#I... Yeah. Something just doesn't sit right.

[satorus-princess]

she loves me not, she loves me

synopsis: gojo satoru - the oh-so-confident, strongest sorcerer - becoming a nervous wreck on his wedding day? no way. (one suggestive joke, but otherwise sfw)

fem!reader x gojo satoru, canon au but geto never defected 🥰

gojo thinks he's successful in being able to conceal the effect of his doubts and worries on his demeanour. but, obviously, his best man picks up on the way that he constantly fixes his pushed-back hair, straightens his tuxedo for the umpteenth time, and redoes his tie for a third time. well, honestly, anyone would be able to infer his fears from his behaviour, no matter how forced his smile is.

“are you nervous, satoru? you have no reason to be, you know,” geto says, sitting on a chair in his own suit as he observes his best friend standing in front of the mirror who brushes off atoms from the sleeves of his tux.

“hah, why would i be nervous? i'm hard to resist, and she loves me,” the tone and manner in which gojo says that sounds as if he's reassuring himself rather than trying to convince geto he isn't nervous.

“she does. i've seen you get into destructive relationships, but not this one. (y/n)'s perfect for you,”

“she's so perfect... what is she doing marrying me?” gojo groans, stepping backwards and slumping into an armchair behind him.

“she said yes for a reason,” geto reminds gojo.

“you're right, you're right. she said yes to me. she wants to marry me.” gojo's head is tilted back over the edge of the chair, trying to keep his thoughts under control. that lasts a minute before he's grumbling under his breath, “shit, i'm a mess.”

while gojo is consumed in his whirlwind of thoughts, he doesn't even hear geto calling someone on the phone and talking to them. that's until he scoots closer to the groom, holding out the phone to him with a short “here”.

“what are you doing?” he asks, lifting his head up, confused as to why his rambling is cut off and what could possibly be more important.

“‘toru?” your sweet voice chimes through the speaker, and suddenly, gojo feels as if his heart has stopped. he takes the phone from geto, who steps out of the room to let you two have your moment, knowing that the only person who can ease gojo's nerves is his future wife herself.

his fingers slightly tremble around the phone as he presses it against his ear. he swallows thickly before speaking, “(y/n)?”

“yeah, it's me, my love. are you okay?”

a gentle smile paints over his lips, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he lets out a sigh - subconsciously relieved. he nods, despite you not being able to see him. “yeah... yeah, i'm okay now that i've heard your voice. fuck, you sound so pretty through the phone, i might cry,” he jokes, but the choked-up laugh that tumbles out suggests that he might not be completely joking.

he hears you laugh on the other side of the phone and his heart signs up for a marathon. “hey, save the tears for when you see me.”

“oh, those aren't gonna be tears. that's gonna be full-on sobbing and snot everywhere,” his tone is light and playful, feeling much calmer now.

you laugh again, this time louder. “you're ridiculous. although i'm not sure i doubt you.”

“i'm definitely not joking. just thinking about you in your dress is bringing me to tears.”

“you love me,” you state simply in a quieter tone, but it's such a powerful affirmation.

“i do, with every fibre of my being. i can't wait to marry you and spend forever together.”

“me too. you know what else i can't wait for?” you ask playfully in an attempt to lift his mood, waiting for gojo to respond before continuing. he gives you a soft hum in question. “the honeymoon. spending lots of quality time together. in bed, especially.”

he lets out a surprised laugh, though his deep, ocean eyes soften into something more tranquil, like a fresh stream shimmering in the sun. “god, i love you. this is why you're my wife-to-be.”

“but seriously, you have nothing to be nervous about, you know? we're getting married because we love each other, there's no doubt about that.”

gojo releases a heavy, shaky sigh. “i know... you're not gonna leave me waiting at the altar, are you?” he jokes, but there's an underlying concern that's more serious than he lets on. but, of course, you sense it.

“that's the most ridiculous thing you've said in your life, my love. i wouldn't be here, dressed up to marry you if i was going to leave you. i'm not going anywhere or leaving you behind, no matter what, okay?”

he hums in understanding, and you assume he's chewing on the inside of his cheek to hold back his emotions.

you continue, “satoru, my heart belongs with you. if, in the craziest scenario you can think of, i leave you, my heart will still be with you. it'll always love you, and it'll never forget about you. i hope you know i love you more than anything.”

he swallows again before speaking, “i do know. that's why i can't believe you only want me; do i even deserve you?” he whispers, and the broken crack in his voice makes your heart crack along with it.

“hey, none of that. i don't think i can stress how much you deserve everything good in the world. and you were the one that taught me that i deserve only the best, that i should never settle for anything else. so, here i am, only marrying the best,” you say softly with a smile that you hope he can hear in your voice.

and you assume he can when you just about hear the hitch in his breath. “... thank you, (y/n),” he murmurs. it's a simple utterance, but it means everything to you, knowing you were able to reassure him in such a vulnerable moment. he didn't think his words could be used against him in the best possible way - if he believes that you deserve the best, then it must be true that you believe he deserves the best too. “who knew the strongest would be so nervous on his wedding day, huh?” he attempts to lighten the mood again, but this time, he isn't burying his emotions - he's overcome them thanks to you.

“ah, but you're the weakest when it comes to me, aren't you?” you tease. “i love this side of you, you know. the human side, the one that you only show to me.”

“alright, i get it, i get it. you don't need to make me cry again yet. we haven't even gotten to the vows yet,” he chuckles lightly, revealing the fact that he may have shed some tears while you were reassuring him.

“my sweet boy, you really are gonna be sobbing, huh?”

“without a doubt. continuously from the moment i see you.” his heart flutters when he hears your laugh ring through the phone, half filled with amusement and half with love.

“well, now that you aren't doubting anything, why don't you go out there and wait for me, hm?”

“mhm, yeah... i love you, sweet girl.”

“i love you, too, ‘toru. i'll see you out there, okay?” you confirm in a tender tone that is unreplicable, tugging at his heart strings that form a beautiful melody that only you manage to orchestrate.

“okay, mrs gojo.”

[dior-luxury]

https://www.tumblr.com/dior-luxury/778931380458536960?source=share

Could you continue with the other characters please? It doesn't matter if it's random <3 I loved your work.💗😭

You Call Them A Different Name To Get Their Reaction

Pt.1

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] trey . jack . jade . kalim . epel . lilia

- [𝐩:𝐬] jealousy . some talk of physical fighting

Note: Thank you so much for enjoying my work anon!! (*¯ ³¯*)♡ And I shall do your request!

Trey Clover

Trey had always been the composed and easygoing type. He was the kind of boyfriend who didn’t get riled up easily, who always met your antics with a chuckle and a warm pat on the head. But today was different.

You had been lounging in the Heartslabyul common room, waiting for Trey to return from baking in the kitchen. The scent of fresh strawberry tarts lingered in the air when he finally walked in, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Here you go, made them just how you like," he said, setting the plate before you.

You grinned up at him, your heart warm with appreciation. "Thanks, Riddle!"

The silence was immediate. You didn’t even realize what you had said at first, too busy reaching for a tart. But when you noticed Trey standing still, his smile slightly frozen, your stomach dropped.

Riddle?

Your eyes widened. Oh. Oh no.

Trey let out a small chuckle, but there was something almost imperceptibly strained about it. "Riddle, huh?" he repeated, sitting across from you, his usual calm demeanor still present—just a little quieter than before.

You scrambled to explain. "No, wait, that was an accident! I wasn’t even thinking, I—"

He held up a hand, shaking his head. "Nah, I get it. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately. Guess my name just slipped your mind."

There was no outright anger in his voice, no bitterness. But the way his fingers lingered on the rim of his teacup, the slight downward tilt of his lips, told you that it did sting. Trey wasn’t the type to make a fuss, but that didn’t mean he was unaffected.

You reached across the table, taking his hand in both of yours. "Hey. I promise it was just a slip. There’s no one else but you, Trey. You know that, right?"

He looked at you for a long moment before finally exhaling and squeezing your hand back.

"Yeah… I know."

He smiled again, this time more genuine. But later that night, when he kissed you goodnight, there was something just a little more possessive in the way his lips lingered against yours—like he was silently reminding you of exactly who he was to you.

Jack Howl

Jack was a lot of things—stubborn, loyal, and fiercely protective of you. He wasn’t the kind of guy who let small things get to him. But this? This got to him.

You were in the courtyard after classes, talking to Jack about your day as he listened attentively, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"And then Ace was being an idiot like usual, and Deuce—oh! Leona, can you believe he actually—"

You paused mid-sentence, your words catching in your throat. Jack’s ears, which had been relaxed just moments ago, twitched. Slowly, he turned his head to you, golden eyes narrowed slightly.

"What did you just call me?"

The weight of your mistake crashed down on you all at once. Your boyfriend’s name wasn’t Leona. It wasn’t even close.

"Jack! I meant Jack!" You held up your hands in a panic. "It was just a dumb mistake! I was thinking about how Leona skipped class again, and—"

But Jack had already turned away slightly, exhaling through his nose in that huffing way he did when he was trying to hold something back. His tail, usually so expressive, was still.

"I see."

Just two words, but they made you feel awful.

"Jack," you stepped closer, trying to see his face, but he kept looking away. "Come on, you know I’d never mix you two up. You’re you. No one else even compares."

He didn’t answer immediately. For a few long moments, the only sound between you was the rustling of the wind.

Then, he finally spoke. "...Do you like him?"

Your eyes widened. "What?! No! Jack, of course not!"

Jack was still for a moment before he finally let out a low sigh. "I know you didn’t mean it, but…" He rubbed the back of his head, ears still stiff with tension. "I don’t like it."

You stepped closer, pressing a hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath. "I don’t like that I made you feel this way," you whispered. "Jack, you're the only one for me. I swear it."

Jack studied you for a moment, then let out another breath—this time softer. He finally let his arms drop to wrap around your waist, pulling you into his warmth.

"...Alright," he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours. "Just don’t do it again."

Jade Leech

Jade was someone you could never quite predict. He was charming yet unsettling, affectionate yet always holding something back. And that was what made your mistake all the more dangerous.

It had been a peaceful afternoon in the Mostro Lounge, and you had been sitting at the bar while Jade prepared a special tea blend for you. His movements were graceful as always, his gloved hands handling the delicate porcelain with practiced ease.

"Here you are, my dear," he said, placing the cup before you with that ever-present smile.

"Thanks, Floyd," you said absentmindedly.

The moment the name left your lips, you felt it. A shift in the air. A silence that pressed down on you like the depths of the ocean.

You looked up slowly. Jade’s smile was still there. But his golden eye, sharp and assessing, gleamed with something unreadable.

"Oh?" His voice was smooth as silk, but there was something distinctly unsettling about the way he tilted his head. "Floyd, you say?"

Your stomach twisted. "Jade. I meant Jade."

He let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter. "How peculiar. Do I remind you of my dear twin, then?"

"No!" You waved your hands frantically. "It just slipped out, I swear!"

Jade leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. His expression was still pleasant, but his gaze was razor-sharp. "Hmm. I wonder what Floyd would say if I told him about this. You do seem quite fond of him, after all."

Your breath hitched. "Jade."

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your distress. "Oh, don’t look so alarmed. I am merely teasing."

But there was something possessive in the way his fingers brushed against your wrist, something dangerously alluring in the way he murmured, "Still… I do wonder how I should punish you for this little slip."

You swallowed. "P-Punish?"

Jade smiled wider, leaning impossibly close, his breath ghosting over your ear.

"Relax, dear. I’ll simply have to remind you who I am."

And with that, he took your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles—soft, yet full of silent warning.

There would be no more mistakes after this. Not unless you wanted to see what lay beneath that polite, charming mask.

Would you dare let it slip again?

Kalim, Epel, and Lilia React to Their Girlfriend Calling Them a Different Name

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was someone who exuded warmth like the desert sun—bright, energetic, and ever-loving. He never failed to shower you with affection, always bringing you little trinkets or inviting you on wild magic carpet rides just to hear you laugh.

So when you called him by another name—Jamil’s name, of all people—it was as if the sun had momentarily been eclipsed.

It happened during one of your regular visits to Scarabia, where Kalim had been showing off his newest imported sweets.

"Here, try this one! It’s made with real golden saffron—super rare!" Kalim beamed, holding a small pastry up to your lips.

You giggled, taking a bite. "Mmm! That’s amazing, Jamil!"

The second the name left your lips, the room went silent. You didn’t even realize what you had said until you noticed Kalim’s expression—his wide, ruby eyes blinking rapidly as if he had misheard.

"...Huh?" He let out a small, confused chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "Wait, what did you just call me?"

Your heart sank. "Kalim! I meant Kalim! It was an accident, I swear!"

But even though he was still smiling, there was something… off.

"You called me Jamil." His voice was softer now, almost hesitant. Not mad. Not even sad. Just—confused.

And that was the worst part. Because Kalim adored you with every fiber of his being, and it never even crossed his mind that you might think about someone else like that.

"I—It just slipped out!" You rushed to grab his hands. "You know I love you, Kalim. I wasn’t thinking. You’re the only one for me, I promise!"

He studied your face for a moment, and then—just like that—his blinding smile returned.

"Hehe, okay!"

Just like that?

You blinked. "Wait… you’re not mad?"

Kalim shook his head, squeezing your hands. "Nah, I know you didn’t mean it! Besides, if you were thinking about Jamil, maybe it’s because he’s been helping you with something, right?"

You almost wanted to cry from how pure he was.

But then his grip tightened just a little. His smile was still warm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his usually carefree gaze.

"Still… I wanna make sure you’re always thinking about me, y'know?" Kalim leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "So how about I spend even more time with you? That way, you won’t even have the chance to mix me up with someone else!"

His laughter rang in your ears like golden bells, and suddenly, you realized—you might have just signed up for never having a moment alone again.

Epel Felmier

Epel had always been fighting against people’s assumptions about him—his delicate features, his small frame, the way others (Vil) constantly made him practice "refined manners." So when you—his girlfriend, the person who was supposed to see him for who he truly was—accidentally called him the wrong name, it hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

You two had been hanging out in the botanical garden, resting against one of the large apple trees. The air smelled of fresh fruit, and Epel had just finished carving a wooden trinket for you with his pocket knife.

"Here." He placed the small wolf carving in your palm, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Made it for ya. Thought you’d like it."

Your heart melted at the sight of it. "Epel, this is beautiful! You’re amazing—seriously, Vil should let you show off your skills more!"

Epel scoffed, crossing his arms. "Hah, like he’d ever—"

"Right, Rook?"

Silence.

Epel’s whole body tensed. His grip on his knife twitched. You, on the other hand, immediately felt your soul leave your body.

"I meant Epel!" You blurted out in a panic. "Epel, Epel, Epel!"

His violet eyes snapped to yours, narrowed and sharp like a predator who had just been challenged. "Tch. Rook?" His voice was low, unreadable. "So ya think I’m like him now?"

You grabbed his hands. "No! I don’t even know why I said that—I was just thinking about how he always praises you, and it just—just slipped out!"

Epel clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. "Hmph." He pulled away, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. "That’s real annoyin’, y'know?"

You felt horrible. "Epel…"

For a moment, you thought he might storm off. But instead, he turned his back to you, exhaling sharply before muttering:

"I gotta make sure you see me as me—not anyone else."

The next thing you knew, he was pulling you up into his arms, pressing a heated, almost desperate kiss against your lips. His hands gripped your waist, and when he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged.

"There," he muttered, his face flushed but determined. "Now you won’t forget who I am."

And with that, he stomped off—probably to go punch a tree or something.

Lilia Vanrouge

You should have known calling Lilia the wrong name was dangerous.

The moment the name "Malleus" left your lips, you swore the entire atmosphere of the room changed.

Lilia had been casually floating upside down in your room, strumming his guitar when you had absentmindedly asked:

"Hey, Malleus, can you hand me that book?"

The strings of his guitar let out a warped, discordant twang.

Slowly, he flipped right-side up, his glowing red eyes peering at you with eerie amusement.

"…Malleus?" Lilia repeated, his tone light and playful—but oh no, oh no, oh no, something about it sent a chill down your spine.

Your breath caught. "I-I meant Lilia! LILIA! It was a mistake, I swear!"

Lilia tilted his head, his fangs peeking from his smirk. "Fufufu~ how interesting… I didn’t realize my little human had such a wandering mind."

He vanished.

Your stomach dropped. "Lilia?"

Suddenly, cold fingers brushed against the back of your neck.

"Right here, darling~"

You spun around, only for him to disappear again, reappearing behind you with a chuckle. "How careless of you to let another name slip, hm?"

"Lilia, please—!"

He let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his chest. "Ah, what is an old fae to do? Must I remind you exactly who your boyfriend is?"

Before you could respond, Lilia scooped you up effortlessly, twirling you in the air before pinning you against the nearest wall, his smirk widening at your flustered expression.

"Hm, yes, I think some proper discipline is in order~"

You gulped. Oh, you were in danger.

And knowing Lilia, he was going to make sure you never made that mistake again.

[the-original-skipps]

|| Getting Stuck on a Ferris Wheel Together. || Blue Lock Reactions ||

“skipps your fixations are wild you literally jump into one fandom and into the other” yeah well i be wild and impulsive like that lol ooc warning (especially kaiser sorry in advance) cuz this is the first time im writing for any of them but if you want to see more let me know!

isagi. chigiri. nagi. rin. sae. kaiser.

❥ Isagi immediately jolts as the carriage suddenly stops, his arms reflexively grab onto you to steady you. Though a part of the reason why he did that is because he's somewhat spooked. Isagi himself never thought he'd have fear of heights until he nervously peers out the window. It just so happens that your carriage stopped when the Ferris wheel was at its highest point. He's quick to try to reassure you that everything's okay, that the carriage would move in a few minutes.

However you, sensing his slight nervousness - place your hands over his in an attempt to calm him down. Isagi can feel his breathing pause, the reason for his nervousness has now changed because now you're holding his hands. He wonders if you could hear his heart hammering in his chest in the silence of the carriage. Isagi wonders how many more minutes he can stand being so close to you like this without combusting. Yet, at the same time he doesn't want this moment to end!

"D-Don't worry! Everything is gonna be fine...!"

❥ Chigiri instinctively places a hand on your shoulder when the carriage abruptly stops. He's a little surprised as well, not expecting the carriage to stop especially when it's at the peak of height. Chigiri quickly looks over to you asking if you're okay. Only when you assure him that you are, does a small smile break out on his face. The red head is also quick to throw out a sarcastic remark that has you smiling and more at ease. The way your smile instantly makes a sea of butterflies erupt in his stomach.

He's quick to cover up the giddiness he feels by pointing out something outside the carriage window, commenting how magnificent the view looks from up here. Chigiri can feel his breath hitch momentarily when you lean towards him, trying to get a better view at what he's pointing at. You're so close to him, he could literally wrap his arm around your shoulder right now. The male quickly shakes his thoughts away. Instead choosing instead to bask in your close presence as you point out the other scenic things outside. He supposes this situation may not be so bad after all.

"Come a little closer, you'll see it better that way."

❥ Nagi just blinks in confusion when the carriage comes to a halt. He looks around the carriage confused before turning to you to ask what had happened. He doesn't look frightened in the slightest. When the seconds turn into minutes, Nagi starts to feel bored of just waiting for the carriage to move. The ashen haired male is quick to whine to you that he's bored of just waiting around. He's tempted to pull out his phone to play a game to pass the time but he decides against it. "This is your opportunity to make a move!" The imaginary Reo in mind yells at him. Nagi feels himself in an inner conflict with his internal Reo, until he finally gives in.

He tries to wrack his brain as to what he should do but until a certain scene from a game he once played pops up in his head. The white haired male suddenly turns to face you, his eyes staring intensely at you. You just noticed how much closer he's gotten when he takes your hand in his. You really didn't expect the next words to come out of his mouth.

"If this was an otome game, this is the moment where we should kiss." 

❥ Rin's immediate reaction at the carriage stopping is to click his tongue in annoyance. He didn't want to get on it at first, what's so fun about being stuck in a tight space while the machine turns at the speed of a turtle? He doesn't see the enjoyment in it but due to your incessant pleading, he finally gave in. Now as he sits in silence with you in this unmoving carriage, he is further reminded of his mistake of getting on in the first place.

Though, as Rin glances at you from the corner of his eye ― he doesn't mind seeing you up close like this. His eyes immediately shift forward as you turn to face him, he'd rather die than to admit he was caught staring at you. He feels himself getting unnecessarily nervous as you continue to ramble some nonsense to him. Pressing closer to his body as you point out something outside the carriage window. Rin tries to focus on the distant view to distract himself but all he can think about right now is that your shoulder is practically touching his. He has to physically will himself to not blush.

"Stupid ride! Hurry up and move...!"

❥ Sae's face remains unchanged even when the carriage jerks into a stop. His eyes automatically flickering towards you to see your reaction. Were you nervous or scared? He momentarily worries to himself despite his face remaining as stoic as ever. The teal eyed male sits there observing your reaction to the situation. He breathes out a mental sigh of relief as you seem unbothered. Sae just nods from time to time as you talk to him to pass the time. He doesn't look like it but he is actually listening to what you're saying. Taking mental notes to remember certain details in case they may come to use in the future. His eyes briefly glancing at something you point out outside the window before returning to gaze at you instead.

If it was any other person he would have immediately told them to shut up. He wouldn't have even gotten on this stupid ride in the first place, it's a waste of time. However, this was you and you're different. You're not like those insignificant background characters. The way you make him feel, he doesn't dislike it. When you're not looking a faint smile graces his face.

"Idiot, who told you to stop talking."

❥ Kaiser can feel a small smirk forming on his lips at the sudden situation. His arm wrapped around your shoulder pulling you flush against him when the carriage suddenly jerked. He's quick to tease you on how lucky you should feel for getting to be so close to him. A moment only few get to experience or so he claims, as you roll your eyes playfully at him as you pull away from him. He only chuckles in response. Though, he feels like the lucky one today. He won't let this opportunity go to waste.

He engages you in light conversation pointing out some building in the far distance. While unbeknownst to you he's slowly inching himself closer, invading your personal space. Only when you turn back to face him again after looking outside do you find his face a mere inches away from yours. Oh, he's delighting in the fact he's making you nervous. When you try to avoid his intense gaze, he grasps your chin with his fingers ― making you face him again.

"Liebling, don't you dare look away from me now..."

[bbyg4rl]

game over

cw: bsf!jj x reader, dom!jj themes, teasing, slight smut !

summary : inspired by request ! you like being a tease, guess JJ doesn't exactly appreciate it.

< teasing, spit, spanking, punishment (?), reader is kind of a brat, not exactly smut but alludes to it! jj is kinda rough w reader! >

a/n: ty for requesting! hope you like this anon <3 ty for 500 followers btw!! love u guys <3

You loved being a tease. It was fun watching JJ squirm— the way his jaw clenched, his fists tightened and his breath caught in his throat like he was fighting himself. You were his best friend. Off-limits. But that only made it more fun. It left you wondering how long he could resist before he finally snapped.

Your first attempt, you sat in his lap. Not in an obvious way— But it didn’t matter. Not when you shifted just enough to feel the way JJ tensed beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs before he forced himself to let go.

The second time, you licked something off your finger—sticky, sweet, deliberate. His eyes locked onto your tongue, his jaw tightening as you sucked your thumb into your mouth, tongue flicking over it before pulling away with a soft pop. JJ exhaled sharply, “You’re a menace.”

The third time, you stretched right in front of him, arching your back, arms lifting above your head. You could feel how his eyes bore holes into your back, his breath sharp and tongue running across his bottom lip, slow like he was imagining something else.

The fourth time, You straddled his lap during a late-night game of cards. His hands hovered at your hips, unsure of what to do. You leaned into him, shifting slightly “You’re not even trying to win.”

“Not the game I’m worried about losing”

The fifth time, You sat beside JJ on the couch, pretending to be interested in the movie while your fingers played with the hem of your shorts. Slowly, you trailed your fingers along your inner thigh, and then you heard it. That sharp inhale. The way his breath got heavier, his hand flexing against his knee like he was physically restraining himself. You simply shot him a smile in response.

And the sixth time? JJ finally snapped.

One second, you were trying to tease him, and the next, you were being pulled through a doorway, the door slamming behind you, your back pressed against it as JJ caged you in with his body.

His hands gripped your waist, rough and possessive, his thigh slotting between yours. “You think this is funny?”

You bit your lip, “A little.”

JJ groaned, low and guttural, his restraint shattering as he grabbed your jaw, tilting your head up. “Im done playing.” And then his mouth was on yours—hot, desperate, starved. You moaned into his searing kiss, your sharp nails dragging down his arms, leaving red trails in their wake. He groaned at the sensation, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his lips skimming along your throat as he inhaled your scent.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he rasped, hands sliding lower, thumbs dipping under the waistband of your shorts. “Sitting in my lap, touching me, doing the filthiest shit—” His lips ghosted over yours, his breath hot. “Bet you’re soaking right now, huh?”

You barely managed to nod before JJ’s hands gripped your thighs, hoisting you up, pressing you tighter against the door as he groaned into your mouth. “So desperate aren't ya?” he taunted you, rolling his hips into yours. Your moans only stirred him on more.

He pulled one hand away from your thigh to grip your hair; tilting your head back. His gaze was dark, intense, full of something you knew you had unleashed. Without breaking eye contact, he let a slow stream of spit fall onto your lips.

Your breath hitched, a whimper caught in your throat as heat rushed through you. His thumb smeared it across your mouth, smirking when your tongue darted out to taste it.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice rough. “That’s what I thought.”

Your head fell back against the door, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shut up and do something, Maybank.”

He sets you down roughly, his grip firm as he towers over you. “I know you ain’t talking to me like that, missy” he growls, spinning you around and pressing your chest flush against the door, his hands locking you in place. Before you could catch your breath, a sharp smack across your ass shuts you up. The impact is sudden, sharp, making you jolt against the door. “You wanted to act up?” JJ growls, landing another; harder this time, his grip tightening as you squirm. “Then take it.”

“Jayj” you whine, hoping to earn even a shred of sympathy. But he just tilts his head, expression smug.

“Say sorry.” JJ chuckles, his hand trailing lazily over the burning spot he just smacked. “Say sorry, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Your breath catches. “S- Sorry” you stutter, voice unsteady. He hums in approval, fingers kneading the sore flesh. “Good girl.”

JJ's hands move with purpose, yanking your shirt over your head, his fingers grazing your skin as he tosses it aside. His eyes darken as they roam over you. He makes quick work of your shorts, dragging them down your legs, knuckles brushing against your thighs as he goes. He runs his fingers in between your thighs, smirking when you moan at the sensation. He gathers your arousal in his hand before standing up and shoving his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on him.

But you’re not about to let him have all the control. Your hands tug at his shirt, your nails scratching lightly down his torso as you lift it over his head. He barely gives you a second to admire him before he’s undoing his belt, yanking it free with a sharp snap. The sound sends a shiver through you, your breath hitching as he smirks. “Keep looking at me like that” he murmurs, letting his shorts drop, “and I might just let you cum.”

Oh, you were in so much trouble.

check out my other works ! masterlist

[champagnedstappen]

— MUNDANE TALKS

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader. Reader works separately and currently busy in this story, let's just say that the reader works for another motorsport and their schedule is completely different!

Summary: It's just... Them talking about their life and being mundane despite the distance between them. (And his girlfriend basically sipping the tea of the paddock from him—Max's words)

Warning: This is like my slander towards anyone against Max, especially Red Bull. Yes.

Sent to Monaco, from USA.

Her phone rings, she knows that Max needs to talk about it. She understands it clearly that since yesterday—slash that, since few days ago, Max has been talking non-stop about how the management of his team getting worse and worse. Let alone about the management and all, he already talks about how he despises the car before the beginning of the season, even before F175 where the car launch was held.

She picks up while her other hand busily organising some things that she needs while working today—including battery charger that somehow went missing yesterday, she complained, but suddenly appeared again this morning when she doesn't need it. It's always like that.

The first sentence she hears is—

"I don't understand. I've told them that the car is fucked. That it doesn't matter who's the driver, it's completely fucked."

She becomes silent for few seconds before laughing. The immediate inappropriate language from her dearest—that would send Ben Sulayem to nearest hospital completely flabbergast her.

"Morning, Maxie." She says. "I mean you guys held meetings, right? What did you say?"

She can feel that Max is smiling, just by how she calls him Maxie, he's smiling. The woman knows it of course, she knows him, he always has that kind of crisp on his accent when he's smiling. "Good morning, schatje. I mean I did say that I'm against it. Angel, since last year I've told them the problem is the car. Fix it first."

She sits near the TV of the hotel room she stays. "I mean, you backed Checo last year. I don't get it too, Adrian Newey is out of the club too. Damn, Red Bull."

"Yeah." Shot response for few seconds before the Dutchman starts again. "Like, the idea of switching teammates would help to fix the car. What kind of mindset is that?"

She nods, even though she clearly in her right mind understands Max can't see her. "It's like getting a high heel with different size and you complain about it."

"Exactly, I love you."

A hearty laugh burst out of her mouth, indicating how unexpected his words are. But, she knows, again, how unexpected this man can be. But probably what she doesn't understand is that in Max's mind, saying those three words for her are the easiest thing ever.

"Say it back." He demands.

"I love you, too, Maxie." She can hear few sounds, it's like he just opened a can of drink. Probably Red Bull. "So..."

"So?" He asks. "What?"

Her response comes in few seconds after he asked that. "See, I genuinely think that the WCC is again going to McLaren this year. They're insanely fast, it's like seeing your ghost."

He laughs hardly, she immediately smiles. "My ghost? 2023?"

"Yeah."

"I mean yeah, I've guessed, I told you before, they're going to be ridiculously fast. Wasn't expecting that though. It's like they're flying. So this is how it must've felt."

Both of them laugh at the last comment. But deep down, they both know how different the situation is. She has been a fan of motorsport since God knows how long, and it's safe to say the Red Bull her man is driving is completely fucked.

She's convinced if it isn't Max who drives it, Red Bull is Williams reincarnate.

"What's the plan?" She asks, the conversation flowing nicely. Both of them always have something to talk. The thing is, she is confident about her humour, as long she has known Max, he always laughs at her jokes. Even if it's completely sarcastic, or dangerous one. There's no dullness.

"Plan what?"

"Duh, if you have to exchange team to Mercedes?" She says as if it's the most obvious thing in this world.

"Huh? Schatje, what?"

She laughs. "Well the rumours are spreading. It's possible to you to get out of the damned team, exchange your last name to Wolff and kick out a driver." There's a pause. "Oh! Driver... Holy shit, George Russell? If you change your contract—in which you have a clause, and go to Mercedes, you'll be in a team with Russell. Oh, what if you kick him out?"

She doesn't know if a sound that the love of her life makes remind her of a sigh or a laugh, it's blurry. "Oh, schatje..."

One thing, they're both great at talking.

Bonus: (credit to @.maxsredbull on Twitter)

[minorlyatfault]

KISS ME TWICE CAUSE IT'S GONNA BE ALRIGHT ! s. reid x f!reader

𝓢ynopsis: kiss & make up.

𝓦arnings: not proofread. grammatical errors. ooc.

𝓝otes:

001. READER WEARS MAKE UPPPP

002. ily spencer reid 💘💘

003. synopsis iz notz rlly a synopsis im osrry😭 im jsjsjs in a rushrushrush

004. idk much ab make uploll

you’re facing the mirror, blending out the last bit of concealer, making sure everything looks just right. the small lamp by your side casts this warm, golden light over the table, making all your brushes & powders glow like something out of a movie. the song kiss me by sixpence none the richer plays on your phone.

& behind you, spencer sits on the bed. staring.(he prefers the term admiring.)

he's subtle, but not really. sometimes, you hear a rustling of clothes as he moves, or the hitch of his breath as you swipe to a bolder shade. it's kind of silly how non━subtle he is. you feel his gaze on you, following your every move like you're the most fascinating thing on the planet.

so, naturally, you take your time.

curl your lashes. dust on blush. highlighter swipe. whenever you sneak a peek in the mirror, he's still watching▰head tilted, eyes soft, utterly absorbed.

finally, you pick up your lip balm, rolling it up slowly, stretching out the moment. when you run it across your bottom lip, you don't catch the way spencer shifts again.

you catch his eyes in the mirror.

"you're staring."

he blinks as if caught doing something illegal. "i▰i am not."

"mnm." you hum, you finish. "sure."

he opens his mouth to protest, but you twirl around in your chair & are across the room in two swift strides. he doesn't have time to process before you palm his face & kiss him.

it's fast. just a gentle touch of your lips on his. but you don't stop.

you kiss his cheek, & then the other, & then his nose.

"wait▰" spencer begins, & you silence him with a kiss.

"do you▰" kiss!

"there's actually a study▰" kiss!

"about the chemical properties of▰" … silly guy. kiss!

he drops out with a laughter���filled gasp, hands falling onto your hips as you continue on, bestowing kisses everywhere on his face. his cheeks are red as a cherry now━either from the teasing,the kisses or something, you don't know, but it's so cute either way.

when you finally draw away, smiling, you lean to one side. "hmm. perfect."

spencer exhales, put━upon━looking but grinning. "i'm smeared with lip balm."

"yeah," you say smugly, running your thumb over the small, shiny mark on his cheek. "but you pull it off so well."

“& you look cute.”

he groans, but he's smiling, & you can tell. he doesn't really mind.

“now, about this study of chemical properties something, talk..”

© minorlyatfault, 2025

[tsukeilvr]

“i had a dream about you, y'know.” you muse mindlessly as you pour the hot water into your coffee mug.

“oh yeah?” nishinoya yuu replies, “mind telling me about this dream of yours?” his voice sounds so near, yet so far. you glance at his face on your phone screen, as he watches you go through your mundane daily routine. you take a sip of your coffee, sighing, “well, we had a talking dog..”

for the past three or so years, days and nights were usually spent like this; you and nishinoya on the phone talking about your days or the places he plans on travelling to next. you were always dead-set on finishing college and getting a job, and he planned on travelling the world until there was nothing left to see. you were both going through with your plans, and what made it easier was going through it together. timezones & countries away from each other made it hard, but you made it work.

as for the past few months, he's been in greece, visiting the different temples & ruins the beautiful country holds.

“i’m so serious right now, it was like a fever dream—you were suddenly an old man, like, what?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “then i woke up.”

“okay... so it was basically a fucked-up version of up?” his eyebrows are furrowed as he processes the information given to him just now, you reply with a hum as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. you're about to say something when you notice him glitching on your screen, and you try your best not to laugh at the sight of his distorted face. “uhm, babe?” he doesn't reply. “babe.” your eyes scan his surroundings—hold on, where the fuck is he?

“babe, where are you right now?” you ask, laughing a little as his screen turns back to normal—albeit moving at light speed for the first few seconds—he simply raises his eyebrows in response, stuttering. you squint your eyes, “did you just come out of an elevator?”

“uh—i’m at the acropolis museum. they have a really advanced system here, actually! 's not all, like, temple ruins like i thought it'd be.” he clears his throat, fixing his hair a little. you nod a little.

the two of you sit in silence for a minute or two, minus the sounds of his footsteps & the busy streets from outside your apartment window. “i miss you,” you've been away from him for too long; you miss his touch, his hugs, his scent—even if it was a little too musky. you wait for him to say it back, and as his mouth opens, the screen freezes.

“...babe?” you roll your eyes at the signal issues—this always happened. “i’ll just call you later.” you reach for your phone and hang up, leaning back in your chair.

you can't deny it, sometimes the distance frustrated you. your co-workers talk about coming home to their wives, kids, or husbands, yet at the end of the day, you come home to an empty bed.

a knock on the door surprises you, a voice calling out, “special delivery!” a package? you didn't have any money for that. you walk to your front door, expecting a delivery man—your eyes widen as you meet a pair of familiar brown eyes, gasping in shock as he kneels down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

nishinoya yuu.

“i missed you too.”

[bluepurplepinklock]

Isagi Yoichi x reader, where you think you are not good enough for him due to hate comments and he proves you wrong.

You stare at the screen which is getting blurrier by the second. Tears spill out of your eyes as you break into a quiet sob over the tweets.

"How could the Isagi settle for an ordinary girl like her?"

"Bet she's with him only for the money and fame."

"Really, he could do so much better."

You throw the phone beside you on the bed, wiping away your tears and taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. It's okay. They are just haters. It doesn't matter what they say. You are worth so much more and these people's opinions don't matter. Right.

Right?

Everyday, you couldn't help but question yourself- is what they say truly right? You find yourself thinking this over and over, until one day your boyfriend Isagi finally decides to speak up.

"Something is wrong, isn't it?" He inquires softly.

Your face bolts up, the popsicle you were half heartedly licking off melting under the scorching sun. Despite sitting on a bench under a huge tree in the park, the heat is unbearable.

"What... What do you mean?" You mumble, looking everywhere but into those deep blue eyes you adore so much.

"Something is bothering you," Isagi throws away the bare stick of his finished popsicle, and focuses on you again, "I know it, now spill."

"Nothing is wrong," you cough, avoiding his gaze which is currently piercing through you.

"Yeah?" Isagi scoffs, "then why are you being so distant for the past week or so?"

"I..." You gulp, watching your icecream melt away and drip on the grass below, "it's nothing-"

"Look at me," Isagi commands, his voice demanding yet soft, strict yet loving. And you do.

But once you do, your mouth betrays you for the lovely man before you as you finally mumble,

"I saw some comments," you blink, trying to force the tears back, "they said I wasn't... I didn't deserve being with you. That you can... Can do better than settle for someone like-"

"Is that so?" he cuts you off, his voice dropping low and serious, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that bores deep into your soul, "and since when did I give you the impression that I give a shit about what haters think?"

"It's not that," you look away, staring at your toes, "I mean, they are not really wrong..."

"So this is how we're doing it, y/n?" Isagi cups your face and forces you to look at him, "I don't remember you giving me the impression that you care what others think either."

"I..." you gulp, not sure what you can retort with.

"We both know I love you," Isagi smiles, all the intensity and silent rage gone as his usual, loving and caring soft voice assures you, "what does it matter what haters say? I don't care because I know you are the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I know the person my y/n is, they don't. That's it. Got that?"

You can't help but smile back and nod, tears spilling free out of your eyes as Isagi wipes them away, giving you a quick peck on the forehead.

"I bet those idiots hate on you because they are just jealous." he chuckles and you could feel your heart flutter at the sight.

"And also," he leans in and steals a quick kiss from your lips, "you kinda wasted your whole icecream."

You pivot to look at the popsicle that was now a liquid in the grass. "Aw man," you angrily throw the stick away, "what a waste!"

"Don't worry," Isagi laughed out loud, burying you in his arms, "I'd buy you another one."

"You better do." You find yourself laughing back, snuggling into his chest.

©bluepurplepinklock (Do not copy, steal or translate my work)

[kioflerkira]

Hey can I have ajealous percy jackson x reader

But percy doesn't realise at first cause he's oblivious and the reader sort of does but doesn't think much of it because she's with percy

Also the reader and this guy are friends so she's around him a lot?

“ YOU JEALOUS ? ”

warnings: fluff, fire, jealous percy pairings: p.jackson x reader summary: percy, oblivious to his own jealousy, grows increasingly annoyed and perhaps jealous of some camper and his friendship with you.

━━━━ ⋮ ୨୧ ⋮ ━━━━

YOU AND ELIJAH ANDRÉS, a son of ares, had always been close. you trained together, cracked jokes, and shared an easy friendship that made sense. you balanced each other out—his fiery temper softened by your patience, your strategic mind sharpened by his bluntness. to you, it was just friendship. to percy ? well, he wasn’t quite sure yet.

it started small. he’d catch elijah slinging an arm over your shoulder after a particularly tough sparring match, and something inside him would tighten. he’d watch you laugh at one of elijah’s admittedly dumb jokes, and his grip on riptide would get just a bit firmer. still, he brushed it off. it wasn’t like he had a reason to be bothered, right ? he was your boyfriend, after all.

then came the day when he finally noticed it.

you were sitting by the campfire, recounting some ridiculous quest moment to a group of campers. elijah was beside you, leaning in just a little too close for percy’s liking. when you laughed, elijah nudged you playfully, his smirk way too smug. and percy felt it—that unmistakable, irrational burn of jealousy.

“dude,” grover muttered beside him, watching his clenched fists, “you good?”

“i’m fine,” percy said quickly. too quickly.

“you sure ? because you look like you wanna drown him.”

“I don’t wanna drown him,” percy grumbled. “just.. make sure he backs off.”

grover snorted. “yeah, you’re totally not jealous.”

percy opened his mouth to argue but stopped when elijah leaned closer to you, whispering something in your ear that made you roll your eyes and shove him away, laughing.

that was it. that was the final straw.

me stood up, marching over before he could stop himself. “hey.”

you blinked up at him, surprised. “hey, percy. need anything ?”

elijah smirked. “sup, jackson ?”

percy ignored him— he wasn’t worth his time—, eyes locked on you. “can I talk to you ? like, alone ?”

you frowned but nodded. “uh- yeah, sure”

he took your hand (pointedly ignoring elijah’s knowing grin) and led you away from the fire. once you were out of earshot, you crossed your arms. “okay, what’s up with you ?”

percy ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “are you and elijah.. ?” he trailed off, feeling ridiculous.

you raised a brow. “are we what ?”

“like.. close ? too close ?”

realization dawned on your face, and then you laughed. “oh my gods, percy. you jealous ?”

“no !” he said immediately. then, at your unimpressed look, he sighed. “just.. mildly irritated by him”

you grinned, stepping closer. “percy, I love you, you idiot. elijah’s just a friend.”

“I know, it’s just—” He hesitated, looking at the ground. “he gets to train with you all the time, joke around with you, and I just.. I dunno. It bugs me.”

your expression softened. “you do realize you’re my boyfriend, right ? that you’re the one I want to spend my time with ?”

his lips quirked up. “yeah?”

you rolled your eyes fondly before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “mhm, seaweed brain. now stop pouting and come back to the fire.”

percy huffed but laced his fingers through yours. as you walked back, he made a silent promise to himself—next sparring session, elijah was going down.

━━━━ ⋮ ୨୧ ⋮ ━━━━

a/n: gods, i love elijah smsmsm 😖

[unbearableblog]

Messages

Chapter 1

Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences. Word count ~2,2k Warnings 18+, cursing, angst A/N  I have no beef (no pun intended) with Chicago. Everything I wrote is based on the feeling I got from the show and what I read about its history. I really hope you like this chapter as much as the first one. I know it's been a long time! I had a job, had health issues, actually went to Michelin restaurant and a bunch of other things. You're always welcome to share your thoughts.

Chapter 2

"Carm, I don't know about this..." you say and take a step back, shaking your head.

"Just try it," he says, seeing your hesitation. "It's okay, I got 'u."

Skeptically, you slowly take the knife and start chopping the greens in a "chef" way, the one he showed you just a second ago. Little by little, you do it. You barely breathe as the knife slices through freely and efficiently, but controlled enough to keep your fingers safe.

“Perfect, chef”

You turn to see Carmen's reaction. He is looking at the food, smiling, and then softly chuckles and turns to you. There is nothing but love in his eyes. Nothing but you.

"What do you mean it's not from him?" your sister asks with confusion.

"I don't know! It's not from fucking Carmen!" you yell while standing in her living room. The gift is right beside you, carefully placed on the round white coffee table in front of the couch.

"Who's it from then?" she asks just as calmly, almost chuckling.

"Another chef?" you use your arms dramatically to get your point across, frustrated at her not understanding.

"What chef? Girl, how many-"

"It's not from fucking Carm! Fuck! I don't know what to do!" you plop on the couch, hands covering your face.

Madeline sits down beside you. "What's going on? So what? You got some cinnamon buns, what's the big deal?"

"Because they're not from Carmen, that's the deal!" your head falls onto her shoulder, and she wraps you in her arms, rubbing your back.

"Tell me what's wrong."

You let your initial frustration out with the yelling, and the only thing left was sadness. Confusion. Disappointment.

"They're not from him. He's ignoring me."

"Ahhh, I see. And who are they really from?" she keeps moving her hand in circles while holding you, and that makes you feel much safer. You relax more and more.

"I went to the bakery today, remember? His old friend- or whatever they were- was the guy to teach Marcus."

"And why is he sending you gifts?" her voice sounds above you.

It's hard to think. You felt so much, and now your mind is drowsy. "I told him how much I love cinnamon buns. I guess it's just a courtesy."

"Wrapped with a red silk ribbon? And a written note? Yeah, nice courtesy.." she smirks at you.

"Stop," - she doesn't, "Stop!" you whine. "It can't be like that."

"Yeah? And what's stoppin' it?"

"I'm literally dating his friend."

"Are you though? You said it wasn't much of dating anymore. Does he know that?"

Fuck.

"Uhh..."

"Well, that's what I'm talking 'bout. The guy saw the chance and shot his shot. At least you know he cares about you. Look at that sugar! He must have used half the bakery's stash for that, I'll tell you that."

You laugh.

"No, seriously, don't eat them all in one sitting, I can feel my blood sugar rising from here."

You felt something else instead - hunger. You looked at Madeline and back at the box a couple of times and then reached for it. You took one bun for yourself and gave the other one to her. Both of you appreciated the beauty in your hands, and after a sigh, took a bite of heaven.

It was divine.

"Holy shit, Liv. His hands are a miracle."

But you knew that - you saw them with your own eyes.

Chicago is cold. So fucking cold. It wasn't unusual for you - after all, you grew up in Europe, but here it felt different. The streets felt blue and lonely as if Carmen was the only person who lived there. But again, it's not like you had much time to discover the city when all you did was related to Carmen. Your college had a very lenient schedule, meaning you had classes occasionally, and the remaining assignments you did at The Beef. Chicago is mostly a blue-collar town, and witnessing struggling people was not unusual. A sneaking thought would sometimes slither into your head, making you wonder if you would ever live here if it wasn't for Carmen. The atmosphere made you depressed. The Beef made you forget. All the bickering, no matter how much it sucked, involved people, and that meant that at least somewhere you would be noticed.

You loved Carmen so much, and seeing him struggle was your hell. So you gave up everything for him. Your own ambition went on the backburn - how could you when his brother just died? How could you when he had a whole business to run? When he would grasp his chest and wince, when he would look at you so lovingly, when your baby was in pain, everything was worth it.

You would do anything for him.

And then The Beef was becoming The Bear and you for sure had to shut up. Carmen had so much on his plate, and if only you held out for a little while until it opened, and then just a little more until you got it up and running and gave the money back to Uncle. Maybe then you could think about what you actually want and where to go with Carmen, how you want your relationship to grow, and where you want to travel. Then it would all be okay.

The phone is in your hand as you count the time in Chicago. It's 7 hours behind, and here it's almost afternoon, so it should be fine. You click on Carmen's number and hit "call".

Ring.

Ring.

Ri-

"Hi, Liv. How's Copenhagen?" it is so nice to hear his voice. Ugh, you miss him.

"Uhh, it's a lot. It's soo beautiful here, so much warmer too. It’s so much different from Chicago, I really needed this. I wish you were here.

"Listen, I- ...no, Cousin, I said-... no-no-no..." you listen closely and can hear Richie yelling back something about cold. Or mold? "I told you not to touch it!"

"I'm sorry, I gotta go. Call you sometime," he hangs up.

You silently put the phone on the table.

"Have you talked to Carmy?" you blurt out, continuing the walk across the water like that question was not divided into a thousand different statements.

You promised Marcus to show him the city. He, in turn, encouraged you to try even more pastry, They were good, delicious, even, but your mind kept going back to what you had earlier.

"Yeah. He was super stoked that I loved the boat. Said he didn' doubt it. And that he couldn't find the cat either-"

Fucking asshole.

"- so don't feel down, it's probably somewhere out there, stealing the food in the city," he smiles at the thought, probably imagining a sneaky cat grabbing a fish at the market while the owner turned away.

"Oh. Good to know." You are boiling with anger. At this point, it's starting to get to you. You're tired of caring. Carmen made his decision.

You decide to forget about him and focus on the peaceful water around you, beautiful architecture and so many people. That's the one thing you always loved - you never knew who you would meet or what you could learn from a stranger. Copenhagen was so different from Chicago. That place, maybe the Beef mainly, sucked you in and the rest of the world didn't matter. Here, otherwise. It felt.. open. This place felt enough as it is, but it somehow reminded you of the rest of the world too, encouraged you, moved you. You would never admit it, but you felt so free. What was the next thing you would do? Next place you could go? Why weren't you thinking about that in Chicago? You were still so young...

Was it all a mistake?

The next sleepless night you decided to join Marcus again. You walked in and plopped your bag on a chair. Luca was already quick on his feet, of course.

It’s 5 AM, how is he so productive?

After short greetings, the three of you continued with business.

You watched them talk about types of dough, what flavors go together best, and the secrets of the art of cooking, and then it was time for Marcus to put his skills into practice. It was always a little nerve-racking, as if it was you trying.

After a while, Marcus went outside to call his mom and Luca took the time to clean up. This was your chance.

“Hey…” you began.

How do you even ask it? Thank you for the orgasm-inducing pastry? Did you mean to flirt with your friend’s girlfriend?

“Yeah, Liv,” he’s turned away from you, but you can hear the smile in his voice. God, his accent.

“Thank you,” you decided to go with simplicity.

“You’re welcome. Was it enough?”

An “oh god, yes” came out involuntarily.

“Good”. He smiled pridefully again.

You began to understand that Luca is not a man of many words.

He stopped cleaning the surface adjacent to the wall, and turned towards the table in the middle of the room, the one they practiced on. Luca’s mind seemed busy for a moment.

“Do you wanna try?” he looked up expectantly.

“Oh, no-” you immediately answered. All that time you spent cooking with Carmen didn’t really amount to a lot, and even Marcus was struggling with these desserts, you wouldn’t wanna -

“Why not? Marcus said you were an honorary chef. I’d like to see your skills.”

“Here,” Luca said assertively and handed you the piping bag. You smiled awkwardly and shook your head making up an excuse, which was pointless because he followed up with an assertive “take it”, which you couldn’t resist. Oh god.

Hesitantly, you took the hefty piping bag in your hands and attempted to copy the swirl nearby.

A minute later you took a step back to judge your work. It didn’t look anything like his. Luca came a little closer to see better.

“Softer,” he corrects after a short inspection. You hunch over the table to try your luck again.

“No, like this,” he suddenly placed his palm entirely over yours and leaned closer so that his shoulder controlled yours. Your breath hitched. Only Carmen gets this close.

His body guiding yours seemed to work, and you got the exact amount of pressure and curve needed to pipe the filling.

“Flawless, chef,” and you see that his eyes aren’t on pastry anymore. You notice up close how warm-toned his skin is. Are those.. freckles?

Beat.

The high-pitched screech of the door made you jump and rapidly step out of Luca’s half-hug. He remained as he was, only placing his hand on the counter now.

“Everything alright?” The question surprised you but it turned out it wasn't for you.

“Yeah, mama’s good”, Marcus responded lightly. “I think we can go now tho. Thank you so much for the lesson.”

His eyes caught the imperfect practice rounds, which surely couldn't belong to a seasoned chef.

“You tried these when I was out?”

“Yeah, Liv did it”

You turned to Luca with a face. You kinda had no choice.

“Liv!” he beamed. “I’ve been telling you to try something! I can't believe I missed it. Man, you don’t know how long I’ve been tryna get her to work on pastry, she loves’em so much! Denmark is truly a land of wonders, I’ll tell ya” Luca openly laughed. For such an enigma like him, you took that as a sign that he was warming up to both of you.

You both went out to the fresh air and then headed home. Madeline was out so you were free to enjoy a cup of tea in a soft chair by yourself. As the hot water left a burn on your tongue, you reflected on the past days.

Moments like these were rather rare with Carm when he was slow, quiet and gentle. They were especially rare now when both of you were so busy. You knew he wasn’t always this patient with chefs. Somehow Luca’s felt different.

And then a thought struck you.

You didn’t see him coach Marcus like that.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

🏷️Tag list (tagged everyone in the comments) @l0nalol @soursopsista @swedesfics @nervousnerdwitch @marymustdie @pinktrappy @mrs-reeves-17 @bxtchopolis @smoooore @miley1442111 @awkwardalie @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @m1dnightsnackz @grxnde-dwt @custarrds @cinnamongirlblogs @melancholicmelanin @yellowfielde @althea-tavalas

[anonmousegosqueek]

So, I was thinking about poly 141 complete (GhostSoapGazPriceNik)

So, maybe they go in Christmas leave at Johnny's house, and Johnny's parents are completly clueless about their relationship, both because John never addressed having a partner and because they are really casual aboit it (on base they kinda hide it, bot by hiding it for so long it became showing affections in small gestures that you have to look into to notice love between all of them).

The night comes down, the uncles, aunts, cousins and nieces go home, they remain in the Task Force and Johnny's parents and two of his sisters.

Johnny has to go to sleep in his old childhood room (tradition every time he goes on leave) and remain a guest room and the two small couches in the living room.

Maybe they don't fuck, but they defnitely cuddle, maybe one of them can't sleep and goes down in the kitchen and has a conversation with those that are in the living room or something like that. You choose who sleeps where ;)

AGHHHJ- FENNEC IM SORRY

So this was so scrumptious yummy texture thought that I wanted to make a whole fic, right? And I'm still gonna do that, no one can stop me. Problem is: I'm in waaaay over my head.

So yeah, this has been sitting in my ask box for too long 😔

I just wanted to say that I DIDN'T FORGET!

I'm just silly and struggling.

To tide me y'all over, I have some fun little sillys we came up with under the cut.

Ship name? Ghoappricenikroagaz. It's funny because pp.

Sleeping chart: Soap got his childhood bedroom, bottom bunk. They put Gaz in the top bunk, bro slept cuddled up to Soap every single night.

Ghost got the couch, Mama MacTavish apologized constantly about "making such a big lad sleep on the sofa" and such. Ghost didn't mind, Gaz thought it was hilarious.

Price and Nik got the spare room, mostly because they're the oldest. Soap jokes about being jealous, except he also totally sneaks in there one night. They wake up to a Sargent somehow on top of both of them, muttering in his sleep.

Roach comes in later (delayed flight/spent the first bit of break with his mom)

For being the "quiet" member, he won't. Shut. Up.

Everyone is dancing around the romantic aspect, he comes in with a kiss and an offer to suck dick.

He also starts to openly argue with the homophobic aunt. She's not homophobic out of hatred, she just doesn't think about it and keeps on talking about "when they get wives" she supports 'the gays' she just doesn't think about them. Roach reminds her in the most passive aggressive way possible*

*good for him! No notes, let him do whatever he wants.

Nik is out here, zoning the heck out while surrounded by a family all speaking literal Gaelic (yes I know most Scots speak English, I need this tho). 8 languages? Sure! *Scottish*?? Bro does not understand a bit of what they're saying.

Ghost has the easiest time with the language. As the resident Johnny Whisperer™, he can understand (mostly gathered from context clues) what the conversation is about

The sisters all have bets around what the heck is going on relationship-wise

At one point they literally gang up on Soap, cornering him like they're about to kill him.

You'll just have to wait and see how the conversation goes (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Ghost is the favorite uncle, full stop.

[dahlia-tourism-board]

Samuel Collins has few good memories from before his turning, and even fewer that aren't now tinged with hurt. So for the longest time, he keeps his past, all of it, locked in the back of mind. He tries to focus on the present, and leave the rest behind him.

But that meant the one purely good thing in his past was locked down too. His grandma, Adeline. And Sam didn't want to keep her hidden among the darkness of his past anymore.

So he brings her back into the light, story by story.

The breakfast spread he makes for Darlin' after a lazy morning in? It's the same one his grandma used to make for him as a kid, the one she taught him to make when he needed to get his mind off things as a teen.

That one southern saying he always pulls out whenever something in the house breaks down? His grandma said the same thing whenever her second-hand appliances were giving her sass.

His Darlin' never pushed about his past. They understood what it meant to carry secrets too heavy to put down all at once without breaking yourself in the process.

But they start asking questions about Adeline. Small, gentle, easy questions. How did she like her pancakes? Her coffee? Did she always guess right when she was watching her game shows? Was her soft spot for horror-b movies anything like his?

And through stories about his grandmother, Sam shares more about himself. Piece by piece, he starts setting down his past, and his Darlin' is there to make sure he doesn't break himself in the process.

Sam tells them about the note he left behind, the day he ran away from home. They hold him close as his voice wavers. He knew she understood. He just wishes he could've taken her with him and away from the rest of his family. He wishes he could've been there when she passed to say goodbye.

"You would'a driven her up the wall, Darlin'," Sam says one day, but he's smiling when he does. "She would'a wanted to sit you down and lecture you from noon to sundown."

"Ah, so that's where you get it from," They tease, but they're smiling too, small and gentle the way they always do when he mentions her nowadays.

"Don't you start," he says, still smiling. "But yeah, she could'a given me a run for my money in the lecturin' department. But after that, she'd've made you a proper meal and asked you how you took 'em all down. She would'a liked you."

"If she was anything like the man she raised, I think I would've liked her too."

[pineapplehazard]

"Stalker." Huffed the young firefighter who just sat down next to Eddie with a teasing tone. The Instagram profile immediately got replaced by a dark screen. Eddie really liked Gaby, Grabielle Benfelled of her real name. She was one of the first of his station he befriended, realistically she was the only one of the team he would really consider to call a friend. She was younger, around the same age as Adriana or Albert, but she was constantly making references only a third of the team got, in a way that reminded him most of Chimney. But also just like Chimney (and everyone of his friends), she was drawn to gossip. Gaby always wanted to know all the details of his "dramatic hollywoodian life" and unfortunately for Eddie, she had seemed to find something juicy enough to harass him about it every shift since she heard him on a call with Hen last friday...

"I'm not stalking anyone." Eddie wouldn't call this stalking. So sure, he hadn't opened Instagram more than once a week since he's been in Texas, and in the last week he opened the app a little more often. Now he opens it almost every break they have (when he's not calling Chris, Buck or the 118), and he's often interrupted by the alarm, which is why it's almost always opened on the same page! He just doesn't have time to scroll away! Gaby doesn't look convinced by this explanation (which he already gave twice yesterday). Weirdly enough...

"Dude, ever since your friend told you about-" The alarm doesn't let her finish, and Eddie feels a little bad to be grateful it rang.

But maybe it's was wishful thinking to hope she would let it go that easily. As soon as they arrive back at the station, she glues herself to his side.

"Sooo? What were you doing, stalking him again this time?" She asked while they were putting down their turnouts.

"I'm not stalking him! I'm... checking on him..." Eddie began to move toward the kitchen, and if that's Gaby's least favorite place in the station, that's a coincidence...

"Yeah right of course..." She nods, following him anyway. "You're checking for proof, that's what you're doing!"

"Proof?" Eddie repeats, confused, but Gaby doesn't stop.

Instead she sits at the counter while he grabs two coffee cups. "Ever since your friend told you about it, you've been stalking the two of them to see if they're in contact."

The phone call she had surprised last friday? The one she thought finally meant some drama in his life? That might have been Hen telling him some suspicions of her concerning a 'recently' broken up couple... "I'm not!"

"You were checking Tom's profile yesterday."

"Tommy." He corrects coldly, while grabbing the pot, and shrugs. "He's a friend of mine too, that's all." She doesn’t need to know he hasn’t talked to that said friend in months.

Gaby raises an eyebrow, obviously sceptical, before she continues her interrogation. "And you check the following list of all your friends?"

"I misclicked."

"No you didn't."

Eddie sighs, and silently pours them coffee. No matter how much he might deny it, she wouldn't believe it any more. So what if Eddie checked from time to time Tommy's profile to see if he followed Buck again? And that Buck didn't do the same thing? That's not stalking, right? He just wants to make sure his best friend didn't do something stupid like getting back with an idiotic asshole who didn't realize how great Buck was. (What a great way to talk of a friend of his...)

"See! You're not even denying it anymore! Which is great because acceptance is the first step to forgiving."

"I don't think that's the saying."

"Anyway. You couldn't lie about it anyway, the frown that's been on your face ever since Hen told you, reappears 10 times stronger every time you open your phone! I think you'd be bad at poker..."

Eddie is great at poker actually. He's also usually very good at hiding his emotions, he's been doing it since he was ten thank you. Maybe that's not something he should be proud of to the point of bragging about it with Gaby... Or at all. Frank would call it repression and Father Brian would tell him to open up to free himself for the self-punishment, now Eddie's not sure he wants to add a Gen-Z analysis on top of all of that... Open up, Eddie, come on!

"I don't think it's a good idea." He finally confesses.

"The stalking?"

"No, Buck seeing Tommy again. That's not good."

"For who?"

"What?"

"You told me Tommy was Buck's first boyfriend right? So Buck was confortable discovering his sexuality with him (for some reason, the thought makes Eddie shudder), right? And Tommy was the one who ended it because he thought Buck shouldn't have only him as an experience. So if they talked about it and are good now, what's wrong with them getting back together? That means they overcame the problem, so all's good."

"All is not good. Tommy's... Tommy is... Tommy offered Lakers tickets to Buck for their 6-month anniversary! And- and- and he calls him Evan all the time!"

"O... Kayyyyy....??"

"Buck deserves..." Buck deserves someone who knows him, someone who understands him, someone who care about his likes and his dislikes and who would offer him something great, like the stars projector he saw online and talked about for weeks or a new pasta maker. He deserved someone who would listen to his random facts and who would want to learn more, just to be able to hear him talk longer. He deserves-

"better. Better than what Tommy will offer him. He hates basketball."

"Why does that seems to really matter to you.?"

"That Buck hates basketball? I mean… You didn't have to live the whole basketball drama thing with them..."

"Right. So spill. You know I love your Hollywood drama.”

[ashen-char]

okay hear me out….ani x chef!reader

I just imagine ani sitting there on the counter looking pretty while reader cooks her dinner

alright i love to cook so here's a silly lil blurb

anora’s perched on the countertop, legs swinging idly as she watches you move around the kitchen with practiced ease. before she met you, she cooked for herself perfectly fine. but now that you're in the picture, going back to all the meal prepping and cooking just for herself sounds horrible. you've got diced garlic and onions cooking on the pan. you chuckle to yourself at the amount of times ani's walked in while you were cooking and said "it smells so good!" before you've really done anything.

anora can’t help the smile tugging at her lips as she watches you chop up zucchini and carrot with quick, confident motions. you like to hide veggies into ani's food so that you know she's eating well.

“you know,” she hums, propping her chin on her hand, elbow on her knee as she hikes one of her legs up onto the counter, “you look really hot when you’re focused like that.”

you raise an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. “oh? didn’t know making spaghetti was such a turn-on.”

“it is when you do it." like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. she tilts her head, eyes tracing the way your hands move.

she's commented on your knife skills often, and you pride yourself on that. it took years slaving away as a line cook, and now you're a proud sous chef at this restaurant you love. you like hearing ani praise how you know exactly what you're doing, how attractive it makes you. and now you can be proud that you taught ani how to tuck her fingers in so she doesn't accidentally nick herself anymore.

“plus, it’s not just the spaghetti. it’s the whole... vibe.” ani gestures.

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you toss the chopped veggies into the sizzling pan. “the vibe?”

“yeah.” anora’s smile softens, and she reaches out to nudge your arm when you get close, grabbing the oregano and basil from your herb rack. “you, taking care of me. making me feel special without even trying.”

that gets you to pause for just a second, eyes meeting hers. ani's got something... tender in her gaze. vulnerable almost. like she's admitting that she likes being taken care of, by you at least. “well, you are special,” you murmur, leaning in to brush a quick, sweet kiss to her forehead.

anora just beams, cheeks warm. your heart beats harder in your chest when she looks up at you like that. "i could get used to this," she proclaims. triumphant, as she decides that there’s nowhere else she’d rather be than right here, perched on the counter, watching the love of her life make spaghetti like it’s a five-star dish just for her.

"as long as you wash the dishes," you say with a laugh, leaning down to kiss her properly.

[wren-kitchens]

give me an inch (i'll postpone it)

2983 words

it's stupid. seriously, it's completely ridiculous that it's even become a problem- it's his own fault anyway. joel started the whole thing, and jimmy was more than happy to join in, but- well- now they keep doing it, and it's just- void. it's so incredibly dumb, but- it- joel can’t stop thinking about it, no matter how many times he tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything because he didn't mean it as anything when he first said it, so why would jimmy mean it as something? he doesn’t- and it doesn’t matter because joel doesn’t care, because it's stupid.

i am back in the building folks and immediately i have written smallidarity

it's stupid. seriously, it's completely ridiculous that it's even become a problem- it's his own fault anyway. joel started the whole thing, and jimmy was more than happy to join in, but- well- now they keep doing it, and it's just- void. it's so incredibly dumb, but- it- joel can’t stop thinking about it, no matter how many times he tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything because he didn't mean it as anything when he first said it, so why would jimmy mean it as something? he doesn’t- and it doesn’t matter because joel doesn’t care, because it's stupid.

but.

it- you ever notice how annoying of a word 'but' is? any logical explanation or rational reasoning can be immediately challenged by the most random claims if you just say but. and that's what this is- it's a random claim that is completely wrong and impossible and not true.

but jimmy's whole face lights up when joel calls him babe, and he practically trips over himself to join in, and- and there's this thing he does when joel is standing close to him—he literally just pulls him in, and joel is suddenly finding it impossible to think about anything else. that's not even all of it, no! jimmy keeps doing stuff like that- like holding joel's hand, or putting his arm around his shoulders or his waist, or budging closer to him whenever they’re in the same space. and it- joel can't tell if he’s just doing it because he can tell that joel likes it, or if he wants to on his own.

it's awful. all of it is awful and terrible, because how is he even meant to act all tough and bad when jimmy is right there looking- looking like jimmy, and laughing like jimmy, and holding joel's hand? he can’t, that's how- he's gonna be the laughingstock of the server if he’s not careful. 

(despite every reasonable thought in joel's mind, there's the annoyingly talkative (and accurate) voice that tells him- maybe he doesn't actually care about any of that, if jimmy is with him.) 

joel pulls his knee to his chest as he lets the other leg swing above the dark oak, huffing in exasperation. it's getting worse, this- whatever this is he has about jimmy; he can't even sit on bread bridge without remembering the first bloody time they said that bad boys call each other babe. the worst part is that he can’t even figure out if he regrets it or not.

"hey babe." 

conundrum solved: joel does not regret it.

he turns around, already grinning like an idiot before he even sees jimmy. "hi babe." 

the way jimmy beams is honestly worth the amount of time he’s spent laying awake wondering what that smile means. jimmy sits next to him, kicking his legs, and joel rests his head on jimmy's shoulder- on instinct. "it's weird, isn’t it- like, how we have a limited time."

joel hums in agreement. "yeah. it's like, obviously we always had limited time- kind of the same amountof time, really, but." he shrugs, which is a little awkward to do when you’re leaning on someone. "it always felt like there was a chance you could have more."

"yeah- that's exactly it." jimmy says, and a burst of pride zips through joel's chest. jimmy puts an arm around his waist, and joel subconsciously sinks into him. "it's a shame, really- I could stay as the bad boys forever."

joel grins, looking up to poke fun at jimmy's sappiness- only to find him blushing. the words die in his throat as jimmy looks back at him in that stupidly jimmy way he does that makes joel's brain go blank. "what?" he says, because of course he doesn’t even know his own- whatever it is.

"it- nothing." joel clears his throat, embarrassed. seriously, jimmy looking at him makes him lose his whole train of thought? come on.

"see- i'll miss that." jimmy smiles, and joel is gonna lose his mind. "it's cute when you- I-" he goes very suddenly pink, and turns away. "not- you- I didn't mean that-"

joel gathers what's left of his brain and smirks as convincingly as he can, desperately trying to ignore whatever look that is in jimmy's eyes. "you think i’m cute, babe?"

jimmy buries his face in his hands, and joel cackles as he groans loudly. "not anymore- I think you’re annoying." he mumbles into his palms. joel is desperately trying to convince himself that it's not cute- because it's not.

"no- you love me." joel leans obnoxiously over jimmy, aiming for maximum annoyance.

what he did not expect was jimmy pulling him into a hug, making him lose his balance and topple into his lap- much to the entertainment of jimmy, who grins down at him. "yeah- sure, babe." 

joel is going to explode. or ruin his whole life and kiss jimmy. maybe both. 

the bane of his entire existence just snorts, flicking his hair. "dude- you look so surprised."

"well, I didn’t expect to fall over." joel scoffs, pushing himself back upright (even though he kind of liked laying across jimmy. not- you are not allowed to repeat that to anyone). "this is so stupid." he mutters to himself.

there's a lapse in the conversation, and joel tries his best to act like a normal person as jimmy leans against him. in the distance, the ocean sparkles in the pinkish-orange light of the setting sun, and even joel has to admit that the mean gills' base looks pretty. the thought occurs to him that, under a lot of circumstances, sitting and watching the sunset with someone would be considered romantic- and he very quickly pushes the thought from his mind.

or- he had, until jimmy says, "y’know- I reckon the clockers could think we're on a date." he grins, and joel almost chokes.

"they- well- they'd be wrong." joel says hurriedly, tripping over his words in the process of trying to sound like he doesn’t want them to think that. "'cause- y’know- we aren't."

"no- yeah, we're just- s' what bad boys do, right?" jimmy says, sounding a little panicked. "that- it- bad boys call each other babe, that's just- that's what we do."

"yeah- yeah we do." joel stares determinedly ahead at the ocean, knowing that if he somehow makes eye contact with jimmy, he’s completely done for. "doesn't- doesn't mean anything."

"yeah, just- watching the sunset with your babe. that's what bad boys do." there's a slight smile in jimmy's voice, and something warm blossoms embarrassingly in joel's chest. 

"'your babe'?" he looks up, grinning nervously. he wouldn’t- joel just needs to know if that was on purpose or not.

jimmy's smile turns shy, and- man, is that a sight to behold. "you- well. are you not?"

joel leans into him. "no, I am." he says, turning back to the sunset. "it- y’know, you’re my babe. just- that's what bad boys do."

"they’re each other's babes." jimmy says, audibly amused, and joel huffs a laugh. 

"yeah- exactly." joel grins to himself as jimmy wraps an arm around his waist again. 

there's a pause, and joel assumes that jimmy just can't think of anything else to say until he hesitates. "I- I was. wondering." he starts, speaking as if the words are painful.

joel looks up, frowning a little in concern as he notes that jimmy's expression has shifted to one of extreme anxiety. their eyes meet, and jimmy looks away as fast as possible, face turning a little pink as he does so. "you- I can't say it if you’re looking at me." he says, giving a nervous little laugh. 

"oh- yeah- that's fine." joel says, turning away. there's a knot of anxiety in his own chest- what could jimmy be so scared to say?

jimmy takes a breath. "okay- I just. if- what if. the whole- babe thing, what if that- what if that wasn't just what bad boys did?" he says, and joel's heart sinks. 

"oh. it- yeah- do you not like it?" joel says, resisting the urge to look back up at jimmy. "I won't-"

"no!" jimmy says, grabbing joel's hand, and joel is so surprised, he faces jimmy on instinct. "no that- that's the opposite of what-" he's blushing again, and joel is so incredibly confused- but a little less nervous, so. maybe that's a win? "I- I just want.. could that be.. just an us thing?"

"what, like- not grian?" joel frowns, brain working overtime to try to figure out what jimmy is trying to ask. "'cause I mean, he'd probably appreciate that. he didn't seem too-"

"joel." jimmy interrupts him, looking both endeared and exasperated, which is- okay, it's a good look on him. "you’re so- I can’t believe you- I just- I love you."

joel can't help grinning, even as his heart rate doubles. "I mean- who wouldn’t?" his joke seems to fall flat, as jimmy looks like he’s ready to kill him- wait. "you- wait, you-" joel is going to die- that's it, this is how his series ends. "you mean that?"

"you- of course i do- joel." jimmy has never looked more indignant in his life. "babe."

oh- okay. no- it- apparently knowing that jimmy means it romantically makes him calling joel 'babe' just- so much worse. or better. both, actually- y’know joel might have lost the use of the english language. is that- is that a thing people often experience? for goodness' sake- this is so embarrassing. 

jimmy is grinning at him in that stupid jimmy way he does- and it occurs to joel that 'jimmy' maybe has become synonymous with handsome or pretty or- something along those lines. is he on fire? he feels like he might be on fire. "is that- do you like-"

"no." joel's voice is apparently three octaves higher than usual. jimmy covers his mouth. "no, that- I don’t care. it- that- yeah."

"alright- I believe you. babe." jimmy says, and he knows exactly what he’s doing, and joel wishes he had a single bone in his body that could even begin to hate jimmy. "d'you know- you’re really cute." 

a flush rises up joel's face at an alarming rate, butterflies in his stomach. what the fuck- why does such a small sentence elicit such a reaction from him? he might fall over. 

jimmy is grinning at him, eyes fond. "are you- are you alright, dude?" he pushes a loose hair out of joel's face, who is quickly becoming incredibly sympathetic towards scott landing 10th place in the game he was married to jimmy in. "you’re not, like- uncomfortable-"

"no." joel blurts before he can really think about it. jimmy looks both surprised and reassured, if amused. "just- bloody hell, jim." he huffs, incredibly flustered and a little dizzy. "I don’t- how- void, you’re so fucking.."

at this point, joel decides to make an executive decision to end his thorough embarrassment, and grabs the collar of jimmy's shirt, pulling him in. there's a small burst of satisfaction (and affection) as he pauses to watch the way jimmy blushes before the gap between them is closed and joel is kissing jimmy. 

he’s always been curious about what kissing jimmy would be like, but- it got a little difficult to think about it without becoming a flustered mess after a point. he always hoped that, if the chance ever arose, he'd be all- cool and suave about it—like in a movie where the guy says something funny and then they kiss. that's what bad boys do, of course, and joel is the founding member, so if anyone was going to be the chill one, it should be joel.

this may come as an enormous surprise to you, but as it turns out, joel is neither cool nor suave about kissing jimmy. but- you- it's jimmy. has anyone been able to keep it together around him? tango couldn't- even scott couldn't, okay, and scott (as much as he hates him) is admittedly a lot more put together than joel has ever been. so- he gets a pass on this. 

besides, joel is only just coming to terms with the fact that maybe jimmy has been imagining kissing him, when the stupid man in question starts carding a hand through joel's hair as if he knows exactly just how much joel would like it. well, two can play at that game- if it even is a game. maybe jimmy just wants to do it and didn't even think about how joel would receive it. still, joel reaches up blindly and cups jimmy's face in his hand, and jimmy makes the softest noise of contentment joel has ever heard, and- honestly, he might just die here. this is backfiring massively. 

jimmy pulls away, and joel finds himself chasing his lips which is- frankly, the most embarrassing thing he’s ever done. jimmy is out of breath and grinning, and joel is fucking smitten, and he blames jimmy entirely. "I- I take it you’re not uncomfortable then."

it's such a dumb joke, but joel can’t help laughing at it. maybe it's just jimmy. "you definitely weren't paying attention if you have to ask, babe." he says, more breathless than he'd like to be. 

to his delight, jimmy blushes almost instantly at 'babe'. well- at least it's not just joel. "just wanted to check." he gives a lopsided grin. "y’know- grian's gonna yell at me when we tell him. he’s been going on about how obvious you’ve been since the first night, and i’ve not believed him."

"you- grian- the first night?" joel splutters, thoroughly flustered now, and jimmy very obviously stifles a laugh. "how- neither of you are even remotely subtle- how did I not notice?"

jimmy opens his mouth to say something, but is immediately interrupted by a very grian-like voice from behind. "did I hear my name?"

both jimmy and joel squawk in surprise, and joel almost falls off the edge of the bridge as he twists to face a now-laughing grian. "what are you doing?" joel doesn’t squeak, and if jimmy tells you he did, he’s lying. 

"eavesdropping." grian says, incredibly smug in that very grian way he always is. "I heard something about subtlety?"

"wh- yeah, I was saying you’re the least subtle people I know." joel pushes himself to his feet, once again thankful for the few centimetres of height he has on grian. "so how either of you managed to keep the fact that jimmy is bloody in love with me a secret-"

"you’re not subtle either!" grian grins as jimmy stands next to joel. "do you think you were fooling anyone but the most oblivious person on the sever?"

"oi!" jimmy protests. both joel and grian give him a very pointed look, and he grins sheepishly. like everything jimmy does, it's inconveniently attractive. stupid jimmy. "yeah, no- you are right. but it's still rude."

"but, does this mean you two idiots finally figured it out?" grian says, and there's a look in his eyes that suggests his teasing once again masks a realer fondness. see, it's not just grian that can psychoanalyse people. 

jimmy scoffs in exasperation, and now it's joel's turn to be sheepish. "well- it took a minute. I full on told him I love him, and he thought I was joking!"

"you- was I supposed to know otherwise?" joel protests as grian cackles. "we call each other babe, I just- I thought it was a bad boys thing!"

"it's a miracle you even got to that point." grian says. "d'you know how long he’s been moping-"

jimmy turns bright red, and joel is going to blow something up. preferably scott. "no- I haven't!"

"he wouldn’t shut up." grian continues, obviously relishing in finally getting to complain now he doesn't have to worry about jimmy's privacy. joel wonders if it's possible for someone's mind to literally explode. "joel- I mean, you know I love you, but you’re not that cool; he kept making every conversation about you, I mean-"

"you- y’know, you don't have to keep going." jimmy interjects, beet-red and grinning in that way he does when he’s embarrassed. "I think joel's heard enough."

grian snorts. "I think you might be right, tim." he says, giving joel a shit-eating grin, and it occurs to him that grian definitely knew this whole time that the crush was mutual. "any more and he might just keel over."

joel splutters in protest. "you- as if I didn’t have to listen to you talking about jimmy all through last life-"

"that was different!" grian's voice is an octave higher than usual, and joel grins. "you- he-" he glances at jimmy, who is now looking thoroughly vindicated, and groans. "why do you think i’m willing to team with you idiots when you’re so bad at this game?"

jimmy nudges joel, and it's honestly a little pathetic how much he appreciates it. "just so you know- I was hearing all about you too in those southlander meetings."

joel's jaw drops and grian buries his face in his hands. "alright- fine, we're all thoroughly embarrassed about everything, let's move on."

"you care about us more than you say, huh?" jimmy pokes at grian's shoulder, teasing in that way he does when he’s trying to disguise the fact he likes something. cute. not- joel didn't think that- youthought that. 

joel grins, leaning against grian. "of course he does, he’s our bad boy."

"yeah, he is!" jimmy crows, throwing an arm around grian's shoulders and pulling him in. joel falls sideways, and jimmy cackles. 

"I can’t believe I ever agreed to team with you guys." grian says, audibly fond, even through his false annoyance. 

"you love us." joel nudges him.

grian drops his hands and groans. "it'd be so much easier if I didn’t."

[spinstertheuncommon]

Gotham's Sewist - A Bachelor's Suit [Part 1/2] | Bruce Wayne x reader

Tiz - a gender neutral version of ma'am/sir

Timeline: Reader and B are 27

Notes: swearing, reader crashes out, bruce might be out of character but hoe hum this is for fun

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"what has gotten you so gloomy?"

"heh?" you half ass a response, too transfixed in mending a 8 inch hole in the cape. a magnifying glass sits attached to a desk arm, with your nose practically pushed against it. you bought it on a whim in college but it's been the best investment you've ever made. behind you, you hear the batman shuffle, always alert, and never one for your short answers. for a world class detective, he needs a lot of answers from me. can't he just sniff them out like a blood hound?

"you're tired. your shoulders are tense, you have been using your cane more often, which would normally lead you into going to the physical therapist but you haven't been there in over a month. Your avoiding it, which you do when you're stressed. you haven't left your studio in a week, as your biking boots are still covered in the same water damage from Mr freezes attack last Thursday, supplementing my concern further as you always pride in taking care of your gear. so i ask again, why?"

shit, maybe he doesn't need the questions. maybe he's board of my silence.

you heave a sigh, flinging back in your chair, needle discarded. rolling your head to face the bat, you've come to expect no concern or emotion in his face; it's only in his actions.

"you really wanna know? yeah? okay, my rent has gone up, and so has the cost of fabric. i can't possibly charge any of my clients more than i am because most of them who come here do it for a luxury and not a necessity, other than you and the alley kids, but you already pay me too much, and i'm never charging those kids anything. the stores front window, while yes it was smashed two weeks ago, still needs to be re-repaired because the guy who did it was cheap as and couldn't tell his head from his ass. can't believe i paid him, honestly. AND more so, my meds have stopped working and of course i can't get anything stronger because healthcare is non-existent for everyone but the wealthy, and that Mr freeze attack has caused every bone in my legs to seize up on top of the stress, so yes. i'm tired. and yes, I'm stressed, and ON TOP OF THAT there's this historical garment collection tour coming to Gotham in a few months that i really want to go to but i will never be able to afford a ticket..." your words slow, eyes full of water. the bat doesn't move for a moment, studying how close you are to crumbling. he then inches forward, and places a gloved hand on your shoulder.

"you're okay. it will be okay."

you crumble into his side, still sitting in the chair. since loosing physical connections with all your college friends after they moved cities, you forget how much you crave touch. never big, something small like a hand on a shoulder, or a light hug could send you careening into an unhealthy attachment with a person.

and what's more unhealthy to attach to than a man you don't even know the name of.

++2 weeks later++

low rent prices or a safer business area.

you picked the former.

look, moving was going to be about prioritizing your safety, but right now your income is only stable enough to support a storefront in a cheaper part of Gotham. so, you packed up and moved from crime alley to...

Bowery.

yeah... not really better, but it's cheap.

but do you know what's not cheap?

super fine pure wool. this wall of bolts was so massive, it needed it's own rolling ladder every six meters across. you felt swamped, both physically and mentally. each bolt of wool pulls you in, the only anchor you have is your cart, already weighted by the silk lining you've chosen, and the check in your pocket, one signed by the richest, most eligible man in Gotham.

bruce wayne.

you still don't think it's real. how would he know who i am? did the batman x Bruce Wayne fanfics actually have merit? my only other customers besides the bat were regular ass people and that one time a guy wanted two suits sewn together. that and the kids in crime alley i dress for free, but they're not really clients. so...who? was Bruce's child, Dick Grayson, one of the kids? i think I'd recognise him...

you still feel numb from the first phone call two weeks ago. answering it with all the professionalism you had in your body at 4:56pm on a Friday, you had a full system reboot when the man on the other line confirmed for the 7th time that he was in fact, the Bruce Wayne, instead of the prank caller you assumed he was.

i mean, why would Bruce fucking Wayne be calling me, a 27 year old, barely surviving sewist with no real display of my work, to make him, and his child, suits for a high priced gala?

so hear you are, having a conniption about what wool and silks to buy that would match the vague descriptions Bruce gave you over the phone.

this will be a long 3 months.

++one month down++

it was strange. you'd think that working for new clientele would alleviate the repetitive funk you've found yourself in. new faces, and new personalities, even if they were rich socialites with no inherit grounds to share with them. but that's fine, you don't need to be friends with your clients.

but no. this felt violently familiar.

despite standing in the most expensive room you've ever stepped foot in, running circles around the brick wall of a man that is Bruce Wayne, as a young boy and kind butler watch on, you couldn't help being swarmed with deja vu. it felt like wading water, pinning the muslin, double checking the flushed fit of the 3 piece suit that was asked of you, and measuring the span of his upper back almost made you panic.

he's got the same shoulders as batman.

gotta love a coincidence... right?

and... fuck me, is this Richard kid the same hight as Robin? oh my god ohmygodohmygod-

"Tiz, are you okay?"

"huh? oh sorry, sorry, yes, just... doing calculations in my head, i'm fine," you shuffle, cheeks dusted red after being called out. "i do think i have everything, though, so i can leave. Sir, please be careful taking off the muslin, i wouldn't want a pin in you."

Bruce chuckles, and you fear your cheeks will never cool down. You distract yourself by folding and refolding the mock up for Richard, or Dick as he insisted you called him. Whatever the kid wants I suppose.

said kid had a vibe you never really expected. it's not like you're in the dark to who Richard Grayson is. the amount of articles about this kid and the death of his parents, and then eventual adoption, could light a fire and fuel it for a month. it made you sick at the time, all the talk about it felt like tragedy porn. you couldn't even imagine what a kid was thinking about it. but from the look of things, nothing can stop this kid.

"how long would it take to make my suit? do you think it'll look good? i want it to be green, or maybe purple!" Dick jumped along the couch he was on, attentively not hopping off the couch, as the first few times he tried to see what you were doing, he got a stern look from Bruce. he was then told that if he wanted to stay, he had to stay on the couch.

"you already picked out your colour, champ. you're going in blue, remember?" Bruce, in just a dress shirt and compression pants, that made his ass look fantastic, went over and scooped up the 13 year old like he was nothing, and bundled him under his arm like a football. god, his smile is blinding, i get what all the gossip's about, he is smoking.

"Let me escort you to your vehicle," Alfred snapped you out of your daze, steering you away from the father and son with a gentle hand towards the door. and what an extravagant door it is. the mahogany wood sits inside the most extravagant stained glass arch, adorned with roses and antique gold solder, that perfectly matches the gold furnishings on the door. the same furnishings that mirror the fountain in the middle of the drive. The marble stairs that link the door to the driveway are so dramatic, you want to flounce around on them like meg from Hercules.

Stepping back from your daydream, you thank Alfred for holding your bag as you shuffle on your safety gear of a jacket and helmet. Before you turned on the bike, Alfred calls your name and pulled a card from his breast pocket.

“I hope you know there is no obligation, but Master Bruce and Master Dick wish for you to attend the gala that you’ve been making their suits for.” you take the invite, a little star struck. the card, the size of a business card, has embossed grooves over it and delicate gold leafing to resemble hemmed stitches, but it's the address that perked your interest.

"i-its at the Gotham historical fashion exhibit?" your eyes shone, practically in tears. oh my god i'm so glad he can't see under my visor, im crying about a invite.

"Master Bruce has an appreciation for all art forms, and takes any and all chances to highlight it. he believes that more eyes should see the pieces, and if he has to host a party, well, lets say he wouldn't mind." Alfred carries a twinkle in his eyes, one of pure childish wonderment, but there's a hint of something you couldn't quite place. was it pride? a secret? you couldn't tell. all you knew is you had an all expenses paid trip to the most decked out fashion collection and come hell or high water you were going.

"tell him thank you, then, i've been dying to see this exhibit."

"no thanks needed, this is payment in kind, along side the money of course. now drive safe, we wouldn't want you unavailable for the gala."

with a nod, you pull out of the Wayne Manor drive, and spend the next 20 minute drive to your studio giddy.

holy shit i need an outfit.

(To be Continued...)

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My next chapter for this should reasonably be split into 2 instead of stay one, but idk if I can be bothered, so the next chapter will be looong tehe!

Helloo!

So the fanfic curse is real lol. The last one I posted was my first ever post and the literal day after was a real shit show that I can't actually talk about lmaoo

See y'all nextime!

Spinster

Do not copy, steal, or repost my work! Thanks!