#He fine and talented but like AVERT YOUR EYES FUCK

[welivefast-dieyoung]

People are realising that Callum is amazing 😩 It's so over for me rn.

[ficmachine]

Bloodhound, Octane, and Pathfinder, reacting to a make reader who always hides his face? Like- always wears these pretty/badass looking masks, and one day it falls off (or maybe brakes, or they catch him without his mask) and he's the most prettiest boi they've met- and he just starts crying cuz he's afraid on how they'll react?

You don't have to reply to this if you don'twanna! Also I wanna say I love your work! Your really talented ^^

Please keep up the great work!!

I gotchu! Dw! And thank you! :0c

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Bloodhound/Octane/Pathy x Masc Reader. (Mask-wearing self-conscious reader)

Style: Intro + Headcanons

Wordcount: 1.8k (1808 to be exact)

-

People get curious. People ask. Not everyone, of course, but those who ask about why you cover your face usually prod to the point it gets uncomfortable. The amount of people – Your “fans” as they call themselves - who blow it out of proportion, make you paranoid about someone pushing it too far.

They're terrifying, especially when they obsess over something. You'd think you would have more than enough shit to deal with as a legend but no, this is a whole different can you don't want to crack open.

Regardless, whether it's just for your own comfort or just because you like looking cool is nobody's damned business.

You have your own reasons. That should be enough.

But bad fortune was going to catch up to you at some point or other, you suppose.

The stray bullet that scraped the side of your face was close, way too close - fear washes over you like a bucket of ice cold water.

Ducking under cover with your heart leaping to your throat you touch your cheek with a hiss – red smeared over your glove – and curse under your breath. Shit. Not good but at least you're not out in the open. Taking a deep breath you grip your gun tighter, chest heaving up and down as your eyes lock with your teammate.

“I'm fine.” You dismiss their concern quickly, pressing the inside of your sleeve to your face to stop the bleeding as you peek out from behind the wall. You can't pinpoint the shooter, neither can you sense any movement out in the open. Sucking in a breath you take cover again, back against the cold concrete wall and gun clutched to your chest. “Can't see them.”

Looking back at your partner your brows furrow. They're staring. Is the wound that bad? You pull your sleeve away to see the bleeding eased up and heave a sigh, breath visible in the cold weather.

“What-”

Your eyes catch the sight of your face-mask on the ground.

Oh.

Quicker than you can process your free hand snaps to your face. Panic engulfs your form all over again – eyes shooting up to your teammate to find them still staring – they definitely saw. Your head spins, heart hammering as your throat goes dry.

Ah.

Okay.

This is probably the worst time to panic. And cry? Are you really going to cry over this? Right now? In the middle of the field?

Fuck.

Bloodhound -

If there's anyone out there who'd understand the panic you're experiencing now, it's them. They wouldn't want anyone to see their face, especially in the middle of the battlefield.

Bloodhound knows better than to stare. Even if they caught a glimpse of your face they respectfully avert their gaze, focusing on the incoming fight instead.

They've seen you come out of fights with much worse scrapes, but when you hesitate so do they.

Minding to keep their eyes off you, they grab your mask off the ground and hold it up to you without a word.

Thankfully there's nobody around, nor are there any cameras close enough to your cover.

They keep watch over you while you fix the mask back onto your face the best you possibly can, and only when you're done do they look at you.

Noticing your trembling form they try their best to soothe you, resting their hand on your arm and giving it a small squeeze. “Stay with me, félagi fighter. The fight is not over yet.”

As empathetic as they are, they can't do anything but bring your focus back to the battle.

It's hard to get a grip on your panic – eyes blurry and ears ringing, you're disorientated and zoned out - but you know you have to. It's either pushing your feelings to the side to deal with them later, or risking dying.

Bloodhound keeps a hand on your arm until you're calm enough to stand and move. Eyes locking with yours you give them a nod, a thanks, and their whole form relaxes some.

“Good. Let's move, myndarlegur. It is not safe here.”

Carefully they lead you out of the danger zone and towards somewhere quieter.

They keep an eye on you throughout the rest of the game, both out of concern and interest.

Whether or not the two of you win doesn't matter. As soon as the game's over and you're free to go Bloodhound checks up on you. They don't bring up whether or not they've seen your face, and with how they're acting you're not entirely sure they did, but if you need to they let you lean on their shoulder as the panic from the day's events catch up to you.

Octane -

Unlike Bloodhound, Octane's a bit too stunned to snap his gaze away from you in time. When your eyes lock he tenses, feeling like he was caught red handed over something he wasn't ever supposed to see.

How can he look away though? Have you seen your face? That's... A dumb question, but he's seen it now too! And MAN, he looked away more out of bashfulness than anything else.

His heart leaps to his throat when he forces out a laugh to dismiss the situation, clicking his tongue. “Ai, amigo, you gotta be more careful. Custom masks like that are a bitch to replace.”

Shaking his head he hands you the mask, frowning when he notices how badly its broken. There's no way you can put it back on.

The realisation draws over you the same second and suddenly it's much harder to breathe than before.

With your vision spinning you lean back on the wall heavily, knees almost buckling under you while the gun slips out of your hand and falls to the ground with a clatter. A vague wave of pain passes through you when you grip your face too hard but you're too zoned out to care.

One moment your vision is spinning, the other you feel fingers prying your hand away from your face. Then, you're staring at maskless Octane grinning his stupid grin at you while he makes sure his own mask sits comfortably on your lower face.

He dismisses you when you ask why, waving his hand in the air as if it was nothing.

“What are friends for, huh? Besides, we have a game to win. Can't have you distracted while we kick ass!”

And kick ass you do.

Sure, he looks kinda dumb with just his goggles and head covered, but with the air filter built in this mask it's much more comfortable to breathe than in your own.

After the game is over Octavio sticks to you like glue, both to check in on you and to let you know you can keep the mask until you can replace yours.

Like hell you're gonna give it back. You're keeping it and he's more than okay with that.

Pathfinder -

Pathfinder, sweet, helpful Pathfinder, notices your mask is gone quicker than you notice your bleeding. Fortunately, he's also the quickest one to jump into action.

“Careful, friend! Faces aren't meant to be shot through.”

You're panicked and shaking, covering your face, and the last thing on his mind is your face. He's focusing on double-checking nobody's near before looking back to you and holding out a medkit to you.

He enjoys looking at your face, of course, so he doesn't look away until you turn away and it finally clicks in his head that you're probably uncomfortable. After all, some people like having their face covered and you happen to be one of those people.

Looking around he pinpoints your mask and dusts it off, holding it up to you.

Noticing you're not moving and your eyes are leaking he tilts his head to the side, only realising you're having a panic attack when his thumb feels the pulse in your wrist.

“Oh no, this isn't good. Don't worry, I've got you.” Immediately his attitude changes from cheerful to deeply worried, and he's wriggling the medkit out of your hand to grab you and get the two of you out of the open.

Thankfully, he holds you close to his chest while he grapples to the safety of the indoors – locking the doors and setting you down in the corner – to make sure no cameras can catch a glimpse of you.

Once inside he rummages through the kit to patch you up, giving you a heads up at the incoming sting loud enough to get through your brain haze so you can brace yourself for it.

With that done he gets to work on fixing your mask up the best he can – he's not great at it but he can get a few strong stitches in quick enough before you need to get moving again.

“There, just like new – only slightly torn.” He beams at you.

By the time he's done you're staring at him openly, eyes dried, mind still foggy but you're grounded enough to bring yourself back into the present. You've been staring at him all throughout and if he noticed he didn't say anything. You're grateful for it.

Pathfinder hands you the mask and you shakily put it on, gasping when he ruffles your head to ground you further.

“Do you need another minute or are you feeling well enough to keep going? We always can outrun the ring with my zip-line, so don't worry about that.”

You let him know you need another minute, and he nods before walking off to double-check if it's still safe in the building. Once he's back he looks at you, head tilting to the left while a question mark pops up on his chest monitor.

“I do have a question for you, friend.”

Your mouth runs dry. There it is-

“Are you alright?” You blink up at him, genuinely expecting him to ask about your mask or why you wear it. Instead, he continues, “I'm sure we can forfeit if you need to leave. Your well-being matters more to me than winning.”

Your heart swells, both with anxiety and appreciation, but you ultimately shake your head from side to side, letting him know you just need another moment.

You might not win, but with a friend like Pathfinder, who's willing to give up winning just to make sure you're okay? You're gonna have to make sure he knows how much he means to you.

[ilrjsm]

My best friend is no longer my best friend! (he’s my boyfriend) 

pairing - bff!renjun x reader

synopsis - You've known him for most of your life. And truth be told, who wouldn't have a (major!!) crush on this pretty boy? Out of all the instances you’ve fallen in love with Huang Renjun, you've never once regretted it.

warnings - profanity, reader & renjun being awfully dense, nothing that serious

wc: 1.7k+

There were four times you fell in love with Huang Renjun all over again and each time, you fell harder than before.  

i. Van Gogh in the 21st century!

You met Renjun when you were about 5. back then, he was nothing but a timid artsy kid who refused to show you his sketchbook. Of course, provided your natural talent towards convincing people, it was merely a game for you to acquire (read: snatch) that book. You very well recall how he had glared at you, snatching the book back just as quick and flicked your forehead as he did so.

Ever since then, the little timid kid had grown up to absolutely not permit you in his room until and unless he hid his stash of sketchbooks. Which in your honest opinion was a blatant waste of time.

Okay, maybe you felt a bit offended by his actions. Was he hiding a whole Van Gogh in his sketchbooks or what? Why, just why couldn't he let you peek into them at least once? You took the challenge of finding his cherished artworks upon yourself one fine day. It wasn't as easy as you thought it would be, but with the handful of flatteries you gave Mrs Huang, she was ever ready to lead you to this stash. 

You were dubious at first, as the first few pages you turned looked nothing different than overrated paintings. But then you found the real deal.

That was the first time you realised your love for him - at a raw age of 15, you were heads over heels for this boy who had his sketchbooks filled with candid portraits of none other than you.

You wished you could look at yourself from his eyes because you were nowhere close to being this stunning.

ii. Huang renjun was p(r)etty as fuck.

You see, Renjun wasn't quite the bright, excited boy ever since he turned into an adolescent. He laughed at your lame puns, sure, but only you knew how painful his forehead flicks could be if you ever did something reckless.

Like that one time when you were at a party at Donghyuck’s (some guy from your statistics class who just turned 18), you figured Renjun wasn't invited - naturally, given he had absolutely no clue who this Donghyuck dude was and vice versa. However, when he realised you’d probably be intoxicated as hell by the end of it, he immediately dragged you out, albeit a little too late. 

You had very obnoxiously protested (“Do you not trust me, Renjun?” You dragged out each syllable, a prominent pout on your lips. Renjun deadpanned and scoffed, “No, actually.” a long whine escaped your chapped lips, and you licked them before hanging your arms around his neck, his own tracing oddly comforting circles on the small of your back. “You know what?” you were already tipsy, Renjun noted, “i hate you.” he froze. Scanning his flabbergasted expression, you laughed loudly, only pressing your body closer to his. “I hate how you act so rough on the edges, c’mon Jun, let loose!” he sighed, using his free hand to push away your self-cut, grown out bangs aside. “I’d rather not, y/n,”)

According to your shitty memory, you blacked out after that, but Renjun's pink ears, when you asked him if anything had happened, begged to differ. 

All you remembered was how attractive he looked under the dim moonlight that night, his damp hair moving with the wind. Oh, you remembered his gaze averting from your lips to the dark surroundings, you remembered tuning out Donghyuck’s distant voice calling out for you while you stared at his lips. You remembered the glacial breeze capturing you both in its hold, causing you to shift closer to him. You remembered nothing from that night, but falling for Huang Renjun all over again.

iii. you + donghyuck = renjun’s obvious jealousy

You didn't need to hide your self-proclaimed infatuation for Renjun, as it had occurred to you that:

1. Renjun was so dense (you were probably denser, give or take).

2. You’d grown accustomed to masking your obvious attraction towards him with time.

At one point, you even forgot that you liked (read: loved) Renjun. In your defence, it had been finals week.

But you were harshly reminded of that fact when Donghyuck had asked you out on a date, and you felt too bad to reject him right away. 

No, that wasn't a reminder for you that you had a massive crush on your best friend, it was when donghyuck took you to the same cafe the said best friend worked at for the date. He, more than hurt, was baffled. He had mouthed to you, I didn't know about this? And so you mouthed back, Sorry, it was impulsive.

Renjun nonetheless took your order, and pointed at an empty table right in front of his sight, just to be on the, quote unquote, safer end. 

Donghyuck was a funny guy. His jokes and perfectly timed flirtatious comments made you giggle like a teenager who was talking to her crush.

Now was when the vile jealousy and hurt pooled in Huang's gut. Donghyuck brushing back your hair just like he would was his last straw. Time was fortunately on his side, and his shift hand ended. So, he spammed your phone with calls and texts, causing you to pick it up in a final defeat, with a long sigh of aggravation. “I’ll be right back, sorry.” (That was lie, you eventually forgot about him)

As soon as you exited the cafe, and stormed to the back of the cafe where Renjun would be, you were greeted by a bitter looking Renjun. “What?” you’d asked him, folding your arms over each other. “What?” he mimicked, scowling. Groaning, you threw your arms up in exasperation. “Renjun!” 

He incredulously glowered down at you, “one date and he already seems in love with you!” he exclaimed. “Isn't that good? I'm finally scoring myself a boyfriend.” you teased back.

To anyone else, it was painfully obvious of the lingering feelings you both had towards each other. Apparently, everyone but both of you could make that out (even Donghyuck). Renjun had never looked scarier as he gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw inevitably twitching. “Fine… fine! Whatever! I don't care.”

“I never asked if you did- OW!” 

That was the hardest forehead flick you had received from him.

iv. 23 things you liked about him.

One of the many things you loved about Huang Renjun was his music taste. It was one of the most beautiful things that just screamed… Renjun. You both had had a tendency to visit the record store often during high school, but not so much anymore provided you both were on the verge of bankruptcy and you had little to no time to spare as you were in the final year of uni.

For you, it was a long forgotten hobby, but for Renjun, it was a place he’d constantly confided in, and now that it was gone, it left an empty hole in his heart (which, for the record, was mostly filled with you). 

You knew his favourite albums, all his favourite tracks from over the years. Just like he had a couple of sketchbooks filled with you, you had a whole shelf dedicated to the albums he had recommended you and somewhere in there, you had a book filled with his likings, mainly songs.

He was once again laying on your bed, head propped against his folded arms as he stared at the ceiling. “You study too much, it's boring.” his gaze stopped at the white cupboard beside your bed, the top two shelves packed with vinyls. He was surprised by how your collection kept growing, a part of him also envied how you bought so many of them while he usually just borrowed them. 

Standing out from the rest was a sage green, hardback book, and curiosity got the best of him. The male sat up with a grunt, proceeding to make his way to the furniture. As soon as he got a hold of the book, he flipped through it carelessly, his eyes catching his name being written in bold on the very first page.

RENJUN

what he likes <3

Every other page had something similar, and if he weren't your best friend (who reciprocated your feelings) he’d think this was borderline obsessive.

He read each one of them intently, eventually reading through all of it until he reached the part of the book where you wrote what you liked about him. 

There were many, but he counted them to be twenty-two. He shut the book with a cocky chuckle, moving towards you - who was yet studying diligently. He smacked your head (gently) with the book, catching your attention. “What is it now?” You grumbled, eyes unmoving from the book in your hands. He hit your head with the hard book again, and this time around you actually looked up. “Hey, Huang Renjun, what if I get a concussion?”

That’s when you spot it. “Wait, shit, where’d you find that book?!”

He pointed towards the shelf with his thumb, placing the book down on your desk instead. “I must admit, you know about everything I love,” You had the urge to yet again dig a hole for yourself, “but you missed out on one thing.”

Your eyebrows raised, “What?”

He placed both his hands on either side of the chair’s armrest, effectively caging you. “You.”

Your knees went weak, and you could practically hear your heartbeat drum in your ears at his words. A fresh glow coated your cheeks, and you had to look away from him to not collapse then and there. Good lord, you seriously needed to get a hold on yourself. Just how many times had you fallen in love with him over and over again? Because you just did again.

Clearing your throat in pure discomfiture, you gathered any courage you had left and looked straight into his eyes - why did he look at you like you saved the damn world? He had a pretty smile adorning his lips, and you noticed how his own ears were red. Unable to take his strong gaze, you looked away again, neck hot.

23. There were 23 things you liked about him - you liked that he loved you back.

That was the biggest achievement in your life.

Huang Renjun, your sole archnemesis from kindergarten, your artist, your best friend, your crush, loved you just as much as you loved him. You couldn’t ask for anything else.

…Okay, maybe you could ask for some courage.

[leggerefiore]

💼Larry NSFW HCs🏢

cw: 18+ content, AFAB reader,

Minors DNI

🍙 He's a guy who skews not too horny in general. He's busy so much that when he finally gets home, he's out cold in bed within the hour. With you, however, he does know you have needs, and he does, too. Larry admits he is fine with whatever appeases you. There aren't a lot of ways for him to get off easily, so letting you have a bit more reign than him helps him relax.

🍙 Larry prefers to bottom most of the time. He just isn't used to being someone in control, and he likes answering orders. You can tell him to do just about anything, and he'll do it in his own Larry sort of way. He's slowly eating you out or lazily fucking into you at your request. Each noise that comes from you rings in his ears pleasantly. It's a change from his busy schedule that he deeply enjoys.

🍙 Sometimes, though, all the stress and lack of time to himself gets to him. Larry is never truly aggressive, but you can tell when he needs to be somewhat in charge while fucking. Larry would grasp at your hips tightly while rutting into you with a rare vigour. In those moments, you could see a certain passion from him that was almost entirely missable. You eagerly gave him control, entranced by the pleasure he brought and this new side to him. The older man took everything you willingly gave him in those sessions.

🍙 Not too much on the kinky side, honestly. He's never been one for going too experimental, obviously, so if you have any, you'll have to introduce them to him. Larry admittedly doesn't act overly interested in them, but he's down to try anything you ask him to, with certain exceptions. You want to tie him up? Sure, why not. Just untie him when he asks. You want him to tie you up? His knot may not be the best, but he'll try. He'll meet you halfway.

🍙 On the topic of eating, his favourite thing to do is eat you out. Larry's tongue really shows its talents when he's able to sit between your legs and go to town. Soft groans come from the man's throat and send shivers down your spine. The look of his face covered in your juices as he licks his lips is something framed in your head (even if he still looked utterly exhausted). It kills you every time he pulls away after you cum and thanks you for the meal. He enjoys head, too, naturally. Larry is never one to turn down a blow job unless he doesn't have the in his schedule. You have definitely been hid under his desk while his poker face is worked to its extreme.

🍙 His own personal kinks probably involve food, honestly. Having lazy sex after a good meal sounds heavenly to him. Letting him eat off of you? He enjoys it deeply and shows a bit of shocking technique with his tongue. There is a certain pleasure found in light bites that both of you enjoy heavily. Office sex isn't something he minds, but he isn't a fan of the risk. If you can manage it, having him fuck you against his desk is worth it for the way he truly works out his pent-up emotions.

🍙 His dirty talk is lacking. He tries his best, but his manner of speaking is just that of a business email or oddly awkward with a sense of bluntness and that fails to spring any kind of horny out. Riding him in a hot moment on the couch and having him say to you, “You're good – Good in a sexual way, I mean,” is a bit of a slap in the face. You can tell he's trying his best, and it's not entirely a mood killer. Just going a bit more roughly to stutter his ability to talk was always an option, too.

🍙 Turning him on is either something accidentally done or near impossible. Something that will never leave your mind is when you ate a popsicle in front of him and the way his poker face broke as he averted his eyes and his blushed a slight pink. There was a noticeable shifting in his manner of sitting as he checked his watch. Then, there are times where you wait up for him in lingerie and have him take a look at you, nod, and then proceed to eat his leftovers before heading to bed. At least the popsicle situation led to him fucking you as soon as you were in the door.

🍙 Larry enjoys sex for what it is. It brings pleasure and helps bonding with your partner. That's why he always tries to find time for it. The feeling of you either on top or underneath him is something that he comes to miss in his long days at work. He may even dare visit you on his lunch break for a quickie to relieve some stress and feel close to another. There's something wonderful in the way his stuff expression shifts in those moments. His brows furrowed together while his eyes squeeze shut. His facade is utterly shattered as he loses himself in you. Larry feels oddly thankful for you reminded him of this part of himself.

🍙 As for aftercare, he probably asks if you enjoyed yourself, offers to run a bath, and then passes out. Cuddling isn't his strength, so it needs to be requested for him to actually do it. Larry does like the affection, but it simply slips his mind in favour of getting some much-needed sleep. In those moments as you lay beside each other wherever you are, he'll peck a quick kiss to your cheek, and thank you for sticking with him. He's aware he's not the easiest to get along with but your understanding means more to him than he cares to say. Larry's snores as he sleeps next you are a sign of how strong his trust is.

[fayes-fics]

Revelation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (Modern AU).

Summary: Modern AU. It's a revelation what a Bridgerton mouth and hands can achieve...

Warnngs: 18+ smut, minors DNI, fingering, oral sex (m to f), d/s undertones, dirty talk.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Author's Note: Unbetaed. This is a request fill for the talented @broooookiecrisp from this ask (essentially Benedict gives reader their first orgasm not from their own hand). Thank you to two other talents @eleanor-bradstreet for the title and @bridgertontess for the edit image above, which screams modern menace Benedict.

Your housewarming party is in full swing when he walks in, wine bottle in hand—the first man you ever fancied, aged just seven years old to his ten. Almost twenty years later, there’s still a slight flutter in your chest when he appears. Benedict Bridgerton. Rich, handsome, sweet, funny, artistic, always surrounded by a bevvy of suitors of all genders—his natural ease and open personality just attracts everyone, like bees to pollen. He sees you and smiles that killer smile, embracing you quickly and handing you the bottle with genuine warmth. One day, when he finds his special person, you know deep down you will always be a little jealous of them, that they get to be in his orbit every day. 

As the evening rolls on, you find yourself in the garden, taking some fresh air and helping your sister recover from her own heavy-handed mixed drinks. In contrast, you've only had one glass of wine - yes, the one Benedict bought; he has impeccable taste - wanting to be a responsible party host. She sits next to you on your cheap, foldaway beach chairs on the otherwise empty patio.

“Found anyone you want to fuck?” she teases with her trademark bluntness.

A hollow laugh echoes into your glass. “As if.”

“Come on,” she needles, “it’s been MONTHS since your last breakup. Don’t you miss having someone else be responsible for your orgasms?” 

“Hah! Chance would be a fine thing,” you scoff.

“Wait, are you… wait,” she is staring at you open-mouthed, “are you telling me no one has made you come? Like ever?”

You blush and avert your eyes, picking imaginary lint from your party dress. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She looks astonished. “Have you never…?” she whispers.

“Oh, I can get there myself. But err, no one else has put in the requisite effort, to be honest,” you shrug, being truthful. You doubt she will remember this conversation when she sobers up.

“But you’re twenty fucking six years old,” she emphasises, “someone else needs to give you an orgasm. Bloody hell, you were with Phil for two bloody years, and he never…?”

You shake your head. “I mean, he tried, but I guess maybe... I dunno. Maybe it’s just not something I can do via someone else?” you posit.

“Bullshit,” she opines loudly.

And silently, unseen by either of you, someone else agrees with her.

—

You wander back into the party, and not long after, a hand wraps around your forearm.

“Got a moment?” Benedict asks.

“For you, Bridgerton, always,” you grin.

He smiles sweetly, and you pretend not to notice your heartbeat spike as he laces his hand with yours and draws you upstairs, away from the noise and hubbub. Before you know it, he leads you into your bedroom and softly closes the door.

“I have another gift I want to give you,” his voice low.

“More delicious fancy wine? Yes, please,” you jest.

The hand in yours squeezes, and he brings you to sit next to him on your bed.

“Not exactly; this one is more intangible. Long overdue. But by god, you deserve it,” he says cryptically.

You frown at him. “Ben, stop talking in riddles, please.”

“You need to orgasm, y/n,” he exhales.

“Oh… I…” your world grins to a halt, a hundred thoughts tumbling in your mind. “You were eavesdropping?!?” Well, it seems like your brain wants to go with indignancy first. Interesting.

“Not exactly,” he squirms, “I was outside trying not to smoke. Force of habit. I overheard you talking.”

“So that’s a yes.” 

“Ok, fine, yes, I was eavesdropping. But more to the point, you’ve never had an orgasm?” he looks utterly mind boggled as if he just can't compute the fact.

“You need to improve your snooping skills. I said no one ELSE has given me an orgasm; I can do it just fine by myself, thank-you-very-much,” you sniff, crossing your arms.

He barks a laugh. “Alright, I stand corrected. But still. Fucking hell, y/n. Are you serious?”

“Don’t laugh at me, Bridgerton,” you warn, the eggshell of your ego feeling more dented and cracked with every disbelieving noise he makes.

“I’m not laughing, believe me,” a hand over his heart to indicate his sincerity, “I’m indignant on your behalf.”

“Well, I’ll give you the numbers of all my exes. You can phone them and give them a piece of your mind if you want,” you shrug. 

“I’m half inclined to frankly,” he admits, “but afterwards.”

“After what?” you frown.

“I give you a bloody orgasm, y/n,” he sighs as if almost irritated with your obtuseness.

You splutter in the most undignified manner. He must be joking. 

“Ha bloody ha,” you deadpan after you recover.

A finger curls under your jaw and moves your head to see him. “I’m serious,” he murmurs purposefully. Those eyes, dear god, those eyes will be the death of you if you let them.

“Stop…” you stutter, “just don’t. I don’t want your pity.” You can’t disguise the raw edge in your voice as you wrench yourself from his grip.

His face morphs into one of surprise and then a frown. “That's not what this is,” he insists quietly.

“Sure seems like it,” you utter with an edge of bitterness that tastes metallic on your tongue.

“Anything that would change your mind on that?” 

You just shrug wordlessly, a melancholic mood settling into your edges. There is something so knawing that it’s him, your first crush, being the one to pick at the scab of your ego.

There is a moment of silence between you where you refuse to peek at him, staring at the hem of your dress. Instead of getting up and leaving as you expect, he shuffles back on the bed and twists towards you.

“Look at me, please,” his tone is mild but has an undercurrent of something intangible.

You lift your chin to meet his soft, relaxed gaze but twist your lips a touch defiantly.

“There is only one thing about you I find unattractive,” he begins, and your brow knits that he’s choosing to dig the knife in a bit more, “and that is when you don’t believe in yourself enough. You are a confident, successful woman with a killer career who is fearless with everything… except asking for your own needs to be met. You should expect orgasms from those you allow into your bed. So don’t you dare think I want to meet your needs out of pity. I don’t pity you. I admire you. And I want to do this. In fact, I think I need to do this.”

His little speech leaves you mute. That he has managed to skewer your personality with pinpoint accuracy, both your flaws and strengths, is confounding. And what’s worse is, he’s right. Why do you demand such high standards of yourself but allow others, especially intimate partners, to disappoint?

He is watching your face closely as you take onboard everything he said and everything he implied. He intuits when you consent, or maybe he sees it written across your face because an almost predatory smile crawls over his features.

“Take off your knickers,” he instructs, his tone low and slow, something almost edged with danger in the way he says it, your pulse instantly galloping.

By god, you don’t like being told what to do by anyone, anytime… but this? This is blisteringly hot. Desire whiplashes low in your gut. And yet, something in you rebels. Wants to play with fire, see what he will do if you resist.

“Make me,” you whisper.

He emits a noise you have never heard from him before in all your years of knowing him. It's deep and animalistic, and every hair on your body stands on end. Next thing you know, you are tilted over and pinned onto your bed, his hands grabbing your wrists, your head almost hanging off the end of the bed. 

“You asked for this,” he warns, the tone achingly seductive and just a touch authoritative.

His lips descend, slanting over yours and teasing with expertise. Every fibre is effervescent, awakened—something hot washing over your body from your scalp to your toes. The sudden throb between your legs is a wet, viscous ache. 

He’s not dilatory either, strong fingers delving under your dress. Teasing kisses as he spiders fingertips into your underwear. You are virtually quivering before he even touches your clit.

“Ben,” you stutter into his mouth at the first brush of his fingers, your hips canting up off the bed. You have no idea what is possessing you, but you feel almost under a spell.

“Stay down and stay quiet,” he commands, a solid quad muscle covering your thigh. “Put your hands behind your head, and don’t move them.” 

You do as you’re told without thinking, finding yourself so aroused by the bossiness.

“Fuck, you are totally soaking. Is that all for me?” the smug tone in his voice should be a turn-off. It's the exact opposite; it's like he knows before you do what will turn you into putty. 

His kiss is plundering as he teases your bud unhurriedly, with only his middle finger. The room seems too hot, your dress too tight, and he is engulfing all your senses. It's his scent that gets you the most; it actually makes your mouth water even as he kisses you. You probably should be ashamed of everything your body is doing - overheating, salivating, honeying his fingers - but you don't even have the presence of mind to think about it. 

As he pulls away, he shushes when you go to open your mouth, the finger of his other hand resting across your tingling lips in a missive to keep quiet.

“You don't want someone to hear us and interrupt us, do you?” his voice silky.

He has an excellent point there. You would prefer no one disturbs anything he is doing or planning to do to you. You shake your head slightly, and he smirks at you.

“Good girl.”

Oh, fucking hell.

Add that to the list of things you had no idea would send you at breakneck speed to an almost painful level of arousal. Yet still, just that one finger strokes slowly over your clit, almost in time with the beat of the mellow music leaking under the doorway from the party below.

“More, Ben, please,” you plead in a whisper.

“Hmm, not yet,” he opines, and his lips land on your throat, “don't be in such a hurry.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s evident as he sucks on the sensitive skin there that he is taking complete control of your body, pleasure, and orgasm, and somehow it’s everything you need that you’ve never thought to ask of anyone.

When his finger is suddenly gone, you fight the impulse to whine. But then his hands are at your hips, tugging down your underwear, drawing them down your legs and flinging them across the room, and you decide that is more than acceptable.

“Next time I tell you to take off your knickers, and you defy me, I’m ripping them,” he lectures, and there is so much to unpack there. Mostly it’s the words ‘next time’ echoing around your skull.

All you do is nod, dumbfounded, rapidly sinking into a space where you are just reactive, your brain quieting for once, your body and sensation taking over, instinctual and primal. You watch, biting your lip, as Benedict snakes down your body, gathering your dress up over your belly and throwing your knees over his shoulders.

“Now, let's prove you wrong, shall we?” he smirks, shooting you a heated look as your thighs frame his handsome face.

He turns his head and kisses up the inside of your thigh to your knee. Using his tongue to suck your flesh into his mouth, slowly working his way back down towards your centre, little fires erupting where he drags his mouth. Just as he gets so close you can feel his breath on your clit, and you tense in anticipation, he skips and starts at your other knee, working his way back down with teasing suckling motion, almost biting the skin of your inner thighs as he goes. Your skin feels tingly everywhere his lips have touched, the unhurried pace taking you by surprise. He was so quick to get between your legs you figured it would all be brief. But no, he is taking his time, luxuriating in the tease.

“Ben….” his name a soft exhale over your lips, almost unconscious, a reflex. The curl of his cheeks against your skin as he smiles in response is intoxicating. Your hands itch to move from behind your head, to grab him and push his face where you want him the most.

His breath is hot on your throbbing clit before he slowly buries his face into your body, opening your folds with his tongue and making a long heavy swipe up through your soaked channel to your clit, moaning as he does so. No one has been this engaged with your body before; it’s always been tentative, making you a little on edge that perhaps their enjoyment was not there. You are left in no doubt how much Benedict enjoys it, his tongue lapping up your taste decadently, engaging his whole face, chin pressing on your entrance as he ploughs his tongue in unhurriedly undulating waves over your clit, knowing precisely where to hit.

“Oh my g….” your words dying off as strong arms wrap around your hips, hands grasp your inner thighs and force them obscenely wide. 

He is feasting on your body, giving long, soft strokes with the flat of his tongue, gently parting your labia, sucking them softly into his searing mouth, tugging down just a little, so you sense the pull around your clit.  Spreading his mouth wide over your clit hood and sucking and swirling until you feel something so intense you want to clamp your thighs hard around his ears, but he senses the motion, and his arms band harder, keeping you open to his onslaught.

“Mmmm,” he hums, and it vibrates all the way inside you, up into your belly. “Now we are getting somewhere; your little clit is all erect now,” he rumbles, and you feel yourself blushing at his words; something indeed is swollen and distended under his ministrations. He wetly swirls his tongue under the hood, and there is a sudden stab of something mind-bending. 

“There it is.”

“Please, Ben, oh god, please, please,” you squeak, practically begging him. No one has done this to you, taken command in such a self-assured but vigorous way. You've also never begged for anything before.

“I know, I know,” he assures, the fingertips of one hand stretching upwards to caress the soft skin of your belly, “it’s coming, I promise, just a little while longer.”

He moves lower to tease your pussy with his tongue, just nudging the bridge of his nose rhythmically against your pulsing clit. Not quite enough to build more sensation, just enough to keep you strung out on a high where your whole body is quaking, overwrought and sensitive—your skin prickling hot.

You whine his name, disobeying his instruction and sliding a hand into his hair and gripping the chestnut thatch, pulling him back up slightly, and he chuckles, moving back to your clit, his tongue unfurling in a rolling wave.

“Okay, I get the hint,” he laughs deeply, and one arm unfurls from around your thigh, a finger tracing a line around your opening. “And put your hand back where it belongs, you cheeky minx.” You do so immediately.

There is an almost obscene squelching sound as he buries two fingers into you, followed by your cry at the slender but deep invasion. 

“Fucking hell….” you can’t help the curse slipping unbidden from your lips, something about the moment being as transcendent as it is purely carnal.

You can feel the swell of his knuckles pressing on your walls, and it feels so wonderful you squeeze onto his fingers on instinct. His responding growl makes your blood race.

“Every person you’ve ever been with is a fool,” he declares heatedly. “How could they not want to make this delightful little cunt come over and over? My god, your grip, the heat, the taste. I could get lost in you for days,” his voice is decadent like dark chocolate, and again your cheeks heat at his unabashed turn of phrase.

He surges up over your body, fingers still inside you, and his mouth lands on yours, your own taste so strong on his lips. That talented tongue sparring with yours as the fingers pulse gently, hitting a spot you have never reached before. You break the kiss to moan and stare at him wide-eyed and panting quietly. 

“You haven’t found this before, have you?” he guesses correctly, and you shake your head, unable to form words.

“Oh, my darling girl,” he rumbles possessively, “it’s criminal how badly you have been treated. I feel like I’m fingering a virgin, and by god, I wish I had been your first. I feel an overwhelming need to show you everything you’ve been missing out on.”

“Please,” you gasp, and it’s a petition for everything.

He huffs an alluring laugh over your cheek and kisses down your neck—a warm slide of lips and tongue until he is at the top of your dress. The hand not inside you yanks down the material, and suddenly your nipple is sucked hard into his wet hot mouth. You cry his name, uncaring if anyone hears you. Just strung out on the sensation of his fingers massaging inside your pussy, his mouth suckling on your nipple as your neglected engorged clit pulsates so strong, syncopated with your heartbeat. You know, without a shadow of a doubt, this is some plot to systemically destroy you. Make you mindless with need. Desperate for some relief, you move one hand from behind your head and slide it between your legs.

“Nuh-uh,” a warm solid hand encircles your wrist and pulls it away before you can make contact, manhandling your arm back to where it was. “Do I have to tie your hands above your damn head?” He questions fiercely, biting your nipple lightly and making you keen, but his eyes are sparkling with mirth as he meets your gaze, looking up from your chest.

You fold your lips into your mouth, showing remorse, and he chuckles richly.

“Good girl. Now, why are you in such a rush? Do you have any idea how much better it is if you just go slow? Let your body build up to something. I will edge you all night if you keep being so damn unruly.” It’s the sexiest reprimand you’ve ever been given, and you can’t decide if that sounds like utter torture or the best thing ever. Probably both.

Something approaching triumph surges in your veins as he slinks down your body again, shooting you a devastating crooked smile as he settles between your legs. He sucks your thrumming clit hard into his mouth, brushing the edge of his teeth over the nub, and you have to rapidly grab a pillow to muffle the holler you make. It's loud and gutsy from somewhere deep inside your belly. The tension as he teased you elsewhere is now laser-focused on where he consumes you, drinking from you, dragging the crudest sensations and noises from your core. Something about it seems so feral on both your parts.

All of his efforts and all of your attention narrow to the fingers inside you, stroking and massaging and his sinful mouth wreaking the most beautiful havoc. Rapidly spiralling you higher, your entire being trembling as you burble nonsense, feeling fit to burst. Almost scared of letting go of the tight hold you have over this swell of something almost alarming inside you.

“Come on, my good, darling girl, show me what you can do when you lose control,” he encourages, and you stop fighting. Stop fighting the tide crashing over you, and relax into the wave of pleasure engulfing your every sense. 

Your pussy convulses forcefully, clamping his fingers, attempting to push them out. Wetness gushing out of you, flooding against his face. An invisible cord holding every muscle in your body taut snaps, and you feel a resulting pulse of euphoria chase into every cell and synapse. Everything sounds so far away as you float somewhere that is both rooted deep within and far from your body. Your very being is seemingly fracturing and reassembling.

Gradually you return to the room. As you lay there, breathless and staring at your still somewhat unfamiliar bedroom ceiling, you catalogue that it's not the only thing foreign to you. This bone-deep sated feeling you’ve never experienced before makes you both invigorated and languid, blotting the sharp edges of your conscience. You want to curl up and rest, but simultaneously the urge to clamber on top of him and demand an encore performance. He has moved at some point, so he now lies next to you on the bed. Your head lolls to the side, and you realise he is observing you with a wry smile. Something in his countenance has changed; it's not the authoritarian he was while he was pleasuring you; it's the charming benign Ben you’ve always known, his hazy blue eyes soft with understanding.

“That was….” you can't even form a sentence, just catch your swollen, flushed lips between your teeth and mime an explosion around your head.

He giggles and delicately trails a finger over your dress, sweetly rearranging your neckline to its original position.

“If there's one thing I know, it’s that smart, capable women who run everything in their lives so fucking well sometimes want to switch their brain off and be told what to do. Be allowed a break from being in charge, just until that orgasm hits. I took an educated guess,” he shrugs modestly with a winning smile.

Suddenly everything about what transpired makes total sense. He knew you would never ask for what happened, but by god, you needed it, craved it, and never even knew it. That he could intuit your needs says so much about him, about what he knows of you; it gives you a warm bloom in your chest that feels dangerously close to something profound and startling. That seems like a dangerous path to let your thoughts wander down, and besides, a delicious man is lying right next to you who has given you so much, yet you have offered nothing in return. You decide every cell in your being wants to rectify that immediately.

“What about you…?” you run a hand down his shirt, enjoying the contours under it, allowing your hand to splay lightly over the tantalisingly prominent bulge in his well-fitted expensive-looking jeans.

“This wasn't about me; this was about a gift for you,” he smiles, grabbing your hand away from his cock and kissing your knuckles in a romantic gesture. “I’ll be fine; I just need to perhaps not be in your company for a few minutes,” he quips flatteringly.

“I could help, you know?” you offer softly, twisting more towards him.

“Really, it's not necessary. Go enjoy your party,” he responds, but you can see his resolve wavering as you raise an eyebrow and climb on top of him. 

“Are you very sure about that, Mr Bridgerton?” you query with an intentionally husky tone.

His face is a picture, and his groan is hungry as you deliberately press your naked pelvis over the swell of denim and rock back and forth, the harsh seam of his fly catching your clit and igniting your lust again. The tiny ‘no’ he exhales is music to your ears—so many revelations in one evening.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Hey, I adore your work; you are so very talented!! ♡ Would you mind writing a continuation of 'Reverse Your Regret,' in which Sapnap gets possessive over the reader? Perhaps, after their ex arrogantly reaches out to them, asking for forgiveness, the reader thoughtlessly brings it up to the incubus .. I hope that makes sense .. Anyways, wherever you decide to take this AU (if anywhere), it will be magnificent. Just wanted to share a passing thought. :)

I love this. I absolutely love this. Also this request.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: incubus!Sapnap x afab!reader 

warnings: smut (18+), biting, possessiveness, Dream being an asshole, language, mentions of God and angels

previous part

You furrowed your brows slightly as a knock came to your door. Checking your watch briefly, you swiveled around the corner from your campaign of rifling through the fridge. You were hesitant to peek at who it was, mainly because of the time of night. You stood on your toes, peering through the peephole until your eyes focused on a familiar head of blond hair.

You slumped back against the door, feeling out of breath, and paralyzed with shock. What was he doing out there? You scorned, trying to remember if you had recently texted him when you were drunk, or if he had come on his own accord.

You twisted the knob slowly before inhaling and opening your door to face him. Clay’s eyes met yours, his weight leaning on his hand propped against the threshold lazily. His towering frame blocked most of the hallway light from spilling into your apartment. “Hey,” he greeted easily, voice raspy and low. It had once been your absolute weakness; how simply he could make you unravel by just whispering in your ear or making a snide comment.

You moved an inch to let him into your apartment as if you were on autopilot from his previous actions. After you shut the door behind the two of you, you shoved your hands in your pockets, your fingers brushing against the cardstock that had brought Sapnap to you. His voice seemed to flash into your head when you touched it as if he were consoling you.

Clay leaned against the back of your couch, crossing his arms as he surveyed your body as if he were looking for something in particular. He wet his lips, furrowing his brows. “I really miss you,” he mumbled, looking at you with a softer expression. “I really have no idea what was going through my head when I broke things off,” he apologized.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “I’m not…” you answered, the hesitance in your voice demonstrating your disbelief. “I mean, we really… weren’t healthy…” His eyes drifted to your floor in front of him before darting back up to your gaze.

He stiffened slightly as if noticing something about you. “You look different,” he muttered absent-mindedly. You pinched yourself, wondering how you could have ever vied for his gaze and attention. You used to yearn for him to scrutinize and nit-pick, but now you knew what it was like to have a man that earned your respect, even if he did own you. Clay only took it.

You shrugged slightly, unsure of how to answer him as the pads of your fingers traced the raised print on the card. “I haven’t done anything differently,” you answered, averting your stare to bounce around at his clothing.

He tsked lowly. “No, something is definitely off about you.” He stood, walking to plant himself in front of you. He slowly reached a hand toward you, brushing your hair off your shoulder before gently dipping his fingers between your collar and moving your shirt to expose one of your shoulders. You hated yourself for wanting to lean into his touch and bury your face in his chest.

His fingers brushed against a sore spot on your skin, and you knew instantly what he was looking at: a bite from Sapnap.

Something dark flickered across his expression and he seemed almost fearful as he took a step back from you. He smirked slightly. “I see how it is,” he nipped mockingly, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I knew your eyes seemed a bit dead, I just didn’t think you would have gone that far.”

You quipped an eyebrow in his direction, your hand moving to rest over the mark. There was no way he could have been able to tell what it meant. Your heart thumped in your chest as you wondered what Clay would have thought of you.

Before you could ask, he spoke again. “I just came by to check up on you. I heard you’d been acting strange.” He chuckled shortly. “I get why now.” You weren’t sure why he was so bitter, in fact, even when the two of you were at your worst, he never spoke to you with such malice. He began to back out of your apartment. “Just be careful. You don’t seem like the type stupid enough to get into that stuff, but from the looks of it, I might be wrong.”

You furrowed your brows, watching him leave as you stood there in shock, unable to piece together what had just happened. You weren’t sure how long you have been standing in the middle of your apartment with your mind running blank.

“What is that smell?” Sapnap’s voice boomed from one corner of your room, making you jump to look at him, your heart seemingly restarting. His face twisted in some kind of angry disgust.

You exhaled. “Jesus! You have to stop doing that!” You bit back as he seemed to further investigate whatever was bothering him, even going as far as opening a window. When you realized how much I affected him you self-consciously sniffed yourself. You smelled fine. “What are you smelling?” You queried, watching as he scoured your living room.

He stopped, looking at you with gleaming eyes. Something seemed to click in his mind and before you knew it, he was standing before you, hand resting on the side of your neck as he took a whiff of you, nose brushing against your neck. You inched away from him out of confusion and discomfort. “You’ve had an angel in here haven’t you?”

You were taken aback, to say the least. “I- what?”

“Who just left?” He asked, covering his mouth and nose as if you were repulsive to him.

You swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest, and folding in on yourself. “I don’t know… It was just my ex-boyfri-“

He cut you off. “Are you fucking serious?” You nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this, and if these pieces of your story were de-cluttering his puzzle. “That’s why you were so uncomfortable, and why you smell overwhelmingly like rotting flowers?”

You tilted your head. “Rotting flowers?”

Sapnap rubbed his chin slightly. “He could probably tell. Mortals lose a certain light in their eyes after giving themselves to a demon,” he muttered, watching your expression shift. “Those fucking God cops are always in our territory.”

You wet your lips. “Speak plainly, Sapnap,” you insisted, breath becoming shallow.

He smugly grinned at you. “You were prime angel real estate before I came along, baby,” he answered snidely, making heat spread across your body. He got closer to you, pressing his fingertips against the portions of your skin that Clay had grazed over just moments prior as if he were spreading his own scent to cleanse Clay off your skin. “Now, not even God can help you,” he gleamed, teeth tugging at his lip before leaning towards you and pressing his mouth to yours. He broke the kiss only to hover near your ear, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him. “Your soul’s mine.”

His body was intoxicating, and while you knew it was dangerous to be with him, you felt safer with Sapnap even if he was blatantly telling you just how damned you were. The news was easier to swallow with his tongue slipping into your mouth and his voice whispering sweetly possessive venom into your ear.

You ground your hips against him as he pressed his lips against your neck, teeth trailing after his contact, fingers digging into your skin or the leather couch beneath you. Your hair tangled with his movements, clawing at his back as his teeth clicked against your chest. His tongue darted over his previous bite that you figured would end up scaring; a permanent homage to him on your body.

He had known the adrenaline rushing through your veins at Clay’s arrival. He’d known the discomfort and the borderline fear you had to edge yourself off of earlier, therefore as he kneaded the flesh of your thighs in his hand, he was sure to validate that Clay could threaten you all he wanted, but while Sapnap was around, he couldn’t hurt you. He had explained in the past that you were his personal plaything, and thus you had gained his protection and respect in an almost sadistic way.

You moaned as his fingers slid beneath your shirt, tugging it over your head while you pulled his own off, letting his lips attack your neck again. You brazenly ground your hips up against his, wrapping a leg around his thigh in a desperate search for more friction.

You knew the heated mix of Sapnap’s possessive urges and your determination to please him would have your knees shaking in no time as he dragged your pants down your legs, fingers clawing at the now bare skin of your thighs as you, carded your fingers through his hair, tugging at his roots and swallowing his moans.

The two of you rushed into your pleasures, letting him push into you and send your mind spending. You were forgetting Clay’s name with each punctuated thrust of his hips as he bottomed out in you. You clenched around him, making him groan into your shoulder, teeth threatening to mark you again.

He pulled out of you, only to flip you onto your stomach, jutting your hips up and against his as he drove himself into you again, pressing your shoulders into the couch. You bit down on your bottom lip preventing yourself from moaning out his name as his fingers dug into your shoulders, teaching you just how much he liked to use your body. With how good he was making you feel, you didn’t give a damn.

He panted out your name, his voice low and gruff as he nearly commanded and controlled your orgasm. You whimpered at his antics and he chuckled darkly. “I should be ripping you apart after you let that thing into your apartment,” he threatened seductively. You moaned out and apology as his lips and tongue met your shoulder blade, fingers tracing the length of your spine. You could feel the pads of his fingers circling each of your vertebrates as he drove himself deeper into you, reaching just where you needed him.

You came undone quicker than you had expected, moaning as he picked up his pace to bring himself to finishing, your vision blurring from the stimulation as he used you. His hand gripped onto your hips as his paces stuttered against you, a groan hissing through his teeth. His hand laced with yours momentarily before the two of you straightened yourselves up.

You pulled your knees to your chest, watching him rebutton his shirt. You slipped your arms further into your hoodie and he looked at you with a small perk of his eyebrow. “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

You chewed the corner of your mouth. “What do demons smell like to angels then?”

“Charcoal,” he answered plainly. “Sometimes just burning.” He sat beside you, pulling you to his side. You snuggled into his warmth, resting your head on his chest.

You inhaled sharply. “So… Clay’s an angel…”

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his eyes began to glow at the mention of the other species, especially the man you’d been associated with. “Yeah, they call him Dream.” He hesitated slightly. “He’s one of the worst.”

You felt like you were walking on eggshells to ask him more. “Did you know him?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Before I got kicked out,” he joked, covering the obvious hurt in his voice.

“Kicked out of where?” You probed, already somewhat figuring you knew the answer.

He was quiet. “Heaven.”

Sapnap Tag List:

@bobbyftmydad

[realcube]

saying things they don’t mean during an argument

 navi | masterlist | taglist 

thank you to anon for this request <3

characters ♡ msby black jackals (hinata, sakusa, atsumu, bokuto)

content warning ♡ angst, hurt to comfort, fluff, swearing, crying, adoption  (sakusa’s) & suffocation (?)

kōtarō bokuto 

♡ you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest - you knew he was a bit boyish sometimes but you never expected him to be so childish in regards to a simple request

♡ ‘bokuto, i have so much on my plate!’ you cried, tightly gripping the sheets underneath you, ‘planning the wedding, going to work, doing almost every chore in this damn house and filing all our fucking taxes!’

♡ you momentarily paused to look at him, expecting a look of sympathy but instead getting an eyeroll which prompted you to continue, ‘and all i am asking for is you to run a few errands! that’s it! why are you so opposed? i thought you enjoyed grocery shopping?!’

♡ bokuto pulled his night-shirt over his head as he stormed to his side of the bed, ‘it’s not fun without you!’  he whined childishly, plopping himself down next to you and gasping when you had the audacity to shuffle away from him

♡ ‘it’s not supposed to be fun, bokuto!’ you yelled, completely fed-up with him at this point, ‘a few errands, that’s all i ask of you!’

♡ bokuto notices how your voice shook and your lashline glistened; he didn’t want you to cry so he begrudgingly gave it, but with a strong comment to go along with it so you knew that he really didn’t want to 

♡ 'fine! i don't need you anyway!'

♡ then proceeded to dramatically pull the duvet over himself and pout, averting his gaze to the wall opposite 

♡ in this context, he hoped that you’d understand his comment and not take him too seriously but since you were already on the verge of tears, this simply pushed you over the edge

♡ you buried your face in your hands and hid under the blanket in hopes he didn’t realise you were crying but his senses are just different when it comes to you so try stifle that sob all you want, he’s still going to hear it and he’s still going to instantly pull you into his arms while frantically apologising 

♡ ‘please don’t cry, (y/n)! i really didn’t mean it- i do need you! i love you so much, my life wouldn’t be the same without you! you do so much for me and i am so sorry for not showing you how grateful i am! like you’re so pretty and kind and talented and smart - only geniuses can do taxes - so i’m just so lucky to be with you and i can’t wait until we’re married. please, don’t leave!’

♡ eventually his praise slowly became pleas as he begged for you not to leave/hate him

♡ he does not want to lose you bc of a silly comment he made-

♡ eventually his endless pleas started to become more than background noise to your sobs, so you finally hugged him back, whispering, ‘i can’t wait to marry you too, kō.’

♡ this action lifted a massive weight off his chest and he let out an audible sigh of relief, his grip on you loosening, ‘mhm, and of course, i’ll run the errands, babe. i suppose, it’s the least i could do.’

♡ you hummed in agreement, glad that a part of your mental stress had been relieved, allowing you to finally relax in his arms and perhaps doze off in his loving embrace 

♡ ...

♡ ‘mm, you smell like marshmallows, (y/n)- can i add marshmallows to the shopping list?’

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he spoke as if you were making some crazy, otherworldly request but in reality, all you were asking was for him to take paternity leave to help you care for the baby 

♡ you’re not really a baby-expert so you thought that sakusa would be happy to stay home and learn how to care for the child with you - as a couple, as a team 

♡ but he was extremely opposed to the idea, spewing out a much of nonsense as to why he needs to go to work, but a part of believed that he just didn’t want to deal with his child - or maybe, he didn’t want to deal with you

♡ ‘sakusa, how do you expect me to raise a whole baby on my own! they need a lot of attention - i don’t think you understand how big of a commitment this is, you can’t treat it like a hobby!’ you cried, having long before burst into tears because your mind told you the worse - that he didn’t actually love you, he lied about wanting a kid, he lied when he said ‘i do’.

♡ usually during arguments when he notices that you’ve started to cry, he’ll drop everything he was doing to shuffle over to you and wrap you in arms, then whisper sweet-nothings into your ear until you feel better but today, he showed little consideration to your emotions as he continued pacing through the living room while you bawled your eyes out on the couch

♡ ‘i thought you loved (c/n)! you were so gentle around them but it turns out you’re not even willing to take a paternity leave to help take care of them!’

♡ ‘what happened to the man i married?’

♡ ‘kiyoomi, you need to revaluate yourse--’

♡ you wouldn’t allow him to get a word in, which was probably for the best considering he had nothing good to say 

♡ but you were forced to cut yourself off when heard the sound of shattering so you immediately search for the source of the noise and there stood sakusa, his hand resting on the decorative table in the place your framed wedding photo once was - now, it was laying smashed on the ground surrounded by it’s own glass shards

♡ he pushed it off like the petty bastard he was

♡ while you sat stunned, staring the mess he just voluntarily made, he quickly turned on his heel and strolled away at a leisurely pace, 'my life was a lot easier before you entered it.'

♡ that was the last you heard of it for the next three days - you were giving each other the silent treatment 

♡ you couldn’t have any sort of grain for three whole days bc they are all on the top shelf and you usually make him grab it for you but you refused to talk to him- 

♡ you were the first one to break it though as you noticed that he hadn’t went to work for the last three days and curiosity got the better of you 

♡ ‘kiyoomi.’ you called out to him from the kitchen but he didn’t even look up from his book - ‘parenting for dummies’ - causing you to scoff, ‘why aren’t you going to work? did something happen?’

♡ finally, he sighed and shifted his gaze off his book but only to shoot you demeaning look, as if you were stupid, ‘paternity leave, duh.’

♡ the corners of your lips twitched into a smile, which you quickly forced away when you recalled the events that occurred three days ago and the hurtful things he said, instinctively looking over at the decorative table to remind yourself of what he did 

♡ but to your surprise, the picture was no longer laying on the ground, pooling in shards of glass but rather, it sit on the table with a brand new frame - which had both of your initials engraved onto it along with the date of the ceremony

♡ you didn’t need to choke out an inquiry as sakusa noticed your stunned expression and answered on his own, ‘i bought a new frame. i hope you like it.’

♡ of course you liked it; this one was a chic black with silver decals which matched your living room aesthetic way better than the other, tacky blue one did - plus, this one was customised which made you love it even more

♡ ‘i do. i really do. but i don’t like your attitude lately.’ you muttered, shaking your head as you waddled over to the couch 

♡ sakusa was quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you down next to him, ‘i’m sorry, love.’ his voice cracked slightly as he whispered in your ear, ‘i cannot put into words how much harder my life would be without you. i just..hope you understand.’

♡ it’s not that sakusa was bad with words; he was just too emotional and overwhelmed to produce a long, coherent sentiment for you so he just prayed that you recognized that everything he said on that day was meaningless

♡ ‘i love you, (y/n).’

atsumu miya

♡ you rolled your eyes, ignoring him and continuing to type your essay until atsumu slammed your laptop closed

♡ ‘please, (y/n)! you know how much this means to me! i’ve been waiting for this festival for years!’

♡ you scoffed, folding your arms and patiently waiting for him to move his filthy hand off your laptop, ‘i do and i’m proud of you. but i have a lecture that day and my exams are just around the corner - and you know how much my education means to me.’

♡ atsumu had to take a moment to suppress a gag at how sickening and condescending your tone was, ‘it’s just one lecture, (y/n)! you’re not going to fail your exams because you missed one lectu--’

♡ ‘you don’t know that.’

♡ atsumu blinked twice, a unimpressed expression painted on his face as he let out a sigh, realising there was no possible way he’s going to be able to get through to you - i mean, he’s been trying for the last 20 minutes to no avail

♡ he ran his hand through his hairs, turning on his heel, heading towards the door and left

♡ but not before peering over his shoulder to shoot you a nasty glare and spitting, ‘you’re so selfish. you can’t even do one thing that’d make me happy - you never can.’

♡ that was the final thing he said to you for the next....20 minutes 

♡ that’s actually a new record for him - usually he storms out of the room, sulks for a minute or two then renters to beg for your forgiveness 

♡ but not today. he was so mad that he needed 20 whole minutes to cool down and come to his senses

♡ but once he did, when he came back into the room, he expected to see you typing your essay or studying as usual since his words don’t usually effect you too much 

♡ so of course he was shocked when he slipped back into your shared bedroom to see you with the duvet tossed over your whole figure, faint sobs coming from underneath 

♡ his immediate reaction was to pull the blanket away and offer himself as your source of heat, so he wrapped you in his muscular embrace, ‘b-babe.’ he stuttered, eyes-wide as he never would’ve thought you’d take his words seriously, ‘are you okay?’

♡ he knew that was a stupid question but he simply asked it to determine how sad you were - and considering you weren’t able to babble out a reply, that wasn’t a good sign

♡ ‘you’re not selfish.’ he reassured you while rubbing circles on your back, ‘if anything, i was being selfish- and nothing makes me as happy as you do, (y/n). i- i really didn’t mean it.’

♡ he paused only to place a kiss on the top of your head, ‘i love you- and to show you how much i love you..i’ll drop you off at your lecture on that day, and take you to the festival afterwards; does that sound good?’

♡ you were finally able to choke out a response but only to explain how unachievable his idea was, ‘my lecture finishes at 5 and the festival ends at 7, and there is a 45 minute drive between the two- you’re only going to be able to spend a little over an hour there.’

♡ ‘and i’ll have a blast in that time!’

♡ you sighed, your lips twitching into a small smile as you buried your face into his chest as you really couldn’t look him in the eye, ‘and why can’t you just go without me again?’ 

♡ ‘who the fuck am i going to play dance dance revolution against if you don’t come?’

shōyo hinata 

♡ you crossed your arms over your chest, internally regretting ever opening your mouth to try calm down fiancé as now, not only is he even more angry, but also most of his anger with now directed at you rather than manager, like it was previously 

♡ eventually, you started to develop a headache from all his screaming and shouting so you politely asked him to calm down, to which he replied, ‘calm down?! you’re the one who made me mad with your rude-ass comment and now you’re telling me to calm down?!’

♡ you preferred it when he was demanding for you to say ‘butt’ instead of ‘ass’ because now that’s he spent more time with bokuto, he’s started swearing more often and to be honest, it’s scary when a 5″4 ginger sunshine is yelling at you, calling you a ‘rude-ass’

♡ ‘shōyō, if i’m completely honest, i have no idea why what i said was so mean and i have no idea what’s going on- why are you so mad at your manager?’

♡ suddenly, he twisted his neck to look at you as if you had just been possessed, ‘what?’ he inquired in a hushed tone, his voice hoarse and oddly sinister  

♡ you quirked a brow, too tired of his constant bitching to pay attention to his tone of voice, ‘yeah, you speak too fast, shōyō.’ you said with a shrug, checking your nails to ensure that he knew that you truly did not care about how he scowled at you, ‘plus, i just don’t understand why this gets you so worked up - i try, i really do, but i guess your volleyball problems just go over my head.’

♡ hinata clenched his fist, realising that he wasn’t going to make any progress by complaining to you. he whipped his head away before storming off, not even sparing you a final glance, ‘you just don’t get it; you don’t understand anything i say and you don’t even make a fucking effort! you just think you are so much better than everyone - well, you’re not! try coming back down to reality with the rest of us, and then we can talk.’

♡ followed by a slam of the door which rattled through the whole apartment

♡ you really had never seen hinata so angry before in your 6 years of being together 

♡ the words he said were far from pleasant and a part of you wondered in he genuinely meant them, perhaps he had been supressing those thoughts for ages and now that he was finally mad, he could let it all out

♡ though you tried to reassure yourself that everyone says things they don’t mean when they are angry, but the tears started flowing on their own

♡ hinata didn’t plan on seeing you for another few hours as he had the idea of heading over to bokuto’s, have a drink and cool down but when he hopped out the shower, he realised he had left his phone in the bedroom - where he left you. 

♡ begrudgingly, he slid into the room with the intention of grabbing his phone then leaving but that went to shit when he noticed that you were bundled up under the blankets, and he could hear distant sniffles coming from underneath

♡ and hinata only has four moods: mad asf, happy asf, loving you & volleyball...asf

♡ so upon seeing you in such a state, presumably because of what he said, elicited his mood to change from ‘mad asf’ to ‘loving you’ 

♡ he pounced on you, causing you to fall sideways and squeal but he simply did not give a fuck

♡ ‘baby! i am so sorry! i didn’t think what i said would make you cry!’ he blubbered, or at least, that’s what it sounded like since you couldn’t actually see him due to the fact he had trapped you under the blankets, ‘i don’t know why i even said that! you’re not like that at all- i don’t think of you like that!’

♡ he paid little regard for your pleas of mercy as you squirmed frantically under the blanket, trying to escape his grip and body weight. he simply continued babbling on about how sorry he was and how amazing you are, ‘you are down here with the rest of us - i just said for no reason. please don’t be mad! you are - what does bokuto call it again? - oh! a humble--’

♡ ‘shōyō! i’ll forgive you if you get off me right now - i can hardly breathe!’

[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 2)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt:

part 1

Jason and you had completely lost track of time during the bonding session he’d enacted over ice cream, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

It was starting to get dark out, that meant that you’d have to start patrol soon.

“I guess we’d better get out of here.” You sighed while wiping melted ice cream off of your hands with a napkin.

“Yeah!” Jason slapped the table, making you jump back. “Yeah, we do! We’re going to see Bruce!”

“What are you going on about?” You asked while shoving your garbage together, a little intrigued by Jason’s sudden excitement to see Bruce. He was never excited to see Bruce. Ever.

“I’m gonna give that trust fund baby a piece of my mind.” Jason grabbed his trash and threw it away as he stormed out the door, giving you barely enough time to catch up. You rushed to the car and fell into the passenger seat, not even able to close the door before Jason his the gas. He had this look in his eyes, one that you only saw on special occasions. Like when Alfred makes margaritas.

“Wait give me your guns before we get anywhere near there.” You instructed as he swerved around three different cars. “And slow down, for god’s sake. Remember when Dick got in that car wreck? New stations ate that stuff up, we don’t need that kind of publicity again.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason laughed at you as he flipped through the radio stations.

“Guns.” You demanded once more.

“Don’t have ‘em. Came unarmed. Because of the school.” You crossed your arms and stared at him until he noticed from the corner of his eye and groaned. “Under the seat.”

“Thank you.” You perkily answered while leaning over and fishing for his weapons. Crisis averted.

“Okay so, I’m gonna go in the Batcave and give Bruce a piece of my mind,” Jason explained over the blaring speakers, “I need you to stay nearby just in case he decides he’s sick of my shit and like, call’s Ra’s to undo my resurrection or something!”

“What?” You shouted back, trying not to laugh at his plan.

“Are you asking what did I say or are you asking what am I talking about?” You tried to reach for the volume knob, but Jason just pushed your hand away. “Don’t you dare turn my music down!”

“Jay, it’s a commercial!”

—————

Jason had stormed through the Manor full-speed while you loosely followed, wondering how this would turn out. The two of you arrived to the grandfather clock in no-time, Jason rotated the hands to open the wall.

“Why the fuck isn’t it opening?” Jason grumbled as you pushed him aside. “Don’t tell me he changed the code.

“You put in 10:46.” You poked the minute hand a smidge upwards and stepped back as the Batcave entrance revealed itself.

“So fuckin’ tedious.” Jason muttered while rushing down the stairs, leaving you to scramble after him. Your footsteps left an echo each time you hit the metal, which always scared you for some reason. Or maybe it was the fact that there were holes in the steps that revealed a drop into the great unknown. “Bruceeee!” Jason called into the cavern of delusional know as the “Batcave.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The adoptive father that you had in common pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat before the Batcomputer. “What is it, Jason?” He asked, swiveling his seat to face the two of you. “Y/N, you should get ready for patrol.”

“No, no, no, y/n. Stay right there.” Jason commanded with his arm out, halting your from any further movement. “Bruce, are you fucking kidding me?”

“What’s the problem this time?” He asked bluntly, seeming to just barely care about Jason’s anger. I mean, he was usually like this, it wasn’t new or anything.

“This kid right here. This one.” Jason pointed to you. Well, to the right of you. You weren’t exactly where he thought you were behind him. “You need to start giving a shit, because man, this kid is special.”

“I care about all my children equally.” Bruce’s lies rolled right off of his tongue, it was fascinating.

“Bullshit, man!” Jason shouted back at his father, you were beginning to think this was more personal than ever. “I’ve been talking to this kid for like, six hours. Bullied, ignored, talented, badass, and some other stuff! But do you care about any of that? You didn’t even care enough to pick them up from school!” Jason’s face was starting to get a little red, you were contemplating whether or not you shoukd step in and give him a break.

“I had work to do, Jason. You know this.” Bruce was showing absolutely no remorse, it was sickening. Your stomach was literally turning whike you watched.

“If it were Tim or Damian you would’ve sprinted out the door, don’t even lie!” Jason replied, watching Bruce’s eyebrows lift up. “I barely knew y/n before today, and that sucks. That’s my little sibling, I should know more about them. Quick, tell me their middle name.” Your dad was silent, proving your brother’s point. “Uh-huh. It’s m/n.”

“Jason, you’re out of line—” Bruce attempted to scold, but you couldn’t win that game with Jason Todd.

“I’m bot finished yet!” He snapped. “I fuckin’ love this kid. No joke, love ‘em. How can you not?” Listening to this boosted your ego more than you’d like to admit, you weren’t used to all this praise. “That’s my little sibling,” he repeated, “that’s family that gets it.” Before he could go on, a few more of your siblings entered the cave.

“What’s going on here?” Tim asked, triggering a vein-pop in Jason’s forehead.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, replacement?” He rolled his eyes and looked over to you, who was actually doing the same! Heartwarming how that happens.

“Jason has decided to lecture me on how I parent my children.” Bruce answered Tim’s question in such a generalized way that your brother just couldn’t stand for.

“Y/N’s been getting bullied at school and he doesn’t give a single fuck!” Jason announced the the Batclan.

“You didn’t have to tell them that part, Jay.” You whispered while tugging on his sleeve.

“Oh, yes I did. It’s a sympathy tactic.” He whispered back and went on with his speech. “He doesn’t pay any attention to y/n. None of you do! That’s no way to treat one of your own!”

“Get over it, Todd.” Damian clicked his teeth and shoved right past you two, ready to get on with patrol.

“Well, if that’s how you feel then fine! Y/N, pack your shit, you’re staying with me tonight. It’s too crowded in this stupid mansion anyway.” Jason rested a hand on your back and led you out of the cave. “Gonna stop me, Bruce? Didn’t think so.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

[more-stuff-of-pi]

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s  most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie​, @gigglyparker​ (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

[lambourngb]

a skeleton of something more [2/6]

previously here. malex wip fic. a short serial leading up the premiere.

spoilers for the trailer and promo, will be instantly AU. If I’m going to the trouble of writing a malex fix-it for the season 3 opener, why not fix 2x13 too?

**** THEN **** 

After Alex closed Tripp’s journal, he met Michael’s gaze across the table at the Crashdown. 

His golden-brown eyes were heavy with pain, the reminder of how his mother’s story had ended was still fresh between them despite the span of months since the fiery end of Caulfield. What had resulted in being the fiery end of them, even though Alex hadn’t known it at the time. The look of sleeplessness in Michael’s face reminded Alex, that outside of this small piece of Nora, he had the weight of Maria still in the hospital recovering from the pathogen Flint had released. The press of the Deep Sky ring in his pocket warred with the hesitation to place one more burden on Michael, would the abacus of their fragile friendship balance out?

He flashed to that last argument in Michael’s bunker, a disaster of his own making, thinking he could believe in his father, but thankfully harm was averted at Crashcon. That recent memory was motive enough for Alex to decide. Whatever happened next, he needed Michael on the same page with him.

As Isobel moved to leave the table, explaining to Michael that she needed to check on Max, Alex held Michael’s gaze deliberately. Then he folded his fingers down, until the last three fanned out in a downward W. 

“After what happened with Maria, maybe you should come with me, Michael. You can help me shake some sense into Max,” Alex heard, tuning back into Isobel’s voice. Her eyes moved back and forth between them, a crease of suspicion wrinkling her upturned nose, as she stopped on him. “It’ll be a good distraction.”

Without looking at Isobel, Michael’s eyes remained trained on Alex’s hand. “No, thanks, I’m good here. I’ve had my fill of stubborn ass people who don’t want to listen to sensible advice from me, so I’ll catch up with you later, Isobel.” 

She made a dismissive huff but did not argue, leaving with the barest semblance of a polite goodbye to Alex, but that was typical Isobel Evans. Michael waited until his sister was on the other side of the door, before speaking quietly, his gaze finally moving up from Alex’s hands to his face. “I haven’t seen you flash that sign to me in years.” 

“Glad to know you haven’t forgotten it.”

“You, making the ‘wait for me, I want you now’ signal? Nah, that’s been burned into my brain over the years.” Michael said it with a faint trace of bitterness. “I guess news travels fast, Maria only dumped my ass this morning.”

Alex winced and looked down, swallowing the surprise and spark of hope that welled in his throat at that disclosure. It was better to concentrate on the unique talent he had of stepping on landmines around Michael, than wonder about what had happened with Maria. It looked like he was still good at causing harm without intention, judging by the stung bite in Michael’s voice. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have-”

“No, I’m sorry,” Michael cut off his apology firmly with a wave of his hand, calling a time-out. Alex waited, his teeth pressed into his lower lip as Michael rubbed his eyes with a weary half-smile. “I’m being an asshole right now, and that’s not fair to take it out on you. It’s been a shitty day already, and — anyway, … you definitely know how to get my attention, Alex.” He tilted his head, self-deprecation on his face, “for better or worse, you’ve always been good at that.” 

It had been the sign they had developed whenever their paths had crossed over the years while Alex had been on leave in Roswell, but it had started that summer after high school. After Michael’s hand had healed poorly from Jesse, the last three fingers had been left frozen in a claw, it had been a shared fuck-you to his dad to use it to form their own secret communication. A three-fingered W, turned upward meant it wasn’t a good time, and he would find Michael later; turned downward, well, that meant it was safe to approach him, and it had often ended in a hurried blowjob in his car. Perhaps he should have used more care in using it now, but Michael wasn’t the only one running on the fumes of insomnia and stress. “Sorry, I needed to talk to you, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave with Isobel-”

“It’s fine, really. It’s not a bad memory either, remembering that we had our little secret language.” Michael wiggled his fingers in reassurance, his left hand still wrapped with a bandanna. “I can make that signal a hell of a lot easier now, too. But anyway, what did you need?”

There was still a voice inside Alex’s head that said ‘you’, no matter how long it had been. He shoved that down deep, along with his curiosity about Maria, and concentrated on his purpose. “Your advice on something, and then if it’s not too much to ask, your help.”

“Anything.” 

Alex blinked, nonplussed by the easy acceptance. 

Michael gestured encouragingly, “seriously, anything, just tell me what’s going on because the way you’re hemming and hawing, it is freaking me out.” Suddenly, all expression washed out of Michael’s face as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Did you get deployed or something?”

“Not exactly, not how you’re thinking,” he winced at the earned glare from Michael as he continued to stall while the words still tripped and fumbled around his mouth, heedless to the mounting frustration between them both. He sighed, and regrouped. Pushing the closed journal aside, Alex dug into his pocket and laid the signet ring on the table before Michael. “Let me start at the beginning, I found this in my dad’s things.” 

“Jesse never seemed like a jewelry kind of guy to me.” Michael picked up the ring, examining it closely with a sarcastic smirk. “Other than parading around town with that wedding ring, when everyone knows your mom left him back during the Bush years, Dubya that is.”

“My father is all, was all, about appearances.” Alex placed the photo of the group on the table, sliding it over to him. “That ring marked his membership in this paramilitary group called Deep Sky. Every man in that photo worked at Caulfield, at one time or another.” He tapped his finger over the face of his father, then moved it to the right. “That’s my dad, and that is Ricky Long.”

Michael frowned, pulling the picture closer to squint at the faces. “Wyatt’s dad?”

“No, Forrest’s.”

“Nazi guy? Seriously?” He rubbed at his chin, the stubble longer than usual painting his jawline. Alex dragged his eyes away with effort as Michael considered that information. There was a reluctant understanding in his eyes, having recalled that Forrest Long wasn’t just ‘Nazi Guy’ to Alex, but someone who had expressed interest in Alex. Personal interest. “I guess that’s something you guys have in common then, dirtbag dads.” 

He didn’t look thrilled to admit that to Alex, but it was a mark of how far they had both come as friends that Michael had said it anyway regardless. It was kind of him. It was the same type of empathy Alex had extended toward Michael, when he had expressed interest in Maria. Cut open, bleeding under his skin from all the ways he had squandered his own chances, he had said something similar to Michael once upon a time. That was what love was all about. Then he had kept saying it, until he believed it most days because wanting Michael to be happy was the easier ask.

It was a gracious sentiment that was entirely wasted by Michael when it came to Forrest Long. 

“It would be, uh, something to bond over, if I hadn’t noticed that Forrest wears the same ring now.” 

Michael’s eyes sharpened. “Family heirloom or do you think he worked at Caulfield?”

“I don’t know, but he is an ex-Army vet.” Alex tapped the photo of the members gathered together, “That was part of what I’ve been looking into, identifying everyone who worked at Caulfield right until the end. As for Deep Sky, I don’t know if it’s military service, Caulfield, or a family legacy that ties every member together, I just know that Dad kept in touch with those who were involved at the prison.” 

“Makes sense, Jesse was able to get a hold of the atomizer and pathogen that Charlie developed from somewhere. For all of his strutting around at Crashcon with a uniform on, that didn’t look like it was an official use of government property.” 

“Right, it definitely wasn’t, and before you tell me to leave it alone-” Alex began, remembering Michael’s response to the investigation into 1947. He had considered Alex’s actions back then to be an act of futility, something that could only hurt by being revisited. The past being the past, unable to be altered. 

This time Michael cut him off, “No, I was wrong about that. I, um, I finally realized that just because I don’t see you connected to that place or the rest of your family, doesn’t mean you don’t. And while I wish that you didn’t, Alex, if digging into this gives you some sort of peace over it, then do it.”

Alex looked down, feeling the weight of relief that Michael understood. After his father’s body had been removed, after the questions and lies had been spun, he had spent the entire night sleepless over having been made into an effective weapon to force Michael’s compliance. Helena had known where all the weak spots were thanks to Flint, and had armed herself with a depowering agent. Once Flint was recovered, there was nothing stopping him from employing a similar tactic in the future.

“If anyone’s going to destroy me, it might as well be you.” Michael had once declared with a bold carelessness that had infuriated and terrified Alex at the time, but that was nothing compared to now having a lived experience to back it up. His mind had easily used the memory of Maria’s collapse after the faintest exposure at the Crashcon and had exchanged her with Michael, being torn apart molecule by molecule, by an invisible threat.

Give him an enemy that he could see any day, especially one that bled. 

“I’ve been fighting so long, I don’t know what peace looks like anymore.” Alex held out his hand for the ring, and Michael gently laid it in his palm, brushing his fingertips over Alex’s skin. A lifetime of controlling himself kept the reaction off his face as he rubbed his thumb over the raised emblem of Deep Sky. “But I have learned recently that when something seems too good to be true, it is.” 

Neither of them mentioned Jesse and his performance from the last few months, but Michael frowned again, “Wait a second, you think Forrest targeted you on purpose?” 

“A member of a secret paramilitary organization just happens to ask me out after I was involved in the destruction of Caulfield? You really think that’s a coincidence?” Alex raised his eyebrow skeptically at Michael, before looking out the window to watch the pedestrians on the street. 

“I think you’re the hottest guy in Roswell, so I’m not surprised he asked you out.” Michael flushed a little when Alex turned back to stare at him in surprise over the flattering comment. “Seriously, you’re a catch, but I will agree, it’s not a good look that he’s got that ring. But maybe it’s crap he wears because of his dad, and he’s got no idea he’s parading around?”

“You’re being awfully generous.”

“Isn’t that what you want? Because last time I checked, you were the one telling me that I should have faith in people, even if they give me no reason to.” Michael flattened his hands on the table, drawing Alex’s attention to the bandanna on his hand again. That damn fight kept echoing between them to Alex’s dismay, but Michael didn’t let him linger over it, “While I stand by what I said about Jesse, ‘cause he messes us both up, all I know about Forrest Long is that he is way too interested in Nazi history and he has good taste in guys.” Michael wetted his lips, nervously to tack on, “I also know that I trust you, and your instincts, so if you say there’s something not right about him, then I believe you.” 

“There’s something not right about him,” Alex repeated seriously.

“Then I believe you, so what do you need me to do?”

“He wants to get close to me for some reason, probably related to what I know about aliens, so I’m going to let him. And I need you to back me up in case something goes wrong, and maybe use that lock pick you have in your brain?” Alex waited until Michael nodded in agreement, feeling the swell of gratitude at his support. Anyone else would probably think he was being paranoid, or that this was a delayed reaction to his father trying to kill them, but Michael, for all of his previous counter-arguments, had never truly believed in the good of humanity. Maybe in a few days, Alex would feel guilty in relying on that. Maybe in a few days, his suspicions about Forrest would be eliminated.

“He’s involved in running the open mike night at the Wild Pony with Maria, so I thought maybe I could perform a song or something? He drives a Prius, and while he’s listening to me sing, you could slip out mid-song and insert this into the code reader of his car.” 

On the table was a small device that mimicked a thumb drive, small and black. It was the type of technology that Alex had used in the Air Force, tracking terrorists abroad. It had taken a fair amount of searching to purchase the equivalent stateside to have on hand. Michael picked it up curiously, turning over his hands.

“It’s designed to download the GPS history of his car,” Alex explained, before rubbing the back of his head in thought. “That’s how I uncovered what my dad was up to, first by tracking his movements. If I let Forrest take me home, I can gain access to his laptop and phone.”

Michael furrowed his brow in concern, “You’re really willing to go that far? And what if he is involved in something shady, what then?”

“My father and brother both used me to get to you, there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again and if it means playing along with this guy, letting him lead me to the members of Deep Sky? Then I will.” If anything, his words only deepened the concern on Michael’s face, but Alex had been committed for a long time. Since the red level threat. Since the short ride to the recruitment office. Maybe as far back as his guitar going missing in the music room.

“I’ve slept with guys for worse reasons.”

CONTINUED HERE

[reincarnated70sbaby]

linger

listen before you read!

robert plant xfem!oc

warnings : drug use, swearing, trucklot of angst ;)

word count : 2.1k

an: was listening to ‘linger’ by the cranberries and I couldn’t pass up this angsty idea I got 😎 timeline is off but yolo ig...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sloane leaned down to the table to take an extra line for her pre-performance nerves. She felt a little more nervous today, this particular concert being one of the largest yet. She was the front woman of The CAPs, who were opening for Led Zeppelin for their summer of ‘69 tour. This was exactly the break the band needed, finally getting recognition for all their talent and hard work over the last two years.

She applied a little powder to her face, and patted on her classic red lipstick to her slightly chapped lips. Securing the clasps of her platform red heels, she shook her body in hopes of shaking away her anxious jitters. Once she had finished her body-shaking ritual, she walked out from the wings of the stage.

As she walked across to centre stage, wind blowing through the holes of her white crochet dress. The crowd cheered loudly as the band waved to them.

“How’s everyone doin’ today? It’s so hot today, my boobs are sweating off!” She greeted the crowd with her bubbly nature. Adjusting the mic stand to her height, she continued to address the huge crowd. “Today’s set list will have a slight adjustment to it, we’re starting off with a new song I wrote just last night. It’s a little softer than our other music, so just sit back- or should I say lean back on the person behind you - and relax. This is called ‘Linger’ "

While she was speaking to the crowd, a teenage roadie ran onto the stage and placed a stool, for Sloane to sit on, and disappeared again in a heartbeat. The crowd, didn’t even take notice of the young boy, entranced with the tawny blonde singer as usual.

Sloane sat down, crossed her legs and nodded toward Rory, to begin. Rory started picking a simple guitar melody on his trusty Gibson acoustic, the first guitar he ever picked up. Sloane swayed lightly to the rhythm, eyes on the horizon above the crowd. Soon after, Marshall joined in with quiet, but strong beat on drums. At the same time, Oscar added the baseline to the song.

Taking a deep breath, Sloane began the song.

If you, If you could return, Don’t let it burn, Don’t let it fade, I’m sure I’m not being rude, It’s just your attitude, It’s tearing me apart, It’s ruining every day

I swore, I swore I would be true, But honey so did you, So why were you holding her hand? Is that the way we stand? We’re you lying all the time? Was it just a game to you?

Sloane sang gently, her eyes closed with a pained look on her face. She thought back to the day before, when everything fell apart.

———

“Sloane, honey, please tell me what’s wrong! You’re being so closed off with me today!” Robert pleaded, grabbing her hand while she was walking away. Sloane yanked her hand away and walked towards an empty storeroom in the hotel corridor.

“Don’t get any ideas, we need to talk privately” Sloane commanded as she entered into the storeroom. It had barely enough space for both of them to fit, being crammed full with towels and bedsheets.

“Please, love, jus’ tell me what’s bothering you, I wanna make you happy”

“Oh fuck off Robert, you’re so fake and a liar. These past couple of months have all been a lie!”

“What’re talkin’ about? I have never lied to you once”

“Seriously? ‘I’ve never lied to you’? Are you actually for real right now? Do you know what I just found out Robert? You’re fucking married! And she’s coming here tonight! You didn’t think I would deserve to know that!” She yelled, ignoring her previous statement about keeping this private.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared okay? I have never felt like this before with anyone else. All the groupies were just for sex, but when I met you I had fallen for you Slo, you make me a better person in every way”

“I don’t care how I make you feel, you’re still married! With kids! How would they feel if they found out their father was in a relationship with a woman other than their mother? I can’t believe you did this to me willingly, even after I told you what happened with my parents. That messed me up, seeing my father with another woman, and leaving my mother for her. Never seeing him again, choosing his new family over me and my siblings. That hurts me the most Robert, you knew my history and you ignored it!” Sloane cried out, tears falling freely on her face, running her dark eye makeup.

“I never meant to hurt you love, you mean so much to me. I just didn’t think- I never fuckin think, but I my feelings were so strong for you, I never thought about Maureen, I’m shamed to admit it” Robert plead, guilt weighing on his conscience. He reached out to wipe her tears away, but Sloane turned her head, the same pained look on her face.

“We’re done. I can’t stay with someone who could forget about their own wife and kids, and forget to tell their girlfriend that she’s actually a mistress. Goodbye” Sloane said, pushing her way out of the cramped closet, before running to the elevator at the end of the hall.

———

But I’m in so deep, You know I’m such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to let it linger?

Sloane sang emotionally, a single tear escaped her tear duct. She took the break for guitar solo to take a couple deep breathes, and to calm her heightened emotions down.

Oh, I thought the world of you, I thought nothing could go wrong, But I was wrong, I was wrong

If you, if you could get by, Trying not to lie, Things wouldn’t be so confused, And I wouldn’t feel so used, But you always knew, I just want to be with you

———

Sloane sat at the large round table, sipping her wine. The two bands had just completed all the concerts in France, and were having a celebratory dinner for the night. The lights were dim in the fancy restaurant, but Sloane could still see the heartbreaking sight of Maureen and Robert cozying up to eachother. She longed to be the one Robert was dedicated to, to be his Maureen, to be the one who sipped on his beer instead of her wine for a change, to rest her hand on his knee. She wished to be the one who would sleep with him in bed each night, without a worry of cheating or unfaithfulness. Her heart was also broken for Maureen, she was so inlove with Robert, as was he with her. She was also probably the greatest mother out there, being a single parent for a lot of the year.

Sloane switched her focus from the smitten couple, to Marshall and John Bonham's discussion on gongs, congas and all exotic drums.

Everything had been going so well, the concerts each night going to wonderfully, the bands got on great together. Even all the touring crew and management got on well with eachother. It was like one, big, slightly dysfunctional family.

Sloane wished she could vent to one of her bandmates about her case of ill fated love, but she knew if she told any of the CAP boys, tension would arise between the bands, and she simply couldn't bear to break the harmony.

“I’m sorry everyone, but I feel a bit ill and I think it would be best if I went to my room” Sloane announced, rising from her chair. She briefly locked eyes with Robert, before averting her eyes that threatened to fill with tears.

“Are you sure you’re okay Slo? I can come up and look after you if you feel faint or anything?” Rory asked genuinely, concerned for his little sister, he noticed she had been a little less bubbly than normal today.

“I’m fine Ror, I’ll think being on the go and travelling for the last couple of months has caught up with me. I’ll call you if I need you. Love you” she said, hugging him tightly.

“Love you, stay safe sis”

A chorus of goodbyes were heard as she left the table and walked out of the brassiere restaurant.

As soon as she entered her large room, she decided to clean up her stuff in order to distract herself. She folded all her clothes, tucked all her shoes into her suitcase, and cleaned up her makeup station on the vanity, placing the assortment of beauty products in the black makeup bag she owned.

After she was done cleaning, she ordered a couple bottles of wine, with some croissant from room service, taking advantage of the readily available French delicacies.

Lowering herself into the warm bubble bath she ran while waiting for her room service, her mind wandered to the whole situation, creating lyrics in her head. Luckily she brought her songbook, so there was no need to get out of the bath in search for it. She poured her heart out into the lyrics. After finishing the lyrics up, she soaked for a little longer, until she felt herself pruning and wrapped the fuzzy bath robe around herself.

She was about to turn off her bedside light to sleep, when she heard a light knock on the door. Her head scrambled, trying to figuring out who it was. Must be Rory checking up on me she thought. Opening the door, her heart skipped a beat at the visitor.

“Sloane let me-“

“Robert, please, I told you we were over”

“Will you let me speak, I need to talk to you”

Sloane stepped aside from the door, letting him in. She guided him to the seating area of the room, not wanting to risk being near the bed.

“Uh, d’want tea or something?” Sloane asked the blonde man, the air heavy with awkward tension.

“Yeah sure, love. That’d be great” Robert answered warmly.

“So, what do you want to say” Sloane asked, pushing his tea on front of him.

“Sloane, I’m sorry. I still do love you and I hate that I fucked everything up. I was just so infatuated- I still am, and I regret that I made you feel upset. I just want to say sorry”

“I- I still love you too Robert, it wasn’t just one sided, I really thought you were the one”

“Sloane, I don’t know what to say… If- if you ask me to, I will. I want you. I want to be yours.”

“Robert- I. I can’t do that. As much as I want to love you and be with you, I can’t be a homewrecker. I’ve seen the way you are with Maureen, you love her. I know in my gut that you’re better off with her. She loves you and deserves you 100%” Sloane’s face was wet with tears.

“Uh, okay. I’m sorry love, I really wish I didn’t fuck up our relationship. I really hope that one day we can be friends again, when you’re ready” Robert got up to leave, but was stopped when Sloane grabbed his hand.

“There’s a part of me that will always love you Robert. This was wonderful while it lasted” She spoke with a sad smile on her face.

Robert squeezed her hand in agreement, before exiting the room.

———

And I’m in so deep, You know I’m such a fool for you You got me wrapped around your finger, oh, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to let it linger?

Oh I’m in so deep, You know I still have love for you, My love has wrapped me round your finger, oh, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have? Do you have to let it linger?

The CAPs finished their song, and Sloane stood up to thank the crowd.

“Robert, darling, there you are. Was that singer at the dinner last night?” Maureen asked warmly to her husband, joining him in the wings.

“Uh, yeah, but she left early because of travel sickness y’know the sort” Robert answered absentmindedly, his deep blue eyes trained on the lead singer, who was preparing for the next song in the band’s set list.

“I must have missed her. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? I love that song she just sang, great voice” Maureen mused, admiring Sloane’s confidence , akin to her husbands.

“Yeah, yeah she is. She’s a beautiful person, inside and out”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

my first Robert fic!!! I’m more of a Jimmy girl, but I love the golden god too (Leo men <3)

as always, any criticism/ideas are welcome in my inbox or comments 🤍

tag list : @dreamersdrowse @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey ask me if you would like to be added!!

[caramelcal]

Trained for Sin

Ship: Luke Patterson x Reader {fwb}

Word Count: 3.58k (i did not mean for this to be so long)

a/n: yes well...here’s this...(READ THE WARNINGS) enjoy lovelies x 

WARNINGS: friends with benefits theme, heavily implied sexual activities (not any proper smut though), swearing DO NOT READ THIS IS YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THESE THINGS!!!

disclaimer: i do not condone plagiarism on my work at all, this has not been posted on any other platforms, or on tumblr anywhere else but my account (rosemoonmist) if you see anyone plagiarizing mine (or anyone else’s work) please inform the rightful author ! thank you lovelies x

Masterlist   Part Two (optional)

The spontaneous meetings that you had with Luke were exhilarating, whether it be in a bed, on the kitchen counter, or in a public bathroom, it didn’t matter. There was a deal that you guys had made after your first hook-up, and mostly it was for Luke to just blow off steam but you certainly got its benefits too. Sure, it was very well-known that Luke was a bit of a fuck boy, but he didn’t like it going around school every time he had sex with a girl. That’s why he only did it with you, a way for him to have a release, but without the rumors or real commitment.

For the first two months, you were fine with that. You were more than fine with that. Yet, as the months went on, the adrenaline that you had experienced at the start of the deal was not as strong, what was stronger was your longing for more. Currently, that was all you felt as you looked at him.

He had his back turned towards you, you still wrapped up in the sheets of his bed, watching his back muscles flex as he grabbed and put his muscle tee back on. During your time with Luke, every single piece of attention he had was on you, and you liked that, but after he was finished, it was like you never even existed. You would normally get a few words, telling you that he would text you next time he needed you, and the occasional goodbye, but you wanted more.

Even though you and Luke never actually talked, you were always quite good at reading people. Luke was more difficult but the more you paid attention to his mannerisms, the way he walked, and the way he interacted with his friends you knew quite a few quirks that he did when he was feeling certain ways. That’s how you knew what to expect from him when you met up with him.

You weren’t entirely sure of the reason that Luke didn’t want a relationship but you often found yourself pondering it. Maybe he wasn’t ready for it, maybe he found himself too busy with the band but the most believable thing you had thought up was that Luke wasn’t the relationship type. He just wanted to fuck, no connections or attachments whatsoever and he got that with you, maybe that’s why he kept you around.

“I’ll text you later. Maybe we can meet up after band practice if you’re free,” Luke commented, not even turning to face you whilst he continued to pick up things, getting ready. He situated his beanie on his head, grabbing his flannel and a few other things before heading towards his bedroom door, “my mom and dad aren’t home, you can let yourself out. You have your key, right?”

Ah yes, your key. The key to Luke’s front door that he gave you after a month of you guys ‘seeing’ each other. He needed for you to be easy access, so if that meant giving you a key then so be it.

“Yeah,” You replied to the boy, who left without another word, much less saying goodbye. You were used to it unfortunately, Luke was often like this and only gave a goodbye if he was in an extra good mood, which wasn’t as often as you would have liked it to be. After hearing the front door shut, you sighed heavily, taking your time to get out of Luke’s bed, still very much nude, and making your way over to his dresser.

Opening it up, you reached for the back part, which was carefully hidden away from sight which contained extra clothes for you to wear if need be and after Luke had ripped your shirt off of your body, you felt that you probably should change into something new. Your hand lightly graced over the top of a sweatshirt that was Luke’s, one he had given you after ripping your shirt off the first time and you didn’t have anything to wear. You remembered the feeling of comfort you felt when you had it wrapped around your figure.

Just imagine if you could have that all the time. Like those girls from school that wear their boyfriend’s stuff.

But you knew that couldn’t happen, not with Luke. You guys had a deal, there were no feelings or attachments so you couldn’t afford to be fantasizing about a romantic life with him. You guys were friends with benefits, but you were barely even friends.

. . .

“Listen, I’m telling you y/n, this new teacher is evil,” Your friend complained, grunting at the end of her sentence. Laughing a little, you looked over at her as you arrived at your lockers, “he gave us a pop quiz on his first day. THE FIRST DAY!”

You winced slightly for her. If the teacher was willing to give her a pop quiz on the first day, you can imagine thorough tests in her future, and a lot of them. Putting your last lesson’s books in your locker, you turn towards your friend again, “That sounds rough.”

“It is,” She agreed, shaking her head wildly as she closes her locker over before checking her watch, “I’m late for class though, and you’re going to be too. I’ll see you later.”

With that, she walked away, leaving you to pull out the textbooks you needed for your next subject before closing your locker over, “Hey.”

Your eyes shot up towards the voice as you jumped back away from them in fright before realizing who it was. Luke. He wasn’t wearing his usual beanie, and instead was keeping his hair plain and messy, just like it was after sex, sweat making the strands stick to his forehead.

Eyes trailing down to your books, you muttered quietly, “I thought it was part of the deal that we don’t talk in school.”

“It is but you weren’t replying to my texts and I really needed you last night,” Luke sighed, making you raise an eyebrow at him, not that he noticed. It had been three days since the day you had let yourself out of his house and since the last time you guys had interacted in any sexual activities.

You had been waiting for the text that he would send that night, getting you to get over to his house after band practice but the more you waited, the more you thought about it. It had gotten to the stage you were checking your phone for any new notifications every few minutes, and finding yourself more and more relieved when the notification never came. Sure, you had found the whole friends with benefits great at the beginning but you started to long for a more...romantic relationship. And you certainly wouldn’t class fucking Luke in a public bathroom romantic.

“Sorry,” You sighed unapologetically, eyes never moving up to meet Luke’s eyes which stayed firmly on you, watching as you fumbled with your textbooks, “I didn’t see your messages.”

That was a blatant lie but Luke didn’t need to know that. You had seen his message pop up on your phone screen last night, but you never bothered to tap into it or to reply. You found yourself pushing you away from your phone, keeping it further than arms distance s your hands didn’t work against you, and message him back, so that you didn’t end up over there, tangled up in his sheets whilst he walked out on you again.

“Well I have a band performance tonight, I can text you the address and you can meet me there, we can head back to mine?” Luke suggested, leaning coolly against the lockers as he spoke, seeing a hesitant and faint nod coming from your ducked head. A smirk arose onto his face as he spoke quieter, leaning closer to you, “Or we can go into the janitor’s closet right now.”

Head whipping up to look at him, his hazel eyes meet your widened ones, his smirk growing even bigger. He pushed himself off of the lockers, hands in the pockets of his jeans but you took one step backward and further away from him, shaking your head, “I’m late for class.”

“Oh come on y/n,” Luke tried to coerce, giving you a small groan with a pout. He reached out for your arm, grabbing it softly and giving you a small tug closer to him but you stayed firmly planted on the ground you stood on.

Luke was good at a lot of things, and normally you would cave but not today. Sure, you wouldn’t be completely objected to meeting up with him later, even if you didn’t completely want to but you would not do it with him right now. He had gotten good at getting what he wanted from you, but he would not be getting this, no matter how many pouts and puppy eyes he gave you.

“No.”

Luke pouted again, giving you a mocking pout but you averted your gaze making him whine a little, “Oh y/n/n, you’re no fun.”

Turning on your heels you started to walk away from him, noticing how deserted the hallways were, and suddenly realizing just how late for class you were. However, you didn’t speed up, walking calmly as you shouted over your shoulder, “Send me the address for your gig, Patterson.”

. . .

Logically, you knew that walking to the venue that Luke was playing at was the best option considering he would be driving you to his place. You knew that your car would most likely be abandoned at the venue if you did take it, and Luke probably wouldn’t give you a ride to get it afterward so you decided to walk instead. That’s probably why you arrived a little too early, Luke still performing when you got there.

You couldn’t dispute that Luke was a very talented musician but you guys never spoke about his band or the work he did for it. You knew that music would forever come first to Luke, over everything and anything as that was what he was truly passionate about, and seeing him in his element finally was nice.

Somehow, he managed to find you in the crowds, subtly smirking at you but only so you could tell. His eyes didn’t stay on you too long, and you weren’t too sure if that was because he didn’t want anyone to catch on or if he simply didn’t care but you were thinking the latter. You were just technically a ‘booty call’ after all, even if the term made you feel sick.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they all finished up and people filed out of the venue. You, of course, waited behind, knowing that Luke would not want to be seen getting into a car with a girl so you awkwardly waited about. It wasn’t long before the venue was practically empty, and you felt a ping of a notification causing your phone to vibrate.

go to the bar and ask for my keys, they know to give them to you

You texted back an okay before going to the bar and retrieving the keys, thanking the barman, and walking out to Luke’s car. There was only a handful of times that you had been in Luke’s car, actually, you could only count two. One was him driving you from where he met with you to a cafe because he left something there the previous day and one was from meeting up with you somewhere to go to his house.

You found yourself slouching down in the passenger seat of Luke’s car, head just peeking over the dashboard. The parking lot was pretty much abandoned, but you didn’t want to be caught by anyone in Luke’s car anyway, you couldn’t imagine Luke would be too pleased if you were.

Luke arrived out not long after, his hair slightly damp and you could only imagine that he had taken a shower out before meeting with you. How considerate. He took the car keys off of you, giving you a small thank you before he started up the car and started to drive without another word. You, personally, didn’t plan on breaking the silence, knowing that Luke did not like small talk so you weren’t about to start it.

Eyes trained on the road, you drummed your fingers on your thigh to the rhythm of the music that played quietly through the radio. That was until Luke pulled up at the side of the road. Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and turned towards him, “What? Why did you stop?”

He turned towards you, giving you a small smile before caressing your cheek slightly and going into the backseat. From his position there, he leaned over and kissed you on the lips with a lot of force, grabbing at your shirt and tugging you softly towards him.

Breaking away from the kiss, you looked towards him knowing exactly what he was indicating. Opening your mouth in shock, you started to shake your head, “Luke we can’t do this in your car-”

“C’mon y/n, live a little.”

It wasn’t long until you clambered into the back of the car with Luke, him attaching your lips again but you felt him smirk into the kiss. He helped you out of your trousers and smirked at you, making direct eye contact as he did so. Then he ripped your top off and threw it to the side.

He was on top of you soon enough, one of your hands in his hair and one trailing down his back. You were both in minimal clothing, both with simply your underwear on. His hand left your waist side as he fumbled to get something from the pouch in his car, pulling out a condom.

Pulling away, you turn to look at the foil in his hands, your lips parting slightly. Luke put the foil down, but your eyes stayed on it as a hand hooked under your face. Your face was shifted up to make your eyes meet Luke’s hazel ones. He silently asked if you were okay, making you nod your head and send him a weak smile before he kissed you again. And there, another night with Luke begun.

However, today it was different. Sure, you felt the pleasure of having sex with Luke, but the adrenaline, the addictiveness wasn’t the same. It wasn’t as good as you remembered it. You thought that maybe you were just having an off day and you just weren’t really feeling it today but the more you thought about it the more unappealing it became. Luke was attractive for sure and you knew girls that would pay good money, betray their best friends and drop everything for the chance to fuck the hottest guy in school but the want wasn’t there for you anymore.

Breathing heavily, you felt Luke get up from his position on top of you, grabbing his jeans that had been disregarded under one of the seats, putting his shirt back on as he climbed back to the front. You looked at where he was, clearly waiting for you to get dressed and that’s what you did, hesitantly. However, you felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment as you thought about it. Shit.  

“Everything okay, y/n?” You heard Luke ask, eyes catching onto his through the rear-view mirror. Despite the dark lighting in the car hiding your deep crimson blush, he could still tell you were embarrassed.

“Luke I forgot to pack another shirt.”

His eyes went wide as you bit your lip, looking down at your lap, your arms crossing over your chest, trying your best to cover your naked torso. He quickly clambered out of the car, going into the trunk and getting something without another word before reaching into the car and passing you something. His sweatshirt.

E/c eyes meeting his hazel ones, you looked at him hesitantly, to which he moved the sweatshirt closer to you, encouraging you to take it. So you did. Once you were fully clothed, you moved back into the front of the vehicle, and Luke slid back into the driver's seat and started the car up without another word.

It wasn’t long before he took an unfamiliar turn, causing you to furrow your eyebrows, “Hey Luke, this isn’t the way back to yours. I think you took the wrong turn.”

“I’m not driving to mine, I’m taking you back home,” He commented, noticing but not commenting on the wide eyes and parted lips that you sent him way. He knew that he wasn’t the nicest guy, or the most affectionate, but did you really expect he would abandon you to find your own way home in the deep hours of the night?

But unknown to him, you did. You expected him to drive back to his, maybe have sex again, and leave you to find your own way home. Or if you were lucky, would drop you off on the main road, and walk half of the way home. However, you wouldn’t say that to him. You knew that Luke wasn’t a bad guy and you certainly didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying something like that.

Once again, you both found your way into a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, simply listening to the quiet playing of the music on the radio. It was some punk rock channel because you knew how much Luke despised mainstream stuff. The only other sound you could hear was the occasional passing car.

“Hey, Luke?” You piped up, breaking the silence that the car held, despite the radio playing softly in the background. He kept his eyes on the road as he took another turn simply humming at you to let you know that he was listening, “Thanks. For the sweatshirt, I mean.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just give me it back when you come over to mine next time,” Luke said nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. Head ducking down, you simply nodded as you felt your stomach fall slightly, suddenly everything clicking into place.

You knew why you didn’t want to continue with Luke. You knew why you no longer enjoyed the sex anymore. And you knew exactly what you had to do.

. . .

It was the next day that you were sat outside of Luke’s house, apprehensive as to if you wanted to truly go through with this. Yet, you knew that you had to. With a parcel in hand, along with a small envelope containing a letter and your house key to Luke’s house, you walked up to the front of the house, going to place the parcel down. The overhang would protect it if it was to rain, or maybe you could just ring the doorbell and run away. Yet, in your moments of hesitation, the door was opened and you were faced with an older brunette woman.

“Oh hello, darling. Can I help you?” She asked, smiling sweetly at you. You knew exactly who this was, it was Emily, Luke’s mom.

“Yeah actually, you can,” You smiled sweetly at her despite your nerves, shifting front foot to foot. Despite knowing Luke for a while and being...involved with him for a few months, you had never actually met Emily before but just from the way she acted, you knew she was a great person. She was a real sweetheart to you anyway, “can you give this to Luke for me, please?”

“Luke is upstairs, you can give it to him yourself if you want,” She smiled back, stepping back almost silently inviting you to go into her house and deliver the parcel to Luke yourself.

However, that was the last thing you wanted to do. Having to awkwardly in person explain that you needed love and wanted romance, so you chickened out and wrote him a letter instead. But you knew that the letter would explain everything, and it would let Luke know that he didn’t do anything wrong, you couldn’t promise yourself that you would be able to do that in the heat of the moment. 

Profusely shaking your head, you held the parcel containing his sweatshirt out to her, “Oh no, no, no, I think it’s best I get on my way. I have stuff to do anyway. Thank you, Mrs. Patterson.”

“You’re welcome darling,” With that, she gave one last smile and you started to walk away, leaving her to close the door behind her. You made your way to the car, going in and sitting down but you just sat there for a few moments, looking over what just happened. Quickly, you pulled out your phone, going down to Luke’s contact and hovering over his name, thumb shaking wildly.

Biting your lip you quickly tap into it and block his contact. This was the way it had to be, you knew that. You knew that if he asked you to come over or if he texted you that you would cave because you were a sucker for his puppy eyes and always would be. It wasn’t a secret to you that you have feelings for him, it was always something you had considered even though it was firmly put that feelings were off the table. You just wished for him to hold you in his arms, to hug you, to kiss you with the same passion but also kiss you with tender love, to tell you that he loved you.

Yet, at the end of the day, you knew you couldn’t have him. He would never give you what you wanted, he wasn’t the hugging type; the date type. After all, he was trained for sin, and that was all he was willing to give. 

[for-the-ninth]

Thanks for the tag @a11sha11fade! I'll include some tags under the cut. Here's a snippet from a wip chapter 11 of The Life That Left Me, in which Shielan and her young apprentice find Cullen mid-psychotic break on the tail-end of lyrium withdrawal, and we get a glimpse into one of Shielan's yet unexplained magical (at least we think it's magical, mwahaha) talents.

***

“Elspeth”—Shielan stepped into the cell and closed the gate behind her—“you’re dismissed.”

“You’re going in there��alone?” Elspeth’s eyes widened, her trembling mouth falling open like that of a dead fish. “Have you lost your fucking—”

Shielan maintained a blank expression and spoke to her apprentice with an ice cold tone she hoped would be read as authoritative. “One rule, girl. It is one simple fucking rule that governs this relationship—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Elspeth said, her sardonic cackle making it painfully obvious that Shielan’s tone had zero effect on her audacity. “I didn’t realize, ‘Don’t make me ask twice,’ applied to suicide missions with madmen.”

“It does.” Shielan turned her back on the girl to rifle through her satchel. “And you will regret making me ask a third time.”

Her petulant apprentice did not argue, but huffed and puffed and all but stomped out of the dungeon, muttering feverish curses under her breath the whole way. When the crisp clacking of Elspeth’s boots faded, Shielan turned her attention back to her hallucinating charge, and winced at the sight of him.

The skin of his sunken face clung to its bones, worn thin by starvation and punctuated by wide, bloodshot eyes rimmed with dark circles of sleeplessness, all overcast by a deathly pallor that would send the most seasoned of medics screaming about the undead. Another pang of guilt hit her gut. She should’ve read that damned report.

“Leave me be,” Cullen spat, eyes bright with rage.

She ignored him entirely, stepping around him and his haphazardly aimed knife to plop her satchel on the floor. Keeping her gaze averted, she crouched by her bag and flexed her fingers, eyes raking over her naked hands as she adjusted to the oddity of being gloveless in company. More for dramatic effect than true necessity, she cracked each knuckle as she stood.

“Please,” he murmured, and his voice turned from rageful to pleading so abruptly she almost laughed. “If you won’t let me go, then just end it.”

Without speaking, Shielan breathed deeply, pressed her thumbs to his temples, and closed her eyes. If he said anything further, she didn’t hear it.

Frozen. They’re bleeding—dying—and I can’t move. Steel bathed in blood. Teeth scattering, pearls across the floor. A pile of sinews shaped like a body. Let me go. Why won’t it let me go? I’m going to die here. Screams—mine, or from the chamber? Oh, Maker, the chamber. Gregoir left us. How long have we been here? Another body, eyes dull with death. Smell of iron and ash. I can’t breathe. It’s never going to stop. We’re all going to die here.

Shielan opened her eyes, releasing him from her grasp with a sharp exhale. The hazy film over his eyes slowly faded to a bloodshot state of clarity, and she watched him carefully for signs of regression as he came to.

“I-Inquisitor?” Lips trembling, his gaze fell to the bloodied knife in his hands, then back up to her, eyes widening. She dropped the paralysis spell and he recoiled from her, pressing himself flush against the wall as the knife clattered down to the floor. “Maker, did I—”

“Everything’s fine,” Shielan said, as if the cell floor wasn’t covered in smears of blood and didn’t reek of iron and piss. She inched toward him, and he held up his shaking hands.

“S-Stay away from m-me.” His bare feet slid against the slickened stone as he folded in on himself, pushing against the wall in a futile attempt to retreat further. “It’s not safe.”

Shielan rolled her eyes and crouched on her heels across from him, dragging her satchel over to rest at his feet. “You already tried—and failed miserably, I should add. I mean really, you’re telling me not one of those templar fucks ever taught you how to hold a goddamned knife? Anyway, I’m unconcerned.”

Tags: @noire-pandora @roguelioness @charmcity-jess @scribbledquillz @barbex @oxygenforthewicked @teknicianwrites @emerald-amidst-gold why do I feel like I'm forgetting someone every time??? idk if you wanna post stuff then do it!!

[ontheblock]

it’s my mental illness and i get to chose which character is vent through❗️❗️anyway, i have been struggling with writing the ending of the second part of my latest patrick hockstetter request and since this has been sitting in my notes for a hot minute, i decided to post it. enjoy this little story absolutely nobody asked for<3

night terrors

no warnings ig- maybe alcohol

Summer never really was plagued by night terrors the way Morty was haunted by them. Whenever she did have a bad dream as a little girl, her parents let her cry it out unless she came to their room themselves. The rare times someone did come over was when Beth was blackout drunk and Jerry followed the soft wailing of his daughter to pet her head while he listened to her sob story of a nightmare. It never helped that Jerry basically coddled baby Morty whenever he woke up - a desperate attempt to even out the neglectful way they treated her first child because they were kids themselves. But all of Jerry‘s attempts were fruitless. Summer heard Morty whine and whimper almost every night through the drywall, even more so since Rick arrived. It was ironic for her to turn out fine with her mother’s neglectful ways. Jerry should’ve maybe considered listening to Beth more with Morty. Or maybe it was meant to be like this. Poor fucker. If his nightmares didn’t take form of bullies anymore it was definitely the looming danger of acid drooling monsters or aliens smart enough to conquer their planet if a self-proclaimed god in a lab coat fucked with them. Yeah, that sounded terrifying for a child. Or maybe the thing he feared most was more simple and childish - their grandfather who took out threats like that for breakfast. But tonight wasn’t a night like that. Summer didn’t wake up from Morty hitting his bedroom wall out of reflex. It was some faceless nightmare of her own that sent her lurching upright with a struggle for air. Whatever it was, she didn’t remember much aside from Jerry‘s face and a leathery hand reaching for her out of the black abyss surrounding her but she felt the aftermath of a sprinting heart and sweat sticking her tank top to her back. Her throat was dry enough to make her reach out to her empty bedside table. She never put a glass of water by her bed, but then again she never needed it.

Swiping back a stray hair, Summer pushed her blanket off to stand up on wobbly legs. She made her way over to the door, stepping over the creaky floorboard. The hallway was quiet but as she crept down the stairs, Summer noticed the flickering lights of the TV pouring out the living room. She had half the mind to blackmail Morty about watching TV on a school night but she definitely kept the info in the back of her mind for tomorrow’s breakfast as she avoided more creaky floorboards on her way to the kitchen. The moron even turned down the volume.

"Morty, I swear to god. Your nightly water trips are getting on my- on my last nerve."

Summer blinked once, twice to place the voice. The distinct alcoholic slur and the audible frown was familiar to her even in a sleepy state. And surely, it was Rick. Shuffling closer, Summer could peek over the couch‘s back to see her grandpa lounging in his oil stained wife beater, tinkering with a cube shaped hunk of metal. Like this she could see his hands at work, talented fingers coaxing loosened screws into their threads. He hissed a low "me cago en tu madre" when the phillips head slipped from the screw he was working on. Summer could make out the blue mesh of veins under the withered skin on the back of his hand. Rick really did have the hands of a worker - a mechanic or construction worker. They looked nothing like the office worker hands of Jerry, if he had even that. He seemed to sense her presence - if that was even possible - because his head turned to look at who he assumed to be Morty.

"Summer? What the fuck are you doing here?"

What was she doing here? She came for a glass of water but her throat was less parched now and something about her mysterious grandpa reeled her in like a damn fish. She took her bait and ran her clammy palm over the couch cushion by her grandpa‘s neck. "I woke up, obviously. I had a nightmare. No big deal." Her eyes pointedly stayed on Rick‘s hand holding a screwdriver or the coffee table with half a bottle of whiskey standing next to Rick‘s feet that he casually propped up onto the wood but she never met his gaze. Why was she even this honest? She could make some kind of excuse but it’s been months since her family showed interest in what she was doing. "Nightmare, huh?" Rick echoed her as if to taste the word on the tip of his tongue. Summer wondered if he had nightmares sometimes. She nodded, eyes finally flickering to his face. The TV casted lights and shadows on his old features. Right now he looked normal, not like that crazy scientist with a mean silver tongue that intimidated her the first time they met at the breakfast table. Summer was used to see the hollow green glow following Rick like a fucked up halo or even the zapping blue rays from devices that can both end and create wars. But now the angular features showed a different side. The soft studio lights of some late night show made him look like a regular addition to the family and it helped Summer release her tense shoulders for the first time in a while, like she didn‘t need to be sarcastic or indifferent all the time. A little voice in the back of her head told her that Morty could be his awkward idiotic self so why couldn’t she?

"Why are you up, grandpa?" She leaned her front against the couch back and kept her voice down just in case Morty did wake up again. "I‘m - bergh - well over the age of bed times. This piece of shit is m-more important." Rick averted his gaze and waved the cube in his hand. Summer hummed and reached for it only to have Rick shuffle it to his other hand and hold it out of reach. "Well, what is it? Can it, like, cause mass destruction or something? Or does it contain a totally freaky virus? Or—" Rick shushed his granddaughter and tossed the cube on the coffee table. "Calm your tits, Summer. It‘s- It‘s to cure Granorian crystals. The, the, the-" Rick rotated his hand as if to underline his search for the most simple explanation "-easiest planet to harvest them happens to have the most impure growth." His hand fell into his lap, the other one snatching the whiskey from the table. "You should go to bed. It’s Tuesday." Summer snorted but it sounded off. "Since when are you the responsible grandparent?"

"I‘m not." His gaze locked on the TV again and he knocked back a sip or two of liquor. "Just thought I get one night free of my annoying grandkids." Ouch. Rick delivered both praise and insults in the same gruff tone - not that he had many kind words to spare, save for Beth when he needed to get his way. "What do you need them for? Can’t you just get, yknow, earth crystals?" Rick belched after a deep gulp from the bottle and dismissively waved his free hand in Summer‘s general direction. "Don’t think about it. Do me- just do us a solid; go back to bed, Summer." Rick expected a bit of huffing and a snarky comment before Summer relented and went back upstairs but he saw her unmoving in his peripheral vision. Summer stared down at the couch cushion‘s seam as if it told her whatever kind of questions were important to a girl her age. Probably if that one guy in school liked her or not. Her fingers rubbed over a stain that looked like red wine her mother spilled last Christmas. "I don’t want to. It’s not like I can go back to sleep anyway. Not- It‘s not because of the dream or anything. Just-" Summer stumbled over her words to find any excuse that would save her the embarrassment of admitting she was a little scared to go back to sleep again. She bit the inside of her cheek when Rick cut her off with a long groan. "You really are Jerry‘s kid. You‘re- Y-You know dreams are just- bullshit hallucinatory experiences aaaaall the way up the hippocampus? It’s not- It’s imaginary, Summer. Just your dummy ape brain processing a bunch of shit while you’re asleep." Rick‘s tone was agitated while he gesticulated but he still scooted closer to the left, ultimately creating more space on the couch. Summer didn’t know where dreams came from, she wasn’t interested in it either but she silently rounded the couch to sit down next to her grandfather. Being this close, she would smell the faint whiskey breath and the Old Spice lingering around her. It was nice for once, calming even. "You know, I‘m not staying because I’m scared because that’s totally lame." Rick just grunted in some kind of indifferent agreement but Summer felt the need to clarify her decision even more. "I mean, it’s just a dream. I‘m not a loser like Morty. I don’t piss my own bed. That‘d be totally— gross." Summer turned back to Rick, fully expecting him to not even pay her any mind but when they locked eyes Summer finally shut her mouth. She never saw a look like this one on Rick‘s face. Not even around Morty - who was quite obviously his favorite grandchild and Summer reminded herself that she didn’t care about that.

Right now Rick‘s withered features looked almost soft even though the hard lines on his face didn’t even out at all. Maybe his resting face just looked mean like that - maybe he was frowning for so long that it became the default for Rick. But still, he looked almost fatherly. Summer‘s pathetic little attempt to look tough in front of the most powerful man she knew stirred something dead in his ribcage.

He remembered a tiny Beth sneaking into their old kitchen where Rick was fixing a leak in the sink. A single glance at his wrist watch told him it was time for Beth‘s nap because if Diane didn’t make her take one Beth would be tired and grumpy all evening. He tried to shoo her back to her room but only got a tantrum out of his daughter until he reluctantly set his task aside and laid down on the living room couch with Beth resting on his chest until Diane came back with their groceries.

"Yeah, sure. What - uhrp - Whatever." Rick looked back at the TV and Summer fell into his silence, her back sinking into the soft cushions. She barely followed the plot of whatever Rick was watching. It looked like some 70s war movie with bad explosions and subpar camera quality. Rick didn’t seem to be the type for nostalgia so it probably just happened to be on at this time of night. The dull colors made her lashes feel heavy again and she let her eyes roam the coffee table Rick still used as his footrest. The cube laid by his foot, forgotten until Rick needed to purify his drugs alien crystals. The whisky bottled left a wet little spot on the wood that she knew Rick wouldn’t wipe away. Jerry wanted to replace the table for a week now. Morty‘s latest comics were scattered on the other side of the table. He always left them in the living room because the idiot just has to get distracted two pages in. An unfamiliar pack of Newport Reds Non-Menthol caught her eye and Summer took a quick glance at Rick. If he noticed, he ignored it. Rick did always have the remnants of cigarette smoke on him but Summer never seen him with one before. There was probably a lot that Summer didn‘t know about her grandpa. She wondered how much her mom really knew about him.

The movie crept close to its finale when a warm weight sank onto Rick‘s thigh. He lowered the bottle from his chapped lips to find soft ginger hair draped over his khaki pants. He went still for a moment with his granddaughter‘s head on his lap. This was territory he hadn’t wet his toes in for decades. Rick wasn’t a stranger to the warmth of another body but this was tender and innocent, enough to take him back in time. He downed the last of his whiskey in one gulp and indulged in the hot rush that followed. The credits rolled on the screen while the bottle neck dangled from his bony fingers.

"How drunk are you right now?"

Rick hummed as if he was doing the math in his head before answering. "Wasted." He put the empty bottle on the fuzzy carpet and shimmied his feet off the table without disturbing Summer in her position. Not that he would admit that.

"So in the morning this didn’t happen?"

Rick took his sweet ass time eyeing Summer and weighing out an answer before he gave a low "yeah, Sum-Sum" and looking back at whatever commercial was on. If Rick ever was good at anything it had to be pretending. He could pretend for Summer just this once too.

[sunkissedpages]

idk if you're taking requests but I would die to have a tom x bi!fem!reader I guess I never read one. like something with her ex girlfriend calling and him getting jealous. treating this as a normal thing CAUSE IT SHOULD BE A NORMAL THING. sorry my bi-self its kinda angry today lol. BTW you're writing its just... omg so good, you're freaking talented girl!

you had me at bi!reader lol also yes i named the ex after jade from victorious don’t @ me  

i’m also tempted to make a nsfw version of this but...

warnings: swearing, drug mention

You sighed when the music you had been playing in Tom’s car cut off suddenly and reached up to reject the incoming call, but froze when you saw “j (don’t answer!!!)” pop up as the Caller ID. Your thumb hovered over the End Call button, hesitating for a second too long before finally tapping it and swiping away the notification. You held your breath as the music came back on, hoping your boyfriend hadn’t noticed your reaction. But he knew you better than you knew yourself and picked up on your nerves instantly. 

“Who was that?”

You cursed under your breath and sunk further into your seat. “Oh, uh, just... Jade.”

A spark of recognition lit up behind his warm, brown eyes and he pursed his lips. “Jade? Your ex-girlfriend?”

“That’s the one,” you confirmed, nodding. 

“Why is she calling you?”

You shrugged and tried to play it off. “I don’t know.”

To be fair, you didn’t know why she was calling, but you knew it had to be important if she was reaching out at all. Your relationship hadn’t ended on the best of terms all those months ago, and there was still the dull ache of what was associated with her name. You didn’t want to talk to her. And you really didn’t want Tom to watch you talk to her.

“Should you... call her back?” he asked.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, averting your eyes from your boyfriend’s gaze. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You were about to reply when the Incoming Call notification popped up on the Audi’s touchscreen display again. You muttered fuck under your breath and pressed the answer button against your better judgment, worried that she might be in some sort of trouble.

“Hello?”

“Hey, y/n,” her voice echoed through the speakers softly and you had to force yourself to take a breath before responding so your voice wouldn’t shake.

“Uh, Jade. Um, is everything okay?”

You glanced over at Tom who was focused on the road. He appeared to be as calm and composed as ever, but his grip on the steering wheel gave his true feelings away. His knuckles were turning white around the dark leather and the seams were pressing into his skin. You reached out and put a hand on his thigh in an attempt to calm both his and your own nerves. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jade said after a moment, clearing her throat awkwardly. “Actually, no it’s not.”

“Oh, what’s up?”

“Do you remember our shitty landlord back at Monty’s?” she asked.

“How could I forget?” you laughed bitterly, even though it was all you wanted to do. “That asshole tried to make us pay double rent like six different times, claiming we hadn’t already paid it.”

“He was also homophobic as hell,” Jade added. 

“And creepy.”

Jade laughed and those old, fluttery feelings in the pit of your stomach threatened to surface again. It was the effect she always had on you and apparently still did, at least in some capacity. Guilt began to set in when you felt yourself smile listening to her laugh and you retracted your hand from Tom’s leg. 

“But why do you ask?”

“Oh, right. He’s being a dick about the faucet in our- my bathroom. It’s leaking and he won’t fix it because he says it’s my fault that it’s broken in the first place.”

You hadn’t realized Jade still lived in that old apartment you used to share. Maybe you should have guessed, since you had been the one to move out when things ended, but it had been so long ago that you had just assumed she was living somewhere else now. You wondered if she had taken other people home there, if there was someone different sleeping in your spot on the bed every night, cooking for her like you used to-

“Anyway,” she went on, snapping you out of it, “it’s bullshit. It’s leaking because it’s old, not because I did anything to it. But he always listened to you because you were better at sweet-talking him. I’m... too bitchy, I guess. I know it’s a lot to ask after everything that happened between us, but I was wondering if you could maybe... give him a call? And ask him to fix it?”

Tom looked over at you with eyebrows raised expectantly, him and Jade both waiting for your answer. 

“Yeah, I can give him a call,” you sighed reluctantly. “But if he says no, I’m not asking again.”

“Oh my god thank you, y/n,” she gushed. “You’re the best! I-I wouldn’t have called, but the leak has already damaged part of the floor and he’s dodging me-”

“You don’t have to explain it all. I’ll call him, okay?”

“Okay, okay. Thank you so much. You’re a fucking lifesaver.” 

“Don’t mention it,” you said, “I’ll uh, I’ll text you to let you know what he says.”

“Sounds good!” she chirped. “Hey, if everything goes well you should let me smoke you out as a thank you.”

“Oh,” you paused, glancing back at Tom who wasn’t even hiding his scowl now. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well the offer’s open if you ever want to take me up on it. Ya know, for old time’s sake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you promised.

“Okay,” she said with a sigh, “I’ll let you go now... it was nice hearing from you again.”

“Yeah, likewise,” you lied through gritted teeth and hung up, finally feeling like you could exhale.

Your music started playing automatically again once the call had ended, but Tom turned it down immediately, clearly distracted.

Your head was still reeling from the conversation you’d just had and you would need three to five business days to process it, but you knew you had to say something to Tom. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his jaw was clenched like it was when he was upset so you knew it couldn’t be good. 

“I’m... sorry if that was weird for you,” you tried. “I know it was weird for me.”

Tom turned his head toward in surprise, as if he hadn’t been expecting you to say anything, and his eyes softened immediately. “Are you okay, love?” 

“Yeah,” you said and nodded like you were trying to convince yourself too, “I think so.” 

“You sure?”

You nodded again, then asked him the same. “Are you okay?”

He took a deep breath. “I’m trying to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my girlfriend’s ex just called her out of the blue and basically asked to hook up with her right in front of me, so I’ve been better.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s jealousy and settled for crossing your arms over your chest instead. “Tom, she did not ask to hook up with me. Were we listening to the same conversation?”

“It wasn’t that hard to read between the lines, y/n. ‘You should let me smoke you out as a thank you’, like that wasn’t just straight-up flirting. She was obviously using the god damn faucet as an excuse just to talk to you again.” 

“I-” 

He wasn’t wrong, and evidently you both knew that. The faucet might have been a legitimate issue, but it was an awfully convenient one too. You brought your thumb to your mouth and started chewing on your nail anxiously, not even realizing you were doing so until Tom gently pulled your hand away. 

“Sorry,” you murmured. 

“No, darling, don’t apologize,” he insisted. “I know it was probably difficult to hear from her after so long, and I, I’m not making it any fucking easier. I just got in my head about things... because your relationship with her was so serious and it lasted for like two years and you lived together and we’ve only been dating for a few months-"

You sighed and leaned over the center console to rest your head on his shoulder. “All of that may be true, but you know I would never go back to her, right?”

He paused for a moment before finally nodding. “I do.”

“She’s my past. You’re my future.”

Tom smiled and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. “And you’re mine. For as long as you want to be.”

[sleepysnk]

not a very long chapter today, but next chapter will be VERY IMPORTANT. keep watch for it! <3

Team Player: Chapter Five

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.9k

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Eren awoke to the aching of his ankle. His green eyes fluttered open as he reached for his phone on his nightstand, the screen lighting up and showing the time that said 8:55 A.M.  It felt too early to be awake, but his ankle was bothering him too much. 

He arose from his bed and looked over at Armin's bed. He was already gone and out to class. Eren stood up and winced as his ankle throbbed in pain. 

Unfortunately for him, he was now injured way worse than he was before. His muscle was now more irritated and the nurse told him that he needed to skip the next game or two to make sure it fully healed. Eren was irritated with that. He wanted to get back on the field as quickly as he could, but he knew damn well Coach Smith wouldn't let him. Judging on how pissed off he looked on Saturday, Eren was certain there was no way he could smoothly talk to him. 

Eren grabbed the side of his bed, reaching for the small bottle of pills that was prescribed for the pain. He had to take more now since he wasn't doing that well. The nurse gave him so many instructions on how to take care of his ankle, it all bombarded him at once. 

Grabbing the plastic water bottle, Eren put the meds in his mouth and swallowed, feeling the pills go down his throat. 

He quickly changed into a sweater and black sweatpants, making sure to wear the patch the nurse gave him. He threw on slides and grabbed his backpack, exiting his dorm to the main campus. 

As he entered the main doors, he felt eyes suddenly boring holes into his head. Eren hung his head low as he stared at his phone, trying to get some attention off of him. Many people were pissed at what happened during the game, people clowned him on Twitter, giving him nicknames or posting meme videos to his fail. It was honestly kind of embarrassing for him. Many sports analysts talked about it, and Eren knew that wasn't good. 

Eren's eyes averted upward as he saw Jean walking with Marco. 

"Hey Jean," Eren said and approached him. 

Jean stood there and clenched his jaw. "What do you want dude? You here to tell me how shitty of a lineman I am?" he asked and crossed his arms. "Look dude.. no offense but stay out of my way." he added and pushed past Eren. 

Eren stood there watching Jean walk off. He's never seen him act that way before, Jean usually kept his words to himself sometimes, but it kind of made Eren feel shitty. 

"You suck!" a random student yelled and looked at Eren. "Selfish as fuck.." he added and kept walking. 

Eren didn't even do anything. He just walked away from the guy near him. His mind was clouded with so many thoughts, he really was the laughing stock of Trost. Everyone just stared at him as he walked in the hall to his class, what was he going to do? He couldn't exactly clear his name or whatever, the footage was all online. 

He silently prayed things would go well at practice. 

-

The day seemed to pass by slowly for Eren. 

He barely did anything in most of his classes and he didn't bother to pay attention. 

What bothered him the most was that most of his teammates avoided him, whenever Eren tried to say hello they all ignored him, or they told him to go away. The team’s loss was not his intention, he wanted to show everyone his talent out on the field as well as impressing the scout that was there and to make others proud.  

Going on social media was the worst. People made memes about his fail, and many people were disappointed in what happened. They looked like idiots during that game, the Titans were their rivals too, which also meant that the school itself looked absolutely shitty. 

Eren could care less what was happening in his physics class, the teacher just blabbed on and on about velocity and other crap. None of it seemed to interest Eren as he was just too lost in his thoughts about the game. 

"You're all dismissed!" the professor called and looked around the room. 

Eren stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder, he walked slowly down the hall as his ankle was bothering him still. What was he going to do? 

The day had already ended and Eren decided to make his way to practice, he knew he couldn't exactly play or catch any balls, but maybe he could just observe. 

He opened the door to the locker room and saw many of his teammates staring or exchanging looks with one another, he felt awkward walking in there. This hasn't exactly happened to him before either. 

"What are you doing here?" Reiner asked, crossing his arms. "You're hurt. Coach doesn't want you here," he added. 

Eren looked at the blonde who seemed to be in a bad mood. "I-I just… wanted to observe," he replied and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Eren." his head turned to see Coach Smith standing there with his arms crossed. "Come into my office… we need to have a chat," he said and waved him over. 

Eren gulped and made his way into the office, his pulse began to race rapidly. He knew it probably wasn't good. 

"Have a seat," Coach Smith said and plopped down at his desk. 

Eren put his backpack down on the ground and looked at his Coach, his icy hues burning holes into his head. 

"U-Um… what do you want to speak about?" Eren asked, giving a weak smile. 

Coach Smith leaned back and sighed. "It's about what happened on Saturday-" 

"I'm sorry. That was totally my fault, I thought Jean was going to get-" he was cut off. 

"I didn't finish Eren," he said sternly and crossed his arms. "Eren what happened on Saturday was absolutely unacceptable and unsportsmanlike. Jean is your teammate! I gave Reiner that call to throw to him, not you. Your behavior lately has been very inappropriate.”

Eren looked down and bit his lip. "B-But! I thought he was going to get tackled! If I-"

"Enough. There is no excuse for your actions Eren, not only that, but you were hurt too. I told you three times that if you were hurt, to step off the field. That's not okay at all Eren. Look at you now! Your ankle is now even worse than before. Your actions are extremely selfish," he stated. 

Eren fell silent as his words played into his head. 

"Until you can play like a team player, leave." Coach Smith said. 

Eren looked up with wide eyes. "What? What do you mean leave?!" he asked with concern in his voice. 

"Until you can get your act together, you're benched and off the team. There's not buts anymore Eren, I've let your behavior slide numerous times. Your own teammates have come to me about this as well, so until you can gain some proper teamwork skills you're benched," he replied. "Don't bother coming to practice or showing up to games or I will suspend you," he added. 

Eren leaned back in his chair. "You can't do this coach please! I need this season!" he pleaded and looked at him with pleading eyes. 

Coach Smith stood up. "Nobody wants a player who can't think for anyone else, especially not the Chiefs," he said. "Now please… leave. Don't show up for the rest of the week," he added and went towards the door. 

Eren grabbed his backpack and exited the office, many eyes watched as he exited the locker room. Frustration, anger, and even sadness rushed through him all at once. How could his own Coach do that to him!? Coach Smith has believed in Eren from the day he entered Trost. Why the sudden change? 

He went outside and breathed in the cool air, the leaves fell from the trees as it was now fall. The leaves crunched under his feet as he walked back to his residence hall, he just wanted to lay in bed and sleep the rest of the day. 

He eventually got back and opened the door, Armin sat on the opposite side of the room with his laptop open. 

"Eren? You're back early. Short practice today?" he asked and nodded. 

Eren threw his backpack onto the floor which made a loud thump come from it. "No.." he replied and sat on his bed. "It's way worse than that," he added. 

Armin furrowed his brows. "What happened?" he asked. 

Eren threw his phone onto his nightstand. "I got benched for what happened at the rival game, so don't expect me to be playing. I can't go to practice either," he replied and leaned against the wall. 

The blondes eyes went wide as saucers hearing the news. "What? That's never happened to you before…" he said and looked down. 

"Yeah.. I guess the other players have talked about it too," Eren said and adjusted his man bun. "Which is absolute bullshit to me," he added and shrugged. 

Armin stayed silent as he listened to Eren rant, he knew how badly the situation was. Being injured didn’t exactly help anyone, being benched was the best course of action. Seeing the way he played on Saturday was kind of embarrassing in a way, Eren barely let anybody have the ball. 

"What am I going to do? My teamwork skills are fine!" Eren complained, staring up at the ceiling. 

Armin laughed a bit. "You're going to have to work on it yourself. Teamwork takes a lot of self work, it's up to you to fix it." he replied. "I wish I could help but to be honest, I suck at that kind of stuff." he added. 

Eren felt a small smile draw onto his lips. "It's okay Armin… I guess I have to fix all of this on my own," he said. 

"So you're benched for the next game?" Armin asked and nodded a bit. 

Eren sighed. "Yup… and who knows how long either. Coach told me to not show until I get my act together," he replied, putting his arms behind his head. "Which sounds stupid to me because I'm fine the way I am," he added and shrugged his shoulders. 

Armin closed his laptop and placed it next to him. "Maybe you have to accept his words Eren.. he could be just trying to help you," he said, looking over at him. "Sometimes you have to face the reality of it," he added. 

Eren sat up and looked towards his roommate. "No.. there's nothing wrong with me Armin. If he was trying to help he wouldn't have benched me," he replied. "I'll be fine.. just don't worry about it," he said and stood up limping to get his medication. 

Armin stayed silent and just watched as Eren took his medication. Was Eren right about everything? Maybe his skills were fine and everyone was just being dramatic, or maybe Coach Smith was right. Maybe Eren needed the work, that was something Armin wasn't sure of, but judging off the way Eren played on Saturday… he was convinced Eren did have issues on the field. 

One thing was for certain, something was up with Eren.

tagging: @ererokii @eremiie @callmepromise @moomii-hime @katsuhera @flam3bird @kc-braun @backstagepaige @thicmitten @daughter-of-the-stars11 @just-a-little-sad @chayauwu @sof-yeager @basket-flower-chick @lunamoonawatcher