#I was gonna call it ‘hated by god’ but that didn’t make as much sense lol

[khamomile-kitty]

achievement unlock:

anti-establishment??

Get blocked by staff or moderation

[godsfavdarling]

kissing him

part of him (one-shot series), my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader summary: You and Spencer are taking things slow, and kissing him might be your favorite thing in the world. words: 700 warnings: kissing, anxious/sensitive reader, no y/n a/n: a quick little thing I wrote when I woke up! a little treat! I'm imagining early seasons Spence but you do you! I'm not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You and Spencer had been dating for a while. Your relationship was built on cute dates, always doing something fun—museums, bookstores, parks, movies. Whenever he was home, he made sure to spend as much time with you as he could. 

You both took things very slowly because Spencer knew how anxious you were about being in a relationship. Sharing your days and yourself with someone else was overwhelming, so he never pushed or rushed you. 

Most people who saw the two of you might have thought you were just friends. 

It wasn't until you found yourselves in a larger crowd that Spencer would strategically place himself behind you—1) to not lose you, and 2) to make you feel safer. He’d place his hand on your back, barely touching it, but you could feel it, and it made your stomach do cartwheels. 

You hated how sensitive you were. You wished you could be the opposite—bold enough to throw yourself at him and have a hot and heavy make-out session. But you weren’t. You needed time, and he wanted you to feel good with him.

The light touches gradually transformed into soft hugs and holding hands. If it was too hot outside, you’d hook your pinky around his, which he loved. It always made him smile, even though he tried to hide how giddy it made him feel. 

On the metro, you’d always hold hands, not just to avoid losing each other, but because Spencer knew how much you hated fast-moving crowds and the creeps who sometimes occupied the trains. So, he’d squeeze your hand whenever he sensed you feeling uneasy.

Your first kiss was something you still weren’t sure who initiated. Was it you, looking at his lips as you said goodbye after a movie date? Or was it him, noticing how you were looking at him and slowly closing the distance between your faces? Maybe it was both. In the end, it didn’t matter. The kiss was soft and sweet, just like you had imagined it. 

The moment his lips touched yours, you felt him shudder and inhale deeply, which made you somehow cling to him even closer. You often forgot that Spencer was as inexperienced as you were. 

Suddenly, his hands were on your waist, holding you gently, and your hands were on his cheeks. Then he slowly pulled away and looked at you. Oh god, the way he looked at you—as if you were the most divine creature in the universe. And he probably saw how you looked at him, dumbfounded, trying to process what had just happened. He smiled, kissed your cheek, and said goodnight with a promise to call tomorrow.

The kisses grew more casual and soon became a normal occurrence. Kissing Spencer became as natural as holding his hand (or hooking pinkies).

It took months for the two of you to have a proper make-out session. You were on his couch, and it might have been your fault—you couldn’t stop thinking about him, about kissing him. He even wandered into your dreams.

The movie was on, but you had no idea what it was because you kept glancing over at him, your heart racing. You tried to focus and just enjoy the evening, but you couldn't. He looked so pretty sitting next to you, completely absorbed in the movie with his brows furrowed. You were in such awe that you were startled when he turned and asked, "Why are you staring like that? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no you don’t. Your face is... just... pretty," you replied.

He blushed and said, "Your face is pretty."

You didn’t know what came over you, but right then, as he said that, you pressed your lips against his. Before you knew it, your hands were in his hair, his hands were on your hips, and you pulled him onto you as you both fell back on the couch. He opened his mouth, letting your tongue in. 

He tasted so good, so sweet. 

You loved kissing Spencer. You had always wondered what kissing someone like that felt like. What was all the buzz about? It’s just kissing, and if you thought about it too much, it was frankly kind of gross, but now, with Spencer, you understood the buzz. This was your favorite place to be.

[agoofyannoyancetolaw]

consider... Ghost babytrapping reader. It's something some could see Soap or Graves doing, but never Simon.

He's so sly and sneaky, never showing his needs, but when he senses you drifting away, he will slip a pill in your drink when he's sure he's ovulating to ride you till sunset, making sure to milk you dry

a/n: god I love these requests

minors DNI- warnings: baby-trapping duh, trans ghost as well

ghost wasn’t ever going to admit how much he wanted you, how much he needed you in fact. He didn’t want to put into words how he felt- but he knew deep in his gut that you were his, right? You had to be his in some way. You and him had been friends for quite a while, and eventually just enough more that he could call you to his barrack any time of night and have that perfect feeling of sex fade into his senses with you

that’s all you really were though- fuck buddies. God he hated that term, it made his gut boil with envy and hate that someone could slide into your life and end it all so easily. No, no, that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it happen.

these thoughts all brewed in his mind over the months, but the thing that set it all in motion was when he saw you at the closest base pub getting all close to some civilian. That’s what truly got him going, the fact you were flirting with a civilian- not even part of the team, although he’s not quite sure if that would have been worse.

sure he could tell you his feelings straight up, but where’s the point in that?

so he made a plan. It started in physical motion the second you got back from base and he texted you to come to his room for the usual quick fuck, nothing horrible so far

he had this all planned out- unknown to you of course. Any condom you have now has little needle holes poked in and any drink at his house has just a smidge of something he found just to make sure he takes

he rides you all fucking night even when your half asleep and tired, he still keeps bouncing on your length, his body clenching around your member and his folds wet and inviting as if he was trying to keep every little drop inside of him, his gummy walls squeezing every little drop he can get out of you and cockwarming you till you fall asleep next to him

he just felt it in his bones that it was gonna take, it just had to. And god was he close to bouncing in joy when he pulled out a test a few days later and it came up positive, him getting ready to put on some fake tears to tell you. You couldn’t really just be fuck buddies now, could you?

[spliffymae]

rapper!onyankopon.

just some head canons i have.

in my head im imagining a blend of dave and fridayy, where he can sing as well (he got variety!). same universe as my musicproducer!connie fic but reader is not famous here, as opposed to w/ connie’s. (lol i gave her a last name too—davis.) in my mind, im picturing ony from the uk and connie from ny.

★　*　　°　　　　🛰 　°. 🌓　•　　.°•　　　🚀

rapper!ony who first pops up on the scene in a music video of his friend connie’s song. he wasn’t featured on the track, but rather just in the background getting hype with everyone else.

but y’all know how the girlies get when a fine black man/woman/person start trending.

rapper!ony who wasn’t shy about his craft, but just wasn’t big on social media. his agent hated it, he loved it. he simply released music, let people know, and then went about his business.

rapper!ony was trending and although he didn’t take this as an opportunity to get in his social media bag, his best friend, musicproducer!connie did!

rapper!ony who goes from a couple thousand people knowing what he does to over a million people screaming his lyrics at they’re phones on tiktok in ONE night.

“bro, you can’t even get mad at me gang!” connie yelled from his shower. ony was sitting outside, accosting his friend for what he did. “you said you didn’t care what happened to the project!”

“but tell me if you gon post it and make it a whole thing, nigga damn!” ony yelled back.

rapper!ony who now has to adjust to his quickly rising popularity. he has yet to know the number of artists looking for a feature; and he doesn’t know that he secretly has some of these industry boys shaking in their boots because where the hell he come from?

no, rapper!ony is too busy focusing on whyyy they’re a million fan edits of him across tiktok and instagram. clips of him from his streams, connie’s videos, and his other friend’s content.

ony groans as connie’s message banner pops up on his phone, the message being a link to a tiktok. when he clicked it, it was a fan edit of him using his song ‘when it comes to you’. “bro, who keeps sending these to you, man?!” ony exclaimed. connie heard it from his room and snickered.

rapper!ony who had to adjust to being the attention at these red carpet events. he usually just walked behind connie and his girl, along with the rest of the entourage but now he is getting stopped for photographs.

there’s nothing like listening to music live. so rapper!ony puts on a fake smile and pushes through the crowded carpet to get inside. he waves to people he’s worked with, artists, and fans who called out to him. all so he can hear some music.

he sees connie holding hands with his girlfriend, both of them making goofy faces at the cameras. he softly smiles at the couple, but before he could make way, connie somehow senses him and turns to him “ony! ven aquí!” damn!

rapper!ony who doesn’t expect much from the awards show. just to go, support connie, and go home. he was nominated,yeah, but he was also in the category with some of the most popular artists right now…so he wasn’t feeling all that confident.

rapper!ony who is shocked as shocked can be when his name is called from the podium for best new artist.

“F**CK YEAH!” connie yelled, jumping up from his seat along with his girl and the rest of the table—aran, zora, jean, armin, and mikasa.

rapper!ony who walks up on stage with connie who is still screaming from excitement.

“uhhh, i’m not gonna lie, mans weren’t expecting to win still.” ony laughed, running a hand over his fresh waves. the audience laughed with him.

“first i would like to thank God, the most high who has blessed me with this amazing opportunity. i want to thank my people for having my back; connie—this man,” ony pointed behind him to connie, who was full out filming the moment on his phone.

“who told me on a random day when we were cleaning out our college dorm room that if we made a project together we would be the new heartthrobs of the generation. connie i thank you for being you; having my back and working alongside me. my brother for life, that is.” connie screamed, and so did his girlfriend from the audience as the claps poured in.

“and finally, i want to thank my heart in human form. the woman who made all of this possible, y/n davis. she don’t like the attention so im gonna hear bout this name drop when i get home. but babes, i love you, and thank you for being my rib. i owe you the world and more. and to her parents, thank you for my better half. thank you lot again. love!” ony raised his hand with the award, smiling and waving to the crowd and cameras as he walked to the back.

meanwhile, across the country, cuddled up in her bed was y/n, who was watching the award show before going to sleep. she had expressed to ony she wasn’t too sure about going, not liking the cameras and attention. he reassured her it was okay because there wasn’t any way he would be winning with who else was in the category.

so…safe to say when you saw your boyfriend on the stage with the award in his hand, you could not contain your shock and excitement. you jumped out of bed screaming and quickly getting to your phone camera to record the tv. squeals and “yeah baby” was all you could say as he gave connie his thanks.

but then… when you heard him say your name, for everyone around the world to hear, everything just turned to shock as your phone fell from your frozen hands, still recording. you were stunned. he said your name. your government name. on national television.

“ONY!!!”

[stevesgother]

Dress - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - 2 times Steve Harrington has lost his mind seeing you in a dress that fits you like skin, and the one time he does something about it.

Contains - best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is pathetically in love, loosely based off of ‘Dress’ by Taylor Swift. Or maybe heavily based lol

Warnings - steve & reader ARE 18 in this, they just haven’t graduated yet, drinking, vomit. As always, let me know if I missed anything

AN - THIS IS PART 1 OF A WIP. second fic…ever! also my first mini series! i was gonna make it all one fic but i figured it would be easier to digest this way. enjoy :)

Senior Prom - May 1985

Michael Cooper. That’s who was waiting for you downstairs in your foyer, sweet talking your parents while he waited to escort you to your final high school dance. He wasn’t your first choice for your senior prom, hardly even your second; but he was respectable enough for you to be seen on his arm for one night.

Taking one last look at yourself in your vanity mirror, you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress. It was a beautiful baby pink ball gown with lace trim and puffy sleeves. Before you can think better of it, before you can feel guilty for it, you imagine Steve’s reaction when he sees you tonight.

Steve Harrington. Your best friend since diapers. Your mothers grew up together, so naturally when they found out they were pregnant at nearly the exact same time, it only made sense that they would orchestrate your friendship immediately.

As it turns out, not much orchestrating would be required. The second your little baby brains could comprehend what it meant to love another person, the rest was history. Wherever you went, Steve went too. You’re not sure when your feelings for him started to change. The usual calm that washed over you whenever you were in his presence one day seemed to transform into something different. You felt nervous, like someone had released a net of butterflies into your stomach.

You clear your head with a harsh shake and grab your clutch off the bed, making your way downstairs. Michael is waiting for you with a green corsage in a shiny translucent box. ‘That's Sweet,’ you think, “if only it matched my dress.’ 

–

Upon arriving at the gym, the first thing you do, consciously or not, is scan the room for your best friend. You spot him quickly, his perfectly manicured hair and well-pressed suit making him hard to miss. Even harder to miss is the gorgeous, curly haired brunette resting her head on his shoulder.

Nancy Wheeler.

They’ve been together for over a year at this point, even joining your close knit circle of friends. Despite this, you can’t help the nagging sense of jealousy stabbing at your chest, making your face heat up. You tell yourself it’s the humidity inside the gymnasium, and not the fact that you’d give anything to be in her position. You quickly abandon your date and try not to feel guilty for it, making your way over to the happy couple.

“Steve!” You call as you come further into their line of sight.

“Hey you!” Steve stands and gives you a tight hug. “Hey!’ you greet, returning the embrace. He can’t help the way his eyes quickly travel down the expanse of you, noticing the shape this dress gives your body. He prays to any listening God that his girlfriend didn’t notice, that you didn’t notice. “Hey Nance.” You address her with a polite smile. She gives you a hug without warning. Another thing that irks you about Nancy Wheeler: that girl is impossible to hate. You have every reason to despise her, and yet you can’t. She’s kind, funny, strong-willed and beautiful. She’s so ‘girl next door’, she’s so…not you. Occasionally you’ve wondered if it’s a front, that she can’t possibly be that perfect.

“Where’s Michael?” She asks inquisitively; like she genuinely cares where your douchebag date has run off to. A quick scan of the room reveals he’s already talking up another girl by the photobooth. There’s not one part of you that gives a shit. “We were just thinking about grabbing some food, wanna come with?” Steve nods his head toward the various appetizers they have set up on tables decorated with gaudy tinsel and tablecloths. “Yeah, why not?”, you smile and it doesn’t reach your eyes.

–

An hour and 2 cups of spiked punch later, ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams starts to play and you feel like you might hurl. Nancy’s face quickly lights up and she gives her date a knowing look, “Steve! Let's dance! Please??”. She’s immediately pulling him away from the table where you’ve been watching them flirt all night. Her delicate hand resting on his bicep, his large one finding a home on her thigh. He sends you a sympathetic look as he rises; sorry that he has to leave you there, sorry that you won’t be slow dancing with anyone tonight. He has no idea.

Your date is long gone. The two of you going together was a ticket inside and nothing more.

The air in the gym is suffocating and frankly smells of sweaty basketball shorts, so you decide to make your way outside for some fresh air. The romantic serenade of Bryan Adams’ voice is nothing more than a quiet lullaby as you lean against the brick wall of your high school.

You hear him before you see him. “Hey stranger,” the open door momentarily lets the humidity escape and you feel it wash over your skin. “you alright?” he asks with a half smile.

“Yeah just,” you say looking around, “getting some air is all,” returning the expression. He imitates you and decides to lean on the wall, a little too close for comfort. You’re all but slapped across the face with his scent. Cinnamon, a no doubt expensive musky cologne, and sweat. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to meet his gaze; praying that he can’t see the crimson shade of red creeping up your neck and cheeks simply from standing next to him. You feel so pathetic at times like these. 

“Nance found a couple of her girlfriends, figured it’d be a good time for a smoke.” He pulls a cigarette out of his suit jacket pocket, and lights it. His hand cupped to cover the breeze.

“Those’ll kill ya, you know?” you smirk, knowing. You’ve always teased him for his bad habits, especially this one. “Yeah well,” he says in an inhale, “now’s as good a’ time as any, right?”

He grins at you, smug. It sends you reeling and you hope your thundering heartbeat doesn’t give you away. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

After a few minutes of silence, he stomps his cigarette out on the pavement and turns to fully face you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and your breath hitches in your throat.  Steve’s complimented you before, thousands of times. So why does this feel like you’ve just been slammed into a wall of concrete?

“Steve…��

You feel like he’s getting closer. You’ve definitely had too much to drink.

Before you can stop yourself or even comprehend what’s happening, you vomit all the contents of your stomach directly onto Steve’s perfectly polished loafers. He yelps, most in surprise, slightly in horror. Despite that undeniable foulness of the situation, his hands immediately move to hold your hair back, just in case you aren’t, well, finished. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He starts to lead you to his car in the parking lot, leaving you here alone not an option for him. “What about Nancy?” you sob, “I’ll come back and get her, honey. Don’t worry.” Honey. You almost puke again.

Once he settles you into the passenger seat of his pristine BMW, you watch as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the garbage. When he slides into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, he turns and brings a palm up to cradle your jaw. “Guess I’m gonna have to keep an eye on ya next time,” he chuckles, “can’t handle your mildly spiked punch.” You groan, but give a breathy chuckle of your own, “Just drive, Harrington.”

When you arrive home, you breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of your family car in the driveway. Your mother would certainly pitch a fit if she saw you like this - mascara streaked down your face, an obnoxious yellow stain down the front of your once flawless dress. Steve leads you upstairs with a hand on the small of your back, and a palm cradling your elbow. You know you’re not drunk, and you’re almost positive that wasn’t the reason you spilled your guts. But the alternative to just letting Steve take care of you would be admitting that you love him, that you’re in love with him.

You don’t bother taking your makeup off, Steve just helps you change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “Lights on or off?” He asks as he pulls the covers up and over you, “Off, please.” he gives you a little two-finger salute, “you got it.” Just as he’s reaching underneath your lamp shade you whisper, “Steve?” he looks, “yeah trouble?” “I’m sorry for ruining your night…and throwing up on your shoes.” you give a sheepish look. Even though he would have every right to be, you know he’s not mad at you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head,”the shoes we can discuss at a later date,” he shoots you a wink, making sure you know he’s only teasing.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Without another word he closes the bedroom door, bathing you in darkness. Just before you succumb to sleep, you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re gonna remember this in the morning.

Cheers to senior year.

[dynamightsfave]

bakugo katsuki—interviews

bakugo katsuki fucking hates interviews. in every shape and form. public conferences? "i did my fucking job. the building crashed down because the base sucked ass. that's not my fucking fault" one on one interviews? "why the fuck do they have so many damn questions about my methods? let them try and do what i do!" talk shows? "if you're not gonna ask me about my job, i don't know what the hell i’m doing here, my personal life is my goddamn business. also, if i wanted comedy i’d go to the fucking circus, at least the clowns wear their actual uniform instead of shitty suits"

safe to say, dynamight is every interviewer's nightmare. he's a wonderful and attentive person off camera (he’s still an asshole, but a nicer one), but when you start asking him questions and place a camera on his face, the brass defensiveness, one of the things that lingers from his stubborn teenage years, shines through. that and that mouth that curses more than a sailor in their golden years ever has. there's offers to take him of course, being in the top ten heroes ranking of not only japan, but the whole world. he's mostly partnered up in these interviews, so there's someone to lead the talking and answer for him when he doesn't want to give into "the stupidest fucking question he's had the misfortune to hear". 

red riot and shoto are the ones that are usually designated as his babysitters, but other old classmates have appeared onscreen with him as well. even deku, now a teacher, has made special features. but there's never much demand for an individual interview with pro hero dynamight, and if there ever is, bakugo usually rejects them without looking much into it.

which is why, his secretary was very confused when the mention of a last attempt at a talk show made his boss perk up rather than frown instantly. his lip didn’t instantly curl with a groan and his red irises didn’t meet the back of his skull. instead, he curiously eyed the schedule placed in front of him, and gave a curt nod in thanks when he was done. ryu developed a sense of uneasiness that took over his system. surely that was a sign of the end of the world. but he couldn’t really say anything, pinky and chargebolt recommended the interviewer and swore it would go well. maybe they were right? they needed it too, dynamight hadn't appeared on many public events lately. so there's that, now he just had to pray bakugo didn’t fuck it up.

and that brings us to right now, with dynamight taking a seat in front of you and the public’s applause dimming. the tension that fills the air lingers in the audience, and for once, bakugo and his interviewer seem to be completely at ease. ryu can’t help to think to himself that this is yet another sign that the world is about to end, and he wonders if he should call up his family to say a final goodbye. for now, maybe it’s better he focuses on what’s in front of him.

"great explosion murder god dynamight!" you smile at him, as if he was a friend you’re glad to see again, "so glad you could make it!"

you have that magnetism that makes every guest comfortable around you, familiarity being the base of your show. it’s a big part of why it became so popular, the charming host that interacts with their audience and speaks their mind in such an easy way.

katsuki smirks, chest a bit puffed and fingers drumming the armrest.

"sort of didn’t have a goddamn choice, did i?" while his response only makes the people watching tense more, you only chuckle, nodding as if you understood like nobody else.

"we’re our managers’ puppets aren’t we? either way, wonderful to have you," and goddammit, you never sound insincere, "these days it’s hard to have a minute of great explosion murder god dynamight"

"you know what they say, villains don’t rest. and if they don’t rest that just means us heroes have to work twice as hard as them" did he just answer without cursing? oh the world definitely ends today.

bakugo maintains eye contact with you while he lounges on his seat like he owns the place. he’s made hundreds of interviewers and others shrink with that attitude of his, but from the looks of it, you’re not only not one bit bothered by it, but you almost encourage it. your arms flex as you lean in towards him, agreeing with him.

"all right, since i don’t want to waste much of that precious time of yours..." eyes twinkling, you could even say teasing—dare i say flirty—, you tap a small melody onto your notebook with your pen, "let’s dive right in to the questions! promise this won’t be long. first off, i want to solve a doubt i’ve had for some time now"

he arches a brow, accepting the challenge. there’s the same amusement in his eyes that yours have, it sends chills across the room. it’s so weird to see the bakugo katsuki being not mean to someone that isn’t a little kid or a polite fan.

"i’ve said it a couple times now, and i have to admit it’s a bit of a mouthful. “great explosion murder god dynamight”. why that name? how on earth did you come up with it?"

it’s funny. you say it as if it isn’t a mouthful. quite the opposite, it rolls off your tongue like quick, flowing as if it’s escaped a million times, a prayer you know by heart. bakugo rolls his eyes, similar comments follow him practically every day everywhere he goes since he made the name up. he’s built up skin to them, not that they ever bothered him, he’s pretty proud of his hero name. some might say too proud.

"it’s a reflection of everything i am," he winces after a second, "maybe not the murder part."

"i do hear die is one of your favorite words tho"

"yeah well, it’s good to let the emotions out or whatever the hell. i try not to say it as much anymore, people say it’s rude or some shit," his hand makes a fast motion, as if to sweat it off, he really doesn’t give a damn, "anyway, the name’s like that because it had to embody how fucking awesome i am"

"ah, that makes sense," you nod along, not bothered by the curses, "a loud and bright name like your explosions. it does suit you"

at the compliment, the smirk returns to his lips, a small huff with it. he shuffles around to sit higher, now getting an idea of how this interview is going to go. katsuki finds that he doesn’t really mind it, at least the questions are off to a good start. and the host... well let’s just say he likes this one.

"i know, i picked it myself," he states, and you can’t help but laugh at how sure of himself he is. reminds you of a 6-year-old, not a single ounce of doubt in his body about how cool they are.

"would you say it was inspired by something else? maybe a hero you look up to?"

"nah, ‘t was all me," liar.

"i see. a unique name to say the least. but on the topic, is there any hero that you look up to? someone you aspire to be like. other than, i'm sure, best jeanist"

"obviously," he repeats, "but i mean; every kid and their goddamn mother has dreamt of becoming all might, he was n.1 longer than anyone. i’m sort of a basic bitch that way. when i was little i wanted to be like him, so i followed that dream until i made it real. and now i push myself to be as great as he was and more. plus ultra and all that bullshitr"

"wow. sounds like hard work," he grunts in agreement, and you purse your lips, "we all agree all might is a one of the greatest symbols we have, must have been incredible to be able to study under him. you mentioned the school’s motto. can you tell us about that? the ua days?"

katsuki smiles, his eyes drifting away to his hands. you can’t help but think he looks rather handsome, reminiscing his high school.

"in one word: it was fucking insane. he brought a lot of insight about what to expect in the actual field, and how to treat with bystanders—the little motherfuckers—, and he was always pushing us to do our best. he’s the sort of person you just know cares about what he’s doing," he explains, "our homeroom teacher, mr. aizawa was also very much like that, even though he didn’t look it. ua students are lucky when it comes to teachers. but they’re all ungrateful snotty brats"

it’s the first time bakugo katsuki has ever said something nice in public, even if it has some mean side dishes (wouldn’t be something bakugo katsuki said otherwise). at this point, it’s just you two in the room. no lights, no cameras, no audience, not even the questions you’ve jotted down in your notebook. only a conversation between two people. katsuki wonders if it’s a you effect, and he figures it must be, because he’s never as comfortable as he is talking to you. it comes so easy.

you smile, and it takes everything in you to not reach and put your hand on his arm at his words, the reminder of all the people watching in the room and through the cameras a dying reminder in the back of your mind. you like having him here, and you frankly don’t understand why other hosts dread his visits.

"sounds like a wonderful experience. i’ve talked to others from your course and they all speak of it with so much fondness, just like you. even with the hardships you had to endure," you clear your throat, voice dropping to barely a mutter. even the mic strapped to your blouse has trouble picking it up, "but i’m sure you don’t like thinking of them, i know i don’t. so, i know you’ve said all might and eraserhead are big inspirations, but do you have any other people you admire?"

you know you’re pushing your luck. your tone is far too friendly to be considered professional now and he’s not one to be heartfelt on camera. but if you could just get him to confirm what cellophane and shoto said last week... what you just know is the truth, but dynamight is a bit too proud to admit. you can see it in the way he looks away and puffs his cheeks to blow air.

"i mean, obviously, i’m incredibly grateful to best jeanist and edgeshot, they fucking saved my life," his cheeks grow the slightest bit of pink under your intense gaze. he almost chuckles as you nod entranced and edge just a tiny bit closer awaiting for the true answer. he guesses he might as well indulge, so, with a much lower tone, he continues, "and ya know, in class there were others that were pretty good too. not as incredible as i am, but close enough. if i had to pick any, maybe shitty hair and the dumbass deku. i guess"

screw the lights. your smile is blinding. it shines so much bakugo suddenly doesn’t feel like the answer was practically yanked from his throat. this is too much for his rearranged heart.

"that’s funny, they speak pretty highly of you too," you giggle. your eyes clash, and the small smile that forms on his face is instinct, he can’t control it. one, two, three.

"of course they fucking do. they better, else i’ll crush their bodies," he huffs, snapping back to his position before he was gobsmacked by you.

"all right, i’ve just got a couple more questions before we let you go," you get back on track too, despite the heat on the back of your neck, "uhm... oh yeah! well i guess you’ve answered this already, but just in case. you said red riot and deku were people you admired as heroes, i take it they are also the easiest to partner up with? i know pro hero deku is out of commission at the moment, but back when you still worked together"

dynamight actually thinks about this one. he furrows his brows, and his weight shifts on the sofa. he hums as his hand strokes his chin.

"well, it depends on the job. generally, i do like to partner up with them, we understand each other very well, as do everyone form our class. the time we spent training with each other pays off. so yeah, they’re easy to work with. but also, the half ‘n half bastard is quick to respond to what i do, and ponytail is a great strategist when it comes to infiltration or a mission that takes planning. the damn rabbit gets on my nerves a lot, but we make a good team. she should start thinking about retiring though, before she starts dragging me down"

"it’s lovely to hear the heroes of japan are so tight and coordinated. i must say, hearing you praise them is refreshing," your lip gets caught in your teeth in an attempt to stop the growing smirk, but your eyes betray you.

"oi, don’t misinterpret what i’m fucking sayin’. they’re all still pains in my ass, each worse than the last one"

"uh huh... okay, last question. if you weren’t a hero, what would you be?" that takes him aback.

"fuck you mean? i was always gonna be a damn hero. i don’t know. maybe one of those people that handle bombs in the army or some shit like that," he shrugs, but then a beat passes, "a firefighter"

"final answer?" you arch a brow. he grunts an affirmation, "o-kay! well, it’s been a pleasure to have you here, i hope we did not waste much of your time, but you’re free to go now. i appreciate that you didn’t shout"

he chuckles, following your steps as you get up and circle your table to get to him and say goodbye. the audience is clapping for you two, ryu is releasing the breath he’d been holding all throughout the interview, and the camera people are preparing to shut off. you reach him, and just like his smile before, his next actions are pure instinct. even more, they’re almost a routine.

his hand reaches for your waist, and he effortlessly pulls you closer, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. now, in this routine, it’s not common that you tense up. usually, you wrap your arms around him and nuzzle into his chest. you look up to him, eyes wide, and it takes one millisecond for him to realize what he’s done. he curses under his breath, and you laugh.

"welp, there’s that. no more hiding this," the stunned public is so silent they hear your whispers, "see you at home?"

katsuki gives you that low laugh you love, squishes your waist, and nods.

"yeah, see you at home"

ryu dials his family to say his goodbyes as his boss steps off the stage and the audience recovers from the shock. he prays the call gets through before the world suddenly explodes.

luckily, the world doesn’t combust, and he lives to see the heart magazines with your image on their covers and headlines screaming about japan’s favorite talk show’s host and potty mouth’s newly discovered relationship.

[warping-realities]

Animal I Have Become

Alright, I promised I wouldn’t write any more. But this one’s short and I cranked it out in less than two hours. The inspiration is obvious for anyone who’s a fan of "Karate Kid"/"Cobra Kai," since I just finished the first part of the last season. And for those worried about my studies, don’t sweat it—I was on my work shift, which I never use to study because it seems to attract all kinds of chaos. Anyway! If any quick ideas pop up, I’ll post them, but no more long stories packed with plots for a while.

I only agreed to go back to the place of my humiliation for one reason: Mikey was my best friend throughout high school until he decided, right in our senior year, to join the karate team of the new P.E. assistant teacher. Then, like magic, the skinny kid with a sharp sense of humor who could discuss everything from experimental physics to pre-Columbian American history, the guy I knew so well, was replaced by this arrogant musclehead who struggled with math and was totally incapable of having a history discussion that didn’t revolve around bragging about how today badass America was, and whose idea of a joke involved talking about tits or letting out a stinky fart. Apparently, it was a courtesy of the insane amounts of protein he started chugging to maintain his suddenly beefed-up physique. How the hell was it possible to gain that much muscle in such a short time? Maybe steroids, but the one time I asked about that, I ended up stuck under his stinky armpit. And what was up with that new nickname? “Snake!” How pretentious was that? But apparently, everyone in the group had a “badass nickname.” Ah, the joys of the standard American jock… Still, I tried to hold on to some of our friendship; God, did I try.

I even agreed to join a couple of those damn team practices, knowing damn well I didn’t have the physique, the skills, and maybe most importantly, the real desire to be there. I ended up getting ridiculed by everyone, including my so-called best friend.

I should’ve never talked to him again after that week of “practices.” But, being the idiot I am, all it took was a poorly worded apology full of grammatical mistakes that my brain refuses to recreate:

“Sorry, bro, the sensei got pissed at the guys when he heard their jokes about the size of your… well, you know. He wants you to meet us in the locker room today so we can apologize the right way. If you don’t show up, he’s gonna make us skip training for the whole week. Come on, please, for our friendship!”

… and there I was in that locker room. I should’ve left those morons without practice, but I decided to be the good samaritan.

Walking into that crap hole, what a surprise! It was empty. The pungent stench of sweat filled the room and humidity on the walls made it feel like the locker room was actually a beast whose musk drips off its body after a vigorous workout. But that didn’t matter; apparently, either the coach didn’t give a damn about what happened, which I should’ve figured, since he was just an older version of the ogre crew he trained, or he didn’t even know what went down, and I was about to be the victim of another lame prank.

Thinking about the danger, I quickly turned to leave. Then I noticed… on the other side of the room, hanging on one of the lockers… had that been there before? A piece of red fabric… oh, of course. A red gi from the team; they even gave themselves a pretentious name…. The fight practice was happening right at that moment. It was hard to think about it. I said so much crap about the team on TikTok and Instagram, tarnishing the reputation of the strong and disciplined image they worked so hard to create outside those walls that they probably hated my guts now. All those arrogant alpha dogs were arrogant and obnoxious. What the hell was I thinking trying to fit in? Nerdy little dudes like me didn’t really belong there. Even the jokes about my dick; if I were one of them, I’d just throw a punch or come back with some barbaric, macho comeback and everything would be cool. But I wasn’t like that, and my frustration with all of it was proof of that.

I never really liked the Gi. That red color always seemed way too aggressive, and for some reason, it always looked oversized on me, with sleeves and pants that were way too long and baggy. I had to wrap the belt around me twice just to keep it from falling off my skinny frame. Apparently, it never crossed the sensei’s mind that a little guy like me would have the audacity to try to join his team. Thinking about it, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the Gi; I hated it. It represented everything I despised about that bunch of trolls and also my lost friendship.

I stepped back and slowly turned my head back to the locker with the gi. Did it belong to someone? normally they were used by any of the team's bodies, one size fits all, or almost, when I was still there... anyway... after training they went straight to the laundry before returning for the next training session. Not that any washing would really get rid of the complete animalistic musk that infested their fabric. So why would someone leave it here?

Not my fucking problem. Probably just a spare or something. I think, walking resolutely toward the door, and I crack it open slightly. I turn back. I guess there’s no one using it. That means someone’s gonna grab it soon. Something’s bugging me. But what is it? I get closer, the musk intensifying. That gi definitely isn’t new and hasn’t been washed recently. And what’s this? There’s a note along with it. I sit on the nearby bench to read.

“Sorry, bro, today’s practice was super important, and the sensei didn’t want to wait for you. But he left your gi here. Put it on and come train; this time it’ll be different, I promise. Trust me, for old times’ sake.”

Old times? Maybe… maybe I should give it a shot. God, what a weird thought. Why would I want to do that? But while I’m thinking about it, my feet are already moving me to stand up and head toward the locker, while my hands are grabbing my shirt and pulling it up. I should stop. I need to stop. I should leave now, but the shirt comes off and goes over my head, landing on the floor. My pants are unbuttoned, and soon they join the shirt. I really should stop. Why do I want this? It’d be better to stop, but soon I’m in my boxers holding the gi in front of me. First, I put one leg in... then the other... then the arms, and then the belt… why is it black? I wonder, confused… but then that consuming need fades away.

I look at myself. As always, it doesn’t fit. I look like a kid wearing his dad’s suit at some event. I sit back down on the bench. Alright, that strange urgency is satisfied. So now I can just take this damn thing off!

But I don’t want to, for some strange reason. I feel more comfortable than ever. It’s like that mismatched uniform was made for me. My delicate hands wander over the ill-fitting outfit, the long sleeves sliding down my shoulders. I try to adjust them back into place, but they stop midway as I start to feel the material against my skin. The feeling of power it gives me… the feeling of strength… was it really this good when I was practicing? No, definitely not; if it was, I wouldn’t have quit. Man, this feels amazing... I feel the weight of the gi on me, both real and metaphorical… the weight of what it represents… my hands roam over its wide shape… it’s not just a uniform… it’s an armor… a sacred cloak… this is so cool… I can hear them in the training room… too bad I can’t join them... I wish I could... and they asked... didn’t they? I shift a bit on the bench and let my arms fall to my sides. Weird, I didn’t seem that far from the ground before. I feel cozy; the sweat smell doesn’t bother me, the whole atmosphere feels familiar, even comforting, like coming home after a long day and sitting in your favorite chair. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to fall asleep...

My rational mind, or what’s left of it, doesn’t notice. But unconsciously, I do… my muscles are slowly expanding, my skinny body pushing against the bench while my hands gently massage my slightly protruding belly that’s slowly flattening, the little bit of fat there seeming to be sucked in with every circle my hand makes. My shoulders are also widening, getting broader, as I grunt happily, a tingling sensation creeping up my body.

Feeling that, my eyes suddenly open, a jolt waking me up a bit from that stupor. What the hell was that? I look at my belly, and it’s widening as I’m hit with shock. I’m getting ripped! My hands trace the outline of my abs as the little muscle blocks there grow and harden, turning into six distinct shapes. As I stare at that in fascination, the stupor hits me harder.

The rigid stones of my abs aren’t the only things getting harder. My arms and legs are swelling with new muscle, keeping pace with my ever-growing body. And, well... I gently pat my groin. It’s definitely there too… a solid extra four inches, and still soft… As my body keeps expanding, the sensation turns pleasurable, like scratching an itch that’s been bugging you for ages, so I let it wash over me. My mouth opens in a gasp, drool spilling out as I pant like a dog. For some reason, it’s easier to breathe like this. Maybe because my nose is breaking and reforming a few times without me even noticing? As the drool runs down my pecs, I bring my hand to them and feel them grow, making my hands look tiny in comparison to the two meat packages they become. I shake my hand a bit, sending the drool flying, and with each shake, I see it grow too, turning into a massive paw, perfect for smashing some unsuspecting fool. Looking at that seems… really good… and I laugh. And out of nowhere, the other hand starts growing too, while my feet expand like crazy. My size eight shoes will never fit those paws; what size are they now? 14? Or maybe 15? A good kick with those surfboards and you’re down for the count… cool… hehehe...

No, not cool, not cool at all! This damn outfit is doing something to me! I stand up and grab the gi by the sleeves at my shoulders, ready to rip it off, and then…. I fall back onto the bench, my eyes unfocused again as a sudden wave of pleasure hits me like a tsunami. Yeah, a torrent of testosterone floods my body as my jawline becomes prominent, my chin broadens, and little tufts of freshly trimmed hair cover my chest and armpits. My mouth opens again, drool spilling out as my neck thickens, and my Adam’s apple sticks out, while my forehead becomes more pronounced, with low brows creating a scowl that makes it look like I’m always ready to fight, and my hair gets shaved on the sides, completing the look of a total douchebag. I try to care, I try to fight... fight... good… fights is good... no… not fight like this... I start to lift my arm, now powerful and making the gi look slightly tight… my biceps must be huge… hehhe… then it drops again… I look at my altered reflection in the mirror and see someone who could easily roll with Samue… Snake and the other guys… who knows, maybe now it’ll end… maybe I’ll finally break free from this stupor and get out of here… But then the real nightmare begins, as a web of powerful veins snakes through the swollen muscles of my body, a myriad of intrusive thoughts starts to slowly shape my mind, no matter how hard I try to resist. They break through my defenses with such force that my illusions shatter quickly as I start to forget. Memories of long hours of studying slowly morph into party after party with my friends, working out with them, training with them, watching my body swell and grow; time spent on pop culture becomes time spent watching football, hours and hours perfecting my college resume turns into hours and hours of sweat and sacrifice perfecting my fighting technique to the point of perfection. Just like my friends. Just like the sensei taught us to be. And we owe it all to sensei. Especially since he’s gonna figure out a way to get me into college, get all of us, in every corner of the country, ensuring that his teachings are passed on. Just one of us in any student group or, better yet, a fraternity, and boom, a new crew of brothers ready to spread the word… ha… word… funny… as if we needed to talk… no… our way is the way of the fist!

Shit, I can’t believe I slept through practice! Sensei is gonna rip me a new one! I shouldn’t have hooked up with those hot girls from college with Snake last night… dude, I couldn’t miss that hookup… I’ll just have to take the sensei’s punishment like a man… and I AM THE MAN!”

I stand up and groan, my voice deeper, with a bit of a growl. I turn toward the door, bracing for sensei’s yelling… Eh, screw him. He’ll put on his show about my tardiness, and I’ll play my part as the remorseful kid, and everything will be fine. It’s not like I skipped out or, God forbid, quit the team; I can’t even imagine the things he’d do to a damn deserter. I stretch a bit, admire myself in the mirror… Mad Dawg, you’re so swole… damn… you big, hot son of a bitch!

And then I finally walk toward the training room to join my brother’s in arms. Today’s practice is gonna be awesome; I can feel it, but honestly, it always is; I was born for this.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Geto/gojo/reader “I can’t believe there’s only one bed” and HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY

THANK YOOUUU!! So, this one really sang to me, I went ahead and combined the two, mostly because they are very similar. Thank you both for the prompt!!

Now Presenting...

Starring: A flirty Satoru Gojo, and a tired Suguru Geto

Your body protested every step you took as you walked into the hotel, screaming at you to lay down and accept the sweet embrace of death. Okay, maybe death was a little extreme, but you could definitely have gone for a light coma in that moment. A yawn you had been suppressing came forward, and you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Awe, well aren’t you cute when you’re sleepy.” Gojo teased with a smile, earning him a glare from you. 

“Shut up Satoru.” This entire trip he kept making note of how cute you were, and how you needed to be protected, and at this point, he was on the brink of losing vocal cord privileges.

“Flirt later you two, let’s just get checked in.” Suguru muttered as he ushered the two of you to the front desk. He tried to summon a friendly smile for the clerk, but it didn’t touch his tired eyes. “Hi! Uh, we should have two reservations under Masamichi Yaga.” He said, really hoping they didn’t ask for an id. He told his teacher that he should probably put the rooms under one of the three people going on the mission, but the man was more muscle than brain.

The young worker started typing on the computer, before confusion fell over her features. “Um, I found the reservations, but it says it’s only for one room?” She asked. You were a bit taken back by that, and you could tell from the looks on their faces the boys were too. You thought for sure you’d at least get your own room. But, then again, if getting a room with 3 beds was cheaper than getting 2 separate rooms, it did make sense for Yaga to take that route, the penny pinching bastard. 

“Uh, yea that should be fine, that’s us.” Suguru shrugged, too tired to really argue. Much to your relief (and concern) the woman nodded and happily gave over the room key, not bothering to ask for an ID. What a stand up place. The three of you dragged your tired worn bodies over to the elevator. Well, two of you did. Satoru felt fine, because of course he did. And because he had no problem filling the elevator with whatever came to his head. You shared a look with Suguru.

How do we shut him up? Your eyes asked.

Pillow over his face as he sleeps Sugurus eyes offered.

No, I want him to shut up now. 

Oh, that’s not gonna happen. For now, we just have to endure him.

You sighed, knowing he was right and hating that fact at the same time. Thankfully, the elevator door opened, and the room wasn’t far from it. Geto unlocked the door, and you and Gojo practically fell over him to get into it. You quickly went to grab your toothbrush, and Gojo went to fiddle with the tv. It was Suguru who noticed it first.

“Uh, guys? I don’t see another bed.” He said. You and Gojo stopped cold in your tracks, heads whipping to the center of the room and- yep. That was one bed, and only one bed. Not even so much as a pull out couch in sight. 

“OH ho ho!!” Satoru laughed, launching himself onto the bed and folding himself into what you think was meant to be a sexy pose. “I’ve read fan fiction before, I know what happens here!” He cackled, “Be gentle with me, I’m a virgin” He swooned, acting like a helpless flower. 

“I call sleeping in the bathtub.” Suguru said, checking out of this battle before it became a war.

“No, Don’t!” Gojo whined, reaching out to him, “The bathtub is cold and hard, I'm warm and soft. Unless you want me to be hard.” He winked. 

“I can’t believe there’s only one fucking bed, who sets this shit up?!” You snapped, aggressively waving your hands at the bed.

“God.” Gojo responded.

“Bad fan fiction writers.” Geto retorted, apparently salty about his characterization in my past fics. 

“Satoru get out of the bed.” You demanded, shaking your head. You did not just get out of a fight with ten, count em, ten first grade curses to sleep on the floor.

“How about you get in the bed?” He purred.

“I will, as soon as you get out of it.” you scoffed, fighting back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“Why not get in it with me?” He grinned at you, opening his arms wide as an invitation. 

“I’d rather sleep in the bathtub.” You replied.

“Not an option, I already called it!” Suguru reminded you.

“Why don’t you sleep with him?” You accused more than asked, “He’s your man!”

“He is most definitely not my man!” Geto rebuffed the statement, shaking his head.

“He’s actually my man, we just haven’t taken our relationship to the next level yet.” Satoru purred with a cheeky wink to Geto to really seal the deal. Geto rolled his eyes.

“I’m going to bed, goodnight.” He said, going to grab a pillow from the bed, only for Satoru to grab his arm.

“Come on guys, don’t be silly! This bed is big enough for all of us!” He argued, “We all trust each other, right?!” Gojo paused long enough to look at both you and Geto, but not long enough for an answer. He already knew it. “We know no ones going to try any funny business, we trust each other with our lives there's no reason for any of us to be uncomfortable tonight!” you and Suguru shared more glances. Gojo may be annoying, but when he was right he was right. The only thing really keeping the three of you from sharing was standard social conventions. 

“Fine, but if any of you touch me I’m throwing you off the balcony.” You warned. Geto sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sitting on the bed.

“I just don’t get why we weren’t warned about this.”

“I mean, it kind of explains the weird look she gave us.” You noted, sitting on the other side of Gojo.

“Yay, sleepover!” Gojo cheered, grabbing onto Suguru because he was the one that didn’t threaten him, “Fair warning, I’m a cuddler.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“I knew I should have just slept in the tub.” Geto sighed.

🛏️🛏️🛏️

In the morning, you were a tangled mess of limbs and drool with your two best friends. Any warning against cuddling being tossed to the wind in exchange for the comfort human warmth brings. You hated to admit it, but it was the best sleep you had gotten in weeks. Gojo woke up not long after you, smiling softly, slowly coming back to life.

“Good morning,” He said. You shook your head and covered his face with a pillow.

“It was before you started talking.” You muttered.“It’s 6 am, go back to bed.” Suguru begged, not happy to have been woken up.

[queenie-official]

going with ani to the cafè for pumpkin spice latte only for him to be super nervous since we are so cool and he's some random engineering nerd ☝️🤓

‘Fall In Love With Me’

main masterlist Word count: little over 3k

pairing: modern!Anakin skywalker x fem!reader

a/n: you sending this request in as soon as i mentioned wanting to write fall fics is iconic of you and i love you for it 💋

“come on y/n, this is the only good thing about college! skipping without any repercussions” Honey continued to beg as you walked across campus.

“that’s easy to say when you're skipping a language class you’re already fluent in” you protest as she clings to your arm, pleading like a child.

“you don’t even care about French class, you just wanna ogle your little crush” she retorts before tugging on your arm as she comes to a stop forcing you to stop with her.

“okay that’s only half true, i like French class” you hardly believe your own lie as it tumbles out of your mouth. judging by Honey’s deadpanned expression she doesn’t believe it either.

“you were complaining just yesterday how the Teacher refuses to speak in any other language than French and you had no clue what was going on.” if only you didn’t vent to her about everything maybe then she wouldn’t be able to call you out on your bullshit.

“you’re gonna make me late” you sigh, slumping forward solemnly. she rolls her eyes not buying the act for a second.

“good, if you’re going to be late then it just makes even more sense for you to skip with me.” you let out a groan, gently pulling your arm out of her hold before starting to walk again. “you could at least talk to the guy if you’re gonna keep going just to look at him.”

“he’s too smart for me, i mean he’s a mechanical engineering major for gods sake” did he tell you that himself? no, you and Honey just did a little snooping through instagram after you got his full name and found out for yourselves.

“i have a friend who dated an engineering major and she told me they are not as smart as they think they are.” right but he was, he had all A’s it was a known fact around campus. Anakin Skywalker the college’s golden boy.

academic wise anyway, he didn’t socialize with anyone. you had guessed it was because he was much too focused on keeping his grades as good as they were, he had to if he wanted to keep his full ride scholarship… was it considered stalking if you got this information on a public platform?

“yea well Anakin’s different Honey” you can feel the look she’s giving you and you hate it. she jogs up in front of you now, forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“fine don’t skip but you have to talk to him, you’ve got the confidence and social skills to charm a snake y/n stop selling yourself short” you both stare at each other, a silent challenge that you always lose.

“alright!” you huff defeated and she cheers, throwing her arms up in victory before doing a celebratory dance.

“have fun talking to the boy of your dreams” she teases before spinning on her heel to walk in the opposite direction as you.

“have fun skipping spanish” you snort and she shouts back a quick ‘i will’ as you continue walking towards the building.

your professor was the type of teacher to close the door as soon as class began. ’if you want to waste my time by being late, don't bother coming at all’ was the first thing she’d said at the beginning of the semester, it was the only sentence she’d said in english.

which is exactly why you speed walk past her right as she’s starting to head to the door, keeping your head low when you see the annoyed look on her face as you do. internally counting your lucky stars that you somehow managed to make it before she’d closed it.

Anakin was always one of the first people to arrive in class so it was no surprise he was already there when you get to take a proper look at your surroundings. he was sitting in his usual spot; last row, second to last seat from the aisle.

you take a deep breath mustering all the courage you have as you walk down the aisle past your usual spot and straight to one of the empty seats next to him. he stiffens, hands freezing mid type on his laptop before he forces himself to relax and continue like normal.

you spare a glance at his laptop screen, wondering if it was related to the class. maybe you had missed an entrance ticket or something. you’re met with a shit ton of equations that makes you want to do a double take, unable to even process what you’d just seen.

the sound of your professor starting the lesson pulls your attention before you can. not that you could even understand what she said, all of it going in one ear and out the other. still you pretend to listen, wanting to give it a little time before you possibly ruin this man’s whole mood.

you pretty much dissociate, resting your hand on your palm without a thought in your mind. it’s about thirty minutes later when everyone who didn’t already have their laptops open are pulling them out of their bags that you snap out of it, following their lead you take yours out before turning to Anakin.

kind of a perfect way to start a conversation if you think about it. “sorry, but do you know what we’re supposed to be doing?” you tilt your head slightly watching as it takes a second for it to click in his mind that you’re speaking to him.

“we have to go onto canvas and answer the newest discussion post and then we have to comment on two other people’s answers all in French” he says after clearing his throat, his voice a soft rumble that makes your heart flutter.

you smile warmly at him, a whispered “thank you“ rolling off of your tongue before you turn back to your laptop. you’re about to copy and paste the question into google translate when you realize you could use this as another excuse to talk to him. “don’t suppose you’ve got any clue what this is asking us?”

his attention is on you again, eyes flicker over your face with uncertainty before he looks at your screen “comment prépares-tu la journée?” he reads it out loud in an accent that rivals the professors “it’s basically a formal way of asking how you prepare for the day”

you nod thinking of your answer only to remember a second later you’d have to respond in French. you bite your lip fighting back the urge to ask another question, afraid that you may start to annoy him. you tap on the table lightly locked in an internal debate, and right when you’re about to cave and go back to your trusty friend google Anakin speaks up again.

“do you need help forming your answer in French?” you can’t help but laugh as you turn to him, a shy smile growing on your face.

“is it that obvious i’m struggling?” you joke at your own misery and he rubs the back of his neck, nervously chuckling.

”no, no i wouldn’t say that…” he trails off before finishing with “well maybe a little bit” which makes you snort and cover your mouth to make sure you don’t laugh too loudly.

“help would be much appreciated, thank you” he smiles, wiping his palms on his jeans before clearing his throat again.

“it’s no problem i already finished my work anyway, i was working on homework for another class” he says while closing his laptop “i’m Anakin by the way” he extends his hand and you're quick to shake it. his palms are clammy, his grip gentle yet firm.

he was definitely nervous, even more than you were which somehow helped fuel you with more confidence. “y/n, it’s nice to meet you” you greet back, releasing his hand and turning your laptop screen more towards him.

“it’s.. uh nice to meet you too” it’s almost funny how awkward he is, you’d expected the college golden boy to be more.. well suave. it was endearing though, and you wish you’d made the effort to talk to him sooner.

you tell Anakin your normal routine before leaving for the day and he translates it for you, at first you were the one typing it but when he saw you failing to spell out the words correctly he offered to just do that as well.

of course you agreed, sliding your laptop more towards him. he reaches forward immediately retyping what he’d told you, and you get a front row seat to watch his mind work. so casual and effortlessly translating each thing you told him onto the discussion post. you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive.

thanks to Anakin’s help you’re able to get the discussion post done and comment on two other people’s posts in under 10 minutes, leaving you with nothing to do as the professor waits for everyone to finish before continuing the lesson.

“so do you usually finish all your work early and work on homework for other classes?” you ask wanting to spark conversation again before he gets the chance to reopen his laptop.

“yeah, French is kind of my first language- my mom had me speak both French and english growing up” he answers, shifting in his chair nervously. uncomfortable from the attention you were giving him. “so this is sort of.. my easy pass class, i just took it for the credits”

“i wanted this to be my easy class, and then the first day she spoke almost purely in French and i knew i was fucked- it’s a miracle i’m passing” that miracle was your usual seatmate who would always give you the answers.

“not to be rude but uh.. how are you passing?” you can tell he didn’t want to come off too blunt but there wasn’t really another way to put it that wasn’t beating around the bush.

“lots of google translate and help from peers” he laughs at how proudly you say that, and you can’t help but smile enjoying the sound of it.

“right, that makes a lot of sense” you raise your brow at that unable to resist the urge to mess with him.

“a lot of sense is crazy wording” you act offended and he instantly starts to panic, backtracking his statement while attempting to apologize. you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you making him freeze when he realizes you weren’t actually upset.

he doesn’t respond even as you apologize, simply shaking his head with a faint smile. he relaxes in his seat, a look on his face like he wanted to tease back but was still unsure.

once you’ve calmed down and chosen to ignore the looks you were getting from the people around you there’s a brief silence until your professor speaks up, calling everyone’s attention. all of the discussion posts must have been turned in as she now continues the lesson.

it’s not until the end of class that you and Anakin speak again, you turning to him as he packs his stuff away. “hey, we should hang out sometime” you suggest, rather bold for someone who was afraid to talk to him a little over an hour ago.

he whips his head towards you, completely caught off guard. “i- i…” he stutters, his brain trying desperately to catch up with the situation.

you wince worried you misread him, maybe you had actually offended him with your joke or perhaps he had no intentions or desire to talk with you after today.

when he sees you physically pull back he forces an answer out of himself in an almost panic. “no! well i mean yeah- i’d like that..” he squeezes his eyes shut cringing inwardly.

“you’re cute” you giggle, and he reddens. eyes snapping open as he tries to catch his breath, you’re too much for him. like taking a sip of coffee that has way too much sugar and cream in it.

“cute?” he repeats practically breathless, he swallows hard. looking down to his bag for a distraction, busying himself with zipping it closed.

“there’s a cafe i like to go to with my friend that we could go to together?” you offer while pulling your phone out of your pocket. readying it for him to put his number in as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

he hesitates for a moment before taking your phone; typing in his name and number, eyes flicking up to you every once in a while like he expected you to change your mind and tell him to stop.

“i’d love too” he finally responds, handing your phone back with his number officially saved into your contacts. you have to hold in a giddy squeal, doing your best to play it cool.

“great it’s a date!” you cheer singsongy, putting your phone back in your pocket. Anakin looks like he may pass out, every time he thinks you can’t surprise him more you do. “i’ll text you the details later tonight”

his mouth opens and closes, every possible response dying on his tongue. you give him the time he needs, brows knitted together in understanding.

he fakes a cough, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “okay, i look forward to it” he says voice cracking slightly which he tries to play off with another fake cough, turning away from you and heading out of the classroom in a hurry.

as soon as he’s out of sight you let out the squeal you’d been holding in, jumping up and down before excitedly running out of the classroom to go find and tell Honey about what happened.

you wait just outside of campus. rocking on your feet as the cold autumn breeze rushes past you making your nose cold, honestly you were far too happy to care.

i’d been two days since your interaction with Anakin and today was the day you’d both agreed to meet up after classes finished. the wait was agonizing but worth it, especially when you see Anakin heading towards you.

he had on a flannel overtop a gray shirt, hair tussled from the wind. palms sweaty which he tried to keep under control, alternating between wiping them on his jeans and trying to fix his hair.

he hasn’t noticed you yet, mumbling something to himself as he walked. you contemplate whether or not to say something, afraid you may startle him if you do but thankfully he finally looks up from the pavement eyes locking with yours. he stiffens mouth snapping shut before standing tall as he tries to look relaxed.

“y/n hey..” it was awkward for sure and you had to bite back a giggle not wanting to make him second guess himself.

“hey, you ready to go? it’s not too far a walk from here” you point behind you in the opposite direction from which he came. he nods, robotically coming to your side as you begin walking.

there’s a awkward silence between you both, Anakin wanting to talk to you but unsure where to start. “sooo…you like coffee?”

you laugh, unable to hold it back this time with how strained his question came out. “i do, it’s a college student's saving grace don’t you think” you half joke, after all there have been many times coffee has actually saved you from passing out and turning in a late assignment.

he smiles, relaxing with your easy going nature. “oh yeah, coffee the holy grail for all college students” he jokes back for the first time and you beam. “you said you go to this cafe with your friend?”

“yep, me and Honey go all the time. they’ve got the best coffee and baked goods. it’s also the perfect environment to do homework or study” you both round the corner of the sidewalk, walking a little ways down to the crosswalk.

“oh that reminds me i’ve been meaning to ask, what’s your major?” well if he was asking that then he had yet to see your instagram account since it was in your bio. good because you’re pretty sure there’s a photo of you from middle school still up on your page.

“i’m an art history major” his brows raise slightly at that, making you tilt your head curiously. “what’d you think i majored in?” he shrugs unsure what to say.

“i don’t know… maybe psychology” this time your brows raise and he laughs. “you seem like the type” your nose wrinkles unsure how to take that but you ultimately decide to brush it off when it was clear he didn’t mean it in a bad way. “why art history?”

“i wanna become an art teacher, i need a bachelors degree for that to happen and art history seemed like the most interesting.” you both slow to a stop as you arrive at the cafe; Anakin steps in front of you, opening the door and holding it for you.

”thanks” you smile, walking in and heading to the usual table in front of the big storefront window that you and Honey sit at, placing your backpack onto the back of the chair. Anakin follows your lead doing the same with his bag before you both get into line.

thankfully it was short, most students preferred the other cafe directly across the street from campus. “ooo they finally have the fall flavors on the menu” you chirp excitedly upon seeing the newly chalked on pumpkin spice latte on the menu.

“are they any good?” your jaw drops dramatically, turning your head slowly towards him in full theatrics.

“you’ve never had a pumpkin spice latte before!?” he smiles, laughing awkwardly while shaking his head no. “oh we’re gonna fix that right now” you don’t even let him respond before stepping in front of him once the person in front of you leaves the line, ordering two pumpkin spice lattes and apple cider donuts for the both of you.

you don’t let him pay either, brushing him off with a “if i’m the one indoctrinating you into fall culture then it’s only right i pay” he only relents when you add “you can pay next time” a content smile on his face at the prospect there was even going to be a next time.

the cashier hands you a bag with the Donuts as well as two disposable cups with your lattes which you take to the table you saved. animatedly sliding the cup over to him as you pull out the donuts placing them on napkins in front of you both. “come on try it, i bet you’re gonna love it”

“a lot of confidence for someone who doesn’t even know if i like sweets” your face falls not having even thought about that, he laughs instantly making you flush when you realize he was messing with you.

still you smile back, it was about time he got you back. really you were just happy he was even comfortable enough to do it. “alright enough teasing, chop chop Frenchie”

“what am i a dog” he snorts, brows creasing together when he laughs this time. it was hardy and from his chest and gods did it make you warm to have been able to pull that out of him. “okay, okay i’m doing it” he says after you nudge him under the table with your foot.

you wait with anticipation as he brings the cup to his mouth, taking a sip of the warm nutty pumpkin flavored drink. you lean in as he takes his time, one hundred percent keeping a straight face on purpose. “..well?”

he pulls the cup away making a show of smacking his lips together to ‘savor’ the flavor. “Anakin!” you groan and he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense before grabbing the cup again.

“you’re right, it’s delicious” you cheer at the success, and he just watches with a smile. taking another sip of his drink before taking a big bite out of the donut you'd given him. his eyes widening as he tries it. “oh this is a dangerous combination”

“addicting isn’t it?” he nods enthusiastically, practically wolfing down the donut in a few seconds and almost completely chugging the latte. “oh my gosh” you laugh, before taking a sip of your own. “it’s not going anywhere”

“not technically true, you said it yourself these are seasonal items” he says and then chugs the rest of his drink. you may have actually just sent this man on a path of addiction.

“well we’ll just have to make it a tradition to come here every fall then. just for the coffee and donuts” he smiles brightly, more than satisfied with your words.

“is the rest of their menu this good year round?” you nod and he leans back in his chair, fiddling with the napkin his donut had been on. he licks the bottom of his lip in thought, bitting the inside of his cheek to hide his nerves before he finally speaks. “well maybe we should make it a year round tradition”

you lean on your palm, absolutely crushing harder on him with each passing second. “year round dates? kind of sounds like you're asking me out” he practically falls out of his chair, choking on whatever sugar the apple cider donuts had left at the back of his throat.

“i-i…i mean..” he stammers and you start to worry you may accidentally be the death of him. “i’d like that a lot.. you know only if you’re into it too-“ he cuts himself off mumbling a ‘she brought it up of course she is’ to himself which makes you giggle.

“why don’t you ask me?” you wait for his answer, not even trying to give him a break. he’s still barely recovered from your initial tease, cheeks a bright red that he’s trying desperately to push down.

it takes him a moment, before he finally works up the courage to speak again. “would you wanna go out with me?” he’s quiet and you briefly contemplate dragging it out more, just to watch him squirm but the poor boy looked tormented enough so you finally grant him reprieve.

“i’d love to” he smiles, relaxing before laughing at himself and you join in. the two of you lost in a fit of giggles, that’s how it is the rest of the date. the two of you getting to know each other better and tossing jokes around.

the more comfortable Anakin becomes, the less awkward and shy he seems to act. no longer as nervous as he was when you first spoke to him.

the cold weather outside is the perfect contrast to the warm cozy bubble around you both that the cafe helped provide. the beginning of many moments to come.

a/n: hope this okay!! im so used to writing Anakin as the more confident and collected one so this is a little different for me but it was so fun to write 😋😋

also how do we feel about Honey becoming a reoccurring character in my fics and oneshots? would you guys prefer me putting ‘y/f/n’ instead?

anyway hope you all enjoyed reading 🫶🏼🫶🏼 have a great day huns!! Xx<3

[aimedis]

milo as a dad headcanons (+sweetheart) !!

milo and sweetheart have twin sons (am i milking the redacted boys w twins headcanon?)

Dad Milo who was, unsurprisingly, very nervous to be a dad because of his own father but was also worried about his child(ren) growing up with a Department worker

But they both handled it with so much grace

Dad Milo who almost passed out when they found out he was having twins

Parents Milo and Sweetheart whose twins are literally identical and are nearly impossible to tell apart aside from the fact that the oldest's hair is longer than the youngest's (even before they got hair, Milo and Sweetheart could tell them apart easily) 

The twins have an attitude that rivals Milo and Sweetheart's combined (so much so that Sweetheart has threatened to beat their ass) ((does not believe in hitting them though)) 

Parents Milo and Sweetheart who swear in front of their kids but respect that other parents don't want that around their kids (the swearing doesn't make their kids scared of them at all)

Parent Sweetheart who is generally a pretty gentle parent, the slightly vulgar language is only used when the twins are being excessively difficult for the sake of being difficult 

Dad Milo who is insanely protective of his kids (but not in an overbearing way, in the ‘if you hurt my kids you’re dead’ way) 

Sweetheart the workaholic who has literally left work hours earlier to get their oldest a cake pop after he called from Milo’s phone

Dad Milo whose lockscreen is a picture of the twins sitting on the kitchen counter with ice-cream all over their faces

Dad Milo who almost cries when he holds his son as he screams bloody murder while getting vaccinations

Dad Milo who pretends it doesn't hurt whenever one of the twins screams 'i hate you!' in a toddlerlike fit of rage but even after the apologies and makeups, he lies awake at night thinking about it over and over (because maybe he's just like his dad after all)

Dad Milo who still remains calm and firm in his discipline but also remembering to be kind and careful with his boys

Dad Milo who sings and dances with the twins

Parents Milo and Sweetheart who rarely argue in front of their kids

Dad Milo who is practically a seer when it comes to the boys, watching them intently and preventing them from doing stupid things that could get them (seriously) injured before it actually happens 

Parents Milo and Sweetheart who are so used to being punched by their kids

The house during the solstice after the twins get their powers is a mess (Milo makes it his mission to take care of everyone no matter how shitty he feels) 

Dad Milo who pretends the twins being clingy is a hindrance but secretly loves when they want to be around him

Parent Sweetheart who walks around the house on business calls while carrying one (or both) of the twins in each arm (Milo thinks it’s domestic as all hell)

Dad Milo and the twins play a game where he pretends to attack Sweetheart (sometimes in his wolf form) and the twins try to defend them by hitting him and standing in front of them with their arms held out (Milo finds it hilarious, Sweetheart finds it mildly annoying because they always do it when they’re trying to work)

Parents Milo and Sweetheart who are the biggest bullies to their kids (in a loving way)

Parent Sweetheart who only pretended to not be able to tell the difference between the twins one time but their youngest got so upset he started crying, so they didn’t do it again

Dad Milo who treats every messy drawing or art project as the next Mona Lisa (tells everyone their oldest is gonna be a big artist someday)

Dad Milo who is the type to hear one of the boys (or god forbid, both of them) likes a type of snack, food, or drink and buy enough to fill a store (“Dad I can’t eat all of that!”)

Parents Milo and Sweetheart who are definitely the hot parents at parent teacher interviews

Dad Milo who actually can’t say no to the boys (Marie has to talk some sense into him every so often)

Dad Milo who is beyond happy that his kids love his Ma just as much as he does

Dad Milo whose kids are shifter/stealth hybrids (idc if it’s not plausible or possible) and nearly has a heart attack every other day because he has three menaces teaming up to scare the shit out of him

Dad Milo who takes pictures of his family everyday

Parent Sweetheart who gives the boys a very serious lecture about bullying, telling them to be kind to others and if people aren’t kind to them, they should tell them right away

Dad Milo who constantly stresses the importance of letting him kids know that they can talk to him and tell him anything, even if they might get in trouble (“I’d rather be disappointed while I come pick you up from somewhere you’re not supposed to be rather than sitting at your funeral”)

Parent Sweetheart who nearly quits on the spot when they’re called to release their sons from a department cell. Twice.

Dad Milo who uses empty, pointless threats on his toddlers to get them to behave (“Hey, if you don’t stop screaming, I’m gonna have to go outside and pick a flower.”)

Dad Milo who picks up the boys by their shirts to turn them around when they’re going somewhere they’re not supposed to be

Dad Milo who can’t help but smile whenever he hears anything that reminds him of his family, of home

[moxfirefly]

Bayverse Donnie with F!Reader (she/her)

"You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!"

"I...I don't want to stop. Please don't ask me to stop."

Happy holidays 💙❤️💜🧡

Oh boy yes!!! This is a great one! Let’s get it, goes without sayin’.

Rated Explicit

He hated what his overworked brain could cook up some nights, the tension that settled in his muscles whenever that nagging little monster in his head told that ‘he didn’t deserve this’.

Because Donnie’s always been a little too in tune with what he is, what he looks like.

Compared to you? You who somehow found your way in under the safety fence around his heart. You who somehow wanted to be with him and settle.

It was settling, he knew that sooner rather than later you’d wake up from your fugue state and realize this isn’t a life worth living for with him. What could he provide? Not all the typical things a partner should, he couldn’t walk out and take somewhere, he couldn’t meet your friends, he can’t marry you…

He hates how everyone gets to touch you out in the open, out in your normal life away from the violence and the secrecy.

Donnie swallows a lump in his throat when he sees Casey pull you into a hug, the free affection he could supply not just down here but up above in your real world with your real life. It’s not even about Vern and how he grabs your hand after a high five and laughs. He hates to admit that he’s thought about every other set of normal hands that have touched you throughout your day, every perfect palm that could connect perfectly with yours, each of their five fingers running a path across your body.

God, he hates how much you’ve been touched by perfectly normal beings.

There’s that little monster again inside of him, calling him a freak, a monster, you’re ruining her life, Donnie, what makes you think she’s going to stay? Why would she want your imperfect, disgusting—

“Hey? Are you alright?” You ask him, arms draped around his neck from the back of the couch, a set of beautiful arms he’d want to be his noose any day.

“Y-yeah, just a little tired.” Lie, he was gonna stay up until the migraine took over or the exhausting did him in first.

“Then let’s sneak are way back to your room and lie down.” You kissed his cheek, nudging him by the shell to get up. Everyone was still mingling about so it was easy to slip away.

He entered his room that he shared many nights with you, it was hard to fathom it was only his now. Every little corner held something of yours and on nights you couldn’t stay over he found comfort in your lingering scent.

“You aren’t alright are you?” He caught your voice muffled from the shirt you were taking off, showing off skin he could pick out from a hundred yards away. How acquainted he was with each blemish, freckle, scar…

“Is there anything from your ex boyfriend that you preferred? …liked I mean, or that he has that I don’t?” This is a Pandora’s box and from the way your eyebrows shoot up he knows it’s a bad idea but Christ he’s floundering.

“Absolutely nothing, why are you bringing him up?” You tossed your shirt aside, kicking off your shoes next and progressively becoming more aware that Donnie was holding back a giant wave of something not good right now.

“I’m just trying to make sense of something… I know why you both broke up but you were with him, there was an appeal at some point.” He wants to look away, drop the conversation but his hands feel tense and his skin itchy.

“There was an appeal before I found out who the real him was, appeal went away pretty fast if you ask me, baby why are you—“

“What’s the appeal here?” He motioned to himself, to his form, his face, his everything. “Because I can’t see it for myself, I don’t know why you’re here…with me.” His voice felt lumpy, crackling like a detuned radio.

You stood stock still, shocked at his words.

“What’s bringing this on? I haven’t spoken to that asshole in years, Don. What appeal? He has none, I’m with you.” You took a step, he took one backwards.

“You’re going to want things I cannot give you even if I would sell my soul for them. I—I can’t give you kids, or a normal home, or marriage, for fuck sake look at me, where does this make sense??” He sat down aggressively on the bed, he needed to concentrate on something else than your worried face. With shakey hands he began to untie his boots.

He saw your feet first, through the thin film of tears, god he didn’t want to cry now.

Gently you took his glasses off and set them on the night table.

“What’s going on? Tell me the truth, why are you acting like this? Why are you bringing my ex up all of a sudden to fight—” The deep concern, the frown lines on your forehead, he had you so damn worried.

“You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!” He didn’t mean to blow up but this hand bubbles, seeped over the mug and now there was no stopping it.

“I’m never going to understand why you would rather waste your life away with a monst—“ he felt your hands shoot up and cover his mouth.

“You are not a monster, Donatello, and if you ever use that stupid word to describe yourself ever again, I’m throwing a wrench at your head.” You let your hand slip away, instead you cupped his face. “I’m with you because I love you, you were my friend first and now you’re the most important thing in my life, and none of this is going to stop my feelings.” You rubbed your thumbs affectionately around his cheeks. Donnie’s gaze fell, eyes still red from holding back tears. He pressed his face against your sternum, and once you felt those large armed enclose around you, you hugged him tight.

“I—I’m sorry, I—fuck,” He sighed against your skin, finding comfort in your flesh as he often did.

“It alright, just please don’t ever question how I feel, okay?” You kissed the top of his head, letting yourself be pushed closer to him, he needed this, needed the physical reassurance. “I love you, Donnie, I love you so much.” You carresed him, cheek against the top of his head. Donnie’s hands found the back pockets of your jeans, hooked his fingers in and began to shove them down.

He needed more, he needed you and you knew it.

“I…I don’t want to stop. Please don’t ask me to stop.” He kissed each words onto your stomach, bit the periods onto your flesh and he dragged your underwear down as well. Effortlessly he picked you up and placed you on the bed with another feverish kiss that sent your head spinning. He bit more of those pleads onto your neck, grinding himself between your legs with intent of having your scent on his clothes forever.

It was messy, desperate and filled with longing. You somehow pushed down his pants with the heels of your feet and told him, gently and with need that you wanted him inside of you.

And he could never say no to you, he could never deny you a single thing.

So when he slipped in to the heat that he belonged to, to the woman that could drive him to burn the world at a moments time, he could feel a little less self hatred.

Your moan, long and aching, always a task to adjust to his size but never an unwelcome burn, blessed his ears. He needed this, he needed you inking those words and sounds with each thrust.

Donnie watched transfixed, enamored with your flushed skin and hooded eyes. Watched as your hands reached for him when he sat back on his knees. He hooked an arm beneath you and held you against him as he thrusted upwards with every intent of fucking these awful thoughts out.

“Fucking—Love you,” Donnie’s lips pressed against your own, the intimacy of spilling his love against your own lips too much for him. You moaned against his mouth, moving in tune with him to chase the high. ‘I love you’ you mouthed as you felt your voice be replaced with another lustful moan. Donnie half smiled, drunk off of your scent and deep into how perfect you felt wrapped around his cock. He held you like that, arms secure around you as he fucked the first load into you just as you came with a tightening and broken wail.

When you felt your back against the blankets and felt him continue to thrust, pushing past the oversensitivity, you knew he needed more.

He needed so much more.

[furybymoonlight]

See Me (Now) - Part III [FINAL]

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x OC/Reader

Warning/Genre: NSFW! Smut, Age Gap (3 years), Fluff, Angst, friends to lovers

Part I

Part II

***

“Drink.”

“I already did.”

She said, puzzled.

“Drink more, gonna have to make sure you’re perfectly sober and hydrated when I fuck you senseless at last.”

***

It was one in the morning. The streets of Liverpool were mostly empty as Trent’s G-Wagon made its way through the city. The man had just spoken to her once, in the beginning of their drive, to make sure that she’s using her seatbelt and that she’s not cold. He also didn’t play any music to fill the silence, which gave her a hint into his state of mind. He never drove in silence, except when he’s really tense or angry, or worse, both. It didn’t help that even in that situation, her body was still buzzing, not with alcohol, but a highly sexual charge, courtesy of the driver of the car.

Had they just done…whatever the hell it was? It still hadn’t fully registered in her mind, but she guessed it was real, because her lips were swollen, and her body was still burning. She had also now become hyperaware of everything about him, like the way he effortlessly steered the wheel with one hand, the hand that has touched her in ways that she had never even imagined, or how even in the dark of the car he still looked devastatingly handsome. 

The tension in her took a hike as she entered his house, more of a mansion really, which he had just recently bought. She had never been there before, but she had seen the interior during their video calls. The living room was so grand, it could have fit dozens of her small crampy student apartment. She hugged herself, the fiery sensation in her body ebbing away. She suddenly felt small and out of place. Him and her…they were really worlds apart now. 

“How much did you drink?”

He asked, catching her off guard, and all she could do was stared at him because she had no clue at all.

Seemingly catching on that her silence meant that she had drunk too much, Trent’s jaw tightened.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” He said before he made his way to the kitchen, leaving her alone.

She looked around her, wild questions and scenarios jumbling in her head. What was she doing here? Did he truly like her more than just life-long friend? If he liked her then why the hell did he kiss the girl in the club? Who was that girl anyway? Was he just playing with her now that he’s famous?

Her stomach dropped at that unbearable thought.

If he did treat her just as his plaything…it would destroy her, but even if he truly like her as a woman, should they really cross the line? They had a different life now. Would the risk be worth it? Their connection was everything for her, she had never imagined her life without him.

Her head spinning, she took a seat on his ridiculously large and comfortable sofa. A tray with a glass of water, a banana, and some crackers suddenly dropped on to the table in front of her, courtesy of the younger, who settled beside her.

“You should have these.”

His cold, rather indifferent tone ticked her off, she couldn’t help but scoff at him.

“You’re mad at me, really?”

His gaze pierced her, luscious lips curled in a sign of distaste.

“You were seriously drunk and glued yourself to a random stranger, even you’re still a bit drunk now, can you blame me?”

“You kissed another girl.”

She bitterly said, then grimaced when she realized it possibly didn’t make any sense to him. God, she hated how she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, when he wasn’t even hers. To her surprise, he simply shook his head.

“No, I did not. A random girl kissed me and I removed myself immediately. Ask my mates if you must.”

Her eyes rounded at his unexpected answer, suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted off her. Silence filled the room.

“I…” She stopped, suddenly at loss of what to say. She took a sip of water and slowly rose from the sofa, intending to put some distance away from him. She needed to think, and she couldn’t, not with him being so close.

A gasp left her mouth when Trent pulled her back, and she somehow found herself sitting sideways on his lap, arms splayed across his broad chest. He circled her waist with his left arm, one hand cupping her face, so she had no choice but to look at him. Her heart slammed against her chest. He was so close that their breaths mingled together.

“Trent –“

“You have been avoiding me, and I let you play your game. I thought if I was patient enough, you’d come around, that at the very least we could start to talk again, really talk.”

“Well – “

“But hey, there you were, getting fucking wasted…dancing with some random fucking guy in that dress. That guy could easily be a criminal you know. Did you do it to get back at me?”

He bombarded her, rich brown eyes glinting with ire, voice sharpened with dark emotions.

“No!”

She managed to break free even though she stumbled. Feeling like she was in the danger of suffocating any minute, she walked to a large glass window in the middle of the living room, slowly as she couldn’t trust her legs at that moment. She knew the window was facing his vast garden but currently it was pitched black outside. She crossed her arms, feeling his eyes drilling her back. The room was comfortably warm, but she felt strangely cold.

“It wasn’t like that. I saw you with that girl…and I…I just wanted to escape, to not think at all, hence the drink…and Dan.”

“Dan?”

“The guy’s name…I think.”

“You can’t remember your alcohol intake, but you remember his name? Really?”

Her mind was so hazy in the club that she hadn’t really think much when he said he didn’t like it when she danced with other guys, but now….was it jealousy in his voice?

She turned around to face him, who was suddenly standing tall just a few feet away, throwing daggers at her with his eyes. She let out a deep breath, then asked her question. Her bravery improved by the alcohol which still had a grasp on her, though not by much.

“Trent…do you really like me?”      

“Do I – are you seriously asking me that?”

He looked at her like she had grown two heads.

“I do. Do you really like me as more than friends?”

“I kissed you a week ago, told you today you’re all I see, then kissed you again…and more, and you still ask me that?”

The anger in him appeared to be gone, replaced by disbelief. His words rang true, but she just somehow couldn’t believe it.

“This is just….all too sudden isn’t it? Like - if you hadn’t kissed me that day of my return, I never would have guessed. Trent – wait -”

In a flash, he was right in front of her, cornering her against the window. She tried to push him back, but he deftly trapped her wrists with his left hand, bringing it above her head, then stepped forward even closer. Their bodies pressed together, as close as could be with their clothes on. Her heart missed a few beats and her body instantly lit up.

“You said you wanted me to see you, but you didn’t see me at all do you?”

Before she even could process his question, his lips claimed hers in a hungry kiss, destroying her train of thoughts in an instant. He kissed her the way he played football, passionate, relentless, like he could do it forever, and she wished he really could.

Still keeping her mouth and wrists hostage, his right hand traced her heated skin, along the side of her neck, down to her shoulders, then to her breasts. A muffled moan left her as he kneaded the swollen peaks, the dress a meaningless barrier. He then continued down, his hand slipping beneath her dress to squeeze her rear and pressed it forward against his still covered hardness.

“We still need to….talk..”

She said in a breathless moan when he finally freed her lips and wrists to suck hard on the skin of her neck, sinking his teeth in several spots. She shivered, molten heat dripped down straight to her core. It would leave marks and it would take work to cover it. However, as she had just found out herself in that second, him marking her was a total turn on.

“Okay.”

He said against her shoulder, voice thick with desire, while unzipping her dress, and the next second she was clad only in her strapless bra and panties.

“What –“

“We’ll talk, but first… jump.”

As if spellbound, she did as he asked, wrapping her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

“Good girl.”

He whispered against her ear, making her flushed even more, if it was possible. Propping her with his arms, he carried her across the living room and towards the – kitchen?

Still carrying her, he took an opened bottle of water in the middle of the kitchen island with one hand and brought it to her mouth.

“Drink.”

“I already did.”

She said, puzzled.

“Drink more, gonna have to make sure you’re perfectly sober and hydrated when I fuck you senseless at last.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that and her throat all of a sudden felt dry indeed, so she drank, feeling the cold water did nothing to dampen the fever inside of her. He then put the bottle down before claiming her mouth again, smothering her senses. The next thing she knew, she was lying on his bed stark naked, moaning with his mouth suckling and fondling her aching mounds.

“Have imagined about these babies for so long…”

He muttered before lavishing kisses down her abdomen, fingers pinching her tautened peaks, making her back arched. The fire in her was raging and getting more unbearable by the seconds.

“Trent – please - ”

She weaved her fingers through his soft springy hair. She knew they should talk first and set thing straight before doing something as big as this, too much was at stake, but her common sense was gone at that moment.

“What do you want baby?”

“Just….you.”

Moving back up, he pressed their foreheads together, their eyes locked, hips instinctively grinding against her soaking core. He already divested his clothes but still had his briefs on, and she needed more...friction. She could see the carnal longing in his eyes, as she was sure reflected in hers as well.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She had never been more nervous. She wasn’t totally without experience. She went on a few dates and had one, albeit very fleeting, relationship before she went away. She knew Trent had had some girlfriends as well, all of them short-lived, though she didn’t recall he had any in the last couple of years.

“I want you too, you have no idea how much.”

He muttered against her mouth before snatching her lips again, as if he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before staring at her again.

“But first…”

He trailed off and swiftly rolled on the side to sit against the pillows. He then easily arranged her to sit in front of him in a kneeling position, facing him with his hips between her folded legs.

“Let’s talk.”

It took her a couple of seconds to understand what he was talking about. What the-

“Now? Seriously?!”

“Hmmm.”

He said, settling his hands on the small of her back, suddenly sounded not too certain. He chewed on his lower lip and her eyes dropped to his mouth. Damn it, she wanted to have a bite as well.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to sink myself in you so bad, I am dying to, you can literally feel how much…but I don’t want us to do this when you still have doubts about me. I don’t want you to regret this, ever.”

She felt like laughing, crying, and kissing him at the same time. If her body wasn’t currently shouting for him, she would find their situation comical. Her and Trent, naked, in bed…just talking. Gotta hand it to him to still have logic at a time like this. Feeling like he was way older and more mature than her now.

“All right.”

“Do you like me?”

He asked her bluntly.

“I do.”

She said, managing to look straight at him although she couldn’t help the blush on her face. His lips tugged into a sincere smile.

“How long?”

“Looking back now, I think I started to feel differently for you quiet a while before I moved away...you’ve always been special to me Trent, you know that, but when I finally had to go away…there were times that leaving you felt like it was unbearable.”

Her fingers trailed along his defined jaw before she brushed her lips softly against his.

“So yes, I like you, more than that actually - but it’s fine if you don’t love me back – yet – I – I mean the important thing now is you like me too. I –“

He shushed her with a soft kiss of his own, looking deep into her eyes with unabashed affection.

“Three years then…well…I win…try five years. I was seventeen, just lost a match and beating myself up because of it, staying all day in my room. So afraid that was as far as I could go in football, that I would never make it to a first team anywhere. That I would just disappoint my family who have sacrificed so much.”

She gaped at him, in total disbelief of what she was hearing.

“You burst into my room, telling me to man up and return to training, you said I’d make it into the team because I was bloody brilliant, but that even if I didn’t, it didn’t matter...you smiled and hugged me, and said that perhaps I hadn’t seen it yet, but there’s more to life than football and that whatever path I treaded in life, you’d be with me every step of the way. That’s when I knew you’re it for me.”

Gently tucking the strands of her hair behind her ear, he continued his shocking confession.

“So I tried to be there for you for everything, hoping in vain that you’d notice me as more. I watched you go on dates, so I dated as well, wanted to erase you from my mind, which turned out impossible. Then there’s Ben, the guy’s name couldn’t be more boring, honestly, just like his personality, thank God you came to your senses quickly with him. After him, you said that you’d focus on your study, so I held my tongue, quite content with being your go-to person, even though it broke me that you’re so far away.”

“Trent…”

“I had a plan for your return you know, asking you out on a date and all…but you started spouting nonsense about being a sister and I just couldn’t cope with it anymore, so I kissed you.”

He kissed her then, slowly at first, before delving his tongue inside her parted lips, hands smoothened the naked skin of her back, creating delicious shivers as they passed. Her world shifted as he toppled her down onto the bed, him on top of her, propping himself on one forearm so he didn’t crush her, his other hand tantalizingly gliding all over her naked body.

“So yeah, I’ve loved you for five years, wishing that every smile, every hug, every call, every message that we exchange means more to you. Five fucking years…going crazy with countless dreams about you, some sweet, others are wild, and the rest…’’

He pressed his still clothed arousal against her flooded entrance in a teasing manner, earning him a soft moan from her.

‘’…borderline illegal that you’d perhaps run away from me if you knew.”

‘’I…had no idea.’’

That’s all she could say to him. Her heart filled with overwhelming emotions, shock, relief, passion, lust, and so much happiness and love that she felt like she could fly at any moment.

‘’Well now you know.’’

He said as he bestowed a kiss on her forehead then her temple.

‘’So see me now…kissing you..’’

He whispered before kissing the spot behind her earlobe, then down to ravish her mouth.

‘’See me now… pleasuring you…’’

His mouth hovered against the valley of her breasts then captured one pebbled tip into his mouth, rolling the other with his fingers, before switching up the treatment. She shuddered as another stream of pleasure pooled at the center of her.

‘’See me now…worshipping you…’’

She could feel his hot breath on the junction of her thighs and then he delved his tongue into her, slithering through her wet folds. He played her like a violin, and her body was a tight string, getting tighter with every tantalizing move of his tongue.

“You taste better than I imagine baby…my all-time favorite flavor.”

He said, voice heavy with desire, then he licked her upward from the bottom of her weeping core before twirling the swollen nub right above her entrance and gently sucked it. Massive electric current ran through her body and she was done, a high pitch scream of his name left her mouth. He seized her mouth again, letting her taste herself, before aligning his pelvis with hers, his arousal now completely uncovered, eyes almost black with unbridled passion.

‘’See me now… making you mine.’’

Trent buried himself inside of her in one swift move. She was more than ready to receive him, but still as he filled her to the hilt, a little sense of discomfort appeared. He was thick.

He stared at her with concern, muscles tensed as he held himself back.

“All right? Just breathe baby.”

He peppered her with kisses, whispering sweet nothings in her ears to give her time to adapt. It wasn’t long before she rocked her hip, signaling him to move, but he held her still.

“I’m clean. Are you still on the pill?”

She nodded. She hadn’t been dating for a long time, the pill had been more of a convenience means to regulate her period, at least until that moment. It made her realize then just how close they were, how she told him deeply private details about her, hell, even her parents didn’t know that.

“Good...for now. One day I hope you won’t need to be.”

Before she could think about his words, the younger began to move, and her brain shut down. He took her in an unhurried pace, his eyes locked on hers, clearly wanting to savor the moment, but her body was still so sensitive from her previous release that it didn’t take much for her to reach her peak again. A simple twist of his hip and her body quaked involuntarily, eyes fluttered shut as another wave of storm washed over her.

Trent stopped moving, taking a long count to inhale and exhale in an effort not to follow her. Her muscles finally loosened, though barely, and he pulled himself out. A whine left her mouth without she realized it.

“So greedy for me.”

He teased, before making themselves lying sideways and spooned her from behind, embedding himself in her again. He thrust into her in a fast pace then, branding her across every part that he could reach with his lips, one hand playing with the rigid tip of her breasts, his right on her hip to anchor his thrusts.

“Give me more babe.”

“Trent….I can’t…”

She said even as the pressure of another climax began to build quickly inside of her. She had just experiences two best releases of her life, she couldn’t bear a third one. He nipped at her neck.

“You’ve made me pining over you for years baby….I want more…you need to give me more, babe, one more.”

He sounded so demanding that even in the throes of passion, she still had it in her to give him a side eye.

“Look who’s the greedy one.”

She returned his teasing, expected him to chuckle at her jab. Trent cradled her chin between his thumb and forefinger to make her face him, before giving her a rough, thorough kiss which rendered her breathless.

“When it comes to you Princess? You have no idea.”

He said without any humor, eyeing her with absolute possessiveness. He continued to ravage her then, keeping their eyes locked together. It’s like he needed her to literally see him as he’s owning her.

He grazed a certain sweet spot within her, and she jolted, her moaning increased by numbers, yet she still couldn’t look away, trapped by his intense gaze.

“That’s it….such a good girl for me…only me.”

He hissed as he felt her inner walls began to tighten again around him. He felt unbelievable inside her, crazily good, that she lost her mind.

“Baby please…Trent…”

His name came out in a pleading voice. She was on the verge of a burning cliff and he was the only one who could bring her to absolution.

“Come for me, Princess.”

He gave a hard thrust before pulling himself back until his tip is almost out, then drove deep into her for the final time, meshing their mouth together at the same time. She burst then, breaking to pieces as her walls wonderfully clenching him, pushing him through not a second after. She then felt his warmth filled her, but her eyes had already begun to close. She was wholly spent.

“Mine....at last.”

She vaguely heard him and felt his arms around her. The sound of his heartbeat, though still fast, lulled her to the dreamland.

Ray of sunshine seeping through the large bedroom window roused her from her sleep. Her eyes flickered open, she found herself still wrapped in Trent’s embrace. For a second she tensed, couldn’t remember where she was, then last night event flashed through her brain and she relaxed. God, she was sore all over, rarely used muscles throbbing inside of her. She slowly turned around, finding him still deeply asleep and smiled. He looked so adorable in his sleep. Kissing him on the cheek, she grabbed the nearest shirt that she could find, and made her way to the kitchen.

“Excuse me Miss, have you seen my girl by any chance? I think she is around your height, pretty smile, sexy as sin, wearing number 66 on her back?”

In the light of day, he looked just like the sweet Trent that she usually saw around their family. She rolled her eyes at his cheesy lines but couldn’t resist a blush and a smile. He’s just a cute dork sometimes, well, a half naked cute handsome dork with chiseled form and grey sweatpants which was hanging enticingly on his hip.

She looked away in the pretense to turn off the stove, though it was already off.

“Hmm...I think she is right here.”

She said, trying hard not to get flustered.

“She definitely is, and ooh bonus point! She’s making me an omelette for breakfast, just the way I like it. That’s like, two of my fantasies coming true.”

He admitted, giving her his adorable smile, showing his pearly white teeth. She smiled at him, couldn’t hide the fondness in her gaze.

“You’re such a dorky cutie pie sometimes, do you know that?”

He put a hand against his broad chest in an exaggerated movement as if he's offended.

“Excuse me? I am not. I am a grown up fella.”

“One fact does not negate the other you know.”

He tilted his head then, doe eyes flickered with mischievous glint.

“Hmmm. Want to know what else you’re doing with this so-called cutie pie in his fantasy?

Cornering her against the kitchen counter, his hands slipped beneath her shirt, one squeezed her breasts, another dipping between her legs.

“What?”

Her voice came out breathless.

His whisper against her ear was a promise of an immediate action, sending tingles to her every nerve ending.

“My number….plus three, with you all tied up.”

Author’s Note: Aaand that's it! Thank you all for reading my first ever Trent story! Phew this took a while cause really, I love smut but writing smut is hard! Hopefully you enjoy reading this as much as I love making this. Apology for any mistakes as again, I'm not a native. Anway this turned out faar longer than I imagined :A: hope you don’t get bored. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading! <3

[babymetaldoll]

"Spencer Reid, inked" (Spencer Reid x tattoo artist!reader!)

Part of the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge @aperrywilliams and I are hosting during October.

Event Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Summary: Spencer gets his first tattoo

Word count: 1.978

Warnings: None

I hated feeling like a cliché. But I was, at least at the moment. That’s what everybody would say if they knew I was going through a middle-age crisis. There was no other way to call it. I was well aware of the symptoms. I was already forty, single, reconsidering my job options and looking for a new career after almost twenty years working for the FBI. 

And the worst symptoms of them all: I was about to get my first tattoo. 

Yes, me. Spencer Walter Reid, germaphobe. 

It hadn’t been an easy decision. God, it hadn’t been an easy year. Everything seemed so useless and pointless at a certain moment like I had wasted so much time overthinking, overanalyzing, over… everything. And I had forgotten one simple thing: living. 

So now at forty years old, I want to start living. And one thing I always imagined I would do but never really thought I could do was get a tattoo. 

Garcia recommended a shop in town. She is the only one who knows I’m planning to do this because a part of me is very embarrassed to share my crisis with my friends. I know they wouldn’t make fun of me, but it’s not something I wanna bring up in any conversation, except for Pen. She is one of my closest friends and I know she would never judge me, or make fun of my insecurities. Actually, when I told her my plans, she even asked if I wanted her to tag along and support me. 

- “Thank you, Garcia. But I think this is something I wanna do alone.” 

- “I get it, boy genius. Just know that I will be a phone call away in case you need me.” 

The tattoo shop she recommended isn’t very busy when I walk in, and a little belle announces my arrival. 

- “Hey! Do you have an appointment?”- a guy asks from the desk and I hesitantly walk over. I’m starting to second-guess this whole plan. Me? Getting a tattoo? Really? 

- “Hi, yes. I talked with (Y/N) on the phone.”

- “(Y/N)!”- the guy yells- “Your eleven am is here!” 

- “I’ll be right there!”

Garcia said this girl is the best tattoo artist she knows and that she is very soft and gentle, which is exactly what I think I need if I’m getting my first tattoo. Right, I don’t even know what I wanna get. I think I should have thought about that before booking this appointment. Maybe I’m gonna waste this woman’s time today and she will do a bad tattoo as revenge. I should probably just leave. 

- “Hey! Spencer, right?”- I hear my name and turn around. But no words come out of my lips ‘cos I was sure I was leaving a second ago, but now… now I should really start talking. 

- “Yes, I’m Spencer. Hi!”- I wave awkwardly as she stares at me with a big smile.

- “Nice to meet you, can I get you anything? Coffee? water?”

- “Thank you, I’m good.”- she walks over to a couch and invites me to sit with her. Garcia didn’t mention the tattoo artist she recommended me was so beautiful and I’m feeling more nervous now than I was when I first got here. And I was considerably nervous a few minutes ago already. 

- “Tell me, why is it that you decided to get a tattoo?”- she looks at me, waiting for an answer, and all I can give her is the truth.   

- “I never considered getting a tattoo until a few days ago. You could call it a middle-aged crisis.”- I chuckle and she smiles at me, which somehow helps me feel calmer.

- “I don’t think I ever considered it before, but now somehow, it just makes sense.” 

- “I don’t consider any crisis a bad thing. Each one is like a reality check that we should pay attention to. I think it’s a way life has to keep us on track of what we should be doing instead of what we think we should do. Does that make any sense?”

I nod and smile at her reply ‘cos it’s a beautiful way to look at a crisis. When you are uncomfortable, you should pay attention and make the changes you need to make. Maybe a tattoo won’t change my life, but it feels like a way to become the man I want to be instead of who I thought I should be. 

- “And do you have an idea of what you want to be your first tattoo? 

- “Uh. Not really”- I look at my hands, embarrassed to deal with my honest truth. But she just chuckles and continues asking.  

- “Not a single idea? There must be something revolving in that mind.”- I raise my eyes and meet hers, and I know I’m blushing, which is embarrassing.- “What do you like?” 

- “I like books”- my nerdy answer makes her eyes shine. Maybe she likes reading as well.  

- “A favorite one?”

- “War and Peace”

- “A Tolstoi fan, I think I can work on that. Sounds good?”- I nod, smiling.  

- “Yeah. Definitely.” 

- “Great! So give me a few minutes to draw a few options. Where do you want your tattoo?”

- “I was thinking in my forearm.”

- “Great choice! That area is low on nerve endings and bone, so it'll be less painful than other areas with thinner skin.”- she looks so excited to share that info I don’t wanna tell her I already knew it, and that is the reason I chose that placement. 

- “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to drink while you wait?”- (Y/N) stands up and looks at me expectantly. 

- “I’m good, thank you.” 

- “Ok, wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.” 

- “Ok Spencer. Ready?”- I’m sitting on (Y/N) chair. My arm rests on a clean sterile bench covered in plastic. She took the time to clean everything in front of me, probably to assure me everything was taken care of before a needle was in sight. 

- “Ready.”- I reply and take a deep breath, trying not to move. But most of all, trying not to shake. 

- “I’m gonna make a short line first, so you can feel how the pain is, ok?”- I just nod and she smiles one more time. - “Stay still.”

My eyes are glued to her hands as she carefully traces a small line on my arm and as soon as she is done, she looks at me, expectantly.

- “How did that feel?”

- “It was good”- I answer and look at the line, now drawn forever on my skin.

- “Not as painful as you imagined?”

- “Not painful at all”

- “Great! Let's continue then.”

I find the process of getting a tattoo relaxing, somehow. Here I am, unable to move for a very long time, forced to talk with a stranger. A beautiful stranger that is, in fact, the nicest woman I’ve met. And though none of that could ever be relaxing to me, she is so good at small talk, she is making me talk the entire time, not overthinking anything. 

- “So, you’ve been with the FBI for over fifteen years?”

- “Basically my entire life.”

- “Did you always envision yourself being a Fed?”

I don’t know if I wanna answer that. Mostly, I don’t know how to deal with that subject at the moment. So I clear my cough and she gets it right away. 

- “We don’t have to talk about that. You could tell me what is it about War and Peace that gets you so much.” 

- “I don’t know. Honestly, I haven’t read a book I didn’t like. Never.”

- “And I have the feeling you read a lot.”

She never looks at me, her eyes are always on my arm as she draws on my skin. But I look at her, analyzing her features and the way her eyebrows are constantly frowning in concentration. 

- “Why?”

- “‘Cause books were the first thing that came to your mind when I asked you what you like.”- she answers and chuckles.- “You have no idea what people answer to that question.” 

- “Surprise me. What’s the weirdest answer you’ve gotten?”- she smiles as she gives the question a little thinking. 

- “I don’t wanna judge! I mean, we all have different lives and tastes and picks… and we have been touched by different things in life… However, it’s always weird when people tell me their favorite thing in the whole world is Homer Simpson.”

I try not to burst out laughing, but it’s nearly impossible. (Y/N) takes the needle just in time before I start roaring with laughter.  

Honestly, I don’t remember when was the last time I laughed that hard. It’s refreshing. Relaxing. Encouraging. I don’t know if it’s the whole tattoo experience or (Y/N)’s company, but I can’t recall feeling this alive and happy in a very long time. 

It’s disappointing when she tells me she is done. She applies a gel on my freshly tattooed skin and invites me to check it in the mirror. And I don’t know how something like this can actually happen, but that’s the moment it actually hits me. I got a tattoo. It’s there, forever in my front arm. 

Spencer Reid inked. 

- “Alright, Dr. Reid.”- she says as she finishes placing a plastic patch on my tattoo.- “Keep this covered for the next 12 hours, then you take it out and wash it with baby soap and apply this cream every eight hours or when it starts to itch.”

I take the box and smile at her as she looks at my arm for one last time before looking directly into my eyes. It makes my heart skip a beat immediately, and I don’t know  

- “Thank you so much.”- I manage to reply.  

- “Not a problem. Technically, it’s my job, though you made it extra nice today, so thank you.”

I don’t know what to answer to that, so I just chuckle and blush. She stares at me in silence as well, but it’s not awkward, it’s… tense? But in a nice way. In a very unknown way as well. I am not familiar with this kind of situation. Or, at least, I don’t think I’m good at dealing with them.  

- “So… Considering this is your first tattoo, and that I am a very professional tattoo artist, I’m gonna give you my number, so in case of any random question or doubt, you can reach me.”- the way her lips turn into a cute and sweet smile at the end of her little speech hints she is not just saying it to be nice. And I like it. 

- “That’s very thoughtful. I appreciate it.”- I offer her my phone and she writes her number on it.- “I’m gonna ring you, so you can save mine.”

- “That’s great.”- and she is beaming. 

- “Can I call you even if I don’t have questions about my tattoo?” 

- “Sure, I can help with music rants if you ever need to talk about that, somehow I’ve also collected a lot of info about nineties trash TV and cult documentaries.”- I chuckle at the selection of subjects and nod. 

- “Why cults?”

- “I’m not sure, I guess you never know when you might need a new asset at work… that doesn't make any sense.”

- “No, but I’ll take it. It’s not the weirdest answer related to cults I’ve gotten.” 

- “Do I wanna know?” 

- “Maybe over coffee?”

- “Pick me up at seven?”- I nod and she smiles one more.- “Good. I’ll see you later then.”

As I walk out of the tattoo shop I feel like a cliché again. I’m in my midlife crisis, I got my first tattoo, and somehow, I feel like a brand new person. I think I like myself a little more after doing this. I don’t think I’ll regret getting this ink done.

[mydearesthrry]

i loveddd the musician reader blurb 🥹🥹 would loveee to see more

a/n: I LOVED WRITING IT THANK U FOR THIS ANON. enjoy my babies <3 i have an fc for musician!yn x har and its gonna be gracie abrams :p

warnings: nonesies, fluff!!

—

“hey, h?” Y/N called from her spot on the sofa, her laptop on her lap as she scrolled through the files for her next project, entitled five seconds flat.

“yeah, baby?” he shouted back, his footsteps soon following his words as he walked through their house, sitting next to Y/N when he arrived. “whats wrong?”

“um, to be honest, i- i don’t even really know. i just think something’s missing from here,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “like, i love it so far, but it’s missing something. i think it’s missing it’s ‘overarching love’ song. which is really stupid because this album has so many love songs.”

“not really.” he replied simply, shrugging and looking at her.

“what do you mean? there’s tons!”

“really? like what? go through the tracklist, baby.”

she rolled her eyes, mumbling a ‘fine!’, before pulling up the tracklist. “see! um, all my ghosts, what a shame? kinda?”

“exactly.” he stated, giggling at his wife.

“you’re so annoying. can you help me? please?”

he scoffs playfully, “as if i didn’t produce nearly the entire thing f’you, but sure.”

“okay, so i’m thinking of a poem that i wrote a long time ago called lame, and i wanna work on that. it was right before i told you i loved you.”

after cracking open y/n’s journal and flipping through the pages, they had finally had a song.

“fucking finally, holy shit!” she shouted, clapping as she collapsed on harry who laid sprawled on the couch.

“y’still gotta record it, m’precious wife,” he giggled. “and find a feature. since we decided that’s what we’re doing, f’some reason.”

“fuck my life,” she groaned, twisting in her spot to attach her cheek to his chest, hair fanning out around her and nearly tickling his nose. “why can’t you do it with me?”

“no.”

“harry,”

“no.”

“harry!”

“no, dude!”

“harry,” his wife stressed, holding the ‘y’. “pretty please? i’ll do that thing you like with my mouth?” she offered, knowing he wouldn’t refuse that.

“oh my god, fine! but this is the first and last collab im doing!” he grumbled exasperatedly.

“thank you, oh my god!” she squealed, running over to him and jumping, legs wrapping around his legs and her arms crossing around his neck.

“whatever. better hold up your end of the bargain.” he rolled his eyes, his hypocritical hands coming down to rest on her waist.

she grinned, jumping down from him and placing her hands on his chest. blinking up at him owlishly, she ran her hands down his torso and murmured, “i plan to, handsome. i’ll even start right now.”

———

liked by charles_leclerc, sabrinacarpenter, and 7,662,617 others

yourinstagram: took a tiny break and ended up at long pond with my beautiful producer husband <3. u have to wait to hear what we made there,,, butttt….. HATE TO BE LAME FT HARRY STYLES IS OUT NOWWWWW LOVE YOU LOVE YOU LOVE YOU

pinned yourinstagram: ps our faces when we cant figure out a chord progression 😭😭😭

comments on this post have been limited

charles_leclerc: Already streaming in the Ferrari garage!

> scuderiaferrari: charles_leclerc we can confirm 🫡

> yourinstagram: scuderiaferrari OMGGGGG MI FAMIGLIAAAAAA LOVE U

landonorris: party celebration for the surprise release when???

> yourinstagram: landonorris get podium this weekend and u can celebrate for us 🤗🤗🤗

billieeilish: crying again i love you guys

ynrrysweethearts: EEEEEK

niallhoran: Gnomeo and Juliet back and better than ever!

> harrystyles: Rude.

madisonbeer: ur literally perfect in every way goddd i miss u guys so much

> yourinstagram: madisonbeer we miss u our precious daughter

harrystyles: We’re so cute. I love us.

harrystyles: I love you times infinity. It makes sense that you’ll probably be my first and last feature. H Xxxx

> yourinstagram: first and last but a few more right 🥹🥹

daylightyn: our parents!!!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: my beautiful angel girlllll

> yourinstagram: alex my love i miss u to bits

francisca.cgomes: we miss u on the paddock sweet bby 💞

> yourinstagram: oh my god kika i miss u so much its a problem

——

liked by yourinstagram, niallhoran, and 9,266,166 others

harrystyles: HATE TO BE LAME. OUT NOW.

view all 78,189 comments

yourinstagram: 🤭🤭🤭

yourinstagram: love youuuuuuu so muchsies

> harrystyles: I love you moresies. Xx

yourinstagram: ok look at us being models

yourinstagram: am i hyping u up enough

> harrystyles: yourinstagram Yes. Fueling my ego.

yourinstagram: my precious baby angel sugar cookie muffin pie <3 <3

> harrystyles: You’re insane.

user1: MORESIES??????? WTF

user2: he just said moresies yn is influencing him too much 😭😭😭

> yourinstagram: user2 its my job!!!! 😁😁

user3: they’re both on the writing credits they prob wrote it together 😭😭😭

oscarpiastri: dad!!!!!!!!

> harrystyles: No. ❤️

user4: harry calling yn insane is so funny like hes def heard worse

user5: i love them so bad oh my god

user6: I DIDNT KNOW HARRY AND THE F1 BOYS WERE FRIENDS

> user7: yes!!! yn’s sister was a mechanic for ferrari and is now lando’s race engineer so they all get along really well!

yourinstagram: sorry im back here again WE R SO CUTEEEEEE

[soap-ify]

simon can't be with you anymore.

cw gn!reader , angst , hurt / no comfort, simon doesn't know what he's doing.

notes streets said that it's angstmas !! didn't know that it existed until recently. anyways, since i'm having the worst week of my life, i'm gonna ruin it for simon too.

maybe simon was being stupid.

he probably was. not that he could think of any other options besides leaving you.

his work was too dangerous, and the next deployment was probably going to be his last. especially after the recent briefing he went to where the captain spoke about the upcoming mission — a highly risky one. in fact, even the most skilled like ‘ghost’ was bound to either get severely injured or just die. probably the latter. especially since he wouldn’t be with the rest of the taskforce 141 in the fucking warzone.

just a sacrifice for the better of the world, yeah? even though a part of him didn’t want to. fuck the world. you meant so much more to him. but he had chosen this job right. he had agreed to the mission.

and after all, he never considered himself deserving of you, deserving of this relationship he had with you. he knew he was somewhat of a distant boyfriend — barely opening up about his own feelings or past. at least he had shown you his face. you didn’t deserve someone as dangerous as him, someone so… damaged.

he didn’t want to die knowing that you’d be waiting home, all sad and lonely. he didn’t want to leave you like that, but at the same time, he didn’t want to stay and just watch this sweet bubble you two were in shatter. in both ways, he had to leave you. he had to somehow make this less painful, to make it easier for you to move on.

god, he was an asshole. he knew he was. he spent the week just distancing himself from you, responding to your words with nods and grunts while barely reciprocating to your affectionate touches. his heart was breaking more and more everyday, noticing the pained look in your eyes.

he couldn’t keep doing this for much longer. eventually, he had to end this, and he did.

“we can’t be together.”

his words hit you like a brick. literally on a random friday evening. not so random now, it seemed.

“what do you mean, si…?” your voice got quieter with each word, uncertainty towards your own state of mind flooding inside you while a lump formed in your throat, restraining you from properly even speaking out. your eyes stared at him in pure confusion and heart, noticing how he was cladded in his uniform, how he wore that damn skull mask balaclava — building up those walls again that you had managed to break so easily with your love.

simon hated this. he didn’t want to see you so confused and defeated. he had to stop himself mentally from doing something irrational. he was doing this for you, for your own good. though hearing you call him ‘si’ seemed to somewhat crack his composure.

“look, we can’t be together. s’too dangerous. too risky for you. you never know when i might die.” soon, but he held himself from saying that. you didn’t need to know about his deployment, not at all.

“w-why so sudden?” your voice cracked as you tried to properly make sense of his words, emotions taking off your being while you tried to hold in the tears that had begun to sting your eyes.

too dangerous, too risky — maybe somewhere in your heart, you had known that a day like this would come. simon riley was too careful about safety, too dedicated to his work while simultaneously being madly in love. suddenly, all of his sudden distant behavior made sense, and you felt somewhat stupid. stupid for, well, everything.

he was the plague that had infected you, and now he needed to leave so you could heal.

but you never thought of him like that. he was your rock, the anchor that held you from slipping away into loneliness that had always somehow stuck with you throughout your life, a sting that only simon could soothe. it was simon who would craddle you in his arks every night, it was simon who would listen to your rambles. it was simon who your heart was so willing to give love to.

and now he was going to leave.

simon had expected you to scream, to somehow target your anger and frustrations at him. he wanted you to yell at him, he deserved it.

but you didn’t. you sniffled, beads of tears beginning to roll down your cheeks as you took a wobbly step back, too exhausted to fight back or anything.

you didn’t blame simon. how could you? even now, you couldn’t find a flaw in him. too in love? maybe.

as silence filled the living room of the apartment you used to share with him, he slowly picked up his duffel bag and sighed, trying to keep his brown eyes cold and unfeeling, to make it look like he didn’t feel remorseful, to hide his heart was threatening to tear out of his own skin.

“i’ll always love you, simon…”

you said after a few seconds, causing his head to turn over to look back at you — your eyes teary and puffy while your cheeks were streaked with tears, his hands aching to wipe them away. your voice was weak, reluctantly defeated. you know that there was no point in stopping him.

i’ll always love you too, he mentally thought, though never said.

"one final kiss...?" simon froze at your request, knowing that if he were to look at your face any longer, he'd actually stay. he sighed and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling away, brown eyes hardening up.

he gave you a final nod and exited the apartment from the front door, leaving you alone all over again, your heart torn in pieces as you fell down on your knees, shattering into pieces that no one was going to bother picking up now. only simon could, but he was gone.

simon riley had died three months after that, and you never found out. for you, ge had just disappeared, leaving no traces behind.

just a memory that you were afraid you’d forget eventually, forget his touch and his voice, forget his face — just a memory that was going to bury itself no matter how hard you may try.

[thegrimreaper-probably]

plz more of gravity falls x plant monster user, maybe include some weird cult that worships user like a god? a name for user like "Venus" from the venus flytrap, or Primula, it comes from the Latin word for Daisy, or straight up Audrey the second, lil reference to the little shop of horrors, and it makes reference for how mabel placed a sticker on their pot? user getting accidentally sold to a random kid (guess who sold them) and maybe...user learning to swear by (guess who again) but PLEASE, I NEED MOREEEEEEEEE

Gravity falls x plant monster reader part three

Mainly your relationship with Stanley

(Don’t need to read all of them to understand) Gender is once again not a concept for alien plant. It/they/she/he

Imma be so honest I wrote an entire thing, hated it and everything I tried made it worse. So I scrapped it and now it’s late, my bad.

This is set in the past, so before the twins. During and after the portal.

A lot and I mean a lot has happened in the last month. First Ford and FiddleFord, broke up. As lab partners, not as boyfriends. I may be an evil plant from outer space but cheating is wrong, eating people isn’t. Those two were as queer as Orin Scrivello D.D.S. was addicted to laughing gas.

Now Ford is going crazy, or Bill is? It’s rather complicated. Ford shut down the portal, something about how Bill wanted world domination. I could’ve told you that, I mean why else would I be here if world domination wasn’t possible with these two? Anyways currently Bill or more accurately Bill possessing Ford is punching the door to the basement.

“Does he remember any of this?” Bill stops and turns to me.

“Not a single memory, why? You got something Twoey?” Where did Twoey come from? Bill refuses to use the name Ford gave me.

“You let me in on world domination, I let you in downstairs.” He blinks, similar to a frog.

“Just gotta feed me so I can slip under the gap.” My vine points to the bottom of the door.

“I got plans for you, Sixer will give up soon.” And that was the second to last time I saw him. After that he possessed Ford and brought me along. I’m deeply traumatized seeing a shirtless Ford rolling around and eating spiders. I didn’t need to see any of that or be apart of a tramp stamp tattoo session.

Ford had gone crazy and I was well, mainly hungry but I guess…lonely. There was no FiddleFord to scare, no more experiment to see what I could do, no more music around, and no Ford to learn from. Bill wasn’t any better, that man was acting like a teenager going through a break up.

And eventually things happened, Stanley, Ford’s twin brother, had came to the house. You know the rest, and I ain’t gonna talk about it.

“Mullet!” Stan drops his beer on the ground, it shatters on the floor. He looks up at me and pauses.

“You- you can talk?”

“You see anyone else here? No? Then yes I can talk, do much more then talkin’ tell ya that much. This?” I move my vine to point at the window. “Sunlight, it ain’t enough, I need food. So either you feed me or I feed on you.”

“How much did I drink?”

“If I didn’t need ya I’d drain ya dry. Go grab that book got the number 1 on it. Got it or do I gotta dumb it down for you mullet boy?” He nods and turns to leave then pauses.

“I’m doing this for Ford, not you.” Stan leaves and that was the start of mullet boy’s identity theft of Stanford Pines. It was mainly just him questioning his own or his brother’s life choices, coupled with drinking, smoking, and crime.

There were moments where he’d bring me downstairs and it wasn’t so lonely.

“None of this makes senses, what is wrong with-.”

“It stands for e.” I point to the symbol.

“You know the rest?”

“You find e you find the rest easy.”

Or

“I just got him back, I can’t lose him again.”

I don’t answer for a bit I move my vines, like how Ford would fidget with his own. “He was already lost, a long time ago.“

“I could’ve help him if he just-.”

“You couldn’t.”

“Why didn’t he just call me before this?”

“You know the answer, you just refuse to accept that, that’s the answer. It’s not satisfying, human rarely are.”

Others where I learned more about English, one of the many human languages.

“Son of a bitch, what the hell?!” Stan yelled when I first nipped him.

“These shitheads don’t know anything about marriage, it’s a scam.” Stan says as the tv plays some awful movie.

“Where the fuck is it?” Stans asks as he looks for a wrench. And much more as life went on, with many other stories to go along with them.

Was a few times where he’d fall asleep and I could easily drain him. I didn’t though, as stupid as it was, Stan was my key to opening that portal again…for world domination of course. Over the years he became more of a con man and the house became a tourist trap. While he would still work on the portal, the basement wasn’t a room I could survive in. So I got put upstairs in the window.

Where I met little tiny Soos, now my hatred for kids and human kind was very much strong. This kid was cute enough to eat, not that I’m picky. Soos had soon started to work at the shack, where I tried to eat him.

“Mr. Pines? I fixed the-.” I go to eat him and Stan throws his cane at me.

“There was a- uh- bug. Go back to work I ain’t paying ya to talk.”

“Okay Mr. Pines!” Soos walks off and Stan looks back at me. I smile and a customer walks in.

“Can I buy that?” The man points to me, Stan smirks and hands me over.

“$500. New species, called Spatium Praereptor.” 500?! What am I? A Monstera Deliciosa?

“Fine.” He hands Stan the money and Stan gives him me. I move my vines around to look like I’m sticking a middle finger up. He does it back and the guy puts me in his car.

Come to find out I was joining a cult. Cult? Religion? Who cares? Only downside was I was not being praised but killed by some stupid blind eyes meatheads. Sometime between eating people and throwing them Stan somehow found me and brought me back. Stan was reckless, irresponsible, a con man, gross, and a loser.

Though he was my friend, and I will still have world domination even if I care for two humans. Just cause I like two people doesn’t mean I’m soft. Shut up.