#Goth reader

[minkoq]

maybe… maybe… boys with an alt/goth girlfriend please?

thank you so much i love your writing!!

🍓 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 goth gf

texts with the bnha guys; goth! fem! reader (aged up) characters included: katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, tenya iida, eijirou kirishima, denki kaminari.

! y/n is trad goth (kinda early-relationship)

warnings: sfw, suggestive

[whiskeyghoul]

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid X Goth!reader]

A/N: self indulgent little fic here. I have been in a writing slump for a few weeks and needed to do something just a little self indulgent. So we have this which has been on my mind for ever. I love Abby Sciuto from NCIS and thought how fun it would be to see our little nerd fall in love with the alternative lab rat of the FBI. This is not proof read or anything so it might not be the absolute best but I just wanted to put something out here again.

WC: 1737

Tags: fluff, crush, first meeting, love at first sight possibly, multiple parts, opposites attract, self indulgent fic, reader is described as female, reader is alternative

Warnings: Mention of human remains.

Read part 2 here, read part 3 here

The music coming from the lab was muffled. Even through the closed door Spencer could hear the barely legible lyrics as he got closer and closer. As he reached the door and knocked there seemed to be no answer. Certain his knocking wouldn’t be heard over the noise that he now recognized as Siouxsie and the banshees. He opened the door. As soon as the barrier between him and the music was lifted it sounded so clear. It was turned up to 11 and he wondered how anyone could even focus with music that loud.

That was until he saw you, swaying along to the music, the white coat exaggerated the movements. Swishing from side to side as you reach for a pasteur pipette while bobbing your head along to the music. You seemed absorbed in the music, focussed on your work leaning over the bench and carefully dripping a clear substance on a piece of paper while still perfectly on beat with the music. Spencer cleared his throat loudly, hoping to make himself known before he interrupted you in whatever you seemed to be doing. Though it didn’t quite reach the decibel level to alert you. “L/N” he called out your last name but once again no response. So he took a few steps closer. Once Spencer was close enough he reached out and softly tapped your shoulder. You jumped in response, whirling around in shock with the pipette in your hands raised like a weapon. Like somehow you would be able to defend yourself with the lab instrument. A yelp falling from your lips. 

“Oh my god! Can’t you knock!” You accused, eyes wide as you placed your free hand on the top of your chest, taking a deep breath. “I did. I also tried to clear my throat to not scare you.” Spencer retorted, his voice raised a little louder so you could hear him over the music. You twirled around, placing the pipette in the holder. “I’m Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He continued loudly. You turned, holding your left hand up to shush him. Your right fishing the remote from your coat pocket. It gave Spencer some time to look you over. 

Your lab coat was about the only light thing you wore. The outfit underneath was black on black on black. A band tee with illegible writing that peeked over a corset, layered with a ripped fishnet top underneath. The abundance of necklaces of all different lengths, cascading down your neck like silver waterfalls. Ripped jeans he wasn’t quite sure were safe for the lab environment, but the skin of your thigh caught his attention. Something inside of him stirring. He fidgeted with his hands in front of his body.

“So… you were saying?” You spoke. Spencer’s eyes snapped back to your face. You looked up at him with big eyes, a small smile accompanying them. The music was turned down now giving him room to think. Though your eyes still made it difficult to really focus. “Oh, I am Doctor Reid, from the BAU.”  He answered after swallowing for a moment. “Ah! You are here for the clothing analysis, right? Penelope mentioned one of the team would come pick it up. Normally it's her or Derek, though I think Derek has complained about hearing loss.” You whirled around while rambling on, pony tail waving behind as you turned, bounding over to a table with scattered papers. Spencer followed close behind, not focussing on the words rather just the tone of your voice, a slight intrigue towards you. He didn’t even know your first name, yet somehow your mannerisms, your unconventional style, it made him want to know more. “Right.” He said, realizing he hadn’t technically answered your questions. 

Spencer looked over your shoulder as you picked up a stack of papers neatly stapled together. He thought he might be a bit too close as he could smell the subtle perfume wafting off of you. Though he also strangely enjoyed it. It was sweet but not overly so. A hint of cherry that was fitting in his eyes. The color of the fruit matching that of your lipstick. As you looked over the paper and began to talk again, “So, the substance that was on the clothes seems to be turpentine. Commonly used in oil painting. The vapors can already cause irritation to the eyes, skin, and airways if exposed to them for longer periods of time.” you rambled off the words as you read them. “There were some other things found on the clothes that coincide with the oil painting. Different pigments and paint residue.” You turned, eyes still on the paper nearly bumping into Spencer as he had been standing so close. When you looked up at him surprised he could feel a tightening in his chest. “Oops, sorry.” You apologized, a small smile on your lips.

You apologized to him while he was the one in your way. “Oh it was my fault. Shouldn’t have stood so close. Sorry.” He muttered. The words falling from his lips unceremoniously. He felt like half of his intelligence had up and left his brain as he talked to you. Not really knowing what to say at that moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides again. His left hand playing with the hem of his cardigan sleeve. He cursed himself internally for being reduced to a stumbling mess in front of you. You kept standing there though. Clearly you had turned around to go somewhere and Spencer had been in your way. Yet he was nailed in place and so, it seemed to him, were you. “Did you know they used to make oil paints with human remains?” You spoke excitedly. Like you had been waiting to tell someone, anyone, that little fact. He knew that. He knew that for a long time yet seeing you, tell him a fact with such delight, made him want to lie. “Now I do.” He answered, his smile matching yours.

“It was called mummy brown. They ground up mummies, both human and animal, and put it in the paint.” You continued. Your voice trailing off slightly after the word animal. You held up the stack of papers to him. “Everything you need is in there. If you need me to clarify something just give me a call. Or stop by whenever you want.” Spencer nods after your sentence. Taking the papers from you his hand touched yours ever so slightly. His brain short circuited for a moment before the neurons started firing accordingly again. “I eh- I don’t have your number.” he stumbled over the words.

As if you realized that in that moment you took a step aside and walked past him. Walking over to a desk and rummaging through a drawer. Spencer walked a bit closer to your desk. No longer being nailed in place by some unspeakable force. You pulled out a thin sharpie, and Spencer raised a brow ever so slightly at that. You walked back over, holding out your hand to grasp his. Spencer placed his hand in yours. His mouth felt incredibly dry for a moment. His tongue was uncomfortable in his mouth. His heartbeat raced faster. Nothing like he had ever really felt before. You could have done it on the papers, or maybe even a sticky note. Yet you decided that his hand would be the perfect place to write down your number. He thought about it for a moment, your hand was soft and warm. You twisted his hand, writing down your phone number along with your name. Once you finished you let go off his hand. Spencer looked at the black numbers, committing them to memory, and your name. God your name would be bouncing around his head for days. “Y/N.” He said, testing the name. It felt right.

“That’s me, you better put that in your phone. These markers are not nearly as permanent on skin. It’s the oils.” You went on, capping the marker as you spoke. “I will. Thank you.” Spencer said and smiled. He stayed standing in place for another moment. Trying to commit you to memory just in case his eidetic memory failed him. He realized he was staring a little and cleared his throat. “I eh… I have to go.” pointing his thumb to the door. You giggled a little, a sound that made Spencer’s cheek heat up a little. “Right, pretty boy, head on out. I need to get back to work too.” You smiled casually. Spencer’s face was only heating up more. He swallowed. The nickname the others used for him sounded so much better when it came from you. He turned around to hide his ever heating face from your sight, walking over to the door quickly. Once in the opening he quickly looked back, giving an awkward wave that you returned with a smile. 

When Spencer entered the bullpen his face had calmed down a little. Not feeling nearly as hot as before. He was able to think clearly again, but when he looked at your number and name on his hand he felt giddy inside. Reaching his desk he sat down, placing the analysis file on his desk. “That took you long enough, pretty boy.” Derek called out from his desk, humor in his voice. The nickname had no effect when he said it. “Sorry, the lab tech… she was explaining some things to me.” Spencer quickly lied. “Alright, can I get the file?” Derek had his hand already out. Spencer gave him the file and Derek’s brows raised at the number scribbled on his hand. “You got her number?” He smirked. Spencer pulled his hand back covering the numbers and your name with his other hand. “If something needed more clearing up.” He retorted. Derek merely chuckled at his awkwardness, “She’s friends with Garcia, you wouldn’t have needed her phone number.” He added with a smirk. Spencer felt his face heat up a little again, embarrassed. He knew that. He knew that he had known that. But in that moment he couldn’t think.

He looked back at his hand. Your name on his skin. A little flutter in his chest kicked up when he did. Derek cleared his throat, making Spencer look up again. Derek pointed at him with his pen, before opening his mouth. “You better call her soon.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Blessed Are The Tempted—Father Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader

summary— after partially denouncing your faith, you decide to make one last trip to see if you could feel a connection to it and God. all you left feeling was your new God’s cum deep inside you. based on this request.

warnings— sacrilege, blasphemy, father kink, daddy kink, Charlie being praised/referred to as God, objectification, ass slapping, mentions of bruises and welts, choking, face slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, fingering, spitting degrading kink, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.

a/n— took a break from being depressed over finals to write this! working on the other requests so enjoy this while i take my time <3

The night was heavy, and your heels clicked loudly as you walked toward the church. Clad in a black skirt and a long black coat covering your bare skin underneath, your goth aesthetic stood out against the backdrop of the ancient stone structure. The heels you wore were intricately designed, each one featuring a subtle cross etched into the side—a nod to the symbolism that had always intrigued you, even if you’d long since stopped believing.

As you approached the church, you noticed how still the world felt. There was something almost reverent about the emptiness, the silence that wrapped itself around the tall, pointed spires. You hadn’t been here in ages. The heavy wooden door creaked as you pushed it open, the scent of incense lingering in the air, mixed with something else, something familiar.

You had called earlier, and the voice on the other end had been low, almost too smooth—Charlie. It stirred something in you, a curiosity, a feeling you hadn’t realized you missed. That’s why you were here now—one last chance to feel something, anything, before you walked away forever.

As you stepped inside, the cool air embraced you. You walked down the aisle, your heels making soft but deliberate sounds on the stone floor. Every step felt deliberate, as if you were walking toward a decision you hadn’t fully made yet.

And then you saw him. Father Charlie, standing at the altar, watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His eyes followed you as you walked closer, and you could feel the weight of his gaze—the same way you could feel the weight of everything that had led you here tonight.

“You came,” he said, his voice smooth, but with an edge of something else you couldn’t place. There was no judgment in his tone, just an acknowledgment of your presence, and something about that made you feel strangely seen.

“I did,” you said, standing just a few feet away from him now. The silence between you was heavy, but it was comfortable, as if you both knew there was something unspoken between you—something that neither of you were quite ready to voice.

You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes lingered on your attire, how they traced the lines of your outfit, the crosses that hung from your neck. His gaze softened just slightly, and for a moment, you saw the human side of the man who had been your confessor.

“I didn’t expect you to come back,” he admitted quietly, taking a step closer. His voice lowered as if he didn’t want to disturb the sacred silence of the church. “What made you change your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him through your lashes, feeling the pull of something you couldn’t quite name.

“I wanted to feel something,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard it. His eyes flashed with something—maybe understanding, maybe surprise.

He nodded slowly and for a moment, you both stood there, suspended in time. Then, as if pulling back from the edge of something, he stepped away, but not before giving you one last look—one that left a mark on you, something you couldn’t shake off.

“Whatever you need, it’s here,” he said quietly, his voice almost a promise.

You weren’t sure if you believed him, but for now, you didn’t have to.

The church was quiet, except for the soft rustling of the pages as Father Charlie read aloud from the Bible. His voice echoed through the empty pews, each word heavy with the weight of ancient teachings. Your all-black attire, with its gothic undertones, felt almost out of place here, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that this place, this moment, was meant to answer something inside you.

Father Charlie’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” he read, his eyes drifting up to meet yours. There was a tension in the air, an almost unspoken connection that lingered between you.

You tilted your head, stepping forward into the dim light. “Temptation,” you said softly, your voice playful yet tinged with a hint of challenge. “So, blessed are the pure, huh? What about those who are tempted? Are they blessed too? Or is that only for the pure?”

He faltered, his gaze dropping slightly as he shifted uncomfortably. You could see the internal battle in his eyes, but he said nothing.

The silence hung heavy between you as you stepped closer. “You preach about purity and grace, but what does it really mean?” you continued. “Does the flesh have no place in this kingdom you speak of? Or is it something man-made to make us feel something?” Your voice had dropped, the edge now sharp and questioning.

Father Charlie didn’t answer. His eyes were focused on the Bible in his hands, his knuckles white from gripping it too tightly. He was struggling—his faith, his beliefs, they all seemed to waver under your gaze. And that realization hit you hard. There was nothing here for you. The words he spoke, the symbols of faith, they meant little to you now. They were just constructs, meant to give people a sense of purpose, but you felt nothing.

A hollow laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head. “You’re pathetic,” you muttered under your breath, your gaze moving past him. “This is all just a game, a way to make people feel like they’re in control when they’re not. You should know that.”

Father Charlie’s jaw clenched, his breath catching in his throat. “Not in the house of God,” he said, his voice low, filled with a mix of anger and frustration.

You took a step forward, your black coat sweeping around you as you moved. You could feel the tension building, the confrontation nearing its peak. You caught his gaze again, daring him to say more. “House of who?” you whispered, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “What is He going to do about it?”

The space between you seemed to stretch, and in that moment, you knew. The boundary he had drawn, the one he believed in so firmly, meant nothing to you. You had turned away from it long ago, and now, it seemed almost laughable that he still clung to it.

The silence was thick, and for a moment, you both simply stood there, facing each other. You didn’t need this place, nor the beliefs that it offered. Father Charlie seemed to sense that, his expression darkening as the tension between you only deepened. But you no longer cared. You had found your truth, and it didn’t belong here. Not in this church, not in this faith. It made what you craved to do all the more daunting.

Slowly, with his eyes on you, you pulled your coat, revealing your bare skin underneath, your nipples only covered by a chain. The rosary hanging around your neck was a stark contrast to the sinful act you’d just committed.

In a blur of frustration and fury, he grabbed you by the hair, pulling you down to your knees on the cold marble floor. His voice was sharp as he demanded, “Confess. Beg for forgiveness for your blasphemy and sexual immorality.”

But you only smirked up at him, defiant. “Pathetic,” you muttered, the word cutting through the air like a blade.

His fingers tightened in your curls, and his face was a mixture of conflict and control. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned, his voice a low growl. “Repent, or you’ll burn.”

“I don’t have time for your fairytales, I’ll be doing no such thing, Father,” you chuckled, looking up at him with big doe eyes, “but I’d bet having a holy man like you all over me would make me holy too.”

“I rebuke the spirit of Jezebel inside you,” he bellowed.

You laughed, voice thick with mockery, “fuck it out of me, make me holy, Father.”

That was it, Father Charlie had enough. He grabbed you by the curls, pulling you to the sacred chair he would sit in during the sermons you’d come to for just five minutes max. He plopped down, frantically fumbling with his pants and belt.

“I only hope God will forgive me for what I’m about to do—no, He will. Blessed are the tempted,” he muttered, looking to the cross above him.

Your eyes panned to how hard and thick he was. But you knew you could take him, you’d show him just how good temptation felt. You’d have him crawling back for more. He was already aching for you, though the battle within himself did not waver.

The priest groaned as he shoved you onto his leaking cock, immediately hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. “That’s right bitch, gag on it. This is what you wanted. This is what you get for being a temptress,” he groaned.

You moaned, doing your best to drag your tongue along his shaft as he used your hair to glide along it. He was not going easy on you, you knew he was trying to break you. Little did he know, you couldn’t be broken, this was what you wanted.

He moved you to his balls, looking down at you with dark eyes as you took the sacks into your mouth then continued your assault on his shaft. As he went back to fucking your throat, you made sure your eyes were on him so he could see how he had you. Eyes teary, black mascara running down your cheeks, salvia and pre cum running down your chin and onto your boobs. You were completely at his mercy.

“Disgusting whore,” he moaned, as you spat onto his cock then glided your tongue over every inch of him, “y-you’re really enjoying this.”

“Mm— tell me more, tell me I’m your dirty bitch,” you pleaded.

“Fuck, you’re my dirty bitch, you’re my cock sucking bitch,” he gasped, bucking his hips as he was practically down your throat.

You suctioned your lips around him tightly, feeling the way he throbbed under the touch of your soft hands squeezing his balls. They tightened as he tipped his head back, staring up at the cross and you could feel how close he was.

“Cum for me daddy,” you moaned, bobbing your head as your dark eyes pierced into at him.

“Fucking hell,” he gasped at the nickname you gave him.

He couldn’t hold back even if he tried, as you deep throated him, his warm seed spurted down your throat, his cock throbbing. He held you down onto him, your nose touching his pubic hair as you savored the taste of the holy man’s cum you had just swallowed.

No amount of post nut clarity could prevent him from aching for more. As he stared down at you on your knees for him, he knew he needed more. This wasn’t sinful—blessed were the tempted. Right?

You shrugged off your coat and the jewelry covering your nipples and pulled down your skirt, heat rippling through your body as Charlie’s eyes raked over your figure. Left in only your thigh high stockings and your cross heels, you sat on Charlie’s lap, your back facing him.

His hand instinctively went to wrap around your throat, while the other groped you, roughly. “I should have you stoned to death for what you’re doing to me,” he murmured.

“Then I’ll see you in hell when your time comes,” you retorted.

Your wit didn’t last long as you felt two of his fingers plunge into you, and his hand tightened around your throat.

“Yes daddy, finger fuck me in front of the altar,” you moaned.

His hand snapped across your cheek, causing your head to whip to the side. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

You squirmed against him, feeling how his fingers stretched your walls. The sound of your wet pussy shamelessly filled the church causing pure desire to swell inside you. You were defiling this sacred space and this sacred man, the thought made your pussy even wetter.

“Look at you, look at what you’re forcing me to do to you,” Charlie sneered into your ear.

“If that’s what you tell yourself,” you chucked, earning another slap across the face.

“Fucking whore, your pussy is leaking all over the chair,” he uttered.

His thumb circled your clit roughly as his other fingers curled inside you, toying with the spongy spot that had you screaming his title.

“Fuck— Father. Faster, harder, make me cum,” you moaned, your head dropping to his shoulder.

His fingers thrusted into you faster and his hand gripped your neck so tight, you couldn’t breathe. “Take it bitch, this is what you wanted. This is what whores like you get.”

His efforts became too much and your body arched in his lap as your orgasm came crashing down. Your fluids spurted from your pussy, coating the floor the congregation would kneel on to pray. Charlie continued rubbing your clit, drawing every sound and every drop of your cum out of you.

“That’s a good little whore, that’s all you’re good for, being used like you’re nothing,” he cooed.

He brought his shaky fingers up to his lips, sucking your juices. “How can a slut like you taste like Heaven?”

“It’s my blessing and your curse.”

Charlie held your body against him as he stood from the chair then he laid you down, shoving your face into the floor while your upper body was still pressed against him. He sat back down, slightly leaning over as he admired your body in an uncomfortable position all for his pleasure.

“I don’t care if you’re in pain, you’re going to take whatever I give you and you’re going to praise me like I’m your God,” he bellowed, “you’ve denounced Catholicism and now you will worship me.”

His grip on your hips was bruising, surely to leave dark bruises when he was finished with you. A gasp left your lips as he slammed into you, pulling you onto his cock at the same time.

“Thank you Father, I— I worship you and praise you for everything you do to me,” you moaned.

You felt his cock throb inside you at your words. Hell would definitely be his resting place. You held up your body by your hands as Charlie slid in and out of you like an animal. He slapped your ass, welts slowly beginning to form as he moaned at the sight of his shaft being covered in your cream.

“That feels so good daddy, please. Hit me again, I’m just your servant, a vessel for you to use and fuck,” you cried.

“That’s right bitch, you’re nothing. You.are.nothing,” he growled, each word emphasized by a hard thrust into you and slaps on your ass.

You did your best to bounce on his cock as you felt the lingering stings from his hand coming down on you.

“Your ass looks so much better getting all marked up from my hand,” he chuckled, his hips snapping to meet you even faster.

All you could do was moan, your pussy fluttering around his length from how wrong it was to have him defile you in his church.

“Daddy, I— I’m gonna cum,” you cried, “please let me cum, oh God, my God, please let me cum.”

“Cum all over your God’s cock,” he muttered, his hand coming down on your ass with a stinging smack.

You shuddered underneath him, your pussy twitching as your orgasm overtook you. He reached under, rubbing circles on your clit as you squirmed and thanked him for giving you permission to cum.

As soon as you came down from your high, he pulled you up by your curls and shoved you into the seat to take his position.

“Spread your fucking legs whore, I know it’s what you do best.”

Who were you to disobey your God? You spread your legs for him, each hanging over the arm of the chair and he watched in awe as your fluids glistened on your pussy, leaking to your asshole and your thigh highs smeared.

His hand slipped around your throat and he thrusted into you harshly, giving you no time to adjust to his size in this new position. You cried out, struggling to breathe and take his assault on you.

“Shut the fuck up, this is what you wanted, you’re an object and a whore, so you will be treated as such,” he groaned, squeezing your throat tighter.

You wanted to be obedient and so, you spread your legs even wider, giving him free rein to tear your pussy apart.

“T-thank you Father, thank you for fucking me,” you stammered.

He moaned, watching his thick cock disappear inside you and seeing the outline of himself moving in your belly.

“Only your God can be this deep inside you, slut,” he laughed in mockery.

He pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling as he pounded into you harshly. The sound of shameless skin slapping filled the church and you could already feel the coil in your abdomen tighten.

“Shit, I can feel your wet pussy tightening around me, beg me to cum,” he muttered, still fucking into you, “beg your God to cum.”

“Please daddy, please God, I just want to be a good slut for you, please let me cum,” you begged, your eyes pleading.

He slapped the heavy tip on your clit and that was all it took for your juices to begin squirting all over him as your orgasm came down upon you. Your pussy twitched and he leaned down, sucking as you squirted then squeezed your jaw open to spit it into your mouth.

“Swallow it like a good slut.” You did as you were instructed to then stuck out your tongue, revealing to Charlie that you could be an obedient servant for him.

His hand was tangled in your curls again as he dragged you, pulling you off the chair and taking your position.

“Ride me. Ride my cock and show me how much you worship me,” he demanded.

Eager to please, you straddled him, making sure your legs were on either side of the chair, your heels clinking against it as you left your pussy at the mercy of his cock.

His hand snaked around your throat, gripping harshly as you slowly sank onto him. The new position made you feel as though he would rip you apart but you dared not to say anything. You just wanted to show him how obedient you could be to your God.

You lifted your body, gliding roughly up and down his cock while he thrusted up into you, increasing your pleasure.

“I love your cock, oh God, I love it so much, it’s so perfect, you’re so perfect,” you whimpered, as he continuously slammed into your cervix and the sweet spot inside you all at once.

“That’s it bitch, I’m your perfect God, all for you to worship and be used by.”

Your head fell forward on his shoulder, your pussy still grinding and bouncing on him but he pushed you back and slapped you hard across the cheek.

“You’re going to look at your God while he fucks you, keep your fucking head up,” he growled.

“Yes daddy, anything for you,” you croaked out.

Your heart and pussy fluttered as he smiled at you, his rough pace not faltering as he met your bounces with harsh thrusts. With his hand still around your neck, he leaned down, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples. You arched into him, grinding on his cock and giving your clit the attention it ached for as he continued increasing your pleasure.

You could feel how Charlie throbbed and twitched inside you, he was just as close as you were.

“Daddy, please cum with me, please breed me,” you begged, “let’s make the anti-christ.”

Charlie’s jaw fell agape at your filthy words, breathy moans leaving his lips and he pounded into you hard, chasing his orgasm.

Your pace faltered but his didn’t and you cried out as you pussy creamed and squirted all over his cock. His orgasm followed and he held you down onto him, ropes of his warm load spurting deep inside you, surely to impregnate you and create the anti-christ you so desperately wanted to mother.

His forehead pressed against yours and you stared into each other’s eyes as you came.

“Thank you Father, thank you God for using me.”

[little-miss-fandom-freak]

this might b the biggest self insert ever but please write a sevika x goth! reader fic or imagines- just anythinggg!

My wife won the poll in a landslide, so here ya go! (I'm also writing for the other two that won)

Sevika x Goth!Reader Imagine

The two of you met at a Goth bar that was hidden in the caverns beneath the Undercity. You were a bartender. Your paper-white makeup and heavy black eye shadow pulled her in. You smiled at her, asking her what she wanted, but she couldn't focus becaude was just hypnotized by you.

You two hit it off instantly. After a month of hanging around the bar and walking you home after your shift, she finally asked you out.

Sevika called your name, stopping you from opening you door. "Uh, so I was wondering..." You couldn't believe it. Was she finally asking you out after all this time?

"Would you, um, like to get something to eat sometime?" You tried so hard to contain you excitement, but you couldn't hide the smile forming on your lips.

"I'd love to!" You wanted to slap yourself for how giddy you sounded, but she was just as bad.

A dorky smile was plastered on her face as she nodded. "Great. How about tomorrow?"

You bit your lip to see if you were dreaming. "Tomorrow sounds good. Goodnight, Sevika."

Oh how she loved hearing you say her name. She almost tripped down the steps as she watched you walk into your apartment.

She waited for you outside of your apartment the next day, pacing the halls back and forth with anxiety. Her worries were silenced when you opened the door, her greeting died on her tounge when she saw you. You were in a more casual attire - well, casual for you. Instead of your usual high maintenance outfits, you wore a simple tank top and long black skirt. Your makeup was also more casual. You ditched the white foundation and opted for just the eye and lip makeup.

"Hey... how do I look?" You asked nervously. You rarely leave your house dressed so casually, but you wanted to see if she'd still like you without your usual theatrics.

"You look... um..." You thought she hated it, but really she just wanted to drag you back into your apartment and show you just how much she loved your outfit. "You look amazing" she finally said breathlessly.

The look of pure adoration in her eyes combined with her lovesick tone, you knew this date wasn't going to be the last...

♡ Sevika's love language is acts of service. So if there's any part of your morning routine that she can help with, she's there.

♡ She does your makeup for you (you were shocked at how good she was at it, but it's only because she's been watching you through your vanity mirror every morning)

♡ One time, you convinced her to let you do her makeup to match yours. Let's just say it didn't stay on for long.

♡ She loves the way you dress.

♡ Her knees get weak anytime you wear heels that make you as tall as her

♡ She loves how elegant you dress. Whether it's feminine or masculine, you never fail to dress like a goddess of the dead.

♡ Even at the beginning of your relationship, she would proudly parade around the Undercity with black lipstick across her neck and face. It was a hot topic between Silco's followers on who his second in command was with.

♡ When she's at the market and sees anything that screams Goth, she buys it for you without a second thought.

♡ She just loves spoiling you

♡ Do you like taxidermy and preserving dead animals? She gets you creatures you've never even seen before.

♡ Do you like painting or sculpture/pottery? She will build you an art studio with her bare hands.

♡ Or do you just like collecting scrap like a raccoon? She'll come home from work with her pockets full of every little thing she could find for you.

♡ She loves staying at your place because of the lack of sunlight. Between her work schedule and her drinking, the sun is constantly giving her headaches, so she appreciates the dark atmosphere of your room.

♡ Not many know this, but Sevika also loves classic literature. The two of you actually bonded over your shared love of classical horror.

♡ When it came to introducing you to those close to her, she was nervous you not liking them. She loved you, but she would hate to have to choose between you and the few peoole she's close with.

♡ Luckily, you loved them and they loved you just as much.

♡ You hit it off well with Jinx and Ran. Jinx loved your makeup and even had a little phase where she tried doing goth makeup with blue instead of black. And Ran just loved having someone to talk about music with.

♡ Silco, however, he didn't trust you. But it wasn't until he saw how you were with Jinx that he subtlely gave his approval.

♡ You wouldn't think that people would be scared of you in the Undercity; but there have been an odd number of times some unknowing woman tried flirting with Sevika, just to have you appear from the shadows and scaring the piss out of her. You don't even mean to most of the time, but Sevika loves it so you keep doing it.

♡ You two are the definition of a metal head/goth couple

♡ She loves going to concerts in her free time, and she was over the moon when you said yes to going with. During the concert, you did lose Sevika, but it turns out she was just in the mosh pit.

♡ In a fair trade, she also goes to goth concerts with you. The setting is a lot different, but she can't complain when she gets to watch you dance like that

♡ Speaking of which, she LOVES watching you dance.

♡ The way your body moves to the music like spirits dancing in a forest, it's all so mesmerizing to her. She could watch you dance for hours (and she has, it's one of her favorite hobbies)

♡ Back to Sevika in a mosh pit, she craves your touch afterward

♡ The first time you found her after the pit, you brought her to the bathroom to clean her up. She was so infatuated by you and your gentle hand, all she could do was kiss you because she couldnt find the words to describe what she was feeling in that moment.

♡ The more you go to concerts with her, the more you start to suspect she's letting herself get more hurt than usual, just so she can have you nurse her back to health. But you're not complaining, you love caring for your girlfriend.

♡ Sevika rarely let's her walls down around others. You've seen it first hand, the quick switch between your girlfriend Sevika, and second in command Sevika. It always reassures you that she truly cares for you.

♡ Another moment of weakness for Sevika was letting you fix her arm.

♡ She showed you how everything worked, and soon enough you became the only person to work on her arm.

♡ During the rebelling times, you became more involved with her and her work. Helping with mapping out plans, arranging and promoting meet-ups, and assisting with medical aid after Enforcer attacks.

♡ She didn't like having you so close to the line of fire, but she was so thankful to have someone so understanding in her life. And with the death of Silco and the mental absence of Jinx, it's what she needed.

♡ When Sevika joined the council, she, of course, took you to the first gala since the war. You asked if you should tone down your look (especially since you haven't seen a single other goth in Piltover. You were almost wondering if the culture was even a thing topside). But Sevika said no, she actually wanted you to go all out.

♡ Your makeup was more dramatic than ever, and she even bought you special contacts to wear. You looked like you just crawled from the grave, and she LOVED IT (and was slightly turned on)

♡ She didn't hide her arm either. She wore a suit that clung to her figure, with the sleeve gone for her arm. She also wore Zaun's colors with pride

♡ From then on, you two were known by topsiders as Councilwoman Sevika and her demonic-looking wife

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

AAAAAHHHHH I LOVED WRITING THIS!!! As someone who is alt we need more alt!reader fics! I hope you all enjoyed this! And if you have anything you would like me to personally respond to, message me or put it in my ask box because as of right now, Tumblr won't let me respond to comments :)

[bloodchapell]

drunk n party - armin a.

brief summary: armin finally decides its time to introduce you to his friends, and the perfect occasion is the party eren invited him to. the party is the perfect occasion for other, far more important, matters.

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning, physical touch, lots of tension, touching kissing, things escalating but not to THAT point

your sword's note: my princesses, it is now time 🙏🏻. all past and future parts of this au series available in my mistresslist, also sorry for the delay, life has been bizarre

As some kind of miracle, both you and Armin’s friends, independently of course, finally convinced him to introduce you to each other. He agreed to attend a party (shocker) and accepted passing on the invitation to you as his friends had always requested (bigger shocker).

“I don’t know what to wear!” You cried out going back and forth in your dorm, “They will think I am weird!!”

“I promise they won’t…”He said knowing that his friends would almost instantly love you. He was starting to regret the whole thing because he had a feeling that someone would tell you every detail about his feelings; he was biting down on his lip piercing like every time he was nervous now, he used to bite the skin off his lips but after getting his lip pierced he had acquired the new habit. “Anything you choose will be a good option, they are still impressed by insects so that is not a problem.”

You nodded and selected some pieces of clothing to then try them on, while Armin stood outside of course. When you were done, he walked back in and you applied some makeup and put some jewelry on, the makeup that you would practice, goth, vkei or straight up clown makeup was too much, so you decided to go for a simple look.

Finally you both walked out of your dorm, the contrast between you and Armin was impacting, though he already had gotten another pair of earlobe piercings and his vertical labret shined in his lips, he dressed the same as always, gray dress pants and a navy sweater over a white button up on comparison to your vintage bondage pants and corset jacket set.

“Are you sure I don’t look like an abomination? You look like Mr. Peabody if he was human and I am this...bizarre entity.”

“I don’t know if I should be honored or disgraced by that comparison.” He chuckled walking besides you to the house of the party. “It doesn’t really matter, the fashion student here is you, and apart of Mikasa, the rest of them dress relatively average.”

If there was something Armin loved about you, was your style and fashion sense, it was otherworldly for him, everything, your confidence and bravery to wear stuff that people normally don’t and that they judge, your ability to make any outfit work, that kin eye you had to elevate any look… he was a little envious of that ability since he started hanging out with you and diving into more alternative music and culture in general; he was still trying to build courage to ask you for help with renovating his closet.

“Your hand looks sad, let me just…” Taking of some of your rings off you mentioned before placing them in his fingers. He wore the silver ring you had given him on the day you two first hung out every single day, but apart from that he didn't wear any sort of necklaces or bracelets.

“I wish I had gotten the armor ring.” He joked knowing that it didn't fit him.

Walking into the party was a little awkward as Armin had insisted to arrive early, technically before it even started, so there was only a few people. When you two walked in everyone stayed silent and turned around almost breaking their necks to take a glance at the millenary event: Armin with a girl.

“Umm, hi.” You introduced yourself briefly and everyone waved.

“Well Hello!” Soon a tall guy jumped to greet both of you. “My name is Jean I am practically Armin’s twin, nice to finally meet you.”

“This… this is beautiful!” Connie said about the whole scene.

Soon faces started matching names, Armin gave a seriously scary look to everyone and he sat down quietly by Mikasa’s side so you sat besides him. You knew Mikasa was Mikasa because she matched the description Armin gave of her perfectly and you were soon complimenting her v-shaped bangs and she smiled and complimented you back; knowing that Mikasa wouldn’t say any unnecessary comments, Armin felt instantly calmer.

"The alc is here!” Eren celebrated walking into the house, showing two bottles, one in each hand as trophy’s.

“What if we actually got drunk?” You asked Armin knowing that neither of you had ever been genuinely drunk and he seemed hesitant for a second but ended up agreeing.

“I just hope I don’t do anything embarrassing.”

“He will for sure do sum embarrassing shit!” Eren laughed launching at the sofa. "Did you not invite Tiffany?"

"No she is busy studying..." You said turning to take a glance at Armin whose eyes were wide open.

Inevitably people started walking in and the real party started. Loud music and the so called alc that Eren and Sasha brought being passed around in clichey red cups.

“What is this again?” Armin asked yelling, pointing at his cup for a second.

“Malibu rum.” Eren answered.

You took a sip of the tasty liquor and stayed seating, there were some people dancing already but you and Armin just looked at each other laughing.

“How was your piercing been?” You asked seeing that he kept biting on it.

“It’s almost healed but I can’t stop playing with it.” He admitted defeated. “So what are we supposed to do here?”

“I would like to know… We are so smart and still can’t figure it out!” You exclaimed throwing your arm over his shoulder and pulling him a little closer to hug him sideways.

“I think I wanna dye my hair… I’ve been too corrupted. If me from a year ago saw me now, he’d have a heart attack.”

“For sure, from how cute you are.” You smiled and he looked away embarrassed. Since you both didn’t know what else to do, you started sipping slowly from the cup and since Eren made sure to fill it up every time he noticed, you two were already somewhat tipsy. “I will dye your hair, but not all of it.”

“Can I have a…uhm, vkei cut?” He asked and you nodded, “And some dye.”

“Do you think we are becoming stupid?” You asked out of nowhere and seeing him nodding lit your lips in laughter. Then, absorbed by the influence of the alcohol, you decided to stand up and extend your hand to ask him up too. He took a good while denying but eventually stood up lightly holding on to your hand, asking why you were making him stand up. “Let’s take a breath outside.”

You held his hand across the people jumping around and reached the door, there were some people smoking and chatting but you stood away from them and simply leaned on the wall.

“Have you read a fanfic about a party and wished you were there but now that we are in a party it’s kinda dumb?”

“What makes you think I read fan fiction?” Armin asked back to your question laughing; he was organizing his hair and his concentrated face made him look really attractive. “I really don’t mind it here if I can just be with you.”

“Oh really?” You tried to ask after the liquid in your mouth escaped to your throat making you cough for air, he nodded in a very serious manner.

“Let’s stay for a little and then leave… we can read… or watch a movie or have our own party.”

“You’re so unhinged when you’re drunk.” You laughed and he immediately argued that he wasn’t drunk.

Eventually you went back to the house, and after seating in the same spot and talking with Armin while Eren kept refilling your cups for a good while, you both agreed to leave and spend your time in a place you two felt more comfortable in.

“Mikasa said she left my jacket upstairs, I’ll go get it.” You said after coming back from talking with her, Armin said he’d go with you and you agreed. You immediately grabbed his hand to not get lost from each other and went upstairs. Mikasa had said she left the jacket in the last room of the corridor. People were doing a line to go to the bathroom and trying to get in a room, so when one of the doors opened someone ran to go in and pushed you. Luckily Armin was still holding your hand and prevented you from falling.

“Oh God I could’ve fallen…” You stayed still for a moment and in your intoxicated state decided that it was best to thank Armin by hugging him. “Thanks ‘Min.”

He was oddly not so shy to receive the hug and corresponded by hugging you back. He was so drunk and he felt oddly decided about life so all timidity had vanished from his nervous system.

“You don’t need to thank me, how am I going to let you fall right in front of me?” He mentioned still clinging to his cup in one hand while with the other one he held onto the entirety of your waist, whispering in your ear just to make sure that you could listen regardless of how loud the music was.

“Armin shut up…” You moved away shyly.

“So when I do hug you back you don’t like it?” He held somewhat firmly to you. “Do you not like me back?”

“What…?” Your heart dropped when hearing his words. “What do you mean?”

“Answer my question first.” He demanded, in a serious manner. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his cologne impregnating onto your clothes too, his eyebrows were furrowed over his eyes and his mouth still had the bittersweet taste of the rum. He was gone. “Why don’t you like me back?”

“Armin…” you felt slightly suffocated by his arm holding you, but his words reverberated in your brain. Since the moment you saw him in class you liked him, since he was shy to talk, since he met you in the library, since the beginning you had liked him. “I do like you.”

His eyes slowly opened when the realization hit, almost enough to sober him up for a whole second.

“What…?” It was him now asking, his heart about to kill him.

“I don’t know where you got that idea of me not liking you, but I do, I like you.”

He stayed silent for a good time, the grip of his arm on your waist softening up and his eyes locked in yours because if he looked away once he wouldn’t be able to look back at you.

“I’m sorry… I already ruined it.” He finally averted his gaze to look at the floor.

“Armin it’s okay, you didn’t ruin anything.” Though you tried to make him look back at you, he refused to, so you lifted your hands from his neck to his face to make him look at you. “I won’t stop liking you just because you get silly.”

He kept silent so you decided to give up everything and approach him softly to kiss him. A soft and quick peck.

“I’ve been liking you since I saw you.” You confessed, his lips remained slightly opened and his intense eyes went back to yours, “I’ve been about to kiss you many times before but I just wasn’t brave enough... but I really, really, like you."

The door of the room in the back suddenly opened and since you saw some girl walking to get in, you grabbed Armin's hand and ran towards the room. Once inside you closed the door and looked at him. “So like you back, you said?”

His overall mood seemed enhanced, but he was as embarrassed as he could be.

“I like you a lot… but thought I had no chance.”

“Sometimes you forget to charge your brain.” You close the distance by walking to him, he closes his eyes as to avoid looking at you so you hung your hands on his neck. “I had a feeling you liked me but didn’t know how to act with this situation… I should have confessed…”

“Do you really like me?” He asked opening his eyes and you softly squeezed his cheek.

“Really!? How could I not? You are the smartest person I know, you have a wonderful personality, you are insanely attractive and cute…” You held his face now and forced him to look at you. You let your fingers caress his soft skin, his eyes were focused on your face, all over, analyzing every feature of yours like he had done a million times before, memorizing the exact shape of your lips because he couldn’t look away from them… how had he felt them, how dare he, he had been blessed… but he already started to forget the feeling.

“You are just drunk.”

“I am drunk but that is unrelated.” You said serious. “Ask me tomorrow. Ask me any day. I don’t know why you’re doubting me.”

“I’m not doubting you… I just don’t get it.” Armin kept talking bout you were quick to shush him.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” You said firmly and he nodded almost obediently. “This is what will happen. I take my jacket and sit in the bed for a minute to catch my breath, if you want to continue denying that I like you, you can leave. If you accept that I like you without questioning my reasons, you can sit besides me and give me a kiss back.”

After hearing the options, it seemed clear that he had made his choice, yet it took him some long seconds of finding his balance standing up and then sitting besides you.

"There." He softly kissed your cheek, clearly too embarrassed to give you a real kiss and you cursed not having specified that the kiss should have been on the lips. "I can't yet bring myself to dare kiss you, I hope that suffices."

"You little mischievous leprechaun." You scolded him and he couldn't help but laugh at the odd wording of your insult. "It does not really suffice."

He looked at you clearly thinking of what to do but you were quick to grab his hand and kiss him again.

You had never talked about romantic stuff, both of you too embarrassed to ever bring it up, but from kissing him you noticed his relative lack of experience: he didn't move his lips much and simply held your hand.

"Am I hurting your lip baby?" You asked carefully brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear and he denied, shockwaves making him shiver at the way you called him; he sighed strongly as to calm down his nerves. He gently passed his tongue across his piercing as to move it back to the place he liked it. You went back to kissing him and now it seemed he had picked up what you had done before, his lips were gently sucking on your bottom lip and his free hand was placed gently on your cheek while the other one still held onto yours. Both of you seemed eager to finally kiss after months of suffering and hiding your feelings, the warm alcohol running through your veins turned you bold.

"You picked that up already?" You asked pulling away after finally noticing that he had learned from the short kiss you had given him before. He nodded.

"You kissed me like that and it felt good, so I replicated it."

"I should be scared of you." You laughed nervously.

"I may be inexperienced but I am not dumb." His statement sent shivers down your spine. You stopped for a moment to look at his eyes that were consumed in determination like you had never seen them.

"You can't possibly win..." You muttered and he laughed saying that it was not about winning but you gently pushed his back towards the mattress, his expression changing fast at the sudden movement. He blinked once and when he opened his eyes you had shifted from his side to his lap. He gave a simple look at his lap, your knees to each side of his hips and your weight resting on him. He looked up and saw your gaze, on him like a predator, his pupils expanded. He quite did not know you were this type of lover, it looked like it was not just because you were drunk.

"You are much of a fast learner," You complained tying up your hair as to take the long strands out of your face. "If I am not careful with you, soon you will have me subdued." You pointed at him and he bit your finger. You both erupted in laughter as you approached him to kiss again. His eyes expectant of your movements, so you gave him a loud kiss in the cheek before going back to his lips that were impatient to have yours again. He made sure to let you know that he had missed them, tangling his arms around your neck and interlocking his lips on yours in a wet kiss. After pulling away a few inches to breath, you switched to encage his bottom lip now and he corresponded with your upper, gently licking your lip before opening his eyes daring. You caught the glimpse of his gaze and reciprocated the daring look before opening your mouth and meeting his tongue with yours.

While he got lost in the moment, tasting your mouth and exploring cautiously, a thought creeped in the back of his head; he knew he was acting oddly and realized that he was in fact drunk. Something in him ought to decelerate the moment but he lost his determination when your lips gently moved from his lips to his neck and your hand started trailing down his jawline, to his chest and to the waistband of his pants.

The door then opened abruptly and though your first instinct was to yell that the room was occupied, when you and Armin turned to look at the door, you saw Mikasa and a disheveled Eren almost holding tears, both in shock at finding his friend finally getting some action.

Both you and Armin immediately sat straight and he moved you from his lap back to the bed.

"What happened?" You attempted to say.

"Eren has separation anxiety." Mikasa rolled her eyes as Eren clung to her. "He refused to go home without finding him first."

You looked at Armin, who seemed almost angry. You both got up as if you had agreed mentally and walked towards the door.

"I didn't know though," The look in Eren faced changed immediately from sorrowful to a malicious grin.

"Whatever." Armin pushed his friend out of the way.

[hotchsofficialwifey]

okay hear me out... mike schmidt with goth!fem!reader (be warned: i'm not goth so this might not be very accurate lol)

he met you while he was working at the mall, eyed you from across hot topic. despite your intimidating black clothes, chains, and eye makeup, you had one of the sweetest smiles he'd ever seen, instantly drawing him to you. you said good morning to the worker with one of those perfect smiles and he immediately felt butterflies in his stomach.

he started hanging out at the hot topic more frequently. he began to pick up on your schedule, too. you'd usually come on Saturday's between 12-3pm, circle through the food court and your favorite stores (one time he even caught you at Victoria's Secret, but didn't go in, for obvious reasons). he felt a little creepy, but it wasn't like he was stalking you, just keeping you safe (this was his bullshit excuse). some part of you was simply magnetic, pulling him in like a siren, wrapping him around your finger so tightly he never wanted to be let go.

after a few weeks or so of this same routine, he got fired for beating up a man in broad daylight, and had to get a shitty job at Fazbear's Pizzeria. the only part of that job he missed was you, but his yearning would soon come to an end. he went on various apps, websites, whatever he could to find a babysitter for abby while he was at work, when he found your profile on one of the apps. you were around his age, lived in the same town, and were looking for a job as a babysitter. perfect! he got in contact with you shortly after, and you were fast to reply. you set up a day, time and location, and the next night you were there, knocking on his door.

it was as if the closer he got to you, the prettier you were. pink lips overlined with black liner, flared black jeans paired with a Siouxsie and The Banshees t-shirt, eyeliner so sharp it could probably poke him and black converse covered in doodles. you were more casual than usual, obviously, but god, you were beautiful. you hit him with one of your dazzling smiles, introduced yourself to him and abby (abby instantly liked you), and he went off to work, the scent of your sandalwood perfume on his mind.

you got closer over the months you babysat abby. he came home early in the morning, but you always made breakfast (not only were you beautiful, but amazingly sweet). he didn't pay you as consistently as you originally hoped he would, but you were begin to grow a crush on him, so you didn't really mind. it got to the point where you two even exchanged numbers, using work as an excuse, but you mostly talked and sent memes to each other. but what he admired most about you is how good you were with abby. you guys drew together, watched cartoons together, laughed together, you even did tarot readings for her. abby would fill him in on every little detail of your night together, start to finish. she adored you, and you adored her, which only made him fall harder for you.

the love confession was unexpected, but really sweet. he had invited you over for dinner before he went to work, which he often did, but after you put abby to bed and sat down on the couch with him...

"thanks for everything you do for us." he blurted suddenly. your face suddenly felt very warm, and you bashfully replied.

"it's no big deal, really. i like spending time with abby..." fuck it, you thought. "and with you." you stared at each other for a moment, tension in the air, before he kissed you. slowly, softly, easing you into it. it got heated quickly, and one thing left to another, and he was forty minutes late for work (but it was so worth it).

a/n: okay, this wasn't as focused on the goth part as I wanted it to be, but wtvr. i'll be doing headcannons for goth!reader later!! for now, here's some backstory lol

[exodusin]

♱ — 𝕬𝖓 𝖚𝖓𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖍𝖞 𝖔𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𖤐 yandere!bill cipher x goth!reader ; MOSTLY triangle bill and some FEW human bill in some parts, human bill is based off this design, no twinkification of the nation, stalking, manipulation, gore, abuse, just overall out of pocket, there will be smut but it is consensual, NO NONCON we don’t do that here, reader’s personality is kind of based of Henrietta Biggle from South Park

TW; childhood trauma, bullying, abuse, torture, stalking, creepy ass behavior, manipulation

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

August 25, 2016 — Gravity Falls, Oregon

You and your best friend, Wendy Corduroy, were at the mini-store plazas in downtown Gravity Falls, looking for stuff for college. You were entering the art field, despite your mother's objections that you should study something more lucrative. But you didn't mind; just one year of arts wouldn't hurt. You wanted to pursue something you truly enjoyed.

You picked up a few goth band pins for your backpack: Siouxsie and The Banshees, The Cure, Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy, etc.

"Dude! Tambry is back. It's been a while since we've seen her," Wendy said, showing you a recent text from Tambry about returning to Gravity Falls. You exhaled smoke from your lips and smiled.

"How's she doing? Did she mention anything about me?" you asked. Wendy shook her head. "Not yet, but hopefully she'll be excited to see us. I think she's still a bit... traumatized by the apocalypse."

"I think everyone is, but we cope with the 'Nevermind that!' thing... It kind of works for me," you said casually. It had been frightening to think about but knowing your abusive mom had been turned to stone made you feel slightly better.

Shaking off the thought, you continued walking and talking with Wendy. You both were headed to the Mystery Shack for work. Upon arrival, you clocked in and placed your backpack near your workspace.

"There you are!" You smiled at the familiar voice of Soos, the coolest manager ever, especially since Grunkle Stan retired in a way.

"Good news, dudettes! You two are getting a raise!" Soos announced.

You and Wendy looked at each other and grinned. "Wait, really?" Wendy asked excitedly.

"Of course! I understand college is a money grab, dudes," Soos chuckled. "Does $19 an hour work?"

"Better than okay, it's perfect!" you exclaimed. Tambry walked into the shack, her hair a bit longer this time, grinning when she saw both of you and Wendy.

"Guys!"

"Tambry!" You and Wendy exclaimed, giving each other a group hug, reminiscing about 2012.

"Purple-haired girl! Is it Tambry? Please correct me, dudes," Soos said as he joined the hug.

"You guys are crushing my bones..." Tambry groaned but chuckled.

"Now that we have a strong trinity of young ladies, I want you three to find something, anything that can attract tourists, as long as it isn't hazardous. Make something up, just like the old Stan ways!" Soos smiled. Tambry looked at him. "But I don't work for you?"

"Oh, come on! It's a good excuse for you three girls to have a night out and go on some sort of scavenger hunt."

"That feels like something Dipper and Mabel would do," you said, memories flooding back.

"Better get going now. Melody is making bomb enchiladas, and I don't want you dudes missing out."

"Bet, c’mon, let’s go see what this creepy-ass town has to offer," you said, grabbing your black trench coat with goth band patches, unaware of the reptilian slit on the moon watching you—only you—invisible to others, but you remained oblivious.

Oh, dearest

Oh, my dearest

[ohdeerfully]

Hii! I really like your work :3

Can you do demon alastor and his goth human girlfriend comfort scenarios? :D

hii! i hope i did some justice, i dont know much about alternative subcultures (,: i tried something new, with some bulleted headcanons and a oneshot afterwards! thank you so much for the request! <3

How to Summon an Overlord

Alastor x Goth!Reader (fluff) TW: mentions of animal death/taxidermy

join my discord!

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Alastor definitely appreciated the goth aesthetic

He lived in Hell, yeah, but a lot of the style there was more punk or grunge. Not that he even knew what these words meant but he could visually tell the difference

Similarly, you adored his red color scheme. You thought it complimented your black extremely well

He wasn’t particular about the music, it wasn’t quite his taste, but he didn’t mind listening as long as it was with you. He could manage to enjoy what you enjoyed

You typically conjured him into your world two or three times a week. You weren’t a busy person, but he was a busy demon

You typically spent a while before seeing him getting into a full goth getup, perfecting your white foundation and sharp eyeliner for what felt like hours 

He would assure you that it wasn’t necessary, but wasn’t overbearing about it. He knew some people just liked to get dressy

He did kind of like knowing that you were so excited to see him and show yourself off to him though

The dates you shared with him were… untraditional, to say the least

He enjoyed taking you out deep into the forest to explore and find bones and such to add to your collection at home. You were brave alone, but before meeting him never dared going as far in as you two did. There was so much you had been missing out on

He would never tell you, but when you weren’t looking he would use some of his powers–which were much weaker in the human realm than in Hell–to quickly catch and kill a small rodent if you were having no luck. He knew you’d probably get upset with him about the morality of it

Even though you’re literally dating a demon

So like. What morality

“I was a hunter in my life,” He had said when you caught him standing over the corpse of a deer. “I know how to… track them. When they’re dying.”

You loved that sinister grin of his. You never knew what was really going on behind it, but you found that and his glowing red eyes so… attractive. Oddly enough

At-home concerts were a must. As stated earlier, he wasn’t a huge fan of your taste in music, but he would never admit it. He did his best to follow in your steps and you swung your arms and sang out to your song of choice

He forced you to dance along with him to some jazz, too, of course. He left you no option for that

Baking was probably the most normal thing you two did together

He didn’t like sweets at all, but he liked shaping the dough into little themed cookies

He also loved helping you dye your hair; so much so that the second your roots started showing signs of your natural hair color he was the first to point it out

He loved being able to sit behind you and run his fingers and work the dye into every strand of hair. He didn’t care if it stained his fingers

Gifts weren’t very common from him, but you could tell that when he did get you something, a lot of thought went into it

Recently he had given you a dainty black chain with the most beautiful, glimmering blood-red ruby dangling off of it

You always asked him about what Hell was like. You asked and asked and asked, so many questions. And he was happy to talk your ear off in return

Part of him wanted to convince you to choose a sinner’s path, to join in him Hell. Honestly, he had a feeling you would if he simply asked. You seemed genuinely devoted to him

But, at the same time, the other part of him did care about you in a way that didn’t want to see you stuck in that place. Even with him

That was something he’d think about later

You were always so upset when it was time to exorcise him back to Hell. Harsh words, but it was just technicality

You clung onto his fingers for longer than you needed to. You knew he’d be back in a few days, but you had begun to feel increasingly lonely in the time between his visits

He would give you an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, and rest his chin against the top of your head for a moment before you performed the ritual

He kept in contact with you through the haunted radio you met him through, of course, a daily meeting that had become routine

═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You loved antique shopping. 

Especially when you end up with your own little haunted radio.

Especially when that radio had the smoothest voice, with the most peculiar and out of date accent. It was charming. And, it knew your name.

You sighed as you stroked your fingers down your cat’s back, smiling softly as it arched into your touch. Your legs were crossed in front of you, sporting a comfortable and fuzzy skull-patterned pair of pajamas. Your eyes kept flicking expectantly to that old radio, and you were growing impatient. You hadn’t heard from the demon haunting it all day, and you were growing lonely.

It felt incredibly surreal and peculiar, feeling ghosted by a literal ghost. Or demon. Or monster. Or whatever it was.

You weren’t really a lonely person, preferring to stay inside–enjoying the comfort of your cat and a good song or show as you practiced tattoo flashes on the kit you bought yourself as a birthday present. But you had grown fond of that voice, as strange as it may seem. And you believed he had grown fond of you as well, what with the pet names he had begun referring to you as.

A crackle of that radio made you jump to your feet, which startled your cat. You quickly ducked down to apologize and rub behind his ears before scampering over to the coffee table and crossing your legs as you sat in front of it. You couldn’t help the smile that beamed across your face.

“Little bat,” The voice practically sang. You rested your head on your hands, careful to avoid a fresh piercing you had given yourself earlier in the day. “Sorry, I’ve been quite busy with my duties down here.”

You sighed, a childish grin playing across your face. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. After all that work I did repairing you.”

“Darling, I would sooner redeem myself in heaven than forget about you.” Your brow quirked at his statement.

“Isn’t heaven like… all sun and happiness and grandeur.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You let the conversation end there. You couldn’t get over that voice of his. Maybe it was the combination of the accent and the filter of the radio over it, but you just knew this demon had to be a handsome one. Though, you had considered the idea of him being some sort of terrifying, eldritch horror. You could probably get behind it, honestly.

You purse your lips in thought, fantasizing about seeing the owner of the voice.

“Why haven’t you told me your name yet?” You asked him. A few seconds passed by.

“How incredibly rude of me!” He announced, and he sounded genuinely upset with himself. “I forgot my manners, I truly never expected this radio to be touched again. I’m Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” You laughed a bit, playing along with the formality. You reached forward and brushed a settlement of dust near the base of the mesh cover. 

“Hey,” You said slowly. You continued after he responded with a hum of curiosity. “I have a bunch’a books on like… summoning demons. And stuff. Do you know if…” You trailed, hoping that he was catching the idea.

He did catch on, and you heard an amused chuckle. 

“I’ve never thought about it,” Alastor admitted. “I’ve been too busy down here to really care about visiting the human world.” Even through the filter of static, you could tell his curiosity was piqued. And you were suddenly very, very excited.

“Stay here,” You jumped up without a second thought and scampered into your room. You had a cabinet full of small antiques and trinkets, from cute bunny figures to reptile skulls. You gingerly opened a lower drawer, careful not to knock anything over, and rummaged through an old storage of books you didn’t often touch.

While you were in your room, you quickly swiped on basic makeup. There was no way you had time to do a full face, you felt that you were risking it already even putting a little bit on. You teased your hair and threw on a simple outfit, layering some jewelry over it. If you were going to summon a whole-ass demon in your house, you wanted to at least look hot. Obviously.

You hurried out back into your living room. You felt a little nervous as you neared the radio, which had gone quiet. Usually, when Alastor was connected, there was a garble of frequency that announced his presence.

You skimmed your fingers across the mesh and, nearly instantly, he was back. You wondered if he felt any physical connection to the thing. You decided to ask him about it later. You gently picked up the radio and traveled into your basement.

It was the perfect ambience for this type of thing. A bit dreary, empty, cold… You really only used the basement for storage, so the air was thick with dust and stagnant oxygen.

“Okay. I got a couple books on different ways I could go about this. I should have all the candles and salt and stuff…” You flipped through the pages, muttering as you set out different books on methods of evocation that seemed interesting around you, your legs crossed comfortably.

He hadn’t said much since you mentioned summoning him to your realm. You began to wonder if this was a good idea. Were you jumping the gun? Was he actually as interested in you as you were in him? Did he want to see you?

You suppose he noticed the long pause in your mumbling, because he finally spoke. 

“Find anything, (Y/N)?” You smiled at his question. You took that as a good enough sign that he was interested.

“I found some… I just hope one of them works.” Alastor simply hummed in response.

You carefully drew a symbol on the concrete floor, hand dripping with white paint. Your arm was pressed against your chest to keep your stack of necklaces from dragging along the ground you kneeled down on. Your eyes flicked back and forth between your work and the book, trying to make it as perfect as possible.

Alastor hummed a little tune as you laid out the necessary candles. A few white ones dotted the formed circle, for “purification and spiritual protection” the book said. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, just in case Alastor did end up being some hideous monster. You crossed your fingers.

“Okay…” You said slowly, standing up to examine your work. You bent over to pick up the book you followed. You also carefully placed Alastor’s radio in the center of the symbol you drew. “Get ready.”

You read over the words a few times before trying out the chant. 

You must’ve done it just right, because as soon as the words began tumbling from your mouth, a wind manifested and twirled around the circle you had created. Amazingly, the candles remained lit.

The lace on your clothes billowed in the wind, and your hair blew into your eyes. You furrowed your brows in an attempt to stay focused and kept your eyes on the paragraph. You could see that radio slightly glowing out of your peripheral.

A flash of light concluded the chant, and your eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected shine. You had thrown your arm over your head, and carefully began to peek under your elbow as the wind settled.

The candles, save for the white ones, had all gone out and the room smelled heavily of the smoke that curled from the extinguished wicks. And, in the center of the circle, the radio was gone.

And a demon sat in its place.

He was sitting, arms catching himself on the ground and a puzzled look on his face. The transition between realms obviously wasn’t the smoothest ride, but he quickly gained composure and stood up, brushing off his clothes.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. How he loomed over you, even from a couple feet away. The next was those piercing, dangerous red eyes of his as he made eye contact with you. And then his lips curled up in a wide, yellow grin.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, little bat, quite a pleasure,” He said with a dramatic bow. You were too stunned to speak, simply looking up at him with your mouth agape.

You realized that radio filter over his voice wasn’t exclusive to the radio itself, because his voice cracked with it as he spoke to you. You swallowed your intimidation and stepped towards him. He wasn’t a disgusting tentacle monster, which was awesome. He was actually… incredibly handsome. Lucky you.

“It’s… so good to finally meet you, too,” you said. You reached a hand out towards him. His eyes followed your movement carefully, smile twitching and eyebrows narrowing as he considered your hand.

Your hand was stopped at the edge of the circle he had been summoned in. Some invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You both looked down at your hand, and then back up at each other.

You laughed, breathlessly and nervously. After all that work, you couldn’t even get any closer to him.

“Those candles, (Y/N),” Alastor explained with a teasing grin. You looked down at the white candles that still had their flame. You cursed yourself briefly.

“I was, uh, a little nervous. That’d you’d be, like, you know…”

“A hideous, slimy monster?”

“Yeah.”

Alastor laughed down at you. “My dear…” His voice was suddenly incredibly menacing,  the scratching of his radio-like ambience becoming more aggressive. You felt a cold sweat run down your spine. As fast as the tone changed, though, it was normal again. His voice was light with humor once again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!”

You stooped down towards a candle to snuff it, but a quick rap from the demon’s cane halted you. You slowly craned your head up to look at him.

“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate balance of a seance, my bat,” He said smoothly. “You can fix it next time. I should be going, I wasn’t expecting this… I have some things to do back in Hell.”

Next time, you thought, a tight feeling in your chest. You were incredibly excited at that idea, and it helped you not feel so bad about the short visit from Alastor. You nodded at him before turning around and fishing through the book for a banishment spell.

“I’ll… see you later then,” You said after finding the page. You pressed your hand against the invisible barrier again, to which he followed and pressed his own on the opposite side. You examined those long fingers of his. He smiled down at you. His expression was strange and unreadable.

“Until next time.”

[miguelsslvt]

miguel o'hara x goth girl! spider! reader smut drabble

word count: 756

TW: nsfw, smut, overstimulation, y/n gets fucked dumb, creampie, fingering, spanish translated from google translate so it isn't very good i'm so sorry. and also it isn't exactly stated that y/n is 'goth', it's literally just heer style and i hate it sm that i write it like that i'm so sorry.

A/N: so basically i got requested to do a college au! goth girl x reader but i didn’t read the ‘college’ bit and i got a bit carried away so… here’s the shitty goth spider! reader whilst i try writing the college au!! anyways two posts in one night?? ahh! this is severely unedited and not even proofread, so i hope i did okay! i can always rewrite if you don't like it:). also i love doing requests so much, so pls give me more! welcome to the club! ^^

you were a smart girl. well, smart enough to notice the looks miguel gave you everytime you walked around spider society wearing your favourite black dress and fishnets. and you would be lying to yourself if you said the attention didn't make your legs tighten in anticipation.

you had your eyes on miguel since the first time you laid eyes on him when he recruited you. was it your everlasting hunger for male validation? maybe. was it the way his fingers flicked through tab to tab on his platform? most likely. was it the hunger you noticed in his eyes when he trailed his eyes along your figure? absolutely. that's why on the day you were supposed to come to miguel for 'monthly anomaly reports', you made sure to wear the short black skirt and fishnets you knew that would miguel drool. what? just because you were pretty didn't mean you were stupid.

after a beautiful walk around the graveyard near your home, placing some flowers on some empty graves, you decided to go back to the spider HQ, playing your favourite band, 'bauhaus'.

'spider goth. miguel would like you in his office.' your watch alarmed, as your smiled at lyla, nodding. before you walked into the office room, you made sure to fix your eyeliner so it didn't look too 'smoky' but smoky enough. you fixed your silver necklaces in place, as you walked in. 'yes miguel?'

fuck, that voice. miguel thought. he turned around slightly to take in your body. god, he could feel his dick twitch from just the sight of you. was it even normal to feel this way? 'sir? you seem a little.. distracted.' you said, tilting your head slightly. he smirked. if miguel was completely honest, he knew you knew how he felt about you. and the fact that you still continue to wear such provocative clothing around him, and the fact that you always give him that 'innocent' smile of yours was enough for him to know you enjoyed the attention.

'oh i think we both know why i'm distracted, spider goth-' 'y/n.' you cut him off. he seemed a bit taken aback. 'excuse me?' he asked. 'for you, it's y/n, sir.' you replied, walking up to his platform, your skirt riding up slightly as you sat on his desk.

god, he could take you right there. so he did.

✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩

'm-miguel!~' you moaned, eyes rolling back as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside you. your back was arched against the desk, as his hands held your hips roughly. your eyeliner and makeup was ruined, all over your cheeks as they were filled with tears. your fishnets were ruined, as your skirt was hitched up just above your ass, as miguel groaned in relief.

'god you don't know how long i've wanted this.. mi niña bonita~' he cooed, smirking as you gasped for air, holding onto the desk. (my pretty girl)

you had lost count on how many times miguel made you cum in just one hour, but right now you couldn't care. your legs were numb, mind was fuzzy and you could swear you were seeing stars. you fucked out dizzy expression urged miguel further, chasing both of your highs.

'g-god m-miguel g-gonna c-cum again..!' you moaned loudly, as miguel leaned closer to your ear, moving your jaw so he could see your dumb face.

you were drooling, crying, your hair and makeup was a mess. and mguel didn't think you could get any more prettier then this. god, and the way you clenched and gaped around him made him cum almost instantly. but he would wait. 'cum for me, that's it.. jodido tan tonto que ni siquiera puedes pensar, ¿verdad?' he teased, as he thrusts became sloppy once again. (fucked so dumb you can't even think, right?)

you reached you peak, letting out a loud gasp, as miguel held your jaw,his nose in your neck as he whispered to you. 'thaat's it.. that's my girl.. there you go..' he praised, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible as he let his load in you.

it was alot, as you came down from your high, panting for air. miguel groaned as he pulled out, leaving a string of his cum and your juices out. he just let a deep breath, tutting. 'ay.. no.. mi dulce chica.. you're supposed you keep it inside. looks like i'm gonna have to plug it back in.' miguel said, sticking his finger inside you, making you squeal in overstimulation. (my sweet girl)

'let's take care of the mess you made, yeah?' he cooed, as you nodded mindlessly. there was one thing miguel will never admit, though.

and that's miguel likes it messy.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

[thevampirekeke]

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x goth/spooky reader

Y’all I have no idea what I’m doing and I cannot write but I still hope you enjoy this. I tried including common hobbies I see in the goth community. Im still fairly new to the community myself so please don’t beat me up.

•Adrian has no idea how to be cool around you when he first meets you. Your all black attire and dark makeup has his brain scrambling to find something witty to say to you. He makes it his entire goal to impress you and convince you that he is cool.

•listens to goth music to try and impress you with his diverse music taste. Even goes as far as referencing and humming songs around you. He can’t help but adore the excited gasp you let out everytime.

•when he asks you out he is stood there in his nicest outfit holding a bouquet of black roses with a face skull in the middle “please go out with me” he blurts out obviously nervous a dark blush covering his face. Oh you were going to eat this man up.

•he brings you on a date to a year round haunted house knowing how much you would love it even with it being a bit of a strange first date. He can’t help but heat up every time you jump and cling to him letting out soft giggles at the jump scares.

•when you both start dating Adrian has no clue how he does it. Somehow someway you had fallen for him and he couldn’t be more grateful to whatever found him worthy of this gift.

•the others are just as confused as Adrian, both understanding how someone like him could pull someone like you. But they still are supportive and happy to see the both of you so happy.

•talk about black cat x golden retriever energy, you two are the definition of opposites attract.

•loves the way you leave a black kissy mark whenever you kiss his cheeks or lips. Jokes about you turning him goth everytime you leave black lipstick on his lips.

•is more than happy to sit there and watch horror movies with you all night even though he hates the idea of ghosts. Humans and aliens he can handle but ghosts he draws the line at. But he will deal with the jump scares in order to sit there with you clinging to his side.

•a little skeptical when you admit to him you collect haunted dolls. He doesn’t 100% believe they are haunted but definitely hates the way they all stare at him whenever he is at your house nonetheless.

•doesn’t even hesitate to ask to join when you tell him you are going for a walk in the local cemetery to cool off after a long mission.

•is a bit worried he will stick out like a sore thumb the first time you invite him to the goth club with you. Once he gets there however he throughly enjoys his time, especially as he gets to watch you so effortlessly dance on the dance floor.

•lets you do his makeup one time and finds he doesn’t actually mind it, infact he think he looks badass. He wouldn’t wear it again the several layers of white foundation and black eye makeup being a sensory overload but he did find it enjoyable in that moment.

•lets you dress him up when the two of you go out. Even lets you dress him up when you two meet the other 11th street kids drawing a “what the hell happened to you?” From Chris.

•is kinda terrified of the monster you become when Halloween rolls around. He has never been in and out of stores and spent more money on Halloween decorations in his life.

•when you start slowly moving into his place he watches as his house becomes covered in different spooky and gothic trinkets and decor. Including those damn spooky dolls.

•takes you on dates to different spooky and odd events and places because he knows how much you love going to those type of things

•constantly compares the two of you to different gothic couples. Even begged you to change eachothers contact photos to Morticia and Gomez.

[bookvvitch]

How To Make Two Lovers Of Friends

Words: 11,569

Synopsis:

Aizawa is taking a much-needed break after the war with Shigaraki and All For One. He isn't looking for anything in particular; that is, until he spots you in a goth themed coffee house. A whirlwind romance ensues in this one shot, filled to the brim with sexual tension, fluff, and smut.

Alternative/goth fem! Reader

Fair warning, this one is the first fic I'd ever written, so it isn't my best work. It does hold a special place in my heart though and I hope it's enjoyable for someone!

Morning light came dappled through the windows as you took your favorite seat at the coffee house, just like you did every morning to start your day. This coffee shop went by the name Bauhaus; probably a nonsequedor to most, but a familiar homage to a band for you. It had this witchy aesthetic, filled with books and old vinyls that made you feel at peace. You never really saw places like this when you still lived in America, at least not in your neck of the woods. How absolutely lucky that you lived just a few blocks away!

You ordered yourself the special for this month: The Headless Horseman, an iced pumpkin and caramel breve to celebrate the upcoming fall season, a welcome respite from the August heat. Smoothing away the creases on your black velvet dress, you thanked the barista, who you typically made small talk with but were not quite on a first name basis with just yet, and took your seat once again to finish reading your book. The leaves rattled in the wind outside and rapped against the building like old bones in a wooden sarcophagus.

"A storm is coming soon," you say quietly to yourself.

Gentle thunder thrums in the distance like the soft beating of a lambskin drum, and a small grin makes itself at home on your lips.

Perfect reading weather.

Adjusting yourself on the bench beneath your legs, your mouth curved at the edges, eliciting a slight hum from your lips. 

Ah. 

Spooky, scary peace.

Outside the confines of the coffee house, though, the weather was much less enjoyable. The heroes Eraserhead and Present Mic both trudged through heavy raindrops, soaked like wet dogs, caught off guard by the sudden change in weather. Aizawa scowled at his mess of dark hair getting drenched.

"Damn, this weather is nasty!" Said Mic, voice unintentionally booming.

He looked around and scouted for shelter as the thunder rolled, and settled on the closest bit of light he could see, pointing his finger at Bauhaus so as to motion for Aizawa to head that way.

They stopped at the overhang to dry off a bit before entering when Aizawa got a peek inside the shop. He took note of the band posters and bookshelves littering the walls, the violet-hued plants hanging from the ceiling and shelves, the generally alternative vibe that exuded from the place.

"I don't know, Hizashi," he stated hesitantly, shifting his weight to his good leg.

"What's the big deal? It's not like you'll look out of place," Hizashi was frank, opening the door with no apprehension. He gave a quick chuckle that sounded like taps on a hot microphone.

It was true, Aizawa typically dressed in all black. Now that he was taking a break, though, he didn't always have his capture weapon on him. He was instead accompanied by a patch over his eye and a prosthetic leg. He felt like he usually stood out like a sore thumb these days, which was problematic for someone who had always tried to keep such a low profile in the past.

Aizawa fiddled with his eyepatch and thought about how nice it would be to blend in once more. He had always tried to stay out of the spotlight, but after the intense battle with Shigaraki, it was harder to avoid the media. Maybe a place like this wasn't such a bad idea. He continued to zone out as Mic spoke much too loudly for the space they were in, as usual, and talked (mostly to himself) about if he should get a coffee or a smoothie.

Aizawa grew slightly embarrassed by his friend's actions as he looked around the room to see if his boisterous voice was bothering the other patrons. It was 6am, still early, so Bauhaus was lingering with the vestiges of sleep, waking with the rest of Musutafu. There was a green haired person on their laptop in the back corner, tucked away, uninvolved in the rest of the shop and seemingly unbothered. Empty seats. A full cup on a table that meant someone would be right back.

Then there was you.

Right beneath the window seat near the front of the shop, a purple vining plant hanging above you, crushed velvet bell sleeves rested upon the table as your fingers gripped the pages of a well-worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. Your face was aglow like the moon, scattered with a few freckles that danced across rosy cheeks, long lashes that arched over your half-lidded eyes. The bass of the music swelling over the speakers seemed to engulf Aizawa, thumping in his head, your silken locks being brushed to settle behind your ear as his mouth suddenly dried.

Then, as if on que, you looked up at him just in time for him to hear "oh Lucretia, my reflection", and everything seemed to stand still. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips. You had these gorgeous doe eyes, these pouty little lips that gave a gamine smile to him while he held his gaze for much too long, he was sure of it. You were a vision. A blooming Queen Of The Night. A siren out in the storm.

"Quit staring at her and tell me what you want to drink!"

Aizawa was snapped out of his delusion. Flustered at the comment, he groaned, his eye twitching. Unwilling to break the eye contact with you just yet, your smile grew, and you exchanged glances with him again, causing pink heat to bloom over his face. You sat down your book and made your posture more swanlike as you maintained eye contact with him. His breath hitched at this.

You snuck looks at him for the rest of the time the two were in the shop. You weren't enough of a go-getter to approach him--nor were you brave enough to blatantly ask him out--but you really hoped that maybe he would come in again.

————

As mortified as he was by Mic's statement, he knew he had to try to see you again.

Not because he wanted to get to know you or anything.

No.

You just seemed... interesting. You seemed interesting and he felt very comfortable in Bauhaus. In fact, it probably had very little to do with you at all. He was more than likely just transferring these feelings of comfort onto you. After all, it's been a while since he's been able to go out and not feel like he was the one being stared at.

Yes.

This is rational.

This is why he needed to go back. You were just there by happenstance.

Every single weekday morning--and on weekends when he wasn't watching Eri--for an entire month, he was at the shop.

That's just how comfortable he was there. That's how good their plain black coffee was. That's what it meant to have a routine.

It was just a coincidence that he couldn't help but to notice you.

You were always there in that same cozy nook. Some days you were dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans. Some days you were in a plaid skirt and combat boots. Some days you were in a mossy green dress that went to the floor. Some days you wore causal yoga pants that were surely comfortable but made him sweat like a sinner in church. He never knew what exactly he would see you in next, but it was usually the same kind of style. And you always had a book to read, which Aizawa greatly admired. You were studious and attentive with your literature, but also a little bit goofy, judging by the laughter between you and the barista when you picked up your drinks.

But he had also come to find that you were very kind. Although you didn't appear to be a hero, you helped in other ways. You would pay for people's orders if they didn't have enough to cover their purchase. Twice, he watched you pay for the food of a homeless man, and then you sat with this man as an equal, outside on the curb, as the two of you ate breakfast sandwiches and talked. You were softspoken and gentle in your manner of speech, making him feel as though you were reading him to sleep as you talked between bites of food.

He noticed you had the biggest soft spot for animals, though.

You would watch out the window at around 6:15 to see if your little cat friend would show up that day. You would give them a drink of water from your own bottle and cap, offer them bits of bread and meat, and coo at them in a lovely sing-song voice as they ate. The cat didn't want to be touched, they were scarred and matted all to hell; but you were patient every single time. What a beautiful soul you seemed to have.

Aizawa was normally pessimistic, but you made him feel hopeful in humanity. He was certain that you had flaws, as people do, but your acts of kindness always made sure he had a good start to his day. He was always ready to protect you if you ever needed it. The world could use more good people, after all.

One morning in particular, as Aizawa picked up his drink, he noticed a man lazily stroll up to you at your regular nook. This happened to you every so often now that you were in Japan. You were approached by men, and very occasionally other women, maybe a handful of times in your entire life back in the United States. Your best guess is that here you were considered "exotic" since you looked different from most. You almost never saw someone with features like yours, and you were certainly taller than most of the women here, with noticeably longer limbs; all things that weren't exactly beauty standards in America but seemed to garner attention in Japan.

Unfortunately, the attention wasn't usually the kind that you enjoyed, and this guy was no different. He was dressed in an athletic shirt and basketball shorts. Not that you were one to judge, because hell, sometimes you showed up in pastels if the mood so struck you. People weren't bound to the confines of fashion. However, in your experience, men dressed in this clothing who came into Bauhaus tended to be... unsavory. Usually someone looking to fulfill their fetishes.

"Ooo, Cara Mia," he taunted as he approached you.

An Addams Family reference would have otherwise been right up your alley, but when he said the quote, it felt icky somehow. You knew he had to have kept this line in his back pocket regardless of who he came across, anyway. You were in a long sleeved sheer top with a lavender camisole and pair of black bell bottoms. More Stevie Nicks than Morticia Addams. So you did the rational thing and ignored him. You weren't there to be someone's Big Tiddy Goth Girlfriend.

He didn't like that much.

"Hey. I'm talking to you," he spat his words at you with barely concealed contempt.

"I heard you," you flicked your eyes up at him sharply.

Aizawa's body tensed in preparation to spring into action, taking a step forward in your direction. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

"I was just being nice. Not like anyone else is going to talk to your ugly old ass," his words were meant to bite at you, but you didn't budge.

"Old? Why, because I dared to live past 16? God, you are disgusting," you sat down your book and shook your head disapprovingly, "creeps like you are always projecting your own insecurities. How sad for you. Fuck off,"

He looked shocked, furious, like he was about to scream something in your face--but stopped abruptly when you started to hum. It was a haunting melody, something akin to a nocturne.

"I think you should go now," you stated plainly.

With this, the man walked out the door in what appeared to be a fugue-like state. And you calmly went back to your book.

Huh. Maybe you didn't need Aizawa's protection.

You just kept getting more and more intriguing.

On his fourth straight week of coming in, a Friday in early September, you decided to finally talk to him since it seemed like you were both regular patrons of the shop now. You made sure to finger-comb your hair before you turned to look at him. He was in his usual black on black sweatpants and sweatshirt, this time with his hair pulled back to reveal his jawline. He was very handsome, you thought.

"Hey there, you," you said after he placed his order of a single black coffee.

He turned around, a bit shocked at the sudden start of such a casual conversation.

"I see you in here a lot lately. I'm not sure if you have the time, but would you like to come sit with me?"

You smiled delicately in an attempt to seem welcoming.

"It would be nice to have some company for a change," you say.

His dark eye bore into you like a bullet coming straight for your gaze. After a moment of collecting his words, he finally settled on replying back:

"Yeah, sure. That would be fine,"

Aizawa tried his best to remain calm and cool, stoic even, refusing to let something so nonchalant shake him.

However, truth be told, you felt a bit shaken yourself. You weren't sure if he would accept your offer or reject it and then stop coming in. You could be so straightforward sometimes, and you felt like you could accidentally make things awkward. But you had a feeling he might at least be interested in getting to know you after your initial interaction with him.

You introduce yourself as you stirred your latte with a tiny silver spoon.

"Shota Aizawa," he gave in return.

"Nice to finally meet you," you say with a slight tease in your inflection and a mischievous look.

A blush crept across his face. God, of course you remembered when you two first saw one another. It felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles thinking about it.

"Do you like sitting under the stars?" You ask to cut the silence.

Aizawa looked perplexed. It seemed like an odd thing to ask him. Maybe you liked the outdoors?

"I've never actually been camping. Never really seemed that fun to me," he was eager to continue talking to you, though he wasn't sure exactly why.

You had this glint in your eye, like you knew the punchline to a joke you hadn't even told yet, along with a playful smile. Setting down your cup, you pointed up. That's when he noticed that the ceiling was matte black and painted with silver glittering stars.

"It's one of my favorite things about coming here," you disclosed this information to him, almost as if it were a secret.

It was then that he knew for sure that you weren't like most people.

You two met like this, discussing books and hobbies and music, for another month and a half. Every morning at 6am you could expect to see him waiting at Bauhaus for you, rain or shine. You would get some kind of breve or latte and he would get a strongly brewed black coffee. Sometimes you spoke for an hour before one of you had to go, sometimes you two were there until you were both hungry for lunch. Although the days all started at Bauhaus, occasionally, the day would take the two of you to a nearby ramen shop, a corner store, or a short walk down the block. Anywhere you wanted to go, he was there.

————

He now knew that you liked horror movies and would read just about anything you could get your hands on, that you loved animals, you moved here two years ago to help with the mental health crisis in Japan as a grief counselor, and you thoroughly enjoyed humor.

You came to know that he liked cats, was a teacher, liked the smell of rain, he was generally pretty introverted, read comic books as a kid, and had a liking for dark jokes. He had mentioned that he was a hero, a pro hero actually, when the shop was empty one morning. You said that was "so cool" and beamed with pride that you knew him, but you seemed unfamiliar with the Erasure Hero.

You continued to treat him exactly the same.

This was mesmerizing to Aizawa.

Today was one of the days that stretched on like a sleeping cat in a sunny patch. You'd already met once in the morning, breaked for work, and then met again in the late evening. The golden-hour sun was pouring in its warm light, backing you like some kind of seraphem, and painting him in a spreading halo of honeyed peach. The way the flecks of rainbow from the slanted glass flitted over his skin bewitched you.

And you, there at your place, drenched in marigold light that kissed down upon your flawless skin, made him shudder. Your eyes nearly glowed in the light. You appeared fragile, breakable, like spun glass; though he knew you were sturdier than your languid demeanor would let on.

He stuffed down the feelings he was starting to have for you like a snake eating a too large mouse. This was more than just lust, infatuation, or attraction. As scary as it was, he liked you. The butterflies stirred in his belly when you called his name from your window nook and the moths fluttered in yours when he said "I thought I might find you here, y/n," with the slightest upturn of his mouth. You were both nervous about this tension that was building between the two of you, but he was more reserved, whereas you tended to wear your heart on your sleeve. You knew that you would have to be the one to address it.

"Aizawa," you say to him, circling the rim of your cup with your fingertip as you place your other hand in front of his on the table, "I have some errands to run tomorrow... would you maybe want to come with me? It can be hard for me to carry heavy things all the way into my place on my own, and I really want to get some pumpkins to carve,"

This seemed utilitarian enough that he might feel more at ease accepting the invitation, but still deliciously domestic.

Aizawa felt the breath leave his lungs. Going to a pumpkin patch? Carving pumpkins? Like a cute little date?

"You don't have to, if you don't have the time," you stated reassuringly.

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that," His voice broke as he uttered out an answer, "I can go. I'll make the time if I don't have it,"

"Great! Can we meet up around 10?"

"I'll be there,"

"You always are,"

The air hung around the two of you with a lightness for a few seconds. Aizawa could see his reflection in your big glass-like eyes, causing his heart to beat wildly in his chest. You gave a small laugh, crinkling your nose, very aware of the closeness of your faces. He felt like maybe he should kiss you. But did you even like him that way? You could just be friendly and kissing you would be a huge mistake. Everything would come crashing down if he did that. Your trust would be gone. You would be gone. He couldn't take that risk.

But oh, how you wanted him to lean in and touch his lips to your own. You wondered how his stubble would feel against your skin, and if he would taste like that black coffee he was always sipping on. A knot formed in your stomach, this familiar aching, a longing, a fear of the unknown feelings he had for you, and excitement that he might feel the same way. How long had it been since you felt this way? Was it ever this intense?

You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, your heart racing. You could feel that something was bubbling up. Something was about to happen. You were going to lean in closer when the door to the coffee house flew open, and in walked Hizashi.

"I thought I'd find you here, Eraser! You sure love this place lately!" His voice nearly shook the entryway.

Tension gone.

Goodbye, mood.

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, fully aware that Mic was about to say something daft.

"Watcha got here?" Mic asked enthusiastically, gesturing toward you with a gloved hand, "Shota, do you have a girlfriend you never told me about?"

Fucking Mic.

Aizawa looked pale, sick even.

Of course he wanted you to be his girlfriend. Especially when he was about to go to sleep, or saw some stuffed animal he knew you would like, or when he was in the shower and thinking of how he'd like to see those sultry eyes looking up at him as you put your mouth on his...

"Hizashi, for someone who's entire Quirk is based on sound, you are so damn tonedeaf," Aizawa cut his thoughts loose with this retort.

"Woah, easy there," Mic continued, "I didn't mean to ruffle any feathers. If you guys aren't hooking up, how about I shoot my shot then?" He waggled his brows at you.

Aizawa gritted his teeth and his eye twitched. Like a deer in the headlights, stunned at this brazen show of complete and total assclownery, he sat still in his seat as Hizashi made fools of them both. The lanky devil just didn't know when to stop tap dancing on his last nerve.

Present Mic leaned over the table as you furrowed your brow in response.

"Wanna see why they call me Magic Mic?" He gave a wide grin with this question.

You made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

"Why, did I pique your interest when you saw me bathing on the roof? Did my beauty and the moonlight overthrow you?"

"Bathing on the roof, you say!" Another waggle.

"Careful there, Sisyphus. That boulder's heavier than it looks," you chime back, scribbling something on a napkin.

Aizawa was amused at your quip. It was impressive how quick on your feet you were in conversation, and how well you handled yourself. He knew that Mic was blabbering on in the background, something about alternative chicks and their spicy attitudes, but he couldn't concentrate on anything other than you.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Aizawa," you stated while getting up from your seat, "here's my number. Text me and I'll send you my address so you can meet me at my place, okay?"

Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat and then nodded in agreement. He took the napkin in his hand and noticed you put a little heart next to your number.

Fuck.

Please let this be a date.

————

The next morning, at 10am sharp, Aizawa reached the front door to your apartment. He didn't even need to look at the number when he saw the fall wreath, covered in leaves and mini pumpkins, suspended from its metal hook. He slicked back his raven hair with his palms, attempting to keep his locks captured in a ponytail, all the while his stomach churned in anticipation. He gave a knock at the door, and you were there almost immediately. Had you been waiting for him?

In reality, yes, you had been. You were ready by 9:30 and then paced around your room before you sat by the door and waited for him to show up. You gave him a big grin as you greeted him, admiring his forearms with his sleeves rolled up. You looked him over, half covered in the shade of your awning, hair pulled back, his trim figure cut well in his dark jeans and gray sweater. Oh my god, he even shaved! That was so cute to you. He shaved for your pumpkin patch adventure. You swooned and felt that tension in your belly build back up. It made you feel like a teenager again, having a crush like that. You kicked at some rocks on your porch in a bashful display.

God how he wanted to put his hands on you when he saw you stepping out of your doorway. You were wearing a burnt orange sundress, a black cardigan with pumpkins lining the bodice, thigh high black pantihose, with black Mary Janes and a wide-brimmed felt hat. You always knew what flattered your figure, what colors brought out your eyes and complimented your skintone. He felt so typical, like such a stereotype, because that sundress was doing something for him.

"You okay with me driving?" You asked, taking a step closer to him.

He tensed at the prospect of being touched by you, and nodded in agreement. Grabbing your keyfob, you pressed twice to start your vehicle, a completely black car with darkly tinted windows. It was very bold, very dark, and very you.

"You can mess with the volume however you'd like. I don't mind," you told him as you started flipping through your music on the car's touchscreen radio.

Aizawa took note of how eclectic your music was. You seemed to like songs with lots of bass and rumble, and you listened to plenty of Sisters of Mercy, but you also had music that took him off guard: hyper-pop, musical numbers, heavy metal--a smorgasbord of songs on a hodgepodge of a playlist. He could never quite pin you down. As soon as he thought he knew your next move, you pulled an Uno Reverse card, and it was enthralling. He liked a challenge.

He was captured by you as you settled on Love Me by The 1975 and enthusiastically sang along to every word, miming exaggerated faces when the beat picked up. You rolled the windows down and threw your hat in the back seat to feel the wind through your hair.

You glanced over at him briefly as you sang, smiling, glowing, just letting loose with him in a way that felt more intimate than he would've imagined a car ride could feel. Your hair flipped, twisting around your face in the breeze.

He noticed how careful you were with your car, how gingerly you braked at stoplights, and joked "I think my grandpa might actually drive faster than you do,"

"Hey," you replied "I pay a lot of money for this car," you felt a bit embarrassed tagging on the next part of "besides.. it's important to follow traffic laws."

He couldn't help but admire how pragmatic you were about this. You were so soft. Willing to stand up for yourself, but always making sure everyone else was safe. You had a hero heart.

You went back to singing to music, this time Can't Hold Me by Emily King. You always seemed so in your element when music was involved.

"You have a really nice voice," Aizawa stated without thinking. It rolled off of his tongue in an easy sort of way that didn't normally come naturally to him.

"Oh, thanks. It's part of my quirk I guess,"

"You have a quirk?" It was more of a statement than a question. He was pretty positive he'd already seen your quirk in action.

"Well, yeah; but I don't use it much. It's one of those quirks that when you tell people about it they think you're a villain," your voice trailed off a bit and he looked at you with one raised brow.

A sigh escaped your lips.

"If I sing a certain melody, I can make people do whatever I want. They become really pliable and easy to manipulate. But I can only use it on one person at a time, and it's only the one song, and you would know if I was using it," you tried your best to make sure he knew you weren't using it to make him talk to you, or to make him come with you today.

"Quirks are what you make of them. And I don't think that you would ever purposefully hurt someone, y/n. You're better than that,"

On impulse, upon parking the car at the pumpkin patch, you grabbed his hand with Eat Sleep Wake by Bombay Bicycle Club playing softly in the background. The first real physical contact you two had that wasn't accidental. It was warm, and sweet, and electric. Breathing felt like there was a weight on your chest when you realized what happened, and it caught in your throat when he squeezed your hand back.

Eat.

Sleep.

Wake.

Nothing but you.

God, please just kiss me, you thought. Kiss me. Better yet, take me into this pumpkin patch and peel these pantihose off with your teeth. You were getting to the point where all of this constant winding you up had you wanting him to fuck you absolutely stupid.

Aizawa felt warm, feverish. Like he was going to melt through the seat of the car and burn to cinders on the ground. He was smoldering like a pile of ash in your hand. Goddamn it was hard to concentrate now. Where was he at? Was there a world around the two of you? Did he even care? He wasn't sure if it was right to think of you like this, though, and it happened nearly every day since meeting you. That part of him had been lying dormant for what felt like years and now suddenly these feelings were coming for him with a vengeance. He wasn't sure what to do.

"We should.. we should grab some pumpkins. Do you... like the lumpy ones?"

Shit. Did he really just ask you that? God, you must have thought he was stupid.

But you didn't. You were eating this up.

"Dude. I love me a lumpy pumpkin," was your reply.

The two of you took in the crisp autumn air and October's bright blue sky as you sipped on a warm apple cider from the drink stand. Much to his initial disapproval, you finally got him to take a sip from your cup. His heart skipped a beat drinking from the same spout where your mouth had been just a few seconds prior. You took two small pumpkins from the display they had on top of some hay bales, slipped them into a big burlap tote bag, and then headed to the field to pick out bigger pumpkins for carving.

"Do you think frogs have friends?"

"I... what?"

He wasn't sure if you were being genuine with this question.

"Well, cows make friends, and.. I don't know, I was just thinking about how maybe when frogs start to get ready for the cold weather, they find another frog that they like, and then they hibernate next to them in the mud," your statement was matter-of-fact, "or I guess technically the frogs we have here go into a state of topor, not full hibernation. But still,"

Aizawa was taken aback at this topic. You were actually wondering about the loneliness of amphibians.

"Y/n, I don't think frogs get lonely. I doubt they have high enough brain functioning to care,"

"Or maybe they do, and we'll never know, because nobody stopped to find out,"

He enjoyed that you always spoke your mind. Even if someone didn't like what you had to say, you just started a conversation based on whatever thoughts you had in your head. You were smart, but whimsical. It was so easy to talk to you and have a logical dialogue without feeling like it was getting stale.

You kicked at rocks, marveled at the fall leaves, and had this general sense of wonder. Aizawa found it fascinating how dichotomous you were. You were kind of mysterious, but you still had this youthful charm about you. He found himself to be more apathetic than anything. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't see the beauty in the things around him, he just didn't tend to pay attention at all. He was always burning the candle at both ends and pushing himself to his absolute limits, so what was the point? Who cared of frogs had friends?

"I wish I shared your passion for life," he commented.

"My grandparents were like this, and they raised me, so I guess it rubbed off. Actually, they're kind of why I came here. My grandpa always spoke about how beautiful Okinawa was. After they passed, I jumped at the opportunity to come see Japan for myself,"

You hadn't talked about anything that wasn't skin deep in what seemed like an eternity, and you felt like he was really listening, processing your words.

"Oh!" You stopped in your tracks, "I can't believe I forgot to give you this,"

From the bottom of your burlap sack, you pulled out a bag of salty black licorice.

"This is for you,"

His favorite snack.

Aizawa reached out his hand and took it delicately, as if it were precious to him.

"How did you know?"

"I saw you eyeing some once at a corner store. When I saw they had some here, I had to get it for you. They make it in house, so I bet it's delicious!" You sounded so excited over a bag of licorice.

Feeling a bit silly over frogs and candy, you blushed, cheeks already slightly ruddy from all of the walking.

"But we should probably go back to picking out some pumpkins, I guess," your words came out much smaller than you intended them to.

His heart swelled. You were paying attention to him, too.

The gourds were all shapes and sizes, all the colors from striking persimmon to pale yellow, from perfectly round to as lumpy as the night was long.

Clearly, you picked the lumpiest.

Loading your goods into the car, a flash of color at another stand caught Aizawa's eye.

"You stay here. I'll be right back," he commanded.

"Okay. Just let me know if you want any help,"

The stand was full of handmade trinkets: wooden hair combs, decorative mirrors with widdled handles, and silk kimonos. One garment stood out to him--emerald green with goldenrod flowers patterned over it--that, for some reason, made him think of frogs. This would do nicely.

Upon his return, he found that he really wasn't sure how to give you a gift. This was certainly not his forte. He couldn't even remember the last time he gave someone a present. Then again, he couldn't recall that last time he had received one before this day, either. Besides, you were worth the uncomfortability.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't form. You looked slightly amused, which made him even more nervous.

"I have something for you. To repay you for the gift you gave me earlier," his voice uttered out much smaller than he remembered.

The joy that spread from cheek to cheek was practically tangible for him as he handed you the paper bag. Your eyes were alight like fireworks.

"You got me a present?"

You felt a fluttering in your chest. You didn't even care what it was, he explicitly thought of you, and that made you happy in earnest.

The container was compact enough that you figured there was some kind of candy to be retrieved from it, but you opened it to see green and yellow fabric. You were stunned when you recognized it from the stand you two had passed on your way out. It had to have been expensive.

"Aizawa.. this is too much. I-I can't accept this," you stammered.

"Yes you can. Like I said, it's for the licorice,"

"This isn't exactly in the same category as candy, though, I--"

"Just try it on," he interrupted you, his hand raised as if to stop any further protesting.

And you thought about protesting--you really did--but caved, knowing he wouldn't give up until you accepted it. Your attempts to dispute his gift would be futile. So you marveled at the silk garment, feeling its slick material between your fingers. You'd never owned something like this before. You took off your cardigan and draped the kimono over your body, savoring how soft and airy it was on your skin, feeling like a princess.

"I'm not sure if this is a color you like, so if you don't like it, we can go exchange it," his voice had a hushed tone.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"No. No, it's perfect. I absolutely love it. Thank you so much, this was so sweet of you," your words rang out like a bell.

The breeze picked up and blew the soft locks of your hair as you stood there in your gown, picturesque, cottony clouds lining the skies.

You looked like a painting.

"Alright then," you said with vigor, "takoyaki is on me!"

————

When you returned home, you carved Aizawa's pumpkin together (a very classic orange pumpkin, perfect for Jack O Lanterns), swatting your cats off of the counter as they came to sniff at the seedy innards laid out on a sheet of parchment paper. You felt at home like this. You felt safe, content, like this is how life was meant to be.

You watched him as he placed the carved Jack O Lantern out on your porch, and took notice of the strands of raven hair that were falling out of his messy bun, delicately sweeping over his strong jaw and neck. The knot in your stomach returned, and with it came a sensation like you were on the downhill slope of a rollercoaster. It was a feeling of passion welling up inside of you, ready to tear open at your seams.

And you wanted more.

You wanted him to want you.

Worried that he might go home now that the sun had set, you asked if he would want to watch a movie with you. He was elated at the idea of cuddling up with you on the couch. How could he say no to that?

"Okay. What did you have in mind?"

"Have you ever watched Hocus Pocus?"

"No, never heard of it,"

"What?! It's a Halloween classic! I'll change into some house clothes and then we'll get started. Be right back, Shota,"

A chill ran down his spine, prickling the back of his neck at the sound of you saying his name. You called him Shota. And now you were comfortable enough with him to change into pajamas. He felt almost floaty.

Aizawa was expecting you to come out in sweatpants and a t-shirt, something comfy, something plain. He enjoyed the prospect of you coming out in soft pants and fuzzy socks. There was something so heartwarming and cozy about it that he--holy fucking shit.

You came out, as casual as humanly possible, in a pair of tiny little sleeping shorts and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt with no bra. The shirt was soft, but snug, and showed off every curve of your body through the semi-sheer fabric. He had already gotten a good look (or ten) at your ass in a nice pair of pants, but this.. were you trying to kill him? You were already all legs, and now the shorts... Aizawa scanned your body to see that you were wearing stockings that hugged your legs and made divots in the plush flesh of your upper thighs. They were Ninja Turtle green and woven like a tubesock.

Of course you were wearing these fuck me socks. That way, you could definitely say that you were completely covered from head to toe, that these were normal house clothes. Nothing here but regular old pajamas. And look, see, you totally did like green!

Your couch was small, but Aizawa sat on one end, hoping that you would sit alllll the way on the other end so that he could curl up as much as possible and you wouldn't see... things. But you weren't having it. You wanted to be able to cut the tension with a knife. You wanted to make sure this sexual frustration was palpable until it drove him to action. So you snuggled up next to him and rested your head on his chest.

He took notice that the shorts nearly disappeared when you sat down, and thought about what they might look like if you were bending over. Your tits looked great through your clothes, but your ass drove him wild. He wished for the TV to mess up somehow so you would have to get down on all fours to fix it, maybe even spread your legs just enough that your sex would peek over the side of the material, sopping and messy and begging for him.

Oh lord Jesus, Vishnu, Thor, whoever the fuck was up there just give him strength. Give his waistband extra elasticity and give his poor heart a rest so that maybe you wouldn't hear it pounding through his chest. But you did hear it. You knew exactly what you were doing when you placed your hand on his thigh and traced your fingertips down to his knee while you stared ahead at the TV screen.

Under the guise of laughing at a witch riding a vacuum cleaner, you squeezed his leg, and he jumped in his seat.

Oh.

This was torture for him.

And you liked that.

A lot.

He made a pathetic attempt to stealthily lean into you, just enough so that he could get a better whiff of your hair. You smelled like vanilla and something a little floral and spicy, like a jasmine rice desert. The thought crossed his mind that you might taste just as sweet.

"Doing okay, Shota?" Your voice this time was chesty, sensual, almost like an invitation rather than a question, and you could feel him shudder in response.

There it was again. Shota. He fucking loved the way his name dripped from your lips like honey. He nodded in agreement and you patted his leg to let him know you felt the nod.

You could feel your shorts heating up and your breathing changing pace when you heard him let out little sputters of air at your touch. It was intoxicating, hearing him get excited, smelling the sweat building between the two of you in this blissful hell of your own making.

Small beads of liquid made a wet spot up near his waistband while he took in your body heat, trying his best to focus on the screen and not the friction of you against him, or the fact that he could see your nipples plainly through your shirt. Readjusting yourself, you stretched and let out a whine in the process, and your elbow brushed up against something in his lap.

With a quick grunt, he stood up suddenly, and said "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back,"

You gave him an "okay", and paused the movie for him. Maybe it was just in your imagination, but you could swear you saw a tent in his pants when he got up.

What you wouldn't give to toy with him for just a little while longer.

He shuts the door behind him slowly, calmly, before he's pawing at the buttons of his pants. A curse leaves his lips as he wrestles his leaking member from the confines of his boxers. 

"Little fucking cocktease," he grits, burying the words into his lower lip. 

God, he just couldn't take it anymore. He thought about you moaning, whining, mewling into his ear, your bodies entangling. How would he take you? If he had the option, he thinks he'd really like to watch you ride his cock, see the look on your face when you take all of him inside of you.

"Gonna have you begging for it. Fuck, do you even know what you do to me?" His voice trails into a groan, and he folds forward, bucking into his hand and holding onto the sink to steady himself.

A few whispers of your name fall from his lips, and he swipes at the slit of his aching length, smearing his precum along his shaft for lubrication. He's close. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, he's already feeling that knot within him frayed, about to snap. Just a few more strokes and he's jerking back his head, ropes of his release now dripping across his palm.

He finished in record time, expecting to have a sense of relief, but only finding that he craved more. Guilt took ahold of him when the thought crossed his mind that he shouldn't be thinking of you this way. This was so shameful, what he just did, making his hand all sticky from thinking of you. He rinsed his face with cool water to get rid of some of the sweat, and exited, stating that he needed to head home due to not feeling well.

Your heart sank, and the realization hit you that you may have made him uneasy with your forwardness. Maybe he didn't like you that way after all. You hoped that you hadn't just ruined things between the two of you.

Aizawa didn't want to hurt your feelings, and he could tell that he probably did; but he needed to get out of your apartment before he bent you over the couch.

So he left your place after an entire 12 hours together, beating himself up for not making a move, harboring resentment for his own lack of initiative. He was used to coming after villains, but this whole "love" thing really scared him. Love? He mulled the word over in his head. Worried it between his teeth. You two hadn't spent a single day without seeing each other in like two months. And he sure as hell didn't see himself picking out pumpkins with Hizashi any time soon.

He laid there in bed, trying his best to fall asleep, but the day just replayed in his head on a loop. His mattress was normally soft and welcoming, something that could easily lull him to sleep, but tonight it felt empty. Tonight, he felt alone. Until his phone buzzed from his nightstand.

You: is it too soon to text you?

Him: it's never too soon for you to talk to me.

You: good :) I was worried when you left in such a hurry.

You: and I miss you already.

Aizawa sat up in bed after reading your most recent message. You... missed him. He wasn't sure if he was reading that right. The blue light from his phone illuminated his face, now standing apart from the inky blackness of his room. He could feel you radiating from it.

Him: maybe you should stop by my place tomorrow afternoon then.

You: I'd really like that.

You: good night, Shota. <3

Him: see you soon.

————

He made sure to take care of himself in the shower before the next afternoon, not wanting a repeat of the previous night. Best case scenario, now he would last longer if you two ended up fooling around. He even double checked that Eri was in the dorms at UA again today. That was just wishful thinking, though. Sex these days would probably only come from pity for him. Poor washed-up hero, missing an eye, missing a leg. That's the last thing he needed right now.

He cleaned up around his apartment, wiping down the counters and making the area look welcoming for you. Why did he want to impress you so badly? Ugh, this was so embarrassing. He never worried about what people thought of him in any other scenario, but now, here he was, fluffing his brand new throw pillows and applying cologne to his neck and chest.

You knocked on the door, straightening the skirt of your dress, the same one you were wearing the morning you two first met. Aizawa answered the door in a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants, his hair loose and his eyes heavy-lidded when he looked down at you. That dress again. Clingy, short, nipped at the waist to show off your curves. Christ, you were beautiful. He welcomed you in, the smell of bergamot wafting from him.

His apartment was bigger than yours by quite a bit. It had a floating island in the kitchen, slate colored walls, a black sectional positioned in the living room atop a white shag rug, and circular lights that were recessed within the ceiling.

"Wow, your place is so nice. Shit. I'm sorry I made you come to my hovel last night," you partially joked, impressed with how well his home was put together.

"That's stupid. I liked being at your place,"

You saw something moving out of the corner of your eye through the doorway of the other room.

"Is that a punching bag?" You asked with a wry smile.

"Gotta keep myself in shape. Want to give it a go?" His voice was low, almost challenging you to take him up on the offer.

"Oh, I don't know. I lift weights but I don't really do a lot of cardio. I'd just end up humiliating myself, honestly," you said sheepishly.

"Come on, y/n, spar with me. I'll go easy on you,"

"Okay, okay," you gave in and walked toward the next room, which you could see upon closer inspection was full of gym equipment. You felt out of your element, but you were willing to make yourself look like a fool if it meant he was enjoying himself.

You gave the bag a light punch as Aizawa held onto it, half afraid that you would mess it up somehow, or maybe even break your damn hand. It felt like it was full of some kind of particulate. Maybe sand? Oh god, you probably looked like some kind of lazy sack, not even knowing how to punch a fucking bag.

"I know you can do better than that. You've got more power in you. Come on,"

You punched again.

"Harder. Don't hold back!" He growled.

That was really fucking sexy, actually, and now you were a little distracted. You balled your hand into a fist, made sure your thumb was facing outside, and used all of this pent up frustration to wallop the daylights out of the bag. Your knuckles made contact with a padded thud, and you let out a small grunt.

"Atta girl," he praised you, his voice like whisky.

God, hearing him say that was like a dopamine hit. You were disoriented. You were already clumsy, and now your brain felt like a can of cranberry sauce splattered out onto a plate.

Aizawa stepped away from the bag, a terse expression plastered onto his face.

"Now act like I'm coming after you and try to pin me. Remember, it doesn't matter that I'm bigger than you. Use strategy to overpower me,"

You mustered up all of your strength, all of your courage, and leapt toward his torso. He didn't try to block you, so you knew he was going easy on you... but you also knew you didn't do it right when you went off to the side and started to veer straight for the wall. He grabbed you by both wrists and wedged himself between your legs in order to cushion your fall, and you landed upright, straddling him as he lay on his back.

You were both panting, eyes dilated, a wildness boiling within you like animals. He let go of your wrists and your hands softly found their rest on his chest as it heaved.

"Y/n," he laughed, "that was awful,"

You rolled your eyes and shifted your weight into less of a stiff position.

"I told you I was bad at this. I am a lover, not a fighter," you pressed your hand to your chest as you spoke. 

Moving ever so slightly on top of him, you saw his eye widen, his lips parted to let a small gasp escape from them. Panic has set in. 

"Get up. Please," his tone is highly-strung and fearful.

He looks genuinely terrified, scrambling beneath you, the only reason you're still in his lap like this due to his apprehension to hurt you by accident.

"Shota, wha--" your question is cut off by the feeling of something poking against your clothed sex.

Oh. 

Oh.

A red hue painted his entire face at the realization of the situation he was in, his blood pulsing through his body rapidly, the sound of it rushing in his ears.

"Why," you said breathily "don't you want me?"

Overstimulated, his brain didn't process what you'd just said to him.

Your lungs feel like they're about to lunge straight out of your chest, your core aching to be filled. You'll have to make sure that he really gets the point. Now was the time to be honest with him, maybe even be a little dirty. It's now or never.

"I want to know.. I mean.." talking felt hard. Your blood supply seemed starved from your brain.

"Do you touch yourself when you think of me?"

He was trembling like a leaf beneath you, caged in by the plush of your thighs. Was this a trick question? Yes, he just fucked himself to you this morning, AND last night in YOUR bathroom. Is that what he was supposed to say? He swallowed thickly, clamoring to gather up some kind of sentient thought to say to you.

"I do," you filled the gap of silence, "I think of you that way. A lot, actually,"

You ground your pelvis up and down his length, the fabric of his pants rough against him, eliciting a grunt through his gritted teeth.

"I.. f-fuck, I-I dunno how to.. answer that," he's been reduced to this mumbling mess on the floor, that silver tongue suppressed by the sweet press of your warmth to his cock.

You took his shaking hand and placed it between your thighs, right on the dampness that was spreading at your center, sopping through what little material covered them. 

"I want you, Shota. I want you bad," your words were like poetry spouting from your lips.

He rubbed you through your wet panties, soaked and clinging to you like a second skin. Were you this wet for him? He delights in the way your breath hitches, how you squirm atop him, your eyes heavy and lustful. Shota gives one last languid stroke up the lace and then pulls them to the side for easier access to your clit. He rubs light circles around it and watches you writhe, taking in the noises you were making, so painfully hard he felt as though he would cum in his pants just from watching you. He stopped his teasing and placed both hands on your hips, the pair of you frenzied for more.

You crashed your lips to his, both of you giving in to a hungry kiss, passionate and blistering with heat, tongues swirling and teeth clashing. You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him into you, starved for his taste. He keened into your touch as if it would soon disappear. Leaving the rough stubble of his cheeks only to grab a handful of his mussed hair, you tugged at it, causing him to moan into your mouth, and you swallowd down each noise greedily. He explored your body with haste, grabbing your ass, sinking the pads of his fingers into your skin. You could feel him throbbing underneath you, so you palmed him through his pants, and with a swift jerk, he threw his head back onto the floor, not even caring to register the pain of it.

"Fuck. Y/n. If you keep going..."

You tugged at the waist of his pants, then dragged featherlight touches across his exposed cock teasingly. He felt you smile against his skin as you nuzzled the crook of his neck, and he lets out a muffled groan that tapered off into a high-pitched whine, desperate and needy.

He let out an involuntary whimper, almost pitiful with how much yearning was within it.

"You gonna cum for me already? Hmm?"

That was it.

He couldn't fucking take it anymore.

Something within him snapped and a growl poured from him, rumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest.

With hurried hands, he pulls your dress over top your head, revealing that you were wearing nothing but lacy black panties underneath. You were stunning. Like a Greek statue of Aphrodite herself. He was never able to fully imagine your naked form before, and this was a perfect frame of reference for later. He wanted nothing more than to get absolutely drunk off of you. And he gets you all to himself. He can't hardly believe his luck.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," his voice was raw and saturated with desire, a gravel to it, burning like whisky.

"I want you to touch me," you murmur, suddenly feeling shy in the sweltering heat of his gaze.

"Touch you?" Aizawa said with a chuckle, "I'm going to devour you,"

Before you were given the chance to react, he bucked into you, then slid you from his lap and onto the floor, gripping your underwear and throwing them off on your way down. He took off his shirt expeditiously to reveal his muscular form, and you admire the lines that bisect his abdomen, eyes nearly rolling into your skull when they land at the tent in his pants. He looks big. Like, concerningly big. You ran your fingers across the scars on his chest, which gave an almost tickling sensation, all the way down to the hair that trailed from his naval to his pants. He was beautiful. So fit that he looked like he could play himself in a movie.

Casting the clothing aside, he lays you flat onto the floor, kissing from your lips, to your neck, to your nipple where he sucked and flicked his tongue, using his free hand to caress the other, groping hungrily at your plush flesh. You moaned, breathy and meek, at his touch. Separating from you, his pupil was blown out as your pheromones hit him in the face, and he pulled your legs apart to fully expose you.

"Look at your pretty little pussy,"

He slipped a digit inside of you and did a curling motion until he found the spot that made you whimper underneath him, watched as your face went from shocked to a look of pleading for more, lashes fluttering.

He clicked his tongue.

"And look at you. So fucking needy. So ready for me to take you,"

He removed his finger and used it to play with your clit, making waves of pleasure shoot through your body, a white-hot coil tightening in your core just above where he was touching.

"Sh-Shota... please, fuck me," you begged, nearly mewling.

He hissed through his teeth, peering down at you as if you were prey. The look on his face is wolfish, starving, nearly pained to be holding himself back. There's a wilderness within him that begs to be let loose. You want nothing more than to be destroyed by it, left a carnal mess upon the floor. 

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until you can't even sit without thinking of me," he taps your clit with his fingertips, "But first, I'm going to make you cum on my tongue," he was serious with his words, meticulous, making sure you knew exactly what he had planned for you. Sweet, slow burning anticipation sent tingles up and down your spine.

He put your legs on his shoulders and went back to the spot inside of you that made you cry, this time sucking on your clit in tandem, fully encapturing it within his lips. Your mouth was now agape in a breathy scream as you clamp down on his fingers, moving your hips in time with him, riding waves of pleasure as he brings you closer to the edge. He lets out an appreciative groan as you say his name, the noises coming out of you so lewd and sinful that you hope the neighbors don't call someone for a wellness check.

Aizawa absentmindedly pressed himself against the floor, nearly frantic for some kind of touch while he watched you squirming beneath him, but it does little to quell the ache he has in his center. You tasted like sweet tarts and made these lustful gasps, and it drove him absolutely mad to know he was doing that to you, that these reactions were from his own touch.

"Say my name," he speaks this phrase into the throbbing bud at your apex, and you shiver, close to careening off of the edge he'd just brought you to. 

"Shota.. fuck, keep going, please," you mewl, rolling your hips. 

He nips at your inner thigh, velvet flesh pillowing between his teeth, and then drags the length of his tongue up your clit in one torturously long stroke. 

"Louder. I want everyone to know who's about to make you cum," the steel in his gaze is sharp enough to slice you. 

So you oblige him, moaning his name, chanting it like a mantra as he continues to lap at you once more. You can feel the pressure building, building, building until it finally spills over like a dam. He moans at the realization, feeling your pussy spasm under his tongue.

"Oh my god.. Oh fuck, Shota!" You cry out for him as you melt into his mouth.

He's breathless as he pulls himself away from you, mouth slick, still slipping his fingers in and out of you in an allowance to ride out the rest of your orgasm. He looks feral. Like he could tear into you. Destroy you.

He drags his cheek across your thigh.

"Good girl," he grunts, "good fucking girl,"

You look up at him with your mouth partially open, your eyes heavy with want, and with one fell swoop you sit up and pull down his sweatpants to reveal his throbbing cock, wet and dripping from the tip. You take the whole thing into your mouth, sucking, swirling your tongue, cranking your hand around his shaft like you're ready to milk the soul straight out of him. He gasps, moving his hips to pump into your mouth as you open wider, holding out your tongue so you can take in as much of his length as possible. He brought you closer until you were practically flush against him, all the while you were committing the look on his face to memory.

You can tell this is about to break him, so you tighten your grip in a pulsating pattern, moaning on his length to send vibrations through him. His movements are becoming erratic, fervent, and you cannot fucking wait to see him come apart at your doing. You run the flat of your tongue across a particularly sensitive spot along his shaft, your arousal building once more when you see the way he pinches his brows together, how he ruts into your mouth like some inexperienced virgin. You just feel too fucking good.

Suddenly, he pulls himself from your mouth with a vulgar pop, and you're gasping for sweet breaths of air after some of the sloppiest head you've given in your life.

"I knew you'd be good at that," Aizawa chokes out, his dick bobbing in front of you, "but we're not done yet,"

He lightly pushed you back onto the ground and placed your ankles up onto his shoulders, putting his tip right up against your entrance. His muscles twitched in anticipation and you reveled in his godlike form.

"Is this okay?" He asked you, gently.

You laughed a bit at the question.

With all the heat and want you can channel, you look up at him from your place on the floor and rasp "ruin me, Shota,"

He gives you a wicked smile, one you've never seen him wear before, and pushes himself inside of your aching pussy, holding onto your leg for leverage. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, a bit unprepared for his full girth inside of you. It doesn't take long for you to start moving along with him though, and he begins to thrust harder, pounding into you like his life depended on it.

Biting your lower lip, you throw your head back, attempting to keep from screaming as he delves into you. He removes his hand from your leg to grab your jaw, and locking eyes says, "Eyes on me. I want to see the fucking look on your face when I make you cum,"

This coaxes a moan from you, and he gives a gutteral response to his cock being squeezed.

"Good girl. You're taking me so well. God, you're so tight, fuck," his voice is husky and deep.

Your cunt hugs him tighter with every word.

He needed more.

Aizawa takes his free hand and starts to rub your clit in circles, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and you can feel that knot in your stomach forming again. You're about to come undone already, and he can feel you clamping around him like a vice.

"Fuck that feels so good," your voice is heady and needful.

His pacing became erratic once more and his ministrations on your clit became almost desperate. He was barely holding on, whimpering, sweat dotting his brow.

"I knew you were fucking teasing me. Coming out in those tiny shorts. Know what I shoulda done? Should've fucked you right there on the couch. Should've bred your tight little cunt," he leans down to fill some of the gap between you, a few tendrils of his raven hair falling to cling to his face.

He pistons into you harder, "Swear to god, I'm gonna fuck every single thought out of that pretty little head. Wanna tease me like that? Take your fucking punishment. I.. f-fuck!" He feels you come unraveled all over his cock as you ride him from there on the floor, making sounds that hitch in your throat like ragged bleats. He made note of your blissed-out expression and then let out a sharp gasp, your walls almost too snug for him to handle.

You whined in a small voice, still finishing, your gaze not breaking when you tell him, "make a mess in me,"

That's all it took for him to lose it, giving into his pleasure and allowing himself to fill you up with what felt like gallons of cum, letting out strangled moans as his entire body throbs.

Panting, he pulls out of you, watching as his release leaks from between your legs. He wasn't usually interested in sex at all after getting off, but seeing you like this, glowing with sweat and hormones, covered in him. It made him weak. He pulls apart your cunt with his thumbs, watches your glistening sex twitch, cum dripping. He's going to remember this if he ever needs to get off in two seconds flat.

The two of you lay in the floor together, floating, riding the high in a breathless haze.

"Be my girlfriend, y/n," Aizawa was the first to speak.

You were taken aback.

"What?"

You never thought him to be the type to be alright with labels.

"I like you. Not just in the way that I want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you. And I want you to be my girlfriend. Will you be with me?"

You ran your fingers across his jawline as a warm smile spread across your face.

"I'll be your girlfriend. But there are stipulations,"

"Anything. Whatever you want, it's yours," Aizawa hopes that his longing isn't too obvious, that he isn't too eager, but another part of him doesn't even care anymore.

"You have to be my boyfriend," your words are like a breeze through a windchime.

His eye takes purchase in your face as he leans into you, the kiss he offers you this time languid, lazy, loving instead of a mess of teeth and lips.

I love you, he thought, pulling away enough that your foreheads touch. God, how I love you. Just allow me to worship at the altar of your body once more.

Before you can stop yourself, and as if you can read his mind, you speak to him in a voice that's almost a whisper, "I think I love you,"

He looks dumbfounded, awestruck.

He finds his voice enough to say, simply, "I love you," followed by a kiss pressed to your nose.

The day that follows is soft and halcyon. You bask in one another like the afterglow is your lifeline, here in your own private world, all stardust and warmth. You don't know what the future holds. You stopped living in a world of 'what ifs' a long time ago. But you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you'll be there with him.

And he'll be there with you.

Like he always is.

[whiskeyghoul]

Pt2. || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader]

Read part 1 here

Read part 3 here

A/N: OMG I can’t believe how much people enjoyed part 1? Seriously, as I am finishing this part up it has reached over 500 notes, I am shocked and so very thankful for the love. I didn’t expect it. A silly little fic not proof read, totally self indulgent, really this is so wonderful and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read it and reblog, like or comment on it. I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint. Part 3 is going to be here soon too, which will be the unofficial date.

WC: 1,9K ~

Tags: Fluff, just fluff, Spencer is a flustered mess, Alt!Reader, Goth!Reader, 2 idiots flirting, Reader and Penelope are besties, use of Y/N, Penelope has been playing matchmaker, alluding to a date, crushes.

Warnings: None. 

Your pov.

It was a late Sunday afternoon. You were sitting on Penelope Garcia’s couch, cup of hot tea in hand. Legs curled up on the couch with a colorful blanket over your lap. It clashed just ever so slightly with your dark outfit. The two of you are in complete contrast to each other. Penelope was a ball of color in a bright purple dress with a lemon pattern, large yellow earrings and a blue bolero sweater. Compared to your all black ensemble she was a ray of sunshine. An array of snacks spread out over the coffee table. The aforementioned peppy blonde was sitting next to you on the couch. Deeply engrossed with the romance show playing on the TV. You watched it together every Sunday, when a new episode would come out. Today your mind was somewhere else completely.

“He hasn’t called yet.” You spoke up. Penelope eyed you curiously, “Who?” She asked, her focus gone from the show. Her eyes peered at you with interest from behind the cat eye glasses she had picked out that day. “Doctor Reid.” You turned your head back to the TV casually, trying to not seem bothered. You could hear Penelope hold back a small squeal. It sounded more like a gasp that way. “Oh my god! Are you interested in him? What did he do to impress you? I have been trying to set you up for ages! You have shot down any person I have discussed with you. Always something wrong.” She started rambling, hearing the clink of her glass being put on the coffee table. Her hands grabbed yours, making you look back at her and rolling your eyes. “Firstly: I am not ‘interested’ in him. Secondly: I just thought he would have called by now. Or stopped by at least.” You shrugged noncommittally. You were just a little interested. Thinking back to that meeting.

When Spencer had stepped into the lab earlier that week, courtesy of Penelope, you had found his awkward demeanor endearing. He was hot, that was for sure, and tall, you remembered having to look up at him, Those dark brown eyes pinning you in place. Especially when you had stood so close together. You had wanted to tease him after watching him stumble over his sentences. See him even more flustered. It made you somewhat excited. When you had given him your number you could feel his pulse racing under his skin. He had shown many signs of being interested yet he hadn’t even texted you. It made you rethink the interaction. 

“Well, he couldn’t have stopped by. They got called on a case in Utah so he’s not really in the area right now.” Penelope clarified. Those words put your mind at ease more than you expected them to. “Oh, I guess he can’t really get to the lab then.” You shrugged. Just a little disappointed but feeling relieved that apparently he hadn’t meant to not visit you. Or maybe he had done so on purpose if he would be close. Your earlier relief was replaced by a mild panic again. Trying to convince yourself you weren’t interested in Dr. Reid. Although, he could have texted.

You could practically feel Penelope smirk as you turned your attention back on the TV. Unable to focus but pretending to. “Spence is not one for texting. He probably has been getting to the hotel at ungodly hours and hasn’t had time to call.” it was like she could read your mind. “Don’t do that.” You said with a shudder. “Do what?” Penelope questioned innocently. “Read my mind like that. It’s weird.” You answered, making her laugh. “Just goes to show how well I know you.” She answered with a smile. It was true. She knew you too well you would even argue. The fact both of you were women in a male dominated field, both dressed eccentricly, and both with a passion for cheesy movies and tv shows. It was only a matter of time until you were best friends after your first run in.

Your phone, which was placed on the table, lit up at that moment. The ringtone played at a high volume, making the cure blast through the room. Your eyes quickly flickered to the screen. Caller ID unknown. You picked up the phone, hesitant of the unknown caller, deciding to hang up instead. You had been plagued by telemarketers for the past month and really didn’t want to deal with that right now. If it was important they would call again. And they did, you still had your phone in your hands when it went off again. “Just pick it up! I will keep watch over our show, fill you in later.” Penelope said, motioning her hands for you to get up. You got off the couch, soft blanket falling to the ground as you picked up the phone. Softly padding away to the kitchen to be out of earshot of Penelope. “Y/n speaking.” you answered, waiting to hear from the other end of the line.

“Hey… ehm… is this not the right time? Are you busy?” The voice on the other end of the line made you straighten up slightly in surprise. “Doctor Reid.” You breathe out his name quietly, adding a “Now is a perfectly good time.” to your sentence. Wondering how hearing his voice through the slightly tin-like phone speaker made you feel a little flutter in your stomach. “Good… I didn’t want to bother you. You can just call me Spencer by the way. Doctor sounds too formal. I just introduce myself like that. It’s a habit. I don’t call you Doctor L/n either. So call me Spencer.” He started rambling. A smile spread across your lips, this rambly version was different from how speechless he had been in the lab. You held back a giggle. Apparently you had rendered him speechless in the lab. “Alright, Spencer.” You answered, the humor in your voice apparent. His breath hitched a little on the other side of the line. 

“Why did you call?” You asked, trying to continue on without dawdling. “Oh eh, the report, I ehm…” He was quiet for a moment. It crossed your mind that maybe he didn’t need to speak with you, but he wanted to. “Yes?” You urged after a silence had fallen on the other side of the phone line. There was an intake of breath from Spencer, a moment that signaled he might be trying to raise some courage. “I didn’t want to talk about the report.” He finally spoke. It made you smile, your cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Oh, well then what did you want to talk about?” You added a bit of playfulness in your tone. You pictured him, holding the phone to his ears that were tipped red. His face was probably just as flushed as it had been in the lab. 

“I ehm- I haven’t been able to focus, on the case that is. Because I keep thinking about the lab. How I probably came off as a mess, I just didn’t know what to say because you looked so… Not that you look bad because you don’t, you looked really nice. Emily says my IQ gets slashed down to 68 when I am around pretty girls. I wanted to make a good impression. I couldn’t find the words though. I usually don’t make great first impressions, because I tend to ramble. Just- I really really hope I didn’t make a bad first impression.” His sentences flowed into each other like word vomit. Nervous, quick, and hardly understandable. Luckily, you were trained in the art of understanding nervous rambles when Penelope would spiral into one from time to time. However he had called you pretty. “Spencer.” You said his name almost like a question. There was a beat of silence. “Yes?” He asked softly, he sounded so nervous.

“You didn’t make a bad impression. I gave you my number for a reason.” You told him with a smile, a little giddy as the words ‘he called me pretty’ kept bouncing around your head. “And I am sorry I called without any real reason to… I know it was for talking about the report. Though Morgan tried to convince me it wasn’t.” Spencer answered. You rolled your eyes at that. Ofcourse, this hyper intelligent man would mix up what you were trying to do. “I gave you my number because I wanted you to call me. Not about the report. I just wanted you to call me. About anything.” There was apparently a need to clear up that confusion. It was silent for another moment. “Oh.” It was like realization dawned on him. “So I should have called sooner, right?” His question made you laugh softly, trying not to clue in Penelope on your call.  “Yes, you should have. Or could have at least. I was waiting.” You answered back, smiling at the ground. You fidgeted with one of the large rings on your free hand, twisting the cool metal round with your thumb.

“I’m sorry I didn’t.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. The slight uptick in his pitch. You imagined he was still fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, or was perhaps looking at his shoes with a grin. “You can make it up to me by buying me a coffee when you get back.” The suggestion came naturally, you didn’t even have to think about it. The words left your lips before you could, really. “What do you like?” Spencer asked without hesitation. “Cinnamon latte.” You answered it softly, a little surprised he agreed so readily. A giddy feeling in your stomach. “Alright, cinnamon latte, I’ll remember.” Spencer sounded a little breathy, like he too was feeling giddy at the prospects of having coffee together. Like the idea of taking time to get to know each other at work over a warm beverage was the perfect first date. “What do you like?” You asked in turn, wanting to know what he would usually get. Knowing more about him would feel so domestic and sweet. “Black coffee, usually with tons of sugar.” He had a hint of embarrassment in your voice. A little muffled like he had covered his mouth to hold in the confession of drinking it so sweet. You smiled at his answer. Of course he had a sweet tooth. “Tons of sugar, I’ll remember.” You mirrored his words. 

“Oh! My! God!” You heard Penelope gasp from the living room. Knocking you out of your little phone call bubble with Spencer. “I think I have to go. You better call me tomorrow.” You said it lightheartedly. Just wanting to hear from him again soon. “I will. I’ll call you.” Spencer answered. “Bye Spencer.” “Bye Y/n.” You hung up with a smile, already turning and walking back into the living room. Penelope turned around on the couch to look at you, “They shot Richard!” She looked absolutely shocked as she gave you the news of your favorite character being hurt. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face though. “Spencer called.” You saw her face form from a shocked to surprise expression, “Oh! My! God!” She sounded a lot happier that time, and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of it.

[imababblekat]

Bayverse Tmnt X Goth Lesbian Friend; Hc's

@ittybittytittycomitte ,"Hey may I please request the bayverse tmnt boys with a goth friend? Bonus points if she’s a lesbian (😚). If not that all good just have a good day and remember to drink water 😚"

~xXx~

the boys find you to be a breath of fresh air, seemingly normal if not intriguing to you upon first meeting versus the usual freak out they're used to receiving

they might not always get or understand some of your interest, but it doesn't mean they aren't interested

you're so different from the humans they have met, and are very open to hearing about your ideals and are especially a fan of your darker themed outfits

Mikey practically begged you to do his make up and make him look goth like you to which you happily agreed

before you knew it, you had the three other brothers following suit in trying out parts of your life style

if witchcraft is a part of your life, Leo definitely falls in love with it

while he might not identify as pagan or such, he's very interested in all that you can teach him in things such as the different properties of crystals, etc

you introduced Donnie to gothic opera music and he now has a whole new genera to listen to when he wants to get into a spooky scientist mood

Raphael, to no surprise, is all about the spiked jewelry you wear; as a gift you got him his own spiked bracelet and started referring to him as Bowser when he wore it

he'd act like he hated the nickname, but he never took off the bracelets and other spiked articles you'd gift him

if anyone knows what it's like to be viewed as something negative, it's them, so you have nothing to worry about when you tell them you're lesbian

if anything, you coming out to them brings y'all closer

Mikey is 1000% your wingman, whether you want him to be or not! he may or may not have tried to hook you up with April at one point

these boys are ready to throw hands for you, let some bigot give them the opportunity!

Donnie makes special pepper spray he calls "Bigot Away Spray, and pretty much any kind of self defense gadgets just for you

Leo becomes your sensei in a way, always up and ready to teach some new form of martial art that he knows

Raph definitely teaches you boxing, but he's also hanging in the shadows when you go out with friends, just waiting for some bigot to fuck around an find out

all in all, these ninja brothers love and embrace you for who you are and definitely take you in as a sister figure

[v1x3n]

𓋹⋆｡° - BIKINI

simon 'ghost' riley ⸝⸝ navigation ⸝⸝ goth masterlist ୨୧ tags : suggestive

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : you and simon go to the beach with matching suits!

The way your thighs move as you walk around on the beach could almost make him come undone, but your thighs and your ass and your fucking tits. His cock was slowly growing painfully stiff.

You spin around, "Si! There's a spot round there” you gleam and walk to the spot you were just talking about. His eyes follow your bikini, the black fabric just barely covering your body. The spot you had picked was right at your feet and you settled down. A picnic blanket was brought to the floor with the bags pulled on top. "Come sit” smiling at him and hopping down to the floor, stretching your legs out whilst grabbing the uncream.

"I'll do it” Simon almost snatches the suncream off you and brings himself down next to you. Squirting the cream on your arms and sensually massaging it into your glistening skin. You glance down at his shorts, you and him had gotten matching pairs! He had black shorts with a small skull print at the bottom and you had a tiny bikini with skulls on both the pieces of fabric covering your tits, just for a second and catching his length hard. Not rock solid hard but getting there.

"Oi!" you shout and hit his arm away in faux anger. You giggle as his face turns into one of confusion, his mouth humming a small confused noise. “get your fucken dick away!” chuckles come from him as he finds out why you were so giggly.

“Perhaps I could put it in you instead?” Simon towers on top of you, holding himself on top of you while your laughs lay down and instead your face lights up with a warm red glow. A hand rubs up your thigh, the side of your hip then up to your bikini strap. Pinging the fabric of your skin, you glare at him. “cheeky cunt.”

comment to join main taglist!

[bloodchapell]

he loves to hear you yap - armin a.

brief summary: just thinking about how cute armin is and him loving to listen to EVERY word you say

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning

your sword’s note: really just thinking of how attentive and good of a listener he would be and I ACHE for it. all past and future parts of this au series available in my mistresslist

A month or so had passed since the semester started. Normally after philosophy class you would go to the library with Armin. He had convinced you to play Minecraft and you had convinced him to play Dress to Impress.

“Agh!!!” You screamed and turned off your iPad.

“Shut the hell up!” Pieck, your roommate, yelled at you.

“Sorry I forgot that not all of us have to wake up at 6 am to deliver a calf…” You apologized and she sighed.

“I will say the same when you are trying to finish up some jacket or whatever it is that fashion designers do.” She joked half asleep. “Why did you scream either way? The Sleeping Beauty nightmare again?”

“That is a very serious nightmare!” You argued. “No it wasn’t that, Armin just gifted me VIP in Dress to Impress…”

“That is so cute… now get married and let me go back to sleep, that 75 pound baby calf isn’t going to deliver itself.”

<WHATTT THANKS MIN😭> you. 2:47 am

<YPU DIDNT HAVE TO YOURE SO SWEET> you. 2:47 am

<It’s okay! I just really liked your vkei theme outfit and was very conflicted when seeing that you didn’t win… They really should made an “only pros” server, these people do not know what vkei is.> armin 👼🏼. 2:48 am

That made you laugh. He had only learned about vkei the day before, when you guys hanged out and he asked what vkei entailed.

After some more rounds of playing, you decided it was time to go to sleep, you said good night to Armin and left the electronics in the table by your bed. But before you could actually fall asleep your mind stared thinking about Armin. The wandering thoughts regarding the blonde would fall like a current that cannot be stopped, the way in which his hands would softly write in his notebook and his handwriting was so small and dainty, the way in which his slender fingers would hold the black pen, the way he would always pay attention and participate in class, his comments always so educated, organized and concise, like he had some inside knowledge and some inside understanding about it all; yes he was a little timid regarding social interactions, but when it came to scholarly matters, he was an eminence and his words would flow out of his pretty plump pale pink lips like it was just any other topic. He was so smart and so attractive when rambling about the ambiguity of morals and religion and science and politics, his bangs and longish hair framing his face and his lashes deepening the gaze of his eyes. Goddamnit was he handsome.

“Is Malice Mizer not on Spotify?” With his phone in hand Armin asked in class the next day, following like a robot Eren’s recommendations on how to behave normally when having such a fat crush.

“How do you know that?” You asked whispering in class.

“I liked the songs you showed me.” He mentioned still holding his phone. Your heart almost ran out of your chest when hearing that; not only he he understood vkei fashion to know that the fellow Dress to Impress players were ass, but was also interested in it beyond what you had explained.

And he was interested, not only because he would have the opportunity to have a topic of conversation with you, but because he trusted in your judgement so much that he understood that if you liked vkei as a subculture, it was for a valid and good reason and therefore he must check it out.

“Yeah sadly they are not in Spotify… I can recommend you some other bands if you want though.” You said and he nodded immediately, saying he would be delighted. You typed Sito Magus, SHAZNA, Gulu Gulu, Kaya and MEJIBRAY on his notes app. “Some of them can be a little heavy, I don’t know if you like that.”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled sweetly; he didn’t really mind because he was used to Eren and Mikasa blasting death black evil obscure metal.

Armin was trying his absolute best to not dissolve into a mass of anxiety and embarrassment, he kept thinking about every recommendation Eren gave him and even though sometimes it seemed like nothing he could do was powerful enough to mask his feelings, he trusted logic and knew that up to a point it could work.

"You said you had a playlist with all your favorite songs ever right? Can we listen to them together while you explain to me why you like them maybe?" He asked impulsively without stopping to think, almost immediately regretting the request before seeing your eyes glimmering like eyes do in cartoons and seeing you nod. Truth be told he was also fascinated with the way you spoke about your interests, you were so passionate and analytic of the things you liked that he could be convinced to do almost anything if you described it like you do with the things you love.

So after class you invite him to your dorm and you both sit on the carpeted floor while you go over every song and he listens to your comments and tries to hear the songs as beautifully as you do.

[digoutskin]

ₕₐₗf cᵣₐzy

Ony x Bestfriend!Reader

PART 1

masterlist:

black fem reader, semi set in college, friends to lovers, best friend ony, miscommunication, pet names (mama's, babygirl, ma) from both characters, coworker ony, reader is very quiet and a bit of an observer, so bare with me, and it's a lil toxic, also reader has a darker taste in music and style and smokes cigarettes (don't be mad it's just fiction) a little angsty, hinted at anxiety and depression. Reader is a loner and Ony is basically her only real friend, reader is a virgin, reader is a badass, has tattoos and piercings

A/N: this is my very first chapter of halfcrazy, It'll be 5 parts, and most of those will have sexual energy or just straight up smut. Not in this first chapter though, so enjoy (for now)

"Never thought that we would ever be more than friends

Now I'm all confused 'cause for you, I have deeper feelings

We both thought it was cool to cross the line

And I was convinced it would be alright

Now things are strange, nothing's the same

And really, I just want my friend back"

" You've been sittin' there quiet for hours ma, you ain't gone smoke with me?" Ony said, eyeing you from across the couch. You had been sitting there with him in practical silence, music playing from a bluetooth speaker on his coffee table. He took a puff waiting for you to respond.

You peered up from your book, acrylics flipping a page before responding "I'm good Ony. Jus' reading." you said.

He shrugged his shoulders and took a hit from the blunt, inhaling and exhaling. He then got up from the leather couch and flopped next to you, leaning over to look at your book.

"Looks jus' like a bunch of gibberish to me. You like readin' that french shit?" He tried to grab the book from you but you quickly snatched it away, slamming it shut.

Rolling your eyes and grabbing his phone to change the song "Hey don't change my shit to that rock shit, keep my rnb on fa' now."

"I told you Nirvana is grunge not rock, it's just similar." You said under your breath, changing it to Halfcrazy by musiqsoulchild.

You had been at Ony's for hours, making small talk and gossiping about your friends.

You had met Ony last year while working at your schools library. He didn't seem like the type that would fit in with your coworkers, so he immediately attached himself to you. Quickly all you two did on your shifts was laugh, put the books on the shelf and do recommendations for other students. That turned into a friendship, in which you became friends with his friends, and that was the end of the story.

Sasha and Mikasa had been blowing your phone up ever since you met, taking you out of your comfort zone and into clubs, going to Connie's trap house to smoke and eat every once in a while.

Ony nudged you bringing out you out of your thoughts and back into the almost one sided conversation. "You heard from that nigga today? Whas' his name, Hakeem? Raheem? Rak-"

"now you know that nigga name is not rakeem, it's Hakeem and no I haven't heard from him today. Why you in my business like that Ony?"

"I ain't in your business babygirl, but you need someone to look out for you because I don't trust that nigga. Always coming up to the front desk talkin' about do we have Karl Marx knowing he only read abc 123 shit." He retorted, chuckling under his breath. You giggled then side eyed him, knowing he was right.

Getting up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen table where your work bag was, you looked through the thing to find your phone. He eyed you from behind, eyeing you in your khaki's and tight collared shirt. Your sneakers made a sound against the hardwoods floors in the apartment, work attire draped on your body.

Ony has had feelings for you for a while, but he was 'in denial' as Eren told him time and time again.

He didn't want to admit that his crush turned into feelings, he didn't want to leave his little fling alone, fearing that the answer to his question would be met with your denying head shake and frown.

To him, why bother to even tell you? To possibly mess up such a rare friendship that he'd come across.

You scrolled through the group chat, Mikasa's text bubble a constant on the screen. She was ranting about how Eren had been entertaining other girls on the side. 'He ain't even big like that' and 'I don't need his gaming ass' Flashed onto the screen. You decided to be a little nosy and swiveled around to face Ony.

He cut his gaze away from you, pretending that he was only looking at the blunt he was now putting out. A grin flashed on your face as you went to sit down, folding your legs into a butterfly position on his couch. "You wouldn’t lie to me, right?" You asked, batting your eyelashes and him and throwing your jet black box braids over your shoulder.

"No ma, about what?" He questioned with a puzzled look. "So Mikasa think Eren been talking to another girl... Has he?"

"Look, all I know is when me and Eren went to go get tatted the other day, a fine ass girl did his tat. She was feeling all up on him and flirting. She did give him her number but ion know if he responded. Connie was laughing the whole time trying to talk to her but she ain't want him, she wanted Eren." he paused, glancing at you.

"Don't get in that messy shit, you weren't around the last time she found out he was fucking around on her. She slashed his tires, burned 'fuck you' into his grass. It was ugly. Mikasa is a crazy ass bitch that'll get you in trouble. You too reserved for that, ma." crinkling his nose at the remembrance of 2023.

"They gon' make up, fuck, and be done with it and back with each other again. Don't let her convince you otherwise." with that he let out a sigh, muttering 'shit' in response to his phone buzzing. You looked away from him, a little contact high from earlier.

-

-

-

Ony had always harped on you for being a bit straight edge, only smoking a few times since you've meet.

Each time, you found the warm haze that washed over you only made him look better than normal, made his voice deeper, made you wet when he would hold the blunt up to your lips and tell you to inhale. The first time you smoked together he helped you, coaching you on how to handle it, letting out "inhale ma. There you go, so good at it ion' even gotta teach you" into your ear in a hushed voice.

Before that the feelings that you felt for him were excitement, happiness, and borderline hysterical while talking to him. You could admit to yourself that he was an attractive guy, tattoo sleeve cascading down his arms, a clean cut line up with the two earrings to match. Pearly whites with eyes and a smile that made you melt silently when you looked at him.

He wouldn't, no, couldn't have known you like him in that way, shared the same throbbing feelings between you too.

As much as he wanted you to share them, he just didn't see it. You always had this unassuming face on, only sharing intimate information with him when it really affected you in the worse way. He couldn't remember the first night he got you high, but he remembered the second.

The heat was sweltering and the air conditioner in the dorms was cut off, so everyone you knew from school went to family, friends, or cool shelters over the weekend.

You went to Ony, promising him that you would play video games, watch movies, and just chill all weekend. By the time he got to the dorms to pick you up, your usual calm facial expression was contorted into a frown.

He could see the glossy tears gathering in your eyes and you slammed the car door after throwing your overnight bag in the back.

He decided against saying anything just he, he drove off, letting the sound of 'chicago' by micheal jackson play in the background. You sniffled, wiping away tears only to put the same expression back on, as cold as ice.

"Whas' wrong Y/n, forreal? You ain't said nun whole ride." He turned the music down, waiting for a response.

"Just some guy. I'm tired of nigga's, Ony. always wanting sex and nothing else. No intimacy, wanna hook up but don't want to actually get to know me for me. I enjoy being a loner, it's what I do, but I still want love. I feel like it's not even disappointing, it just makes me want to be alone for good." You ranted.

He kept his eyes trained on the road, and by the end of your conversation, you two had made it to the apartment. "That's why I told you to stop fucking with nigga's like that. He got you all upset and shit, you don't listen." He continued the conversation while gathering all of your things from the back seat.

Later that night, you two had eaten, played a few rounds of mortal kombat and super smash brothers, he had convinced you that the chill part of the hangout wasn't finished until he had properly smoked you out.

He brought you to the bedroom, set up some music and put on some cartoons in the background to balance out the tense energy you had from earlier.

A few crystals sat on his nightstand, a clear quartz, carnelian, and a rose quartz. You took mental note of that and decided to get comfortable, propping yourself up on the pillow you had brought along. He had already rolled the blunt and brought the ashtray out, placing it between you two.

Remembering last time when he called himself 'teaching' you, you quickly caught onto how to smoke blunts. The two of you passed it back and forth. You had the hidden habit of smoking a cigarette or two, so inhaling the weed was stronger but now next to nothing for you.

"That guy that hangs around the library has a crush on you. He down bad, ma. Fuck, what's his name?" he muttered.

"Hakeem. I'm not feeling him like that though." You said, eyes glazed over.

"I'm telling you he on that Joe shit forreal. Hanging around the library, peeking around shelves. He gone beck yo' shit, Y/n." He cackled, passing the blunt towards you.

He glanced down at the v-neck you had on, cleavage showing. The leggings you threw on showed the curves you had, and he hadn't noticed it before, but the twinkling in your eyes showed even more in the haze of the smoke. You closed your eyes and stayed like that for a second, letting the feeling of sleepiness wash over you.

After you dozed off he ashed the blunt, carrying it with him to the living room where he finished it, and began to clean up. Your phone was buzzing on the table, and he figured that you trusted him enough to open whatever it was.

So he did. The contact was labeled Hakeem, with a skull emoji next to the name. The text message read as the following, 'I'm sorry y/n I really am. I didn't know you were a virgin. When you rejected me it's because I thought you was talking to that guy that's always around. I promise you me and that girl ain't even sleep together like that'

He stopped reading the text and slammed the phone down. He knew that the nigga had pissed him off before with hanging around the job waiting for you to get off, but he didn't know you actually talked to him. You're virgin? Wasn't what he expected but you are private, borderline mysterious to him but still so comfortable around him like you've known him for years.

That was the day he officially decided he would leave you alone to just do you, letting whatever you had between you just be. The feelings wouldn't stop, No. They pestered and lingered, they are still there with him.

His plan was to lay in wait, let things happen on there own.

-

-

-

In the present, you two were currently at your shift. You were somewhere in the back sorting out the damaged books, student's reckless with the sensitive materials.

Ony worked the desk, flashing his smile at the pretty girls that would walk pass. He was a straight A student with a high GPA, unlike his friends he did plan on doing something with his life, so he took pride in his knowledge. Breaking his glance towards the back room where you were, he was brought out of his gaze by a grating voice.

"Sup' B. Where Y/n?" The light skin male asked Ony. He wore a Nike tech paired with black sneakers, his curly hair braided to the back with a fresh line up.

The sound of his voice just annoyed Ony.

His face contorted to one of disgust, and finally he answered the man "She's busy. Come back later." His voice bellowed out.

Hakeem's eyes pierced back at Ony, green orbs of his flickering darker in annoyance. "Whatever. Just tell her I was here." He walked away, out of the double doors, pulling his phone out when he got to the lobby of the school.

'Y/n text me back, you got this nigga covering for you and shit.'

He would get you back, and get rid of Ony too.

-

-

It was now hours later, and you were outside on a bench, smoking a cigarette alone. You watched as people passed by, some on bikes but most were hand in hand. You inhaled, taking some smoke in.

You had gotten the text from Hakeem earlier and, in a moment of weakness, texted him that you’d be at a local club tonight with a group, so you could talk to him there.

You shot Sasha a quick text about going out and before you knew it, everyone, including Ony was going.

Tonight would be a night to remember.