#eventually he stirs and he's just '..........' when he notices them all LOL

[falsementor]

i'm so amused by the idea of macaque not being able to go anywhere on flower fruit mountain without being swarmed by these little guys

[fushitoru]

chapter 4: the game a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary: satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

a/n WARNING this chapter is suggestive. like always minors dni. not edited at all bc im sick of this chapter lol (like always i fear). see u at the bottom ;)

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest reader, 

It has come to the attention of This Author that Miss Itadori, the undeniable diamond of the season, has made her appearance at Gojo Manor a full week ahead of the rest of the ton. Such early arrival can only provoke speculation: might the tender buds of affection be blossoming in the Kentish countryside? Shall we soon witness Miss Itadori departing with more than just fond memories, perhaps even a ring upon her finger? These are the very questions now fluttering through the minds of young ladies and their ever-watchful mamas, who may find their carefully laid plans to ensnare Lord Gojo dashed before the house party has even begun.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Gojo leaned back in his chair, fingers absentmindedly drumming on the armrest as he watched you fumble with the library door. The soft fabric of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder, a glimpse of bare skin catching in the dim light⸺something not lost to Gojo’s eyes as he watched your figure disappear angrily. Your face was flushed, eyes wide and uncertain. Despite the flurry of emotions playing across your features, what struck him most was the way your hands trembled as you fought to maintain composure.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. You had come here⸺of all places⸺into his sanctuary, and for what? A part of him couldn’t reconcile the image of you sneaking into the library in the dead of night with the proper, composed lady you portrayed during the day. The whole encounter felt surreal, leaving a knot of confusion coiled tightly in his chest.

His gaze lingered on the empty doorway after you vanished, a strange hollowness settling in his chest. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the feeling, but it clung to him like the shadows of the room. His fingers tightened around the armrest, knuckles whitening as if he could grasp onto something concrete⸺something that made sense. But all he was left with was the lingering echo of your footsteps in the hallway and the ghost of your flushed face in his mind.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. His mind kept returning to the way your nightgown had slipped from your shoulder as you fumbled with the door. The pale fabric had slid down so effortlessly, exposing the curve of your bare skin. It wasn’t scandalous, not really⸺not enough to warrant the way his thoughts kept circling back to it. And yet, he couldn’t shake the image, the unexpected flash of vulnerability. The sight of it stirred something in him, a quiet confusion that unsettled his usual composure.

What was it that made him notice? Gojo’s brow furrowed as he considered it, his fingers absently drumming on the armrest of his chair. He had witnessed plenty of women in far less modest circumstances (most of them courtesy of his friends, who forced him to go to ridiculous events), and yet, this felt different. There was something about the way you had tried to maintain your dignity, the way you had fought to compose yourself even as your face flushed and your nightgown betrayed you. It was... distracting.

The memory of your fearful expression gnawed at him. He had expected haughty arrogance or calculated charm, not genuine fear. You weren’t like the people who usually surrounded him, playing their part in society's grand performance, all vying for his attention. There was an intelligence in your eyes, a spark that made him feel something unsettlingly close to admiration.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it matter that you were different? Why did he find himself enjoying your company, despite the fact that you seemed entirely uninterested in his? He drummed his fingers against the armrest, contemplating the possibility of pursuing you for the rest of the season⸺though he quickly dismissed the thought. You were uncooperative, difficult. A chase after you would be nothing short of exhausting. 

And yet...

His attention shifted back to the desk, to the scattered papers you had left behind. Gojo reached for them, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the parchment as though handling something fragile. The numbers and diagrams were a mess of scribbled notes, and yet, they held a strange familiarity. His brow furrowed as he traced the lines with his eyes, piecing together the fragmented calculations. Then, like a puzzle falling into place, it clicked.

Venus. Of all things, you had been calculating the size of Venus.

Gojo’s hand froze midair, hovering over the papers. He blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He had assumed⸺no, expected⸺you to be reading some frivolous romance, a book about love and passion, something fitting for a young lady sneaking into a library. But instead, you were working on complex celestial calculations.

He had pegged you for a typical young lady of the ton⸺someone more interested in the latest gossip or the affections of suitors than in the stars. It annoyed him, more than he cared to admit, that he had been wrong.

Gojo set the paper down, his hand resting on the edge of the desk as he leaned back in his chair. The flicker of irritation that sparked in his chest was unfamiliar, unsettling even. It wasn’t just that you had surprised him⸺plenty of people had done that before. No, it was the fact that he had misjudged you so completely. He prided himself on being perceptive, on seeing through people’s masks with ease. Yet here you were, slipping past his assumptions with nothing more than a few scribbled notes and a fleeting presence.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time in a long while, he felt uncertain. Gojo wasn’t used to feeling this way⸺unsettled, annoyed, and a little too curious for his own good. He tapped the papers lightly, lost in thought. What did it mean that you had gotten under his skin like this? That he found himself wanting to unravel the mystery of you, to see what lay beneath the surface of your carefully constructed facade?

A sigh escaped his lips, low and quiet. His hand finally left the papers, and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers he couldn’t quite grasp. The world around him was filled with people who either fawned over his charms or remained blissfully unaware of his true nature. But you? You saw right through him. You challenged him, unsettled him, made him question things he had never thought to question before.

With a final glance at the empty doorway, Satoru leaned forward again, ready to dive back into his work. But this time, his thoughts weren’t solely on his family’s ledgers. They were on you⸺and the undeniable pull that had started to form between you.

And inevitably, because Satoru is distracted, he lets the lull of sleep sneak up on him, swathing him in its deep, heavy blanket.

No, Satoru hears himself think. You’re not supposed to be here.

You’re sitting on his bed, somehow made it up to his chambers. A part of Satoru comprehends⸺in all his sleep-deprived glory⸺that he is definitely dreaming, but there’s an overwhelmingly stubborn part of him that dominates his entire consciousness, refusing to accept the fact. 

You’re leaning on your elbow, resting on your side on the foot of his bed. Part of him wants to believe that you are really here, sheer nightgown that seems to get shorter and shorter⸺slipping up your thighs⸺every time his consciousness paints an image of you. The sheer material drapes over your figure, accentuating the gentle curve of your waist and the fullness of your hips, painting a picture that torments him.

“My lord,” you whisper. 

It’s just his title, but your voice carries a sweetness it never holds in reality, dripping with an unfamiliar softness that makes Satoru’s heart lurch. Panic takes root, and he scrambles back, trying to distance himself from the fantasy in front of him. His back slams against the headboard as he fights to resist⸺not just you, but the part of himself that aches to abandon all notions of honor. That part of him that craves to do things to you that are anything but honorable.

Then, he notices your smile. It’s not the polite, practiced smile you show at balls or to suitors vying for your attention. This one is sincere, warm⸺a smile that speaks of affection, the kind you’ve never shown him before.

Like you are in love. 

And you are not helping Satoru in his restraint because you position yourself, crawling like a predator, straddling his lap. Satoru is suddenly breathing too fast, his chest tightening with the weight of desire and disbelief.

Your lips are at his ear. Your lips are so soft. “Touch me,” you say, trailing your lips down feather light across his jaw. 

Right now, you are in love. With him. You are his, and Satoru desperately does not want to fight it. 

He does not want to. 

Your hands start trailing down his torso, and now he registers that he is simply wearing a linen shirt and underwear because you are tracing the edge of his underwear, touching his inner thighs, getting so, so impossibly close to⸺

“No,” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut. “I am a man of honor.”

But that’s a lie. One that Satoru clings to, because admitting the truth would shatter everything he’s built. His identity, his values⸺they all rest on the lie he’s desperately trying to hold onto.

What he really wants is nothing between you and him.

He wants that flimsy nightgown gone, the one that barely covers your thighs and what lies between them. He wants to keep the candlelight burning so he can see every inch of you, learn every detail of your body. He wants to slip off your chemise and explore the softness of your skin, trace the swell of your breasts, the dip of your hips, and taste the sweetness of your lips.

Satoru can’t focus on anything except the fact you are utterly, scandalously close to him, sitting on his lap and staring at him as if you love him. 

And his treacherous heart wants to abandon duty, honor, the dukedom, the royal family⸺everything⸺and simply take you. To feel the weight of you pressed against him, wrapped around him.

But just as his hands move to cup your face, you start giggling. “No, you are not.”

Satoru blinks, confused.

You laugh again, light and teasing. “You are no man of honor.”

And suddenly, your laughter echoes in his mind, filling the room with its taunting melody. It etches itself into his thoughts, leaving an indelible mark.

“You are a coward.”

You entered the drawing room to break your fast, Choso by your side, and immediately locked eyes with Gojo, who was already seated at the table with his mother. He quickly looked away, focusing on the toast he was slathering with an ungodly amount of jam.

As you moved to sit at the table with Choso, you couldn't help but study him. Gojo appeared more disheveled than usual, perhaps a bit fatigued, though any sign of vulnerability quickly vanished when your mother spoke.

“Lord Gojo, it is a fine morning, is it not?” she inquired with her usual warmth.

Gojo smiled, leaning back in his chair with his characteristic nonchalance. “Indeed, Lady Itadori, especially as I am blessed with such lovely company as yourself and your daughter.” His eyes flickered toward you, an arrogant glint in them before they shifted back to your mother.

You and Choso exchanged exasperated glances. 

Your mother chuckled, clearly charmed. “Oh, my lord, you flatter me. Tell me, what do you favor for breakfast? I am always curious to hear of others' preferences.”

“Clearly, it is toast drowned in enough jam to satisfy an army,” you muttered under your breath, delicately spreading butter onto your own toast.

Gojo’s eyes flashed, and he couldn’t resist a retort. “At least I do not indulge in something as dull as butter.”

You stiffened. “Butter is far superior to such overwhelming sweetness. Jam annihilates the taste of the toast itself, rendering it pointless.”

“And butter,” he shot back, “adds nothing but blandness. It is unremarkable, simple, and tasteless.”

A surge of heat rose to your face, ready to deliver another sharp remark, but before you could respond, Duchess Gojo’s lilting laughter filled the room. “Oh, my dears, what a lively couple you make!” Her tone was teasing, her eyes alight with amusement. “Such spirited conversation at breakfast⸺how delightful!”

Both you and Gojo stiffened, your faces flushing, though whether it was from irritation or something else entirely, you couldn’t say. You hastily turned your attention back to your toast, while Gojo busied himself with his tea.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together lightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Since we are all in such a lively mood this morning, I do believe a game of pall-mall is in order once breakfast is through. The garden is in full bloom, and the weather is perfect for it.”

Your mother smiled graciously. “A wonderful idea, Duchess. It has been some time since we last enjoyed a game.”

“Indeed,” the Duchess agreed. “And I daresay a little friendly competition will do us all good. What do you say, Lord Gojo?” She turned to her son with a knowing look. “I trust you are up for the challenge?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “I never shy away from a challenge, Mother. But do be warned, I have no intention of losing.”

“Confidence is a virtue,” you remarked dryly, reaching for your teacup, “but do not let it cloud your judgment. Pall-mall requires more than mere bravado.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Ah, a challenge from you as well. This shall be an interesting morning indeed.”

“Let us hope your skills in the garden match your flair for words, my lord,” you retorted, your tone light (for the sake of preventing your mother a heart attack) but your gaze to Gojo sharp. 

Duchess Gojo’s laughter rang out once more, her eyes gleaming with delight. “Oh, this will be most entertaining! Come now, let us finish our breakfast, and then we shall see who emerges victorious on the field.”

You took a sip of your tea, pointedly ignoring the way Gojo’s gaze lingered on you as you did so. The day had barely begun, and already, you felt the familiar tension of being in his presence. But if there was one thing you knew, it was that you wouldn’t back down from a challenge⸺whether at the breakfast table or in the garden.

Duchess Gojo clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now, we must let our diamond choose first. After all, she is the only lady participating today.”

You smiled warmly at her, a polite nod of appreciation. Gojo, however, frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced between you and the bag of mallets. “Are we not simply setting her up for victory?”

Turning to him with an innocent smile, you crossed your arms. “What’s that, my lord? Are you unable, as a man, to deal with the loss of your chosen mallet? I know some men depend heavily on certain familiars to win.”

Gojo held your gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he looked away. “Choose whatever you want. I will be sure to defeat you regardless.”

Duchess Gojo placed a warm hand on your back, encouraging you forward. “That’s the spirit, my son. Now, Miss Itadori, do choose which one you fancy.”

You approached the bag of mallets, your eyes scanning over the selection. They varied in subtle shapes and sizes, each one seemingly tailored for a different style of play. Your gaze settled on a mallet slightly larger than the others, painted a light blue shade. Its weight and shape seemed particularly advantageous for aim and control—perfect for directing the ball with precision.

As you picked it up, Gojo’s expression darkened, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes. “Of course, she chooses the best one,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well,” Duchess Gojo crossed her arms. “I suppose it’s only fair that you all let the lady go first.” She turned to you, nodding. “I will go join your mother for tea inside, my dear.” Winking, she adds, “Show these boys how real ladies do it.”

As the duchess took her leave, Choso, always the supportive brother, leaned over to you with a small smile. “Excellent choice, sister. Show them how it’s done.”

You gave him a grateful nod and positioned yourself for your turn. With a graceful swing, you sent the ball rolling smoothly across the lawn. Choso clapped in approval, but when you looked up, Gojo and Yuji were both glowering at you from the sidelines.

Gojo’s lips curled into a smirk, clearly not amused by your success. “Beginner’s luck,” he commented dryly. Yuji could only nod in mindless agreement to Gojo, and you graced him with a glower. Traitor.

Now it was Gojo’s turn. He stepped forward with confident ease, positioning himself with the mallet as though he had been doing this his entire life. With a swift, practiced swing, his ball shot forward and struck a target dead center. Yuji’s eyes sparkled with admiration, practically beaming at Gojo’s skill.

Choso and you exchanged petulant glances, unimpressed by Gojo’s display. But Yuji’s excitement only grew, and he couldn’t resist praising his mentor. “Incredible, my lord! You never miss!”

Choso’s turn came next. With a focused look, he lined up his shot and knocked Gojo’s ball right out of position, sending it tumbling off course into a forested area. Gojo let out a forced laugh, masking his irritation as best as he could, and you clapped and let out a small, petty giggle. “Good shot, brother! I fear Lord Gojo will have to travel much distance to retrieve and get it on course.”

You would come to bite your words.

When it was Yuji’s turn, he aimed with all his might and sent your ball flying out of position. You gasped in outrage, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, you will pay for this.”. 

Gojo, on the other hand, gave Yuji a hearty pat on the back, beaming with pride. “Well done, Yuji. Well done.”

It was now your turn, and you stomped your way towards the forested area where you and Gojo’s balls had traveled towards. Soon enough, Gojo was following after you.

The path was shaded by trees, and the coolness of the forest was a welcome relief from the heat of the sun. You could help but give each other glares until you finally broke the silence.

 “How dare you bewitch my brother into turning against me?” you accused him, stepping over a stray root.

Gojo rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “It appears that Yuji’s blood is indeed not thicker than water,” 

 “Or maybe⸺just maybe⸺your charm isn’t as infallible as you think.”

Keeping pace beside you, Gojo scoffed. “And yet, here you are, still engaged in conversation with me. I must be doing something right.”

You shoot him an angry sideways glance. “I’m only here because my ball is, unfortunately, in the same direction as yours. Nothing more.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so it’s mere coincidence that fate keeps pulling us together.”

“More like unfortunate circumstance.”

The two of you continued bickering as you searched for your wayward balls. The back-and-forth banter echoed through the forest, neither of you willing to back down.

Finally, you spotted them⸺your ball and Gojo’s⸺resting precariously on top of a narrow stream of water. You both halted, glancing at each other, and then, without a word, you raced forward.

Gojo reached the water’s edge first, but you weren’t far behind. Neither of you hesitated as you waded into the shallow stream, your focus entirely on retrieving your respective balls. The bottoms of your clothes became soaked in the cool water, but neither of you paid it any mind, too busy grappling to reach your goals first.

Just as you managed to scoop up your ball, your dress snagged on something in the water. You stumbled forward, colliding directly into Gojo, who had just retrieved his own. The sudden impact sent both of you toppling into the water.

You landed squarely on top of him, the shock of the fall leaving you momentarily dazed. Gojo blinked up at you, his breath catching as his gaze dropped to your now-dampened bodice, honing in on your bosom. For a moment, his usually sharp and calculating eyes softened, confusion flickering across his face as if he didn’t quite understand the effect you were having on him.

You scrambled to find your words, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t mean to⸺”

Before you could finish, Gojo gently grasped your shoulders and helped you off of him. He stood up first, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he brushed off his wet clothing and offered you a hand. You took it, steadying yourself as you rose to your feet.

Gojo swallowed hard, clearly at a loss for words. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then quickly closed it, shaking his head. “I must go,” he muttered,.

Without another word, he turned and left, leaving you standing there in the stream, confused and flustered as you watched him disappear into the trees.

“I am not impressed.” Nobara impassively stares you down with a glower.

You fluttered your fan, maintaining a delicate air of mock innocence. “Whatever do you mean, my dear friend?”

The two of you sat at a small table on the terrace, its stone surface warm from the midday sun. Before you, the expansive field served as Gojo’s personal training ground, scattered with targets and archery equipment. Gojo and his protégé, Yuji, had clearly been at it for hours, their bare skin glistening with sweat under the relentless sun. They moved with a practiced ease, their focus entirely on the task at hand.

Gojo was currently demonstrating a particular stance to Yuji, his voice carrying faintly over the terrace as he corrected the younger man’s posture and grip. Yuji, ever the diligent student, watched him with an intensity that bordered on awe. You couldn’t help but reflect that his expression now⸺determined and assured⸺contrasted much with his encounter with you at the game. 

Nobara’s eyes narrowed as she regarded the scene. “Why are we here?” she asked flatly, her gaze lingering on the two men.

You turned to her with a smile, fluttering your fan with exaggerated elegance. “Why, to record in my journal, of course. One must capture the beauty of Mother Nature when it presents itself so generously from this terrace.”

Her expression remained unimpressed. “Is it truly Mother Nature that has captivated you, or Lord Gojo’s bare skin?” She glanced down at your unopened journal, its quill resting untouched beside it. “And how much progress have you made in this recording of yours?”

You couldn’t suppress a laugh, caught in your own half-hearted excuse. “Well, even you cannot deny that he presents a rather fine figure, can you? And I will get to my writing in due time. Inspiration must first strike, after all.”

Nobara sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “I cannot fathom how you find pleasure in looking upon a man who has caused you so much distress. Many times, in fact.”

You glanced back toward the field, watching as Gojo effortlessly pulled back his bowstring, the muscles in his back rippling with the movement. His form was impeccable, each action a demonstration of his skill and strength. Yuji, in contrast, struggled to replicate the motion with as much ease and accuracy, though his determination was evident.

"He’s clearly enjoying himself," you commented dryly, turning your attention back to Nobara. "Torturing me, that is. I might as well make due of my harrowing and demeaning stay here and enjoy some aspects of Gojo. I swear, he delights in the fact that I’m stuck here."

Nobara’s eyes narrowed, and she snorted. "Oh, absolutely. Men like him don’t get much amusement in life unless it involves making someone else miserable."

You shook your head, remembering the library encounter all too vividly. Gojo had seemed genuinely surprised to find you there, and yet he had taken to taunting you with his usual smugness. That infernal smirk of his had been etched into your memory.

"I almost wonder," you mused, "if he was actually shocked to find me in the library. Perhaps I caught him off guard for once."

Nobara raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing? Looking for a book on how to survive insufferable dukes?"

You chuckled softly. "No, I was reading about Venus, actually. But Gojo⸺he assumed I was indulging in some silly romance. Imagine his surprise when he realized I was working on calculations instead."

Nobara’s lips twitched upward in amusement, but before she could respond, a loud thud! echoed across the terrace. Both of you looked down just in time to see Gojo's arrow hit the target dead center.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he would show off. That insufferable man never missed an opportunity to flaunt his skills. Yuji, predictably, looked like he was about to faint from admiration.

Gojo notched another arrow, his back muscles rippling as he drew it back with practiced ease. His abs tightened with the effort, and though you told yourself you were merely observing his technique, your gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. The tautness of his form was, undeniably, impressive.

“It is a shame,” Nobara remarked, her voice breaking through your thoughts. “He does present a rather fine figure. If only his character matched his appearance.”

You blinked, realizing that your gaze had lingered on him for far too long. “What?”

Nobara glanced at you, her expression half-amused, half-pitying. “I merely observe that if his manners were as well-formed as his physique, he might be a most agreeable companion.”

You opened your fan again, waving it lightly in front of your face. “Perhaps. But we both know that appearances can be deceiving.”

Nobara’s expression turned serious as she looked at you. “You must find yourself a husband who is both well-formed and well-mannered, my dear. Else I shall be forced to gouge out my eyes every time I am called to attend on you.”

You sighed dramatically, closing your fan with a soft snap. “Whatever you say, Nobara.”

Yet, even as you dismissed her words, your gaze drifted back to the field. Gojo was a puzzle, indeed. And whether you liked it or not, he had captured more of your attention than you were willing to admit.

Satoru is sweaty and hot, and therefore he must rush back to take a cold bath. 

The weather is quite warm, he must admit to himself. Teaching Yuji had been nothing sort of pleasurable; the boy’s physical prowess was quite impressive, and he learned things very, very fast. If Yuji were to keep learning and working on his skill, he would easily be up to Gojo’s level or even surpass him. 

As he climbs up the stairs to the terrace, he wipes his brow, which has budded with sweat. When he crosses a table that overlooks the field, he notices a book. His mother and him wouldn’t expose any books like this⸺a fine and intricate design covering the top⸺to the harsh, humid weather, so he picks up the book, frowning.

Frowning, he picked it up, curiosity getting the better of him. The book felt unfamiliar in his hands, and as he opened it, the words within seemed to swim before his eyes. Annoyed, he rubbed the sweat from his forehead and squinted, finally making out the fine, neat handwriting on the page.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

Satoru's eyes widened, and a flicker of intrigue sparked within him. He flipped to the next page, where the writing grew messier, more hurried.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

His eyes widened. If he had been intrigued before, now he was thoroughly captivated. This had to be you. His heart began to beat faster as he quickly turned to another page, where the ink was still fresh, and a pressed leaf lay nestled between the pages.

If I were to base my choice of husband solely on physical appearance, I must confess that Lord Gojo would be a most compelling candidate. However, to consider him without regard to his character would be a grave disservice to myself and to dear Nobara, who would bear the consequences of such a choice daily.

I hold out hope for a suitor with a similar strength of physique, one whose form displays power and grace, much like Gojo. His muscles, so clearly defined, speak of formidable strength and control—his back rippling with every pull of the bowstring, his breath labored as he steadies himself.

Alas, such attributes, though appealing, are not enough…

His fingers hovered over the delicate page, the words sinking in. A part of him wanted to laugh at your sharpness, your refusal to fall prey to his charms, but another part⸺one that kept resurfacing and resurfacing against his will, showing up even in his slumber⸺felt something else entirely.

…What a pity, indeed.

prev. the manor | next. the fall

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n i feel like the only important plot point in this chapter is that gojo is a boobs guy

sorry if this chapter was a little icky :( i prefered publishing this than having to subject my dear beta reader to having to edit this mess or even me having to think about it further. i will rest so that the next chapter is better <3 (lots of fluffy moments to come in the next one)

gojo when you spawned in his bedroom

will finally treat myself to answering asks after I wake up since i'm done with this dreadfull chapter <333 jesus it's 3am

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

TAGLIST

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Morning Glory - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

——

Summary: Spencer can’t sleep and decides to follow through on a previous conversation he had with reader.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: this is the first bit of smut i’ve written in 5 years so please be patient with me lol, gif isn’t spence but it’s too spot on not to use lol

TW: somnophilia, mild dubcon, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint, reader on top, afab reader

Rating: R, this is literally entirely smut so definitely 18+ only

——

Spencer stared up at the ceiling, the soft hum of the ceiling fan narrating the static in his mind. It was the first weekend the two of you had off in months, and of course his body decided to wake him up at 6 a.m. with no chance of falling back to sleep despite his desire to sleep in. He looked over at you fast asleep next to him, messy hair and quiet breaths, the picture of peaceful slumber. He’d be envious if he weren’t so in love with you.

Now, as he noticed the way your soft lips quivered with each breath, he thought back to a conversation the two of you had a couple weeks ago. You had woken up to the sound of muffled moans coming from your adjoining bathroom, and embarrassed the hell out of Spencer when he came out a few minutes later.

“I’d be more than happy to help the next time you have morning wood y’know.” You teased, making him turn bright red.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He sighed. You pulled him closer, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Who says you have to wake me up first?” You whispered in his ear, sending a shiver up his spine.

“Are you serious?” He asked, his curiosity peaked.

“The thought of waking up with you inside me is one of the hottest things I could imagine, I’m one hundred percent serious. I trust you Spencer.” You told him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

That was all he could think about now, and as his mind wandered his cock grew in his briefs, eventually becoming too hard to ignore.

He usually didn’t want to wake you when you ended up asleep on your back, knowing it’s the position you get your best sleep in, but you looked so heavenly like this, sleep shirt resting just above your navel, thighs parted just so, the soft light of sunrise illuminating your lace covered center. He simply couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He slipped his fingers just under the waistband of your panties, carefully pulling them down your legs and discarding them.

Spencer reveled in the sight of you, ethereal, all softness and warmth. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He gently pushed your thighs further apart with his forearms, while fingers traced the outline of your labia, studying every curve and contour of your cunt. He never had time to do this, you’d usually end up begging for him inside you before he had the chance to truly worship your pussy the way it deserved to be, but not tonight.

He parted your lips as his tongue met your clit, lapping gently at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You started to squirm, causing him to pin your thighs with his strong hands. His tongue laid wide laps through your cunt, dipping inside of your entrance momentarily before coming back up to suck on your clit, plush lips coated in your growing arousal.

Once he had you well and worked up he brought his hand to your entrance, index finger pushing slowly into your plush warmth. He curled his finger, searching for that soft spot that makes you melt. He added his middle finger, your walls gripped tightly around them as he massaged the sensitive spot inside of you, drawing a moan from your sleep-laden lips.

As he lapped at your clit, tongue working in tandem with the rhythm of his fingers you began to stir, pleasure breaking through the sleepy haze as you felt the warmth in your center grow stronger.

“Spence?” You half-moaned, thought still slightly fogged but too worked up to care.

“Morning angel..” He responded, fingers still pumping inside of you as he watched your expression. Whimpers and sighs fell from your lips, brow furrowed as you stretched your arms, shaking the sleep off so you could intertwine your fingers in his hair.

“Don’t stop.” You begged, bucking your hips ever so slightly. Spencer lifted your legs, placing your thighs over his shoulders to properly dive into your heat, lips sucking at your clit until your thighs were shaking, pressure building by the second. He added a third finger, stretching you out before curling them again, waves of pleasure washing over you as the coil finally snaps.

“Spencer!” You cried, eyes glazing over as your back arched, thighs closing around his head, holding him to you as he worked you through your high. He slowed his movements, helping you come down before pulling back to look at you.

Your chest heaved with each labored breath, trying to draw air back into your lungs.

“You okay baby?” He asked quietly, rubbing your inner thigh. You nod, sleepy smile forming between your flushed cheeks.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask once you’ve caught your breath fully.

“Correct, and I couldn’t think of a better way to tire myself out.” He laughed, moving up to lay beside you. You turn to him, hand palming his cock through his underwear.

“And how did that work?” You asked, watching the way his features contort as you stroke him.

“Still w-wide awake.” He breathes, stuttering as you pull his underwear down, his cock smacking against his stomach. He kicked off his underwear, watching as you move to straddle him.

“Well now I am too, so let me take care of you.” You tell him, aligning his leaking tip with your entrance before slowly lowering yourself until your hips are flush with his. You start grinding against him in a moment of self indulgence, eye fluttering shit as you indulge in the way his cock stretches you out just right.

Spencer finds his hands working their way up your shirt, grazing over your sides before pulling the fabric up to expose your breasts. His mouth quickly finds one of your nipples, licking and sucking the sensitive bud while his large hand palms your other breast. He’s hungry, desperate for more but doesn’t want to rush you, loving how heavenly you look when your mind is lost in pleasure.

You eventually snap back to the goal at hand, bracing your hands on the headboard of the bed for better leverage as you start to move up and down, bouncing yourself as steadily as you can on Spencer’s cock. He moans against your chest, his free hand moving to rest on your hip to guide you as best he can. You find a comfortable pace, angling your hips to hit that soft spot inside of you as you lose yourself in the rhythm.

You can see he’s starting to unravel, his grip on your hip tightening, his face flushed and his sudden inability to withhold his grunts and moans.

“You’re doing so good baby, look so pretty riding my cock.” He groans, watching you with such intense adoration.

“Wanna make you cum Spence.” You whine, feeling your thighs start to burn from the constant movement. He wraps his arms around you to pull your chest against his, his hands kneading your ass as he guides your hips up and down just a little quicker. The closeness is almost too intense, warm, slick skin on skin, you can feel another orgasm building as his cock begins to twitch inside of you, his coming on just as fast as yours.

“Please cum in me.” You pant, hips moving desperately as you chase your high.

“Greedy girl.” He teases, his hips meeting yours with each thrust.

“Please please please!” You beg, teetering on the edge of your collapse.

“Take it angel, all yours.” He grunts, cock twitching inside of you as you feel strings of warmth coating your walls, the sensation finally giving you the release you need. Your eyes glaze over as your thighs shake, nearly collapsing on top of Spencer as you see stars.

When you come down Spencer is pushing your hair away from your face, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead before shifting his weight to lay the both of you down. You lay on your back for a moment, letting your body relax before turning to face him.

“Sleepy yet?” You ask, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know, might need another round.” He jokes, smiling softly.

“We’ll see about that, I’ll be back in a minute.” You reply, giving him a kiss on the cheek before getting up and walking to the bathroom.

When you finish and head back into the bedroom, Spencer is fast asleep, just as you suspected he would be.

——

Taglist: DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist :)

[senmiyaazx]

Hi! If that's ok could i request Sol with a reader that does not fuck around? Somebody bothering? They're already swinging before the mf can finish the sentence. Someone following them? They're pulling out the hammer out the purse and start charging the person. And pretty much anything in their hands becomes a weapon.

Just curious to see his reaction lol

oo this is an interesting scenario especially in the library scene

SOL X GN READER

cw: guess what! not proofread. reader is lowkey a menace. violence obviously, but it's not that detailed.

The first time you and Sol met was a surprise. He was getting beat up, not wanting to cause a scene in the library and he's outnumbered.

Until you appear from the corner and start roundhouse kicking these bastards like stirring coffee. On top of that, you weren't even that hurt after dealing with those two bullies! Well, aside from the bruise on your cheeks.

Sol was already in love with you before, but when you held your hand out to him with a charming smile on your lips he fell harder, if that was possible. (He's already signing the marriage papers)

Since then, you've become something like Sol's protector? Sol can defend himself perfectly fine. He gets into fights all the time, it's nothing new to him. But he's absolutely smitten when you do it nonetheless, rolling your sleeves up the moment you even see someone looking at Sol the wrong way.

While your feistiness provides good benefits, such as being able to defend yourself even when he's not there, Sol wishes you could.. tone it down a little. He doesn't want you to get hurt that often. Because he'll deal with the other person one way or another. Or risk yourself hurting the wrong person (Someone from a higher class) and that wouldn't do you much good, wouldn't it?

He's happy he has such a strong and brave darling though. His eyes are filled with hearts as you walk through the hallways with your head held high and some students who recognize you scramble to get out of your way in fear of getting on your nerves.

And he loves you. He really does. But please put that hammer away— where did you even get that?! — he wasn't following you! He was he just so happened to be in the same place as you. Geez, you're scary when you get mad.

A little cute too when you furrow your brows at him, telling him to be more careful around you. Sorry pumpkin, he can't resist you.

He realized quickly you're lowkey a hazard to people when you ask him for his least favorite pen in art class and proceeded to nearly hospitalize someone who disrespected you, with it. You obviously get in trouble afterwards, but the uncaring grin you send him made his heart stop for a moment.

"Least no one's gonna bother us now." You say after getting lightly scolded by Sol.

He's pretty sure you noticed the way his cheeks flushed at that.

Since then, he makes sure you're not within any objects that could harm people. Even something as silly as a ruler. (He's seen the way you sent someone to the clinic with a book. He's not taking any risks)

Eventually, whether he does it consciously or not, he ends up protecting other people from you instead of the other way round. Sol doesn't know how it happened or when he started to give his scariest glare to anyone who even thinks about approaching you with malicious intent. It's a win-win for him. He gets to spend more time alone with you and he prevents other people from earning your wrath! The only problem is that he won't be able to do this when he's not with you.

Whatever. He hates to admit it, but hopefully that Crowe dude handles you as well as he does.

And he trusts you, too. He knows you have a goal in mind for this school and he knows you won't get yourself in enough trouble to get expelled. There are.. simply some times where you can't help but put people in their place. Which Sol respects a lot.

That doesn't stop Sol from getting paranoid, however. Oh well, at least he's the one who gets to patch you up after you get into another fight<3

[pintrestgrl]

you said angst so... jj x kook!reader JJs starts pushing pogues and reader away and when reader tries to get through to JJ, he says awful things to reader hitting her/them below the belt by bringing up her trauma and the fact she/they are a kook. maybe she completly ices him and the pogues out(bc the pogues forgave him) and start hanging out with kooks. maybe the topper/rafe/kelce trio to really drive home she doesn't care about them anymore. maybe she's even there when pope and jj get beat up? IDK i thought this up off the top of my head. i don't reader crying in the shower heartbreaking sob fest angst. also i left what her supposed trauma up to you bc i don't know how far you're willing to go with that.

-💐

okay i lied. i’m doing this one bc it intrigued me.. lol. but also hi 💐 anon !! ur not overwhelming me i love all the asks, it’s just a matter of energy lol. but love u !!

also prepare for this to be lengthy due to the thick plot, lol

i actually am proud of this and how i wrote it, i rlly like it 🥹.

i will get out more posts today, likely 2-3. 4 if i get drink an alani lmao.

mean!jj x sensitive!kook!reader.

you had always known jj, due to the small size of the island. however, you just started getting closer with him the past few weeks.

you had always seen into him more then others did, even from afar.

you noticed the bruises on his cheeks, and how they’d fade over the next few days. you noticed when he’d gotten a haircut, likely from john b. you didn’t know why, but you found him interesting.

you probably shouldn’t have, considering your brother — rafe, absolutely hated him. he was a bad kid, you always saw him getting arrested with the rest of the pogues.

the reason you two started getting closer, was due to a drunken hookup you had a misunderstanding on. clearly, he looked at it as any other girl he would hook up with, no feelings and not a thought about it again.

you however, looked at it way different. you really genuinely liked him, truly. you didn’t care about any of the bad rumors about him, you didn’t see him as just the bad. you saw the good too.

a few days ago, you went to the chateau to see jj. you hadn’t talked to him since the hookup, expect for minor greetings. you wanted to get to know him more. understand him, fully and completely.

it’s safe to say it didn’t go well. you sat him down, explaining how you really did like him. he listened at first, but as soon as you started trying to open him up, he immediately tensed.

you asked him about how come he always has those bruises on him, and where they’re from. he stood up immediately, scoffing at your attempt.

“you’re fuckin’ serious? you just came here to make fun of me?”

you shook your head quickly at his misunderstanding, explaining how that’s not what you meant at all.

“y’know, it’s not shit you would understand at all. you’re too much of a dumb pretty little ‘kook princess’ with no thoughts in her head to figure it out.”

you swallowed at his harsh words, tears filling your eyes. you opened your mouth to speak, but he just kept spewing more words out.

“ever think that’s why i didn’t talk to you after we hooked up? because we couldn’t ever be anything. i could never be with somebody like you.”

tears fell from your eyes at his words, trying to take deep breaths. you attempted to speak again, before he interrupted you.

“just save it, okay? go back to figure 8 where you belong.”

you let more tears fall, listening to him and gathering your stuff and leaving the chateau.

you walked home with tears down your face the whole time, thoughts stirring. was that really all he thought about you? just a kook who never had to worry about anything?

your tears eventually faded, feelings going numb from exhaustion.

when you got home, you pushed your way past your family, going upstairs to shower.

when you got in, you immediately broke down again. tears filling your eyes and streaming down your face.

you wanted jj to like you, you really did. but if he really had those thoughts of you, you needed to let him go. you couldn’t go on thinking about him, worrying, if your feelings weren’t reciprocated.

over the next few days, you left jj and every pogue alone. you noticed him around, though. you didn’t see the pogues around him, either. it seemed like he was avoiding them, just like you were avoiding him. he looked almost upset, everywhere he went too.

after a while, he got over whatever little mood he was in and you saw him laughing, running around with his friends again.

you however, were not over it. his words really hurt, and you couldn’t get them out of your head. but you knew you needed to give him the same treatment back.

so you decided to start hanging out with your friends too. you started going to the boneyard with topper, kelce, and rafe. you knew jj hated them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to show any care if you weren’t receiving any.

you left him alone for a while after that, silently thinking and worrying about him in your head instead.

you opted for watching from afar, both of you making awkward eye contact at times.

you still wondered where those bruises came from, and if you would ever know at all.

[chukys-mouthguard]

Kinda Tempting

Genre: a big mixed bag of all the things

Word count: 4.4k

Featuring: Mat Barzal x female reader x Matthew Rempe

Warnings: cheating, secret relationship

Summary: you recently left your position as the media manager for the Islanders behind, along with your boyfriend Mat Barzal, for a position with the Rangers. And their new rookie Matthew Rempe causes quite the stir both on the ice and off

Author’s note: I rewrote this like 4 times…hopefully it’s good. This will be a little series, so things should pick up. I feel like establishing background and stuff is always hard. Hopefully you all like this? And I’m sorry I literally picked two guys named Matt, could I have made that any harder on me and you lol

If someone told you that you’d be working in the NHL while also dating one of the hottest stars in the league, both in skill and looks, you would’ve never believed them. But here you were. The head of the media team department for one of the biggest teams in sports, and also the girlfriend of none other than Mat Barzal. 

The two of you met during your first season leading the media department for the New York Islanders, and you made it your mission to get him to not hate doing the stupid challenge videos and dumb quizzes that every team made their players do. And by the end of that season he’d become a pro, eventually fessing up that he only enjoyed seeing you pop up with your iphone because he knew it meant an excuse to see you.

Now it certainly wasn’t a walk in the park getting the stamp of approval from the organization, but Mat reassured you he wouldn’t let you get fired over it. And they eventually came around to the idea, only for you to get a job offer from their rival New York Rangers 2 seasons later. Despite the move from Elmont to NYC only making your distance roughly 2 hours depending on the day, it had proven to be difficult on the two of you. Your schedules never the same, not even enough for phone calls or facetimes. Sometimes going months without seeing one another. 

Thoughts plaguing your mind on whether or not he still loved you, if he’d been seeing other girls behind your back. When you look as good as Mat Barzal it’s hard to imagine him not having tons of girls throwing themselves at him. You didn’t want to think of the worst, but you saw how other guys in the league made things work with their girlfriends, so why couldn’t he do the same with you. 

Luckily today was the stadium series game between the New York Islanders and the Rangers, meaning an opportunity to finally get to see your boyfriend after almost two months. And to say it was a big game was an understatement, you just hoped Mat would actually make time to see you, and reassure you that things were good between the two of you. 

You arrived to MetLife stadium a few hours early, the media grind keeping you on almost the same schedule as the players. Your first assignment of the day was documenting the debut of Rangers rookie Matthew Rempe, though looking at this guy you’d never guess he was a rookie. He’s 6 foot 8, literally towering over every guy on the ice, and probably off of it too. 

After he finished up a few interviews, you saw him making his way past the crowd of reporters, looking a bit lost as he scanned the faces around. You assumed looking for you since he’d be told ahead of time he had media content to film today. 

“You must be Matthew Rempe.” You walked up to greet him and he smiled down at you, “How’d you know?” Eyeing him up and down you rolled your eyes as if he was someone easy to miss or not notice. “Let’s see, all the headlines talking about a 6 foot rookie debuting for the Rangers, I’d say that was the giveaway.” The two of you laughed as you started down the hall, walking towards the Rangers tunnel that led to the ice. “I’m sorry I didn’t even introduce myself, my name is y/n. I’m the media manager for the Rangers, and unfortunately for you, you’re gonna be seeing a lot of me this season.” 

The rookie simply smiling down at you as you two walked together, “something tells me I might be okay with that.” Fighting the blush that threatened to grace your cheeks, you continued on explaining what it is he’d be filming. He listed to you explain things somewhat, but then he sort of zoned out. Paying too much attention to your smile when you laughed, the excitement in your voice when you talked about your job. Not to mention he was taken aback at how beautiful you were. Your hair failing perfectly over your shoulders beneath your Rangers beanie. He was captivated by you, but tried to keep his cool. 

“Okay, so we are gonna do just a little introduction. Whatever you feel like saying, introduce yourself, tell us where we are, all that fun stuff.” Rempe quickly snapping back to reality, stopping at where the tunnel began to open up to reveal the stadium. He simply followed your lead, waiting as you took out your phone and cued him to start whenever he was ready. 

“Hey Rangers fans, it’s Matt Rempe here. Getting ready to make my debut at the Stadium Series here at MetLife. It’s time to bang some bodies and bring home a win!” He pumped his fists as he emphasized his final words for the camera, you signaling that was a great take. Next, moving over to the bench to do a couple sit down questions. 

“Perfect, you are really a natural Matthew. I’m impressed! It took some of the other guys years to get comfortable with doing all the media stuff.” He smiled as he stood up, once again towering over you. “Well you made it really easy, made me feel comfortable and all the nerves went out the window.” 

“Well good! I’m gonna go edit this now and we will probably have it posted within an hour, just in case you wanted to see it.” “Oh perfect,” Matthew began reaching into his pocket before pulling out his phone, “can you text me once it’s up?” You took his phone, not thinking anything of it, you had plenty of his teammates phone numbers. It becoming a thing for guys to want to send embarrassing clips of each other for their group chats. “Sure thing, there you go! Shoot me a text so I have your number and I’ll get you the link as soon as it’s up.” 

You smiled as the two of you headed up the tunnel, some of the islanders players making their way out to see the ice. The second you saw your boyfriend’s face walking toward you, all of your professional game day demeanor went out the window and you took off running.

As you took off up the tunnel, Matthew was a bit confused, not realizing what was going on, he continued walking as his eyes followed you. Soon seeing you jump into the arms of Mat Barzal from the Islanders. His heart sunk a bit, of course she’s not single, he sighed to himself as he pulled out his phone. Trying to not seem so awkward when he walked past the two of you kissing. Flashing a smile when you mentioned that you’d text him after you finished editing the things you two just filmed. 

Why was he so shocked to see a beautiful girl like you dating someone? Maybe it was shocking that you were dating one of the top guys in the league, who also happens to be on one of the Rangers rival teams. He’d felt a bit foolish for thinking that a girl like you would not only be single, but ever give him, a rookie, the time of day like that. Heading into the locker room, he threw on his headphones and started to get zoned in for the game. 

 It had been about a month since you’d seen Mat, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. He smiled at you as he braced for your hug, cutting it short before giving you a quick kiss. “Mat, come on, it’s been almost two months. Aren’t you happy to see me?” He nodded to his teammates to walk without him as he stayed back, “yeah of course I am, but I’m also trying to get focused. I’m sorry I’m not jumping up and down like you.” His laugh caught you off guard, as almost if he was making fun of how excited you were to see him. 

“Sorry for being happy to see my boyfriend. Well go get focused, I don’t wanna be a distraction to you” Dropping his hands you’d pushed past him, doing your best to hide any emotions you had and ignore the feeling of just wanting to cry. 

“Y/n, babe come on don’t be like that!” 

Mat stood in the tunnel yelling after you, but he didn’t bother to chase you. Knowing it wasn’t the time or place, though when was the time and place for you two anymore? 

Finding a warm area tucked away at the stadium, you took out your laptop and started editing, anything you could do to get your mind off of Mat and how annoyed you were. . 

Beginning to edit the footage you took of Matthew, a smile crept across your face. Everything about Rempe was infectious. His thick Canadian accent as he spoke made you laugh. The little phrases and things he’d say when he got excited about the game and this opportunity. Pulling out your phone, you shot him a text, not sure if he’d respond since he was probably getting warmed up. 

“Soooo, when is it considered too early to make Matthew Rempe, let’s bang some bodies merch? Lol” 

Sitting in his stall, Matthew heard a quick ding over his music, slightly cursing at himself for not turning his phone on do not disturb. He had been getting tons of texts from friends and family about his debut, and while he appreciated it, they were distracting for sure. He went to simply swipe the text away, figuring he’d respond later. But he stopped as he saw your name displayed on the screen. 

He chuckled to himself at the text, typing out a quick reply before heading off to stretch with some of the guys. 

“Ehhh, not sure how entirely appropriate the merch would be. People who weren’t in on it may think it’s like a sex joke or something.” 

Finally seeing a reply from Matthew you laughed out loud, quickly typing a reply before you put the finishing touches on your social media post. 

“Oh lord I can see the headline now, Rangers merch sales at an all time high after rookie proudly endorses banging bodies.”

As soon as you got your content edited and posted, you shut your laptop and got everything packed back into your bag. Deciding you were in desperate need of caffeine if you were somehow gonna make it to game time. The Rangers kept a stash of energy drinks in their locker room, half the time you swore just for you because you never saw the guys drink them. 

“Oh no, here she comes! She’s gonna ask us to do a tik tok!” Vinny Trochek calling out to the guys playing soccer and they all pretended to scatter. Being the media girl the loved giving you a hard time, but you knew it came with the territory. “Very funny Vinny, just wait until you see the embarrassing shit I’ve got of you ready to post!” 

Trochek making a face at you as you popped in the locker room to grab your drink. 

buzz buzz 

“You know, if you were sneaking in the locker room to try and catch a glimpse of me shirtless or something, you could’ve just asked ;)” 

Practically choking on your Celsius you wiped your mouth as you stared at the text you receive from Matthew. He truly was something else, his flirting not at all subtle. Though you didn’t mind, he was a ten for sure. Though you knew he probably was a player and had girls drooling over him. 

But after the not so warm greeting from your boyfriend, you welcomed a little flirting. 

Exiting the locker room you locked eyes with Matthew giving you a shit eating grin as you tried to hide the blush on your cheeks. He smiled to himself as he bit his tongue, turning his attention back to the guys as they finished up their game of soccer. 

The final horn sounded, ending one of the most exciting games you’ve seen in awhile. The Rangers somehow pulled out the win, coming back from down 3 goals to take the game in overtime. Rempe got his first fight in his NHL debut, and the media content you got from this game was endless. The thought of all the editing you’d have to do tonight buried in the back of your mind as you focused on trying to find something to eat in the catering area near the locker room. Lucky for you, some of the guys were always kind enough to set food aside for you, knowing you rarely ate when working the games. Not even by choice, but simply because you were responsible for catching anything and everything on camera and posting in real time. 

You munched on some french fries as you scrolled through the comments on your post of Rempe’s debut, laughing at all the girls drooling over him through their screens. Continuing your scroll you hardly noticed the scratched up knuckles reaching in to steal a fry. “Matthew Rempe how dare you!” 

He shot you a cocky grin as he tossed the fry in his mouth, “Sorry, I had to, you were asking for it.” Rolling your eyes you finished off the fries, then reaching for your bag only to be stopped by Matthew. “Here, as an apology for stealing a fry, let me carry this for you. It’s the least I can do.” Smiling softly you obliged, letting him hold the bag as the two of you headed towards the parking garage. 

“Oh, nice fight by the way. Didn’t feel like wasting much time huh?” He smiled proud as he shrugged, “Better to get it over with early, gets the nerves out you know?” 

As you approached your car, he pulled your bag from his shoulder. “Not seeing the boyfriend or anything?” Checking your phone, you’d never heard back from Mat whether or not he’d want to see you tonight. “Probably not, I’ve got a lot of editing to do and…” your voice trailed off as you tried to make up a believable excuse as to why your boyfriend couldn’t see you. To which Matthew saw right through, “I couldn’t help but notice the two of you earlier, trouble in paradise?” 

Letting out a huff you tossed your bag into your passenger seat as you laughed, “how much time you got Rempe?” An apologetic smile crept across his face as he saw you holding in a lot. He wanted to just hug you, let you cry if you needed to. He’d only just met you a few hours ago yet he felt like he was meant to. Like you needed him to come into your life and somehow make it better. “Well, my family is in town and I definitely have to see them. We are grabbing dinner. But, I can certainly make time later tonight?” Nodding your head you walked over to the drivers side of your car, Matthew offering a quick hug to you, sensing you needed it. Which you did, very much so. He closed the car door before leaning down and resting his arms on the frame as you started it up. “I’ll text you when I’m done with my family? Pinky promise.” He held out his pinky which was quadruple the size of yours, making you chuckle as you wrapped yours around it. “Don’t make me sit around my phone waiting for a text you don’t plan on sending Matthew Rempe.” 

He laughed as he walked away from your car, “you kidding? I’ve already got our conversation pinned in my messages!” Shaking your head you rolled up the window, pulling out of the garage and heading out on the traffic filled road for your drive home. 

As much as you loved your job, sitting on your couch and staring at the same repetitive clips of the Rangers for hours while editing really got old fast. Trying to fight your exhaustion you closed your laptop, pulling out your phone to try giving Mat a call. He texted you after the game, a half hearted apology that truly did nothing more than make you roll your eyes. 

Hey it’s Mat, I can’t come to the phone right now, leave me a message.

Typical Mat, phone on do not disturb after a loss, and you probably won’t hear from him until later or even tomorrow if he’s really in a mood. It had unfortunately become the norm, and while you hated it, you couldn’t say much about it. You did sign up for this somewhat when decided to date a NHL player, and one who happens to be one of the top names in the league. He bears a lot of weight on his shoulders from his franchise, and it’s been taking a toll on him for the last year or so. Spilling over to affect your relationship, though he won’t agree. He thinks things are as good as they’ve ever been. Despite the two of you barely speaking, rarely ever seeing one another now, and we won’t even talk about the lack of anything remotely sexual. Not even the occasional nude could get Mat going, so you’d stopped trying to change him. Accepting that maybe this was who he was now, but never building up the courage to just walk away. 

The buzzing of your phone in your lap snapping you from your sad thoughts, as a smile now appeared on your face after seeing Matthew’s name pop up on your screen. “Thank you for calling y/n’s phone, how can I help you?” Matthew chuckled on the other end of the call, “I am really hoping that y/n is available and still wants to talk to me after the long day she had? I might even have dessert that I am sure she’d love right about now.” 

“You want to come over?” Your tone sounding a bit more harsh than you intended, just a bit shocked that he was offering to stop by versus just talk on the phone or text. “Oh, um, I don’t know. You seemed a bit down earlier, and I just felt like you could use some cheering up. Plus you said it yourself, I’m gonna have to get used to spending time with you so might as well get a head start.” 

Before he could finish his sentence you’d texted him your address, telling yourself to say fuck it and have him come over. You refused to sit and sulk over your boyfriend any more than you already had. 

“Sweet, I’m only like 15 minutes away. Me and the cake will be there soon!” You cackled into the phone as Matthew quickly regretted his words, “I meant like the dessert, not my ass or anything. Oh god! Look I’ll be there soon okay?” 

Embarrassed, he hung up while you continued your laughter. Packing up your computer and cleaning up your place a bit, not sure where your sudden nerves were coming from. It’s not like Matthew would be expecting a five star mansion to be hiding within your small NYC apartment. And before you could double check the clothes you’d thrown on the second you got home, a knock came at your door. The last thing you expected when opening it was Matthew to now be in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair still somewhat damp from his postgame shower, looking even better than you’d remembered. To put in plainly, he looked hot. 

“I hope you like vanilla cake with chocolate frosting!” 

He beamed as he carried the cake inside, setting it on your kitchen island then taking in the apartment. Nodding in approval as you went to grab two glasses, offering water which Matthew kindly accepted. 

“So,” he started as he took a seat on your sofa, “cake first or did you want to tell me your life story to get that over with?” Grabbing the box of cake along with two forks, you took a seat next to Matthew before handing him the extra utensil. 

“How about both?”

“Okay so, why don’t you just breakup with him? I mean, I know that’s easier said than done, but you don’t seem very happy.” Playing with the hem of your sweatshirt as you finished telling Matthew the gist of your love story with Mat, and his reactions were all what you’d expected. “I don’t know, I mean, I love him. It’s not easy to break up with someone you love. And I keep telling myself it’ll get better.” 

“When? Once he wins a Stanley Cup and finally eases up a bit from his Mr. Perfect persona and attitude? How long is that gonna take?” 

He had a point, you truly had no clue when Mat would change and start being like himself again. You missed the karaoke nights with him and your friends, movie nights at your place, dinner dates, even just sleeping in the same bed as him. You missed him, but something tells you he didn’t miss you. 

“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole. Hell, I just met you like 10 hours ago yet somehow I am in your apartment sharing cake and talking to you about your relationship troubles. I don’t know how we ended up here but I’m not mad at it.” A smile crept on your lips for the first time in the past thirty minutes as Matthew rested his hand on your thigh. “All I’m saying is, if you were my girlfriend, I would’ve sprinted down that tunnel today to hug you and kiss you. I would’ve come to see you after the game no matter if my team won the game or lost by twelve goals. You’re beautiful, funny, super fucking talented at your job, and from the few hours I’ve been around you, I can see how amazing you are.”

You hadn’t noticed yourself tearing up until Matthew reached out to wipe your cheek. “I’m not trying to make you cry, now I feel bad. Should I make you laugh?” He pouted his lips at you, doing his best to earn a smile. 

“Like being so for real, if I was your boyfriend and I got to see you today after like a month, we would’ve had to go somewhere private at that stadium cause there’s no way I’m not getting my hands all over you the second I see you.” 

Shaking your head you grabbed the forks and cake box from the table, walking them all to the kitchen as Matthew laughed at his words, though not denying them. “Well, as amazing as that sounds, I couldn’t even tell you the last time Mat did any of that.”

Matthew practically choked on his water as you rinsed off the forks, “what?”, then putting them aside to dry. “Don’t tell me you haven’t even been having sex with him, he’s your boyfriend y/n! Like…is he gay?” 

“Matthew Rempe!” 

“I mean, I don’t know,” he shrugged as he joined you in the kitchen, “I’m trying to wrap my brain around how a guy could be dating a girl like you, and not be even having sex with her. Like I get the not seeing each other as much because of being in two different cities, the limited phone calls and stuff, but going months and months without sex!? I’m not trying to cause a stir in your relationship or come across disrespectful, but I would one hundred percent not be able to go a month without getting my hands on you and- actually, let me stop myself before I say some things I shouldn’t.” 

Your jaw practically on the floor as he retreated, quickly sipping his water so he didn’t have to speak. “No, actually I think you should continue. I’m kinda tempted to hear this.” You leaned back against the counter as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, a smirk on your face as you could sense Matthew’s nervousness with you getting closer to him. He eyes you up and down from behind his glass before that signature cocky grin crept across his face. His hands now on either side of your waist as he looked down at you. 

Everything in you was telling you to stop, to not let your interaction with Mat lead you to do anything you’d regret. But hell you’ve been in this cycle for months. Constantly waiting for the day your boyfriend starts acting like your boyfriend again. And you were also a woman with needs. If a 6 foot hot man in your kitchen wants to gas you up and show you what you’ve been missing, how are you to say no to that?

“Well for starters, I’ve been trying my best to not stare at your ass with these little shorts you’ve got on. Not to mention keeping my hands off your legs, which I can’t believe you were hiding underneath your jeans all day cause wow.” To say you were enjoying his compliments was an understatement. 

“Anything else?” 

His fingers now brushing your hair back from your face as he could see your breath catch in your chest, you were nervous. He could see it on your face, your heart telling you that it wasn’t a good idea. But your body language telling him that you’d been missing this. 

“I didn’t come over to do this, or fuck up your relationship. I promise you that. And if you want me to stop, I’ll respect that.” His hand cupped your cheek as he waited for your sign to stop, but nothing came. 

“I don’t think anything you do right now could fuck up my relationship any more than it already is.” You smirked as his lips finally pressed to yours, the butterflies in your stomach bursting as you brought your hands to his hair, deepening the kiss as he picked you up, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist. 

A laugh escaped your lips as you saw how high you were off the ground in his arms, joking that he could help you be able to clean the top of your fridge from up there. Matthew shaking his head as he brought your lips back to his. Only to be interrupted by your phone buzzing on the counter. 

“Oh shit, boyfriend’s calling.” 

You rolled your eyes as Matthew handed the phone to you, only to silence the call and toss your phone back onto the island. 

“Guess I’m a little busy right now.” 

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Benders | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: people are crazy, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 2370

A/N: I'm scheduling two of these today since this one's so short!! The Benders episode makes me really uncomfortable, tbh, so I kinda sped through it... lol

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and the boys sniffed out a case in Hibbing, Minnesota. A child had watched a neighbor get dragged under his car. When you spoke to the young boy, his mother didn’t seem to believe him at all. You decided to head to a bar to collect your thoughts and grab a beer. 

You and Dean played darts while Sam explained to you that his dad had earmarked this area due to the insane number of disappearances in this area. In the midst of his explanation, you realized you needed to change your tampon and hadn’t brought any into the bar with you.

“Dean, keys?” you asked.

He tossed them at you. "Why, you stealin' my car?"

“Gotta go get some girl stuff,” you responded.

“Gross. Don’t wanna know.” You knew he was kidding by the smirk on his face.

You scoffed. “It’s not gross, it’s natural! Asshole.” You shoved his shoulder playfully and headed out of the bar. On your way out, you heard a noise and stopped. You turned over your shoulder to the other cars lining the gravel parking lot, feeling uneasy. You pushed through it, deciding that it wouldn’t take you longer than two seconds to get back inside after you’d grabbed your products. 

You turned at another sound, hurrying over to the Impala. You reached into the trunk and grabbed what you needed. Before you could even turn back around, you were lying on the gravel out cold.

***

The next thing you knew, you jerked up in a metal cage covered with hay at the bottom. Your hair felt a mess, and the back of your head was tender from your fall. You looked to your left and noticed the guy you’d originally come to investigate the disappearance of asleep in the cage next to you. You scrambled to your feet, trying to kick the cage door open. Nothing was working.

Stirring in the cage next to you caught your attention. “You’re alive! You okay?” you asked.

Mr. Jenkins groaned. “Does it look like I’m doin’ okay?”

You stretched your neck. “Touché. Where are we?’

“I don’t know. The country, I think. Smells like the country,” the man responded.

“You’re Alvin Jenkins, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“I was lookin’ for you,” you told him.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Well, no offense, but this is a piss-poor rescue.”

You kept up your plucky attitude in spite of the sinking feeling in your stomach. “Well, my friends are out there right now, too. They’re lookin’ for us. So—”

“So, they’re not gonna find us. We’re in the middle of nowhere.” He nodded at the door of the building you were in. “Waiting for them to come back and do god-knows-what to us.”

“What are they? Have you seen them?” you asked.

He looked at you confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Whatever’s got us, what’d they look like?”

“See for yourself,” he said.

At that moment, the door opened and two men wearing black hats and coats walked in. One walked over to Alvin’s cage and kicked the side of it. Alvin moved back into the corner, yelling at them not to touch him as they entered the cage. Instead of doing anything to him, they just left a plate of food on the floor and left.

“I’ll be damned,” you said more to yourself than your fellow kidnappee. “They’re just people.”

Alvin looked at you like you were stupid. “Yeah. What’d you expect?”

You paused a moment. “How often do they feed you?”

“Once a day. And they use that thing over there to open the cage.” The man pointed at a panel on a post a few feet away.

“And that’s the only time you see ‘em?”

He shrugged. “So far. But I’m waitin’.”

“Waitin’ for what?”

“Ned Beatty time.”

“That's fucking gross, dude.”

“What do you think they want, then?”

You began trying to climb the walls of your cage to grab a long metal wire stretching from the top of the pole next to you to the ground. You got hold of it and began pulling down the wire. “Depends on who they are.”

“They’re a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks, if you ask me. Lookin’ for love in all the wrong places.”

You continued to pull on the wire, doing your best to hold yourself up, and it gradually began to detach from the pole.

***

Hours had gone by. You were still trying to pull the wire off; climbing back up and continuously slipping down the cage’s metal bars.

“Why don’t you give it up, sweetheart, there’s no way out,” Alvin told you.

“Don’t call me that!” You used your anger and frustration to finally tear the wire down. A piece of metal fell with it. “It’s a bracket.”

Alvin scoffed. “Well, thank God, a bracket. Now we’ve got ‘em, huh?” 

His cage suddenly swung open on its own. He scrambled out of it. “Maybe you knocked somethin’ loose.”

Your heart rate began to pick up. “I think you should get back in there, Jenkins. This isn’t right.”

“Don’t you wanna get out of here?” 

“Of course, I do. But that was too easy.” Your mind was going a million miles per minute.

“Look, I’m gonna get out of here, and I’m gonna send help, okay, don’t worry,” he assured you, turning for the door.

“I’m serious, dude! This might be a trap!”

“Bye, sweetheart.” He pushed the door open and left. 

“Jenkins!” you called. “Alvin! Dude! Come back!”

Moments later, Alvin’s former cage slammed shut. 

You shivered on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest in the center of the cage. You began to count the minutes going by. You counted all the way up to twenty minutes before you heard a distant scream from a voice that sounded a lot like Alvin.

Not even an hour later, another woman was dragged unconscious into another cage next to you. You watched her carefully until she woke up.

“You alright?” you asked her once she’d gotten a glimpse of her surroundings.

She turned her head to you. “Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at her. “Yeah…?”

“Your friends are looking for you.”

You laughed, relieved. “Thank god. Where are they?

“I, uh, I cuffed ‘em to my car,” the woman explained.

You sighed. 

Moments later, the door of the barn burst open. You couldn’t see who the figures were, but you backed up into the corner of your cage. Finally, Dean’s face came into view.

“(Y/N)?” 

You scrambled to your feet and grabbed onto the bars in front of him. “Dean!”

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, looking you over.

You shook your head.

“Damn, it’s good to see you," Dean breathed out.

You smiled at him and ignored the way your heart fluttered in your chest.

“How did you get out of the cuffs?” the woman in the other cage asked.

The older brother turned toward her. “Oh, I know a trick or two. Alright. These locks look like they’re gonna be a bitch.” 

“Try that box over there,” you suggested, pointing to the control panel.

“Have you seen ‘em?”

“Yeah, dude, they’re just people.”

“And they jumped you? Must be gettin’ a little rusty there, sweetheart.” 

“Shut up, asshole.”

Sam walked over to the control panel and started trying different buttons. “What do they want?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, that’s the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people, they’re just crazy,” Dean responded. He was still sizing up your cage, occasionally looking to the door to see if they’d been followed.

“See anything else out there?” you asked.

“Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden out back. Plates from all over, so I’m thinkin’ when they take someone, they take their car, too.”

“Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?” the woman in the other cage asked.

“Yeah, actually, I did.”

She seemed sad.

“Your brother’s?” Sam asked her, looking upset when she nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of those bastards,” Dean jumped back in. “This thing takes a key. Key?”

You shook your head, and the brothers set off to find it.

“Guys?”

They turned back to you. 

“Be careful.”

Dean nodded and left with Sam.

***

You abandoned your jacket and looked over to the woman in the cage next to you. “You hurt? Your face is all scratched.”

She shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Kathleen.”

“I’d shake your hand, but, uh—”

She laughed at your joke. 

“How’d you meet the guys?” you questioned after a moment’s silence.

“They came runnin’ up into my station. The pretty boy nicked an ID off another cop and was raving about some girl he needed to find. That was kinda my first hint that he wasn’t really a cop.”

Your stomach did a somersault. “He seemed worried about me?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Huh.” A silence settled over the two of you before you spoke again. “You said you had a brother?”

Kathleen nodded. “Riley. Disappeared about ten years ago. I’ve been looking for him ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” you told her.

She didn’t answer. The two of you sat in silence again for quite some time until the door reopened. You could tell it wasn’t the two brothers, though. This man was wearing a hat and a puffer vest and inserted the key into the panel.

‘Fuck,’ you thought and grabbed at the bracket that had fallen to the ground. The door to your cage unlocked and you backed up against the far wall.

The man in the cap opened the door and aimed his gun straight at you. You threw the bracket at his gun, knocking it off-kilter, and used that opportunity to lunge at the man. You tackled him to the floor and began fighting with him for his gun. Shots rang out three times as he attempted to shoot you in the midst of the struggle.

“You son of a bitch, let go!” you screamed. You twisted your body to where your foot was on his throat and leveraged yourself that way. You pushed your foot in one direction and pulled the gun in the other, finally managing to get the gun away from him. You hit him with the but of the shotgun thrice in the head, knocking him out cold. You tried to fire the gun at him, but it didn’t work

“Fuck.”

You quickly took the key from the man on the floor and unlocked Kathleen’s cage. She helped you drag the unconscious man into the cage and relock him inside. You then smashed the control panel with the gun to disable it and keep the man locked inside. 

You heard footsteps approaching the barn and ducked behind a bale of hay. You hadn’t been able to see where Kathleen had gone, and held your breath when you heard the door open.

“Lee!”

‘Oh, that was his name.’

“Where are ya? Lee!” A rough voice called again. “Damn it, Jared, get the lights!” 

The barn stayed dark despite the switch you could hear being flipped.

“They must have blown the fuse,” a second male voice said.

You could hear the men running in separate directions; one clambering up the ladder and the other going in the opposite direction of your hiding place. You suddenly heard Kathleen grunting and fighting one of the men before hearing a gun cock.

“Hey!” you called, jumping up from your hiding spot. You ducked quickly when the man fighting Kathleen turned to shoot you. A voice behind you groaned in pain after you’d ducked and you ran over to Kathleen and the man she was fighting. You jumped on his back and began strangling him in the crook of your elbow. Kathleen wrestled the gun away from him while he fumbled through fighting you. 

“(Y/N), drop!” Kathleen told you, and you listened just before she hit the man with the but of the shotgun. He collapsed to the ground and the two of you turned your attention to the older man on the floor behind you. 

You dragged the man over to Kathleen’s cage and locked him inside. Out of breath from lugging his heavy body, you turned back to Kathleen who was aiming her gun at the older man on the ground.

“I’ll watch this one. You go ahead.” 

You stared at her, motionless.

“Go ahead,” she urged you.

You sprinted out of the barn, trying to make sense of your surroundings. You found nothing but trees, dirt, and old cars. “Motherfucker.” You then heard a snapping twig coming from the woods before you.

“Hey!” you yelled. “Come out, motherfucker!”

“Whoa, whoa, (Y/N), calm down,” Dean told you, appearing with Sam from behind you.

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Dean!” You threw yourself into his arms and squeezed tightly. He hesitated for a moment, but hugged you back strongly. You reveled in the feeling of his touch before forcing yourself to break away. You turned to Sam and hugged him, thanking the boys for coming to find you.

A gunshot sounded before Kathleen emerged from the barn. “Where’s the girl?”

“Locked her in a closet,” Dean chuckled. “What about the dad?”

“Shot. Trying to escape.” She looked uncomfortable, but you took her word for it.

Later after you’d said your goodbyes to Kathleen, the three of you were walking back to the police station to get the car.

Sam walked a little in front of you and Dean.

“Never do that again,” the older brother told you.

“Do what?”

Dean muttered, “Go missin’ like that.”

“Aw, look at you.” You playfully pinched his cheek. “You were worried about me.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you vanish like that again, I’m not lookin’ for ya,” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you won’t.”

“I’m not.”

You giggled. “So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Just sayin’, gettin’ rusty there, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm

[delilaha]

Midnight Snakes

------------------------------------------------

Ponyboy wakes up in the middle of the night starving, and when he goes into the kitchen for a snack, he finds an unwelcome guest.

—————————————————————

Hi everyone! This is my first post on Tumblr. You can find more of my works on ao3, wattpad, and ff.net where I’ve posted a lot of other things (usernames are in the description). Unfortunately, if anyone here recognizes me from ao3, i’m currently on a 30 day suspension because of a requests page (which i literally took down in july) that wasn’t allowed to be up because it wasn’t an actual story. So i decided to start posting here as well! Everything i post will be put up on ao3 eventually, though <3

Also a little later on in the story there will be descriptions of a snake being killed so if you don't like reading that type of stuff (or just snakes in general) you probably shouldn't read this lol

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Ponyboy woke up in the middle of the night in his pitch black bedroom, the first thing he processed was the ravaging hunger in his stomach. And it wasn't the type of hunger you'd feel when you're just simply hungry after a long, few hours of not eating. It was that sharp, stabbing pain in your abdomen that makes it feel like something is about to explode if you don't get your hands on something edible in three seconds.

So Pony clambered out of bed, being careful not to wake Sodapop in the process, who was snoring away. He put his hands out in front of him, trying to avoid anything that he could bump into on the way to the door because his eyes hadn't adjusted yet and the room around him was still completely dark. He felt his way to the door and opened it slowly, slipping through the doorway because he knew if he opened it too much it would let out a loud creak and wake up the whole house. He shut it tightly when he got to the other side, satisfied when he didn't notice Soda's snores wavering.

Ponyboy then walked down the hallway, rather fast for someone who just climbed out of bed a minute ago. He cringed when he stepped on a creaky floorboard, squeezing his eyes shut and saying a quick silent prayer that it wasn't too loud. But Soda could sleep through a tornado if he was allowed, and it's not like Darry would crucify him if he caught Pony up looking for a snack. But they all know how grumpy he gets when somebody wakes him up when he doesn't need to be awake. It's almost funny really, and Soda and Pony love to tease him in the morning for it. But not so much in the moment.

He continued moving when he didn't hear anyone stir, sharply turning around the corner and into the kitchen, ready to feast on the first thing he could get his hands on.

Then, through the dim light of the kitchen, his eyes landed on the toaster. And suddenly, the thing Pony was really craving was toast. Something short to make and not necessarily loud either. Perfect!

Ponyboy walked over to the counter and pulled out two pieces of white bread from the little bag, placing them haphazardly on the countertop. He went to grab the toaster with two hands, to bring it out more from where it was pushed more towards the wall, when suddenly, his fingers grazed something that seemed to be coiled behind it. For a split second, he thought it was just the plug and was about to pull it out farther, until from the corner of his eye he saw the actual plug laying to the side of it through the darkness of the room, nearly falling off the edge of the counter.

This set off a million different alarms in his still sleepy mind, and he ripped his hands back immediately. Pony didn't feel anything move, but he swore he felt the scaley, thin tail of... something. He didn't even want to think about the possibilities of snakes right now. So instead, took two apprehensive steps to the side closer to the wall, and reached a little bit behind him to flick the light switch on.

He blinked rapidly to let his eyes adjust as light flooded the room, and caught sight of the toaster. It looked so innocent just sitting there on the counter, but he could've sworn there was something hiding behind it. After all, this wouldn't be the first time they've found scaly creatures in the house, especially around this time of year. But even then, it was usually just a common house gecko that sprints away at the speed of light if you even went near it. Ponyboy silently pleaded that it was just his imagination just playing tricks on him as he inched back towards the toaster, planning to snatch it away to reveal whatever's behind it.

When Pony stopped he was still relatively far from the counter, his arms elongated just enough to grasp the front sides of the toaster. He took a deep breath, and held onto it tighter, a little more at ease when he didn't see anything shoot out from behind it.

But that pinch of calm washed down the drain in an instant when he pulled away the toaster to reveal a dark brown colored snake, coiled in on itself. And huge, at that, despite the fact it was curled into a ball. Ponyboy just stood there and stared at it for a second as it lay unmoving, and he wondered, hoped even, if it could be dead. But all of the sudden, the toaster plug smacked the ground as it fell off the counter completely, causing the snake's head to shoot up from where it was buried in itself, and Pony flinched so hard he practically jumped.

'It's awfully ugly,' he thought as it stared at him for a second that felt like hours, its black, beady eyes, unblinking and unmoving. But obviously it woke up and chose violence because it quickly opened its mouth to bare its fangs and hiss, showing off the white of its mouth. Oh, God. A Cottonmouth.

Ponyboy dropped the toaster with a loud bang and let out a short, shrill yell when the snake's head snapped forward a few times, chomping it's jaw down as if it were imagining to be biting down on Pony's flesh.

In seconds, stumbling could be heard from one of the bedrooms, probably Darry's. His bedroom door slammed open and his heavy footsteps came running down the hallway. He practically skidded into the kitchen, hair tousled from sleep and muscles tense expecting to find an intruder. But instead, he found his baby brother shaking in his boots with the toaster at his feet, staring at something Darry couldn't see from where he was positioned.

"My God, Pony, what happened? It's three in the morning, what are you doing-" Darry began to lecture him, but cut himself short when he saw the limbless spawn of satan on the counter.

"Holy shit," Darry muttered under his breath, grabbing Pony's shoulder and taking him back a few steps.

"I was up looking for a snack and I found it behind the toaster... I'm sorry I woke you up," Ponyboy told him, voice shaking slightly and eyes blown wide, still fixed on the snake.

"Just.. okay, just stay put." Darry said, raking his hand through his hair. Pony nodded and started to chew on his fingernails, watching as Darry tried to inch past the snake to cupboards under the sink where the pots and pans were held. But the snake striked again, narrowly missing his forearm after it silently slithered to the edge of the countertop when he went to reach for the knob to open it.

This caused Darry to screech and fall back onto the ground, something that would've been funny if they weren't facing a deadly predator. The noise scared Pony out of his skin and caused him to scream too, possibly louder than the first time, as Darry scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the stupid toaster that was still on the ground. He grabbed Pony by the shoulder and dragged both of them back a few feet, watching as the snake slithered around the countertop.

Just as soon as they were back a safer distance, the familiar sound of a bedroom door slammed open and footsteps ran down the hall.

"What's going on?" Soda exclaimed, darting into the kitchen pretty quickly for someone who probably woke up literally ten seconds ago.

"There's a damn snake that nearly bit my arm off," Darry said, pointing to the snake on the countertop, the other hand splayed out in front of Ponyboy to keep him away from it. Darry looked away for one second to meet Soda's face, when suddenly, Pony let out a gasp.

"Look!" He said, pointing at the snake, which was starting to make its way off the countertop, half of its body dangling off the side. Darry whipped his head back to see the snake staring right at them, a murderous look in its small, black eyes, and its pink tongue sticking out every few seconds.

Darry was about to give up, he figured he could just hole him and his brothers up in his room for the night and call some guy to find it and kill it in the morning, until Soda shouted "I got it!" from behind them.

He was just hardly able to get him and Pony out of the way before all of a sudden, a random, white dinner plate was flung through the air and hit the snake head on. Glass shattered everywhere and the snake flopped to the ground instantly. They stood around in silence for a second, watching to see if the snake would make another move, but luckily it never did.

"Well, you're welcome," Soda spoke, posing with his hands on his hips like he just saved a baby from a burning building.

"Jeez, Soda, don't you think that was a little violent?" Pony asked, crouching down where the remains of the glass plate and snake lay, Darry following in suit.

"What? It was a quick death. Plus, he was threatening us." Sodapop said matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders.

"You still hungry?" Darry asked, flicking away a piece of snake carcass that was on the floor and smirked at Ponyboy, who grimaced and shook his head immediately.

No, he was definitely not hungry at all anymore.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: while trying to edit this, Tumblr thought it'd be cool to post it already instead of saving so good morning lol

part 7: the burning edge

word count: 1,263

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The meeting room was dimly lit, the remnants of smoke from cigars hanging thick in the air. The Blinders were scattered, slowly filing out, leaving Tommy standing at the far end of the room, his posture unyielding. The room felt quieter now that the chaos of business was over, and there was an underlying tension between you and Tommy that neither of you had addressed—until now.

You stayed seated at the long table, watching as the last of the family exited, the sound of footsteps echoing as they disappeared down the hall. The door shut with a soft click, leaving you and Tommy alone in the room.

Tommy didn’t immediately move, his hands resting on the back of his chair as he stared out the window, his silhouette framed by the fading light of dusk. You felt the weight of the question on your tongue, the curiosity gnawing at you, but it was more than that. There was an unease in the air, a shift in the way he'd been looking at you lately. He looked, he stared. He'd speak but it was to the air until his eyes found you again.

“You’ve got something to say, then?” Tommy’s voice cut through the stillness, low and measured, though you knew he’d been waiting for you to ask.

You rose from your seat, making your way toward the window. He didn't stir when you were mere inches away, his eyes fixated on your reflection in the glass as he anticipated the approaching scent of your perfume that would eventually reach him.

“I’m curious,” you began, your voice cool but direct. “What made you follow Finn to the shop the other day?”

Tommy didn’t turn, but his posture stiffened slightly. You watched his reflection—just as he did to you, his sharp profile unreadable.

“Blame it on curiosity,” he replied, his words clipped, “Nothing more.”

You chuckled softly. “Curiosity,” you repeated, though the word didn’t sound convincing coming from him. “Is that all?”

When he finally turned, his eyes met yours with an intensity that spoke volumes. There was something raw behind them, a complexity that went beyond the cold calculations he was known for.

“I’m not used to not knowing,” he said quietly. “Not about people who are close to me.” His gaze flickered, just for a second, but it was enough for you to notice.

You stepped forward, your eyes locking with his. “So, were you worried about Finn? Or worried that I would do something to him.”

Tommy let out a soft, bitter laugh, the sound not quite like his usual humor. “Worried about Finn? No.” He straightened his posture, his voice tightening, “But I am worried... About what you're saying to him. For all I know, you're filling his head with the kind of nonsense that requires years to erase.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but you didn’t back down. “And what nonsense is that?”

He paused, his jaw flexing as he glanced away, as if struggling to find the right words. “He’s young, unpredictable. These stories you tell him—however mundane they may be—it pulls him away from the business. Too easy to get distracted.” He stepped closer, his presence suddenly more imposing. “You’re not exactly what he’s used to, and, naturally, that makes me suspicious of you.”

You felt the weight of his scrutiny, but instead of faltering, you met it head-on. “Suspicious, I see. You know, if I wanted to manipulate your brother and carve him from the Shelby family business, I would have by now.”

“I think you’re too good at making people forget things." Tommy’s expression darkened, though he didn’t take his eyes off you. "You might not be filling his head with the concept of a better life, but any time the weight of responsibility is lifted from our shoulders, we are vulnerable. Don't make yourself a liability. I can't afford to lose your services, but—should you give me no choice—I will happily sever our ties. And you can be on your way.”

You approached him slowly, your heels clicking methodically with heavy steps. “And you? What about you, Tommy Shelby? You're smarter than that. You should know better."

"And what should I know?"

You pressed in closer until you could feel the burn of whiskey from his breath on your cheeks. "You should know—should, but perhaps you don't—that even if I did choose to 'fill his head with the concept of a better life,' it is because he already sought it out. That seems to be a particularly difficult thing for you to imagine. I did not invite Finn. Much like his older brother, he came to me."

Tommy stood still for a moment, his gaze hardening. “Clever little ghost,” he sighed with a chuckle. “I feel like you enjoy this. The attention.”

For a moment, silence filled the space between you. Not uncomfortable, but it was thick with unspoken thoughts.

"What's not to enjoy?" The glint in your eyes teased him. "I am here for your benefit, and every second that passes with you trying to figure me out, you could be more productive. This was your choice."

“My choice,” he repeated. "But you're the one who accepted my offer. That would make it your choice as well."

Your lips curved into a knowing smile, though it was tinged with something else—something that felt like the acknowledgment that you've been backed into a corner with your own words. The faint pull of suffocating entrapment briefly flashed across your face, and you prayed he couldn't see it.

Tommy met your gaze with disarming softness, his expression unreadable but not as guarded as it usually was. “Like it or not,” he replied, his voice a quiet admission. “You met me halfway. I may have been the one who knocked, but you opened the door. You walked up to the Garrison that night, and you walked right in.”

You cautiously stepped back as he pushed forward until your back hit the edge of his desk. You felt disarmed, though you wouldn't dare show it.

He placed his hands down firmly on either side your waist, leaning closer until your back arched, neck craned up to meet his eyes. Tommy's lips twitched at the edges, his stare dark but flickering with something akin to recognition. "So, yes, y/n. I invited you. But—as you so poetically put it—you wouldn't be here if you didn't want it."

You held your posture still as the firm hold on your smile faded. He'd finally found a way to place himself on the board because he was right. His proposal could have been so easily rejected, but you were the one who was curious as to why a man like him would be so silently desperate for you to be on his side. He wanted you in some capacity. To own you, maybe. To stay in his domain, in his muddled world of loose morals. But you said yes.

The hardened shell of your mask returned. With a gentle press to Tommy's chest, you eased him back. You closed your eyes and rolled your neck with a heavy sigh as if expelling the scent of him from your lungs. He stepped back, and you returned the gesture with a short chuckle. This wouldn't have been interesting if he didn't fight back, and it looked like he was finally ready to play.

[msilwrites]

Papa and Mama Bear's Dinner (Short, not so short, but funny maybe I'll make a part 2, where they pack leftovers?!!!) - (Captain Price Fic)

(A/N): Hi guys! For those enjoying Papa Bear content, here's a fun peek into the future! This short story is set after Captain Price has already won you (Y/N!) over, and the two of you are now engaged after a few years of dating. This idea popped into my head during lunch, and I just had to share it. Hope you enjoy this playful little story of domestic chaos with Price and the team! 😄

@darkangel4121 @teenagellamaangel @madzzz0797 @callsignferal (To the other's who want to me tagged when there's an update, just tell me at the comments) (I think you folks might like this one, so I also tagged you, lol!)

Warning: Don't read when you're hungry.

😄😄😄😄😄

Summary: In this story set after Captain Price’s retirement, the team initially plans to watch the Rugby Finals at an overcrowded pub. The drinks would be great, but the food? Not so much—the pub’s kitchen struggles with the game-day crowd. Seeing an opportunity, you (Y/N) offer to host everyone at your flat instead, promising good company, warm food, and a much more relaxed atmosphere -- the idea quickly wins everyone over.

As the evening unfolds, Price notices something that sets his teeth on edge: Gaz seems far too familiar with your kitchen. From finding spices in seconds to recommending a snack from your pantry to Simon and Roach, Gaz navigates the space like he owns it. Gaz’s familiarity with your pantry brings a weight to his chest. It’s not just the casual remarks or the ease with which Gaz knows where everything is—it’s the memories behind them, ones Price wasn’t part of. Whilst Price raises an eyebrow, his jaw tightening and Simon, who’s been quietly observing, nervously whispers to Gaz when they were out of the Captains earshot.

Simon mutters, “You’re brave, Gaz. You sure the Captain won’t throw you out for knowing more about her pantry than he does?”

Oblivious to the drama, you continue cooking while the tension builds. Eventually, Price intervenes, banishing Gaz, Simon and Roach from your kitchen with a quiet but firm command. The lads settle in to watch the game, but Price’s protective streak stays strong—he may be retired from active duty, but when it comes to you, he’s still the Captain.

-----------

Price pushed the door open, holding it wide for the rest of the team as the rich aroma of cooking food wafted through the air. The comforting scent of spices and baked dishes immediately drew approving murmurs from Simon and Roach.

“Smells like a proper feast,” Simon remarked, glancing around the space.

The flat itself was as inviting as the meal promised to be—warm lighting, carefully arranged decor, and an undeniable sense of personality in every detail. It was unmistakably your space, filled with charm and practicality.

“Nice place,” Roach commented, running a hand over the back of a sleek armchair.

Gaz, however, wasted no time pointing down the hall toward your studio. “Kitchen’s this way, lads,” he said, already moving. “Trust me, I’ve been here plenty. Back when our circle used to do dinner rotations.”

Price, following closely behind, narrowed his eyes at Gaz’s casual familiarity. “I’m not so possessive, Gaz, that I’d stop your lot from having dinner here,” he said, his voice laced with amusement but edged with something sharper.

Gaz only smirked but said nothing, though Simon and Roach exchanged knowing glances behind him. They knew better than to comment, and all knew the truth—Price was more than a little protective when it came to you.

The group reached the kitchen, where the sight of you bustling between pots and trays greeted them. You had a towel slung over your shoulder, your movements efficient but relaxed as you checked the oven and stirred something on the stove.

“Simon! Roach!” you called out with a bright grin, pausing long enough to give them a wave before turning your attention to Gaz. “And you,” you teased, smacking Gaz on the chest with your dish towel as he laughed.

“Good to see you too,” Gaz laughed, leaning in for a quick hug. “Anything I can help with?”

You gestured toward the stove. “You know the drill. Two pots, two trays—one set of hands isn’t enough.”

Without hesitation, Gaz rolled up his sleeves, already grabbing the spatula by the stove. Price stood at the doorway, watching as you and Gaz fell into an easy rhythm. His jaw tightened slightly as Gaz pointed out where to find something in the pantry, like it was second nature to him.

Simon leaned closer to Roach, murmuring under his breath. “Think the Captain’s regretting that open-door policy now?”

Roach stifled a laugh. “He’ll be fine… probably.”

But the flicker of irritation in Price’s eyes suggested otherwise. He leaned against the doorframe, watching closely as Gaz moved with a little too much familiarity for his liking.

“You’re out of the hosting rotation now,” Gaz mentioned casually to Simon and Roach as he stirred the pot, a relaxed grin on his face. “But back in the day, this place was the spot. She’s got the best pantry setup—you wouldn’t believe the preserves she’s got stashed. There’s a jar of spiced pears over there, and those chili flakes? She dries and crushes them herself.”

As he pointed toward various items in the kitchen, Simon leaned toward Roach, keeping his voice low. “Think the Captain’s gonna be thrilled hearing all that?”

Roach glanced at Price, whose jaw was set a little tighter than before. The Captain’s eyes tracked every move Gaz made as he spoke, as if weighing the words against some unspoken tally.

“Not a chance,” Roach muttered, sharing a knowing glance with Simon.

“Pickle jars, jams, chutneys,” Gaz continued, completely oblivious to the quiet tension building in the kitchen. “Remember that pear and ginger one, Simon? The one the Captain brought? That was amazing. Oh, and the—”

“Gaz,” Price interrupted, his voice calm but carrying a subtle edge. “Why don’t you let her tell ‘em herself instead of narrating her entire pantry?”

“Oh, hehehe…” Gaz laughed awkwardly, a little embarrassed, but clearly unbothered. He then turned to you, grinning. “Right, sorry, forgot where I was for a second.”

“Ah yes, speaking of which, can I offer you lot an appetizer while the main food is cooking?” you asked, setting down your knife and wiping your hands on a towel. The boys nodded eagerly. They’d heard from Gaz about how good your cooking was, and they weren’t about to pass up a taste.

“Gaz, you know where my fruit candy preserves and chips are, right?” you asked, turning toward him as you began chopping ingredients for the sauce. “Help me get the jar and share with the lot.”

Without missing a beat, Gaz led Simon and Roach to the pantry, where the shelves were meticulously arranged, filled with jars of all sizes, some labeled neatly, others just waiting for the right moment to be cracked open. Spices, jams, chutneys, preserves—everything was neatly organized, just as he had described.

“Mate, this place is amazing,” Simon remarked, taking in the neatly organized shelves and rows of different jars filled with a variety of preserved food. “Gaz wasn’t hyping it up, was he? This is a setup!!”

“You weren’t exaggerating, huh?” Roach added, his eyes wide as he scanned the stocked shelves. “I thought you were just being dramatic, but this is something else.”

Gaz grinned, puffing out his chest in mock pride. “I told you so!!” he said, before turning back to the shelf containing an array of different chips, clearly delighted to see everyone impressed by your pantry, and now they know that he wasn't hyping it up.

“Simon, can you reach the higher shelf?” Gaz asked, looking at his friend with a smirk. “I need that candied fruit, the one in the glass jar at the back.”

Simon obligingly reached up and grabbed the jar, while Gaz pulled down another one from a lower shelf—this one containing your homemade lentil spiced chips. He handed one jar to Roach, took the other for himself, knowing full well that it would probably be gone in 15 minutes or less with how good it was.

As they made their way back to the kitchen, Simon gave Gaz a sideways glance, still holding the jar of candied fruit. “You’re brave, Gaz,” he said with a chuckle, knowing exactly how the Captain was likely reacting. “You sure the Captain won’t throw you out for knowing more about her pantry than he does?”

Gaz’s grin faltered for a second as he looked over at Price, who had his arms crossed and was watching the entire exchange with narrowed eyes.

The Captain's expression was somewhere between a smile and something more dangerous, a look that had all three of them feeling like they might’ve overstepped.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the kitchen, breaking the tension.

“Gaz, Simon? Roach?!! Did you guys find it?!!”

It was Y/N’s voice, calling them back. Without missing a beat, the three of them hurried toward the kitchen, eager to escape Price’s now-not-so-friendly glare. They all knew that look too well—the one that could only mean trouble. As they filed into the kitchen, they couldn’t help but chuckle under their breath, but the Captain’s gaze followed them like a hawk, and the smile on his face only seemed to sharpen.

Y/N moved quickly, pulling out a jar of preserved tomatoes from one of her neatly organized shelves. She took the flat side of the knife and crushed the boiled softened tomatoes in a bowl. “You guys fine with salsa for the chips?” she called out, as she set the jar back and grabbed a jar of chilli.

“Oh yes! Of course, salsa is perfect!” Roach said with enthusiasm.

“I know, right? Those lentil chips go perfectly with it,” Gaz added, eyeing the jar of chips he’d just pulled out.

Y/N then reached for an onion and said, “Gaz, help me crush the tomatoes, and add some paste. Also, dice the onion for the salsa.” She set a jar candle on the counter and lit it, the flickering flame casting a soft light on the kitchen.

Simon and Roach both stopped in their tracks and looked at each other with puzzled expressions. “What’s with the candle?” Simon asked.

Gaz, who had seen this trick many times before, grinned and quickly explained, “Oh! She lights the candle so we won’t cry when chopping the onions.”

Roach raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that actually a thing?”

Gaz nodded. “Yep, it’s all about the science of it. The flame absorbs the sulfuric compounds that get released when you cut onions. They’re what make you tear up. The candle helps trap those gases before they can reach your eyes.”

Y/N gave a small smile as she turned her attention back to the oven, where the mac and cheese was now giving off an irresistible aroma. “It works every time,” she said.

“Oh my gosh, that smells amazing!!” Simon exclaimed, his attention now completely on the food.

Gaz and Roach, following the plan, got busy chopping the lime to add zest to the salsa, just as Gaz had recommended earlier. Simon was busy crushing the tomatoes, and together, they finished making the salsa.

Gaz quickly cleaned up, putting the chopping board and knife into the dishwasher while Y/N took the tray of mac and cheese from the oven. The golden-brown crust bubbled slightly, and the whole room was filled with the savory, mouth-watering aroma of the dish. Everyone paused for a moment, letting the scent wash over them before Y/N placed the tray on the counter.

"Okay, Gaz and you lot, help me slice this," Y/N said, eyeing the mac and cheese tray. She mentally calculated how many squares it could have. "I say eight even slices?!"

"Oh, of course!" Simon eagerly agreed, reaching for the tray and passing it to Gaz, who was already holding the knife.

"The garlic bread and the pumpkin tomato soup should be ready soon, yeah?!" Y/N added, checking the pot of soup and giving it a quick stir to taste, wondering if it needed any more spices.

"You lot like beer?!" she asked, her attention split between stirring the soup and deciding on the seasoning.

"Oh, hell yeah!!" Roach replied, giving a quick grin.

"Don't mind if I do!" Simon chimed in playfully, his deep voice carrying the usual hint of humor.

"Oooooh!!! She has the best beer selection!" Gaz grinned, eyeing the fridge. "But what do you have in stock now, Y/N?!"

"I’ve got Erdinger, Paulaner, Kirin, some craft beer, Hitachino, Brewlander, Young Master, a bunch of IPAs... Oh! I have Hazy IPA!!!" Y/N listed off, knowing the group loved that particular brew.

"OOOOHHH!! Quick, Roach, that’s her liquor fridge!" Gaz pointed dramatically across the room. "Take the bottles that say HAZY!!"

Roach eagerly made his way to the fridge, his eyes widening at the selection of drinks. Meanwhile, Simon got to work, setting out plates and utensils, readying them for the group.

"Which one? There are too many Hazys!!" Roach exclaimed, his mouth hanging agape as he scanned the liquor closet and fridge attached to it, which was stocked with everything from wine and rare whiskey to rare bourbon and a wide variety of beers.

"Read to me what’s there!" Y/N called out from the stove as she dropped broccoli into the fryer for an additional snack, the noise of oil crackling was too loud. The chips were now all gone, just as Gaz had predicted, and Simon had been snacking steadily while helping in the kitchen.

"Beezer," Roach began reading aloud from the fridge. "'Hazy Little Thing,' 'Black Hops,' 'Behemoth'..."

"Beezer!!" Gaz and Y/N said in unison, both recognizing it as a top-tier choice. They exchanged a quick, eager look.

"But there’s only three left," Roach added, glancing at the remaining bottles.

"That’s fine, you lot can have the Beezer," Y/N said with a wave of her hand. "Pass me a Hitachino, the one with the blue label, Roach, thank you!" She then pulled the deep-fried broccoli from the fryer, placing them on a tissue-lined bowl to drain the excess oil.

Roach grabbed the bottles, turning to Simon for help opening them. Gaz, meanwhile, kept his focus on the mac and cheese, carefully slicing the tray into even pieces.

Simon popped the cap off the Hitachino and handed it to Y/N with a grin. "For the lady boss first," he said, offering the chilled bottle.

"Thanks, Simon," Y/N replied with a smile. As she took the bottle, he caught a glimpse of Price. His sharp gaze was enough to make Simon feel like he'd just made a grave mistake, and he quickly retreated back to the group, taking a sip of his beer to avoid further confrontation.

Roach had finished setting the chips in a bowl and placed the freshly made salsa beside it, ready for everyone to dive in.

“Garlic bread is ready!! And the fried chicken has cooled down!” Y/N announced, the kitchen now filled with the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked garlic bread. The men’s mouths watered, eyes widening as she placed the golden-brown bread on the table, followed by a bowl of crispy fried chicken, still steaming.

"There’s potato salad in the fridge, Roach. Can you grab the container?" she asked, her hands busy finishing the last touches.

Roach eagerly went to the fridge.

“Okay, Gaz, help me slice the garlic bread into… hmmm, eight slices, I think eight should be good!” she said, eyeing the loaf.

“Of course!!” Gaz responded, his eyes already on the food.

“And Simon, can you help me take this to the living room so you lot can eat while you watch the game? Who else is coming? I know some are running late.”

Before anyone could answer, Roach chimed in from the fridge, “Which one is the potato salad?”

Y/N smiled. “The one with the blue ceramic container, the large one! You guys don’t mind taking some home later, right? I made a lot.”

“Definitely!! Oh my gosh, I missed having that!” Gaz sighed, already excited.

The others nodded, knowing how much they loved her cooking.

“Alright, it’s settled then!” Y/N said, before she and Simon began hauling the dishes to the living room. Meanwhile, Kyle and Roach were trying to figure out how to slice the garlic bread.

Simon returned to the kitchen and looked at the bread. “Eh? You’re not done with that yet?”

“The surface is soft, so it won’t really slice evenly,” Roach explained, watching Kyle trying to figure out the best way to slice it.

“We need a bread knife!” Gaz said seriously, seeing the problem at hand.

“Do you know where the bread knife is, Gaz? I’ll grab it,” Simon offered.

Before Simon could move, the unmistakable presence of Captain Price filled the doorway. His trademark “evil ominous smile,” the one that always appeared during interrogations, was firmly in place.

Simon and Roach winced, stepping back as Price slowly advanced towards them. Gaz was still holding the knife, looking just a little too comfortable with it.

“Simon, the bread knife is—” Gaz started, but was immediately interrupted as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up, meeting Price’s intense gaze, and instantly knew: this wasn’t going to end well.

Price’s smile tightened, eyes narrowing dangerously. The air grew thick with tension.

“Take a seat, mate… You’re my guests. You lot shouldn’t be doing the work,” Price said, his voice calm, but there was a steel edge to it that made everyone stiffen.

Simon and Roach exchanged a nervous glance, their faces pale. They both swallowed, unsure of what Price would do next.

“Alright, go on, get yourselves to the living room,” Price added, his tone now firm with unmistakable finality. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Relieved to avoid further confrontation, Gaz, Simon, and Roach quickly retreated to the living room, muttering about needing a break from chopping and slicing. They stumbled over their words as they fled, grateful to be out of the line of fire—for now.

Y/N stepped into the living room, freshly returned from the washroom, where she’d rid herself of the lingering onion smell that had clung to her arms. Her eyes furrowed as she saw the three men sitting together in an unusually stiff and quiet manner. They looked like toddlers who had just been scolded. Her lips pursed with concern as she walked to the side of the couch. “You lot okay? Why are you not eating and drinking?” she asked, her voice laced with worry. They were all holding their beer bottles, sitting like soldiers on duty, clearly hungry but too stiff to touch the food on the coffee table. What was more, the TV was still off—this was not normal.

"Come on, lads! Relax!! Have your meal," she said with a playful but confused smile, giving them an obvious permission to dig in. It wasn’t like they needed it, but when she said it, they immediately jumped at the chance. Plates were filled with hearty portions: a slice of mac and cheese here, a handful of crispy fried chicken drumsticks there, fried broccoli, the last jar of lentil chips, and a bowl of pumpkin tomato soup for dipping their garlic bread, just as Gaz had recommended. They ate like hungry children, devouring everything in sight.

Y/N chuckled at the scene, but then her eyes narrowed slightly, noticing something wasn’t quite right. She fiddled with the remote and turned the volume of the game up. “I’m getting more beer. Is Paulaner okay? I’ve got more bottles of that.”

“Yes, boss! Thank you, boss!!” Simon said, the others echoing him in unison, their voices a little too eager.

Y/N tilted her head as she got a faint suspicion of what was going on. She noticed they had been unusually stiff earlier, like cadets waiting for their Commanding Officer to eat first. And now they were hungrily devouring everything in sight. Something wasn’t adding up, and she was getting a little suspicious. They had been so relaxed earlier, helping her in the kitchen—what happened?

Her eyes then landed on Price, who was now standing by the counter, wearing an apron that fit him just right. The dark brown apron, simple yet dashing, made him look like the kind of man who cooked for his partner with care. He was slicing the garlic bread, but one piece stood out—larger than the others, clearly reserved for himself. Y/N knew exactly what was going on in his head.

“John!! Darling!” Y/N called, walking over to him with a grin. Before she could say anything, he pulled her into a big, warm embrace. He leaned down to kiss her, peppering her face with quick, affectionate pecks, making her giggle uncontrollably.She bit her lip to stop herself from pointing out how uneven the slices were, but she knew it was pointless. Captain Price had that knack of getting away with things, always managing to charm his way out of any little slip-up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to say anything much or make an effective argument about it—he had already won Y/N over with that smile of his.

Y/N’s eyes fell on the large slice of garlic bread John had cut, clearly far bigger than the rest. She raised an eyebrow, smirking and couldn't help but finally remark, “Blimey, John, that slice’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

John’s grin widened as he gently took her hand. “Ah, love, that’s for both of us, don’t you worry,” he said, his voice smooth with affection. “The lads are big eaters, and I know you don’t want to go hungry. I’m just making sure my queen gets served first.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a playful chuckle. “Mm, is that really true, or are you just trying to hogging portions for yourself?” she teased, nudging him lightly. “I know you’re a big eater, Captain.”

John’s grin didn’t falter. “I’m just looking out for you, love!!”

Y/N’s heart melted at his words, though she couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more. “Lucky you’re cute,” she said, “but next time, I’ll be the one cutting the bread.”

The three men in the background, now happily digging into their meal, glanced over at the scene. They couldn't help but be relieved, knowing the tension had shifted. They were back to eating in peace, no longer under the Captain's intense scrutiny.

Y/N grabbed John's hand and pulled him gently toward his favorite spot on the couch, making sure he was settled comfortably before adjusting the cushions with a satisfied pat. She couldn’t help but notice how the lads were acting a bit jumpy, exchanging uneasy glances and passing the plate of food to John with an odd sort of reverence, like they were handing over a sacred relic.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. “What’s with you lot?” she asked, eyeing them suspiciously. “You look like you’re about to confess something. It’s just mac and cheese, lads. Nothing to be nervous about.”

The three of them froze, like deer caught in headlights. Roach cleared his throat nervously and tried to act casual. “Uh, just making sure everything’s perfect, you know, boss?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, as she leaned against the doorframe. "Right… perfect, sure," she said dryly, watching as the lads passed John his plate. Their movements were stiff and overly careful, as though they were handling explosives rather than dinner. Her gaze lingered on the hefty portion they'd given him, one eyebrow arching slightly in suspicion.

John settled into the couch with a satisfied expression, immediately digging into his food. His lips quirked into a subtle, knowing smile as he glanced at her, but he said nothing. Y/N caught the look and narrowed her eyes further, her suspicions mounting. Something was definitely up.

She sighed, deciding to let it go for now. "Alright, alright," she said, her voice tinged with playful exasperation as she turned back toward the kitchen. "I'll grab the beers."

Her footsteps retreated, but her eyes lingered on the group, especially on John, for a moment longer. She filed away their behavior for later—she’d get the truth out of them eventually. For now, she grabbed the bottles of beer from the fridge, ready to join the group and keep an eye on the unfolding chaos.

The lads, visibly relieved as Y/N disappeared into the kitchen, finally let out the breaths they’d been holding. Plates were quickly reloaded with mac and cheese, fried chicken, and a handful of other treats as they dug in like starving recruits.

Their eyes, now safe from scrutiny, turned to the game on the telly. The opening minutes were underway, and a roar from the crowd on screen added to the room’s energy.

Kyle leaned forward, chewing on a piece of garlic bread as he muttered something about the team’s lineup. Roach nodded, pointing his fork at the screen in agreement, while Simon, still holding a drumstick, nodded approvingly at a tackle that got the commentators raving.

Not one of them dared glance back toward the kitchen door. The unspoken rule was clear: eat, and watch. Drawing the Captain’s attention or risking a summons back into Y/N’s kitchen wasn’t on the agenda tonight.

A/N: So… do you guys want a Part 2? Because I’ve been thinking: will the lads make it through the rest of the evening intact? Especially with John being all possessive about Y/N and her food. Let me know what you think—I’m excited to see where this chaotic, food-filled continuation goes! 😏 Edit: Part 2 is HERE!!!!!! -------->

[ismileeprnc]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞(𝐞𝐚)𝐞𝐤’𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲: 𝐄𝐩 𝟗 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

pairing w zhong chenle

GENRE Smut, a touch of angst if you squint real hard lol

MINORS DNI 🙏🏾

MENTION OF edging (no actual scene tho) hair pulling, sub!chenle, oral (fem receiving), face fucking, squirting, dom!reader, dick gripping, slight overstimulation, reader has two orgasms

A/N: just me writing @ 3am again. No biggie 🤭 also I haven’t written for chenle in a while. Feedback is appreciated! Remember to be kind tho :/ thanks always for the love in my absence 💚💚💚

Chenle wasn’t sure how much he could take before he had to get on his knees and practically beg you to fuck him. It’s been a nonstop thing all week long of you riling him up, getting him so close to edge just to leave him high and dry. Hard and trembling with need to come.

Borderline blue-balling him And it didn’t help that you were skipping around his place in just your underwear and a shirt of his that hiked up your ass every time you bent over. Obviously on purpose.

There weren’t enough cool showers he could take to keep his erections down and jerking off was basically pointless. He could never make himself feel as good as you do and he knows you knows this, reason why you never barged in on his little “shower sessions,” not even when he was moaning your name on the other side.

He didn’t know if it were a game or not but accepted his defeat long ago and you noticed how much more sulkier he has become. Going to little to no answers. You can’t help but wonder if you went too far. You only wanted to see how far he could go before he was groveling at your feet but now he just shrugs off you advances. Despite having the most painful boners, his back turn towards you and tries to get some sleep. Eventually it had to go away.

That next morning he wakes up alone and to the smell of something cooking. His stomach almost immediately growls, reminding him how he hadn’t eaten last night. Chenle kicks backs the covers, dragging his tired limbs out of bed and to kitchen where he finds you over the stove, again just in his shirt and underwear.

“Since when do you cook?” His voice croaks and coughs to clear his throat. You stay turned away from him, stirring in whatever you had in the pot in front of you.

“Since someone decided to skip dinner last night.” Looking over your shoulder directly at him, “Don’t ever do that again.” You sounded angry which made him uneasy, looking down to avoid your gaze while playing with the cuffs of his hoodie. ‘Sorry, wasn’t hungry.’

Liar. But you let it go for now and went on to plate his food, setting it down before him. Snapping your fingers and pointing for him to sit. Chenle does but waits for you join him to before digging in.

Not a single word was exchanged between you. Not even a glance. The hell was he even supposed to say? Clearly you were pissed but he couldn’t decipher whether if it was because he went to bed hungry or was it something else? He was too scared to ask. Afraid of having a possible argument and tries shutting up his mind on finding a conclusion and continued to eat.

He offered to wash the dishes, feeling bad if he left you to do them after you cooked for him. Still you haven’t said a word. Kind of surprised you didn’t since knowing how much he hated doing dishes. He’s drawn to the conclusion that it wasn’t about him skipping dinner last night. It was definitely something else. But what?

He hasn’t joked with you in the last few days. Couldn’t have been something he said. He remembers to put the toilet lid down every time he goes. So what could it possibly—

“Oh.” The boy nearly hollers when he’s abruptly snatched from his train of thoughts, realizing you somehow had gotten behind him and your hand shoved down his boxers, gripping his dick.

“Y/n—”

“So this is why you’re ignoring me? Done got used to not having your dick wet you think you don’t need me anymore?” Squeezing tighter, he only wails and grips the edge of the sink. Water still running and soap on his hands.

Don’t need you anymore? Of course he needs you. Needs so fucking bad that he thinks he will actually explode. He needed your touch so much. To feel your lips all over him but most importantly, he needs to be inside of you. So deep that he could see himself protrude in your tummy. Need to hear you tell him he was fucking you too good, how nice and full he made you.

“Please, please, please.” He hisses through closed teeth, already sounding needy when you literally had his cock in a chocking grip.

“Why? Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just let you run off to the shower to fix yourself?”

Because I don’t wanna fix myself! Is what he wanted to say. Those words being right on the tip of his tongue but morphed into chants as your grip had gotten any more possibly tighter when he was taking too long to respond.

“I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT. WHATEVER YOU WANT, I SWEAR I’LL DO IT.” He babbles like a fool, standing on his tippies as if that were gonna help with the pain. You cut him some release, loosening your grip at his outburst. Taking your finger under his chin so he’s looking you directly in the eye.

“Whatever I want huh?” And he nods frantically, shaking some hair in his eyes.

He loses his breath when you in one move let go of his cock and pushed him down on his knees. The impact stung but he was able to put that on the back burner when you saw your bare pussy come into view.

Wait— so you weren’t wearing underwear—

Chenle gasps as you draw his face near you by his hair. His breath fanning against you, making you aching in need. These last few days has been as much torture for you as it were for him but thankfully you had him right where you wanted him.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Chenle instantly does and hums the second your juices were dancing on his tongue. You were so wet, some of it getting on his face as he lapped it all up best as he could.

Keeping your hand in his hair, you steer his head deeper into your cunt. His nose nestled right against your clit as you held him still, fucking yourself on his face.

“Just like that. Only your tongue.” You then moan loudly and reach for the counter beside you to hold yourself up.

Chenle felt his jaw beginning to ache the more pressure you put down on him as well as his scalp burning from the gripping. His brain too was screaming for oxygen. Just a little more. He chants to himself, squeezing your thighs to hold on but that didn’t stop the little white dots from spotting in his vision.

Right then you were coming. The pleasure had became so much that you squirted all over his face, it dripping down his chin as well as the side of your legs. Chenle took big gulps of air and swallowed a bit that landed in his mouth.

He looked a mess; face wet and a very obvious bulge protruding through his boxers.

“Couch.” Was all you said before Chenle was collecting himself off the ground and scurried off to the living room, dragging you with him.

The second his back met the plush surface, you were climbing on top of him and rid him of his boxers. His cock sprung out and smacked against his tummy. The tip already leaking with precum and colored an angry shade of red.

Without warning, you sink down on his length, punching a moan out the both of you. He seemed to have forgotten tight you were in a matter of days. Your walls sucked him in like a vacuum while he stretched you out nicely. Raising your hips till all was left was his tip before sinking back down on him. A repetitive movement you did a couple more times before finding your rhythm.

Chenle was beyond cloud nine. Getting lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him like a glove. So warm. So wet from your previous orgasm. It created a nice slip, making it easy for you to bounce on top of him. This is all he wanted all week long. How could ever you accuse him of not needing you? He needed you always like the very breath he breathed. And whatever your reason may had been for causing him boner-filled nights, hopefully it was all over.

“I’m so close.” He whines in your ear, gripping the back of your shirt like if you were gonna slip right through his fingers and holds you close to his body.

“Please let me come. Let me fill you up.”

Nodding, giving him the go, “Come for me baby.”

Chenle releases inside of you, his body completely stiffens under you just from how intense his orgasm was while you milked him of every drop.

You still had to finish. Sitting up, your hips rocked increasingly faster and caused Chenle to wail. Hands trying to push you off top of him,

“T-too muc-ch.” But you held him down with your weight, determined to come a second time. Your hand shoots down between your bodies, contacting with your clit. Just the edge you needed to come undone, spasming around his spent cock.

You both take a minute to regain your breath, chests raising and falling together until they were steady. Listening to each other’s still breathing. It wasn’t tense like it was earlier and for the first time in what felt like a month, he was actually lying with you and not against you. He missed this so damn much.

Before he allowed himself to slip in a doze, he always joke that your pussy puts him out, but he feels you sit up. One arm propped on his chest to hold you up.

“What’s the real reason why you were ignoring me ?” You just had to know. Drawing a line of confusion between his brows.

“Why do you think I was ignoring you?” Head tilting in curiosity and earns a shrug from you.

“I don’t know. You just seemed to push me away whenever I got close.”

He stared back at you like you had just said the dumbest thing, which you quite literally did because ain’t no way you were oblivious to everything you had been doing to him.

“You’re really gonna sit here and pretend like you didn’t just blue ball me all week long?”

Chenle was no fool. The second he saw you trying to cover a smirk, he called you out and smacked your butt but you just continue to laugh at him, amused by the whole thing. He knew you toying with him this whole time.

“Why would you do that?! Do you know the pain you caused?”

Wiping away your last tear, he’s glad you think this was funny.

“Sorry Lele. Just wanted to see how long you would last. I didn’t expect you to get so sulky and start ignoring me.”

Chenle scoffs, feigning offense.

“I was not sulking.” He defended but now you were the one staring back at him.

“Chenle… you’re literally wearing a hoodie that says I hate people. You were sulky.”

[philistiniphagottini]

- 🚧

hai author nagi! ^_^

I've been stalking you on your page about the domestic bliss event a lot.. and the time-limit reminder swung me up and I decided I wanted to send In a request!

I'd really like the play fighting/playful wrestling prompt with Thief King Bakura, with preferably GN!Reader; where they're both just relaxing together and settling down, when Reader suddenly starts teasing and nitpicking small mistakes the Thief King made throughout the day: stumbling, tripping, dropping stuff, stutters.. just overall small clumsy stuff..

and our TKB being the guy he is, gets agitated rather easily, and suddenly tackles Reader in an effort to shut them up and for them to 'not continue embarrassing the great Thief King any further >0<!!' Reader catches on, and it develops in a lighthearted round of roughhousing! (with Reader even then- throwing in a few teasing phrases here and there lol) ..eventually, they calm down tho!

Rest is up to you!! It's just a rough Idea on how I'd like the prompt ^_^ Remember to take care and stay hydrated!

Hello Anon! I'm so happy you participated! I love seeing you when you pop up in my inbox. Thank you for always feeding my obsession with yugioh, I hope you enjoy this piece~

cw. fluff, play fights, gender neutral reader

Domestic Bliss

Tucked in one of Thief King Bakura’s hideaways, away from the prying eyes of others, you could finally relax and unwind for the day. You could still feel the flames of the desert heat licking at your skin as you settled beside your partner in crime, losing yourself in a sea of fine silks and lavish pillows that you had procured from countless numbers of heists. Bakura barely paid you any attention, not even throwing a cursory glance in your direction as he tried to decipher a treasure map scrawled poorly on the tattered parchment he held in his hands. 

A loud sigh breezed past your lips as you sprawled yourself out, letting your body sink further into the cool silken sheets as you stared at the side of Bakura’s head. 

"Today was a long day" you mused. 

You received a soft grunt in reply but Bakura still did not look at you, too absorbed in his map reading. A small pout tugged at your lips, a sense of irritation bubbling in your stomach when you were ignored. You threw your legs into Bakura’s lap, hoping to stir a rise out of him when you used his body to rest your tired feet. To your surprise, he was still shockingly absorbed. Another long, irritated sigh blew out your nose as you started to ponder. A small smile tilted the corners of your lips as an idea suddenly sparked in your head, itching at the base of your skull as your eyes shimmered with amusement. You gently tapped your foot into Bakura’s thigh, feeling the skin squish under your teasing prod as a soft coo fell from your lips. 

"I don’t think I have ever seen you stumble as much as you did today with that heist."

Your statement finally caught his attention. His bright gaze flickered in your direction; pupils narrowed into dangerous slits as a pinch formed between his snowy eyebrows. 

"Care to repeat that?" he asked in slow, measured steps, voice dripping with a hint of malicious intent. 

You promptly ignored the malice that was sent your way as you simply rolled your shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, a devilish smile playing at the corner of your lips. You continued to rub your foot along his leg, feeling the muscles jump under your touch as your toes flexed into the sole of your foot. 

"I just happened to notice, was all" you said. 

A loud sigh fell from Bakura’s parted lips as he levelled a nasty glare at you. He knew exactly what you were trying to do. You were intentionally riling him up because you were bored and you wanted his attention.

"I’m too tired to entertain you today. Take your scheming somewhere else."

His words did little to deter you as you kept prattling on, filling the empty void of silence with your rambunctious chatter as your words slowly burrowed their way under his skin.

"I saw that gold chalice you dropped when you were trying to stuff it into the bag. And I witnessed you tripping up the stairs when we were trying to make our escape as well. Then, you had the audacity-"

Your voice was starting to make Bakura’s ears burn with a furious itch and he finally decided he had enough. The map in his hands disappeared in a flurry of parchment and without warning, Bakura launched himself at you, practically tackling you into the floor as a loud noise of surprise bubbled up the back of your throat. He hovered over the top of you, his eyebrow twitching furiously in irritation as he scowled down at you.

"I will not have you besmirch the name of the great Thief King-"

This time, you cut off Bakura’s ramblings when you latched your legs around his waist and suddenly switched your positions. You had caught him by surprise, a hiss of air whistling through his clenched teeth as you scrambled on top of him, knees falling beside his hips as you pinned him to the floor. A cry of triumph bubbled in your throat; a wide grin plastered over your face as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"What was that, great Thief King?"

In response, Bakura used his strength to overpower you once more, putting you back on the floor beneath him as a loud squawk of indignation was wrenched from your lips. You couldn’t help the bouts of laughter that tickled your throat as you lay beneath Bakura once more, the Thief King far from impressed with you as you wriggled underneath the press of his body. You wore yourself out not too long after, not having any more strength to clamber your way back on top as the last dregs of your willpower was sapped away during your rough housing. A loud huff puffed against your skin as Bakura looked down at you, the tension in his brow eased as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Tired yourself out?"

You smiled brightly as you nodded along to his words. He stayed above you for a moment longer, making sure that you really were tired before he decided to get off of you. He fell next to you as he dragged your legs back into his lap, picking up where he left off with deciphering the treasure map as he snatched it from the floor. 

"You’re a nuisance" he muttered under his breath. "You’re lucky you are useful for my plans."

A playful bubbled in your chest, satisfaction oozing off you in waves now that you had garnered your lover’s attention. 

"I love you too~" you cooed. 

Bakura rolled his eyes so hard they almost disappeared into the back of his head, but you didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips twitched and the subtle, flustered tint to his cheeks.

[eleni-cherie]

among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- chapter 1.2

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

Rhodos, Greece

Taking a sip from her martini, Arabella let her hazel eyes glide over the crowded space, peeking over the edge of her glass at the lively party guests while walking among them from one end to another until eventually reaching the bar in the centre. She put her empty glass down then and smiled to herself.

She remembered from their arrival at the castle that the stairs in the entrance hall were guarded by one security guard only. It'd be easy, so might as well enjoy herself a little bit longer there.

"Another vodka martini, please. Shaken, not stirred," she ordered at the bartender. While waiting for her new drink to get mixed, she leaned her back against the bar top, eying the couples swaying on the dance floor and she rolled her eyes.

A party of european millionaires in an old medieval castle sounded more excited then it really was. It was like any other rich people party after all. The ones who had their millions inheritated, the old money therefore, was chatting about their latest vacations or newest luxury purchase.

Meanwhile, the new money millionaires were exchanging the latest gossip of their industries or taking cringy photos and videos of themselves. And somewhere in between they drank and danced and ate way too small portions of overly expensive food.

Her gaze went back to the guard in the distance, thinking of ways to distract or slide past him, when suddenly an unknown hand found its way on her hip. Her eyes widened.

With balled fists, she was ready to make whoever it was, regret it when a familiar chuckle rang in her ears. His hot breath tickling her neck. "Suits you, love. Is it a wig?" He tucked at one of the pink curls, his fingers brushing against her shoulder making her breath hitch and she unintentionally leaned into his touch.

"None of your business," she laughed dryly and grabbed her martini, taking a larger gulp from it. Jimin observing her with a smirk.

"Feisty as always, I missed that."

He let go off her waist and leaned against the marble counter next to her. He wasn't even trying to hide how he shamelessy checked her out, surpressing a whistle. Her body was wrapped in a long black dress, a deep slit on the side allowing her lef to peek through whenever she moved. 

She huffed when noticing, crossing her arms in front of her strapless décolleté. "What are you even doing here? Trying killing me again?"

His brows rose, a puzzled expression on his soft features. "But Bella, love, you know I'd never do that."

He drew closer then, grabbing her chin gently between his index finger and thumb, forcing her to look at him. And for a moment she was about to melt under his warm gaze, until he spoke up again and bringing her back to reality. "I'm here to get you back."

A frown spread on her pretty face when hearing his reasoning.

"Get me back?" She slapped his hand away and stepped back. "There's no need to get me back. I'm doing just fine."

"Don't be like that, Bella-baby," he whined, attempting to hold her hands when she folded them behind her instead. Looking away with a scoff. And he sighed. "Please, look at me."

She remained silent, ignoring him.

"C'mon, I'm sorry for what happened and you've all right to be mad, but it's not safe for you to be on your own right now. You can ignore me as much as you want after it's over."

"Who says I'm on my own?" she countered then with an arched brow, finally sparing him a glance. And Jimin's brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

She simply pointed behind him then and he followed her finger across the open bar to a guy in a white suit and slicked back hair, talking and laughing with a group of others at a table in the back. The bigwig was chunking down champagne like it was water and his trained eyes could spot the golden watch and rings all the way from where they were standing.

"See Stelios there? He's my new boyfriend. I'm accompanying him here on Rhodos."

Jimin couldn't help but roll his eyes annoyed. He knew by 'boyfriend' she only meant 'a rich guy who owned something she wanted', but it still bothered him beyond belief whenever she used that term for anyone but him.

"But your 'Stelios' can't protect you from them."

"Mh, pretty sure he got enough security. He has plenty of money, you know," she retorted with a bored expression.

Jimin shook his head and dragged out a dramatic sigh before stepping closer to her. An intriguing smirk toying on his lips. "But Bella-baby, you should know I'm the only man in this world who can protect you."

Arabella remained unimpressed though, staring him dead in the eye. She was quite frankly fed up with his attitude.

They hadn't seen each in over two weeks and last time they had, he'd pushed her away like she meant nothing to him. And now he got the audacity to randomly show up there during her coup, pretending being her prince in shining armour? A prince she definitely neither needed nor asked for?

"Honestly, Jimin, what even am I to you? Your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?" Her voice unintentionally rose out of frustration and he could tell by the glint in her eyes how serious she was. She meant the question.

He swallowed. Gently, he took her hands in his and she let him this time. Observing his every move with a stern expression as his face came close to hers. He led her hand to his lips then, planting a kiss on her delicate knuckles while still holding her gaze. Arabella pretended being unfazed his charms.

He leaned in then, his lips ghosting over her flushed cheek.

"All of it, Bella. You're obviously all of it."

He abruptly pulled back then, meeting her stunned face with a grin. "And now come," he said excitedly and drank the rest of her martini in one go, before pulling her along with him into the crowd. "It'd be suspicious if we didn't dance at a party, don't you think?"

She hesitated first but eventually gave in and rested her hands on his shoulders as his own wandered down to her waist. Both swaying to the rhythm of the string melody among the rest of the bodies.

"When did you snap out of it?" she asked then, her eyes narrowing, "And if you tell me it was in that rainy alley then I swear to god-"

"It wasn't."

She hummed. "Not sure I'm buying that."

"Trust me," he sighed, leading her in a circle under the dancing lights, "My memories were still a muddled mess then and I struggled putting an order to them."

Arabella's gaze fell to the small gap between them, wondering if that meant he couldn't remember anything of what had been said and done in the alley either.

Swallowing her hurt ego, she looked over her shoulder to check if her 'boyfriend' had noticed her absence by now or even that she was dancing with someone else. It didn't seem like it though, as other people blocked his view. Not that he was paying attention anyway. He was still talking with his rich friends.

"So tell me," Jimin spoke up then, "Why are you really here? And don't start with that 'boyfriend' of yours again."

Arabella couldn't help but giggle at his jealousy. Even if he was trying downplaying it, it was evident in the lack of flirtiness in his tone and his clenched jaw. He wasn't hiding it and she couldn't deny the fact that she liked it, because it meant that perhaps he did care after all. 

She blinked, faking innocence. "What makes you think there'd be any other reason?"

But Jimin knew her too well to fall for that, he knew she was still upset and just messing with him. In a swift move, he pulled her closer to him. Pressing her body against his while his hand travelled down her hips and to her thigh, lifting it against his.

The silk fabric flowed over her skin, exposing her leg through the slid. Along with her berretta held by a black lacy garter.

"Because normal party guests usually don't hide guns under their clothes," he smirked.

Her breath became heavy the longer they remained in this position, his dark eyes piercing hers. She lowered her arms from around his neck, her hands sliding over the suit covering his sturdy chest.

"Let go," she mouthed in a warning manner, not wanting anyone noticing her gun. And his hand slowly did as he was told, letting go of her leg and taking its previous position on her waist.

"Fine, I'll tell you," she groaned then and grabbed his wrist. "But first you gotta help me pass that stupid guard to get upstairs."

Dragging him through the crowd, she led him to the other end of the party where the corridor to the entrance area was. The guard stood right at the corner in the distance, looking sternly ahead.

"Distract him so I can climb up and scurry upstairs."

Jimin's brows rose, his eyes going from her to the guard and back to her. Eventually shrugging. "You need help for that?" he said with a smug chuckle, making her audibly huff.

"I'd have found a way on my own, I didn't even know you'd be here after all. But since you are.." She grabbed his tie, pulling his face to her level. A seductive smirk on her lips. "..you'll make it easier for me. Won't you?"

He nodded vigorously and leaned in, about to steal a kiss as the temptation was quite compelling, but she only pushed him away. "Maybe after the job's done."

A whine left his lips. "You're such a tease, Bella-baby."

"And you love it."

"I do, I really do," he smiled. Managing pecking her cheek at least, her startled face making him chuckle. She looked quite adorable when being dumbfounded. "Alright, let's do this." He briefly rubbed his hands together before making his way to the guard.

She watched him start a casual conversation with him, although the guard didn't seem to bulge in first. However, Arabella knew no one could resist Jimin's charm and sooner or later everyone would give in. So she eased her way to the side of the curved staircase and waited for his sign. And as soon as she saw the guard's head turn to the side and Jimin giving her a quick wink, she grabbed the artful metallic bars and heaved herself up, climbing over the railing.

No one spotted her as she rushed them up, disappearing upstairs. 

With careful steps, she made her way through the long corridors which were decorated by flower bouquetes and large paintings on the walls, sensing the eyes of the portrait persons staring down at her. She shuddered, shaking off that feeling and reached the corner.

She peeked around it, spotting another guard in front of a door.

That must've been it, she thought.

According to the blueprint she had memorized, this room was supposed to be a storage which was obviously bullshit because why would a simple storage need guards? And besides, the room next to it was the security room. That was no coincidence.

She reached behind her neck, fiddling a little before her dress was taken down, getting replaced by the maid uniform she had prepared.

After taking a deep breath to get into character, she walked out of her stash and confidently walked her way towards the guard.

He eyed her suspiciously but she remained confident and ignored his glare, passing past him and into the security room.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" the guard called out bewildered, leaving his post to follow her.

"What I'm doing?" she scoffed angrily, "I was sent here because of some annoying beeping outside. As if I got any clue how to use all these things!" She pointed at the screens and computers, pretending being clueless and overwhelmed, in need for help. "I mean, look at all this! And I'm just a simple maid! How am I supposed to know? But my supervisor sent me to take care of it." She continued her frustrated rambling with a deep frown set on her face, soon observing the guard's face softening. She'd clearly succeeded, he'd fallen for her act and pitied her. "Do you maybe have any clue how all this works? I could really need some help or she might get me fired! And I can't get fired, I really depend on this job! Oh god, what if -"

She was ready to shed some fake tears. too, when the guard cut her off by holding his hands up. "Okay, okay, calm down! We'll figure this out," he said and headed to the computers. He began typing in the password on the keyboard and sliding his ID card through the scanner. "Where did you say this weird sound was located at?" "Right here."

And with that she hit his neck with the back of her gun, and he succumbed immediately. His heavy body fell on the ground with a loud thud and she grabbed his ankles, dragging him to a corner where she tore off her uniform and tying him down, in case he woke up too early.

Thankfully he had already typed in his security key, so it wasn't any problem. Despite her acting dumb, she did know exactly how to navigate through the system. So after deactivating the alarm system inside the fake storage room next door, she left the room. Glancing around to make sure the the coast was clear first before locking the door behind her and making her way unnoticed to the next door, where she collided with Jimin who'd been already waiting for her.

"Took you long enough, darling," he smiled, holding her arms. Arabella only puffed out a breath and wiggled his way out of his embrace, heading straight to the persian carpet in the middle of the room and lifted it. Revealing a hidden safe right underneath.

"How did you get past the guard?" she mumbled as she knelt down, inspecting the lock. Two rotary locks protecting the precious contents.

"Oh, not at all," he said with smugness in his tone and took a seat on a puffy velvet armchair, "He allowed me to go upstairs. Convinced him that I really needed to pee and the only bathroom downstairs was packed."

She only hummed, not being surprised that simple excuse actually worked. It probably wouldn't have with anyone else, but this was Jimin. He could work his charms to sell ice to a penguin. 

Focusing back on the task in front of her, she pressed her ear on the safe. The metal cool against her cheek as she tried listening carefully while rotating the first knob. With the rest of the security system being deactivated, it was nothing but a normal safe now. Yet it still required a lot of tact to turn in the right speed not to miss the faint clicking sound. And that for both, not just one.

She closed her eyes and concentrated until finally hearing the awaited sound. The first one being done under a minute, now the other one was left.

"What is inside there anyway?" Jimin asked after awhile, feeling bored. He' d been silently observing her and trying ignoring the raising heat inside him, which wasn't easy with the sight of her on her knees and her perfect little bum high in the air. The maid skirt almost riding up enough for it to be revealed.

"A gorgeous ruby necklace," she smiled as the second knob clicked as well. And she sat back satisfied. "That's all?" "And maybe a few other pretty things." Jimin sighed, propping his chin on the palm of his hand. "And that's why you're together with that sleazy nepo baby? Because he could bring you to this party?" "Hm, maybe. But maybe he also treats me nicely." Snorting, he straightened himself again. "Nicer than me?" "Perhaps," she shrugged, knowing exactly how mad it'd drive him. "At least he didn't want me dead." He groaned. "You ain't letting go of that, are you?"

Her gaze fell to the open safe and she hesitated first before looking over her shoulder, offering him a sad smile. "It hurt my feelings, you know."

His lips parted, not having expected this. After all, it was rare for Arabellato reveal any kind of vulnerability and this kind of honesty unless they were in a life-threatening situation with the risk of them not making it out alive. But since this didn't apply now, it had taken him off-guard.

Only now he finally began to understand how deeply the whole incident had affected her. The true motive she'd run away with some south-european millionaire. It wasn't for a simple ruby necklace which she must own plenty already, no. Before, he only thought she was offended her ego, but now he realised it was all to distract herself from the broken heart his rejection caused. He finally got it.

Pressing his jaw together, he swallowed and got up. Walking up to where she was standing. The ruby necklace adorning her neck by now with a fitting bracelet around her wrist.

"I think I still owe you a kiss."

She frowned, but before she could question his random statement, he had aleady captured her lips with his. Holding her jaw between his palms while kissing her tenderly there, in the middle of a luxuriously decorated room with objects worth thousands. But the only treasure he truly ever cared for was the woman capturing his soul like no other.

Slowly, their lips parted and he pulled back. Sensing Arabella's shaky breath against his chin. Her dark eyelashes were lined against her skin when they fluttered open. Her eyes like in a haze, looking at his.

"So you remember," she whispered and held his wrists.

He nodded. "I do."

Arabella cleared her throat, quickly finding her composed demeanour again and let go of him. "Okay, good.. Good."

Jimin bit back a laugh when seeing heer acting all nonchalant when the crimson of her cheeks was giving her away. He chose not to tease her about it though, considering she'd already gone through enough these days because of him.

Instead, he watched her going to the window, pushing it open. She took a look outside, deaming it not too high. She could jump on the tree in front of it and then climb down, if it wasn't for the guard roaming around the garden with a dog. One of the first information she'd gathered when spying out the place. There didn't seem anyone around now, however, as the garden area was quite broad, so she deided to take advantage of the security sensors around the mansion being deactivated.

"You coming?" She looked over her shoulder, seeing him shake his head. "I'll better head back before the guard gets suspicious. Don't wanna ruin your escape," he smiled then, "I'll meet you at the entrance gate."

She nodded and climbed out, onto the nearest branch. From there she got on a lower one and eventually on the ground, paying attention not to scratch herself anywhere in case she bumped into someone and they'd get alarmed.

In the darkness of the shrubbery, she changed back to her party dress when seeing a flashlight appear further away. She cursed internally and pressed herself against the castle's wall. Slowly, she moved to the front of the building until reaching a corner.

There was also a guard at the entrance, but much to her luck he was guiding a drunk party guest and his young company to their car in that moment, offering her the opportunity to come out and pretend like coming straight from inside. She made her way over the courtyard with confident steps, passing by the luxury sports cars and limousines. Casually walking towards the gate when a deep voice from behind her suddenly caused her to come to an abrupt halt. "Stop, you little thief."

Without any hesitation, she rammed her elbow backwards and into the person, only for them to retract just in time for her to miss. Hearing a high-pitched yelp, followed by a laugh she turned around puzzled, seeing Jimin grinning at her mischieviously while holding his side. "Careful, love, you almost hit my wound."

"I'll try not to miss next time," she deadpanned and tried slapping his chest for using his voice mimicking skills, but he successfully dodged each one of her attempts. And he bursted out laughing as she chased him out of the gates. "Can you for once stop messing with me!" "Sorry, sorry, but I couldn't resist. You're too adorable when getting al lstartled," he said, holding his hands up in defence while catching his breath. "I hate you!" she whined. Her frustrated tone was loud, causing Jimin to press a finger on her lips to shush her in case they were heard and she huffed against it, crossing her arms.

They began walking downhill then, the night warm and windless. The clittering of crickets drowning out the loud noises of the party as she followed him into a side path into the grove where he stopped in front of his car, which hehad hid there. Unlocking it, he opened the passenger door for her to enter. She only rolled her eyes and climbed in, slamming the door shut. He sighed before getting behind the steering wheel and driving off before any security noticed her little theft. 

The lowered windows allowed the night breeze to tousle their hair as the car rushed down the road through the dense forest. The nearest town lights glistening in the dark between tree trunks.

Jimin's eyes briefly glanced at Arabella who was absentmindedly staring out into the woods. The rubies on her skin shining brightly whenever the light of a street lamp got reflected on them, their deep clour contrasting her smooth skin.

"Bella?" 

She hummed in acknowledgment, eyes resting on the scenary outside. She could spot the moon's reflection on the sea's surface.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right? I.. I wasn't myself back then."

She exhaled deeply, finally averting her gaze from serene view to look at him as well. "I know, it wasn't your fault." She paused, her eyes wandering back outside. "It's.. whatever, really. No big deal." Despite her understanding it, it still hurt a little when thinking about his cold, emotionless stare from two weeks ago. She'd never seen him looking at her with such an empty expression before. Even in all the times she'd outwitted or double-crossed him in the past, he'd never looked at her like that. Mad, amused, annoyed - yes, but never so.. indifferent.

The car stopped at the side of the road, interrupting her train of thoughts. And she frowned at Jimin. "Why did we stop h-"However, she didn't finish her sentence when seeing his eyes gleaming with sorrow. "I'm sorry, Arabella. I truly am."

She blinked at his unexpected apology. He'd apologized before and she knew he'd meant it before as well. But this time she could clearly feel the genuine remorse, pulling at her heart. And she placed her hand over his on the gearshift, an affectionate smile on her lips. "It's okay, love."

Arabella wasn't usually the type to use petnames, so he knew her using the same one as he always used for, was her way of affirmation. And they stayed like this for a moment more, holding each other's gaze while smiling.

Until sirens echoed in the distance and disrupted the crickets' melody. His lips breaking into a smirk then. "Guess your little theft didn't go unnoticed after all." She giggled, taking her beretta from underneath her dress as he pulled out his own from underneath his blazer.

"Ready?" "Always."

»»»

next chapter: 1.3 here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[brntout]

“YOU ARE CRYING! YOU ARE AFRAID OF ME! AND YET I AM NOT REALLY WICKED. LOVE ME AND YOU SHALL SEE!"

// ( dev patel . cismale . he/him ) . ⸻ vikram shah a thirty five year old , has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for most of their life . the shepherd  is  known  for  being loyal and off-putting and is often associated with digging a finger under a tight collar, mornings covered in dew and fog, the clenching and unclenching a fist, a cornered animal snarling both in warning and in yearning. in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as the funeral director at red creek cemetery , word travels fast . it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that  [ REDACTED ]. ( aime , 27 , MST , she/her ) .

threads | musings | mirror | edits | playlist | pinterest | wc (all wip lol)

🥀basics

full name ➔ vikram shah

nicknames➔ vik,

age➔ 35

birthday ➔ november 15

gender ➔ cismale ( he / him )

sexual orientation ➔ demisexual

occupation ➔ funeral director at the redcreek cementary

fc ➔ dev patel

🥀family

mother : urvashi shah

father : jasprit shah

🥀background

back in the day, viktor shah was a name that was more whispered than celebrated around the streets of red creek. hushed rumors of a troubled child, a young man with a hot temper and a knack for getting into trouble.

what a shame it was too, that his parents were the sweetest people! jasprit & urvashi shah were nothing if not upstanding citizens. and well, vikram resented them for it. his parents were too busy cultivating their image and keeping the business that they put raising vikram quite low on their priority list.

affection was not something that was commonly found in the shah household. sometimes it felt like they saw vikram more like their personal assistant rather than their child.

as a young man who lacked the space and the ability to express himself, he resorted to acting out instead. smoking, drinking, trespassing, vandalism, all the petty things rambunctious teenagers like to do to raise a ruckus around town.

which was interesting, because vik didn't carry himself with the same type of rowdiness or misconduct that his peers did.

he was shy, soft-spoken, got decent grades -- all the makings of a nice unproblematic kid. there was definitely something else though. an underlying temper that could spring to life in a blink of an eye. one wrong comment could turn a meek smile into a vicious snarl just like that.

it's unclear to everyone what finally got vik to mellow down. maybe something his parents said finally got through to him or maybe he grew tired of being known as the towns 'freak'

regardless, vikram slowly began to phase out his rebellious, wannabe criminal phase during his college years. he graduated, went back home, and eventually took his father's place as the town's funeral director.

vikram is still known around town as a generally polite man. a little quiet, tends to keep to himself, but is more than willing to lend a helping hand around the community. in the morning, he is usually spotted walking downtown holding bouquets of flowers and in the evenings he is known to catch a film at the movie theatre or grab a drink at one of the local bars.

his profession and overall awkward demeanor still makes him a little of a freak to some people but any rumors around him are more made-up tales stirred by the more judgmental folk. stories of him being a necromancer or a witch, snide comments about how he seems more comfortable with dead bodies than live ones. anyone close to vik would tell you that he's a sensitive soul and simply prefers a wallflower lifestyle.

if one were to pay close attention, they would notice that he keeps his knuckles bandaged most days, that he rarely invites people over to his home, the shadow that falls on his face when someone brings up his childhood, and sometimes, a pensive look - like he has something to confess.

summary : your local angsty teen grows up to be a soft-spoken, somewhat nervous adult. followed his father's footsteps in becoming a funeral director. living proof that emo is not a trend, it's a lifestyle.

🥀connections - all connections are open to any gender unless specified otherwise.

employees➔ obviously people who work under him at the cemetery. we can plot their dynamics! i imagine vik is the type of boss that is a little intimidating because of how professional he is but slowly warms up to his employees in his own way.

ex/past flings➔ a high school sweetheart, a fleeting summer romance, a college situationship

introverted adoption➔  someone who can pull vik out of his comfort zone emotionally and physically pls he needs it

childhood friends➔ other degenerates that hung out with vik, maybe the occasional good kid who saw the better side of him, friends that grew apart for one reason or another.

bad influences➔ someone who not only supports vikram's bad vices... they encourage them.

🥀personality

+perceptive+sensitive+loyal -awkward-temperamental-intense mbti ➔ ISTP natal chart ➔↑ libra, ⊙ scorpio, ☾ gemini inspired by ➔ the phantom ( phantom of the opera ), evan kelmp ( misfits & magic ), carrie ( carrie ),

[gravesung-moving]

hazy thoughts about mh.a/j.jk verses for my funky anime lad

m.ha sakura — quirkless

like i think that would make a lot of sense for him given the universal rejection and unkindness shown to him throughout his entire life. like every kid, he wanted to be a hero until those dreams were shattered and he became bitter. started fighting. started fighting people with quirks, and eventually began winning against them.

maybe furin high/makoshi is a place specifically for quirkless delinquents?? parents send their kids there when they can't deal with them anymore or are ashamed of them being quirkless. but sakura goes on his own, because he's heard it's a seedy place the pro heroes sort of ignore (because what can they really do about it? try to be teachers and get eaten alive by teenage boys? and how much do they really care about a bunch of quirkless teens fighting each other?)

m.ha sakura — stamina quirk?

verse that could put him in UA potentially. i think his quirk would give his body like, double or triple the fighting stamina/recovery a normal body would allow. his muscles take much longer to tire out and they repair faster

in that case, i could see his lifelong rejection just being because of his partial albinism like it is in canon. small town, shitty people, shitty parents. goes to UA to fight his way to the top — not because theyre the lowest of the low and he thinks he belongs there (he doesn't. lol) but purely out of spite and anger for everything he's been through

becomes more passionate about actually being a hero the longer he stays there though, as he learns to find himself again and he continually rushes mindlessly into trouble to protect people

very bak.ugo coded honestly. he's not a bully though, he just wants to fight

jj.k sakura

ooh very easy to work him in here — sorcerers are often treated like garbage by non-sorc communities (ie suguru's girlies). so i can imagine sakura came from a pretty isolated place, not only with what was seen as a freakish visual defect but also strange black magic shit???

so yeah that's where the mass rejection and hate came from in this verse. similar to mainverse, his parents were neglectful and abusive, he never made any friends, kids and adults alike looked at him with disdain. he started fighting. and kept fighting. and kept fighting.

at this point i think i could see him being recruited to tokyo jujutsu high if he stirred up enough shit, or furin could be a smaller school for wayward delinquent sorcerers — like an independent mini jujutsu society started by umemiya after he unified a rough town. band of boys who take on cursed spirits and curse users together.

so much better and healthier than mainstream jujutsu society honestly. these lads

(though i feel like they'd end up just being called curse users because they're not part of the system)

cursed technique tba. he seems to have noticeable potential to skyrocket in power compared to his peers, so i imagine his CT would also be head-turning in some way?

alternate jj.k idea for heem

i could see potential for sakura as a newer, influencable suguru recruit tbh. he's so broken and insecure, it would be so easy for suguru to sort of take the furin boys' place as a beacon of stability and belonging.

on one hand i think he would be very easy to connect with — non-sorcerers have treated him like garbage for his entire life, and that's exactly what suguru is trying to show people about them. but on the other hand, sakura has such a strong sense of morality that i don't think he would necessarily be manipulated that easily

so maybe he does get him on board in the beginning, but at one point (maybe after a more positive influence) sakura realizes this is all fucked up and tries to defect

going back to having a powerful CT, that would probably be why suguru would want to scoop him up before jujutsu society can

[abiteofhoney]

Writerly Questionnaire

thanks for the tag @willtheweaver :) i dont do tag games a whole lot bc… well idk. they scare me? but this one got my attention. mostly because it doesn’t involve sharing any of my actual writing.

About me:

When did you first start writing?

around 2013-14 i think. it was my freshman year of high school. i was recently introduced to one direction, and well…. the rest is history (i wrote bad harry styles fanfic which eventually evolved into fully original work)

Are the general themes you read different from the ones you write?

i would say no. i mostly like to read fantasy, and that’s mostly what i write, i think.

Is there an author/fellow writer you want to emulate, or one to whom you want to be compared?

in short, no. i have learned the hard way that comparing myself to others is the devil.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (room, coffee shop, desk, etc)

i’m generally in an old, peeling, faux-leather recliner, laptop in my lap, some mindless show on in the background, and then whatever i need right around me.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

ehhhhh idk honestly. just thinking about my story will stir up some motivation and inspiration if im not there yet. i just kind of sit with my doc open in front of me until something starts happening

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

in any way that you environment influences you, i suppose. not directly. certainly not on purpose. i don’t pull inspiration from it at least.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

there are probably some i don’t recognize as repeat offenders, but i think all of my stories have the main character incapacitated with pain while their love interest has to take care of them. i eat it up every time.

grief is often a key factor in my stories, but let’s not look to far into that.

My Characters:

Would you please tell me about your favorite character? (Current wip, past wip, never used)

right now, it’s scarlett :) she’s a bitey woman who likes to kill and torture, but she gets carried away too easily, so her girlfriend evie tries to show her how to control herself and how to appreciate death and killing as an art form

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

theoretically, all of them. they’re all amazing and i love them.

realistically, none of them. they’re messy and i’m a recluse that doesn’t like a lot of upset in my life

Which of your characters would you dislike most in real life?

anzurin. he’s one of those “sexy in fiction, a walking red flag in real life” kind of characters

Tell me about the process of coming up with one, all, or any of your characters.

truly, i don’t have much of a process. i generally get a quick idea or flash of inspiration for, say, a single scene, and then i build their character as i write it.

Do you notice any themes/traits about your characters?

the male love interests i write always worship the ground the main character walks on. women are almost always the focus. i love women

How do you picture them?” (as real people you imagined/as models/actors that exist in real life/as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc)

mmm i think i have that thing where you can’t picture stuff in your head. like i can come up with the features i want them to have, but i can’t see them. i can’t “picture” them.

i generally use whatever medium i can find - inspiration from real people, artwork i find, i have commissioned things before, picrews.

My writing:

What’s your reason for writing?

i don’t know, really. maybe i don’t have a reason. it just feels natural. as natural as breathing. like it’s exactly what i’m supposed to do with my life.

is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

my “readers” consist of one singular friend lol but she has said that im really good at building characters and making them feel real.

How do you want to be thought of by those that read your work? (for example, as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition as a talented worldbuilder, or a role model, etc)

i don’t want to be thought of. i would just be happy if my work was enjoyed. alas, i barely share it because, again, i don’t want to be thought of.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

my character building

What have you frequently been told your greatest writing strength is by others?

my character building :)

How do you feel about your writing? (answer in whatever way you interpret that question)

it varies. sometimes i feel like it’s not just good, it’s good enough (that’s a reference to ‘north of the border’ adam the sculptor). sometimes i feel like it’s great. sometimes i feel like i’ve lost it and will never write anything good again.

If you were the last person on earth, and knew that your writing would never be read, would you still write?

absolutely. as i said in another answer, writing is like breathing. i hardly share it as it is, so that’s not an issue at all.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? if it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

i think i mostly just write whatever i want. i fear that lately? i’ve been more conscious of what others might think/enjoy, but im trying to stop doing that. i write for me. i write because i enjoy it, and if i start trying to cater to others, i will no longer enjoy it.

~~~~~

some of those were difficult to answer but this was a good time :)

i don’t know many of you have already done this, so if i tag anyone that has already done it, sorry :/ you don’t have to do it again

but i will tag a few no pressure tags: @autism-purgatory @finickyfelix @frostedlemonwriter @bluberimufim