#but it should remind you all to like...constantly check your shit

[darlingkikki]

wait need a 141 scare actors x reader blurb

Synopsis: A horror night worker sees you and gives his men a task; make sure you leave smiling. Pairing: TF141!Scare Actors x GN!Reader (first meeting vibes so nothing too crazy but Kyle’s too great for me to keep it lowkey lmao) Word Count: 3.6k (I think) Warnings: negative self-talk, reader is very lonely (reasons up to you) a/n: Let me know if I missed any warnings or did not keep it gender-neutral and I will fix it <3. You gave me the green light and you will pay dearly for how badly I wish I were a better writer. Happy Halloween!

A man with an interesting mustache and beard combo greets you at the gates.

“Admission for one?” He asks, glancing over your shoulder to check that your friends or partner aren’t lagging. 

The question pokes at the part inside of you that recoils into your shell when others notice how alone you are, the forever raw wound that no positive affirmations or small bouts with talk therapists have been able to scab over. It’s constantly bleeding, oozing thoughts in voices you both recognize and don’t. They cover a wide variety, though they lead back to you, a homing missile locked onto your actual self and not the warped beyond-recognition version they are about. The version no one who knows you sees. You’ve been told you’re actually not that bad; you’re still stuck on why they used the word actually in something meant to be complimentary. 

One therapist (the one you felt could help, but they decided a job in another state was more important than your problems), said that the best way to combat these thoughts is to fight them, think louder and harder in the opposite direction, even if you think you’re lying to yourself. So, that’s what you did. You psyched yourself up in the mirror for the better part of an hour as you pulled on your costume and repeated to yourself that this was normal. 

Why should an infamous horror night be such a big deal? People go out alone all the time.

“Yep,” you say with a forced smile. It’s enough, but it doesn’t feel like enough. So, you over-explain because your mouth never knows when to quit. “I love going to these alone, really puts me in the Halloween mood.” 

The man tilts his head to one side, observing that slight pinch of your expression. Your voice is light and measured. And that smile. You’re performing. Everything about this is fake, everything about you is fake, a mask worn when the switch in your brain flips to ‘social interaction mode’, so strangers think of you in a certain way. You want him to know you’re not the least bit insecure about being alone. Not at all. The distant sounds of screaming and laughter inside the park don’t carve into you like an ice pick.

You’re not fooling him—no one can, as far as he’s concerned. He’s posted at the entrance for a reason, not because he’s grown too old to run around and scare people with grotesque makeup or prop weapons. He’s an assessor through and through. One brief conversation and he knows whether someone will be a good sport or one of those rude assholes that think it’s cool to scream back at the actors or posturing snobs who shit all over their efforts. You may be lying to him and yourself, but you won’t be a problem. 

Something about you reminds him of someone. He draws the comparison only after you school your smile to a blank expression. You have smile lines around your mouth, evidence that the muscles aren’t under-used, he just wonders how many are genuine. 

You’re still staring at him as he extends his hand towards you, palm up. 

“Give it here,” he orders and gestures towards your own, which has been clutching the fabric of your costume as if you think it’s trying to escape.

You stretch out your fingers, persuading them to relax and hold out your clammy hand so he can press a stamp down on the back of it. The design glows a bright lavender when light catches it at a certain angle, indecipherable enough that you can’t figure out exactly what it says or depicts. You’re about to pull away when he stamps you again. You don’t ask why, assuming it’s because the first was too light or smudged. With a gentle parting squeeze, your hand is your own again. You start towards the exit as he’s stuffing the stamp back into his pocket. 

He speaks again just as you’re about to be past his shoulder. His voice is soft but gritty like a smoker's. “You have yourself a hell of a night, alright?” 

“Yes, Sir.” You curse yourself for your unnecessary use of the title as you make it past the entrance to the park. You don’t know why you called him that, but it makes more sense than it should. He has a natural ability to garner respect, you felt it even in that brief interaction. He chuckles, rough and deep, as he pulls his phone out to make do with his mission.

You take a break from screaming and scurrying away from zombies and slashers to do something fun.

And what’s more fun than blowing too much money on playing carnival games until you win one of the large plushies? It seems easy enough after the woman running the stand explains the game to you—until you’ve sunk twenty bucks into it and only manage one ring on a bottle. The others have bounced off and landed on the ground. 

The stares of the wide-eyed plushies feel less like they’re cheering you on and more like they’re mocking you. Are you seriously playing a child’s game alone? And losing? Why? So you can win a dumb stuffed animal? You’ll leave here the same way you came and you deserve it.

There’s no way one is even worth the amount that you've lost so far. You’re ready to throw in the towel when you sense something behind you. 

It shouldn’t be something that spells danger, not with the woman who has been pocketing your money standing just a few feet away, but your body seems to ignore that fact and react as though Michael Myers himself is lurking behind you. 

You whirl around and your bones turn to ice when you find yourself face-to-chest with a tall, imposing figure. You’re too aghast to scream, mind-body connection severed, you’re left gaping up at the man like a fish out of water. He can’t have been there long, but you’ve been so caught up in the game that he could’ve been standing behind you the entire time. 

The man does not react to your fear, just meets you with an uncomfortably realistic-looking skull mask and unblinking eyes. His posture is rigid, like one of the decorative scarecrows you saw near the entrance. His eyes rake over your body in a way that reminds you of an x-ray, lingering on something for a prolonged moment. Whatever he sees, it pushes him to speak to you. 

“This one’s fuckin’ awful.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, dark pools glinting with humor, but you’re too busy trying to calm your racing heart to respond. He’s used to people being afraid of him beyond the context of working at events like this, so he steps around you and picks up the pile of rings on the table. You press a trembling hand to your chest and take deep, pacifying breaths.

In and out, you tell yourself, over and over, until your heartbeat no longer resembles the sound of galloping horses. In the time it takes you to collect your bearings, he's thrown each ring over the tops of three bottles effortlessly. Anxiety dissolves into confusion, even more when he turns to you and then jerks his head towards the higher shelves, ignoring the slightly annoyed woman behind the counter. She was probably hoping you’d spend another couple of dollars.

“Oh.” Confusion melts into realization. Your lips curl upwards, but something still doesn’t feel right. He’d broken character to help you for seemingly no reason. “Thank you, but you didn’t need to-” 

“Already did. Pick the one you want.”

His insistence is sharp but harmless equally. The prize is yours, so no use in trying to out-polite the man. 

When you look back at the shelves, it’s with a radiant smile. Even though you hadn’t exactly won one yourself, the kindness of the skull-faced stranger was enough to silence your worries. The perfect one picks you before you pick it. There’s a lone skeleton with cutesy eyes and a squishy body surrounded by a sea of adorable plush pumpkins and black cats. You point to it and the woman behind the counter hands it over with a half-hearted “congrats”. The stranger in the mask smiles at your choice, though you’re not looking at him. When you’re done giving testing squeezes to the plushie, you turn to the man to thank him again, but he’s nowhere to be found, gone just as quietly as he’d appeared.

Sometime later, plushie in your arms, you find the line for a walk through the cornfield. It winds around plastic dividers like a snake, but what else can you expect from the major attraction when the night is in full swing? You join the line, picking at the white tag sewn into the leg of your plushie. There’s a couple in front of you dressed in matching costumes; they decide the wait is the perfect time to get reacquainted with one another. A worker ropes off the divider so no one else can enter and the distracted group of friends in front of the couple doesn’t notice or care about them, so no one else accompanies you in the awkwardness of listening to smacking lips and affectionate hums. Bitterness swells in your throat like you’ve swallowed a pill without water. Stroking the soft underbelly of your prize helps—somewhat. You think about the sweet, albeit intense, scare actor until the giggling couple with now identically smudged makeup walks hand-in-hand through the entrance.

There is little to no light inside of the field. The brightest thing is the moonlight, which makes walking down the dirt path between corn stalks an even more eerie experience. It’s almost peaceful, ignoring the creepy props lining the paths and the random actors hidden in the stalks itching to grab at your ankles or jump out at you (three have accosted you so far). And soon to be a fourth as corn rustles in front of you, leaf blades bouncing off each other harsher than when skimmed by the wind. 

Another couple of steps and a man in a bloody burlap sack-like mask pops out with outstretched arms and a loud “boo” to top it all off—you yelp, nearly dropping your plushie on the ground.

The man responds with a laugh, infectious and warm, before tugging off his mask. Odd, you think, because none of the other actors had prolonged the interaction after leaving you short of breath. Well, none but one.

“I’m Kyle,” he introduces himself, flashing a disarming smile. It’s dazzling, you almost miss him holding out a hand. “Sorry for…you know, just doin’ my job and all.”

Without the disturbing mask, he’s quite pretty, the kind that makes you immediately comply and give him both your right hand and name. Your stamps glow under the moonlight, and he sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing. He thought you’d have left by now.

“Nice meeting you,” he says, bowing at the waist. 

He’s prince-levels of charming, much too relaxed for the environment. His costume is more normal than scary without the mask, just a deep red tunic and dark-wash jeans. You can make out small bits of hay stuck to his hair and clothes. It makes for a dorky and cute visual. 

He does not slink back into the corn as the actors before him did. Instead, he straightens, making a face at the stuffed animal you’re holding.

“You win that for yourself?” 

“Tried to, but one of the actors ended up helping me, actually.”

He quirks a brow. “You pick it because it looks like him?”

You don’t know how he guessed so quickly, but you nod, sheepish that he’d caught you clutching it so protectively, like you were holding a dear gift from a loved one. 

It’s just a stupid toy a stranger won for you. Won for you. You hold it tighter.

Kyle shakes his head, muttering “smart bastard” under his breath and then his eyes are on you. He has that deep shade of brown that’s impossible to say no to.

“The way to the exit can be a bit borin’,” he explains, his lips pursed in thought. “You alright with some company?”

And now you’re even more confused. Was he even allowed to? And why would he care if you’re bored?

“Will you get in trouble?” You ask, glancing towards the quiet path, trying to gauge how long you’d be pulling him away from his job. From what he’s saying, you can assume the exit is near, but you can’t see it from here.

“Nah, you were the last one coming through, so I’m free to roam,” he shrugs, stepping out of your way so you can walk side-by-side.

You soon discover Kyle is even more of a gem than you’d initially realized. He's more than just a beautiful person to look at, he’s funny, and more friendly with you than strangers ought to be. He asks about you. You don’t know what to say at points, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When your voice wavers or your tongue fumbles, he’s patient. He’s genuinely interested, actually listening, and those pools of brown are as distracting as you thought because soon you’re walking underneath the cobweb-decorated archway signaling the end of the walk.

Your heart clenches. You’re not ready for your night to be over. You’re not prepared for your time with Kyle to be over, to face that tonight has been one of the few times you’ve been the target of considerate treatment and could very well be the only time.

You miss the reflected disappointment in his features because a harsh sound cuts through the air, similar to the rev of a car engine. Then it happens again, just as cacophonic followed by maniacal laughter, and a large man barrels through the corn so quickly you scream and nearly fall over into Kyle’s arms. 

“Fuckin’ hell ‘Tavish, you nearly killed my new friend here,” Kyle laughs, patting you on the back. Reassurance. You’re in no danger. 

The chainsaw wielder lets the act go rather quickly, lowering it to the ground and regarding you with a mischievous grin. 

“Just doin’ my job,”—the man waves off the accusation—“Not my fault Price chose a screamer.”

You squint at the man who’d nearly given you a heart attack. Price chose you? Who’s Price? Kyle claps the man on the back of the head. They interact as old friends, brothers. 

“Sorry,” Kyle turns to you, apologetic. “Should’ve warned you about the main event. Got a bit distracted.”

In fairness, you were too. You don’t mention that it was because of his eyes..

“Apology accepted,” you say, “Though your friend is on thin ice.”

“Me?” The man in question scoffs like you’ve accused him of a grave sin. His lips press together to keep his laughter at bay, though he’s got about as much tact as the hair on his head, which is shaved on both sides, leaving a strip of hair down the middle. He’s cocky, you can sense that. Cocky people are to you what salt is to a snail, though Kyle doesn’t seem the type to surround himself with the bad kind, so you try not to curl in on yourself.

“Not jus’ his friend,” he says, sending you a wink, “I’m John, Johnny if yer feelin’ brave.”

Kyle rolls his eyes and nudges you with his shoulder to get you walking towards the park exit, a straight shot from the cornfield. “Come on, we don’t need to take this.” 

“You scared me too,” you remind him as Johnny takes up the space on your left side, “Don’t think I forgot about that.”

He snorts, “Touche.”

“A screamer an’ not afraid to knock you down a peg,” Johnny notes, “I like ‘em already.” He hasn’t stopped staring at the side of your face. You wipe your hand across your cheek in case something is on it. 

The walk through the park is quiet, save for Johnny and Kyle throwing friendly jabs at one another. Most people have already left; the last few actors send looks in your direction and carnival game runners are shutting off their lights and closing down for the night.

“You have fun tonight?” Johnny asks you once the parking lot comes into view. Only a handful of clusters of cars remained in contrast to when you’d arrived.

The most fun you’ve had in a while. You’ve grown used to that heavy chunk of loneliness sitting in your chest like a rock. You drag it around behind you, a life sentence. Let it tether to your emotions and bog them down, anchoring your feet in some instances and letting the ground swallow you whole in others. You’re going home with a small part carved out. A crevice where something less bitter and more sweet can wedge itself in and find a home, spreading far and wide if you’re lucky.

The two exchange toothy grins when you respond positively, a cheerful smile cracking your face open for them to see. The look withholds a meaning that you aren’t privy to. Price was right, as always. A special someone deserved more smiles tonight, and they’d accomplished their mission.

“Found you any earlier an’ I would’ve won you one of those too,”—Johnny gestures to your plushie—“Ah’ve got an arm on me, a mean one when it comes to the bottle toss.”

Kyle and you roll your eyes. You assume the people in his life have grown quite comfortable doing so. Your initial descriptor of cocky was accurate, but he’s endearingly cocky in a way that doesn’t put you off too much. 

“Watch it, the big guy will take your head off,” Kyle warns.

“He’s not even here. I can say wha’ I want.”

“He’s right behind you.”

“Nah, he’s—” Johnny spins around and gasps, similar to how you’d reacted earlier, though he is a bit more dramatic. “Steamin’ Jesus, where’d you come from?”

You turn as well, hoping it’s who you’re thinking, and it is. The man who’d won you the plushie you’re holding.

He looks at you in the same way as before, though his imposing figure seems more relaxed than it had been. You presume these men are all friends. They seem comfortable enough around each other to be.

“Price wants to see us,” he says, his deep voice rolling from his chest the way water does over the smoothed rock on the bank of a river. You can hear it much clearer now that your heartbeat isn’t thrumming in your ears. 

“Can it wait?” Kyle glances towards you. “Wanted to make sure they made it out alright.”

Another chip at that loneliness, but you don’t want to jeopardize anything with him and Price—who you assume is his boss—even if you’d prefer he continues lessening the weight holding you down beneath your rib cage.

“You’ve done enough, Kyle,” you say, pointing behind you with your free hand, “I can see my car from here, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“We cannae let ‘em go without makin’ sure, Simon,” Johnny insists, echoing Kyle’s sentiment and steamrolling over your assurance. 

Simon, finally a name for the face, or at least the parts of it you can see. Kyle and Johnny had shed their costumes, yet he wears his like a second skin. His stiff demeanor from earlier seems more of a costume than anything he’s wearing. 

Simon glances over your shoulder to where you’d pointed, dark eyes impossible to read. Johnny turns up the dial on his charm. At least that’s what you think he’s doing when he gives Simon a wide-eyed, puppy-like expression, pressing his palms together in front of his face and tipping his head forward. The picture would be complete if he sunk onto his knees with a bible in his hands.

He has the energy of the youngest son in the family. The visual brings a laugh tumbling from your lips and Simon relents, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Go on then, we’ll watch from here.”

So you do, waving at the group, who murmur their goodbyes, and then walking to your car. 

You walk slower than you need to, relishing in the experience of people wanting to ensure you made it anywhere safe. It’s a luxury. You strive for it like people dream about vacationing or owning a house. Unfortunately, time stands still for no one.

Chancing a look at the group of men as you climb into the driver’s seat, you find six pairs of eyes. Kyle smiles broadly, you get another wink and smirk from Johnny, and Simon blinks at you from behind his mask. You barely know them and yet their reactions are all so distinctly them. You beam, holding up the plush skeleton and waving one last time like an Olympic athlete holding up their medals before resting it on the passenger's seat.

Alone again, you push your key into the ignition and your car comes to life. The dashboard bathes everything in a golden glow. Come morning, when you’re bathed in a similar hue by the rising sun, you’ll think about this night. You’ll think about them, each of them, and you’ll wonder. Hugging your prize from the night, you will implant the memory into the grooves of your brain, where it can sit safe and snug, just as looked after as you’d been. You’ll wonder if any of them will end up in your life again, and hope the answer to that question is ‘yes’.

[rogueddie]

A Spot in My Life T | 953 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is keeping a spare sweater or blanket in the car because they always get cold

Steve Harrington is a bitch.

It's something that Eddie knew, all through high school, but he had thought that Steve had somehow became a new person- thanks to the Upside Down and constantly almost seeing the world end.

Steve isn't a bad guy, he can admit. He's still trying to keep an eye on everyone, make sure they're ok, even checking in with Eddie in his own way.

But he's very sly about it, hiding it being playful jabs, eye rolls and cocked hips.

It rubs him the wrong way. And it's only made worse by how much Eddie still likes him. It's as if the bitchiness only draws him in more, even as it makes his chest burn with irritation.

He tries to avoid Steve for as long as he can. He knows that finally befriending him like they both want will only end badly, but he knows he can't resist the temptation.

He enjoys the time before as much as he can, reveling in how often Steve will try to corner him so they can hang out, how much he whines and pleads and pushes. He enjoys the illusion that Steve could feel anything for him like he does for Steve.

And, when they finally do hang out, his fears are confirmed.

Steve is amazing. He's funnier than he comes across as at first too. He pays attention to what Eddie says and tries to get him anything he wants.

He's the type of friend that anyone would fight for, Eddie is sure. It explains how he ended up so popular in high school too.

If Eddie had known what Steve is truly like, he'd have been lining up for a scrap of his attention like everyone else.

"They're assholes," Steve explains, when Eddie finally asks about his old lackeys. "Tommy always took shit a step too far. I didn't need them. Probably shouldn't have befriended them in the first place."

"They were your friends," Eddie reminds him.

Steve sighs, leaning back. "Yeah, I guess. Just wish I'd realised sooner, how they were getting."

He never complains about the kids, not genuinely. In the quiet moments, when Steve is honest with an almost painful degree of vulnerability, he talks about how amazing the kids are. He talks about how honored he is to be friends with Dustin.

It only makes Eddies feelings inch ever closer to 'the L word'.

"You should talk to him," Robin suggests. "He really is amazing."

"I know, but... guys that are ok with lesbians still get weird about gay men, you know?"

"Yeah, but Steve isn't like that. Did he ever tell you the full story of how I came out to him?"

"It was after the Russian torture drugs, right?"

"We were in the bathroom, near the cinema. I thought we might have puked it all up, so we decided to test it, ask each other questions. So, I asked him if he was ever in love..."

"Oh... oh no."

"Oh yes. He liked me, told me so, and that's when I came out to him."

"Holy shit, Robin."

"But that's my point. He was a little surprised, sure, but he started making jokes, like, immediately. Didn't phase him at all. He got with it immediately. We're just friends, and that's not a problem for him."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back so it thumps into the wall behind him. "But that just makes him more hot!"

The story plagues his mind, to the point that it's the only thing he can think about when he picks Steve up for their next hang out.

In the dead of winter, Steve feels the cold worse than anyone else that Eddie knows. He runs hot, and the sudden temperature drops brings out the worse in him.

He's shivering when he climbs into Eddie's car.

"Fuck, why isn't your heating on?" He whines.

"It's broke," Eddie reminds him. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Don't worry? I'm gonna get hypothermia, Eddie! I don't want to turn into an ice sc- what is that?"

He takes the blanket that Eddie had reached back to grab, staring at it.

"It's a blanket."

"No shit, I mean... it's yellow."

"Yeah? You like yellow."

"You got this for me?"

"You see anyone else shivering in my van?"

"No, it..." Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie before slowly wrapping the blanket around himself. "Sorry, uh... thank you. This is, um, nice."

"it's nothing."

"It's not. Just- take the thanks, Ed."

"Alright, alright."

They're silent for the rest of the drive. It's so unusual for them that it has Eddie nervous, glancing at Steve every other moment.

When they finally pull to a stop, Eddie turns to Steve, who stays where he is. He stares out the front window for a moment, before turning to face Eddie.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, I am. Enjoying the warmth."

"That all?"

"... yeah."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"Wh- hey, I'm a good liar!" He tries to glare, but quickly backs down with a huff. "Alright, fine, but it's really sappy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Oh, no, the horror."

"Shut up. I was just thinking about how, like... there's so many little things in your life that are for me. My tapes in your room, spare clothes in your closet, this blanket... I really appreciate it, man. You've made space for me in your life. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, right. That's... yeah. Of course, Steve. You're always welcome. I love- uh... spending time with you."

"Good. I love spending time with you too."

"Good."

"Great."

Steve's smile is wide and goofy. He's sure that his own is just as cheesy.

[whore-ibly-hot]

How would Mr. Critch, Mr. Murphy, Evan, and Carter react to Y/n getting sick?

(love your boarding school btw❤️)

(also I'm sick with a cold😫)

ARGHAHAHAHGG7RURH I LOVE SICK FICS!

Mr. Critch: He'd be extremely cross with you, what nerve of you to skip his class, is it because you think your special, being the head masters kid? He pulls Harrison aside, and demands the boy tell him why you aren't present. When Harrison explains, he scolds him harshly for not having you 'quarantined'. He quickly moves you to the nurses ward, wanting you to be away from contaminating others and full focused on making up the work you are missing. Still, he's oddly doting. He makes sure you're eating healthy, checking your fever and assuring you stay alongside him. He wants you obedient. He knows what's best, just let him treat you. He'll keep track of all your medicines, and the moment you're better he promises you can go back to your room with Harrison. He enjoys this quiet time with you, and a part of him, the one who reads to you while you try and sleep, wishes to imagine this moment as domestic.

"The fever should be breaking soon, it's okay." He dabs at your forehead. "I'll find a way to get you cleaned up after. I promise." He assures.

Carter: Much like Mr. Critch, he's strict about what you can do. As class president, it's his duty to prevent an outbreak. He'll bring you to the nurses office, and ensure you keep up with your studies. He's more condescending, constantly reminding you of how kind he's being, taking time out of his day to care for you when he could be working. You should be able to care for yourself, he'd say, but when you'd send him away, he'd refuse to go. He takes a little extra time 'diagnosing' you, it would help him for biology class, he claimed. He'd run his hands over your neck and shoulders, touching your chest and working his way down. He'd gently feel your head for fever.

"What?" He scoffs, looking at you with annoyance. "The nurse is far too busy to give you the treatment you need, I'm making sure you aren't worsening. Lift your shirt a bit, let's just continue the exam."

Evan: He's pissed. He just got out of a great fucking game, and you weren't even in the crowd, not even for Harrison. His cock was aching, he'd planned to drag you to the after party and get his dick into you, but you didn't show. He'll practically kick down your door, and he's quick about it once he realizes you're sick. He doesn't want Harrison being a bitch and trying to keep you in his room. He gets you to his dorm, gives you some cough syrup and an edible he snagged from Pez, to keep you mellow. If he can't fuck you, he's at least going to keep you around. You're still got, even with a red face and stuffy nose. He won't exactly be doting, you'd have to ask two or three times before he'd get you anything but water, but he does like the feeling of control he's got over you. He'd put on a movie and keep you on his lap, assuring you he's not gonna get sick. Let him kiss you while your sleepy, let him grope you while he changes you from your uniform to one of his oversized jerseys. And most importantly, he expects you to care for him when he gets sick from swapping spit with you.

"God, you're burning up. Good thing I brought you in here, huh? Wouldn't want that shit head roommate leaving you to suffer alone in your room when you got a big strong stud here to look after your sick ass." He groans, adjusting you so your head lays across his chest.

Mr. Murphy: Absolute caring bear man, you're immediately moved to wherever you feel safest, preferably his apartment at the school, but the nurses office or your own dorm works. If you choose his apartment, he'll be thrilled at spending the time with you, even though seeing you as a sick little thing makes his chest ache. He'd stand over the stove for hours, digging through old recipe cards from his mom. He's usually more of a meat and potatoes guy, but he'll try his mommas soup and roll recipes, just for you. He makes sure you take your medicine, but nothing you don't want to take. He refuses to let you think about your school work, and insists he'll excuse you and talk to Critch (he thinks that guy has a major stick up his ass). He's got the coziest place by far, thick quilts and a cozy plaid couch.

"Easy, kid, easy." You're desperate to chug down the soup, but he's pacing you. "If you do throw up cause of this bug you've got, that's fine, but I'd rather my cooking not be the cause. You've got all the time in the world to eat it, and I'll always make more if you want." He takes a spoonful from his bowl. "Don't make me feed ya now." He teases.

[d1s1ntegrated]

hiiii i actually am obsessed with your shiggy hcs and i just have to ask… can we have some hcs of gamer shiggy 😓 more specifically would he play dress to impress on roblox (or just roblox in general) if we asked… thank u sm!!!

YES YES ABSOLUTELY MY LOVE

ask and you shall receive 🩷

shiggy gamer hcs (pt1) <3

he's reached diamond in league. he has over 600 hours in the game. it's very obviously his favorite, and he gets especially into "the grind" as he calls it. sometimes you have to remind him to get up from his chair if he's been there for too long.

he has a pair of blue-light glasses you bought for him because he constantly got migraines from gaming all night. he grumbles when you tell him to wear them, but does it anyways.

if you have a gaming laptop or pc, he's constantly checking it out and offering to upgrade it. he yelled at you one time for not deleting your downloads after trying to mod a game.

he actually built his own PC. he's extremely proud of the work- which, he should be. it's a beautiful build.

the first time you asked him if you guys could play roblox together, he looked disgusted. but you begged and pleaded, and he agreed. (he already had it downloaded. he just didn't want you to know he played it.)

now, at least once a week, he asks if you wanna play your silly dress up games with him (he's such a simp)

he SAYS he'd rather spectate the whole ordeal, but he's actually really good at it HAHA. he gets mad if you lose or if he loses, he automatically goes on rants about how you had the best outfit and those "npcs" are stupid and have no fashion sense (this is coming from the man who only wears black sweats and old band tees)

he actually only plays minecraft in creative mode, he likes to build shit for you for when you guys play together

he has a ridiculous amount of bells in animal crossing. like, his debts are paid off, and his house is huge. his island is actually...really aesthetically pleasing.

he still plays on his 3ds. he likes playing the older pokémon games

his favorite pokemon is zoroark.

he tried to get you to play overwatch with him but you guys kept dying and he shut his entire pc off.

he also tried to get you to play apex with him. guess how that ended.

he actually doesn't like COD, he says it's boring.

HE SUCKS AT MARIO KART! he pretends like he doesn't but every time you guys play, a controller gets thrown (and it's never yours).

very rarely turns his mic on when he's online, but when he does, it's to say the most creatively fucked up, debilitating, horrid insults known to mankind.

however he IS NAWT racist. or phobic of any kind. he just hates everyone equally

okay, this is all i got for now <3 i hope i did okay with the roblox part, i dont play a lot of roblox i just see a lot of DTI videos and have minimal knowledge ;-; maybe i should play it LOL.

thank you for the ask! i will return with more at some point 🫶

[mrzombielover]

- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

[qlossytbh]

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 - 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you and conrad had established no strings attached, that is until valentines fold up and conrad suddenly seeks more out of you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 implications of sex, fwb, lots of fluff towards the end

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 3.1k by

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 back at it lol. i’m taking request!! feel free to send in any requests for any of the characters on my masterlist

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Valentines day. 

Some people are apprehensive when it comes to deciding what to spend the day doing on this particular holiday. For the lucky, it might be spending the day with their significant other or sitting around, basking in the simplicity of spending time with the person you love. For others, it was spending the day watching sappy rom-cons or moping around about the very fact of being single.

For you, Valentine's Day was the perfect excuse to show everyone how much you loved and cared for them. You were an overall extremely affectionate person, giving intricate gifts was a part of who you were. It was an extreme love language of yours— the feeling of running around, planning and buying different parts and pieces for each gift was something you found loads of fun in doing. 

For example, you had just finished baking and packing up your usual valentine themed cookie boxes to send out to all of your coworkers who worked with you at the local dog shelter. You had also sent out all of the small valentine themed envelopes to your family, who lived down the street from Susannah’s house here in Cousins, which reminded you not to forget her and Laurel's bouquets. You also put together the little treat bags with the group's favorite candy and other small things; one for Jeremiah, one for Steven, one for Belly, and one for Conrad.

It maybe was a lot, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved Valentine's Day. 

It was currently around four in the afternoon, and you were rushing around the kitchen of the Fisher household, scrolling through your tablet, checking off a few of the things you had left to do. 

Jeremiah walked into the room along with Belly, Steven, and Conrad.

"Hello Jeremiah." You looked up from your tablet and caught Jeremiah reaching for a cookie from one of the batches you were going to give out to your neighbours later on. His face twisted, laughing in embarrassment. You shook your head, looking down at the screen with a smile. 

"I left a batch of red velvet cupcakes near the fridge," Jeremiah and Stevens faces lit up. 

"You are the best person to step foot on this planet," Steven praised as they rounded the corner in attempts to get their hands on one of the cupcakes. 

"Seem's like you've been busy," Belly said, scanning the room as you set the tablet down on the counter. "I'll never get how you do it."

You shrugged, pulling your hand back and letting down the messy bun you had whipped up a few hours ago. "What can I say? Its Valentine’s Day."

"Not a valid answer, you don't see me running around gifting people random lovey shit, huh?" Conrad butted in as he leaned against the wall. You shot a glare at him.

"Well, you don't do lovey shit anyways," You teased with a smile, looking at your feet. "I dont know, I like seeing people happy, thats really all there is to it."

Belly looked at you with a smile. "That and your mind works at like, a thousand miles per hour."

It was true, you had a tendency to always need to be moving around. You barely sat still, not being able to stand the feeling of not being productive. You were always doing something, or you always had something to do. It was the main reason why you always ended burnt out. You loved doing things constantly, but it came with the heavy price of not knowing when you should stop doing things and rest. 

"People only usually do this stuff when they have boyfriends and shit like that," Belly insinuated. 

"You trying to tell us something, Y/n?" She said, gesturing towards her and Conrad. 

You cleared your throat, feeling a heat wave spread itself against your cheeks. You looked down only momentarily before shooting the pair a smile. "I do this every year Belly, if I had a special someone, you'd be able to tell."

It had been half true, given how you and Conrad weren't necessarily dating. 

It was complicated, at least if you explained it to others. You and Conrad had been best friends since you started coming to Cousins, which was since you were a baby. You loved Belly and Steven, and you loved Jeremiah, but things always felt different with Conrad. 

People had told you that Conrad was never an open book, and it surprised you at first, because he had always been more than open with you. It took very little, if not nothing, to guess with just a glance at what was going on in his head.

Many of the words that people used to describe Conrad Fisher, were the complete opposite of what you knew him to be. Conrad had a side of him that was reserved for only you, and you eventually started noticing it throughout your friendship. 

The two of you had many things that you preferred to leave unspoken. It had always worked like that with the two of you. When it came to how you felt about him, you couldn't put much into words. Words didn't do it justice most of the time.

But you and Conrad had been involved in this, thing, for about a year now. It started last summer, the two of you having one too many drinks at a party and hooking up accidentally. Or so you'd like to say it like that, because no one hooks up with their best friend drunk and says it was an accident. The two of you, not being able to communicate properly, ignored what happened that night for weeks.

But then it happened again

and again, 

and then again.

And none of the following times included alcohol. But for some reason, each time you saw each other after any sexual rendezvous, things would go completely back to normal. You guessed that was just your relationship with Conrad, it never got awkward or weird. 

You did however end up talking about it with him. 

"Can we talk?" You said, knocking on Conrad's door softly. He was lying down in his bed, book in hand. He sat up, placing it on the nightstand beside his bed. You looked at each other before he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair

"Sure," You walked in, feeling the cool air of the air conditioning hit your legs. You closed the door behind you, swallowing thickly as you could sense this conversation was going somewhere. You couldn't decipher if it was for the better or for the worse. 

You sat on the edge of his bed and looked into his eyes in silence. His gaze was just as locked on you as you were on him. That was before smiles started to grow on each of your faces before you threw your head back, laughing at the ridicule the situation presented. 

"I really don't know why we should talk about this," You said, turning to the side. 

Conrad sighed. "No, we probably should."

You looked at Conrad and focused on the blue in his eyes. "I dont regret what happened."

"Neither do I."

 "Is there a particular reason as to why it happened again after the first time?" You shifted your body and fiddled with your fingers. "And the second and third..

Conrad sighed heavily through his nose. He didn't get what was happening to him at all. He knew he cared about you; he knew he loved being near you and spending time with you. And he enjoyed what had happened between you two, 

A lot. 

But he didn't feel the need to put a title on what the two of you were. At this point, he was definitely opposed to the idea of dating, but he wasn't opposed to the idea of you. Maybe in the future? He didnt know, he was truly lost. 

And so were you. Which you hated. You couldn't stand not knowing what you wanted or what you were feeling. You needed to put titles onto everything—every feeling, every emotion, every situation—thats how your mind worked. But you knew you didn't want a relationship at this point in your life, but you loved spending time with Conrad the way you have recently.

"I don't know," He settled. "I don't see myself in a relationship, but I do love doing all the things we've been doing. 

You look at him and see a glint of something flashes through his eyes. "A lot."

You felt a rush of adrenaline pump through your veins as your cheeks went hot. You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I do too."

"I say," He pushed his body closer to yours, his knees lightly grazing against yours. You watched his movements with a sharp intensity. "Let's just be the friends we’ve been since we could talk, and ocacionally thing."

He placed a hand on your thigh. "Things have been normal so far, would you want to keep doing things?"

You nodded and smiled as he leaned forward. You said in a whisper, "What things are we talking about specifically?"

"Should I say it?" His breath fanned over your own. He then pressed a chaste kiss onto your lips, allowing your eyes to flutter close in delight as you smiled through the kiss. "Or do you want me to show you,"

With that you pressed your lips onto his, hungry for whatever you could have of him. 

For the rest of the summer it continued. The two of your manadged to keep it a secret, not wanting any complications of anyone else trying to put a name to whatever it was the two of you had. 

You didn't even know what it was. Friends with benefits? It was more than that, given how you two cuddled occasionally, kissed occasionally, and went on occasional dates. It stressed you out more to try to figure out what it was than just enjoying it. 

Plus, you knew Conrad cared for you, and you cared for him. That was all that really mattered to you anyway. 

Even when summer ended, you two talked all the time, which was not out of the norm for the two of you. The only difference was the occasional sexting. 

Things were occasional between the two of you, if you couldn't tell by now.

Winter break in Cousin's was your favorite, and when your college gave the students a week off, you were ecstatic. Every year, you never manadged to catch the Conklin and Fisher family, given how they were always given a few weeks off in January instead of February. You grabbed your keys, packed a bag, and headed straight for Cousin's.

Things with Conrad this week had been amazing, but you could tell things were a bit more romatic. Before it was easy to difirenciate when you were only friends and when you were in need of physical touch or intimacy, but now things were all fused and mixed together. 

It didnt bother you enough to talk about it though and neither did he, so you left it at that

You put the last bits of the dishes into the dryer before brushing your hands against the fabric of your cotton shorts. Jeremiah walked into the room with his keys in his hand. "Were headed out."

You looked over at him, grabing your phone and scanning it for any new messages. "Sounds okay,"

"We'll probably be back late, you and Conrad going to be okay?" You deadpanned at the boy.

"We'll be fine," You walked over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and leading him towards the front door, where Steven and Belly stood. "You go have fun with Steven and Belly, god knows you need to take the poor girl out."

"Thank you," Belly said, agreeing with you. "Mom said she'd be back with Susanah in a few hours." 

You nodded, feeling the breeze of the cold air hit your bare shoulders as Steven opened the front door. Steven jumped. "Oh shit! Almost forgot." 

"That monstrousity came for you today," Steven said, pointing over to your left. "It had a small card, some sappy bullshit on it." 

"For me?" You looked over to the side, letting your jaw slack slightly. Placed perfectly in the middle of the table was a huge bouquet full of red roses and white tulips, both of your favorite flowers. They were carefully wrapped in white and silver paper, adorned almost perfectly with a pink satin bow. 

You never got much on Valentine's Day; you were used to giving the presents, not receiving them. You looked at the group aprehensively once more before walking carefully over to the table. You picked up the small card, reading it carefully: 'Happy Valentines Day pretty girl'

You felt your heart thump against your chest. You let out a small chuckle as your cheeks turned red, knowing exactly who these were from. "Dumbass.."

"What was that about not having a boyfriend?" Belly butted in, causing you to snap out of your lovesick trance. You turned to the three of them, who were eyeing you as you stumbled on your words. 

"Just- uhm, some guy thats been bothering me," You nervously chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. The three of them looked at each other. 

"Conrad's gonna be pissed." Steven whispered before closing the door and heading out. You laughed to yourself and looked up the stairs, shaking your head. If only they knew. You placed the card down, looking back at the flowers once more before heading upstairs. 

You turned the corner, knocking softly on Conrad's door. With a hum on his side, you pushed the door open. He was standing near his bed with his shirt in his hand, and off of his body.

"Hey," He said, tossing the shirt into his already open closet. "I was just heading to bed." 

You smiled to yourself while crossing your arms, leaning against the door frame. "I thought you didn't do that lovey valentines day shit" 

He paused, looking at you with a perplexed look on his face. You rolled your eyes, walking into the room and closing the door behind you. Conrad eyed you carefully as you made your way to him. "Are you talking about the flowers?"

"Yes Conrad, I'm talking about the flowers," You said, placing a kiss onto his lips. He smiled into the kiss, letting his hands reach your waist, giving you the space your wrap your arms around his neck. You smiled widely into the kiss, not being able to contain your giddiness. 

Your heart was beating wrapidly in your chest, a feeling only Conrad gave you. You pushed into the kiss, deepening it as you directed his body towards his bed. The back of his knees hit the matress, forcing him to sit on the matress, which gave you the space to crawl onto his lap. 

You pulled away, looking down at the blonde boy whom you were currently straddling. "I'm guessing you liked them?”

"How'd you know roses and tulips were my favorite?" You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as you admired the facial features you had grown to love. 

"I pay attention," He leaned forward, kissing the spot on your jaw just below your ear, causing a small giggle to erupt from your chest. 

"Thank you," You whispered, pulling away from him and looking into his eyes deeply. "You didn't have to, really."

He stared back at you, heart fluttering wildly. A feeling he was used to feeling around you, something only you brought out in him. It seemed that no matter how many girls would pop into his life or would come up to him at any frat party, you were always the first one on his mind. You were the only one on his mind.

"Of course I did," He kissed your cheek. "Its not even a quarter of what you deserve."

There it was again. He His your jaw again, trsiling soft delicate kissing up your neck. They were affectionate, none trying to iniciate something. Just soft pecks adorned with love and adoration. You let your hands enravel themselves into his hair, sighing in contentment. 

"Things have changed haven’t they?" You whispered as you pulled his body closer to yours. 

"Mhm," He agreed. You looked at the wall in front of you.

"Can we talk about it?" 

Conrad pulled away, looking at you with a look on his face. You stared back in silence. "Talk to me,"

You sighed, not really knowing what to say. Your heart fluttered at the sight of his attention, listening closely to what you had to say. 

The thing is you didnt know what to say. All you knew is that you cared about the boy in front of you a lot, and this ocassional thing has been going on for so long now. You knew you didnt want to end anything, fuck no. But you wanted more and you were scared it was a one paged thing. 

"Whyd you sent me the flowers?" You asked, paying close attention to his features. He smiled to himself, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

"Becuase," He started. "You love Valentines day, and you love recieving gifts, giving them as well, but not a lot of people know you like recieving them as well."

He continued. "You hate the color orange, you say it makes you squirmy and uncomfortable. Your favorite movies Rapunzel, great choice by the way,"

"You give so much to the people you love and I can vouch for that." He grabbed your hands, carresing them softly in his own. 

You looked at him in silence. "I don't want to do this thing occasionally anymore, I want it always.”

You and Conrad had always had a strong relationship, and its been a long time since it stopped being just platonic. You knew everything about him and so did he. Hell, it probably stopped being platonic before you even had sex with him for the first time.

Both of you could’ve saved yourselves months of time if you’d let yourself feel what you were meant to feel for each other sooner.

“So this mean what exactly? That you’re officially asking me to be your ‘girlfriend’” You asked, saying the word that felt so foreign. You knitted your eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“If that’s something you want,” He said, hope and anxiety flooding his gaze. You stared down at him, smiling softly. You leaned in.

“I’d like that.” You closed the gap between the two of you, sighing deeply into the kiss.

Something inside you felt satisfied. As if your body had been longing for a confirmation that Conrad really was just yours.

He had always been.

You pulled away, hands resting at his bare shoulders as your foreheads rested against each other.

“Can we watch Tangled now?” You asked, voice laced with excitement. He rolled his eyes, pecking your lips softly.

“Duh.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I'll crawl home to you

Next chapter

a/n okay this sat in my notes for so long. I wanted to delete first, then I thought hmm... let's indulge, right? Also, please be gentle, I've never written for Javi.

summary: having a fight with someone you care about right before the mission might be the worst idea ever especially when you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

warnings: fighting, guns, past trauma, injuries, blood, mentions of death...I think that's all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Is Carillo in?", both males lifted their heads from their never-ending piles of documents right as you approached. Each step was laced with nothing but confidence. Only fools would stand in your way. You were nothing like the women Javi was used to. He had never seen you striding across the office in a skirt or a skimpy shirt that most secretarial women preferred here. But then you weren't a secretory ether.

"Yeah, he should be", Steve said, beating Javi to an answer and eyeing the files in your hand. Neatly put as always, followed by the colorful tabs that no one else used, and even if Javi had made fun of them in the past, it was something that constantly reminded him of you. "What's that?", Steve tried to reach for the reports, but you only slapped his hand away playfully. As if he was nothing but a curious kid, shoving his nose into something that wasn't for him. "You'll see. Meeting in five, watch", you stated before walking through Carillo's door, closing it with daring eyes and a wink.

Carillo was the one to command emergency meetings, so you calling the shots looked nothing but childish to an unknowing ear, but then, not even two minutes later, Carillo emerged from the door, "Meeting in five", his voice boomed through the office, and with the corner of his eyes, Javi could see you leaning against the table smiling to yourself.

You fascinated him. There was no other way to go around it. Back when you just joined the team, Javi did doubt you. Toxic masculinity and all that shit got him humbled real quickly alongside all the other sorry fucks who didn't know how to keep their mouths shut. There were not many females among the leading troops, but you were unbeatable. Many men were pissed beyond any mark when Carillo made you his second in command. Even Javi was pissed. Because most of the fuckers here had been here for years, some ten and counting, and it took you less than two to climb almost to the top. But then, no one was better fitted for that role, and with time passing, one thing got even clearer. The thing that pissed Pena off the most was that your position got you and Carillo way too close for Javi's liking. Not that you were his. Not that there was an us.

But you were like an illness clinging to him. Javi couldn't think clearly. Most of his brain was occupied with you. He fucked so many whores when he felt his heart starting to want to lean just to you. He had fucked them all by that time, he was sure that he liked you, but that only made him feel worse. Common Bogota whore. That's what he was. Equally as much, he sold himself both for information and because he needed someone to cling to him, even if it was for the money.

"Why an orphanage?", Steve was leaning against the table, looking down at the papers you had forbidden him to touch five minutes ago. "Would you look there?", you sassed back, making Steve shrug his shoulders in agreement as he continued to flip through all the other documents. "We don't need a full-blown mission. It would just be a check. If we find something to hold onto, we'll send more men", you continued, glancing to Carillo, needing his nods as validation now that the room was dead silent.

"Pena", Carillo called out, getting the agent's eyes to shoot up at him, "You haven't said anything". And it was true he hadn't. One thing that Javi loved was disagreeing. You two were the best at that. But he was never this silent. Regardless of whether he liked the idea or not, he would still share his thoughts, but now you got absolutely nothing.

"Send an armed force; do the thing. I don't understand why we are even discussing this", Javi carelessly threw the case with documents onto the table before crossing his arms over his chest. Your mouth thinned into a straight line. "No armed forces are walking into an orphanage. Those kids have enough trauma to last them a lifetime".

Javi scoffed, running his hand over his beard. "What do you suggest we roll up for a walk there with no guns, no nothing?", he said in an almost mocking manner as his lips curled upward. The room stayed silent. Your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly. Something in Javi's face twisted. "You can't be serious…", he trailed off. "I'll just go and look; we only need access to the basement parts; hygiene security paper will do the job", you said firmly. The plan seemed simple enough. "You're not going to a potential hideout without a gun", Javi leaned closer to you over the table, fists starting to clench as he glared at you.

"It'll look suspicious", Carillo added, seeming so unphased by all of this and all the things that could go wrong that Javi had to pull the last string of self-control to not pinch him in the face. "Suspicious, my ass, she can be walking into a trap", Javi raised his voice as he shot daggers at the head of the national police unit.

"Since when do you care?", those words took a moment to sink in. And when Javi turned back to you, there was no resemblance to the man you saw a couple of minutes ago. They were dead empty, and there was only anger there. "Good luck dying there since you seem so eager", Javi spat out, not turning away from you because he wanted to see the way your face fell.

"Javi…", Steve muttered. Out of everyone in the office, he was the only one who truly knew just how much you cared for one another. Your eyes started to sting, but you didn't drop the stabbing gaze that Javi was hurling your way, "Don't worry, agent, no one will send you an invite to the funeral". With those words, you turn away from him. Snatching the papers from the table as you turn towards Carillo as if Javi was no longer around.

Did Javi regret his words instantly? No, but he regretted them the moment he watched you unbutton the dress you were going to wear so none other than Carillo would strap communication devices onto your body. He hated that his hands were on your body. Fingers tracing the soft, warm skin. Does Carillo know that Javi's fingers were there too? Does he know that Javi would give up everything, even his career, for the chance to feel that soft skin again on his body every morning? With a frown on his face, Javi put his cigarette out before snatching his jacket off the chair and heading out.

This seemed silly, but you had never gone on a mission with Javi upset with you, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Yes, you argued often. Agreeing on something with that man was a challenge, but you made it work most of the time. You would blow each other's brains out by shouting at the office, and then one would always join the other outside for a smoke or just a breath of fresh air.

You would bump Javi's shoulder, making the frown even worse, until your fingers would sneak to pull the cigarette away from his lips so you could take a drag yourself. You would rarely talk. Both stubborn and aware that it would most definitely lead to more fighting. So silence it was. You would lean on Javi's shoulder, and he would never miss an opportunity to bring you closer to him.

The embraces at times felt so intimate that fighting back tears was a challenge. But the smell of Javi's aftershave and the smoke lingering there brought you unimaginable levels of comfort. The same comfort that you felt laying in his bed, tangled in his sheets. It had only happened a couple of times, but those couple of times were enough to make you addicted. Because the Javi at the office was nothing like the Javi you got to see behind closed doors. And it wasn't because he fucked good. No, that anyone could tell. It was because his touch did linger, and behind the wall that he had built for protection was the man who was so capable of love - he had just forgotten it.

"How could I help you, ma'am?", a voice asked, bringing you out of the trance and causing you to flinch slightly. You needed to put your head in check. This. You couldn't allow yourself to think about this while doing your job. "Hygiene check", you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to the elderly lady. She looked you up and down. "Since when are they no longer sending creepy old men?", she asked you sarcastically, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Since I told them that it's inappropriate, especially around the kids". The woman nodded her head, dropping the paper on the front desk before reaching for the keys. "I'll walk you through the upper floors; the basement is easy to navigate on your own", she stated, moving to walk in front of you.

"Ask her about the size of the lower levels", Carillo's voice rang in your ear, and you flinched again. God, what was going on today? How can you forget that you had a communication set on, with microphones and all? They could hear your surroundings just as much. Focus, you told yourself once more. "A small basement for such a place—surely that's an issue?", you asked her, bringing the fake criteria papers to your chest and reaching for the pen so you could pretend to mark stuff.

"We don't need it. Things like fresh food and other products come in almost daily", she stated. "You have a company you work with?", you asked, looking at the pictures that covered all of the hallways. "Yes, I can give you the information, and the truck that delivered today's packages is still downstairs", she said, yet her voice slowly died down as your eyes fell on the kids playing in the colorfully painted rooms. The big windows allowed you to take a full look at them.

"Why is he alone?", the lady twisted to look back, stopping mid-sentence about the new vegetable stock, catching and following your gaze, now focused on the boy, seated in the furthest corner of the room. Knees up to his chest as he scarcely looked at the other kids. The lady sighed, "He got here not long ago. Hard to adapt. Both of his parents died, as did his sister. He's alone", bile rose in your throat as you swallowed thickly. Suddenly, you wish you had somewhere to lean on.

Javi's muscles tensed as those words rang through the car they all sat in. Carillo was about to speak into the headset, but Javi snatched it out of his hands. He doubted that Carillo knew. Maybe. He would like to believe that no one else did it besides him. That you had only trusted Javi with the story from your past that night. That you had cried because you hadn't told anyone else beforehand, and reliving it was too painful. Javi waited some more, pointing a warning finger at Carillo, who was cursing Javi in Spanish. Javi wanted to give you a moment to try and pull yourself out on your own. You were a big girl, and he knew that you could handle yourself. But everyone had their demons who possessed them at times; this just happened to be yours. Yet another reason why Javi didn't approve of this in the first place.

"You're in Bogota, not back in D.C., carino", Javi's voice filled your ears, and you had to blink a couple of times, feeling the shiver run down your back. Shiver that was followed by a wave of warmth, because if you could hear him, it meant that he came along after all. "Is he looked after?", the question seemed stupid, but you just had to know, even if it had nothing to do with why you were here, "All kids are looked after here, ma'am".

Javi cursed under his breath. You were slipping, and he could feel it. This was just too convenient. Too out of the blue. This had to be set up. To throw you off the hook so they could take you out. Javi could just feel it, and the worry only grew stronger. "Y/N, if you don't feel well, back down", Javi said again. His voice was firm. It was an order, and you knew that it was the correct one as well, but… "I'll look through the basement today", you said softly as you turned to the old lady. "Of course", she said with a nod, rushing to give you the keys.

"Y/n", Javi spoke again as a warning, but you didn't say anything. You closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself, right as the lady showed you to the back door. Javi moved to get up instead once the line fell silent, but Carillo stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, "You don't have the order to interfere". That made Javi's blood boil, "You, out of all people, should feel that she's not in the right mindset to be there", Carillo said nothing, only locking the car doors, his eyes now fully fixed on Javi.

The hour you spent inside there was a nightmare. You took a couple of pictures. Sneaked in some papers that seemed off. Now all you needed to do was walk out of the building, and then it would all be over. A breath that Javi didn't know he was holding slipped past his lips as he watched you walk out of the building, turning back to wave to the elderly lady before you moved closer to the street that separated you from the rest of the team. Even from back there, Javi could tell that your eyes looked hazy. A new worry sparked. What if you misread the speed of the car? What if you get hit? Javi reached for the door handle, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

You looked around a couple more times before stepping forward; your eyes met Javi's desperate ones. And even if he knew that you were beyond pissed at him, you still shot him a slight smile. A little something that would keep his nerves at bay for now. Until you crossed the street and Javi could once again sense your perfume lingering in the car.

And then a blink of an eye changes everything. A bullet suddenly pierces your shoulder, sending you staggering back onto the street. It feels like the world had stopped as Javi watched the red stain get bigger and bigger. "Get down", Carillo shouted at the top of his lungs, making a handful of men drop to their knees, but Javi didn't move. He pushed off the car and rushed forward, "Pena, that's an order", but he was done with following orders for today. Another shot rang out. This time it sounded a lot stronger, and you suddenly gripped your lower stomach. That made Javi lose all sense; he took off running, and suddenly the distance seemed way too long. Pushing panicked people to the side as he scratches his way to you.

You didn't register the first bullet; it was like your mind blanked, and only the feeling of something wet dripping down your shoulder made you frown at the situation. It's the second bullet that pierced your left side that made you let out a scream. One that kept ringing in your ears. You could see people moving, but no one was stopping to look at you. Your mind was running so fast yet so slowly at the same time. Blinking started to get harder, your breaths were painful and shallow now.

"Carino", you heard before you could even see the face, and for a second, it felt like you were imagining it all. "Keep your eyes open", said Javi, who was now leaning over you, palm cradling your cheek as he pats it a couple of times to keep you conscious for as long as possible. Another shot rang out, and Javi turned around to fire his gun before his attention was back on you. "Not safe", you mutter, your weak fingers now wrapped around Javi's wrist. "I'll be fine", he stated blankly, drawing his gaze up for just one moment, catching a glimpse of Steve tackling a male to the ground before he's looking down at your paling face, "Can you press your palms to your shoulder, baby?"

When you don't move, Javi is the one moving his palm over the second wound, pressing as hard as he possibly can. "Let me", you mutter, and God or whatever that people believe in knows Javi was glad you don't finish that sentence because he can't and won't think of that outcome. "Don't you dare? You're walking out of here, you hear me?", Javi said letting go of your shoulder. He patted your cheek again as your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment. Anger only rushed faster as Javi shouted once again for an ambulance or a medic.

"He had Michael's eyes", you muttered, breathing now even, though Javi knew what that meant - your body was crashing. "Did he, carino?", he knows this is not a conversation he should be having with you, but he's desperate to keep you awake for as long as possible. Javi's hands were soaked with your blood by now, and so was your flowery dress. You nodded your head weakly and said, "I saw Mikey". Javi clenched his jaw, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "I hope you said hi from me as well", but your head lulled to the side. Javi's blood went ice cold because, for a split second, he thought that was it—you were dead. You bled out in his arms. Letting go of your wounds, Javi pulled you closer to his chest, your limp body looking nothing like a rag doll in his arms. The sirens rang somewhere in the air, but now all Javi could think of was how he would never be the same if you never opened your eyes again.

[pebsterino]

Im a fan of Da since 2019, I've cherished all 3 games, my favorite one is DA2. I will not be persuaded by anyone that DA4 is a good DA game.

They have damned everything I loved about Dragon Age for... this???

This is no longer the dark fantasy I fell in love with; it's a game that feels more like a Disney movie, complete with writing intended for children. The way they treat YOU as a player suggests that you aren't capable of solving the easiest riddle in this world. The direction of the writing is baffling. The constant explanations for everything make my blood boil because I'm not a child, and I can think for myself. They claim this is an RPG, yet it lacks any meaningful RPG elements. You have no choice whatsoever; your character is scripted the way the developers wanted them to be. (By the way, I had no idea that no matter which option you choose, your character will always try to be funny in an unfunny way.)

As for the gameplay, I've never cared for the gameplay in any Dragon Age games, so I won’t dwell on it, but I’ll share my opinion nonetheless. I think it’s still an improvement from Inquisition, but that’s not hard to achieve. The game was designed to be played online, which is another insane thing to consider. Is a Dragon Age game supposed to be online??? It’s so ridiculous, and I have no idea how BioWare thought it would work when nobody showed any interest in the multiplayer mode in Inquisition.

The lack of choice and the absence of consequences for your actions are glaring issues. Not a single companion cares if you try to be "rude" to them because you simply can’t be. The fact that you cannot make any of your companions leave your party is ridiculous. You are forced to harden one of your companions (which happens in almost every title), and the only consequences of them being hardened are that they will refuse to heal you and their approval rating is slightly lowered. You can literally romance both of them as if nothing happened.

I'm tired of my companions constantly reminding me that they have issues and need to work through their trauma with my character. As someone who goes to therapy every week, I find this portrayal insulting and ridiculous. Therapy is neither fun nor pleasant. It isn’t something you resolve by completing two quests and reassuring a character that “it’s fine, we have each other, and I care about you; your feelings are valid.” It’s the most absurd echo chamber I’ve ever been in. The fact that none of my companions can stop making everything about themselves and get their shit together while a blight is swallowing the world is beyond me. Therapy takes months, even years, and it’s a deeply personal journey that friends cannot, and shouldn't, interfere with. The whole idea that my protagonist can choose what’s best for the companions is equally absurd. My companions should be making choices based on how I treated them throughout the game; it shouldn't be up to me to decide that. And the best part is that, in the end, it doesn't matter, because no choice in this game has any real weight. Honestly, it’s narcissistic of anyone to expect others to fix their mental health issues. This was a reality check for me when I was younger; it hurts, but it is what it is.

The writing of the characters is something I never thought possible, but here we are. Most characters are written as if they're afraid to offend anyone. My wise friend once said, "If you live your life trying to avoid offending everyone, you might as well not live at all," and that’s true. It’s probably another reason why I can’t take anything seriously in this game—because nothing is serious. Nobody talks like this ever. So much of this is self-indulgent writing, which is fine and valid if you do it for yourself, not for the masses who will play this game.

This is easily illustrated by the Commander of the Grey Wardens, who tries so hard to be the bad guy. He won’t listen to logic or reason; he’s just a children’s movie villain who is evil for the sake of being evil. Honestly, the dialogue speaks for itself.

[motheatenscarf]

Amidst all the James Somerton fallout, I think it's important to remember not to moralize whether or not you or others fell for his grift.

Obviously, if you were rallied into being one of his attack dogs on social media when he put some pretty heinous hits out on people, uh. You might have other problems and should probably evaluate how you spend your time online and how you treat other people before you start caring about the rest of the points I'm about to make. Priorities, etc.

But for the rest of us, it's surprisingly easy to miss just how awful a creator can be.

If you only watched his videos that caught your interest, if you don't really follow creators on social media, if you skip livestreams because watching Some Guy talk unfiltered into a bad camera angle with shitty lighting for hours on end sounds like a fucking nightmare to you, you're not really gonna catch most of this shit. At least, you're not gonna catch most of it from any perspective but the one he tries to spin.

This is a reminder to be skeptical and to trust your gut and check sources if something sounds wrong, but also. Uh. That's still the creator's responsibility not to plagiarize and to fact check their work. You're not morally obligated to be as thorough in curating your experience as someone who is making sure they take every ethical precaution before absolutely destroying a "creator's" credibility in a video like H-Bomb's or Todd in the Shadows'. You're literally just some guy. Most people, myself included, watch these videos as background noise while doing at minimum one other task, you're not gonna google every damn thing he says, especially not on media analysis, where the POINT is to have one's own opinion. THEY'RE the ones trying to be "influencers," or, laughably, "creators." The standards are on them.

And for the isms, phobias, and misogyny, well. Frankly, for my own perspective, I gaslight myself all the damn time when I see red flags. Good Allyship™ has been telling me for years to ignore my own discomfort when someone criticizes a privileged group, especially one I'm a part of. I'm a cis asexual white-passing and probably neuroatypical woman, I am constantly trying to be aware of my own relative privilege while simultaneously doubting my own reaction to things. Despite this, I'd still liked to think I'm a skeptical person, but nobody's immune to everything. Everybody has weak spots.

If you got duped or fell for James' scam, that sucks. I feel ya. I fell for it too, I've seen probably 40% of his catalog over the last couple years and really liked what I'd seen. I recommended his channel and videos to people even if I didn't always agree with every point he made, but it felt important to at least consider what to me seemed like a unique perspective that had value or added to a conversation. There are red flags within his content, his analysis, his rate of publishing, his weird diatribes, that in retrospect, really all added up into things I should have known better than to ignore. But, for reasons I'm interrogating and am adding to my list of things to be aware of about myself, I didn't ignore them, and got grifted. I donated to his patreon a few times, probably gave him like $20 grand total over the years, about as much as I've given H Bomb. The important take away here isn't to be ashamed of the fact that you were fooled, it's to remember that you're fallible.

And it's good to recognize that about yourself. Everyone is, and the ones who say they aren't are lying. They're either gonna be the next person to feel really stupid and foolish when they fall for a scam, or are themselves the grifter.

No one is immune.

[dilfspitdrinker]

Let The Light In | Joel Miller x f!reader

Description: You’ve been babysitting Joel Miller’s daughter all summer. No matter now much you try to deny it, you know you’re into him. But it’s just a little crush that you thought could never be reciprocated, until one fateful phone call. The shift between you two is irresistible, and you’re in for more than you ever anticipated. A/N: holy shit guys, sorry for the fucking hiatus?? Hopefully the smut in this chapter will make up for it. ITS HAPPENING! EVERYBODY STAY CALM! STAY FUCKING CALM! no guys seriously relax I'm already nervous don't make it a big deal shut up stop laughing. I've been mad busy with lyfe and college lately and had a hard time with this chapter, constantly having to remind myself that I do this FOR FUN and it literally does not matter if it's bad!!! BUT IM LOSING THE IDGAF WAR!!!! anyways enjoy and ily for reading

Warnings/tags: MDNI, oral + fingering (f receiving) (he give me brain like nyu), Joel is a talker, reader likes chocolate, age gap (reader is like 21 and Joel is in late 30s), (no his age doesn't canonically line up with what it should be since Sarah is like 12 here but idgaf)

Masterlist

Chapter 7

Once you woke, it took only a moment for you to recognize Joel’s bed, and your thoughts immediately began racing. You hadn’t slept together, had you? There was no way you’d had enough drinks to have forgotten if that happened, right? A quick flip of the covers revealed you were still in your dress. Guessing that meant no. He wasn’t in bed with you, didn’t look like he’d even been there, the covers on the other side looked quite undisturbed. Confused, you supposed he might’ve woken up before you and made just that side of the bed. Weird, but what other explanation was there?

You quietly followed the same routine as the last time you woke up in Joel’s bed, rushing to the bathroom to check yourself. Even after fixing your hair and dress that had gone askew, the thought of going out there in your little outfit from last night made you cringe. You thought briefly about going back to his room and stealing some of his clothes, just to avoid walking into the kitchen looking like you’d passed out after clubbing or something. After how great your date went, you prayed you hadn’t ruined it by saying or doing anything mortifyingly embarrassing, since you apparently didn’t even remember getting into bed.

You steeled yourself and padded down the hall. Peering around the corner into the kitchen, your voice came out small, “Joel?”

He was sitting at the table, dressed casually, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. A smile spread over his face at the sight of you, “Mornin’ darlin’. You sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” you gingerly sat across from him.

He could see the question in your eyes, and answered it to save you the embarrassment, “I slept on the couch.”

With that revelation, you quickly switched gears. Your tone was devoid of humor, “Are you kidding me?”

He gave you a quizzical look.

“You let me sleep in your bed while you slept on the couch again?”

He laughed you off, but you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“I’m serious,” you crossed your arms, “Doesn’t matter if I’m here, it’s your own house, you’re sleeping in your own bed.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, taking another sip from his mug.

You glared at him, but the hardness in your face dissolved as soon as he set a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of you. Despite your outrage at the sleeping situation, Joel’s presence still managed to put you at ease. You’d even forgotten about why the dress thing made you nervous, he was probably enjoying the view.

“What time is it?” you asked between sips. You hadn’t registered the hour on the clock when you’d woken up in your alarmed state.

“Early,” he responded.

You hummed, soothing your mild grogginess with the coffee. You wished you’d slept in just a little more. You wished you’d slept in with Joel. Not ready to back down just yet, you asked sharply, “And how did you sleep?”

He was amused by your stubbornness, “You’re not lettin’ that go, are you?”

“Never.” 

He sighed, “Just didn’t wanna get all up in your business, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh please, you can get all up in my business anytime you want.”

He chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind from now on.”

You two sat together, finishing off your coffees. Sunlight poured in through the windows, and you silently watched specks of dust float around him like a halo. His eyes still looked heavy with sleep, blinking slowly. More often than not, he would come home fighting exhaustion as he thanked you for watching Sarah. There were a few instances where he paid you a day late, accompanied with a text apologizing profusely for forgetting. You’d always assured him that it was fine, imagining how he must’ve passed out the second his head hit the pillow. In the quiet morning light, you wanted to pull him into bed, cradle his face, soothe the lines etched into his skin. You thought you’d do anything to relieve his stress.

He stood to collect your empty mugs, his broad frame towering over you.

Yes, anything.

You became newly aware of your dress, tugging the hem down a bit. While his back was to you, you cleared your throat, “Sorry for crashing here again.”

“How long ‘fore you learn…” he sighed to himself. He turned and crossed his arms, unexpectedly stern, “Will you quit talkin’ like you’re an inconvenience?”

The hand that fiddled with your dress stilled. You began fumbling through a sort of confession, “Sorry, I just, I don’t want you to think I’m… I don’t know…” You trailed off, unsure of exactly what image you were trying to avoid. Messy? Unpredictable? Opportunistic?

Brows turning up, he spoke, “Sweetheart, whatever it is, you gotta know that I only think good things of you.” He stepped forward and closed the space between you, capturing your face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed you sweetly.

As soon as your lips parted, the words spilled out. “This is gonna sound dumb,” you started, to which he immediately shook his head. You continued, wondering how much dumber you sounded with each word, “I just, I don’t want to do things that’ll make me seem– that’ll make you, like, not take me seriously. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

He pulled out a chair and sat facing you. “Why wouldn’t I take you seriously?”

So he was going to make you say it? You figured you’d have this conversation eventually if this thing was going to continue, but you didn’t expect to find yourself having it here and now. You felt unsteady, despite being seated. Inhaling, you willed your voice to come out stronger than you felt, “Because… I’m younger than you.”

The air stilled as Joel stared at you for a moment, thinking of the most careful way to say he didn’t give a damn about how it looked from the outside. Truly, he was old and gruff and undeserving of you. Indeed, you were young and pretty and lively and smart and giving and everything he fucking needed. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, “Right. Let’s clear up a few things. First and foremost, I care about your feelings and your wellbeing. If the uh, the age difference is makin’ you uncomfortable or unsure, we don’t have to do this.”

You pursed your lips together, palms feeling clammy. “I know it’s… unconventional, or at least most people would think it is, but I’m okay with it if you are.”

“I’m the same way darlin’. Don’t want you thinkin’ I have a- a thing for young ladies, it ain’t like that. It’s just,” he looked into your eyes, “you.”

You cracked a smile, “Yeah, I’ve never gone after an older man before.”

“I’d hope not. Even most of these grown men ain’t good enough for you.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “And what’s good enough for me?”

“I could be, if you decide to keep me around,” he winked. “But hey, I mean it. If you start feelin’ like this isn’t the right thing for you, tell me. Please.”

You nodded, even though the notion sounded impossible. You wanted Joel with a ferocity unlike anything you’d felt before. Now that you’d had a taste of him, you needed more, even if blindly going after him made you look like a dog chasing a squirrel. For the first time, you wondered what your friends would think of it. Or your parents- would they wonder in bewilderment what had possessed you to seek out a single father? But they didn’t know Joel, you were sure that anyone who stepped into your shoes could understand why this man had you obsessed. Despite your insecurities, you were confident that he would be attentive to your needs. You looked into his eyes intently, “I trust you, Joel.”

He took it as a warning. “I know you do. And I don’t take that lightly.” He shifted in his seat, ruminating on whether you knew what you were getting yourself into. He didn’t want to deny your autonomy, but god, he didn’t want to be the reason you felt trapped down the line. And most of all, if it turned into a burning mess, he didn’t want to get Sarah tangled in it. But the way you were looking at him, those eyes were his weakness. How the hell was he supposed to deny himself of you when you were giving him that goddamn look, eyes revealing that you were so eager to please, dying to be something real to him.

“You check me if I’m outta line,” he poked your nose. The way you scrunched it had him falling faster than he thought possible.

“Oh, that’s my new favorite excuse.” Your voice turned parodic, “Joel, you can’t make me do the dishes, that’s taking advantage of me.”

“God, you’re gonna kill me, girl.” His warm laughter filled the kitchen, filled your heart. He stood, pulled you to your feet and into an embrace. You buried your nose into his neck. His lips pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You sighed and mumbled into his skin, “I should probably get going, huh?”

He tutted in disapproval, “Go take a shower. Help yourself to my clothes.”

You pretended to contemplate, then said, “If you insist.”

In the shower, you reflected on last night, and finally recalled falling asleep on top of Joel. He’d probably carried you to bed. You cursed yourself for not being awake to remember the feeling. He’d probably lifted you into his arms like you were made of feathers. You focused on washing your hair to avoid getting too worked up, reaching for Joel’s shampoo yet again. Logically, you understood how one thing lead to another since the last time you did this, but emotionally, you could hardly comprehend how one phone call generated this sequence of events between you two.

The striking sense of deja vu followed your path back into his room. You rooted around his dresser, picking out a T-shirt and sweatpants. Pulling them on, you giggled to yourself, remembering your date banter about him wanting to see you in his T-shirt. You’d obviously meant it in a much less innocent way, but you supposed this counted too. While you were at it, you couldn’t resist the urge to snoop a bit. It seemed like he kept his room tidy, save for a few pairs of socks discarded on the floor. You slid open the nightstand drawer, not expecting much, but found some neatly folded clothes that didn’t look like his. In fact, they looked a whole lot like yours. Pulling them out, you confirmed, they were the clothes you had on the night Joel picked you up. You’d ultimately forgotten to retrieve them. You put them back as they were, deciding that your wardrobe didn’t miss these particular garments that much. But more so, you liked knowing that Joel kept a piece of you here, in his space, close to him.

Upon your return to the kitchen, he smirked at the sight of you, his shirt hanging loosely off your frame. You knew he’d like it. He leaned against the counter, nursing a second cup of coffee, “What you feelin’ like for breakfast, beautiful?”

You shrugged, “Anything.”

“You gotta gimme a real answer, darlin’.”

“Let’s do your favorite, I’ll help you make it.”

“Bacon and eggs it is, then.”

He was about to tell you where the pans and utensils were, but he watched you move around his kitchen with efficiency, already knowing which cabinets to reach for. He loved seeing you be so in your element in his house, like you lived here.

The moment felt insulated from the world. You, swaying slightly as you tended the stove. His hand on the small of your back as he moved behind you.

At some point, Joel snuck in some toast and fruit that you didn’t notice until you sat to serve yourself.

“When did we end up with such a spread?” you asked, baffled.

“When you weren’t lookin’,” he answered with a cheeky grin.

*. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. *

You sat on the couch, struggling to stay focused on an assignment. The minutes crawled by, the afternoon sun casting sidelong shadows of everything in your apartment.

Your eyes lit up when the phone rang, a welcome distraction, and all the more welcome to see it was Joel calling.

You quickly picked up, “Hi!”

“Hey darlin’, whatcha up to?”

“Just finishing up some homework. What about you?”

“Sittin’ here in my empty house.”

“Sarah’s not back yet?” you asked, surprised.

“She was back for a couple hours, then left again to a friend’s house. She’s really been into sleepovers lately.”

“That’s cool,” you tried to sound nonchalant. “So, what, you want me to keep you company?”

He heard your smile through the phone. “You got me there. You can, uh, bring over your work if you’re busy, I don’t mind.”

Your heart tightened knowing that he didn’t mind if your attention wasn’t on him, he enjoyed your presence all the same. You liked the thought of doing your assignments at his place, but you knew you definitely wouldn’t have any hope of concentrating. “I’m almost done with this, let me finish and I’ll be all yours.”

He liked the sound of that a little too much. “Alright darlin’. See you soon?”

“Within the hour.”

“I’m countin’ down the minutes.”

You rushed through the rest of your assignment, crossing your fingers that your professor would get bored halfway through and skim over the drop in quality. You practically threw yourself into your car, only realizing that you hadn’t changed out of Joel’s clothes once you were too far from your street to care. Whatever, as if he would mind.

You arrived at his house, opening the unlocked door with a clammy hand. Here once again, with Sarah gone, just the two of you. After your conversation this morning, you weren’t quite sure where you two were going from here, and you were anxious to find out. You stepped into the living room, not finding him there.

“Hi Joel,” you called out.

You jumped a bit when a pair of large and strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you backward into him. His chest was so warm against your back, easing the tension in your spine.

He leaned down and kissed your temple, “Missed you honey.”

“Missed me? I was only gone for a couple hours.”

“Too many,” he mumbled into your neck, planting a kiss there.

Your heart fluttered. You hadn’t expected Joel to be such a lover, already treating you like his one and only.

“Have you eaten, baby?”

“Not since our breakfast.”

“You hungry?”

“I could go for a snack.”

“Then we’ll get you a snack,” he led you by the hand to the kitchen.

You sat yourself on the countertop while he grabbed something from the highest shelf. His shirt rode up a bit, and you got a delicious view of his skin. 

“I hide these up here so Sarah doesn’t get to ‘em,” he pulled out a box of chocolates.

“Ah, secret stash. Should’ve kept it hidden from me too.”

“You’re allowed to know,” he winked.

You reached to grab some, but he intercepted your hand. He held one in front of your face, and after a moment of staring blankly, it clicked, and you promptly opened your mouth.

He smirked, and barely whispered, “Good girl,” but you heard it loud and clear. He popped the chocolate into your mouth. It was dark, you thought you recalled him saying he didn’t like things that were too sweet. You hummed in enjoyment.

You noticed a smudge of melted chocolate residue on the pads of his index and thumb. A devilish idea occurred to you, and you held back a smirk so as to not reveal your plot. Feigning innocence, you took his palm and pulled it to your mouth, closing your lips around his finger.

He froze, eyes locked on your face.

You swirled your tongue around his finger, licking off the chocolate and savoring the taste of his skin under the sweetness.

He slowly pulled his finger from your mouth to replace it with his thumb. His index, still wet with your saliva, curled under your chin, tilting your head up while bringing his thumb up to your lips. Looking at him through your lashes, you sucked off the chocolate, teeth gently grazing the ridges of his fingerprint. He almost wanted to laugh in disbelief, laugh at himself for not giving you enough credit. You devious little thing, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“What game are you playing, hmm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you narrowed your eyes at him, as if offended by the question.

“I know you want somethin’. What are you tryin’ to get out of me?” He came to stand between your legs, hands planted on the counter at either side of you, caging you in.

“Nothing. Seems like you want somethin’.” Your hands laced together at the back of his neck, drawing him in closer.

His eyes raked down your figure, pupils wide and dark. For the first time, you identified lust in his gaze. You wondered how many times you hadn’t noticed it.

Your lips met in an ardent kiss, and your tongues quickly found each other. His hands roamed your hips and waist, fingers pressing into your soft flesh. You felt the warmth of his skin slide under your shirt, but just barely.

You had him figured out enough. For all his flirting – and much as you wished he’d do as he pleased with you – Joel was too cautious, you’d have to draw it out of him. You nudged his hands to go further up, and with the encouragement, his large palms smoothed over your back– strategically braless.

A groan vibrated in his throat, and he detached his lips from yours just far enough to mumble, “That what you want?”

You looked deep into his eyes, testing the connection, seeing if he could read you.

He could. Like a fucking book. And from that gleam in your pupils, he knew exactly what you needed. He asked in a teasingly coy tone, “Want me to make you feel good?”

You bit your lip and nodded, buzzing with anticipation.

Immediately, he picked you up off the counter, palms spread over your ass and squeezing. Your arms clung to his neck as he carried you to his room.

He laid you on the bed, holding himself over you. His lips trailed from your face, down to your neck, nipping at your collarbone. Once he heard you taking deeper breaths, he leaned away to stand. You propped yourself on your elbows, watching him with curiosity mixed with disappointment. You voiced your dissatisfaction, “Why are you so far?”

Standing above you, he raised a brow. He grabbed your legs from the back of your knees and yanked you to the edge of the bed. You released a small yelp at the suddenness, but it only added to the desire swirling in your stomach.

“Better?” He splayed a large hand on your chest, pushing you back onto the mattress. He kissed a path from your mouth to your ear, and whispered huskily, “Or you want me closer?”

Your hands twisted in his shirt, wanting to pull him against you, but he was moving away again… only to kneel between your legs. He rested his cheek against your thigh, giving you a sultry look.

He toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants. “You look real good in my clothes, baby. Planning on stealin’ these too?”

“I didn’t steal them, just… haven’t given them back.” You could hardly string the sentence together with his knuckles running along your hips.

“Sure. Might as well take them back now,” he started tugging down the sweatpants, “y’know, ‘fore you forget.”

Past your knees, off your ankles, discarded on the floor. His lip curled at the sight of your little blue panties.

His hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and finding your heated skin. Your heart raced and you clutched the fabric, “I think I wanna keep this on.”

His eyes flickered to yours, “Whatever makes you most comfortable baby. Can I still touch under there?”

“Please,” you nodded. It wasn’t that you felt particularly shy, the truth was, it turned you on more to have Joel doing this while wearing his shirt. It made you feel claimed.

You felt his breath against your thighs as he spoke, “I’ll go real slow baby, you let me know how I’m doin’.”

You nodded, heart racing with anticipation.

“Need you to use your words, baby.”

You swallowed thickly, then found your voice, “I’m ready.”

He looked down at the dark wetness staining your panties. His eyes flicked back up to yours with a smirk, “I can tell.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband, and slowly, so damn slowly, pulled them down, revealing you to him. You felt his breath against your pulsing heat, “You’re gorgeous baby.”

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart. With each thumb, he spread your pussy lips open. He groaned at the sight, “So pretty baby…”

Gingerly, you threaded your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you expectantly, a small smile on his face that you found reassuring. “Let me take care of you, sweetie.”

You gave him a small nod, and he dipped his head. He licked a thick stripe through your folds, eliciting a whimper from you. It reached a higher pitch when he attached his lips to your clit. Responding to your noises, he devoted his attention to your clit, licking and sucking at a pace that soon had you whining. One of his hands snaked up your torso, under the shirt, until it reached the softness of your breast. His thumb circled your nipple, adding to the warmth pooling in your loins.

He lifted his head briefly to check in, “How you feelin’ honey?”

“Good, keep going,” you rushed out, tugging at his hair.

He chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, sliding two of them up and down through your wetness, circling your clit and teasing your hole.

“Joel, please,” you moaned.

“Please what?”

You whined in response.

“Gotta use your words, baby.”

You tilted your head back onto the pillow, faced with the ceiling. “I need your fingers,” you choked out, cheeks heating at the words.

He hummed, index and middle still giving attention to your clit. “Look at me,” he commanded.

You looked down at him between your thighs, and once your eyes locked, he began pushing in one thick digit. You moaned, eyelids threatening to close, but he captured your gaze again with a low voice, “Keep looking at me darlin', that’s it… good girl.”

Once his finger was up to the knuckle inside you, he started pumping in and out at a measured pace. When he reattached his lips to your clit, your head fell back and a long moan escaped your throat. His tongue swirled ceaselessly around the bud, making your hips squirm.

Slowly, he pulled his finger almost completely out of you, and you felt a second prodding for entry. They pushed in slowly, allowing you to relish the stretch.

“Joel,” you whimpered in a way that had him grinding against nothing. He pumped his fingers at a faster pace, needing to hear his name pass your lips again.

He curled his fingers up, and you clenched around him with a high pitched moan.

“That’s the spot, huh?” He looked up at you mischievously, “Yeah, I know.”

His other hand continued playing with your nipple. With your own hand, you pulled the shirt higher, exposing your plush tits. He suddenly pushed himself up, eagerly attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast. He pressed wet kisses down one side, nipping and sucking just hard enough to leave a few purple marks. His fingers never stopped massaging that perfect spot inside you, rapidly pushing you toward the edge.

“Joel- fuck- ” you panted, “I’m so close.”

He brought himself back down to your pussy, taking in the sight of you dripping around his fingers. He flattened his tongue against your clit, and the sensation made you jerk your hips up.

“That’s right baby, get yourself there,” he rasped.

You gripped his hair, grinding on his tongue. His fingers stroked your g-spot further with every movement. He had you right where he wanted you, thoughts reduced to nothing but his name.

“Joel,” you moaned brokenly, eyes rolling back. Your orgasm rippled through you, had you arching your back and curling your toes.

“So sweet,” you felt him mumble, his lips never breaking contact with your pussy. Like a man starved, he licked you clean, lapping at your juices. You whined every time his tongue brushed over your sensitive clit, hardly allowing you to come down from your high. You tugged at his hair, and he reluctantly lifted his head from between your thighs.

He kissed a trail up your torso, chest, neck, and finally reaching your lips. He kissed you softly, slowly, tenderly. But even through your hazy mind, you dared not think lovingly.

“What about you?” you panted.

He smoothed your shirt down and moved you onto your side, pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry about me sweetheart.”

“But I wanna return the favor,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You’ll get to another time, I just wanna focus on you.”

You relented without much of a fight, still dazed and sleepy from your high. The steady rhythm of his breathing soothed you.

“I’m gonna fix us some dinner, how about that?”

You made a small noise of disapproval, curling further into his chest. He chuckled quietly, rubbing your back.

Masterlist

[pacifymebby]

Territorial HCs // Billy + Stu

Billy

🔪 He is jealous of everyone who so much as sits next to you in class. You're his, and Stu's of course, but the point is you're his... He views everyone as a potential threat. 

🥧 He's very insecure, terrified of losing you or being abandoned by you.

🔪 which you personally think is a little cheeky considering he’s with Sidney not you. Whenever you bring this face up however he gets sullen, gives you a look like you should know better, “its different with you sweetheart, anyway, she's temporary.” 

🥧 you do not know what that means and honestly? you don’t want to. Billy gives you some pretty dark vibes sometimes. Sometimes its easier if you just ignore the warning signs.

🔪 When he can sticks to you like glue... Its endearing actually, the way he wants to be around you 24/7. You like the attention he gives you, but sometimes when you’re in school and he comes up behind you when you’re looking for something in your locker, you get flushed and embarrassed. “Billy you’re not supposed to talk to me here... thats your rule!” you’d remind him but he just flashes you that disarming grin. 

🥧 “relax y/l/n I just want to ask you about that project we have to do together... you know, for geography...” you know he’s lying, but you smile and relax and go along with it. “So I’ll meet you after class and we’ll walk back to your place right?” 

🔪 he’s always coming up with ways to see you.

🥧 You like the way he hangs over you like a shadow, you feel safe when you're tucked under his arm.

🔪 He loves it when you wear his baggy shirts over your croptops and he’s always leaving them at your house hoping you’ll pick one up accidentally and wear it into school. It’s like... he knows its risky and he could get caught but he likes the risk, and he kind of likes the audacity of hiding you in plain sight. Making it obvious that youre his but in such a way that no one could prove it. 

🥧 He will climb in through your window almost every night, partially to check up on you, partially because he misses you every second you're not around. He has trouble sleeping anywhere other than by your side. He also doesn’t like the thought that if he isn’t with you, someone else could be. 

🔪 the jealousy and fury he feels every time he sees another boy in school check you out! As far as everyone else is concerned you’re single so they don’t even try to hide it. And holy shit when boys flirt with you, or try to ask you out...

🥧 it takes every last drop of his self control to stop himself from stabbing them in the eye with a pen or something. Instead he watches from a distance, those brooding eyes fixed on whoever is talking to you.. you’d be able to feel him watching you too

🔪 he’d spend the rest of the day meticulously planning how to murder the boy, and then daydream about how slow and painful he’d make the killing. He'd be having very violent thoughts thats for sure. 

🥧 he leaves bite marks on your neck and wrists and definitely gives you hickeys, all ways in which he can mark you and show people that you’re taken. You’re constantly trying to lie about them, you’ve even made up a mysterious secret boyfriend who goes to another school just so your friends will stop asking who did that to you. 

🔪 when the hickeys inevitably get you labelled a slut Billy will be defensive of you whether or not thats a smart idea... if Tatum or Sidney ever say anything about the rumours which are going round about you Billy will get moody very quickly. “Aren’t you two supposed to be feminists... I thought you were more mature than that Sid...” 

🥧 he is constantly telling you that you’re his, that you’re “end game” affectionately nicknames you his “final girl” you don’t realise how much he really means that until it’s too late. 

Stu

🔪 He doesn’t get jealous so much... its more that every time he sees someone look at you it makes him crave your attention/ to be with you... which is just frustrating for him when he’s at school and he sees other boys flirting with you and he can’t...

🍒but sometimes when he sees other boys flirting with you or checking you out, he’ll flirt with you anyway because he knows he can get away with it. He’ll sweet-talk his way back into Tatums good books if he gets caught out. 

🔪 He’s constantly sneaking up on you at school and outside of school, you think its just coincidence but he’s definitely been following you... he always seems to pop up just after you’ve been talking to another guy. He will touch you, even if he’s in public, even if its in the middle of the corridor. He can’t help himself, he can’t keep his hands off you.

🍒he’ll also just cut into conversation if he hears a guy hitting on you, he’ll tell them you’re taken, often lying and saying you’re some other boy from your schools’ girlfriend, which will embarrass you so much 

🔪 whenever him and billy are hanging out and he sees you talking to another guy he’ll nudge billy to get his attention and then nod over to the boy. Billy will roll his eyes, “we can’t kill every boy she talks to fuckrag,” 

🍒 “Oh come on man why not! I mean look at him... he deserves it!” 

🔪 he will give you things to wear, he’ll steal a necklace or a bracelet or something, it'll have a little heart on it and he’ll tell you to make sure people know your boyfriend bought it for you so that then he won’t have to watch people flirt with you

🍒 he’ll definitely sneakily grab your butt in public, he’ll sit next to you in any classes you have together and spend the whole lesson trying to distract you with his hand on your thighs under the table. 

🔪 he actually almost wants to be caught, he’s reckless like that, he thinks you’re so hot that it melts his brain and honestly he just wants to show off that he’s fucking you 

🍒 you’ve always got some kind of hickey on your neck, somewhere obvious... he actually tells you not to cover it up, no roll necks, no make up... you have to show everyone that you’re his. 

🔪 he gets off on seeing you around school with that hickey on your neck, knowing he gave it to you... it makes him desperate to give you another. 

🍒 he’d be kind of mean to any guy he thought liked you, he’d constantly be trying to knock their confidence, make sure they didn’t think they stood a chance with you. He’d laugh at them for even thinking about it. He’d definitely try to embarrass them in front of a group of people. 

[girlylukehughes]

Heartbreak Girl

Mark Estapa x OC!

word count: 1093

Based on Heartbreak Girl by 5 Second if summer!

a/n: requests are open!!!

Being in love with your best friend is difficult, even more difficult when she has a douchebag for a boyfriend. Mars Connor has been bestfriends with Mark Estapa since second grade when she punched a kid for kicking him off the swings, and Mark has been in love with her ever since. When they both got accepted to UMich they were ecstatic, being able to see each other at least twice a week instead of having to wait for months. Well that was until Mars started dating a guy from the football team, Simon, their sophomore year. On the outside Mars and Simon looked like a happy picture perfect couple, but all the heartbreaking calls Mark received from Mars, at least twice a month, saying they broke up and got back together again told the truth. So when Mars and Simon had finally called it quits for good a week ago, Mark felt a weight lift off his chest.

It was a little past 11pm when Mark's phone started buzzing beside him in bed, rolling over groggy from sleep, he didn't check who was calling and just answered. “Hello?” His voice rough and barely above a whisper, but the minute he heard the sniffle from the other end he shot up in his bed. “Sorry did I wake you up?” Mars hiccuped. “Don't worry about it, Mars, what's wrong?” The line was silent for a moment before she left out a sob, his heart breaking even further. “He's already with someone else.” Her sobs growing stronger. “When does it stop? When does my heart stop hurting? Did it ever actually mean anything to him?” Clenching his fists Mark responded, “Of course it meant something to him,” liar, “ You were together for what, like seven months? It had to have meant something to him.” Mark knew this probably wasn't the truth, but he'd do anything to make her feel like her world wasn't completely crumbling. “Could you- could you maybe come over?” He could feel time stop, “I really don't want to be alone right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Mark was silent, no answer coming from him for a good minute. “It's ok I mean you don't have to- I'm sorry I'll let you go back to sleep.” She rushed out, feeling bad for even asking. “I'll be there in five.” And with that Mark was hopping out of bed before putting a shirt on and grabbing his keys. “Hey Mark?” Mars asked, “Yeah Mars?” “Thanks for being my best friend.” Mark felt his heart crack, reminding him where they stood. “Always.” That night Mark held Mars close, not knowing if he'd ever get to do it again.

A month later, Mars was still heartbroken and Mark was telling her what she wanted to hear. He was still telling her that Simon had to have actually loved her, that he was just going through a phase and they'd be back together soon. He wanted to scream. Scream out that she should be with him, because Simon treated her like shit and he treats her like she put the sun in the sky, but he bit his tongue, not wanting to upset her further. He's still stuck so far in the friend zone and he doesn't think he'll ever get out.

The next week Mars was no longer upset, no Mars was pissed. “I regret ever meeting him.” She scoffs as her and Mark walk out of the campus diner. While they were getting lunch Simon had shown up with the one girl he constantly told Mars she didn't have to worry about, clearly she did because here they were in a booth two tables away making out. “He was a piece of shit, I don't know what I ever saw in him.” Mark was so close to confessing to her, but ultimately kept his mouth shut. He was just going to have to get it through her head that she belongs with him. For the next month and a half he did everything in his power to show her his feelings without actually saying the words, but Mars was still oblivious, still hung up on Simon. Mark was frustrated, and it showed in the way he was acting. “Is everything okay between us?” Mars asked. “It's fine.” Mark’s voice was gruff, frustration showing. “Are you sure? You've been acting weird all week, did I do something wrong?” Mark stopped walking in front of her, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath in. “Everything's fine Mars just please drop it. You didn't do anything.” Mars wasn't taking this answer though, instead she kept pushing. “Stop lying, something's clearly wrong, why won't you tell me!” She yelled. “Jesus Mars when are you gonna realize!” He yelled back. “Realize what Mark! I can't read your mind!” “That I’m right here!” Now she was really confused. “What the hell do you mean?” They were having a full on argument in the middle of the courtyard and they didn't even care. “That I’m in love with you! That I've been in love with you since we were kids! That i've always been right here to pick up the pieces of your heart and glue it back together! You don't even-” He was shut up and Mars grabbed his face and put her lips on his. Mark froze in shock, his eyes widening for a moment before he relaxed into her. The kiss was soft and sweet, but over way too quickly for Mark's liking, his lips chasing hers as she smiles and tears her forehead on his. “You should have told me,” She whispers, “ I've always loved you Mark. Why else do you think I punched that kid in second grade?” she was giggling and Mark's face lit up. Brushing the stray pieces of her ginger hair out of her face he pulled her in for another kiss. “Does this mean I can finally call you my girlfriend?” She waits for a moment before a sly smirk crosses her face, “I don't know, does it?” Mark lets out a groan, “Come on Mars, I've waited 12 years please don't make me wait any longer” “Yes Mark, I'm yours.”

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markestapa: heartbreak girl is finally mine

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planetmars: yours forever

—markestapa: and for always

——planetmars: are you quoting taylor swift?

———markestapa: i plead the fifth

edwards.73: finally now he'll shut the hell up

—markestapa: shut it

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[scumbagjaeger]

I LOVED UR GAMER SNK MEN HCS!! what about reader as a gamer 👀??

SNK MEN WITH GAMER!READER

starring: Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie, Porco, Reiner, Levi, Zeke

rating: mostly sfw! 18+

notes: Thanks so much for the request!! My first ask (‘: I added some of the other men because even though they might not understand video games, they can still support their partner hahah. Is there anyone else you guys would want to see included in these headcanons? Erwin? Bertholdt? Should I do some with the ladies? Let me know! Thanks for your continued support(:

EREN:

If you’re on the same team he’s supporting you 100%, doing whatever he can to help you out if you’re getting targeted or something

If you get killed? He’s going after the fucker who took you out at least ten times (or until you tell him it’s okay you’ve respawned!! He can chill!!)

But if you’re playing against him? Good luck because he’s going to target you hahah

He thinks it’s cute how whiny you get when he snipes you or gets you with his ultimate

“Sorry, (y/n), you gotta be better than that”

This man is so cocky oh lord

Secretly, when you get him back he gets so flustered? But you can’t tell because he just scoffs and tells you that he let you get him

Man’s is sportin a boner through under his desk lmao!! It’s hot seeing you take control what can I say

He invites you to the discord but then immediately regrets it because Jean will constantly try and talk about you

Jean is a homie! But he thinks you’re cool and it pisses Eren off whenever he asks you to check your dms so it’s a win-win (he just sends you memes lol)

Eren’s friends are all chill with you playing but he still likes to remind them that you’re dating

“Eren did you fucking set my house on fire” “that’s what you get for giving (y/n) a flower dumbass” “bro they needed it to make DYE you idiot”

You guys have a minecraft house together and it’s super cute! Eren will definitely let you decorate while he collects materials for you. Or you both will go on adventures together(:

If you’re playing alone he’s super supportive too! Totally down with you having time with your friends online

In between his matches with the boys he’ll come up behind you and kiss your head, not wanting to interrupt too much

But sometimes he’ll fully move your headset off of one ear and start backseat gaming

“You should use your ultimate after your teammate uses theirs. Theirs will freeze the enemy and then your pure damage will take them out… okay good now go over here and—“

After your matches he’s super affectionate ahhh

Wraps his arms around you from behind and plants a big ol’ kiss on your cheek

“M’girl did so good!!”

JEAN:

He’d be a touch cringey lmao

Insists on you both having his-and-hers desk-mats. Gives you a custom mousepad with a picture of you both on it for your birthday and the image turns out kind of wonky

He’s be heartbroken if you don’t use it though!! So you better

One day you come home and he’s rearranged half the apartment so you can have a gaming room together with your desks facing each other

But this ends terribly bc he can be too loud sometimes and he gets distracted by you

Invites you to the discord and then asks you privately if you can coordinate your nicknames online to be like “his (y/n)” and “her Jean” AA

The others never stop giving him shit for it

But he loves you! And he’s so glad you have this hobby in common

Might get a little salty about you playing with your friends without him

If you have a full team that’s fine!! But if he finds out you have a random on your team…

“Why didn’t you ask me to join?” “Babe you were in the middle of your own match!!” “So? I could have quit and joined >:(“

Probably super friendly with your friends and playgroup! Will happily hop on and play with y’all and he behaves himself

Not oblivious to the fact that some of your friends might think he’s cute/flirt with him a little bit?? But he’s confused because he has you so why are they talking to him like that

Doesn’t confront them but shuts them down respectfully(:

“No I can’t give you flowers because these ones are for (y/n) I’m surprising her with them because I love her!! I’m sure you can find your own though(:”

If you’re playing DOTA or League together he’s still garbage :( sorry hahah

Gets flustered by playing with you and then fucks up more

“Babe, can you come help me? The guys keep ganging up on me”

But he is SO PROUD OF HIMSELF whenever he can help you out!!

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ve got your back” “Dude you died four times just trying to get to (y/n)” “Shut the fuck up, Connie”

While you’re gaming you’ll reach for your drink and see it’s miraculously filled up? And there’s a little piece of your favorite candy next to it? You turn around and just see Jean sneaking back over to his desk oh lord

ARMIN:

surprise surprise, he is a total sweetheart

You two probably play a lot together just the two of you before he invites you the join their discord?

He just thinks there’s something really intimate about you both playing games together, without others

And you still definitely do that!! Armin would be the type of guy who would invite you to play games with him hahah

“Hey, (y/n)? I was wondering if you’d want to maybe play Civ 6 with me tomorrow night? Maybe we can make dinner together beforehand!”

He is the best player 2 when you guys play games, especially story games!

But similar to Eren, if you guys are on opposite teams he will show no mercy :)

“Sorry! I can’t help it” “Armin you literally CAN you’re looking for me to kill me” “oops! I’ll go easy on you, my bad!”

He never goes easy on you

He’s the best player out of his friends but he probably isn’t on every night like Eren and Connie are hahah. The nights he is on though he’s on all night!

If you stay up with him, expect super lazy mornings where you slip out of bed past noon and make pancakes together

Expect super lazy afternoon-sex where he just kind of lies on top of you LMAO, gently holds you and cradles you underneath him as he buries his face into your neck, you’re both so tired from a night of gaming but he loves getting to spend that time with you

If he’s reading or doing homework and you’re gaming, he leaves you be!

He thinks it’s important to have privacy and alone time (and he’s right)

But he’ll also come up to you after your game ends, put his hands on your shoulders and ask how your match went!

If you ask him to coach you during a match he’s actually super supportive and helpful? Unlike if you’re playing a co-op game with him hahah

He also probably likes getting to train you and teach you! He wants you to be the best(:

If he’s feeling particularly clingy he’ll just move a chair to sit next you your gaming desk and read next to you lmao

Not even talking or distracting you! He just finds the keyboard clicks and your voice calming

Okay I want to make random college headcanons for the boys should I ever write a fic, and Armin would also make models?? I’m thinking warhammer or DnD ones (DnD with the squad headcanons? 👀) imagine him with a headlamp and big ol’ glasses so he can get a detailed paint job!

And he’d custom make a model of your main in their costume and surprise you with it on your anniversary! It takes him weeks to make :')

CONNIE:

omg he’d be an ass

You know those memes about the pick me characters? He’d jokingly accuse you of that

“Idk do you really know how to play COD? Or are you just trying to hang with the bros” “Connie I literally kicked your ass last night what do you mean” “Fair point”

Probably just teases you a lot during the games in general

“Babe if you press Q while holding your diamond pickaxe it’ll make you mine obsidian faster” “Wait (y/n) don’t that’ll throw your pickaxe into the la—"

Seconds later: *conniespringaa tried to swim in lava*

In a match those he’s actually the most supportive I’d argue? He totally lets you do your thing, whereas Armin and Eren might still have you try and follow their lead

“Where you goin’, mama? Damn atta girl! I’ve gotcha, don’t worry (y/n)” literally just follows you around the map to be backup and to hype you up!

In my last set of hcs Connie was a streamer! If you also streamed he’d be obsessed with doing those fun collabs with you

Either that or he’d be like “ew guys this weirdo is trying to join my discord call rn lemme see what she wants— hello? Do I know you? Always happy to meet a fan but how did you get my discord?”

Idk why he thinks pretending he doesn’t know you is the funniest thing ever?? You guys start a new match with his friends and suddenly he spends the whole game chirping at you

“Damn mama where have you been all my life? You got a man? Why don’t you let me get your number, I bet you look fine as hell in real life” “Connie if you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’m going to lose it”—Eren

He’s so much fun to play story games with though! I’m thinking Detroit: Become Human

He’ll sit next to you and let you control things and he’ll do voices for the characters (he’ll even turn down the game voices so he can impersonate the characters instead)

Makes Connor and the other androids it sound like literal robots, add in extra comments, etc

Honestly I think Connie would be the best at voices? He does super great impressions of his friends and will share them a lot on discord while you’re all playing minecraft, to their dismay :)

Sometimes if he isn’t playing with you he’ll just send you a DM asking you to stream so he can watch? So cute

Too embarrassed to ask you in person but you just got used to streaming on discord now so he can hop on and watch from his computer

PORCO:

I feel like he’s pretty independent when it comes to gaming ngl so when he finds out you are a gamer he just kind of like “oh word? Cool”

Since he plays a lot of games like FIFA and GTA, he usually plays those while you do your thing

Idk why but I also feel like he would be the type of guy to have a spotless apartment? Takes pride in his cleanliness so he’s usually cleaning the apartment while you game

Which is okay with him! He likes hearing you talk to your friends

To him, gaming is kind of his thing to do when he wants to be alone? Even when he’s playing with other people it’s kind of like his private time

So when you’re playing with your friends he lets you have space!

He and Jean are probably the two gamers who would want to spend more time with you outside of the apartment doing things anyway!

But if you want to play with him he’s totally down!

He’s a pretty casual gamer but you can still expect him to get heated, especially if he thinks someone is targeting you or cheating

“No, Porco it’s okay! I made a bad play that’s all” “no (y/n) there’s no way he could have hit you from there, something’s going on”

He will make dinner while you’re gaming and surprise you with it after your match! Even though you can smell it from your desk lmao

“C‘mon, dummy, it’s getting cold,” he’ll call out and gestures to the chair he’s holding out for you

He scoots you in once you’ve sat and he asks you about how your matches are going

If you lost he’ll slide your dessert away from you and then say “sorry, winners only” 😐😐

He’s still not the most active when it comes to their DOTA or League games, but he invites you in to play with his friends so it’s okay!

Eventually he starts to insists on you being in their discord call while they’re playing just so that he can talk to you while you’re playing your own solo game or something!

Don’t get me wrong he still likes his private gaming time and thinks you deserve your own gaming time! But he quickly warms up to the idea of you being together and sharing that time together

REINER:

Okay I love Reiner to pieces yeah? But this man does not understand video games before he meets you

He just doesn’t understand the point??

“Why not just go outside and do something, love?”

He’ll comfort you if you get emotional playing a game like the Last of Us, but then he’ll ruin it by saying “I mean, they’re all dead when you think about it, yeah? They've never actually been alive! They’re not real, sweetie”

But he’s trying to comfort you I promise

I think if there was a game you could get him to play it would be a Dark Souls/Elden Ring type game! I think the dramatic music and fight scenes would pique his interest as he walks past your desk

After watching you fight Malenia or something he says he’ll give it a try

And then he loses to the Tree Sentinel and you have to comfort him. “Babe, that’s kind of the point, you have to go and level up first!” He thought he could impress you oh lord

Otherwise he’d love to watch you play Stardew Valley! Loves the characters and thinks that the heart events are super special

You might be able to convince him to start his own game of Stardew Valley, but he’s busy a lot and feels guilty about ‘abandoning them’, so he prefers to watch you play!

Will also cook you dinner and make sure your water is full while you play! He likes to watch you play and loves seeing you all happy when you’re winning

Sometimes he will try and hug you while you’re playing because he loves seeing you do something you love, but then you have to remind him that you’re in the middle of a game!

“So how was your game!” “It was good! Eren always plays aggro so he took most of the attention away from me!” “There’s a character named Eren in your game? Huh,” it takes him a second to understand that you’re playing with REAL PEOPLE

LEVI:

Just like Reiner (honestly all of these men who don’t understand video games) he doesn’t see the point? Like why not go outside and do something?

Kind of rolls his eyes at the games you play despite him not knowing about them

But he secretly takes pride in the fact that you’re sometimes the one taking control and bossing the others around

He’ll hear you tell Eren to shut up so you can focus and he’ll sneak behind you and peer over your head, maybe smooth out your hair a bit to let you know he’s there

You can talk to him about your games and he’ll listen but he’ll definitely not understand any of it

He’ll respond with a lot of “Ah”s and “Oh, I see” and “..is that good or bad?”

Silently brings you tea when you’re playing late and will usually stay up reading on the couch while you do! He’s a classy guy, likes to go to bed with you

Sometimes he’ll fall asleep on the couch so you have to wake him up :(

He just kind of shuffles over and wordlessly invites you to sleep with him there, cradled in his arms on the couch

I don’t think there’s any way you could get him to play a video game though, sorry

This is Levi Ackerman, who doesn’t understand how twitter works hahah

If you get upset over a loss he doesn’t really know how to comfort you, but he’ll kind of sneak over and mutter something like “that kid’s a bastard anyway” and kiss your head

ZEKE:

Will straight up tell you to go outside and touch grass if he thinks you’ve been inside too long

He’ll pick you up from your desk and try and carry him out to go on a walk with him or something after a match lmao!

Will ask you what is so exciting about your games and why you’d rather do that than do something with him :( poor Zeke

But he just says those kinds of things to get a rise from you lmaoo! He’s glad you have some hobby because it lets him also have private time, like Porco I think Zeke would like some space to do his own thing every now and then

Or maybe he’s just busy and glad you can keep yourself busy? I headcanon him to be going into a medical field like his dad! So Dr. Jaeger knows that you won’t be too lonely while he’s at work

You can get him to play surgeon simulator when he’s in a good mood. He thinks it’ll be easy. Ooh boy

He doesn’t become addicted or anything but when he fails, he insists that he can do it and he’s trying again. And again. And again.

Genuinely likes seeing you have a hobby and is impressed with your ability to balance your responsibilities and have time to unwind with a game

Likes to see you kill Eren in whatever game you’re playing, even minecraft hahah

Judges you for playing animal crossing though? Sorry he thinks it’s a kids game?

“…So you owe the raccoon money, huh?” 😐

You tell him he’d be a grumpy villager and he ruffles your hair before walking away with a huff hahah

Thanks again for the ask and your support! Ngl my ex boyfriend was a shitty gamer like he would ignore me a lot so this is my therapy now, imagining better gamer boyfriend scenarios for my attack on titan men :) hahah but thanks again for reaching out I hope I did it justice!

As always, thanks for reading! Feel free to drop an ask for more!

[ohnoanalien]

Glitch

STOP MAKING ME RETURN TO TUMBLR TO WRITE THINGS

Anyway @lunar-wandering has some great ideas and I'm absolutely spoiled by the LMK/JTTW community. I love his posts about Macaque and losing control of his powers when he gets emotional, so I tried to combine "Macaque loses control when he gets flustered" and "it's very cute when Macaque is treated like a king". This is post beach stuff-- I hope you enjoy, and good luck with college! Call this a congrats gift!

"Ummm...not that I'm ungrateful that you made this, it's just--"

"The eggs are plant-based! I know you're vegan now, idiot. Your little one-sided biography's been hanging around since the 16th century." 

It’s strange, Macaque thought, how the light worked. He could alter every spotlight, walk under the brightest beam of sunlight, and yet no glow compared to the great centerpiece that casually sat across the kitchen table. He would constantly blind the three realms with his confidence and booming voice.

And oh, how he pampered and spoiled his own shadow nowadays. 

He was always in the spotlight, over-protective over every little bump in the road. Grooming tattered fur after he returned from training with his successor. Reminding his old rival to eat and drink after dragging himself across the three realms, nearly skin and bones under his captor’s bidding.

All services fit for a king. The least he could do is return the favor. Sometimes.

"You tweaked breakfast for me? That's...thanks, I guess." Wukong looked down at his plate with a kind smile.

"Don't mention it." Macaque grumbled between bites. The shadow demon pressed a paw to his speeding heart, checking the reflection of the window to see if it wasn't fluttering as badly as his six ears.

His very visible, unglamored ears. 

Before the Monkey King could look up, he bundled his scarf over his head.

"Everything okay, bud?" He leaned in closer, curiously searching his partner.

"Uhhhh." Macaque said eloquently, leaning as far back in his chair as he could go. “I’m just…a little cold’s all.”

Bad move. The Monkey King’s brow furrowed, absent-mindedly scratching an icy streak in his fur. He could practically hear the great sage’s mind turn, counting the number of blankets they had in their little temple. “How cold?”

Shit. Shit shit shit! If he left now to fix his stupid ears he'd just look suspicious either way. He scrambled for his own fork, ready to down his meal in three bites and make a run for it. 

Taking it as a big, neon ‘do not touch sign’, Wukong sighed heavily. “Just…let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

The other only grunted, waving a paw of approval.

"To be honest, I didn't think we could pick up where we left off." The Monkey King hummed thoughtfully, gaze and mind drifting elsewhere.

"Mhm." Macaque reached for his mug-- freezing in place as a patch of thick white fur crawled up his arm. He quickly stuffed his paws in his lap, sewing on a slapdash glamor. All while the great sage continued his heartfelt speech, not noticing the struggle a foot or so away.

"--ut I think we're really getting better at it. At us, I mean. So what I'm trying to say is, maybe we should talk about…” He looked up, blinking in surprise at the way Macaque dropped his fork, elbows shoved in his lap, teeth clenched through a nervous grin.

“Hey, Mihou? Are you a hundred-and-ten-percent sure you’re okay? You seem, I dunno, distracted?" A peach-furred tail slapped the floorboards.

"Just got a lot on my mind! I'm listening. Promise." Macaque lilted.

"Sure, I gotcha. But if something's wrong--"

"Nothing's wrong!" He waved freshly glamored paws. Nonetheless, the king’s brow weighed with worry, eyes trailing to his old friend’s torso and back again. Apologies would just have to come later. "Just...ignore me. Keep going."

"Fine, fine. Whatever you say. So where was I– Oh, yeah!"

A sigh of relief passed the shadow demon’s lips. And while Wukong chatted away into his teacup, the breath of fresh air was short-lived as Macaque's eyes turned a deep purple.

"--dual mentorship might be a good idea too?"

"Y'don't say." The shadow demon stared very intently at his eggs, head bowed. His snow-furred tail lashed frantically, slipping itself down his pant leg before it could knock something over.

"--t's a big step, but I trust you enough now to--"

Wukong looked up, and Macaque scrambled to hide his face behind his own cup– choking on his tea when longer, sharper fangs clinked against ceramic.

"Mac?" Sun Wukong's head snapped up just as he straightened himself, grin threatening to tear his muzzle apart at the ends behind a paw. "You’re not getting sick, are you?"

"Listening!" His partner wheezed out. He tried not to panic as the glamor that coated his hands nearly popped like snowy balloons. "I'm-- kaff kaff-- I'm listening."

"...Uhhhh sooo...in short..." the Monkey King drawled, ever-so-slowly turning back to his breakfast.

A close call. Macaque bit back a gasp as the table suddenly met his chest, shrinking just a smidge taller than the average macaque– edge prodding his stomach on the way down. A new coughing fit blossomed, barriers completely broken. The second Wukong looked up, his old rival had vanished altogether.

"Mac?" The sage called, standing up to scan the shadier corners of the room.

"Just-- koff-- just dropped something!" Macaque answered from under the table, still trying to get. His illusions. Under control.

He wasn't sure what he expected. Call it bad luck or a bad omen, he desperately pulled at strings of magic, growing three feet too tall before shrinking again. He hit his head on the wooden surface with a loud bang, dishes clinking from the force.

He could practically hear the unimpressed expression on his partner’s face as he lowered himself. "Oh come on, don't be like that! We both know you're never going to talk unless I...I..." 

He didn't need much light to see the X-shaped chunk of a scar that carved through a single, dead eye. Frozen in time, Wukong was unable to stop the shadow weaver from melting into the ground.

On one hand, portaling was the fastest and easiest way to escape any situation. A battle, a theft, a social conversation-- any setting could be an exit when sunlight hit the room just right. On the other hand, Macaque was not informed that his glamors weren't the only defective power in his arsenal. The shadow demon aimed for his old, abandoned dojo. Instead, the demon yelped as he caught on a flurry of branches, falling from the shadowy canopy of a familiar peach tree. Morning sunshine peeked from the rustling leaves. Peppered by flora and pale sand, he felt a stone paw wipe away at his eyes. And when the fog cleared, he was met with another pair that hovered above him, blinking back gold vision.

“Soooo…” The Monkey King drawled, “any reason you’re glitching worse than MK after a bad Monkey Cop binge?”

Macaque didn’t bother to grace him with an answer. Instead he pushed himself upright, face twisting at the fur coat he just groomed.

"Ugh, I look like a wreck." He grumbled.

"Don't sell yourself short." Sadness turned to hope, cupping Macaque's cheeks with his palms. "I, for one, think you look very handsome."

Mihou rolled his eyes, ready to pull away, when Wukong twirled him back into his arms.

"I'm serious." He bent down to kiss the nape of his partner's neck, "I love your beautiful ears. Your silver fur."

"Yeah, sure." Macaque snickered, "Come spring, all the fair maidens in your kingdom would swoon for a guy with fur that looks like dry bones."

"Well I certainly did."

Four simple words sent a shiver up Macaque's spine. The last glamor crumbled to nothing, and he hurried to bury his face in his partner's chest. For a moment, the pair stood completely silent.

Finally, Macaque took a shaky breath, mumbling into leather and silk.

"Pardon?" His king raised an eyebrow, "Something you want to share with the class?"

Six ears pinned back. Teasing turned soft and gentle, and Wukong began to rock the both of them into a soothing rhythm. "Don't sweat it. Take all the time you need, okay?"

A groan traveled down Macaque’s knotted stomach, "I said I...ugh..."

"You...?"

"I just. Agh, this sucks!" Just for a brief moment, Liu’er Mihou raised his head, namesakes revealing brilliant hues that flashed to his emotions.

A realization pierced The Monkey King through the heart, and he swore that he felt feverish. His flush nearly matched the shadow that latched to his waist. "...Oh."

Macaque stared openly.

"...What?" Wukong asked.

"That's it?"

"For gods' sake-- what do you mean that's it?"

Swearing to every level of Diyu, Macaque squirmed out of his arms and towards the waves. "You read me like a goddamn book--"

"'Oh'! It's one word! What do you want, a poem?!"

"--I spent all night learning to make that disgusting, watery abomination of an egg recipe--"

"Hey! Don't diss the diet! It's pretty good when you stick with it for a couple centuries!"

"--And I'm stuck with this stupid mess of a body--" A gnarled root caught Macaque's leg, and he fought to untangle himself with all the strength of an adult-sized monkey. "and it's all-- ugh!-- thanks to you and your stupid eyes– Oof!" He fell to the floor in a heap, sending a cloud of sand flying.

Wukong blinked. "What was that?"

Macaque’s blush dusted the tips of his ears as he ripped the root from his ankle, mussed fur fluffing up with rage. "I said I love your eyes!"

He threw up his hands, exasperated. "I love your stupid, goofy grin! I love it when you laugh so hard you light up a room! I love it when you wear those– those ugly Hawaiian shirts! I love it when you leave them unbuttoned! I love how much you've changed! Sometimes I even love how much you've changed me! And I want you to say literally anything else because now you know I'm in love with you!"

Heaving gasps slowed to a stop. The shadow demon swore that Wukong had reverted back to stone. Slowly, carefully, he unclenched himself. He took one step. Then another. Bending down, Macaque could see Wukong's eyes sharpen, studying every crack and tear in his partner's face.

Macaque swallowed. "Whatever. It's not important. Forget I said any--"

His thoughts-- and breath-- were stolen from him with a pull of the collar. Warm lips connected, the sage’s feather light and gentle.

Nope, not a chance. Macaque didn't pour his heart out just to get a few drops. He wrapped his arms around his king's neck, deepening the kiss-- and sending them tumbling to the floor. For a brief moment, the pair stared at each other, wide eyed and stunned. Macaque's shadowy body hovered over the Monkey King. Splayed against foam that lapped at their side, dazed and panting for air.

Macaque snorted.

Wukong giggled.

Their laughing fit traveled through the ocean breeze.

"Well well well!" Macaque's head rested on his palms, spread flat against his chest. His tail swayed in the air, grown fangs flashing. "I didn't take you for the shy type."

"Ugh, no fair! You cheated." The sage pouted, "I can't help it if all your glamors are dropped. Next time you kiss a goddess, you tell me how it goes!"

It only took three-and-a-half seconds for the walking, talking deity to realize his mistake. Annoyance faded into embarrassment, eyes widening and fur fluffing. “Oh no.”

"Let’s see." His partner smirked, twirling a patch of golden fur around his claw. "How did it feel to kiss a goddess?"

He hummed a contemplative note, as if he were tasting the words in his mouth before speaking. "Eight out of ten."

Wukong bolted up so fast he nearly knocked Macaque off his perch, "Round two."

Macaque bit back a chuckle, "Peaches."

"I should have broken that scale, Mac! I'm a twelve at LEAST."

[glitterybombshell]

5 EASY STEPS ON BECOMING AN “IT” GIRL

⊹ 🐻˚₊⊹˚ʚ☕️੭ ⋆˙🧸 ⟡♡

1.) have clear boundaries girl!

if you want to be an It girl you need to have the mentality for it. The first thing you need to know about having a it girl mentality is you need boundaries. You can’t have an it girl mentality if people are constantly destroying your boundaries by walking over you and defying your space. If you don’t like something put it out there! Tell someone no if you don’t want something and be the assertive bad bitch you are.

2.) don’t hate like a man.

As girls or more importantly IT girls we should uplift other girls. This is not a 2000s show where being a complete bitch to others gets people to like you. If you want to be liked be likeable it’s as simple as it sounds. Don’t be afraid to help other girls out if they are in need, check on another girl if you see them upset or disappointed in something. As girls we can all agree we get shitted on enough by males, exactly why we should embrace our girlhood by helping other girls. If you help someone they are more likely to see you as a Role model or someone they want to be.

THIS DOES NOT MEAN BEING A PEOPLES PLEASER—- and too my next point!

3. Please yourself, not other people

All these tips are all correlated, having boundaries can also be letting people know that you are on your own journey and are living your life for yourself. Don’t be a people’s pleaser, this gets people thinking they have control over you and will most likely take advantage of the fact your a good person.

4.) Embody yourself

Adapt your own personal style and don’t follow everyone’s path. An easier example for the girlies; If everyone is wearing skirts and low rise jeans but you are feeling to wear yoga pants, where the yoga pants bitch. Its similar to how I mentioned your on your own journey and your simply co-existing with others. Be creative, and don’t follow the bunch. You can of course adapt your own style from things you like, but just make sure your wearing your clothing because you feel comfortable in it and you feel good in them!

5.) You deserve to be loved

The most important step of all is loving and taking care of yourself. If your stressed take a nap and chill, remind yourself that you have control over your life, nobody else. Take the day off and do your skincare or give yourself a warm bath or eat that extra piece of chocolate you’ve been holding out on! Enjoy life angel and know that all It girls take care of themselves

Xoxo Coochieholder💋

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

One day I'll be dancing on your grave...

Summary:

Lucien “Luci” Greco, you’re piece of shit ex, has come to NY looking for you. He's the reason you had to leave everything behind in the first place. Didn't stop him from searching for you though. The long lost mafia princess. He needs you if he is ever to rightfully take over the family from your father Declan. Little does he know you're doing mercenary work for the highest bidder. He still thinks you're some wilting damsel, a spoiled little princess. Your daddy didn't raise you that way though. You've been primed to take over since birth. Too bad he beat the shit out of you so badly you had to run for your safety. Somehow, even trying to stay under the radar you've befriended the damn Avengers family. A misfit mafia if you’ve ever seen one. You’re all after the same enemy afterall. Maybe, it's time to finally let someone or several someones in, so you can live life without constantly looking over your shoulder. Question is, do you even want the crown anymore?

Warnings:

Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Mafia Avengers, Mafia AU, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top

Notes:

Hello Heathens! Welcome to this dark little mafia world I've created. Please be aware there are dark themes throughout this story so be sure to check the tags with each new chapter just in case there may be something that triggers you. Happy reading! Banner @cafekitsune Divider @firefly-graphics

“Well if it isn't the White Wolf and his Captain.” You deadpan as you enter your living room.

“Jinx.” Bucky speaks from his place on the couch. 

“To what do I owe the displeasure of finding you in my home?”

“We came to return this.” Steve places a dagger on the coffee table. “Seems you left it behind.”

“Oh Steven. I don't ‘leave’ anything behind. Every blade has a purpose. You should know that by now. That one was left as a reminder of what happens when people underestimate me.” You start to clean the dirt from under your blood soaked hands with another dagger.

“Now if you're done posturing or whatever it is you came here to do. You can kindly show yourselves out. I have a date with my clawfoot tub, a bottle of 151 and season 2 of the Witcher to get to.”

You turn on your heels and head down the hallway towards your bedroom, undressing and leaving a trail of bloody clothes behind you along the way. You're faithful Doberman Hades on your heels. The pair of enforcers sat on your couch are fixated on the sway of your hips until your form leaves their line of sight.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “What do you want to do about this? I’ve never known her to kill just for fun. Clearly someone with deep pockets hired her to take out Sitwell. Not that I’m complaining. That Hydra piece of trash deserved it.”

“Tony is going to want answers. Answers that only she can give.” Steve shrugs.

“If she’s willing. She’s not the biggest fan of Tony.” 

“Thankfully she loves Pepper. Let’s see if she’ll come to the compound with us voluntarily first.”

Arching his brow and  giving Steve a sly grin. “Afraid to get your hands dirty Stevie.” 

“More like I’d prefer to have her tied up in my bed than in the back of my Range Rover.”

“Don’t we all Stevie. Don’t we all?”

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror as your phone begins to vibrate along the counter. You glance down and upon seeing the name flashing across the screen you take a calming breath and answer. 

“It’s done. There was no need for you to check in on me.”

“That any way for you to talk to your Da? I know it’s done. I had 100% faith in ya to finish the task. I did raise ya after all. So what if I wanted to check in on ya. You’re so damn far away now. I’m not allowed to call my daughter?” Declan proclaims.

“Da. What do you need? You never call to just check in. We don’t work that way. If you wanted to see how I was doing, you’d fly a goon of yours out and stalk me for a week before deciding if it was worth it to come out here to see me. So what is it? I can’t re kill Sitwell for you.”

“Alright. Alright. I get it." He sighs into the phone. "I have some info I feel ya need to know.”

“And that is?”

“Lucien has been gone for a week. Said he had some business to attend to out of town. I just came to find out from one of his little lackeys that said business seems to be in your neck of the woods. Be careful, petal. Keep your eyes open. He very well may be there for some reason other than to hunt you down and drag you back, but I won't risk it.”

You freeze at the mention of your toxic, waste of space, abusive ex. The reason you had to run away to NY in the first place. You swallow and test the water for your bath.

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll stay vigilant, as always. Now leave me be so I can enjoy my post kill ritual.”

“Never one to waste words.”

“I got it from you. Night Old Man.”

“Night Petal.”

Placing your phone on the tray next to the tub you proceed to submerge yourself in the steamy water. You tilt your head back and exhale as tortured memories bring themselves to the surface.

“Sunshine” His voice is getting closer to the darkened corner you’re hiding in. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” He throws one of the dining room chairs away from the table. “Come on baby, I won’t hurt you. I promise. I didn't mean to scare you. You know how I get when I have a shit day and your dad calls attention to my fuck ups in front of everyone.” 

His steps get closer and the next thing you know his hand is in your hair and he’s pulling you out into the living room. Tossing you harshly on to the coffee table. You barely get your hands out in front of you before your face can connect with the solid wood. 

“You know better than to hide from me, Sunshine. For that, I’m gonna deny you the use of my tongue to open you up. Hopefully you’re wet enough cause I’ve got a lot of pent up anger that I need to get rid of. Don’t move if you know what’s good for you and take this dicking I’m so graciously giving you.”

You brace yourself as he slams himself inside you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and craning your neck back so he can wrap his other hand around it. He’s squeezing so tight you know there will be finger shaped bruises left behind. 

You find yourself zoning out as you try to preserve your precious air and he continues his brutal pace. It’s the only way to get through it with your mind intact. Your body will heal. It’s the emotional trauma you're most afraid of. Before you get too lost in your head, he speeds up, hips moving erratically until he stills and you feel him empty inside you. Thank the goddess is stamina is so shitty.

“Much better.” He kisses the back of your head. “See how easy that was Sunshine. Go get yourself cleaned up so we can have dinner. I don’t feel like staying in so wear something that’ll help cover those bruises. Don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

You numbly nod your head and limp off to your ensuite bathroom where you stare at the mottled mess of purple around your neck. You heave a sigh and get to work covering up his handiwork. 

Hades emitting a low growl, snaps you out of your daydream when the pair of Super Soldier enforcers saunter into the ensuite to see if they can persuade you to come to the compound of your own freewill. You decide then and there to have a little fun with them first. A sort of quid pro quo if you will. You're keyed up from your kill and want to drown out the memories of your past that seem to want to flood back tonight. What better way than with some orgasms. 

“Can I help you? As you can see I’m trying to relax.” You announce to the steam filled room.

“Tony would like to see you. He has some questions pertaining to your last kill.” Steve states.

“And before you give some snarky ass comment, we’re asking if you wouldn’t mind coming in with us of your own accord. Although I’m more than okay tying you up and dragging you in myself.” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and shoots you wink.

“Okay.” You casually declare.

“What?!” The soldiers stare at each other in shock over how easy that was. Too easy.

“What’s the catch?” Steve asks.

“It’s simple, really. It’s a win/win all around. I’ll go if Bucky uses those metal fingers of his and gets me off, then lets me ride him while I suck on that golden dick of yours Captain.”

“Deal!” Bucky blurts out, making his way over to the tub as he rolls up his left shirt sleeve.

He wastes no time submerging his hand in the hot water and seeking out your folds. He lightly runs his fingers along them and up to your clit where he makes a couple light circles, eliciting a moan from you. 

“Fucking soaking and it aint even from the bath water. You’ve thought about this before, haven't you Doll.”

“Wh-what can I say? The metal is sexy. Oh Fuck!” He slides two thick digits knuckle deep inside you and curls them upward. “Yes. Yes. Right there. Right fucking there Wolfie.”

Your head is thrown back in complete pleasure as you give in to the manipulation of Bucky’s metal digits. Steve is off to the side, all of his blood having run to his cock, making his pants extremely uncomfortable, watching you writhe and make the most delicious sounds.

“That’s it. Come on babygirl. I can feel how close you are. Give it to me and then you can take me for a ride. I know you want to be stuffed full.”

His words have the desired effect and your pussy squeezes down on his fingers as you detonate and ride the wave of your orgasm. 

Before you fully can come down from your high, you're pulled from the water and impaled on Bucky’s thick girth as he sits on the edge of the tub. The stretch and feeling of being so full almost sets you off once again. You take a moment to let your body accommodate him.

“Thought you wanted to ride me, Doll? So ride. Before I change my mind and bend you over this tub instead.”

Your hips move of their own accord at his threat. Undulating and bouncing to a sensuous rhythm. Losing yourself in the moment. 

That is until Steve strolls over and teases your lips with his precome coated tip. “Open up, Doll. Gotta make good on that deal.” 

You gaze up at the Golden Adonis standing to your right and give him one sweet kitten lick before you take him down to the root. Hollowing your cheeks, you begin to bob your head along his length, sucking the life out of him. He can’t help the moans and groans slipping out of his mouth as you suck his dick like no one ever has before. 

Knowing your mouth is setting the Captain's world upside down, you pick up the pace, grinding and bouncing on the dick splitting you open. You set a tempo that has the room filled with nothing but the wet sounds of skin against skin, moans and language that would make a nun blush. 

Bucky has a firm grip on your hips as he pulls you down one final time and erupts inside you, triggering your own orgasm. You come screaming around Steve’s length, setting him off as well. Rope after rope of his hot white seed coats your tongue and throat as you swallow every precious drop. 

Releasing him from your mouth you lick any run away drops off your lips and proceed to lift yourself off of Bucky’s lap. “Fuck that was even better than I imagined it’d be. We most certainly need to do that again. Many many times.” You grin devilishly. You are a glutton for sin after all. 

You grab a washcloth, dip it into the hot bath and begin to clean up the mess Bucky left behind. Satisfied with the level of cleanliness, you turn towards the out of breath enforcers. “I’m nothing, if not a woman of my word. Grab yourselves a drink and recoup while I throw something presentable on for the big boss man. What are we riding in by the way? Will I need my leathers or are we in a cage tonight?”

“As much as I would love to see you in your leathers, straddling me on the back of my bike.” Bucky bites his lip at the image presented in his mind. “Stevie here, brought his Range. So cage it is tonight, Doll. Gonna have to save that ride for another time.”

“No problem. You’ll just have to enjoy that sight when you're watching me from behind as I sped past you on my Ducati.” You tease.

“You won't be ahead for long, sweetheart. And once I catch you, I’ll gladly bend you over it and fuck you til cant stand, let alone handle you bike and are stuck riding bitch with me.” He cockily proclaims.

“Promises. Promises.” You smugly smile back.

Steve interrupts your moment before it escalates further. “Okay. Enough you two. Although I would love to watch that transpire, we do have somewhere to be. Come on Buck, let our little murder queen get dressed. We’ll be ready when you are Jinx.”

You walk up to Steve and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Always so polite. Even after you just had your massive dick shoved down my throat. Oh you're the best kind of dangerous. I can’t wait to see you unhinged.”

With a whistle to Hades you head back into your room and your walk-in closest to throw on some clothes and be on your way to the Avengers compound.

"There's the woman of the hour. I thought you'd put up more of a fight with the Super Soldiers. Guess I was wrong this time. We were just talking about you." Tony gets up from his chair, grinning.

"We?" You question.

"He'd be talking about me." You gaze down to a blonde head of slick back hair and a voice that haunts your nightmares sitting in front of Tony. 

"Jinx, I'd like you to meet…"

"Lucien Greco." You deadpan.

He stands from his seat and turns in your direction. His blue eyes scan you from top to bottom. Cocky smirk plastered on his face. "Hello Sunshine. I was hoping I'd find you here."

"No one calls me that anymore." Another emotionless response from you. 

"So I've heard. Jinx. Fitting if I do say so." You barely restrain the growl that wants to emit from your chest.

"You know him?" Bucky asks.

"Yeah. He's the asshole who gave me this.” You lift your shirt and pull up the center of your bralette, showing off the jagged scar in the middle of your sternum. “Right before he left me for dead on the side of the road."

“I didn't leave ya for dead darlin’. I was always coming back. Just needed to teach ya a lesson first.” Lucien imparts.

Before he gets a chance to even take a step, you have him pinned against Tony’s desk. Your favorite dagger, precariously placed under his chin. Blade pressed so close against his throat, a deep breath would break the skin.

“Tony. Please get on with whatever it is you need to discuss with me. Every second that passes I’m one step closer to slitting his throat and that’s just too quick of a death for him in my book. So make it quick and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Tony lets out a sigh. “Unfortunately you’re going to have to deal with him for this discussion. Says he knows who hired you for the hit on Sitwell and that we’re all after the same thing. Revenge.”

“Of course he knows who would have hired me for this hit. He’s been working for him since he was a teenager. Been around him his whole life actually. He is correct about revenge though.” You state a little too calmly.

“Are you implying Declan Scott paid you for killing Sitwell?” Tony questions.

“Never said I got paid for the job.” You shrug your shoulder.

“Why didn't you get paid?” Steve utters.

With a smug little grin Lucien answers for you. “That’s an easy one, boys. He killed her mother. In fact he was the reason she went into labor. Little Sunshine here was born in blood. Taking her first breath as her mother took her last.”

“You’re extra chatty tonight Luci? It’s a pity those words just might be your last.” You look him dead in the eyes, a look of murder in yours.

“Wait. Wasn’t Declan’s wife murdered while pregnant? He has a daughter right? She’s been MIA for the last 3 years.” Bucky adds in.

“That would be, correct gentleman. Although I wouldn't classify her as MIA any longer now would I darlin’.” Lucien chuckles.

You press the dagger in a fraction harder and watch as a trickle of blood begins to slide down his neck.

“Alright. Enough with being vague. Just tell us what you're trying to say, Greco.” Steve growls out.

Smug as ever he lets them know what’s going on. “Alright. Alright. I’ll lay it all out. You’re little Jinx here, is Declan Scott’s one and only daughter. The rightful heir to the Bay Area Mafia. I’ve come to drag her back home where she belongs before Hydra makes good on their threat and ends her fathers life.”

“I’ll be going nowhere with you.” You say through gritted teeth. “You seem to have left out the part where you only want me home so you can lock me up and throw away the key. That way you can run things solo. Not happening. I’d rather bleed out in a ditch again than see you take over for my father. Whatever deal you thought you’d strike here it’s over. Your word is as good as a knife in the back. Your mouth is full of nothing but slick words and a poisonous tongue.”

“You used to love my wicked tongue Sunshine.” You press the dagger in a bit further once again. The tiny river of crimson soothing your raging emotions.

Not wanting to have to clean blood out of the carpets Tony takes charge of the tense situation. “As sexy as it is watching her hold you at knife point, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Seems you are no longer needed for this conversation.” 

He presses a button on his desk. “Happy. Would you mind escorting our guest off the premises please. Take him wherever he wants to go, as long as it’s far from here.”

“Will do, Sir.” Happy replies.

“Thanks. Now Jinx. I’m gonna need you to step back from the deadbeat ex so Happy can remove him.” 

Bucky comes up behind you and places his flesh hand on your hip and his metal one around the wrist holding the dagger. He whispers in your ear so only can hear. “Let’s make him wish he never stepped foot in here thinking he could get one over on you.” He kisses along your neck as he lowers your hand away from the lowlife's, guiding it down to your thigh, where he helps you return it to its sheath.

“That’s my girl. Head on over to Tony now. Steve and I will be right behind you.” He places a final kiss on your lips and turns you toward is awaiting boss. 

You walk over to Tony and he grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. “We have a lot to discuss, little one. Seems you’ve been holding back on us.”

You laugh. “Don’t say I didn't warn you.”