If The Effects Of The Flower Last For Only Seconds In Mammals...then Those Rats Must've Really Liked

If the effects of the flower last for only seconds in mammals...then those rats must've really liked each other...

Also, I can't help but imagine Singed coming back to the lab and finding the vials and stuff broken on the floor and like: "What happened here?" And the reader, immediately embarassed and trying not to show it: "Umm...I fell"

Taking Risks

[Explicit] AO3

Silco x f!reader, smut, sex pollen, workplace sex, handjob, penis in vagina sex

Word count: 4.3k

Posting a few hours early because why not! I've never been good about waiting until Christmas day to give gifts.

As one of Silco's scientists, it's up to you to research the local flora and fauna for anything that could be useful for the Eye of Zaun. When a mysterious red flower blossoms outside of Singed's cave, Silco gives you one week to find out what it can do. Against all better judgement and laboratory safety protocol, you personally find out the effects of the flower's pollen.

A bead of sweat trickles down your forehead into your furrowed eyebrows, your eyes unblinking as you concentrate on your task, hands shaking all the while. The small, delicate red flower in your hand flutters with each quiver of your hands, its petals bouncing along as if dancing with you. 

Almost… almost…

Finally, you manage to transfer the plant to its new home, a larger pot with more enriched soil. But you don't dare relax yet, not until you can get it into its glass case.

Once the clear door swings shut, you finally breathe a sigh of relief, your hands quick to remove the mask from your face. Your gloves are piled on top of your respirator as you slump into your chair.

You and Singed had discovered this new flora popping up around the cave. Despite all your studies, you know nothing about it. There is no literature on it, leading you and Singed to take a few samples to research.

Safety is paramount. Given some of the more… exciting plantlife that can be found in the Undercity, Singed stressed above all else protecting your lungs and your skin. So every time you've handled the crimson red flower, you've donned both a respirator and heavy duty gloves. 

You look up from your desk when you hear booted footsteps approaching the cave. The steady cadence is familiar and you rise to your feet, bringing both hands behind you as you wait for your employer. When he reaches the mouth of the cave, his form is cast in shadow, the afternoon sun backlighting him so that he's merely a silhouette. 

All except for his demon eye.

Swirling lava in a bed of obsidian, his left eye glows as he looks at you. As he steps further into the cave, you can make out more of his appearance, though you can easily predict what that would be, given his penchant for wearing the same outfit as if it were a uniform. Long, dark charcoal coat with gold trim and maroon lining; matching vest with intricate detailing; dark slacks with maroon along the sides. It's an ensemble you and the rest of the Lanes are familiar with.

“Good afternoon, Silco,” you greet warmly.

He nods to you, a subtle but unmistakable smile on his lips as he says your name.

“Afternoon.”

“Are you here for your medicine?”

“I am,” he replies, mismatched eyes scanning the cave. When his gaze comes across the crimson flower in its glass enclosure, he pauses, his good eyebrow ticking up in silent question.

“New flora that we discovered. We're trying to figure out what we can derive from it,” you explain.

He nods, lips pressed together.

“And?”

“Nothing yet, sir.”

His eyes track down the flower, studying it. Continuing their journey, his gaze lands on your workstation, ocean green and volcanic orange settling on the small pile of protective gear on your table.

“Better safe than sorry,” you offer.

He turns to you.

“Singed's idea?”

“Yes.”

A short exhale puffs out Silco's nostrils as the scarred corner of his lips curl up.

“He's always been so protective of you,” Silco hums. He steps closer to the glass, looking down his nose at the specimen. “It's likely why you haven't immediately figured out what this can do.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Sir?”

He chuckles.

“The good doctor has grown soft. Before you arrived, he would've already had this tested on multiple human subjects by now. Science is about taking risks.”

“That's reckless; taking precautions isn't ‘growing soft,’” you're quick to defend. “Until we know exactly what this plant is capable of, we have to treat it as if it is lethal. It very well could be.”

Silco turns to you, only his corrupted profile visible to you. The soft light from the flower’s tank somehow manages to smooth his rough features, the deep cuts along his cheek shallower and less pronounced than before. Finally, he nods.

His eyes linger on yours, waiting.

“Oh, right!”

You leap from your spot toward the back of the cave. After retrieving the small wooden box that houses Silco's medicine, you rush back.

“Here you go! Should last you another week.”

Silco takes it from you before slipping it into a hidden pocket in the lining of his coat. He gives a small, subtle nod in thanks before turning to the mouth of the cave.

His booted footsteps echo off the stone walls as he departs. Just as he reaches the entrance, he turns over his shoulder.

“I expect an update on this flower when I return.”

His footsteps continue on, softer and softer until you can no longer hear them.

You turn back to the flower in question, one of its stems raised up as if waving to you.

One week to figure this thing out.

Shit.

You spend the next two days going through your usual set of tests. All of them are inconclusive. As your deadline draws ever closer, your mind replays Silco's words.

“Science is about taking risks.”

You shake your head, waving your hand at the voice as if dispelling smoke. 

I'm not going to get myself killed just for some plant and arbitrary deadline.

And yet, you feel yourself drawn to the flower. It taunts you from its glass case, its deep red petals begging to be touched. 

You can run all the tests you want, but there's no denying that they can't replace the human experience.

What does the flower smell like?

How soft and delicate are its petals?

You let out a groan. There's no use asking such useless questions. Not when you still have so much work to do.

The next day, you start to grow more desperate. Singed has been busy with other projects, leaving this flower entirely in your hands. 

You grab your gloves and mask, leaving the cave for a change of scenery. Donning your protective gear, you trek to the small patch of grass where you had first discovered the plant. Perhaps studying its surroundings can prove beneficial.

When you arrive, you're stunned to find the makings of far more flowers than were there previously. Smaller buds rise up from the soil all around the original flower. 

Your eyes dart around the area, checking for any signs of animal interaction with the plant: a bite mark, a paw print, anything to let you know if another creature has been close to the flower and lived. Your lips purse together as you search, half expecting to find a half-eaten flower and a small corpse next to it, signaling to you that this plant is lethal.

But you find none.

In fact, the area surrounding the flower seems more full of life than before. Bees hover and buzz around the flowers, their little fuzzy legs dotted with the flower’s pollen. A few small, furry critters chatter and squeak excitedly behind a nearby bush. You crouch down to get a better look to find two wharf rats procreating rather enthusiastically.

You straighten back up, eyes narrowing.

Seeing such a display in your research is far from out of the ordinary, but what was odd was the manner in which they were mating. Most mating rituals between mammals of that type are very methodical. Get through it quickly, pass down their genes from their generation to the next, nothing more, nothing less.

You crouch back down, your curiosity getting the better of you. The two wharf rats are still going at it, and not only that, their pace is more languid, more deliberate than you're used to seeing in this species. A word whispers in your ears that you've never used to describe mating rituals in all your years of science.

Sensual.

You leap back to your feet, cheeks flushed with heat. Eyes wide and darting, you quickly make your way back to the cave and attempt to rid your mind of what you just saw.

The day before Silco's arrival, you cannot put it off any longer. There were no signs of death, decay, or sickness around the flowerbed. So the likelihood that this plant is lethal are low.

Silco's voice remains a taunting spectre, whispering in your ear as you stare at the flower that continues to elude you.

The small specs of yellow pollen that dot its stamen seem to glow, they twinkle in the soft light like little gems. The warm hue of the petals looks so inviting, such a beautiful color that you cannot tear your eyes away from. 

You feel a pull, a strong sense of yearning as you lean closer to the glass. All thought leaves you, replaced entirely by instinct, your body moving as if puppeted by an invisible hand. Your gloves fall to the floor, your respirator quick to follow. Hands reach out, delicate fingers wrapping around the small brass knob and pulling.

The aroma is instant, its scent intoxicating and irresistible. Like the sweetest of honeys.

You step closer, your hands a soft trace along a crimson petal. The second your skin makes contact with it, you feel a satisfying thrum shoot from your hand, up your arm, and down into your navel. When you bring your face to hover above the welcoming crown of petals, you take a deep breath in through your nose and are immediately met with warmth coursing through your veins. Your eyes flutter closed as you drink in the scent, allowing it to surround you. Warmth pools in your belly as your heart rate climbs, your chest heaving as your breathing grows shallow.

All thoughts of safety and protocol left you as soon as you had reached for that handle.

You're so enraptured by the aroma that you don't notice the sound of booted footsteps as they approach. It's not until Silco calls out your name that you jump out of your skin and turn to face him.

He smirks wickedly at you.

“Silco!” You shut the glass case behind you. “You're a day early!”

“And yet, it would seem not a moment too soon,” he quips, his stride a predatory, graceful pace as he closes the distance between your bodies. “Am I to witness the first human trial?”

He stops a few feet from you, his eyes raking over your body. All at once, you feel naked under his gaze and the sensation sends molten lava to settle between your legs.

“I…” You struggle to get the words out. “I don't know what came over me.”

“Not to worry,” Silco says as he brings Singed's stool around and makes himself comfortable in it in one smooth motion. “I can monitor you. Administer first aid if necessary.”

With his chin tilted up at you, you can see the long column of his neck peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Your eyes seem capable of seeing much more than before, pupils quick to catch the subtle pulsing of his heartbeat underneath his skin. Your heart beats in time with it, as if synchronizing with it. Eyes flick up to Silco's and your throat bobs when you see he's studying you just as closely.

“What do you feel?” He hums.

“I feel…” You let out a shaky exhale, your skin on fire underneath your clothes. You take a deep breath in and suddenly become acutely aware of the rise and fall of your chest and the way your nipples harden beneath your bra. “I feel… too hot and too cold.” Your throat bobs. “Like I have a fever.”

Silco's eyebrows pinch minutely as he rises to his feet. Without warning, he brings the back of his hand to your forehead. His skin is cool to the touch and you can't help the way your eyes flutter closed at the sensation, a feeling of relief like a cold drink on a hot summer day.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Yes, you are warm.” He pulls his hand away and you resist the urge to chase it. “Any other symptoms?”

“My… my mouth feels dry and my heart is racing.”

You can feel the heat of his body as he stands in front of you, warm and foreboding. He brings one hand up to your neck, fingertips pressing into your pulse point. 

As you stand like this, you can smell every bit of him: his oak cologne, the remnants of a rich cigar lingering on the fabric of his clothes, the faintest hint of his sweat underneath his many layers of garments. You feel drunk off his scent and all at once remember what you witnessed the day prior.

“Oh gods,” you whisper to yourself.

“What is it?” Concern paints the features of Silco's face as his hand leaves you. “Are you okay?”

“I know what the flower is,” you say, less spoken and more breathed out, voice like smoke rising to the ceiling.

Silco's eyes search yours, his head ticking to the side.

“It's an aphrodisiac,” you finally conclude, pupils blown out as they meet Silco's two-toned eyes.

Silco's eyebrows lift, his lips coming together in a curious pout. Your eyes track the movement, lingering on his mouth. Without thinking, you wet your lips with your tongue.

But then he's saying your name again and you're snapping out of it.

“Did I hear you correctly?”

You nod.

“You said it's an aphrodisiac.”

You nod again.

He steps closer to you and you can't help but step back, your back hitting the flower's glass case.

“Are you sure?”

Your eyes widen as you nod once again, as if the flower is equal parts truth serum, as if opening your mouth to speak will spill all your thoughts and feelings and wants and needs.

Like the impossibly strong need to feel the weight of Silco's body on you, to taste his lips, to caress his skin, to ride his co—

Silco's hand comes up, holding your jawline as he inspects your face. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he turns you this way and that, studying you. There's a burning fire under your skin where Silco's hand touches you, more heat rushing to pool at the apex of your legs.

He lets go of your face and you let out a shaky exhale.

“What aren't you telling me?”

Your eyes dart to the side, avoiding his.

“I… I can't.”

“And why not?”

“It's… it's just the pollen. I can't say it. It wouldn't be appropriate.”

His good eyebrow ticks up.

“Tell me.” His voice is a haunting melody, an enchanting song that you want to get lost in. “I won't hold it against you. After all, this is all in the name of science.”

I want to kiss you.

I want to feel you.

I want you to make love to me.

I want you to fuck me.

Your mind races through each desire. Somehow, even in your delirious state, you manage to keep the worst of it to yourself.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Oh?”

You nod, quick to add conditionals. “Like I said, that's the pollen talking.”

He takes a step back and you hold back a whine at the loss of his body heat. His lips turn downward into a small frown.

“I'm hurt. Am I so undesirable that only an aphrodisiac can make a kiss from me appealing?”

“What? No! Of course not!” You rush to reassure him. “I think you're a very attractive man—”

He smirks.

“Very attractive?” He repeats wickedly.

“Silco, please—” you breathe out, defeated.

“Please, what?” He steps back into your space and you feel lightheaded from his towering presence. His eyes track down your face, leaving small fires in their wake on your skin. His gaze lingers on your mouth, which has fallen open against your will. “Should I put you out of your misery?”

He slots himself between your legs and you let out a small whimper when you feel his clothed erection against your core.

“For science, of course,” he adds, voice dark and teasing. He rolls his hips against you and you let out a pathetic gasp as lightning shoots through you.

The pollen has worked itself so thoroughly into your system, replacing all your inhibitions with carnal, animalistic needs. All thoughts of professional, social, and emotional ramifications out the window as you fist Silco's vest in your hands, clinging to him. 

Your eyes dart between ocean green and volcanic orange to find that both his pupils are blown out, a dark abyss in his eyes that you find yourself willingly tumbling face first into.

The last of your reserve snaps and you crash your lips into his in a messy, frenzied kiss. He answers back in kind, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer as he takes charge of the kiss. His tongue a needy press to the part of your lips, quick to claim yours as his own. He tastes of cigars and top-shelf liquor.

It's not enough.

You push him forward, your hands moving to rid him of his coat. Without breaking off the kiss, he shrugs out of the sleeves, letting the fabric pool onto the stone floor as you both stumble through the cave. Your hands grab at him, tugging on the fabric of his shirt to untuck it from his pants as his slide over the swell of your ass. He lifts you and you're quick to wrap your legs around his waist, content to let him carry you to your workstation. Vials and supplies fall to the floor and shatter as he swipes one arm across the desktop to make room, planting you on the edge of the cold metal surface.

Foreheads pressed together, you break off the kiss as you both work frantically to rid each other of your clothes; your hands shaking as you unbutton the four gold buttons at the front of his pants while his hands yank your underwear down from under your skirt. There's the sound of tearing as he pulls the damp fabric off you, exposing your core to the chill air of the cave.

His hands tuck underneath your knees as he pulls you forward, your ass hovering over the edge of the table. You somehow manage to undo his pants without looking, your hand wrapping around his naked erection, a sigh leaving your lips as you feel the weight of him in the palm of your hand.

He lets out a groan as you do one experimental stroke from his shaft to his reddened head. And when you do it again, you're rewarded with the slick of precum dripping from the tip.

As you continue to work him, Silco buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot as he sucks a mark into your skin, claiming you. Your wanton moan bounces off the stone walls, filling the air.

Then, Silco's hands are at your blouse, pushing the hem up to expose your stomach and then your bra. The fabric bunches at your collarbone as he plants a series of hungry kisses along the top swell of your breast, mere inches from where you need him most. Then, as if reading your mind, he tugs the fabric of your bra down to wrap his teeth around your hardened nub. You let out a cry when he bites down on your nipple, your hand stilling its ministrations as you're overcome with a wave of pleasure, enhanced by the flower’s pollen coursing through your nervous system.

“Silco!” You cry out when you feel his hand at your core, long fingers massaging your glistening entrance as he gathers your arousal. Slick fingers glide through your folds before swirling a tantalizing circle into your clit, forcing a low moan out of your throat. But your relief is short-lived as Silco's hand leaves your core. Your eyes widen when he brings it to his lips, licking a long stripe along his fingers.

“Is that all for me? Or just from the pollen?” He asks, voice ragged.

You huff out a small laugh.

“Can it be both?”

He hums, bringing his hand back to the apex of your legs.

You continue to work each other, chests heaving, breaths mixing in the middle. It's not at all the sensual love-making you would have liked, but you can't complain, not when his fingers are massaging your clit so perfectly. 

It's still not enough.

“Silco— I need you,” you manage to get out between gasps. “Please.”

He lets out a low growl, teeth bared as he smiles down at you.

“Well, since you begged so sweetly.”

One hand wrapped around your lower back while the other holds his shaft, he presses his head against your entrance. You let out a whimper as he teases you open more and more. Then, with a rock of his hips, he presses into you, stretching your walls as he sheathes himself inside you. Your nails dig into the fabric of his shirt as you're overcome by the stretch of him, his girth alone almost sending you over the edge.

You feel so full and yet it's still not enough. You need more. The pollen in your veins insatiable as you roll your hips against him.

“Ah!” Your clit rubs against his pelvis as he rocks his hips up, sending lightning to shoot from your core outwards. You can feel it buzzing and humming in the soles of your feet and each of your fingertips.

One hand planted on the metal tabletop, the other tangling into your hair, Silco continues to fuck up into you, a low hum at his throat with each thrust. Your hands find their way to his ass and you let out a whine at the way his body seems to roll with each piston of his hips, the erotic movement of his body against yours sending more warmth to your core.

Your breath is hot on his neck, coming out in short puffs with each thrust. You've lost all semblance of modesty or shame as you lose yourself to Silco's movements, a slow, sensual rhythm that's equal parts erotic and carnal.

Your blood feels like it's on fire in your veins and as you feel your pleasure building with every roll of Silco's hips, every grunted breath against your ear, your eyes widen. This climax threatens to be the most powerful one you've ever experienced, one so strong you're not sure you can survive it. Will the pollen that's in your system burn you from the inside out the instant you reach your peak? Will you simply collapse into a heap after you know relief?

As Silco continues to fuck up into you, you find you don't care.

If this is how I die, so be it.

You drag your nails into the fabric at Silco's back, rolling your hips to match his rhythm.

There are worse ways to go.

Silco's hips stutter and you can feel him getting impossibly harder within you. As your cries grow in pitch and volume, Silco's muffled groans and grunts get louder as well. The sensuality of your union giving way to that visceral, carnal animal act. 

Just a little more.

You grind your clit against his pelvis, mouth hanging open as incoherent sounds leave you.

More.

Silco's lips are back on your neck, tongue a warm press against your pulse point, his breath hot on your skin.

His voice is ragged when he speaks and you can tell from the way his hips almost vibrate that he's getting close to his release as well.

“I should've— planted those flowers—ngh!—much sooner.”

Your eyes fly open.

“What?! You knew what they were?”

“I know everything, darling,” he growls, his pace picking up, threatening to send you over the edge. “I know the effects they have on mammals.”

A sharp thrust that leaves you sighing.

“I know they trigger arousal.”

Another thrust, sending stars to dot your vision.

“And I know that their effects only last for mere seconds.”

“Seconds?” you gasp out, holding onto Silco for dear life as he continues to fuck up into you. “So that means —”

“Yes, dear,” he purrs. “Everything else is simply your attraction to me.”

You want to be angry. To be insulted. But as you both charge at full speed to your peak, the only thing you feel with absolute certainty is alive.

You let out a cry as your walls flutter around him, you climax washing over you in a torrential wave. Clinging to him, you gasp through your orgasm as you feel overcome with pleasure throughout your entire body. As you come undone around him, he thrusts once more, as deep as your entangled bodies will allow, his hips stilling and his release following hot on the heels of yours. You can feel his cock pulsing while you ride out your high, stunned by the magnitude of your climax and Silco's revelation.

You find you don't have the energy to care at his subterfuge, not when you're so fuckdrunk off him that you can't remember your own name. As the last of your climax subsides, you feel every muscle in your body relaxing, the burning sensation under your skin finally cooling back to calmer waters.

You slump into Silco, your arms tucked to your chest as you cling to the fabric of his vest. His arms envelope you, holding you close as both your chests heave, your breathing ragged and labored.

When finally you regain your breath, you look up at Silco with half-lidded eyes.

“I can't believe you planted those just to get me to have sex with you.”

His good eyebrow lifts in response.

“No one forced you to smell them,” he counters.

You narrow your eyes at him but have no energy left to offer a rebuttal. He continues to hold you to his chest before chuckling. You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“How do you think these flowers would look on my nightstand?”

You let out a soft, tired laugh.

“I don't know. Only one way to find out.”

A/N: I finally wrote a sex pollen fic! I wanted reader to be under the effects of it rather than Silco.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @beardedladyqueen @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

Join my taglist!

Hello! I saw a post saying COD matchups are open! If not, please ignore this ^^ Also, I haven't fone a matchup ask in forever, so sorry if I'm rusty...

I'm punk and it really shows in my appearance. I got a red mohawk, and some piercings and tattoos. I like to customise my clothes as much as possible, so battle jackets, studs, chains, pins and patches with slogans and band icons/names are my daily wardrobe.

I'm nonbinary, panromantic asexual and I go by they them pronouns. I'm trilingual and I love learning about stuff, mostly languages and time zones. I am very probably autistic, so I have issues with social interactions as well as sensory issues and I have tics, motoric and vocal. Usually I just chirp, repeat phrases or wave my hands around, twist my neck etc. But sometimes, when I'm anxious, my tics get more violent and I often punch/pinch myself. I struggle with depression a lot as well as some unhealthy coping mechanisms that involve pain, to put it lightly.

I love art, I consider myself a poet, I got one book published and I like to attend poetry competitions. I also draw a lot and paint. I like crafting as well, I have tons of little projects either going on or in my head. I have to journal a lot, because if I don't write it down you can bet I'll forget it :D I also like cooking :)

I love animals, I used to have pet rats and would want them in the future.

I think I'm kind, maybe a bit too much, I would do anything for my loved ones. My MBTI type is INFJ if that helps. I try to make others laugh and feel comfortable, I'm kind of a mix between the parent friend and the clown friend. My love language is words of affirmation and quality time. I tend to get into arguments, because a) people usually take me seriously when I'm being sarcastic or playful (another tism trait), b) because when it comes to things I'm passionate about, I always think I'm right and I have the need to convince the other person that my opinion is better. Also because I get frustrated when people don't get what I mean exactly.

My special interests are horror, in all forms, horror movies, horror books, video essays, deep dives...I like true crime as well and I like to collect bones and other things people often deem creepy (I have a bird skeleton/mummy in a jar).

I think that's it, take as much time as you need, and again, if matchups aren't open, feel free to just delete this <3

You’re all good 👍 (I’m not too familiar with the whole MBTI type of stuff, so I tried my best to look into it, lol.)

I match you with: Rodolfo ‘Rudy’ Parra!

I think he’d be pretty into watching video essays and deep dives with you. Rudy would have no problem setting himself on the couch right beside you, claiming that it keeps him educated and his mind sharp. But really he’d end up passing out in 30 minutes, one of his arms wrapped tightly around you as if you were to magically grow wings and fly away from him. The other resting gently on your arm or thigh if you find yourself sitting practically in his lap. It’s one of the few times he finds himself at true peace and serenity.

Having any shared friends means you guys are definitely referred to as the parents of the group. Drama at the grocery store? Off to go gossip with the two of you! Looking for relationship advice? Once again, off to you and Rudy. And when you guys get into a small, tiny even, slight disagreement in front of your friends? All of sudden it’s the end of the world and everyone is talking about having two christmases. 😐

But also most likely to be the one to bring you down from confrontation or arguments. He will tell you when it’s time to take a step back and calm down, and he’ll continue to talk you down from it and put a comforting hand on your lower back. And if you want to take a moment to continue ranting about it? Go for it, he’ll listen, only to voice his opinion on the situation if you ask for it and/or after you’ve come back down to earth. He’s pretty level headed (especially compared to someone like Alejandro… *side eye*…) and tends to have good judgment like that, so I think that would balance out your relationship, especially if you’re more on the temperamental side.

I can picture him as some sort of gift giver, which I’d imagine would go pretty well with someone who has strong collector tendencies. And they wouldn’t always be the most elaborate and luxurious gifts—though it’s not out of the question—it be something small or something he just found interesting and made him think of you. Think of a gem or crystal he found be sold at a little gift stand, or a small drawstring bag full of bottle caps from all around the world and from all kinds of bottles (that, or he’d be the one to gift you the bottle caps to add a collection, lol).

Loves your artistic side, especially your poetry. Write him little pieces of poetry on a sticky note or torn corner of a piece of paper and he will most definitely keep it in his pocket, only pulling it out to read when he’s alone and missing you—“Oh, mi cielo…” he’d whisper to himself and bring the piece of paper right over his chest, on top his beating heart. He’d close his eyes and let himself be overrun with thoughts of you, even if it’s just for a quick minute before he would have to return back to work. And while you may not believe it’s your best work, Rudy will think it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever read.

mi cielo = “my sky” or “my Heaven”

Starting this one, can't wait to see if I anyone will participate! (no pressure tho)

Get To Know Me !

Again, idk why I made this but enjoy I guess (some of these may be uncomfortable for y’all to answer, idk).

🖌 - Do you have/want any tattoos?

💚 - What’s your favourite colour?

🍕 - What’s the last thing you ate?

🕰 - What time is it where you are rn?

🌟 - What is your zodiac sign?

🌍 - What is your favourite accent?

⚡️ - Do you have any scars?

🌺 - What’s your MBTI type?

🥀 - Favourite animated movie?

📺 - Favourite show?

😂 - Are you ticklish?

💍 - Do you ever want to get married?

😳 - Do you like your name?

💙 - What colour is your bedroom?

🤓 - How did you get your name?

🎓 - When did/do you graduate?

🍄 - Do you have/want any piercings?

👀 - What colour are your eyes?

👱🏻‍♀️ - What is your go to hairstyle?

🥂 - Have you ever drank underage?

🍾 - Have you ever gotten drunk?

😱 - What’s your biggest fear?

🥵 - Would you rather be too hot or too cold?

🌦 - What’s your favourite weather?

🍂 - What’s your favourite season?

🐷 - What’s your favourite animal?

🐶 - Do you have any pets?

😴 - What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

🎨 - Any hobbies?

🛩 - If travelling was free, where’s the first place you’d go?

🎇 - What’s your most searched thing on Google?

📱 - Favourite app on your phone?

🤠 - Are you more of a city person or a country person?

I'm literally foaming at the mouth-

I lovelovelovelove how it's not just that the reader struggles and needs help, but that they try on their own as well, but in some instances it's too much, I apprecuate that soooooooooo much <3333

Also, don't be worried about the fic being with Alec, honestly, I was kinda hoping you'd write it with him (but Aziraphale and Crowley would be interesting to see in that scenario, as well)

All in all, I am SO glad I discovered your blog, I wish I had stumbled upon it sooner.

Unconditional Support

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader

Summary: It takes a while for you to get used to receiving love and affection, but this time it was just a little too much.

CW: angst, light crying, hurt/comfort, hiding things as a trauma response, mentions to past trauma (non-specific)

Broadchurch tag list: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

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You loved to dote. Gifts, compliments, adoration. You loved to dote on your partners. You always had. Alec hadn’t quite known what to do with that when the two of you first got together. While he was incredibly loving, it took a while for him to grow comfortable enough to reciprocate. Sure, he’d gotten you flowers and held your hand walking to and from dates and things, but in terms of true and unadulterated affection? Well, that took a hot minute. 

And you were fine with it being that way. In some ways you even preferred it. You’d never been huge on physical touch, and receiving gifts? Even small ones were not within your comfort wheelhouse. 

And when Alec started bringing you home trinkets and gifts from work, or just because he could with his new promotion, well, you weren’t sure how to handle it. It had gotten to the point where you had started withdrawing from Alec, shrinking back from cuddles and only allowing small pecks on the cheek or the lips. 

The two of you still lived separately for now as this was all still relatively new and he had his daughter to take care of. In a panic one day you had shoved all his trinkets and gifts into a trunk under the end of your bed. You got things out if he was planning to come over for dinner, but other than that they stayed locked away where you didn’t have to think about it.

That lasted for a little while before you’d begun to heal. Bit by bit you started to deprogram yourself from making those responsive choices. Now, you had the items out, decorating your rental place and while they still made you vaguely uncomfortable to look at, you just kept reminding yourself that while you felt you didn’t deserve the love and the kindness, the gifts were reminders that you received it anyway. In some small degree of hope, you thought that with prolonged exposure to them, you might grow to have different opinions. After all, if Alec didn’t think you deserved them, he wouldn’t have got them for you, would he? 

“What’s wrong, love?” Alec asked, snapping you completely out of your thoughts. The two of you were at dinner, enjoying a meal that wasn’t the Broadchurch standard of fish and chips. You’d never understand why Alec didn’t like chips. They were a food staple. At least in your opinion, anyway.

You held the little square box in your hands, ribbon still tied over the top. Alec was looking nervous. Today was your anniversary, and he’d just handed you your gift. It felt like a weapon, sitting there in its soft silk ribboned wrapping. It felt like it was a grenade about to explode in your face. You hoped Alec didn’t notice that particular expression as you weren’t always good at schooling your expressions. 

“Nothing, darling,” you responded with a stiff smile. “It’s fine, this is good.” You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself. 

Alec frowns, starting to fidget uncomfortably. 

“If you don’t want it, I can- erm, I can take it back.” You’re pretty sure you’re not imagining the hurt in his tone. He reaches out to brush your wrist and you yank your hand away as though you’d been burned. Alec looked away, shrinking back in his seat. He puts his hands in his lap, no doubt fidgeting with them there.

“No- I,” you chew on your lip hard enough to break the skin. “I don’t deserve this?” It’s phrased like a question, but- in actual fact, you mean it as a statement. You don’t deserve this. Gifts like this? Especially expensive big declarations-of-love-gifts. 

“What d’you mean?” Alec asks, making eye contact with you. The look on his face was heartbreaking. “Course you do. And it’s not about ‘deserve’, anyway.”

You averted eye contact, feeling much akin to a turtle wanting to hide in its shell. You felt tears springing up in the corners of your eyes and Alec was suddenly beside you, concern evident on his features. 

“Shit, are you alright? Maybe it was too much. I just thought- Y’ken, it’s our anniversary.” 

You were doing your best to keep the tears from falling, though one escaped anyway. Alec wiped it away with a soft tut.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m just- I’m not great with gifts. I don’t know how to process them?” Again, not a question of itself, but a question begging for Alec’s understanding. 

“I see,” was his response. You dared to make eye contact. His expression was thoughtful. You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind's eye. 

“How long’s this been goin’ on then, eh?” He asks. You should have known he’d have some sort of training in understanding trauma responses. 

“Uh, for a while.” 

“Mm,” Alec hums. “Y’could have told me, love.” 

You shrug, nudging your way into his side softly. A silent plea. He wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Of course, Alec does. Alec always knows exactly what’s going to make you feel better. 

“Alright, forget the gift, eh? Let's just eat. ‘M starvin, aren’t you?” 

You’re not really all that hungry, but you nod. Grateful for the way he surreptitiously scoops up the box on his way back to his seat. He sits down again, pocketing the box. 

He doesn’t bring the box up again, not anytime soon, anyway. He doesn’t return it to the store though. 

Alec keeps the gift safe and sound. He gives it back to you one day a couple of years later- when you’ve worked through some of your trauma and he knows that he can gift it to you without incident. 

It’s a necklace with an ‘A’ in the centre. It’s gorgeous, and you wear it with love from that day on. It serves as a reminder of all you’ve overcome both individually but also as a couple as well. Alec’s heart swells with love every time he sees it glint in the sun. 

He really does adore you. You never have to question that again.

Bahahabahababdjdkwnbhglgllbahlllgrrrfrfh

I'm crying rhis is just so-

The most fic I have read in a while

Oh, the EMOTIONS

Five More Minutes (Good Omens Drabble)

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: Your partners catch you singing under your breath.

CW: tooth rotting fluff- make your dentist appointments now

Gomens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

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It’s a peaceful morning, for once. No impending doom, no threat of Armageddon, no Heaven or Hell bearing down on all sides. Just a lovely, quiet morning. Your partners had left already by the time you had gotten up in the morning, off doing something they shouldn’t, you supposed. Usually, they’d invite you with them, but they must have known you’d needed a sleep-in. In all honesty, you had been getting a little crabby lately. 

There was just something different about today. Maybe it was the warm light pouring through the kitchenette window… Fresh sunlight always made you feel fresh and centred. You popped the jug on and moved over to the radio to turn it on. You had discovered some time back that Aziraphale had put a miracle on the old, vintage thing to instantly find a station that was playing one of your favourite artists. When you’d asked him about this, he’d blushed and spluttered out that he didn’t think you’d notice. He loved doing little things like that for you. 

Today, the little radio knew exactly what it was doing and flipped to a station playing one of your favourite songs. You grinned, swanning about the kitchenette to make yourself a cup of tea. You were humming and singing along with the song as you went, hips bopping and swaying just slightly to the music. Yeah, today was going to be a good day.

When you’d made your tea and breakfast, you pulled all the items into the back office room of the Bookshop, settling them down and wandering over to the bookcase Crowley had put in for you, saying you should have somewhere for your own books to read. The both of them sometimes left little novellas and things they thought you might like somewhere on the shelf for you to find, too. It was incredibly sweet of them.

It was as you were reaching up for a book just out of your reach on the top shelf that a warm hand pressed into your side and another hand reached for the novel you were going for. You all but shrieked in surprise, and twirled around to see Crowley lounging on your office chair and Aziraphale pressing up against you with a soft smile on his lips. Crowley was giving the two of you an incredibly soft barely imperceptible smile. Not something you necessarily see a whole lot from him.

“Here, my dear, let me get that for you,” the Angel says softly, grabbing the book and passing it to Crowley, who takes it without question or complaint. You give Aziraphale a confused look. You wanted that. “It’s been quite some time since we heard you singing, love.” 

Your cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink. A nervous giggle bubbled out of you. 

“Oh, you heard that, did you?” 

“Fraid so, Pet,” Crowley said, a little smirk edging its way onto his features. The Demon discarded his sunglasses on the desk. “Better than Mercury, in my opinion.” 

You rolled your eyes and looked back at your Angel, who had been surreptitiously placing one hand on your waist and one in your own. With a look towards Crowley, the Demon leaned over to turn the radio up. You grinned, joy radiating off you in waves. Your lovers seemed to bask in its warmth as Aziraphale led you in a dance. He always did love to dance. 

When Aziraphale danced with you, it was soft, and usually some kind of dance he’d learned many years ago and seemed all too determined to bring back to the twenty-first century. When Crowley danced with you it was chaotic and without form, the both of you jumping around and doing whatever seemed to fit the song and the moment. You loved them both. 

Crowley stood and came to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around the both of you, and Aizraphale dropped your waist and your hand to do the same, so you were cocooned in love and affection. You sighed in pure relief, leaning into them. 

Crowley started to sway to the music. Back and forth, humming softly to the tune. It was one of your favourites, so he’d heard it plenty of times. More than enough to learn the melody and the words. 

You basked in their love for a few more minutes before clearing your throat sadly. 

“As much as I am loving this, my tea will be going cold.” Yet you made no movements to escape their embrace. 

“No, it won’t,” Crowley replied knowingly, resting his chin on the top of your head as you swayed to the beat. Ah, he’d pulled a miracle to keep your tea and breakfast hot. How thoughtful of him.

“Just five more minutes, my dear?” Aziraphale asked softly, sighing with pleasure into your shoulder. How could you say no to that?

“Five more minutes, then,” you agreed.