement. "I've... never actually fought a human before." Diana snorted "Hey! It's not funny! All my enemies were ghosts, none of which held back by the way. The ghost hunters always used ranged weapons or traps, no real need for confrontation!" he whispered harshly as they made their was down the sidewalk. Diana burst out laughing at Danny's expense.

"It's a little funny, you've got to admit it." Diana fought to calm herself. "If you'd like, I have plenty of experience fighting humans, I could give you some tips on not killing them on the first hit." Danny's eyes widened.

"Seriously?!?!?! That would be awesome! When can we start?!” Diana laughed as they approached their apartment.

"While I love your enthusiasm, I have a meeting with the team tonight, and I am responsible for monitor duty tomorrow morning." Danny frowned as they made their way through the lobby to the elevator. Once inside he spoke up.

"Aren't we supposed to be having dinner with gramps tonight? How's that gonna work out." Diana shrugged.

"I'm sure we'll find a way. I don't think he will accept an excuse of 'not enough time.' Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to know what's on the menu, I may have a strong stomach but I think ectoplasm is a bit much."

Danny shrugged, "No idea, but it's not like he's gonna serve blob ghost stew or something. I'm sure he'll make something you can eat.

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

Clockwork looked away from the screen showing his grandchildren with a sigh. Slowly he took the pot filled with stew and set it aside...

Perhaps he should defer to the Lunch Lady's superior knowledge on this particular challenge.

@a-salty-sal@impulsiveasshole@meira-3919@alcorbearson@cute6troll@samgirl98@skulld3mort-1fan@addie-lover-of-stories@amercurio@chronicallyonline-fandomwh0r3 @heirxofxtime @gin2212 @thegatorsgoose@wanderer-of-worlds@terzatheunderscorerima@bright-shade@satanicrutialspecialist@mur-ururu@birdie-24-05@ascetic-orange@cyber-geist@thatrandomsarahchick@dr-syko-pharm-4@observerblock23@addie-lover-of-stories@rainybyday@berseid@pastalavistamf@ae-vixrose@sunflowershine03@theauthorandtheartist@ruelukas22@krzys2000@onlyhereforthechaos@stargirl1331@apointlessbox@mewzaque@distractedducky@cutelittlebeanie@unorthodoxdreamers @universallytacowolfbakery @joseph557@ver-444@icedbluesoul@shark-time@milo-l-l @spookytragedyshark@

I think I got everyone, here's a link to the Ao3 version as well

[pro-birth]

The letter stated that Gerhard was born on February 20, 1939, that he was blind, had one leg and part of one arm was missing and was described as "an idiot". Hitler sent his personal physician, Karl Brant, to see the child in a hospital in Leipzig. Brant testified at the Nurembourg trial that he had been instructed that if the father's letter was correct that the physicians at the hospital would be told that euthanasia could be carried out - in Hitler's name. Gerhard was euthanized on July 25, 1939.

History indicates that the German T4 euthanasia program began with a parent's request for euthanasia and in the end resulted in the deaths of 250,000 to 275,000 people with disabilities.

Further to that, the technique killing large numbers of people by gassing them to death was first developed in the psychiatric hospitals for the euthanasia program and later installed in the death camps for killing millions of people. According to the Holocaust Museum, T-4 staff were redeployed to the death camps.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where one of the characters is jealous of another as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

✳️ For As Long As I Can Remember (It's Been December) by green_feelings / @greenfeelings

(E, 128k, amnesia) After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

✳️ For the Right Reasons by @juliusschmidt

(E, 105k, Bachelor au) Harry doesn’t agree to be the Bachelor expecting to find love. He’s just hoping for an exciting jaunt around the world, half a dozen new friends, and, if he’s lucky, an amazing hj or two.

✳️ Where You Lay by HamPalpert

(E, 86k, fwb) When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles. 

✳️ your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

(E, 64k, exes) The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

✳️ Looking Through You (series) by @allwaswell16

(E, 49k, songfic) Just as Louis and Liam were starting out in the music industry, writing and producing for up and coming artists, a fateful meeting with new pop singer Harry Styles changes everything. 

✳️ Harry, Did You Know (that your baby boy, is married to his best friend?) by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix

(E, 35k, marriage pact au) 10 years ago, Louis and Zayn made a pact that if they weren't married by 30, they'd marry each other. So they do, as best mates do.

✳️ Big, Bright World by RealName

(M, 35k, office au) It really was just a little crush in the beginning, nothing to be worried about. Louis had never really liked anyone he'd worked with in the past, but he was sure he could control himself.

✳️ Holiday Greetings (And Gay Happy Meetings) by @2tiedships2

(NR, 18k, omegaverse) the one where Niall's dead car and and a foot of snow conspire to force Louis into spending time with an alpha he hates.... or does he?

✳️ i'm a captain on a jealous sea by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 15k, canon) What Louis actually has a problem with is the way Nick Grimshaw looks at Harry.

✳️ reckless behaviour by @nouies

(E, 13k, famous/not famous) Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.

✳️ Behind closed doors by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(E, 10k, fwb) the one where omega Louis finds a sock on alpha Harry's door handle that causes a big misunderstanding but is also the beginning of something new.

✳️ Make Him Want to Sin by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 9k, museum) Harry is a curatorial assistant at the London Museum of Natural History, on the day of the big annual gala he catches a glimpse of someone unexpected.

✳️ don't you call him baby by @femstyles

(T, 8k, exes) the one where Harry is absolutely doing fine and is definitely not still hung up on Louis. Except he is.

✳️ Grow as We Go by @larryatendoftheday

(T, 7k, proposal) Six years into their relationship, Harry and Louis hit a breaking point. Louis is tired of shoving the ring box into the back of his underwear drawer, so he throws out an ultimatum.

✳️ The Undone and The Divine by @haztobegood

(E, 4k, established relationship) the one where Harry flirts and Louis gets jealous, but it’s all part of their game.

✳️ Tide's Deathless Death by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve

(E, 4k, pirates) He was certainly going to relieve all the navies of their plight by taking down the captain. At least then, in his relatively newfound life of piracy, he would have done one good deed.

✳️ The Sound of Silence by @musketrois

(E, 4k, established relationship) Louis had almost choked on his coffee. Xander? Of all the people Harry had been connected to over the last few years, this person was speculating Harry was secretly in love with Xander Ritz?

✳️ Just Another Ordinary Day by orphan_account

(T, 4k, omegaverse) Omega Louis finds out his best friend (who he may or may not be in love with) Harry, an Alpha, might have found someone he wants to mate with. Jealous and tired of dealing with it all, he confronts Harry and demands to know who it is.

- Rare Pairs -

✳️ your crimes are quiet, my love by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 97k, Zayn/Liam) A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. 

✳️ You Don't Care About Me (One More Night) by @lululawrence

(NR, 60k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) the one where Louis pines for Harry and Nick helps ease his way into figuring himself out through a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Things quickly turn complicated.

[marzipanandminutiae]

kind of wild (read: annoying) how youre on every post and act like youre some sort of historian when half the shit you say is wrong

Like...?

I'm sure I've been wrong before and I will be again. I'm human; we all get things wrong at times. I try to give the best information I know at the time or writing. Sometimes it's not correct. I try to accept correction and learn from my mistakes. Eg. the time I thought perfumed buttons weren't a real thing during the 19th century and they were, or saying that the Victorians heated their homes with natural gas when it was actually coal gas. I Screw Up Sometimes, for sure!

But. I also have people getting mad that their Emotional Support History Myth isn't true and insisting that I don't know what I'm talking about, fairly often. (And t*rfs who are upset because I'm a Dirty Patriarchal Corset ApologistTM).

Unless you tell me what you're annoyed with me about, I have no way of knowing which situation this is.

(For the record, I AM "some sort of historian," depending on your definition of "historian" re: advanced degrees or work in pure academia. I've been working in history museums as an interpreter/researcher/collections assistant for 7 years. That doesn't make me always right, by any means, but...I'm only "acting like" exactly what I am.)

[pimosworld]

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor

🌒Chapter Summary- You and the boys celebrate your new job. Marc’s past trauma threatens to derail what the other so desperately want with you. Khonshu makes his presence known in only ways he knows how.

🌔CW-18+,MDNI,NDFW, friends to lovers, Angst,Fluff,Insecurities,flashback sequence, POV switch, inaccurate depiction of DID,kissing,lots of flirting.

🌑WK-4.2k

A/N-I hope you like our first installment. I don’t know why I love writing Marc so angsty but I promise he will come around. Steven takes the lead in this because I’m a sucker for him and Jake is his ever charming self.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Chapter 1

  ”I am the one who guides the great ones who are lost and exhausted on the roads of the reborn…

Who guides those who are lost in the underworld,

I am Hathor, Queen of the northern sky,

Who watches over the reborn,

I am a haven of tranquility for the just,

A ferry for the chosen.”

You never imagined you’d find yourself running through the halls of the British museum. You couldn’t contain your excitement of finally being told you got the job. You knew Steven would be leading a tour but he insisted you find him when you got the results. Good or bad. 

  The curator that was retiring was highly impressed with your knowledge. You thought the job offer would be to assist. You were ecstatic when she told you she wanted you to take over the catalogue of all the new exhibits in the museum. 

  It always came natural to you, the research and the fascination of every ancient civilization. Egypt in particular held your interest. There was a connection you couldn’t describe when you thought about it. Having met Steven and bonding over your shared obsession made you feel a little less awkward. 

  You always felt a little more like yourself around them. 

  Steven could invariably sense it before he even laid his eyes on you. It always started the same - a subtle yet undeniable sensation. A cascade of warmth starting from the top of his head emanating through his body. It was indescribable the reaction you elicited from each one of them, all varying in forms. 

  He’s meandering through the new Hatshepsut exhibit on a break in between tours when you find him. All bright and blazing smiles, hardly able to contain your excitement. He already knows what you’re going to tell him. You didn’t need his help but Jake would’ve called him all sorts of Spanish curses if he had turned down your request to help prepare for the interview at the museum all those weeks ago. 

  Some might call his love for ancient Egypt neurose but that’s what led you to him. It’s very likely you would be another stranger to him if his obsession hadn’t caused him to start his incessant babbling that fateful day in the coffee shop. 

  A beautiful creature like you, arguably the most beautiful he’s ever seen. Sitting in the shop he regularly frequented, seated in the corner to catch the only ray of light. Illuminating in your hands a special edition novel on some obscure topic. You quietly giggling to yourself as you read. 

  Jake stayed uncharacteristically quiet while Steven rambled to you about all the secret facts that were never printed. This was his forte and who was Jake to overtake this conversation that you seemed to enjoy. You took to him like you were long lost friends. 

  You took to all of them (well most of them) with such great ease…but one thing at a time. Let’s start with Steven. 

  Your sweet Steven, his posture slightly slouched. Hair a little disheveled and clothes not very firm fitting. But right now he’s standing tall, deft hands in his pockets and his hair with a bit of product. He always took care of his appearance as a tour guide. He stood a little straighter, spoke a little firmer…more assured. 

  He’s looking at you like that now as you approach him. A slight smirk on his face because he knows but he wouldn’t dare ruin your moment. 

  It’s hard to describe the feelings you have when you’re around them. It’s much easier to express how you feel when you’re not with them. Incomplete, fragmented,dimmed. 

  It’s like the opposite of a heartbreak when you see him. 

  “I have some great news.” You’re bouncing on your feet as you half whisper, trying not to draw attention from the other people in the exhibit. 

  She’s adorable 

  Jake is ever present when you are around and Marc as well but he mostly stays silent. 

  “I got the job.” You clap your hands over your mouth to suppress the squeal that you want to let out. 

  It feels wrong not to hug you at this moment. He’s not sure how you’d feel about it now that you’re coworkers but the way you step closer, he can’t resist as he pulls you into his arms. 

  You melt as he mumbles praises into your hair. He’s overwhelmed by the smell of citrus and vanilla as he realizes this is the closest your bodies have ever been. A different kind of warmth spreads over him now as he breaks away from you before ruining this moment with an awkward explanation about the male anatomy.

  “I’m so proud of you.” He says while he still holds your hands in his, a safe distance from you now. 

  “I couldn’t have done it without you Steven.” 

  He nervously adjusts the collar of his shirt as the redness creeps up his neck at the compliment. 

  “Nonsense love, you’re a natural.” 

  It was a regular term of endearment from him but it always made you all giddy inside. You never read too much into each of their special names for you. The countless times Jake called you hermosa or when Marc let the occasional sweetheart slip from his lips. 

  You nervously fidget with the hem of your blouse as the conversation lulls for a moment. “Well I should let you get back to work.” You reach up and give him a kiss on his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it as you hear a sharp intake of breath. 

  He watches you briefly as you walk away, he’s stuck in a trance trying to process what just happened. 

  “We should celebrate!” He didn’t really mean to shout it at you. The way all eyes turn to him including you has him wanting to crawl into the nearest sarcophagus. 

  You smile at him as you exit the exhibit and the light in the room dims a little as he patiently waits for the responses from his head mates about how bonkers he is. 

  His phone buzzes lightly in his pocket and his heart skips a beat when he sees your name appear on the screen. 

  You:My place or yours 

  Mine-S

  Steven can feel Jake and Marc at the forefront,along with a mixture of emotions.

  Worried,jealous,excited,anxious. They may be unique in their own way, but they share a brain and a body. Steven wasn’t usually the vanguard in these situations but something about you makes him feel confident. A way he’s never felt before, and he’s never been more sure than he’s been about you. 

  ****

  No one drinks your tea hermano.

  Steven huffs as he opens the door to the small coffee shop on the corner. “Whatever you say mate. I know I didn’t drink the last of it.” He doesn’t normally get this miffed but he’s been a lot more stressed at work lately with all the new responsibilities. 

  You wanted those responsibilities.

  Buzz off Jake.

  A poor old woman turns to him wide eyed. Steven quietly apologizes to her as he tucks his cold hands in his jumper. He just wanted to get some hot tea and be on about his day. Unsure of what he would even do…most likely research for the tours. It sure beats being yelled at by Donna who thinks she’s still Stevens boss. 

  The barista offers him a polite smile as he steps up to the counter. “I’d like the rooibos chai tea please.” He slides her some bills before she can tell him the total and quickly steps aside. 

  It’s warm and his hands are clammy. He rolls up the sleeves of his jumper as he idles by the window, somehow in everyone’s way and not in the way at all. He doesn’t remember it being a particularly sunny day when he left the flat but it seems the shop is ten shades brighter. 

  He glances around nervously as he hears some soft laughter just to his left. A book. A girl. In the corner. 

  Talking to strangers about Egypt at work was one thing. For starters he got paid to do it and he truly loved it. It’s an entirely different thing to do in public, some might say peculiar to strike up a conversation unprovoked. It’s no matter anyway as his feet carry him to your warm nook in the shop. 

  “That copy must have cost you a small fortune.” He says as he slides into the seat next to you. 

  You laugh as you dip your head. “Would you believe me if I told you I found it at a thrift store.” You turn it over in your hand as you brush your fingers down the spine. “Obviously I had to snatch it up before they realized what they had.” 

  He knows he’s the one who approached you but now he can’t actually believe you’re talking to him. Without even missing a beat. You haven’t returned your attention back to the book as you stare at him like you're studying his movements. Your eyes sparkle as you lift your coffee to your lips and blow before taking a sip. 

  “So what chapter had you particularly giggly over here.” He teases as you hold the book against your chest. 

  You lean in and he forces himself not to look at your slightly open blouse.“I’m afraid the god of Min is not one to be discussed out loud.” Your breath ghosts over him as you whisper in his ear. He can feel the heat flush over his body from your close proximity. 

  You slide the book towards him and tap your finger on the page. He tries to focus on reading it but he notices you haven’t pulled away. 

  Min was often depicted as a mummiform human man with an ithyphallic (uncovered erect) penis. Wearing a crown adorned with two feathers. In his left hand he holds his penis ( although this is usually only apparent in statues because of the perspective applied to two dimensional images in Egyptian art) in his right hand he holds a flail up above his shoulder representing power and fertility. 

  You lightly tap him on his shoulder and he looks up to see you gesturing to the young barista excitedly waving him over. She’s a bit squirrelly when he approaches to retrieve his coffee and he thinks perhaps she’s consuming too much of the shop's supply. 

  What are you doing hermano?

  I haven’t the slightest idea mate.

  Well keep it up, it seems to be working.

  He doesn’t want to intrude but he sees you smiling brightly at him as he returns to the table. You’re still on the same page not having resumed your reading. 

  Steven sits and sips his tea, he hums in approval and he’s grateful it sat briefly because at the moment he’s plenty warm. 

  “Is that the chai?” You ask inquisitively as you flip back a few pages with a puzzled look on your face. 

  “Yes, it’s one of my favorites. In fact I don’t make it at home. It’s just—.”

  “It never tastes the same.”  You steal the words right from his mouth as he glances down to your coffee in question. “Sometimes I enjoy the occasional cup of coffee. It reminds me of home” You say with a sheepish expression. 

  “Where’s home?” He clears his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

  “I don’t mind at all. Washington.” His eyes go wide and you smirk into your coffee. “I know I’m a long way from home.” You say it with a far away look in your eyes and he silently curses himself for being too forward. 

  You flip frantically back and forth through the pages as you scrunch your nose in frustration. 

  She’s cute 

  Ya he’s aware and he’s thoroughly wrecked at any future attempts to match this turn of events for a day off from the museum. 

  “Looking for anything in particular?” He leans in a little closer as he scrubs his sweaty palms on his pants. 

  “Yes…it’s just.” You cease your movements and lean back against the soft cushion. “I know these books leave out so much information. They claim to be special editions but I know there’s more to it than this.” You point at the page like it’s personally offended you. 

  “Perhaps I could be of some assistance?” You raise your eyebrow at him and it’s quiet for a moment. 

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” 

  “Ask what love?” It slips out but you don’t falter or grimace at his words. 

  “Ask me why I’m so far from home.” You look at each other then, it’s just a millisecond of a flash in your eyes. The iris is bright yellow and then gone. His heart quivers a bit and he thinks he may be having a mild heart attack. 

  Calmáte

  He takes a shuddering breath and shucks off his coat. “S’ not really my business I guess.” 

  You’re so focused on him. Like you’re learning every tick and line etched into his features. The way you stare at him like he’s a statue to be studied. It’s maddening and a little unnerving but he doesn’t want you to look away. 

  “Can you tell me why all of the statues of Min are depicted vastly different from all these photographs?” You slide the book toward him but he closes it as a smug smile adorns his face.

  “Well the European scholars of the Victorian age were a bit more…conservative.” He adjusted his pants unconsciously before continuing. “They had most of the phallic members on the statues removed when they were discovered. It nearly wiped out all known history of Min…but you can’t erase the mind.” You chuckle as he taps his finger against his temple playfully. 

  You sigh sympathetically and a comfortable silence falls over the both of you. “Poor Min.” 

  Steven lets out a raucous laughter and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The old woman from before seated at a table nearby shushes you both and Stevens face turns deep red. 

  You duck your head close to his. “It’s not like we’re in a library.” 

  Ya he’s a goner 

  “Another fun fact, that’s likely not in your book.” He drops his voice a little to not disturb anyone else. His excitement is threatening to boil over at your willingness to listen. “It’s rumored that Min was in charge of overseeing the women while the king and his men were at war. When the men returned from battle all of the women were pregnant.” You cover your mouth in shock. “It gets worse.” 

  Your leg brushes his as you adjust to face him better and he nearly chokes at the brief contact. “The king had his arm and leg chopped off in retaliation.” 

  “Why not his.” You gesture downward but his eyes stay fixed to your face. 

  “Well…funny you ask. The king told the men to remove his er…you know. The men thought it was too magnificent so they made him a god. That’s the rumor at least.” 

  MIN WAS A FOOL

  Steven stiffens at the bird's sudden presence as he’s perched in the corner. Unsure as to why he’s here. Marc made it clear to leave Steven alone when it comes to moon knight duties 

  You’re staring at him with a mesmerized look in your eyes. “How do you know so much?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve always had a knack for researching and always found Egyptian mythology fascinating. I used to run the gift shop at the British Museum, but now I’m a tour guide.” 

  You shriek in surprise and the old woman abruptly stands with her newspaper, muttering under her breath as she exits the coffee shop. “I’m interviewing for a job there next month. How serendipitous.” You say the last part half whispered. 

  “Wow, that is quite the coincidence. What’s the job? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

  “The curator position has an opening. It’s always been my dream to work there.” Steven glances up nervously at Khonshu who still hasn’t left. 

  DON'T MESS THIS UP WORM

  “I could ugh…help you prepare. If you’d like? I’m sure you know your stuff but if I—.” 

  “I would love that so much. Thank you.” You say enthusiastically as you clap your hands together. 

  You reach into your purse to pull out your phone. “I’m here most mornings around this time.” You hand it to him sounding a little apprehensive. “But I should have your number just in case.” 

  “Of course love.” He punches in the digits trying to calm his shaking hands. He hands it back to you as you look it over. 

  “Nice to meet you Steven.” You slide it back into your purse along with your book. “I should be going.” You wave at him as you slide out and head towards the door with one last glance over your shoulder at him. 

  He exhales as he drops his head back, the cafes a little colder and his heart rate slows to a normal pattern. 

  ****

  Steven frantically stacks his books against the wall after he’s checked on the vegan pot pie in the oven. He’d managed with Marc’s help to attempt a new recipe without burning down the flat. 

  She’s been here before Steven just relax 

  “I just want it to look nice. She’s not just coming over to study.” Despite Marc’s insistence he calms down, he can sense his nervousness. 

  Jake feels it too. 

  You’ve been over countless times, laid out on the floor amongst the books that adorned their home. You and Steven rambling for hours about the ancient texts or the hidden tombs. Swapping ridiculous facts that the other hadn’t heard. Jake often had to remind you both to eat or drink something. 

  Marc would front occasionally…mostly to remind Steven that the body had other duties to attend to. There was always an awkward avoidance on the days after you’d see Marc. 

  But tonight feels different. You were coming over to spend time with them, not just pick Stevens brain for loads of useful knowledge. The way you touched him today and the look in your eyes told an entirely different story than your budding friendship. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself before you arrive so he tries to keep his hands busy. 

  Jake has to give it to him, the flat has never been this clean in its entirety. He notices some newer candles have been lit but decides to keep it to himself. 

  Just remember she likes us and take deep breaths

  “Thanks mate, I sure hope I know what I’m doing.” 

  ****

  “Steven, you've outdone yourself.” You slide the empty plate forward and take a sip of your wine. 

  It never gets old, hearing your praises. You were always so grateful and appreciative of anything they would do for you. 

  “Marc helped as well.” His eyes meet Marc’s in the reflection of the mirror. 

  You brush your hand over his tracing the veins along his arm. “Well tell him I said thank you.”

  Marc wasn’t avoiding you per say. He just thought it was important for Steven and Jake to experience what he once had. Something he wanted so desperately but was too afraid to mess it up again. 

  The conversation moves comfortably to the couch, where your feet are curled up beneath you as you animatedly tell Steven about the wonderful interview. Some old sci fi movie on in the background that he can’t bother to pay attention to when he could simply watch you. 

  You finally take a breath and realize how close you are. Knees touching as you adjust against the worn leather. He looks at you as if he wants you to continue. You thought he’d be sick of talking about this stuff by now but he looks as though he’d let you go on for hours. You can’t ignore the feeling from earlier and you hope deep down that what you’re about to do doesn’t ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had. 

  If it does, you suppose it’ll make your work relationship less complicated. You aren’t even sure what the policy is on dating. You’re definitely getting ahead of yourself. 

  “Love is everything alright?” He asks as he places his warm hand gently on your thigh. 

  “Sorry, I was lost in thought.” You chuckle softly as you look at the fish tank. Gus swimming in the front staring at you. 

  “Did you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” His hand traces soothing circles on your thigh and he feels you shudder. He moves to withdraw but you grab his hand,lacing your fingers with his. 

  He slowly raises your arm, kissing the back of your hand as his lips linger there for a moment. ‘Go on’

  “I just…wanted to thank you properly. But we were in the museum.” Your voice is suddenly so timid. 

  “We’re not in the museum now.” His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as he waits. 

  It feels like all eyes are on you, and not just Stevens. He’s waiting for you to cross that bridge, giving you the opportunity to say that this can stay exactly what it is and he would be content. 

  You inch closer to him as you rise up on your knees, the couch creaks as you face him, placing your free hand on his shoulder. He closes his eyes as you roam over his chest, mapping it with your fingers. His dark lashes flutter against his cheeks as you lean in and press your lips to his. 

  Warmth blooms across his chest at the first feel of your touch. It’s so gentle and experimental as you both share breaths. He releases your hand to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his chest. 

  “You’re welcome.” He murmurs against your lips as you chuckle in between opened mouth kisses. 

  You can still taste the wine on his tongue as he methodically takes the lead. Much more assured of himself than you’ve ever seen. 

  You yelp in surprise as he swings your leg over his so you’re straddling his lap. You lean back with your hands braced on his chest as it rises and falls beneath you. His hands flex at his side as his eyes roll. 

  “Mírate, eres tan hermosa.” His pupils are black as he bites his bottom lip. 

  “Hi.” You say breathlessly as his hands find their way to your hips. He pulls you in as your noses touch, waiting for permission as you nod. 

  He’s consuming and precise in his movements. His lips crash into yours as you instinctively grind your hips down. He groans into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so different from Steven and yet so exhilarating knowing it’s the same body. 

  I wasn’t quite finished yet

  Jake chuckles as he trails kisses along your jaw. “I wasn’t sure if he was going to share.”  He tilts your head to the side as he bites and nips at your chin. “To be continued.” 

  His hands flex again and he relaxes beneath you. A blush creeps up Stevens neck at the position you’re in. You adjust yourself and brush against his hardened bulge in his pants. A soft whimper leaves his mouth as you experimentally roll your hips again. He’s slack jawed as he watches you with hooded eyes. You’re beautiful just like this. 

  Your nerves start to get the better of you and he notices your trembling. He gently unwraps your arms from his neck as he places a kiss on each palm. 

  “We don’t have to go any further love.” He breathes in the scent of your perfume, heavy on your wrist. “I like this. What we’re doing now.” 

  You place your hand on his rapidly beating heart, quite the juxtaposition to his outwardly calm demeanor. You’re so content to stay like this…so you do until your eyes fall heavy. Lips chapped from kissing as the candles go out on their own. Curled up under the broadness of their body as they wrap you up into them. You push the thoughts away before sleep claims you of not having seen Marc, you want to thank him…in time. 

  ****

  The golden sun bathes you in a warm embrace as you rustle amongst the robust reeds. Your fingers trace along the silky fabric of your dress as the breeze brings scents of jasmine to awaken you softly. 

  The crunching of grass with each deliberate step, a gentle symphony beneath the weight of someone weaving through the emerald blades. As they move it casts a shadow along your tranquil resting spot. 

  You hear a faint laugh as you open your eyes. A tall majestic man stands before you, adorned in blue and gold. His dark locks sit beneath a nemes crown. He crouches down beside you as he lays his crescent staff amongst the grass and pulls you close. He rests his head atop yours as he hums quietly to himself.

  “I knew I’d find you here.” 

  ****

  You stretch your sore limbs, having fallen asleep in such an awkward position. Fragments of a dream linger in your mind briefly. Your eyes adjust to the light in the flat and you’re acutely aware of the lack of warmth against your back. 

  There’s a soft quilt draped over your form and you pull it close as you sit up on the brown leather couch. It’s silent in the flat, the only sound over the quiet hum of Gus’s tank is the sound of your beating heart as you brush the tears away with the blanket you’re holding tightly to your chest. 

Prev/Next

🌙Comments and reblogs are much appreciated 🌒

Taglist- @romanarose @chichimisaki @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @queerponcho @melodygatesauthor @faretheeoscar @22carolina08 @villainfan @clairewinchester14 @brighterthanlonelywords @astrosphereblog @casa-boiardi

[moonblossom7]

(Aged up) Percabeth as your parents headcanons

Genre:fluff/comfort

-reader is adopted

-gender neutral reader

A/N: this is rlly kinda stupid but it's cute I think.

🍼 Toddler years(~1-4)

- Percy is great with kids, obviously, but he's rlly worried that you'd get into something while his back was turned so he's CONSTANTLY watching you. Can't get away with anything.

-stay at home dad Percy is so real, actually

- Annabeth likes reading you bedtime stories, even though she struggles with it

- they're both of the opinion that Disney has gone down hill, but they take you to the cinema every time a new movie comes out.

- Annabeth gets stressed out a lot about whether or not they make you feel like you belong, since she knows how much it sucks to feel alone within your own family, and she thinks it's gotta be even worse since you're adopted (that worry never really went away)

-  Percy made "monster spray" for when you're scared of the dark.

🖍️ Little kid (5-8)

- Annabeth takes you on museum trips a lot. It's important for kids to experience things, and of course she has to pick something the both of you like

- Percy cried like an actual baby when you lost your first tooth. He didn't expect something like that to effect him, but how could it not? You're growing up and it's happening a lot faster than he thought it would.

- loyal customers at your imaginary restaurant. (Yk those play kitchens with the plastic food? Those.)

- very emotional about the little art projects you bring home from school. They can rarely bring themselves to throw any away,so they have a little tote to keep them in when the fridge gets too crowded.

-speaking of school, you are very much THAT kid. The one with the character pen cases and the sparkly folders and notebooks with that Lisa Frank dolphin on them. (I WANTED ONE SO BAD!!) Percy and Annabeth decided you could only have the absolute best stuff.

- around this time they explain the whole gods, monsters, demigods thing. You had already met Grover and Tyson and some of your parents' demigod friends,so you knew some of it, but up till now they'd never fully explained.

🎮big kid (9-12)

-at this point, Percy is officially banned from helping you with homework. He's one of those "math is math, that's still the right answer!" dads, so when you got to the age where you had to learn and use different methods he noped out. Annabeth takes over from that point.

- if you get into sports, obviously they're your biggest fans. They show up to every game, they give your friends a ride home from practice, they probably wear those cringey T-shirts with shit like "soccer mom/dad" printed across the front in mismatched fonts. Percy's probably even an assistant coach. (Bonus for my softball girlies: Annabeth is totally the type to give you cool braids with the team colors weaved in)

- Again Percy cried over you loosing teeth. But this is your last baby tooth! You aren't little at all anymore! (It's even worse for him if you don't believe in the tooth fairy anymore by then)

- alas,the time has come. The last Christmas you believe in Santa. You told them they didn't have to put the elf up that year, that's how they found out. It caught Annabeth totally off guard. She'd tried to be very sneaky and very clever about maintaining the Christmas magic.

- you're having a Minecraft phase rn(everyone does at this point, don't fight it) and Annabeth is THRILLED. she doesn't play many video games, but she does like Minecraft and Animal Crossing,so she was so excited to have that in common with you. She gets especially excited about all the houses you build even though they're really basic at first.

📱Teen (13-19)

-went very all out on your 13th,16th, and 18th birthday. So much food, and confetti and probably invited all of their friends on top of everyone you invited. (For my summer birthday friends: paid for you and your friends to go to the water park for at least one of those,on top of everything else they had planned)

- very chill about your first partner, actually. I know that a lot of parents aren't, but I honestly don't see Percy and Annabeth being the track your phone and shotgun prom pictures type. As long as your partner was respectful and treated you well, they had no reason to be upset.

-coming back to the sports thing, Percy would be upset if you got to be embarrassed by them going to your games and stuff now. It happens for some kids, obviously (and him and Annabeth have gotten a lot more excited and a little obnoxious about everything the better you got), but he'd be upset that he's not cool anymore.

- proms and homecoming dances are such a big deal. They never really went to any school dances, unless you count when they were trying to find Nico and Bianca, so they're super interested in yours. They want you to have a good time, but they definitely might be projecting a little bit.

- On that note, for my long haired friends, Annabeth totally does your hair for you for those events. I personally think most Athena kids are good at doing hair, since weaving is part of Athena's whole thing and like doing complex hairstyles definitely requires that, and  Annabeth would really enjoy that bonding experience.

- Percy originally wanted to be the one to teach you to drive, but you scared him so many times that he couldn't be alone in a car with you for a long time. Everyone makes mistakes while they're learning, and he's usually a brave guy, but it's a million times scarier now that it's you. Maybe he's just worried about you getting hurt.  Maybe he doesn't want to have to pay for any repairs. Could be both.

- your graduation was so emotionally devastating for them. Gods, they're just so damn proud of you. Highschool isn't as easy as some people make it seem,and even if it was, it's still such a big deal. And it was also so bittersweet because you really aren't a kid  anymore, and they're so excited for you to experience the adult world, but they also miss their little baby.

-also,if you go to a school that lets you decorate your cap,I just know they'd want to help. Obviously they'd follow whatever your idea was but I could see y'all being an arts and crafts family, y'know?

- I don't wanna say that Annabeth has earned a reputation that could get you into any colleges without much effort because I don't think she'd let you get away with not trying, but like...if she wasn't like that, you could.

-also, they'd be really chill if you didn't want to go to college,as long as you were doing something safe and that makes you happy. They know that extra school isn't for everyone and they also know there's a lot of jobs that don't need any degree that can make more money than jobs that do (not that money's all that matters, but it's a good motivator.)

A/N(number 2):Lord I love thinking about Percy and Annabeth getting to have a nice normal-ish life. Let me know if u guys have any specific scenarios you wanna see with parental Percabeth,I get such a hit of nostalgia and happiness from this dynamic

[ghaniblue]

Fics I enjoyed recently in October/November last year, left in my drafts and never posted oops: 3xDrarry, 1xJegulus

🥵🕶 Bang the Bodyguard!!! by @milomoonsies (Jegulus, 7k, E)

Dear god this Reg. Their dynamic is fire elmo emoji. I'm obsessed.

Aren’t you just the littlest bit proud of me?” Regulus asked. “Made it all the way back home without you knowing.”

“Six security officers watched you climb and then fall off a fence. We have it on camera. You could’ve just told me you wanted to leave. I would’ve taken you out the back, you muppet.”

Regulus stifled a laugh. Maybe he wasn’t as sober as he thought.

x x x

Regulus is the unwilling son of the foreign secretary. James is his six-foot, sex-on-legs, Krav-Maga-wielding, Margaritaville-loving "Specialist Protection Officer".

Regulus has no choice but to fuck him.

🐲📻 Ten Visits to Fire and Flight: The World of Dragons by SanderVanSunshine (Drarry, 17k, E)

@hd-fan-fair fic, delightful banter and delicious pining, the Weasley children + Teddy are chaos incarnate. How do I subscribe to the Lee & Harry radio show?

A decade after the war, Draco Malfoy has made a new name for himself, running the dragonology department at the British Museum of Magic. And in spite of his cranky assistant (and her rude drawings), the other department heads (jog on, Janet), and three untamed children (menaces), it’s brilliant.

Or it would be, if Harry Potter didn’t have so much bloody free time after his morning show (which Draco does not and will not listen to).

🎠👻 if the bees know by @oflights (Drarry, 20k, T)

@hd-fan-fair fic, dad!Draco is my weakness, Scorpius and his ghost friend are adorable

Scorpius' playground is haunted, Harry specializes in helping ghosts pass on, and Draco just wants his son to be safe.

🖌❄️ All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre (Drarry, 29k, E)

This Draco is such an annoying chatterbox. I love him.

All over London portraits are disappearing from their canvases.

Auror Harry! Expert-in-Magical-Art-Theory Draco! There's running, dancing, falling through ice, what’s this paper giraffe doing here? A great time was had by all.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing *He* Does is Magic, Chapter 1

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~1,250

Story Summary: The events of Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, retold from Reader's perspective after the fact to her best friend.

Tags/Warnings: Companion fic, canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship, spoilers for ELTSDiM

A/N: Reader wanted to publicly lust over Steven. I don't make the rules. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Once I get this caught up to the present timeline in ELTSDiM, I will be posting the chapters concurrently (or as concurrent as possible, anyway).

Y/F/N Y/L/N sighed as she unlocked the door to her apartment and walked inside.

She shut the door and hung her bag on the hook before setting her keys in the bowl on the side table in the hall. Thank goodness this place came furnished.

She had just walked into the kitchen when her phone rang with a FaceTime request.

Y/N grinned and swiped to answer. “Hey, Ames.”

“Tell me everything,” Amy, Y/N’s best friend since college, said in reply. “How was your first day as director of the British Museum?”

Y/N let out a light laugh. “It was interesting, to say the least. I just walked in the door, so give me a second to pour myself a glass of wine and I'll tell you all about it.”

She opened a cabinet and grabbed a wine glass before setting it on the counter. “I still can't believe I actually got the job.”

“I can,” Amy replied. “You single-handedly turned the university’s museum from a struggling, run-down relic into one of the most prestigious in the country in less than 5 years. You deserved this, girl.”

Y/N took a bottle of wine out of her refrigerator and poured herself a glass. “Thanks, Ames. That means a lot.”

She put the bottle back in the refrigerator then picked up her glass and moved to the sofa. “Okay, so… first thing I did when I got there was meet my assistant, Helen, who's this kinda older lady but seems pretty cool. Then I met the board of trustees, then I took a little break and was able to wander around the museum a bit.”

“You went straight to the Egyptian exhibit, didn't you?” Amy asked.

Y/N grinned. “How’d you guess?”

“Well let's see, you took every single Egyptology class you could in college, you were Dr. Reynolds’s only choice for T.A., and your doctoral thesis was on the excavation of King Tut’s tomb and whether or not it had been done ethically.”

Y/N laughed. “Okay, fair. Anyway, while I was in there, this guy came up to me and started talking --”

Amy gasped. “Wait, you met a guy? Why didn't you lead with that? Tell me more!”

Y/N shook her head with a grin. Amy, who had gone on to become a best-selling writer after college, was a hopeless romantic and had seemingly made it her life’s mission to ensure that Y/N was just as happy as she and her husband Blake were. “Okay, so there I was, looking at the statue of Mekhit, when this really attractive British guy comes up and tells me that the sign on it is wrong.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah, it actually was. The placard said it was Menhit, who is a completely different goddess. Anyway, so the guy starts explaining the difference between the two, but not in like, a mansplainy way or anything, and he was so adorably cute and excited about it that I just stood there and listened to him talk.”

“Did you get his number?”

Y/N shook her head. 

“What? Why not?”

Y/N took a sip of her wine before answering. “So we're vibing, right? Then I make a joke about accidentally praying to the wrong god because of a spelling error when suddenly the guy says, ‘oh yeah, I've been trying to get my bosses to fix this one for months now. Took them ages to fix the banner depicting the Ennead’.”

Amy's face fell. “Oh, you're shitting me.”

Y/N shook her head. “Nope. I shit you not.”

“He works there?”

“Yep. His name is Steven and he works in the gift shop.”

“Hold up, he's not even a tour guide?”

“Nope, he’s just really knowledgeable about Egyptian history. Trust me, I was just as shocked when I figured that out.”

“So then what happened?”

“Then he asked me if he could show me his favorite exhibit and took me to see Hathor.”

Amy groaned. “Ugh, that would have been so romantic had he not been an employee.”

“I know.” Y/N shook her head. “Anyway, he was telling me about how cool Hathor is when we were interrupted by this woman who I figured must've been another employee, because as soon as Steven tried to make a break for it she started in on him about ‘not bothering the museum visitors’ and how he ‘wasn’t a bloody tour guide’ and how his job is to ‘sell rubbish to whiny brats and their caretakers’, then said that the new museum director was ‘some poncy American’ when Steven asked her who it was -- all while still within earshot of me, mind you.”

Amy made a face. “Ugh, she sounds like a real piece of work. Who the hell even does that?”

Y/N took another sip of wine. “I know, right?”

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry.”

Y/N shrugged. “It's just as well. Steven had no idea who I was at the time either, and honestly, now that I think about it I'm not even sure he even had been flirting with me.”

“Still, though, that sucks.”

“It actually turned out okay, because when I got back to my office I had Helen pull Steven’s employee information file and girl, he was SO overqualified to be working in a museum gift shop.” Y/N grinned. “You remember how I told you that the tours were boring and that the first thing I wanted to do was to try to update them but the position for the head of programming and tours was vacant?”

Amy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, guess who's now the new Visitor Engagement Specialist?”

Amy shook her head with a light laugh. “Look at you, making lemonade out of lemons.”

“And not only that, but it turns out that the woman that had been rude to Steven was the gift shop manager, so after I talked to Steven again this afternoon and offered him the Visitor Engagement Specialist position I called her to my office for a little ‘chat’. Oh, Ames, you should've seen the look of sheer panic when she sauntered into my office, saw me standing there, and realized that she had both berated a subordinate and shit-talked me basically to my face.”

Amy nodded in approval. “Slay, queen, slay.”

Y/N shook her head. “Because it was my first day and I didn't want to have to fire someone right off the bat I reminded her of the museum’s policy on bullying and harassment and gave her a warning instead.”

“That's very diplomatic of you.”

“Anyway, I'm meeting with Steven on Friday to discuss his ideas for revamping the tours, and since we're getting some new artifacts in on Thursday I asked him to also sit in on my meeting with the curatorial staff while we discuss placement.”

Amy wiggled her eyebrows. “Hey, at least you'll have some eye candy.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head. “Not even gonna think about that since there's no point.”

“Ah well, at least you tried.” Amy glanced down at the corner of her screen. “I gotta run -- I have a Zoom meeting with my editor in 5 minutes.”

Y/N nodded. “Okay, I'll talk to you again soon. Give Blake my love.”

“Will do. Bye!”

Y/N tapped at her phone to end the call and smiled. Despite getting off on the wrong foot with Donna, all in all her first day as director of the British Museum had turned out pretty well. I think I'm going to like it there.

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Hello! I saw you're doing SF6 headcanons, so I was curious if you could do some general relationship headcanons for Luke and Marisa with their significant other? Please and thank you!

-Luke is bit cocky. So, he will be showing off a lot. It could be something small, him doing a back-flip, showing a cool combo in a game. Or, something big like trying to do a cool trick, which results in him pulling a muscle. (He will appreciate, if you help him out.)

-Game dates! You two will do weekends, just playing games, stocked up with favorite drinks and snacks. Will he get competitive? Yes, absolutely. If, you match his energy and talent in gaming, be prepared for multitude of rematches.

-Matching T-shirts! He will buy shirts he likes for both of you. It could be one of those cheesy ones like, "Return to Luke, if lost." "I'm Luke." Sort of shirts. Or, just a similar color theme, he just likes to match with you.

-Would love it, if you helped around the gym. Doesn't have to be anything physical, could be logistics, making sure equipment is on par. Anything really will make his heart flutter, seeing you assist him in the gym.

-Just trying new things together. It just feels special to him, he would love to travel more with you. But, unfortunately it is expensive and he has to look after the gym. So, he does the next best thing, buying new sodas and tastes from stores. It just adds something to him, when both of you try the new sodas and such together.

-Despite Marisa's large and intimidating stature, she is extremely loving woman. She will be your personal hypeman. She wants to see you succeed in anything you attempt at. You fail at it? She will understand you can't succeed everytime. But, she will push you to try again, until you succeed.

-She is a patient woman as someone working with jewelry and iron works should be. So, if you two are arguing about something, she will be the most patient out of you two.

-Practice fights! She will want to fight with you, let it be a practice ones. She wants to see you get better at fighting, so she can go little harder each time on you.

-Gifts, plenty of gifts. She will give you her handmade jewelry for you. At some point, all of your accessories will be made by her. Earrings, bracelets, necklaces, she will make all of them for you. She will make all of the gifts for you, with patience and accuracy of a saint.

-Museum visits are a must, or anything artistic. She may prefer metalwork and jewelry, but she also enjoys seeing paintings and such. She would adore it, if you would come with her to the museums and art festivals, even if they aren't your thing.

[vodika-vibes]

Ask and you shall receive the wonderful vod'ika!

For your 650 Followers, could we have Dogma in a Mystic AU 👀 either the one you already have going on or, consider, he's an Indiana Jones type (who is mostly trying to get ahead of robbers, but not "it belongs in a museum!").

Hope this is what you're looking for 💙💙 thank you for writing amazing fics.

Hopelessly Devoted

Summary: You and Dogma have been partners for years now, there’s no one on the planet you trust more, and you like to think that he feels the same way about you. Unfortunately, Dogma keeps his thoughts close to his chest. And you honestly have no idea where you stand with him.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1889

Prompt: Indiana Jones/Warehouse-13/The Librarian AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, I finally got this to a place where I'm happy with it. This is more Warehouse-13 and The Librarian AU than Indiana Jones, but really, all three of them are very similar if you think about it. Warehouse-13 was a SciFi show, followed a pair of Secret Service agents while the traveled to collect dangerous artifacts. The Librarian followed a Librarian who's job it was to collect dangerous artifacts from around the world. Warehouse-13 had things like Edgar Allen Poe's journal and pen, while the Librarian had things like Excalibur. Although, I think all three had the Arc of the Covenant.

“Careful, you don’t want to drop it,” Dogma warns you as he watches you slide the Arc of the Covenant into its place on the shelf.

“I know, Dogma.” You reply with a roll of your eyes, “Have I ever dropped anything before?”

Dogma doesn’t reply until he’s sure that the Arc is secure, and then he activates the security system around the ancient artifact, “There was that one time with the White Rabbit,” He reminds you as he turns to look at you.

You sputter indignantly, “That is like comparing apples and oranges, Dogma!”

A small grin lifts his lips, “Is it?”

“You can’t compare a golden box to a living, breathing animal!”

“I can, and I did.” His grin widens as he watches you, and then he turns and motions for you to follow him, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You chase after him until you’re walking next to him, “And you’ll finally let me treat your injuries?” You ask as you eye the nasty cut over his eye.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t ‘yeah, yeah’ me. I’m worried about you. You got hit, hard.”

Dogma leads you to the small gold cart that the pair of you use to navigate the storage building, “Better me than you. Besides, me getting hit gave you the time you needed to actually get to the artifact.” He slides behind the steering wheel, and you climb in next to him.

“We both know that if they opened the Arc they would have been killed. Our interference was pointless.” You grumble.

“Saving lives is never pointless.”

“They were terrorists, Dogma.”

He flashes a small grin at you, “All life is valuable.”

“Some lives are more valuable than others.” You counter, “And the lives of terrorists are less important to me than your life.”

“Supposed terrorists.” Dogma corrects as he starts the cart.

“Supposed my ass. You saw the auction list. It was like a who’s who of the world’s nastiest murderers.”

“And yet, their lives still have value.”

You heave out a sigh, “And this is why you’re the boss and I’m the assistant.”

“You’ll get there eventually.”

“Not really sure I’ll ever get to the point where I’ll look at bad people and think ‘Oh yes, these people are definitely worth my time and effort’.” You reply dryly.

He flashes you an amused look and then starts paying attention to the path again. It would be bad if he crashed into anything in here. A very good way to kill the both of you.

Luckily, even half concussed, Dogma is a very good driver. So you feel comfortable kicking your feet up on what you’d call the dashboard, though you’re sure that’s not what it’s called, and you slouch in the seat.

You’ve been an “employee” of this agency for close to two years now, and Dogma’s underling for almost that long. He transferred in from another division a couple of months after you were forced into the position.

You allow your gaze to slide over to Dogma for a moment, tracing what part of the face tattoo you can see, and then you focus your attention on the rows of shelves again.

Dogma’s a soldier, just like all of his brothers. One of an army of two million identical men. You asked him, once, what the deal with that was, and he just shrugged and changed the subject. 

The Program’s director, later, admitted to you that Dogma and his brothers are a result of an artifact used by a large group of unscrupulous cloners.

Their plan, you were told, was to create an army of super soldiers and then sell them to the highest bidder. Luckily for the world, the Jedi got there first and claimed the clones as their own.

When you first heard that story, you thought it was a joke. Something that the director told you to make you a little more agreeable to working with Dogma.

Then you start to meet his brothers, and they really are completely identical.

Still, Dogma’s route to this division is normal, from what you understand. The director picks through hundreds of personnel files and finds the right person for the job.

If only you had been so lucky.

You like to think that you aren’t a bad person. A little greedy, and a lot lazy, but neither of those traits are inherently bad. Unfortunately, when you combine greed and laziness with a neglectful childhood, you have the perfect mixture for someone becoming a criminal.

Once upon a time, you were a thief.

Well, okay, less thief and more grifter.

You have a knack for walking into a room and determining which person in the room is the easiest mark and which person would be the most profitable.

About two years ago, you managed to get your hands on an artifact, a locket. An artifact that you stole from a local museum. 

To this day, you’re not sure why you took it. The item made your skin crawl, and you wanted nothing more than to destroy it, but you found yourself unable to get rid of it.

The director saved your life.

The pendant belonged to Countess Elizabeth Báthory, a woman who, historically, was known for murdering young women and bathing in their blood.

After that day, the Director forced you to be a junior in his division. His threat was simple, if you don’t then you’ll be turned in to the police and arrested for your many, many crimes.

And, well, you’ve never been a stupid person, so you agreed.

Now, two years later, you’re glad you did. You travel the world and are still able to keep your skills sharp. But, much more importantly, you get to spend your free time with Dogma.

You trust Dogma, he knows more about you than anyone on the planet who isn’t you, and you like to think that he feels the same way. But Dogma keeps his feelings close to his chest.

While you’re pretty good at reading him, after almost two years, you’re still not sure where you stand with him.

Which is a shame, because you’ve been in love with him for almost a year now.

The cart comes to a stop, and Dogma pushes your feet off the dashboard, as he removes the key from the cart. “Come on, I think I saw the director upstairs.”

You groan theatrically, but follow Dogma up the narrow staircase and through the shut door that leads to where you and he do almost all of your research. 

The director is an older man, with pure white hair and thick glasses. You’ve never seen him in anything other than a strict suit, though you’re pretty sure that he has a family somewhere. 

“I have a new job for you,” The director says, his voice clipped.

“Already?” Dogma asks as he sinks into a chair and tilts his head back to allow you to actually tend to his injuries. 

“I wouldn’t insist if it wasn’t important,” The director replies, falling silent for a moment to watch you set the first aid kit on the table and pop it open, “Pandora’s Box has reappeared.”

Both you and Dogma freeze.

The both of you have been hunting Pandora’s box for close to 8 months now. Every time you get close, the box vanishes again. Stolen, or sold, or just lost.

“Where is it?” You ask.

“Rome.” The Director replies, “It’s on display. At the Vatican.”

Dogma releases a laugh, “Oh, easy then.”

You make a face, “The Vatican knows our faces,” You remind the both of them, “We did have to steal the shroud from them, after all.”

The Director nods, “I am making arrangements. Just make sure that the both of you are prepared.” He nods once more, and then stalks out of the room, leaving the faint scent of cigars in his place.

Dogma allows you to finish cleaning and tending to his injury, before he hops to his feet, “Pandora’s box, how long has it been?”

“Eight months,” You reply, “That was when the first report was made, at least.”

“We should start making flight arrangements—”

“Hold on!” You move and press your hands on his chest to stop him from heading to the computer, “We need to wait for the Director to make arrangements. We’re both wanted in Italy.”

His lips twist, “This is the closest we’ve been in months—” 

“I know. But we’re not going to accomplish anything if we’re in jail.”

Dogma stares at you and then sighs. “I know you’re right.” He murmurs, his hands coming up to wrap around yours, and squeezing, “I just want Pandora’s Box sealed away. It’s dangerous.”

“Everything we work with is dangerous. I don’t think there’s a single thing down there that isn’t dangerous.” You point out, “Pandora’s Box is empty, at least according to the stories.”

“Of everything except hope.”

“Exactly.” You scan his face for a moment, “We should continue our inventory while we wait for the Director to work his magic.”

Dogma smiles at you, soft and warm. “What did I do to deserve a partner as amazing as you?”

“Well, you accepted a transfer.” You lightly tug your hand from his grasp and reach up to lightly pat his cheek, “Smartest thing you’ve ever done, I think.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He scans your face for a moment, “I need to tell you something—”

“Alright,” You prompt as he trails off.

“I,” Dogma hesitates, “I just…” He sighs, “You know what, it’s not important.”

You stare at him suspiciously, “Oh, come on Dogma. Just tell me.”

“It’s really not important.”

“You said you needed to tell me, so tell me!”

He releases an explosive sigh, “Fine! I love you! I’m in love with you. Have been for ages now, and I felt like you needed to know. There, happy?”

You blink at him, stunned. “You love me?”

“You’re going to make me repeat it?” Dogma asks with a scowl, “Yes, I love you. You can proceed with your mocking now.”

You continue to stare at him, and then you giggle. You feel euphoric like you’re walking on air. Before Dogma can say something mean about your giggling, you fling your arms around him and bury your face against his neck.

You feel him tense under you, and he hesitates before he wraps his arms around you, gingerly holding you, as though you’re made from fragile glass. “What are—?”

“I love you too.”

The tension drains from Dogma so suddenly, that the both of you nearly topple to the floor. His arms tighten around you, and he presses his nose into your hair, “You do?” There’s something small and almost frail in his voice, it makes you tighten your arms around him. 

“I do.”

Gently, he pushes you back so he’s able to look at you. His dark eyes scan your face for a moment, and a small smile lifts his lips, “You’re telling the truth.”

“I generally do, just no one believes me.”

Dogma crashes his lips against yours instead of offering an answer. You sigh into the kiss and submit to his passion, it’s everything that you’ve wanted, after all.

You have a feeling that you and Dogma are going to be even better partners from here on out.

[usafphantom2]

In 1970s NASA was not allowed to have any SR-71s, yet they received one and they passed it off as YF-12C (with a bogus A-12 tail number)

NASA YF-12C

Taken in 1975, the interesting photos in this post show NASA Blackbirds carrying the so called “coldwall” heat transfer pod on a pylon beneath the forward fuselage.

The Blackbirds portrayed in these photos are usually referred to as YF-12s, but actually one of them was an SR-71: the one on the top is a YF-12 but the one on the bottom is an SR-71.

CLICK HERE to see The Aviation Geek Club contributor Linda Sheffield’s T-shirt designs! Linda has a personal relationship with the SR-71 because her father Butch Sheffield flew the Blackbird from test flight in 1965 until 1973. Butch’s Granddaughter’s Lisa Burroughs and Susan Miller are graphic designers. They designed most of the merchandise that is for sale on Threadless. A percentage of the profits go to Flight Test Museum at Edwards Air Force Base. This nonprofit charity is personal to the Sheffield family because they are raising money to house SR-71, #955. This was the first Blackbird that Butch Sheffield flew on Oct. 4, 1965.

Another interesting thing about those pictures is that NASA was not allowed to have an SR-71 but they did and they passed it off as a YF-12!

In fact, the “YF-12C” was a then-secret SR-71A (serial no. 64-17951, the second production SR-71A) given the NASA tail no. 60-6937. The reason for this bit of subterfuge lay in the fact that NASA, while flying the YF-12A interceptor version of the aircraft, was not allowed to possess the strategic reconnaissance version for some time.

In 1970s NASA was not allowed to have any SR-71s, yet they received one and they passed it off as YF-12C (with a bogus A-12 tail number)

Two NASA Blackbirds: the one on the top is a YF-12, the one on the bottom is the YF-12C/SR-71.

The coldwall project

The bogus tail number actually belonged to a Lockheed A-12 (serial no. 60-6937), but the existence of the A-12 remained classified until 1982. The tail number 06937 was selected because it followed in the sequence of tail numbers assigned to the three existing YF-12A aircraft: 06934, 06935, and 06936. Isn’t that amazing?

The coldwall project, supported by Langley Research Center, consisted of a stainless steel tube equipped with thermocouples and pressure-sensors. A special insulating coating covered the tube, which was chilled with liquid nitrogen. At Mach 3, the insulation could be pyrotechnically blown away from the tube, instantly exposing it to the thermal environment. The experiment caused many inflight difficulties, such as engine unstarts, but eventually researchers got a successful flight.

Noteworthy the Flight Research Center’s involvement with the YF-12A, an interceptor version of the Lockheed A-12, began in 1967. Ames Research Center was interested in using wind tunnel data that had been generated at Ames under extreme secrecy. Also, the Office of Advanced Research and Technology (OART) saw the YF-12A as a means to advance high-speed technology, which would help in designing the Supersonic Transport (SST).

Given that the US Air Force (USAF) needed technical assistance to get the latest reconnaissance version of the A-12 family, the SR-71A, fully operational, the service offered NASA the use of two YF-12A aircraft, 60-6935 and 60-6936.

Eventually, with 146 flights between Dec. 11 1969 and Nov. 7 1979, 935 became the workhorse of the program while the second YF-12A, 936, made 62 flights. Given that this aircraft was lost in a non-fatal crash on Jun. 24 1971, it was replaced by the so-called YF-12C SR-71A 61-7951, modified with YF-12A inlets and engines and a bogus tail number 06937.

The YF-12A

Cool Video Explains how SR-71 Blackbird’s J58 Turbo-Ramjet Engine Works

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. SR-71A Blackbird 61-7972 “Skunkworks”

The SR-71 differed from the YF-12A in that the YF-12A had a round nose while the SR-71 had its chine carried forward to the nose of the airplane. There were other differences in internal and external configuration, but the two aircraft shared common inlet designs, structural concepts, and subsystems.

The YF-12 was developed in the 1960s as a high-altitude, Mach 3 interceptor to defend against supersonic bombers. Based on the A-12 reconnaissance aircraft, the YF-12A became the forerunner of the highly-sophisticated SR-71 strategic reconnaissance aircraft.

The first of three YF-12s flew in August 1963. In May 1965, the first and third YF-12s set several records, including a speed record of 2,070.101 mph and an altitude record of 80,257.65 feet. For their speed record flight, Col. Robert L. “Fox” Stephens (pilot) and Lt. Col. Daniel Andre (fire control officer) received the 1965 Thompson Trophy.

Though the aircraft performed well, the F-12 interceptor program ended in early 1968. High costs, the ongoing war in Southeast Asia, and a lower priority on air defense of the US all contributed to the cancellation.

@Habubrats71 via X

[soraviie]

you don't trust androids.txt

━ type: BTS (hyung line) x f! reader

━ about: android! au, heavy angst, slight fluff, nothing majorly fun 

━ pictures taken from Pinterest  ━ navigation

━ c/w: implied smut, mentions of suicide attempt, mention of near-death experience, mention of losing a limb, a portrayal of poor mental health, undercurrent of dystopian themes, mention of losing bodily autonomy, mention of hating one’s body, mention of depression and anxiety, discrimination against androids

━ wanted to keep this one in the drafts but here it is T-T

NAMJOON: “There’s a ç in Jean Lurçat,” he points out helpfully. His programming suggests it is friendly but the way your teeth grind suggests otherwise. Perhaps…cavities? Humans were prone to them and Namjoon was no medical unit to know any better, he was after all an informational unit. But you don’t seem to be appreciative of that either. 

“Have I done something wrong?” he asks. 

“Contrary what your chip states, being an obnoxious know-it-all is not helpful!” you snap, red rimmed eyes meeting his. “I mean, who do you think you are?”

He blinks. You’ve met dozens of times already, surely you knew who he was. 

“My name is Namjoon,” he points at the tag on his chest. “I am an informational android unit. Here to help.”

“Well, you’re not! Not by nitpicking every single sentence I write!” you hissed and despite it not being expected, he experienced an operational error. If a sudden simulated pang of sadness could be called that. 

He rarely gets to talk to anyone in the museum and over the course of these weeks with you coming in and out of the building, he’d assumed, naively, that he’d made a friend for the first time in his life. Or existence rather, he corrects. Androids were not alive hence they could have no, well, life. 

“I apologize,” he bows curtly and leaves, shoulders slumped. You watch after him feeling like the grandest asshole in the world. 

“That’s because you are,” you chide yourself before slamming the multi-kilogram art book closed shut. 

A week passes and despite it not being a part of his programming, Namjoon is sulking. You’re nowhere to be seen. Maybe you avoided him due to it being awkward. Or maybe you just flat out hated him. The operational error occurs again - it makes his stomach feel like a gaping hole in spite of him knowing it was full of wires and memory cards. Perhaps he should be checked for bugs. 

“Excuse me,” a thin voice appears behind him and he finds you shifting from one foot to another, a gift in hand. 

“Hello!” he greets you pleasantly, face contorting in a dimpled smile before recalling last week and lets it deflate quite fast. 

“Are you in need of assistance?”

“No, I came here to say “thank you” and apologize. It was rude of me to insult you. I’m just…” you exhaled, shivering faintly to yourself with nerves. “I moved here only recently and I’m not used to androids. Not that it is any excuse for my behaviour. It was cruel, I apologize.”

“Accepted,” Namjoon graciously nods along, the weird bug in his stomach evaporating into thin air. He glances down at the anxiously clutched gift bag. 

“Is that from your family? Was your thesis accepted?”

You glimpse at it almost self-consciously. 

“It did. You caught onto all the mistakes so there were no objections from the superiors hence…thank you. You were not being an irritating know it all but…helpful,” you offer him a small smile and he encounters a different sort of bug, this one gnaws on his chest. “It’s for you.”

Astounded, he gently accepts the bag and peers inside. No one has ever given him anything. Inside there sits a folded shirt. The quality of the cloth is to his liking and on the tag he spots the name of the company specializing in android wear. It must have cost a small fortune. 

“I thought at first to give you a book but you probably already know everything and then I remembered you wear the same clothes every day but I didn’t know which colour-”

“It is perfect,” Namjoon interrupts, his wires suggesting that the limit of his smile has reached the maximum capacity. “Thank you, ________.”

You squirm but then frown. 

“Why is your face so red?”

“Uh…an operational error,” he lies. trying to appear sincere. “Will I be seeing you here?” 

“Would you like to?” demurely,  you question and he eagerly nods. 

“Very much.”

YOONGI: “So at which point you thought to inform me?!” you shrieked though it came out more like a hysteric squeak. But who wouldn’t be upset when their boyfriend, previously assumed as human, factory reset himself whilst being balls deep into your guts. 

“Baby, I can explain,” he begins, cautiously inching himself across the bed but you throw yourself against the headboard, clutching the sheets to your chest. Not that there was anything left to hide anymore.

“You better!” you yelled. “You knew from the very first meeting! I don’t trust androids!”

He licks his lips guiltily. He looks human. Acts like one too yet even so you can’t help but feel like an utter dimwit for being fooled like this.

“I know, I know,” he mutters guiltily, running long fingers through the orange hair. He said he dyed it. Bud did he? Did it matter? What else did he lie about?

“And I’m sorry for that! I meant to tell you. I did! But you wouldn’t have me if you knew early on and I liked you so much. I…love you so much.”

His gaze lands to sit dead onto your eyes, a feat for Yoongi indeed and despite expecting to see some blue lights, cogs and wires stretched beneath the artificial material there’s nothing but the familiar brown staring back.

“No fair,” you grumble. “Busting out the L-word.”

He chuckles fondly - a sound you adore even after this mindfuck.

“Can’t risk you running away from me.”

Gingerly, he touches your knee and you flinch.

“It may be a synthetic skin but it’s real,” he whispers moving to softly cup your cheek. “I’m the same Yoongi you’ve always known.”

Unwillingly, your body relaxes as he does his magic, fingers grazing through your hair in a monotone, calming motion. His ultra-effective weapon to having you be soft.

“But how can you…feel?” incredulous yet truthful, you ponder out loud. “You run on…programming…?”

“I’ve been a free android for twenty years,” he insists. “All my "programming” has rusted so much it’s running independent like a human brain would. No exterior orders.“

"So what was that?” you abruptly plank attempting to demonstrate his sudden seizure. “What was that all about?”

“Oh,” he laughs timidly, the gummy smile on show and ears flushing pink. You wonder if there’s wiring there as well but then simply let the matter rest. “I realized I love you, want to spend my life together with you and I…I freaked.”

“Good or a bad freakout?”

He leans in to peck your lips.

“Good,” he mutters in between kisses. “Very, very good.”

JIN: “Want to hear a joke about pizza?”

“No.”

“Good, it’s too cheesy.”

You could physically feel your eyes roll 360 degrees around your skull. The recovery and betterment android unit, J-I-N-100, levels you down with a thoroughly displeased scowl.

“Why aren’t you laughing?” he frowns. “I specifically requested it.”

“Fault in the program,” you slighted, moving to adjust the IV drip.

“Ah! A derogatory reference to my existence. How very original.”

His face and tone is neutral, for all intents and purposes he could have just recounted the level of precipitation outside. That’s what’s wrong with them, you think to yourself, how quickly they can go back to being robotic. And frankly, it’s not all androids you can’t stand to be around, it’s this specific unit that’s been making your life a miserable hell, even further than it was.

Losing a limb, a leg, in this case, was hard. It still continues to be hard. The bitterness that seeps from the court decision - the overruling of a criminal penalty for the drunk driver who’d mowed you over was a bottomless well. On top of that, churning away at a hospital, trying to regain the simple ability to walk using a prosthetic leg made you claw at the walls frequently enough and then this thing came.

The jokes you could tolerate, barely but still, but you couldn’t, couldn’t handle to watch him get his palm crushed one day and then without a care in the world church it away, grab a new one like a brochure at a religious congregation, given away like candy, and stuck it onto himself. No recovery period, no shock, no trauma. Brush it off, move on. How could you not hate him when he joked to you all day long as you fell out of bed or fell walking due to the simple fact that you were human.

Pain was the basis of all life and he felt none. To be in the presence of something that was not alive yet acted as though it was…unnerving. Deeply unnerving yet humanity had already moved past being the only humanoids, moved past the notion of disgust for artificial intelligence, leaving you to choke alone on the bouts of spontaneous rage.

All you heard whenever he opened his mouth was “tiny, pathetic human, wriggling around like a worm”.

“You bent your leg the wrong way,” he points out and your head twitches upwards, removing the crayon-coloured painting of yours from your vision. It’s now brimming with his face, one he said is of course mechanically engineered as it was perfect. He was perfect. A thing he often remarked on.

“What?”

“Your leg,” he repeats slowly as though talking to a child. “It’s made of a similar structure as my legs, if you bend the knee in that position, it’ll wear out the joint wiring.”

You hadn’t even thought about that. This leg…this leg doesn’t belong to you. It’s like him. An alien object lodged onto you. A parasite.

“Here, lemme fix that,” he reaches and on the brink of hurling, you kick yourself away, falling onto the floor. Android unit J-I-N appears almost startled.

“Don’t touch me! Do not touch me! Get out!”

“I can’t!” he objects weakly. “I’m your personal betterment unit if you reject me, I’ll be -”

“I DON’T CARE! GET OUT!”

For an android, purposefully wired being not meant to experience fear, he looks terrified. And that expression haunts you.

Waking up in the midst of a deep night is nothing new. Doctors said the traumatic event of nearly dying and then losing a limb will give you hours upon hours of unslept nights. Walking was still difficult, especially in the dark of the hospital where everything was quiet and creepy. Usually, J-I-N-100 would help you, asked or not, guide you to the bathroom, or fetch you a glass of water but after kicking him out he hadn’t shown for the entirety of the day.

You wander the halls blindly and then the knee jerks on its own and you find yourself on the floor.

“Fucking shit.”

Trying to push yourself off the linoleum, you faintly hear a peculiar noise. A strangled noise of crying. At first, you dismiss it. It was a hospital people cried day and night, every hour of the week but the sound is so terrified, so broken you couldn’t bear to continue the asshole routine.

Following it, you stumble upon the escape stairs, grey and empty and in the middle of them sits unit J-I-N-100. Crying. An android crying. A sight you never assumed was possible.

“Uh…are you okay?” you dumbly ask.

He hides his face away, shoulders shaking before a venomous hiss flies your way.

“Why do you care? I’m a machine.”

You stand awkwardly.

“If this is about what I said, just ask for them to transfer you to a different patient-”

He abruptly laughs loudly and dryly, a laugh of no amusement.

“You don’t understand do you, human? There are no transfers for androids. If we don’t satisfy our patient, there are no do-overs! I’ll be sent to the HQ and be,” his voice drops into a hush. “Be disassembled.”

For an android that was death. You didn’t like him but for him to die due to your displeasure was tyrannical.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I didn’t know.”

“You don’t know anything,” he accuses heatedly and you couldn’t blame him.

“No, I don’t.”

There’s a beat of stilted silence.

“You hate that leg of yours because it’s like me. It’s strange. An alien organism. You hate for having these parts but they are not mine. Every part of me belongs to someone else. My eyes, my ears, my legs have been replaced thousand times over. This body is not my own and yet I’m forced to reside in it. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

Abruptly, all his magnanimous tirades about having the most perfect body make sense in another kind of way. He must have been trying to convince himself of liking it when the truth couldn’t be any further away. Your words now feel sickening and a surge of want, to protect, to shield this android, makes you almost dizzy.

But he doesn’t care for it. Not anymore.

“Please, leave,” he asks. The sound of his voice is broken, worn to its absolute limit. “If I’m around you it is my programming to smile and I don’t want to smile anymore.”

You oblige and close the door to the staircase quietly behind yourself.

To be home again was to experience bliss. Your small, overcluttered apartment had never appeared like the gate of heaven itself. The smell, even the crowded look into the smog-ridden city below is pure ecstasy. Putting the crotches down you sink into the sofa, nearly crying at the comfort of unity. But then that grading, awful sound interrupts your ecstasy. A fucking neighbour. Grabbing the crutch, you’re already prepared to beat these annoying motherfucking neighbours into the next planet only to find J-I-N standing on the other side.

His expression is murderous.

“Why did you do that?”

Timidly, you shift in the doorway.

“I was trying to help.”

“You lied!” he cries out. “You chased down the board members of the android unit assignment, harassed them for hours and then lied to their faces that I’m the most adequate, most perfect unit in the facility!”

“Did it work?”

He calms down, hands coming to stand still by his thighs.

“It did. No unit has ever reached such a score.”

You nod.

“But you hated me…” he breathes, even without any visible cogs, you can see how the logic of your action is not computing in his brain. “You literally hated me all this time.”

“I don’t wish you death. I would never want that!” frustrated you trying to run a hand through your hair only to remember it is supposed to hold a crotch now. “It’s just my fragile human psyche. I’m sorry for it and I’m sorry you have to go through everything. It’s horrible.”

He seems to be beaten into a state of stupor only to shrug.

“It…It is what it is.”

“It shouldn’t have to be.”

For a while, there is only the muted sound of either of you trying to make some sort of conversation.

“Because of what you did, they’re reassigning me. Private health field, I’m a home care unit now.”

“That’s…great,” you weakly surmise. You don’t actually know if it’s great or not. There’s a lot you don’t know. Maybe it was high time to fix that.

“Wait does this mean you’ll be reassembled?!”

“No,” J-I-N shakes his head. “No, reassembling or disassembling. Home care units change very little. Just a little update and I’ll be sparkly new.”

“Perfected the perfection,” you try to joke and he chuckles weakly almost sounding surprised that someone might amuse him and not the other way around.

“Do you…” he shakes with nerves and you grow ever more astounded. He was so alive. A very peculiar android, one who couldn’t give it credit for his programming. Whatever happened that made J-I-N, he was different. Perhaps he made himself different.

“Do you need a home care android? Your recovery period is almost a year.”

“They sent me a catalogue but I haven’t gone through it yet,” you throw your head at the inside of your apartment.

“May…I apply for the job?”

You blink at his demureness.

“But I’m awful.”

“You were,” he agrees. “But you’ve got an update and besides I’m in need of employment.”

“I…” you think it over. In spite of not getting along, you still had grown at least accustomed to him. And J-I-N was far more gracious than you would have been in his situation.

“I’m okay with that. Are you?”

“Yeah,” he squeezes a small smile. “You’re not the worst human on the planet anymore.”

“Thanks,” you snort.

“Also fair warning, this update will contain nearly 68GB of various puns and jokes for the sake of breaking the ice with the patient.”

You feel a part of yourself shrivel and die with that information, still, you force out a polite -

“Looking forward to it.”

HOSEOK: “But…but what am I supposed to do with him?!” as quietly as possible, you hiss into the phone where a woman sighs at your incessant questions.

“He is a mental health android unit, treat him like an app or something.”

“He’s not an app!” you argue with some heat. “He is an android! A being! One you sent to my home without my consent.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have tried to slit your wrists open at a workplace,” she snides and drops the phone, leaving you open-mouthed at the sheer audacity before slamming the phone down into the kitchen counter.

“Your levels of adrenaline and anger are out of the norm. Should I help you to relax?” the android’s voice pops up unexpected right beside you and you scream.

The last thing you wanted after being discharged from a mental institute is to be observed. Like a zoo animal. What will it do if one does this? What will it do if one pokes it in this spot?

“No, please, it is not necessary,” you trail off, fear gripping you whole. This thing will live you. For three months, there will be a stranger, designed to hover over you like a Damocles sword. You couldn’t even feel safe in your own home when it was anxiety in the first place that wore you down so much you wanted to escape it in any way you could.

The mental health unit leans its head to the side. He looks very human, it must be the absolute prime model and somehow it’s even more disturbing. It’s a humanoid that was not human and that knowledge activates some primal terror gifted by your ancestors. You’re choking on your tongue.

“I’ll just use the bathroom,” you force out and make a run for it.

It takes hours for you to exit, shaking on the tile floor was time-consuming and finding the android unit freely moving through your space doesn’t put you at any ease.

“What are you doing?” you rasp.

He turns around, beaming wide and you shudder.

“Making dinner,” he replies cheerfully. “Your file suggested it will be one of my duties.”

In his hands, there sits a cup. It’s your favourite cup. It wasn’t passed from generations, it wasn’t a gift and it wasn’t really that expensive. It had a chip in the side and you bought it essentially from a flea market but it still is your favourite cup. One he has usurped like your peace in your own home.

“Please, don’t..don’t touch my stuff.”

The smile falls from his face and noticing your intent, scared gaze at the cup he places it down.

“But I…I have to make you dinner.”

“You don’t. I’ll do it on my own.”

He blinks, struggling to understand. It goes against his programming, while the emotional core of his does state he should instantaneously assume greater distance. He was creating unease, something he was not engineered to do and the two clashing commands were rapidly wearing down his operational core.

“I can…run you a bath. Baths are beneficiary for human beings.”

The thought of undressing in front of him, of being that vulnerable, nearly makes you gag.

“No, please, just do nothing.”

“If I do nothing, my dispatchers will think you don’t want me.”

“I don’t want you. I’m scared of you.”

His mouth despite it being an impossibility runs dry.

“You’re scared of me?” he echoes weakly.

“You’re a stranger invited into my house without my consent. Of course, I’m scared of you!”

“Right,” he buffers. “I-I…I’ll log myself off in the hallway. Will that make you feel better?”

It’s probably cruel, nevertheless, you nod. You couldn’t be around anyone and despite the opinion of general denizens, androids did count as someone.

Shoulders slumped, he dragged himself away before plopping to sit by the door and proceeding not to move. It was creepy.

At night, you hear him moving around and shivering underneath the blanket from the rampaging onslaught of paranoia, you could not relax for a single second.

Weeks pass and the mental health unit keeps an intrepid vigil to keep out of your way. You don’t even know where he is at times as he occupies no room and makes no noise but at times you almost forget he is there. He still performs some menial tasks when you’re away either being tested or taking a prescribed walk and exercise class. Your floors are too clean and when you fail to make food for yourself it magically appears, though you note that they’re not served in your dishes and neither your pots nor pans were ever used again.

Coming home late one night, you step over the threshold and find it empty and dark, abandoned almost but on the counter there sits a cupcake with a simple note attached.

“I’m very proud of you, ______________.”

Heat rushes to your eyes and your throat tightens. You can’t even recall when was the last time anyone said they’re proud of you.

“Umm…mental health android?” you call out. He didn’t even have a name you realize. He wore no badge and there was nothing in his introductory form. “Mental health android?”

No response. Perhaps, he left. You gave him no order, maybe it somehow messed with his programming so bad he left. You rifle through the apartment high and low, in the end, finding him crouched in the broom closet. It’s an awfully minuscule space, not suitable for anyone, be it an android, human or a cat but it is the only space in the entirety of your home, you did not look into. Just how long had he slept here for your convenience.

You lean down and shake him but he does not wake.

“Sir? Sir?” you shake him harder but you might as well be handling a ragdoll. “Sir? Please, wake up.”

At that, his eyes pop open and you screech from the abruptness of the motion, falling on your backside. He rushes to help you up but pulls his hand away at the last second, conflictedly squirming in the place.

“Are you okay? Are you in distress?” he questions nervously and you gather yourself off the floor.

“No, I’m just…” you sigh. “You shouldn’t sleep in the broom closet. It’s too small.”

“It was the only hiding place. I would not scare you there. You would not see me.”

Something in the innocent explanation, so purely kind-hearted, mellows your own.

“Please, use the living room.”

He nods stiffly.

“Also uhm…” unwillingly, tears pool in your eyes. “Thank you for the cupcake. Did you…make it?”

He shakes his head sadly and solemnly.

“You did not give me permission to use your things, so I bought it.”

“With what money?” as far as you knew androids couldn’t pride themselves on the biggest income.

“I work odd jobs at times,” he shyly confesses. “If I earn enough money, I can apply for citizenship and become a self-sustained android.”

“You used that money to…” you choke. “To buy me a cupcake.”

“To buy you all food and the flowers by your bedside table.”

He shrugs it off with such ease like it’s not by far one of the kindest things you’ve seen a humanoid do.

“Oh, no, don’t cry!”

Too late you’re absolute sobbing your heart out. About everything. When you were little you thought it will be such a dream. It wasn’t. It wasn’t a dream at all.

He once again reaches to hug you, probably due to his programming but holds himself back, to be respectful, however, you hug him first, not caring anymore that his skin is synthetic and his brain is made of chops. You just need someone to connect with. Any connection, any at all would be bliss and this android has shown you unbridled kindness no humans in your life would.

When you’ve cried out half the hurt, not all but a decent chunk, a steaming cup of chamomile tea, served in your favourite mug sits in front of you as the rain taps against the window. It’s easier to breathe. The android sits unsure at the edge of the sofa, uncertain what his next action should be.

“Do you have a name?” you ask, twiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“I’m a mental health care android unit 9876Q36x/3.”

“Right. Have you considered choosing a name?”

If he wanted to be a self-governed android, the idea of freedom must be constant in his mind.

“I did,” he slowly says as though it’s a secret. “Hoseok.”

“It’s a lovely name.”

He offers a gentle smile and you feel for once a bit better.

“Thank you, _______________. I like your name as well.”

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