#but if there's really no way to fix it then I guess I'll never play brc

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter III

It's late, and the last thing I expect to find at my nightly workout is my little bro, dressed up like a personal trainer. He looks ridiculous in that cheesy uniform, not to mention the light pouring out of his skull and the smile stamped into his face! I guess the little idiot signed up for Moonlight™: that was one helluva mistake!

"Good evening, sir," my brother speaks as if we hadn't grown up together, "Is there any way I can aid your fitness journey tonight?"

Hearing Ryan call me 'sir' brings a devious grin to my own face. I've bullied this kid for years, and now he's kissing my ass like well-trained puppy. Thanks to Moonlight™, my annoying little bro is just a mind controlled employee who doesn't realize his brother's here, let alone embarrassing him! I wish I could get my entire family implanted with these little Moonlight™ things. Messing with them would be hilarious!

"Oh yeah," I sneer, "And what's string bean gonna do for a guy like me?"

"Well, sir, as a personal trainer here at Planet Fitness, I'll gladly demonstrate how to use the machines, spot patrons with heavy-lifting, and return equipment when finished."

God, he sounds even more annoying than usual! "You really think a someone like you could spot me?" I scoff and bring my bicep to his face, flexing it inches away from his perpetually open eyes.

"Actually, sir, this body can lift 260 lbs on the bench press without injury. The load you have is well-enough below to ensure that I may be of service. Still sir, the weight you're lifting is a very respectable amount," Ryan's smile beamed at me, but mine fell.

"Whatever, I'll be fine," I retort, "Just stand over there and mop up my sweat when I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

My little brother takes a step back as I get ready to lift. As stupid as he looks, standing there waiting on me to finish, he also looks pretty fit. His company polo might be sweaty and gross, but it's tight against his improving physique. He's clearly been lifting a lot while he's been working here, but his gains should not count if Moonlight™ is the one actually working out that pathetic little body! The only way he could bulk up was by becoming a fucking puppet! Talk about sad!

"Fuck!" I grunt, tossing the barbell back as I finish. I did a few extra sets to prove a point and now my arms are on fire. "Towel!" I snap.

"Yes, sir," Ryan rushes over and wipes the sweat off my brow. I just laugh in his face.

"I think I got some sweat on my sneakers too," I jab, "You can wipe them off and then put twenty more pounds on the bar."

"Of course, sir."

My brother gets on his knees with the towel, giving my sneakers a cursory buff. I don't know what personal trainer has shoe-shining in his job description, but I've heard these Moonlight™ employees can be pretty pliant. Apparently, you can make them do quite a bit with the loopholes in their programming. Maybe I can get Ryan here to do something even more embarrassing than polishing his big bro's shoes!

The next week, I worked out every night.

Turns out, bullying my little bro was great motivation to go to the gym! When I saw him during the day, I never mentioned the fact that I knew; didn't want to scare him off. At night, I had every opportunity to take out my frustrations on him. If he pissed me off during the day, I could boss him around at the gym, ordering him to follow me around and wipe down every piece of equipment. I could call him whatever names I wanted and yell at him as loudly as I pleased; he had to just stand there with the best customer service smile and say "yes, sir."

Playing around with Ryan was fun, but it wasn't until I went out for a drink that I ran into my second brother. I guess he had the same idea to get hired with Moonlight™...

"Can I fix you a drink, sir?" my brother, the middle child, yells over the club's EDM.

"What the hell?" I shout, "Ryan's dumb enough to Moonlight™, but I didn't think you were!"

Sam just stares back with the same flashlight eyes and widely stretched lips. Of course his programming won't let him do anything outside of bartending! He's probably not even conscious in there! Ryan was always a bit of an impulsive twerp, so I wasn't surprised to see him Moonlighting™, but Sam is different. He'd said he'd never put his body to work at night. Something about the behavior of Moonlighters™ always rubbed him the wrong way...I guess he changed his mind.

"A round of beers," I tell him, warily gesturing to the back corner, "For me and our crew."

Sam's glowing stare looks over my shoulder and sees our friends, the guys we both hang out with, "Yes, sir. I'll have it right out for you."

I return to our pals, anxious for my brother to follow. Sam is only a year younger than myself, so we run around with the same crowd, yet he didn't recognize any of our buds. Now he's about to serve them like a fucking waiter. My catatonic brother is about to walk into the most humiliating situation of his life. I just get to sit back and watch!

"Sam?" one of them asks a moment later.

"Here are your beers, sir," my brother plucks the bottles off his tray and sets them out for each of his friends, completely oblivious to their stunned reactions, "Is there anything else I can get any of you?"

"Holy crap, dude!" another pal turns to me, "Since when did your brother start Moonlight? He looks like a total idiot!"

Sam doesn't seem to register the insult.

"I don't know man," I laugh, "Tonight, I guess."

"Fetch us some napkins," one guy quips with an amused flick of his hand.

"Right away, sir." Sam answers a little too promptly, and whisks away.

"Right away, sir, Ha!" the guy repeats with a mock salute, "We've gotta mess with him!"

Sam returns, obediently passing out napkins, but I'm finding it harder to meet his gaze while he's grinning so manically. This situation is starting to feel more awkward than hilarious. These guys will never let him live this down!

"Sam, get over here and give this paying customer a sloppy BJ!"

My brother stiffens, and for a second a jolt of fear runs down my spine, terrified that Moonlight™ will actually make him comply. Pranks are all good and fun, but I do not want to see my brother about to blow another dude!

"I apologize, sir," he finally resumes, "That is not part of my responsibilities as bartender."

Thank God.

"Then get something to clean this up," he laughs wildly, "You spilled my beer!" Our friend then pours half his drink on the crotch of his jeans, staring at Sam with the amused eyes of a drunk fool. This guy always gets weird after a few drinks. I don't know why we still bring him along. Normally, we just ignore him.

"Of course, sir," Sam answers attentively.

For the next ten minutes, I sit in silent horror as my brother returns with a rag, proceeding to get on his knees and wipe down another man's crotch with painful dedication. Of course, our friends are all howling with laughter at this point, taking video evidence that they can embarrass Sam with later.

It feels like a lifetime, but Sam finally stands up, "I hope I cleaned that up well enough for you, sir."

The guy feels at his wet jeans, saying, "I don't know if that's good enough, bitch."

"I'm sorry, sir, let me try ag-"

"No! It's my turn," someone else cuts in, pushing his way to the front, "You spilled some on my ass that needs cleaned up!"

The gang loses it, doubling over with laughter as Sam prepares to spend the next ten minutes wiping down another guy's ass, but I've had enough, "No! We're done here, thank you. Go close our tab," I bark.

"Yes, sir," Sam turns on his heel. His dumb obedience is more disturbing than entertaining at this point.

Our friends all give me a hard time for sending him away, but I'm not having it. Maybe I'm not drunk enough, but they're enjoying this a lot more than I am. At this point, I'm ready to call it a night and go home, so I say my goodbyes and head for the exit.

The walk home isn't a far one, but I pass a few notable places on the way: one being my dad's dark office building. Our old man has been working late nights there lately. In the dimly lit lobby, I recognize someone...

"Dad?" I gasp.

"Good evening, sir," my father says to me without any note of familiarity in his voice.

"Wait, you're moonlighting too?" it comes out as more of an accusation, but at this point I'm fed up with finding family members secretly working random mind-controlled night jobs.

"I am a security guard employed through the Moonlight™ corporation," his gravelly voice sounds foreign, delivering these programmed prompts, "If you'd like, sir, I can help you apply for a Moonlight™ position, and you can start making the most of your sleeping hours too!"

"Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea, dad?" I ask, knowing this stupid security guard persona isn't capable of answering.

"He didn't."

The voice of someone else in the room sends shivers down my spine. I whip around, and see a gangly, middle-aged man stepping forward.

"Jeff?"

"Hi, Jamie," my uncle says, sauntering up to his far taller brother and resting an arm on his shoulder. My dad's attentive posture doesn't waver. He just keeps on acting like the perfect sentry for the building and the perfect armrest for his brother.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on!?"

He sniffles and sighs like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Yes, I suppose this charade of mine was doomed to be found out sooner or later. I put your father in the Moonlight™ database. He was just wasting his sleeping hours at home in his bed, and he'd always refuse to let me sign him up, so I did it in secret. He makes a great guard. Right Tom?"

Uncle Jeff claps my dad on the back, prompting him to announce a proud, "Yes, sir!"

"See," my uncle turns back to me, "No harm done. Your old man gets paid to stand around in his sleep. Its harmless!"

"But he doesn't know!" I yell, seething at my uncle's sheer abuse of his place in the company, "This has to be illegal, and are you just pocketing Dad, Ryan, and Sam's salaries?"

He rolls his eyes, "I am right now, but the four of you don't even make that much."

"Did you just say the four of us?" I grunt.

"Oops," he holds a hand to his forehead and curses under his breath.

"AM I FUCKING MOONLIGHTING WHILE I SLEEP TOO?" I am screaming at this point, "You're fucked up!" I bark. Angrily, I stomp towards my uncle, but my father takes a firm step planting himself between me and the man. His steady palm is holding the baton at his belt, making me nervous. Is my dad about to beat me up for this creep?

"Excuse me, sir," my dad smiles at my uncle, "Would you like me to escort this man out of the building?"

"That won't be necessary," my uncle says, "I'll just trigger his Moonlight™ shift to start now. You can go back to standing in the corner"

"Yes, sir," my security guard father answers placidly, returning to his attentive stance.

"You wouldn't," I snarl.

"Oh, trust me, I will. As I understand it, overriding a subject's body while awake means you'll be fully conscious. I'll work on something to make you forget this whole incident later."

He presses a few buttons on an ipad, and suddenly my vision is engulfed in a purple haze. My back straightens, my muscles relax, and I feel my face contorts into a giant smile. Suddenly, my entire body seems to be gone from my grasp, and I'm constrained to a tiny space in my head while something else takes over.

"Enjoy your shift," my uncle snickers with a glare.

"Thank you, sir. I will," I feel my voice pushed out of my throat with an excited tone that isn't mine. Before I know it, my legs are carrying me away from my uncle, leaving him with my father, to march down the dark street...

"Here's your order, sir," my voice has the trademarked Moonlight™ eagerness in it as I reach out the window and hand over the meal.

"Fuck off, sleep-freak!" the teen in the driver's seat flips me off, making his immature friends cackle as they speed off. I can't do anything but smile and watch as they weave away. They have no idea I'm actually conscious in here.

After being forced to leave my uncle, I found myself striding into a fast food restaurant through its backdoor. I could instantly tell the place wasnt anywhere I'd eat at because the dumpster smelled like soggy fries and old meat. The kitchen was a fluorescent-lit pit, with a thick feeling of oil hanging in the air. I could barely take in the surroundings before I was changing out of my clothes by some lockers. I was horrified that Moonlight™ was making me fucking strip, but before long my hands were pulling on new clothes: a uniform. The polo felt like it'd been sitting at the bottom of the locker since the last shift, drying in sweat, and the pants were sticky with something unidentifiable. I was mortified to be pulling on a fucking hairnet and apron, but I had no choice.

"Blondie's here early," a smoker's voice purred from behind me. I had a bad feeling he'd been standing there for a while, watching.

"Hello boss," my voice answers, apparently recognizing the overweight, unshaved creep, "I'm ready to start my shift, sir! Where am I needed today?"

I watched as the man licked his stubbly lips, his beady eyes crawling all over me. Without any shame, his sweaty palm groped the growing bulge in his khakis. He was obviously happy to see me, and he probably thought I couldn't actually see him! I guess, every fucking night that my uncle's made me work in my sleep, I've been under the supervision of THIS pervert!?

"Get to the fryer," his scratchy throat moaned, "You know I want you to get nice and sweaty for later."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to work up a sweat for you," I answer, confused and disturbed by my response. The cheer in my voice did not match the overwhelming gloom I felt when the man slapped my ass. His hand lingered on my rear for too long, but I couldn't even frown.

Since then, I've been boiling fries and flipping burgers. Every so often I have to hand an order out the window, but my heart races every time I do. Three orders ago, the customer threw their soda back at my coworker, he's a fairly average guy in his thirties, and he was dowsed in Coca-Cola. It didn't keep Moonlight™'s programming from working: he just kept manning the grill, smiling, eyes glowing, and hair dripping with cherry flavored juice.

"Ouch!" at least, that's what I want to say. The oil sizzles and pops, and a few drops of hot grease splatter onto my arm, but I don’t flinch. The control won’t let me.

Suddenly I feel someone leaning in behind me. My spine shivers as my manager says, "It's closing time, Blondie. I'll send everyone home so you and I can clean up like usual." He whispers it in my ear, with his flabby arms wrapped around me like we're fucking lovers! I wish I could vomit!

"Sounds good, boss," I find myself saying.

One by one, the manager dismisses each of my moonlighting coworkers. I can't help but feel jealous as they strip out of their uniforms by the door. It isn't just that they get to leave; they also have the luxury of not knowing what's going on. They're all asleep. I'd give anything to at least be unaware of whatever this fucking pervert is about to do!

My body is preoccupied with whatever shit needs to be done for closing, wiping down the tables, taking out the trash, and more.

"Mop time," the manager suddenly announces, holding the raggedy thing out expectantly.

"Yes, sir," my voice answers, and I drop what I'm doing to accept the mop. The crotch of his pants is unzipped, but my bodies already turned away from him, turning all my attention to swab the tiles floor.

"You're doing it wrong again, Blondie," he purrs slowly, "I'm gonna have to help you like usual."

"Thank you, sir," my voice sounds grateful, but I am anything but. The pervert presses his rotund body against my back and holds my muscular arms with his own chubby ones. I can feel his penis poking into me below his gut, but my body accepts his touch like he's just a boss helping out an employee.

I guess this asshole found a loophole in Moonlight™'s fucking programming. He's going to touch me all he wants under the guise of demonstrating the right way to mop.

The creep spends the next ten minutes guiding my arms back and forth. "Fuck, you're bubble butt feels even better than usual, Blondie," he breathes in my ear. If I had control of my muscles, he wouldn't stand a chance, but right now, they're putty in my boss's arms. Meanwhile, his waist gets busy dry humping his chode into my rear end. "I'm so glad a jock like you was dumb enough to try Moonlight!" he grunts, his tongue dangerously close to my ear. I can only thank God that he can't take my pants off! After several painful minutes of him spitting more disgusting comments onto my cheek, his arms drop mine and plant themselves on my chest. His hands sloppily grope my pecs and pinch my nipples. I've never felt more pathetic. The man makes one final exclamation, "FUUUCK!" and I can tell he has finally gotten off.

"Thanks for the help, boss," I find myself saying.

With heavy breaths, he staggers back. The sudden open air on my back makes me realize just how hot and sweaty that slob was, and I can feel the slimy remnants of his balls slipping down my back and legs.

"Good job as always, Blondie," he breathes heavily with satisfaction.

"Thank you, sir," I answer. My voice hasn't lost its awful chipper quality, and my face is still stuck in a smile like I hadn't just been taken advantage of.

"Finish mopping up, and then you can lock up and clock out," he winks as if we shared some inside joke. I hate that all he sees is my smile.

"Yes, sir," I answer, but the creep has already waddled out of the building and slammed the door shut.

The sudden silence is unbearable. It makes the monotonous task of mopping the sticky floors all the more unpleasant. What's worse is that I can't pause to wash the manager's cum off my back. It soaks into my pants as I work, trapped in my own body. At least I know why these pants are so sticky. Honestly, I hope Uncle Jeff will wipe my memory...

[lazyfandombean]

Psst, you!

Hey, hey you! Yeah, you! I've got a question for ya. Do you feel normal about SCC (Sweet Cap'n Cakes)?

-> Yes -> No

[❤️Yes] [Ohhhh, I see. You're in denial, aren't you? ;)]

[❤️No] [Aha! Just as I projected- I mean suspected! Suspected. Yeah.]

Well, I've got some GREAT news for you! Have you ever felt saddened by the lack of SCC-centric fanfiction? Specifically the kind that depicts them as brothers instead of bandmates or partners (no shade to those depictions btw)?

No? Shut up yes you have /j

Yes? Fantastic! Well, no, sorry that you're sad :/ BUT! Be sad no longer! For I've come to save the day!

In the form of my newfound SCC hyperfixation!!!

That's right!! I've been going crazy about The Guys™️ for the past week or so, but to my absolute SHOCK, there are hardly ANY fanfics for them!!! And almost all them revolve around them as a SHIP! And no offense, but I just don't like reading about ships all that much, sorry!!! :(

SO!!! How am I going to fix this dilemma, I wondered? But THEN! I remembered something!! Something very, VERY important:

'Oh yeah I'm a fanfic author.'

Is this me implying that I'm now writing a bunch of SCC fanfiction in a very roundabout way? YES YES IT IS! :D

In fact, I've already posted one on Ao3 and have turned it into a 'series'! By that I just mean that the 'series' is really just a place for me to dump all of my SCC-centric fics. I'll link the series here, BUT I'll also be cross-posting most, if not all, of those fics from Ao3 to here on Tumblr!

Oh also link btw:

But why am I talking about it like this on Tumblr, you ask? Introducing it in such a way when I could have just started posting SCC content? For two reasons!

One: Idk I just felt like it

Two: Because!! It has come to my attention that hardly anybody on Ao3 even reads SCC fanfiction.

And no, this isn't me begging for like... kudos or subscriptions (or followers, I guess it is on Tumblr? Idk I don't use it much) or anything like that. What I AM asking for is for people to read it. Not because I want to get popular, but because...

I am very self-conscious about the way I write SCC.

Well, to be honest I'm just self-conscious about the way I write any fictional character. It's actually the thing I worry about the most when it comes to fanfiction; whether or not I'm getting the personalities right. And I'm aware that it's more about how you perceive the characters, and that headcanons are a thing (I have plenty of them myself), but in my opinion, there's a line between having a headcanon and writing something ooc. Headcanons are fine, yes, and I use them a lot (especially when it comes to Undertale and Deltarune characters), but I feel like it can get to the point where it's so ooc that it doesn't even feel like the same character. And that's something I definitely don't want to happen when I write about my three favorite guys EVER. So basically, I'm asking people to read my fics specifically so I can get feedback on how to write the characters.

Why didn't I ask my friends? Bold of you to assume I have any /hj

But no fr, none of my friends play Deltarune, and I'm not even sure if any of them have heard of it. My sister has played before, but she never really got into it, and it's been so long that I doubt she would even remember who SCC are if I asked.

So, I've taken it to random strangers on Tumblr!

There's only one work in the series right now, but I'm currently working on another and have many more ideas sitting in a doc, waiting to be written! I'll also take requests if anyone has any (which I doubt will happen but anything's possible I guess), but before I post any more, I'd really like to get some feedback from... someone, I guess. I dunno I just really want to do them justice 😭

Anyways, that's all! Sorry that this was so long and probably annoying to read, I just thought it'd be funny but now I don't even know aldkdsfljk- but I'm leaving it like this because why not I guess

[feathertailedcentipede]

I'm assuming there's no setting in bomb rush cyberfunk to turn off the flashing lights when you do graffiti... has anyone made a mod that turns them off? I really wanna play this game but I can't when I have to cover my eyes during important gameplay...

[holytrickster]

idk i think it's so funny I went down a survival horror game rabbit hole when a) I'm too freaking anxious for horror games I will make myself cry, b) it was all PS2 stuff which is extra funny bc I've never even played on someone else's playstation let alone had one, i was always a wii kid lol. but now my brain is like ah yes. time to consume everything I can about games I can't even play and that are stupid expensive/hard to get now

[rxmye]

" 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — For so long, he found art in his surroundings, nature was his muse . . who would've thought that he'd be able to find another muse, within you.

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / obsessive / unhealthy themes / I guess the reader is his 'hater' / perfectionist yandere / kind of egotistic yandere / he has a praise kink frfr / maybe a bit self centered . . / kind of unedited / also might appeal to ppl with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: I feel like Lore takes up a good chunk of this fic, but enjoy . . also might be one of my longest fics . .

He was a calming presence, and a thoughtful friend to all he called his own. Elegance took a human form, in Xavier Wilson—A beautiful work of art indeed . . Born presenting a talent that could rival many others in the industry.

From a young age, Xavier presented himself as a man of the arts, often drawing out vivid tapestries of his dreams or memories. He would often lose himself in the pages of his notebook, scribbling away with intricate drawings and stories, his mind was his own magnum opus.

However—people was never his strong suit. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, surely if he was as magnificent as those around him expressed, he'd most certainly be able to recreate the portraits of those around him?—But no, none of his portraits could compare to his various other works.

As he got a bit older, his mother decided to enroll him in classes that could help expand his talents, which ranged from various music lessons, theater (didn't end well), art history—etc . . .

Xavier let out a breathy sigh, staring at the keys of the grand piano absentmindedly—his gloved fingers gently glide over the keys, tired would be the best way to describe him as of right now—his professor had left an hour ago, yet Xavier couldn't find it in himself to move.

Truth be told, Xavier wasn't a fan of music, he preferred quiet solitude—and though he had long since gotten used to the sound of the piano, violin, and any of the other ridiculous instruments his mother was so keen on getting him to play—he still preferred the silence over all.

Over the course of time, Xavier disinterest towards music dimmed—Alongside his distaste towards instruments . . He figured the reason he disliked it so much was due to his inability to play as perfectly as his professor . . Xavier was a perfectionist, and anything he couldn't perfect was simply 'wrong' in his eyes, and as he reached his teen years, he accepted that fact wholeheartedly.

Xavier stood still, as his mother fixed his tie for him—he could do it himself but he let her enjoy this moment, she always disliked watching her son 'grow up so fast'—"are you nervous?", she asked softly, gently holding his hands, smiling so brightly.

'Am I nervous?—' he thought, clearly not. He felt calm, neutral even. It was his first big show, yet internally he knew that things would end well for him, he could feel it. He's always been lucky, in fact his father's nickname for him as a child was quite literally 'Puer aureus' which translated to 'the golden boy' from Latin.

He clicked his tongue, a common habit of his—especially when he wasn't being exactly truthful—he paused for a moment as if to think, then he smiled at his mother, "Just a bit, but I'll be fine" he spoke calmly, gently squeezing her hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, I've prepared well for this . . Haven't I?"

Praise, he adored praise, and that day he received quite a lot of it—not just from his parents, or acquaintances . . .—but crowds of people. Honestly, it stroked his ego, quite a bit . .

By seventeen years of age, Xavier's talent was known worldwide, his rise to fame quite massive and fast . . He had to attend class, while also hosting live performances and art galleries. (such a struggle, really . . .)

University admissions were coming around, and most of his friends had chosen what schools they plan on applying to—what path they plan on going into—what school they hope to go to the most, the conversation was an eye opener and yet it all felt so bitter.

Xavier tapped his pen on the table, zoning out from the conversation his friends were having . . only to zone back in when Neva spoke, "—so Xavier, have you decided where you'll be applying too . . ? I'm sure you'll get in."

He clicked his tongue in response, closing his eyes absentmindedly as he spoke, "To be honest, not really . . probably something arts related?", Xavier was about to speak up again but stopped himself, starring down at the table, a sigh escaping his lips.

"That seems like a waste of money", he looked up, starring at Oliver with questioning eyes, and Oliver quickly explained himself, "Art school is great and all—But it won't really make much of a difference for you, in fact the rules could restrict your talent . . It could be better for you to just try something new? You're good in school a degree outside of your comfort zone may be something good for you!"

He hated that his friend was right, he hated being wrong. He prided himself for always knowing what was best for himself and his abilities, and in a spur of pettiness he found himself taking art anyway, trying to prove his friend wrong . . even though he was well aware his intentions were pure in all ways.

Xavier had done well in his courses so far, and with his fame, he was breezing through classes—and yet, when the topics of portraits came up . . he found all that floating out the window.

None of the models they had for class, felt right—none of the art he did, felt authentic . . felt like himself, when it came to art, Xavier took everyone to paradise, his art felt like peace . . his art was calm . . his music was soft, lulling almost . .

Yet now, as he stared at his canvas, covered in mixed harsh colours, a vibrant mess of paint, his brushes wrecked, paint dripping from the easel . . It felt like anything but calm.

And that's when he dropped out, a question to his perfection would wreck the fragile image of himself he had created in his mind, a man so perfect and lucky in his own right a humbling experience like that was to never see the light of day.

Xavier found himself turning to something different, just like Oliver suggested, his alternatives were selective, yet he kept many paths open, Photography, fashion, and business were his top picks and things he found himself surprisingly enjoying . . Surely if he could paint and create melodies of such wonders, then he can stitch some fabric together, solve a few equations, and take a few photo's here and there just fine . . right?

A few years had past, and Xavier was now running his very own Luxury fashion line, he still hosted art galleries here and there, and composed music on the side, but his business took up most of his time.

But on his free days he'd turn to photography, taking pictures of things he sought comfort in . . and people, he'd often take pictures of unsuspecting people, pretty ones . . people not so pretty as well, just to try and recreate the life they had on a canvas . . yet somehow always failing to do so.

The moment Xavier found himself close, he'd reach a dead end . . and that destroyed him, internally.

Over the years, he accepted the small flaws in his behavior, and tried his best to reform them, presenting himself as the perfect public figure. He did go to therapy in the past, but when things started rising up, he quit entirely.

Xavier laid back on his office chair, and scrolled through his recent posts comment section, and as expected almost all of it was praise . . some of envy, but that only fueled his ego more . . Until he found a comment that set him off, "His art is so melancholy, it feels a bit sad . . His previous works were brighter, like more happy but now it kind of feels sad . . Like the life in his work isn't there anymore."

Xavier stared at the comment dumbfounded, never had he received that kind of feedback . . portraits he drew were indeed lifeless, but his other art was always regarded as lively, and that was what he always strived for . . Curious, and in a fit of rage . . he clicked on the commenters profile, and saw you.

You, you . . You were what he was looking for, his muse. So, full of life . . He scrolled through your page, and couldn't help but feel the urge to draw you, and paint you . . and paint you he did. . Because soon his entire studio was filled with pieces inspired by you . . so full of 'life' . . .

Yet at some point, he had reached the end of your posts, and it just wasn't enough . . he needed you . . He wanted your feedback, he craved your praise . . like no other, he wanted input . . he wanted to know if his work was truly still lifeless . . he wanted you.

After all, a artist isn't complete without his muse.

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[awakenedevildays]

「take-out and matches」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

currently thinking of Art watching his latest match on tv to see the mistakes he has done and how he can improve: he is sitting with his bare back comfortably resting against the cushion of the couch, arms crossed against his chest and legs slightly spread and if it wasn't for his eyes fixed on the TV, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips forming a thin line you wouldn't have never guessed he was so focused.

You are watching him from the door of the living room with his shirt on and slighlty disheveled hair tucked behind your ears, your lips curled into a smile while the fingers of your right hand unconsciously go to play with the engagement ring on the left one. Your eyes follow your own movements for a few seconds before hearing a soft rustle against the fabric of the couch that brings you to look at your fiancé again, he is still looking the tv but his lips are shaped into a small smile and his arms are uncrossed, one tapping against his thigh repeatedly and the other is laid out on the cushions for you to take. You swiftly pad towards him and take his left hand in yours, letting him help you climb on his lap like it's the hardest thing you have to do; he kisses your hand before letting you unwrap yours from his to let you hug his neck with both arms, your head falling in between them and against his throat while he caress your thighs with both hands, your chests pressed together and your legs on both sides of him. 

You both stay silent for a few minutes, the tennis ball being hit over and over and the claps of the people on the tv were the only sounds you could hear along with the gentle breathing of Art under you. 

“You did great today” you mumble against his throat before kissing it. 

“Only because you were there” he replies, his hands moving in up and down motions on your legs “didn’t feel like losing in front of you” you smile and lean back to look at him. 

“You would have been great even then” he finally tears away his eyes from the tv and looks at you, eyes softening seeing your messy hair and droopy eyes caused by the two hours nap you two had.

“I think you're slightly biased” he teases and, while you reach behind you to take the remote from the table in front of the couch, his hands wraps around your middle to prevent you from falling.

You pause the match “I’m just honest, the fact that I’m your fiancée doesn’t have anything to do with my opinion about your game” you turn back to him and comb his blond hair with your fingers. 

“Sure it doesn’t” he sarcastically mumbles while his head drops against your chest in a relaxed way, his arms squeezing around you even tighter making your back arch and chest press more against his face. 

“What do you want to eat? I was thinking we could stay here and order takeaway” your fingers massage the nape of his neck and head. 

“Hamburger sounds nice” he mutters sleepily and you chuckle. 

“You'll have to keep this from your nutritionist” a groan came out of his mouth and a mumbled ‘let’s not talk about my job anymore’ vibrates in your chest. 

“I'll have to find a way to burn the calories quickly though, any idea?" He playfully bites your neck, you shudder taking his face between your hands “i might have a few...” and start to kiss all his face except his lips while he sits there with his eyes semi-closed, his head nuzzles the palm of your left hand. 

“You’re so pretty” he whispers “i really want to kiss you right now” goosebumps takes all over your body and your heart misses a beat, he knows what effect this phrase has on you… it was the same one he said your first date. 

For a moment you went back to 7 years before in your college days: when you were pressed between the passenger door of his car and his body after a walk on the beach, his jacket wrapped around your shoulders and your high-heels in one of his hands while the other had your fingers tangled together, and he whispered the same phrase that made your heart jump and goosebumps rise in the same way it did now. 

“Please do” and he does. 

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

[barcaatthemoon]

Could you do “I’m only going to say this once. You’re the only one I think about, day in, day out. And it’s so fucking scary, feeling like this.” with lia wälti pls

running || lia walti x reader ||

"(y/n)!" lia called out as she chased after you. nobody had understood why you had pitched a fit whenever jonas told you about playing against city. to be fair, you hadn't told the team about your ex that played on the team. "where are you going?"

"home," you answered. lia watched as you shoved your things from your locker into your bag. "i can't be here anymore."

"stop-," lia placed her hands on yours to stop you, "-talk to me. i want to help you if you'll let me. what happened out there?"

"she's so frustrating. all i wanted was a little more, but she wanted it to be casual. now she's out there kissing her new girlfriend out and fucking proud." tears brimmed around your eyes. lia sighed as she pulled you in for a hug. it hurt to hear you caught up on your ex, but she hated to see you upset even more. "and i'm not even into her anymore, but it just hurts."

"i understand," lia told you. her voice was soft, just as soft as her hands as they cradled your face. "sometimes, we see things that bring up old feelings. why don't you get cleaned up and we can go to the bus."

at this, you froze a little, "j-just the two of us?"

"i don't see anyone else around, and i really want to make sure you're not all alone. there's not anything wrong with that, is there?" lia asked you. she was terrified of hearing you tell her that you hated her or something. lia tried so hard with you, and sometimes, you tried to avoid her like the plague.

"no, i guess not," you mumbled.

"you guess not?" lia looked heartbroken, and in a rushed attempt to fix things, you definitely caught a case of word vomit.

"i'm only gonna say this once because that's all i can manage. you're the only one i think about, day in and day out. and it's so fucking scary, feeling like this. one day you're just going to come to your senses, and i'll have to go sprinting back to america again," you said.

"i won't push you away, and i'd never let you run that far from me. i love arsenal, it's my home, but i'd follow you to america," lia told you. she didn't miss the way that your eyes lit up, but there wasn't much more to focus on for either of you when she leaned over to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

[talaok]

Incentive

Pairing: Joel miller x reader

summary: Ellie makes you convince Joel to not get back on the road yet, and you find a way to persuade him

warnings: just fluff with a slight allusion to smut

"pleasee he'll never say no to you"

You sighed "fine, but you owe me, kid"

"absolutely" Ellie nodded

You scowled at her one more time before turning on your feet, your eyes immediately finding Joel deeply focused on fixing some things in the truck bed.

You walked up to him

"Hey"

"hey" he glanced at you

"Whatcha doing?" you asked

" an inventory of our supplies"

"oh, cool" you lied, taking a step so you could sit on the edge of the trunk.

He looked at you suspiciously, somehow already aware of what was happening.

"I already told Ellie we can't stay here another night"

You bit your lip, internally cursing yourself.

How did he always know?

"Joel"

He was listening

"c'mon she's a kid, she's tired"

"I am too, but we gotta get to Wyoming"

"I know, but a day isn't gonna make a difference"

He was contemplating it, you could see the gears turning behind his eyes.

"we can't"

"Joel" you said, taking the can from his hand and setting it in its bag just to guide him in front of you "it's just one night" you shrugged, playing with the hem of his jacket "do it for her" you nodded to Ellie, and noticed with amusement as she pretended not to be staring when you both turned towards her.

"We would be wasting time"

"We should rest" you explained "You should rest" your index finger poked his chest

"I don't wanna rest, I wanna get to Wyoming"

"Hugh" you huffed, smiling a bit as your head fell to his torso in exasperation "you're so stubborn"

"why are you even helping her Y/n?"

You looked up at him, your chin still on him "she's so young, Joel, she's 14 for god's sake and she's seen so much already, the least we could do is show her the world is not only that shitty"

"by staying here another night?" he raised an eyebrow, skeptical

"yes" you smiled "and by maybe trying to act less like a grumpy 80-year-old all the time" you suggested, making him throw his head back with a sigh.

"y/n..."

"really? You're still not convinced after that amazing speech?"

"We really can't waste any time"-

An idea sparked in your mind, as you reduced the distance between you, your hands finding his core.

"I'll tell you what mr grumpypants" you smirked "If you agree to stay here another night, I'll make it worth your while"

He immediately got more serious, his eyes finding yours quickly.

You smiled at that reaction.

"How? She's always around"

"I could keep you company tonight while you keep watch"

"It's been a while" you added, and in that exact moment, as his mind wandered, surely imagining what you were proposing, you knew you had won.

"This is a one-time thing" he cleared out " tomorrow we're back on the road"

"of course" you nodded, biting back a grin as you stood up

"Thank you" you kissed him "she's gonna be really happy"

"well I'm gonna be too" he put his hands on your waist "I've missed you"

"mee too" you agreed, kissing him again.

"do you wanna tell her?" you asked

"no, go on" he gestured, and you shook your head

"You should be nice to her Joel"

"I am" he defended and you scoffed, turning to reach Ellie who was sitting on a tree branch.

"so?" she asked, hopeful, as she noticed you.

"we're staying here another night" you nodded with a smile

"yes!" she grinned "thank you" she took you by surprise as she stood up and hugged you, her tiny arms squeezing you tight.

"No problem Ellie" you reassured her as she took a step back

"how'd you even do it?" she asked " when I asked him, he was all like -no we can't waste time Ellie- and - you can sleep in the car Ellie- " she mocked him exaggeratedly, making you laugh.

"well" you glanced at him, trying to hide the smirk creeping on your lips "I guess I just gave him a little incentive"

[theauthorunicorn]

1 A.M. | Gojo Satoru

an unmistakable angst festering within me that I need to let out.

note: if i was to be asked what type of drabbles, fanfic that i could and would read in my lifetime, I'll choose angst, that undescribed feeling that you wanted to punch the wall and angrily shout at someone. anyway, enjoy! reblogs, comments and like is really appreciated :)

not proof read

word count: 1128 word (wow)

Gojo Satoru x Reader

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

Satoru can't be explained in few words, if you can describe him, you'll be lost in your own words. Before, there were days that you only look at him, afar, adoring and silently loving him. But, for the past few years he is, was yours and you were his.

It didn't take long for him to fall in love with you, with his best friend out of the picture you gladly fill out the empty vastness within him. Shoko was there as well but you gave him the kind of attention that he needed that time.

For the past few months, you've been noticing the distance between the two of you. You assured yourself that you may be feeling this way since you've never seen each other and spent time together. Satoru also promises that the missions had been taking him to places and made him tired, so he'll just stay on his apartment to rest and will see you soon - this promise were also accompanied by mumbled I miss you and whispers of I love you's.

Late Saturday evening you're both watching the TV. You leaned comfortably in the sofa scanning the channels to land on a perfect show while Satoru was laying on your lap maybe asleep.

A long sigh broke the silence, "I'm sorry," you lowered down the volume, "I just can't find a good show."

He hummed in agreement, "Nah, your good." He said as he traced line over your skin.

"Do you think I changed?" Satoru asked without looking at you.

"What do you mean? Physically or what?" You played together with his antics.

"I mean, you spent a lot of time waiting for me and then I'll just call or text you that I will not be coming or even ditching our dates just because I was busy."

He noticed it too, "Uhm, I guess I understand your tired and missions had been longer and tiring, you know, so, I also try to understand it." You answered him.

"I just want you to know Y/N that I still feel the same way as when I first met you." He muttered. You can see that his trying to give you the assurance through his words that he can't physically show you.

But how long can you stay.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

You're both standing face to face as you bit your lips as you hold on to your tears, "You know what Y/N sometimes, no, honestly you suffocate me!" Satoru shouted, "How many times did I told you that we were just out drinking and you're here at my house demanding why I did not spend time with you instead? I do get a chance to choose how I spend my time right? I did not sign up for being with you all the time. Fuck, you're so annoying and clingy."

Long arguments with Satoru had been frequent. You're hurt, his word hurt, his gaze towards you hurts everything right now with Satoru hurts. You look at him trying to compose yourself if you should yell at him too, slap him, punch his pretty face, or just say -

"I'm sorry Satoru," you sighed, "I should not come here and demand your attention," you said slowly, "Yeah, missions and stuff is always the priority, right? We need to do that. I understand and I'm really sorry about -"

He looked at you without any emotions, maybe even regret about earlier instead of stopping he continues, "I hate that sometimes I get sick of you, Y/N. Fuck." He curses. The last words he said was so cruel and potent.

"I'm sorry again, Gojo." You look at him one last time trying to hold your tears. "I better get going, you need to rest." You walked away from him with a deep sigh and tears falling on your cheeks. It's one a.m. he should be asking you to stay and fix this mess, but he didn't. You walked away from the man that you loved the most that you let him break your heart a thousand pieces.

Thirty minutes passed you arrive in your apartment you phone pings, "Text me if your home, Y/N." You read it as tears falling in your screen. You left Gojo on read.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

You avoided Gojo after that night like a plague. Shoko asked you if everything was fine since Gojo had been asking about you through her. You simply smiled at her with hollow eyes and said that you just had a small argument with him, and everything is fine.

You lied to Shoko, and she knows that too.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

A week after that night you are avoiding Gojo had come to an end. A meeting was arranged to all staff to discuss an important matter. You tried to prolong your current mission to miss the meeting but -

"The meeting won't start without you in it." Shoko said softly over the phone.

"Why?" You chuckled, "It's not that I'm that important. You can just take note the minutes and pass it along."

"Yeah, I tried to stall them, but everyone is here waiting for you. Nanami is annoyed why your ass is still not here, Y/N."

"Fuck." You curse, "I don't want to be there, -"

"Are you coming or not?" Satoru asked you as he snatched Shoko's phone, that's only the reason why you're hearing his voice after a week.

You sighed, "I am. I'm just finishing this. Tell them to give me 15 minutes and I'll be there." You answered plainly.

"Where are you? I could come and get you instead."

"No, no need. I'm done." You end the call.

You were panting as you run across the Jujutsu Tech. You know you're a mess, hair in a messy bun, a cut on your cheeks, a bruise in your arm and thighs.

You opened the door and all eyes on you, "This meeting better be so important that you all required me to sit in after a fucking mission." You rolled your eyes and grab the nearest chair to sit between Nanami and Shoko.

Gojo stood up and walked towards you, "Are you even okay, Y/N. We could let Shoko check you first -"

"No, I'm not okay Gojo," you hissed at him, "just fucking start this meeting so I could rest." You tried to smile sweetly at everyone.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

"You are calling Satoru, Gojo is not heard for years, babe. What happened?" Shoko asked as you let her tend your injuries at her clinic.

"I'm just tired and that meeting could have been an email, you know, Kento even agrees." You motion to Nanami sitting across.

"And humor me, why Satoru is off limits here? He's like a stray cat outside waiting for you."

"Let him be."

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

You walked out and thanked Shoko for her assistance. True to her words Gojo was there sitting like a stray cat waiting for you. You did not acknowledge his presence and walk on the opposite way to which he was sitting. He noticed you while closing the door but the lack of attention to him proves that you're not really talking to him.

Instead, he followed you through the halls of Jujutsu Tech and stopping as well when your students stopped and said hi to you.

"Y/N-sensei, how are you?" Nobara asked, "I heard that you were hurt, and they still let you attend a meeting." She pouted.

"I'm fine." You assured her, "and were still watching that movie tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay sensei, and why is Gojo-sensei following you like a lost cat." She whispers. You shrugged and smile and continue walking.

You can still hear his steps following you. You completely ignored him. You wanted to do this to let him taste his own medicine. You stopped your tracks and grabbed your phone to call a cab.

Gojo snatched your phone, "I already called one. Let's just wait for our ride here."

"What do you mean our ride? I'm going home to rest, I'm tired." You demand him to hand your phone back.

"Yeah, were going home -"

"What the fuck, Gojo." You snarled at him.

"It's Satoru, Toru, babe or baby for you, love." He corrected his own name.

"You're so self-centered, you know that don't act like you fucking love me when you fucking told me about many nights before that you're re sick of me, that I'm so annoying and you're tired. I'm tired right now so can you please leave me."

"I know I was self-centered that night and I got so mad and lost my cool but it's because I'm just tired. I wanted to talk to you, but you avoided me like a plague, I don't even know what you were up to. I had to check with Shoko or Nanami to check what are you doing. I hate myself for saying such cruel things to you, you know it's not true right? You know that I feel the same way for you every day, even if I failed to show it to you, it's still the same. My heart aches when I think about you. The things that I have said - I'm really sorry, love."

"How much longer do you want me to be in pain, Gojo?" You asked him.

"It's Satoru even if you're mad at me," he shakes his head, "what? I don't want you to be in pain."

Gojo saw your pretty eyes saying that everything is over, you and he are done but he denies it. Your indifferent now, cold and as if you're digging a grave to bury all the memories that you had with him. Gojo still denies it.

"We're done. I'm breaking up with you and you don't get a chance to say anything after what I've been through. I think about this for a past couple of days, Gojo. I'm done with you, I'm not sorry for this."

Gojo Satoru remained on his foot as he watched you walking away. Although all of him is breaking down because of you he doesn't have anything as of now to let you stay. But he knows deep down in this life, journey and world in which nothing last forever -

It's only you for him.

[yeoosaangg]

Talk Dirty || Kinktober - Day 4

pairing ▸ park seonghwa × f!reader × choi san

now playing ▸ talk dirty - daniel di angelo

⤷ ❝i think i'm fucking addicted to your body. baby, can you blame me?❞

genre ▸ idol au, polyamorous relationship, smut

warnings ▸ free use, degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double penetration, marking

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

When you got hired as ATEEZ's personal fucktoy, you never expected to fall in love with them.

Your contract expired months ago, but you never left them. They asked you to be their girlfriend and the rest was history.

You cuddle into Seonghwa's side, enjoying your movie night. He chose something random, not really caring about its plot. He just wanted to spend time with you.

San walks in from his room, pulling your bottom half close to him.

Seonghwa smirks, knowing where this was going.

San: What you guys watching?

Y/n: Don't remember the title. But this guy's going around killing everyone. Must be important.

San: Oh, yeah?

He pulls your bottoms off, discarding them on the floor. You won't be needing them anyway.

You resist grinning in excitement, his fingers opening you up with ease.

Seonghwa: Really, San? During movie night?

San: Don't act like your dick isn't getting hard. She's our girlfriend for a reason.

You just stare at the TV, acting blissfully unaware of the conversation. Just like how your boyfriends love it.

Y/n: Look! He found the main bad guy.

San: So interesting, sweetheart.

You know he doesn't give a shit about the movie, but it's fun to indulge the idea he could.

He takes off his sweats, kicking them off somewhere. He aligns his cock into you, moaning at the feeling. You hum, holding back from reacting.

You continue to stare at the TV, loving the way San's cock stretches you out.

Seonghwa unbuttons his jeans and quickly takes them off. He pulls your shirt over your head, growling at the sight of your bare chest.

Seonghwa: Hey, baby. How was your date with Yunho?

He guides your hands to stroke his cock. You mindlessly continue, wanting so bad to take him in your mouth.

Y/n: It was- Mmm- It was so fun. We had a picnic at the park. Picked a spot with a great v-view of the lake.

It's getting really hard to not moan. San's cock hits your g-spot so deliciously.

Seonghwa: I'm glad you had a good time, baby.

He pulls your head down, shoving your head down his cock. His hips slam up into your throat, brutally abusing your mouth.

You desperately want to react having both of them using you like the whore that you are, but you just continue to stare at the TV.

San: I'll be asking Yunho for pictures of your date.

Seonghwa lifts your head, letting you answer San.

Y/n: He took- Hm- He took a lot.

Seonghwa: I bet he did. What'd you wear, darling?

Y/n: Sundress. The yellow one he bought me.

San speeds up, ramming his cock inside you repeatedly. Seonghwa leans forward and starts covering you in hickeys.

Y/n: How was work today?

San: It was great. We went over the choreo and fixed up some vocals in the studio.

Seonghwa: Same here. Nothing too major.

Y/n: Can I- Fuck- Can I visit next time?

San: You can go whenever you want, gorgeous. I bet the others would love to see you.

Y/n: Miss you guys lot when you work.

Seonghwa coos at you. He can see you crumbling at their touch. He can see the drool wanting to spill.

He shoves your head back on his cock. He moans as your tongue rubs the bottom of his shaft.

San: Look at you, so pathetic. Our hungry cockslut doing so well to please us. I can feel you cumming on my cock right now.

Seonghwa: Is she, now? So perfect for us. It's okay to react. We love watching our little whore enjoy herself.

You try to talk, but just choke around the big cock in your mouth.

They find you so cute.

San grabs your hair and pulls you off of Seonghwa, back against his chest. He bites your neck, watching you roll your eyes and fuck yourself on his cock.

Seonghwa: I was wondering when she'd crack.

San: Lasted longer than I thought. Guess she deserves her reward.

You scream, not holding back from the pleasure you're feeling. He fucks you so good.

Seonghwa stops you from moving, making you whine.

San: Watch it, princess. Or else we'll stop.

You bite your bottom lip, whimpering as Seonghwa lifted you off of San. The loss of contact was heartbreaking, but when San covers your holes in lube, you gasp in surprise.

San: Think you can take both of us at once, sweetheart?

You nod furiously. You love feeling both of them fucking you dumb.

He slowly enters you from behind, a string of curses leaving his lips.

Seonghwa grabs your legs and lifts them onto his shoulders. This was a new position, but you're not opposed to trying it.

He slides into your aching cunt, both of their arms wrapping around your waist.

Seonghwa: Remember your safe word, darling?

Y/n: Star.

San: Good girl. What's your current color?

Y/n: Green.

They exchange a look, slamming you down as both of their cocks enter you. You scream, scratching at Seonghwa's back from the pleasure mixed with pain.

Y/n: So- Fuck- So full!

Seonghwa kisses you, muffling your moans as San bites your neck. Tears stream down your face, the pressure in your lower stomach intensifying with each double stroke.

San: Aww, look at her. She's a babbling mess. Can't even talk properly. So fucking cute.

Seonghwa: Wonder how she'd do with all eight of us fucking her silly. We'll have to plan that day out, won't we?

San: Fuck, yeah we do. Take her to the dark room.

Seonghwa: Absolutely. Has Yeosang finished the arrangements?

San: We'll ask later.

You don't even give a warning as you squirt all over Seonghwa's cock. It dripped down onto San's cock in your ass.

Your boyfriends cum at the same time, stuffing you to the brim. You love it that way.

They don't stop fucking you, though. They just keep pounding until you no longer can think. Everything felt fuzzy.

San: Fuck, she's getting heavy.

Seonghwa hums, both of them slowing down. When you get this non-verbal and exhausted, they end the scene immediately.

San: I'll get the bath ready.

Seonghwa strokes your hair, seeing your eyes flutter between open and closed. He can tell they pushed you too deep into sub space.

Seonghwa: You did so well, darling. Our good girl. We're sorry for losing control like that. We love you and never want to hurt you.

San comes back, carefully lifting you into his arms. You giggle, feeling like you're going on a rollercoaster.

Seonghwa kisses your temple, chuckling at how cute you are.

They take you into the bathroom, cleaning you up and massaging your body.

It feels nice to know that even though they say cruel things while fucking you, they never actually mean it.

They couldn't have asked for a better girlfriend. You are everything to them and more.

═══

a/n: i gotta stop reading nsfw tweets... they give me ideas for more fics. thanks for reading! ‹𝟹

[uselesslexbian]

the tortured poets department sentence starters.

i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

my husband is cheating. i wanna kill him.

thought of calling you, but you won't pick up.

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

everyone we know understands why it's meant to be. 'cause we're crazy.

who else is gonna know me?

i should've known it was a matter of time.

we could've played for keeps this time.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

he told me i'm better off, but i'm not.

fuck it if i can't have him.

i might just die, it would make no difference.

fuck it if i can't have us.

'cause fuck it, i was in love.

i stopped trying to make him laugh.

how much sad did you think i had in me?

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?

you swore you love me, but where were the clues?

i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

i forget if this was ever fun.

no, i'm not coming to my sense.

i know he's crazy, but he's the one i want.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.

i'll tell you something about my good name - it's mine alone to disgrace.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

no, you can't come to the wedding.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

i will never lose my baby again.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake.

they said i was a cheat. i guess it must be true.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

tell me i'm dispicable, say it's unforgivable.

am i allowed to cry?

i keep recalling things we never did.

someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts.

if it's make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

you don't get to tell me about "sad."

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

who's afraid of little old me?

at all costs, keep your good name.

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

so tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

i'm fearsome, and i'm wretched, and i'm wrong.

you caged me, and then you called me crazy.

i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

i can fix him. no really, i can.

come close, i'll show you heaven.

trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man.

you said i'm the love of your life.

well, you took me to hell, too.

what we thought was for all time was momentary.

are they second-hand embarrassed that i can't get out of bed 'cause something counterfeit's dead?

you're the loss of my life.

i can handle my shit.

he said he'd love me all his life, but that life was too short.

i can do it with a broken heart.

i'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive. it's an art.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i'm sure i can pass this test.

they said, "babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and i did.

'cause i'm miserable! and nobody even knows!

was any of it true?

who the fuck was that guy?

they just ghosted you. now you know what it feels like.

i don't even want you back.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

'cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i would've died for your sins. instead i just died inside.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

i haven't come around in so long, but i'm making a comeback to where i belong.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

the crown is stained, but you're the real queen.

you're the new god we're worshipping.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

[teatreeoilll]

|| Crush (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

Short one shot, in which Gojo finds out reader has a crush on him. TW: mentions of Alcohol and smoking

"I mean, if you had to choose one of them?" Your hands slipped further on the table, your palm grazing the wood while you fixed your gaze on Shoko's uninterested eyes.

"No," She said calmly.

"But if you really, really had to?" Her eyes darted across the room, her mind in dire need of a change in conversation topic.

"If I really - really, had to," She sighs, "I guess I'd pick Satoru."

Your heart dropped at the mention of his name. I knew it!

"But really," She continued, "I think he makes a horrible team with anyone, it doesn't matter how strong you are if you can't do that, y'know? But those six-eyes are no joke, so if I had to, I guess -" Your confused expression stopped her from talking further.

"Shoko, I meant if you had to pick one to - uh, you know, "

All the confidence you mustered to bring up the topic in the first place had vanished, you slid back into the chair, watching Shoko's face shrink with disgust. "No."

The drink before you emptied quickly as silence took over the room, each time you wanted to say something you felt your throat tense as the drunk haze had begun to clear. Perhaps it really was a bad idea to talk about this.

"I have a feeling this isn't really about me, is it?" She reached to open another canned sake. "I would like to say that you can tell me anything, but I have a feeling I wouldn't want to hear this," She took a long sip, "But I'll play along. Who'd you choose?" She was far too familiar with your mannerisms, knowing you would never admit to it any other way.

For a few months now, she had been brushing off her suspicions as misinterpretations.

"I - I would, hm, maybe, Satoru?" Regret settled deeper in your throat, but you knew it was too late to make up some excuse to leave this conversation. "It's not like I'd do anything about it, you know?" Shoko's eyes widened as you spoke, she tried to utter a few protest words, her hands are signaling you to stop talking.

You felt your face turn red, "I mean, It's just a crush, nothing to be too flustered about, right? What do those last, like a few months at most? Just don't look at those beautiful blue eyes, and that snowy white hair… It'll go away on its own!" Aware that it's too late, Shoko had buried her face in her palms. That's it, the thought passed through your brain, She will never respect me again.

"It really is nothing to be flustered about. Quite understandable - really." A familiar voice came from behind, you could hear the grin in his tone. You desperately stared at Shoko, your eyes begging her to say anything - anything to rescue you from the embarrassment.

Shoko cleared her throat, "It is, very understandable! That you have a crush on this guy, who doesn't even attend Jujutsu High!" Ah, it could have been such a good save.

"Oh yes!" Gojo laughed, kneeling next to your chair with his hand placed firmly on your shoulder, "Such a shame, but it's not like you have to see his beautiful blue eyes and snowy white hair every day," He failed to hold back his laugh, "I'm sure it'll go away on its own."

You focused your eyes on the table - Twelve cans of sake, only seven open. Gojo's hand on your shoulder. Oh god. Ashtray, still smoking. Salty chip packets - 2,3 … no 4, one has fallen off the table. Gojo's hand makes its way to your lower back. How's Kyoto this time of year?

"There's nothing to be shy about." His whisper catches you off guard, his face so close to yours you were sure he could smell the alcohol coming off of each of your heavy breaths. You find the strength to stand up, your chair screeching on the floor. Gojo almost lost his balance.

"It's getting late, Shoko, thank you for the - actually, let's never drink again. I'll see you tomorrow."

You walked the dark corridor, unable to focus on anything other keeping yourself balanced after so many drinks, keeping the thoughts on solving your predicament for a more sober time.

A hand brushed your wrist before gripping it tightly and pulling you in its direction. Even in the dark, you could see the blue of his eyes.

"Listen, I really meant what I said." You uttered, watching his smirk widen. "No smart comebacks now!" You felt your chest heat up, the shame had turned to anger. People have feelings, why does it have to be a joke? His hand loosened its grip on yours.

"We're not children anymore Satoru, It's a crush. It'll be gone just as fast as it came. You don't have to joke about it, just forget it."

Never in his life had he let you finish so many sentences without a snarky remark. You tried to read his face, but the shadows covered his expression.

"Say it again." You felt his body come closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours, you didn't notice yourself stumbling backward until the wood boards on the nearest wall had pressed to your back.

"Say what again?"

"Say you have a crush on me," His voice lower than usual.

Fine, if it's going to be a joke, I guess it's better to go with it. "I have a crush on you, Satoru Gojo." As you tried to rid yourself of your compromising position his hand grabbed the back of your neck, entangling itself in your hair. Tension forms at the pit of your stomach.

"I have the biggest crush on you, Sa-" you mustered the huskiest voice you could find, but he wouldn't let you finish, his tongue already trying to find its place in your mouth.

He freed his hand from your hair just to grab your legs, lifting them up to wrap around him, his fingers digging deep into your thighs. He pauses to catch a breath, his face resting in the crook of your neck, just to huff a few words;

"Well, aren't I lucky?"

[engie-ivy]

@wolfstarmicrofic 10th: Defeat

391 words

What Could Go Wrong?

It's going to be a sure defeat. Remus just knows.

Sirius and James convinced him to join the Dueling Club, to gain more confidence in his dueling abilities. And hey, with the whole Great Wizarding War between Good and Evil hanging in the air, some extra practice can come in quite handy.

Now they're having a tournament with the club, and Remus is up next. His opponent is a seventh year Slytherin. One year above Remus, so more skilled in his spellwork, and besides, Slytherins play dirty. James and Sirius could take him, sure, but Remus? Absolutely not.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius says. “What could go wrong?”

“Do you want the list in order of likelihood or severity?” Remus asks dryly.

Sirius shakes his head. “No, I mean it. Sure, you might lose-”

“Might?”

“-but even then, there's no shame in it and it's still good practice. So what could really go wrong?”

“Well,” Remus begins, because if Sirius wants The List, he can get The List. "He could permanently deform my body, and if he throws in some Dark Arts, not even Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix it, so I could be permanently covered in welts.”

“Then I'll love each of your welts as much as I love each of your scars.”

“Or I could end up with a third eye on my forehead.”

“Your eyes are very pretty, I won't mind having another one to stare into.”

“Or maybe a third arm growing from somewhere.”

“Another hand for me to hold.”

“Or who knows, I might never be able to walk again.”

“Then I'll just carry you everywhere.”

“Or I could be throwing up snails for the rest of my life.”

“I guess I'll have to kiss you in between snails then.”

“He might even turn me into some kind of animal with no way to turn me back.”

“I'll turn into an animal as well and we'll go off into the forest together and live happily ever after.”

“You're crazy.”

“About you.”

“Shut up.”

“Remus,” Sirius walks up to him and places his hands on his shoulders. “Look at me. What could go wrong?”

Remus opens his mouth to remind Sirius of The List, but then he looks into Sirius eyes, and the words halt. He swallows. “As long as you're with me, nothing at all.”

[elliaze]

Weightless

Parring: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Warnings: Joel and reader are neighbors, age gap (Joel is 10 years older), no!outbreak, reader has 23 years old, Sarah is here but only mention, neighbors-to-friends-to-idiots-in-love-trope?, protective!Joel, they are head over hills to each other, but Joel think he's to old for her, mostly fluff but with a little heart-break,

Summary: Joel goes to the bar when Y/N is working and then something happens.

Word Count: +2700

Divider by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

Y/N was twenty-three when she fell in love. 

Or had it lasted much longer? 

It was hard to tell, because Joel Miller had been in her life almost from the beginning. First, as an annoying adult neighbour. She loved to play pranks on him when she was a child. He had always threatened to tell her parents, but she knew that had never happened. Later, as she grew up, that same annoying neighbour suddenly became an exceptionally handsome neighbour. It had been a time when she had paid no attention to boys her own age, thinking they were complete idiots. It was also a time when she had gone from being an ordinary girl next door to being Sarah’s babysitter, especially when Joel and his brother couldn’t take care of the little girl. Y/N remembered how she would blush every time she passed Miller, especially when he started talking to her about something other than how his beloved daughter was doing. She thought that her crush on her older neighbour was just a result of her teenage years. She thought that would pass.

A few years later, it didn't. On top of that, everything got more complicated because she and Joel started to be friends. He didn't treat her like a child, although he could, especially since he saw her in every, even the most embarrassing, moment and witnessed her running around the yard with two pigtails and pink tights that always ended up dirty with mud. She knew that she could rely on him, sometimes much more than on her so-called friends. And she wanted it to work both ways, but sometimes she had the impression that there were moments when he looked at her through the prism of the age difference.

“Beer and a hamburger for my favourite customer,” she said cheerfully, placing a plate of food and a bottle of alcohol on the table. Taking advantage of the fact that she finally had a free moment during her shift, she took a seat opposite Joel. “Hard day?”

“Tiring, and I really don't want to go home so soon because…”

“Sarah's staying over at a friend's” she finished for him, recalling her morning conversation with the girl. “She mentioned something to me, that they'll be watching movies and eating sweets. It is quite a pleasant prospect.”

“Maybe you should follow her example and rest yourself.”Joel pointed at her and took a quick sip of his beer. “Which shift is it? Eight? Nine?”

“Ten.”

“Even better. Honey, you're too young to work yourself to death.”

“I guess it's a good thing I have the whole day off tomorrow. And I'm going to lie around and do nothing, but only after our breakfast together. Because I hope it's still relevant?”

“You ask as if you haven't dropped by our house and eaten the fridge in years.”

“Hey!” She laughed and pulled a pen out of her apron. She threw it at the man, who leaned back at the last moment and snorted with laughter. “That's called slander, Miller. Watch out, or I'll tip you twice.”

“I could even pay triple for your company.”

Joel winked at her, and she blushed at his words anyway. She tried to cover it up by fixing her hair, but she still thought he must have noticed. Whatever that meant, she must have forgotten about it, because the door to the bar opened and a drunk man entered. The smile fell from her face as she recognized him as a customer she genuinely hated. He always hit on, even harassed, all the waitresses. Normally she could handle him, but now that she saw that he was clearly drunk, she had a bad feeling.

“What's going on?” Joel asked with concern, then glanced over his shoulder at the new man who had just taken a seat a few tables away. “Who's that? Do you know him?”

“Unfortunately. He's one of our customers who... Let's just say he really likes to pick on all the girls at work. I hate him, but I have to serve him.”

“I'll be here if anything. Just let me know and…”

“Thanks, but take care of your burger. I'm not going to serve him anyway because he's drunk.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“When I'm not,” Y/N replied teasingly and stood up from her seat.

She slowly made her way to the occupied table. When she turned around for a moment to see if Joel had listened to her, she shook her head in amusement. She could have expected that the only person he listened to was himself and did only and exclusively what he thought was right. At least that's how she preferred to explain his intense gaze on her, so as not to get her hopes up too high. 

However, getting the client turned out to be much more difficult than she thought. The initial texts and comments might have seemed funny, but when his behaviour began to become aggressive and intrusive, she began to lose patience. It wasn't the first time she had been in such a situation, so she knew how to behave. She had learned a long time ago that being a woman, she was doomed to this type of behaviour. She could endure a pat on the butt or other such gestures, but when he started calling her names and raised his hand to hit her, she completely froze in place. Not only that, but she was paralysed and if not for Joel's quick reaction, she would probably have ended up with a mangled face.

Miller pushed her back and grabbed the drunk man by the collar of his shirt. He lifted him up, and as he continued to argue and fight, Joel struck him first. It all happened so quickly that all Y/N could do was watch in shock and fear as the two men exchanged blows, chairs were overturned, and table decorations were smashed. Eventually, however, it all passed, and Joel walked over to her and grabbed her by the arms.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said calmly, as if he hadn't been in the fight just minutes before. “Y/N?”

“Everything's okay,” she assured him, and to confirm her words, she patted his shoulders. It was then that she saw how bloody and raw his hands were. “You're hurt! Oh, my God, Joel!”

“It's nothing,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Are you closing up now? You've got enough to survive for one day.” 

She just nodded.

Their trip was silent. Y/N could feel the fatigue and emotions of the last few events creeping up on her. She longed to go to bed and forget about it, especially since she was going to have to talk to her boss about what had happened when she got back from her day off. She had already informed her about it over the phone, and she was genuinely surprised because she had no complaints.

Joel parked his car in the driveway and turned off the engine. She looked at the windows in her house and saw that the light was on in her parents' room, which meant they were probably getting ready for bed. They had long since stopped waiting for her when she came back from her evening shifts, especially when Joel was the one who came to pick her up.

“Thank you for what you did.” Joel began to shake his head, as if her words were unnecessary, but she turned to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “It's true, Joel. I thought I was doing pretty well with him, but when he raised his hand to hit me, I completely panicked, and if it weren't for you, I would have…”

She didn't even want to think about what would have happened if she had been there alone.

“Any other guy would have done the same thing.”

“Maybe, but you didn't hesitate for a second. Whenever I need your help, you drop almost everything and help me. I hope you know how much that means to me.”

“If you’re trying to get me to make some tearful confessions, you’re doing a pretty good job,” he joked, and she shook her head in amusement. “Go home. Get some rest.”

“Oh no! Joel Miller, you saved me today, so let me repay you.” The man raised an eyebrow at her, and she pointed to his mangled hands. “Now it’s my turn to help you. You know I’ll treat those wounds like a professional nurse.”

“I know, because you’ve done it with Sarah so many times. Fine, but then you’re going straight home for a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself, you know?”

“It’s hard to tell when you were running around the yard with two pigtails and pink tights just a few years ago.”

She rolled her eyes and got out of the car.

When she entered the Millers’ house, she felt at home. Sometimes she even considered this place her second home, because she spent almost as much time there as she did in her family's house. She didn't know what it had to do with it, but Joel's house had always been an oasis of warmth and love for her. She loved her parents and the fact that they provided her with everything they could, but because she was raised alone, she often felt lonely there. Here, she always knew she would find someone to talk to or watch some stupid movie. Mostly it was Sarah, whom she loved taking care of, but Tommy and Joel would show up just as often. She especially loved the moments when the four of them spent time together. To some, she might have been an outsider to the Miller family, but with them, she never felt that way. 

Y/N quickly found the things she needed and went back to the living room, where Joel was waiting for her on the couch. He was sitting sprawled with his head up, and she stopped for a moment to watch him. She had long thought he was handsome, but she had the impression that with each passing year he looked even better. She could see that he was as tired as she was, but even now she could imagine sitting on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing their lips together. Her infatuation was dangerous, and she was fully aware of it. But she wouldn't be able to break what connected her to Joel. She preferred their strange, friendly relationship to nothing.

“Don't fall asleep, old man,” she said jokingly, walking over to the couch he was sitting on. Joel straightened up, making room for her next to him.

“I'm not old enough to be called that.”

“I'll remind you when I see first grey hair.”

“Mine or yours?”

She laughed merrily and then began to bandage his hands. The only sounds in the room were quiet hisses and moans, but Y/N still had the impression that Joel could hear her loudly beating heart. She did everything she could to focus on her task as much as possible, but the man's proximity was definitely distracting for her. She suspected that it might have something to do with what had happened. Emotions still clung to her, even if she had already come to terms with it. 

But now she seemed to feel Joel's presence next to her more strongly. They had been in such situations more than once, but at this moment she was holding back with the last bit of willpower not to do something stupid.

“It's done,” she said after a short while with complete satisfaction. “I hope it heals quickly.”

“After such professional help?” 

“Professional and completely free,” she emphasised, and began to clean up all the things. She wanted to get up, but Joel grabbed her hand and stopped her in her tracks.

“Leave it and sit down. You're exhausted and you just bandaged my wounds. You don't have to clean up yet.”

“Oh, okay,” she sighed quietly. She leaned back against the couch, defeated, and felt a shiver as their shoulders touched. “Are you thinking about something specific?”

“No. What about you?”

“Nothing specific either.”

Joel snorted and looked at her with amusement. She thought she was crazy, because otherwise she couldn't understand how she leaned over Miller and placed a short kiss on his lips. She wasn't even sure if she should call it a kiss, because their lips only touched lightly before she pulled away. But those few seconds allowed her to get to know his taste, and she knew that nothing tasted as intoxicating as his lips. It wasn't her first kiss in her life, but for a moment, that's exactly how she felt.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have,” she began with flushed cheeks.

Then something happened that completely surprised her. Joel didn't answer, but grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer. Then he connected their lips together in a longer and definitely confident kiss. Without thinking, she opened her lips wider, giving him better access and at the same time allowing him to take control of the whole situation. She felt like her ears were buzzing, and her heart wanted to jump out of her chest. The whole world had stopped, and her biggest dream was coming true.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and moaned quietly when he gently bit her lip. Joel grabbed her by the waist and sat her on his lap. Holding her hips tightly, he guided her to where he needed her the most. He growled right into her mouth, and then his hands moved up. Y/N felt a shiver run through her body as she felt his touch on her. But she wanted more and cursed everything that they were still wearing clothes at the moment. When she thought about it, her fingers almost immediately went to the buttons of his shirt. When she unbuttoned the first one, she waited a moment, because as much as she wanted this to continue, she had to be sure that he wanted it too.

Joel didn't push her away, but continued. His hands quickly found their way to her shoulders. He pulled the straps of her tank top to the side, so that the outline of her breasts and the black bra she was wearing were visible from under the material. He kissed her jaw, then her neck, and she gasped loudly as he sucked in the extremely sensitive skin by her ear. At the same time, she unbuttoned the buttons on his shirt, until she could finally feel his warm skin under her fingers. His chest rose and fell, and she traced short patterns on his torso and sides with her fingers. She ran her nails down his back and slowly moved her hips forward and back, feeling the bulge in his pants, which she was sure was starting to bother him more and more. 

“Joel,” she murmured in his ear as she felt him squeeze her breast, then slip his thumb under the material of her bra. “Please…”

She didn't know what exactly she was asking for. She wanted him to finally take off her shirt, so she could feel his touch better. She wanted to feel his hands and lips all over her. She was completely lost for him and didn't think about whether they were doing the right thing or what would happen next.

But the last thing she wanted was for Joel to pull away from her.

“We can't,” he said in a hoarse voice, resting his forehead against hers. He held her around the waist, but not as tightly as before. “We got carried away.”

“What?” she asked, not believing what she was hearing.

Miller smiled and, as if nothing had happened, sat her back down on the couch next to him.

“Go home and rest. We'll talk some other day.”

He kissed her on the cheek, then stood up and headed up the stairs to his bedroom.

She didn't quite know what was going on, and it took her a few good minutes to pull herself together and get things in order. Her ears were still ringing, she could feel his touch on her body, but she couldn't get over the fact that she had been pushed away at the most crucial moment. She clenched her fists tightly and promised herself that tomorrow they would sort it all out. She had to know if this little moment meant as much to him as it did to her.

[aayakashii]

I’m so glad someone sent in a SH ask I’ve been too shy to! I loved it 💕 could you do another one with the remanding Hotarubi boys and Lyca?

ofc!!! I'm happy you liked it ๑´ ³)˘ᵕ˘៸៸ I'm gonna be honest, Haku's part kinda left me giggling and kicking my feet so I hope you like it as well fkfjdkdj

Warning: sh mentioned, a bit more angst on Zenji's part

"How did you get hurt?" Lyca says, grabbing your arms as soon as he noticed the fading scars.

You open and close your mouth, wordlessly, trying to think of ways to explain it to him. Lyca probably never heard or read about issues like yours. Would it be better to lie? Weave a story that wouldn't have him pity you?

You look at the earnest gaze he gives you, and you sigh. He deserves your honesty.

"I... I hurt myself. I'm the one who did this" you say, softly, knowing he would probably have more questions.

"Why would you do this?" he scrunched his face. "Is it a human thing?"

You hum, in thought.

"I guess you could say so." you reply, slowly, thinking of the proper words to explain it to him "Sometimes, when some humans are feeling very sad and like everything is a horrible mess, they feel like doing this gives them a sense of control. Not everyone does this. But, sometimes, some very depressed people might do it to feel some relief."

Lyca's wolf ears flatten against his head.

"I don't... really get it but... you were very depressed?" he mumbles, fingers tracing the little lines on your skin.

You shrug.

"I was in a dark place some time ago. I'm feeling better now, I promise" you say, and ruffle his hair.

Lyca lift his head up, yellow eyes gazing yours with determination.

"If you say you're okay now, I'll believe you. But promise me you won't try to hurt yourself again."

"I promi-" you begin to say, but he interrupts you.

"You can't lie! I'll know if you hurt yourself! I can smell you well, you know!" his face looks scrunched in anger, but his ears stay flattened on his head and his tail curls down.

You smile and pat his head again.

"I promise."

"My dear, how I wish I could have kept you safe from your struggles."

Zenji's voice, usually boisterous, spoke to you in a soft tone as he looked at the scars on your thighs while you slept.

You murmured his name in your sleep, unconsciously recognizing his presence in your room (his nightly visits became a routine, after all) and you held out your hand towards him.

His hand fazed through your skin, yet he still insisted on trying to touch you and comfort you as you slept.

He sat on your bed, eyes fixed on your peaceful figure, and he knew that those were scars from battles fought long ago – battles you have won. But it still pained him that he wasn't close to you since forever, that he wasn't able to protect you when you needed him but didn't know of him.

Even if he needed to write odysseys upon odysseys, singing praises to you throughout your whole life, just so you'd never feel so lost that you had to hurt yourself to find your footing again, he would do it.

Zenji would gladly haunt you for eternity, if it meant keeping you safe from your demons, in any way he could.

"Is this something you could tell me?" Haku squeezed your hand as he looked as the fading lines on your wrist, as you two held hands, strolling together on the beach.

You shook your head.

"There isn't a specific thing to say about it. I was in a bad place and made a choice that left these scars on me. It just... happened like that. I'm fine now, but also I don't regret them, nor do I feel ashamed. I did what I could to survive."

Haku stopped on his tracks and stared deeply into your eyes. He sighed, a faint smile gracing his face, and brought your wrist to his lips, kissing each scar.

"You're very strong. You should give me some chances to be your savior, you know? How am I ever going to look cool for you?" he said after kissing the last scar, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes shined against the twilight.

You playfully tapped his head to shush him as you giggled.

He squeezed your hand once again.

"If you ever need to fight to survive again, I want you to rely on me. Is that okay for me to ask? I'll understand if you'd rather not have me all up in your business, though."

You shook your head and brought your hand to his cheek, smiling as he leaned against your touch.

"I'll be more than happy to have you with me in any moment of my life, whether I'm struggling or not, whether I'm sad or happy."

"This sounds a lot like a marriage vow, you know?" he smirked again and winked playfully.

"Oh, shut up." you patted his cheek and walked away, with him chuckling as he hurried after you.

Masterlist