#but a) I am the world’s most oblivious woman

[deangirlrights]

On this third anniversary of nov 5 2020 I watched 15x13 and 15x14 for the first time. So close and yet in some ways so far

[winterstelltales]

Crush [Zayne x f!reader]

warnings: jealous!reader, really bad writing ig

you're not a jealous person, well, most of the times.

you just watched with amusement as the new intern ogled your boyfriend right in front of you while he checked your medical files.

it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, zayne usually turned a lot of heads wherever he went without even noticing. still, you couldn’t help but be amazed at how oblivious he was to the intern's huge fat crush on him. or maybe he wasn’t oblivious at all and simply chose not to care, you’d never know with him.

you and zayne had been dating for some time now, while you hadn’t publicly announced your relationship to the world, a few people close to both in your life already knew that you were together. but right now you wanted nothing more than to show this woman that he was taken. that he was yours. 

“miss, your arm,” the resident called you in a sweet voice, pulling your attention away from zayne. she had just finished taking the vitals and had put on some gloves. she motioned toward your injured arm, making a gesture for you to lift it.

zayne was still looking at your records with his brows drawn together. oh how bad you wanted to smooth that line in between.

you looked down at your arm, it couldn’t even be called an injury, to be honest. just a shallow cut running down your elbow to your wrist.

“ah it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt anymore…” you were saying when the man beside you suddenly turned his head with an all-familiar gaze that sent shivers down your spine which made you quickly avert your gaze. 

“even a small wound can lead to an infection if not treated properly,” he says, his voice firm, “let her do her job.”

oh he was upset.

you raised your hand so she could treat your wound. her hands were cold to the touch and had a tighter grip on your uninjured skin as she began to clean the cut with antiseptic. 

you sighed quietly when another intern came in, calling zayne over to check on your other colleagues injured on the mission. he spared you a glance, eyes softening before leaving.

you usually had a high pain tolerance, but you couldn’t help wincing when the resident wiped too hard with the antiseptic. 

you cleared your throat slightly, “could you—um, maybe be a little gentler.”

“oh!” her eyes widened in embarrassment as she loosened her iron grip on your arm. she chuckled nervously, “sorry, i am a little nervous around blood.”

you blinked, what the fuck?

before you could say anything, she had already applied the ointment and was hurriedly wrapping a bandage around your arm. you could only watch helplessly as the bandage ended up crooked and uneven. 

the curtain covering your bed suddenly opened and zayne stepped inside. his eyes narrowed at the lousy bandage on your arm.

“what is this?” you wanted to laugh at the way he asked the question.

The girl in front of you flamed red and coughed lightly before speaking.

“sorry dr. zayne…”

she says as zayne steps closer to you, “wait i’ll do it again.”

your eyes widens and you quickly looks at zayne pleadingly, shaking your head slightly.

zayne sigh heavily and gently takes your arm in his, “no need— just go help dr. greyson with the others,” he doesn't seem to be good at lecturing students too much. 

you watch the girl leave in silence, but your focus is quickly pulled back by the cold touch of the surgical gloves brushing against your arm. 

“i think she has a crush on you,” you grinned and said.

zayne glanced at you with a calm face, “unfortunate choice, i’m taken.”

you hum, satisfied with the answer you received. he doesn’t say a lot but unwraps the bandage wrapped around your arm and puts it aside. he is silent as he cleans the wound with precise practice, then picks up a new piece of gauze bandage and wraps it around your arm a few times before carefully tying a firm knot with his hands.

it wasn’t rare for you to see him working like this, but no matter how many times you see it, it will never be enough. his hands, even calloused and marked with scars, were far too gentle when touching you. you observe the way his lashes brush his skin, and the way his hair falls on his forehead with amazement.

“you have really long eyelashes” you blurt out and smiles when you see the tips of his ears reddening as he looks up. zayne had never been good at responding to your compliments, so he coughs and looks away.

“I see you still have the energy to talk nonsense.” he says, turning to leave.

“ah wait, it really hurts,” you suddenly cries out, squeezing your eyes shut and grabbed his hand, stopping him on his tracks.

he is in front of you in a flash, hands grabbing at your sides, “where?” his voice is filled with concern and you almost feel bad.

“here,” you speaks lowly and guides his hand towards your chest. zayne’s eyes narrows, already seeing where this is going.

“you—”

you shuffle closer to the end of the bed, looking pitiful as you speak, “this is so sad, i think only a kiss can make it better.”

“is that so?”

“yeah, on the lips,” you nodded seriously.

zayne smile tug at the corner of his lips, “but i don’t think you deserve a kiss.”

you pull at his arm, bringing him closer, “please?”

he looks at you helplessly, not having the ability to deny you.

his hand caresses the soft skin of your cheek, titling your face upwards before wrapping his lips around yours. it’s a slow kiss, sensual but not very long because he soon pulls away, but you’re faster. you grab his white lab coat and bring his face back to yours, he stumbles forward, making you lean back on the bed and steadies himself by placing his hand on the bed. his other hand pinches your waist gently.

you smile into the kiss, feeling your heartbeat rise with how close his body is to yours. zayne’s hand wanders up body, cupping your jaw and deepening the kiss when suddenly the curtain is pulled apart.

you pulls away from zayne while he closes his eyes to regain his composure. he takes a deep breath before straightening himself up and turning around.

The intern who treated your wound stood speechless for a moment, her eyes wide and red faced before squeaking out an apology and quickly running out of the room.

maybe you are a jealous person after all.

[chatsukimi]

ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

gojo satoru rarely takes his glasses off. in his own world of infinity, you suppose real life is somewhat boring.

you couldn't be more wrong.

you're sitting across from gojo, a jacuzzi separating you. he has dipped his feet into the pool of clear water, the ripples cascading to your legs. noticing them, he looks up.

the first thing he thinks is woah.

the sight of you in a bathing suit stuns him temporarily, his heart clattering faster. but he musters up a cocky smile before strolling forward, putting on his black sunglasses, imitating one of those old men in sunnies staring down at you.

"arrived early, did we?"

you hum, craning your head up. your hand finds his neck, pulling his lips onto yours with a smile.

"you got me." your fingers catch his lightless specs and pull them from his ears. "let me see you."

you don't know what you're doing to him right now. he chuckles, rubbing his nape with a hint of awkwardness, when all he wants to do is take you in right there. he's never been in a relationship before, so he doesn't know if he can check you out so freely.

"you miss me so much?" he teases, though on the inside he's screaming.

goddammit, why did you take his glasses? he forces his gaze on your face- breathtaking, yes, but hardly the only thing that's begging his attention. he tries to keep his stare minimal, yet his lips part unconsciously. he stares at the only partial alternative to satiating his want: your lips.

noticing your boyfriend's gaze, a devilish idea pops into your head.

after geto and shoko arrive, the four of you talk casually in the relaxing hot water. gojo resumes his usual cocky self. an hour or so passes before you decide to switch to the living room.

"gojo, do you know where's the bathroom? i wanna shower."

wet feet plopping in tow through the winding hallways, you feel his gaze boring into the back of your skull. but as you enter, he stops by the door. you turn around, feigning oblivious.

"can you grab me a towel?"

ever eager to please, gojo quickly strides down the hallway for a towel, while you strip and enter the shower. when he comes back, listening to the sound of water, he waits by the door.

"gojo, pass the towel," you call.

he's so glad you don't have the six eyes right now, because he can feel his cursed energy spiralling. "w-what?"

"i said, pass me the towel."

his eyes widen. hovering over the doorknob, he swallows his other thoughts, shuffling into the bathroom, one feet after another, gaze pasted onto the floor.

your hand comes out, waving as though you have no idea where he is. he shoves the object into your hand before you step out, towel wrapped around you. with that, he immediately turns to leave, but not before noticing the devious little smile on your lips, possibly from his reaction.

fuck him, he thinks.

suddenly fingers enclose on his wrist, his limitless shut off from the distraction.

"can you dry my hair?" you say, polite, and in that soft tone you know he can't say no to.

his hands stagger over your head, gripping another towel, drying this part then the next. clunky. he's never touched someone else much before, and it shows.

what entertains you most, however, is the way he's forcing his eyes on his hand and nowhere else, focusing like it's his lifetime.

"done," he mumbles.

at last, you look up at him. he's wearing an uncharacteristically stern face, clearly holding himself back.

you ask, "do you want to say something?"

fuck. him. he lets out a shallow breath. how could you stand there batting your lashes like nothing's wrong, when you're making his hands run over you, yet not in the way he wants to.

"you demon woman. you know what you're doing."

you appear to be pondering, too, what you might be thinking. one of your hands tap at his chest, the space above his heart.

"tell me. what am i doing?"

his hand holds yours, keeping it against him. "you're tempting me."

you tilt your head to the side and you swear, he chokes a little. "and who's holding back, hmmm?"

...

2 years later

"gojo satoru, where have you put my towel??" your voice screeches from the shower.

leaning beside the bathroom door, the most annoyingly handsome man croons, "i've got it right here."

"give it to me. right now."

he shakes his head to himself. you still haven't learnt your lesson, it seems. he saunters over to the shower with the fluffy white towel in his grip. your hand pokes out. he clicks his tongue.

"baby, come on out."

an automatic groan claws its way from your throat and he chuckles, finding part of your unspoken shyness endearing.

"it's nothing that i haven't seen before," he adds, as though that'll make it better.

you feel your cheeks grow hot even with the excess steam. you know if he wanted to, he could step right into the shower and join you, but satoru seems to be in a lighter mood today.

regardless, you don't anticipate the effortless way the towel encases you as you step out. he wraps the cloth around you with care, the motion simultaneously tugging you closer to him. you let out a small gasp in comfort. to that, he snickers quietly by your ear, which provokes a half scowl from you. you look like a bunny in that oversized thing.

you mutter under your breath, "how did i get stuck with you..?"

he hums in response. "you're just too lucky."

he uses another towel to dry your hair. a thought courses through your brain- it's not like it matters much, but gojo satoru is really good at what he does. once he has experience in something, it's like the talent in his body simply activates, and the smooth sensation on your scalp dissipates.

this time, however, he doesn't announce his completion. instead, he tugs you casually against his chest. his hand skilfully cups your jaw, holding your gaze against his.

it's unfair, how the sight of his blue eyes send a seering level of need into your system. your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself and the towel begins to fall.

"wanna see you," he says, his stare roaming over you, unabashedly ravenous.

and finally, with experience, he does.

[parfaitblogs]

illicit affairs ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you want more than spencer reid can give you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst (18+ for suggestive content) tags: relation(situation)ship. s7 spencer. mentions of past intimacy. unrequited feelings. spencer's not the best person ever. kinda fade to black & unhappy ending (welcome back june parfaitblogs). reader has kinda bad self-worth. word count: 2.5k a/n: soooo fucking cliche man chases the girl after she leaves. im sorry. except im not. so sorry for whatever ooc thing spencer reid does in this. except it isnt ooc. tell me he didnt have a whore phase in s7. u cant. im sorry this is soooo dialogue heavy LOL.

Fractured shards of your soul scatter this apartment. 

This Godforsaken green-walled, quaint apartment, that you had spent so much of your time in. Nights, not days, because his days were spent yearning for an engaged woman. His nights, however, were reserved for you. Most of them, at least. Some of them. A few of them. Not many of them at all, actually.

It was a little embarrassing; how much of yourself you were willing to disrespect for some attention from a man who probably didn't think much about you outside of your presence inside his walls. But then he would touch you, and he would kiss you, and all self-deprecation will go out the window. For he is so gentle, and he knows every single crevice and button to press on your body like he speaks its language. 

Embarrassing.

It started innocently. A night spent with him after you had been broken up with, resulting in one awful decision that led to the other. Crying in his arms, to kissing him, to having sex, which he was rebutting all up until it actually happened. Rambling about transference while still leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck, shaking his head because you two should not be doing this. 

A week later you went back to him. You were sad, in your defence, and Spencer Reid was your friend first. He was good at distracting you, you learned. You would cry, and thus, he would make you come to forget about it. Like clockwork. 

At some point it changed from a coping mechanism, to an emotional necessity. You stopped thinking about your broken heart, and instead about how good Spencer was to you. Which might've been your biggest mistake.

You were not to him what he was to you anymore. 

And maybe he knew that. A laughable idea, because Spencer Reid, who could be slapped in the face with a poster that said I am in love with you in big bold letters, would still be oblivious to it all. But maybe he knew.

You had to ask this time to come over. Maybe pathetic, how much of your self-worth you relied on whether or not a man you weren't even dating wanted to see you. How much of your world had crumbled around you because it had been two weeks and he hadn't spoken to you outside of discussing a case. 

It was definitely pathetic how small you felt as you sat in the corner of his couch, a glass of water you didn't really want to drink encased in your palms, condensation seeping into your skin. In your defence, it didn't usually go like this. Usually, it took you all of three seconds to get insidehis apartment before he started kissing you. Why wasn't he kissing you?

You could hear the faint sound of shuffling behind you, glasses clinking together and ceramics settling on the marble countertop. The only other indicator Spencer was even there was his irregular breathing. Irregular from what, you didn't know. 

Another beat of silence passed, and with it, your patience. You set the glass down on the coffee table — something he would’ve scolded you over if not for the thick layer of tension between you two.

"Did you not want me to come over?" You regret the words the second they're out of your mouth, and they uncomfortably pierce the air, only to be followed by another thick blanket of fucking silence. You had already said it — you might as well commit. "Spencer?" 

You lifted your gaze from its fixated position on your lap to find him standing still in the kitchen, a bowl in his hands, still damp from its time in the dishwasher. 

"You know you're always welcome here," he replied when you had locked gazes. 

"That's not what I asked," you said, readjusting your body, chest pressed up against the back of the couch, chin resting atop its ledge. You watched as he dried the bowl and put it away, his shoulders deflating, before he turned back to face you. 

"I do want you here," he said, but even with the finality in his voice, you were sceptical. 

"Are you sure?" you despised the insecurity that seeped into your tone.

He stilled again, and even with the distance between you two, you could see gears turning behind his eyes, coming up with a response that wouldn't break your heart, probably. Because he knew.

He could lie. Say that yes, he is sure, and he does want you in his apartment right now, and he wasn't simply entertaining your own desires. Desires that he seemingly had grown tired of. But you would figure him out immediately, and maybe he knew that as well. Stupidly smart Spencer Reid thinking ahead, frustratingly so. 

Instead, he said your name, in an awfully cautious tone. Maybe lying would've hurt less. He took a step around the kitchen counter, ever so slowly closing the distance between you two. 

"It's okay if you don't want me here," you tell him, forcing a reassuring smile and stopping him in his tracks. "You're not forced to amuse me."

"Do you think that's what I'm doing?"

"Yes. You've hardly said a word to me, and I've been here twenty minutes," you rebutted. 

"I told you on the phone that I had some maintenance chores to do." Okay, true. "Once they're done, I'm all yours."

You shouldn't say anything. You knew that. The words on the tip of your tongue would cause an argument, and he had just technically promised to do what you both knew you had come to do, and after two weeks of hearing nothing, any attention from him was good attention. You shouldn't.

But you did. "Are you really?"

His eyes closed and a harsher breath of air expelled through his nose, his hands flexing by his side as he took a moment to respond. "What does that mean?"

"Are you really all mine?" you cringed even as you asked the question. And, you already knew the answer. 

"What do you want my answer to be?"

You could scream. "That isn't fair, Spencer."

"Do you want it to be yes?"

You didn't want to answer that honestly, too afraid of the rejection that was sure to follow. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, this is a relationship, and relationships need communication—"

"—A relationship?" you repeated back to him, incredulously. "You think this is a relationship?" 

Fingers dug into his eyes, and his shoulders sagged further. "What is it, then?"

"Convenient." The word stung even you, despite being the one to have said it. 

Or maybe it didn't hurt him. For he responded, in an achingly calm tone, "Explain that to me."

"Don't use profiling techniques on me," you countered, and he watched as your walls shot up around you. 

"Asking you to explain something to me isn't a profiling technique," he said, taking another step towards your residence on the couch.

"No, but the tone of voice you're using is."

"Would you rather I yell at you?"

"No—Spencer," you stammered so frustratingly in an attempt to come up with a response, emotions taking authority of your brain functions. "I come here when I'm sad, we fuck, I go home. That's all this is. That isn't a relationship."

"I could argue what a relationship legitimately is."

"Please don't."

"Okay," he agreed with a short nod. "Do you want more out of this arrangement, then?"

"Can you give me more if I do?"

His silence was answer enough, and so slowly but surely, you were untangling your limbs from themselves on the couch, and planting your feet on the floor.

"Where are you going?" he asked as you stood up.

"Home," you replied, curtly, and he watched in a still silence as you left. 

The slam of his apartment door was loud, and it echoed throughout the hall. Feet pattered against the stairs as you descended them, quickly, because your tears were forming fast and you were attempting to beat exposure to the outside world before they started to fall down your face. 

But the universe had other plans for you, and your named reverberated throughout the final staircase you had to descend. Your lips pulled into a line in an attempt to neutralise your expression, and you turned at the base of the stairs.

"You want more with me," he said, admittedly a little breathless from chasing you the way he did. 

"Glad you could deduce that one, Doctor."

A frustrated huff left his lips. "Stop shutting me out."

"I'm not doing this here," you replied, taking another step back — that he matched, stepping down a step. "Spencer."

"No, we are. If you are going to walk out of my apartment, then we're having this conversation here."

"I don't even want to have this conversation," you argued. 

"Yes you do."

"You don't know me."

"Yes I do." When you opened your mouth to argue again, he was quick to cut you off. "You want more with me, but you're too scared of me rejecting you, so you're brushing it off as something unimportant, in hopes that I'll forget about it so things can go back to what they were before."

"God forbid."

His lips pursed. "Can you be an adult about this?" 

Your heart stuttered uncomfortably in your chest, and he stared expectingly at you for minutes. Minutes that you let pass, your breaths shallow as you stared up at him, boring holes into his own eyes. Then, "Are you going to reject me?" 

"Yes, but—"

Oh.

Somewhere your name was said once, then twice, but it all sounded far too distant, submerged underwater, maybe. Your brain muddling with every single thought it had ever conjured up in all your years of living, to the point where you couldn't even figure out if the tears burning your eyes were actually there, communications in your brain on lockdown. 

You were detached from your own body as a hand was placed on your shoulder, your eyes flickering over to Spencer's face, which was an alarming amount closer than before. It was his hand, you figured, which meant he was watching you have this breakdown, and suddenly the thought of being like this in front of him was far worse than anything he could've said to you. 

"Okay," you said, almost breathlessly, stumbling back a few steps, nodding your head, and blinking away the tears all at once. "Which is fine, by the way. Because this isn't a relationship. And we agreed on casual sex, so really, you're not doing anything surprising, and I should've expected this. Yeah."

"Can you please look at me?" You hadn't even realised your gaze was flitting around the place until he said it, and you forced your eyes to rest on his face again. "Yeah, there you go. Hi. Deep breath."

You took in the gulp of air, despite it still being shallow from your onslaught of emotions, matching your rhythm with his own. He repeated the act a few more times, until you had settled into less violent gasps, and he was sure you were grounded with him again. 

"You back with me?" he asked just in case, his voice horrifically gentle, and you wordlessly nodded your head. "Can we talk about this, now?"

"In your stairwell?"

"I don't think you want to walk all the way up to my apartment again," he said, and he was correct; you didn't. "I would reject you. That's true."

"Which you're allowed to do," you answered, quietly. 

"I am," he agreed with a nod. "If that isn't okay with you, then tell me. We can call this off right now."

"And what?" you asked, ugly emotions clawing their way up your throat again. "Go back to how things were before?"

"Well, yes—"

"—No, Spencer!" you snapped, and he seemingly hadn't expected it. At all. "I can't go back to normal with you, not after this. Sex is fucking intimate, and it is scary, and you have seen me at my absolute worst and still slept with me these last few months. You have seen parts of me I refuse to share with anyone, because I trusted you."

"I didn't force you to do that," he countered. "You showed me every single side of you on your own accord. So do not paint me to be a villain."

"I'm not trying to," your voice was desperate, and if you weren't so busy using your hands to talk animatedly, you might be tearing out your hair by now. "I just—I don't get it. How was it so casual for you? How can you go back to what we had before all of this like it's nothing?" 

"All of this was never anything serious. We agreed on that."

"No. No, don't explain what this was to me. I know what it was. Answer the question."

How was he so calm? His eyes searching your own now tear-filled ones, but the crease in his brows was the only indicator of any emotion, for his body was alarmingly relaxed. 

He exhaled, "I don't know what to tell you. What do you want to hear?"

"The truth."

"I don't have feelings for you," he said, voice so curt you wondered if it was the way he said it, or what he said, that shattered your barely mended heart. Again. 

"Which is fine," you repeated the phrase, because maybe if you said it enough, you'll start to believe it. 

"So, do you want to call this off?" 

"We should."

He only nodded in agreement; a violent reminder that you weren't imagining the things he was saying to you. This wasn't a bad dream, and he was actually telling you the relationship you had built up in your head wasn't real. 

"I don't want to," you murmured, voice pathetically small, shrinking in your shoes beneath him. "I really like you, Spencer."

"Which is why we should call this off," he reasoned, and you wanted to scream.

"Are you going to be even a little sad if we do?" He parted his lips, and a beat of silence passed. And then you were stepping back, puffing out a strained breath of air, nodding your head in understanding. "I should go."

"You won't talk to me if we call it off," he said before you could get too far from him. When you turned to look at him again, he added, "Will you?"

"No."

"Then yes. I'll be sad."

"Because I won't talk to you?"

"Yes."

You stared at him for a beat longer. "Not because you won't have a fuck buddy anymore?"

"You were never just a fuck buddy," he said, exasperated, the phrase sounding foreign on his tongue. Sorry for exasperating you.

"No. But I'm not enough to like, right?" 

He said your name, and stepped off the staircase he had been residing on, lowering the height difference between you two. "You are enough to like."

"Not to you!" "I am not the only man in the world."

The bottomless pit in your stomach grew larger, only because to you he was. To you, he was everything. And you felt things far too big, and the realisation that he had never and will never see you that way was a world-shattering discovery. 

You sighed, lowering your gaze to the floor. "We never should have started this."

"I agree." 

"I'm gonna go."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, seemingly deciding against arguing with you any more. He merely nodded his head, and forced a smile. "Yeah."

"Bye, Spencer."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[twoidiotwriters1]

My sisters in christ I am begging you for a Luffy smut where everyone thinks he's got no clue of how sex works cause he's Luffy and he doesn't mind the teasing UNTIL he hears the reader thinks the joke is actually true and he decides to show her he's not so innocent 😮‍💨😮‍💨

I didn't know I'm so good at this until now...-Val

I'll Show you (Monkey D. Luffy x fem!reader)

Warnings: SMUT... just-... your welcome!

Words: 2,181

After another successful battle, as always, the straw hats wanted to have a big party to celebrate. Unfortunately, the Marines appeared to ruin the moment. So, they had to run back to the Sunny before it was too late. But not even that could take away the festivity out of the pirates.  

Sanji takes care of the food, Brooke and Franky the music, and Zoro the drinks. After a few hours (and many drinks), the conversation takes different turns as they keep digging. 

“I can’t believe you, Luffy,” Zoro says with incredulous laughter and shaking his head. 

“What? Why not?” Says Luffy with a frown. 

“Me neither,” says Usopp. “How come you were on an island with just women for two years and didn’t do something?” He scoffs. 

“Well, it’s the truth. Why would I lie? And what do you mean by ‘do something’?” Luffy’s confused by his friend’s question. 

“You see, Luffy,” says Sanji with a smile. “It’s quite hard to think that you left that wonderful paradise!” He chuckles with his flushed cheeks as he lights a cigarette. 

“Uh, I had to. I made a promise to you, guys,” he smiles.  

“But you didn’t have a girlfriend? Or you didn’t want to do… fun things with them?” Usopp chuckles. He doesn’t know how to talk to Luffy about this kind of thing. It always has been a mystery how his captain’s brain works. And he’s drunk too, so he can’t think straight. 

“Fun things?” Luffy thinks. “I mean, we played, and they showed me some defense techniques, I think that’s funny,” he shrugs. 

The three men laugh at his words. Sanji sighs leaning against the boat’s mast. “Oh, I would pay anything to be with the most beautiful woman in the world, Boa Hancock.” 

“Oh, she’s nice!” Luffy adds. 

“You bet,” Zoro chuckles sipping his sake. 

“I would never leave that island,” says Sanji. 

“You’d probably be dead by now, cook,” Zoro snorts. “How much blood would you lose by being there for five minutes?” 

“Shut it, Moosehead,” Sanji grunts. “It would be the best way to die.”  

“Why?” Luffy asks. He tries to understand but every time he speaks, his friends just laugh at him. So, he lets it go and eats more. 

“What are you guys talking about?” You ask arriving on deck with Robin and Nami with a drink in hand. 

Luffy looks at you with a big smile. “I don’t know, I got lost,” he informs as Sanji, Usopp, and Zoro talk now between them and in whispers. 

You shrug at them and sit on Luffy’s lap, getting comfortable and caressing his black hair. His hand travels to hold your waist and his head rests on your shoulder. 

“See!” Usopp points at Luffy and then laughs with the others. “Just look at him! He’s so oblivious. He has his girl on his lap and her tits are practically on his face and he doesn’t do anything. Do you think he did something in Amazon Lily?” 

“Uh?” Luffy’s confusion returns when he hears that. 

“Yeah, he has no clue,” says Zoro. “Even if Y/N asks him.” He chuckles. 

“Shut up,” You roll your eyes getting closer to your boyfriend.  

“C’mon, Y/N,” Usopp moves clumsily to stand before you two. “Tell me, Luffy. Did you even want to kiss Boa Hancock?” 

“Uh–no. She’s a friend, why would I want to kiss her?” 

“Good boy,” you kiss his cheek and smile proudly. 

Even though you weren’t together back then, you feel happy that Luffy didn’t fall for Hancock’s tricks.  

“God, you’re so lost,” says Nami. “Even I want to kiss her.” 

“They say that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world,” Robin informs them. “I would kiss her too,” she giggles. 

“One night stand,” Zoro informs with a firm nod.  

“Yeah,” Sanji scoffs “Like you could have a chance with someone as beautiful as her, Moosehead.” 

“Hey! If Luffy has her wanting to marry him, I think I have a better chance than you, shitty cook.” 

With that, they all start to discuss who would have a real chance with the woman.  Meanwhile, Luffy has been thinking about what his friends have been laughing about in his answers. He raises his head to look at you. “What do they really mean, Y/N?” 

“Uh–what Zoro said?” Luffy nods. “One-night stand is when you… uh, want to sleep with someone, but without a relationship or romantic feelings, and it’s just for one night,” you shrug.  

Luffy takes his time to think about that, mixed with his friend’s comments. Finally, his brain’s cells connect and understand. “Oh!” He exclaims making the others stop talking and look at him. “You’re talking about sex!” He laughs. 

“So oblivious,” says Nami shaking her head, and everybody bursts in laughter again.  

Luffy smiles proud of himself for now, understanding their conversation, but his smile stutters when he feels your body shake in laughter too. “Wait, why are you laughing?” He raises an eyebrow. 

You frown. “Oh! It’s okay, baby,” you kiss his forehead. “I know sometimes it’s hard for you to understand this… topic.” 

“Hah! Really hard, right, Y/N?” Zoro barks and laughs. You look at him with a deadly glare of warning. 

“What?” Luffy asks getting a little annoyed. 

“Shut up, Zoro!” You warn him. 

“I swear I’ve tried everything, but Luffy can’t take a hint!” says Zoro, making an awful sharp womanly voice that makes everyone laugh. 

“I’m gonna kill ya’!” You groan standing up from Luffy’s lap and attacking Zoro’s good eye. 

“Uh...” Luffy leans to Robin. “Are they still talking ‘bout sex?” 

 Robin giggles. “Yes, Captain.” 

** 

When you enter your shared room, you see a very serious Luffy sitting on the bed.  

“Luffy?” He raises his head, but his expression is the same. “Are you okay?” 

Luffy’s jaw is tense, and his hands are fisted at his sides. “No.”  

“What’s going on?” You sit next to him as you take off your shoes. 

“You want to have sex with me.” It’s not a question. 

“I-uh. I mean, y-yeah...” as Zoro revealed, you’ve tried with soft touches, lingerie, and hot make-out sessions, but there’s always something distracting him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His tone makes you more nervous than you expected. You’ve never seen him like this with you.  

“I-I try, but...” 

“No, you don’t,” he stands and turns to you with his arms crossed. “Are you scared or something?” 

“What? No! It’s not that!” 

“Do you think you won't like it?” 

You shake your head, standing up. “No, Luffy-” 

“’Cuz I know that you’ll like it,” he smirks at you. His voice’s deep and his eyes linger on your body making you shake. 

“I-uhm...” you sigh. “Luffy, it’s just that… You can be a little… oblivious about sex and I just thought...” 

Luffy chuckles. “Yeah, maybe. But I choose to be like that. I don’t care if the others think that,” he steps closer to you. “But you are more important,” he slowly grabs your waist and pulls you up to his body.  

You put your hands against his chest. “W-what do you mean?” 

“I’ll show you,” he whispers and then crashes his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. 

You moan when you feel his tongue enter your mouth, his hands go down to grab your ass and squeeze it, wrinkling the fabric of your dress. “Luffy!” You gasp, ending the kiss.  

“I gotcha’,” he giggles as he gets behind you to unzip your dress, leaving you in just underwear. 

He picks you up confidently and you wrap your legs around his waist. He walks with you to the bed and drops you carelessly making you complain. Luffy laughs as he removes his vest, shoes, and pants at great speed. 

He crawls up your thighs without taking his intense dark eyes off you. You tremble with anticipation. “Maybe everybody thinks I’m dumb, maybe I am,” he shrugs. “But I know you, Y/N...” he starts to kiss your skin. “And I know your reactions to my touch.” 

Luffy makes you open your legs, and he doesn’t wait before he’s kissing, licking, and biting the interior of your thighs. You sigh, feeling a shock from his lips. Luffy pulls away a little and smiles proudly, having left hickeys all over you. He grabs your thighs again to put them over his shoulders and have better access to your clothed pussy. 

“Luffy!” You squeak at his proximity. 

“My favorite part...” he says, ripping off your panties. 

You want to scold him, but your scream evolves and turns into a moan from your lips when his mouth attacks straight to your core. Your back falls against the mattress and you hold the sheets. 

You’re surprised at his enthusiasm to eat you whole and even feel a little embarrassed to hear the wet sound he’s making. “Luffy!” You moan. He drowns his moans in response and his grip on your legs tightens. 

It doesn’t take you long to recognize the sweet sensation of an orgasm, but you also feel overwhelmed because you’ve never cum so fast. “Luffy… wait!” You try to breathe. “Slow down a bit!” 

He decides not to listen and continues his work by running his tongue over your clit. That alone is enough to make you moan loudly, your body trembles and your legs want to come together crushing Luffy’s head. Your hand tangles in his hair tightly to pull him closer to you. “F-Fuck, Luffy!” You groan as you try to breathe after that intense high.  

Luffy keeps licking but now lowers his speed to just get slower laps until he’s satisfied. Then he crawls higher up to be close to your face, his smile no longer shows any innocence, but pride in his good job. 

“T-That was...” you sigh. 

“I know. I told you I’d show you,” he giggles. He slowly moves to be completely between your legs, and you gasp when you feel his boner. “I ain't finished, though.” 

He leans to softly kiss your lips and his hands travel all over your skin. “Soft...” he whispers. “So pretty.” 

Now it’s your turn to touch him, feeling his sweaty and strong muscles, then you lower your hand to his still-clothed cock, and Luffy moans. “Take ‘em off,” you order, and he nods.  

You touch again his hard member and move your hand up and down. “Y/N...” he calls you in a trembling voice. 

“Y-yeah?” You don’t stop. 

“Did I–Did I do well?” He sighs. “Did I eat you well? You liked it?” He thrusts at your hand. 

“Yes,” you moan. “I liked it very much, love.” 

“Was I a good boy?” He whines. 

You understand what he wants to hear. “Yes, such a good boy, Luffy,” you praise. “My good boy...” 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he kisses you. “So soft, so pretty,” he smiles, “and so fucking delicious, the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He laughs as he leans over and sucks on your nipple, firmly holding your breast. 

“Lu!” You scream, grabbing his dark locks again.  

He lets go of your nipple at holds the hand you’re using to caress him. “I-I want to be inside you, please... Can I?” He asks desperately.  

“Yeah, I need it too...” 

He smiles and moves, taking his member directly to your entrance eagerly.  

"Slow, Luffy..." You warn him. 

"I'm sorry," he laughs a bit. 

Both of you moan with his slow thrust, and Luffy buries his head on your neck when he's all the way in. You can feel the soft kisses on your throat as your body gets used to his intrusion, but you can't wait too long, so you grab his ass and pull him into you. 

"Move, baby..."  

He obeys, increasing the speed of the thrusts more and more until the sound of skin slapping skin floods the room along with the screeching of the bedframe against the wall. 

"Good boy."  

"Yeah, your good boy. Only yours..." 

After a while, you feel your body reaching a new climax and notice that Luffy's thrusts are harder and a bit sloppier. "I'm close," you moan. 

"Me too," he groans. “You first...” He raises his head to look at you. “I bet you look so pretty when you cum.” If your skin isn’t flushed by now, his words make your body feel like it’s on fire. “Cum f’me...” 

You squeal hitting your release and Luffy holds your waist like you might go away from him. “Fuck!” He grunts, and you feel him cum inside you. 

Your bodies shiver a little from the adrenaline, Luffy slowly pulls out of you, and his body falls on yours. You can't help but giggle and caress him. 

“I buv u,” he says, with his face buried on your tits.  

“I love you too.”  

After a comfortable silence, you remember the party happening on deck. “The others can’t laugh at you now, huh?” 

He giggles. “I don’t care. But maybe they heard your screams...” 

“YES, WE DID!” Someone yells upstairs. “WE GET IT!”  

You two laugh.  

[atlabeth]

🧸 - i hope this piques your interest LOL but i'm deep in a benedict bridgerton mood waiting for s3 to air

could you do a fluffy slow burn blurb for him where reader completely takes him by surprise? up to your interpretation men are just always sexier when caught off guard and proven wrong 😁☝🏼

happy 3k again my love!!

twin flames

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: you and benedict bond at an art exhibition. he only seems to be oblivious when it can embarrass him most.

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! it was literally the first one and it's taken me almost a month. lol. im so sorry. but i hope you enjoy!!!

wc: 1.1k

warning(s): all fluff

“This is beautiful,” Benedict murmured, and he glanced at the man beside him. “Is this not one of the best pieces you’ve seen?” 

“I suppose it’s alright,” the man shrugged. 

“Just alright?” He frowned. “Are you feeling well, sir?” 

The man frowned as well as he moved onto the next painting, fully ignoring Benedict. He just shook his head and focused back on the painting, thinking aloud. 

“The use of color is just—” he shook his head again. “It’s incredible. The way the brushstrokes are used for depth and the unique way of shading… It all melds together so well, and yet I never would have thought to use any of it in that way.” 

“Is that true?” 

Benedict’s eyes flickered down to see you by his side, a pretty woman in a rather unassuming dress. He’d never seen you before at one of these exhibits, so you must have been new. He would have remembered a face such as yours. 

“Certainly,” he said, nodding with exuberance. “Art is meant to make you imagine, feel— when I look at this piece, I feel some sort of amazement. It captures the beauty of a starry night impeccably, but the technique gives it a completely fresh feel. It is as if I am looking up at the horizon on my own for the very first time again, amazed by the vastness of the world.” 

You smiled. “That is very kind of you to say, sir. You’ve quite an eye, sir—and certainly a way with words.” 

Benedict shrugged. “It is very simple with a piece such as this. I could wax poetic all day, Miss…” He trailed off, and his gaze fell back to you. “I apologize, my lady. You have me at a disadvantage.” 

That coy smile remained on your lips. “Miss Tilbury. And you are Benedict Bridgerton, yes?” 

He nodded, and he couldn’t help the slightly nervous laugh that came along with being in your presence. “I am embarrassed. You knew my name, but I didn’t know yours. You must forgive me.” 

“Oh, it is of no matter,” you said, brushing your hand through the air. “You already know more about me than most.” 

His eyebrows rose, and when his mouth opened, he found himself at a loss for words. It took a moment to compose himself—it was awfully difficult to think with those pretty eyes focusing so intently on him. 

“Pardon me for asking, but are you new to these exhibits?” 

Your eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?” 

“I’ve not yet seen you around here,” he said. “And I am sure I would remember a face such as yours.”

“No,” you said, and your smile widened. “No, I frequent these sorts of exhibits. I’ve seen you before—I just must not have caught your eye.” 

“Oh, I think that impossible,” Benedict insisted. “Not only are you quite beautiful, my lady, you’ve also a sharp mind and a quick wit. Those are three things I can never ignore.” 

At that, you fully grinned, and he felt a smile of his own form. He’d only just met you and yet he felt this innate need to bring you joy. Perhaps it was a good thing you’d only just now met, for he could easily imagine thoughts of you consuming his every waking hour. 

“And you are quite the charmer, Mister Bridgerton,” you said. “Are you always this forward with women you just met?” 

“Only ones such as yourself,” he assured. “It is a delight to be able to discuss art with a twin flame.” 

“A twin flame?” 

“Someone who sees things the way I do,” Benedict said. “I tried to have a conversation about this piece with a man just before you, but he did not seem to understand it the way I did. You are refreshing, Miss Tilbury.” 

“Ah,” you said, and you nodded sagely. “Well, I may have just a bit more insight into this piece than that man did. I am the one who painted it, after all.” 

Benedict blinked. The words didn’t fully register in his mind. “What?” 

“I am the artist of this piece,” you said, gesturing at the painting they stood in front of. “I’m certainly flattered to know you enjoy it.” 

Benedict blinked again, and he felt heat spread across his whole face. He could not find any words in him for a strikingly long moment. 

“You can see my signature in the bottom right corner,” you continued. “My initials, of course. I paint under a pseudonym, for though those who run these exhibitions are more progressive than most, it can still be difficult as a woman to get our art displayed.” 

“I— I apologize, my lady,” Benedict finally managed to stammer. 

You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him. “For what?” 

“For not knowing your name,” he rushed, “and insinuating that you were a newcomer, and acting as if I know more about your own art than you do.” 

You laughed, and Benedict once again found himself smiling at it. It felt like fresh snowfall—you were indeed refreshing. 

“You need not apologize, Mister Bridgerton,” you assured. “I do not lie—it is indeed flattering to know you see my art in such a light. I have seen some of your own pieces, and you are talented.” 

“I do not always feel it,” he mumbled. “More often than not, I can only see the flaws in my work. You have a rare quality indeed, my lady—you are able to compliment yourself.” 

“I do not believe in the need for self-deprecation in the artistic world,” you mused. “I am proud of this piece, so why would I not compliment it? I already have enough men trying to scorn me each day—I see no reason to contribute to the fire with my own words.”  

“And there is no reason for you to!” Benedict exclaimed. “Miss Tilbury, you’ve a way with a brush that very few do—at least with what I’ve seen. I— I consider it an honor to even be standing in your presence, if I am honest. Have you any other works I can see?” 

You smiled. “I do, but none of them are available in a manner such as this. I hope to display more soon.” 

“As do I,” Benedict said, nodding rapidly. “Mayfair should consider itself lucky to be graced by such fine artistry.” 

“And I consider myself lucky to get compliments from a man such as yourself.” Your smile turned slightly coy. “I could offer you some tips, of course. Since you were such a fan of my artwork.” 

Benedict could only stare at you for a moment. He did not know whether your words held more or not, but he realized he was alright with either—or both, if he found himself lucky enough. 

“I would love to, Miss Tilbury.” 

“I see no need for formalities.” You said your first name, your eyes sparkling. “We are twin flames, after all. Yes?” 

Benedict’s throat bobbed, but he could not help his grin. “Yes.” 

[thewulf]

Lost and Found || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if I could request a Jake x Reader. I was thinking a good friends situation where they were both interested in the other but didn’t want to mess up their friend group dynamic and so they never said anything. And of course they were each oblivious to the fact they were into each other,.. Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh sorry anon, this took forever to write as I was feeling uninspired. Turns out I just needed to watch TGM and whew! I forgot how much I love Jake Seresin and the TGM crew :) Hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

T/W : Angsty in the beginning

The air in Virginia was thick with the scent of saltwater and fresh possibility when you first noticed the cocky Lieutenant who was making a beeline towards you. It was a humid afternoon on the naval base, and you, a newly hired trauma surgeon, were immersed in your work, lost in the world of medical charts and patient files. And just as you were about to get up, he walked in with a cocky grin and an air of self-assurance that demanded attention. You knew the type, he had to be a pilot. They just had the air about them.

"Hey there, beautiful," he greeted you with a wink, his voice carrying across the room with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Yeah, he was a pilot. Only they had the reassurance to be so fearless on a first interaction.

You raised an eyebrow at his boldness, unimpressed but intrigued by his approach. "Can I help you with something?" you replied, your tone cool and collected. You knew how to deal with his type. Be dismissive. Ignore them and eventually they’ll get bored enough to leave you alone.

The blonde-haired man slid into the seat opposite you, his grin never faltering as he leaned in closer. "Just couldn't resist the chance to introduce myself to the most captivating woman on base," he said smoothly, his words dripping with charm.

A chuckle escaped your lips, though you tried to suppress it. That was a new one for sure. "Flattery will get you nowhere Lieutenant," you responded, a hint of amusement in your voice.

He grinned in response, undeterred by your playful resistance. His eyes flashed down to your chest which displayed your rank and last name. "Ah, but I'm not just trying to flatter you Lieutenant Commander. I genuinely want to know the name of the woman who's been keeping me up at night," he admitted, his tone sincere but laced with playful arrogance.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his persistence. "Well, in that case, I suppose you'll have to earn it," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For whatever reason you were having fun with this interaction. It wasn’t often you would give these Navy boys much time but there was something about him. Something that had you setting down your charts to get a good look at him.

Jake leaned back in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze locking with yours. "I'm Jake, by the way. And you are?"

You maintained a playful smile, keeping him guessing as you decided to reveal just a fragment of yourself. "I'm a trauma surgeon," you replied cryptically, letting the mystery linger in the air. It was then that you noticed how handsome he was. Blonde, clean-cut hair and deep green eyes… who wouldn’t swoon for that?

Jake's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise, his cocky demeanor momentarily faltering. "A trauma surgeon? Now, that's impressive," he remarked, a newfound respect coloring his tone. "Here I am, just a pilot, and you're out there saving lives and I take them."

You chuckled softly at his dark humor, appreciating the humility that so rarely came from the pilots you had known in the past. "It's not a competition," You assured him, feeling a sense of something beginning to form between the two of you. No wonder he was so cocky. He was striking and a pilot to boot? It should’ve been over then and there, but he drew you in further than you had ever intended.

Jake nodded, his gaze lingering on you with a newfound sense of admiration. "I know, but still...what you do is pretty incredible. Badass even.” he said earnestly, a genuine warmth in his voice.

As the conversation continued to flow between you, a comfortable exchange began to form, fueled by mutual respect and a shared sense of adventure. And though you kept him guessing with your playful evasions, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel drawn to Jake – to his confidence, his charm, and the undeniable spark that crackled between you. And so, as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the mess hall and the sounds of laughter filled the air, you found yourself fascinated by Jake, captivated by his irresistible charm and magnetic personality. Little did you know, this chance encounter would be the beginning of a friendship – and perhaps something more – that would change the course of your lives forever.

Over time, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't quite explain. Despite the demands of your respective roles on the base, you made time to see each other whenever you could – stolen moments between shifts, late-night conversations beneath the stars, stolen glances in the dimly lit corridors of the barracks. Everyone knew of the two of you. Clearly in love but too stupid to do anything about it.

But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken tension between you, a lingering sense of longing that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You were both fiercely independent individuals, committed to your careers and reluctant to jeopardize the fragile balance of your friendship with something as unpredictable as love. So, you buried your feelings beneath layers of professionalism, convincing yourself that it was better this way – safer, more practical, less likely to end in utter heartbreak. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the spark between you refused to be extinguished, flickering to life with each passing glance, each fleeting touch.

Then, on a random Tuesday afternoon, Jake dropped a bombshell that shattered the delicate equilibrium you had worked so hard to maintain. "I'm being reassigned after this deployment," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "To Miramar."

As Jake's words sank in, a heavy silence enveloped the room, suffocating you with the weight of what his departure truly meant. You had been through so much together over the past three years. The highs and the lows, the laughter, and the tears. And now, faced with the prospect of his absence, you couldn't help but feel as though a piece of your heart was being torn away.

"Miramar? To Top Gun?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying the ache in your heart. You knew it was everything he had been working towards. And you knew how damn good of a pilot he was. It just surprised you how soon he was getting sent there. He must’ve been the best of the best.

Jake nodded. His expression somber. "Yeah. It's everything I’ve been working towards, but..." His voice trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud of regret.

But all you could feel was a sense of loss. For the friendship you had built, for the moments you had shared, for the possibility of something more that now seemed out of reach. "I'm so happy for you, Jake. You deserve it. You deserve the whole world." You forced the words out, though they felt like shards of glass tearing at your soul. A single tear escaped your eye, tracing a silent path down your cheek.

Jake reached out, gently wiping away the tear with a look of utter despair in his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to see you cry. "I wish you could come with me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a longing you knew mirrored your own. He grabbed for your hand joining his fingers in with yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over at any moment. "I know," you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears. "But I'm still in the middle of my fellowship. I can't just drop everything and leave. No matter how badly I want to." Another tear escaped as you realized what this meant. Your little bubble of happiness was going to vanish in an instant.

Jake nodded in understanding, his grip on your hand tightening as if trying to hold onto the moment for just a little while longer. "I know," he murmured, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and longing, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within your own heart.

Then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he flashed a small smile. "You know, I used to dream of being a Top Gun pilot when I was a kid," he confessed, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Never thought I'd actually get the chance to fly jets like that."

You couldn't help but smile through your tears, touched by his vulnerability. "You've come a long way from your childhood dreams Jake. I knew you’d be able to do it. If anybody could, it’s you," you remarked softly, a sense of pride swelling within you despite the ache in your heart. Because he did deserve it. He may have come off as an arrogant asshole at first, but he was anything but that. He was your best friend. The man who looked out for you over himself time and time again. You loved him but you held it close to your chest. Because you did love him you had to let him go. Let him go live his dreams.

And as the reality of his departure settled over you like a dark cloud. You couldn't help but wonder how you would ever find the strength to say goodbye to him. As you sat there together, holding hands beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the barracks, you realized that no matter where life took you, no matter how far apart you may be, the bond you shared with Jake would endure – a constant reminder of the love and friendship that had blossomed in the unlikeliest of places.

After Jake's departure, life on the base took on a different rhythm. The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months, each passing moment marked by the absence of his laughter, his warmth, his unwavering presence by your side. Despite the distance, you and Jake still found solace in occasional phone calls and sporadic messages, though never as often as you wished.

On an ordinary day, your world was turned upside down once again. Your commanding officer called you into his office, his expression serious as he delivered the news. "Doctor Y/L/N. I have some important news for you," he began, his tone solemn. "Due to some unforeseen circumstances, we've had to make some adjustments to our staffing plan. You're being reassigned."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a sense of unease settling over you. "Reassigned? But I thought I was heading to Austin for my next rotation. Replacing Doctor Warmack." you replied, trying to mask the anxiety in your voice. You had plans. You were moving to Texas. You had a house picked out. A life you were planning to start. But then again, you were in the military. You should’ve expected this.

Your CO shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Plans have changed. Chula Vista is in urgent need of a trauma surgeon of your caliber," he explained, his words sending a jolt of shock through your system.

Upon hearing the news of your reassignment to Chula Vista, a whirlwind of questions surged within you. "Sir, may I ask where Chula Vista is located?" you inquired tentatively, your voice betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehension. You hadn’t heard of that base. And you could’ve sworn you knew all the potential bases you could’ve been assigned to.

Your commanding officer, a seasoned veteran with a weathered expression, glanced up from his desk, his gaze thoughtful. "Chula Vista is a city just south of here, part of the San Diego metropolitan area," he explained as he pointed to the map of the states, his tone carrying a sense of gravitas. "It's home to several military installations, including Naval Air Station North Island and Naval Base Coronado. It's also in close proximity to Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.”

The mention of North Island and Miramar sent a jolt of emotion through you, memories of Jake flooding your mind with a bittersweet intensity. "Chula Vista also supports Top Gun operations, among many other military endeavors," the CO continued, his voice steady as he provided further context.

You were heading to exactly where Jake was. A shiver of anxiety ripped through you as you processed his words. “Thank you, sir," you replied, a mixture of gratitude and anticipation swelling within you.

As you turned to leave, the weight of the news settled over you, mingling with a newfound sense of purpose. Chula Vista, a city steeped in military history, a place where your path will intersect with Jake's once more. And though uncertainty loomed on the horizon, there was a glimmer of hope shining through. The possibility of reconnecting with Jake and the chance to explore what the future held in store.

As the days passed and your departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a dilemma: should you reach out to Jake before making the move to Chula Vista, or should you let fate take its course and surprise him? The months of silence between you weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you uncertain of where you stood with him. Would he be glad to hear from you, or would your sudden reappearance only complicate things further?

Part of you longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between you and reconnect before the distance between you grew even wider. But another part of you feared rejection, feared that your efforts would be met with indifference or worse… that Jake had moved on without you.

In the end, you couldn't shake the feeling that fate was leading you back to Jake, guiding you toward a reunion that was long overdue. And so, with a leap of faith, you made the decision to keep your plans a secret, to let the element of surprise be your ally. With each passing day, your anticipation grew, your excitement mingling with a touch of nervousness as you prepared for your move to Chula Vista. And as you boarded the plane bound for your new home, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for you, for Jake, and for the bond that had endured despite the trials and tribulations that had threatened to tear you apart.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Hard Deck. You found yourself seated at the bar, engaged in conversation with Penny, the owner of the establishment. The ambience was relaxed, with the murmur of chatter and the clinking of glasses providing a soothing backdrop to your discussion.

Penny, a vibrant and charismatic woman with a penchant for storytelling, leaned in with genuine interest as she got to know you. "So, what brings you to the Hard Deck? I haven’t seen you around here before," she asked, a playful twinkle in her eye.

You offered her a warm smile, appreciating her genuine curiosity. "Just got here a week ago. I've heard so much about this place from my coworkers," you explained, gesturing to the bustling bar around you. "They all recommended it as the must-visit bar in Miramar."

Penny's eyes lit up at your mention of coworkers. "Ah, you must be part of the base personnel then," she observed, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

You nodded, a sense of camaraderie forming between you. "I am! I'm a trauma surgeon over at the hospital in Chula Vista," you confirmed.

At the mention of your role, Penny's expression shifted, her eyes widening with recognition. "Wait a minute... are you Y/N? Doctor Y/L/N?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Surprised by her sudden enthusiasm and knowing of your name, you nodded cautiously. "Yes, that's me. But how did you...?" you trailed off, curious about Penny's sudden change in demeanor. Her excitement was palpable, you could feel it in the air.

Penny beamed at you. "Oh, Jake talks about you all the time! You're one of his favorites," she revealed, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

A warmth spread through your chest at her words, touched by Jake's apparent fondness for you. "He does?" you asked, unable to conceal the smile that tugged at your lips.

Penny nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! He's always mentioning how talented and dedicated you are. He won’t admit it… or he doesn’t recognize it, but that man is head over heels for you, Doctor," she added with a playful wink.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Penny's teasing, feeling a flutter of anticipation as thoughts of Jake filled your mind. Little did you know, your reunion with him was just moments away, and the excitement of seeing him again filled you with a sense of joyful anticipation. Penny's mischievous grin widened as she caught sight of your reaction. "Oh, don't try to hide it, Y/N. I can see that spark in your eye," she teased, nudging you playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of nervous energy coursing through you. "Alright, you caught me," you admitted with a grin. "I'm looking forward to catching up with an old friend."

As you sat at the bar, lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the door swinging open, admitting a group of pilots. It wasn't until Penny nudged you once more and whispered excitedly that you looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you caught sight of Jake among them.

Before you could react, Jake's eyes locked onto yours, a look of sheer astonishment crossing his face. In a flash, he broke into a wide grin and dashed toward you, weaving through the crowd with purpose. You barely had time to register what was happening before Jake was upon you, pulling you into a massive bear hug that lifted you off your feet. Laughter bubbled up from deep within you as he spun you around in a whirlwind of joy and excitement, the world around you fading away as you surrendered to the moment.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight as he held you close, his grip on you tight and unyielding. You couldn't help but laugh along with him, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a familiar cocoon. In that moment, it didn't matter who was watching or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was the sheer exhilaration of being reunited with Jake, of feeling his arms around you once again.

"What the hell are you doing here without telling me, Doc?" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with mock indignation as he held you close, refusing to let you go.

You laughed, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at the familiarity of his embrace. "Surprise?" you replied, unable to keep the grin from your face as you met his gaze.

Jake shook his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, consider me surprised," he admitted, his tone playful as he finally set you back down on solid ground. “I have to say, this is the best surprise I've had in a long time." As you stood there together, wrapped up in each other's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the years that had passed since you last saw each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all. As though you had simply picked up right where you left off.

As the warmth of your embrace lingered, Jake's eyes remained fixed on yours, a softness settling over his features as he took in the sight of you. His hand remained firmly on your shoulder, his touch comforting and reassuring.

"I've missed you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "More than you'll ever know." You felt a swell of emotion rise within you at his words, the sincerity in his voice stirring something deep within your heart. Despite the distance and the time that had passed, the connection between you felt as strong as ever – a testament to the bond you shared.

Before you could respond, Jake's gaze softened even further, a flicker of determination shining in his eyes as he made a decision. Without hesitation, he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. "Let's catch up," he suggested, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want to share."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face at his eagerness to spend time together. "I'd love that," you replied, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of reconnecting with Jake.

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, the sound of laughter and music fading into the background, Jake turned to you, his expression earnest. "Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You looked at him, curiosity piqued by his serious tone. "What is it, Jake?" you asked, concern flickering in your eyes.

Jake took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I've thought about this moment for so long, wondering if I'd ever get the chance to tell you how I feel," he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, anticipation building within you as you waited for him to speak. "How you feel?" you prompted, unable to contain the hope in your voice.

Jake's lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Y/N, I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but I've been too afraid," he admitted, his voice filled with vulnerability. Before you could respond, he took a step closer, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek gently. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I want to make up for lost time and see where this goes."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and as you gazed into his eyes, you found yourself lost in the depths of his sincerity. His vulnerability touched you in a way you hadn't expected, and you felt a surge of affection for him that was impossible to ignore. But before you could respond, Jake took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with determination.

Your breath caught in your throat at his question, surprised by his respect and thoughtfulness. You nodded eagerly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Please, Jake," you replied with certainty, your voice barely above a whisper. "Of course."

As Jake's lips met yours, a surge of warmth flooded through your entire body. It was as if every nerve in you ignited with a newfound energy, responding to the tender, loving touch of his kiss. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips against yours, soft and yielding yet filled with an undeniable passion. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the sweetness of his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle rhythm, each kiss sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. It was one of those kisses filled with longing and desire, a silent confession of the feelings that had been building between you for so long.

Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you as the intensity of the moment washed over you, but Jake's strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close and steady. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, grounding you in the present moment even as you felt yourself swept away by the sheer emotion of it all. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer to him as if he could never bear to let you go again. They were warm and reassuring, tracing the curves of your spine with a tenderness that left you breathless. For the first time in your life, you felt utterly and completely cherished, as if you were the most important person in the world to him. Because you were and he was determined to show you that.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you in your own private cocoon of love and desire. It was a moment you would treasure forever, a testament to the depth of the connection you shared with Jake.

When you finally pulled away, your lips still tingling from the sweetness of his, you found yourself lost in his eyes once again. As you gazed into Jake's, feeling the weight of his gaze and the depth of his love, a sense of peace washed over you. It was as if all the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place, and you knew, deep in your heart, that this was where you were meant to be.

With a gentle smile, Jake pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered softly, "I am never letting you go again." His words filled you with a sense of warmth and belonging, reassuring you that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. While you gazed into the depths of his soul, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your story together.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Reiner who uses his Titan Form to kidnap his beloved Reader (Like Beauty and the Beast) this can be before or after their revealed to be traitors to the Survey Corps

Reader has always been sweet, kind, gentle and much smaller and dainty compared to everyone else, especially to Reiner

Reader is female if that’s okay

I am such a Reiner fan it hurts.... I'm even more of a fan of Titan Shifters interacting with their obsession as their Titan.

Armored Beast

Yandere! Reiner Braun Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Violence, Murder, Delusional behavior, Blood, Manipulation, Forced relationship.

Reiner knew you were an entirely different creature than him, both literally and and metaphorically. You two aren't meant for each other. You're part of two different worlds...

Yet he still wants you all the same.

You're sweet, kind, gentle... like a sweet little lamb compared to him. You didn't look like you belonged among the cadets or the scouts. But, like many others, you were forced into the role.

No doubt due to his and Bertolt's doing.

Compared to you, Reiner's ruthless, intimidating, rough... a predator, a wolf. Despite such a nature he pretends to be like the rest of you. He pretends to be nice and friendly just like you...

A wolf in sheep wool.

Reiner didn't expect to fall in love with anyone when he came here. He had a mission he had to lead. All that mattered was breaking down the walls.

However, Reiner found himself drawn towards you. You were a cadet just like him, explaining your motives to join with such enthusiasm. You want to help people... you lost so much during the attack in Shiganshina.

You even asked him as cadets to help you train. You looked so determined to slay the beast who ruined your life. You lost so much to the Armored Titan...

You lost so much to him.

Reiner knew it was wrong to love you. You were an Eldian, a young woman trying to make a difference. You had no idea Reiner was the one who took everything from you.

He often scolds himself when he thinks of you fondly. You're a distraction. Plus, if he really loved you, he should leave you alone.

He shouldn't hurt you more than he already has.

Yet despite his attempts to ignore his feelings, you stuck by him. You were completely oblivious to his true nature... He should push you away. Instead... Reiner selfishly allows himself to be in your presence.

You always cared for him, you always clung to him. It never failed to make him feel heated. He enjoyed you so much he tried to delude himself to accept it.

Reiner desperately wanted to see himself as some armored knight for you. He wanted to be seen as your protector. When he was still a cadet and soon a scout... He enjoyed that role.

He loved to protect you... to ignore what he really was.

Unfortunately, Reiner couldn't ignore what he was forever. He's a Warrior, a Titan, a traitor.... He's an armored beast... not some knight.

He's a beast that's completely brought to his knees for one damn girl.

Reiner couldn't play your guardian forever. As much as he wanted to pretend to be yours... to pretend to be like you... He's too different. He isn't like you, won't ever be.

But like any beast... He's selfish.

It was only a matter of time before Reiner and Bertolt were found out. Annie was already caught and hidden away. Reiner knew he and Bertolt were on thin ice.

Once found out... Reiner had no choice but to fulfill the plan he and Bertolt were meant for...

It's been a long three years... it's time to go home.

The moment he was attacked by Mikasa after failing to recruit Eren, Reiner relied on instinct. For the most part he was focused on Eren. However... the eyes of the Armored Titan kept flicking around the battle as Eren tried to restrain him.

He wanted to know where you were...

He just hopes Bertolt didn't hurt you....

By the end of the fight full of punching and biting, Reiner was able to tear through the nape of Eren's Titan. The taste of blood stains his tongue as he does so, the blood immediately steaming upon contact with the air. Upon recovering and ripping Eren away from the steaming flesh, Reiner had one more target.

You.

Poor you attempted to take Eren from him, swinging around his Titan with your ODM gear. Reiner was already aware you were running out of gas and blades. Part of him still didn't want to hurt you...

He's denied himself long enough.

Due to the thick plating of his Titan, you weren't able to pierce his skin. Instead, Reiner tore the hooks you embedded out of his plating before swinging you in front of him. Reiner almost feels... amused when he sees the fear in your eyes as he holds you upside down.

Pity flickers deep within him before he cups you into his hand, shoving you against his chest in a temporary prison. Upon recovering Bertolt and Ymir, Reiner made a break for it. Now... Reiner shouldn't bother hiding himself from you.

He cares little for the amount of gore on his hands and feet. The other Scouts shouldn't matter to him. All he really cares about is you.

Scouts attempt to stop his attempt to flee, but he swats them away. If not, he crushes them to a messy red pulp. Their blood stains his skin... painting him as the monster he is.

It's not the first time he's killed. No, that was with Marco. He doesn't even feel all that bad about it now... that cadet was always too damn friendly with you anyways.

He doesn't deny such a part of himself anymore...

Now you'll know the truth... and you'll love him for who he is...

Eventually.

---

Upon reaching the Giant Forest, Reiner made sure to be careful with you. You were vulnerable in these woods. While Ymir and Eren, the other captives, were Titans... You aren't.

Reiner never left your side since he took you with him. As his body steamed, he watched you unconscious form. He had already broken your ODM gear... you can't run.

You need him.

Reiner viewed you as his beauty. He may be a monster, beast, and Titan... but you're his beauty. He needs you... and now you need him.

He's given up scolding himself. It doesn't matter now. Who cares what you think right now... That can change. In fact... it will change... he just knows it.

It's what's on the inside that counts... but for Reiner, what does that prove? Is he really a monster or just misunderstood? When you wake up... you don't think of such concepts.

You just see a traitor... a murderer... a monster.

Reiner tries to show you he wasn't fully lying to you. He still loves you! In fact, he can't get you out of his head. He just wants you... needs you...!

You've always been his girl.

Yet you slap him away, growling like a cornered animal. You scream that you hate him. That he's a murderer. He's much worse than a traitor in your eyes.

He ruined your home. He killed your family. He pretended to be your friend, to be all buddy buddy after creating tragedy.

He's your enemy. The very Titan that stole everything from you. You couldn't believe it...

Here he was, stealing your life yet again.

Reiner is quiet when you yell at him. He responds to it like a child being scolded by their mother. He's stoic, accepting your words. These are the very same words he said to himself...

Not like it stopped him before.

"What do you even want from me!?" You cry, staring at Reiner in front of you like cornered prey. You look so vulnerable.

You look like you're meant to be his.

"I want you." Reiner states simply, watching you shake like a wounded animal. "I'm taking you home with me... right where you belong as my girl."

You call him crazy. You say he's a crazy and delusional monster. He accepts your comments, he doesn't deny they're true. He is a monster...

A lovesick monster who's willing to kill hundreds with one stomp if it meant he could keep you.

Out of everything in his life, you are the best thing that ever happened to him. Meanwhile, he's the worst thing that's ever happened to you. Yet again you two are opposites.

But you couldn't be more repulsed by him.

There isn't much you can do. You're surrounded by Titans and Eren doesn't look in the condition to shift again. You have no choice but to wait.

You can't do anything but sit and tolerate as Reiner caresses your cheek with an uncharacteristic softness.

"You don't believe I love you, do you?" Reiner whispers, his proximity blasting you with steam. You grimace, looking away despite his hand on your cheek.

"I hate you." You respond back, noticing Reiner's grip tighten for a moment.

"I... know you do." Reiner begrudgingly admits before gripping your shoulder. "But you'll learn I had no choice."

"You ruined my life... twice!" You yell, only for Reiner to shove you into his chest.

"Let me make it better, then." Reiner murmurs, pressing a kiss to your scalp. "Let me show you you're all that matters... That you're my beauty... My girl...."

"You're a brutal beast...!" You snarl, only for Reiner to cover your mouth.

"I know I am..." Reiner admits before leaning closer. "But I don't care... as long as I'm yours, I could care less what I am... just be mine."

"I would never." You seethe, Reiner seems to ignore what you said in order to pull you closer.

"You will." Reiner rebuts. "You will be mine and you won't have to worry about another Titan other than me ever again...."

You can argue all you want, nothing's going to shatter Reiner's little fairy-tale.

He'll take you home... get a house for you both... then live with you as his little wife...

He's a beast... yet you're his beauty... and he plans to get his happily ever after.

[fratttymatty]

Grown

(All characters are 18+)

Riley Grant had always been comfortable in his own skin. At 20, he was confident, passionate, and deeply rooted in his liberal values. He was a proud gay college student studying political science at a progressive university, spending his days debating everything from human rights to climate change. He had a close-knit group of friends, a boyfriend named Jonah, and a future filled with dreams of activism and social change.

But one day, everything changed.

It started innocuously enough. Riley had signed up for a strange elective called "Theories of Identity," a course that promised to delve into psychological and philosophical ideas about the self. The professor was eccentric—Dr. Jonathan Rivers was a tall man in his mid-50s with wiry glasses and a perpetual half-smile, as though he knew a secret the rest of the world was oblivious to.

One day, during a lecture on the nature of personal transformation, Dr. Rivers handed out strange, leather-bound journals to each student. "This," he said, "is an experiment. A test of your ability to reinvent yourself. To become someone else, entirely. This journal will guide you. Write in it, follow its instructions, and you might experience something... unexpected."

Riley, curious but skeptical, took the journal with a raised eyebrow. He wasn't one to believe in metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, but he liked the challenge. That evening, he opened the first page of the journal, where it instructed him to write about his deepest desire for personal change.

"I wish I could be more confident in my future," Riley wrote, his pen scratching across the paper. "I want to feel grounded, more sure of who I am, and find a place in the world that feels... stable."

It was a simple wish, something Riley had been pondering for a while. He didn’t expect much to come of it.

The next morning, Riley woke up feeling different. His usual morning routine—checking his phone, scrolling through social media, texting Jonah—felt strange, almost foreign. When he looked in the mirror, something was off. His face appeared… older. His jawline was sharper, his cheekbones more defined, and his eyes had a new hardness to them, as if they had seen more of the world than they should have for someone his age. He ran his hand through his hair and froze. His normally messy, untamed curls had been replaced with short, tousled waves that felt oddly natural.

But that wasn’t all.

Riley glanced at his phone, but when he read the notifications, a sense of unfamiliarity washed over him. Instead of messages from his college friends or Jonah, there were calls from people he didn’t recognize, reminding him of meetings, appointments, and a gym schedule. His inbox was filled with emails from work, and most disturbingly, there was an invitation to a family dinner later that evening.

Confused and unsettled, Riley stood up and stumbled out of his apartment to the bathroom. That’s when he noticed the changes in his body. His frame was broader, more muscular. He had the chest of someone who worked out regularly—and his arms were solid, like a boxer’s. He even felt a strange pull to the idea of boxing, something that had never crossed his mind before.

In a haze, Riley went to the living room to check the journals again, but they were gone. He only found his reflection staring back at him, a man he didn’t recognize.

The first few hours after his transformation were a blur. Ryan felt like he was waking up from a long dream, disoriented, his old identity slipping through his fingers like sand. Eventually, the reality settled in—he was no longer a college student with a boyfriend. He had a wife, kids, and a whole new set of beliefs.

When he checked his phone, he saw that his calendar was packed with meetings, family events, and even training sessions at the gym. Ryan glanced at a picture on the kitchen counter—there he was, smiling with a beautiful woman and three children in front of a well-kept house. The woman’s name was Jessica, and she was stunning, with long blonde hair, a radiant smile, and a grace that made Ryan’s chest swell with pride. His two sons, Ethan and Luke, both 18 were both healthy and active, always eager to play sports or spend time with their dad. And then there was Olivia, his sweet daughter who had Ryan wrapped around her finger.

Jessica was pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl, and Ryan couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of responsibility, a desire to protect and provide for them all. The future, once so uncertain for him as Riley, now felt crystal clear. It was his job to take care of his family, and nothing else mattered.

His phone buzzed again with a message from Jessica: “Can you pick up the boys from school? I have a doctor’s appointment today.”

Without thinking, Ryan grabbed his keys, changed into a comfortable hoodie and jeans, and headed out to the minivan. He noticed the way his hands gripped the wheel with confidence, the ease with which he navigated the streets. He was a man in control.

At the school, Ryan was greeted by a friendly teacher who called him “Mr. Grant” with a warmth that seemed so familiar. As he loaded the kids into the car, Ethan, the older son, turned to him with a grin.

“Hey, Dad, don’t forget—my first match is Saturday. You’re still coming, right?”

Ryan chuckled, ruffling Ethan’s hair. At 18, Ethan was already a towering figure, well on his way to becoming a star athlete. “You bet I am. Just try not to knock your opponent out too quickly, alright? You’ll leave me without much to watch.”

Ethan rolled his eyes playfully, but there was no mistaking the bond between them. Ethan was more than just his son—he was his teammate, his training partner, and his co-conspirator in the gym. Ryan had been coaching him in boxing for a while now, and it was one of their favourite activities.

Later that evening, as he sat down to dinner with Jessica and the kids, he noticed something else: his worldview had shifted. The conversations were different. He wasn’t debating politics with friends; he was talking about the importance of family, the value of hard work, and the role of faith in the home. He found himself nodding along to Jessica’s thoughts about raising children with good moral values and emphasizing respect for authority. It all felt right, the way life was supposed to be.

When the conversation turned to their growing family, Jessica smiled at him, her hand resting on her swollen belly. "Can you believe we're about to have two more? I think the twins are going to complete our family perfectly."

Ryan leaned over, kissing her on the cheek, and felt a deep sense of contentment. This was his life now. He was a man who was proud of his role as a father, someone who loved his country, his family, and his way of life. His new identity was firmly in place, and as he watched his children laugh and play, he realized he wouldn’t change a thing.

In the end, Riley Grant—the passionate, liberal, gay college student—was gone, replaced by Ryan Grant, a 36-year-old conservative father with a strong sense of duty and an unwavering commitment to his family. The transformation was complete.

Riley’s journals remained locked away, their purpose fulfilled. But for Ryan, life was just beginning. He had a beautiful wife, wonderful children—including a 18-year-old son with a promising future in sports—and a future he could be proud of. And as he laced up his boxing gloves that evening, ready to train for a fight—whether in the ring or in life—he knew one thing for sure: his new life was exactly what he had always been meant to have.

As the presidential election approached, Ryan could feel the weight of it hanging in the air. It wasn’t just about voting anymore; it was about the future—the future of his children, the future of his country. Ryan’s political transformation was complete, and it was clear where he stood. He had become a staunch supporter of the Republican Party, and this election was pivotal.

The conversation started over dinner one evening, as the family discussed their plans for Election Day. It was the first time in a long while that Ryan and Jessica had discussed politics with such intensity, and the shift in Ryan’s perspective was unmistakable.

“I’ve been reading a lot about the candidates,” Jessica said, her voice calm but firm. “It’s clear the Democratic Party has lost its way. Their policies are dangerous for our future—socialism, open borders, and government overreach. We need a leader who will make this country stronger, not weaker.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully. The person he once was—the liberal Riley Grant—would have debated Jessica fiercely, maybe even argued for the Democratic Party’s platform. But now, with his focus on his family, his home, and his new sense of duty as a husband and father, his beliefs had aligned with the Republican Party in ways he hadn’t imagined.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ryan replied, his voice steady. “The Republican Party stands for the things that matter most to me now: personal responsibility, a strong economy, and making sure our kids grow up in a country that respects traditional values. The Democratic Party has pushed policies that are more about entitlement and less about the values that built this country.”

Ethan, their 18-year-old son, who had spent the last few months keeping up with the election, was quick to chime in. “I’ve been hearing a lot about the Republican Party at school, and I’ve been doing my own research too. I think the Republican Party is the right choice. They’re about securing our borders, strengthening the economy, and putting America first. I don’t want to live in a country where the government controls everything.”

Ryan couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. Ethan wasn’t just agreeing with his father; he was forming his own opinions, thinking critically, and seeing the world in a way that reflected Ryan’s own values. It was a sign that Ryan and Jessica’s influence was already taking root in their kids.

“That’s exactly right, son,” Ryan said, looking at Ethan with approval. “This isn’t just about politics—it’s about making sure we have the freedom to live our lives without the government telling us how. The Democratic Party has been pushing all these policies that take away freedom and responsibility. The Republican Party understands that the best thing for this country is self-reliance and the strength of family.”

Luke, at 18 years old, was just like his twin, Ethan, listened intently. “So, we’re voting for the Republican Party, right, Dad?”

Ryan smiled at his youngest. “Yes, buddy. The Republican Party is the party that stands for what we believe in. They want to keep us safe, protect our rights, and make sure America stays strong.”

Olivia, also agreed, it was clear to Ryan that she was growing up in a household where their values were firmly rooted. This was the world he wanted for her—a world where she could grow up surrounded by the freedom to make her own choices, secure in the knowledge that her family was protected and valued.

On Election Day, the entire family gathered together in the living room, their eyes glued to the TV as the results began to roll in. The tension in the air was palpable, but Ryan was confident in his choice. He had voted for the Republican Party, knowing full well that the future of the country—and of his children—was at stake.

Jessica sat beside him, her hand resting gently on his knee, as they watched the numbers tick across the screen. “This is the future we’ve been working toward,” she said quietly. “It’s about securing a better world for our kids. A safer world, a stronger country.”

Ryan nodded, his chest swelling with pride as he looked around the room at his family—his beautiful, strong, and intelligent wife, his two sons, and his daughter who would grow up in this new world they were helping shape. It didn’t matter where he had come from, or who he had been before the transformation. The man he was now, the life they had built together, felt like the right path.

Ethan leaned forward, watching the election results unfold with a sense of excitement. “I really think the Republican Party is going to win. I just don’t see how the Democratic Party can push forward with everything they want. The country needs a strong leader.”

Ryan felt a deep satisfaction in his son’s words. It wasn’t just about the politics—it was about the way Ethan was embracing the values that Ryan now held dear: individual liberty, family, and national pride. Ethan was becoming the kind of young man Ryan had always hoped to raise.

“I think you’re right,” Ryan said. “This country needs a leader who understands the importance of tradition, of family, and of putting America first. I’m proud of us for making the right choice.”

As the night wore on and the election results became clearer, Ryan knew without a doubt that he had made the right decision. His world had changed—he had changed—and in this new life, the Republican Party was not just a political choice. It was a way of life.

Jessica smiled, squeezing his hand as the final votes were tallied. “We did it, Ryan. This is the future we’ve worked for.”

Ryan looked at his family—his wife, his children—and felt an overwhelming sense of pride. They were safe. They were strong. And they were ready for whatever came next.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Happy House || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: This is a happy house, we’re happy here, right?

Warnings: infidelity, toxic Coryo, mild violence, if there’s anything else lmk!

Wc: 505

Divider by @firefly-graphics

In the quiet morning light that filtered through the windows of the grand dining hall, your family sat at the polished mahogany table, seemingly the picture of domestic bliss.

Coriolanus, his chiseled features etched with a façade of contentment, sat at the head of the table, his newspaper spread before him. Balanced on his lap, was your three year old daughter, her tiny hands occupied with a toy.

You sat opposite him, watching the scene with a practiced smile, your eyes betraying none of the turmoil that churned within you. You sipped at your coffee slowly, your eyes moving to your eldest as he shovels spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth, oblivious to the tension that hung in the air.

As if on cue, the nanny entered the room, cradling the youngest member of the Snow family in her arms. Your heart twisted at the sight of the woman, the nanny’s eyes darting to Coriolanus, who met her gaze with a knowing look. You forced herself to smile as you took the baby girl into your arms, your fingers tracing the delicate features you had come to love despite the circumstances of your birth.

“Look who’s awake,” You softly say to your daughter with a bright expression as she smiles up at you. But as you look up, you catch Coriolanus beckon the young woman over to him. It was the subtle exchanges between Coriolanus and the nanny that made your blood run cold.

A glance here, a lingering touch there—each movement a betrayal that cut deeper than any knife. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the facade you presented to the world.

Later that day, as your family made a public appearance, you plastered on your most convincing smile, your hand resting lightly on Coriolanus’s arm as you both posed for the cameras. Lucky Flickerman’s question about another baby drew a forced chuckle from your lips, “Maybe not for a while,” You responded, feeling the venomous look Coriolanus shot you from your peripheral.

It wasn’t until you were alone in the privacy of you solar that the facade finally crumbled. Coriolanus’s anger boiled over at your comment, his words cutting like shards of glass. Your own fury matched his, your heart pounding in your chest as you dared to confront him about his infidelity.

“What do you mean ‘maybe not for a while’?” Coriolanus’s voice sliced through the tense silence, his anger simmering just beneath the surface .

Your bristled at his tone, your own frustration bubbling over. “What do you think I mean, Coriolanus? We already have three children to care for, and I’m not eager to bring another into this mess. I’m not a baby machine for heaven’s sake.”

Coriolanus’s jaw clenched, his gaze darkening. “Mess? Is that what you think of our family?” You shot back, “It’s what you’ve made it,” your voice tinged with bitterness. “You think I don’t know about your affairs? About the way you’ve been sneaking around with my servants behind my back?”

Coriolanus’s eyes flashed with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. “How dare you accuse me of such things? You know nothing!” “I know enough,” You retorted, your own anger rising. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way you touch her when you think no one is watching.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Coriolanus scoffed, but there was a hint of unease in his voice. “Is it, Coriolanus?” Your voice was sharp as you enunciated his full name, your eyes narrowing as you met his gaze head-on. “You can deny it all you want, but I’m not blind, I’m not stupid. I see what’s happening, and I won’t stand for it any longer.”

Coriolanus’s face twisted with rage, his hands trembling with suppressed fury. “How dare you speak to me like that? I am your husband, and you will show me the respect I deserve!”

“Respect?” You laughed bitterly, your heart pounding in your chest. “You lost any right to my respect the moment you betrayed our marriage vows-“ Your words were cut off when Coriolanus grabs your forearm, harshly pulling you close to him as you felt his breath fanning your features, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to comprehend the betrayal.

Before you could react, the doors to the solar swung open, revealing your children and the nanny, frozen in the threshold. Your heart sank as you watched Coriolanus hastily release his tight grip on you, plastering on a false smile as he turned to his son with outstretched arms.

“My boy,” he said, his voice strained. “Shall we go play outside?” With a final glance in your direction, Coriolanus left the room, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces of your reality. As the nanny awkwardly averted her gaze, you gathered your daughters close, your voice trembling with suppressed rage.

“Next time,” you said to the nanny, not bothering to look at her, your voice tinged with bitterness, “you should knock before entering a closed room. Understood?”

The nanny nodded mutely, her eyes downcast as you led your children away from the shattered remnants of your once-happy home. But deep within you, you knew that the facade they presented to the world could only hold for so long before the truth tore your family apart at the seams.

[m0chisenpai]

lestat x black female reader

inspired by ep 1 where lestat invites louis and lily, but here it would be reader and lily where they are friends and lestat just uses lily to finally have reader 🤭

fascinating

˚｡⋆ lestat de lioncourt x black!fem!reader

in which you are the most fascinating being of the night

You were a fly on the wall when it came to Lily and her business. And you intended to remain the same, though you boarded in the same home as she, and the rest of her working girls did. You refused to partake in the business.

You were a…muscle of sorts. Though you could hardly overpower the men who she saw all you needed to do was scream for someone and the men would be sent right out without question.

You could never partake in the business of pleasure, it was not something that drew you in.

Truth be told the touch of a man made you feel ill. Not that you preferred the company of women, but the men who came in for Lily wanted one thing merely and that was to waste their seed and forget about their problems at home.

You could see right past their imported rings, their custom tailored suits. It was all a ruse to mask the broken little boys deep in their souls, but tonight Lily insisted you enjoy the music out on the patio while she handled her ‘business.’

This was typical, you kept her clients company while she got ready or wrapped up a previous one. She offered a portion of her earnings to you but you declined. But tonight you were in need of the funds for a new new novels you'd had your eyes on.

“I need you to keep an eye out for my next appointment love please?”

You hum turning your head rested in the palm of your hand to look at her.

And from the look in her eye you grumble like a child. “Not Lawrence again he is such dull company.”

“No now if he were coming I’d tell you to pick your book up and come. No this ones a French white,” she whispers it like a scandal and you will admit your interests are peaked.

“A french man Lily. What’s his name and what’s he look like?”

“Oh he’s got these dreamy blue eyes, golden locks. He knows to meet me up here, but you'll keep him entertained for me love won’t you?” When she holds your hands and pouts her lip you sigh and agree and she’s squealing and promising a treat on her next night.

You'll hold her to it.

When she’s gone your eyes return to the book, the light music spilling from the night sets the perfect ambiance for you to read from the tattered pages. You enjoy your little bubble in peace, oblivious to the man who now sits in front of you. Watching, drinking in your calming aura. It brings peace to his own mind.

It isn’t until his cane knocks into the table that you pick your head up to meet the most beautiful of eyes. This man is unlike the others. No, he is special. When you tilt your head ever so slightly he mirrors it back.

“I hope I am not of a disturbance, madame.”

“No,” your wet your lips finding your voice. “You must be looking for Lily. She should be ready for you in a moment I can alert her-“ When you go to stand his hand comes down upon the hand atop your book. But it is gentle, and it stops you.

“No please, I would prefer your company tonight.”

Oh now this was new, your eyebrow raises but your hand does not move from beneath his own. It is cold, but it is comforting in the humid evening. “I do not warm beds sir, if you’d like I can find you another woman to provide you the company you desire?”

“I think the company you offer surpasses any woman’s here, please sit. I will even pay you for your time.”

You hesitate for. A moment, but the extra money could provide you just enough for the new novel you’d been in search of. So you sit, crossing one leg over another.

“Where are my manners, what am I to call you madame?”

You offer your name and he whispers it back. “Lestat De Lioncourt, but for you my dear, Lestat.”

His answers are vague to your questions. She comes from France, from money passed on from a father. His mother travels the world since the passing of said father, and he finds himself in love with New Orleans.

“But enough about myself what-“

“Mr Lioncourt!” When Lily comes the tiniest bit of disappointment fills you. But Lestat’s eyes do not move when you dearest Lily returns by your side.

“Lily you did no tell me you had such interesting company around here.”

“I told you she is, she would rack in a fortune-“

“But I do not like the feeling of a man. It makes me…” you shake your head but Lily’s hand on your hand provides you comfort. Cause she knows, a secret that built the bridge of your sisterhood.

“Well I will leave you both to it, I’m gonna check in with Madame, Lily, you fine by yourself?”

“Of course, Mr.Lioncourt is my last of the night then we can go to that new cafe.” You stand, book in hand to walk past but Lestat’s hand holds your elbow. Had it been any other man your instinct would be to step aside out of their grasp.

But his hand does not feel like fire on you. And he drops a ring in your hand, a fortune which he lays his hand atop.

“Will this suffice?”

“Yes, thank you Lestat.” You smile and move to leave his hand dropping from your hand. Yet his gaze does to leave until you are completely out of sight.

Lestat begins to buy up Lily’s time, to the point where she hardly can see others. She wasn’t comparing the man paid her extremely well from what you could tell, enough that she was giving you a portion her earnings.

“I just feel bad, dragging you to and from. But I think he is sweet on you love.”

“He is not.” You giggle as she bumps into your side as you walk to the mans home, your elbows linked and walking slow enjoying this rare moment of peace with one another.

“He is! You know….” She leans up to speak into your ear, “I think he pretends it is you some nights.”

“You and your imagination Lil,” she giggles right until he is meeting you at the iron gates and letting the both of you in. It was always the same, he offers you both a drink, you speak for a bit, the two go upstairs while you drown the noise out with a song on the record or one of Lestat's novels from his collection, then Lily walks you both back home.

But tonight it was as though the two knew something. Because when she passes Lestat the gaze they exchange is....mischievous? Perhaps she has found a new trick for him. Lily pauses in the doorway cursing beneath her breath when you are shedding your coat.

“I left my compact at Lawrences love I’ll be right back!” And she’s dashing out the door before you can run after her. Lestat closes the door just when your hand reaches for the knob and your looking at him, chest to chest, eyes wide as a does in embarrassment.

“I hope is am good company,” he holds his hand to you. And you lay your hand in his, letting him lead you into the parlor. Two glasses await you before the lit fireplace.

The record plays the softest of music, dare you say romantic

The setting feels too intimate, especially as he places his hand now to the small of your back nudging you to join him on the couch beside him where he sits close, closer than most do. But you attribute it to his heritage. He was always more touchy, cold skin was something you were used to and never flinched at when you felt it.

He deposits a glass, half filled into your hands and clinks your glasses together. You take a slow sip. It’s a smooth red that warms your bones and you set it back down. When you look up at him, his gaze is settled on you, almost loving. Too kind for your linking to you settle on looking at the spot between his eyes.

“Do you find my company a nuisance?” He tilts his head, and a furrow creases the perfect marble of his skin. “Because I can’t offer you what Lily has. I’m sorry.”

“Au contraire my little love,” his hand slips into your own, lifting it to press a kiss to your hand. “ Your company offers me something hers does not.”

Now it is your turn to be confused and you tilt your head. He continues, “Your questions. Your thoughts. Your hunger and desire to know the things beyond man and God. You hunger for something more.” As he speaks his hand rests across your bare chest, where your heart beats beneath his cold palm.

”It is here. And I too had such desires. Until it brought you to me. My answered prayer. The one who alone can satisfy this hunger.” You don’t realize how your body seems to draw closer. Your own hand resting where his heart should beat.

You should feel sick, you should be broken. No man can fill the void of your heart. “You were never broken, your soul knew what your flesh knew not. It needed me.”

When you go to move back his hand rests at the back of your neck, but it is gentle. His hand are always so gentle. “How did you know.”

”Because my love. We were meant to be, to be companions for a lifetime, no, for lifetimes to come.”

You don’t know why it feels so hard to breathe. But he is sliding another ring from his pinky, and he drops it into your hand, curling your hands around it to hold between both his hands.

“Be my companion, my love, let me fulfill every desire these mortal men have neglected. Please,” he whispers your name like a prayer. He's not like him, the one who left you broken. No. Lestat does not look at you in such a way. You are not damaged goods, no. You are the pieces of a broken promise.

And he intends to fix it. He intends to remedy every single thought, every way those mortal boys have misused you. Tears fill your eyes, sliding down the slopes of your cheeks. You can only slowly nod.

And he is devouring your lips, the flames burn higher.

”Oh love!” Lily squeals seeing you at your normal spot. Your back is to her, hair pinned up in a gorgeous crown braid with silk ribbon. It had been some time since you returned. Whispers spread that you eloped, that you ran off to France, hopped a train to New York with some man.

but Lily long since told you needed a break. Though her heart did drop when she returned one day to a simple letter of your departure, she was reassured by the set date of your return for the fall.

And here you sit unbothered by the chill.

“Lily,” your voice is so smooth, had you always sounded like that? When she is able to see you, you look up at her.

Golden eyes, stare into her brown ones.

[silverynight]

Dynamight's type

Izuku has noticed that whenever someone asks Katsuki's certain questions during interviews he gets really irritated; it's usually things about love and relationships that bother him the most.

It's one of the many reasons why Izuku hasn't told his best friend he likes him romantically; maybe Katsuki is not interested in romance at all or he just hates sharing his love life with the world.

Although it's not like Izuku ever thought he had a chance; he probably doesn't. Sometimes he thinks about looking for someone to start a relationship with.

"Let's move in together," Katsuki tells him for the... actually, Izuku has lost count of how many times he has told him that.

But Izuku always thinks he doesn't mean it because it doesn't make sense.

"Why?"

"Just because..." Katsuki says this time, looking particularly frustrated.

"We don't have the need to," Izuku points out, getting a little bit confused by his friend's response.

"I know."

"Kacchan... what if one of us starts dating soon? Wouldn't that be–"

The look Katsuki throws at him is enough to make Izuku shut up immediately; the other pro hero not only looks angry, he also seems hurt.

"Are you seeing someone?" The way Katsuki asks the question makes it look like each word is hurting him somehow.

"No, but–"

"I'm not going to start dating an extra!" Katsuki growls and, as usual, he walks away more irritated than when the day started.

Izuku honestly doesn't get it.

However, he usually goes back to normal when his patrol begins.

Until a reporter finds him after an incident; just right the moment after Katsuki and Izuku manage to save a group of people from a villain.

Actually, there are a couple of reporters, one of them even tries to corner Izuku and instead of asking him about the villain or the civilians, she asks Izuku about romance.

Alright, Izuku has started to get why Katsuki gets irritated at those type of questions.

"Are you dating someone at the moment, Deku?" The young woman asks, smiling at him and using one of her fingers to play with her own hair.

Izuku doesn't understand; is she nervous?

"Uhh... no."

"That's great!"

Not that far from him, one of the reporters is asking about Katsuki's type... again.

"So what would your ideal date be, Deku?" The reporter manages to draw Izuku's attention away from his friend.

"Maybe an amusement park? Sharing a crepe?" The green haired hero doesn't mean to make it sound like a question, but interviews always make him feel flustered.

"That'd be a perfect date for me too!" The girl says. "Would you like to–"

"DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW MY FUCKING TYPE?" Katsuki's loud voice cuts off the reporter who's interviewing Izuku.

"Of course, Dynamight!" It's a good thing most of the reporters are used to Katsuki's explosive personality already.

Instead of answering right away, Katsuki gets closer to Izuku and to everyone's surprise, grabs the other pro hero's freckled face and kisses him on the lips.

"There. That's my type!" Katsuki growls as Izuku's face turns completely pink. "Him. Only this nerd. Now, fuck off!"

The female reporter who was asking Izuku questions looks particularly upset about what happened, although it seems like she's a little bit reluctant to go... but she does anyway when she notices Katsuki is glaring at her.

Izuku doesn't get his hopes up, because it's obvious that Katsuki only wanted them to stop asking questions about his love life.

"But Kacchan... they're going to think we are–"

"Move in with me."

"Why?"

It feels like this is not the moment to have the same conversation all over again, but there's something different in Katsuki's eyes this time; he looks determined.

"Because I'm in love with you, oblivious nerd!"

Izuku's face is on fire, he's sure of it; Katsuki just told him he loved him. It almost seems like it's a dream.

"Are you sure, Kacchan?" His voice doesn't sound shaky at all, which is something Izuku feels ridiculously proud of.

"Of course I am! Wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't!"

After a heartbeat in which Izuku thinks about all the time they've been together and tells himself this is going to work, he nods.

"Let's move in together, Kacchan."

Just a year later, Katsuki proposes to him and of course, Izuku can't help but tear up. He's never been so happy before.

***

Patreon

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Slip

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: At some point or another, the words slip out. It's just that, naturally, you're an idiot who can't pick the right moment.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for reader, night terrors, disassociation, attempted comfort, miscommunication, brief non sexual shower scene, unintentional harm, anxiety, sweet ending. (fr this time, I'm not pulling a 'Repentance.') Slight spoilers for 'Petals On The Wind' by V.C. Andrews.

Notes: I had a vision and I tried. Pls give me mercy.

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

The night air is sweet, fresh with the smell of citrus from the soap I had used earlier that evening in my shower mixed with the damp smell of the dew forming on the grass and the leaves outside. The curtains shift slightly as the air spills into the dark room, the only light born by a small lamp clipped to the cover of my book as I read quietly.

Beside me lays Mike, facing the ceiling and looking as peaceful as he ever could. It was a relaxation that doesn't come to him in consciousness, too busy with thoughts I sometimes am not privy too. But I don't pry. I've heard most of the story from him and from Abby, and he is allowed to grieve the past alone. He knows I am always available to help him.

It had been a long day for him. He didn't need to tell me, it was obvious by the way he'd sat at the kitchen table, thinking he was alone and hands buried in his hair. I hadn't meant to spy on him, having just slipped out of my shower. He wasn't crying, but his face was pale and dreadful. The bags under his eyes a dark purple that they hadn't been earlier at dinner, and the haunted quality of his stare had increased in an alarming manner since I'd left him. Had he moved since dinner? Abby was in her room, her voice trailing quietly down the hall as she hummed to herself behind the closed door. The overhead yellow light directly above Michael made him look like a painting of doom, covered in shadows with sharp edges as dark as his thoughts.

When I guided him to bed he wouldn't talk to me. Not when I removed his shirt to change him into something clean. Not when I opened the bottle of pills he'd been able to relax on for the past couple weeks. And not when I held a glass of water to his lips, his mouth only moving to take a long drink before I guided him onto his back, where he stared at the ceiling quietly while I stroked his hair, watching him carefully until he drifted away into a drugged dream of obliviousness where hopefully he could find the peace he needed.

More often than not I read before bed. Usually Mike would lay his head on my chest, his eyes reading the same bits I would and commenting on something here or there, once in a while spoiling the next paragraph for me. But I never minded when he did, it was always an accident.

It did get to the point where Mike imposed a limit of two chapters a night, knowing I could become so enraptured in a story I wouldn't even pay attention to the world around me until I finished it, usually with the early light beginning to peak through the branches outside and create dancing rays of sun along our bed. It wasn't really a rule, more so a concerned request. There was no punishment if I didn't comply, if I deprived myself of sleep reading all that would exist as a reprimand is my own exhaustion. Mike would always silently pick up on this, more gentle with me and luring me away from my nightly ritual with his arms wrapped around my tired body, fingers combing through my hair and his even breathing coaxing me into the sleep I needed until his alarm would wake us, still wrapped around each other and warm in the morning glow of a new day with a new chapter. And recently I realized it was something about him I loved. Though I dare not say it out loud. Not yet.

I'm only a handful chapters into this book. It's one that I've read before, an ironic favorite from when I was younger and snuck books home that I'd borrowed from the woman next door after playing with her granddaughters. The subject of the novel was taboo, Gothic horror I would hide under my bed away from my mother's eyes until she would lay in her own bed, allowing me to click on a light and read until school the next morning. It's been years since I've revisited it, and this copy I had bought at a local thrift store for only a quarter with an excited smile, causing an amused look on Mike's face as he'd watched me.

"Shouldn't you read something you already own?" He'd teased while we walked out of the store hand in hand, Abby leading the way to our car.

I'd rolled my eyes, smiling as I checked for cars coming through the parking lot with no regard for little girls.

"Am I not allowed to spend a quarter on my passions?" I said.

"You absolutely are. I'm just wondering how you're going to read everything," he said with a small squeeze of his hand.

The answer is by drinking a cup of tea and working through the book in one sitting as he lays next to me, no work ahead of me for the next two days that would demand proper rest. No limitation able to stop me now. I'm a few hours into my plan when I notice his leg jolt beside mine, no movement otherwise.

I glance at him quickly, seeing if he's woken with a start. His eyes remain closed, lips parted slightly in sleep and otherwise seeming fine. So I resume my book, flipping to the next page to start chapter eleven.

Halfway through chapter thirteen, Mike gasps. Loud and quick, causing a cough to escape him. I slip a finger inbetween my pages, turning to face him and worry stabbing my chest as I wait for him to choke and thrash frantically. But he doesn't. He remains still, his pulse visible near his adams apple as his breath quickens slightly. I watch him, waiting for any signs of distress. But he remains still in sleep, and reluctantly I return to my book once more, having decided it was just a dream.

Finally, at the early hour of four o'clock his hand reaches out, nails digging into my thigh desperately in a way that's painful against my bare skin, raking down and surely creating a trail of blood in his wake as a short, startled yell of Abby's name pierces the air, his body going ridged. And then he's still, body shaking and eyes wide open in confusion, darting around the room as though he cannot place his environment in his still drugged state.

"Hey," I say softly, abandoning my book and turning to face him, unsure if I should touch him or what I need to say to tear him away from the horrors of his mind. "You're okay, you're awake now."

If he hears me he doesn't give any indication, his breathing so quick and unsteady I'm scared he'll knock himself out from hyperventilating.

"It's okay, it was a dream," I tell him. I place my hand apprehensively on his chest, feeling his heart slam against the cage of ribs below my touch. "You're awake now."

His head turns slightly towards me, but he's still panicking, his hand gripping my thigh hard enough hard with nails he hadn't meant to let grow out for the past couple weeks that I have to make a conscious effort to not whine in pain.

He's saying something, quiet and mixing with his irregular breathing as his other hand grabs my hand upon his chest, pressing it tightly against him. But I can't make it out, I can only hear fragments of 'sorry' and 'take.' And the words only blur more as he starts sobbing beside me, the noises he makes terrifying as he struggles for air.

"Let's sit up. Come on, let's sit up," I say. I'm close to panic myself, trying to find his shoulders to pull him up in fear of him choking in such a state. But his hand is too tight around mine, and trying to take it away seems to only cause further distress, his teeth gritting and nostrils flailing as he tries to breathe in as much air as possible. I manage to get one arm under his shoulders, wrapping it around his body and pulling us both up. The shift of his body seems to make something click, his hand suddenly releasing my thigh as he gasps once more, eyes seeming to show recognition of something.

"You're home. We're in our room, Abby is down the hall," I tell him.

"They'll come here, they knew where we live," he says in a rapid but finally coherent voice.

"Who?" I ask. He's scaring me, making me want to join him in my own hysteria. But I don't show it, the pain throbbing in my leg giving me a point of focus to keep my voice even. "No one's coming."

"My aunt- she- they-"

"She's not coming over, no one's coming to take Abby," I tell him, stroking him arm and trying to shift my body to face his. "Everyone's home and safe. I won't let anyone go."

This seems to hit him, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He looks at my face, staring and trying to focus on me.

"I won't let anyone go anywhere," I repeat gently. His shoulders relax, his body leaning towards mine.

"You don't have to worry," I tell him. "I'm here."

His head lands on my shoulder, hand still pressing mine tight against his chest as his arm finds my waist, body wracking with sobs.

"It's okay. Slow your breathing," I say softly, my hand finding his hair and holding him close against me. "Focus on me and slow your breathing."

He's trying, I can tell by the way he gasps against my chest in even tempo that he's trying to regain his breath. His skin is hot against mine, body wet with sweat. Maybe I should get this shirt off of him, take away the sticking cotton and allow his skin to feel the cool morning air against it to prevent overstimulation. Or maybe the sudden change would throw him into more distress. I don't know what to do, what to offer.

"Do you want me to distract you?" I ask. At this he lifts his head slightly, a small 'what?' Asking for me to repeat the question. "Do you want me to distract you?" I repeat, anxious I've said something wrong.

He seems to think for a moment, his heart still beating at a concerning rate.

"How long have you been reading?" He finally asks, eyeing the book I'd practically thrown to the edge of the bed in my panic.

"A few hours," I say. "Started reading when you went to sleep."

He nods, going silent once more for a few more minutes. I focus on his hair, how some curls wrap perfectly around my fingertips, how soft his hair is even though he doesn't take proper care of it.

"Is it any good?" He asks softly, his mouth against my neck as he tries to relax.

Okay, talk about the book. Book with dead parents. Ah, fuck.

"Not... particularly," I admit. "The first one was better."

"Yeah?" Mike asks. "How so?"

Well, Mike. This is a V.C. Andrews novel. So there's an unsettling amount of incest that serves a horrifying point that I don't think you wanna hear about right now because that's gonna take several hours for me to explain. I wish you'd asked sooner.

"...questionable decisions," I decide is how I'll phrase it.

"Sounds like me," he mutters against my skin.

"I promise you it isn't," I mutter back, trying to think of what to say next.

Mike doesn't say anything, still breathing hard against my skin but finally gaining a steady rhythm. His body shakes less, my fingers gently combing through his hair as I finally speak again.

"It's something you'd laugh at if you felt better," I feel stupid, useless as I try to bring him back to me. But it seems to work, his shaking decreasing as he focuses on my words. "The main character is... dramatic, and... passionate."

I feel his smile against my skin, his fingers stroking my waist. "Oh?" He asks.

"Mm-hmm," I say. He hums, waiting for me to continue. And I'm not sure if I should.

"What's the plot?" He asks. Not something you should hear in your state, Michael. Lots of people die.

"It's about..."

Fucking half the town out of spite.

"...family."

That's one way to put it.

"And... doing what's right."

By burning a house down.

"And taking care of those you love."

Well, at least that point is accurate.

He seems content with this, pulling me down onto the bed once more and keeping me close.

"Are you okay?" I ask him carefully.

"I will be," he says softly. "Thank you. For caring."

"Of course I care," I say with a small laugh of nervous relief. "I love you."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh motherfucker, no.

"What?" Mike asks in a small voice, his body going still, mine going stiff.

Goddammit.

We've been together for about a year. And this is a normal point to finally say the words to each other, a sweet moment of realization and commitment that I'd been wanting to have. And I'd been trying to find the right moment, wanting to say it while he serves pancakes in the morning that he douses in syrup because he hates them dry. To say it when he pulls me close at night, taking a deep breath as he smells my hair. When he falls asleep on the couch or with his head on my lap. And maybe he's wanted to say it too, the way his eyes linger on me when I spin around the room with his sister, or when I fix her hair before walking her out the door, or when I slip out said door to return to my own home only to find myself back here the next day anyways, unable to stay away.

But this is the wrong moment. A moment of fear and terror and I have been selfish enough to dare utter such words that he may not even reciprocate while he's in such a vulnerable state. Shit.

"What did you say?" Mike asks, pulling away to look into my face, suddenly awake and clear of any fog that had been torturing him.

I can't speak. I can't tell him. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he says it back in a desperation for approval after such pressure has been placed upon him to respond. Or what if he convinces himself he feels the same way only because I do?

"I- Shouldn't-" My head is shaking, eyes wide in worry as I try to think of a response.

"Shouldn't?" He says in the most heartbreaking voice.

"No!" This is all wrong! It all sounds wrong.

"Oh," he says quietly, eyes casted downwards.

"No, wait a minute. This is wrong-" I stutter, my hands shaking slightly.

"I heard you the first time," He says flatly, eyes avoiding mine.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I didn't mean to say anything."

"Then stop saying things," He says sharply, pulling away and turning to face the room.

"I'm not- I can't-" One of the ways Mike and I understand each other is by the way vulnerability makes us choke, gagging on sincere words for fear of rejection and becoming fools. And this time is one of them, even if I'm fighting against it. The silence is too long as I choke on my own tongue.

"It's fine," he says. He stands from the bed, not looking back at me. "I'm gonna take a shower."

I open my mouth to speak, my mind urging me to extend my hand in explanation. But he walks quickly, opening and shutting the door before I can even begin to put the words together in my mind. And I'm alone. With no one but my book to offer comfort.

I try to read. Try to focus on Cathy's piss poor plan that ends with her toes broken because of her terrible husband that she married to avoid her adoptive father. (Don't ask.) But all I can think about is what I should have said. And what Mike must be thinking. Of course he misunderstood me, his mind still racing from adrenaline and nightmares of losing his sister, addled by his sleep medication that would still be in effect. Vulnerable situations are already tricky with Mike, who'd lost his family young and had been forced to create his own stability with no comfort or care returned to him until the past few years when he finally began to create a new inner circle. It was understandable that he was gun shy around this sort of topic. And his already darkened mind earlier today? What a horrible day for a moment like this.

It feels like an eternity, but it must have only been about half an hour when Mike comes racing back into the room. Wet, towel crudely wrapped around his waist and holding up his hand as he rushed towards the bed.

"There's blood on here," he said. "Who's is it?"

I squint as I try to look, reaching out for his hand. He offers it quickly, and at the sight I remember. My thigh. Earlier when he'd gripped it so hard, nails digging in. I can see the blood underneath his nails, dark and most likely having just been noticed by him.

"Earlier when you were upset you grabbed my thigh," I say. Within seconds he's on the bed, ripping the sheet off of me and dripping water all over the place. It's not exactly a pretty sight, cuts from where his nails had dragged and sunk into me. His eyes go wide, cheeks turning pink with shame.

"Jesus," he says. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, you were scared," I say. "Don't worry about it."

"Let me clean this," he says, moving to stand from the bed.

"Mike, we need to talk," I say, grabbing his wrist. He doesn't stop, trying to pull his arm free.

"After I clean this."

"No, now," I say. My voice sounds so much sharper than it should in a situation like this, like a command rather than a request. But he finally stops his rush, his eyes meeting mine as he stands still, gripping the towel around his waist as he contemplates.

"I left the water running," he finally says.

"Clean me in there," I offer thoughtlessly. He raises an eyebrow at me but doesn't question it, tugging me up by my hand and not letting go as we walk to the bathroom in silence.

The water stings on my cuts as Mike kneels in front of me, his body between my slightly parted legs as his hands wash me carefully, lathering soap and working at my thigh with careful concentration. 'It's been ten minutes. Say something, dumbass,' I think to myself.

"I love you," Mike blurts out suddenly. His hands don't rubbing soap onto my thigh, and his eyes don't meet mine. "And you don't have to feel the same way, but you should know that I do."

There's another long moment of silence, dread filling my chest.

"Why are you saying this?" I finally ask. He looks up at me with an unintentional glare.

"What?" He asks sharply.

"Are you saying this for me or for you?" I ask. His brows furrow.

"I don't know what you mean," he says.

"Earlier I said I love you and that was a mistake-"

"You don't need to remind me."

"No, my timing was a mistake. You were vulnerable," I say quickly, sliding quickly down the shower wall to join him on the floor of the bathtub. "Are you saying this because I said it or because you mean it?"

Realization seems to finally sink through, Mike blinking at me slowly.

"So, you love me?"

"I'm sorry that I was an idiot earlier-"

"But you love me?"

"I've been trying to say it for months, but I couldn't-"

Mike's kiss is hard and clumsy, teeth clicking together and making us both draw away in a fit of stupid, teenage like giggles from the way he'd tried to be romantic and jump on me, my face now covered in the orange scented soap from his hands.

"You need to lead with that next time," he says, laughing and covering my face in quick kisses without care that he's smearing the soap onto his face too. "You had me scripting our conversations for the next month in here."

"I was trying. You know I can't- that-" I can hardly respond between his kisses, tasting awful but so sweet I can't help but want more.

"I love you," he says. Then he says it again, and again. Like a dam has been broken and he can't stop the river spilling forth. "I love you."

"I love you too," I finally say, relieved and melting into his touch under the warm stream that he drags me under, holding me close to his body.

Later, as we lay in bed, I finally tell him the real plot of my book, to which he says "I take it back, get out," before dragging me under the covers to repeat his devotion again and again until we can't say it anymore. Coherently, that is.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm gonna be fr, I haven't been happy with my writing lately and that's mostly due to my packed schedule. This is a draft I've been working on in bits and pieces for the last couple weeks when I've had a spare moment at work, and honestly will probably regurgitate at some point in the future when I have the time and energy to get more detailed with this concept in a more detailed fic. But for right now, I did want to put this out as a drabble. So, I hope you enjoyed it, and I promise I'll try to get some more properly fleshed out content out soon for y'all <3

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[crownmemes]

Angry & Irritated Sentences, Vol. 25

(Angry and irritated sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I'm starting to think you have a little too much time on your hands."

"You're becoming very annoying. Do you know that?"

"Kindly do not interrupt me."

"You can't play around! When you play around, people die!"

"You are not as charming as you think you are."

"I'm not sure what's gotten into you, but I don't think I like it."

"We could circle each other and growl, sleep with one eye open, but that thought wearies me."

"You're so used to playing God that you figure nothing's going to work without you!"

"You're loving this, aren't you?"

"Slow down! We've got to be practical about this!"

"Why am I just seeing this now?"

"I'm warning you; no more questions!"

"Does the joke always have to be at my expense?"

"Christ, you're like a walking cliché!"

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"When do you ever worry about doing something wrong?"

"Wipe that silly, smirking, little boy grin off your face!"

"If I get murdered in my sleep, I guess that's on you!"

"I don't care to have my secrets exposed to the world. Can you understand that?"

"Since when are you my boss?"

"If you don't see how this situation compromises us, then I really don't know what to say to you."

"You are the most exasperating woman I have ever met!"

"We're going to have to work on our communication."

"This must be what going mad feels like."

"I shall ignore that cheap jibe!"

"You are the most stubborn man I've ever met!"

"Tell me, were you always like this, or did it come on suddenly?"

"The next time you decide to stab me in the back, have the guts to do it to my face."

"Has everybody lost their mind?"

"There are two things I never forget: faces, and being fucked over!"

"I hate you!"

"Look at you! You're a mess!"

"Is all of that fresh-scrubbed earnestness just an act, or are you truly oblivious to the wreckage you leave in your wake?"

[cafejulii]

Truly one of the most amazing things I have come to discover during the reemergence of my hunter x hunter hyperfixation is the entirety of Leokuraudio. The events/punchlines that occur in them are so baffling to me in the best way possible.

For instance, what on earth do you mean that the creators of hxh 1999 decided to make a spin-off audio series that begins by introducing Leorio as an old man, and his grandson? The grandson finds a discarded set of audio tapes. When he confronts Leorio about what they are, he is hit by a massive wave of nostalgia, and tells his grandchild about how they were a podcast series he made back in the day while traveling the world, with, in his own words, his "very best friend" (Kurapika). They then begin to listen to the tapes, which is how we get the whole story.

What on earth do you mean there is an episode where Kurapika goes in a time machine to met Grandpa Leorio? Only, after he is done and decides to return back to the present, the machine is malfunctions and standing before him is Leorio as a toddler. He repeatedly begins to insist that Kurapika is a woman to which Kurapika is so annoyed by that he ends up yelling at a literal child. (By the way, Toddler Leorio still has the voice of a fully grown man as he continues to insult Kurapika.)

What on earth do you mean that are multiple episodes revolving around a robot that Leorio had built to perfectly resemble Kurapika? He had attempted to use it for cleaning and to take care of him while he was sick, only, Kurapika-robo starts to malfunction at the very mention of a spider's web and begins to repeatedly scream "chain" as it pelts Leorio with an actual chain. (Gon and Killua are even aware of the robot's existence while Kurapika himself remains oblivious of the whole charade until one of the very last episodes, where he walks in, shocked to find his mechanical evil twin. Leorio's only reaction to being caught is to exclaim "Ah the real one!!")

Speaking of Leorio, what on earth do you mean these audios consist of episodes of Leorio falling off Heaven's Arena, Leorio almost dying in an avalanche, Leorio getting lost in space....? (In short, Leorio goes through a lot but he has plot armor and Kurapika's assistance so it’s ok.)

And speaking of Kurapika, what on earth do you mean Leokuraudio has one of the most stoic characters within the entire series actually end up giving in to his phenomenal sense of humor? They really had him interrupting Leorio just to scream "that was ball!" in response to his attempted english pronunciations. There are so many more instances in which he does sassy shit like this too.

What on earth do you mean that each episode has unique, overly dramatic introduction for both Kurapika and Leorio? (There was one that specifically introduced Kurapika as the "sort of guy that when dressed as a woman gets hit on by other guys" and Leorio as "the sort of guy that when dressed as a woman gets arrested.")

What on earth do you mean that the entire comedic punchline of the "moody" audios is that they are essentially just clean parodies sensual/erotic audios from the 90’s? (described as "echi echi" by the two of them). Hearing the both of them say “soooo moody” to one another over and over again in the most suggestive voice ever was just....an experience to say the least. I truly cannot fathom how Togashi allowed these audios to air, yet, I am so grateful he did.

But it's also just mainly so fun to watch Kurapika and Leorio not be in a constant crisis and just have strings of conversation that are genuinely very sweet at times. I could go on and on, but for the sake of the length of this post, in conclusion, everything about Leokuraudio is just so utterly surreal yet so insanely hilarious. I couldn’t recommend it more.

@nanacriedpower this one is for u

[irishmammonagenda]

PLEASE MORE MICHAEL CONTENT I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING U CRYING PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLESASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEA

-yk who 😞

i do know who😈😈‼️‼️‼️

i love writing michael sm heehee anyway thanks for the ask pooks 🫶🫶🫶

grma <3

Unsane Uncles-An Obey Me x Reader

Summary: Michael realises some shocking news, has a crisis, as per usual, chaos ensues. Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: nothing I don't think, for anyone that doesnt know, i headcannon michael as lucifers twin, this was written with my 'Death is a Debatable Thing' Au in mind, but it can be read as a stand alone <3

post dividers by @saradika-graphics

The café was quaint, quiet and out of the way. It had been ages since you'd last visited the Human Realm. The soft sounds of chatter and cutlery clinking created a calm atmosphere. Well calm for the most part.

Michael sat on the chair opposite to yours looking quite frazzled. His white button down rolled up to just above the elbows and a few of the topmost buttons undone. His long golden curls done up in a messy plait, nonconforming strands coiling around his unusually antsy face. Long dexterous fingers wrap around his coffee mug, he brings it to his lips and takes a sip before setting it down with a little too much force. You watch the scene amusedly.

“I just- I don’t know what to do!” he runs a hand through his hair, looking up at you with stressed, ruby red eyes. "I mean?- Is it too late to give my congratulations?!...Or a push present?!"

You bite your tongue to keep from laughing, the Archangel notices. "This is serious MC! I am the worst uncle ever!"

You tilt your head, "Did you not think it was strange when the brothers first fell that Satan just kind of poofed into existence?"

Michael gives a thoughtful look, before making a 'meh' face and shrugging his shoulders. "I kind of just thought Satan was a low ranking angel that fell with the actual memorable ones, and that I had just... never cared to learn his name before he fell."

"You didn't ask?" You take a sip of your warm drink, revelling in how satisfying the hot liquid felt when it hit the back of your throat and warmed you up from the inside, especially as it was fucking baltic outside.

"Yes." Michael smiles sarcastically, "Because taking a trip down to the Devildom straight after the Celestial War to ask about the demon who kept biting people and snarling would've gone great for me."

"Touché." You grin. Michael's expression falls back from sarcastic to strained, his gorgeous features bathed in stress.

"But seriously MC! I've missed out on centuries as an uncle! That's so many birthdays! Luke must think I'm a deadbeat! I already act like I'm a divorced dad with visitation rights because I can't visit very often!"

You snort. "I don't think Luke knows."

Michael sinks into his seat, "Oh thank Father."

He stays there for a moment, the soft golden glow of the café lights on his dark skin so similar to the aureate ambiance of the Celestial Realm that you almost forget that you're back in the human world. He flutters his eyes closed, a hand over his brow in what can only be described as a himbo-ified imitation of a sickly Victorian woman saying something along the lines of 'Woe is I!" after finding out poor people actually have feelings. What a fucking drama king. You hold back a snort. Michael groans before swinging back up like a jack-in-the-box, his usual cheerful yet cheeky smile on his handsome face, he joins his hands together as he rests his arms on the wooden table, as if completely oblivious to the complete 180 he had turned. "So! MC, have I ever told you about the time Lucifer ran into a glass door in the Celestial Realm?"

You shake your head, grinning mischieviously, "I don't think you have!"

Hours Later, down in the Devildom, in RAD's royal library, Satan sneezed. He paused for a moment more before folding his handkerchief up and putting it back in his pocket, making a mental note to wash it when he got back to the House of Lamentation.

He groans, arching his back and stretching his arms out in an attempt to weave out any knots in his muscles. He'd been in the library since school had ended. Still unable to shake the feeling something was going to happen, Satan got up off of his chair, packed his books away, and made the journey home.

Walking alone through the cobbled streets of the Realm was calming and peaceful. Halfway through his siúl suaimneach, he comes face to face with a gathering of the stray cats he'd normally feed.

The Avatar of Wrath coos at them, hunkering down and reaching into his bag for some of the cat treats he'd normally kept in there. "Aww..." He mutters, speaking in a baby voice to the cats, scratching an old tabby's fur. "You've gotten so big, Purrsephone!" He scritches underneath the young cats chin, smiling as she purrs and remembering fondly when the cat was just a small kitten trailing behind her mother like a second, small adorable shadow.

As he pulls out the bag of treats onehanded, the symphony of meowing reaches a polyphonic crescendo, cats and kittens of all shapes, colours and sizes scramble towards Satan with more purpose now, all meowing for food. He chuckles, indulging the felines, petting them as they nibble and chew on the kitty treats.

Unbeknownst to the Avatar of Wrath, a good quarter of a mile away from where he congregated with the cats, a certain Archangel and his accomplice stood hiding in an alleyway.

In the shadows of the alleyway, Michael was clumsily putting on his batman mask. He already had a matching batman suit and cape on, you however were much more serious, and were dressed up as Robin.

"Michael." You hiss exasperatedly. "You seriously can't think that sneaking up on the Avatar of Wrath is a good idea!"

Michael merely waved you off with one hand, his other carrying his 'surprise for his most favouritest nephew in the three realms' as he'd deemed it. "Besides MC is worst comes to worst, you can just pop out!"

You nod. "Good point. "You face breaks into a grin matching Michael's, "This is going to be fun to watch."

Michael goes to say something before you both hear footsteps, your eyes widen. "Oh shit...he's coming..."

Quickly you dart behind the dumpsters, Michael moves to the wall of the alleyway. Holding his breath as he listens to the footsteps of a certain green-eyed demon.

After having petted the cats, Satan got up and begrudgingly left them in order to continue his journey home.

Lost in his thoughts, he can't help but feel as if something is watching him, thinking its just his imagination, he walks on. Who would be stupid enough to sneak up on the Avatar of Wrath?

An idiot in a batman costume apparently.

Satan jumped as the lunatic hopped out from the alleyway, hands behind his back.

"Psst! Kid!" The stranger in the batman costume says, ruby red eyes that reminded him of Lucifer staring at him. "I have a surprise for you!"

Satan's tail whips around his legs, on the defensive. "I'm not a kid." He says coldly. "And what surprise?"

"Heeheehee." The strange man giggles, before taking his hands away from where they were behind his back and revealling a small tiny little kitten, fur as dark as night, with an emerald green bow wrapped loosely around its little neck, having been jostled, the tiny creature meows in protest, big green eyes blinking sleepily. Satan's harsh, mistrusting glare softens as he looks at the kitten, moving to take it out of the strangers hands before his eyes narrow.

"What's the catch?"

"The catch?" 'Batman' says indignantly, as if Satan had gravely offended him. "The catch? How dare you! There is no catch! Can't an uncle give his nephew a present to make up for millennia upon millennia of missed birthdays?!"

Satan blinks. "It's March. It's nowhere near my birthday. And Uncle?" Green eyes narrow again. "I don't have any uncles."

The stranger sticks his tongue out. "Blah blah blah. You are just like your father. Take the fucking cat or I'm telling everyone that you're secretly Lucifer's son."

A vein pops on Satan's head. "Excuse me?!"

The stranger chuckles nervously upon sensing Satan's wrath bubble like magma beneath the surface of his skin, ready to boil over and erupt. When Satan's eyes flashed dangerously the stranger spluttered out. "Oh shit....! Uhhh....Cat Attack!!!" That was the only warning Satan got before the tiny kitten was shoved gently but firmly into his hands, his eyes immedietely softened, the rage slowed down from a boil as he looked into the soft innocent eyes of the kittykat.

He looked up at the stranger, who in his frenzy, had lost his batman mask. Ruby red eyes and golden curls tied in french plaits and tucked into the rest of the suit greeted him. Unholy fuck. Was that Archangel Michael.

The Archangel grins at him, "Enjoy your gift! Tell Lucikins I said hi! Oh and also the cats a girl, you can name her! Come visit your favourite uncle soon! Byebye!" Michael shouts to him, before he turns around, and fucking books it, sprinting away from the Avatar of Wrath at a speed that could rival Mammon running from Lucifer.

Satan stood shellshocked by the whole ordeal having acquired a tiny kitten and an uncle who needed to be institutionalised.

He grinned down at the kitten, "I'm gonna call you Dorcha."

Judging by the small creatures tiny meow, he'd gamble that she liked that name.

A/N: im so sorry this is so short, ive been busy w irl stuff, but this was a fun ask <3

also dorcha is sort of pronounced 'door-ah-ha' but you sort of say the 'ch' with your throat, idk how to explain it, but it means 'dark' 💗💗

siúl suaimhneach (shoe-el soo-ehve-neyak, except dont pronounce the 'ch' as a 'keh' and pronounce it liek gutturally!!!) it means 'peaceful walk' but suaimhneach can also mean tranquil or quiet