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exhaslo · 21 days

Text

Over-Time Ch3

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

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"On behalf of those of us at Alchemax, we would like to welcome you to our company. Please arrive at the Human Resources floor tomorrow with the information sent via email. We are happy to have you join us."

The shudder in your voice as you resisted the urge to squeal was sharp. You were at your current job, trying to hide from the crowd outside. This phone call was important, you told everyone that, and you were glad you took it.

"(Y/N)! GET OUT HERE WE NEED YOUR CLUMSY ASS!"

You yelped towards your coworker. Tears threatening to spill towards their harsh tone. Luckily you had just finished the phone call. How cruel could they be?

Hurrying back onto the floor, you yelped as another coworker tossed you a bunch of orders. Hurrying towards you station, you tried your best to make the orders but the pressure was getting to you. Everyone's yelling and the pace was too much.

"Strawberries, (Y/N)! Not Blackberries! Damn!"

"S-Sorry," You whimpered.

You hated working here. You hated this job, but this was the only place that could hire you fresh out of college. Everywhere you really wanted to work claimed that you didn't have enough work experience. Well how the hell were you supposed to get that if they didn't give you a shot?

"Hey, goofball, you're taking my shift tomorrow."

"H-Huh?!" You questioned, spilling the drink you were making, "Ah! No, no-"

"It's from 7am to 2pm."

"I-I can't!" You stuttered, trying to clean the mess you made, "I-I have s-something....something important to do!"

"Well change your plans, I already told the manager that you're taking my shift, goofball." Your coworker snapped before bumping into you, "Stop fucking up the drinks!"

You were biting the inside of your cheek as you tried your best to hold back your tears. You weren't going to let your cruel coworkers ruin your chance at a better life. You weren't going to deal with them anymore after today.

You just had to finish your shift.

And never look back.

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You woke up early for Alchemax. Triple checked all of your paperwork and identification. This was the most prepared you were ever going to be. You had blocked your current job from calling you so they wouldn't stress you out.

You even had some time to bake a small 'thank you' cake for Miguel, if you got the chance to see him. You were truly grateful for his help in getting you here. Hopefully it won't look weird on your end. This was just your way of thanking someone.

Once you arrived, you went up to the Human Resources floor to submit your information. As you waited, you focused on the elevator and saw Lyla step out.

"Ah, there you are." Lyla chirped, approaching you.

It was night and day from when you saw her during the interview. She was much more peppy than before.

"G-Good...morning," You whispered, feeling slightly nervous as to why she was looking for you.

"Is all her paperwork done?" Lyla asked the front desk lady, "Perfect, (Y/N), grab your stuff and follow me. I'm going to show you around~"

"Oh....Thank you,"

This felt strange. As you collected all of your things, you hurried behind Lyla. She was so nice and friendly. You weren't used to this, so it was a nice change of pace.

"Now that you're officially hired with us, you'll be getting paid for your time here today. I'm going to show you around the building first, then your station. I'm sure you'll love working here~!"

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Miguel grunted lowly as Lyla abandoned him during an important meeting. She wanted to meet you personally, leaving Miguel to suffer with the wolves. Miguel had very little patience with these men and now it was going to get worse.

Once the meeting was over, Miguel hurried back to his office. He needed a drink. There was only so much stupid and ignorance that he could deal with. Being a CEO was difficult. The patience that Miguel had to show was honestly a talent.

"This is the cafeteria! We have a large selection of goods here,"

Miguel could hear Lyla's voice from one of this monitors. Honestly, that woman was good at testing Miguel.

"Whoa, h-how much do we have....to pay for this?"

Groaning softly as Miguel sat at his desk, he took a sip of his vodka. Your soft voice now echoed from the monitor. Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched the two of you walk around. Lyla must have set this up, normally Miguel only watched certain interviews.

"I've been meaning to ask, what's in the little box you've been carrying?" Lyla asked you.

"A-Ah....Um...I-I wanted to say thank you to...Miguel for helping me out. Is...Is it too much? I thought....I usually bake as a thank you," Your voice was getting lower as you started to cover your face.

"Hehe," Lyla looked directly at the camera, "I'm sure he will love it."

Miguel grunted in response as he drank the rest of his liquor. Lyla was abusing the fact that you didn't know that he was the CEO. Miguel couldn't wait until you did find out. How shocked would you get? How red would those cheeks turn?

Clicking his tongue at his thoughts, Miguel decided to meet with you. After all, it would be rude for you to be waiting much longer. You had a cake to give him.

How cute.

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Lyla was currently showing you some of the labs. There were a lot of floors that you weren't going to be anywhere near, but Lyla said it was good to know where everything was. Honestly, Alchemax was even more impressive than you thought.

Arriving at the next floor, you gasped softly as you made eye contact with Miguel once the doors open.

"Oh, Miguel, funny to find you on the relaxing floor," Lyla said with a grin.

"I don't find it strange at all," Miguel huffed and smiled towards you, "Ah, (Y/n), right?"

"Y-Yes!" You squeaked and lowered your head, "Um...I..."

Your heart was racing. This was weird. So very, very weird. Maybe you shouldn't have baked him a cake. Maybe just a thank you card was enough? You couldn't find the courage to give him the baked good. It was too embarrassing.

"Awe!" Lyla cooed and pulled Miguel inside the elevator, "Why don't I show (Y/n) where she will be working! Miguel, come with us."

"Sure," Miguel grunted lowly.

"Ah, here!" You nervously handed Miguel the cake, avoiding his gaze, "I....I wanted to say...thank you for...for helping me with the interview! S-So, thank you!"

"You didn't have too," Miguel smiled as he took the small box, "But thank you."

Finally raising your head, you felt your cheeks burn as Miguel smiled towards you. There were butterflies in your stomach as you watched him. Miguel was so kind and handsome. You hoped that you could see him often here.

"Huh? You can smile?" Lyla mocked Miguel, causing him to grunt.

"When is your vacation again?"

It was fascinating watching the two bicker. That sweet and kind Miguel was grumbling towards Lyla. As if they had been friends for quite some time. It made you feel even better about working here.

"Here is our floor! C'mon (Y/n), let's leave the brute to himself," Lyla chuckled, grabbing your hand.

"W-Wait...Isn't this the top floor-"

"Hm? Oh, yes, you were hired to be my replacement while I'm away on vacation. You're going to be the CEO's secretary." Lyla said casually.

Your eyes widen in shock. You wanted to question Lyla, but honestly, thinking about your interview, it made sense. Lyla just smiled as she showed you her office, wanting to get you comfortable.

"S-So...I'll be working...with the CEO?" You asked softly, taking a seat on her couch, "Um...How are they?"

"Ugh, so annoying. Always uptight, always cranky, never laughs or smiles. Honestly, this change will be good for all of us. I'm sure you can get that grunting brute to loosen up. The job is pretty easy itself as you've seen during your interview."

"Mhm, will there be...anything else I have to do?"

"Not much, but I'll go over all that with more details tomorrow. Why don't we work on your schedule as of right now?"

"Okay,"

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Miguel waited for you to enter Lyla's office before he could enter his. He took a seat at his desk and pulled out a fork as he undid the box you gave him. Miguel raised a brow at the cake before him, it was small and a little sloppy, but the effort was there.

Taking a bite of the cake, Miguel winced at the salty taste. You did admit that you were clumsy. Swallowing, Miguel went to grab a water before seeing a small note in the box.

"If it is too salty, I'm so sorry. There is a small packet of tea that goes well with salty items...just in case." Miguel read aloud.

Finding the tea packet, Miguel scoffed softly as he got himself a glass of hot water. You were well prepared. Miguel seemed to recall you saying that you only got clumsy when nervous. Were your nerves getting to you about the job?

"Well, can't have that now," Miguel hummed, drinking the tea, "I quite like (Y/n). She'd make a fine edition to the team."

"This is the big bad CEO's office," Lyla said from outside Miguel's doors.

Miguel just smiled as he imagined you on the other side. Lyla was making him to be oh so scary. Appraoching the door, Miguel kept a calm composure as he decided to open the doors.

"Stop scaring the new girl," Miguel hummed. He watched as your eyes widen,

"Huh? Miguel? Y-You're...You're the C-CEO?"

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wntrs0ldier · 5 months

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AN OFFER II · 04

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: mafia, language, violence, mature themes, dark themes, smut, punishing, spanking, edging, toxic behavior,

Bucky brought his hand up to your face. “You know I won’t hurt you,” he said. His hand slid a little lower; it gripped your jaw, and his fingers dug almost painfully into your cheeks. “But,” he licked his lips, shrugging, “you lied to me. And you won't get away with it.”

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The situation you got yourself into was strikingly similar to your last date with John Walker — you were sitting in a fancy restaurant, trying not to show how much you needed some man's favor. There were also a few differences; seated in front of you was not John, but Adrian Lancy, it was not about a marriage proposal and your future, but the future of your gallery, and most importantly, Bucky had no idea about any of this. Although, he knew you were going out — he would have noticed your disappearance anyway — but you told him you were having dinner with Connie. You didn't think Bucky would want to make sure that was really the case, but you preferred to be safe than sorry, and asked your friend to lie if necessary. Connie didn't even think about it; she agreed before you finished your sentence.

Earlier, you didn't see Adrian as a threat — he didn't seem like someone who would go too far to get his way. Nevertheless, you were all smiles between the meals. Why? Because facing the fact that you had a husband, rather than just imagining it, caused some unexplained change in him, and from a sensible young man you were pinning your hopes on, he became someone gripped by a obsession; his propositions for meetings sounded a little more aggressive, lost their previous lightness, and you eventually grew afraid. Not about yourself — whenever the ring on your finger entered your field of vision, you forgot about any fear. It seemed to you that no one could hurt you, not when you bore the name of Barnes.

But the gallery was different.

“I'm going to Paris soon,” Adrian began. “On business, of course, not for pleasure,” he added, as if you were to take him for a man who has nothing to do but travel.

“Mhmm.”

“I thought you could come with me,” he continued. Surprised by the processes that must have occurred in his mind, you raised your eyebrows. “You know about art,” he hurried to clarify, “and I'd love to buy some pieces for my new apartment. I will pay you for this service.”

“You know that there are people you can actually hire for this. People you won't spend that much on.” You tilted your head to the side, watching him carefully. “Because I am expensive. Very expensive,” you said, hoping to discourage him.

“I want you.”

“Adrian…” you sighed. “I can't come to Paris with you just like that.”

Not hiding his disappointment, he pressed his lips tightly together. “Well,” he shrugged casually, “if you don't go with me, you won't see any more of my money. And I'll make sure that no one will ever invest in you again. In short, I will destroy you, Y/N. So you'd better think it over and give me an answer by the end of the week.”

Refusing to let any negative expression cast a shadow on your face, you watched him. You couldn't give him the satisfaction, even if, when agreeing to this meeting, you didn't expect it to turn out this way. The change you feared earlier had just taken a full turn — much faster than you thought. “Sure.” You forced a sweet smile. “I’ll think about it.”

A waiter appeared at the table. At first you thought it was just a routine check; that he was making sure you weren't missing anything. Only after you gave him a little more conscious attention did you notice a bottle of wine in his hands. A very expensive bottle. As if Adrian wanted to let you know that he had the resources you needed, and that he was spending his fortune on something as unnecessary as wine, which was only meant to impress.

But Adrian seemed confused, too. “There must be some mistake. I didn’t order any wine.”

“I was told it is from Mr. Barnes.”You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling an unpleasant warmth spilling all over your stomach. You stared at the bottle in a stupor. So he knew — Bucky knew very well where you were, which meant he also knew who you were with.

You weren't sure how long you had been standing in front of the door to your apartment, but eventually realized that such behavior qualified as absurd — the accompanying fear, that you had been convinced you lacked only a few hours earlier, was undoubtedly irrational. Or at least that's what you had to trick yourself into thinking in order to finally grab the door handle.

You hung up your purse on a hanger and slipped the high heels off your feet. You were able to name at least five much scarier situations that had occurred in your entire life, yet you couldn't recall the last time you felt this kind of anxiety. You didn't even understand where it was coming from; after all, Bucky cared about you; he couldn't harm you.

When you turned around, ready to go deeper into the apartment, Bucky was standing at the end of the hall, right by the exit. His damp hair, loose t-shirt and sweatpants, fresh wounds on his knuckles indicated that he must have been after training with Steve. You swallowed hard at the thought that Bucky, having found out where and with whom you were actually spending time, needed to beat something, in this case, fortunately, a punching bag.

“Was it good?” Bucky asked, approaching you slowly. “The wine,” he clarified. Without taking your eyes off him, you nodded cautiously, causing him to squint. “What is it?” His mouth curved into a playful smirk. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“I can’t really tell…”

You gawked at him — at the stern expression on his face, at his darkened eyes and reddened, slightly parted mouth. Whatever he intended, you could feel yourself getting wet.

He grabbed your wrist; it ached from the power of the pressure Bucky wielded, but the feeling only intensified the sensation. He dragged you behind him, and you almost tripped over your own feet — he wasn't walking that fast; it was your limbs that seemed frail and numb.

“Bed,” Bucky commanded as soon as you reached the bedroom. Massaging your sore wrist by instinct, you went in that direction, your steps wobbly. You settled on the middle of the mattress. Bucky came closer. “Turn around.”

Captivated by his massive, heavy frame, under which you hoped you were about to end up, fascinated by the calmness and dominance he radiated, you couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Turn around,” he said again, much slower than before. “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

Your mouth went dry. Finally obeying his order — not in fear of the consequences, but looking forward to further development of the situation — you turned around. Bucky placed his hand between your shoulder blades and with pressure forced you to lean forward; so you landed on your knees, additionally supporting your hands on the mattress.

He lifted your dress above your hips, a quiet snort escaped his mouth. “You fucking kidding me?” Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head, hooking his fingers under the hems of the lace pants you were wearing. He pulled the material lower, completely exposing your ass, sending a wave of heat over your entire body.

You got up one knee first, then the other, making it easier for Bucky to strip you of your underwear. Then, he grabbed a piece of your dress and pulled you to him; as your hands detached from the mattress, he reached for them and tied tightly with your pants. The fabric, digging into your wrists, turned out to give you a surprising amount of pleasure.

Bucky pushed you forward again, this time far harder. Deprived of the possibility to support yourself, the front of your body fell on the bed, while your ass still remained up. All you could do was turn your head to the side — other than that, you were completely helpless, dependent on his mercy.

It seemed, however, that he didn't have any for you. You realized this when you felt a sharp, piercing pain, accompanied by a loud clap — Bucky’s hand landed on your ass cheek, and it landed hard. Shocked by this new and unfamiliar sensation, you shouted, your eyes filled with tears.

Bucky spanked you again. Your body trembled, and only a muffled gasp came out of your mouth this time.

Another slap — you felt your skin burning and stinging in that spot, getting more and more tender; you were painfully aware of this as his hand, once again, smacked your ass rapidly. You moaned, your back arching, your pussy almost dripping, asking to be filled. But that sweet torture was nearly as good.

“More?” he rasped, breathing heavily. You weren't sure how to respond; he was punishing you, so if you asked for more, would he actually give you what you wanted? And if you refused, would he stop?

“Y/N,” Bucky pressed.

“More,” you replied quickly, your voice weak.

“More what?”

At that moment, your mind wasn't in the best place for the logical, coherent sentences he always expected from you. “I want you to spank me more. Please,” you exhaled.

“You don’t wanna talk, so I’ll make you use your words. Make that pretty mouth of yours work.”

Bucky fulfilled your request, and you almost jumped up on the mattress, clamped your eyelids shut and let out a loud whine — that one was definitely stronger than the others, causing goosebumps all over your heated body.

The bed sunk behind you, signaling his arrival. The t-shirt he had thrown off landed silently somewhere on the floor. Your lips parted, releasing a long moan as the tip of his cock brushed hard against your wet, throbbing cunt. He buried into your core painfully slowly and lazily; you felt his hardness spreading inside you, filling all the space you could give him.

Bucky clenched his hands on your hips and began to thrust into you. The pain radiating from your cheeks mixed with the surging pleasure, creating a combination you could quickly become addicted to. Gasping loudly, he pounded into you again and again; immediately he reached to your head, slipped his fingers into your hair and tightened them there. He turned your head to the side so he could see at least part of your face — the changes taking place on it. He wanted to control your pleasure. Because as you, stimulated by spanking and waiting, began to get closer to an orgasm faster than you could expect, Bucky suddenly stopped. He slid out, leaving behind only emptiness and a devastating lack of satisfaction.

“Jamie, please-” you choked out.

“Don’t Jamie me,” Bucky replied sternly. He leaned forward, putting the weight of his body on yours. He pulled your head slightly away from the mattress, his mouth hanging right next to your ear. “You lied to me today, Y/N.”

You nodded immediately, ready to agree to everything he wanted.

“You know that what you did was wrong? Hmm?”

“Yes. Yes, I know. And I'm sorry.”

“I don't want your sorry. I want you to never lie to me again. You are my wife and I won't have it, do you understand?” he said, the words seeping out through his teeth.

“I understand, but please-”

Bucky clenched his fingers harder in your hair. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“You promise what, Y/N?” he inquired impatiently, although at that moment it seemed like he had all the time in the world.

Taking another deep breath, you gathered the strength and all the concentration you had in you to say those few words he cared so much about. “I-I promise to never lie to you again.”

Bucky moved slightly away, left a kiss on the nape of your neck, then straightened up. He entered you again, and again you felt that blissful fullness. At first you got the impression that he was still fucking some discipline into you, but the rising sensations made you think that he was actually rewarding you for understanding your mistake and promising to do better.

In that position — with your hips up — his dick quickly found the right spot and hit exactly where it needed to. Wet, well lubricated with all your juices, it was sliding in and out smoothly, bringing you more rapture than you could beg for. With loud, desperate cries, you were praying to your god, taking his name in vain — the one who was just fucking you senseless. Because Bucky couldn’t be just a human; he was too perfect, too beautiful, too merciful as he forgave your sins.

You clenched around his cock, your eyes rolled back as consciousness left your mind. Apart from the overwhelming release, you also felt Bucky's load spilling into you; he, too — with a few last thrusts — let out a few whimpers, crowned by a throaty growl, and his body slumped against yours. His chest, pressed to your back, rose and fell as he tried to normalize his breathing. He pulled away from you to free your wrists as quickly as possible; your hands dropped lifelessly, too weak and too useless.

“Let’s clean you up, hmm?” Bucky suggested; surprisingly gently for the man he was just a moment ago.

“I want to stay here,” you muttered with half of your face still in the bed sheets. Once again you felt his body pressing against yours as laid a tender kiss behind your ear.

You woke up to an empty bed.

Your sore body covered with a blanket, the curtains closed. The watch on the nightstand said four in the morning.

The urgent need to use the toilet dissuaded you from further sleep. You didn't feel fully awake until you were in the shower — as the warm water washed over your body, you wondered where Bucky had gone at such an early hour. You hoped that three months of hard work in Italy would give him some more space here in New York.

You got out of the shower, removed the remnants of your makeup, brushed your teeth, then returned to the bedroom. Curiosity was stronger than tiredness, besides, you felt rested enough, maybe even too awake for any more sleep. You put on one of Bucky's t-shirts, rummaged from his side of the closet, and left the room. You didn't have to search for long — the warm glow pouring out of the living room immediately caught your attention.

Bucky was sitting on the couch — under the light of the lamp standing over him, he was looking through some papers scattered on the coffee table. Full concentration on his face, marked by a deep wrinkle between his brows.

“What are you doing?” you spoke.

He glanced up at the sound of your voice. “Checking the account statements from Sapphire Dune and Marble Aurora.” Rubbing his eye, Bucky sighed with clear tiredness.

Your forehead creased as the names of your father’s casinos rang in your ears. You haven't thought about them once lately, so you wouldn't expect it from Bucky either. On the other hand, your Family's affairs were now his concern.

With your arms folded across your chest, you walked closer to the couch and peeked at the documents. “Something wrong with them..?”

“No,” he assured, smiling softly. “They’re doing really… decently.”

“So maybe I should stick to them…” you murmured.

Bucky raised his eyebrows, watching you with a surprise. He reached out his hand to you in an inviting gesture. You took it and sat down right next to him; so close that your thighs touched. He didn’t say a word, waiting for you to tell him everything that was bothering you.

“I lied to you earlier too,” you confessed. “I lied that I don’t need money. And it’s not like I have to close the gallery in a week or something, but…” You gasped. “Some funding is always useful. And Adrian seemed like the perfect sponsor until-” you hesitated, shrugging. “But now he is acting weirder than ever and-”

“Did he do something to you?” Bucky asked right away, interrupting you.

“No, he didn’t,” you protested. “A couple hours ago, he offered me a trip to Paris,” you began, and Bucky’s forehead furrowed at those words. “He said no one will ever invest in the gallery again if I turn him down. And I can't afford it, I can't ask for your money, because I want to make money, not take it out of the house-”

“Y/N, you make money,” Bucky claimed, demonstratively lifting one of the papers. “It's all here,” he added, his brows drew together. “Besides, is using my — our — money really worse than selling your time to this fucking creep?”

Feeling more and more resigned, you let out a heavy breath. “Bucky…”

“You don't like him, you don't feel comfortable around him, the business isn't going as you would like it to. Or am I wrong?” He was looking at you expectantly, although he didn't actually need any confirmation — he saw the answer written all over your face. He touched your cheeks, his fingers spread on your skin, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones. “You are my wife, and it is my job to take care of you. You have to let me do exactly that, Y/N.”

Staring relentlessly into his eyes, filled with sincerity and concern, you took his hand off your face and placed a tender kiss inside it, brushing your lips over the scar there; the scar bonding you forever. “Okay,” you whispered.

You pulled your legs up onto the couch and snuggled into his side. Bucky put his arm around you and rested his cheek on the top of your head.

A silence settled in, filled only with your peaceful breathing — it didn't bother you or Bucky, since neither of you felt the need to break it. You thought it would be much more difficult; that you would need far more time to get used to him, especially after his last absence. But having a huge couch with plenty of space to occupy, you decided to deprive yourself of whatever space there was.

“Are you going to elaborate, in any way, on what you did to me earlier..?”

“Elaborate…” Bucky repeated. He exhaled, blowing some of the air out of his lungs, then rested his head on the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I've wanted to do it since that night when I saw you in that little nightgown of yours.” He raised his brow. “And that's about it.”

You sat up straight, your eyes on Bucky’s face. “That night?” you asked in disbelief. “As a punishment for what?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Did it really feel like a punishment to you?”

Even if you were able to answer him without hesitation, you looked away to think about it. Or pretend to think about it. You bit your lip.

“Did it feel good..?” Bucky inquired, his tone gentle and careful.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Very good,” you said, not sure if you should really admit it. “We can do it more often,” you suggested, and Bucky’s eyebrows rose instantly. Taken slightly aback, he peered at you with sudden liveliness, his eyes sparked with fascination that struck him like a speeding train. “What?” you laughed softly, but then understood something — you always sensed a gentle restraint in him, keeping him in check; the chains holding him down. Now, you were able to hear them break. Was it you who destroyed them? Your innocent permission?

Bucky smirked, shaking his head, letting you know he wasn’t going to be too harsh on you. But as harsh as you’d allow him to be.

He leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees, and reached for one of the papers so he could return to analyzing the documents. You clung to his back, placing your chin on his shoulder blade. He immediately located his free hand on your arm, wrapped around his torso.

“Go back to bed,” he said, his eyes still focused on the statements.

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No, of course not,” Bucky assured right away, “but aren’t you tired, sunshine?” He turned his head as far as he could to glance at you at least from the corner of his eye. Taking the opportunity, you stretched out further, to reach his face, and planted a few quick but tender pecks on his cheek, making him laugh softly.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

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steveshairychest · 1 year

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Steve and Robin have been working at the plant nursery for months. It was the only job that would hire them both, and it's honestly been the best job they've had.

Steve loves taking care of the plants, loves the way the outdoor plants wave at him in the wind and sparkle in the sunlight after he's watered them. No one gives him weird looks when he talks to the plants because everyone that comes in understands, they're all plant people too, they know talking to plants is hard to resist. Steve loves that they are very good listeners, especially the ferns in the back corner of the nursery. They brush their long arms against Steve's cheek and make him feel so much better after he's finished dumping all his problems on the poor plant.

And then they get a new employee, a guy with long curly hair and too many tattoos and piercings for Steve to count. His name is Eddie. And he does not have a green thumb. Not at all.

Steve can't understand why the nursery hired this guy! He's hopeless!

Steve watches in horror from behind his beloved ferns as Eddie accidentally chops the head off one of the gorgeous rose blooms while pruning and then tries to hide the evidence. He walks away from the rose bush with the poor chopped off bloom clenched tightly in his fist and then he dumps it in the compost bin.

Steve spends the rest of the afternoon glaring at the new guy while talking to the poor rose bush. Eddie flushes a shade of red similar to the rose he murdered any time Steve looks at him, and Steve hates how pretty he looks, hates that it causes a small smile to pull at his lips.

And then Eddie drops a watering can on a peace lily, a peace lily that Steve spent weeks nurturing back to life and the spell Eddie put on him with his flushed cheeks and big, brown eyes is broken.

Robin pities the poor new guy, she can see he's struggling, so she just makes him do all the heavy lifting with her. She doesn't want him anywhere near Steve's precious plants. She saw Steve reach for his giant pruning shears a few days ago when Eddie went near his ferns.

"You know he's terrified of you." Robin says to Steve on their joint lunch break. They're sitting on a stack of soil bags watching Eddie potter around and show people the plants they're looking for. Steve will give him that, he's good with people. Really good.

"Why? I'm nice." Steve takes a bite of his sandwich and avoids Robin's stare. He knows she's giving him the 'don't bullshit me' stare and if he looks, he'll crumble and do something ridiculous like admit he has been kinda mean to the new guy and that he should have just helped him out from the start instead of threatening to chop his fingers off every time he touched Steve's plants.

Steve sighs. "OK, fine. I've been a dick." Robin nods and steals the last bite of Steve's sandwich.

"Now, make it right and play nice with the pretty boy."

"He's not pretty."

"That's not what you said to your precious ferns yesterday. I think you said –" Steve walks off before she can finish and ignores her laughter as he stalks over to where Eddie is crouched in front of the baby succulents.

Steve clears his throat to get his attention and the poor guy jumps in fright and nearly smacks a succulent off the stand. "Steve! Hi! I was just talking to them. I promise."

Steve stifles a laugh and sits down on the floor in front of the low plant stand. He gently pulls a dead leaf off one plant before offering Eddie a smile, a truce. "That's good. They like it when you talk to them. I actually sing to them when I'm here alone." His sudden gentleness must spook Eddie because he just blinks at Steve, his mouth open slightly as he stares in disbelief that Steve actually just spoke to him.

"You can sing?" Eddie sits down next to him and mirrors Steve's actions; gently pulling dead leaves off and checking the soil.

"No, I can't." He laughs. "But the plants don't seem to mind."

They sit in silence for a minute before Steve gathers up his small pile of dead leaves and stands up, Eddie follows suit. "I'm sorry I've been such a dick." Steve rushes out before he loses the courage to admit it. "It's just... you're awful with plants."

Eddie laughs, the sound catches Steve off guard and echoes around the nursery, and Steve realises in that moment that he's never heard Eddie laugh before. It's loud and beautiful and Steve wants to hear it again. Every day.

"I know. I don't have a green thumb at all, but this is the only job that would take me. I think the plants want me to quit."

Steve wanted him to quit. He'd grumbled to Robin about it nearly every day. Eddie knew that and he still stayed. He smiles at Steve in a way that says he doesn't mind, he's just teasing.

But Steve still feels like a total asshole.

"I could teach you how to look after them properly." Steve offers. "I should have offered to help weeks ago." He adds on quietly as they walk through the rows and rows of plants. Steve touches all of them gently, he grazes his fingers along their leaves in a friendly greeting.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." Eddie says with a smile so bright it could rival the sun and cause all of the flowers to bloom.

They spend nearly every day at work together after that. Steve helps Eddie learn all the plants' names, their technical names and the secret names Steve's given them all. Steve shows him how to prune and shape the baby hedges and tries not to blush when their fingers touch while passing over the shears. Eddie is a fast learner. He absorbs everything Steve says and then executes it perfectly. He looks over at Steve and smiles excitedly after he successfully prunes the rose bush without chopping a single bloom off.

The more time they spend together, the more Steve becomes aware of the feeling blooming in his chest. It tickles his ribs and causes him to blush and bump shoulders with Eddie more often, causes him to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Eddie's ear and brush his hand along Eddie’s back whenever he passes him.

The new bloom in his heart causes him to kiss Eddie in the back corner of the nursery behind the ferns.

Turns out Eddie has a green thumb after all because there is something so beautiful blooming between them, and so far only the ferns know about it.

#DID ANYONE SAY OVERPROTECTIVE PLANT DAD STEVE?!!!#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4 #robin buckley #I DIDN'T PROOF READ THIS I'M SORRY IN ADVANCE

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mewhenimanangel · 10 months

Text

the babysitter ʚɞ

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

synopsis: miguel offered you a job babysitting his daughter, gabrielle. his marriage is going through a rough time and you’re someone he can confide in

wc: 2.2k

warnings!: alcohol, age gap, infidelity, loss of virginity, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), cowgirl

nia’s ౨ৎ notes: i lovee dilfs so bad

"y/n can you make me ramen, please. i loveeeee the way you make it" gabby came downstairs to ask you. currently, you were lolling around on the couch in the living room watching tv on the big screen. you were babysitting gabrielle o'hara, your neighbors' daughter. you started the job when your mom invited them over for dinner and her dad asked if you were available to watch her for a while, you weren't that busy so you said yes and after that they decided to officially hire you.

her parents were out at the moment, miguel at work. "yeah sure" you smiled, pausing your show and getting up to the kitchen while gabby sat on the couch with her tablet. you reached in the pantry for a pack of noodles, grabbing hot sauce, green onions, and extra seasonings on your way. you waited for the ramen to boil then began adding everything.

"hey you guys okay?" you heard a voice coming from the front room. miguel threw his his keys on the counter and took his shoes off at the door. "daddy!" gabby exclaimed running up to give her dad a hug. "ahh mi cielito, what are you still doing up?" he asked giving her a kiss on the cheek and picking her up into his arms. "oh that's my fault actually she asked to stay up a little longer and she's too cute i couldn't say no" you giggled. he nod his head and smiled before gabby yawned "you ask to stay up and you can't even thug it out?" he laughed. "why don't you go upstairs and brush your teeth and go to bed huh?" he told her.

"okay daddy" she grumbled running up the stairs to go to bed. you'd completely forgot about the noodles you just made "wait i actually just made her some noodles.." you pointed to the kitchen. "oh well, i'm starving" he smiled moving towards the kitchen.

you put some noodles in a bowl for each of you before you sat next to him at the kitchen island. "so how's school going" he asked you, taking a bite. you were a sophomore in university, studying for your degree. "good, it's a little tough but i can manage" you answered him. "you're a good kid, you'll do great i'm sure of it" he smiled. "hope gab wasn't too much trouble today" "no no she was great, she's so adorable i love her." you giggled. "yeah, think she misses her mom" he sighed.

"oh, where is she anyway?" you asked him, as nosy as ever. "she's on some business trip" he answered, mockery laced in his tone. "but between you and me, i think she's seeing someone behind my back." he rolled his eyes. "oh i'm so sorry." you looked at him with a sympathetic expression. "ah it's alright, things've been kind of rocky lately anyway"

he moved his leg ever so slightly, the fabric of his jeans rubbing up against your knee. and he didn't move it, you two sat like that just talking for the next twenty minutes until you checked the time and figured you should head home. "have a good night and thank you as always" he smiled, handing you $200 and sent you on your way.

ʚɞ

you were curled up on the couch, stressing about an assignment you had to finish by the end of the night. "hey." miguel greeted, resting his hands on the chair behind you, leaning over. "oh, hi mr o'hara. i didn't hear you come in, gabby's in bed by the way i'm just trying to finish up this assignment without destroying this laptop." you sighed. he snorted a little at your frustration. "rough day?" he asked you. "yeah, kinda"

"why don't you take a break for a little? have a drink?" he offered, moving to his wine cooler to grab a bottle of champagne and two glasses. "i've had a bit of a rough day too." you weren't one for drinking - you couldn't even do it legally yet, still a year away from that. but you were stressed and you figured a load off couldn't hurt so you got up and went over to join him at the island.

he moved the glass in front of you before finding his seat next to you. "so what were you working on that's got you so tense" he asked taking a sip from his glass. "just some stupid shit from my business class, what about you? why'd you have such a bad day?" you answered. "well, turns out bella has been seeing someone. from work, buddy of mine told me" he sighed.

"oh i'm sorry mr o'hara" you put your hand out on his arm, face expressing your sorry. "really it's fine" he brushed off "just don't know how she could break us up like that, especially for gabby. probecita bebé" you frowned, feeling bad for him. i mean who could ever cheat on him. he was smart, kind, and really handsome. you studied his features looking at his messy brown hair, the way his 5 o'clock shadow graced his chiseled jaw, his milky brown eyes under his surprisingly long lashes. you looked at the way his t shirt clung to his biceps and the way his jeans rode low on his waist.

"what?" he chuckled at the way your stare lingered on him. "n-nothing" you nervously laughed, downing your glass of champagne. "thanks a lot for all you do for gabby, she loves you a lot. always talking about you and it's never one bad thing" he smiled at you. "think she's gonna need us a little more now with what's coming." "what do you mean?" you quirked an eyebrow. "well m'gonna file for divorce, which'll be hard on her" he poured more champagne into your glasses.

the two of you talked for a bit before you told a joke which got him laughing. he rest his hand on your thigh, the other hitting the table. when the joke was over he didn't take his hand off, he instead inched it higher up your leg. you looked at his hand before looking back up into his lustful gaze. you weren't gonna lie and say you didn't want him but he was a little more than twice your age, he had a kid for god's sake. but your wine clouded your judgement and you allowed him to lean in, attaching his lips to yours.

when you were moving an arm up around his neck your elbow bumped your wine glass off the counter, smashing on the ground. you gasped "i'm so sorry" "don't worry about it" he chuckled kissing you again. this time your hands entangled through his hair deepening the kiss. he picked you up, put his hands under your ass cheeks, kneading his fingers into it as your legs wrapped around his waist.

he moved to the stairs before you broke away "wait mr o'hara what about bella?" you breathed out. he scoffed "please she's not a problem anymore and please miguel is fine" he latched his lips back on yours. you broke away again "what about gabby?" "you said she's asleep right? just gonna have to keep it down" he smirked before kissing you again.

you got to his bedroom and he threw you on top of his comforters, crawling his way on top of you. you held onto his strong shoulders as he pressed kisses down your jaw and neck, sucking on your soft skin. you let out a few groans in his ear before pressing your hands against his chest. "um i-i've never done this before with anyone" you admitted.

he took a moment to look at you before taking your hand into his. "that's okay, i'll take care of you. you do still want to right?" he asked rubbing a thumb over your knuckles. you bit your lips and nod your head "m'gonna need an audible response princess" "yes, i still want you to fuck me"

that was all he needed to hear before he was back on your lips. he pulled you in his lap reached for the bottom of your shirt and tugged it over your head, rising your body to help him. he rubbed his hands up and down your waist before reaching to take your bra off. you moved your arm to cover your breasts "no need to cover up. god you're gorgeous" he whispered pressing a finger to your nipple rubbing in circles over it before pinching it between his fingers. you let out a small moan watching him as he looked up at you with a teasing smile. "so sensitive" he lapped his tongue around your nipple sucking and pulling on it while he played with the other one.

your moans began to fill the room "you're already a mess and i've barely even touched you" he teased, lightly biting your nipple. he moved you off him laying you back onto the pillows. he hooked a finger into the waistband of your sweatpants tugging them off you. he looked at the pool of moisture that stained your pretty pink panties "god baby you're soaking" he chuckled, pulling those off you too. you looked away biting your lip in embarrassment "look at me princess" he pulled your chin back to face him. he got on all fours lifting your leg over his shoulder, pressing kisses down it until he got to your entrance.

he pressed his thumb against your clit causing your body to jump in response. he licked at your entrance while continuing to rub his finger over your clit. he sucked and licked at your pussy like it was his first meal in weeks. a moan ripped out of you before you slapped a hand to your face. he squeezed a hand around each of your thighs, them caving him in as he continued to work on making you cum. your hand shot down to his head, taking a handful of his hair in your grip.

"fuck miguel, i think i'm gonna cum" you moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. "go ahead princess, cum all over my tongue" he spoke against your cunt, the vibrations sending you crazy, his facial hair tickling against you. you reached your climax and miguel lapped it up, taking every last drop in his mouth.

he wrapped you back up in his arms shoving his tongue in your mouth. "it's not fair that i'm naked and you've still got all your clothes on" you frowned reaching for the hem of his shirt. he chuckled, helping you out with the shirt before taking off his jeans and dropping them to the floor. he opened his nightstand and reached for a condom "why don’t you ride me baby, you wanna take some control for your first time?" he asked, pulling his dick out of his boxers. you gulped looking at his length, how was that supposed to fit inside you.

"uh huh" you mumbled. he laid back on the bed, taking your hand and guiding you on top of him. you straddled him before he grabbed his dick and lined himself up with your entrance. “i’ll be gentle princess” he said, moving your hair out of your face. you eased down onto his dick, his inches splitting you apart. “fuck oh my god” you whined. you rode up and down his length leaning forward to place your hands on his chest. he wrapped his hands around your waist holding you and helping you create your pace.

the lewd sounds of your skin slapping together and both of your moans and whimpers filled the room. his dick slipped out before you grabbed it again and put it back inside you. you sunk further down on it, hitting right on your g spot. you threw your head back, a pornographic moan coming from you. “fuck you sound heavenly, feel it too” miguel groaned. “m-miguel i’m gonna cum” you whined biting your lip. “go ahead baby, cum all on this dick” he whimpered. and so you did.

he leaned up to grab you and flipped you over so you were laying on the bed with him on top. he threw your legs over his shoulder so he could really drive into your cunt. he rest his hand on the headboard, leaning down to kiss you, now sloppy and rushed. “fuck, you are tight” he moaned. soon he reached his climax as well, throwing his head back, his pace slowing down.

he got up and threw the condom away, grabbing a rag with warm water on his way back. he cleaned you off and got you a pair of fresh underwear. he cleaned himself off too putting his boxers on before climbing into the bed with you. he put an arm out indicating he wanted you to lay in it, so you did and you rest your head on his chest. “so did i do a good job pleasing you for your first time” he asked, grabbing your hand to hold. you looked up at him and nodded your head “yes, i loved it” you smiled.

he traced things along your bare back until he heard your soft snores and felt your light breathing on his chest. he smiled to himself before he too fell asleep with you wrapped up in his arms.

#NIA WRITES ࿐#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x black reader #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o’hara smut #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 smut #miguel o’hara x you

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olderthannetfic · 12 days

Note

I just saw a fanfic tagged 'corn with plot'.

Corn. Corn.

I just finished posting a story where a man gets fucked by both his sons at the same time in the same hole. I read a story yesterday where a woman hired another woman to rape her son while she watched. I found out about AO3 when I was looking for Thorki.

You can say porn. I promise, "the algo" won't fail to promote you, the c#ns0rs won't get you, you can say porn. I know this because not only have I done it, I've seen things on AO3 much, much more involved than *checks notes* two consenting adults fucking after getting married.

Gen Z, I am trying with all my power not to buy into generation war bullshit. I do my best not to snipe at people younger than me. But if you can't say the word porn on an archive full of porn, are you sure you're ready to write it, let alone post it? If you can't even say the word porn to a website - which is not capable of judging you - in the privacy of your own room, are you even old enough to be posting it?

I was 10 when I found out what porn was. I thought it was gross. I could still say the word.

Please raise yourself up to the level of a 10 year old, or get off the internet.

It could be autocorrect though.

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tangibletechnomancy · 5 months

Text

The (Personal) Is (Political)

~7 hours, Dall-E 3 via Bing Image Creator, generated under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

Or, Dear Microsoft and OpenAI: Your Filters Can't Stop Me From Saying Things: An interactive exercise in why all art is political and game of Spot The Symbols

A rare piece I consider Fully Finished simply as a jpeg, though I may do something physical with it regardless. "Director commentary" below, but I strongly encourage you to go over this and analyze it yourself before clicking through, then see how much your reading aligns with my intent.

Elements I told the model to add and a brief (...or at least inexhaustive) overview of why:

Anime style and character figures - Frequently associated with commercial "low" art and consumer culture, in East Asia and the English-speaking world alike, albeit in different ways - justly or otherwise. There is frequently an element of racism to the denigration of anime styles in the west; nearly any American artist who has taken formal illustration classes can tell you a story of being told that anime style will only hinder them, that no one will hire them if they see anime, or even being graded more harshly and scrutinized for potential anime-esque elements if they like anime or imply that they may like anime - including just by being Asian and young. On the other hand, it is true that there is a commercial strategy of "slap an anime girl on it and it will sell". The passion fans feel for these characters is genuine - and it is very, very exploitable. In fact, this commercialization puts anime styles in particular in a very contentious position when it comes to AI discussions!

Dark-skinned boy with platinum and pink [and blue] hair - Racism and colorism! They're a thing, no matter how much the worst people in the world want you to think they're long over and "critical race theory" is the work of evil anti-American terrorists! I chose his appearance because I knew that unless I was incredibly lucky, I would have to fight with this model for multiple hours to get satisfactory results on this point in particular - and indeed I did. It was an interesting experience - what didn't surprise me was how much work it took me to get a skin color darker than medium-dark tan; what did surprise me was that the hair color was very difficult to get right. In anime art, for dark skin to be matched with light hair and eyes is common enough to be...pretty problematic. Bing Image Creator/Dall-E, on the other hand, swings completely in the opposite direction and struggles with the concept of giving dark-skinned characters any hair color OTHER than black, demanding pretty specific phrasing to get it right even 70% of the time. (I might cynically call this yet another illustration against the pervasive copy-paste myth...) There is also much to say about the hair texture and facial features - while I was pleased to see that more results than I expected gave me textured hair and/or box braids without me asking for it, those were still very much in the minority, and I never saw any deviation from the typical anime facial structures meant to illustrate Asian and white characters. Not even once!

Pink and blue color palette - Our subject is transgender. Bias self-check time: did you make that association as quickly as you would with a light-skinned character, or even Sylveon?

Long hair, cute clothes, lots of accessories - Styling while transmasc is a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situation, doubly so if you're not white. In many locations, the medical establishment and mainstream attitude demands total conformity to the dominant culture's standard conventional masculinity, or else "revoking your man card" isn't just a joke meant to uphold the idea that men are "better" than women, but a very real threat. In many queer communities, especially online, transmascs are expected to always be cute femboys who love pink (while transfems are frequently degraded and seen as threats for being butch), and being Just Some Guy is viewed as inherently a sign of assimilationism at best and abusiveness at worst. It is an eternal tug-of-war where "cuteness" and ornamentation are both demanded and banned at the same time. Black and brown people are often hypermasculinized and denied the opportunity to even be "cute" in the first place, regardless of gender. Long hair and how gender is read into it is extremely culture-dependent; no matter what it means to you, if anything, the dominant culture wherever you are will read it as it likes.

Trophies and medals - For one, the trans sports Disk Horse has set feminism back by nearly 50 years; I'm barely a Real History-Remembering Adult and yet I clearly remember a time when the feminist claim about gender in sports was predominantly "hey, it's pretty fucked up that sports are segregated by sex rather than weight class or similar measures, especially when women's sports are usually paid much less and given weirdly oversexualized uniforms," but then a few loud living embodiments of turds in the punch bowl realized that might mean treating trans people fairly and now it's super common for self-proclaimed feminists - mostly white ones - to claim that the strongest woman will still never measure up to the weakest man and this is totally a feminist statement because they totally want to PROTECT women (with invasive medical screenings on girls as young as 12 to prove they're Really Women if they perform too well, of course). For two, Black and brown people are stereotyped as being innately more sporty, physically strong, and, again, Masculine(TM) than others, which frequently intersects with item 1...and if you think it only affects trans women, I am sorry my friend but it is so much worse and more extensive than you think.

Hearts - They mean many things. Love. Happiness. Cuteness. Social media engagement?

TikTok - A platform widely known and hated around these parts for its arcane and deeply regressive algorithm; I felt it deserved to be name/layout/logodropped for reasons that, if they're not clear already, should become so in the final paragraph.

Computers, cameras and cell phones - My initial specification was that one of the phones should be on Instagram and another on TikTok, which the model instead chose to interpret as putting a TikTok sticker on the laptop, but sure, okay. They're ubiquitous in the modern day, for better and for worse. For all the debate over whether phones and social media are Good For Us or Bad For Us, the fact of the matter is, they seem to be a net positive-to-neutral, whose impacts depend on the person - but they do still have major drawbacks. The internet is a platform for conspiracy theories and pseudoscience and dangerous hoaxes to spread farther than ever before. Social media culture leaves many people feeling like we're always being watched and every waking moment of our lives must be Perfect - and in some senses, we are always being watched these days. Digital privacy is eroding by the day, already being used to enforce all the most unjust laws on the books, which leads to-

Pigs - I wrote the prompt with the intention that it would just be a sticker on the laptop, but instead it chose to put them everywhere, and given that I wanted to make a somewhat stealthy statement about surveillance, especially of the marginalized...thanks for that, Dall-E! ;)

Alligators - A counter to the pigs; a short-lived antifascist symbol after...this.

Details I did not intend but love anyway:

The blue in the hair - I only prompted for platinum and pink in the hair, but the overall color palette description "bled" over here anyway, completing the trans flag, making it even more blatant, and thus even more effective as a bias self-check.

The Macbook - I only specified a laptop. Hilariously ironic, to me, that a service provided through Bing interpreted "laptop" as "Macbook" nearly every time. In my recent history, 22 out of 24 attempts show, specifically, a Macbook. Microsoft v. OpenAI divorce arc when? ;) But also, let us not forget Apple's role in the ever-worsening sanitization of the internet. A Macbook with a TikTok sticker (or, well, a Tiikok sticker - recognizable enough) - I can think of little more emblematic of one of the main things I was complaining about, and it was a happy accident. Or perhaps an unhappy one, considering what it may imply about Apple's grip on culture and communications.

Which brings me to my process:

Generated over ~7 hours with Dall-E 3 through Bing Image Creator - The most powerful free tool out there for txt2img these days, as well as a nightmare of filters and what may be the most disgustingly, cloyingly impersonal toxic positivity I've ever witnessed from a tool. It wants to be Art(TM), yet it wants to ban Politics(TM); two things which are very much incompatible - and so, I wanted to make A Controversial Statement using only the most unflaggable, innocuous elements imaginable, no matter how long it took.

All art is political. All life is political. All our "defaults" are cultural, and therefore political. Anything whatsoever can be a symbol.

If you want all art to be a substance-free "look at the pretty picture :)" - it doesn't matter how much you filter, buddy, you've got a big storm coming.

#ai art #generated art #dall-e 3 #bing image creator

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 10 months

Text

WORK CRUSH

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: you work at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and George realizes he fancies you Warnings: mention of kissing? Note: bit long

you had been working at the twin's shop for a few month now, ever since you got fired from your last job at a café.

you had gone into the shop and started talking to the Fred, seen as though you knew each other from school, but you were in the year below them.

you were an accidental victim to one of their pranks that was meant for Flitwick. they saw very apologetic and made sure you were alright and made it their mission to make it up to you, which they did.

so when you were talking, the subjects of jobs were unavoidable

"this shop is amazing, you should be very proud of yourself" you laughed

"thank you, I am, It's the best job. what did you get up to?" he asked politely

"I got a small job at a café in Hogsmeade" you smiled awkwardly

"how's that going?"

you shook your head, pursing your lips "to be honest, not good, I got fired a week ago" you looked down sheepishly

"really?" he gasped lightly, you looked up at him and saw his big smile, his eyebrows raised.

"yeah." you nodded your head, your eyes closed

"you know, George and I were thinking lately that there isn't enough of us working here, it's sort of.. understaffed, i mean it's only the two of us, and most days we don't get lunch breaks" he explained, his smile widening

"if you want, I would -and I'm sure George too- would love to have you work here with us" he informed

"really? you would hire me?" you raised your eyebrows

"yeah" he nodded enthusiastically "you know what, you meet me and George tomorrow at three broomsticks and we'll talk more about it"

"yeah, of course, thank you!" you replied quickly.

the next day you went to meet with them and it went great, George seemed happy to hire you as much as Fred did and at the end they said you'd start Monday, and you did

George watched you as your worked, he was helping a kid figure out what he wanted as you stood at the cash register, taking money and giving change and smiling at the little kids faces when they laughed at their products

he found himself staring at you a lot, you were a distraction from his job, but he wouldn't rather anyone else work there.

"mister? will these turn me into a death eater?" the little kid by his side asked him, making him look away from you and down to the boy.

he looked down at what he was holding, seeing the edible dark marks

"no buddy, it won't make you into a death eater" he answered amused by his soft voice

the boy smiled and seemed to relax "well I want this then"

"ok well go down to the counter and the pretty lady at the front will check that out for you, ok?" George told the boy.

the boy nodded and went off, running to the counter to join the long line.

"pretty lady at the front, ay?" he heard Fred say from behind him

George turned to his brother and rolled his eyes at his smirk.

"what? can't I call my friend pretty?" he questioned

"oh but is she really just a friend to you George?" Fred smirked

"yes" George responded quickly

Fred glared at him knowingly the grin on his face growing

"shove off Fred" George grumbled, walking off to go help other customers.

Fred snickered to himself before going to help a kid get something off a shelf.

George often found himself watching you as you worked, he told himself it was to make sure you weren't making mistakes or if you needed help.

Fred, Of course knew it was more than that, he knew his twin brother fancied you.

but Fred also knows that George is helpless when it came to realising and acting upon his feelings, you weren't the only girl he's seemed to like.

but you were definitely the girl he's liked the most, how does Fred know this?

first of all, it's a twin thing

but it's the way he looks at you, it's the way he asks you for help even when you've finished for the day, the way he laughs when he's with you when nothing is funny.

it's the way George's face turns red when he's around you and the way he fiddles with things when you're there.

and Fred saw the way you looked at George too, you would steal glances at him when he's not looking and smile up at him when he's distracted.

Fred saw the way you fixed yourself when you saw George coming, you would straighten your posture and pat down your clothes.

so Fred wanted to help, he wanted George to notice and acknowledge his feelings for you.

so when closing up the shop that night, George was at the counter, counting the money and splitting it while you talked to him, your elbow on the desk, using it to hold up your chin as you leaned

Fred was out the back- the workshop, they called it. figuring out what they needed to brew up.

"alright, here you go" he heard George sigh

"thanks, see you in the morning," you said "bye Fred!" you called out

Fred popped out to say bye to you and you left, George locked the door and Fred looked over at the love potions, an idea popping into his head.

"hey can you finish up back, I gotta head up and order some things" Fred asked George, making him turn to him and nod

Fred headed for the stairs and waited until George went into the workshop, the door staying open.

Fred smirked and snuck over to the love potions, opening a few bottles before running upstairs to order ingredients

George was finished up in the back when he felt a particular scent hit his nose, making it tingle

it was the smell he loved and craved, it smelt exactly like you.

he turned around as the scent of your perfume filled the room.

he knew you left, but you might've snuck in because you forgot something

he called out your name, heading to the door to head back in the shop, the smell getting stronger

"Y/n?" he called out again, looking around the shop

he didn't see you anywhere, and the door was still locked. leaving him puzzled. he looked around again and brushed it off, thinking he imagined it.

he turned off the lights and head for the stairs, passing the glowing pink flower display that held the love potions, the smell of your perfume almost burning his nose.

he looked down at the bottles and noticed some of them were open.

George picked them up and smelt it, smelling you. he closed it and read the back

smell what attracts you! he read in the pretty pink font.

it clicked it his head, it hit him hard. he fancied you? he began to feel dizzy as the smell intoxicated him.

he closed the rest of the bottles that were open and the small seemed to fade away, letting George breath

he stood there for a while, deep in thought,

deep in thought about you

he blinked and decided to get sleep. he laid down and as soon as his head hit his pillow he was drowned in a deep sleep, dreaming about you, with him

the next morning he got ready for work, yearning for your arrival

and Fred could sense it, he smiled as he saw George's grin stay on his face all morning.

"what are you smiling at?" he questioned his twin, making George's grin falter, not realising his upturned lips.

"nothing" he shook his head

"really?" he smirked, giving George a knowing look

"just in a good mood" George shrugged

"Y/n just arrived" Fred lied, seeing the way George immediately turned to the front door, a look of anticipation in his eyes

"shove off Fred" George grumbled before going to the back to brew up some products

everything was ready for opening so he decided to go up to the flat to make himself tea.

George heard the door open and he left the potion, casting a spell to make it pour in the vials itself

he walked out to the front to see you with your bag

"good morning George" you smiled.

a lump formed in his throat and he failed to speak

his faced turned red and went hot as he felt his hands get clammy

you noticed his flushed state and went closer to him

"George? are you ok?" you asked

he swallowed the lump and nodded his head

"yeah sorry, Good morning" he replied

you smiled and went to the back to hang up your bag. you came out and went to him

"what do you want me to do?" you questioned, looking around the shop

"you can help help me stock up the love potions" Fred spoke as he walked down the stairs.

you smiled and looked up at George who grinned crookedly

you walked to the back, Fred right behind you. he shut the door behind you and you looked for the boxes of love potions

"so, do you like working here?" he interrogated curiously

you turned to him and beamed

"yeah, It's great" you answered happily

"what do you think of George?" he smirked

"He's fine?" you frowned, puzzled by his words

Fred grabbed a bottle and accidentally dropped it, making the fumes fill the room.

while Fred didn't smell anything, you on the other hand got overwhelmed by the scent of George's cologne

"bloody hell" he sighed "you go stock up, I'll clean this up"

your gaze stayed on the liquid, the pink heart bubbles flowing up to reach your nose. the scent making you feel dizzy.

"Y/n? you alright?" Fred asked, knowing exactly what's going on.

you averted your eyes from the spill to Fred.

"yeah, sorry, just frightened me" you responded quickly. the smell still chasing your nose. you picked up the box and headed to the front to stock them on the display.

George stared as you talked to a few male customers, ones that seem to be around your age.

it annoyed George and distracted him from his job. And Fred, who was walking past leaned into George

"You should tell her" he whispered before walking away, not letting George get the Chance to protest against the idea

George sighed as he looked back at you smiling at the boys.one of them getting a little too close for George's liking.

He clenched his jaw before turning away to get back to work

he heard your laugh from across the shop and fought the urge to interfere.

you were allowed to talk to other guys, you didn't belong to George, you weren't even his girlfriend.

you were his employee.

so he had no right to feel the jealousy bubbling in his stomach or the pain in his heart when he heard your little squeal.

he went to the other side of the shop, to the back to occupy himself until the boys would leave

George has been trying his best to flirt with you the rest of the week, he would go up to you and make you laugh with stories from school.

he would go out of his way to make sure he was by your side and help you when you seemed to struggle

he knew he wasn't the best at talking to women he likes but the way you smiled and laughed at him made him believe he had a chance.

it was a quiet day in the shop, the weather was cold and wet, the rain from the night before dripping from the pipes.

so George didn't have to worry about having to help anyone, by the time you started working there, most people already knew where everything was, except when things moved or they had never been there before.

so George stayed with you the whole day, making you laugh between scanning the products.

"then me and Fred decided that we just wanted to make the dream real, people thought it was a bit childish but we knew that this was what we wanted to do" George jabbered

"well I'm very proud of you two, not many people have the guts to chase their dreams, I admire your ambitions"

that made George happy, you were proud of him, you admired him.

in that moment George thought you might've liked him the same why he did you.

"thank you" he replied softly, his smile widening as he looked down at you

it was nearing closing time and it began pouring with rain, the thunder and lightning soon after.

the shop got even quieter as parents ushered their kids to hurry up and buy their products so they can get home.

you were at the register scanning the last few products, while George watched from behind you

when Fred came out from the workshop

"George I need help" he yelled out to him

George groaned quietly before going to his brother.

Fred pulled George in, shutting the door behind them

"are you gonna tell her?" he asked his younger twin

"tell who what?" George scratched the back of his neck

"don't play that game" Fred crossed his arms

"I don't know what your talking about" George shrugged

"really? so I can go out there and ask her out on a date?" Fred huffed with a coy smile

George swallowed deeply, his hand subconsciously balling up to make a fist

"go ahead then" George blinked, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried not to curse his brother out

"fine" Fred rolled his eyes, walking to the door slowly, waiting for George to stop him, but he didn't

Fred walked through the door and shut it behind him, waiting a second before opening it again, seeing George by the cauldron, probably wanting to start brewing something

Fred shut the door and marched up to him, looking at him like he has two heads

"what was that?" Fred spat

"what did she say?" George questioned quietly

"I didn't ask her you idiot," Fred answered "why didn't you try to stop me?"

"why would her? if you like her then ask her" George spoke softly

"I don't like her" Fred sighed in disappointment

George turned to his twin with a deadpan expression "then what was the point of this, Fred?"

"for you to stop me? I know you fancy her so why didn't you try to stop me?" Fred slapped his arm

"what do you want from me?" George took a deep breath, looking at the ground

"to tell her, I know she fancies you too so what's stopping you?" Fred lied.

"how would you know that?"

Fred didn't know, he assumed

"she told me. we were talking yesterday and she told me" the older twin blinked

George believed him, and he was excited, Fred could see the redness rising on his brothers cheeks and smiled, leaving to room, going to the flat leaving it to you and George to close the shop

George stood there, thinking when he heard the rain and thunder from outside starting again, he came out and looked out the window. no one was in the shop other than you and him.

you were cleaning up the counter, getting ready to leave

the first lightning strike of the night had flashed and didn't stop

he went up to you and cleared his throat

he stood behind you, waiting for you to turn around.

you did, and you were met with his frame towering over your own, making you jump, not knowing he was right there.

"merlin, George, don't do that" you squealed

you made your way past him to the back to get your bag, but he stopped you

"you're really pretty" he informed you. you looked up at him with a smile, feeing the heat rise to your cheeks as he complimented you

"thank you, George" you beamed

you continued to go to the back, you took your bag off the hook on the wall and turned around to him cornering you.

he leaned his hand against the wall and stopped you from moving

his gaze moved down to your lips and stayed there, you stared at him while he slightly licked his lips.

he took your time to examine his face, it was more defined than Fred's. he also had more freckles and his eyes were softer, holding more emotion.

you counted the dots on his face that decorated his face, going through his cheeks and across his nose.

he was gorgeous, and the close proximity he forced you into made you feel weak

he continued staring at you. his gaze was gentle and held a sense of longing.

"hello" you broke the silence awkwardly, it made him chuckle

it was a deep and cocky chuckle. it was sexy

he reached up and stroked your hair, looking at you with pure love and care.

"you're so pretty" he whispered

that was the second time he said that in the span of almost 4 minutes.

"George" you muttered when he inclined closer to you

"yes?" he murmured, you gulped down a lump in your throat and looked down at his lips for a second before looking away from him all together

he took a step closer to you, and you could feel body heat radiating against yours

when he realised you had nothing to say he spoke up himself

"you should stay the night, wouldn't want you walking home in this weather" he mumbled

his head bent down to rest of yours, the warmth of his breath blowing onto your lips

"we have a guest room" he breathed, he seemed to be panting

he slowly leaned in and pressed his lips on yours, you could barely call it a kiss.

his he sunk his teeth gently into your bottom lip before letting go.

he groaned almost inaudible

you felt heat rise between your legs as he grabbed your hips

"ok" you replied, almost silently, afraid that if you speak to loud he'll disappear and this would all be a dream

he smiled before smashing his lips on yours, as if he was hungry for you.

he held your hand and held it against the wall.

he hummed against your lips before letting go, taking your hand off the wall and dragging you upstairs.

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

#george wealsey x reader #george weasley x fem #george weasley #fluff #imagines #oneshot #fred and george #x fem!reader #please request #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction

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faeriekit · 7 months

Text

Health and Hybrids (XV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here and this is part fifteen...somehow...

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Author regrets both use of Roman numerals and Old English but you know what? We ballin'. Also Danny woke up! With only some complications! woohoo! 🎉

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny comes in and out of consciousness in bursts.

Wherever he is, it’s not the Guys in White. He rules that out very, very quickly.

For one. The Guys in White would not hire a lady to sit around and mind him constantly. He has— The same few doctors come in and out of green-tinged vision consistently. Their tags are different de-saturated colors, but he can recognize most of them.

And, somehow, the lady is there. If not at his side immediately, at his side quickly enough.

With his space shuttle.

With a grip toy.

With…oatmeal.

The oatmeal is what really clues Danny in that this can’t be the GIW.

The GIW would never waste human food on him. Never. It creates too much of a logistical mess: a paper trail of payments, feeding people that don’t exist; the need for cleanup of bio-waste that no one wants to deal with; the cleaning and sanitizing of utensils, which could easily contaminate a living person.

And yet. There is oatmeal.

Mushy, unappetizing oatmeal.

The lady feeds it to him when she’s around. She spoons it into his mouth, quietly chatting all the while. She could be telling him how she’s going to cut out his organs to be chopped up and mounted on glass slides for investigation for all that Danny knows, but still, very patiently, she spoonfeeds him little mouthfuls of oatmeal.

She waits for him to swallow every time. If he stops eating, she lets him stop.

It’s kind. It’s gentle.

It’s…it’s the nicest thing Danny’s had in a long time.

It’s so nice that he stops being overtly weird when the doctors come in. He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows he’s shooting himself in the foot probably.

But…but no one is being mean to him. Everyone is being careful. Gentle.

Quiet. Slow. Obvious.

One of the doctors drops a meal tray once and everyone rushes to quiet it, to check that he’s settled, to…comfort? Him?

The oatmeal tastes bad, by the way. It’s also how he finds out part of his tongue is numb.

Or maybe it tastes bad because some of his tongue is numb.

Either way. Ew. It’s bland and it tastes bad and Danny has to finish all of it, even though he has an IV in him that puts food into him.

His IV itches. He’s sad that he can’t move and can’t protect himself. He’s tired and he’s bored of sitting here. He doesn’t know where he is and no one can tell him because he can’t understand them.

There’s no TV.

There are other concerns to be worried about, but Danny would like a television, please. Something with news on it. Something that could ground him in a location, or a place, or…

The air hisses. For a moment, breathing is going to be easier as the air cycles. It hurts, still, to breathe—the GIW hadn’t thought Danny needed to breathe, so they hadn’t put him back together right. He breathes through cobbled-together organs and raw pink seams, but yet. He breathes.

Danny lays there, and he breathes. He clutches his space shuttle toy between his wrist and his thigh, because he can.

There’s a whisper against the door. The heavy mechanisms of the door clank out of place.

Danny’s eyelids flutter as they fail to either open or close. The green in his vision bunches and falls as they try. The lady must be back.

Surely, enough, she is. Her paper gown is a mint blue today. It matches her mask and her gloves, but not her pinkish-grey shoes. She comes through the door, and—

—there’s something behind her.

It’s. They’re. Humanoid? They’re…green?

Danny stares, his head against the pillow, his eyes wide. They’re. They’re floating.

He can’t stop staring. His eyelids don’t even twitch. The lady walks to his bedside, and the…the other one follows him.

“Wel mette,” the lady greets him again, her fingers on the very corner of his mattress and no further. “Eom hebbjan ure freond.”

Danny has no idea what that means. He stares; he stares at the…their… Is that a ghost? Is a ghost just…walking around??

The—the being has—their head isn’t super. Humanoid. It’s more oval and angular, to be honest. But the rest of them is; their outfit is certainly out of the world Danny has grown up in, and is mostly constructed of straps crossing around the larger shapes of their body. And a…cloak…?

Is this a ghost?? It has to be, right? But a ghost of what??

There’s a sensation. Danny doesn’t have control over his body in the way that he’s used to, but this sensation isn’t aimed at his—it doesn’t—it’s not physical. It’s just a touch. A feeling.

Like he thought. A sensation. But still. Its presence is…Danny’s pretty sure it’s a greeting.

He…he doesn’t greet back. He doesn’t know if this is a friend.

…Lots of ghosts pretend to be something they’re not. He doesn’t know who this ghost is. He doesn’t know who this lady is. His head hurts and it’s hard to think and he knows everyone just wants to hurt him even when they pretend not to. Or they don’t even know it yet.

So he turns his head and pretends he’s dead. (Or. Uh. Dead-er.) Dead things don’t have thoughts, duh. You can’t read mine if I don’t have any!

The ghost drifts closer. Danny can’t move—he can’t run, can barely flinch—but he can feel how taut he gets the closer they get, the further they get into his personal bubble.

The greeting comes again. It’s quieter on the second round. Gentler. The ghost is trying not to scare him, is trying not to hurt him. Just careful, gentle contact.

Danny squeezes his eyes closed. It doesn’t work (whoops) because his eyes don’t close right (he forgot about that) and then his head hurts a lot because he’s working a whole lot of muscles who were not prepared to put in so much effort at the drop of a hat.

The greeting turns a little…melancholy. It matches the tone that the lady takes on when Danny’s breathing stutters and his body screams with exhaustion he can’t shake.

He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to be poked and prodded and then attacked when the ghost realizes Danny’s not Fun the way the ghosts want him to be—willing to play around when people get hurt or ignore the pain around them. Danny just wants to be left alone.

The greeting is gently let go. From the ghost comes a question—something soft. Something celestial. Danny can’t tell the specifics, but there are moons and stars in the question.

…His fingers flex around the plastic shell of his model shuttle. There’s. He’s. Space?

The green ghost turns to the lady. “Læt uns ga an wealc”, they say, in that English Danny doesn’t know and doesn’t understand.

The lady says something back to them. They say something back to the lady. The lady goes to the wall, where there is a phone, and says something.

Danny tenses. This is it. She’s calling in for backup. More people are coming and it’s going to hurt.

The phone call ends. The lady comes back and Danny tenses—

But there’s nowhere to run and his physical body is too weak to hide properly. She reaches his bedside, reaches out her arms, and Danny flinches away.

He can’t shut his eyes. He can’t stop seeing her outstretched arms because he can’t shut his eyes.

“Mæg eom ahebbe eow?”

Danny doesn’t know what that means!!!

The ghost brushes their fingers up against the steel rail of Danny’s cot. There’s an image—of the lady, clear as day, in a red and blue and gold outfit, bridal-carrying someone from building rubble. There’s a prodding at his core that says you, there, in particular.

He’s dumbfounded. Like, to lift? To lift him?

There’s a sense of agreement, and then the image of a cot with wheels. The wheels are the focus of the message.

…They’re asking Danny permission? To go somewhere?

On one hand, no, Danny doesn’t want to be any further complicit into whatever horrible kidnapping scheme this probably is. This place sucks. He doesn’t want to see more of it. This is the second worst kidnapping he’s ever had and he wants no part in it.

On the other hand, however, this place sucks, and getting out of here, even if only temporarily…

Danny licks his lips. There’s craters in the soft tissue. He tastes orange pixie sticks and the sour tang of battery acid.

If Danny is very, very smart. And very, very careful. And very, very quiet… Well. What are the chances they wheel him past the exit on this excursion?

Sure, they’re pretty low. But there’s hope.

Danny hasn’t had hope in ages.

He nods. He hates that he does—his neck jerks upwards, and then he’s sore and tired everywhere and in his head and neck and shoulders, and he’s not going to be able to move much more than that for literal hours (sorry, oatmeal mush), and he’s said yes.

“Þancie eow!” the lady says, and the ghost translates that for him as thank you and then she lifts Danny up off the bed cot he lives on like he’s still a ghost, and not made of heavy, teenage flesh. Wow is she strong. Danny hopes her job isn’t to hurt him. Otherwise he’s going to be a smear of green on the wall and then what would the point of inspecting his insides be??

Danny gets lifted. Danny gets carried.

(It’s not an amazing experience on his aching body. He thinks some of his bruises start to leak ectoplasm in self defense. Her arms are as stiff as rocks.)

Being lifted is also how Danny finds out there’s something caging his legs. They don’t seem to be caged together—they hang individually—but they keep them taut and aligned so that all the pressure of being lifted is on his hips, and not his legs. Considering that Danny’s received pretty medium care for his troubles…that doesn’t bode well for whatever state his legs are in.

Danny gets gently, gently placed down onto a new cot. The side bars are metal, but thinner than on the bed he woke up on.

The world starts to move.

Oh. They’re moving. Danny’s moving.

It’s kind of startling. The world’s been so static and fuzzy for so long, and now he’s bedridden but moving.

The ghost opens the door, and Danny’s still body and the bed follow with it. The lady has to be pushing, then. They go through it and—

—Danny blearily squints. Ow. Bright.

Bright, LED light follows Danny down steel hallways and past strangers in bright outfits, their colors pale and washed out by Danny’s attempts to squeeze green eyelids together and stop seeing everything.

He wants to stop. This is too much. He bites his lip—jaw aching—and grunts—throat tearing—and—

The ghost that keeps trying to talk to him sends some other emotion, and Danny purposefully ignores them. It’s easy enough to block things you don’t want to feel. The green wall of a body floats out in front of him to open another door, and Danny is pushed inside.

The lights are off in here. The tension in Danny’s forehead gets a little quieter. That’s…nice. It makes the window in the room seem bigger and brighter, and—

Danny jerks. His whole body screams at him as he claws against the cot, trying to get closer, closer—

He hurts something in his back. He can tell. There’s something in his hips that’s strained, or possibly fractured, as he climbs across a horizontal surface. The beings around him make worried, scared noises, and that doesn’t matter right up until the bed moves so Danny can push his face right up against the glass.

Because that’s space out there. The stars are out there. And Danny is so, so close to them.

It’s so…

…Danny doesn’t know how much time he loses to starlight before he falls asleep.

“Did you see!” Diana gushes, the windows going by. The cot (and the alien in it) she pushes through the hall, the occasional curious eye turning to them as they go past. “J’onn, did you see, he had glowed! I know we had hoped that he would be receptive, but—“

“Diana,” J’onn murmurs, his voice low. Wonder Woman’s head tilts to find him behind her, and she only slows just enough to not run the cot or its occupant into any unsuspecting superheroes.

The first fear is for the worst scenario. “Did the excursion hurt him?”

The Martian hesitates. “…No,” he says, and nothing more. He drifts forward to the metaphorical prow of their vehicle, and Diana sets her shoulders into generating momentum. J’onn opens doors for them as they pass.

The alien child isn’t awake to consent to be returned to his newly cleaned bed, but Diana feels secure enough returning him to his usual haunt that she proceeds to do so.

Even when physical, he is frighteningly limp in her arms.

She takes care to support his head as she pulls him up to her chest. He is so fragile. When the light comes across his face as he moves, parts of his face are still ominously transparent. Ominously liquid. Ominously green.

Diana should not be able to see the inner airways of his nose, nor the thin, still-healing holes in his skull, or his irises while his eyes try in vain to shut with skin they do not have.

She lays him down. Gently, she tucks him under thin sheets with gloved hands.

J’onn drifts over to her side. His feet haven’t touched the ground—not since he was reminded that visible signs of non-human life might be reassuring to a non-human. “He doesn’t remember us,” he says. Diana hears him.

And then she hears him.

“He what?”

“He has no memory of his time on the base. He has no memory yourself, of our previous communication, of the junior heroes… He has no understanding of the layout of the base, nor of things we had already established: my status as an alien lifeform to Earth and the base’s lunar occupancy. As far as he knows, he woke up here a week and a half ago to strangers having taking up a caretaker’s role, and he doesn’t know why and if we will harm him.”

Diana stills. She…takes a deep breath.

“Alright,” she whispers. And then, louder: “Alright. We can fix this.”

And they will, although it will take time, because even if he doesn’t remember them, Diana knows him—a child with too much fear, who likes to be around others, who occasionally plays around but likes his boundaries respected. A child who put glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

“Oh,” Diana realizes at last, reaching a point J’onn had already understood: “Impulse is going to be so disappointed.”

#Bart guarding his friend's stuff in the other room: I sense something Not Cool :(#Kon: whoah are you psychic?? Can I get a reading??#*they proceed to distract themselves for an hour before remembering the Not Cool Vibe Bart felt*#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dcu crossover

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aurumacadicus · 5 days

Note

110 for the ask meme!

To be clear, Steve is still pre-serum size, all the serum did was make him healthy/super-strong. The Propaganda Cap was a hired actor so it wasn't exposed that he's tiny until after the war.

Peggy had said she'd find a place for him at SHIELD, but Steve had to wonder what, exactly, that place would be. He felt out of place as he followed her down the halls, like he was taking up space he hadn't earned. He was still smarting from the ring on Peggy's finger, and he couldn't help but feel she was putting him elsewhere because she knew it. 'Once your therapist has given the all clear, we'll reevaluate your position,' she'd said, kindly and compassionately, and clasped her hands on the desk in a way it hid her wedding ring from his eyes.

"So, this... protection detail," Steve tried, slanting her a questioning glance as he finally stepped up beside her.

"Protection detail is the term we're using," Peggy answered, and then, before he could get rankled at the idea that he was being shoehorned into a dummy job, she continued, "Of course, attempts have been made on Anthony's life, but at this point, he's... more of a danger to himself."

Steve scowled, and he leaned forward to make sure she saw it. "So I'm a glorified babysitter."

Peggy coughed, clearly in a way to cover a laugh. "He'll be good for you. He won't pull any of his punches for you like anyone else might because you're Captain America. In fact, he'll probably go out of his way to try and push your buttons."

"You're already harassing me with one of those," Steve grumbled. Clint was friendly enough, but he was also prone to falling out of the vent into Steve's room.

"Anthony is one of a kind," Peggy assured him as they finally approached a door labeled WORKSHOP IV. She swiped her badge, and the doors slid open.

Steve followed her through, already scanning the room. It was wide, filled with tables laden with half-finished equipment, a few weapons. There was a man sitting in a spinning chair and slowly going in circles, who quickly stood up as soon as he realized they had entered. He suspected the man was Anthony. He certainly looked like a scientist, with his crisp white lab coat and askew glasses.

Peggy sighed, loudly. "Where is he, Dr. Banner?"

"I'm certain I have no idea," the man, Dr. Banner apparently, answered promptly. "I've been waiting for him myself. In fact, maybe he actually went to meet me in my lab. We should go check." He began toward the door quickly.

"Where is he, Dr. Banner," Peggy repeated, voice flat, expression sharp, and Steve couldn't help a sympathetic wince as Dr. Banner drew up short and sort of... sagged in defeat.

Dr. Banner turned, somehow trudging those two small steps, and let out a sigh of his own. "I did tell him to wait until I could get a crash mat."

Steve and Peggy immediately looked up. There was a man on the ceiling. It looked like he had plungers on his hands and knees. There was a stack of three forty-five pound weights hanging from a harness he was wearing.

"This isn't what it looks like," the man said after a brief pause. "You can't tell my dad. If you do, I'll tell him state secrets."

"Anthony, you get down from there this instant," Peggy barked, and Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Anthony scowled down at her. "No! I need to make sure these grippers can hold up to four hundred pounds. So far they only handle three-fifty."

"You're over two hundred pounds?" Steve asked skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. Anthony looked one-eighty at most.

Anthony swiveled his head, not unlike a bird, to turn his scowl on Steve. "I'm svelte. Who the fuck are you?"

Steve sighed, turning his gaze back to Peggy. "It really feels like I'm being punished," he said flatly, but he knew he couldn't quite keep the smile from playing at his lips.

Peggy narrowed her eyes at Anthony. "Well, it's not a great first impression to show that you're not babysitting," she reluctantly agreed. "Anthony, come down, or I'll have Steve get you down."

Anthony looked, somehow, even angrier. "I don't need a babysitter and I was only slightly kidnapped last time so I don't need a bodyguard either."

"How are you only slightly kidnapped," Steve asked, but was drowned out by both Peggy and Dr. Banner shouting at him that he'd also somehow glued himself to the wall so maybe yes he did need a babysitter. He also wanted to know how Anthony glued himself to a wall, but he got the feeling that was something he'd have to get from Clint the next time he fell through his vent instead of from anyone in the room with him currently.

"Steve," Peggy sighed, waving her hand up at him. She glanced at her watch, looking irritated. "I have a meeting with the DOD."

"I'll get him down," Steve assured her.

"Hah!" Anthony crowed. "You're like, five feet tall. How you gonna reach me, shortie?"

"I'm leaving," Peggy said, and then she grabbed Dr. Banner by the arm to lead him out. He didn't look like he needed much encouragement.

Steve turned to the room again, considering, then finally walked over to one of the tables, where it looked like Anthony had been working on a replica of his shield.

"Hey, that's still in trials," Anthony barked.

Steve flipped the shield between his fingers, getting used to the weight, then turned, using the momentum from the spin to fling it full force at Anthony. It bounced off of the row of weights, and they swung wildly to one side, then the other, rocking Anthony and his sticky plungers side to side as he squawked in offense and alarm. Steve walked over to stand below him just as the hand plungers popped free.

"ACK," Anthony squawked as he somersaulted down, knee plungers popping free under the combined weight of Anthony, the weights, and gravity.

Steve caught the strap the weights were attached to as they dropped past him, then lifted his other arm, so Anthony dropped into them neatly. When Anthony only blinked up at him, wide-eyed and hands still held up awkwardly, Steve couldn't help a smirk. "Just because I'm short doesn't mean I'm helpless."

Anthony blinked at him one more time, then scowled again. "Just because you're hot doesn't mean I'm not going to be annoying as hell."

"...What," Steve began, but then Anthony was rolling out of his arms and hefting the stack of weights up so he could stalk off like an offended cat. "What?!" he tried again, but Anthony was muttering about ultimate tensile strength and other ductile materials.

#aurumacadicus answers #anon #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony #little does steve know that tony internalizes that 'i'm being used as punishment for steve'#and that makes it very difficult for steve to ask him out because he thinks that steve is just trying to make the best of the situation #it was just a joke but even in this au tony has had Some Experiences that give him self-worth issues out the whazoo

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chin-chilla-7 · 8 months

Note

I just got finished with a spy x family episode and this came up! What about DBH boys (Connor, Simon, Markus) With a female reader who is just like Yor Forger!

She’s very sweet looking, and nobody would suspect she packs quite a mean punch when protecting someone or herself, and unusually strong!

Hey anon! So sorry about the wait on this. I'll be honest part of it is due to me not knowing anything about spy x family, so I will just be going off the little description you've given in this ask! And it certainly won't stop me from trying.

Each Connor, Simon, and Markus would initially find the reader quite unassuming. To say they underestimate her is not exactly accurate, but they certainly don't expect the strength and punch she packs.

Connor witnessed it during a case. He's in the process of analyzing some evidence at a crime scene when he hears a disturbance. It was an argument, from what he could tell, between you and someone else trying to tamper with the crime scene or simply initiating some aggression because, like Connor, they misjudge exactly how strong you could be. At the sound of raised voices - yours being one of them - Connor is quick to make his way over to the disturbance, intending to intervene if necessary. Though, it quickly becomes apparent that it isn't necessary.

You've knocked the aggressor clean on their ass. One punch to the face was enough to send them falling backwards right on their ass. You probably even broke their nose. Connor, he's... well, to be honest, he's a little surprised. You aren't often in situations such as this one. And while you do work for the DPD, it's not often he sees you demonstrate exactly why you were hired in the first place.

Even though you punched someone to the point of a concussion, Connor can't help but still make sure you're okay. Physically, mentally, whatever, he wants to make sure the encounter didn't shake you up too bad. Even if you've assured you're fine and that he doesn't need to check you over, he's still doing a scan, just to be sure.

This is something he certainly does not forget about you. And while he still worries, given the fact that your appearance is deceiving compared to your actual ability, he's a little more at ease to know that you can hold your own when you need to. He's aware that people will go for those who seem weaker, and while he knows you aren't weak, at a glance, people are quick to think otherwise about you.

---

Simon, while not a coward, does prefer to take the pacifist route at any given opportunity. You're someone who's the same, unless you have absolutely no choice. And that was the case here. You were with Simon, just the two of you. You had excused yourself to the bathroom, and on your way back, you see that someone had approached Simon, and you noticed that Simon was less than comfortable about the interaction. It wasn't until you were a few steps away that you could hear exactly what was going on.

It was some anti-android guy going off - he must have recognized Simon someone. Which, come on, he's not the only PL600 to exist. Whatever, it didn't matter. What mattered was this guy was going off on Simon, and while Simon was trying to defuse the situation, he wasn't getting anywhere successful. Simon was trying to talk the other down, but the guy seemed pissed, which started to piss you off. It didn't help that the guy suddenly grabbed Simon - that's when you knew you had to step in.

"Hey!" Was all you said, which seemed to startle the guy long enough for you to grab his shoulder, turning him so you could swiftly punch him in the gut. He quickly doubled over, falingl to the ground, and Simon stumbled back, staring at the scene in shock. His mouth was agape as he looked between you and the guy, now groaning on the ground. There was even a slight tint of blue on Simon's face at the sight, which you may have noticed if you weren't still upset with the interaction.

"Whoa... I didn't know you had that in you..." Simon said, nearly stepping towards the guy to help him. But he stopped himself, mainly because you held your hand out to stop him.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," you responded, looking over to him and managing a smile. Despite the circumstances, it was cute to see the way Simon reacted to this.

"What, so we just... leave him?"

"Well, he was a prick, soo..."

---

Markus was often used to being the protector. And with you, it was a no brainer that you were someone he felt drawn to protect. And it was cute, and you never had a problem with it. But sometimes even the protector needs a little helping hand. Especially when you've got no problem fighting your own battles.

Being the leader of the android revolution meant that Markus got a lot of attention. And being a close friend of the leader of the android revolution meant you got a lot of attention as well. Both good and bad. This was an instance of the bad. Some name calling, some yelling, asking how you could ever support something like this when all the androids do is take and take and blah blah blah.

Really, you weren't listening. You had grown used to it at this point, it was something you could easily tune out.

Though, it was clear that the people nagging you were not a fan of being ignored. Markus was only a little ways ahead of you, but it was still enough of a distance that he couldn't stop the way they grabbed you to look at them. A small struggle ensued, which caught Markus' attention. He was quick to rush over to you, pulling off one of the two attacking you, but it seemed you had the rest of it under control.

A quick knee between the legs was enough to throw them off their balance, then an elbow to the chest knocked the wind out of them long enough for you to get away. As you escaped their grasp, you kept yourself ready, knees bent, arms up, ready for anything more they had to throw your way. Of course, the kerfuffle was enough to get the attention from onlookers, and the attackers found it best to avoid further humiliation.

With them submitting to defeat, Markus looked to you, first making sure you were okay. Once that was settled, he found himself looking at you with an impressed smile. "Maybe you should be the one protecting me," he joked.

"Maybe," You said, relaxing now that you weren't in danger anymore. "At least I'd know you'd be safer."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

#detroit become human x reader #dbh #detroit become human #dbh x reader #simon x reader #connor x reader #markus x reader #not writing #anon #answers #my writing #headcanons

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cosmic-crybaby · 6 months

Text

Break My Heart Again- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part 1

Summary: After being childhood friends, you and Thomas made a promise one day to get married, but when he returned from France, he came back a completely different man.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, tommy before the war (Lowkey OOC)

She's known Tommy almost all her life. They met one day at the cut when he was ten, trading cigarettes with the other kids, and she was eight, tagging along with her older cousin. It was merely a passing glance, maybe an introduction of names, but she hadn't seen him until years later. At the ripe age of twelve and fourteen, when he defended her when the older boys pulled at her hair and pushed her around. She was forever grateful to him after witnessing him take in three in a fight, punching the daylights out of one, shoving another's head into the mud, and threatening the third. 'If you ever come near her again, I'll fuckin' take your eyes!'. That was enough to scare them off. The two were almost inseparable ever since. Years of growing up together the two would often get into mischief together and cause trouble in the smoky streets of Small Heath. As [name] got a little older, the more she started to fall for the future gangster, and the more time passed, the more she started to change.

And of course, Thomas began to notice.

By the time they were seventeen and fifteen, the two delinquent teenagers seemed to be more than friends. The way Thomas would hold her hand as they run up the grassy hills, the way [name] would stare into his eyes as they lay on the grass under the shaded tree.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Tommy Shelby..." She spoke softly, her voice was like heaven to him. "I can't picture myself beside anyone else," She admitted. Thomas just stared into her eyes, his soft hands rising to brush his knuckles against her cheek, tucking away the pieces of hair that came undone from her clip.

"You don't have to...because I'm going to make a promise to you [name]," He suddenly sat up, causing her to sit up as well and gaze at him in confusion.

"What kind of promise?" She asked, curiously. He opens his mouth to speak then quickly closes it before thinking for a moment. Collecting his words carefully. Clearing his throat so his voice wouldn't crack, because he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from her if that happened.

"That one day, when I have me own money and me own house, we will get married," He finished confidently. She sat there, her lips slightly agape.

"Stop joking around!" She laughed, swatting at his arm, causing him to laugh as well and to catch her hand before she should hit him again. This time both of his hands enveloped hers as he stared at her with a content smile.

"I'm being serious, trust me when I say I want to marry you one day [Name] [Lastname]!" He said, laughter hidden within his words. She thought for a moment then nodded once, reaching for his hand. She kissed the back of his hand, her soft lips were warm upon his skin.

"Okay, promise," She smiled lovingly as he returned the kiss on her hand before bringing her close to kiss her forehead.

"Promise,"

In the years that followed that day, she was by his side, even when he was starting to work at the betting shop with his family. At first, she was just there for moral support, but right when she finished high school Polly saw her potential and how educated she was, and on the spot, she was hired. Checking the maths and records in each book, making sure everything was in its place.

It was a dream being with Tommy at nearly every waking hour. Of course nothing would go beyond holding hands, gently touches, and friendly affection . But even when those were at a minimum, she was falling in love with him.

Her love for him only grew since they first met. It was unconditional love and ever since he made that promise to her, she only fell harder. It almost felt like she was already married to him. With the way he kissed her forehead or cheek, the way he was so kind to her and checked in on her work whenever he needed an escape, and how he would tell her he loved her. Every night after work when he walked her home. He would kiss her knuckles, her cheek, and her lips before saying.

"Goodnight [name], I'll pick you up in the morning, I love you,"

It wasn’t until she began to notice his slow distance from her. At first, she thought nothing of it as he wouldn’t give her as much affection as he normally did. Her hands grew cold as they were empty from his. His touch was slowly detaching from her own. The emotional distance was noticed quickly, but the physical distance made her heart cold. He went from seeing her every day to nearly every other day, now...she was lucky to even catch him at the betting shop. As much as she wanted to convince herself that it was nothing, she couldn’t help the emptiness she suddenly felt. She had wondered what he was so busy with and deep down she had hoped he hadn’t gotten in any more trouble than he already was getting himself into.

The weeks and months went by, her resentment for Tommy only grew. On the days he went to the shop, she tried to make her presence known, nothing but a simple "Hi [name],"would be his response. Sometimes not even making eye contact with her.

One day, in 1914, he approached her in her office. She was too busy organizing files and writing down and calculating the records to make sure they were accurate. She didn't even notice his presence at first. He stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets as he stared at her, waiting for her to pay him any mind.

“I’m busy,” She simply mumbled, seeing him in the peripheral vision of her eyes. He scoffs before stepping in further and closing the door behind him.

“So that’s how you treat me now, eh?” He asked, sitting across from her in a chair. He was met with silence as she kept her eyes glued to the page. “[Name]” He called.

Again, silence.

Tommy suddenly slammed the book shut and grabbed the pen that was in her hand.

“Hey! I'm trying to work, you just made me lose my spot!” She shouts, quickly standing up as the chair behind her scrapped against the wood floor loudly.

Tommy just smirks. She stomp towards him to retrieve the pen back, but the older boy just held it above her head as he extended his arm up, barely just out of her reach.

“Thomas, this isn’t funny!” She pleads. He just laughs.

“There you are, finally acknowledging me,”

She sighed in defeat and set herself back on her feet, holding his gaze with a glare.

“What do you want now? Go on with it, Polly needs these by the end of the day and she’ll have my neck if I don’t have em ready,” She crossed her arms over her chest. Tommy let his arm down, setting the pen on the desk.

“What makes you think I want something?” He asked. Her eyes widened slightly.

“I don’t see you for months and you barely even talk to me let alone look at me whenever you’re here, so this sudden change in behavior is quite a shocking one,” She explained, her tone still stern. She was met with his eyes, a guilty look on his face.

“I know...I know and I do apologize-”

“You were supposed to be my closest friend, Thomas...” She interrupted him. Her voice was calm, almost meek.

“I am your closest friend, never forget that [name],” He held her slumping shoulders. She takes an exhale through her nose.

“Listen to me...I’m sorry, I had some prior engagements that needed my attention,” He said quietly as he tried to get her to look into his eyes.

“I know but I just wished you had just talked to me...I felt so alone,”

Thomas held his breath and clenched his jaw. He couldn’t tell her now...Not yet at least.

“When you’re with me, you’ll never really be alone,” He told her, holding her close. She knew there was some truth to his words but pushed herself away from him.

“I have to get back to work,” She said. He rolls his eyes at her sudden coldness.

“I’m not leaving until I get a smile out of you...and maybe an ‘I love you’,” He smirked, still holding her, his hands on her shoulder blades. She scoffs, giving him a small, ingenuine smile.

“Happy?” She asked. He shook his head. His hands slowly crept to her sides, going unnoticed by her.

“Tommy...” He gave her that look. That look of mischief. “Don’t you dare-” But her warning came too late. His fingers began digging into her sides, it didn’t take long before she began giggling profusely.

“Tommy stop! I can’t- I can’t breath!” She squealed in between fits of laughter as she tried to push his hands away. He was too strong.

“Tell me you love me [name]!” He laughed.

“N-No! Never!” She laughed, the tears in her eyes started to seep down her cheeks.

“Say it [name] and I’ll stop!,”

“Fine! I love you Thomas Shelby!” She gave in. The tickling had stopped, yet she barely caught her breath when Tommy pulled her close and picked her up from the ground and kissed her cheeks.

“I love you too, [name] [lastname],” He said quietly. Looking into his eyes made her even forget why she was upset with him. He looked at her with perfect love in his eyes and a small smile on his lips as he quickly kissed her hand before leaving her to continue your work.

A week later, Tommy had told her the secret he had been keeping from her. Finally letting it out.

“No...Tell me it’s a lie...” She was in denial. Shaking her head as the tears welled up her eyes.

“[Name]-”

“No...”

“[Name] please...listen to me,” He approached.

“Please don’t do this you don’t have to do this!” She cried.

“We have to go, [name]...it’s the only choice,” He calmly stated.

“To put your lives on the line? To leave your family behind to leave me behind?”

The silence was daunting. She sniffled and turned away from him.

“I understand the sacrifice you’re making, but I can’t bare the thought of my life without you...Arthur, John, you...You three have been in me life every day since I was a child, if you were to never come back I don’t know what I would do without you,” She shook her head as she choked up once again.

“Don’t think of it that way, love...We will come back once it’s over...and when it’s over I will come back to you,”

“Tommy...” She felt his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her.

“You will be the one I am living for...who I am looking forward to come home to...” He steps in front of her, grabbing her cheeks in the palm of his hands as they locks eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you,” She whispered. He pressed his forehead to hers. Closing her eyes tightly to stop the tears.

“You won’t...I promise,”

She has always known for Tommy to keep his promises. But deep own she wasn't sure if this was within his control. And it scared her. Shattered her heart and soul to know he was leaving in just a few weeks. Every day after that he spent every moment with her as if it were his last, even though it felt like it to her.

The day the three Shelby brothers left, Polly, Ada, and Martha were in shambles. [Name] tried to stay strong but the second she approached the train station she began to tear up.

She had said your goodbyes to John and Arthur first as she held off her departure from Tommy. She stood in front of him, he seemed to put on a brave face for his family and for her but she could read right through him. He was just as scared as she was. She embraced him tightly.

“I will write to you every day...and pray for you three while you’re gone,” [name] told him. He nods quietly, he reaches into his pocket to pull out a small, simple, ring to held it to her.

“Remember that promise we made when we were kids?” He asked.

“That we’d get married one day?” She nods.

“I am giving this to you, so that when I do return we will get married...That way I will come home with a purpose...to marry you,” He said. She gasped a bit as he slipped the golden band on her ring finger.

“Just promise me you’ll never take it off, for as long as I live and love you,”

“I promise,” She smiled at him. He gave [name] a quick kiss. The train whistle blows.

“Come home to us soon...please,” She begs. He nods again before Arthur and John pulled him away to board the train.

Watching the men wave off their families as the train took off was heartbreaking. The four women of Small Heath held onto each other, comforting each other when they watched the three men in their lives leave on a train. [Name] rested her head on Polly’s shoulder as she rubbed the young girls back, quietly sobbing beside her.

[Name] went home that day, sitting alone as she twirled the ring on her finger, counting the days until his first letter came.

#Spotify #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #x reader #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #tommyshelbyxreader #light angst #friends to lovers

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venturelovebot · 1 month

Text

A/N: Thank you sm for requesting again!!! It rlly does mean a lot to me, so I hope I did your request justice!!! Link to request is here!!!

Premise: NOBODY YELLS AT Y/N!!! NOBODY!!! Someone's about to learn that the hard way.

Warnings: Bullying, verbal abuse and a well deserved ass whooping. Other than that, none!

"Good god, why are you so fucking worthless?" Your bosses voice boomed. "Tell me again why I hired you? You can't do anything right!"

Your body freezes up like a deer caught in headlights and your gaze is cast downward towards your feet. Tears instantly obscure your vision and your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. A couple of your coworkers stifle laughs behind you.

"I-it wasn't me..." Your voice came out as a horrified squeak.

"Then who was it? Who else was in here besides you?" Your bosses voice echoed on the tile walls. "Your hands are literally the same color as the paint!"

You glance at the vulgar graffiti that depicted your raging boss. The discarded spray can lays empty on the ground below it. Your hands are stained in the same color from attempting to scrub off the mess just moments earlier.

There's no use trying to defend yourself as you'd inevitably be blamed once again.

Your boss only sighed at your silence. "Get out of here. Go do anything, just get out of my sight." They spat.

You wash your hands and run from the bathroom and into the back of the store. You slump up against the walls of the dark storage room and cry until your voice gives out. This is the second time this month that you fell victim to another scapegoat.

Just as you finished up sobbing your phone gently buzzed in your pocket. Your heart feels lighter immediately after seeing who was contacting you.

💛 lil meow meow 💛: HEY!!! I thought I'd pick you up today!!! Look what I got!!!

They sent you a photo of a stack of take out food located in the back seat.

💛 lil meow meow 💛: I'm on my way!!! Can't wait to see you!!!

They sent a selfie blowing you a kiss and you can't help but giggle at their silliness. For a brief moment everything in the world was right again– until the door to the storage room opened up.

Your boss throws cleaning supplies at you and just narrowly misses hitting you in the head with all purpose cleaner.

"Hope you weren't thinking about clocking out. Your ass is working overtime for that stunt you pulled. Now get to cleaning!" They barked.

"Okay, but..." you gulped in pure fear, "What about the mop?"

"Mops are for good employees that don't make their bosses look bad. Not you. Now go!" They commanded.

Without having to be told again you stuff your hands into a pair of cleaning gloves and fill the bucket up with soap and warm water. In a single second your out the door and down on your knees scrubbing the grimy, cold floor. Your knees and back immediately felt the harshness of it.

One of your coworkers spits their gum out on the floor in front of you.

"Oops! I think you missed a spot." They laugh.

"Of course they would. Can't expect a lot from such a lazy piece of shit." Another coworker chimes in.

Their words linger in the air and you fight back more tears. You couldn't let them see you cry again.

You glance up at them for a moment and notice paint spattered on both their uniforms– it's the same color as the graffiti in the bathroom. Anger mixes with the sadness inside of you as you take a paper towel and throw away the discarded gum.

"Well! We're going home. See you next week, boss!" Both coworkers clock out for the evening and you're left alone once again.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket again but you don't dare check it. Your boss is hovering over you like a helicopter making sure you're doing as you're commanded. It buzzes one more time before you hear it accidentally fall to the floor beside you.

"Oh? Texting on the job? Let's see... who is 'lil meow meow'?" Your boss teases.

Headlights pull up outside.

"Look! They're calling you! Let's see what they have to say about your prank you pulled on me." Your boss answers your phone and places it up to their ear.

"Hello? This is [Y/N]'s boss." They pause for a moment. "I'm sorry but they won't be able to make it home–"

Despite your best judgement you lunge for your phone and end up knocking the bucket of water across the floor. The suds spill out and fill the cracks and crevices that you've meticulously cleaned over the course of tonight. For a moment, all is quiet.

Your boss breaks out in laughter.

"Do you fucking hate yourself or something? Or do you just love spending time here? Now you have even more shit to clean up!" Their voice booms. "It really is the only thing you're good for!"

The soft ringing of bells catches your bosses attention. "Sorry– we're clo–" they had no time to finish their sentence as Sloane's fist connects with their open mouth.

"Don't talk to [Y/N] that way ever again! Do you hear me?"

Sloane continues pummeling your boss into the sopping wet floor. In the midst of the chaos you grab your phone and place it safely back into your pocket before grabbing Sloane's shoulder and pulling them off your beaten boss.

"Babe, it's okay..." You talk to them calmly and try to deescalate the situation.

"It's not okay! You don't deserve to be talked to like that!" They argue, dusting themselves off briefly.

"Really. It's fine, I can handle it."

Your boss groans and stands up again. Their nose is dripping with blood.

"You've really done it now." Your boss stumbles for you and grabs your arm. "You worthless, god awful piece of fucking garbage! That's what you are! You're nothing but human garbage!"

Their nails dig into your flesh and you cry out from the pain. With no second thought Sloane kicks your boss square in the gut and sends them flying into a display rack. Fallen items trap them in their position helplessly.

"Don't you fucking talk to [Y/N] like that! You're lucky I don't fucking kill you!" Sloane yells in their native language. "Nobody talks to them like that! Nobody!"

You wrap your arms around their waist and pull them close. "No more yelling, please..." You beg. They take a couple of deep breaths.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off like that." They guide you towards the door away from the scene.

"No! Thank you!" You cry, hugging them close and crying. They rub your back comfortingly and rock you gently back and forth.

"Come on, let's get out of here. The foods getting cold." They give you a kiss and open the car door for you.

You nod and buckle your seatbelt.

"If you have anymore trouble please tell me. As long as I'm around I won't let anyone treat you badly. Okay?" They look at you and put the key in the ignition. You simply nod again.

"Alright. Let's go get you cleaned up. You only deserve the best!" They smile.

You feel a deep sense of safety and appreciation in your heart– something you desperately needed after tonight.

"Good thing you're the best, then." You reply.

"Aww, shucks... you're just saying that!" They blush softly from your compliment.

"No, I know so. And thanks again for sticking up for me." You lean over and give them a kiss on the cheek.

"Anything for you! That's a promise!"

You take their hand in yours and watch the street lights fly by in the night.

#okay. this turned out pretty good i think!!! lemme know what you think!!! if you want to that is!!!#let me tell you that if i ever write a sequel to this the coworkers will get it next lmfao #venture x reader #venture x you #venture overwatch #sloane cameron #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch #overwatch 2

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ericsprincess · 7 months

Text

i can't stop for you and me

nc-17, Sung Hanbin/Reader, office au, lawyer!reader, also bully!reader (kinda), doormat!Hanbin, cunnilingus

~~~

A/N: Reparations ;) This is a gift for a friend. I'm not a ZB1 fan and I don't know them well, so I hope it’s at least a little bit of a fitting scenario for Hanbin.

~~~

Fucking CUTE. You think while spinning your pen between your fingers. You’re sitting behind your big wooden desk, peeking over the dossier that you’ve been pretending to read for the past 15 minutes, your eyes scanning through the office in front of you, until they find your favorite target - your new pretty assistant, Hanbin.

To be honest, he’s not even doing anything particularly cute, he’s quite literally just doing his job, staring into a computer screen and typing occasionally. He’s that pretty and adorable just by existing, with his delicate porcelain doll face and black hair.

I should have hired that old lady, you lament, but you know it’s bullshit. You knew you’re gonna give him a job offer the moment he walked into the meeting room for his interview, all fresh from school and excited to start his career. He looked so proper and polite, thoughtfully answering every question, even daring to blush and sweat under your scrutiny. You took one brief look at his CV to check if he’s qualified enough, and he was. There might have been better, more experienced candidates, but you decided to do this thing for you, just this once. Treat yourself.

And now it’s coming back at you in full force.

This is not good. This is a problem. His presence makes you feel things and all of them are inappropriate at the very least.

It’s not helping that he would obviously bend over backwards to make you happy. You don’t even need to finish the question and he’s already eagerly rushing to complete whatever unnecessary task you made up this time. No request is dumb enough for him to object, and you actually tried. He would just happily go about his way to fulfill it. You could send him to sort cases by alphabetical order backwards and he would just ask when it’s supposed to be done. Sometimes you like to ruffle his feathers a little more by giving him work that he’s clearly not ready for, like that one time where you made him give a presentation to your client instead of yourself. You actually thought he’s going to faint, but somehow he powered through it just by sheer determination, earning an approving smile and nod from you, going all red in reply.

Not to say that thanks to his good looks he solved your perpetual problem of missing partner at every work function and dumb dinner party with clients. Now you get to drag your handsome assistant along as your plus one to every event, where you can not only parade him around, but also enjoy him fussing over your comfort, bringing you drinks, holding your coat or bag and even driving you home. You can see the jealousy in others and it makes you secretly happy.

You wouldn’t be able to do that, if you hired that old lady.

And even today, despite being already long past his shift, he still decided to stay working late, just because you did. The office is already empty and dark, the only sole source of light shining on his face is his computer screen in his cubicle and the light coming out of your glass walled office.

He rubs his eyes.

You slap the dossier down on your desk.

“Hanbin-sshi, can you please come here for a second?” you call out.

“Yes, ma’am,” he immediately replies and gets up. He’s sluggish and obviously tired and you almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks.

“Yes. I would like you to run to the Starbucks, I want some coffee. I’d like a venti pumpkin spice latte-” you pause, seeing as he’s struggling to fish out his phone to take notes. “with four shots of espresso, almond milk, light caramel drizzle, light foam, one pump of pumpkin sauce, one pump of maple pecan sauce and salt topping. Thank you.” you smirk at him as he’s dutifully tapping everything down.

“No problem, I’ll be right back, ma’am,” he bows a little and rushes out of the door.

Your stomach rumbles. Actually.

“Actually!” you call out, but he doesn’t reply. You jump out from behind your table in hope of maybe being able to catch him, but when you run out of the office you can see he’s already left.

Oh well. Maybe I’ll just send him for the second time, when he gets back.

You turn back to return to your office, when his computer pings with a message.

Huh? He didn’t lock his computer?

You take a look, and really - he didn’t. He must have forgotten or just didn’t care, since no one else is left at the office at this time.

Moreover, the message is not from your designated work chat app, but from a personal one. You lean forwards to take a look at the unread notification.

matt says: so how’s the late hours with the sexy boss going? dude you’re a masochist.

You blink. Without any hesitation you click on the chat and scroll through the last messages.

hb says: fuck it's getting really hard to hide my boners from her

>every time she orders me around i can barely think

>i just go home and jerk off everyday thinking about her bossing me around

>if she ever finds out im screwed

>i literally stayed working late, just in case she wants something

>she could ask me to eat her pussy under her desk and i would just crawl under

>matt i’m so fucked

Your reflection on the computer screen twists into a wide grin. Oh. What a beautiful bunch of revelations.

You had a hunch that he must like taking orders and feeling accomplished by completing tasks, but you didn’t know it’s sexual for him. Much less, that it’s because of you, in particular. But hey, at least it validates your own interests in this little game.

You do your best to curb your giddiness and return back behind your desk. Hanbin appears a few minutes later, with your coffee in hand and a little bag in another.

“Here, ma’am. I also took the liberty to bring you some snack, since it’s really late and you must be hungry.” he hands you both.

You open the little back and pull out a blueberry muffin. “Thank you, Hanbin-sshi,” you take a bite. “It’s like you’re reading my mind. I hope I’m not putting you through too much trouble.”

“Oh, no, really, it’s not a problem,” he’s quick to assure you, shaking his head.

“Hanbin-sshi, it’s such a joy to have you. You’re always so eager and helpful, I could not pick a better assistant,” you smile kindly at him.

“T-thanks, ma’am, this really means a lot to me.” he stutters, cheeks already burning red.

“Sometimes it feels like I could ask you to eat my pussy under my desk, and you would just crawl right under, wouldn’t you?” you ask with a smirk.

He freezes. Gotcha.

“I-..”

“You?”

“I- I actually, I would,” he admits. He looks nervous, like he's sure he’s busted, outed as a pervert and will be fired immediately. It looks good on him.

“Okay,” you nod and push yourself off your desk on your chair. You gesture at the space. “Be my guest.”

He looks at you disbelievingly, as if he’s not sure if you’re serious or if it’s just some kind of a prank. But eventually, he seems to make up his mind.

He slowly falls on his knees. He looks at you, as if to check whether it is really something you want, and when he sees you’re not putting a stop to it, he slowly crawls on his all fours under your big desk.

You roll your chair back to its place. You look down, where two big eyes are staring right back at you.

“I hope it were not just empty words, Hanbin-sshi. I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint me,” you warn him.

“No, of course not, ma’am,” he hurries to assure you and visibly gathers all the courage to actually touch you. He runs his hands over your legs and leans forwards.

He starts kissing your thighs, while bunching your skirt up, even daring to suck and lick a little at your skin. He slowly gets to your pussy and he doesn’t hesitate to lick over your panties, already wet ever since you discovered his true feelings. It’s like he’s trying to get as much of your taste as he can through them, licking until they are completely drenched with both your juices and his saliva. He’s kneeling in front of you, holding you around your hips, his whole face buried in your crotch, like he doesn't care if he can even breathe.

It feels good and you’re getting more and more aroused, but you can’t wait for a more direct stimulation. You grab him by his hair and pull him off you by force. You quickly lift yourself up to pull down your panties, and he frantically helps, even tries to dive back in, but your hold won’t let him.

You look into his eyes and wait a second until he calms down a bit, while he whimpers. He’s all red and clearly aroused and he looks so pretty, you’re sure you will never forget this sight of his delicate face, eager to pleasure you.

“Now you can,” you say and let go of his hair. He doesn’t hesitate a moment and quickly leans forwards to get back your pussy.

It feels like his tongue is everywhere. He’s licking all over your pussy and trying to push his tongue in. You have half a mind to tell him to use his fingers, but his tongue already feels so good, you want to see if he will manage to make you cum only like that.

And it seems he will, since when he moves to your clit, it’s basically game over for you.

He’s clearly bringing out his A-game, rubbing all over your clit with flat tongue in cruel tempo, building up your pleasure, until he can tell you’re getting close, then switching to quicker flicks, his mouth sealed around your pussy as if he was making out with it.

You’re getting close and you know he can tell, just by the sounds you’re making. You’re so wet it must be dripping off his face. He’s tireless, his tongue never stopping, he’s even moaning a little, as if it was him being pleasured.

You grab him by his hair and push him even closer and then you’re cumming, smothering him with your pussy and juices and not letting him breathe at all, not until you’re finished. He’s not fighting it, letting you ride his face as much as you need, slowly coming down from your orgasm.

You let him go, and he takes a deep breath. He looks up at you.

You roll your chair back a little. You take a moment to enjoy the look at him all out of his mind, kneeling under your desk, red, sweaty and disheveled. He’s breathing heavily, aroused and undeniably close to orgasm, without even touching himself.

“Are you hard, Hanbin-sshi?” you ask.

It’s a stupid question, his cock is obviously tenting his pants, even leaving a dark wet spot on them. But he nods regardless, eyes glazed over, face still wet. His black hair is sticking to his face a little.

“If you manage to drive us to my apartment without either crashing or cumming, I’ll suck you off. What do you think about that?”

You can see his breath hitching. He doesn’t even need to answer.

“Go get your coat.”

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