#I’m not tagging each individual voice this time around

[bubblybloob]

The real reason there isn’t an ending where everyone gets to leave the cabin; the Princess can’t handle thirteen wheels.

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin�� to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

[shibaraki]

STEADY BEGINNINGS ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship (eventual friends to lovers), touch starved shouto, physical affection (hand holding + long hugs), good god the yearning, obliviousness, jealousy, fluff + angst, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 3.8K

series masterlist: 2/5

Shouto was born to be a hero.

It is a sentiment shared by reporters and fans alike. Todoroki Shouto, the pride of Endeavor, the saving grace of his family name. True, his development had been entirely up to chance—no matter the intent or cruel desperation behind his father’s actions, he had to rely on the probability that the next offspring would win the genetic lottery—but low and behold, he did, and to many people that alone was a sign of destiny at work.

Ultimately, he chose to continue the path of being a hero himself, but no higher being put him there. His father did. At the time of his birth Shouto had not been a son, not even a baby. He was a project. A small, shapeless, squirmy thing. Malleable, like any young mind. It’s a miracle he retained any will and individuality.

Sometimes when alone with his thoughts, Shouto would hypothesise on the whys and the hows. The conclusion he always comes to is this: any sort of reality in which Shouto succumbs to his father’s ideals and manipulation would have to be a world in which his mother does not exist.

While his existence was planned, and wanted, he was to be a hero and as such, wasn’t cut from love—that came after. He loved his mother. So much so that when she hurt, he hurt. When she cried, he cried. She taught him what it meant to be gentle, to have hope, to aspire to be his own person. Years spent amongst the country's finest heroes and Shouto still regarded his mother as the bravest woman he knew, strong because she refused to be hardened by her circumstances; soft so that she can’t be broken again.

You are like his mother in that regard. Those same echoes of reassurance that softness isn’t weakness, and it isn’t earned. You’ve been touching him more as of late, as if determined to prove it. Static between brushed fingertips, words expressed by simply pressing your knees together, the weight of your hand on his bicep to garner his attention. The build up is subtle and cumulative and yet each instance strikes him with the magnitude of a thermodynamic explosion.

Nobody bats an eyelid to this shift in physicality, which makes it all the more difficult to determine whether he is reading into things or not. It could be that he’s noticing those small instances only because it’s you, and you are all he can think about lately.

You’ve given him permission to reciprocate. He merely has to ask for more if he wants it. What Shouto hadn’t accounted for is the unbearability of being vulnerable enough to ask. An innocent “can you hug me?” becomes so much more daunting to voice with all that longing crowded up behind it. He can’t help worrying you’ll see right through to the bottom of his desires.

A hand comes into view. Bakugo’s ash-smudged finger and thumb pinch and snap together in front of his face. “Come back to Earth, dumbass. Your thousand yard stare is scarin’ my new assistant”.

Shouto blinks out of his stupor and the blurred vignette surrounding his vision recedes. He glances at the skittish man sitting outside Bakugo’s office currently sending worried glances over his shoulder. “I think he’s more scared that you’re back,” Shouto intones dryly. “Isn’t he the fourth one this year?”

“Not my fault they’re all wimps,” Bakugo huffs. A slap reverberates around the office as he throws down a manila folder onto his desk and drops heavily into his chair. He regards Shouto with suspicion overtop his computer monitor. “Whatever you were just thinkin’ about—stop”.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about”.

“I know you always manage to make Olympic level leaps in logic,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and tears open the folder. He slides out what Shouto assumes is a debrief and flips it between his fingers. Shouto keeps quiet. He reclines into the couch cushions and returns to reading the incident report on his lap, counting down from ten in the privacy of his mind. Anytime now.

Three, two, one.

“So what is it?” Bakugo asks, trying too hard to sound flippant but landing squarely on irritation. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm”.

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it again. A wave of hot embarrassment washes over him. He knows Bakugo will do him the kindness of being blunt and honest but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating to admit.

In their younger years Shouto saw something of a kindred spirit in Bakugo. He too did not like touch and aggressively voiced his distaste for it whenever he got the chance—which was often, because divine intervention sought fit to give him the most tactile, handsy friend group possible.

As they got older though, Shouto began to realise that the protests and threats were hollow. Despite being vehemently against affection, Bakugo would allow it anyway, and sometimes even seek it out. The aggression was bravado. Bakugo liked having his friends draped around his shoulders. He liked when Mina kissed his cheek, or Kaminari played with his hair, or Kirishima gathered him into a too-tight hug, or Sero tangled their ankles together on the couch.

Only, for him to comfortably accept it, Bakugo needed to act as though he were doing them a favour by allowing them into his space. And Bakugo’s friends played along without complaint.

From what he’s observed you are also an affectionate person. You are liberal with your warmth and adapt seamlessly to the boundaries of those around you. But you were also visibly uncomfortable whenever people took that affinity for intimacy as an open invitation, and recoiled if they encroached on your own.

Shouto has imagined reaching out only for your body to flinch away from him more times than he can count. It’s a battle staged in his head, ingrown fears. The possibility alone was enough to keep him from reciprocating, set in a state of fawn-like inertia.

“There’s somebody I want to get closer to. A friend,” he begins. Bakugo makes an inquisitive noise, props his cheek against his fist and narrows his eyes as he listens. Shouto retells the story in part, deciding to omit your name, and by the tail-end of it Bakugo’s forehead is deeply creased in dissatisfaction.

“You make all your own problems, Halfie. Y’know that?” he mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and sinking back into his chair. “Fine, you don’t want to make this person uncomfortable, or whatever. If you need a hug so damn badly, why not ask Deku? Not like he’d say no”.

Knowing Bakugo would make his dilemma sound ridiculous is one thing, actually hearing it is another. “How do you know it isn’t about Midoriya,” Shouto returns petulantly.

“It ain’t Izuku or anyone else from your nerd squad,” Bakugo says, dropping his hand to drum on the desk. “I would’ve heard about it”.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t touch people. And that’s fuckin’ fine, yeah? But if you had, I know for a fact any one of them would’ve burst into tears and told everyone in a five mile radius”.

“Oh,” it leaves him a little off-kilter to hear. Shouto leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, setting the report on the dark wood coffee table. The corner of the page is curled, and the spine is creased, and the ink annotation has smudged under his thumb. He details these things as he deliberates, the excuses cloying in his throat and thick like he might cry too.

Bakugo was right—if he craved close contact so badly, why couldn’t he go to Midoriya? He knows he would likely be met with enthusiasm.

“You don't have to tell me who. I don’t care. But you’re overthinking it,” Bakugo grunts at his lack of response, in a way that very much suggests that he cares. “Go ask. If they say ‘no’ it’s tough shit, but the world isn’t gonna end. From what you’ve told me they wouldn’t say ‘no’ anyway. Dumbass”.

Shouto nods and gives up the pretense of reading the paperwork. He feels coltish as he stands and brushes down his front, straightening the creases.

“You’re right”.

“I know”.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” he says. A small smile unfurls across his anxiety-bitten mouth. “You’re a good friend”.

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles. It’s a testament to his concern that he hadn’t cursed Shouto there and then. “Now get out of my office. What are you doing here in the first place? You got your own!”

“Yours gets all the sunlight. And it’s always quiet because nobody comes in here,” Shouto ignores the baleful slit of an eye Bakugo turns on him. “I’m going to take my lunch now”.

“Do what you want,” Bakugo dismisses haughtily, and Shouto smiles while thinking, not for the first time, that he’s very lucky to have friends like these.

The fidgety assistant bows as he exits and turns into the sun-drenched hallway. Warmth drapes around Shouto’s shoulders, lingering at his nape while he descends the dark stairwell where the light doesn’t reach. His boots thud against the linoleum, and he counts each footfall to keep his face neutral as his legs carry him toward your department.

Somewhere between one and one hundred and thirteen, a fraction of Shouto’s courage starts to dwindle. He grits his teeth. A hundred steps can’t be enough to dissuade him after decades of denying himself any kind of indulgence.

The further he goes into the support wing the more elaborate the layout becomes. You’re in research and development, assigned a workshop close to the quirk analysts. Heads turn as Shouto rolls through. Heroes didn’t often make personal visits to this area. If he thinks hard enough he could count a grand number of two past visits and neither of them were for you.

His stride falters when he catches sight of your nameplate. It is fixed to the wall outside your door, polished and gleaming proudly. Shouto traces the characters of your name engraved into steel before raising his hand to knock.

Your voice rings out from inside, “Come in!”

A pitched beeping sound comes from overhead. The workshop doors begin to open in a theatrical fashion, receding like curtains to reveal your space. The floor is mapped out with tape. Clear boundaries drawn between the work benches, the fume cupboards, the vault and your personal office, in an attempt at organised chaos. He might have been more interested in poking around for the first time if he had not felt on the edge of intrusion.

You’re tucked behind your curved desk surrounded by numerous monitors that dwarf your frame. Shouto furtively takes in your cute, rumpled appearance. The upper half of your coveralls have been undone to reveal an undervest, sleeves tied tight around and accentuating your waist.

���Take a seat, I’ll be with you in…” the dull tapping of practiced keystrokes comes to a stop as you notice him in the doorway. The professional veneer disappears. “Shouto?” you say, mostly to yourself. Your gaze slides beyond his shoulder, looking for whoever might be accompanying him. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a worried twist in your mouth that he wants to smudge away. A look in your eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugged at his being. Shouto rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension, and moving deeper into your office. The doors close automatically behind him. “I’m okay,” he assures, taking the seat across from you.

Your expression gentles, and he likes how your gaze follows him. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he continues. “But if you’re working I can head back”.

“Lunch?” you repeated. Your eyes darted to the corner of the monitor closest to you and promptly widened. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

An upswing of fondness catches him like a blow to the chest. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I got lumped with a new project a few days ago and it’s almost done,” the monitors shut off one by one as you sheepishly press each button. Then you gave him a soft, apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Must’ve missed me if you came all the way down here”.

Dread shriked through him. The low whirring from the equipment scattered around your workspace is suddenly inordinately loud. Was he that obvious?

You, however, fail to notice Shouto’s anxiety and grab him around the wrist as you pivot the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go before the good stuff is gone,” you tell him.

Shouto had absolutely no clue what the ‘good stuff’ entailed—maybe he should’ve bothered to ask. Atleast it would take his mind off your hand. It’s wrapped around his sleeve, right where the fabric ends, loose enough for him to unshackle from if he wants. When he doesn’t protest the contact you stroke your thumb in an arc over the heel of his hand and squeeze.

Shouto falls into step, too caught up to realise you’ve taken him to the cafeteria. He expects you’ll drop his wrist in the presence of your colleagues, yet you adjust your grip and glance back at him with an encouraging tilt of your head.

“I’m starving. I think I’ll get a rice bowl. Smells pretty good today, don’t you think?”

Shouto hummed his agreement. He felt out of his depth, and he didn’t trust his voice. The spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to his throat. The line is mercifully short and before long he has a warm bowl of food held against his front.

“Did you want to sit in here? I can take us to one of the senior staff lounges instead if you want,” you cast a nervous look across the sparse crowd. “I mean, support engineers aren’t really gossiping types but…”

A petty part of him hoped the whispers would escalate. To have your name linked with his, to be known as a person that you cared about—he found that deeply satisfying, for reasons he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Then again, being alone with you far eclipsed the appeal of flaunting your friendship. “The senior staff lounge sounds best,” he answers after a minute of feigned consideration. You nod, regretfully having dropped his hand, and motion for him to follow once more.

The lounge is a modest room with a kitchenette, a breakfast nook and a few bean bag chairs. It smells faintly like peeled oranges. There are post it notes and blueprints haphazardly stuck to the pinboard, covering an out of date calendar filled out in illegible scrawl. This is no shop awning. There is no rainfall to lend to the ambiance. But you are together in an enclosed space, and that is enough to make his heart beat in anticipation.

You scoot into the breakfast nook. He sits on the same side of the table and tries to subtly spread his knees enough to nudge your thigh. You side-glance in surprise but choose not to mention it. Instead you smile through your first mouthful and ask, “How've things been since I last saw you?”

Achy, like he’s used an atrophied muscle. Lonely, and frustrating beyond words. But he doesn’t say any of that. He digs crescents into his thigh through his pant leg and says, “Boring”.

“Figured that might be the case. I saw the livestream of you fighting Haywire,” you bump your shoulder against his. “The Commission probably dumped a whole load of paperwork on you, huh?”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He hoped you hadn’t caught that fight. The pursuit of Haywire—an eco terrorist with an electrical quirk—managed to cause an unprecedented amount of damage to the city infrastructure.

“You handled it as best you could. The power grid can be fixed. What’s important is people are alive because of you,” a warm weight covers the fingers restlessly whittling at his pant leg. You pet his hand, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt”.

Guided solely by his impulses, the instant you start to draw back he envelops the top of your hand and sandwiches it between his own. He goes hot and cold all over in quick succession. Boundaries, he reminds himself. But you’re not pulling away. You’re studying him with a knowing gleam in your eye.

Shouto clears his throat. Heat pricks across his skin, concentrated in his cheekbones. “Sorry,” he says. You can ask, a memory echoes. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you it’s fine,” you reply firmly. “I’m happy to remind you if you need to hear it”.

“No, I…” his brow furrows. “I’ve been thinking”.

“That’s not good”.

Shouto snorts and shakes his head, his amusement petering out into a shallow breath. “I want to ask. I’ve wanted to ask like you said I could,” he explains vaguely. “I’m not very good at it, I think”.

You make a soft, understanding sound that immediately sets him at ease. “I guess, after denying yourself something for so long it can be scary to let yourself have it again,” you murmur, a faraway look in your eyes. After a pensive moment the sheen fades and your laughter lines deepen, “I’ll do what I did before, then. If you look like you need a hug I’ll ask you instead”.

“In what way do I ‘look like’ I need a hug?”

“You get this—I don’t know how to explain it,” you gesture vaguely at him. “This blankness about you, but not your normal resting face, I mean you don’t seem all there. I don’t like it. I like it best when you’re happy”.

“Ah,” comes his eloquent response. Shouto drops his gaze to where your hands knot together. Every quark in his body is urging him to get closer, and remain close. “Bakugo thinks I should try to hug Midoriya, too,” he adds, oddly flustered.

“Huh. You talked to Bakugo about—? That’s a surprise. A nice surprise, I mean! Well, Midoriya does give great hugs. It would be good for you to…”

Shouto’s thoughts grow louder and he frowns down at his rice. You’re saying something about physical touch and wellness and friends. Dopamine and serotonin. It barely registers. Two truths are pinging around his skull.

You have hugged Midoriya. Of course you have. You’re friends.

You think he’s great at it.

Why is that so unsettling? Teenagers think like this. Single minded and overly emotional.

He feels the shifting of your knuckles under his palm. “Hey. You’ll need one of these back if you’re going to eat,” you say.

“Right,” he lifts his left hand and picks up his chopsticks to take a pinch of rice from his bowl. He chews until the clamouring in his mind has settled, and you patiently accept his stoic silence without explanation. Shouto hasn’t been this awkward since highschool, and even then he was too wrapped up in his familial problems to be aware of it.

“What’s the project you’ve been working on?” he eventually asks.

You take the change of topic in your stride, leaning closer and lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “I’m not supposed to tell you but—it’s for Deku’s new costume”.

“Midoriya is getting a new costume?” Shouto replies. You playfully shush him and he pouts a little.

“Don’t sulk. He doesn’t know yet either,” you poke a chopstick at the corner of his jutted mouth. “It’s my job to prepare a design portfolio and talk through everything next week. You’ll get a new one too, when you break the top five”.

“If,” he amends.

“You don’t think you’ll move up?”

“Reaching the top was never really a priority for me,” Shouto’s attention splinters, half of his focus on the conversation and the other on the sensation of your skin. He considers overturning his hand to entwine your fingers. “I just want to be the best hero I can be”.

You hum, and as if plucking the desire right from his mind, absentmindedly slip into the gaps between his fingers. Shouto steadies his breathing and takes another mouthful.

The rest of the hour passes, syrupy and slow like molasses. By the final minute Shouto’s palm is sticky and reluctant to part from yours. You usher him out from the breakfast nook first, stacking the empty bowls before directing him back toward the emptied cafeteria.

You slide the bowls along the counter for the kitchen staff to take. Then you wipe your hands down your front as you pivot to face him, thrusting out both arms as he stands frozen.

“Can I hug you?”

Shouto touches his face and you laugh.

“This is because I want one,” you clarify with a warm grin, beckoning him closer.

Shouto inhales steps into the embrace, his arms instinctively wrapping around your back. There are less layers this time—the heat of your body is overwhelming, alongside the gentle rise of goosebumps across your bare shoulders. Your breath fell gently on his collarbone, his head lowering to curl into you. He thinks, were he not born to be a hero, he must surely be born for this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, squeezing his waist a final time as you retreat. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Shouto nods. Your presence moves away like the sun being blocked out and he watches you go, departing words caught in his teeth, an incessant buzz in his fingertips. The walk back to his office is a gauzy yellow haze. Every physiological response in his body told him that he was in a free fall, despite his feet being firmly on the ground.

“Shouto!”

Shouto halts mid-step at the familiar voice. He turns to look at Izuku, at the tentative beginnings of his smile. “Izuku,” he says.

“We missed you at lunch—are you feeling alright?” Izuku asks, slightly bemused. “You look kinda… floaty,” his eyes are dark, softened in the afternoon light as they sweep over Shouto’s figure and his face.

"Izuku," Shouto said before he could convince himself otherwise, “Do you want a hug?”

The innocent question appeared to crash into Izuku with the levity of a bullet train in motion. Tears sprang to his eyes, brighter now. Shouto tenses as he is swept into a solid hug. Izuku smells like fresh air, sweat and sweet-salty broth. He holds Shouto as though trying to keep his seams from bursting; thick arms are secure around his shoulders, and a rough palm rubs broad strokes down his back, smoothing the tension until Shouto is relaxed.

You were right. Izuku does give great hugs. Shouto came away doughy, and fuller, and with the stark realisation that while touching Izuku soothed the ache, it still felt completely different to touching you.

Later, as he leaned his head against the desk surface, he sluggishly contemplated the implications of that.

[cozage]

Captured by Marines

Characters: Luffy, Law, Ace cw: f! reader, angst, gore, mentions of injury/surgery A/N: A bit of a 180 from my post this morning haha! Also, I know I put it in the cw but again, this is obviously going to have some angst and there are also varying mentions of gore. I'm going to tag each individual story with major content warnings, hope that helps.

Luffy

A/N: spoilers for Marineford ahead in this one. 

“Listen Luffy,” Nami begins hesitantly. “I need you to sit down, and remain calm when I tell you this.” 

“What’s up, Nami?” He jokes, laughing at her tone. “You’re always so serious!” He hasn’t realized you were missing yet, or noticed the tears in Nami’s eyes. 

“Luffy…” Nami takes a ragged breath to steady herself. “It’s Y/N. She-” Nami breaks off unable to finish the sentence, tears finally pouring out of her eyes.

Her tears surprise him, and Luffy’s head snaps around, suddenly very aware of his surroundings. You’re not here. You’re not at the rendezvous point. He does a crew count, everyone is here except you. He does the count again. One short. And Nami crying…

He grabs Nami’s shoulders firmly. “Where is she, Nami?” He begins to shake her, trying to get the words out faster. “Where is Y/N?!”

Nami is sobbing now, inconsolable. Luffy knows she’s trying to speak, but the words simply won’t come. “Nami, TELL ME! TELL ME WHERE SHE IS?” He can’t stop shaking her. He knows it’s not helping, but he needs her words to come out faster. He needs to know that you’re safe.

“Luffy, that’s enough.” Sanji takes a long drag off the cigarette between his lips, ready to step in at any moment. “Calm down. You shouldn’t be acting that way towards a lady.”

“THEN TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!” Luffy roars out to the room, but he releases his navigator. Nami backs away from him until her back hits a wall, and then sinks to the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” she sobs into her hands again and again. “I’m so sorry, Luffy.”

“She got taken.” Sanji says in her place. He takes another inhale off the cigarette and removes it from his mouth. He makes brief eye contact with Zoro, both of them prepping for the worst reaction from their captain. “By the Marines.”

Luffy stands there, stunned for a moment. Surely he had misheard Sanji. There was a strange ringing in his ears, and his vision started to get dark around the edges. “By the…marines?”

Sanji sighs. “Yeah. She was protecting Nami, and they got her with the sea prism stone cuffs and made a quick escape. We tried to get her back, but they were quick. It almost felt like that was their mission the whole time.”

Sanji mouth kept moving, but Luffy couldn’t hear him. He could only hear your laugh, see your smile. And then he hears Ace, thanking him with his final breath. No, the outcome wouldn’t be the same. He was stronger now, and he would save you. He had to save you. 

“We’re not letting them leave this island with her.” His voice is authoritative, even if his entire body is shaking with fear. 

The entire crew responds in unison. “Obviously.”

Rescued

Law

A/N: Injury and surgery mentions

“CAPTAINNN!!!” The Heart Pirates race towards their captain, eager to see him again. It had been too long. He smiles at his crew, but his eyes are scanning the crowd. He can’t locate the two people who are always first to greet him. “Where’s Bepo and Y/N-ya?” You and Bepo had been sent for a reconnaissance mission a few days ago and should’ve arrived back before Law. His unease grew as he watched his crew’s eyes shift nervously between each other. 

Penguin finally clears his throat and speaks up for the crew. “Bepo is back at camp. He got inju-” Law is already on the move, not waiting for Penguin to finish his sentence. He refuses to run, but he’s walking as fast as he can without doing so. 

Penguin is following close behind, not missing a beat. “Captain-” he starts again, trying to find the right words, but he’s cut off again by the surgeon. 

“How critical are they?” He asks, tone clipped. He had used a lot of energy on the mission, but he’d do whatever he needed to in order to keep his crew alive. Especially you and Bepo. 

“Bepo has blunt force trauma to his torso that will probably need to be examined and a deep wound in his leg and paw that will need to be checked out. He’s unconscious but stable.” Penguin responded. He had gotten used to reporting injuries to the Captain. “But, Captain-”

“And Y/N-ya?” Law felt better knowing Bepo was okay, assuming you probably had the same injury status. 

Penguin said nothing for a long moment, which caused Law to glance his way. His mouth felt like sandpaper suddenly, and he realized that Penguin hadn’t actually report about you at all yet. “Penguin,” he prompted again. “What about Y/N?”

“She hasn’t reported in yet.” Penguin’s voice was pained. “We found Bepo unconscious about a half a kilometer from camp.”

Law hissed in disapproval, resisting the urge to Shambles closer to camp. He needed to save what little energy he had left. Penguin kept moving silently beside him, but Law could feel there was something his crew member wasn’t saying. He waited a few moments before he couldn’t stand the tension. “What aren’t you telling me, Penguin?”

“It’s not confirmed.” Penguin starts out, trying to keep it positive. “But Shachi heard something on the radio.”

“What? Spit it out.” Laws tone was dangerously close to being hostile. 

“The Marines said..” Penguin stopped moving, taking a breath, as if to prepare himself.

Law didn’t raise his voice at his crew often, but with a member of his crew injured and another missing, he snapped. He turned on his heels and glared daggers at his subordinate. “Stop keeping me on edge and tell me already, dammit!” 

“The Marines said they had someone in custody!” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a squeak, leaving a heavy weight in the air. 

The captain paused for a moment to take in Penguin’s words, and then turned away, heading towards Bepo again without another word. 

“Ca-Captain?” Penguin was back on his heels again, but Law said nothing. He couldn’t be distracted by a simple rumor. You were probably safe, hiding in the woods, waiting for a moment to come back to camp. Bepo would confirm that when he woke up. 

Penguin tried again. “Captain, it’s just that-”

“You said it wasn’t confirmed right? She’s fine, then. Let’s worry with Bepo, and then we’ll send out a search party for her when we get a better idea of her last location.” The Captain’s confidence in you left Penguin stopped in his tracks, but Law kept moving forward towards his injured crew member, leaving Penguin in the dust. 

—

Law waited by Bepo’s side after the surgery, within close earshot of Shachi and the radio. He had split the crew into small groups and sent them out to search for you in rotations, but nobody had found any sign of you so far. 

Law couldn’t sleep while you were missing, but he knew he needed rest. He compromised by sitting and staring at the radio, as if he were trying to will it to speak to them. After a few hours of silence, radio static signaled that the channel was active. “Do we have confirmation on the identity of the individual in custody yet?” A husky voice broke the air.

“Standby.” A younger voice responded, maybe even younger than Law.

Law stood up for the first time since he had finished tending to Bepo. “Switch to-”

Shachi was already flipping to the secure line they had tapped earlier. 

The husky voice returned as Shachi hit the channel switch. “-me you have a name, Lieutenant. I’ve got HQ on my ass about this matter.”

“Yessir. We have confirmation that the individual in question is [F/N] [L/N] of the Heart Pirates led by Trafalgar Law.”

The husky-voice man let out an audible gasp. “You better not be shitting me, Lieutenant. You’re positive?”

Shachi looked nervously at his Captain, but Law was fixated on the radio. It had to be a mistake. This couldn’t be happening. 

“Yes sir.” The younger man confirmed. “We have multiple sources from the battlefield confirming her skill and her identity. We’re departing for Impel Down as we speak”.

Law’s breath was shallow. He needed to get to you. To pull you back to safety. “Room.” If he can just make an area wide enough, he can shambles himself to you and free you.

But the effects from the mission and the operation weigh heavy on him, and he can feel his ability fading before he can find your presence. He falls to the ground, the weight of failure finally pushing him over the edge into total exhaustion. He can feel the world spinning, and know he’s far surpassed his limit. 

“Ready the ship to set sail immediately and do so immediately.” He can feel his eyes closing against his will, no matter how determined he is to stay awake. “We’re going after her. Follow them at any cost.”

As he slips from consciousness, he only thinks about you. How he’s lost you, and how he’ll stop at nothing to get you back. 

Rescued

Ace:

A/N: major gore/injuries

“To Whitebeard!” Mugs of various alcohols slammed together for a toast. Ace had Marco in a headlock, laughing and drinking his cup of ale while Marco struggled to get free. 

“I’m just saying we should wait to celebrate!” Marco squirmed below him. “Jozu’s division still isn’t back-”

“Come on, Marco,” Ace jested. “You really have that little faith in division three? I’m telling Y/N. She’ll never forgive you, y’know.”

Marco finally freed himself from Ace’s grip and stood upright, looking out to sea. “It just…they should be back by now.”

As the hours passed and the party raged on, Ace found himself glancing at the horizon more and more frequently. By the time the sun was setting, his gaze was stuck on the path you should be returning back on.  “They should be back by now,” he muttered to himself. “Where are you?” Ace pulls out your vivre card, relieved to find it intact and inching towards the way you should be returning.

He held your vivre card all evening, watching for any signs of distress. Marco sat with him on lookout, waiting for any kind of news as well. It wasn’t until the moon hung high in the sky that lights appeared on the horizon. “They’re back!” Relief washed over him as he shook Marco awake. He tucked your vivre card away and stood up for the first time in hours. “I’m going to go meet them and see what’s going on.”

“Wait, Ace,” Marco started, still groggy with sleep. “It could be-” but Ace was already jumping off the boat, aiming for his Striker. Flames appeared far below where Marco was sitting, and the Striker’s engine roared as it took off towards the approaching ship. 

Ace was used to you all being apart for missions. You were in the third division with Jozu, so it didn’t always line up that you all worked together. But Jozu was a man who was always has his crew back by rendezvous time, and it had been over twelve hours since that time had passed. 

The ship was flying a Whiteboard flag, and he could pick out a few crew members he recognized when he looked through the binoculars. He let out a sigh of relief, finally releasing a burden he didn’t realize he was carrying. The pit that had grown in his stomach over the past half day had been so slow, he didn’t even notice it until it started to ease away. 

The feeling of relief didn’t last long. As he got closer, he realized the ship itself was in bad shape. It had clearly been through an unexpected battle, maybe even more than one. He threw more flames out from his feet and raced towards the ship, the pit in his stomach returning and multiplying by the second. 

He jumped aboard the boat, looking for your face in the crowd, but all he could see were beaten and battered crew mates in various states of conditions. Some had cuts, others were more bandages than human. The smell was worse. The stench of death and distant smell of blood was mixed with a strange smell of meat cooking. Ace’s vision blurred for a second seeing such a sight, and he willed himself to stay focused. 

A deep voice called his name from the other side of the ship. Jozu. He looked around, searching for his fellow commander, but couldn’t locate him. “Down here, man.”

Ace had a pretty iron stomach, but the sight of his friend made it do a few somersaults. Jozu had a horrible head gash that someone was applying constant pressure on, a bandage wrapped around one eye, and the entire left part of his body seemed to be blackened, as if it were burnt. 

“Jozu…” Ace resisted the urge to ask about your status, suddenly afraid of the answer. “What happened?”

“Navy ambush.” Jozu took a ragged breath, and those around him exchanged worried looks. “We didn’t stand a chance.” Jozu was gasping for air at this point, but he was determined to get the information out. “They took prisoners. About 10-15.” It was clear he wanted to relay more information, but his body convulsed with a sudden coughing fit. 

“Who was taken? Where is-” Ace stopped himself right before he says your name, shameful of the fact that he’s prioritizing your life over everyone else. 

His cheeks must’ve turned a shade of red, because a kid passing by glares at him. “If you’re going to vomit, do it over the side of the ship. We have enough to clean up.”

Jozu’s cough finally subsides, and he looks at his brother with deep regret in his eyes. Ace’s heart plummets, and he knows what to expect before the words are out of his mouth. “They took her, Ace. They took Y/N. I’m sorry. I-” whatever Jozu was going to say is cut off by another round of coughing fits, but Ace doesn’t need an explanation. He just needs you back. 

Ace gingerly puts his hand on Jozu’s right shoulder, one of the few places the third division commander doesn’t seem to be injured. “Don’t you worry, Jozu. I’ll get them back.” Without another word, he jumps off the ship and onto his Striker. 

“Hang on, Ace.” Marco’s voice of reason calls out to him from the deck of the ship, and Ace silently curses himself for waking him in the first place. “You need a plan. Don’t go charging into this headfirst. It’ll just get you killed.”

“I have a plan!” Ace fibbed. “I’ll be back in the morning with the prisoners.”

“Ace,” Marco starts. It was clear to him that the freckled boy wouldn’t listen to anyone who stood in his way.

“If they get them to Impel Down it’s over and you know it!” Ace’s panic was starting to show. Marco could see his eyes from the deck, wild and desperate like a cornered animal. 

“Tch, you’re always such a hothead.” Marco chided. “Good luck. I’ll relay what happened to Pops, but be prepared for any consequences when you get back.”

Ace grinned and tipped his hat towards Marco. “Good luck here, Marco. Thanks for everything.” The Striker’s engine roared to life once again, and he pulled out your vivre card, ready to follow your compass to hell and back. 

Rescued

[astermath]

sweet like you🍓

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen stumbles across a local farmer’s market on accident and discovers a family run strawberry stand. he discovers that not only the strawberries are delicious and sweet, but so is the girl selling them to him.

word count: 2.1K

notes: yk what’s really funny,, i never realised so far a lot of my fics involve the color red. perhaps it’s becoming my new favorite color and I love to make it obvious dsgdfsj,, anyways first time writing for carmen, been obsessed w him since the bear came out. i’m a whore for jeremy allen white in case you haven’t noticed. anyways this will def get a part two!!

P.S. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, requests are open!

Saturday was farmer’s market day.

Every Saturday morning, dozens of independent businesses, farmers and food stands would come together at Lincoln Park to sell their wares. It made for a colorful and interesting blend of smells, sounds and sights, and for most, a great way to start off their weekend.

And Carmen was no exception to this. He’d first stumbled upon it by accident on his way to the Beef. Taking a wrong turn because of his still waking morning head resulted in him walking through the park and, unavoidably, being distracted by what vendors there were. A chef at heart, he couldn’t help but look around the wide array of fresh ingredients available for purchase. He’d taken out his notebook and started writing down business names as he tried a sample every now and then. 

He held a bag of fresh paprikas in one hand, making his way down the line before he came across a peculiar and seemingly very busy stand. The fresh, sweet scent of strawberries allured him, stepping closer to take a look at what they had to offer. And it was exactly that, just strawberries. It appeared to be a family business, your mother and father packing orders, and you at the front taking them and accepting payments. For a second he just kind of stood there, bag in hand, staring at you. There was no way you were from here, Chicago doesn’t let a smile like that survive very long. Or maybe that was just his cynical mind doing its usual thing.

He snapped out of it when you glanced his way, looking to the side. He felt his cheeks getting warmer, embarrassed that just looking at a pretty girl got such a reaction from him. He’s a collected person, he should be acting like one. He took a deep breath and got in line. Lord knows what he’d be using strawberries for, he’d figure something out, might as well just eat them as a snack while the season allowed it.

“Hi! How many?” Your voice was sweet and chipper, something he couldn’t even think of being after taking orders all morning. Somehow, you kept it up.

“Oh, uh...” He looked at your display, before remembering that all you sold were strawberries, so browsing just made him look even more stupid. “How many... Strawberries?”

“Boxes. They’re 500 grams, 5 bucks each. So how many?” Your smile remained the same, though you were slightly amused by his confusion. 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He could have sank into the ground right then and there. Of course you meant boxes, who in their right mind is buying individual strawberries? “Uh... Just one box is fine, please.” He reached for his wallet while you took over a box from your mom.

“Great! That’ll be 5 dollars please.” You took the slightly crumpled bill from his hand, storing it in the tin box in front of you and quickly writing down something on a paper. Seemed like you still did everything by hand, he couldn’t imagine what a mess it would be if he had to do that at the restaurant.

“Here you go, have a great day!” The box you gave him was neatly wrapped in brown paper, with a sticker serving as a business card on top. 

“Uh...” He stared at the sticker, reading over it before looking back up at you.

Ask for her name.

“Yeah...”

Her name.

“You too.” 

You idiot.

He picked up the box and walked away, walking a little faster than usual. He was never good at talking to people, but god, that was just embarrassing. He opened up the packaging, and took out a perfectly plump strawberry. He took a bite, humming as the juicy sweetness washed over his tastebuds.

Lunch rush had just ended, and Carmen was sat outside the back of the restaurant with Richie, smoking as per usual. Except now, a small cardboard box sat between them. It was almost empty as the two of them snacked on the fruit between puffs of their cigarettes. 

“Ya know, I read somewhere on Facebook that these are supposed to help with uh... Cancer or something.” Richie said, throwing the green leafy part back into the box. 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, cousin.” Carmy smiled to himself, back leaned against the wall as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“Oh, why’s that huh? Cause I can’t read shit online anymore without having to do an hour of research behind it?” Richie furrowed his brows, blowing smoke out his nose.

“No, stupid,” Carmen put the cigarette out on the concrete. “Cause you’re fuckin’ smoking, man. The fuck is a strawberry gonna do against that.”

“Yeah, well... I try to stay positive, you should fucking try it sometime, ya depressed asshole.” He grabbed another strawberry. “Where d’you get these from anyways? Shit’s pretty good.”

The image of you working at the stand flashed through his mind. “Passed by some random farmer’s market this morning. Might stop by there again, got a ton of fresh produce there for not much money.”

“Speakin’ of produce.” Richie used his thumb to point back over his shoulder to the kitchen. “Place’s out of onions. Your magical farmer’s market got those? Cause we need more by the dinner shift.”

Carmen groaned, wanting to curse at Richie for not letting him know earlier. But honestly, if it gave him a chance to go back, get more delicious strawberries and possibly redeem his awkward first impression to the pretty girl there... It might not be a bad idea. He checked the time on his watch, early afternoon, you’d probably be wrapping up right now. If he was fast, he could totally still make it. “Fine, but I’m taking your car.”

“Don’t crash it.” Richie said as he got up, ready to get back inside.

“You’re the one with a suspended license.” He joked, catching the keys Richie threw at him that were totally not aimed at his head.

“Fuck you cousin.”

Parking was a bitch, as always, but Carmen had managed to find a stall selling onions for about half of what he usually got them for. He was starting to like this market, not just for the prices, but because these were all people who worked hard and loved their products. A lot of work goes into putting something out there to sell, he would know. 

He realized he might be pushing his luck if he still wanted to see you, but he decided to take the chance nonetheless and walk down the lineup. It seemed to be his lucky day, as he caught sight of your parents loading up mostly empty boxes back in the car. You were working on breaking down the stand, doing so with relative ease. You were currently folding up the tables, kneeled down onto the ground. 

Again, he stared. Honestly, how could he not? It wasn’t every day he saw someone so beautiful, and with a sweet personality to match. Granted his only interaction with you had been brief, but still, he got a good vibe from you, and he was usually so distrustful.

You looked up, and by pure coincidence, your eyes met. His eyes were so intense, hues of blue that anyone would recognize, even from a mile away. You certainly recognized them from this morning at least. Your face brightened with the same smile he saw you had before, and for a second he wondered if it was just a customer service thing. 

“Hi! Hope you enjoyed your strawberries!” You got up, holding the folded table under your arm. 

“Sure did.” He put on a bit of an awkward smile. God, why was he doing this... What was he even supposed to say?

Your eyes squinted slightly when you read the words on his shirt. “Nice shirt... Oh, wait, you work at the Beef?”

His body tenses up a little when you mention the restaurant. Given its... Peculiar reputation, that question could be followed up by any kind of statement. “Yeah, yeah, I uh... I kinda run it now.” He decided not to mention Mikey. Seemed a bit overkill to mention your dead brother to someone whose name you don’t even know.

“Ohhh, that’s you! Yeah, I’ve seen you smoking outside before.” You extend your hand and you both introduce yourselves. “I work at a café just two blocks over. You might have seen it, it’s called Odette’s?” 

Carmy nodded. He knew that place. He also knew the cranky old French lady who owned it. “Ah... Yeah. Menu still the same?”

“As long as Odette is still alive, I doubt she’ll ever let me change anything. ‘Over my dead body, cherie’”. You jokingly imitated her French accent, chuckling to yourself.

Carmen smiled, glad that he’s at least not making a complete fool out of himself now. This was good, he knew this, work and food, those were his safe topics. “Yeah, well... Maybe if she tasted one of these strawberries first, you might convince her.” 

“Huh,” You thought to yourself for a second, imagining your usual grumpy boss overflowing with glee after trying the fruit from your family’s farm. “You know what, I’ve never actually thought of that. Maybe I’ll try it out!” You smile. “You know I’ve been meaning to try and serve some of my pastries there. I’m a huge baking fanatic, but she’s so... Set in her ways. I don’t know if my amateur baking skills could possibly convince her, no matter how tasty the strawberries I use are.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like...” Carmen thought about his crew, and how much they loved their so called ‘system’. Change was good, change meant progress, but it was also scary. On that part, he didn’t blame her boss for refusing to switch things up. “If you want, I could help you out. I’m a full time chef, so... Always willing to taste test.” He hoped his poorly masked excuse to stay in touch came across as friendly, and not pushy. He always felt like he was overthinking everything when he was trying to socialize, like he was reading off some type of script. Your chipper personality made things a tad easier, at least. 

“Really?” You seem to brighten up even more. Carmen is sure there’s light shining from your face from how excited you look, but he doesn’t mind. It’s amusing, almost... Cute.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Just uh... Let me know when.” He puts his hands in his pockets.

“Of course!” You pause, realizing he’s probably expecting you to give him some kind of contact information. Unless he was planning to use telepathic communication. You put down the folded table. “Right, sorry, uh...” You laughed awkwardly and pulled out a pen and an old receipt from your back pocket to scribble your number on, before handing it to him. “There we go!” 

Carmen’s eyes went over the number, putting it in his wallet so he wouldn’t forget to save it later. “Cool, cool... So uh, text you later.” He silently cringed at his own words, trying painfully hard to play it cool. 

“Yeah, totally!” Your mom called your name, and you look over your shoulder, seeing her gesture to you to hurry up. “Be right there, mama!” You chuckled. “Sorry, duty calls! But yeah, I’ll hear from you. And if I don’t, I know where you work, Berzatto.” 

He chuckles slightly at your joking threat. “Sure, I’ll hold you to that.” He gives you a curt wave before walking off and letting you go back to work. 

He really hoped you didn’t mean that “threat”. He’d rather die than let you see him at the Beef right when they got such a bad hygiene rating. 

He was laid down on the couch late at night, watching an episode on the food network about an olive farm in Italy. He wondered if your family’s farm was anything like this one, and remembered he hadn’t even saved your number or texted you yet. Carmen rubbed his sleepy eyes and pulled out his phone, saving your number under a new contact and typing out a few quick texts. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, realized he was overthinking it and fell asleep not long after, the sound of an elderly Italian woman speaking on TV in the background.

[unknown]: hey, it’s carmen

[unknown]: guy from the beef

[unknown]: next thursday work for you?

You groaned in your bed, looking over at your phone and cursing yourself for forgetting to turn off your notifications. “The fuck...” Your eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen. A sleepy smile adorned your face when you read his name, saving his contact and texting something back quickly before putting the phone away and going back to sleep.

[y/n]: for sure!

[y/n]: let’s do 4:30 PM? café closes at 4 anyways so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves :)))

[konigbabe]

LUCKY PICK

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader Word count: 3.1k Tags/warnings: no y/n; gambling; smut; public sex; pure filth; getting caught; p-in-v; unprotected sex; Toji's a little bit of a meanie; blowjob; pussy slapping (like once) Summary: Toji's frequent presence at the boat races doesn’t go unnoticed by your observant gaze. Every time you see him, however, luck seems to elude him, leaving him on the losing end; until you offer the man assistance in selecting a boat–lucky you, he wins. So he finds a way to thank you properly.

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

Amidst the kaleidoscope of social strata, one thing that sticks out for you: his shoes.

While some attendees adorn themselves in lavish, bespoke suits, busy with their own affairs while the events before them serve as a mere backdrop, others, those less fortunate, come in more casual in hopes to earn some quick money.

He, on the other hand, is rather glaring with his choice of clothing. Too casual. Insouciant. Black tracksuit, something more fitting for a morning jog or a workout at the gym. The fabric seems slightly worn, a faint stain on the sleeve. His shoes, however, are the most intriguing part of his ensemble. They stand out. Like a flash of lightning on a stormy night.

In a sea of polished leather and high-end dress shoes, he wears a pair of scuffed, worn flip-flops. It's not just the stark contrast between his flip-flops and the elegant footwear of others that piques your interest. Rather the aura of confidence and a nonchalant demeanor that could easily be mistaken for arrogance.

Even for the outfit, he’s rather handsome. Raven hair tumbling down just to his ears, framing the chiseled planes of his face. The faint scar on the corner of his right lip only adds to the air of mystery surrounding him.

In contrast to the meticulously groomed individuals around him, his appearance carries an air of authenticity. As if he doesn't conform to societal norms but carves his own path instead.

He’s here often. Twice a week. A clockwork of unwavering routine. A regular fixture. Each time, he places his bet on the same number. It’s always three. No regard for any other possibilities. He’s staying the whole day, watches all the races and loses his money. Each and every time.

You stand on the stairs leading to the ticket vending machines, overlooking the racers warm up around the buoy. People passing by until he’s here again. In the same outfit, with the same aura of disregard, detachment.

He passes you as well. A solid wall, going straight, no disregard whether you move out of the way or not. Makes you take a step aside. You know he’s here to lose again. Letting out a grunt, an annoyed huff of air, your voice carries through the loud environment when his bicep brushes your shoulder.

"Here to lose again?"

It makes him stop. Look you dead in the eyes. You can feel the steel behind his eyes as he studies you. Tries to understand why someone like him – a man who’d been losing every race for months – is being confronted by someone like you, someone with nothing more than a passing interest in the track and its races.

For a moment, time seems to slow down as his gaze locks with yours. His eyes, like storm-touched steel, easily likened to polished basalt, peer out from under strong, dark eyebrows. Hooded. Locked onto yours. A thunderous downpour.

He stays silent for solid few seconds. Possibly aiming to intimidate you into leaving him alone. Yet, he fails as you stand tall next to him; not backing down or wilting away under his scrutiny.

"Who says I’m here to lose," he retorts, a touch of defiance in his voice. The hint of a smirk plays on his lips as he studies you, perhaps trying to gauge your intentions.

As you arch an eyebrow, you remark, "I haven’t seen you win yet. You've been betting on the same number, sir, every time I've seen you here. And from what I've observed, you haven't had much luck."

His brows furrow momentarily before he responds with a knowing smirk, matching your aura with his own brand of dry wit.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. Besides, one day, that number will hit."

His confidence is almost infectious, and despite the peculiar choice of his attire and betting strategy, there's an air of genuineness in his words.

"Then why don’t you bet for other numbers," your body pivots to face him, arms crossed over your chest, "try it," you hold your chin high, " buy a place-show, numbers four and six."

To your suggestion of trying other numbers, the man chuckles softly, seemingly amused by the idea, "and why would I do that?"

"You have better odds with the place-show ticket rather than the win ticket," you explain with a shrug, "and if you lose, you’ll have someone else to aim your anger at."

He smirks, nodding thoughtfully as if considering your proposition. "Ah, you're one of those logical types, ain’t ya? Always calculating the odds an’ playing it safe."

You chuckle at the characterization, appreciating his keen observation. "I haven’t lost in a long time. Plus," you blatantly look him up and down, "I have a feeling you could use some luck, and maybe a touch of charm wouldn't hurt either."

He raises an eyebrow, the faint scar on his lip accentuating the mischievous glint in his eye. "Charm, huh? What's in it for you?"

Flashing a grin at his question (it's a valid one, after all), you meet the playful spark in his laden eyes.

"Oh, nothing much," you reply, feigning nonchalance, a familiar mask that you wear to try to stifle the faint tremor of fear, "let’s just say if you win, you’ll owe me a favor."

One moment, you were sitting a few seats next to the man, a winning ticket grasped between your fingers; both watching the race unfold before your eyes.

Next, a subtle, self-assured grin spreads over his face as the winning numbers are announced.

("Would ya’ look a’that.."

"Who would’ve thought…")

And then, flicker in time. You find yourself in an alleyway, still at the stadium and next to a dumpster. Away from the fanfare of the racetrack. A putrid stench of decaying food still in the air overpowered by the potent, heady musk of Toji’s body as the concrete scrapes against your naked knees. Uncomfortable and rough.

Pants lowered down only enough for his cock to spring free; the tip glistening with pearls, a byproduct of his pleasure. Lifting your head slightly, you dip down to kiss the dew away as your hand, wet with precum and spit, moves over his length, pads tracing every curve and ridge.

Lips swollen. Jaw hurting from the tight fit, Toji’s fingers grip the top of your head; urging you to take him in deeper, feel him heave in your mouth. Careless to the fact you should need air. But at this moment, looking up and seeing his eyes already boring into yours, oxygen’s the last thing on your mind.

"That’s it," his husky froan reverberates in your ears as his thumb traces the arch of your eyebrow before his hand cups your cheek, cradles your face, "atta girl."

His words cause heat flooding into your core. A warmth to blossom from deep within. Feeling your heart thudding between your legs, you press your thighs together more. Fingers moving along the exposed, wet slit before pushing one in—

It’s barely a stretch. Disappointing.

—then two.

Letting his cock from your mouth, the sweetness lingering on your tongue as you move the top of your tongue along the underside of his head. Glistening, painfully swollen and painfully red. Hand gliding over the length, thumb pressing onto the sensitive slit, causing a stream of Fuck, Goddamn and your name stream from his bruised lips.

Spit-covered lips trace the underside of his cock, leaving a glossy trail behind. With a trembling breath, he taps your temple.

"Up."

You don’t even register his command before a hand encloses your arm, effortlessly lifting you on your feet.

"Wait," you squeal, a mixture of surprise and trepidation when he crunches down. Putting a hand instinctively on his shoulder to steady yourself, you feel the taut muscle, finely sculpted and responsive to his movements. Fingers gripping your ankle with determined strength; in one deft motion, he liberates your leg from the confines of the pant leg (and carelessly leaves the other be).

For a moment, you feel like a child again – pushed around, a small puppet, being dressed and undressed by another's hands.

It’s all happening too fast yet not swiftly enough.

His lips brush over your dripping core. Gives it a lick. A taste of your sweetness, humming in appreciation when your juices coat his tongue, lips, chin. And when you push your hips into his face, shamelessly chasing the feeling of his tongue – he stands back up. Palm making a benign impact with your swollen core, leaving you gasping from the sudden jolt of pain.

"Maybe ‘nother time," he speaks up. Hand grasping your ankle, resting it against his shoulder, heel digging into his collarbone, foot beside his face. Teeth grace your ankle, the wet tip of his tongue darting to lick a stripe over the fibula. All while his fingers spread the wetness leaking out of you, fingertips tracing your opening, teasing the entrance with his pads.

"Someone’s a lil’ eager."

You feel the blunt press. Too thick for his fingers.

The head of his cock spreads you open. You fight the urge to close your eyes, lean onto the brick wall barely touching your back. Instead, you force your gaze to remain on Toji’s face; his eyes hooded, barely open but piercing through you as he pushes forward. Slowly.

His hips push forward, fighting the resistance as you welcome the feeling. Heart racing, a groan leaves your lips when Toji grips your waist and pulls you onto him. Cock grazing your sensitive walls, you watch his eyes close in a blissful moment momentarily.

A feeling of triumph washes over you – you managed to capture the beast itself in its most vulnerable state.

Then he snaps. Gets impatient. And if it wasn’t for the hand on your waist, you’d certainly lose balance with the raw, almost inhuman strength with which he thrusts into you.

"Ugh—fuck, oh God," eyes closed, you succumb to the feeling; shallow, deep thrusts slowly speeding up, turning into something more resembling a pounding. Savage.

His lips brush the shell of your ear, fingers digging into the fat of your hips before moving upwards, cupping your clothed breast, thumb flicking your erect nipple, "told ya it’s Toji."

It goes like this. You try to steady yourself on one foot, clinging onto Toji’s arms as if he’s your beacon. Mouth agape, you rest your forehead on his collarbone. The hamstring in your leg feels close to ripping apart when his hand slides onto your thigh, providing a reassurance that makes the ache between your legs flare up with ardent fervor.

Toji pulls and pushes — forcing your body to twist, spinning you around to the point where your hands can rest on the wall. One leg’s still on the ground while the other is held against his broad chest. All while his thrusts remain merciless.

He fills you up, the fat head of his cock pressing against your depths, stretching you wider and deeper than before. Shameless squelching filling your ears whenever he bottoms out. Pulls out only halfway, his cock glistening with your juices and his precum when it almost slips free. Coaxing moan after moan from you.

"Damn," he stops, cock buried to the hilt and you feel the pads of his fingers swipe over your clit. Moving down, to the place you two are connected, "feel that?"

Wetness; his fingers dip between your folds, trace your core.

"Look at that."

And you look — wishing that maybe you didn’t. He scissors his fingers before your face, showing off the sticky substance connecting his fingers, glistening in the daylight. Heat shoots up your whole body when his smug face watches your reaction, a sly grin spreading on his lips when a moan comes out of you.

His thrusts come back without warning. Deep. He pulls you back into his cock.

It’s blissful. Euphoric. But painful.

"Can’t," you breath out, feeling close to cramping, "m’not that flexible."

"Oh really," he remarks. Yet, his grasp loosens on your body.

It feels like hours have passed with the way Toji ruts into you. Truly living up to the expectations one would’ve expected from a man his build and reputation.

Bend over, palms flat against the rough surface of the brick wall, Toji relentlessly pounds into you. The spongy head of his cock feels as if it’s breaching the opening of your cervix, mingling pain and pleasure in a confusing mix.

"Hey," a high-pitched voice startles you, Toji’s pelvis kissing the flesh of your ass as he buries himself to the brim, "What you doin’ there?!"

His hand moves from the arch of your back, fingers burning as they trace onto your hip. Squeezing, locking you against him.

"Takin’ a piss," Toji remains unfazed. Voice laced with a subtle hint of boredom while his cock pulsates inside you.

Taking a hand off the wall, you slap it across your mouth. Gentle fear of even your breaths being heard (and it doesn’t matter that you are good ten meters from the passerby).

"The toilets are right over there," the man shouts, making you question whether he’ll take a step toward you.

You’re aware that for a passerby, your figure is hidden behind the dumpster and unless Toji thrusts into you, it would look as if the man is simply relieving himself in the alley. Still fully clothed, only the front of his pants down enough for his cock to be free, one might think he’s telling the truth.

Silence falls onto you, forcing your head to turn to the side. Neck straining, you look over your shoulder – Toji’s unphased, nonchalant demeanor combined with the overly muscular physique visible even with loose clothes on radiates authority. Brutality. His demeanor serene; a tranquil lake at dawn. It would frighten you as well if you weren’t impaled on his cock.

His head lurches to the left, eyes locking onto the poor man's soul with an intense and penetrating gaze. It might be enough to scare the man away. To leave you alone.

That’s when he pulls back. Only an inch, mere centimeters but still enough to thrust back with rough intent. Body jolting forward, a surprised yelp gets muffled by your hand. Heat ripples through you.

He’s shameful, you realize. Salacious with his indecency.

The corners of his lips turn upward. Not enough for the passersby to see but from your point of view, it only fuels the sadistic image of the man behind you. The man whose cock keeps massaging your walls with shallow, almost non-existent thrusts.

How dare he.

"Whatever."

Loud footsteps echo through the alley before Toji’s fingers curl around your nape and he yanks. Hand pushing against the lower of your back, the other moving to the side of your neck as he twists your body into his own, pliant toy. Into a position he desires.

"Damn–," he breaths against the hairs on the back of your neck, chill breath washing over the shivering area, "does that turn ya’ on? Being watched?"

He pulls back at a leisurely pace. Unhurried. In and out.

"Fucked dumb on my dick–"

In and out.

"–while some loser watches your drippin’ cunt soak me."

Hitting that sweet, sensitive but delicate spot deep inside you; that even your fingers cannot reach. The one that makes you see stars, feel the heat in your core spread.

"Shut up," you basically snarl, pushing your ass into his crotch with fervor, forcing him deeper, causing his breath to hitch with his lips brushing over your burning skin, "shut up."

He chuckles at that. Licks a stripe over your shoulder. Moves to the side of your neck before his teeth sink into the earlobe, tugging.

"Could feel you squeezin’ me back then," the hand on the side of your neck inches forward; now resting firmly against the front of your neck, a silent reminder of the power it wields. The pressure is gentle but firm, a subtle yet unmistakable display of control. All while Toji matches your rhythm, thrusting at a pace that gets you closer to the sweet abyss.

Your hand moves from the wall, slides over the curve of your belly and find its place between your legs.

"Close ‘em," Toji’s thrusts grow in intensity. Forcing your body forward – to prevent falling, his hand on your back moves to rest against the wall, trapping your delicate hand underneath the roughness of his palm, the other holding you close by the neck.

"Ugh–wh–what," you barely breathe out, legs straining to keep the pace as the heat spreads.

"Your legs. Close ‘em."

And you do. Pushing your thighs together, a whole new sensation surges through your body as his cock fills you up. And it seems Toji feels the same by the way your name leaves his lips in a heavy groan, forehead resting against the crown of your head.

"Fuck yeah," he sighs, palm kneading the flesh of your ass. He’s pushing his hips against yours. Pulls you back into him with fingers itching to your aching nub. Finger flicking over it, making you shudder and moans to grow louder.

The coil in your abdomen grows tighter with each flick of his finger, kiss of his cock. Breath catching in your throat, you push back against Toji when the searing bliss washes over you.

He fucks you through it all.

"Gonna cum," you feel him thicken, pulse inside you. Hips stuttering, speeding and growing in intensity as he chases his own high.

"Not inside," you don’t struggle. Let him absolutely destroy you.

And he listens. Gives you few more fucks before he pulls out. Fists his cock, eyes watching your dripping, swollen pussy before you feel the sticky globes land on your core, slide down your clenching thighs.

He groans behind you. Hand resting on top of your ass, thumb caressing the skin there as you try to catch your breath. All while the man seems only slightly fazed by all the fucking. Makes you feel weak, pathetic — looking like you’d done a full workout while he’s standing behind you.

You stand back up. Wipe the cum off with a tissue you dig from your bag before pulling your pants back up, breath still slightly labored.

"Was this what I owed you?"

He fixes his pants, adjusting the waistband to hug the defined muscles of his lower abdomen, fleshing you his happy trail.

You shake your head to which his eyes narrow softly, "I want to hire you, Mr Fushiguro," hands fixing the mess on top of your head, you turn your back to The Sorcerer Killer, "take the win as your upfront payment."

[the-xolotl]

What I think your Hazbin Hotel fav says about you

Pt. I ; Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Lucifer, Angel

A/N: these are entirely my opinions based on what each of the characters have meant for me. i’m a psych major and like doing lil analysis of things so it’s for funsis nothing else XD and i’m writing these with adult personalities in mind ! just fyi

it’s kinda long, fair warning, lots of text.

—• TAGS: none, completely sfw

ᯓ፥Charlie ꪆ

Starting off with the MC herself; I can see her being a fav bc you are the sunshine coded individual that likes to do things diplomatically first, handles situations with words first and foremost as well as enthusiasm and optimism. You’ll always see the bright side of things and like to see the good in people.

So probably relate a lot to her.

You have a tendency to put others way above yourself and your own needs, most of the time unconsciously so.

Maybe you’re the mom-friend of the group. You’re the most caring and giving out of your surrounding friends or family.

Which kinda makes me think you may have a mix of daddy and mommy issues.

However sometimes your kindness is taken for weakness and naivety when that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re not unaware of the world around you, in fact you’re probably someone who understands a little too good, so you choose to give positivity to the sea of negativity.

You’re highly emotionally intelligent, mature and likely find yourself always taking the reign in things. You’re a doer, determined to see everything you put your mind to to completion, lots of initiative in many aspects.

A WORKAHOLIC. Completely unaware of that aspect tho. Or just unintentionally so. Bc you are so determine on projects you give 120% and don’t stop until it’s completed.

You probably find comfort in her character in some ways; either bc you see yourself in her or strive to find a person like her who will see your redeeming qualities when you can’t, and want to help you grow as a person.

You aren’t a strict planner or someone who sticks 100% with a plan but do like to have an outline at least. Even if you have to improv further down the line at least you have an idea of wtf you’re doing.

So you can also roll with being spontaneous, you can easily think of a loose path to follow and roll with it whenever.

You’re very enjoyable company !! Smile and laugh is contagious, it’s impossible to not feel good around you.

ᯓ፥Vaggie ꪆ

You struggle a lot with imposter’s syndrome so let me be the one to tell you; you deserve good things, you belong in good places and with the people you love and love you back.

You’re likely the person everyone turns to for a voice of reason.

You’re very headstrong, you’re the decision maker in whatever circle you run.

Ms./Mr./Mx. Hyper-Independent™️

You’re likely also the mediator. Are you the middle child in your family?

You’re a perfectionist to a fault, and fear failure. Sometimes you need a little reassurance.

However, you’re an exceptional lover. You’re loyal, attentive, your love language might be acts of service and/or words of affirmation.

You greatly value those around you and just want to help them be successful.

Sometimes you’re too strict with yourself, even with others but you mean well.

Despite anything though, you have a pretty firm grasp in your sense of self, you know who you are and what you want in life.

You stand up for yourself, you don’t let anyone push you around; you’re the scary dog privileges.

And even if you sometimes come across as hard around the edges, you’re quite soft on the inside. You still choose to act with kindness even if someone doesn’t deserve it. But you’re good at killing with kindness.

You give me Taurus energy. And despite the bullet-point above you have made grown men cry. You’re kind but you are capable of hurting with your words if you so choose.

ᯓ፥Alastor ꪆ

I’ll just get it out of the way: raging daddy issues

But the kind of daddy issues that come from resentment and anger at a fatherly figure or men that remind you of that fatherly figure.

You neither want fatherly comfort nor find someone that is a good fatherly figure. You don’t need it, you’ve been this long without it so what’s the point ?

Maybe you’re likely even the type of person who comforts others but don’t want/let others comfort you. You don’t need others, others need you.

You value your privacy, very reserved about your personal life. Keeping everything close to the vest do to the load of trust issues you carry.

Definitely into older partners (more specifically older men)

Unless you don’t do dating or physical relationships. In this case you maybe find yourself being the older friend of a group of friends.

You don’t have a parental bone in your body but you have this innate need to make sure others never feel the way you did; alone, helpless. This whether you admit it or not.

Much like our resident Radio Demon you have an appreciation for the entertainment and may take some sadistic pleasure in watching the people you don’t care for fail (especially those who have wrong you in the past).

But if not giving a fuck was an olympic sport you’d be a gold medalist. You are winning the 'idgaf war' every time, bc you don’t need to retaliate immediately when someone does do you wrong either, remaining unbothered knowing that person will do themselves in.

You like to play the long game in some situations, waiting for the right time to make a move.

You don’t have time for bullshit, time costs and yours comes at a high rate. You rather get to the point than run circles. And the biggest pet-peeve is getting lead on in any way just to ultimately waste your time and get nothing out of it.

In most circumstances you don’t do anything without receiving a benefit from it unless it’s the people you truly care about. Everything has a price, a lot of things you do are for self fulfillment (Not in a negative way. You value yourself and know your worth)

You’re also a go-getter. Not waiting around for opportunities to just fall on your lap you go and make your own opportunities and open your own doors.

However one of your biggest flaws is overestimating yourself which ultimately leads you to feel like you failed at something when really you didn’t, you didn’t reach the intended goal even if the outcome was fine. Pride comes before the fall, for sure (And you’re trying to work on it. Kinda).

But you do have an issue with feeling like you’re absolutely invincible no matter what.

You have your own skeletons in the closet. Things you don’t like looking back on, decisions you regret to this day bc they shaped more of your life than you intended. But here you are persevering in one piece. If maybe a little jaded to the world around you, but in one piece. Good job.

ᯓ፥Lucifer ꪆ

You and Alastor fans are two sides of the same coin but with marked differences.

Daddy issues here too, but the ones who actually want a good fatherly figure. One you often find from a mentor or someone to give you affection and/or guidance.

You’re less likely to seek these out in romantic relationships as really what you want is to heal your inner child.

You heard More Than Anything, cried bc it’s a beautiful song than cried harder wondering why couldn’t someone love you like that.

More than anything (ba-dum-tsss) you crave to be protected, you can do it yourself, you have been. But you’re tired. You want someone else to do it for a changed, see you for who you are and love you unconditionally.

I have the feeling you’re the oldest child of a broken home that had to be a 3rd parent at a young age to your even younger siblings and it hurt like a bitch having to leave them once you were able to get out of your parent’s house. But you couldn’t stay there a second longer.

It’s also likely in your upbringing you were seen as the black sheep of the family, whatever the reason may have been. That’s something that still hurts to this day even through the no-contact you’ve likely established.

You have a lot of love to give but often don’t know how to express it or measure it. In the sense that you love too hard or too little, but you care so much. You really do.

And this is why you probably have a lot of people coming to your for a shoulder to cry on, because what you will do is protect the ones you care about the way you wish someone did you in your worse times. This is where your over abundance of love comes the most handy.

BUT behind all of this there’s also a high spirit that can be the life of any party. You have a unique magnetism and easy going personality despite anything that makes people gravitate towards you.

ᯓ፥Angel ꪆ

You have likely been through some awful shit (I’m sorry you had to go through that, me too 🫂) and that has shaped you a lot as a person today.

Probably came out of those experiences a hyper sexual that has to constantly advocate for those of us who don’t cope the same ways others do.

Angel is like a breath of fresh air because for once you get to see a representative whose bad experiences aren’t romanticized or glamorized.

The level at which you relate to him when he yelled “It’s not an act! It’s who I need to be!” was spiritual and it left you a little broken bc you likely use your persona as a shield bc if you don’t laugh you’ll cry

You don’t like letting your past define you but the line between who you are and who’s the persona built for the public keeps thinning more and more.

The trust issues you carry are so deep sometimes you accidentally push people you care about and who care about you away.

Because you do care, so much but it’s hard to let people in not knowing who’s truly going to treat you well.

Sometimes the only was you let in are the ones who go above and beyond to climb the tall thick walls you’ve put around yourself.

But life has made you strong, resilient. You know how to defend yourself and you take no shit from anyone.

You either want Angel’s rambunctious confidence or you have it and know how to work it. (work it 💅)

Don’t forget you’re more than what you can offer people. There’s genuine value in you as the person you are, not for what you can offer.

a/n: thank you for reading. i’ll probably take a while to upload the next parts tbh !

—

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hey can I have a platonic teen gn reader who has dyslexia( it is a reading and writing disability) x Avengers who goes to Peter’s school. They feel worthless and frustrated because they need help yet they can’t help others with English. So they try very hard yet it barely gets noticed. They are working so hard to the point they break. It is ok if you don’t do it. Thanks

Struggles

Summary: Working twice as hard just to reach their level.

Pairing: Avengers x gn!teen!reader

Warnings: I have a limited knowledge of dyslexia

Word count: 706

a/n: hopefully this is what you had in mind

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

Y/N mumbles a paragraph from the assigned book again. It’s the third time they are reading it through, struggling to fully comprehend what’s being said. Frustration is starting to rise, as the book has to be read by the end of the week, and they have to write a short essay on it to prove they read it.

“This one had a mast thin as a sapling. Its sail hung skewed and fraying, its sides were patched. I remember the jump in my throat when the sailor lifted his face. Burnt it was, an shiny with sun. A mortal.” They read out loud slowly, taking time with each individual word. Sighing, they rub the space between the brows, starting to feel a tension headache coming.

They don’t have a lot of motivation to do this, because they work so hard on every single assignment, but the grades aren’t showing it. It seems like everyone else in her English class is getting effortless As and Bs, while they are crawling along with Cs and Ds.

Slamming the book shut, they throw it to the ground. Y/N leans their head against the table, shutting their eyes tightly. The amount of work they have to put in their school work is starting to get overwhelming.

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out, Y/N lifts their head and gets back to reading. They know they have to use more time to finish the work, even if it’s starting to feel like too much.

Y/N stares at their paper as they and Peter walk into the compound. D. All that work for a D. Their eyes are burning as the two come up to the living room, where some of the Avengers are hanging out. Although, Peter doesn’t live at the compound, he spends a lot of his time there, being good friends with Y/N.

“Hey, kids!” Tony is the first one to greet them. “Got your English assignments back today?”

Peter nods, taking out his paper. “I got a B+.” He smiles.

“Great job, kid!” He claps his hands together once.

“I know the Avengers work takes a lot out of the both of you, so we want you guys to know we’re proud of you.” Steve smiles before turning to Y/N. “What did you get?”

“A D.” They mumble, eyes and cheeks burning. Their gaze is cast downwards, away from their team’s eyes. They don’t want to see any disappointed looks. “I’m sorry, I really tried. I worked so hard on it. I did my best, but it wasn’t enough.” Their voice starts to crack and their whole body shake.

“Hey, hey,” Natasha gets out of her seat, walking to Y/N, “it’s okay. Grades aren’t everything, you don’t need to apologize.” She wraps her arms around them.

“But it’s not just this assignment, it’s every single one.” They lean against Natasha.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Or ask help from anyone?” Steve asks.

Y/N hiccups, lifting their head. “I wanted to prove I could do it by myself, that I could be just as good as everyone else. But I couldn’t.”

“We all need help with something.” Peter sets his hand on Y/N’s arm. “I always need Steve’s help with history. I just can’t remember all the names and years on my own.” Steve nods in confirmation. “I’ll help you out with English, okay? We can work on the assignments together.”

Wiping away their tears, Y/N nods lightly. They didn’t necessarily feel good about crying in front of everyone, wanting to keep a capable picture of themselves in front of the others, but they still feel relieved to get it all out in the open.

“Thank you.” They whisper.

“We’re all here to help you, kid.” Tony speaks up. “Well, they are. I’m no help in book essay thingies.”

With a small laugh, Y/N nods again. “Do you want to go over our essays together now?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.”

Peter and Y/N start walking out of the room. “You two always make us proud!” Tony shouts after them, showing a thumbs up. Peter smiles giddily as they walk towards his room, craving Mr Stark’s acceptance.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | teaser one

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  Chapter one →

Summary: Going camping with your best friends seemed like a brilliant idea when you initially made the plans. But when you harbor secret feelings for one of them, what will become of you being close confined for three months? Trouble, that’s what.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, “Y/N”)

Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin.

Genre/AU: best friends to lovers, non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!Yoongi, humor, smut and fluff

Rating: mature/explicit/R18

Word count: 11,9K

Warnings/tags: will be tagged for each individual chapter. But for chapter 1 it's; pent up sexual frustration, vulgar language, a lame game of 'never have I ever', mentions of past sexual encounters, fluff.

Author’s note: I’m only finished with the first chapter, but I’m too excited about this, so I’m posting it as a teaser. Don’t expect me to post at a regular time, because as I said, I’m still writing it (though I have planned most of it out already 😉).

Teaser is under the cut ⬇️

Snippet:

“Nice tits,” Yoongi's mischievous comment hung in the air, punctuated by a chuckle that echoed with playful admiration. Heat rushed to your cheeks, turning them beet red as you instinctively glanced down your body, realizing with a sinking feeling that your white shirt had become transparent when it clung to your soaking body. Panic surged through you.

In a hurry, you covered your breasts with your hands, the wet fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Your heart raced, and your body felt hot, a combination of embarrassment and an unexpected wave of arousal coursing through you.

Why the fuck is he still looking? you thought with a mixture of irritation and intrigue. His gaze bore into you with a lazy smirk, and your skin prickled with a blend of vulnerability and desire.

“Stop looking!” you hissed, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and frustration. The tension between you was palpable, an unspoken connection simmering beneath the surface as the world around you faded into the background.

In an angry, trembling tone, you hissed at him, “And don't you dare say a fucking word!” Your hands remained firmly pressed against your breasts, your skin still tingling from the electric encounter. With a mix of indignation and vulnerability, you turned on your heel and hurriedly retreated, the path back to the van stretching out before you, each step echoing the tumultuous feelings churning inside. You retraced your steps in stifling silence, the tension between you and Yoongi lingering in the air like an unspoken secret.

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 2

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader/OC x Santiago Garcia

Join my general tag list (Comment to join the tag list for this fic)

Triple Frontier Master List

Series Masterlist : Read on AO3

Summary: Javi and Santi talk about where to start with Lorea; Santi thinks on his night with Candy

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it.

Additional warnings: Catholic guilt and religous trauma and religion talk. However, this is not an anti catholic page. We can discuss the problems of the church at large and the guilt that abstence-only and shame based discussions on sex can affect people, but my family is catholic and I have a lot of respect for the individual people, especially Latino-catholics.

For the record, this is a fic that takes place in the drug trade and deals with the darker side of humanity, so anything from Narco's and Triple Frontier is liable to be discussed or mentioned here. This is your warning. This is not a dark fic nor is it centered around dark themes like Leather and Lace or Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside, but they are open to be talked about.

Reader has a nick name: Candy. Not her real name just what she goes by on her profession. Much of the inspo for this and for the title came from the Bruce Springsteen song “Candy’s room” so check it out for the vibes.

Reader speaks Spanish and had hair. I've decided Candy is just latina coded bc she's a sex worker in colombia so this is what I'm doing.

3.1k words. Proof red by my beloved Fen

Perspective changed per section. When perspective is Santi or Javi, reader is referred to in the 3rd person or by Candy.

************************

You have Santi sat up on the bed, facing you. Well, Diego. That’s what he said his name was, but if he thought you didn’t know who the new DEA agent in town was, he was mistaken. After your 3rd arrest for prostitution, you got a lot more careful, and always tried to keep up with the police in the area. You wondered if he knew Javi.

“Alright Diego, tell me, what exactly is it you’re looking for?” You ask, but he looks confused, so you give a soft, warm sigh. He was one of those ones. “Are you just looking for a quick fuck? Getting to know each other and forming a connection, exploring things?”

Santi considered his options. “Well, maybe I’d like to learn a little bit… only had s-” He swallowed. “sex a few times… you know, lights off, missionary, couple pumps and done…” A nervous chuckle emitted from him, so you tried to ease him with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry, baby boy, we can do that. Let’s start with getting to know a woman’s body, how about that?”

*

“Garcia, wake the fuck up.” Javi’s voice broke Santi out of his daydreaming, making him snap towards Javi.

“Huh? Sorry.”

“Whatsamatter, pretty boy, got dicked down too hard last night?”

Santi’s eyes went wide at that. “Dicked-?!?! DICKED DOWN? JAVI!” He leaned in to whisper harshly, as if it was important enough to keep quiet but not so bad Santi couldn’t miss an opportunity to clutch his pearls. “Javi, you fucking know I could get arrested for that!”

“I’m joking, pendejo.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that!”

Apparently, Santi looked concerned enough that Javi backed down, raising his hands in defeat. “Tranquilo, tranquilo amigo, lo siento. Yo parare.”

A little shaken, Santi glanced down as he calmed himself. “Gracias, Pena”. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head before clearing his throat. “So. Lorea. What do we got?”

*

Santiago Garcia had never seen a pussy up close before. There’d been porno magazines, sure… and he’d… touched a bit. He wasn’t an animal, Will had explained he can’t just shove his dick into a woman, that could hurt her. No, you gotta warm her up first, seduce her, open her up. Santi heard more than he ever wanted to of the sordid detail of Will eating pussy. However, when it came to actual sex, Santi barely got through it without a panic attack. There was no way he was going to attempt to go down on a girl under those conditions. Still, he didn’t want to hurt her, so he made sure to finger the 3 girls he’d somehow bumbled his way into bed with.

He needed to do better. Candy was allowing him the chance to explore, get over his nerves.

“But I want you to cum…” He had insisted.

“Well aren’t you a sweet boy… I’ll make sure I cum, how about that? Let me worry about that.”

“But…” he had looked across at her. “But I wanna learn how too.”

She nodded with reassurance. “You will, trust me, I’ll teach you. Just for today, focus on getting comfortable. I’ll let you know what feels good and what doesn’t but what works for me may not work for someone else, so remember that. Most important thing is communicating and listening to her body, so let’s start there.”

That’s how he got here, flat on his chest with Candy’s legs spread out before him. Her pussy was glistening for him.

“Where do I… how do I start?”

Candy sat up just a bit on her elbows. “Start by just getting familiar, explore.”

So he did. Santi started with touching. His index and middle finger swept along her folds, moving and opening her up for his view. She was beautiful. He started with the top, the area just below her pantyline tan skin under a bush of hair followed by her folds coming to a head.

“That’s the clit, that’s very important.” She took his fingers and pulled back the hood. “Touch there” When Santi complied, Candy sank back down on her bed with a hum.

Santi felt a swell of pride at giving her pleasure. “Is that good?”

“Very good, pretty boy. Lot of nerves right there.”

He continued touching below, feeling the way her skin moved to his touch and how his fingers slid across the slick, soft skin below… She looked delicious.

“Can I taste you?”

*

“Where do we even start with something like this?” Santi groaned, flopping his head back.

Javi couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. “Don’t be such a child, Garcia. You take this shit one step at a time, just like anything else. Let’s start with what we know.”

The handsome younger man sighed. “Fine.” He pulled out the casefiles and Javi noticed how much calmer he’d seemed, less high strung… still high strung but that was just Santiago, Javi came to realize. “Gabriel Martin Lorea, coke dealer, devout catholic and family man… none of which stops him from hiring hookers.”

Javi chuckles. “Few things do.”

“Well, marriage should, especially when you have children.” Santi glared at him. 

His naivete, something Javi had been dreading with a younger partner, ended up endearing Santi to him. “Right, right of course.” He smiled and shook his head before lighting up a cigarette.

“Do you really have to do that indoors?”

“So sue me. I’m the one smoking, it’s not like it can hurt you.”

“I don’t know, I heard of a study that secondhand smoke can-”

Javi blew a puff of smoke in Santi’s face. “That’s just anti-smoking propaganda pushed by doctors to sell more nicotine patches.”

*

Santi had dived right in. Once he had permission to taste, he very tentatively licked a strip up her folds and to the clit… and was suddenly a starved man, insatiable, desperate to devour her and drown in her juices.. She liked when he touched her clit so he was sure to latch his mouth over the hood. As he sucked, Candy instructed him to finger her and he was happy to oblige. This, he could handle at least.

“Good boy…” Candy cooed at him. “Such a good boy for me, so obedient.”

“Wanna be good.” He mumbled into your core as he lapped at her, hips rutting against the bed. “Wanna do good.”

When her fingers found his hair, tangling up in his curls and tugging just a bit, he couldn’t help but whine into her, toes curling in his socks.

“You’re doing so good, baby boy, so good, but I’m gonna need you to stop.”

Stop? He didn’t wanna stop. Santi wanted to die here with her… Was it time? How much time did he pay for- ait, he hadn’t even paid her yet. What was her going rate? He didn’t fucking care right now, right now he’d pay her his life savings, his military pension, his first born, whatever she wanted if he could cum. 

“Whyyyyy?!” He simply went back to eating her out, taking every moment he had.

“Because,” Candy pulled at his curls, forcing him to look up and crawl back up her golden body. “Because you are about to cum, and I still wanna ride you.”

He could feel his eyes go wide at that. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what that meant… but for someone who had only ever done missionary, the whole concept seemed so… dirty. Santi chuckled nervously, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. “I’ll be honest, Candy, I’m not sure how much longer I’m gonna last as it is.”

He felt her chuckle. “Let’s slow down for a moment, then. I want you to undress.”

His breath hitched, but he made the move to undo his pants until she stopped him.

“Uh-uh, Diego. Stand up. Let me watch you undress.”

Undress like… standing? By himself? All out there and naked? “Um… can’t I do it here?”

“You can.” She confirmed with a kind smile. “But I’d really like to watch you strip for me.”

How could he resist that? Tentative, slow and careful, Santi stood up and Candy sat on the edge of the bed, bottoms off but still clothed top. “Are you gonna take that off?” It was half a joke, half a genuine question.

Candy nodded. “I will, just trust me.”

And he did, with everything in him.

So he took off his shirt.

*

“Okay. Catholic. Do we know what church he goes to?”

Javi raised an eyebrow? “You think a drug lord is going to daily mass?”

“No, but if he’s devout I assume he’s got a family that goes. Wife and children maybe, but definitely a mother. I don’t know one woman over 50 who doesn’t belong to a perish, especially a hispaña woman.”

“You find a lot of company con mujeres mayor, amigo?”

“Shut up. I say we start there. If we can find out about his family's church, we can probably find out a little more.”

Apprehensive as always, Javi crossed his legs, doubtful. “I don’t know, what can we possibly find out?”

Santi shrugged. “Not sure, but churches have a lot of records when it comes to members and if he has a family that is active we might find out something useful.”

“Is this really the best use of our time?”

Javi raised a good point, this might be a dead end, and they would have wasted all that time. “Just give me a picture of all known families and I’ll keep an eye out.”

Now that caught Javi’s attention, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You go to church, Garcia?”

A faint blush crept up Santi’s neck. His mother was very religious, that religion instilled into him and his sister. His sister couldn’t care less anymore, but then again she had never cared much about their mother’s harsh opinions and strict standards… Santi did. And so, even now with her passing, Santi attended mass often. Not a part of a regular perish, he just attended where he could and when his schedule allowed. The old women there did love him, but Santi knew Javi would never let that go. “Tengo muchas tías y primos en la zona. Si no muestro mi cara en la iglesia a veces, se lo dirán a mi madre y nunca escucharé el final.”

Javi didn’t need to know his mom was dead.

*

Santi nervously slides down his trousers and underwear, revealing the last bit of himself to Candy. Except for his tube socks. He wasn't sure what to do about those.

“Can I… move now?” He asked, a tremble in his soft voice.

She cocked her head to the side. “Does it make you nervous? To be seen like this.”

“To be seen like what?”

Candy stood up. “Naked, vulnerable, in full lighting…” She walked over towards him and placed her hands on her chest. “To let someone be able to see every part, every dip…” She felt over the ripples of his stomach muscles. “Every.” Lower. “Single.” Lower. “Inch.” Grabbing onto his hardened cock and began stroking it.

Santi let out a shuttered gasp at the touch of her hand. With her other one she lifted it to his mouth. “Lick, pretty boy.”

He was happy to oblige, not needing to know why. He didn’t need to ask questions with her, he could simply shut off his mind and let Candy guide him… mother knows best. Santi lapped at her palm, keening into it as the wetness smeared on his face.

“Such a good puppy”

The whine that emitted from him was out of him control; he liked the praise, he liked the nickname. He liked it a lot. He had been taught his whole life that sex was for procreation, a dirty thing to be done in shame and in quiet but here she was, proudly jerking him off with the now-wet hand… His mom would have said she was consumed by lust, that the devil had taken her, but Santo saw nothing but kindness in her eyes. Yes, he was paying her, he was well aware of that fact but she did genuinely seem to want to help him, to let him explore, to allow him to care for this basic human instinct… Was this dirty? Was this wrong? He wasn’t sure he cared anymore.

“Doing so good baby boy, are you close?”

He was seconds away from coming. “S-so close.” He had his head thrown back, letting her take the lead on his pleasure.

With that, she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, stifling his impending orgasm.

“Mierde!” Santiago grunted, body jolting a bit in the physical frustration.

“Relaje, guapo. Trust me, okay? Can you do that?”

He groaned, but complied. Santi trusted her with everything. Right now, he’d follow her into the dark.

*

“Alright, so Pope Santiago will case the churches in his free time. Where does that leave us during the time we actually get paid for?” Javi thought the nickname was fitting for the apparently religious boy.

“I think we need to learn more about his free time.” Javi put out his cigarette. “How about we talk to some girls, see if they know anything?”

Santi narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Girls?”

“Hookers, Pope, hookers.”

“Oh.” 

Javi noticed how he suddenly became so nervous. The boy needed to get laid. The new information of Santi being at least semi-religious was a whole new insight on his psyche. He already seemed to be a bit of a mama’s boy, a goody-two-shoes with a shiny military career and a good heart, but this was a little different. Javier’s family was catholic, as most families were. He had been baptized, first communion, confirmed, the whole jazz but as soon as he’d got annoying enough, his mom stopped bushing the issue. Santi, however, was still practicing.

“I’ll handle that part, Garcia. Don’t worry, I won't drag the Pope into a whore house.”

Javi had no doubt Santi could hold his own in most scenarios. Hell, he’d seen it. In line of fire, interviews, everything Santi could handle. But take him into a room full of prostitutes? Well, they’d eat him alive.

*

“Are you ready for me, pretty boy?” You had him right where you wanted him, right where you liked pretty boys like him that you got to corrupt in moments like this… Santiago was special though, you could tell. He was innocent, but he was far from the most innocent. You’d taken plenty of virginities before, so many you’d lost track of it all, but the way Santiago looked at you right now as he was sat up against the padded headboard of your bed slowly stroking him as your legs straddled his. Santiago looked at you with reverence, adoration, like he was fully submitted below you… as if you had the power, even though it was in his hands as the customer. Yeah, he was a special one. 

 A good, young DEA agent, straightline former military, special Ops and he came to you to show him how to pleasure a woman; not just to have sex, not just to get off, but to learn how to heighten the pleasure of all parties… A church going boy too. 

“Do I need to beg? Because I’ll fucking beg.” His hands were gripped at the sheets, lightning at the knuckles.

“Oh sweet boy, I won’t make you beg, I’m just checking in.” You sit up, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds. Pulling down the foreskin, you begin to sink down on him, watching his eyes widen as your warmth enveloped him. He filled you right up. Every. Single. Inch.

“Breath baby, breath.” You urge him as you see his lips pressed tight together. 

He did as he was told, releasing a breath. 

“Good job. Now keep breathing, I’m going to finish undressing.” His cock was stuffed into you, and your bottom remained still as your top moved, stipping off your shirt and bra in one. 

It was merely a whisper. “Beautiful…” His eyes were nearly glazed over in lust when you began your work.

Up, down, up, down… you moved on him with your hands on his chest for balance… he seemed almost in shock as he looked in your eyes, only staying momentarily to look at your breasts before quickly looking back at your face as if it was impolite.

“It’s okay to look, Diego. You won’t offend me. You can find me sexy, do you think I’m sexy, Diego?”

“So pretty…” It was gasped out and you could tell he was almost there again.

You began to bounce on him with more vigor and the “You can touch me too”

“I’m… I’m a little scared too…”

Running your fingers through his curls, you ruffle it, enjoying the look of the pristine young man coming undone for you. You take the initiative for him. Hand in hand, you guide him to your breasts, encouraging Santiago to grope and squeeze as he liked and you reveal in the feeling of feeling of his excited pawing. He was enraptured in you, you and him were the only thing that matter right now, and you knew it. You stretched around him,  and you knew it had to be one hell of sight.

“Watch” Pulling him by his curls you guide him to look down where you and him connected, letting him watch the watch your cunt moved to accommodate him, making room to be filled over and over again. “See how my body let’s you in? I was made for you, pretty boy. I was made to take you inside me.”

The thick stretch was bringing you closer, and you knew he was only holding on by a thread himself, so you began to touch yourself. “Focus on that feeling, Diego. The feeling of us together. Can you feel it? I sure can.”

“I- I can, yes.” He was panting now, his bare tanned chest heaving with every bounce of you tits in his hands. 

“Yes what?” But he looked up at you in confusion, a desperation on his face to be good, do good, do this all right. “Yes ma’am”

“Yes ma- ma’ammmm” With that, Santiago’s hits thrust upward into you, his eyes drilled shut and mouth tightly closed in his attempt to muffle his own release.

You did no such thing. As he filled you up, you spilled over yourself and felt the gushing release of your cunt soaking his cock, you yelled out for him, letting him know how good he made you feel. Relaxing onto his chest, Santiago wraps his arms around you like an affection-starved child, and you get a little hint into what you think this was all about.

He needed praise. He needed fondness. He needed skin to skin contact like nothing else right now. He needed to be a good person and do it all right and know he was doing it right. 

Santiago needed to be loved.

*****************

IM BACK

Sorry i know it was a wait lmfao. I posted like 3 chapters of the wrong way sequel before this one lolololol OOPS

But i promise I got a fun plan for this fic! I hope you all enjoy.

Remember, reblogs are the only real way to spread work! Please consider relogging to support this writing.

Comments mean the world to me!

Asks are always open to discuss this fic or my others, but also for non fandom too! Talk to me about anything you're excited about! I wanna get to know you all.

Also, as a note im trying my best for historic acuracy but I know narcos goes from like 70's onward but this stays in the 70's. Pretend Pablo Escabar isn't an issue anymore lmfao.

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @laiisleitte @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12

[magicshopaholic]

Touch (Yoongi x OC)

Summary: Much to Yoongi's surprise, he spends every waking moment worrying about you.

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Angst

Word count: 3.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: none (for this part; for the rest of the series, read individual warnings on each fic)

A/N: Set a couple of days after Flight Risk.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld

Listen to: "space song" by beach house

yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

Yoongi glances around his studio until he’s forced to accept that he’s misplaced his spare headphones. He checks his current pair one more time but when it doesn’t connect to the system, he tosses them on the table and heads out into the empty hallway.

It’s not surprising; it’s late on a Sunday afternoon and he expects that most of the occupants of this floor will have taken the day off, especially before the BTS concert later this evening. He can’t stay long either; he’s already going to be late to soundcheck but he needs to download some last minute music onto his laptop before the group flies out to Japan tomorrow morning.

There’s only one studio he can see that has a sliver of light appearing from under the door. Donghyuk, the only person other than himself who would be here on a Sunday afternoon, is Yoongi’s last hope. He knocks twice, right under the faded plaque reading Supreme Boi, and enters. The first thing he sees is Miso at the controls, the same moment that she looks up to see him, and her face goes momentarily slack.

Her face recovers instantly, however, but it’s a few seconds before she looks away. Yoongi stares at her; she doesn’t look any different from any other day in the studio, wearing a thin full-sleeved shirt and dark jeans, her ankles crossed under the chair. He stands motionless, frozen, as he hears a rushing sound, like the waves of the ocean crashing onto him and he exhales, realising vaguely that it feels as though he’s been holding his breath for the last three days.

“It’s still not working, damn it. Oh - Yoongi!”

Yoongi starts; he’d almost forgotten who he’d come here for. He looks up to see Donghyuk inside the recording booth, waving a hand vigorously at him. 

“Something’s wrong with the sound!” he exclaims, his voice slightly muffled from behind the glass. “I’m checking the mic - can you help Miso with the input?”

Yoongi nods but before stepping inside, he looks at Miso - what for, he’s not sure. Maybe it’s her permission, or maybe it’s any acknowledgement from her at all. But Miso continues looking ahead at the recording booth, not turning towards him at all until finally, she visibly sighs and drops her hand from the controls, sitting back in her chair.

Yoongi makes his way over to her but doesn’t sit in Donghyuk’s chair; instead, he stands next to Miso’s and examines the dashboard, leaning over slightly doing what he can to fix the screeching sound coming from the speaker while Donghyuk fiddles around with the mic and keeps up a spiel of commentary.

The entire time, he’s hyper aware of how close he is to her - and the last time he was this close to her. Both their hands are on the controls now, now that Donghyuk seems to be on the verge of losing it; despite the proximity, however, something in Yoongi is determined not to let himself touch her, even accidentally.

His fingers ghost over hers and her hair brushes his chest on occasion, but Yoongi keeps his distance. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he feels the overwhelming urge to hold her hand, to just give it a momentary squeeze and silently ask her if she’s alright, if she knows that he ran after her that night but was just too late.

After a moment, he places his hand on the top of her chair and when she doesn’t move away, he stays there.

“Okay, I’m going to try this again!” Donghyuk shakes his head and taps on the mic. “Play it from the bridge?”

Miso taps the button and they watch Donghyuk in silence as he bops his head to the beat before starting his background vocals. There’s a sudden screech of feedback from the mic again that makes them all wince and Donghyuk sighs and bends to examine something at the bottom of the mic, which makes it tip over and hit him in the nose when he stands up.

“Fuck!” 

Outside, Yoongi can’t help but snort and glance immediately at Miso. She still isn’t looking at him, but the upward curve of her cheek tells him she’s smiling as well. Something seems to explode in his stomach at the sight of it and he grins to himself, every colour in the studio suddenly seeming brighter for a moment.

“Glad I gave you two something to laugh about,” grumbles Donghyuk, giving up on the mic and shuffling out of the booth. “We’re going to have to get a technician in here before we record anything else,” he says to Miso.

She nods. “I’ll call them.”

He nods back and looks up at Yoongi. “What’s up, man?” he asks with a half handshake, half high-five. “Wait - don’t you have a concert?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies quickly. “I just came to…” He trails off, realising he’s forgotten why he stepped into this studio in the first place.

Donghyuk raises his eyebrows. “You forgot?”

Yoongi frowns, trying to remember, but he can’t recall anything before the sudden shock of seeing Miso calmly sitting inside a studio, two days after doing nothing but worrying about her.

She’s looking at him sceptically, too; it occurs to him that she probably thinks he came here just to see her and he automatically takes a step back, his cheeks heating up unexpectedly. 

“Um… yeah, I don’t - I don’t remember.” He clears his throat. “I should go,” he mutters, turning around to leave.

“Okay,” says Donghyuk. “Good luck with the concert, man. And the tour,” he adds.

“Thanks.” Yoongi turns around one last time before stepping out the door to look at Miso, but her attention is on the laptop now, her shoulders twisted away from him.

Yoongi knows he should head out. He’s already late for sound check, hair and make-up will take some time and Namjoon always likes to sit them down and give them a talk before a concert, especially one that will kick off their world tour. 

But his feet won’t let him. He stands outside Donghyuk’s studio, feeling like a stalker, but knowing that he will be absolutely useless to everyone if he leaves for his concert, possibly even Korea, without talking to Miso.

He’s there for nearly thirty minutes before the door opens and his heart skips a beat when she walks out. She looks taken aback for a fraction of a second before her face glazes over again and she continues down the hall.

“What’s up, Min Suga?”

Yoongi freezes for a second before going after her, taking two large steps before falling in sync with her. “Um, just came to… nothing. What’s - what’s up with you?” he asks quickly, cringing inwardly.

“You mean aside from ensuring Donghyuk doesn’t kill himself with his own equipment?” she asks dryly. “Not much.”

“Oh.” He follows her absently until she reaches the coffee station. “How’s that going?”

“Not well, as you can probably tell.” She reaches for a cup. “He seems to have a crazy knack for being uncoordinated.”

It sounds like an insult, but Yoongi knows her better than that by now. Moreover, something about how she drops a fact that indicates the amount of time she’s spending with another producer rankles.

“Right. No, that’s - that’s always been his thing. In fact, funny thing -” He chuckles “- when we were trainees, he and Kim Namjoon were famous for being the tallest and the most clumsy - I mean, they would knock everything over and everyone was sure they would never make -”

“Min Suga,” she interrupts, nonchalantly scanning the coffee sachets available, “you’re rambling.”

Yoongi stops abruptly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. What’s up?”

He stares at her as she reads the ingredients off one of the sachets. He isn’t sure what he was expecting exactly, but something about how… normal she’s behaving is surreal.

“I, uh…” He supposes he ought to say the one thing he owes her no matter what. “I wanted to apologise. I - I had no idea you’d taken your name off the song. If I did, I would never have used it.”

She glances up at him, only mildly curious. “Really?”

“Yes, of course. Jung PD didn’t tell me until after… everything.” Yoongi takes a hesitant step closer, deathly careful to not invade her personal space. “It was your song. You didn’t have to do what you did. I would’ve… figured something out,” he finishes lamely.

“What would you have done?”

“I don’t know. I would’ve used one of my unreleased songs or - or I would’ve written a new one or -”

“Or you would’ve blamed me for the rest of your life.” Miso gives him a knowing look, shaking a packet of coffee powder with one hand.

“I -” Yoongi swallows uncomfortably. “That’s not true. I mean, I was angry, yes, but I didn’t… You - you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“I didn’t. I did it for Hwan.”

He pushes his tongue into his cheek and nods, at a loss for how to respond to this. Her eyes are fixed on the coffee machine and she’s barely looking at him, but she’s not angry. He almost wishes she was.

“Okay. Well… thank you, anyway,” he murmurs humbly. “And I’m going to get your name back on the song,” he promises, straightening up a little. “It’ll take some time but I’ll get it done.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can,” he insists, feeling the familiar annoyance at her constant argumentative nature. “You can get your name back on the song retroactively; we’ve done it before. We have to speak to Legal and PR and they will -“

“No, you can’t as in you… can’t.” Miso sighs and glances up at him briefly, rolling her eyes in a forced motion. “The reason the song is out there is because I took my name off it. I thought you pieced that together, Min Suga.”

“But -“

“Just let it go, will you?”

Yoongi falls silent. She’s still making her coffee, meticulously emptying the packet and examining all the valves on the machine. It’s strange, given that she’s usually the person on the floor who takes the shortest coffee breaks.

Suddenly encouraged, he exhales and changes the subject.

“Will you be at the concert tonight?”

She scoffs, not unkindly. “Will you be at the concert tonight? Doesn’t it start in, like, an hour?”

“Two,” he argues weakly. “And… isn’t everyone going? That was the point of the free tickets for the team,” he points out.

“Yeah, but I can’t. I gave mine to one of the interns and she almost fainted.”

Yoongi tries not to feel slighted by this. “So you’re not going?”

“We have a lot to get done tonight,” she answers simply.

He purses his lips as her words sink in. “We, as in…”

“Donghyuk and I, yes.” She shrugs innocently. “He is my boss now, technically.”

“So… you guys will just be working together? On a Sunday night?”

Miso frowns. “Yeah. You and I did that quite a bit, too, if you recall. Also, I’m hoping that if I stay late tonight, I might actually get credited on a song for once.”

His words die in his throat. “Oh, I - um -“

She notices and rolls her eyes. “Jesus, it’s a joke, Min Suga. Lighten up.”

Yoongi can’t think of anything he’s less likely to do right now, and he also can’t fathom how she’s joking at the moment. He half-wonders if he’d dreamed the events of the launch party when she presses the button for the hot water and slides her cup under it, her fingers still around it when the water begins flowing.

“Careful -“ He moves instinctively to shove her hand away from the steaming liquid but at the last moment remembers his determination to not touch her and swipes the cup away instead, only for his own fingers to intercept the hot water.

“What are you -“ Miso winces as he hisses in pain and snatches his hand back. There doesn’t seem to be any damage to it but the skin still smarts; Yoongi examines it uneasily when another pair of hands appear with paper towels in them and press them to the burning area.

“Oh -“ He stays frozen to the spot and lets her do what she’s doing, but it only lasts a moment before she drops her hands from his. His gaze remains on her sleeve and he wonders what he will see if he pushes it over her wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks quietly, pressing the napkins to his own hand.

Miso exhales but doesn’t look up at him, busying herself with another cup. “This again?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Donghyuk?”

“Actually, you told me about Donghyuk,” she replies shortly. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He shakes his head, knowing he’d set himself up for that response. “No,” he says honestly. “I know what I said, but… I didn’t mean it.”

For once, she doesn’t respond with a snarky remark. “Well,” she says after a moment, “it’s done now. Maybe it’ll be for the best.”

“Sure. Why didn’t you tell me, though?”

“It was the middle of the night.”

“So? I always pick up calls, any time of the day.”

“Would you have picked up my call?” She raises her eyebrows at him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Yoongi sighs, knowing he can’t win here. “Glad it worked out for you, I guess.”

“It’s not bad so far,” she admits. “Plus, he and I actually get along pretty well so that’s a bonus.” 

“Uh-huh.”

She smirks innocently before snorting at his stony face. “You are so easy to piss off, you know that?” she mutters wryly.

“I’m glad I amuse you.”

She chuckles and it’s the first actual smile he’s seen from her all week. “Donghyuk’s going to your concert,” she assures him after a moment.

“Not you, though.”

“Nope. My dad’s hosting a dinner and the whole community will be there so I have to go,” she informs him, before pausing for a moment. “He’s just acquired a company, you see.”

Something creeps through Yoongi’s chest at her tone. “That guy, Jiho,” he says sharply, dropping all attempts at beating around the bush. “Will he be there, too?”

“I guess. He’s only the guest of honour.” Miso stares at the cup under the water valve for a moment before seemingly forcing her gaze up towards him. Something in his expression must tip her off, for her shoulders deflate and she shakes her head. “I don’t think we’ll have much to say to each other anymore,” she mutters in what he presumes is supposed to be a reassuring tone - although who she’s reassuring, he isn’t sure. 

Yoongi clenches his jaw. They’ve arrived at the topic he’s been thinking of non-stop for the last three days, except now that they’re actually here, he has no idea how to ask her about it without fully prying into his colleague’s personal life.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally in a small voice, swallowing and hoping that for once, she’ll give him a straight answer. Miso doesn’t look at him, and after a few seconds of silence, he begins to think she won’t answer him at all.

“I’ve been better,” she admits, equally quiet. She takes a moment before looking up at him, her face blank again. “Donghyuk’s not making it any easier.”

“Miso.”

“Yoongi, whatever it is you’re blaming yourself for, you can stop. Okay? None of this is your fault,” she implores, giving him a slightly annoyed look before shaking her head. “This had nothing to do with you at all,” she mutters.

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi feels a prickling in his eyes. It’s the frustration, more than anything else, of not knowing, of not being able to find out because the wall that Miso has erected around her feels impenetrable. The few moments of real, human emotion that break through it have brought him here and it’s with a sinking realisation that he concedes to never being able to turn back.

“But I’m sorry anyway,” he says softly, his gaze not moving from her side profile.

Miso stares at the coffee machine without looking at anything. Her jaw hardens and Yoongi wonders if she’s ever heard these words from anyone before.

She takes a deep breath and finally turns to him, her eyes on the floor. “I know you came after me. After the car,” she amends quietly. “I heard you. And I just want to say…” She trails off and bites her lip before her eyes flicker up to look at him. 

“… don’t ever do that again.”

Yoongi’s heart hammers. “Don’t ever try to help you again?”

She shakes her head and looks away, as though he’s getting this completely muddled. “You know how when the release got cancelled, you felt guilty about Hwan, you got furious at me and you were helpless and it just ruined your whole day?” She waits for him to nod. “You should want that to be the biggest problem in your life. I want that to be the biggest problem in your life.”

He bristles, but he keeps his focus on her. “I can handle more than you think,” he states.

“But you shouldn’t have to. I don’t need that on my conscience,” she murmurs, her gaze falling again. She sighs and looks up at him. “You should get to your concert.”

Yoongi stares at her, hoping for her smooth expression to waver even for a moment, but it never does. She holds it together, even as she swallows.

“Okay,” he says at last. “See you around, Kang Miso.” He holds out a hand.

She hesitates but takes it, her pale, slender hand slipping into his. Her skin is cold but Yoongi grips it with a relief that surprises him. His thumb moves along the back of her hand before he stops himself, expecting her to take back her hand, but she doesn’t. 

He raises his left hand to her wrist and is about to raise the sleeve when he feels her stiffen. He freezes, before gently wrapping his hand around the wrist, encasing her hand in both of his. He thinks vaguely of his overseas schedule for the next few weeks and his heart clenches unexpectedly.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, watching as her eyes flicker slowly from their clasped hands to his face. “I always pick up calls. Any time of the day.”

It feels like forever, but after a moment she nods, retrieving her hand from between his. 

“Thanks,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with the same hand. “I’ll, uh… I’ll keep you updated on Donghyuk’s many escapades. Unless he kills himself by tripping on a wire first.”

Yoongi nods, his chest feeling both heavy yet freer than before. “Can’t wait.”

There’s a hint of a smile on her face before she picks up her cup of coffee and takes a step back. “Have a good concert, Min Suga. And tour.” She turns to leave when he calls her name again, and she turns with a sigh. “Damn, do you even want to make it for your concert?”

He gives her a look and shakes his head. “Keep me updated on tonight as well?”

She squints, clearly seeing right through him. “Updated on what exactly?”

“You know…” He cringes inwardly. “Your, uh… your family. And - and friends.”

Miso tilts her head. “Will do,” she says sarcastically. “Now get out of here. And put some damn ointment on that burn.”

Yoongi frowns for a moment before remembering, and it’s at that moment that his hand seems to sting again. He glances down at it to see a white blister already forming and winces. He looks up to thank her, but she’s already gone.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[dontyoufeelitangel]

BUILD ME UP

Echo - The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A psychology lesson from the medic of the batch turns into a personal experiment. How will Echo react to being your subject?

Tags/Warnings: SFW, mentions of animal testing (nothing graphic), established relationships, kissing, fluff, (I accidentally made Wreck really dumb in the first half, so we’re just going to pretend that’s because he’s tipsy. Sorry wreck!)

Prompt : “Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down? - I need you, more than anyone darling. You know that I have from the start. So build me up, buttercup, don’t break my heart.”

A/N: this prompt comes from the bad batch playlist I put together from the song “Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations”. This is not a song fic, feel free to check out the playlist! Also, yes the timeline and character appearances in this chapter are messed up and do not follow the original show, shhh it’s fine, we’re gonna ignore it🤫

.

.

.

You joined the batch as their medic right before the rise of the empire and stuck with them through order 66. While you never officially finished your medic schooling, you were qualified. More than qualified actually. You had saved the boys butts on multiple occasions, and when it came to the mental weight of what they’ve been through, you always knew just what to say.

Over time you naturally became great friends with the boys. Each of them were so unique and they had so much personality. They became your home away from home. You seemed to be closer with one more than the others. Echo. He was -biologically- the reg of the group, but his experience and individuality made him as unique as the rest of the batch. It was also what made you fall for him.

Naturally, the two of you became a thing, nothing official but it was very clear the both of you loved each other.

So here you sat, the dim lights of Cid’s parlor reflecting on your glass. Wrecker and Tech were in a game of sabacc. You sat close, shadowing over Techs shoulder watching him play his hand. Light conversation had started between the three of you. The conversation started with the rules of the game and slowly melted into you talking about your unfinished schooling.

“Well I don’t know if I should trust you on the field anymore doc!” Wrecker snorted. The contagiousness of his laughter put a small smile on your face. You were now grinning at him from behind Tech’s shoulder.

“Trust whatever you want big guy, just don’t expect me to save your ass on the field next time” your words laced with playful sarcasm as you sipped on your drink.

“And hey! What’s stopping me from walking over there and giving away your cards to tech!?” A sound between a laugh and a scoff erupted from you as you set your drink down.

Tech only smiled and watched the interaction before speaking up.

“She’s more qualified than you” Tech nodded, putting a card down. His affirmation drew a smile from your lips.

“See! I love to see the support,” you waved your arms at tech before giving him a friendly pat on Tech’s shoulder.

“And it’s not even just about what I can do on the field- I’m knowledgeable in psychology and chemistry too,” you chest puffed in proudness. Wrecker only gave a playful huff,

“You were educated in psychology?” Tech inquired.

“You’re surprised? It IS a requirement for medic schooling” you adjusted your stool slightly to be in the middle of the two boys rather than behind tech.

“Not necessarily surprised, I’m very aware of your capability. It’s just that -as a clone- I personally didn’t take many psychology classes. My studies were more directed towards computer sciences and database management. Then again, I wasn’t taught to specifically specialize in the medical field.” Tech spoke, you only nodded,

“So what you’re saying is, doc is a smarty” the loudness of Wreckers voice could almost throw you off guard, luckily you’ve spent enough time around him to be used to his volume.

You smiled at the statement,

“Of course” you smiled,

“How about a lesson?” You tilted your head toward Wrecker.

“I’m interested” a short response, but very much expected from tech.

You thought about what piece of information you could tell them. Searching your brain for a piece of knowledge the two of them didn’t know.

“A quick lesson on the tooka-bell experiment” you said,

The boys continued playing while you spoke, still listening to what you were saying. Acknowledging your voice by giving short nods,

“The tooka bell experiment was a conditioning experiment in tookas. About how a bell could get a natural reaction out of a tooka.” You started,

“When a tooka is fed, they salivate-“

“Like slobbering!” Wrecker interrupted.

“Yes,” you smiled,

“Like slobbering” you nodded before continuing to your lesson.

“A scientist would ring a bell every time he fed the experimental tooka. The tooka began associating the bell with receiving food. One day, the scientist accidentally rang the bell without having any tooka food prepared. The tooka began to salivate thinking it was going to be fed.” You finished.

“Ah, I get it. It’s a simple process of contidioning a neutral stimulus to get a response” tech nodded grabbing some cards from a deck that was set out on the table.

“Precisely” you have a curt nod, finishing off your drink.

“Uhhh, I don’t think I get it” Wrecker shook his head.

“It’s unconscious learning through repetition. For example: you and omega get mantell mix after every mission. Mantell mix and the end of a mission are two completely unrelated things. But because it’s become a tradition for you and little Omega, it would feel weird not to get the mantel mix at the end of a mission. Does that help big guy?” you gave him a glance followed along with a smile.

“I guess…” he slowly nodded.

The game of sabacc slowly wrapped up. It was quite late, there was a mission tomorrow and everyone had to get a good nights rest.

The cards were neatly put away and the drinks were discarded as the glasses were set to be cleaned.

You said you goodnights to Tech as you turned to say goodbye to Wrecker”

“Hopefully you ain’t doin’ that to us.” He let out a chuckle,

“Doing what?” Your head tilted.

“Training us subconsciously or whatever, I mean, the only dud who’d fall for it is Echo” this time he gave out a real laugh, one straight from his stomach. He ruffled you hair before walking off.

He was right though, Echo would totally fall for it.

Training was a strong word, but hopefully Echo wouldn’t mind. You had a strong plan made up, you grinned to yourself before walking to your own sleeping quarters.

.

The next day was mission day, something about extracting some goo from rocks or something. You really didn’t remember- or care.

Today also marked the day of your experiment.

You found yourself sitting in the front of the marauder, preparing to go into light speed.

“Hey Echo,” your voice soft and sweet, he was unsuspecting.

He let out a small ‘hmm?’ Before looking at you,

“Could I get a kiss before light speed?” You batted your lashes at him, you leaned your weight on the armrest, pushing yourself toward him.

“Of course” he smiled before kissing you.

The kiss was sweet and soft, much like echo himself. Although it didn’t last long, it was romantic and all that you needed in a kiss.

You smiled at him through your lashes before sitting back in your seat properly and jumping to hyper space.

.

The mission went fine, almost like any other. During the mission Echo had told you he ‘wouldn’t mind getting more kisses from you.’

It’s almost like he could read your mind, because for the next five missions you’d always find him right before hyper space and give him a kiss.

You started off by tapping his shoulder and politely asking for one, to just leaning over to him and giving him the kiss.

He never once missed a kiss, who was he to deny your request?

In fact, he must’ve gotten so used to it. For the next handful of missions or marauder trips, he would initiate the kiss right before hyper space.

That was your plan, because after around ten hyper space jumps, giving you a kiss before hand seemed to come natural to him. You had him right where you wanted it.

.

One afternoon before the batch and you were set to return back to ord mantell, you had called Tech and Wrecker to talk to them in the marauder.

“What is it that you required?” Tech asked, setting down his datapad.

“You boys remember the conversation we had a few months ago? About conditioning?” You spoke, mostly directing your question towards Wrecker.

Tech only have a curt nod and Wrecker grumbled something about ‘totally understanding what you were talking about’.

You gave a smile,

“Right, well, You told me Echo would fall for it, yeah?” You nodded your head, smiling while gesturing to Wrecker.

“I guess I did say that,” wrecker rubbed the back of his head, not fully remembering the previous conversation the three of you had.

Tech, who finally started to understand where this conversation was growing shook his head before speaking,

“You didn’t” he said,

“Oh I did,” you were now grinning ear to ear,

“Before we go into light speed, watch what echo does” you laughed, before walking over to the cockpit of the marauder.

.

You were now buckled into your seat, Tech and Wrecker looking into the cockpit for the interaction about to go down.

“Preparing the jump to hyperspace” you announced, putting your attention to some buttons and levers on the control panel.

You were purposely putting your attention away from echo,

As if on queue, echo pointed his head towards you, his eyes still focused on whatever he had had in his hands.

His lips puckered and ready for a kiss,

He sat like that for about five seconds -which doesn’t seem like a long time, but when you’re sitting there, full duck lips, it feels like an eternity-.

You saw his actions from the corner of your eye, still focused on the control panel. You gave a sly smile, attempting to hold in your own giggles.

Echo blinked a few times before realizing you didn’t kiss him, and you weren’t going to.

Heat rushed to his face as he leaned back into his chair,

Maker he must’ve looked so stupid -not to mention desperate- just sitting there with his lips puckered expecting a kiss from you.

He looked around in embarrassment to make sure nobody was watching, upon looking behind him he found two heads peaking into the cockpit.

Tech must’ve only found this slightly amusing because he only gave a smile,

Wrecker on the other hand, burst out into laughter. The sound of Wreckers laughter had let you know the bit was over, you too started laughing.

Echo was unamused and embarrassed. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his face flat, he didn’t find it funny. Your laughter and giggles made him realize that this was your plan all along,

Your giggles died down before you gave him a light pat on the cheek before jumping into hyperspace.

[sinsandsuccubus]

SUNDAY NIGHT - Jack Harlow

Context: “Somethin tell me that a relapse comin.”

Genre: angst

Word Count: 2.2k+

Pairings: Jack Harlow X Ex!Fem!Reader

Warnings: n/a

a/n: Okay, so this concept was based on a story post written by the wonderful @lcandothisallday , called “Promises”, which I have linked at the bottom of this post. Thank you so much for allowing me to recreate your story, I greatly appreciate it.

Also, sorry for any spelling or grammar errors, I kept disassociating when I was reading this back over.

Masterlist ☽☾

                                          ☽ ☾

Please don't let nothing get back to me

I've been trying to detach from you

Deep down though, I wanna know about what the fuck you been up to

Old him could have seen that coming

Fuck you I don't need nothing from ya

I was doing pretty good without you

But something tells me that a relapse coming

It was like high-school all over again. Seeing the school in similar shape as it was when you left brought back nostalgic memories. They had painted the lockers and had given the cafeteria and auditorium, as well as the gym, new looks. Of course, new desks were due, and better spirit and decor were all over the place, but overall? The place was a mirror image of memories. You traced the painted gaps of the brick walls with your finger, getting that same smooth feeling on the tip of your finger. Just as you were rounding the corner to the main hallway, you ran directly into a friend.

“Y/N?” You heard a voice speak, their hands landing on your shoulders to steady you. You looked up at the individual only to see someone you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Well, you’d seen, but not actually seen.

“Urban?” You exclaimed, almost jumping into his arms when he nodded his head.

“Holy shit! It’s so good to see you! You look gorgeous, as always.” He spoke, embracing your body in a tight hug. The black, thin-strapped dress that adorned your body as well as the matching black Louis Vuitton pumps and small diamond necklace. A beautiful tennis bracelet sat on your wrist, your hair styled to perfection, almost looking like you walked fresh off the runway.

You had made a name for yourself in your career field, which had put you in a pretty stable financial bracket.

Besides, it was always best to one-up the hoes of your old high-school at your reunion.

Especially since the Jack Harlow was in attendance.

You reflected back on those days when you both were smitten with each other, two teenagers in love. You, actually, often reflect back on it every time he posts on Instagram.

Not that you follow him on Instagram or anything.

No, you totally only see him through Urban’s account, which tags his account in things.

Right.

You and Jack had broken up shortly before his debut album, That’s What They All Say, Jack allowing the fame to take over his personal life and relationships. At least, that’s how you see things.

“Y/N, I swear it means nothing. You know that you’re everything to me, it’s all a part of the game baby. I’ve gotta remain a heartthrob for all the fans.”

“But you had to say you were single during that interview?! You couldn’t have diverted the question? Gave a different answer?”

“Like what Y/N?!”

“Oh, I don’t know Jack. Maybe ‘That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.’ Or, or! ‘I’ll leave it up to y’all to think and decide the answer.’ Anything that didn’t scream “Hey, I’m totally single and out for grabs.”

“You know that’s not it works baby. I have to follow a script.”

“Yeah, and I have to follow my gut.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want to break up.”

Sure, you had broken it off, but if Jack hadn’t played the part, you’d still be together.

Maybe.

“Yeah, and you still smell like weed Urban.”

“Seriously, it’s that bad? I thought that cologne I bought would hide the smell good enough.” He pulled up the collar of his shirt to smell himself, looking around the hallway you two were standing lone in. You laughed at his jester, slapping his shoulder.

“I swear you don’t change.”

“And neither do you Y/N.” He looked around again. “I swear Jack was just around here, he’ll be happy to see you.”

“Mm, I don’t think so.”

“Come on Y/N, don’t think like that.”

“Urban, how can I not? I broke up with him when he needed me.”

“Y/N, you and I both know that wasn’t the case. You got out before the fame got to him, which I don’t blame you for. It’s a little too much for me sometimes if you really wanna ask.” He put a hand on your shoulder, sliding it down to rest on your bicep.

“Look, 2fo and the rest of the guys are throwing an after-party after the reunion and I want you to come.”

“Urban, I don’t-“

“Don’t worry about Jack, don’t come for him. Come for me.” He looked you in the eyes, firm in his word.

“Fine. Only for you Urby.”

“I love it when you call me that.”

It was a house party. Urban had let you know before he gave you the address, and you thought it was a good idea to make a pit stop home to change the look.

Designer heels at a house party? In the backyard? Not a good idea.

Urban greeted you at the door and handed you a wine cooler, guiding you to the backyard where everyone surrounded the fire pit.

“Are there marshmallows?” You asked Urban, whispering in his ear.

“Yup. Some of the chocolate is infused though.”

“Of course it is.” You and Urban laughed before catching the eyes of a few of some other people.

“Y/N! Whatcha doin here?!” 2fo ran up and gave you a hug, squeezing you in his embrace.

“Urban invited me, figured I’d stop in.”

“Stop in? You’re staying. Come sit with us by the fire.” 2fo practically dragged you towards the pit, plopping you down in one of the free seats.

“Yo Y/N, how’s it going? How’s life?” Copelean spoke, giving you a fist bump as you set next to him. Sunni tipped his hat, proceeding to continue roasting his marshmallows.

“Pretty damn good. I made a name for myself after I graduated uni, I flew in just for the reunion.”

“How long are you here for?” 2fo asked, taking a hit off the blunt Urban passed.

“Another two days. I’m catching up with a couple of my girlfriends before heading back out.”

“And you weren’t gonna stop by?”

“I didn’t think Jack would like that.”

The area got silent, tension slowly filling the area. Before Sunni cut it with a knife.

“Y/N, I don’t think it was your fault at all. Yeah, you broke up with him, but you wanted out before the fame.” He spoke, taking a long sip of his beer.

“Yeah, and I can respect that. You never seemed like the type to be attracted to the spotlight. I remember when you got published for an article and you wanted to be published as “anonymous”. Cope spoke, laughing as he passed the blunt back to Urban.

“Listen, I was embarrassed-“

“It was good work.”

“Never said it wasn’t. I just didn’t want everyone to know it was me who wrote that long-ass paper.”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever. Either way, I don’t blame you. We all don’t. We just wish you would have stayed in touch with us at least.”

You nodded your head at all of them, them smiling in return.

“Well. Enough of that! Pass me a s’more, without the special chocolate.” Everyone laughed, Urban passing you the unopened bar of Hersey chocolate. An hour passed as you caught up with them all, sharing stories.

“Yeah, so then he thinks it’s a great idea to race with no shoes on in the dorm lobby. So then, as he rounds the corner, he slips and slides smack into the pole. That’s when I learned he was a lightweight.” Everyone laughed at your story, Urban turning his head as a figure appeared.

“Hey, every- Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jack spoke, his voice changing from happy to annoyed. You stood up, turning to face your ex.

“Nice to see you too Jack.” You folded your arms over your chest, Urban placing an arm over your shoulder as he stood.

“I invited her. It’s been a while since we’ve all seen her, I thought it would be good to catch up.”

“Yeah, without telling me. I greatly appreciate it.”

“Not everything is about you Jack.”

“No, it’s not. But I would have appreciated it if someone had told me my ex was coming.” Once again, it was silent.

“I texted you.” Urban spoke, eyeing Jack with narrow eyes.

“Yeah well, I obviously didn’t see it.”

“Yeah, and I obviously shouldn’t be here. If you’re gonna act like that.” You spoke, grabbing a napkin to wipe your hands of the remaining s’more.

“Y/N, don’t go.” Sunni spoke, now sitting up in his lawn chair.

“Actually, I think it’s a good idea.” Jack spoke, making your eyes widen.

“Okay, I get it, you’re hurt by me breaking up with you, but I’d expect you to be more mature than to hold grudges Jack.”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong. How did you think I would react after you left me?”

“And how did you think I felt when you went on that interview?”

“You’re still on that?” Jack sighed.

“Yes, Jack! I am because that’s the main reason we broke up! I couldn’t live like that knowing I was your dirty little secret.”

“Yeah, well maybe I should have stayed single. Wouldn’t have to deal with you bitchin'.”

You stared at Jack in silence, tension higher than before. You clenched your fist, close to slapping him across the face.

“Say that one more time, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, maybe I should have stay-“

“That’s enough Jack.” Urban spoke sternly, dropping his arm from your shoulders to look at him.

“What? Y’all act like she didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Because she didn’t. We all saw how you acted during that interview, and we all can see how your fans are with you now. Y/N’s not cut out for that, and you know it.” Copelean stood up, moving to stand next to you.

“Damn, so y’all really gonna do me like that?” Jack spoke, glaring at his friends.

“Don’t worry about it guys. I’ll take my leave.” You spoke firmly, spinning around and heading for the patio doors.

“Y/N, wait!” You threw your hand up in response, grabbing the keys to your car off the counter, all the while Urban took to Jack.

“Are you fucking serious dude? You couldn’t have been more of an ass?”

“What? Y’all seriously thought I’d be okay with my ex at my party? Especially that ex.”

“Look, we get it, she broke your heart, but think about it Jack. How would you feel if she went on an interview claiming she was single for the world to see?” Sunni questioned, now folding his arms now his chest.

“I would say it’s for the business.”

“Bullshit. You were furious when Jason Rudolph asked her to prom. And she rejected him right in front of you.” 2fo spoke, raising an eyebrow.

“Face it Jack, you’re upset because you let a good one get away.” Urban spoke, angrily.

“You don’t get.”

“Oh no, I think I do get it. But what you don’t see is the other side. Y/N is my friend too. I was there when she cried after she broke it off. I was there when she felt guilty about it. I was there those nights she texted you and you never responded. And I was there when she decided to move so she wouldn’t have the reminder of you constantly there. You don’t know how bad she felt. She did it to protect herself. You can’t blame her for that.”

Jack was silent. He was taking in all of the opinions of his friends. And truthfully, he believed it. He knew he was in the wrong. He truly hadn’t looked at the other side. And truthfully, he would have done the same.

You had began to start your driving playlist before Jack appeared at your window, scaring you before you chose to roll it down.

“Yes Jack?”

“Look, I’m sorry for what I said out there. I was out of line.” He moved as you stepped out of your car, looking him dead in his face as he spoke.

“I get what you did, why you did it. I understand why you broke up with me. You were only protecting yourself, putting yourself first, and I honestly don’t blame you for it. Now that I see it, I would have done the same.”

You looked at your ex, his curls shining in the, now, moonlight of the night. His crystal blue eyes stared into yours, sending shivers down your spine. Yet you stood firm in your word.

“I’m not stupid Jack. I know you probably listened to what the guys said and brought yourself out here to apologize.” You making air quotes around the apologize.

“Y/N..”

“I get it. I get it why you’re upset. I broke your heart. Trust me, I understand. But what you don’t understand is that I broke my own as well. I wanted to be with you, I wanted to see you succeed. I wanted to be there when you made it big, don’t you get that? But that interview was just a preview of what our lives could look like if we stayed together. And I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t want to put myself in that position. Can you seriously hate me that much because I needed to put myself first?” You paused as you looked at him, waiting for him to say anything, anything at all.

But it was silent.

“Exactly what I thought.” You opened your car door, lowering yourself into the vehicle.

“I hope everything goes well for you Jack. And good luck with your new album.” And with that, you sped off into the night, tears in your eyes.

Please don't let nothing get back to me

I've been trying to detach from you

Deep down though, I wanna know about what the fuck you been up to

Old him could have seen that coming

Fuck you I don't need nothing from ya

I was doing pretty good without you

But something tells me that a relapse coming

-

[takeyourcyanide]

Starving (Chapters 1 & 2)

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Characters: Spirit Albarn | Death Scythe, Franken Stein, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Characters, Original Human Character(s)

Word Count (so far): 1 813

Tags (whole fic tags): Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn With Plot, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Heavy Angst, Teen Angst, Angst and Romance, Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Resentment, Neglect, Misogyny, Internalized Homophobia, Insecurity, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, One Night Stands, Drinking, Bars and Pubs, Clubbing, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Passive-aggression, Denial of Feelings, sex scene, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe

Summary: Despite Spirit’s persistent denial and Stein’s difficulty with understanding such a foreign feeling, a mutual romantic attraction had been brewing between the two for years. Spirit continuously relies on Stein to care for him in the wee hours of the morning after his drunken sexual endeavors, leaving him to question the possibility of Stein feeling neglected in some way. It took years for Stein to properly dissect his feelings, and still, he hasn’t an exact clue as to how to go about them, especially not when his partner is always too busy seeking validation from his “frat-boy-esc” peers. This fic could be described as depicting the results of this all. I’d also like to add that this is somewhat of an alternate universe in the sense that Kami isn’t really in the picture. They’re around 18, though Stein is implied to be a little younger than Spirit in the series, so he is around 16-17 in this fic. And also in the sense that we have no idea whether or not they have seasonal breaks.

See Notes on AO3 for more context/information.

Notes: It’s a miracle at this point that I was even able to write these two, fairly short chapters. Here, have them before erosion takes completely over. It took forever and a lot of miserably failing at processing thought for these two.

This is based on @/mellancholy-morose’s ask they sent in pertaining to an imaginary fic game. The word was starving.

“Another date?” A monotone, and yet passive-aggressive voice managed to freeze Spirit’s startled body in place, his hand on the silver knob of the front door.

The dim and ever-flickering lights of their kitchen painted Stein in a suitably unnerving way, the shadows cascading across the room and his face making the slight downturn to his lips rather overt.

“Why? Are you jealous?” Spirit feigned a conceited smirk, familiar pangs of guilt running achingly up and down his now slumped spine.

“No, I was just curious as to where you were heading off to this time. Knowing whether or not you’ll be going to a bar, a restaurant, a brothel.. it will help me determine if and when I’ll have to prepare myself to carry you to what might as well be your porcelain throne at this point,” Stein glanced up from the teabag he was whirling around in a little grey mug filled with scorching water - one which he had painted stitches all over - a disturbing grin on his face as he stared through Spirit, one filled with emotions that he was sure his meister could not quite grasp; a mixture between petulance, sardonicism, jealousy, and even mild resentment.

Spirit playfully rolled his eyes, hoping to alleviate some of the awkward and chilling tension in the air, which was so potent that Stein could likely dissect it with the help of one of his ‘pride and joys,’ as he so often called them. “It’s summer break, what can I say? Maybe you should just get out more. You know, Marie-“

“I don’t want to go out with Marie, Spirit.”

“Then-“

“I have absolutely no desire to spend a whole lot of time outside. It’s sweltering, why would I do that to myself?”

Spirit adjusted the black tie around his neck, flattening each individual fold in his dress shirt. “I’m, uh.. I’m just going to a bar with some friends,” he sighed, his brows pinched, begrudgingly observing the way in which Stein’s body tensed as he abruptly ceased his fussing with the teabag, observing how his breath hitched, observing how unnaturally controlled his posture became, as if to conceal something.

He dug his nails into his palms, the rising guilt forming into a ball nestling itself uncomfortably in his throat, barely able to fit inside.

“You’re welcome to come, Stein.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline,” he blew on his steaming tea, which smelled of a minty lavender.

“Yeah,” he huffed out a breathy chuckle. “I know that’s not really your scene.”

Franken set down his glass carefully, avoiding any loud clanking sound. He lifted his gaze to meet Albarn’s again, a more solemn and analytical glint in his eyes, replacing the petty one formerly present. His hands were outstretched on opposite ends of the countertop, relying on the faux marble to hold up his weight.

“No, it isn’t. And if I’m being entirely honest, I’m not sure that it’s exactly yours either.”

“Wha-“

“Go, Spirit. You can go. I’m not going to hold you hostage. I was just curious.”

“Oh- uh.. okay?”

He placed his hand tentatively back around the doorknob, utterly dumbfounded and at a loss for any coherent words to string together.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Uhm..”

“Goodbye, Spirit. I’ll see you later.. maybe.”

Maybe?

“Bye…”

Spirit closed the door quickly and promptly behind him, refusing to even so much as look at Stein, as he left.

‘How does that bastard always manage to make me feel like I’m openly running around on him,’ he narrowed his annoyed, culpable eyes, growling internally as he monologued to himself. ‘We’re not even together. What the hell? How can I cheat on someone I’m not even with? Stein doesn’t feel romantic shit. He’s not a romance guy. Yeah, sure, there’s somethin’ there, but I’m not gay or anything. It could just be a product of our partnership, couldn’t it? And even if it weren’t, I’m not gay. I’ve only ever liked women. So, It’s impossible. Yep. It’s impossible. Why would either of us be fucking gay? That’s laughable. He’s just jealous I have other friends. He just wants my attention ‘cause I’m fun to experiment on. Yeah. Fun to toy with. Does he even want my attention? Is it possible that he has those needs just like everyone else? Maybe he’s just the jealous type, I don’t fucking know. He’s always been possessive over his test subjects. That’s all it is.

No. I don’t think he’s even jealous,’ he pursed his lips childishly at the thought. ‘He’s just annoyed that he has to hold my hair back all the damn time. I’m just a burden, that’s all it is. Yeah. He’s not the helping type either, is he? No. I’m forcing him to take care of me. He’s just annoyed. I was just misreading things again. That’s all it is.’

-

Pondering, Running, Chasing

Alcohol reminded Spirit of a butterfly, of a caterpillar. It typically began unpleasantly at best, and downright gag-worthy at worst, only to break free from its cocoon and become a beautiful butterfly.. well, the dizzying effects it brought forth were the beautiful, sought after butterfly. Perhaps the butterfly would allow his whirlwind of emotions a piggyback ride, and would graciously flap away with them.

“Hey,” two long fingers came to snap loudly in front of his face. “Spirit.”

He rolled his wrist in a circular motion, his eyes fixed on how his whiskey swirled around in the shimmering glass he held, splashing up and swimming back down over and over again.

“What is it?” His words came out more like a shy murmur than a confident acknowledgment.

“Y’see that girl over there, right?”

He forced his eyes to follow the man’s index finger, which lead them to some ditzy-looking brunette giggling and whispering to her friends, occasionally glancing mischievously, intently at him.

“Yeah, I see her.”

“She’s been staring at you since you walked in, dude.“

He guzzled down the rest of his drink, gasping for a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“Aren’t you gonna go up to her? She looks easy.”

“Wouldn’t that only make it more boring? There’d be no challenge,” another man, the one sitting off to his left somewhere, chimed in.

“Well- hm. Who fucking cares honestly? Sex is sex, and why waste time on some bitch who’s just gonna… I don’t know. At least the easy ones will do whatever the fuck you want. Might not be as much of an ego boost, but hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Spirit wobbled up off of the couch. “Be right-“

“Hey, what’s wrong with you tonight? Where’s all your… fire? Arrogance? I dunno, but what’s with you?” The snapper seemed to sneer at him, eyes narrow in scrutiny, as he tugged Spirit back down by his arm. “You’re bringing the whole mood down.”

“I’m just kinda tired tonight.”

“Well, why don’t you go wake yourself up, then?” He smirked, nodding his head over in the direction of the brunette.

“Uh, I don’t kn-“

“What are you, gay now or somethin’? Who would let an opportunity like *that* go? And what’s with that fucking face?”

“What face?”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. If you don’t fuck her, I will.”

“I’m gonna fuck her, damn,” he nearly choked on a manufactured laugh. “Just give me a second. I want another drink first.”

“She’s not the kinda girl you wanna drink a lot before fucking, Albarn.”

“Yeah, I think you’d wanna remember that one.”

Spirit’s entire body shook with a sigh. “True,” he shoved his empty glass into the snapper’s hand. “Hold my drink.”

They finally allowed him to stand, to leave, slapping him and patting him on his shoulders and back, whistling even, as he adjusted his suit jacket, making sure to walk with a zealous and self-assured saunter.

The farther he went, the closer the girl’s flushed cheeks came into view. He turned his head, as bashful or apprehensive as it may have came across, an entire line of giggling people all seated in barstools, multiple large crowds stumbling over both their words and their own feet, duos, trios, singles all hoarding the bathrooms, rushing in and out.

He mentally prepared himself, gently tapping her on her bare shoulder. It was a gesture he knew Stein would find moronic, given the fact that it was obvious he had her attention from the very beginning, and that she was well aware of his approaching presence.

Perhaps the supposed stupidity of social protocol and what it was sure to lead to would rip the seemingly disappointed face polluting all of his thoughts and behavior from out of his mind.

But wasn’t he only misreading things?

“Hello?” She smirked, lifting a playfully judging eyebrow. “You there, sweetheart?”

Spirit shook his head violently from side to side, dragging a dramatic hand down his face. “Oh, yeah, shit.. Sorry. I’m just all over the place tonight.”

“It’s okay, no worries. You shoulda seen me before *this* absolute godsend,” the woman laughed, lifting her shot glass, which sparkled under the warm lighting of the bar. “I’m Lavinia.”

“Spirit.”

“…Well, why don’t you sit down?”

Spirit ran his hand through his hair, noiselessly, though deeply inhaling. He glanced over to where the group of young men were seated. They were watching him, smirking and chuckling knowingly. They were whistling, bossily nodding their heads, the one sat in the middle pumping his fist, and the one on the left making uncomfortably suggestive hand movements.

He averted his gaze from them, flashing the girl his usual glib-full smile, as he lifted the vent of his suit jacket, his arm coming to rest against the chilled, sleek wood of the bar.

-

“It sucks that your meister’s such a killjoy. My apartment’s a mess,” she dragged him by his hand down the old, somewhat dirty cobblestone sidewalk, lined with antique street lights. They marched past a musty alleyway, turning a corner and entering a much cleaner sector of the city; the one closest to the DWMA, the one filled with numerous apartment buildings utilized as dormitories.

“Well, at least your roommate isn’t there.”

Lavinia released Spirit’s fingers from her grasp, fumbling with her keys, distractedly drawling as she responded with, “True…”

She stuck the wrong key into the hole at least three times, awkwardly and nervously giggling.

‘Maybe she forgot which key was the right one?’ He questioned to himself, a creeping, foreign vulnerable, nervous, and perhaps even insecure sort of feeling encircling, kissing the lurking guilt incessantly stalking him.

There was something about that guilt that brought with it achy pangs of longing- or perhaps it wasn’t. It wasn’t longing. And if it was, it had not a thing to do with guilt. It had everything to do with the opportunity gesturing him inside.

[endofradio]

FRAGMENTS OF FEAR — CHAPTER 1: BLUE EYES

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

WARNINGS: n/a

NOTES: pinkie promise there will be longer chapters eventually it’s just my brain has been feeling kinda. Bleh.

SUMMARY: sylvie and frank meet again, but not in the way either of them would’ve expected.

WORD COUNT: 1,336

TAGS: @reclaimedbythesea @shawsfinalgirl @creelmalfoylaufeyson69 @witchy-weve-monbebe @atcarpenter @blackwolfstabs @simpingforclaudette @maggotssmichael

“I’m a human fly, and I don’t know why, I got 96 tears and 96 eyes.”

Sylvie sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by a variety of drawing supplies. A Cramps record was spinning on her record player as she spent time with her sketchbook. On her bedroom wall, various drawings and paintings of hers were scattered around. For her, art was a form of therapy, along with writing.

Sylvie had spent the past few years trying to make an effort to rebuild her life, but some nights had been rougher than others, tonight being one of those nights. It started with waking up from a nightmare about her adoptive parents, and from that point on, she was stuck with the all-too-familiar process of dwelling on her past. If she could’ve gone back and changed things, she would’ve. Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve…

When Sylvie thought about her past, she often found herself thinking about Adam. It had been five years since she last saw his face, yet she remembered him very well. She could envision his cocky grin and his cold blue gaze that seemed to see through her soul. Sylvie was not one to forget people who had left an effect on her, and Adam was definitely one of those individuals.

She could just hear his voice — that smart-ass, smooth-talking Queens accent. Every word that came out of his mouth made her just want to punch him. He was a vulgar and perverted son of a bitch, flirting and teasing her even when he had a ring on his finger.

“I’ll let you out early if you give me a little kiss,” he had once said. Of course, Sylvie shot back with a “fuck off.”

As she sat there drawing, she was suddenly hit by a pang of loneliness. In a way, Adam had made her feel more alone than she already did. The attention he gave her — even though it was bad — was still attention, which was something she had never received. Adam was able to see right through her, pinpoint her weaknesses, and figure out how to trigger them. The more Sylvie thought about him, the more she realized that maybe she could’ve been attached to Adam in her confusing way. As miserable as he made her feel, at least he still gave her attention.

Stop thinking about him. Sylvie told herself. Neither of you two give a shit about each other.

As she tried to center her focus back on drawing, Sylvie could only continue to think about how pathetic her own life seemed to her. Here she was, sitting alone in her apartment with no friends and no family, just listening to music and drawing. She stared at what was the current state of her drawing — a shrieking cat with an arrow piercing through its heart. In her opinion, the cat represented her. That was why she drew it.

As Sylvie took out a black colored pencil, her head perked up as she heard a faint noise. Her eyes nervously darted around, only to see nothing. Maybe I’m just hearing things.

She started to color in her drawing, and that was when she started to hear faint footsteps. Why would someone be in her apartment, especially at this hour? There was nobody that wanted to visit her.

Confused, Sylvie slowly stood up and began to quietly walk out of her bedroom, peeking from around a corner. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure dressed in all-black. “Who… who’s there…?” She weakly asked.

Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything.

Quickly, Sylvie retreated to her room, sitting with her back pressed up against the wall.

She looked up and saw the same figure standing in the doorway, but could only see part of the figure's face.

The figure spoke, and Sylvie felt as if she were trapped in another nightmare.

“Y’know, you should’ve left your door locked. Not too smart.”

Yeah, she’d recognize that snide voice from anywhere. She needed to see if she was right, though, as much as she didn’t want to believe it.

“Who… are you…?”

The man pulled down his mask, and Sylvie’s face turned to a whiter shade of pale. “A… Adam…?”

He pulled his mask back up. “Frank.” He corrected.

Sylvie couldn’t comprehend any of this. What happened to him being a detective? What was with the new name? Cop-turned-criminal… the irony.

“What the fuck…” She whispered, feeling her heart starting to race. “What… what do you want?”

“It’s simple,” Frank answered, his voice cold. He took a few steps closer to Sylvie, and that was when she could tell it was him. The blue eyes said it all.

“Don’t fight, and it’ll be over before you can even blink.”

Sylvie watched in terror as Frank reached into the pocket of his black slacks, pulling out a syringe containing a clear liquid. “What the fuck… is that…?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Frank shifted even closer to Sylvie. Standing right in front of her, he crouched down to her level, holding the syringe in front of her face. “Don’t worry. You’ll have a pleasant slumber.”

“You don't have to do this,” Sylvie whispered. She could feel her body shaking like a leaf as she stared at the syringe. “I won’t… I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, I have to do this,” Frank responded. “Just shut up, and let me do my job, yeah?”

Before she could say anything else, Frank covered Sylvie’s mouth with a gloved hand, muffling her screams. She tried to escape, but in response, he held her down. “Don’t make this difficult.” He hissed.

As Sylvie saw the syringe come closer to her neck, she quickly grabbed Frank’s arm in a frantic attempt to pull him away. His patience dwindling, Frank aggressively pulled his arm away. “Stop fuckin’ fighting!” He snapped. “I don’t wanna fuckin’ hurt you, Sylvie, but I might just have to if you don’t cut the bullshit.”

Sylvie. Jesus Christ, it really was him.

Then, in one quick motion, Frank stuck the needle into Sylvie’s neck, pushing down the plunger as the tranquilizer slowly entered her system. Slowly, she began to relax, and her breathing began to slow, her vision turning foggy.

Once Sylvie finally slipped out of consciousness, Frank picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, casually walking out of the apartment as though nothing had happened. Dean was waiting in the van, smoking a joint.

“How’d it go?” He asked, a smug grin on his face.

“Fine.” Frank curtly responded. “Open the door.”

Dean shuffled out of the van and headed over to the back, opening the door so Frank could place Sylvie in the back seat. Once she was completely taken care of, Frank went to get in the passenger’s seat, slamming the door shut.

“Start driving.” He muttered, coldly staring at Dean. “We got her.”

“Jesus, man. Are you always in a bad mood?”

Frank rolled his eyes. Yeah, he wasn’t the happiest person, but he also just simply loved telling people what to do.

Once the two arrived back at the mansion, Frank entered as if nothing had happened, carrying Sylvie in his arms to a bedroom where she could rest.

“Uh… who’s that?” Sammy asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “I thought it was just one person we were kidnapping…”

Dean shrugged. “Boss-man forgot somebody.”

“But…”

Once Frank found an available bedroom, he walked over to the bed and placed Sylvie down on it in a surprisingly gentle manner. He couldn’t help but look at her for perhaps a little too long, with a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts running through his mind. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't seen her in five years, but Sylvie didn't even seem real to Frank, even though she still looked the same.

What the fuck am I doing?

Sighing, Frank turned around and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

[euphoriajunkie000]

honeysuckle. character chart

Name: Absolute Zero

Alias: (Y/N) Hanahaki – given by Gojo, Honey – given by Shoko

Lore Notes (I will expand on this later, but I just want to braindump):

Your canonical age is seriously unknown

You have been around since the dawn of time so you are ancient

In a vicious cycle of reincarnation, you are technically immortal

As for what species you are, you don’t know

You can’t be killed unless you are shot in your “achilles’ heel” which is a weak spot located at the bottom of your brainstem, the medulla which is arguably the most important component of the brain

Once this happens, you can’t regenerate and you die; game over, try again

You get reborn again in the same body

Some memories are intact, others not so much

These forgotten moments can be reawakened by certain things that cause deja vu

Every time you die, you wake up

Same body, same face

You are aware when you die, and aware when you wake up, and aware if the current situation you are somehow in

You have been beat down by so many of the people around you throughout the ages that you very much don’t like humans

There are no medical records and traces of you

When people look at you it’s the kind of feeling in which they feel like they have seen you which draws them into you

You smell like honeysuckle and act just as sweet as them

Abilities:

You have angelic like wings

They can help you fly around in the air

Similar to Hawks from My Hero Academia, you can control each individual feather

You wings can change colors under certain circumstances

Regeneration

It is exactly what it sounds like

You can regenerate body parts instantly if they get damaged

If you have you hand severed, for example, you can stick your hand back on and it will heal

Regeneration will not heal you once your achilles’ heel has been shot

Molecular Manipulation

You can manipulate certain molecules within certain materials

Basically controlling the elements like Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra

So far you only know how to control the main four, and subsets like blood bending or metal bending have not been touched on but they will later

As for cursed technique

Idk!

Please give me ideas!

I was thinking maybe the feathers in your wings contain cursed energy or smth like that

Appearance:

This is somewhat canon?

I won’t say appearances or specify (H/C) or (E/C) and things of that nature, because I think that defeats the whole purpose of the x reader tag I used

But if you like some of the ideas described, pick and choose and give me feedback if you do want me to implement these characteristics!

This is just for the people who wants someone to imagine in the story

Here is how I imagine this character!

Note! Absolute Zero was my reader/oc for my other fanfiction Underdog, a various bnha x reader/oc

Honestly, if you are really curious, the fanfic is still up, so go wild! It is posted on Quotev and Wattpad

Not sure if it is good but it has a lot of words, so if you are waiting on this series next chapter, I would recommend you take a look at it if you like my writing

I’m still continuing that fanfic, but the character I made was just too good to go to waste so I recycled

I imagine her to have varying hair lengths, but long of some sort

As for hair color, I imagine a light, sakura, pastel pink or a jet black.

Or maybe the hair is jet black but the underside is bleached/dyed a color of your choosing; let me know if you like that option!

Curtain bangs, slightly wavy-straight hair

As for skin tone, I’m thinking like a slight tan? As if you have been sunbathing and have a healthy glow idk

As for eye color I was thinking of a dark sea foam green (that matches with pink hair) or a burgundy color (that matches with the jet black hair)

If you couldn’t tell, this character was heavily inspired by Zero Two from Darling and the Franxx with both appearances and personality (shoutout!)

As for voice, I’m imagining the same voice as the character above and Panty from Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt (both dub)

I love their voices!!

I feel like this character would have piercings, maybe a couple on the earlobes!!

Here is a visual representation, let me know what you guys think!

-calypso :