#everything that just popped up in the tag predicts

[xeniums]

genuinely no matter how many times I see this clip it will never not have me rewatching it for every little detail multiple times

Has this been done yet

[frostimochi]

resolutions

(logan howlett x reader)

summary: You and Logan attend a New Years party hosted by Wade. With the countdown to midnight, you both get caught up in the moment and share an intimate moment with each other.

word count: 2.4k

author's note: i unironically had a dream about this the other night, so of course i had to share with the class, days earlier than planned. this takes place a year after deadpool & wolverine. enjoy! :>

find it on ao3 here

. . .

New Years was awfully unpredictable for you. Every year seemed to bring a different mix of highs and lows, leaving you wondering whether the holiday was even worth celebrating. This year, you didn’t even plan to—until Wade showed up with an invitation to his apartment against your will, promising the "social event of the decade." Against your better judgment, you agreed, dragging Logan along as your buffer for whatever insanity awaited. After all, how bad could it be?

It turned out, predictably, to be very bad.

The party was chaotic, as expected when Wade was involved. Streamers hung haphazardly from the ceiling, balloons were scattered across the floor, and someone had already popped open a bottle of champagne—two hours early. The stereo blasted a mix of '80s rock and whatever Wade had decided was "party music," which helped to create an unforgettable experience. And not in a good way.

Surrounding the room, couples were unable to keep their hands to themselves, unflatteringly in your direction. One group of friends were drunkenly laughing as they took selfies under a sagging strand of broken lights, while others swayed together to the mismatched beat of Wade’s horrendous playlist. You watched everything unfold, while Dogpool sat on your lap, constantly begging you for more cuddles.

Logan sat on the couch beside you, opening a bottle of beer, his expression a mix of irritation and mild amusement. He never wanted to come, but you’d convinced him. And of course, how could he say no? The promise of decent company and free booze was enough to get him to tag along. And though he wouldn't say it out loud, he also secretly loved spending time with you.

As Wade danced dramatically in the corner among the rest, Logan shot you a look that said, "This is your fault."

You laughed at his expression, your hands still on Dogpool as you nudged his arm. 

"Come on, admit it. You’re having a little fun."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Watching Wade do... whatever the hell that is? Sure, a riot."

"It’s interpretive dance," Wade called out, spinning in a circle before collapsing dramatically onto the floor. "I’m expressing the tragedy of running out of nachos."

Logan rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a barely there smile. You caught it and grinned.

“Come here, Mary Puppins! Daddy has a surprise for you!” Wade shouted, diving toward you and grabbing Dogpool out of your lap before you could protest.

You blinked, hands still frozen in mid-air. "What the hell, Wade? She’s comfortable!"

Wade cradled Dogpool dramatically, making kissy faces at her. "Oh, but I have something better," he said in a sing-song voice. "A little treat she’ll never forget."

Logan raised an eyebrow from where he sat, grasping onto his beer bottle while watching the scene unfold. "Oh boy.”

You sighed, already knowing this wouldn’t end well. "I swear, if you try to feed her something weird—"

"Don’t worry," Wade interrupted with a grin. “I made her something special, to dedicate my first year with Puppins here, of course.”

"Let me guess," you said, crossing your arms. "You’re feeding her leftover pizza crusts and ranch dressing?"

Wade’s face lit up. "Are you shitting me? I’ve got something way better than that!" With that, he dug into the pocket of his absurdly tight pants and pulled out a tiny, half-melted sandwich. You swore that you could see a tiny bit of mold in it.

 "Behold, a hot dog sandwich! You know, for dogs, because they deserve the best."

Logan stared at the sad creation in disbelief. "That’s just a hot dog in a bun. For you."

"Fuck no!" Wade grinned, holding the sandwich up like it was the Holy Grail. "This is an exclusive Dogpool meal—made with delicate care!"

Logan let out a low chuckle as Dogpool tried to squirm free from Wade’s arms, clearly more interested in anything but what her own owner had in store for her. 

You grinned at Logan. "It’s a shame. This could have been a bonding moment for the two of them.”

Wade, completely unfazed by Dogpool's lack of enthusiasm, tried to coax her into taking a bite, which ended up with him chasing her around the apartment.

 "Come on, sweetie! You can’t say no to this!”

"Guess Dogpool's smarter than all of us," Logan muttered, taking a swig of his beer as Wade continued his one-dog food fight.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched Wade flailing around the place, bumping into others without a care in the world. Logan’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, something that only appeared when he knew you were genuinely amused.

"Well, looks like I haven’t completely ruined your night," Logan remarked dryly, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip of his beer. His eyes stayed on you, still holding the faint smile on his face.

You nudged him gently with your elbow. "You’re enjoying this more than you thought you would."

His gaze flickered away for a moment before he gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching again. "Maybe a little," he muttered, clearly not wanting to give you the satisfaction of admitting it outright.

. . . 

As the night rolled on, a few more guests trickled in, and the energy of the room continued ebbing and flowing. Wade was missing for a bit, which kept things steady for a while. Logan stayed close to you, content to observe rather than participate. You didn’t mind; his dry commentary on the festivities kept you entertained.

You checked your watch for a moment. It was 11:48 pm. Leaning back in your seat, your eyes drifted back to Logan, wanting to start a conversation amidst the awkward silence.

"So, what’s your resolution?" you asked him as the clock neared midnight.

Logan’s gaze flicked to you. "Don’t do resolutions."

"Why not?"

"What’s the point? People make ‘em and break ‘em in the same week."

"Not everyone," you said. "Some people actually stick to them."

"You?" he asked, tilting his head. "What’s yours?"

You went into thought for a moment. You? A new year's resolution? Every time you’ve attempted to stick with one, it always ended up blowing up in your face. If there was anything you wanted more than anything to succeed in, it would probably be to get with Logan. Of course, the concept of it was foreign, but you fell for him the minute you met him. You knew that under the circumstances of what the two of you have been through, there was no chance you could tell him how you felt, or know if he reciprocated the same way.

But maybe it was time to put that all behind. A new year was approaching after all.

There was a long pause before you responded.

 "To... take more risks, I guess."

Logan’s lips quirked. "Risks, huh? Like coming to a party with this crowd?"

"Sure," you said with a laugh. "Your turn."

He shook his head jokingly. “Same as you.”

Before you could press him further, Wade appeared, clapping his hands loudly. "Alright, people! Ten minutes to midnight! Time to get your New Year’s smooch plans in order. No shame in making deals, folks."

Everyone around the room had somebody close to them for the big countdown. It made you glance back at Logan. "You got a lucky someone?"

He gave you a look that made your stomach flip, but he said nothing. Instead, he took another sip of his beer, shaking his head.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you stood up, glancing around one last time. It seemed like nothing was going to change tonight. You made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a drink to settle the quiet disappointment that had settled in your chest.

. . .

As the countdown began, the room filled with excitement. People paired off, others grabbed sparklers from a box Wade had inexplicably found, and you felt a small pang of awkwardness as you realized you didn’t have a plan for the midnight kiss. You hadn’t thought much of it; you’d figured it wasn’t a big deal.

"Ten!" Wade’s voice boomed over the music, causing the entire room to erupt into excitement. 

People cheered and clinked glasses as the countdown began in full force. You could hear the muffled echo of it coming from every direction, but your focus remained on the drink in your hand, the sudden unease gnawing at you.

"Nine!" Wade continued, getting even louder. You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes darting to the couples already pairing up, lips ready for the tradition. It was just a kiss, right? A simple tradition, nothing more. But why did it pang your heart this much?

"Eight!" 

The countdown sped on, the crowd growing louder, more energized. Your heart rate picked up in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Seven!"

 You turned your head, glancing over your shoulder to the bar, then to the group by the windows, still holding your drink. But your mind was far from the surroundings. You hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t thought much about it until now. The idea of a midnight kiss had always felt trivial before, but tonight it seemed to matter for some reason you couldn’t grasp.

"Six!" 

You looked around for something to distract you, anything to break the tension building in your chest. But as your gaze shifted around the room, you realized that Logan had somehow made his way closer to you, inching his way through the crowd, his quiet presence unnoticed by you as you remained lost in your own swirling thoughts.

"Five!" 

The countdown ticked on, but your awareness narrowed to just the space between you and Logan. You felt a presence beside you, and for a moment, you didn’t even realize it was him until you looked up—his steady, unreadable eyes meeting yours. The air felt different, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol or something else entirely.

"Four!" 

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. You felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach, but there was a softness in his eyes that made everything else fade. The crowd continued to cheer, to count down, but all you could hear was the steady beat of your own heart, drowning out the noise.

"Three!" 

Logan's hand brushed against yours. Deliberate, yet gentle, and the contact sent a small spark racing up your arm. You couldn’t help but look at him, a question in your eyes. Was this... real? 

"Two!" 

Logan’s face was in front of you, his hand reaching up to your face, his touch warm and steady against your skin. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, your heart racing at a pace you hadn’t expected. His thumb gently brushed over your cheekbone, a tender gesture that only made everything feel more overwhelming.

The countdown faded into the background as his face inched closer. Your thoughts scrambled, but there was only one certainty you understood. The way Logan was looking at you, the way everything seemed to quiet around you. 

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t need to. For the first time that night, you felt grounded.

“One!”

The room erupted in cheers, but all you felt was Logan’s lips on yours. Warm, firm, and completely unexpected. The kiss was brief, but it lingered, a moment suspended in time.

 When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, an expression of quiet uncertainty mingled with something more. His lips were slightly parted, as if he was trying to process the same rush of emotions you were. Neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, the world around you seeming to slow down even further. His gaze softened, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. But he didn’t say anything—not yet.

The noise of the room swirled back into focus, but it felt distant, like a muffled backdrop to what you both were experiencing in that exact moment. Logan’s hand was still resting against your cheek. Warm, like it had always belonged there.

"Didn’t think I’d be here, doing this," Logan muttered under his breath, his eyes still locked onto yours. There was something vulnerable in his voice, and it made your heart beat faster.

Before you could respond, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as though trying to dismiss the weight of the moment. "Wade’s probably gonna never let us live this down," he added, the ghost of a grin curling his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. "You don’t have to worry about him. I’ll take the blame," you said, the tension between you easing slightly.

Logan looked at you, his gaze more serious now, though there was still a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. "I’m not so sure I mind…”

There was a pause of silence, but neither of you moved.

“Guess this is what happens when I let you talk me into things,” he said, his voice teasing but warm.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I’m not complaining.”

He gave you a half-shrug, a small, hesitant smile pulling at the corner of his lips. " I’ve been thinking about this. Longer than I should’ve."

A mixture of surprise and warmth flooded through you. You could feel your cheeks flush, but the sudden honesty in his words was enough to settle the fluttering nerves in your chest.

"I’ve been thinking about it too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the truth coming out more easily than you'd expected. "Longer than I realized.”

His thumb gently traced the edge of your jaw, a gesture both comforting and intimate, as he let out a smirk.

"Guess we’ve been a little slow on the uptake, huh?"

“Let’s leave that for last year.”

You smiled, a soft, genuine thing, and his gaze softened in return. Neither of you needed to say more. You were here now, standing close, hearts open in a way they hadn’t been before. And maybe that was enough.

As the noise from the crowd picked up again, people shouting and celebrating the turn of the new year, Logan leaned in a little closer, his voice just for you.

 “Happy New Year,” he murmured.

"Happy New Year," you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. The rest of the world seemed to fade away again, the cheers and music just background noise.

 And you were right where you needed to be.

[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter four: can't turn water into wine, never asked you to

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie tries giving you space, but then your fucking ex shows up.

cw: animal death, trauma, depictions of physical and emotional abuse, attempted physical assault, bullying/harassment, violence, deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. this entire work is explicit. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You don’t see Eddie for days. And you don’t know how, you don’t know when, but he got you the promotion.

Colin mysteriously quit. Out of nowhere, he left a message with his resignation for the owner to deal with. You remember that Eddie said he visited Colin, and all the tip money he gave back to you sits in your bedside table like an omen. But you don’t know how he could have influenced you getting Colin’s promotion.

All the while, the mark on your wrist makes itself known each time you think about it. Eddie. You find yourself running your thumb over the raised scar, tracing the letters as the image of a fiery volcano sweeps through your mind. 

There’s a certain comfort to having it. Sometimes it throbs with your pulse, almost as if to let you know that he’s there, his infernal heart beating in time with yours. He’s still around, watching over you in some way, even if he isn’t lingering in your doorway or popping into your dreams. 

When you’re getting into your car for your shift, and a warm breeze rattles the leaves in the trees with the slightest scent of smoke on it. When you’re clocking in, and your name tag says manager, and the mirror over the sink in the back flashes a pair of glowing eyes back at you in your reflection. You can still sense him with a quivering in your gut that urges you to run for him, like it always does when he’s around, doing the devil’s work, wreaking havoc on your already compromised moral compass.

It’s him. He’s there. He’s looking after you, but he’s holding back. He’s waiting for you to ask for him.

You start to miss him. It hits you most when you’re at home alone, sleeping on your couch rather than your bed because you want to be there if he appears in your doorway again. Anxiety and desire flip flop in your body. It ignites something in you, makes you shiver even when your body goes hot with want. 

And of course, you’re attracted to him. Stupidly. Predictably, you guess– you’ve always liked power. You think you developed some idiotic crush on him the night you made that deal. His eyes like two glowing beacons, seeking you out in the darkness. You never felt scared of looking back into them, because he went out of his way to make you feel like you held as much power as he did. 

Of course, everything you’ve been through since the deal, and the prospect that you’re going to fuck him– because it’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when– makes your desire for him even worse. You feel like a new bride two days from her wedding night. The virginal maiden on her way to bed the horned god. 

Well, you’re not a virgin, but you sure fucking feel like one when you think about the prospect. And he’s not a god, but he sure feels like one to you. You’re full of raw power that he’s given you, pulsing in your veins. And now you have to lay here with it, with his presence even when you can’t see him, and it feels good.

To be completely honest, you start to look for him– peering around corners in your house, glancing at doorways and hoping that he’ll show up in one of your dreams. You don’t know how to summon him. Do you have to go out to the crossroads and cast a circle and make a petition again? Do you have to break down in tears? Or is it just as simple as saying his name?

For some reason, you don’t attempt it. You don’t want to be disappointed if you do it wrong.

Then, during one of your shifts at the diner, the mark burns hot under your skin. Just for a second. Just enough to make you jump and drop a cup you were wiping dry, shattering the mug across the kitchen floor. 

“Whoops,” you laugh, trying to play it off as just a silly little butterfingered moment. It’s a slow day, and nobody is moving particularly fast or looks like they care, but you glare down at the tile floor as you sweep up the mess. The mark hasn’t burned that hot before, not since it was given to you. Granted, you’ve only had the mark for a week, but this is the first time it’s really made you flinch.

A bell jingles over the front door. You wipe your hands on your apron and duck out of the kitchen doors to greet whoever it is– but, of course, you stop.

“Andy,” you say, your voice flat. The mark throbs obnoxiously against your wrist, bringing your awareness to it rather than the man in front of you.

A cold chuckle greets you, along with the foul stench of the fucking cologne he always douses himself in. You take one whiff, and then start breathing through your mouth before you gag; one part of you hoping he doesn’t notice and take offense, the other wishing that he would. He steps up to the bar counter, his blue eyes going beady and sharp. His brown hair, which had always had a certain unattractive chalkiness to it, is tinted almost blue in the light coming through the windows.

Andy wasn’t terrible in the beginning. Actually, he’d been really likable. Sweet, even, and charming. He had been kind, and he was smart and funny, and he laughed at your stupid jokes and he went out of his way to make you feel special. You would stay up late into the night talking for hours, seemingly never running out of things to say to each other. He told you to your face that he didn’t like bigots, and he stuck up for you when other people in town called you a ‘freak,’ or a ‘Satan worshipper,’ or what have you. You felt safe with him. Until you didn’t. 

Andy’s really good at intimidating you. It started a little too late in your relationship for you to notice the warning signs; the passive aggression, refusing to talk to or even look at you if he was mad about anything, whether it involved you or not. The denial, blaming you if you brought up how unfair he was being. Controlling your interests by getting angry and taking it as a personal affront if they didn’t line up with his own. You were just so happy that someone was willing to get close to you in this town, was willing to love you, that you overlooked all the red flags.

By the time you noticed your own behavior towards him– instinctively avoiding eye contact, being afraid to set boundaries for fear of retaliation, waiting for him to say his opinion before you shared your own so that you didn’t inadvertently disagree with him– you were convinced you were making it up. Or that it was your anxiety talking. He didn’t mean you any harm. How could he? He said he loved you.

Until he kicked you out of the apartment. Until he hit your dog with his car. It still rips your heart out when you think about it too hard– your stomach flips and you feel like vomiting. The wound is still too fresh, even six months later. Things like that don’t heal quickly, they fester and they burn and they ache until they poison you, or worse.

He left you to bury Lacey, your five year old Dachshund, in the woods on your own, sobbing and swearing you’d never forget her. And you haven’t. 

You tried. You went into the woods, under a waning moon. You bought a pig’s heart from the butcher shop, you drove three rusty nails through it. You bound it in black twine. You buried it with a picture of Andy and when you covered it with dirt, you spit on his “grave.” 

It didn’t work.

It only seemed to backfire, actually. Now, he refuses to leave you alone when you just want him gone. He comes around the diner to sit and nurse a cup of coffee for three hours, while berating you for not paying enough attention to him. You can’t imagine the thought process going through his head, if there is one at all. Maybe he thinks he’ll win you back this way, or maybe he finds it entertaining to watch you squirm. 

Ultimately, all it does is remind you of what he did to you. What he took from you. You have wrath welling up inside you, the likes of which could level cities. If only you could set it loose.

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” he asks you bluntly as he takes his usual seat at the bar, right by the door. He flashes you a smile that may be an attempt at charm, but it only strikes you as menacing.

“Because,” you say through your teeth, “I’ve been busy. I got promoted.” You don’t mention that you changed your number because you were sick of his long winded, drunken phone calls filling your inbox with filth.

“Good for you,” Andy says, eyeing the word manager on your name tag. Staring you down is his favorite intimidation tactic. It makes your heart lurch up into your throat. “You’re really moving up in the world, aren’t you?”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to fucking justify yourself to him anymore. At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself when you feel yourself about to, averting your eyes. Your mind screams, ‘Look at him! Look at him!’ as though it would make any kind of a difference. It’s all rendered completely redundant with one look at his face. It won’t change how much he scares you.

Andy readjusts the cuffs of his brown leather jacket. With his tight blue jeans and motorcycle jacket, and his pin straight All-American haircut, he resembles something out of Happy Days. It’s almost as if he’s suddenly concerned with his looks. He never has been before– he’s minorly handsome and always rather plain looking, unassuming, unfussy. You counted it as a blessing, once, but now it just doesn’t lend anything good to his appearance. Andy’s just plain, and his ugliness shows on his face now, especially in his eyes. There’s nothing warm or pretty about him.

Not like Eddie .

“You know my order.” 

So, you’ve been dismissed. You turn away and disappear into the kitchen, and let out a long breath. Eastwick is a tiny town, boasting only a couple thousand people at the most. Your diner is on the main drag, and people around here don’t like to linger when you’re on shift. Of course, Andy would be the only customer you get at this time on a Monday, but that’s because he supposedly knows you better than most.

If only he knew.

Your wrist throbs. Your head is whirling a mile a minute, There’s a migraine coming on, you can feel it at the base of your skull. 

While your shaking hand holds his cup of coffee, your vision blurs, and you accept that you must be having a panic attack. The lights are too bright, the smells are too strong, everything is too loud and you can feel yourself vibrating from your fight or flight response, all your adrenaline pumping into your limbs. Your fingers clutch at the burning cup of coffee in your hands and zero in on that sensation rather than anything else. 

Oddly, you find some comfort in it. It reminds you of Eddie. His touch. The fire in his eyes.

You’re so strong. Just look at what you can do.

You jump at the sound of Eddie’s voice in your ears, almost as if he’s standing right behind you, whispering to you. Your eyes refocus on the ceramic cup in your hands. The liquid inside it is boiling. It bubbles over onto your fingers, but somehow, you don’t feel it.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, setting the cup down onto the coffee station. The bubbles recede. The coffee steams, but settles into the cup. 

Fingers twitching, you glance around to make sure nobody else in the kitchen noticed what just happened. Satisfied that no one is looking, you reach forward and wrap your hand around the cup again.

The bubbles start again as the coffee rapidly begins to boil. 

“Shit, shit, shit–” You hold your hands out, examining your palms. There’s nothing that seems wrong, no hellfire emitting from your fingers. Nothing to suggest that you’re making things inexplicably boil with your touch, just a semi-warm feeling beneath your skin.

You stand in place, trying to decide the best thing to do. If you touch the door, is it going to go up in flames? Or are you only able to make things boil? Are you going to burn the entire place down? You’ll be collecting your final paycheck written in ash, because all the pencils have been scorched to a crisp. And everyone in town will continue to talk about the witch who burned down the Eastwick diner, just like everything else they’ve accused you of for years. 

“Can it, um–” You frown, trying to figure out how exactly to make your hands stop being weapons of mass destruction. “Can we just not do that, right now?” 

Fine.

You tentatively reach out and touch the cup. Nothing happens. 

You sigh in relief and feel like a massive weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You aren’t nearly as nervous as you were before. Apparently, having your hands magically turn into bunsen burners will kill a panic attack in five seconds flat. 

You collect the cup of now burnt coffee and the dish of creamer and sugar packets. Best to just move on, behave like normal, right? Your hands definitely didn’t just boil something on their own. You’re definitely a normal person with normal connections to the great beyond. You definitely don’t have a demon telepathically communicating with you, somehow.

You slide the dish and coffee in front of Andy, still refusing to look at him. “Careful, it’s very hot.”

“Yeah, it’s coffee.” There’s a sour note to his voice to let you know that he’s annoyed. He’s always annoyed with you.

You turn to leave, but a hand grabs your arm roughly. You breathe in the sour stench of his vinegary cologne, and you really do gag this time. It reminds you of toxic waste and rot. “Andy, what–?”

“What the fuck is this?” Andy yanks your arm across the counter, staring down at your wrist. Fuck. “You seeing someone? You got a new boyfriend?”

Yes. “No, I–” It’s complicated.

“Who the fuck is Eddie?” Andy spits, squeezing your arm a little harder. You whimper, your heart hammering in your chest. His voice is cold, growling at you with anger and disgust. “You let him carve his fuckin’ name into your skin?”

“It’s–” None of your fucking business. “That’s not what it is.”

“Yeah?” Andy snarls, his rough hand pulling you closer. “You just let any random guy carve his name into you like that? You fuckin’ freak?”

Does that look like it was carved, dipshit?

You try to yank your wrist out of Andy’s hold, but it’s too strong. You try to keep your voice down so that you don’t attract any undue attention from the back. “Andy, stop–”

“What if I do that, huh?” Andy’s other hand comes up over the counter, and he flicks open a pocket knife. The blade is tarnished and old, but no less sharp. You remember watching him throw it at a dart board more than once. His smile mocks you. “Think it won’t mean shit if I do that?” 

Burn him.

Your heart pounds so hard you can hear it in your ears, your hands shaking. Andy presses his knife into your wrist, over Eddie’s mark, until blood wells on the surface of your skin.

BURN HIM.

You wrap your hand around Andy’s forearm, trying to pry him away from your own wrist. There’s a sizzling noise, a smell of burnt hair and skin– and then, Andy screams. 

He flies back off of the bar stool, clutching his wounded arm, while you try to scramble away from him. Leaning back against a wine cabinet, you pull your aching wrist protectively toward your chest. 

Good girl.

Andy’s arm has your handprint burned into it. He whirls on you with wild eyes. “What did you do to me, you– you witch?”  

Two of your coworkers burst through the door to the kitchen. So much for not attracting attention. Raoul, one of the line cooks, looks at you for direction of some kind.

“Raoul, please show Andy out of the diner,” you say with as much confidence and authority as you can muster, even though your voice still trembles. “He isn’t allowed back.”

“Oh, fuck you.” 

Raoul starts ushering him out, a large hand clapped onto Andy’s shoulder as he gruffly announces, “If I see you back here, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

“This isn’t over! I should have known they were right about you. They were all right about you,” Andy spits. “Stupid fucking bitch.”

Seething, you look down at your wrist. There’s a horizontal line cut across Eddie’s name. It makes you angry. Positively fucking livid. The most possessive part of your soul rears up, making your heart ache to see his mark defaced in any way. 

He’s yours as much as you’re his. The contract said so. 

You raise your eyes, and you look at Andy through the front window of the diner. Directly at him. He’s glaring back at you, and this time, you don’t avert your eyes. You don’t look away. Not when the glass on the windows starts to shake, almost imperceptibly. Not even when Andy flips you off, and throws open his car door.

And the car explodes. Flames erupt from the undercarriage, throwing the entire thing into the air for a second. Shrapnel flies, glass bursts from the windows of the car. You don’t see where Andy goes. There’s nothing but a great plume of fire in the air, a loud KABOOM that rocks the ground.

A few of your coworkers scream. Raoul instinctively guides you to duck under the counter, but the car is too far away from the building for that to make any kind of a difference.

You lift your head to look over the counter, at the blazing remains of Andy’s car exhaling smoke into the air. Your thumb runs protectively across Eddie’s name on your wrist.

When you look down at it, the cut that Andy made across it is gone.

[omgthatdress]

What would you consider really creative bdsm fashion as opposed to just phoning it in with elements that a normie like me would recognize, like collars and whips and stuff? Would those elements still be there? And is there a designer who you predict would really nail the concept?

oh god, I don't know! that's just it, I'm not a designer! If you want to see what the latest in fetish wear is, for real, just google "fetish wear" and a lot of indie brands will pop up.

But that's also the fun thing about fetishes: everything is a fetish! You can wear a plain black tux and your bare feet on the red carpet and it'd 100% be on theme. Actually that would be fucking cunt.

A while ago, I did a long, educational kink in fashion spam, and I have it all tagged so you can go look at it.

and honestly at this point it's what major brand HASN'T dabbled in fetish? Like I said, it's not for lack of it on the runway!

[warcats-cat]

Sacred Animal

Summary: Hermes takes you on a "mystery date" that becomes very cute and silly, very quickly.

A/N: I'm doing it, I'm being brave and posting one of the drabbles I wrote like over a month ago but felt kinda shy about. Biggest, most fluffy Thank-You to @lickoutyourbrains for reading and rereading and encouraging me through everything. If you guys enjoy this one I'll consider posting the others. Please let me know what you think, and as always let me know if I missed any tags!

Read on Ao3 here!

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Hermes' domains were a wide net that covered a lot. Travelers, Messages, Thieves, Trickery and Cunning, Athletes, Merchants, Speed, Language; the list went on for a while. And in keeping with the diversity of his domains, his moods and interests tended to whirl and swing around with the days. 

It made for some chaotic date nights. 

But really, you enjoyed the chaos; the thrill of his surprises, not really being able to guess but being able to follow where his mind was going. You could keep up with him, and he loved you for that. Therefore, date nights like tonight were surprising, but not completely out of left field. 

You were bundled up in a thick coat with ear muffs on your head; it wasn't snowing yet, but it was cold enough that the snow predicted for the following days would stick, and probably make a thick blanket on the ground. 

You faintly wondered if Hermes had ever made snow angels…

“Ready?” he asked at the front door of your apartment building; he was wearing a wide-brimmed hat instead of his usual helmet, and it cast a shadow over his eyes in lieu of his sunglasses. He also had a warm-looking red cloak, apparently lined with fur or some other fluff over a thin shirt that you couldn't quite see. He probably didn't need the cloak, he never seemed to feel cold, but it was important to keep up appearances when visiting public places. 

So you were going somewhere that would have other people. 

You huffed, checking the strap of the bag you carried to make sure it was close to your chest - he could still easily steal your wallet and phone, but it was a little harder when he couldn't just reach into your pockets. One of these days, you might just cave and buy the weird chest-strap bag that kept all your valuables up high and theoretically safe from nefarious hands. See if he could break into that…

Belongings secure, coat and muffs adjusted, you nodded and his face lit with a grin as he effortlessly lifted you into his arms. You could barely see the glow of his eyes under the shadow of the hat - the longer you dated Hermes, the more you learned to look closer for the little things. Right now, he was excited; more childlike joy than gleeful mischief, which was even more exciting for you. As much as you enjoyed his pranks and silliness, it was rare that he had this much anticipation for something. 

He was usually all soft smiles and warmth, but this was bright like a star. 

You tucked your face into Hermes' chest, knowing he was going to fly directly to wherever he was taking you. There would be no sight-seeing on this trip; another mystery to confuse you about potential locations. He pressed a gentle kiss into your hair before taking off, the wind quickly whipping around the pair of you as he sped towards your destination. 

It was still bright out - the sun wouldn't set for another hour or two, and the light and wind surrounded you for a few moments before you felt Hermes slow and finally land. At least this time he hadn't gone high enough to make your ears pop. 

You waited for his arms to loosen, looking up at him after a few moments. 

“Put me down?” You asked, teasingly. He shrugged. 

“Nah. It's pretty cold, it's nice to have a personal heater.” He replied. He only laughed when you lightly slapped his chest with the back of your hand, and finally released you. 

“How does your hat not fly off?” You asked, noticing the tips of his hair under the brim were ruffled, but the hat itself remained secure. He shrugged again. 

“God magic?” he theorized, jokingly. That was his answer to a lot of questions about his anomalies, and you knew better than to press. You rolled your eyes and huffed, crossing your arms. 

“Ok, fine,” you gestured for him to lead, “where exactly are we?” He took your hand and began to walk across a rather large expanse of grass, passing a little gravel parking lot full of cars, and you could see some farm buildings in the distance. 

“We’re gonna meet some friends!” the wide smile returned, as if his statement wouldn't raise more questions, but you just chuckled and followed. You were definitely on some kind of farm-store property; a place that probably did apple picking or a pumpkin patch in the fall. Right now, though, all of the trees were bare, the grassy field yellowish from winter frost, and the rows of dirt in the distance empty as the plants that grew there waited for spring. 

The pair of you walked up to a little gate, where an older man was sitting with a little cash box. The man smiled as you approached. 

“Well, how can I help you two?” he asked, a bit of a ‘country lilt’ to his words. You expected Hermes to wave a hand and work his ‘god magic’ on the man so he allowed you to pass, but instead your godly boyfriend handed over a real, American ten-dollar bill and responded “Two please.” 

You tried not to look at Hermes in shock and confusion; he ‘paid’ for a lot of your dates, but not usually with actual money. You faintly wondered if he was starting to understand the difference between stealing from corporations and small businesses; a subject of many debates and discussions throughout your time together. You were impressed. 

The man took the bill and traded it into his cash box for two bright green silicone bracelets, and began to fish out some change before Hermes held up a hand and told the man to keep the change. 

The god handed you a bracelet and led you around the gate as the man wished you both to have fun. After it appeared Hermes was not going to say anything about it, you tugged on his hand, causing him to stop. 

“Who are you and where is my boyfriend?” You asked, only half-jokingly. Maybe even less than half. 

He bounced on the balls of his feet; damn he was really excited. “I learn things when we talk! I'm supporting some local farmers!” He defended with a grin. “I’m not only a Patron of thieves, you know.” 

With that response apparently being all he planned to say, he began to walk again, taking your hand, and by extension, you, with him. The pair of you were walking around the main building which you were now certain was some kind of store, and as you turned the corner you could hear the excited jabbering of children. 

What the heck.

‘Meeting friends,’ he said. You were on a farm. There were little kids. You looked at the bracelet now on your wrist which read ‘Friendly Fields Local Craftworks and Petting Zoo’ in thin yellow letters. 

Well, this was certainly the most unique date he'd ever taken you on. 

In the rapidly diminishing distance, you saw a series of low fences housing several animals, and about a dozen children with parents in varying stages of exasperation. Most of the little ones were crowded around a hutch of extremely fluffy rabbits, but there was also a pen with mini ponies, one with two alpacas, one with a cow, one filled with chickens, and one with a small handful of sheep. You were pleased to notice that all of the pens had little heaters for the animals, and were sheltered in case it rained. 

You had to admit, this was kinda cute. 

Hermes continued to lead, heading straight for the sheep who ‘baah’d at him as you both came near. This one was the farthest off, and it seemed none of the children were very interested in visiting the sheep. 

“Hello, lovely ladies,” Hermes said as he leaned down and began to scratch one under its chin. You were a bit surprised; normally petting zoo animals were pretty apathetic towards their visitors, unless there was food involved. But all four of the wooly sheep had wandered over and were waiting for Hermes' attention. 

“So you're the god of sheep.” You said, a wry smile on your face as you watched him pet one animal with each hand. 

“Ha! You're close,” he replied, “I’m the god of shepherds. But sheep are one of my animals.” He paused, realizing you hadn't joined in, and stood back up to look at you. “Is this ok? You like petting things…” he asked, and now his face was hesitant.

You did like petting things. You constantly tried to pet the stray cats around your apartment complex, and the second someone offered for you to pet their dog you were all over those good boys and girls. You had even been to petting zoos before! Sheep were one of your favorite animals (although now you were absolutely not going to tell Hermes that). You felt your cheeks get hot, and it wasn't from wind burn. 

“Well, you looked like you were pretty excited to see them, and I didn't want to get in your way…” you said lamely. In truth, you just thought watching Hermes talk to a small herd of sheep was adorable, and had forgotten you were also supposed to be interacting with the animals. 

Hermes smirked, and pulled you a little closer, holding out a hand to the sheep closest to him, “here, just let her sniff you first. They'll probably feel a lot safer than normally because I'm here.” 

You followed his lead, surprised when the sheep forewent sniffing your hand and plopped her little chin in your palm. You could almost believe she was smiling at you. A surprised giggle bubbled out of you; no animal had ever done that. 

Seeing that there were now enough hands for all four to get pets at the same time, the whole little herd came up to the fence to vie for attention. It was strange and a little wonderful; their wool was thick and dense and incredibly warm, once you pushed your fingertips into the fleece. Hermes was saying something to the two in front of him, but you were only barely aware of that as you watched the little sheeps’ tiny, nubby tails wagging and twitching. 

He was probably giving them a blessing, the big softie; to be warm and live long and always have the tastiest grass. 

You had no idea how long the two of you had stood there, spoiling the little sheep with your scritches; thankfully the sun hadn't set yet, but it was a little darker. Hermes led you around to the other pens, now significantly quieter as several of the families and children left for the evening. There were still a good number of people around, but not so rowdy. One of the alpacas was interested in the pair of you, though not nearly as much as the sheep. The horses looked at you like you were some kind of aliens; as if you were the ones in the pens for their entertainment. Hermes avoided the cow, saying she was giving him a dirty look. 

You knew he had a history with cows but you didn't think it went that deep…

The chickens were also quick to look for Hermes' attention, running over to the fence posts to investigate. They formed a wide clump of feathers, and would have been centered around him if there hadn't been a barrier in the way. As it were, several chickens were reaching their heads through the fencing, clucking and (apparently) trying to peck at the god. You giggled. Hermes looked around a moment, that mischievous smile on his face, and you saw him pull his hat down in the back just far enough to free the wings behind his ears, which flapped a few times at the chickens in return. 

The chickens went wild, some of them darting away, some of them flapping their wings back, some almost screeching; to the point that one of the farmhands came over to make sure they weren't fighting, and Hermes had to quickly slip his hat back in place. 

You'd never pet a chicken before; and the farm hand was kind enough to let you and Hermes each hold one. They were warm, surprisingly heavy, and you were taken aback when you realized the bird was purring. Not as deep and consistent as a cat’s purr, but still noticeable; the vibrations just barely palpable in your hands. Hermes' face was practically glowing in the low light, looking at you holding the chicken. After a little more cuddling of the soft feathers, and watching Hermes (probably) whispering a blessing to the other birds as well, the farmhand helped you place the chicken back in her coop, and Hermes led you to the last pen; the bunnies.

Angora rabbits, to be specific, with their carefully brushed fur and softly padded pen. A visitor could see clearly that these were the prized animals for the farm. And they certainly were cute; well-socialized and hopping over to see the newcomers, hoping for treats, clearly relaxed while being handled by the humans. 

You opted not to hold a rabbit, but you did get to pet a few of them as they wandered from person to person - their fur was as silky-soft as you imagined; always hearing about angora wool being special and extra soft (and probably extra expensive) but never going out of your way to find clothes made with it. 

The sun was finally setting in earnest, and the farmhands were beginning to pack up the petting area and move the animals back into their warm barns and hutches; the little country store was still open though, and it only took a little bit of begging to convince Hermes to go inside and look around. 

He’d already been planning on going in, but you were cute when you made your sad-eyes and exaggerated pout. 

Inside, the shop was warm and smelled like fresh cinnamon and vanilla. There were a few people milling around, looking at the different products - lots of fresh baked goods, homemade preserves, craft items, and even a cubby of milled goat milk soap. There was also a large sign on the counter that read “Chelly is OUT” in large red letters, and you assumed the tile that read OUT could be flipped to say something like IN as well. 

You wondered if you'd get a peek at Chelly. You did love shops that had kitties wandering around. 

Hermes unpinned his cloak so it hung at his shoulders instead of clipped at his throat, and you loosened your coat as well; the shop was nice and warm, and you were getting a little too warm under so many layers. 

Hermes was definitely just showing off his shirt - a meme shirt, because of course he'd been collecting those recently... 

You took your time looking at different things, eventually Hermes handed you a little shopping basket with a knowing grin, and you blushed again as you carefully placed a bottle of lavender oil for baking and a pack of flaky, delicious looking chocolate pastries into the basket. You were a bit surprised when Hermes actually added some things to the basket - namely two little crochet sheep that had a tag reading [80% angora, 20% wool] and a crochet chicken that apparently had a squeaker in its body. 

Oh gods. That was going to drive his siblings insane. 

And then suddenly, Hermes yelped and jumped, floating just a second too long before landing and looking down at the floor. 

Looking at a little tortoise riding around on a skateboard-like contraption.

The yelp had attracted the attention of the woman running the counter, but Hermes was unbothered; consumed with the sheer delight upon seeing the little reptile appear from under the shelves. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” the woman said frantically, “she's perfectly healthy, I promise, she just gets a little feisty when it's close to closing time, because she knows once the customers leave she gets a strawberry. She didn't bite you, did she?”

Meanwhile, Hermes had become a metaphorical kid in a candy store, sitting down right on the floor and cooing at the tortoise. He waved the woman off, saying, “She's so cute! So fast!” And then addressing the turtle, a mess of babbling that included “Look at your little wheels!” 

You'd seen many moods from your godly boyfriend. You'd seen him happy, frustrated, confused, annoyed (usually by your car and your coworkers). You'd seen him drunk and giggly, when he had twirled you around until you both threw up. You'd seen him cry, though rarely; he rarely felt safe to do so. You'd even seen him divinely angry once when a nymph at one of Dio's parties asked why a mortal like you were allowed to attend. 

You had not seen him like this. This was newborn-baby-cute-aggression levels of babbling. He gently scratched around the tortoise’s shell, watching the reptile wiggle when he apparently hit a good spot. (It was admittedly adorable.) You were pretty sure you could see his wings ruffling under his hat. 

Thankfully, the woman was pleased with Hermes' excitement. “Oh, yes. Poor Chelly was hatched without her back legs working. My son made the little wheel board for her. She has one that only has wheels on the back, but she seems to prefer the ability to race around.” 

Ah. Chelly was the tortoise.

“It's brilliant!” Hermes' replied, and then after a moment of hesitation, he surprised you again. “Can I pick her up?” He asked, almost bashful. 

The woman only laughed. “Sure, if she'll let you! Just be careful, she likes to give love bites.” She patted the reptile’s shell gently and asked if you needed any help before returning to the counter to attend another customer. 

Your boyfriend was still sitting on the floor. 

Not knowing what else to do, you joined him on the floor. 

He gently wiggled his fingers in front of Chelly, and when she didn't reach out and bite, he carefully scooped her off of her skateboard and held her right up to his face. 

“Helloooo, Darling! You like to go fast, huh? Go Zoomies? You're such a pretty girl!” He was almost blushing, and for the second time you wondered what clone had spontaneously replaced the man you were dating. Meanwhile, the tortoise was content to extend her neck and brush his nose with her face. Her front legs wiggled as if she was still walking or possibly swimming, and he continued to talk to her. 

The longer you sat there, the more you wondered if they could understand each other. 

With a sigh, you gave Hermes a kiss on his cheek, told him you were going to look some more, and left to explore the other shelves. (You may or may not have snapped several dozen photos of him cooing at Chelly in the meantime.)

He sat there with the tortoise a full ten minutes; meanwhile you found your own mischievous gift. You had paid quietly and hidden the item at the bottom of your purse, under the ‘valuables’ and wrapped in a brown paper bag. That was for later. 

When he finally rejoined you, you playfully bumped him with your elbow as he took some offered hand sanitizer from the counter to clean his hands.  He paid for the rest of the items in your basket, once again with real money, and you knew better than to question it at this point. The pair of you rebuttoned your extra layers and prepared to go out into the night. 

“So, are you replacing me?” you asked. He smiled, nuzzling your cheek with a little huff. 

“Nobody could replace you.” He replied softly, and your face suddenly felt a little warmer. He easily picked you up once more, having put your purchases into his trusty messenger bag, and with little warning he took off. 

This time, he did fly a little higher, just so you could see the stars on the way home. The cold wind bit your nose and you would probably have chapped cheeks in the morning, but it was worth it. 

He landed easily outside your apartment building, fishing the brown paper bag out of his pack. He would have to be back on Olympus tomorrow morning, and was leaving tonight to have time to leave a trap for Apollo. You barely had a moment before he pulled you into a kiss, then twirling you around and dipping you backwards, throwing off your balance. At least he kept you from falling, even if it was an almost cartoonish dip. He was probably floating to have you so far back. 

“So,” he panted lightly, his breath making little bursts of fog in the night air, “did you have fun?” You laughed, patting his shoulders as a request to stand back up. His face was positively glowing as he helped you right yourself. 

Yes, he had been floating, damn god powers…

You laughed anyway; “Yes. More fun than I have in a while.” You said, and it was the truth. Hermes' silly side was your favorite thing about him, and you had gotten to see so much of it tonight. His smile was brilliant once more, and under the shadow of his hat you saw his eyes start to glow silvery. 

“I love you.” he said, and kissed you again. “I'll be back in two days. I'll pick you up from work.” 

“Okay. Don't be too mean to Apollo, okay?” You teased. He rolled his eyes, and began to break away, before you grabbed the strap of his messenger bag and stuffed your own small gift inside, feeling it disappear into the organized clutter of the bottomless bag. He quirked an eyebrow in question. 

“Don't open it until you get back to Olympus. Promise?” You asked, and held up your pinky finger. 

He snorted. “Sure. Promise.” He linked his pinky with yours, and you shook. Truly a sacred oath. One last stolen kiss, and then he was gone, zipping away into the night sky. You hugged the bag from the store to your chest, and went inside to your (thankfully warm) apartment. 

The treats went into the kitchen, to be enjoyed for breakfast tomorrow. You were already scrolling your phone for that lavender shortbread cookie recipe you'd seen a week ago and thinking you would have to go to the store tomorrow after work anyway. The little sheep plushies (you now noticed one was a ram and one was an ewe. Dork.) went onto your shelf of ‘Hermes Trinkets’ for now, though you knew you would probably move them to your bed for cuddling soon. Damn those things were soft. There was also a pair of thick purple socks that you hadn't seen him grab, equally soft, and you already planned to change into them with your pajamas. 

Not even an hour later, as you were settling in for bed, you received a text message with a photo attached. 

Hermes, his hair wild and hat off, with a gigantic grin on his face. Proudly wearing the crochet headband with a carefully curled pair of stuffed ram horns. Captioned: ‘Better than my laurels.’

You suddenly really hoped he wouldn't wear that to council meetings. You'd created a monster. 

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!)

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (5) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n formula 1's 'newest' WAG makes her race debut and gives her cousin a headache

i did actually screech like a parrot watching this race and then immediately adjusted some of my predictive writings

masterlist | last part | part 5 | next part

TWITTER

F1 WAGS @f1wagnews · 3h Selina Bui spotted around the paddock!

pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 2h the royal couple of australia (i don't make the rules 🤷‍♀️)

↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 2h why... did she wear blue...? she knows basic color theory... right??? ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 2h i completely missed that... SILENA??? ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 2h HER ASS IS NOT ENDING UP IN THE PAPAYA GARAGE IN THAT DRESS 😭 SHE'S NOT THAT DUMB IS SHE???

MANIFESTED OSCALINA | LONDON N3 @12m0red4ys · 26m SCREECHING RN we used to dream of these days

↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 25m '2-time grammy award winner' HELL YEAH SHE IS ↳ MANIFESTED OSCALINA | LONDON N3 @12m0red4ys · 26m the most employed wag in formula 1 🫶 (lily is a close 2nd)

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 13m HELP HAS ANYONE ELSE SEEN THAT CLIP OF LINA AND THE CHINESE INTERVIEWER 😭 ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 13m [translation] interviewer: this is your cousin's 3rd f1 season, how come you've never come support him? lina: he said he doesn't like my nagging interviewer: then will you be supporting zhou guanyu in shanghai? his home race could use some family support lina: even if he asked me to visit, there's nothing i can do, i'm in shenzhen performing a sold-out concert ↳ clovie @ luvyouvie · 7m she's so done lmao what can she do if zhou doesn't want her there ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 5m lina: i'm fucking busy too, have you considered that??

INSTAGRAM

selinabui just posted to their story

(translation: Brother Yu [Zhou Guanyu], come and save me)

TWITTER

rubyyy @piastriworld · 2h oh wait shit she's cute as fuck what ↳ rubyyy @piastriworld · 2h fyi this is abt lina bui ↳ rubyyy @piastriworld · 2h i was kinda expecting a full-on rockstar but she's super soft???

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 1h the same woman not even 12hrs later

clara @ zgy24 · 37m i do actually think it's insane we got an 'oscar piastri's partner' graphic before we got a 'zhou guanyu's cousin' graphic ↳ clara @ zgy24 · 37m selina dear, we know you can't stand him but we're sure he'd appreciate it if you popped by the kick garage on your way over 🫶 ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 17m you sound like my mother but i'll have you know he sent me this:

很油腻 directly translates to 'very greasy' but it basically means 'ew' or 'cringe'

↳ clara @ zgy24 · 15m LMAO OH MY BAD ↳ xixi²⁴ ⁴⁴ @grandegrid · 14m the sheer amount of info you get from these two ss 😭 like ofc they use wechat, zhou guanyu sounds like an annoying older brother, she calls him 鱼哥, she trolls the emperor nickname, THE PURE SIBLING DYNAMIC IS EVERYTHING ↳ ZG24 future WDC · @zhoupdates · 14m zhou cousins crumbs 💚

lina !!! @EB_selina · 29m mistakes were made, the blue dress and orange-- sorry, PAPAYA headphones are not a look 💀 ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 28m wonder if it's too late to sneak into the sauber garage... ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 12m i'm actually wheezing at this bc that's EXACTLY what my oomf said when ur pics first dropped ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 10m well i wish ur oomf gave me a heads-up before i left the hotel

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by zhouguanyu24 and 112,385 others

selinabui went on a tour around the paddock (finally visited the man racing with my number 🫶) tagged: zhouguanyu24 and logansargeant

pi4str1 babygirl, i think you wandered the wrong way

pastry81 oscar's girlfriend meeting oscar's boyfriend

zhouguanyu24 我给了你一个愿望 trans: i gave you one job/i had one wish ↳ selinabui @ zhouguanyu24 你是不是我的亲表哥！ trans: are you even my cousin!

logansargeant This feels like an achievement ↳ selinabui @ logansargeant it is, stay slaying cap, so glad to see you race today 🫶

no2argeant logan getting a double feature over her cousin mhm those are mutuals via oscar frfr (loscar and oscalina and... lolina?) ↳ selinabui @no2argeant we use selogan but lolina is 100x cuter

TWITTER

piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 3h HELP SHE ACTUALLY SNUCK INTO THE SAUBER GARAGE

xixi²⁴ ⁴⁴ @grandegrid · 2h both cousins are equally unserious bc why did i remember the 'who's the most famous person in ur contacts' thing kick sauber did and why did zhou say jj lin when his very famous GRAMMY WINNING cousin seems to regularly bug him on the daily ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 2h he probably forgot lmao it's like she's not famous in his eyes "oh lina? u mean my annoying little cousin? oh right, she's a rockstar or smth"

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 2h ok i'm convinced she's gonna stay in the williams garage now like it's almost guaranteed she's not headed back to mclaren ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 2h oscar, honey, come over and remove ur girlfriend from the williams garage, she's yapping with logan ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 8m I JUST SAW LINA'S POST 💀💀 y'know she's right, lolina is cuter than selogan but now i need to know how much logan's been 3rd wheeling

kayla @luna_apocolypse · 16m oscar checking his socials and it's his fans debating on the best ship name for his girlfriend and bestie

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h realising that lina being at the race means we're probably not gonna get her entertaining af f1 live-tweets

↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h no joke, we missed out on aus gp live-tweets bc she was flying to jakarta but the saudi gp tweets gave me LIFE

INSTAGRAM/MESSAGES

from the phone of logan sargeant

TWITTER

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 39m red flag??? already??? we just started??? ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 34m they cut to lina in the mclaren garage and i'm wheezing she looks so amused by the turn of events 😭

jess @OPIXSTRI · 3m oh they knew what they were doing cutting to selina bui after zhou guanyu retired ↳ jess @OPIXSTRI · 3m new f1 reaction pic just dropped guys, perfectly summarises the kick sauber saga

↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 2m obsessed with her refusal to wear the orange headphones genuinely think she would rather go deaf than have those pictures circulate the internet

xixi²⁴ ⁴⁴ @grandegrid · 5m we got the zhou guanyu's cousin graphic but at what cost

↳ Stake F1 Team KICK Sauber @stakef1team_ks · 18m We're sorry to let you down 😔 ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 17m i don't care which long-suffering intern this is. get out. ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 20m lmao lina's sauber pit stop tweets vs oscar's f3 drs tweets, fight 🤣

INSTAGRAM

selinabui Suzuka, Japan

liked by eb_jonno and 200,371 others

selinabui loved the experience, will not be going to another one bc i'm 94% sure i jinxed EVERYONE i hold dear in this sport - stay safe out there 👍 see y'all in seoul in 2-3 business days <3 tagged: mclaren and oscarpiastri

logansargeant You did *not* jinx anyone ↳ selinabui @ logansargeant logan, honey, i'm a bit depressed about you but sure man, whatever you say :'(

ninisf1diary how'd you find your first ever live race? ↳ selinabui @ninisf1diary very fun, loved the bit where oscar got to hop back into the garage after the first lap

mclaren Are we still gonna see you in Imola 🥺 ↳ selinabui @ mclaren i think oscar is gonna drag me over kicking and screaming but i guess i'll be there

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Here Before Morning

Prompt Day 1: Snowfall | Word Count: 578 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Established Relationship, Fluff, The Magic of First Snow

Eddie can smell the snow. It's not here yet, but it'll be here before morning, he's absolutely positive. In fact, he's pretty sure the smell of snow is his first memory. He assumes he had to have been no more than four or five, but he remembers his mom taking him outside, all bundled up in the yard, waiting. Together. The two of them just standing there, looking at the sky, soaking up that cold smell that was brand new to his little self, but has since remained seared into his brain.

It's a good memory, and if he can sense it coming, he'll always come out to welcome it in.

He pulls his coat tighter across his back, shoving his hands deep into the pockets. It's cold. Really cold, and he tilts his head back and inhales deeply, closing his eyes.

"Brrr. What are you doing out here?" Steve asks, after cracking open the back sliding door. Eddie opens his eyes and looks over at him to see Steve shivering as the winter air hits his bare skin.

"I smelled snow," Eddie explains.

And Steve nods, hair sticking up all over the place, then he's tugging the sliding glass door back closed.

And Eddie closes his eyes again, waiting.

Fifteen minutes later, Steve turns up. Dressed, a mug of coffee cupped between his hands. 

Eddie turns and smiles at him, "You didn't have to come out. It's too cold."

Steve looks so tired. He's got his glasses on, and his biggest, warmest sweater. Eddie thinks he looks cozy like this, beautiful in a way that feels effortless, and real. But then again, to Eddie, Steve always does.

Eddie will never be sure how he got this lucky in life. It always seemed like he was destined to be fucked by life at every turn. And then Steve arrived, covered in blood and bat bites, determined to save him.

He did. In more ways than one.

But mainly just by loving him. Eddie's luck, the shitty, hard life he felt helplessly destined for, had finally turned tides.

And it had everything to do with Steve Harrington, white knight in a bloodied battle vest, Eddie is absolutely certain. 

"You got a timeline on this snow?" Steve asks, stifling a yawn, as he hands over his mug, sharing it with Eddie. They definitely don't take their coffee the same, but Steve's left this cup black, Eddie's preference, not his own.

Eddie looks at the sky, as if he's making predictions:

"Seventeen minutes, thirty-two seconds," Eddie answers.

"Really?" Steve asks, looking like he doesn't believe Eddie. Which he damn well shouldn't. Eddie's just talking out of his ass, as always.

"No, I'm not that good," Eddie laughs. 

And Steve looks his way, eyes all soft in a way that always gets Eddie, "I don't know, you seem that good to me. You've got that magic."

Eddie grins back at him, leaning over and pressing his lips to Steve's.

"It's early," Steve mumbles against his mouth, and Eddie starts to ask what's early.

But then he feels it.

The first brush of wetness, and then more and more damp kisses of snow land and melt on his skin.

Steve pulls back, and Eddie looks up, watching as the snowflakes fill the night sky, illuminated by the streetlamps.

"See?" Steve says, "Magic."

And Eddie laughs, spinning around, opening his mouth, trying to catch some of the falling snowflakes on his tongue.

Magic, indeed.

Notes: Definitely inspired by Lorelai Gilmore and her sixth sense for the first snow of the year.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ❄️

[biblical-chronicles]

T-shirt

_______________________________________

where some scribbles on your t-shirt cause quite the commotion.

_______________________________________

The gig had gone off without a hitch, you poured everything into it, and by the time you stepped offstage, a pleasant buzz of adrenaline—and the couple of drinks you’d knocked back after—had settled over you. All you wanted now was a cigarette and a bit of quiet before you headed home.

You slipped out the back door of the venue, thinking you’d find peace in the cool night air. Instead, you were greeted by the harsh glare of flashbulbs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” you muttered under your breath, realizing too late that sneaking off was no longer an option. The reporters had spotted you.

You plastered on a faint smile, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as they started hurling questions your way.

“What did you think of the crowd tonight?”

“Any plans for an album release?”

And then, predictably: “Tell us about your shirt!”

You glanced down at your tee, forgetting for a moment what you’d thrown on before the show. Then you read the scrawled sharpie letters across your chest: “I am tired of pretending Liam Gallagher isn’t fit.”

You laughed, exhaling a plume of smoke as you leaned casually against the wall. “Oh, yeah. This one’s good, isn’t it?”

The reporters immediately livened up. “But is it true? Do you really think Liam Gallagher is fit?”

“Of course I do,” you said without hesitation, a grin tugging at your lips. “He’s amazing, no?”

There was a murmur of excitement, the press sensing they’d struck gold. Cameras clicked, and a few notepads appeared as they pressed further. “Can you elaborate on that?”

Whether it was the booze, the post-show high, or just your general cheeky nature, you decided to lean into it.

“Well,” you started, taking another drag from your cigarette, “first off, he’s funny as hell. I mean, have you seen his Twitter? Absolute goldmine.”

The reporters chuckled, encouraging you to continue.

“And his hair,” you said, gesturing vaguely around your own head. “Looks good messy, looks good done up—bloke can’t lose.”

They scribbled furiously, and you felt the alcohol loosening your tongue even more. “Oh, and his nose—have you noticed? It’s got that little curve to it, just perfect. And those eyes! You know, how they droop just a bit? Makes him look like a sad puppy sometimes, but in a good way. Dead adorable.”

You couldn’t help laughing at yourself, waving your cigarette around as you spoke. “I mean, come on, he’s Liam bloody Gallagher. You’re lying to yourself if you say you don’t get it.”

The press ate it up, cameras snapping as they prodded for more. “So, is this shirt part of your usual marketing? Do you think it’ll get his attention?”

You shrugged, still laughing. “Who knows? I just thought it was funny, alright? People like a bit of a laugh. Keeps things interesting.”

Deep down, you didn’t think much would come of it. You were still a small-time artist playing modest gigs, and while your shirts had started getting a bit of buzz, it wasn’t like you were front-page news material. This was just another silly moment, a way to keep yourself entertained as much as anyone else.

“Alright, that’s enough.” you finally said, stubbing out your cigarette and flashing them a playful grin. “You lot are vultures, you know that? Don’t be twisting me words too much, yeah?”

They laughed as you turned and headed back inside, not quite realizing the small storm you’d just set in motion.

You weren’t entirely sure when the interview clips started popping up all over the internet—your phone buzzed incessantly with notifications, and every time you dared to open an app, there it was. Your little drunken ode to Liam Gallagher’s undeniable charm had gone quite viral.

People were having a laugh about it, of course. Some were amused by your chaotic energy, others were calling for you to release the shirt as merch, and a few had started tagging Liam's account under the posts.

“Why the fuck did I do that?” you groaned to yourself, flopping onto the couch and burying your face in a cushion. “I need to lay off the bloody marching powder. Christ.”

You peeked at your phone again, scrolling through the endless messages. Friends sending cheeky messages, journalists requesting follow-ups, and fans tagging you in memes, which you had to admit were quite funny.

You chucked your phone across the couch, groaning again. “What’s done is done.” you thought. “Any publicity is good publicity, right?”

You decided to let the internet have its fun and try your best to ignore it. You weren’t going to respond, explain, or elaborate. It was out of your hands now, and honestly, it wasn’t like you’d been lying, anyway. Liam was fit.

“Alright, enough of this,” you said, forcing yourself off the couch. “Pub tonight. Focus on real life.”

You got yourself ready, throwing on something casual, nothing that screamed Look at me! I’m the girl who called Liam Gallagher a fit and adorable puppy!

When you arrived at the pub, your friends were already waiting at a booth near the back, pints in hand.

“There she is!” one of your mates said with a grin. “The internet’s newest sensation.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table. “Don’t. Please.”

“Oh, come on, it’s brilliant!” another chimed in. “You’ve gone and made yourself unforgettable. Do you know how hard that is?”

“Unforgettable for what, though?” you said, lifting your head. “Ranting about Liam Gallagher’s bloody nose? Jesus, they’re going to carve that on me gravestone.”

They all burst out laughing, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“At least it’s getting people talking,” one of them said, raising their pint. “Here’s to accidental genius.”

You clinked your glass with theirs, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment. After all, they were right in a way—people were talking.

Soon, all of you settled and moved on from the topic, discussing anything and everything.

Then one of your friends suddenly froze mid-laugh, her eyes going wide as she stared over your shoulder. “No fucking way,” she whispered, slack-jawed.

“What?” you asked, alarmed.

She didn’t answer, just started pointing dramatically toward the bar. A chorus of gasps erupted from the rest of the table as they followed suit, all of them gesturing and whispering excitedly.

“Alright, what the hell’s going on?” you said, whipping your head around to follow their line of sight. At first, you couldn’t tell what they were pointing at—just a sea of people with pints in hand. Then you spotted him.

It wasn’t immediately obvious in the dim light, but the silhouette was unmistakable. It looked just like Liam Gallagher.

You froze for half a second, then whipped back around, smacking everyone's hands down. “Shut it!” you hissed, your voice an urgent whisper. “What is wrong with you lot?”

They burst into laughter, completely ignoring your attempts to calm them down.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” one of them managed to say between cackles. “It’s actually him!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t even properly see from here! It might not even be him. Why would Liam Gallagher be here? Of all places?”

“This is a popular pub,” one of them pointed out with a grin. “Why wouldn’t he be here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Even if it is him, why would he recognize me? He probably hasn’t even seen the stupid interview.”

“Are you joking? It’s everywhere!” another friend chimed in. “If he hasn’t seen it, someone’s definitely shown him. And now he’s here. Coincidence? I think not.”

“Stop it,” you groaned, sinking lower into your seat. “Seriously, let it go. It’s probably not even him. Just leave it, yeah?”

But one of your mates just grinned mischievously, stood up, and smoothed out her shirt. “Right, I’m gonna go check.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you hissed, reaching out to grab her hand, but she was too quick, slipping out of your grasp.

The rest of the table absolutely lost it, howling with laughter as your heart raced. “What do I do?” you muttered, looking at the remaining friends. “Do I go and try to stop her, or do I just peg it out of here before this gets worse?”

“You’re not running anywhere,” one of them said through tears of laughter. “This is gold. Just sit tight and enjoy this.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but it didn’t stop you from sneaking glances toward the bar. Your friend was chatting animatedly with the Liam-like figure, gesturing wildly in your direction. You wished the ground would swallow you whole.

Eventually, she returned to the table, plopping into her seat and taking a triumphant swig of her drink.

“Well?” one of the others asked eagerly.

She leaned in, her grin somehow widening. “Guess what? He did see it. And he appreciates it.” She looked directly at you, practically vibrating with happiness. “And, get this—he’d love to hear you elaborate on it.”

Your face turned so red you felt like a human traffic light. “You’re joking.” you muttered, voice barely audible.

“Nope,” she said. “Said it himself. Very keen, apparently.”

The table erupted into a mix of cheers and laughter, and you sat there, mortified, wishing for nothing more than to evaporate into thin air.

As the night wore on, you did your best to laugh it off, throwing yourself into the drinks and chatter. But every time you thought you’d escaped it, someone would bring it up again, and the heat in your cheeks would return tenfold.

At one point, you excused yourself to the toilet, needing a moment to breathe. Standing in line, you stared at the floor, not paying attention to much of anything, when a voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Alright, love?”

You blinked, looking up—and nearly choked on your own breath. It was him. Liam bloody Gallagher, standing there like he hadn’t just thrown your entire night into chaos.

“Oh,” you stammered, heart pounding. “Uh, hi. I’m so sorry, me mate was mithering ya earlier. She’s a nightmare.”

He smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “Don’t mind that. Not every day someone calls me an adorable puppy, is it?”

Your face went beet red. “Oh God, you heard that bit too?”

“Course I did. Hard to miss when it’s all over the place, innit?” His grin was equal parts amused and mischievous. “So, what’s the verdict then? You mean it or what?”

You let out a nervous laugh, your brain scrambling for a response. “Please don’t make me say it. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Aye, you’re funny, you are.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing ever so slightly. “Well, thanks, I think?”

He tilted his head, still smirking. “But seriously though, did you mean it? Or was it just a bit of a laugh?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Do I have to answer that? Feels like a trap.”

He grinned even wider. “Nah, no trap. Just curious.”

After a moment of hesitation, you met his gaze. “Alright, fine. Yeah, I meant it. Happy now?”

“Over the moon.” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands again, and he laughed, like he was having the time of his life.

“Come on then,” he said, nudging you gently. “You’ll be alright. But if you’re gonna call someone a cute puppy, be ready to back it up, yeah?”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Noted.”

Liam leaned back slightly, studying you with that same amused smirk. “Tell you what, love. How about we forget the queue and step outside for a bit? Bit of fresh air, away from all this noise.”

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Alright, yeah. Let’s do that.”

He gestured for you to lead the way, and you navigated through the crowd toward the back exit. The chilly night air hit you as you stepped out, a welcome change from the stuffy warmth inside. Liam followed close behind, lighting a cigarette and offering you one.

You took it, your hands trembling slightly, though you weren’t sure if it was the cold or his presence.

The two of you talked, the conversation flowing naturally. He was funny and surprisingly easy to talk to. You two actually seemed to click quite well, the awkwardness melting away as he shared ridiculous stories and threw in the occasional cheeky remark.

At some point, the laughter softened, replaced by a comfortable silence. Liam tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you. “You know,” he said, his voice low, “you’re somethin’ else. Never thought I’d end up out here like this tonight, but I’m not complainin’.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again, but before you could respond, he leaned in. The kiss was sudden but soft, his hand resting gently on your waist as he pulled you closer. You froze for half a second, then melted into it, your hands finding their way to his jacket.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far, his forehead resting against yours. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “How about you give this adorable puppy with the good nose or whatever you said a proper chance then?”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his smirk returning. “I don’t go around kissin’ just anyone, you know. Even if they do write mad things about me on their shirts.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, light and giddy. “Okay, fine. Yeah, I’ll give you a chance. But only if you let me make a T-shirt for you, too.”

His grin widened. “Oh yeah? What’s it gonna say then?”

You pretended to think for a moment, then leaned in to kiss him again, smiling against his lips. “I’ll think of summat good.”

_______________________________________

this time summat that I wanted to scribble down, so hope you lot like it!!

and no worries, I will be back on requests xx

[residentdeviant]

𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑻𝒀

── .✦ summary

⟢ you‘ve devised a plan to help solve the case and catch the unsub, but what if you don’t live ‘til the end of it?

── .✦ story notes !

⟢ written with re2r/re4r leon in mind ! also, i did my best to have this be a gender neutral reader, but if there’s anything that suggests otherwise, please let me know.

── .✦ word count

⟢ 3.4k !

── .✦ tags ! (warnings included)

⟢ d:bh au, android!leon, second-person, no use of y/n, nickname “lee” is used for leon bc it’s cute and i will die on that hill, angst, minor mention of brian irons, gore, mentions of chris redfield and jill valentine as well as rebecca chambers, fluff kinda???, you get a cat btw, happy ending!

── .✦ a/n !

⟢ this part has definitely been on the longer side of construction lol but i was determined to finish it. it’s unbelievably hard for me to finish projects but i powered through this for me and you! even though it did take me like six months… whoopsies.

⟢ part one!

⟢ part two!

6:57am.

“Good morning, detective,” Leon greeted with a smile as he saw you walk in, seemingly in a better mood this morning. Regardless, it was good to see him feeling better after everything you two had encountered last night.

You smiled at him in return, keeping things light for now. “Morning, Leon,” you reply, waving slightly with one hand and holding your cup of coffee in the other. You made your way to the west office once more, opening the door and walking towards your desk. Getting a shower and some rest last night was definitely needed as well as deserved, and you were more than grateful for both of those.

You pulled out your chair and sat at your desk, ready to get the day started and prepare to catch the guy behind all of this mess. RC was lost in darkness and chaos, repeating the same old loop continuously without stopping for breath, and you wanted to be one of the ones to save this forsaken city. If not you, then who else?

Simple chatter and the click-clacking of keyboard keys were all that could be heard within the west office, the morning starting off rather quiet and slow. You just wanted to get your morning load of work done before doing further investigation on the unsub you had spent the past few days chasing. His attacks were on a regular basis, seemingly everyday, so you suspected that it wasn't long until he would strike again.

As you worked through the practically endless stack of paperwork and android cases popping up every millisecond, you could feel the presence of someone behind you. As you turn, you could see that familiar blond android waiting for you, with the utmost patience. He hadn’t even said anything to disturb you, or even make any noise for that matter, but it was easy to sense another person within your vicinity.

Once you looked at him, his baby blue eyes flickered over to you and he gave you a polite smile before speaking. “We should figure out a plan soon. The sooner we catch the unsub and free the others, the better,” Leon suggested, carefully moving a bit closer to you.

“No worries, Lee. I’ve got it figured out already,” you began. He didn’t seem to expect that, but he welcomed it. “I just need to finish this paperwork, go through a few case details and study our guy a little more before we make any moves. He’s dangerous. We have no room for error.” The android nodded softly, silently agreeing with you.

You had predicted the unsub’s schedule, putting everything together and praying that this was going to work. You were undoubtedly putting your life on the line, yes, but it would be worth it in the end… if you lived long enough to make it to the end of the mission.

The plan you had devised was simple: pose as an android, wander in the unsub’s frequented grounds, get captured by him and then wait for the right time to take him into custody. It didn’t seem easy, and it sure wouldn’t be either, but you had to try. Androids weren’t just robots, designed to do humanity’s bidding — they had minds and hearts. They deserved better than what they got, and you were determined to help them by solving this case and locking this guy up for good.

—

6:37pm.

Night had fallen and your plan had begun. When you had told Leon about it, he seemed nervous? His behavior was slightly off and his LED had been spinning yellow for quite some time. You could tell he was probably worried about the outcome, but you knew what you had to do.

You wandered around the streets in your android uniform and an LED on your temple, acting as if you were working through a task assigned to you before you were suddenly approached by a man who looked like he didn’t know what a shower was. He had green eyes, greasy brown hair and he absolutely reeked. (Like anime convention type of reeked.) Not only that, but he had some odd stains on his clothes. Oil and thirium? That’s gotta be it.

“Excuse me, I need help…” he said, although not coming off as very convincing. “My wife… she’s in trouble. I think she’s having a heart attack. Please! You need to help me!”

This guy needs acting classes. Stat.

“Of course,” you replied, mimicking the rather direct behavior of most androids before following the man — who appeared to be your unsub — into his house. This is him. You knew this place. Now you just had to be cautious and continue with your plan so you could catch him in the act.

You and the man had entered the house, and as soon as he shut the door behind you, he kicked you down, murmuring expletives. It’s like meeting a younger version of Irons. You tried to get up, but he kicked you down once more and made sure you were weak before he dragged you downstairs.

—

“Are you sure that we should wait for their signal? I mean… What if they’re in trouble?” Leon questioned, his LED flashing to yellow for a split second as he looked towards Lieutenant Branagh, the pair camping out within a nearby black sedan. The android knew he should follow the plan, he knew he needed to keep the end goal in mind, but he struggled to do so knowing that there was a slight possibility that you wouldn’t make it out. This job was dangerous, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but… worry?

No.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

He shouldn’t worry, he… he can’t worry. That’s a sign of deviancy. Androids don’t do that.

Stick to your code, get the job done.

“Are you doubting your partner, rookie?” Branagh questioned in return, turning the tables on the poor android. “They’re strong. They can handle themselves. Just trust us on this.”

The blond couldn’t really do anything but nod lightly and anxiously watch the establishment, worrying about you — even if you weren’t aware of it. A future without you was a future he didn’t want to be a part of. It’d kill him inside.

And that scared him.

He hadn’t even known you for that long, but you made him feel a type of way that he couldn’t understand. It was beyond his programming. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything, point blank. As much as he wanted to deny it and pretend that it certainly wasn’t true, Leon may have been deviating, and the only person he could ever tell was you.

—

You could feel the fear all of those androids felt as you were dragged down the stairs by your legs, and any fighting you did was practically useless. This guy was freakishly strong, which would’ve been good to know before you threw yourself in harm’s way. The moment he looked in another direction, you sent the signal and waited for backup. Meanwhile, you begged for your life, as you assumed any android would, as he lifted you and strapped you down on a chair, keeping you in place. The caged androids from before watched in horror, keeping silent but feeling a strong sense of remorse for you. He couldn’t remove vital parts from you and keep you alive like he had done with them, so this felt like your funeral.

“I’ll help you get out of here very soon, I promise.”

They just hoped your promise to them wouldn’t be broken and you’d continue to live on. You showed them kindness, and they would never forgive themselves if they couldn’t do the same for you.

The man who was confirmed to be your unsub was at a workbench, stained with thirium, oil and human blood. It was disgusting. One part of you knew your team was mere moments from busting in and taking this guy in for good, but the other part of you was still petrified. You could so easily be killed if they weren’t fast enough, and you hoped and prayed that they were.

As the dark-haired man grabbed his tools, a familiar face came sprinting down the stairs — 9mm in hand.

“Drop your weapons and put your hands up where I can see them!” he commanded. Leon, thank God. Lieutenant Branagh as well as a few other officers followed, aiming their guns at the suspect. Knowing he was caught for good, he raised his hands, allowing his loose sleeves to slide down a bit and reveal his left arm that used to belong to an android. He’s harvesting them for parts. God, that’s gross.

As Branagh and the other officers detained the man that was soon to be identified as Brent Phillips, Leon came over and helped you out of your confines before giving you a hug to help calm you down. Not only that, but to reassure him that you were safe, and no harm could be done to you anymore. There wouldn’t be another story like Samuel and Martha’s. You got to live, and he got to see your smile again — which was worth more than gold to him.

—

While your team took Phillips in, Leon stayed at the crime scene, doing further investigation. You freed the poor droids left to rot within the cage, deciding to get them fixed up and sent back to their original families. “You kept your promise,” one said with a soft voice, sounding slightly surprised yet grateful nonetheless.

“Of course I did. I couldn’t leave you guys behind,” you replied with a small smile. Another officer escorted the androids out, leaving just you and your own android friend in the dark, lonely basement.

It was quiet for a bit as you looked through Brent’s personal items, looking for any sort of motive behind the whole thing other than just using androids for spare parts. Oddly enough, you couldn’t find anything. Lots of family photos hidden away, so maybe he wanted to keep his happy and comfortable family life hidden away from his dark and twisted deeds.

“He lost his arm in a car accident,” the blond stated after shuffling through Brent’s journals. “He couldn’t afford a medical bill, so he stole androids and used them instead… but he got addicted. He kept messing with them… tore them apart, left them for dead like it’s nothing… like we’re nothing.”

Your eyes flickered over to Leon, examining his sorrowful expression as his LED shifted to yellow. You walked over to him, gently rubbing his back to try to ease him. “I’m sorry, Lee. But at least now, it can’t happen again. Lives were lost, but there were many more saved. It’s gonna be okay.”

The blond android sniffled a bit, and his LED slowly returned to blue once more. He thanked you before making his way upstairs to step outside for a bit and get some air. You looked around for a few more minutes before returning to him.

And when you did, you definitely weren’t planning on telling him that you found Martha in the mini fridge.

—

A few days had gone by and the case was closed. Brent was detained, Martha’s body had been found and sent into the lab, the other androids were free and everything else fell into place. You and Leon had officially finished your first case together and things were going pretty well. You could tell that he still felt guilty, however, almost as if he could prevent that situation. As if he could prevent death and destruction.

But the poor rookie also knew that it was part of the job. He couldn’t get attached. Attachment was a human emotion, and he was terrified of what could happen if anyone knew of what was happening inside the confines of his android mind. He knew everyone would rat him out, except maybe Branagh, but he knew you certainly wouldn’t.

So he’d cling onto you.

Not just because you’re partners and you’re also his only friend, but because he feels safe with you. He feels safe enough to share all of this with you. You’re the only one who has ever made him feel a sense of humanity and encouraged that. Anyone else would tell him that he had an instability error within his software and he needed to get it fixed immediately, but you were different. You were kind.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

Leon wasn’t sure what this feeling inside his chest was. It was unfamiliar and certainly not in his programming. He needed to figure it out and fast.

–

Quite some time had flown by and androids have fought for equal rights, earning their freedom and the right to live just as humans do. Even so, Leon continues working for the police department, constantly having that desire to help those in need. Not only this, but he also has an apartment in the same building as you, which you helped him decorate after work for about four days. Although the finished result was quite lovely and you always wanted to help your friends, so there wasn’t a desire to complain.

Those aren’t the only changes, however. After the successes of your first three cases together, you and Leon are officially a team. Probably even one of the best that the RPD has to offer! You had taken on most of the android cases together and solved just about all of them. Branagh was pretty impressed and you two even received the opportunity to join S.T.A.R.S alongside Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine and Rebecca Chambers, but after some thought, the two of you politely declined. It just wasn’t in your interests at this time and you were happy with things as they are.

Except for one thing – you and Leon.

You were partners and now best friends, but now what? You wanted more than that. How could anyone be happy with just that? Maybe your coworkers would tease you about crushing on an android, and goodness knows what your relatives would say, but you knew that it didn’t matter what they thought. As long as you’re happy, then who cares?

But you weren't happy. Not like this. So you decided that you’d just have to tell him.

You just hoped he wouldn’t short circuit or something.

Your shift was coming to a close for the night and you couldn’t have been happier. Although you loved being able to help others through your job, you didn’t love the paperwork that came along with it. You powered through the last few pages and then began to grab your belongings, putting them in their rightful places before pushing your chair back towards your desk.

“Heading out for the night?” your blond partner asked, seemingly popping in out of practically nowhere.

You give him a nod and a small smile, “Yeah, I’m ready to go home and get dinner. Want a ride?”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Mere moments later, you and Leon were heading back to your apartment building in your car. Gentle rain pitter-pattered along the expanse of the automobile, bringing you two a sense of warmth and comfort during the cold night. Well, the heat was also on, so that probably helped, too.

The car ride was full of chatter at first as you two talked about what you had been up to lately other than work. He had been watching Star Wars movies again and playing videogames, you had been watching your own favorite movies and tending to your hobbies. The conversation died off after a while, and you quickly noticed that Leon seemed a little off, like he was thinking about something rather deeply. You decided to let him come to you when he was ready, but your train of thought was interrupted as he softly spoke your name.

“I need to talk to you about something,” the blond suddenly spoke, his tone and body language giving you the feeling that he was quite anxious.

“Yeah, sure… shoot,” you replied simply, eyes focused on the road.

He thought about his choice of words for a moment, and you swore you could almost hear the whirring of the fans in his android head, like when you haven’t cleaned your PS4 in a while and it sounds like a fighter jet taking off.

“I have this feeling when I’m with you, and I don’t know what it is exactly but I know it’s good. It’s a positive one, but not one I feel when I successfully accomplish a mission with no casualties or when I hang out with my friends or something. It’s different. It’s deeper than that, it’s…”

Love. He loves you.

The entire time, he wouldn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you, even if he tried. His bionic heart was racing at what felt like a million miles an hour, and he was struggling to even find the words for what he was feeling. But he knew you’d understand; you always did. That was one of the many things he loved about you. You always made him feel understood and safe around you. Even before androids gained equal rights, you treated him as if he was your equal with no questions asked. You gave him the freedom to act and do as he so pleased, and he was immensely grateful for that. You gave him everything he could ever want, and in return, he wanted to give you his heart.

You smoothly pulled up to the apartment complex, parking in your usual spot and then turning to face Leon. He didn’t finish what he was going to say, but he figured that you already knew. He especially thought so when you looked at him a little closer and saw a slight blue tinge on his cheeks (which he made a feeble attempt to hide). He softly cleared his throat, turning to face you, although still shy about the whole ordeal. “So… if you’ll have me…”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

–

In the following months, you and Leon had gone on several successful dates that served to secure the beginning of your future together. The two of you often went stargazing, browsing in record shops and had countless movie marathons when you just wanted to stay home. You eventually moved into a nice house together, which had a mailbox decorated with your names and handprints. Not only that, but you even adopted a cat! (And totally didn’t name them after a Transformer…)

One night in particular, you and Leon were lying on your shared bed, comfortable as ever as he snuggled up behind you with your adorable cat resting in front of you. You were fast asleep, dreaming of goodness knows what, but it must be nice since you were smiling to yourself even in REM. Leon, however, was wide awake, listening to your soft breathing and remaining lost in his thoughts. It had been a long time that he had been living with human rights, and living with human feelings for even longer, but he still wasn’t used to them. He still lived within awe of your kindness and he still felt a sense of curiosity when you showed him any semblance of affection.

He may never know if he’ll ever adjust as easily as other androids do when it comes to stuff like this, but he does know one thing: he will always cherish it. He’ll always feel a sense of relief when either one of you returns home from work. He’ll always be grateful for the meals you share together. He’ll always love it when you sit on the back porch with a glass of lemonade in hand, gazing at him longingly as he happily does yardwork “like normal people do.” But most of all, he’ll always love you in any and every form. There’s nothing he wouldn't do for you.

As he closes his eyes and allows himself to go into a dormant state, he takes in everything about you and recommits it to his memory – hoping to dream about you. And as he sleeps, he knows that anything and everything in the world couldn’t be better than this. No treasure is as precious as a future with you.

I want to thank three of my loved ones for helping me proofread the whole series, but I also want to simultaneously apologize because they waited about four to six months for me to finish part three lol. I also want to thank you for reading this mini series! I appreciate all of the love and support you guys have given me and I couldn’t be more grateful. I haven’t written and uploaded a fic online in a good few years, but all of you have given me the confidence I needed to return to it.

I have another project in progress, but goodness knows when I’ll finish it lol. Until then, I will try to keep you guys updated and fed whenever possible. I love you all.

[sunnie-angel]

Part 4: The Plan

part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: one step back, one step forward in this dance with jason’s warring desires for intimacy and distance

tags: swearing, UST, light angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.7k

a/n: i’ve never experienced an american thanksgiving so all of my knowledge of it comes from pop culture. this is basically the last of my ‘set up’ chapters, so plot + relationship development is going to really hit their strides starting from here.

Jason is learning to live with the thousand pangs of guilt that go hand in hand with his determination to be your friend and only your friend. Guilt churns his stomach so often that it fades to just another background distraction. Every time you stiffen up when he pulls back, every time you try to catch your face before the disappointment can shine through, he sees it all. He should keep his distance, stop reeling you in close before drawing back unexpectedly, but he can’t quite manage it.

A more recent encounter is still seared into his brain. It plays behind his eyelids as he swims laps around the pool with Rei.

The two of you had been heading to the dinner two blocks off of campus after Duvall’s class, the fiery light of the sunset colouring the worn paths across the quad. Class had been predictably… painful. Reading it for his own purposes or for a group of students to discuss, Frankenstein has always struck a raw nerve. I am thy creature and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, which thou owest me. Seen and made raw by a woman and her monster years in the past, and isn’t that just the rub? The world spins, new generations live and die and live again to be just as disappointing to the men that created them. Jason’s heart had ached behind his sternum and even the usual balm of your chatter had taunted him with everything he denies himself. He’d made all the right noises, kept his head down and hands jammed into his pockets as the two of you had finally made it to the diner.

“God I almost lost it when what’s-his-name in business started talking.” You’d snorted as you’d opened up your menu, plastic pages clinging together. “Like is it really so hard to have an ounce of empathy? We should start a list of worst takes because that had to be a top five. Jay?” Jason must not have been playing his part well enough because now you’re looking at him, too silent, too caught up on the long stale nickname. “What are you thinking Jay, because I’m thinking pancakes for dinner.” All he could think of is the one and only Dick took him out for pancakes. Begrudgingly. And how it had ended with Dick storming out, suddenly excited about hanging out with the Titans, only to come back disappointed when he had realized he was Jason’s only ride.

“Don’t.” It had come out low and mean, lobbed through gritted teeth like something hot and vicious. Jason had watched it hit you, the way you’d leaned back from the table and hunched your shoulders closer. “Just don’t call me that, yeah?” It had taken concentrated effort on his part to breathe, mimic loosening the tension in his body, to look smaller and non-threatening.

“Oh. Okay, Jason.” Silence had stretched out between the two of you, an almost tangible distance. The words to explain, to apologize and smooth things over had stuck in his throat. The fading light had caught your face for a moment, your face crumpling in hurt before shuttering closed. Your blank face was burned into his mind’s eye just as clearly as all the ways he had not repaired things between you.

Jason surfaces, water sluicing off of his shoulders, before going back under for another stroke. His body takes over the pattern of striking and breathing while his mind returns to the diner. There’s a small animal part at the back of his mind that’s wary of the water. Keeps a small part of him on the look out for any tinges of green to the liquid in the irrational fear that he might also come out of this body of water changed. Actually taking Rei up on his offer to go swimming was in some ways a punishment for Jason, adrenaline thrumming through his veins until his muscles flagged from exhaustion.

Rei is waiting for him at the entrance to the gym, water bottle half empty and lid still unscrewed. His glasses keep sliding down his still damp face but he grins at Jason anyway.

“You sure you’re not looking for a spot on the swim team? Because I’m sure the team captain would get the coaches to make an exception for you.”

Re-shouldering his duffel, Jason asks, “Now why would he do that?”

“I’d do it because I want one last trophy for the relay team.” Rei says wryly.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I don’t really advertise it because I’ve been doing it for so long that I keep forgetting new people don’t already know I swim. But if you want a spot you’re in. You lapped me like what, four times?”

“Five,” Jason says sheepishly. “Not much of a team player, so I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

“Fair enough,” Rei shrugs. “But I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You probably dodged a bullet though, the coaches are hard asses about not drinking before meets.”

“Yeah, speakin’ of drinkin’, what the hell was in those drinks you made the first night.”

Rei laughs and the conversation takes a more lighthearted turn as they head across campus to the student union. It doesn’t take much to keep the conversation going so Jason has time to turn over Rei’s invitation over in his head. Jason would never have been able to accept — spackling over his extensive scarring for even just today had been a pain — but it had given him hope that maybe even after all his mishaps with you, that he might still be achieving ‘normal’.

Wednesday comes by and Jason makes up his mind to show up the weekly study session. With the Thanksgiving weekend coming up he’s got less work than ever but an even stronger desire not to be alone. Campus has emptied out in anticipation of the long weekend, the student union almost echoingly empty. Lina and Rei are already taking up a bench, sickeningly affectionate and dodging the balled up paper scraps Danika is tossing at them. You sit next to her, rolling your eyes at her antics then egging her on whenever Lina swoops in to leave another lipstick stain on Rei’s cheeks. He hesitates before committing to the seat at the end of the table nearest to you. The fresh loukoumades burning a hole in his bag will have to be shield and apology enough.

He’s nearly there, three feet out from his target, when the sound of a chair getting angrily out of the way diverts his attention. Will is dragging his bike through the field of chairs, cursing up a storm that has even Jason with all of his years in Gotham taken aback. Quite possibly its the most words Jason’s heard Will say out loud in the scarce months he’s known the man. The incongruity of the scene with who Will generally is as a person sends most of table into nervous half laughter.

“Will? Will what’s wrong? The biking parking finally full or something?” You ask, disbelieving.

“What the fuck does it look like?” He snarls, before throwing the bike to the ground in frustration.

“Hey—“

“Will, what happened?” Lina cuts Jason off, uncurling herself from around Rei and leaning forward. Her eyes are wide and searching, and in Jason’s opinion, not suspicious enough for the uncharacteristic rage on Will’s face.

“Some motherfucking cock sucking moron nearly ran me off the sidewalk in their piece of shit gas guzzler. That’s what happened.” He goes to throw himself into the seat next to you but Jason beats him to it, larger frame boxing him out. Throwing Jason an annoyed glance, Will slouches into the only seat left. He brandishes his coat clad arm in front of Lina and Rei, still thrumming with pent up energy.

“Look what they did!” He exclaims.

“I don’t think any of the bandaids in my bag are big enough for that scrape.” Rei says regretfully.

“What— never mind the scrape, look what they did to my coat!” He pulls the fabric tight across his wrist, shoving it under their noses. Rei and Lina give each other confused looks over Will’s head.

“There’s a lose thread?” Questions Danika.

“Yes! Thank you, yes! That idiotic jackass made me scrape up my Loro Piana jacket, do you know how much this costs?!”

“So,” Danika interjects, “won’t your family just buy you a new one and write this off for taxes or something?”

“That’s not— okay that piece of shit not only destroyed my jacket and put my life at risk but he’s also polluting with his mid-life crisis pollutant puker. You know there’s a reason Gotham ranks worst in pollution for cities in New Jersey? It’s thanks to people like that who don’t care that their cars are leaking oil and going knocking people — who are just trying to be nice to the environment — off of their bikes when they were just minding their own—“

“Report it to the police or campus security then.” Jason interrupts, before Will can get into the rant he’s building up steam for. “You got close enough to see the oil leaking, you probably saw the license plate too.” Jason pulls the loukoumades out of his bag and slides them over to you, keeping eye contact with Will the whole while. Will breaks eye contact first, pulling his perfectly intact black wool coat tighter around him before shoving his hands deep in the pockets. You’ve cracked open the container and let out a hum of delight. Will’s eyes dart to the table.

“Didn’t get it. How was I supposed to know that one minute I’d be riding along, and then the next I’d be traumatized for life by some inconsiderate brute?” He sulks. And oh, yeah, not everyone had grown up with B and all of his lessons on paying attention to your environment for evidence.

“Yeah, speaking of trauma, who’s got plans for thanksgiving yet?” Danika asks, mirth and humour her weapon against the atmosphere.

A sharp elbow knocks once into Jason’s ribs. He turns to look down at you, hoping your bid for attention won’t turn out to be disappointing. You meet his gaze with cheeks stuffed full of fried dough and honeyed syrup, eyes narrowed and considering.

“They’re not pancakes, but I thought you’d like ‘em anyway.” Jason says.

You swallow, before beginning to speak in a low voice, letting the flow of conversation continue around the two of you undisturbed. “If this is an apology, there better be more from where that came from.” Your small lopsided smile is sincere, but it doesn’t quite erase the image of your blank face from the dinner from his memory. Nodding, he goes to pull out the second Tupperware container that he’d had the foresight to prepare and you begin to lick the leftover syrup from your fingers. Jason’s vision narrows down to your thumb and forefinger, glistening in the fluorescent lights. He could swear his heart skips a beat when your pink tongue flicks out, his breathing certifiably irregular when you start to suck on your fingers. The image of your lips shiny from syrup will probably be engraved on his second headstone as the cause of death.

“—son, Jason.” Danika’s voice, high pitched and insistent, breaks the moment. He’d be embarrassed at tuning out his situational awareness if he wasn’t also scrambling to answer her half-heard question.

“No plans for me. My family and I aren’t really in a ‘gatherings and gratitude’ place right now.”

“Whoops, we’ll add your family to the off-limits list. What do you usually do then?”

Your phone starts buzzing, and you swear under your breath as you navigate sticky fingers and tight jean pockets.

“I just make a fancier meal than normal, watch the parade on the tv. Not much to it.” He replies off-handedly. He doesn’t mention the extra patrols he’ll do, in anticipation of one of the Rogues deciding to make a splash across holiday headlines.

“Sorry, I’ve got to answer this.” And already you’re trying to climb over Jason to get out from the booth and away from the table. It brings your face closer to his than it’s ever been and Jason would be trying to pin a name to the exact shade of your eyes if it wasn’t for the worry on your face. The nearly empty building means that you don’t wander far from the group. You pace as you listen to whoever is on the phone and play with the charm on your necklace. Will catches on to Jason’s line of sight and rolls his eyes, still sulking in his chair.

“So there’s a whole list, yeah? Things you don’t talk about?” Jason asks, trying to distract himself.

“Oh I wouldn’t call it anything so official.” Lina dismisses.

“No but we totally should!” Fires back Danika. “It would make things sooo much less awkward if Jason knew not to bring up just how much money Will’s rolling in, or the fact that Rei hates talking about the team right before a swim meet, or that when she,” and here Danika lowers her voice and nods in your direction, “plays with her necklace on a phone call fifty bucks says it’s someone from her family.”

“Got it, no askin’ her about the secret phone calls.” Jason says with a tight smile.

“Oh it’s nothing super secret.” Danika leans back into the corner and waves a lazy hand. “Just that most of them were dead set against her doing English instead of some ‘useful degree’ like pre-med or engineering. Don’t know why though, I don’t think’ I’ve ever met anyone that hates calculus more.”

But Jason, Jason thinks he does know why. Puts together the little pieces of your past you’d entrusted to his scarred hands and looks to the shared weft of your past. Looks at a girl whose family had scraped and fought to make a life untouched by poverty in a city that doesn’t easily forgive, and knows that it took luck and bone wearying effort to make it out of the Alley’s clutches. He looks at the girl who is used to being told her opinions don’t matter and yet believing in them anyway, who has put together a path leading right to her dreams even if the detours take her back to the place her family was happy to leave behind. Jason looks around the table at these fresh faced kids in their $6000 jackets and knows that none of them understand the constant, cavernous fear that all of the little luxuries they take for granted will suddenly disappear like morning fog. Jason knows the kind of courage it takes to push past that dogged fear and refuse the path your family pushes you down in order to achieve loftier goals.

The conversation has moved past him now, wrapped in his reverie. Rei and Danika have devolved into the kind of hardline negotiation Jason would have expected to see between seasoned lawyers rather than undergrads.

“C’mon Danika, I know you want a Pinterest worthy friends-giving but it’s just not going to work out this year.” Rei chides. “There’s just no time that’s gonna work for all of us.”

“Yes but it’s our last year when we’re all for sure going to be in the same place for the holiday weekend!”

“Look, we should all be free the Friday after the long weekend. We’ll do another night out, me and Lina will host the pre, and it’ll be our version of friends-giving. I’ll even make turkey themed cocktails if you want.”

“Gross! Fine, fine.” Danika most definitely does not whine. “But make them pumpkin pie themed cocktails instead.”

Jason’s got half an ear on the conversation, but continues to study you as long as his input isn’t needed. You sigh and seem to deflate as your call ends.

“So boys, are you ready to see the damage Rei can do when he’s got his full bar cart with him?” Lina asks, coy as anything. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make something that will even get you dancing, Jason.”

You shuffle around Jason, trying to squirm back into your bench seat. For a brief moment, your thighs bracket his.

“If that’s the plan,” Jason breathes out shakily.

Part 5

[castleofclouds]

You do have quite the “Sweet Tooth.”

A mark lee × reader au

Genre : fluff, humor, slice of life, doctors

Disclaimer : everything are fiction, non-idol au, grammar and typo might happen, mark as doctors.

Story are by © castleofclouds, do not copy, or repost without any tags!

—✧—⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖—✧—⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖—✧— ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖—✧—⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪

This is your third visit to the dentist, for the same reason of course cavity treatment, this is the third time in a year your teeth been nothing but aching, and if there is one thing about you, is that you hate dentist. Especially the one in front of you.

Any of them actually, even though the dentist that are treating you right now have a face like a porcelain sculpture, you still didn't like seeing him sighing, breathing heavily.

doctor Mark is what you would normally called is your dentist, and you are quite a loyal customer/patients for his clinic.

“Again? What did you do this time? Eat chocolate and don't brush your teeth after it? I told you too many times how important it is to brush your teeth two times a day?” Mark, your dentist look at you with another dissapointed gaze.

You don't understand why he is mad, isn't it his job to treat you as his patients? Besides if you keep coming to his dental clinic? Isn't that an advantages for him than yourself? He kept getting payed and you get to keep destroying your teeth. Case closed? Why is he so worked up about it?

“You know me..” you answer sheepishly, he rubbed his forehead, confused in what way any more can he told you? He keep explaining to you how mouth hygiene were everything, and you should stop with your bad habits of keep eating sweets like they are your meal for the day.

“What about the diet that I assigned you?” he asked again, you shakes your head to show your disagreement.

You don't like the diet, one thing about you, that doctor Mark keep reminding you off, are the facts you don't even eat fruits, you even once said you rather got starving in the middle of the desert than eating a fruit.

That's right, you hated fruit.

It's not a secret any more, well at first it is, Mark never see someone that hates fruits as much as you do, he keep assigning you to at least eat fruits a day, but you always ended up coming back to his clinic with your teeth aching, he shakes his head, not in disagreement, he is just predicted this. Disappointing but not much of a surprise.

“Why do you hate fruits that much?” he asked eagerly, you wondered why, you never really thought of it yourself, you just hate them, some fruits have weird textures, some fruits have odd smell, some fruits are just not up to your liking, you just hate them without ever trying to eat them.

“If I love them, I wouldn't be here wouldn't I?” your sarcastic remarks, causing him to chuckle in pity, not for you, but for him, to even think you had another reason why you don't like the thoughts of fruits.

Well Mark is a very diligent doctor, he takes pride in his job, it pained him to see a patient that couldn't be healed, well he seems to be a very honest person isn't it? Or he is just that kind to even let you, basically a stranger to have a healthier life, where your teeth are perfectly fine, and you ate fruits like its your breakfast, no one knows.

Then there's a thoughts, an idea, crossing through his head into his mind, like a sudden light show on top of his head, turn on by his idea, like a brilliant character you often see in an old movie, an idea that he will hate later, but Mark is Mark, and he is a dentist, he works as one, then he gonna be doing his jobs right.

“What about a bet?” hearing the sounds of bet, are too intriguing for you not to hear intensively, like if your minds had a favorite keywords, bet would be the first one to pop.

You like the thoughts of a game, and hearing it from Mark, your usual dentist is not something you often see, like what is it? And what kind of prizes you could asked for later? Your mind already running wild with thoughts when he snapped you out from your daydream.

“Sure! A bet is fun, what kind of bet?” you asked, he thinks for a while before words spilling out of his mouth, “A bet, if you could eat at least one fruits, any kind, doesn't matter if there is a repetition, as long you eat, a whole fruit within a day for a solid one month, I'll consider that as a win.” He declared waiting for your response.

Seems fun, but you hated fruits? Can you even do this? Hesitation clouded your mind like a rainy day, you tried to think how you are going to do this challenge?

“But what are the prizes if I do win?” you asked, he thinks for a while before flicking his fingers in instant, “Free treatment for a whole month?”

This is great idea, you are in need of some savings, you couldn't always relying on your salary that doesn't even cover most of your meals, this is like a gold that you found on a random dig hole on random mountain walk, you hit a jackpot!

You were almost agreeing, when a fun idea came back filling your mind, like a circus full of entertainment, “But how do you know that I'm not lying?” you grinned, he was dazed, he didn't think it through though? How can he make sure you do eat your fruits?

“I... I'm not sure..” he tried to found a way, that's when your fun ideas came to play, “How about we play fake dating?” you joked, how does that could run through that pretty head of yours? You don't know but you don't mind, it's fun to tease anyway.

So how does this make any sense? Well at first you know you just have to make sure that you win this bet, Mark would 100% change his mind and didn't agreed, but you would still win, why? You can just play pretend, like you somehow eat a fruit, nowadays it's not hard to manipulate a photo? This will be easy.

“Great idea, sure!” you smiled, completely didn't get the idea, “Of course just as I thought you wouldn't be.. Wait what?!” you were astounded, yelling a question that you would never understand why, “I said it's a great idea, let's do it, besides I feel like this would be fun!” Mark felt a rush of dopamine filling his mind into his heart, he loves this feeling, this is the first time in 5 years since he became a dentist.

Well.. Turns out dating or in your case, play dating with a dentist, isn't as fun as you thought it will be, it's been a week, and he had been nothing but a nagging mom.

Mark would make sure to call you every time his appointment ended on weekday, like some days ago, he were busy making sure to see you eat your grape that he send you himself this morning, sometimes when he isn't that busy, he would just barged in, like he owns the house (he is actually not, you just loved being dramatic) he often make sure to visit you, just to watch you swallowing down those orange juice that he makes.

It takes a whole dedication to do all of that, and two days after which is now you are having a date, at a very cute cottage vibe cave, with lots of natural plants, and sunlight, he prepared your food, it's a cute strawberry croffle with lots and lots of strawberries and some berries on the side.

“How is it? I know you probably bored eating and drinking just juice and fruits, so I tried something fun, I picked this one myself actually..” he blushed, you smiled shyly, never knew the dentist that always up right and uptight had this romantic side of him.

You kinda wanted to know, does he ever dated before? He looks so experienced in it, kinda make you feel sad, but then you shakes those thoughts away, why do you feel sad? This is Mark, the dentist that are always at your throat remind you how much fruits are important, nagging you about your mouth hygiene and much more.

“Why? You don't like it? do you want to try anything else? Or swapping with mine? It's blueberry croffle it's less sweet, oh you have sweet tooth do you perhaps wants chocolates one?” he asked softly, gosh he looks so attractive with his casual clothes, you imagine him smiling and spoon fed you the croffle, like actual boyfriend.

“Oh nothing, it's great too, strawberry is fine.” you answered, he worried, “Sorry, this is boring isn't it, I don't know much about dating, I only watch them on some movies, I saw this scene of taking your girlfriend to a cute cafe and enjoy a croffle, I should have asked you first..” as soon as you heard that, you chuckled, quite loudly people looks at your table as you tone it down.

“No, this is fun! More fun than most dates I've been, it's.. Sweet, thanks.” you smiled as soon as the laughter died down, he smiled genuinely, “As sweet as chocolates?” he teased, you laughed and nodded, “As sweet as chocolates.”

Few weeks passed, many things happen, Mark morning call had been nothing but your favorite part of the day, every dates is fun, he often takes you to a random cafe that served cute fruits dessert, he often brought you to the parks, eating ice cream, crepes, bagels, even though after that he will lecture you at evening, how it's important to always brush your teeth before go to bed, sometimes you would be so tired you just fell asleep while he lectures you about many things, he would always make sure to just spend a solid 10 minutes listening to your soft breathe as you sleep soundly on the phone.

Mark couldn't focus one bit, he always find himself to wonder how would it be, if you two were actually a thing, he couldn't help but putting so many aesthetic cafes around the city hoping one day you both would go there and have a talk, not like the usual patients and doctor, but as individual that enjoying each other company.

As soon as you came to your usual checkup appointments, he smiles brightly, like a kid that just see his favorite person came into the room.

“Do you have breakfast yet?” he asked, you smiled, “Yes doc.” he sighed in relief, “How is your teeth any sign of pain lately?” he continues, you shakes, lately your teeth have been nothing but being good, you don't feel any aching you often feel at night.

He smiles, when he were writing on his notes, you look around his office, you see a calendar next to his notes and clocks.

It's already been 28 days, it's almost times up, you feel sad, you didn't want this feeling to stop though, you want someone to keep remind you to eat apples once a day, prepare a healthy orange juice, cute dates, stroll around the park, sight seeing the scenery of the beautiful city you live in, a daily lecture before bed that Mark often do, so many things that he did somehow feels like a habit for you, you didn't want it to stop.

He found your eyes looking at the calendar, he didn't realize, he cough a bit to catch your attention, “Ah.. It's almost time isn't it?” he speak, you agreed.

How can you tell him that you wish the bet didnt have to end, you couldn't, Mark on the other way thinking of what he should say next, can he asked for this playing dating game to continue? What if you didn't want to play it anymore? At the end both of you just ended up taking a glance at each other no conclusion what so ever.

Even after the bet ended, you ended up winning but at what cost? You aren't this fake girlfriend of Mark as you used to, your morning today seems dull, nobody called you, even though you have been waiting, so many fruits on your fridge left untouched, you take a stroll, today is a weekend so you wish to enjoy your time alone, somehow so many couples walk past you, you wanted to curse yourself to even take stroll on this park, today park were crowded with people holding hands, kissing, talking, yet you alone.

You sighed, you wish Mark were here, as you sit at the park bench, you sat there wondering if you should just go on some random blind date to found someone to fill the emptiness inside your heart, when a breeze of winds blew your hair, flowers today were beautifully bloomed, on the corner of the crowd you see someone walk with his eyes focused on you, bouquet of flowers on his right hands, a smile that warms your heart, as he close the gap between the both of you standing in front of you.

“Sorry, am I late for our date?” you couldn't believe your ears, you didn't have to think twice as you throw yourself to his embrace, Mark holds you tightly as he whispered, “Let's stop playing pretend this time okay?” you laughed at that.

You guess you didn't have to worry about your sweet tooth anymore, because you found someone more sweets than all of the chocolates and candies in the whole world.

Masterlist.

A/N

Okay, I want y'all to know HOW MUCH I LOVE I HATE FRUITS gosh, at first I don't really understand why so many people fond of it, until I read the lyrics, gosh. IT'S SO SWEET WTH? and actually I got this ideas from this habit of mine tho, I don't like fruits, and I fear mark hear my thoughts and make the song? (I'm joking, about the song based on me, but I do doesn't really fond of fruits okay?) And I just got this idea somehow all of the sudden how do yall like it? Hope you like it tho, another one shot ig?

[glystenangel]

one kiss is all it takes😙✨

Simp! Satoru Gojo, Getou Suguru, Nanami Kento, & Toji Fushiguro x EmotionallyUnavail&Gn!Reader

tags/warning: slight angst but mostly fluff!, they r obsessed with youuu, reassurance and comfort, words of affirmation type beat, kinda corny but :)), v soft!!, also pretending getou is not evil here *coughs*, reader is a sorcerer also btw

summary: you're scared of getting heartbroken, but after an unplanned kiss you get all the reassurance you need from the jjk men

~less than 1k

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

________________

Why, of all people, did he have to kiss you? 

It was enough that you two flirted on an almost every day basis as you trained or ran into each other on random errands, but this? Unacceptable.

This wasn’t some vapid conversation or sparring session.

This was a kiss.

And worst of all it happened when you were at the end of what was supposed to be a casual, meaningless stop for drinks after a mission.

The man had to have been insane to even try.

Even if you had leaned into it.

Or, even if the kiss did have you melting into his arms as they encircled your figure.

Maybe because after so many seamless conversations and underneath that borrowed secrecy just outside of a random streetlight, it had felt a little too good to be true.

As if you could truly mean something to him.

Now you had no choice but to stave off any potential heartbreak by dashing in the opposite direction whenever you saw him.

Unfortunately yet predictably, this solution is short-lived.

Gojo-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where are you going?” 

Gojo has been popping up everywhere today.

It doesn’t matter if you’re teaching a class, overseeing spars, in the office area, or even eating lunch in your car. There he is, all pale hair and pretty grins, asking if he can talk to you.

“Bathroom.” You lie, briskly upping your pace as Gojo easily glides alongside you in the hallway.

“Liar. You’re avoiding me. It’s obvious, you know?” He clicks his tongue, tilting his head towards you as you continue walking.

“No, I’m not.” You lie again, and this seems to amuse him.

You roll your eyes, figuring the truth might get him off your tracks, “I’m going to the library…and then the bathroom after that.”

A smirk plays across his lips, and he holds out his hands.

“We should probably talk about that kiss before you get to the library then-”

You shove him into an empty classroom, and Gojo starts guffawing as you lock the door.

“Shut up for a second.” You hiss, shushing him with a glare.

He straightens, scratching at a spot above his blindfold with a tight smile.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

His genuinely concerned cadence has butterflies swirling in your stomach. For someone normally so lackadaisical, he could become intensely serious in an instant.

Like he was now, with his jaw clicking shut and his stare piercing through his blindfold.

“Sorry. Everything’s fine. Really.”

He steps closer, and the hard wood of the classroom wall hits your back as you try to maintain your distance from the renowned sorcerer.

Gojo, ever observant with well, everything, furrows his brows at your lack of proximity.

“Did I… Am I doing something wrong?”

Guilt starts to set in, so you shake your head.

“I must’ve done something. Can you tell me?” His large hand hovers close to your cheek, and then he seems to think better of it as he drops his palm to his side.

You want to return it to its natural place on your skin. Maybe replicate the surreal manner he caressed your face prior to kissing you, with the pads of his fingers resting along the nape of your neck and his thumb finding precious home on your bottom lip before replacing it with the soft confidence of his own lips.

A brief grimace crosses his handsome face, wrinkling the black fabric across the bridge of his nose. It’s almost like he remembers that same, loving sweep of his fingers.

The dreamlike memory chips at your resolve, and eventually your emotions become caught in your throat.

“It’s not what you did, it’s what you might do. I don’t want my heart to break because of you.”

The admission comes out shakier than you anticipated.

A bite of your lip, and the corners of your watery vision threaten to spill out.

“I’m scared. That’s all.” You mumble quietly.

“How foolish.”

You’re about to protest until you register the tender, mournful tone of his voice.

“I would never do anything to hurt you. Okay?” Gojo leans down, tugging down his blindfold so he can look into your eyes properly.

In an instant, you’re mesmerized. 

His irises are flooded with light, and akin to nothing except adoration encapsulated.

Perfect mirrors.

You could tell he was thinking the same thing about the sight of your own eyes.

“I want to protect you…and I’m scared too. Trust me.”

He chuckles, patting your head and letting his fingertips cascade down to your cheek.

You close your eyes, kissing his knuckle when it ghosts the corner of your lip and his other hand cups the small of your back.

At that, the smile seems to return to his voice, “I care about protecting you more than my duty should allow. It’s dangerous, but I don’t mind it.”

“Why?” You tilt your head, tentatively crossing your arms behind his neck.

A sigh escapes him, but the wry smile never leaves his face.

“Because I know you’ll protect me too. I trust you as if I’ve never been betrayed before. Isn’t that stupid?”

Getou-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, I’m trying to talk to you. What are you doing?”

Getou paces behind you as you collect your things from around the sparring ring.

“Leaving.” You rifle through your gym bag on the floor, hellbent on wiping yourself down and then getting the fuck out of here.

You swore that you had brought a freshly washed one today.

The frustrated thought leaves you right as Getou waves your towel in front of your nose.

Of course, when you reach towards the square of fabric he swings it above your head, “You can’t leave.”

“I can’t?” You stand to glare at him, and he sighs as he palms a hand through his raven strands of hair.

“No,” He throws the cloth over his shoulder, “We have to talk about this. About us.”

You cross your arms in defeat, “Why? So you can pretend to care and then break my heart like nothing ever happened?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel shame sinking into the bottom of your stomach.

Getou’s entire demeanor seems to shift, and his face appears so crestfallen you can hardly look at him.

“Is that really what you think this is?” He asks, voice brimming with palpable hurt.

Saying anything seems wrong, so you remain silent, pressing your lips together and bowing your head.

“Come here.” Getou finally says, a more gentle tone lining the request.

Despite the way the request soothes you, you don’t move.

“Come on, c’mere.” He approaches you steadily, and in spite of yourself, you open your arms and allow him to hug you close.

Getou leans back with a sigh, pinching your cheek with a hand.

“I won’t let you think like that anymore. Don’t come to conclusions by yourself either, okay?”

“Okay.” You shyly accept, and he rolls his eyes with a scoff before carefully wiping at your face with the towel.

“Besides…you know you can’t get rid of me that easily, right?”

Nanami---------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Nanami has caught up to you, and he’s as straightforward and nonchalant as you expected he would be.

He probably wanted to get this situation out of the way, you infer, pressing random buttons on the water boiler to avoid eye contact. 

The blond is leaning against the counter space next to you, keenly watching your every move. His normally crisp, teal dress shirt has some missed lines, and you wonder if he had been too distracted by you to finish ironing his laundry these past few days.

It was probably best not to entertain that thought.

“No, I haven’t. Just…been busy.” You wince as your mug warms up a little too fast, splashing water on the break room counter as you quickly set it down.

Nanami jolts up and grabs your hand, wiping at it with some paper towels and the severe lines between his eyebrows deepening.

You feel your breath catch at his closeness, and you can’t help but swallow as his familiar cologne floods your senses and he frets over your accidental burn.

He seems to feel your stare, peering up at you with curiosity before you attempt to tug your hand away.

“Don’t.” Nanami breathes, covering your hand with his and effectively preventing you from moving, “Just tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it.”

The warmth of your hand simply being held in his seems to travel all the way up to your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

“I don’t know if you can.” You whisper truthfully.

“What is it?” He draws your hand closer, muttering softly under his breath as he examines your palm nested within his larger ones.

You chew on the side of your cheek for a moment, “I’m afraid we’re heading towards…”

Nanami lifts his chin up, meeting your eyes with a question in his gaze that makes you hesitate.

“Something.” You finish lamely, turning your face to the ground.

Nanami pulls both of your hands carefully together in his, encasing them in his firm grip.

“I want to.” He confesses, regarding your expression with quiet consideration, “Don’t you?”

The sentiment is so clear and honest that your heart squeezes.

You shake your head in an attempt to dissuade yourself, but can’t manage to bring yourself to release his hands.

“I can’t-I don’t know you completely yet. What if you break my heart?”

Nanami presses your hands to his heart, and you feel the helplessly erratic rhythm of it between your fingertips as he speaks.

“Then, I’ll give you mine.”

Toji--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Gotcha.” 

Toji cuts off your escape route, and you let out a huff as you glare up at him.

He’s smoking a thin cigarette, the end of it jauntily balanced between his canines and poking out towards the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes flit to the floor as soon as you catch yourself outlining the scar notched over his lips.

You remember precisely how it feels.

“Leave me alone, Toji.” You mumble, and you hope it sounds more convincing out loud than in your head.

He lets out an exhale of smoke and flicks the cigarette butt onto the ground, “Look doll, I gotta apologize if I did somethin’ stupid the other night.”

You keep your eyes lowered.

“Ah, fuck. I’m sorry. Did I? I didn’t mean to, angel.”

The tone he speaks with isn’t accusatory, just gravelly with uncertainty and the smallest question of hope.

So earnest and kind it makes your heart ache.

His hand reaches towards you, and you immediately duck the pleading touch. 

“Get away from me, Toji.”

As soon as you back away though, the regret rears its head and fills your stomach.

He straightens, hand falling to his side and his broad shoulders heaving downwards. The normally rough and sarcastic man has a faint glisten in his eyes. 

You realize that you’re hurting him.

Finally, Toji rakes a hand through his dark locks as he peers through the strands that fall over his forehead, “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“Of course I don’t!”

You clap a hand over your mouth, and Toji’s widened eyes meet yours. 

That’s when you start running again.

“Hey! Hey!” You hear Toji right on your heels, and then he wraps his arms around you from behind.

The warmth of his chest on your back as you both heave in disjointed breaths forces you to stop.

The bounty hunter loosens his grip, and you stop resisting completely when he rests his cheek against yours.

“Don’t do this to me.”

You tentatively place a hand over one of his own, feeling your heartbeats syncing together, “I don’t want you to hurt me either. If you break my heart, I don’t know if I could take it.”

The dejected confession stills the air, and then to your surprise, Toji starts laughing.

The deep rumble of it tickles your ear, and when it dies down he gently turns you around.

He softly pinches your chin between his fingers, scanning your face with relaxed brows and a lazy grin, looking at you as if he had all the time in the world to do so.

“Darlin', you’re only breaking your own heart that way.”

As you absorb his words, Toji leans down to give your cheek a kiss before tucking a loose tendril of hair behind your ear.

“That should be my job.” He whispers, “Right?”

The tease has you worriedly clutching his hands, and Toji gives you a more tender, sweet kiss on the lips.

“I’m kidding, doll. I know I’m not a good guy, but I’ll take good care of your heart. And the rest of you if you’ll let me.”

Relief sinks into your chest, “Really?”

Toji nods, clusters of stars surrounding the reflection he has of you in his gaze, and this time there’s no doubt in your mind that he is telling the truth.

“I promise.”

________________

End Notes:

this is my welcome back present to u, lovely readers!! xoxo

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: Arcane

Pairing: Vander/Silco

I waited so long to edit the 'Silco trying to get Claggor out of him' fic that Season 2 came out and then I knew I had to write a scene with Felicia. Not that any actual method is tested in this scene just discussed.

Extra Felicia scene is below. Full fic can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62547778

Tags: Omegaverse, mpreg, some discussion of childbirth

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

“Oh, you poor thing, they’re still in there are they?” Felicia asks when Silco emerges from the Last Drop despite the fact she can damn well see with her own eyes the answer. Silco’s stomach still huge from his and Vander’s child.

She hadn’t heard any news of the now long-awaited pup being born but she had held out hope that it just hadn’t been announced yet as the new parents adapted to life with a new born and that Vander would have told her Silco wouldn’t be joining her today because he was recovering from birth when she showed up. She had already planned in her head that she’d have time to pop back home to get the small gift she’d brought them and make it to the market before the fresher produce got snapped up.

“Unfortunately,” Silco says with a tight smile, reaching out to tickle at Vi’s face where it peaks out of the wrap Felicia has her in. Not as safe as when she was still inside her but still close enough that Felicia can feel her warmth. “You'll have to wait a little longer to meet your friend.”

Vi babbles back as she’s taken to at anyone or anything that catches her interest.

“I don’t think she’s the one that’s impatient about it,” Felicia says as they start on their way down the road. She keeps pace with Silco because it wasn’t too long ago she was the one waddling around heavy with a pup and he’d been patient with her. Probably because he knew this time would come but that’s not here nor there.

Silco gives her a look.

“What have you heard?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Felicia raises her hands in defense. “But you’ve both been saying any day now for a few weeks and I know if it was me I’d be starting to go crazy from the wait.”

Vi had been just about spot-on with what the midwife had predicted from the date of Felicia’s last heat. Not that that had helped with their panic about when it happened or made the pain any easier but at least she hadn’t been left waiting for it to get started and only getting bigger by the day like Silco is.

“I’ve tried everything and yet still nothing. Not even a false contraction. Just Vander’s huge pup making my hips ache so much I struggle to sleep,” Silco tells her, his hands busy giving his belly and back as much support as they can.

“Everything?”

“Yes - everything! Even that disgusting tea that costs a fortune. And still no signs of labor.”

“So you’ve tried fucking?” Felicia asks, barely even dropping her voice. They’ve both made now a baby with their alpha so clearly know how to do it.

“That was the first thing I tried,” Silco says, with a roll of his eyes. “Doesn’t cost anything and Vander’s not hard to convince.”

“Gotten on top?”

“Yes. Not that I would recommend it to anyone in a similar state. It was exhausting and uncomfortable and I still do not have the baby out for it.”

Felicia hums at it, already thinking of the next option. Silco peers at her suspiciously.

“What?” he asks.

“Have you gotten him to suck on your tits?” She does lean in close that time, mostly to enjoy the horrified expression it earns her.

“How is that meant to help?” Silco demands. “Probably something alphas made up to give them an excuse.”

“No it’s meant to help get things going,” Felicia says, pressing her hand over Vi about where her heart would be. “Brings your milk in as well, apparently. Your body figures that, well, it had better get the baby out of your so they can start drinking it. Makes you contract as well, the midwife had Vi on my boob almost as soon as she was born to help pass the afterbirth. I’m sure Vander would be happy to help out to get this over with-”

“Vander helping out is not the problem with it,” Silco interrupts. “No, he would be very happy to help out in that way.”

“Then why not?”

“Because I am not having him suck my tits right now,” Silco hisses at her. He’d be a lot more intimidating if he wasn’t also literally waddling with an over 9 month pregnant belly on him.

“Well, then, you clearly don’t want them out all that much,” Felicia says more to tease than anything as Silco bats her away. Even if he doesn’t take her suggestion on board she does hope it won’t be a much longer wait for him and Vander for their pup to be born. They deserve to not have to wait any longer to hold the result of all Silco’s effort.

[chaewberry]

complete guide; how to move on from your ex (failure guaranteed!).

pairing; uchiha shisui x reader word count; 3.8k tags; breaking up and getting back together, explicit sexual content, from lovers to exs back to lovers again, humor, civilian reader. chapters; 1/5 read chapter 2

read on ao3!

You were both sitting on your balcony, fourth floor up, with your backs against the wall and the clammy, summer night heat clinging to your skin. The tube of ice-cream sitting in between you had all but melted into soup an hour ago and neither one of you bothered to return it to the freezer.

“Let’s break up.”

It was well late at night, after midnight for sure, and the balcony tiles had grown warm and sticky against the naked skin of your thigh. It was a hateful summer - as all summer were in the Land of Fire - beating down on you with merciless heatwaves all throughout July, and so you had opted to shed your shorts in favor of parading around the house with a loose tank top and your panties. Shisui had undressed himself down to his training gear shorts he’d left lying around during one of the countless times he’d spend his days and nights here, along with an insurmountable amount of clothing crammed away inside your closet next to yours. Sometimes he’d flicker in and out within seconds, grabbing this shirt or those pants or the tanto strap he’d disregarded somewhere underneath your bed after coming home from a two month mission, all needy hands and impatience etched into tensed muscles. One time he had left his standard shinobi vest here — you had washed it and put it out to dry one night before bed only to find it gone the next morning you woke up, replaced with a scribbled note of a crudely drawn kissing face and a heart in its place.

He’d pop in one second, leave a messy bite on your jawline or a wet kiss on your nape and be gone the next, leaving behind the smell of his shampoo or the scent of the earth he carried wherever he went and you with a heart that throbbed with such salacious pleasure that the feeling spread from your sternum down to your navel.

It was the little things that left you chuffed. You never knew when he would pop up or when. You could be in the bathroom brushing your teeth and soaking in the bathtub, you could be cooking or just sleeping in during your lazy hours, lounging on the couch reading a comic or a book; you’d wait, every day, for that one, two seconds where you’d feel the familiar pull of space.

You expected him but you could never predict him — Shisui had a talent for catching you off guard and tonight was no different.

You wracked your brain, trying to find suitable words to respond with because you couldn’t stay quiet now, you had to say something, anything, everything but to stay silent. Your mouth opened and closed again, opened and closed, lips pulling into a smile too thin and dry to be anything truly genuine, but for some reason you also felt that you were smiling as ludicrous as it were. “Is this because I ate the left-over yakisoba from lunch? Shisui, really, you’re being dramatic.”

“What? No,” he said. “It’s not that — and anyway, I bought that for you.”

Because today was Friday and you had the next week off and Shisui always brought you food after you worked for two consecutive weeks with barely a day off when things got busy at the hospital and you had to be stretched thin and do jobs that weren’t in your jurisdiction and then some. As soon as you stepped foot inside your apartment earlier that day and found the man sitting next to you languish laying in the tatami floors in front of the open balcony door, letting the sun bathe his skin and scars, you had taken it for granted that this was going to be a normal week off — Shisui would try to stay off the mission roster and work more at the police force next to his cousins and uncle. He’d buy you breakfast in the mornings and you’d make him lunch to take into work, and then once he got off of work he would go to his house or come to yours, wash the troubles of the day away and you’d go on to do whatever it is you had planned for the night.

Normal couple shit you’ve been doing for the past eight months and two weeks you’ve been together, ever since you turned the occasional ‘sleeping-together-for-benefits’ arrangement turned into this when Shisui bought you strawberry seeds to plant on the empty ceramic pots sitting outside on your balcony for over two years along with a glass of expensive rose and a flower bouquet so large and with such variety that your apartment had been the epitome of a lofty spring day for the better part of a month. Even now, the dried, well preserved flowers hang upside down next to your bookshelf, a mixture of faded color and the first, brittle feelings of the first serious relationship you’ve had in your life.

“Hold on. I need to wear some pants if we’re going to have this conversation.” You got up, unsticking your skin from the warm tiles and grabbing the ice-cream soup to throw away. “You want a shirt?”

“Yes, please.”

“ Please. Well, now I know you’re being serious.”

“Shut up, can’t I be nice? Am I not nice?”

“Perish the thought, my love.”

You stepped inside the house, closing one of the balcony doors and leaving the other one open. You poured the melted gooey mess down the kitchen sink, threw the tube in the trash and made your way to your closet, relying only on the light coming from the bathroom to find your way, a habit you picked up from a mother who was always scared of the darkness, who would wake up panting and gasping for breath in the middle of the night if the light on the bathroom or the hallway hadn’t been left on, who would grasp around for the covers, for your little hands, for whatever it was she could grab on in order to ground herself.

Most nights you slept with the light in the bathroom on too — other nights however it seemed too strong against the shapeless darkness the night dunked your apartment in and so you closed it completely, leaving only the moonlight and the warm palm against your back, wide and warm, almost burning down the skin.

From the confinements of your closet you fished out a pair of shorts and one of Shisui’s shirts, black and stamped with his clan logo at the back. Briefly, looking down on the too large for your frame tank top, the strands slipping down your shoulders no matter how many times you pulled them up, threatening to expose one part or another, you entertained the idea about changing into one of your shirts, though you quickly waved the notion off.

Changing out of his shirt would require a level of chalantness you weren’t willing to convey out into the open, now, when the moment required vulnerability.

Strangely, you felt still, as if a time bubble had come down around your house and paused everything; the frail summer breeze against the leaves and the grass, the sound of cicadas you loved so much, even the quips between you and Shisui remained the same, even the calmness that had settled down on your own self was in and of itself some sort of an admittance, a recognition of this time bubble which would burst once the first peaks of the morning shuttered through the curtains in a handful of hours, long after Shisui would leave, because it was a fact that he was breaking up with you, that he wanted to break up with you, and thus it was so that he would leave once he did so. You’d have the summer warmed sheets all to yourself, the light of the bathroom still on, the balcony doors still open even as you went to sleep, and the clattered clothes, yours and his, around your apartment.

You threw the shirt over his head and sat back down on the cooling tiles, your back against the wall of your small balcony, facing forwards, at the once small strawberry plant which had, by now, sprouted two more roots.

“I need to replant those,” you said, not taking your eyes off the strawberries. “The pots are too small.” You turned to him, watched as he tugged the shirt down the hard cut muscles of his chest, his stomach, the tantalizing sliver of skin just above the seams of his shorts. Nothing better than ogling at your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend in a shattering moment of vulnerability.

“So,” you clicked your tongue against the back of your teeth. “Where were we?”

***

Hikari was awkwardly charming with a too wide smile and childlike rose coloured glasses.

He was a civilian, like you, and was working as a manga editor in the new literary building that sprouted up two years ago. It made sense, in a way, that he had stayed behind in those childlike pages and romanticized stories of ‘boy-meets-girl’, in between adventures shared between friends and comrades, wine mixed with honey and warm in your mouth, sweet on the tip of your tongue. He held your hand all the way to the restaurant, pulled the chair back for you, gave you a single rose underneath the flickering light bulb of your apartment complex at the end of the night. 

His fumbling self had charmed you to an extent, although his kisses left much to be desired — despite it, or perhaps because of it, he was eagerly awaiting to please. 

It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t good, and at the end of the night you were laying naked on sweat soaked sheets passing a cigarette between raw, bitten lips. The thrumming anxiety underneath Hikari’s skin had dialed down, the small blip of chakra he possessed smoothed out. You rugged a pillow to your naked chest and he was enthusiastic in lending you an arm to use to lay your head instead. He pulled closed to you that way, his chest on your back and his other arm thrown over your waist. You pressed back onto him and buried your face in the pillow. With closed eyes and a steady heart you focused on the sound of his breathing, on the way his body felt against yours. 

This went on for two more weeks before you cut Hikari loose.

Tsunade herself had said that the remedy to a broken heart was either booze or short term flings below your league, and both of those things at once, on occasions, but you still had shifts to cover, your job to do, bills to pay, and a reminder to act like a perfectly working societal cog in the grand scheme of things. 

You drank more than put out, despite Rin’s sudden interest in safe sex lectures that she had printed and taped out all throughout the brake room walls and her tenacious, subtle-as-shit glances from around the corner or over your shoulder.

It was fine, you thought, because she at least wasn’t whimpering sympathetically while holding onto your leg metaphorically. She put you to work, instead, intent on wringing out any sort of liquid substance of life you had within your veins between the smoke in your lungs and whatever else passed as an acceptable amount of water and food.

Your existence was pure disgust that past week, so busy with work and indulging in miserably pleasurable pity parties or whatever the fuck it was that you were doing in the bathroom with an old sex toy you hadn’t used in years and had taken to now abusing the fuck out of. Between that and sleeping you were barely venturing outside of your apartment.

When Rin started becoming overbearing in her attempts to feed you from her lunchbox and “mistakenly buying” one extra juice box from the vending machine you decided that your lifestyle wouldn’t do. Not if you wanted her busting down your door one of these days and finding you in the midst of debauchery in your bathtub.

You put more effort in the way you dressed, dabbed some concealer underneath your eyes to hide the bruised skin stitched with weariness and an exhaustion that ran too deep. You even bought a new and up and coming magazine talking about all things fashion and what-not. You took the time to study it, read it from cover to cover and then talk about it with the nurses and doctors at the hospital when Rin was within earshot, pitching your voice higher and dipping it in sweetness.

Tsunade had taken one look at your well constructed facade and laughed in your face — but that was fine, it was fine. Tsuande wasn’t some meddlesome wench who would fuss and blow a gasket over something so trivial as a few missed meals and an unhealthy amount of staying up to use getting off in order to deal.

You were pretty sure you were losing all sensation on your clit though.

You had that Friday and the whole weekend off, not expected at the hospital until Monday for the night shifts. Your civilian friends came over, bringing booze for the purpose of getting drunk as a skunk before even setting foot anywhere near close to a club and an opulent onslaught of opinions regarding your ‘slutty Friday outfit’.

After shoving you into clothes that were entirely and embarrassingly too tiny and short on your and after shredding your tights to hell and back and slapped on some hard core, punk themes makeup on you in between the gin laced with bitter lemon juice in between, you had reached the appropriate level of intoxication to leave the house and head towards one of the seediest bars in Konoha.

It was a mix between civilians and shinobi looking to let loose, the stickiness of spilled drinks clinging onto your shoes, the smoke filling the room inside and making its way down your throat and making you grow lightheaded within the span of a few minutes, the noise vibrating from the walls and onto your bones; it was a wonder such place was ever allowed to remain open. The health violations alone were enough to warrant the immediate execution of the owner. 

One of your friends, Lisa, had flirted her way towards a table half-way full. She sat her ass right on a guy’s dick and after a few minutes and whispering into his ear and laughing like a dumb bimbo she most certainly was not she turned to you and your two other friends, one of which was her girlfriend, and crooked a wicked finger into a ‘come hither’ motion.

“How do you do it?” Chiyo asked. She turned towards Fumiko while pulling you towards the direction of the table, her grasp strong and sure on your wrist, as if you were at risk of getting snatched at any moment now. “I wouldn’t like it.”

Fumiko only smiled around the blunt on her blood painted lips, teeth tearing at the paper and the plant. “It’s different when you’re in love.”

You stumbled through the crowd in high heels you hadn’t worn in years.

“Besides - Lisa doesn’t like cock.”

Chiyo argues back, “that’s so not the point,” but by the time anything could come of it they were already at the table. Shoved between a rock and a hard place -- Lisa abandoned the dick trying to bury itself in her through various levels of clothing in lieu of climbing over your lap and directly sitting in between Fumiko’s legs now before starting to make out on your left side, tacky heels digging into your calf. Meanwhile on your right was a dude who was halfway smoking his second pack of the day of one went by the raspy quality of his fried as fuck vocal cords and was definitely not just a civilian with the amount fo scar tissue around the visible skin of his arms and throat.

Shisui had the same scars littering his body — one in particular, from the top of his right eyebrow, down over the soft skin of his eyelid until it stopped right beneath his cheekbone.

Kenji, as it turned out, was furiously in love with a man thirteen years younger than him as well as a glutton for punishment. He offered to share his cigarettes with you nevertheless, pouring you drinks from the bottle he had bought for himself and made idle talk while running circles with his thumb on the inner side of your thigh the whole time. He was handsome, older, and the tension beneath well sculpted muscle screamed of someone who had seen a lot of mayhem and maybe even caused a lot of it. 

Nearing the end of the night, you asked, blunt and honest, “are you a shinobi?”

Kenji chuckled, white teeth flashing, and the sound was deep and throaty and absolutely fucking fake. “Does that scare you?”

You didn’t hesitate. “No, not really.”

He paused, blinking down at you lazily. He started squeezing your thigh like it was a fucking squeaky toy. “You’re one of those, huh?” Looking at the visible confusion on your face, he explained. “Someone who likes the life, wants to try and take a bite out of it.”

You would have laughed if you felt like it. Instead, you asked, “Does the boy not like the life?”

His silence was an answer in and of itself, even though his smile never left his face.

At the end of the night you leave. Lisa and Fumiko have a swaying Chiyo clasped in between them because if anyone truly knew Chiyo then that meant that they knew her drank urges to start fucking sprinting for whatever reason. Lisa blew you a kiss as Kenji threw his coat over your head and Fumiko loudly declared to her girlfriend that they were out of condoms.

You took Kenji back to your apartment, fumbled through three flights of stairs and felt for the key hole in the dark and poorly maintained hallway as Kenji latched his teeth at the back of your neck like he was trying to bite through the bone.

Kenji was an attentive lover; he peeled the clothes off your body with care, petted his way down your body, exploring all the while every nook and cranny. His hands were warm on your breast, squeezing as if the skin would split apart with force, so much so that you laughed at him. Coaxing you to lay down on your back on the bed he pushed your thighs open, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he put your ankles over his shoulder and sank to his knees.

After the tenth lazy kiss he left at the crease of your hip bone, sucking on the sensitive skin there, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you scared of pussy or something?” you asked, squirming to cram your cunt into his face already.

Kenji laughed, “is romance lost on you?” he sucked another bruise into the meat of your thigh, lapping at the bite as an afterthought.

“No, but patience is,” you answered, leaning forward to tag at his hair.

“Fine,” he mouthed at your cunt, short, puffy breaths warming your core as he spread your labias. “Be like that, brat.”

The first time, he made you come on his tongue, arms wrapped around your legs and hands splayed out on your stomach and hips to stop you from squirming away when the pleasure mounted. He kept lapping at you long after, like a man fucking starved, unashamed and ignoring your senseless babbling. After he was satisfied Kenji wrestled your boneless body until you were laying on your stomach, making a quip about your shit stamina.

“Shut the fuck up,” you retorted. Your mental capacity was preoccupied with gripping the sheets as Kenji fed his cock into you, little by little, pushing in an inch, sliding out and then pushing twice as much into you.

He fucked you until you were hiccuping into the sheets, hips bouncing back to meet his every thrust, until your cunt was puffy and there were bruises and bite marks littering your back. Afterwards, he turned you around and latched onto your breast as you made ribbons out of his back.

Kenji fucked you like you a were a two bit whore, tying the last condom and laying it flat on your stomach with a cackle that made him look younger than he was.

You grimaced. “Thanks.”

“Anything for my lover,” he wisecracked, rubbing your belly as if to soothe you. You almost asked if he did this to the young man he said he liked or whatever the fuck his situation with him was but you stopped yourself. That man had just blown your back out, you shouldn’t finger old wounds and pour salt into them.

“Help me into the bathroom,” you said, picking up the condom cooling on your stomach and throwing it in the small trash bin next to your bed. A wrapper from an old chocolate bar had you blinking down hard. How long ago was it that you cleaned the house? Tomorrow the house was due for a thorough cleaning.

Kenji carried you into the bathroom and cleaned you up with a wet towel before starting to fill up your bathtub, smiling like a fucking school kid as he dropped an infuriatingly pink bathbomb in the water and watched as it dissolved. The hotter was hot against you, borderline on cooking you like a fucking seefood boil, but it was just the right temperature you liked. Kenji didn’t get it -- after cleaning himself with a wet towel he wore his boxers and sat down right next to you outside of the bathtub. Silently, he started scrubbing shampoo on your hair, rubbing small circles into your scalp and untangling entanglements.

It was good, soothing, and something you absolutely didn’t do for your one-night stand.

“What the fuck,” you rasped out, half of your neurons fried from bliss and the other half struggling to keep up. “I’m not gonna pay you.”

Kenji laughed. “I didn't think you would.”

“Well good, because I’m not going to pay you,” you repeated. “Seriously, what the fuck.”

“What, is it bad to take care of your habitual lover?”

Habitual lover, you mouthed, your heavy eyelids fluttering. The acidic taste lingering in your mouth was a cause from the throw you managed to swallow down. “You are so romantic, really.”

“I seem to remember that romance has long since been drifting past you.”

“First of all,” you turned around to face him, wiping the shampoo buds that were threatening to blind you, “don’t start waxing poetics in my bathroom. Disgusting. Second of all,” you paused, mind spinning, “you’re old and probably a pervert. Third of all, you like someone else, isn’t that insulting to that person?”

Kenji took your barraging criticism and insults with a smile on his face. He turned out the shower head and started rinsing your hair. “Are those your only complaints?”

“We are never seeing each other again,” you said in lieu of answering, facing the wall in front of you.

Naturally, went on to see each other again.

[husbandhannie]

don't tough it out

pairing: jeonghan x reader

warnings: reader is in a toxic (not detailed) work environment

word count: 600

a/n: popping in for a bit to write little snippets

tags: @itsveronicaxxx @leejungchans @junhui-recs

“everything okay?”

jeonghan’s voice makes you look up from your phone, the masked concern on his face making you forget about your worries for a second. 

“yeah”, you respond, closing the outlook app and putting down your phone, “just checking email”.

“ah”, he nods, “your boss?”

you sigh.

you really thought your first job would be different. while you’d heard plenty of stories about micromanaging bosses, you didn’t think you’d end up with one on your very first job. when you received the offer letter from your company – your dream company at the time, you couldn’t have predicted the constant ball of anxiety your supposed “dream job” would give you.

“yeah, it’s just”, you start, before giving up, “not great”.

jeonghan extend his hand to rest over yours, squeezing in support. i’m sorry i can’t make it better, it says.

“do you think i should look for other jobs?”

you’re not sure what makes you ask the question. you hadn’t even seriously considered it before this moment. things have been stressful since the first week, but leaving your job barely a year into it was not something you ever considered doing. 

despite the unexpectedness of the question, you find yourself anxious to know jeonghan’s response. his face betrays no clear emotion – is he glad that you’re leaving a toxic situation? relieved that he won’t have to hear you complain again? or is he disappointed that you’re giving up so soon? that you can’t stick it out even for – 

“i don’t want to tell you how to live your life”, he answers, squeezing your hand again. 

ofcourse. you smile despite yourself. it’s not like jeonghan to cross lines.

“i want to know”, you respond, your voice sounding rather desperate, “please”.

your boyfriend pauses for a second, pondering. 

“you’re an intelligent professional with two degrees and a year of proving yourself in the industry”, he starts, eyes intently focused on you, “you’re dedicated, hard-working, and have well sought-after skills in your field”.

it’s silent for a moment. when he speaks again, it’s much softer.

“you deserve a workplace where you’re valued and respected”, his other hand reaches out to rest on your thigh and he scoots closer to you on the couch, “and not one where you’re constantly questioned and overworked”.

it’s silent again for a moment. you’re not sure how you manage to not cry.

“i think i should look for other jobs”, you say finally, swallowing the lump in your throat, “it’ll take a while, but i don’t want to do this anymore”.

you’re not sure why you thought sticking it out at your toxic job would make it better somehow. maybe it was that you had romanticized jobs in your field when you were a student, or maybe it was that you didn’t want to throw the towel in so soon. 

or maybe you didn’t think people in your life would support you giving up on your supposed “dream job” so easily. self-doubt is a funny little thing – it makes you doubt the loyalty of people who have always stood by you.

people like jeonghan.

“i’ll update my resume, maybe ask some friends to give me tips”, you speak to fill the silence, “god, i’ll have to brush up on interview techniques. i should also ask friends if their companies have any vacancies – “

jeonghan’s soft voice interrupts your ramblings. 

“i’m proud of you”, his hand reaches up to frame your cheek.

“because i decided to leave my job?”

“no”, he smiles, “because you decided to put yourself first”.

[guardian-angle22]

Tag Game Tuesday: 911 Lone Star Fandom Edition

Thank you for the tags! @thisbuildinghasfeelings @rmd-writes & @goldenskykaysani

When did you first start watching Lone Star? Who or what introduced you to the show?

I first started watching LS around the 2nd or 3rd episode of season 1 after seeing some adorable gifs of Owen & TK floating around on my tumblr feed.

I wish I could find out who patient zero was that first brought them to my attention from my follow list, but I think it must've been someone from the Skam fandom? maybe?

Which season is your favorite?

Season 3, baby!! and ngl, I highly doubt anything will top it at this point just based off where the plots have gone since.

Who is your favorite character? (Bonus: If you answered TK or Carlos, who is your favorite besides them?)

I mean - y'all knew what the answer would be to this one, right? Obviously Paul is my favorite. I do also really love TK. I know I have a reputation for loving Paul because I get very animated about him LOL... but I would like to put TK in my pocket and keep him safe forever, thank you.

Top five episodes. Go!

3.13

2.09

3.08

2.08

3.04

If you could pick any character to be given a "begins" episode, who would it be and what would that episode look like?

Paul. One hundred percent, I need it from Paul. I know everyone and their brother is going to or has answered Carlos for this and that tracks for a tarlos based fandom... but my unpopular opinion is that we've gotten quite a bit of character backstory for him this past season compared to some others like Nancy, Paul, and Marj. I feel like Paul has been part of the core group since the beginning but hasn't seen the amount of meaty plots as some of the others have. He's due!

What is a scenario or storyline that you would like to see in season 5?

Okay, I have two ideas for this: - an episode in which some of the characters who rarely interact are somehow trapped together due to some kind of emergency/disaster/storm and must navigate their way out together while the rest of the team helps from the outside. There are a few groupings we could use for it, but I personally would have the potential pairings be one of the following (or all three at once??): Paul & Tommy... TK & Grace... Judd & Carlos. I feel like these 3 pairings are people we don't get to see interact one-on-one often (or at all) and it would be super fun! - a true HEAT WAVE. they very briefly had that heat thing happen in 4x01 but I want a whole episode about a temperature heat wave and how first responders have to deal with them. this is TEXAS, c'mon. Plus the theme of heat throughout the episode could pop up in various character's stories. Tarlos = sexy heat. One of the firefighters = heat in the form of pressure in their job like a promotion of some kind. etc.

What do you think is going on in this still?

I have absolutely no fucking clue 😂 So I will instead direct you to this wonderful little spec fic by @littlemissmarianna As much as I hate everything to do with the Gabriel plot and tbh am not excited to see its continuation... if they manage to pull something off like that fic, I might actually enjoy some of it!

We all know about the elusive 5x05 spicy scene that has been teased, so what is your prediction for how it could possibly top 1x02?

... soooooooo I must confess something here...

*whispers* I don't actually know all about the elusive 5.05 spicy scene. someone needs to fill me in. I have not been paying attention to spoilers & speculation as much this time around since last season's speculation went so terribly for me 🤭🤣

Where was the Tarlos honeymoon in your mind?

Something about Carlos "getting homesick after a weekend in Branson" just tickles me. and the sarcastic way TK talks about the idea of Carlos wanting to travel the world also just amuses me to no end...

so this paired with the way the wedding went down, I think TK wouldn't want to make Carlos travel very far. or leave his mother so soon. I think TK wants his husband to feel as safe and comfortable as possible and so they spend a weekend at a nice spa/resort near Austin. Some place like this: Miraval Austin and then spend the rest of their honeymoon week bundled up together at home.

Shoutout one of your favorite fan creations.

for fics, I'm gonna be a little lazy here and link some of my previous themed fic rec lists:

but truly there are some wonderful fics in those lists!!! For some fanart: - this one by @whatsintheboxmh is one of my faves. ankle grab my beloved. 🥺🥰 - this one of s5 TK by @fitzherbertssmolder is so adorable! - this one of BUTTERCUP! by @greentealycheejelly is absolutely precious. - this one of Paul & Marjan!! by @heartstringsduet is amazingggg. give me all the paul fanart - this one of Grace by @yorit1 is stunning.

I'm not sure who has already done this, but I'm gonna tag some mutuals that I don't think I've seen it from yet (no pressure though!!) @lemonlyman-dotcom @herefortarlos @tkstrandreyes @three-drink-amy @littlemissmarianna @mikibwrites @alrightbuckaroo