#although i hear something in the roof

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby [part 2]

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution: NOT PROOFREAD oh and angst hehe]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

[tags: @luujjvi @c-lunette @mokisano @ghostdoodlen @wildfire153 @anonymousewrites @bewitchedbymadness @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @22carolina08 @original-person]

[remember if you want to keep in touch with a particular series I write, let me know in comments or messages you want to be tagged! you will only be tagged once unless specified that you want to be tagged till the end of a particular series!]

(also once again, apologies if alastor’s last name isn’t actually altruist qwq it’ll stick till the end of this fic but I’ll try not to mention it as much)

For the first time in years, you feared being in heaven.

Not that you felt unsafe, just that you felt incredibly uncomfortable seeing your serial killer dad who's now a demon be invited to be in the place where light and goodness is it's main foundation.. even reassuring yourself that it was temporary didn't calm you down when you were flying away from him. For your own sake you even avoided where the welcoming was happening.

Ahh but.. it also didn't help that he was following you around after the show without you knowing.

After the angels had performed their song to welcome in the princess of hell, her apparent partner, and-- him.. everyone sort of went their separate ways and the visitors from below started to relax in their new yet temporary places of stay. You felt a bit of relief when you assumed Alastor would also be setting himself in to relax as well.

During heaven's performance you decided to take a breather at a local coffee shop, one where you thankfully always had a spot there where you could hide away from the huge windows of the cafe.

Although right after that, unbeknownst to you at the time, Alastor was looking for you, but obviously pretended as if he was looking for a good bite to eat.. unfortunately for him he had to behave and he couldn't eat a living walking thing until after they came back home.

Oh how bummed out he was.

You were in a far corner inside the shop, as mentioned before anyone that was able to look in through the windows wouldn't be able to see you since you were out of view. Drinking your favorite beverage that the shop offered and eating a filling snack to relax your body and mind. Safe to say you were now more in touch with your feelings and weren't overly panicked as you once were.

'Why is he here.. is he an advisor to the princess? a companion?.. some kind of servant?.. she's really young though, perhaps she's ward to him or something.. but she has her.. dad.. and I'm sure he must be alive still.. ' You thought, different theories and ideas passing by in and out your head trying to make sense of the situation.

'perhaps.. he's here to see me?..' you hoped, then scolded yourself right after,

'nono.. I can't be wanting that.. sure he raised you but he's a monster. he killed you, _____. get a grip..' you sighed deeply while massaging your temples in frustration 'even if he seemed to not.. have meant to do that. he tried to kill someone else anyway, that poor man could've died instead of you.' you tried to reason with yourself, coming to a single conclusion in the end.

Eyes glued to your drink. staring at it with intensity.

"I regret nothing." you claimed to yourself in a low mumble, not enough for anyone close to hear.

Ahh.. but you did miss him very much.. the version of him that you grew up with at least.

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You were in your warm and humble home with your father. It was a fairly cold night with rain dropping onto the roof of your home yet the warmth of the house seemed to make the cold seem almost cozy to you.

Your small footsteps could be heard running around the house, as your little seven year old self ran around you seemed to be giggling uncontrollably with a peculiar circular item in your hand.

"No running in the house _____, remember what I told you." Alastor exclaimed in slight irritation as he could hear you from afar while he was cleaning up the table from the dinner you two just had, he started slightly missing the times when you didn't know how to walk and when you simply just blabbered baby nonsense.. he definitely doesn't miss the sleepless nights of baby crying though.

You huffed and puffed as you then plopped the item on the sofa, it was a disk, a record. You then climbed yourself up and once your little body landed on the cushions you then picked yourself up once more to then grab the disk and turn to the small table right beside the sofa where a large phonograph rested on.

"Papa!" you exclaimed, "Papa! Music music!.." you pleaded, your little voice begging to once again turn on the music playing machine.

Alastor faintly chuckled at your little demands, amusing how such a small thing dares to command but nonetheless he found it silly at how you tried. "Yes yes my dear, I'll be right there." He then set the last few dirty dishes away to be cleaned soon since he couldn't say no to listening to some tunes before bed.

You smiled brightly as your little feet playfully tapped on the cushions, almost jumping. Noticing your developing excitement Alastor hurried over to you.

"Ah-ah-ahh, no jumping on the sofa my dear. I'm excited as well but I can't have you break your little head open, that'd be no fun at all!" Well.. that and he didn't wanna ruin his cushions, but nonetheless he cared for your wellbeing the most even if he wasn't fond of admitting it.

His hands gently took the disk from your hands, carefully setting the disk on the phonograph to have it play your favorite tunes. Once you two heard the amazing first few notes of jazz was when Alastor settled down beside you on the sofa and you started clapping in delight.

Alastor looked at you almost fondly, letting out a small huff of delight at your reactions. Your innocence seemed to be something that contained him from wanting to continue his murder spree, although his bloodlust always wins in the end, he seems to always willingly pause his life for you.

Plus, he loves jazz just as much as you do.. why would he miss out on this?

Your fit of giggles dwindled down but didn't stop, in a sudden burst of energy you jumped off the sofa and then started dancing similarly yet obviously a bit more goofy to how you've seen couples and single dancers dance in the nights of Mardi Gras or just parties your father took you when he would be invited. Your little dance moves seemed to be fiddled with confidence yet they were so off from what you were trying to attempt, nonetheless you were happy, and that's what Alastor secretly liked to see.

"Dance with me papa dance with me!" you pleaded again, your smaller hands grabbing his larger one and tugging at it, trying to get him to stand up.

"_____ darling no tugging, besides I just sat down my dear and I'm exhausted." He sighed, his constant smile always present yet he was visibly a bit tired from the day he had.

But oh how you persisted, and how darn adorable you were as a kid. "But papaaa!.. pretty please! I wanna dance how you and that singing lady did the last time we went on those big loud places!"

"Parties, dear." he corrected you, but let out a long sigh and got up. Because no matter how tired he was or how annoyed he seemed to be he didn't mind keeping you happy.

So that's what he did, he danced with you. Swinging you, twirling you around to the melody and the beat, your cheers of glee and uncontrollable laughter motived him to keep up with your excitement. Not only that but your smile, genuine and pure, it was what he needed to get himself to match your energy. Jazz music was what always connected you two and it always brought you together no matter what.

At the end of the song Alastor ended it by gently throwing you up in the air and catching you, letting you get your last giggles out. You both laughed together, your bond ever growing stronger. You truly did tame this bloodthirsty killer without even trying or knowing, of course you were too young to know.

Once the giggle frenzy ended you both finished your dancing with a long sigh, the phonograph ending it's segment. You then suddenly yawned and rested your head in the crook of his neck over his shoulder, snuggling for warmth and for a sudden need to sleep.

"Seems like my little fawn needs sleep now, almost past your bedtime young lady." Normally he'd scold you a bit more strictly as he usually did, but seeing as how you were basically ready to fall into a pile of dreams he just felt no need to do that.

"Sorries papa.. I forgot.." your little words muffled by your face hidden in his neck.

Alastor was never one for being touched, let alone hugged or snuggled. Oh but he had no right to complain, he's had you this close since you were a baby.. to him this just felt normal now.

Of course no one but you could be this close to him, you're his little girl after all.

"No need to worry, my dear." He stopped in front of your bedroom, carefully opening the door with a creak following after. With careful footsteps he walked towards your bed, pulling the blanket away to then gently place you on your cozy sheets with care.

Alastor gently moved any misplaced hairs away from your face as he then pulled your soft and warm blanket up to your neck. Your sleeping face reassuring him.

"Sweet dreams sweetheart." His usual smile softening a bit more before backing away and slowly heading towards the door of your room, lingering for a few extra seconds to take one last look at you before slowly closing the door and heading off to bed himself.

After the click of the door closing can be heard, you mumbled "Goodnight papa.." with a smile, even if in the end Alastor didn't get to hear it.

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You missed him, dearly.

A weight fell on your chest, your eyes begging to form tears. You missed when you had that childhood innocence, when you didn't know what he was capable of, when he was nothing but a saint to you.

It still hurt after all these years, you thought he was a good man.. a bit strict, blunt, a bit too true to himself and definitely peculiar but.. the Alastor that raised you would never do that. Until you were obviously proven otherwise.

Oh but I guess you were too into your reminiscing that you didn't notice the background gasps and small shrieks of surprise and fear, and you didn't yet feel the eventual stares and eerie presence right in front of you.

"What don't you regret, my dear?"

You choked on your drink in surprise almost spitting it out,

that fucking radio voice again.

For heaven's sake how did he find you?? He couldn't have seen you through the windows. Did he follow you??.. did you just not notice.. Oh geez maybe getting used to having your guard down during all your years in heaven definitely didn't help with this situation.

You continued coughing on your drink, even punching your chest a bit to get that last good cough out. The radio demon pulled the chair in front of you to sit across from you, not waiting to ask permission.

To him he didn't need to, he's your father after all.

Once you calmed down you immediately avoided eye contact, only giving him a once second glance to confirm it was him in hopes your ears were playing a trick on you-- they weren't.

"How.. how'd you find me.." you mumbled in slight fear.

"Oh how would I not! Sweetheart I'm your father of course, as your father I must have those parental instincts.. I always know where you are!" he exclaimed, seemingly proud of this.

"I'm guessing those 'parental instincts' didn't kick in when you stabbed me, huh." you spat with attitude, unafraid to be rude to him with so much sin he's committed.

A sharp static sound came from him, as if in slight shock at the disrespect and comeback you gave. "Watch the attitude young lady, you're still an Altruist you know."

You scoffed, hating at how indifferent you felt about your last name.

"Not by blood though.."

"I raised you, don't forget that." he spat back, starting to get irritated.

"And because of that I owe you?"

"Yes, yes indeed! Smart girl you are."

You scoffed at his response, finally getting the guts to look at him in the face. His appearance frightened you, disgusted you even.

Is this truly the man that raised you?

"As a matter of fact, I actually don't." you crossed your arms in annoyance and a huff. Your eyes couldn't help but to slowly drift to off to the people behind him and you see fellow angels you know continue to stare in awe or fear, of course at Alastor. With all eyes on you and mostly him it made you feel a little embarrassed. You cowered down a bit and your wings went over your head and shoulders a bit as if to hide you behind a 'curtain' of sorts.

Alastor obviously noticed this, but could care less about the stares.

You sighed, "Look, Alasto--"

"I think you mean to call me 'father'." he interrupted as he obviously seemed a bit sassy about it. "Even 'dad' is just simply fine and dandy with me!"

"No, I can't," you frowned, wishing you could "I won't. Not after what you did to me, to that man that night, and to every other poor soul you hurt."

Your face slowly scrunched up in disgust "You don't deserve my forgiveness, my mercy."

In embarrassment and feeling tears want to shed you grabbed your drink and got up to walk out, before you could get past Alastor though he grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Uh-- hey.. let go--"

"I didn't mean to do what I did, my dove." His voice turned into a weird version of gentle, almost uncharacteristically gentle. "I never intended to take your life away."

He sounded genuine.

Could he?.. Would he?..

Maybe, just maybe--

"No." you spat, "Maybe you didn't mean to hurt me, but you definitely meant to hurt others. That's something I can't forgive and I'm sure your victims wouldn't neither." you glared at him, setting your foot down. "I refuse to call you my father, not until I know that you repent for your sins but knowing you I highly doubt that." You snatched your wrist away and for a slight second you stopped caring about what others thought when they'd see this "Besides, you killed me two weeks after I turned eighteen.. don't even include the years that passed since the 30s and present time so clearly you can't control me anymore old man."

But Alastor wouldn't go down that fast nor easily.

His sharp smile widened, you felt immense dread.

"Oh little one, no matter how far you are or how much you try to disown me you are forever connected to me. I made you who you are and you can try to run and fly off however long you want but in the end you're tied to me whether you like it or not. Even in death."

He seemed deathly serious with his statements so much so that you could've sworn you could see his shadow giggling and smirking in a way that seemed even worse and more than evil.

Your breath quietly hitched in fear in noticing this to the point where it even forced you to take a step back. He let out a sinister chuckle before you couldn't help but speed out of the shop and flew out.

You couldn't handle him, he was shameless when showing this side of him.. how could he be this shameless and normal?? How could he act like this and be proud about it? He killed people and doesn't regret it, you being the only exception just didn't feel right and it wasn't fair!

Not to you.

He may have been able to silently control you and vaguely manipulate you to believe he was anything but a bad person back when you were alive and young but now your eyes are wide open and so is your heart.

You have such a bad feeling about this whole thing, he was up to no good he just couldn't be-- he had to be using the princess as an excuse to do something shitty.

Good thing you had plenty of connections, if you just played your cards right...

Hey.. wasn't there something about a court meeting happening soon?

On the other hand Alastor stayed sitting there still chucking devilishly, his intentions and true feelings smeared and unclear.

With a snap of his fingers a cup of black coffee appeared and he began drinking it with a sense of casual glee and eyes closed in delight. Until he felt eyes on him, two nearby to be exact. He opened one eye to look at the angels staring at him and they both seemed like more biblically accurate angels, both having one eye and all. The radio demon shot them an evil grin.

"Oh adolescents these days, rebellious aren't they." He cackled before going back to drinking his coffee, the angels creeped out by his interaction soon scurried away from him.

The fear. He enjoyed it, just not really from you.

(thank you all who asked for part 2!! of course I had to deliver since you all really wanted it and honestly I love adding flashbacks to memories Alastor and the reader had when they were alive, makes their ending on earth just that more painful (as if it wasn't clear I love angst). Honestly I don't mind making more parts for this! If the demand is consistent and you guys still want to keep up with it I have a few ideas to keep this going! Once again thank you so much for reading!! Now I must finish writing for other stories lolllll!)

(p.s: i highly recommend listening to any mitski song while reading this I think it fits well especially with the flashback scene hehe)

[wanderingsoul6261]

In The End

Credit for gif goes to cinevettel

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: Reader loses her virginity to James. She says something unexpected, and he suddenly avoids her. It's not until the Victorian dance that mistakes are realizes and amends are made.

Warning: MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT 18+ theme in the beginning. Sexual content below the cut.

Heavy breathing filled the room along with quiet whimpers and low groans. Y/N hands clenched the bed sheets, her back arching as James made quick work of his tongue. One hand settled upon her stomach while the other thrusted two fingers into her pussy. His lips and tongue were attached to her clit, sucking and flicking, devouring her like he was a man starved. And boy was he starved.

His eyes peered up at Y/N. James listened as she started to breathe heavily, closing his eyes has her hands flew to the back of his head, holding him steady. She was getting close. He could tell.

It didn't take him long to get her to this point. She was weak. Sensitive. It was her first time and he want to take his time going over every little quirk about her. He wanted her to be nothing but putty in his hands by the time that they were done.

"That's it, love. Breathe." He said loud enough for her to hear, before latching his lips back onto her clit. James pulled his face away again, watching as his fingers continued to disappear inside of her. He let out a groan at the sight. "Oh, you are so beautiful." His cock strained painfully against his boxers, and on instinct, he rutted his hips against the bed. He let his head fall, the movement of his hand faltering slightly before he continued, trying to hold back on getting himself off on the bed. He wanted it to happen in her. If she'd allow it.

"James- fuck" Y/N took in a sharp inhale of breath, a whimper escaping her. "I need you-" another gasp. "Please." James pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it harshly and he continued to thrust his fingers inside. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her shoulder. Her arms came up around his shoulders as his lips slowly trailed up along her shoulders and up her neck, to the pulse point right behind her ear. He grinned when he felt her clench around his fingers, not sure how much longer he can wait himself.

"Just give me one, sweetheart. And then I'll give you anything you want." James murmured quietly. He lifted his head to look her in her eyes. "I just ask for one thing." She let out a whimper, as if telling him to say what he wanted to. "Look at me when you cum around my fingers."

If she wasn't already a puddle, she was then. It only took a few more thrusts of his fingers and she was coming. As he had asked, she looked him in his eyes as her body trembled, although her eyes did roll to the back of her head from the pleasure of the orgasm. Pleasure overwhelmed her and James thrusted his fingers inside her through said orgasm, cooing softly at her.

"That's it, love. Such a good girl. You did amazing." He moved down her body, pressing his tongue to her pussy, cleaning up the mess she had made. A quiet groan left his body as he lapped up her juices, before moving back up her body and pressing a kiss to her lips.

Y/N reached her hands down, moving his boxers down his thighs, letting him kick it off the rest of the way. He leaned over to grab a condom from his wallet when she stopped him.

"I'm on birth control." she shrugged. "It's helps with the painful periods." And just like that, James was ten times more aroused. He leaned down and captured her lips into a searing kiss, positioning himself.

Pulling away from the kiss, James looked down at Y/N, waiting for her. When she made eye contact with him and nodded, their following actions were sealed.

----

"I love you, James."

Y/N felt stupid. Why did she say it? Sure, James and she have been seeing each other for a little bit now, and it might have felt right in that moment to say it. However, she wasn't sure anymore.

And why was that?

James has been avoiding her. And what else was she to think? Was it the sex? Was it that bad? Did he not like it? Or her? No, that couldn't have been it. It didn't make sense.

What did make sense, was what she said as the two reached orgasm, one right after the other.

She should have made sure he was ready, so she knew for a fact that this was her fault. But how could she fix it?

She had already tried to talk to him several times the first day back to classes that week. And each time she had been avoided. He brushed past her, avoiding all eye contact. She had even tried grabbing his wrist or bicep to get him to stop. But each time, he pulled away from her grasp, continuing on away from her. Y/N was left alone in the middle of the hallway, watching his back as he disappeared from sight, wondering what she could do this fix this. Her face, crestfallen, as he didn't even send a look back at her over his shoulder. And people were starting to talk. What happened to the most popular couple of Maxton Hall?

And that's how the following weeks went on. All the way to the Victorian dance, she had been ignored, but as being part of the planning committee, there was no way she could get out attending it. And she has tried.

And so here she stood, next to Ruby Bell as a small group of them talked. She swirled the champagne in her glass, looking down at it sullenly, her heart aching. Y/N was hoping that today, her and James could have danced. Oh, how wrong she was.

It was only minutes later when Ruby started to nudge Y/N, motioning down towards the ground floor. And she almost dropped her glass at the sight of him standing down there. James Mortimer Beaufort. Wearing a suit that was not quite Victorian Style, but a suit, nonetheless. And as he stared at her, he looked completely and utterly mesmerized.

She gave her glass to Ruby to pass off to some other person, making her way down to him. Why was she allowing her feet to cover her to him. He had been ignoring and avoiding her as if her life depending on it.

Y/N hesitated for a moment. Why was she giving in so easily to him after what he had done?

Because it was an easy answer. She still loved him. But she was pissed.

Y/N came to stand in front of James, and without a second to waste, she slapped him. The crack resounded through the room, catching many nearby by surprise.

He stood in silence, slowly looking back at her.

"You deserve that." Y/N huffed. He nodded.

"Agreed. I did in fact deserve that." Her resolve softened subtly, seeing the guilt and regret in his eyes.

"Then why?" she asked.

"I was scared." He said simply, as if it was some normal answer to what happened.

"Scared of what, James?" she asked. James was silent for several moments.

"Love. You told me you loved me, and I got scared because I've never heard it truthfully. Not unless it was from my mother, and I panicked because I didn't think you could actually love someone like me. So, I did what I thought was best for myself in that moment and that was to avoid you. Over time though, I realized it wasn't best for either of us, because it didn't address things fully."

"Love someone like you- James. I absolutely adore you. I love you because of who you are. Not the James you pretend to be for everyone else. But the you that you become when it's just us." Y/N explained, her hands coming up to rest on his face. "Do I need to say it again for you to believe it?" she asked, noticing the few tears the slipped down his cheeks and quickly brushing them away. He gave her a tiny nod.

"I love you, James Mortimer Beaufort."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

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tag list: @lifeonawhim @honethatty12 @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27

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[fanficsat12am]

how the brothers react to you listening after they were interrupted I Lucifer & Mammon

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜 Buy me a coffee? Leviathan, Satan & Asmodeus

Lucifer

He was a demon whose presence alone can catch a whole room’s attention. You can easily spot it from how he displayed himself—an epitome of perfection.

But alas, it wasn't always as easy to be heard when it came to his brothers. It seemed as if the only time they'd actually do so was when it felt like the whole Devildom could hear his booming voice. But who can blame them, there are 7 of them living under one roof after all. 

It was dinner time and he was in the middle of talking about an encounter with a rowdy demon when was interrupted by one of his siblings. This then prompted another response from one of them to another, and another until it was all just a cacophony of unintelligible talking. Each time he'd try to continue, his efforts proved to be futile, being once again interrupted. He eventually ceased trying altogether and opted to just listen, knowing full well he'd never get to finish. At least that’s what he thought. 

He looked across from him to meet your eyes. They weren't bolting about trying to keep up with the conversation of the others, they were set on him and only him. "Don't stop now! What'd you do?" you asked.

It felt nice, to say the least. He could not deny the warmth that had spread in his chest, knowing his once-shot pride was slowly being mended back together. Although he’s not surprised, considering how you’d happily lend an ear to listen whenever he’d talk about his exhausting days—this instance being no different.

As per our request, he continued on, the incomprehensible chatter fading into the background. The two of you would be in your own little bubble, with Lucifer telling tales as back as hundreds of years ago. Not too long after, his brothers were fascinated as well, enjoying the sense of nostalgia his tales brought. It all eventually ends with only the two of you still at the table—you being left in awe and Lucifer feeling a sense of being appreciated as well as appreciating you.

“I hope you found my stories enjoyable, My Love. If you wish to hear more, I'd be happy to humor you”

“I don't know how you'll be able to beat that one time when you and Mammon switched bodies for a while”

He clamps a hand over your mouth before you can add further salt to that memory of his.

“Shshshshsh. Some stories should never meet the light of day again”

Mammon

It’s not uncommon for the second born to be drowned out by his brothers. He typically just sulks and adds to the conversation by providing sounds of protest and agreement, but he never gets to fully share with the group.

Despite this, it gives him comfort that there’s at least one person who he knows would hear him even in a place as loud as the HoL. 

In the midst of the chaos, he felt a light tap on his hand. Looking up, he found you staring at him with curious eyes. "What happened next?" you asked, accompanied by a tilt of your head. If he was being completely honest, he was just trying to show off to his brothers— not really expecting someone to actually care which caught him off guard. Now that he did catch someone’s attention, he of course had to sprinkle in some exaggeration, no? He's not called The Great Mammon for Nothing.

He enjoys the feeling of having a spotlight on him. Your spotlight to be specific. He liked hogging your attention like the greedy little gremlin he is, and he’s not afraid to admit it. He’d start to ramble and would have a mix-match of different topics, jumping from one to another totally unrelated story. 

In the chance that you were sharing something at the table and get interrupted by one of his brothers, he doesn’t hesitate to immediately cut them off, no matter what you were about to say. He didn't even realize he did it—the action merely feeling like a knee jerk reaction to him.

"Oi oi oi! Shut yer traps for a minute will ya. MC was in the middle of something”

“...I need to go to the bathroom?”

“Tell us more" He said, the ends of his hands meeting as if in a prayer pose.

[callme-holly]

Hello!! Maybe you could write headcannons with the gang that have a s/o who’s getting picked on? Thank you!!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐧

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - I go back to school in like 2 days... yay, im so thrilled... Also I'm so sorry this took be so long to get to, my inbox is crazy right now but I swear I will get to everyone eventually !! Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 864 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mentions of being jumped and fighting, that's it

Darry Curtis - 

If Darry found out you were getting picked on by someone, he would go mental

Like he’d be pissed

He’d instantly want to know who it is who’s giving you trouble 

If it’s the socs bothering you you best believe he’s walking everywhere with you 

His concern would go through the roof 

Darry doesn’t strike me as a typically violent person but if whoever is bothering you decides to jump you/cause you any physical harm, you best believe he’s starting something 

If you’re upset, please let him take care of you, it’ll help calm him down somewhat

Sodapop Curtis - 

If Soda finds out someone’s giving you trouble, he’ll instantly feel guilty

He takes it as his job to look after you and by someone hurting you either physically or verbally, he can’t help but feel like he’s let you down a little

He’ll get Steve to track down whoever it is who’s picking on you; you won’t have to worry about them anymore <33

He’ll cuddle with you for ages to try and make you feel better (although it’s mainly to help reassure himself that you’re okay) 

Much like Darry, Soda will walk you everywhere

This boy will not risk leaving your side and if anyone so much as looks your way, he’s giving them a dirty look and pulling you in the opposite direction 

Ponyboy Curtis - 

Pony will feel horrible and a little annoyed when you tell him you’re getting picked on

If it’s the socs giving you trouble, he’s mad

He’ll walk you to and from places and will try to comfort you best he can

If it’s kids from school, he’s got your back 

Pony will defend your case no matter what and if someone so much as says anything about you, he’s shutting them down with some smart comment real fast

And if you get jumped? Oh boy, he feels awful 

He knows what it’s like to get jumped first hand and he’d never wish it upon anyone

He’d get Dallas to have a “word” with whoever it is bothering you and chances are, you won’t see them again after that 

Johnny Cade - 

Johnny gets so upset when he hears that someone is picking on you but he also gets really angry 

Like, you don’t deserve anything bad that comes to you and he will do anything to protect you

I feel like people really down-play his character like, come on ya’ll, he literally stabbed someone to protect his friend 

If he sees someone giving you grief, he’s standing up for you 

He wouldn’t start a fight, no, but he’s definitely let them know what's up

If you get jumped, he’d comfort you in a heartbeat <33 

You two have got the whole gang backing you both up, so there really isn’t anything to worry about when you’re with Johnny 

Dallas Winston - 

Oh, Dallas… 

When he finds out you’re being picked on, he’s asking for names, appearances, addresses - you name it, this boy wants it

He will fight for you and he will make sure that whoever it is that’s bothering you, learns their lesson

And if you get jumped? He’s arranging a rumble and dragging in the Shepard gang to back him up

He’d walk you everywhere, and I mean everywhere

If you think he’s leaving your side for even a second, you’ve got another thing coming 

He’s got an arm around your waist, your shoulders, his hand in your back pocket and if anyone so much as talks to you, he’s standing behind you, glaring them down

He’s defending you in a heartbeat, no matter who the person is that's giving you grief 

Needless to say, nobody messes with Dallas Winston’s girl, and he’s willing to let everyone know just that 

Steve Randle

Much like Dallas, Steve is asking for names almost instantly 

He will not hesitate to fight someone for you

He gets so defensive on your behalf and will become insanely protective over you

If someone has said or done something to you that really bothered you, he’s comforting you and going after the person in a heartbeat

You’re his number one priority and he wants you to be happy at all times 

You think he’s leaving your side? Nope, no chance

He’s gonna be one step behind you at all times and if he catches anyone giving you problems, they’re in for a rough time 

I’m telling you, he’s shooting everyone dirty ass looks 

If someone so much as says “hello” to you, Steve will be coming up behind you 

“this person giving you trouble, babe?” 

He’s just looking out for you 

Two-bit Mathews - 

The second you tell Two-but you’re being picked on, he’s smothering you with love

He’s not letting you go at all 

He doesn’t want anyone making you think you’re worth less than you are 

Secretly, he’s super pissed that someone would even think to mess with you and if he sees them, he won’t hesitate to confront them 

He’s taking you everywhere you need to go, no complaints <3 

If you get jumped, he will not hesitate to help fix you up before tracking down whoever hurt you

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Batfam x Neglected mortal

Kombat reader

Lucid dreams III

Notes: this is part three to lucid dreams.

Warnings: child neglecting

___________________________________________

In the wise words of leonardo Da Vinci 'tears come from the heart and not the brain.' And in this very moment ,you know his words are true.

Because you know your strong... your minds strong. You've tested your mind and you know you could take anything on mentally...... So why were your eyes filling up with tears?

It must have been your heart. You've never tested or trained your heart. How could you? It's simply impossible. But still you blame yourself for the stupid decisions of your heart.

Your not supposed to cry. And it shames you to think -no it's not to think anymore this is happening. You are about to cry. And over something as stupid as words.

You search your grandfather's eyes for any sign of doubt or pity. But you find none. And sadly that only makes your eyes tear up more.

His words are simple. And to anyone else they probably wouldn't mean much. But to you? To you they mean the world.

How long has been since you've cried? You can't quite remember. But it's been years. And you swore you'd never cry agian. But here you are breaking your promise to something as dumb as words.

But you cant bring yourself to worry about that stupid promise you made. Atleast Not right now. Not when your grandfather says the words you've always wanted to hear.

'Your no monster my child. Only human. ' He says. The words are simple and direct. So why are your eyes filling up with tears? You can't look at him. You just can't. So you look at the ground ,or in your case the roof of the building your standing on...

Your jaw is clenched so tight and your hands are bawled into fist. Your eyes close on instinct ,trying to keep your tears from falling.

"You mean it?" You say. And God's ! Why do you sound so pathetic... why do you sound like you're begging for him to say yes. But then again....you are silently begging him to say yes.

But your prayer doesn't last long before he speaks up. "I do." He says. And you can tell he means it. And your chest finally stops feeling so heavy but your eyes well up with more tears..

Before you even know what you're doing you envelop him in a hug. And his hands wrap around you almost awkwardly. Because it is awkward. You've never hugged your grandfather. And he's never hugged you. But right now this hug is necessary. Both of you know that....

Although the hug is slightly awkward it's the best hug you've ever had. And suddenly you forget your mistakes and your worries ,and you feel at peace.....

As a single tear rolls down your cheek, falls unto your grandfathers jacket you don't wipe it away. Instead you let it fall.

And for some odd reason that brings your grandfather at peace.

You don't seem to notice but your grandfather's chest isn't as heavy either. And maybe you were to distracted watching your own tear fall onto his jacket that you didn't feel his tear fall onto your jacket. But it did.

And just as you wipe your eyes he wipes his. Your the first to pull back and your grandfather follows your action. As you step back your grandfather's eyes look into yours.

And you feel like your under a microscope. You probably are. You know your grandfathers eyes always find what they're looking for. You just hope he's looking for something good.

You sigh and suddenly the air isn't as tense as it was moments ago. "Thank you grandfather. " You say and your voice comes out shaky.

But your grandfather doesn't seem to care about the shaky tone of your voice. "Lets get you home. My child. " He says and you catch it. His voice is just as shaky as yours. And you almost want to smile. But you don't.

Walking back to the Wayne manor neither of you speak. It's a long walk but neither of you seem to mind. As you finally reach the gate you turn to look at him.

" you should come in grandfather. It's been a while since you've seen mother." You say and it's probably crazy to ask that since it is 2 am. But your words are true. It has been a while since he's seen your mother.

" perhaps another day." He says as he looks at the big gate. "She's still your daughter..." You say and you mean no disrespect and you hope he knows that.

" I know...but she's changed. I don't recognize her. And that scares me more than death." He says. And you understand. She has changed. And nomatter how many times you try to remind yourself that she's your mother. Your heart refuses to believe it.

You nod and quickly climb over the huge gate. Once over the gate you turn to look at your grandfather. "Goodnight grandfather." You say.

"Goodnight child." He says. As you walk back to the manor you know he's watching you. Watching to make sure you get home safely. Like he always does. And that makes you happy. Because atleast someone cares......

Finally reaching the manor you climb up the tree by your room and into your bedroom window. Your room looks the same as it did when you left it. And it doesn't seem like anyone noticed that you left. You lay on the bed and sigh. It's 3am now. They should be coming home from patrol any minute now.

But your thoughts don't stay on them for to long. Instead your mind goes to your mother. Why has she changed so much? Why doesn't she care anymore? Those thoughts are always on your mind. And more often then not they keep you up at night.

Before you know it an hour passed and it's 4 am. And just like clock work you hear your mother open Damians bedroom door. Next is Tim's. Then Dicks. And last is Jason's.

She's done this every night to ensure that there okay. That their in their room asleep like they are supposed to be.

But she doesn't do this for you. Atleast Not anymore. And as much as you don't want to admit it. It hurts. Because she did that for you first.

She used to check up on you every night. She used to make sure you were sleeping alright before ,not them. But now? Now it's seems she has forgotten you. And that?

That hurts like hell.

After what seems like eternity you close your eyes and finally fall asleep. Waking up the next day you see that it's snowing. You loved it when it snowed. And even though you feel like shit the snow brings a smile to your face ,because snow was undeniably beautiful and pure.

You go through your daily routine with showering and brushing your teeth. Checking the time it's still early only 7am. And you don't have school today or training. There's really no need for you to be up this early. You know probably no one else is. But you doubt you could fall back asleep even if your tried.

So instead you head to the kitchen and you can already smell what Alfred's cooking. You greet him with a smile and he smiles back.

"Morning Alfed." You say and he responds like he always does. "Goodmorning miss Wayne."

You hate it when he calls you that. You aren't a Wayne and you'll never be one. Still you keep that to yourself. You walk past the kitchen and into the big living room decideding to just read a book.

You'd normally read a book with jason. But you still don't have the guts to see him. He's wrapped in bandages from head to toe. And you know he's in pain. He's asked to see you multiple times and you refused. How could you see him? It was your fault for him getting taken by the joker. Atleast that's what you believe.

Sitting on the huge couch you begin reading. It was peaceful for a while then you hear the others wake up. They all come down together. Dick and Tim smiling and your mother and bruce talking while damian seems like he's in a bad mood. But then again when isn't the ten year old in a bad mood... Jason's not with them. He's probably still in his room.

It's harder for him to wake up and get ready now. But he still refuses to want help.

You notice how damian sits on the couch beside you and gives you a glare. But you ignore it like you always do.

But to your surprise he doesn't stay silent and judge like he usually does. He actually speaks up. "Have you seen Jason yet? He's already asked to see five times." His words are sharp and you can practically feel the discomfort of his words.

But still you ignore it and instead play the nice big sister role. Like you always do.

" No I haven't. Is he alright? " Your words are soft like they always are. They aren't mean or rude like his.

" perfaps if you weren't such a coward you'd see for yourself. " He says. And suddenly the room isn't as happy as it was moments ago.

But your mother or bruce doesn't stop him or correct him on his use of words. And its almost like they're encouraging him.

You sigh and stare into his emerald green eyes. You can see how much hate they hold for you. Always for you. And you don't seem to understand it. You don't understand why he hates you so much.

Biting your tongue you say something sweet as usual. "I haven't had the time." Your words are smooth and they leave no trail of hate or discomfort in the room unlike his.

"Doing what? School is out ,and your banned from patrol. Nothing your doing is of any use. So what exactly are you doing?" He asks. And your mouth goes dry because for once you don't have a nice big sister comment.

No, all you have is hatred in your thoughts for the boy infront of you. Knowing you can't say any of your thoughts you stay silent and stare into his cold eyes.

And after what feels like eternity of silence your mother breaks the awkward tension. "That's enough from both of you." She says sternly and you want to scoff and say what your really thinking but you don't. Like always.

You nod obediently and damian does the same. But his words hang heavy in the air. Because they're true. Everyone knows his words are true. You truly haven't been doing anything.

But you can't face jason. You just can't. An though it hurts to admit it. You're simply too weak....

Snapping you out of your thoughts damian begins speaking again. " stop being pathetic and go see him." He whispers just loud enough for you to hear. Everyone in the room continues doing what their doing not hearing what he had said.

And sure he's said meaner things and you've always let his words go. You've never held a grudge or said anything rude back. But this time he's hit a nerve ,and it feels like it's physically hurting you. So you don't bite your tongue like you usually do. Instead? Instead you say the words you've always wanted to say to him.

" Me? Pathetic?," You scoff and roll your eyes and you can tell he's listening Intently to your every word.

" You're Pathetic. Your the one who can't make friends. Your the one that never fits in.. You're the one that'll only ever be seen as a mistake as part of infidelity. So don't think your above anyone damian because your not." You whisper back and your words are sharp and you can tell they sting him right in his heart.

You desperately want to smile but he's only ten and that would be wrong ,right? You've never talked back to him or said anything rude so you can easily tell how much your words shock him. Because their true. And yes your words are a bit hypocritical because you are a mistake too but in this moment? In this moment you win.

His eyes narrow and he wants to something back but he doesn't have the words. He's simply to stunned to speak. And you smile. Is it wrong for smiling? Probably. Do you care? Absolutely not.

You watch as he tries to must up what he's gonna say. But he can't and it feels amazing.

Sadly this feeling only last for a moment before damian like always gets the win.

His eyes fill up with tears. And you can't quite tell if it's fake or not. But regardless of if it's fake or real tears you know you're screwed. Because he is only ten.

'Well shit.' You think to yourself and it's not long before your mother notices the tears. "What did you say!" You mother says looking at you.

She's angry as usual and you want to say something back but that'll only make things worse. So you stay silent and look back at damian.

Damians now looking at your mother and tears roll down his face. Its real tears too. You are definitely screwed.....

Your words come out shaky but they need to be said. " so what he can say whatever he wants to me ,but I have to stay silent? " and your mother looks at you like you have three heads. And you realize that's what she expects you to do.

'Hell no' You think to yourself.

This ends today.

___________________________________________

Thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030

[leashybebes]

Congrats on the increased follower count, you deserve it after exes detriments (sorry, I can’t remember the official name) but here’s a prompt for you:

Buck and Tommy struggle to find time in their schedules to see each other

aww, thank you so much! 💛💛 and thanks for the prompt!

Buck knows he should be getting some rest. But if he has to lie sleepless in his bunk and listen to Chim snore much longer, he's going to do something drastic. He creeps out of the bunk room, shoots off a text, and makes his way up to the roof. He's barely sat down by the time his phone rings.

"Hi," he says, and he feels breathless and eager all over again. Still.

"Did you seriously just 'u up?' me, Evan? Aren't you at work?"

"Hey, it was a sincere question. You can tell by the lack of the eggplant emoji."

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," Buck agrees easily. "I miss you. And your eggplant."

"Evan!" Tommy's so good at sounding scandalized and delighted all at once and Buck grins.

"What are you doing after your shift on Tuesday?"

"Errands, then therapy, then sleep."

"Gotcha. I'm working Wednesday."

"Me too. Thursday?" Tommy suggests.

"Looking after Jee," Buck says, and while he's never going to regret time spent with his niece, this is starting to get ridiculous. "They should be picking her up by eight?"

"Drinks with the team at nine," Tommy says, and he does sound regretful, but part of Tommy working on himself is trying to let himself have more meaningful connections, both in quantity and depth, so Buck's not about to try talking him out of that. "And you're working Friday."

"Yeah. And you have that private flying lesson Saturday, right?"

"Yeah. Should be done mid afternoon if that's any good?"

Buck rubs his hand over his face. "Video call with Eddie and Chris at four, and then I'm supposed to be going for dinner at Maddie's."

"Ah."

"I could come over after?"

"I'd need to leave before seven for my Sunday shift."

"Honestly, at this point, I'll take it."

"Evan."

Buck sighs. "I know, I know."

They're dating now, is the thing. Not going on a couple of dates and then weaving their lives together without discussing it until it blows up in their faces. Actually dating.

"I could - I could tell them. You could come with me."

There's a long, heavy silence.

"I don't think I'm ready for that."

Because they're also keeping it to themselves for now. They both want to see where it goes without any outside influence, to see what it is they settle into when it's just them. It's honestly - it's kind of fun, having this little secret to themselves, going further afield than they usually would for dates, trying new places and new things. But it can't go on forever, and although he's only referred to it jokingly, Buck knows Tommy's worried what people will think - that he screwed up too bad, that they'll hate him, that they'll tell Buck he's an idiot to give him a second chance. Buck's pretty sure that's not on the cards - Maddie might go a little overprotective big sister with a side of pregnancy hormones, but he thinks that'll be it. And that's nothing they can't handle.

"Hey," he says. "Can we talk about this sometime? Check in, see where we're at?"

"Yeah," Tommy promises. "Of course."

"Okay. Monday, then?"

"Monday," Tommy agrees. "My neighbour's been raving about this seafood restaurant in Santa Barbara if you're up for a bit of a drive?"

"Sounds good. Monday's so far away, though," Buck laments.

"I can hear the pout from here, Evan," Tommy teases.

"Well," Buck says, letting his voice drop deliberately into a tone that never fails to make Tommy a bit wild. "You'll just have to buy me a nice meal and kiss it better, huh?"

"God, Evan - "

"I'm off Tuesday too. Maybe we find a nice little bed and breakfast and make a night of it? I can show you just how you how much I've missed - "

He hears the door open behind him and his mouth snaps shut. "Gotta go. Call you later."

Tommy lets out a huff of laughter. "Bye, Evan. Be safe."

"You too," Buck says, as Bobby drops into the chair next to his.

"Hey, Cap."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"With Chim sawing logs one bunk over? I'm amazed anybody can."

"You don't normally struggle."

Buck shrugs, tries not to meet Bobby's eye. Everyone used to tease him about his Tommy-face, his Tommy-voice, his Tommy-pout, and for all they're taking it slow - and they are - Buck knows he's right back there. If Eddie wasn't in Texas, he's pretty sure their secret would have lasted a week, and Bobby's the next best thing when it comes to reading Buck with a glance.

"You doing okay?" Bobby asks.

"Yep! Real good."

"Hm. Apropos of nothing at all, Kaur from B shift is looking for cover. You interested in Friday off in exchange for a six to six Saturday?"

"Yes! I mean. Yeah, I can do that."

Bobby shoots him an amused look. "Okay, then. Happy for you, kid."

Buck grins up at the dark sky. He can push his call with Chris and Eddie a little later, and still make it on time for dinner with Maddie and Chim.

"You coming back inside?"

"In a minute," Buck says. "Just gotta make a call."

"Uh-huh. Tell him hi from me if you like," Bobby offers, patting Buck's shoulder as he goes.

[ohboi]

Stormy Weather in The Lanes - Vander X Reader

It's been a long week, and you and Vander are finally able to have some alone time, that is until it starts to thunderstorm...

SFW: this boutta be fluffier than that your softest throw blanket you bring out for the holidays

CW: ok, maybe a little pain (storm triggering PTSD)

A/N: i did some digging and Zaun DOES have access to the sky i believe, it's just that the gas and fog covers it the deeper you go down (at least that's what the league website implies)

Work, bartending, caring for the kids, and keeping the fragile peace of the Lanes. That's almost all you see him do. However, this is what you signed up for when you decided to pursue none other than the Hound of the Underworld himself. Although, this doesn't change the fact that you wished for more time just for the two of you, so tonight was especially special, since you actually had him to yourself, almost like the old days, when there wasn't so much conflict, when the two of you were able to stay out all night, like the night you both watched the Undercity lights from the roof.

The night he promised you he would always keep you safe and sealed that promise with a kiss.

You find your thought lingering wistfully in the past when you hear the door open. "This week has been far too long'", Vander sighs as he removes his jacket. You rise from the chair you were seated at and greet him at the door. "At least it's over", You reply, taking his jacket. "For now," he replies. "Until tomorrow."

"So let tomorrow's problems be for tomorrow," You stated. You take his hand and yours and place a gentle kiss upon it.

A smile creeps across his face at this gesture, and his hand slips from yours to caress your face.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He says as you watch him. "Far too long", you reply, as you close the distance between the two of you until your lips touch. As you kiss him, you feel his arms wrap you in a tight embrace.

Oh, how you've missed this.

"The kids are all alseep", You whisper into his ear

"Now that's what I like to hear," he says with a smile.

You lead him by the hand to the bedroom, and soon enough, the both of you are wrapped in each others arms under the sheets. You feel his hand rub your back as you rest in his arms, which makes you hold him tighter to you. His arms were the safest place in the world, that was something you never let him forget.

The two of you basked in each other's company, reveling in every minute you could, when you both saw a flash of light, followed by a loud peal of thunder.

"Terrific," Vander sighs, his free hand rubbing his face in frustration.

You lift your head up. "What's wrong?"

"Well," He replies, "we're about to have company..."

"How so?" You tilt your head slightly, confused.

"Give it a minute."

No sooner then a minute after he told you, you hear a small knock at the bedroom door.

The door creaks open, and you turn around from Vander's arms to see a nervous Powder, standing by the doorway.

"Can-can I stay with you guys? Um-the outside is...a little scary-"

Before she could finish her sentence, another flash of lightning flickers through the room, causing Powder to flinch, rush over, and jump into the bed, quickly covering her ears before the rolling thunder cracked afterward.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there! It's ok, it's ok," Vander consoles the shaking child, who was now clinging to his shirt.

"Poor girl," you thought as you watched Vander calm Powder's nerves. "Her and her sister have gone through so much."

"I know it sounds all big and scary, kid," Vander continues, "But it's all bark, it won't hurt you."

The nervousness in Powder's eyes slowly began to fade as she listened to Vander's words. "Could...could I still stay here?" She requests. She then turned her gaze to you with pleading eyes. "Please?"

Vander's subtly looked towards you, wondering your response, studying your reaction. He knew his response would always be yes, but he wasn't sure if you felt the same. After all, you've barely seen him in weeks.

You look down at Powder and smile. "Of course you can, my little Blueberry," You say, pinching her cheek playfully. "As long as you aren't bothered by that one's snoring!"

"What do you mean I snore??" Vander retorts while Powder giggles at the two of you.

"Quite loudly, I might add," You continue, then proceed to poorly imitate your partner snoring to Powder's amusement.

"Ha ha, very funny," Vander shakes his head, yet he help but to chuckle as he lies back down.

You hold Powder close to you as the rain starts to pour, humming to keep her distracted from the storm. To your relief, she begins to drift off to sleep once again.

"I'm starting to think you're her favorite," Vander whispers, watching the two of you. More thunder rolls, and you feels Powder's arms tighten around you. "It's ok, sweetie, no storm's gonna get you while we're here."

As Powder drifts off to sleep, you notice Vander looking over at the door. Before you ask him why, you start to hear the sound hushed arguing outside the door.

"Are you gonna knock or what?"

"Why do I have to be the one who knocks? You're the one who's scared, you knock!"

"N-no, I'm not!"

"Mylo it's obvious-"

"Shut up, Vi! And besides why are you two here as well if you aren't so scared?"

"I-I'm just checking to see where Powder is..."

"I just wanted a drink of water..."

You and Vander stifle laughter while you listen to the three kids bicker outside of the door.

Another flash of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder fills the air.

Suddenly, the door flings open, and Mylo and Vi rush into the room, leaving Claggor at the door holding a small flashlight.

"Sorry," Claggor said. "They both got scared of the storm-"

"Claggor!" Mylo hissed.

"That's not true!" Vi retorts. "I-I just wanted to check where Powder wa-"

A flash of lightning cuts her sentence off and causes Mylo to flinch, but no thunder was heard.

There was silence for a moment as the rain pattered on the roof.

"I told you guys," Claggor broke the silence. "Not scary at all. Could someone help me with the water hose at the ba-?"

Before the poor boy could finish his question, there was a thunder peal so tremendous it was as though it shook the building.

That was the last staw for Mylo and Vi, who were now huddled in the bed, Vi shielding her sister, who was woken up by the commotion.

"Enforcers!" Mylo whimpered, tears forming in his eyes. "They're using the storm as cover!"

"Easy there, kiddo," Vander hums. "You're safe. It was just noise.

"But how can you be sure -"

"Hey now, it's ok," Vander interjected, gently pulling a now sniffing Mylo into his arms. " You're safe. I mean it. I'd never let that happen to any of you. Not again. Never again."

You shift over the two girls so that your arms can hold both of them. "We won't let that happen to any of you," you said.

Vander takes a moment to calm down Mylo, then leaves to help Claggor get some water. While the two of them leave, you hear Claggor ask Vander, "Do you think I could stay with you guys as well?"

You smile as you hear Vander reply, "Sure you can, kid," with a chuckle.

[starboye]

how i met roommate!vinnie hacker

you and him both needed to find a new place to stay after having to downgrade to a place for affordable for the california prices that were currently rising, meeting him at an open house for a very nice place, there was great space (a little to much if you ask me)

and after talking to each other for some time you both thought wouldn't it be such a great idea to just be roommates and split rent to make it more affordable, although maybe vinnie was in for a little something more with the way he was checking you out but maybe you're just imagining things

when moving in you both set some pretty easy rules, you both cleaned up, whats yours was yours and whats his was his, and if you make a mess clean it up, it was pretty easy going for a couple of months until you started to see a shift in vinnie, he wanted to be around you always, asking you to hang out with him or just talk with him

you didn't find it weird at first since you both lived under the same roof so you might as well get to know each other better, that was until some days you'd come home to hear him jerking off with the door to his room wide open, like he wanted you to find him or he'll wear pants that would show the outline of his meaty cock

very rarely although sometimes even he'd walk past you and slap or grab your ass then play it off as a joke he usually does with friends, that was until one night when he came home drunk out of his mind and started mumbling about how much he wanted to fuck you, how you looked so sexy and he jerked off to the thought of you every night

so was it really wrong you ended up having sex with him, it was just a little one night stand, that then turned into another night... and another... and another but can we really blame you, he's just so hot and that cock is to good to give up

so you both ended up making it a roommates with benefit kind of arrangement but if anyone asks vinnie what you guys are he'll tell them you're dating

[impish-baby]

Yandere Demon & angel caretakers who buttheads at most things considering their statuses, but both manage to get along well when taking care of you as their little, even if it's against ur will‼️🗣

Ty for writing such cool stuff ur like one of my favs on here(≧▽≦)

Ahhh!!! Very cute idea, I love angels and demons as caregivers ^w^ (thank you!!)

Guardian angel and demon caregivers headcanons - 🪶🐑

🪶 - angel who is so very gentle but firm with you! Children need rules and structure, little one, they aren't trying to be mean by being strict.

Demon caregiver who is much more light-hearted, although louder than the angel. They're kind of a stick in the mud, aren't they, kid? You'll have much more fun with him!

🐑 - they don't seem to care that you are, in fact, a fully grown person. Nonsense! Why, they're both a few good centuries older than you, darling. You are a child, and you need to be given the care that every child deserves.

🪶 - angel adoring every single thing you draw, even if you're just scribbling with crayons so they'll shut up...putting the "masterpieces" on the fridge with the brightest smile on their face

Demon encouraging you to be messier, write on the walls, it can be cleaned up! It's good to let loose, kiddo. He'll have you finger painting or making stamps out of erasers. He's filled with the highest enthusiasm, grinning with sharp teeth as you reluctantly show off whatever you made

🐑 - both being very fussy, angel being the worst offender. You can feed yourself! Doesn't seem to matter, though, when they're already cutting up your food into tiny pieces before telling you to say 'ahh'

You might be able to get a little more independence with demon at first, but he might pull a few tricks so you'll give in. It's not fun burning the roof of your mouth, is it, sweetie? Awe.. poor you... good thing there's two loving caregivers here to feed you so that doesn't happen!

🪶 - baking together... angel only letting you do things like stir the ingredients and lick the spoon, they'd feel just terrible if you got hurt putting something in the oven! Demon not really helping until it's time to decorate (the fun part, you know?) only making commentary from his spot perched on the kitchen counter

🐑 - angel always being cool to the touch, demon being warm...there's always someone perfect to cuddle if you're too hot or too cold! Also... playing with angel's wings? Demon's horns and tail?? Such a cute baby, just be careful not to pull too much!

Feather light kisses pressed across your face by angel.. demon giving you piggyback rides just to hear you giggle..

[zwhoreo]

i’m back for now with something I’ve been working on for a little while <3

rain - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: while waiting out a rainstorm under a gazebo, you and Luffy use sex to pass the time

contains: very vanilla and casual, you ride luffy

words: 1.9k

_______________________________

The rain started when you were still far away. You had wandered through the forest trying to find those small, white berries that Robin told you about, you’re almost lost although you haven’t really tried to find your way back. The ship is over the hill, through those trees, maybe. But the rain comes in tiny bullets at first, seeming to pierce the leaves, the sky is darkening and a chill runs through you. You have to find the berries. The others are gathering meat, you’re gathering berries. And the rain comes faster now, machine gun fire, when you feel it on your shirt you know you aren’t imagining anymore. The moss grows softer under your feet, the leaves above you cast darker and darker shadows and the dappled sunlight fades to gray. Water makes patterns against the trees, you’re surrounded by gentle sound.

You realize that cover is more important than the berries, you need to wait out this storm, and so you run through the forest, stumbling in a soaked clearing as the rain falls freely on your face.

There’s a gazebo, bathed in the last of the light, sparkling in front of you. The paint is cracked and white, there are vintage designs on the awning, and someone is there already, huddled up on the narrow bench under its roof, hugging his knees. But he lights up when he sees you, running to the railing and grabbing the support pole.

“[NAME]!!” Luffy shouts.

“Luffy?” you call out, joyful. Rain is pouring in harder now and your hair is sticking to your face. It’s speeding up so quickly now. “I thought you were with Sanji!”

“Got lost!” he says, smiling. The rain starts to come in sheets and he blurs in your vision.

You run over to him, taking cover in the gazebo and he immediately comes over and holds you in his arms, pressing into you tightly and resting his head on your shoulder. It’s warm but he’s wet too so it doesn’t help much, not like that.

You look across the sky and you see blue in the distance, far away, but the clouds are rolling in and maybe they’ll be gone soon if you just wait. So you tell that to Luffy, who doesn’t mind waiting as long as it’s with you. You pull away from his grasp just for a moment so you two can sit down on the bench that he’s already dripped all over, but your pants are already soaked, it’s ok.

Luffy seems bursting with energy now that you’re here, but with nowhere to really let it out. He’s nearly on your lap he’s pressed so close, asking about where you’ve been, but running in the rain has made you tired so you just lean in and kiss him instead.

The world goes silent, except for the rain, as you place a hand on the back of his neck and press your lips to his gently, while his eyes are still wide open. You massage his thigh in small circles and whisper to him, “Glad I found you.”

“Mmn…” He murmurs in response, eyes drifting down to your hand. His skin is warm, he’s looking at you hungrily, now.

“We’ve got a little time, what do you wanna do?” You lean in, lips hovering right under his ear, you hear his heavy breathing, his heartbeat.

Luffy leans against you. He presses his body into yours and your lips connect with his skin and his back arches on instinct. You adjust. You place him onto the bench and quickly straddle him, your face still close to his, it seems like he really wants to kiss you again. And he can’t help himself anymore so once more those soft lips are connecting with yours as his hat brim touches your forehead. He holds your cheeks in his hands, your chests are together, his heart is racing against yours. He giggles into your mouth.

“Hehe, c’mere…” he says as you’re pulled tightly against his body in a firm, unyielding embrace. It suddenly becomes a little hard to breathe but that doesn’t really matter because you’re enjoying yourself so much.

And you whisper, “Luffy…” which gets him even more excited. And look at what you’ve done, he’s getting hard against you, pressing up between your legs.

“Eee…” you murmur as you squirm in his lap happily, making him shift against you with every bit of friction you give him. He’s making this little humming noise deep in the back of his throat that blends pleasantly with the rain on the roof overhead.

Your hands trail down the small of his back, slipping beneath his cardigan which sticks to his skin, his back is smooth and firm, skin silky and clean. Usually there’s wind-blown sea salt stuck to him, built-up sand and grime, usually he’s very sweaty, but as his muscles twitch under your touch he’s just honey-soft and wet, skin brown and sun-kissed and glistening with raindrops of gold.

“That feels good…” he says against your ear, face squishing against you.

“What do you wanna do?” you ask again, and he laughs lightly, tugging at your shirt.

He can see your body through the soaked fabric, he licks his lips, he pulls you a little closer and his hips go rhythmic in their tiny twitching and he says softly, “dunno, anything ya want,” with the biggest, dumbest smile.

Nami taught you how to read clouds, calculate the length of storms by the grayness in the sky, by the cracks of heaven. Peaking over Luffy’s shoulder and outside of the gazebo you can see this rolling rainstorm will pass in maybe twenty minutes, which is enough time for a lot of things, but definitely enough time to take care of your boyfriend who sits beneath you and revels in your pressure and weight.

You ask him, straight up, if he wants to have sex right now, because your boy is clueless enough to not know what you mean if you say anything else or try to make a move, he probably doesn’t even notice he’s hard. He says yes in a casual and happy way since he’s feeling especially affectionate today.

You lean back in his arms, shifting enough to reach down and undo his zipper because he looks uncomfortable in there. Drawing him out of his jeans he gazes down at your hands in a lazy, zoned out way, eyes shimmery and unfocused, lips wet with rain, with saliva. He’s so warm in your hands, so delicate and comforting.

You try not to hurt him as you squirm to pull your panties off, now bare beneath your skirt, his hands find your hips and he’s itching to just start fucking you into his lap. Poor Luffy, he’s probably been thinking about you all day. So you hug him, and listen to his heartbeat, whispering quiet permission to be picked up. And so he lifts you, so easily, you cling to him for balance as he clumsily tries to line himself up and his nose is wrinkled in deep concentration.

“Haahh…” he sighs into your ear as you’re lowered, slow and then too fast, aching fullness stretching your body, nerves lighting up down to your toes and your fingers as another heartbeat enters you. Luffy hugs you as he pushes you down onto him, tighter and tighter, huffing into your cheek. He’s about to start pounding his hips up against yours but you forgot how big he is, it’s been a little while, you need to adjust.

“H- hold on,” you gasp, out of breath, the feeling of him inside you threatening to overtake all reason. Luffy’s melting, he’s squishing against you and you can hear his heartbeat get faster and faster and it’s mixing with the crashing rain. “Hold on,” you say again with a steadier voice, trying to even your breathing. It’s going to be ok. He won’t hurt you, even as you feel his cock twitching within your stomach, trapping you to him. You’re so close now.

He’s kicking his feet against the ground and his hat falls off onto the bench as he presses his face against yours. His wet hair sticks to your skin. But he’s still so warm.

You nod slowly, and to confirm he asks, “ya ready?” in an excited, scratchy little voice and when you nod again he begins to squeeze your waist, sandals planted hard on the stone, and he starts to grind his hips in sloppy upwards circling that makes him scrape and rub himself inside you with such a peaceful rhythm.

You move as well, you let your body loosen in his grasp and bury your head in his neck as you ride him, slow and then too fast. Luffy begins to grunt and then to moan from the back of his throat so loud that the rain no longer drowns him out. And the sounds of you both are so wet like a puddle of rainwater, splashing, dripping. He kisses you and that’s wet too, accidentally spitting into your mouth in his joy and pleasure.

With each thrust you press against him closer. You love this so much, even as those fleeting thoughts cross your mind of what if you’re found? In the middle of this clearing framed by rain and white wood and Luffy’s being so loud that anyone could hear you, anyone could see you if they just looked between the trees here. But now isn’t the time for worrying, you feel safe and you don’t care.

When Luffy holds you down onto his lap, buried inside you as deep as he’ll go and not letting your hips so much as twitch, you know he’s about to cum. The possessiveness that overtakes him makes him insistent on releasing inside you as much as he can, there’s something about it that gives him intense, instinctual satisfaction. So you feel him spasm and groan and then fill you with a familiar finality of warmth and love, all to remind you that you’re his. And you don’t move from his lap, he won’t let you. You’re stuck here, glued here, maybe he just likes the contact, or he sort of likes the itching overstimulation, maybe he doesn’t want to watch his cum drip out of you quite yet. He’s stubborn, he won’t let go.

You kiss his forehead. You pick up his hat and place it back on his head, you wipe his hair from his eyes and gaze at him in that beautiful afterglow. Features so soft, angel skin peppered with raindrops, begging to be kissed.

The world just smells like earth and rain and sex now. And blue-yellow sunlight hits you and creates rainbows out of the water on your faces, it makes your eyes sparkle. It’s drizzling now, evaporating into mist. The storm passes, everything is quiet again, so unearthly still. Except the dripping from the gazebo, trickling from the roof and from your thighs. And Luffy’s breath in your ear. And that second heartbeat within you.

“Awh.” Luffy loves the sunshine but he’s sad because he doesn’t want to leave. This means he has to pull out of you, and go back to find Sanji, and to break apart from you even for a moment sounds like pure exhaustion for him.

“We can stay for a little longer,” you promise with a sleepy smile. Basking in his spreading smile, his arms, the smell of the sun and the dying rain.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

The One where Soap finds Himself in an ✨ Awkward ✨Situation. [ Ghost x Reader ]

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Soap Being Confused, Occasional Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except for ‘You’.

Summary: Hiding out at your house, the 141 are settling in for the evening. Soap ends up hearing something he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t have on his way to the bathroom. But why can’t he seem to stop listening ?

“Gah! Fuck–”

The voice splintering through the door made Soap jump – near caused him to soil his favourite pair of jeans as it rumbled through the wood, practically taking it off its hinges with how the nails shuddered in their slots. The voice was baritone, deep. Grizzled. A carnality slumbered in its tone, rearing its waking head.

Ghost.

“Shh, Simon ! You’re going to get us caught !”

Yours followed soon after, a reprimand Johnny would never dream of dishing to the most lethal man he’s ever known. And yet here you were, doing God-knows-what, speaking to him as if you were in control.

When all went quiet again, just for a moment, Soap stopped and wondered if it had all been a hallucination. One second, then two. A low moan slipped beneath the door. Johnny jumped.

He was just going to walk away. Truly, he was ! He – and the rest of the 141 – saw how much chemistry – history – you and Ghost shared. Although, he’d just never imagined you’d be sharing it with the rest of the house, too. 

Well, if Simon’s volume was anything to go by.

Johnny’s eyes drifted from the end of the hallway – where the beloved bathroom was – to the door beside him. He bit his lip, heart beating, still recovering from the fright. His curiosity was far from piqued – it shot through the bloody roof and left an impromptu skylight in its wake. And as imaginary sunlight filtered in through the hole, Johnny begged that divine intervention would tear him away from the scene unfolding beside him so he wouldn’t have to.

“God, don’t stop,” came Simon’s pleading tone, any harshness that was custom to it having melted away. Soap, against all better judgement and higher power, inched closer to the door. He cast a glance over his shoulder, once, twice. Nobody lurked behind. His ear was almost pressed to the wood. He could hear Simon panting, hear you humming as you did…something.

“I won’t – not until you’re finished.” There was little to be heard in the way of shame in your voice, especially in your gentle whisper: “I promise.” Soap swallowed thickly, then, blinking, began rubbing his ears. He couldn’t be hearing this right. He just couldn’t !

Only, when he had thoroughly cleared the imaginary poison from his ears, the issue remained.

“Shit–! That’s it, right there–”

“God, you’re so stiff, Simon. What have you been doing while you were away ?” There was almost a purr to your voice. Ghost only let out a moan as his response, muffled by what Johnny could only guess were pillows.

Why am I still here?! he all but screamed, remembering that he was no Pinocchio, trapped on this stage, bound by strings. He could have been a free man if he so wished. And trust, he did. So why was it that, when he went to walk away, to scour his ears with bleach, to finally embark upon his uninterrupted journey to the bathroom, that he found himself glued in place ?

Perhaps it was the primal instinct to know all that there is to know, to discern danger wherever it lay. Or, perhaps, he was so eneamoured with the idea of whatever could be happening on the other side of this door – Ghost being human for a change – that he couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity to see him so…vulnerable.

That sounded about right.

“(Y/N),” Ghost’s voice husked, no longer dampened, restricted, by an unknown force. He groaned, long and unfiltered. The way he spoke your name was almost in the tone of love, its softest and most carnal form, as if tasting the gradient of your syllables, vowels and consonants upon his tongue. He all but growled. You gasped.

“(Y/N), you’re so close–”

“You want it there, Simon ?” You didn’t miss a beat. Soap’s breath caught in his throat. He looked over his shoulder to the imaginary camera filming his ordeal.

“Yes, yes, God – yes–”

“Doing so well for me, Si,” you said, soft and encouraging. Ghost’s breathing was at its heaviest now, heaving breaths as if they were bricks, building a tower from which he may never come down. A high he will never beat.

“We’re almost there,” you told him, to which he only let out a thick, strangled noise, bulging beneath invisible chains as he tried to conceal it. His moans only grew longer and more frequent, his jaw presumably dropping open to let them pass when he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Soap began to wring his hands, thankful for the lack of a keyhole in the door so to spare him the intrusive desire to spy on the situation visually, too. Trapped in his own daze, his hurried, sweating, anxious contemplation was torn open by a sound so sharp and brilliant he never wanted to hear it again.

Ghost moaned.

Straight-up howled, roared, as he came to an end. 

Soap’s soul clung to his body as the sheer calamity Ghost’s booming voice brought with it shook the very ground he stood on. Johnny’s hands flew to his racing heart, trying to catch it as it jumped up his throat.

Simon’s voice tapered, muffled after most likely burying his face into a pillow. With every exhale, a sliver of euphoria would follow, eventually baying out like the tide, his breathing returning to a shallow rhythm. And all the while, you paid him words of comfort.

“Well done,” you said, the smile in your voice evident. “Took it so well, Simon,” Your voice was feather-light, belied the illicit nature of all Soap had heard you do.

Though, even in this dazed, mortified state, he couldn’t fathom how you sounded so…normal. As if you’d exerted no energy.

Perhaps (Y/N)’s just…strong…? Johnny’s reasoning left much to be desired, that much he knew. Even Ghost was winded, and he was by far the fittest of the 141.

In amongst his rampant thoughts, the idea to flee the scene came too late as, upon hearing you dismount Ghost, your footsteps fast approaching the door, Johnny’s eyes widened, the state he’d be in if either you or Ghost found him unintentionally spying flashing before his eyes as his life no doubt would later.

He couldn’t scramble away in time. He ran on the spot, a cartoon, his impending doom facing him head-on as you swung the door open. His eyes all but watered as he caught sight of you wiping your hands on a towel. You smiled.

“Oh, hey, Jo-Jo !” You said, his nickname rolling off your tongue as if Simon’s hadn’t been just minutes ago. You gave him a brief nod before walking past him, a spectre. A harbinger of death. Johnny stood, body reeling, mind freezing, as nothing became clearer to him except your blase manner. He released a short, puffed breath.

He saw the inside of your bedroom, your bed just out of sight, hidden by the door.

Breath quivering, Body shaking, Soap knew this was his chance.

His last chance.

He turned. Didn’t even make the floorboards creak as he did so.

“Fuck’re you lookin’ at, Johnny ?”

Ghost’s voice rolled across Soap’s mind like thunder clouds, despite the laxity of it, the slowness. He froze, ice rain slipping down the back of his shirt and making him stand up straight. Rigid.

“Uh…I–” He winced, his voice cracking, showing the uncertainty that lay below his usually obsidian tone.

“N-Nothing, Sir !”

Sir ? We’re not at base now, you daft fool–

“Somethin’s obviously botherin’ you,” came Ghost again. He let out a breath. “So come on.” His voice was free from the cotton-mouth effect of the pillows.

“Say it.”

Johnny swallowed, his voice prickling either with dehydration, tears, or an unsolvable mixture of both. When he said nothing – did nothing – Ghost sighed.

“Come on, Johnny,” he said, stark as ever. “Haven’t got all day.”

“W…Well–”

“And come out from ‘round that door. S’impolite not to face the person you’re talking to.”

Johnny’s heart stopped.

No, he couldn’t have heard him properly.

“Are…you…sure…?”

Better safe than sorry.

“What’d’you– course I’m bloody sure. Now stop messin’ about and get in ‘ere.”

Taking a deep breath, and a leap of faith, Johnny rounded the door, the corner. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying.

He heard Simon sigh.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake – at least open you eyes, you daft prick.”

Begrudgingly, hesitantly, Soap cracked one eye open, then the other.

His brain almost couldn’t fathom the dissonance between all that was there, all that wasn’t, and all that he’d expected there to be.

Simon was chest-down on your bed, arms surrounding a bundle of pillows, holding them as if they were collected sticks, his head resting atop one. He watched Johnny from the corner of his half-lidded eye. He was dressed from the waist down, and his back, wet with what Soap had initially come to the horrifying conclusion was sweat, was actually bronzed with what permeated the air: a soothing oil.

Lavender.

Soap’s gaze jumped from point to point, trying to find something – anything – of the reality that had played out behind the door.

“Well ?” Ghost said. “I’m listening.”

Johnny, for the last time, swallowed, rubbed the back of his neck. His frying nerves cooled, though electricity still ran through them.

“I thought–” he gave the room another once-over.

“I thought you and… (Y/N)... were…”

Simon huffed.

“Were…?”

Johnny let out a breath, an almost-laugh. He gave a feeble smile.

“Nothin’ Sir–”

“No, go on,” Ghost prodded, getting up onto his elbows and turning over, now facing Johnny. “I’m curious now.”

John bit his lip, trying to quell the incessant itch there. He could taste the sweat collecting on his top lip.

“I just thought that…” He couldn’t look SImon in the eyes, his gaze bouncing around the room. He could feel Simon’s eyes narrowing, his patience waning.

He sighed. The jig was up.

“I…thought– that you and (Y/N) were…” He looked to Ghost, who gave no indication of understanding what Johnny was getting at, his disposition monotone as ever. Even without the mask, he was no less imposing.

Johnny made a gesture with his fists, bumping them together.

Simon’s eyes widened by a fraction of a fraction.

He said nothing. Soap’s fight-or-flight instinct re-activated. He glanced at the door. The hallway. His narrow chance of escape.

“How–” Ghost’s voice drew Johnny back to the land of the living.

“How loud were we ?”

Johnny grimaced.

“Not really (Y/N), Sir,” he said. “Just…” his hand grew into the shape of what he was trying to say. “You.”

Upon seeing Simon’s eyes widen even more, Johnny’s gaze dropped. And found another, damning detail.

Quick, use your natural humour and charm !

“Though,” he smiled, crooked, sided and small. A start. “I can see something’s made you somewhat excited,”

Simon’s eyebrow raised, and following Soap’s gaze, his shoulders went rigid.

Oh no.

A tent had been pitched in his sweatpants, plain as day for all who looked to see. Johnny’s top set of teeth grappled with his bottom lip, trying to purse his lips shut.

A snort sneaked past, and he slapped a hand over his mouth immediately, as if trying to scoop it back in.

Ghost’s gaze hardened. His eyes concrete.

“Tell (Y/N), you die tonight.”

Soap, smiling widely, simply turned in the beginnings of his departure.

“Course, Lieutenant,” he said. “Aaanything you say.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[stillfoodforguys]

They finally decided to hold a bear night at the club I frequent, which was fortunately still welcome to slimmer chasers such as myself. I strapped on my best leather harness and enjoyed being surrounded by all the big, beautiful men.

There was one guy who started dancing really close to me, towering above me with a broad, hefty frame and a cheerful smile. He wasn’t wearing any leather himself, but that just meant I got a much better look at his sexy body before pressing myself up against his soft belly for most of the night. When we made out, I could feel his meaty tongue run all the way along the roof of my mouth, almost like he was trying to memorise its taste.

We split up briefly to garb some more drinks, later encountering each other again in the bathroom. I turned away from the sinks to find him stood directly in front of me, suddenly grabbing hold of the leather strap across my chest and winking at me as he yanked me closer towards him. “You look fucking hot wearing this, but I’d like to try it on myself. Maybe we could share?”

The handsome bear licked all the way up my neck and face, grinning at my confused expression as he took hold of both my arms. In one smooth motion, he slowly inserted them into his warm, wet mouth all the way to the back of his throat and swallowed them. His second gulp engulfed my head, preventing me from begging him to stop. I could hear him moaning as he consumed my torso, his tongue gathering up all the sweat I worked up on the dance floor.

He slipped off my pants and unveiled my throbbing erection, which he promptly sucked into his mouth and began to tease. Although I was terrified by the way his stomach gurgled in anticipation of my arrival, I couldn’t deny there was something erotic about being eaten. His skill with his tongue made me cum down his throat before my journey through his gullet resumed. After slurping my feet past his lips and finishing me off, he shook his belly around to loosen my harness from my slick, saliva-coated body, somehow managing to belch it up.

He clipped it around his chest and licked his lips while he admired himself in the mirror, gently rubbing his stuffed belly. “Once my gut turns you into my fat, we’ll technically both be wearing the harness. Don’t you agree that’s fair, tasty boy?” I was hardly in a position to argue, and still in a blissful daze after my orgasm. So I just let myself stew away inside his stomach, joining his body forever just like he wanted.

[beenbaanbuun]

meet me in the woods w/ Mingi

words - 3.5k

genre - fluff, friends to lovers, college!au

warnings - emo!mingi, drummer!mingi, pink!mingi, fangirl!reader, kissing, mentions of seasonal depression, mentions of a broken ankle, reader is down bad, so is mingi, they’re both idiots in love, kind of groping but not really sexual

————————————————

there’s still a chill in the air as the seasons flip from winter to spring. it shows in the way the air around you fogs up with every breath you exhale and the way the skin of your exposed thighs pricks up in little bumps. realistically you should’ve worn a pair of jeans rather than a skirt, but that would defeat the point of this whole thing you had going on. a sort of good-riddance-to-winter protest, in which you try to ignore the fact that winter was very much still in play.

although you have to admit you may have been a little too eager. you claim to have your reasons to pretend that winter is already over, but even those reasons seem a little obsolete as you sit on the picnic table awning, shivering every few seconds. perhaps your way of saying goodbye to your particularly bad bout of seasonal depression will have to be shoved to the back of your closet for a few more weeks. just until you're sure you won’t get frostbite.

you shuffle back a few inches, just enough to give yourself room to swing your legs back onto the awning. you have to go down the way you came up; that was a lesson you’d learned the hard way. a broken ankle and a particularly long lecture from your mother about making ‘sensible decisions’ was not something you care to repeat. she, of course, would blow a fuse if she knew you still frequent this spot years later, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. besides, you’re well trained in how to get up and down from your favourite thinking spot, now.

you already have one leg up when you hear a creek coming from behind you. your neck twists in time to see a hand slam itself down on the wooden surface, fingers splayed as they work their hardest to pull the attached body higher up. you recognise the rings like the back of your hand and as you watch mingi struggle, you can’t help but sigh.

“how many times have i told you how to get up here?” you grumble, loud enough for him to hear over his own strained grunts. the single hand that you can see moves until you can see a middle finger pointed in your direction, and you have to laugh, “you seriously can’t remember? right hand on the roof, left foot on the fence, and push yourself up.”

even without seeing his face you can tell he’s rolling his eyes at you. he’s heard this lecture from you a bajillion times before, and yet he never learns. it’s always right hand, right foot and pull with him - almost the exact opposite of how you instruct him.

“have you considered that i’m, like, twice the size of you?” he says as he corrects his form and finally manages to raise himself up. he swings his right knee onto the platform and rolls his gangly form onto it. you’ve seen more grace from a new-born horse, but you keep that to yourself as you watch him sit himself up and shuffle closer.

“if anything that would make it easier for you, y’know, since you don’t have to jump to reach the roof.”

you turn your body back to how it was, dropping your legs again so you can swing them over the ledge. the platform looks out over nothing but forest, and you quickly find a particular branch to focus your eyes on as the giant sits in his spot next to you. your hands subconsciously brush over the pair of initials that have been scratched into the wood when you were both teenagers. a small, neat set done with a whittling knife stolen from your father, sitting just beneath a much larger, much messier SMG that mingi had done with the biggest kitchen knife he could find. his mother never did discover how her carving knife missing for a few hours only to return to the knife block covered in moss and dirt.

“yeah, yeah,” he mutters as he drops his legs down to swing them at the side of yours. your pink sneakers look a little out of place besides his platform doc martin’s that he always wears, despite not needing the extra height, but somehow the contrast feels natural to you, “i thought i’d find you up here. went to your dorm to search for you but your roommate said you were out.”

“and you assumed i was here?” he nods, not bothering to look at you. he too has found a distant branch to focus on.

“where else would you be?” he nudges you with an elbow, “god knows you don’t go to your lectures…”

he’s right about that. you’d given up on college very early into freshman year, and yet you’re somehow still passing. not well, you have to admit, but enough to get a degree at the end of the year.

“my classes suck, mingi,” you clarify as you rip your focus away from that one specific branch. looking at the same thing was getting kind of boring, you realise, so instead you lay down on the dirty wood and stare up at the canopy. the february sun only just pokes through the fir-canopy, dousing you in just enough light to make your skin a little warmer. there was that heat you were hoping for earlier, “why would i go to them when clearly i can pass without?”

“fair point.”

you close your eyes, basking in the light that bathes you. there’s still a slight breeze that makes the fir needles rustle above you, a few of them raining down whenever a particularly strong gust comes along. one lands on your thigh, but it’s quickly brushed off and replaced by mingi’s warm hand. he must’ve been keeping it in the pocket of his oversized korn hoodie, you think to yourself as he squeezes your thigh.

the hoodie is an old favourite of yours. you’d bought it for him a couple of years ago, and it had soon joined what you like to call ‘the elites’ - the small collection of about three hoodies that he had in permanent rotation. it fit him better now than when you first bought it for him. he’d bulked up a lot, after all.

you still couldn’t get the sweet image of him opening the gift with a wide grin on his face out of your head.

he kissed your cheek on that day.

you always seem to blush at the memory.

“why did you come searching for me, anyway?” you say after a few moments of silence. his hand remains firm on your thigh, fingers drumming a rhythm against your leg gently, “don’t you have cooler people to be hanging out with?”

he hums, “all the cool people i know are busy today,” you swing your foot to the side to kick his shin. he lets out a laugh at the little tap - he knows you can kick harder than that - before giving your thigh a gentle tap in return, “besides, maybe i want to hear about all your little kpop groups.”

you scoff at him.

“no, you don’t.”

“no,” mingi agrees, “i don’t. but i do want to spend time with my favourite little fangirl.”

you giggle at him, opening your eyes just in time to see him turn to you with a wonky grin on his face. it seems he’s bored of staring at his branch too since his gaze doesn’t go back to it after a few seconds. it remains on you, boba-pearl pupils staring into your own as the rays of sun make them glisten.

he looks cute like this, you think to yourself. his short pink hair rustles as the wind blows it about. for a man who made so much fuss about the colour when you first dyed it, it has taken him a long time for him to go back to the bleach blonde that he loves so much. part of you likes to think it’s so he can match your own pastel pink hair - that’s a normal thing for best friends to do, right? - but you also know that he’s fiercely protective over his hair and definitely wouldn’t keep it just for your sake.

it needs a trim, you think to yourself as you watch it brush against his eyebrows. you wonder if he’ll let you do it again. he hated it the last time, so you assume the answer will be no. then again, there’s no harm in asking, right? you make a mental note to do so later, wanting nothing more than to see the same cute pout he wore last time you butchered his hair. it’s an expression that he only ever wears around you, much like that sweet smile he’d had moments prior. it’s a softness that he keeps close to his chest, a far cry from the cool exterior he tries to keep when he’s around everyone else. not that you mind the tougher side of him - it’s hot… really hot - but the sweet giggles and adorable nose scrunches will always be your favourite things about him.

“you said everyone else was busy?” you mutter, not bothering to break eye contact to go back to sunbathing. he takes the hint, and brings his legs fully onto the platform so he can face you fully. it’s much better, you think, this way you can see him more clearly, “what are they doing?”

he shrugs.

“i don’t know,” he begins to rub your thigh up and down subconsciously. he does it a lot when he’s talking. if it’s not your thigh - which it usually always is - then it’s his own, or the arm of a chair. it’s just something to keep his hands busy, you suppose, “i think some of the guys wanted to go over melodies, which they don’t need me for. jongho was saying he thinks it’d be cool if there’s a section where his voice and san’s guitar are kind of in sync? i don’t know, it sounds cool in theory but i don’t know if san’s guitar style necessarily matches jongho’s vocal style well enough to do that.”

you watch as his face lights up, just like it always does when he talks about music, or his band. he could talk about their newest ideas for hours, and most of the time you let him. you like to listen to the way his voice rises an octave when he gets excited, and watching his facial expressions never gets old. you love the way he talks with one hand, all while keeping the other firmly on your thigh; or his, or the arm of a chair. it’s nice to see him still so passionate about all the same things he was as a teenager. sometimes you’re even sure you can feel his excitement for him.

it feels an awful lot like butterflies in your stomach.

“and i mean, i know i’m just the drummer but,” you quirk your eyebrow at him and he stops himself talking. a pink flush rises over his face as he realises his slip up, “i didn’t mean just the drummer, i just meant that as the drummer, i don’t know as much about the music theory side as the guitarists do… i hit things, y’know?”

“you hit things very well, though,” you tease, using a manicured finger to poke at his knee. he catches it with the hand that isn’t occupied by your thigh and just holds onto it. its another thing he does a lot; not quite holding your hand, but definitely toeing the line, “and that’s coming from me!”

he rolls his eyes at you, and you were sure that if both his hands weren’t occupied with some other part of your body, he’d make the effort to lean forwards and place a finger over your lips to shush you. again, touching your lips like that it’s just something he does with you, just like almost holding your hands, and playing with your thighs. it’s all completely normal best friend stuff…

except you weren’t this touchy with any other guy. the last time you let a man get this close to you was when wooyoung tried to teach you guitar by moving your fingers into the correct positions for you. there was barely any contact between the two of you, and yet mingi sulked for days. part of you wanted to call it strange, but when you spotted him giving a pretty emo girl his drumsticks after a show, you gave him much of the same attitude.

you wouldn’t call it jealousy, per se, although maybe there was a little bit. mingi was your best friend after all. you have something special with him. something different that you have with no one else and you feel a way that you feel with no one else and-

oh.

oh.

suddenly the hand on your thigh felt very heavy, and you noticed the way his fingertips gently dip under the hem. had they been doing that the whole time? and you couldn’t help but feel like the way his thumb rubbed against the tip of your finger so softly had some type of further meaning behind it. not to mention the neutral yet unbelievably gentle look that took over his features, making him look even more pretty than usual in the scattered rays of light.

his lips were parted every so slightly, revealing that single wonky tooth that you found oh-so adorable. for a second you wondered what they would feel like against your skin, but you soon shunned the thought away as you remembered, oh yeah, the korn sweater. you’d felt them before. you know just how soft and gentle they are. it’s something that often plays on your mind and every time it does, you feel that same burst of excitement built up in your stomach. the one you get when mingi speaks about his passions. the one that feels like butterflies.

it is butterflies. fuck, it’s the whole damn zoo! a stampede of elephants charging though your body each and every time he does something that you find even mildly endearing. it just so happens that you find damn near everything he does endearing. you’d think those elephants would be tired of running by now…

“mingi,” you sigh, breath coming out in a plume of mist. you’d forgotten how cold it was in his presence. being around him just seemed to warm you up, “mingi, come here.”

he furrows his brow, but shuffles a tad closer. you almost groan in disappointment as he takes his hand away from your thigh, the skin immediately growing cold at the lost contact.

“what’s up, sunshine?” you feel em your eyes go wide at the nickname. you don’t know why; he uses it for you all the time.

“mingi, i’m confused… and a little scared,” you admit, although you didn’t know whether it was necessarily the truth. it was probably the closest word to describe how you were feeling though. with the way your heart was threatening to beat through your chest, and the way your stomach churned with nerves and the way your stupid brain had only just managed to catch up with how you had felt all along. it hurt, and it was painful and confusing and yeah, scared was probably a pretty good description.

“scared?” his voice grows serious as his eyes scan you up and down. once he sees that you’re fine physically, they return to your face. he looks just as confused as you feel, “what are you scared about? are you okay? hurt?”

you shake your head, taking in a deep, shaky breath. you let it out in yet another cloud of fog and watch at it floats away into nothing. you wish your butterflies, elephants, would do the same. it would make this whole thing so much easier.

“i’m fine, mingi,” you say, “just scared.”

“can you tell me why?” you nod, although it takes everything in you to do so.

“i want to kiss you,” you admit.

“kiss… me?”

you nod again, feeling a familiar heat rise to your face. the same one you get whenever mingi compliments you, or touches you. you can't believe it’s taken this long to finally figure it all out. it all feels so obvious now.

“i mean… yeah?” he stutters, “kiss me, yeah… yeah that sounds okay- i mean good! it sounds good… kissing, that is.”

if you weren’t feeling completely and utterly out of your depth, you’d have giggled at him. cutie pie you think to yourself before the heat in your body immediately gets more intense, and the elephants not only increase in number but in size too.

it’s now or never. before you can talk yourself out of it, you need to kiss him. because talking yourself out of it could be so easy. you could hop off of the awning, run back to your car and drive back to your dorm. sure, it would hurt when you would inevitably have to lock yourself away in embarrassment and never see mingi again, but time heals all wounds, right? and by the time you’re 50, the pain and embarrassment will have definitely almost healed over…

“so?” he mutters, pulling you back from the fantasy your brain had created, “are you going to do it?”

“i, uh…”

“i mean, i can if you want me to,” he shrugs, trying his hardest to play it cool as if he hadn’t been stuttering seconds prior. as if his face wasn’t just as pink as the mop of hair that sat atop it.

there is nothing cool about this man, you think to yourself as you push yourself into a sitting position. maybe that’s why you’re so attracted to him. his nerdy tendencies had tugged you in, and he’d worked his dorky little ways on you until you were hook line and sinker for him.

down bad, as the kids say. down so horrifically bad…

“i can do it,” you whisper as you look up at him with wide eyes. your lips are mere inches from his own, and his hot breath fans across your cold face. his eyes are on yours just briefly before they flicker down to your lips. they rested there for a second before making their way back up to yours, “i can kiss you,” you whisper.

“you can,” he mutters back, bringing his own face close enough to yours that you’re not even sure a sheet of paper would slip between the two of you. his tongue darts out to wet his own lips, gently brushing against yours too. your breath hitches as your last sliver of resolve vanishes. that’s it, you tell yourself, you can’t hold back anymore.

the tiny gap is closed as you press forwards, slamming your lips against his. your fingers shoot up to lace themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, and his find a home on your waist. his eyelashes flutter against your face as he shuts his eyes, and you follow his lead, doing the same. it’s nice, you realise, the darkness letting you focus on how his lips feel moving slowly against your own. they fit perfectly, like they were always meant to be there.

he deepens the kiss briefly, tilting his head ever so slightly to get a better angle. it’s a little rougher at this angle, but you can’t find it in you to mind as he takes control. the desperation you feel from him as he moves his lips harshly against your own was something you feel yourself, so you let him take what he needs, taking just as much in return.

and by the time he pulls away, you’re both panting. rapid and hard and together. his lips have barely left your own as he catches his breath, but you don’t pull back either.

“fuck,” he mumbles against your lips, “that was… nice?”

“yeah,” you agree. ‘nice’ seems the best way to describe it, although it was so much more than just that, “it was nice, wasn’t it?”

“so nice, sunshine,” he says. a few beats of a silence pass before he presses his lips against yours again, this time for a much shorter, much more innocent peck. you can’t help but giggle as he pulls away. there’s a grin on his face too, “wish we’d done it sooner, though.”

you nod, “yeah, me too.”

“but we have all the time in the world, right?”

he pecks you again. this one lasts a few milliseconds longer than the last, not that you’re counting. when he pulls away, you chase it. another peck, this time led by you, but equally as brief as the other two. it’s his turn to chuckle.

“cute,” he grins, “you’re so cute.”

you get shy under his words and pull back just a tad. the grip he has on your waist refuses to let you go too far from him. you don’t mind; not at all. the fact he wants you so close actually sends the elephants feral. you feel them reach up to your heart to work their magic on that too. it probably isn’t healthy for it to beat at the speed that it is, but you really can’t help it. the elephants seem to respond to mingi and mingi alone. you don’t mind that either.

not at all.

[nejiverse]

SWEET-TEETH

Satoru Gojo

In which Gojo just so happened to pass his love for sweets onto his daughter. Fem! Reader

cw: a hyper toddler, cranky y/n, megumi makes an appearance

745 words

Sugar is worse than crack.

No one could convince you otherwise in this moment in time.

A nap. That's all you wanted to take. Were you granted that simple luxury? Absolutely not.

Not with a man child and an actual child under the same roof.

During pregnancy you prayed, pleaded that your child wouldn't inherit Gojo's sweet tooth but she did.

Not only that but she also inherited Gojo's white hair and blue eyes.

9 months all for your daughter to wholly be a daddy's girl in both looks and personality.

You got out of bed and haphazardly threw on one of your husband's shirts before leaving your shared room and following the high pitched screaming and squealing which ultimately led you to the kitchen.

You observed Gojo leaning against the island as he watched the toddler run around the kitchen with an amused expression. She was clad in just a diaper and a purple dora the explorer vest. Along with her slightly damp hair, you assumed Gojo had just taken her for a bath not too long ago.

But gosh, if it were possible for her to bounce off the ceilings then you were certain she'd be doing so right now. She was waddling around faster than her little legs could take her.

"Why?", you crossed your arms over your chest and approached Gojo groggily.

"Babe! You're finally awak—".

You certainly weren't awake by choice.

"Why", you interrupted him and this time it was more of a command than a question.

"...why what?", he tilted his head with that stupid clueless expression that made you wanna punch him in the face.

Gojo was able to figure out from your agitated state that you didn't wake up by yourself but that you were actually woken up against your will, more than likely by all the screaming from your toddler. He forgot how much you hated being woken up.

"Why did you give her sugar", you irked.

"Whaaaat! You can't just jump to conclusions silly", he laughed, trying to ignore the deathly glare you were giving him.

"Satoru", you called him by his full name and not by Toru. It made him want to crawl into a hole and die.

"I know a sugar-fuelled screech when I hear it".

“But Y/nn! I can’t just eat sweets and not give her some”, he whined.

“What sweets?”, you asked out of curiosity.

You saw your husband’s whole body flinch at your words as his index finger tapped against the island idly.

It was something he subconsciously did whenever he was lying or hiding something.

“It was mochi wasn’t it”, specifically his favourite, Kikufuku.

He let out a nervous laugh and averted his gaze from you.

“What did I tell you last time?”.

“I can only have mochi three times a week at most…”, he sulked. “So I don’t get diabetes..”.

And he had it yesterday, the day before and the day before that.

You shook your head. “To be honest Toru, I think today’s the day I finally kill you”.

Although your words were nothing to smile at, he smiled anyway because you called him by his nickname. It meant you forgave him (in his head anyway). It just meant you were over it more than anything.

In that moment, you three heard the front door squeak open. The same door you’ve been pestering Gojo to lubricate for weeks.

D/n squealed, the sounds rivalling that of the squeaky door as she ran over to the door and smiled widely at the sight of Megumi. She hugged his legs and as he was about to routinely lift her into his arms, she ran away again as she continued her unbearable shouting.

She would usually make grabby hands at him to lift her up, but not today. She wanted to continue running around.

Megumi felt betrayed and he thinks he knows the reason for this betrayal.

He walked into the kitchen where the toddler ran into and looked at Gojo with narrowed eyes and a scowl.

“Why’d you give her so much sugar?”.

Gojo’s mouth fell open as he looked at you then Megumi. “How the hell do you guys know I gave her sugar??!”.

“I know a sugar-fuelled screech when I hear it”.

Gojo swore he felt like deja vu just now or something.

“That’s what I said!”, you exclaimed.

masterlist :)

[heliads]

Hi! Hi! I have been reading your Eric Coulter fics and I don't know if you're still into Divergent but i can i request a eric coulter x fem!reader where they go from rivals to lovers and literally everyone in Dauntless has bets on them to be together?

'rumors of rivals' - eric coulter

masterlist

Four’s got another pet project, but for once, it isn’t you.

It’s a habit of his, one he’d do best to kick. Although Four may like to keep his indifferent silence and pretend as if he were a shallow-hearted Dauntless through and through, he’s got a soft spot for the people he likes. He’s got a knack for finding similar souls and winning them over, even as he acts as if he couldn’t care less about any of you. He did this while you were an initiate, and now he’s repeating the process with one of his new trainees, a girl named Tris.

Since you don’t work the initiates, you haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Tris Prior, although you’ve heard Four talk about her often enough that you have a good gauge of her likes, dislikes, and every single conversation she’s had with your friend. For someone who claims that he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself, Four’s awfully attentive to Tris.

It makes you laugh, both when he’s around and not. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, it seems that even the toughest of Dauntless fall victim to their hearts every now and then. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, that’s one test you won’t be failing. Four may have fallen in love, but not you. Not a chance. The only decent one around here is Four, and he’s clearly besotted with Tris. No other men even come to mind.

Four and Tris catch up to you, and he begins the introductions. “Y/N, this is Tris, the initiate I’ve been talking about. Tris, this is Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine.”

Tris smiles at you. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Four has said a lot of good things about you.”

You laugh. “It can’t be more than what he’s said about you, trust me. I think all of our conversations are now about you.”

Tris laughs too, evidently surprised at your camaraderie. “I’m sure he’ll argue with that, but I’m glad to hear it. I have to say, I knew what to expect from a Dauntless Leader, but you’re way nicer than I expected.”

You grin. “Oh, trust Four to talk up my reputation. We’re not all totally dramatic around here.”

Four rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. As if you’re not locked in one of the worst rivalries Dauntless has ever seen.”

Tris widens her eyes, curious. “What are you talking about?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Four doesn’t mean anything because he doesn’t know what he’s saying. There’s nothing there.”

Four scoffs. “Of course there’s something there. Tris, Y/N’s just denying it because she’s too embarrassed to admit that she’s totally obsessed with beating Eric at everything.”

Tris claps a hand to her mouth. “Wait, I know what you’re talking about. Everyone in the faction has been gossiping about Eric and one of the other Leaders. You don’t mean that–”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly. “The rumors are about me. They’re just jokes, though. Nothing to take seriously.”

Four arches a brow doubtfully. “Of course they’re not.”

You swat him in the shoulder. “Anything more on the subject and I’ll push you off a roof, Four. Watch your tone.”

Instead of taking your threat seriously, Four just cracks a rare grin and keeps his triumphant silence. In all honesty, he’s not wrong about the gossip, and neither is Tris. You have been rivals with a certain Eric Coulter for most of the time you’ve been at Dauntless, if not all of it, and beating Eric at anything from a fight in the ring to glowing recommendations from the other Dauntless Leaders does indeed make your day like nothing else.

At this point, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. There’s no way you could ever like Eric, he makes it impossible to so much as smile around him. He’s insufferable, that’s all, and he always has been.

You remember that from the very first day you arrived. Eric had been through initiation a year before you, so of course he swaggered about the faction like he knew everything and you knew nothing at all. It didn’t matter that you mastered every challenge that initiation set before you, it didn’t matter that, at the end of your training, you came out with the highest rank. No matter what, Eric would always boast that he’d done it better when he was an initiate. And, since the two of you weren’t in the same year, there was no way of proving him right or wrong.

Once you graduated initiation, your ill-fated relationship only took a turn for the worse. Both of you were gunning for positions as Dauntless Leaders, and did everything in your power to claw to the top. It was a common assumption that only one Leadership position would be vacated, meaning that one of you would succeed and one of you would do the worst thing possible for a Dauntless:  you would fail.

Instead, both of you were appointed as new Leaders, and now you’re forced to spend even more time with him than before. Eric is more hands on, especially with his new position as an initiation leader, whereas you’re more devoted to strategy and all the ways to keep Dauntless as a faction running as smoothly as possible. The two of you clash whenever you so much as step into a room together.

Over time, this rivalry has drawn the attention of the entire faction. There’s hardly a soul in Dauntless that hasn’t witnessed the two of you going for each other’s throats at some point. Last you heard, some faction members were even going so far as to place bets as to when the two of you would get together, but that’s absurd. You and Eric hate each other. There’s simply no way you’d actually manage to get over your mutual loathing to fall in love.

“He’s an unpredictable asshole, I don’t know what else you want me to say,” you growl to Four.

Instead of being answered by your friend, however, a new voice joins you, one that makes you want to put your fist through a wall. “Are you talking about me again, L/N? I’m touched.”

Four and Tris exchange some interesting glances, which you definitely don’t appreciate. You turn to glower at none other than Eric, who’s somehow emerged out of the throngs of Dauntless milling about to appear right by your side. It’s as if he was summoned from your mere thoughts alone.

“So you heard me talking about an unpredictable asshole and immediately assumed it was you? That’s lovely, I didn’t know you had such great self-esteem.” You hiss.

Eric just grins. “You’re always so kind to me. Truly, it makes my day.”

You glance to your opposite side, hoping to deflect onto Four, but you notice that he and Tris have somehow disappeared into the crowds again, leaving you alone with Eric. You’ll have to chide him about abandoning you later, once you manage to shake Eric again.

Eric notices the changing subject of your attention and chuckles. “They left already? Can’t say I blame them.”

“Neither can I,” you fire back. “Having to spend time with you isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.”

“See, that’s the difference between the two of us,” Eric intones, holding up a finger appreciatively as he speaks, “There’s no punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s because I’m capable of doing anything to eliminate those who would rise against me. It’s what makes me a better Dauntless. I’m not surprised that you lack the courage.”

You groan in annoyance. “It’s a saying, Coulter. Goodness, I see why you’re not an Erudite. Critical thinking is not your strong suit.”

Unfortunately, Eric doesn’t seem particularly affected by this insult. “I’ll leave the critical thinking to you, L/N. The glory of battle is mine as always.”

You arch a brow. “Remind me who kicked your ass the last time we met in the ring? I’m sure the glory of battle was totally on your side then, too.”

Eric’s voice turns razor-sharp. “How about a rematch, then? Tonight. That is, if you can’t manage to talk yourself out of facing me again.”

You stop walking, meeting Eric’s eyes dead on. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Scared?”

“Not a chance,” he fires back. “I’ll see you then.”

With that, he stalks off, leaving you fuming yet again. You could name a hundred encounters that have taken place exactly like this one. It’s strange, you’ve always prided yourself on your control of your temper, but something about Eric Coulter just drags out every bit of irritation and passion from your heart.

Glancing around, you see that more than a few people have turned to look at you and Eric as you passed by, and are now whispering to each other. “Shut up,” you mutter at no one in particular, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to stop the flurry of gossip.

Great, now you’ll have another rumor to add to the mix. As if you needed any more. Grimacing to yourself, you set off again. You’ll be looking to tonight’s fight with Eric, if not for a release of anger than anything else. It would feel good to beat him up again, you decide, and it’s about time his ego got knocked down a peg or two.

Eric is waiting for you in the empty gym when you let yourself in later that night. The two of you arrive at the same time whenever one of you challenges the other to a fight. It’s become a sort of tradition. You know exactly when and where to find each other because you’ve done it so often. It comes to you like breathing, like living. Instinctive, intuitive. You and Eric may not see eye to eye on most subjects, but in the ring, it’s like he’s your double.

You and Eric face each other warily on the ring. There’s no one else here, not after hours, so the entire gym is empty. Even the smallest of sounds are amplified by the solitude, each shuffle of your feet from side to side sending ripples of echoes up to the high ceiling before bouncing back down again, creating ghosts of your every movement. The lights are dim. The shadows lengthen Eric’s already numerous tattoos, making him look as if the darkness could swallow him up entirely if you were to turn away for even one moment.

You lunge first, mostly as a feint to get his attention. At your level of fighting experience, both of you know better than to truly attack first. Eric aims a blow at your midsection, but you duck just in time, dropping low to kick his legs out from under him. Briefly, Eric loses his balance, but manages to regain it in time to send a returning strike your way.

On and on, the fight progresses, the tide rolling from you to him back to you again in an endless circle. Eric manages to pin you first and huffs out a triumphant breath, but you get him the next round. You’ve spent enough nights like this that every move seems familiar. Although the precise victor of the fights may switch off from night to night, the actions themselves have been done so many times that it feels like muscle memory.

You’re sure it’ll be a night just like any other, but then something strange happens when Eric wins again. Both of you have ended up on the surface of the mat, and after briefly striving for the upper hand, Eric manages to make it there first, and he swings his weight over you, pinning you to the ground. His hands lock your wrist onto the mat like cuffs. You try to throw him off again, but it doesn’t work, and the two of you rest there, panting from the exertion, but worst of all, looking at each other.

You wait for Eric to move off of you and begin the cycle again, but strangely enough, he doesn’t. Instead, Eric looks, he looks at you like he’s never seen you before in his entire life. You feel as if you couldn’t move a muscle, and lie there perfectly still. One twitch of a limb, one wrong breath, and he might react, or worst of all, leave. You don’t know why, but you know for certain that shattering this moment would destroy you both.

Slowly, carefully, Eric releases his hold on your arms, but you don’t swing at him. The erratic rise and fall of his chest has slowed as easy breath returns to him, but when he had held you down moments ago, you could still feel his pulse thundering in his veins, tumultuous and irreverent like the clash of a thunderstorm.

“Y/N,” Eric whispers, low in his throat and urgent. You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure that there is anything to say, not without giving something away, a secret so terrible and all-consuming that to utter it aloud would use up all of you, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a person who had once been you.

He’s waiting. For what, you don’t know. Or, you don’t want to know. Both of you are on a precipice, the edge tall and mighty, but unlike the roof back at the entrance to Dauntless initiation, you do not know that the fall won’t kill you. You could survive this jump, sure. But you could also break your bones in the leaping, and come out of this a ruined version of someone who had thought they knew everything about Eric Coulter, and then learned otherwise.

The indecision is too great, and so you do something utterly befitting someone of your station, and you run. Eric doesn’t move when you suddenly slip out from under him, nor does he stop you when you leave the gym. It isn’t a Dauntless move to flee from a fight, but then again, you transferred here from your home faction in the Choosing Ceremony, so the habits of the brave haven’t been instilled in you completely. You still, it seems, have a lot to learn.

The walk back to your apartment seems treacherous. There aren’t that many people out at this time of night, but you swear that of those who remain, every eye is on you. Haven’t you heard the rumors? Isn’t it true that these people have guessed what you are when it comes to Eric Coulter? If they see you, they will know.

You crawl into your bed and hope for sleep, but nothing comes. You stare at your ceiling in the dark, wondering what you’ve done. You’ve claimed to hate Eric for a very long time, but the way you felt in that ring, with him looking down at you– None of that was hate. You haven’t felt an absence of anger like that in such a long time that you’ve almost forgotten how to name that emotion entirely.

You get up the next morning, exhausted and confused, and complete your daily duties in somewhat of a haze. Every one of your moves feels mechanical. Eric is busy with the initiates, so your paths shouldn’t cross. When he finds you later that day, then it must mean that he sought you out intentionally. You’re not sure if that’s for better or worse.

You do your best to shake him, but he tracks you down eventually, pulling you into an empty room and shutting the door behind him. “Y/N,” he says urgently. “We should talk about last night.”

You don’t want to, not when the way he says your name reminds you of the way he’d whispered it last night, soft and careful, none of the things you have ever associated with Eric. It wasn’t as torturous as you expected, being alone with him without a fight to separate you. In fact, if you weren’t on guard, you would even admit that you liked it.

When you remain silent, Eric sighs, frustration beginning to tinge back into his breath again. “I know something happened. We can’t just pretend otherwise.”

You glance back up at him. “Can’t we?” You ask. “We can go back to fighting all the time. I’m sure it would come easily to both of us.”

You’ve become an expert at provoking him over the years, but now, in the face of all your attempts, Eric’s gaze remains neutral. “Is that what you want?”

Yes, you start to say, but for some reason the words dry up in your throat and the only thing that comes out is a terrible, awful exhale, “No.”

Eric hasn’t let go of your hand since he pulled you into this room. He seems to remember it now, his thumb rubbing light circles back and forth against your wrist. “Neither do I. Turns out, the only thing I like better than fighting you is when we aren’t fighting at all.”

You’ve never understood it when people say their heart skipped a beat, but you feel it now, the stuttering of desperate hope locked between your ribs. “So– you want–”

“You, Y/N,” Eric interrupts. “I want you. I always have.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like victory. Hot, brave, triumphant. A thousand nights undefeated in the ring couldn’t light you up with a fire half this bright. Sometimes, the rumors are true, and sometimes, the very man you thought was your greatest rival was instead your best love. Eric is all of these things, but most importantly, he is yours.

requested by @simoneashwinis, i hope you enjoy!

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alexs-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[rodolfoparras]

Guard dog reader has me in a headlock

Cuz like hear me out

We get into a physical fight with another one of the soldiers and get punished by price

Although I love the thought of Price punishing guard dog reader for misbehaving I couldn’t stop thinking about Price feeling proud of guard dog reader for behaving, even going as far as to reward him for it

Pairing: John Price x Top Male Reader

Cw: 18+, possessiveness, riding

Price never liked this; award ceremonies that is, had never liked the itchy suits, sitting in stuffy rooms, engaging in conversations with people he’s never met before and doesn’t really care for

Throughout his entire career he’d done everything to avoid it.

However this time around he had a reason to attend because this time you’ll be there as well, and not just as his date but you’ll be up on that stage, getting rewarded for all the good work you’ve done this year.

When Price first took you in, no one had expected you to get this far. You were a stray, a feral dog, kicked out of every squad you’ve ever been a part of.

Tf141 had been your last resort, and although everyone had discouraged Price from taking you in, he’d seen something in you that no one else had seen and had therefore decided to make you a part of his team.

You quickly proved that you deserved your place and suddenly Price had a reason to dig up the itchy suit he had kept buried in his closet, had even made sure to prepare some conversation topics he could use when he’d be in those stuffy rooms full of strangers.

“Mind helping me with this tie? You say, looking frustrated as ever while waving around the fabric in your hand.

“Come here “ he grunts out and motions you over with his hand.

“ is it obvious that I’m out of my element here?” You say in a joking tone but it’s obvious that you’re nervous

“Just a bit,” he muses as he slings the fabric around your neck.

“Fuck me,” you groan, “do you think they’ll let someone else recive the award on my behalf, maybe you -“

“Don’t be ridiculous you’re going, " he says, tone firm as ever while focusing on his task.

“Why?”

“Because of this,” he says while lightly yanking at the tie “and because it’s your award and not mine,” he continues while adjusting the fabric “and because I want to see the look on their faces when you’re the one to receive an award and not them” he finishes up before dropping his hands onto your shoulders, and giving you a once over “You look good”

“Yeah? You think so?” You ask, trying your best to suppress the smile on your face.

You do look good in your suit and with that bashful smile on your face.

You look good as his date, not that anyone would know that part but that didn’t matter

and you’ll certainly look good when you walk up on that stage, accepting an award no one thought you’d be able to get, well no one except for Price that is.

His boy, he thinks to himself, feels a sense of pride swell up in his chest before he slots your lips together.

His boy, he thinks to himself as licks your bottom lip asking for entrance.

His boy, he thinks to himself dragging his tongue along the roof of your mouth as if trying to memorize every nook every crevice

He breaks the kiss, eyes wide, face flushed and absolutely breathless.

Price knows he should be out there, the award ceremony is just about to begin but instead he’s tugging that itchy suit off of his body before doing the same with yours. They didn’t deserve to see you dressed up anyways.

He should be out there making conversation with people he doesn’t know nor care for, instead he’s slipping out the plug he’d kept on him and pushing two spit slicked fingers past his puckered rim, making swift work of stretching himself for your cock.

He should be out there watching you the feral dog get ready to go up on that stage and get rewarded for all the good work you’d done this year, instead he’s got that feral dog under him, looking docile as ever while he works himself up and down your length.

His boy his boy his boy he chants over and over in his head before he tips over the edge, coming with a cry and spilling on both your abdomens.

•

“Give a round of applause to.. '' Price tunes out the voice of the announcer, eyes zoning in on your form as you walk up the stage to get your award.

His boy.