#i am still alive and have no tickets

[takecarelove]

i'm not texting and driving! i'm emailing and taking pictures of the sky and driving

[mooremars]

The Exorcist parody musical is an absolute delight in every way but I want to give it a special shoutout for giving us batshit, raunchy as hell (pun intended) Jordan Donica

[kurthorton-moving]

i am officially off my "gotta stick around with the hope of seeing taylor live" bullshit

[gghostwriter]

Hi. I am the anon that asked for the Spencer x Reader, where he hallucinate that reader as his wife, and I love it so much. Thank you 😊 ❤️

Also, if it is not too much to ask... what if it was on the contrary. Fem!Reader gets hurt and belives Spencer is her husband, but they are friends. So cute, you know? (Happy ending again, pretty, please 🙏🏻 🥺)

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Friends to Lovers; Fluff! Just fluff Warning: Medical inaccuracies A/N: Anon, i’m glad you loved it enough to request another!! It’s a bit shorter than your first request, really tried to not have the same plot line as the other but I hope you enjoy! Main masterlist

Phantasmagoria. // Spencer Reid

The team was split into two after the takedown of the unsub—Hotch, Rossi, and JJ were back at the station, wrapping up the case while Spencer, Emily, and Derek were stationed outside of the hospital room, waiting for permission to be let in. You and Spencer were partnered up, as always, going around town and asking the locals for any additional information regarding the last sighting of the unsub at a gas station. Completely unaware that the unsub, riding a motorcycle, was steps away from the duo. He opened fire, causing the agents to take cover but not before you were hit by near shoulder. As you were rushed to the hospital, the remaining members quickly convened, located, and captured the serial killer. 

The nurse in charge stepped out of the room to face a set of three federal agents, eagerly asking for an update. 

“Surgery went fine. The doctor was able to remove the bullet fragment, intact,” she droned on. “We need one of you agents to collect and sign a form for the release of the bullet as evidence—”

“I’ll do it,” Emily volunteered. 

“Great. The patient is awake but she’s still a little loopy from the local anesthesia. We suggest not crowding her so we will only allow one visitor at a time—” she clapped her hands together. “Now which one of you two fine gentlemen—” she gestured at Spencer and Derek. “—is Dr. Spencer Reid, her husband?” 

Emily and Derek both swiveled to Spencer, eyes dancing with glee as they tucked that information for teasing ammo in the future. 

“I—I am,” he stuttered out. Unsure if he should correct the nurse but if it gave him special privileges to see you first, he’d let it pass. After all, he was there when you got shot. He wants to see you alive and well. 

The nurse smiled at him and nodded her head. “Your wife’s been looking for you.”

Face going crimson red, he thanked her and entered the room, avoiding all eye contact from the remaining two agents outside. 

Your relaxed smile was the first thing he registered—that and how tiny you looked tucked in your bed.

“Spence! Love—where were you?” 

He approached your bedside, noting your glassy eyes ad slurred speech, effects of the anesthesia. 

“I-Y/N, you’re body is still processing out the anesthesia. You’re exhibiting disinhibition—a temporary loss of inhibitions caused by outside stimuli and I-I’m not your husband.” Not that he didn’t want to, he added to himself.

You giggled. “You silly nerdy agent, of course you are. We got married recently and my beautiful—” you gasped as you inspected your hands. “—my ring. Where’s my ring?” 

The monitor picked up your distress. Your eyes going watery and a pout was beginning to form, breaking Spencer’s heart. you looked at him like he had all the answers in the universe and that caused him to fumble out an answer, anything to stop those pretty eyes from crying.

“I’ll ask the nurse okay, no need to worry,” he stroked soothing circles at the back of your hand.

You smiled at him adoringly. “I—can’t believe you said yes.”

He furrowed his brows. “Say yes to what?”

“To our first date.”

He smiled, wanting to see how your imagination got you and him together. “And—and what was our first date?”

“Uh—phanta—during Halloween,” the medicine was starting to pull you under. “I got us tickets and Penelope—” your voice trailing off as you fell back to sleep.

Halloween was this weekend, his neurons actively fired up at that information. Could it be—is it? He grabbed his phone out of the pocket and dialed BAU’s very own tech analyst.

“Go, from Penelope Garcia,” she greeted out.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Uh-hey Garcia. I-I need to ask you something.”

“Ah yes boy genius, tell me your wish and I shall grant it—wait, how’s my baby girl over there?”

“A-actually that’s why I’m calling,” his voice going up an octave. He wanted to ask as normal as possible but the words normal and Dr. Spencer Reid are never linked. “Did she by any chance—have Phantasmagoria tickets this weekend?”

Silence. That was a first from Penelope Garcia.

“Why’d you ask?” she tried to nonchalantly ask.

Spencer bit his lip, unsure on how to explain this whole situation. “I-well-I actually got two tickets and was planning on—” he paused. “—asking her out?”

He quickly moved the phone away from his ear to save his hearing from the high pitched squeals coming from the analyst. 

“Ohemgee, yes!! Finally, my couple!! Please ask her out, please!!”

He awkwardly laughed. “She’ll say yes?”

“I can’t spill any details ‘cause of girl code but yes!! Yes she will!” Penelope gushed out.

“Thanks, Garcia. I’ll—i’ll ask her out,” he hurriedly ended the call as a knock on the door echoed inside the room. It was Morgan and Emily.

With an eyebrow raised, Morgan appraised the giddy smile on Spencer’s face. “What’s got you so happy, pretty boy or should I say Mr. husband?”

Emily laughed. “Yeah, Reid. How is Mrs. Reid?”

He dropped his face to his hands but not before squeaking out a ‘shut up’ to both agents. If the jokes was a by-product of getting to ask you for a date, he’d take it. He just hoped he’d get to ask you first before the duo corners you with their teasing.

My inbox is currently open for any more fluff requests! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[whorekneecentral]

Winter Wonderland

Toto Wolff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: toto would do anything for reader, some friendly teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a bit of an age gap (reader's late 20s/early 30s), handsy toto, the two of you are kinda drunk, daddy kink, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight edging, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 1,772

Author's Note: this one goes out to all the dilf lovers.

merry smutmas series

--

Your husband skips out on Christmas every year due to work but this year, he ends up in London. You make it your mission to introduce him to some holiday fun.

Toto had one last work engagement to do this week before he's officially off for the holidays and it took him to London. So by extension, you made it to London as well.

Your husband had left you in the hotel, promising you that he'll be back in a few hours after doing his final work meeting before he was on holiday break.

When he returns, he finds you in the same spot he left you, on the couch. "Babe, have you not gotten up all day?"He asks, shrugging his coat off.

"I did, I ordered room service so I had to get it from the door," you tell him, eyes glued to the TV.

Toto laughs, making his way over to sit next to you. You lean into the man, his arms wrapped around you and you can still feel the chill on his skin despite him wearing a coat when he was outside. It takes him a second to realize that you weren't in your pyjamas, but you were dressed as if you were going out.

The man looks at you with raised eyebrows, there's a hint of a smile on your face. "I know that look, what are you up to?" He asked.

"Okay I know you're probably tired but we leave for home tomorrow and I really wanna go!"

"Go where?"

"Hyde park," you tell him, showing him the pictures of their winter wonderland on your phone. "I saw the ad already for their winter wonderland today and then I looked it up and I fell into a loophole, so now we have tickets." You smiled sweetly at him - if there was one thing more important to Toto than work, it was you and your happiness.

"Are you serious, y/n?"

"Yes, now come on," you get up, trying to pull him up. Toto huffs, "I have emails to answer." He reluctantly follows you to the door.

"The emails will still be here when you get back," you handed him his coat before putting your own on. "Let's go."

Toto drives, of course - not like he ever lets you drive anyways. The first half hour was just the two of you trying to find your way around, it was a lot more packed than you were expecting but to be fair it was a week until Christmas, so it was to be expected you suppose.

You grab his hand and pull him towards what seems to be a circus tent. Toto looks at you a bit unsure for a moment, "is this.. an actual circus?" He followed you in and his question was answered; it was.

He sits next to you in the back row, the two of you waiting for the show to start. "Are you 5? Why are we at the circus ?"

"I mean, in comparison to you, I basically am." You smiled and he chuckled, his hand in yours as you two watched the show.

He would never admit it to you but he enjoyed doing things like this with you, it was nice to see that you kept a bit of your childishness alive.

After the circus, you made your way around the park once more, taking a million photos and trying out all the games until Toto was lugging around a big bag with stuffed animals.

"Do you think that's enough?" He asks, walking towards the car. You shrugged, "I guess but I'm hungry now."

"Dinner then?" He suggests, nodding to the busy street. You're not, fingers interlocking with your husband as you walk down the street towards no actual destination in mind. You were just hoping to stumble upon a place that wasn't too busy.

And eventually you did, a little restaurant tucked away between all the madness. You and Toto sat at a table by the window, the table covered in junk food and a bottle of cheap wine.

"Did you have fun tonight ?" You asked your husband, popping a fry into your mouth. He shrugs, taking a sip of wine. You can't help but roll your eyes, "you totally did! Don't lie."

Toto laughs, a grin on his face. "Yeah, okay. I did have a little fun, but maybe next time find an indoor activity?"

"Nope," you popped the P, "as your wife, it's my job to make your life unnecessarily complicated, just for fun."

He rolls his eyes, taking some fries off your plate. "You'll be the death of me."

You two ended up topping off the bottle of wine, Toto pays the bill and his fingers interlock with yours as you walk back to the car. The streets have calmed by now, but there's a few people walking around on their way to wherever.

Your husband pulls you into his side, your arm wrapped around his torso as you make it back to the car. The man has you leaning on the hood, his cold hands cupping your cheeks before he kisses you. His hands wander and you blush, stopping him.

"Not here."

"Don't tell me you're getting shy on me." He kisses along your cheek, the tip of his nose cold as it rubs against your skin.

You giggled, giving him a slight shove off of you. "We're in the middle of the street, it's more like stopping you from getting arrested for public indecency."

He laughs, opening the car door for you and letting you get in. Toto's hand rests on your thigh the entire drive back to the hotel and he can barely keep his hands off of you to make it up to the room.

His lips on your neck, arms wrapped around you from behind, the two of you giggling as you attempt to open the door.

"It's not opening," you grumbled, trying to unlock the door.

Toto pulls on the handle a bit, pressing the key to it. "Finally," he says when the lock clicks, "let me unwrap my gift."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at your husband's cheesy use of the words, but you let him drag you into the room and drop you on the bed.

He's careful, even though he's drunk - his movements are exact as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, tossing it into the pile of clothes that's developing on the floor.

"Move your legs, baby." He whispers, moving them up to rest on the edge of the bed as he drops himself down onto his knees. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Toto drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the red lace that covered your cunt.

You smile, “I know. Wore it just for you, daddy." The name makes the man smile.

Toto can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the red lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more.

Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit. 

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. 

He's sick and twisted and pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers wiped on your inner thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness. 

"I hate you," you grumbled, your husband smiles as he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You love me."

"Sometimes."

He smiles, standing up to undo his pants. Toto pulls you back to the edge of the bed, one of your legs hitch on his hip as his hand wanders.

Your eyes fixed on his hand that was moving down your chest at the moment. Toto's lips follow his fingers, kissing and leaving little marks as he goes along his way. His tongue brushes over your nipple, your back arches involuntarily; your body betrays you. 

Your eyes find his and his hand rubbing along your thigh before pulling you toward the edge of the bed a little more before he pushes into you. The other ankle is over his shoulder now.

He fucks you the way he knows you like it; rough.

You were a sight to see; back arched off the bed, hair sprawled out in perfect curls, eyes closed and your head tilted back, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the millionth time.

He’s never seen a prettiest sight.

He feels you clench around him, the hand on his shoulder digs in, your nails leaving behind their own set of marks. His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again.

“Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of him.  

“C’mon pretty girl, want you to cum for me.” he says, knowing it won't be long more, especially not after him leaving you on the edge earlier.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me." He whispers, kissing you softly.

A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge.  He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, he follows behind you. 

It takes you a second to gather yourself and register that your husband has collapsed on top of you. Your hands rubbing over his back.

"You okay?" you asked him quietly and the man nodded, moving so you two could lay comfortably.

Your leg draped over his, his arm wrapped over your shoulder. You catch him staring at you and you smile, nodding. "What?"

"We should come to London every year."

"Yeah," you nod, resting your head on his chest. "I'd like that."

---

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[isogenderskitty]

forever thinking about the tgwdlm digital ticket and how, after the “alice is already dead” speech, you can see ted in the background for the whole rest of the scene. and oh boy does joey ever pack that shit FULL of tiny little acting choices that make me go cuckoo bananas.

the first part that i love is when paul says “i’m gonna go with you to get your daughter back.” ted was walking away, but then he freezes, and clenches his fists at his sides. he stares at paul in disbelief for a moment, then he grabs the bottle of booze off the seat with obvious anger and sits back down.

he’s sitting, clutching the bottle, and staring down at charlotte’s body at his feet, looking miserable and angry.

but when paul says “there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to draw a line in the sand,” joey does this beautiful, tiny movement where just his eyes snap up from charlotte’s body. he’s not immediately looking at paul, but it’s crystal clear that he snapped to attention at that statement. then he stares at paul in such grim silence.

for me this all really resonates with all that we now know about ted… i think there have been many times in ted’s life when, from his perspective, things probably would’ve been a lot better if he had drawn a line in the sand. if he had stepped up. if he had been braver. if he had told jenny how he felt. if he had had a serious, open talk with charlotte. if he had the guts in this moment right now to go with paul and bill in the vain hope that his baby brother might still be alive in that school with alice.

but ted is so far gone at this point, so resigned, so far down that bottle of booze that he can’t bring himself to do anything. so he just watches paul go. and now the man he considers his best friend is strutting off to his death too, and ted knows he’s not going to stop him. he’s always been a coward, so why stop now?

i’m just fascinated by this whole sequence and i am obsessed with joey’s choices and how well the whole thing flows in harmony with information from years later. ted is such a mess and i love him so so much. he has so many subtleties to him if you’re looking for them.

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 11

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: eleven

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the REAL karate kid

hey y/n

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

yeah?

the REAL karate kid

would you wanna come watch us

play at the semi-finals?

you don't have to if you don't want to

we'll completely understand

neev

but we'd really love you to

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

hold on

the semi-finals?

willybum

yeah

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

like the england vs sweden semi-finals

in two days?

stairway

that one indeed

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

like watch you guys play in person??

neev

yes!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

wait

aren't all the tickets already sold out?

the REAL karate kid

we'll send you a ticket for the friends

and family section

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

oh

elton

so whatcha say?

neev

y/n bestie

you still alive?

it's been an hour ...

stairway

do i have to give you cpr??

kie

you don't even know cpr

stairway

you don't know that!

earpsy

you sure that's not an excuse to kiss her ...

stairway

of course not ...

willybum

WOAH wOAH

i dibs giving cpr then

stairway

AY NAHHH

BACK OFF WILLYASSON

willybum

THE HELL DID YOU JUST

CALL ME SUCKWAY

stairway

YOU TAKE THAT BACK RN LEAH

willybum

TRY ME GEORGIA

neev

hold on

i wanna give cpr!

stairway

SHUT UP CHARLES

willybum

SHUT UP CHARLES

brightness

i will literally shut all you guys up

permanently if you don't quit

fighting rn

rusty metal

i will voluntarily lend

you a hand in that

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

dam

i really enjoyed their bickering

i wouldn't really mind a mouth to mouth

cpr from you guys tho 👀

lotte

y/n!

i'm glad to see you're still alive

daily

y/n, hey!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

i am very glad too lotte!

hey, rachel!

sorry my phone ran out of charge

and then i decided to take a shower

neev

Y/N BAE

you almost killed us with the suspense

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

you sure you don't need a cpr instead 👀

neev

i won't decline it if you're offering 👀

stairway

neev

ugh stop ruining it stanway

go away

stairway

never

meado

ignore those two

so you're chill with us being the lionesses?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

i mean i'm still trying to comprehend how

i managed to get added in a chat full of

footballers but yeah of course

earpsy

blame that on ella

elton

um you mean thank

if not for me, we would've

never known each other

the REAL karate kid

wait hold on

shouldn't you guys be thanking

me instead

it was all because i changed numbers

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

before you guys begin arguing again

thank you all

how about that?

elton

we'll take it

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

good

now leave me in peace

i have a date tonight

ttyl

lotte

DATE?

willybum

HOLD ON

earpsy

HUH

neev

WHAT

DATE?!

HELLO ???

stairway

YOU'RE GONNA BE TAKEN??

BY SOMEONE OTHER THAN ME?!

elton

meado

oh god

here we go again

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

part twelve here

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 4 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request (1) + (2)

@hoshinosama Maybe p4 is about Alastor learning about reader past? 🥺

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 (here) — Part 5 *I suggest you read Part 2.5 if you didn't, it'll help

When you found out all those years ago, back when you first manifested in Hell that you were still somehow alive, you seeked out so many ways to off yourself again. You didn’t kill yourself to live in torture again. Especially when there was no right entertainment for you

Unforturnately, you did find out that you missed the annual exterminations that was a one way ticket to death. You missed it! Then you went to the next big thing. You seeked out the King of Hell, your next way to true death

You caught Lucifer at an awkward timing. His daughter that he so loved was doing something impossible, as he claims and his wife was more and more distant for some reason he can’t point. Well, you’re not interested in any way so you kindly asked if he could kill you

That dead look in your eyes shocked Lucifer really. You were like a soulless being, a puppet? A doll? There was no spark in you, no wants apart from your wish to death. Lucifer took pity on you and took you in, offering you a job of being an information collector of sorts. His little informant

You only agreed because he said you had powers in Hell and tempted you to delay your death till the next extermination to see if you still want the same. A little below a year to see if you liked your demon life or self. You discovered quite the unique power you have and honed it to perfection, testing it and perfecting it

All the while, you made friends with Lucifer who was a bit too obsessed with making ducks. He gave you your own collection of ducks. During which you created a case just to put those ducks on display, uplifting his spirits

Now Lucifer notices that you never smiled nor show prolonged excitement for anything. You were fascinated with your powers and abilities, but you were hardly happy. So he tried something. He brought you back to Earth for a visit and for you to get whatever you wished 

Never has he seen you that happy and grateful like you were another person. You dragged him all over the place, actually requesting things and wanting stuff done. Lucifer happily fulfilled it all. It was the least he could do when you gave him company when his family was distant from him

Even better was when you gave up on your (second) death and was more energetic. To seems to Lucifer that bringing you to Earth was the right call, so he gave you exclusive access to the living world on the condition that you would never cause harm to the mortals and bring other demons along with you. Namely abuse it, you easily agreed with no issue

Throughout your years of serving Lucifer, you never actually caught wind of Charlie because you didn’t want Lucifer getting depressed even more due to the distance and you never actively searched for Lilith because Lucifer’s response to your offer nearly made your sda self cry for him

You kept a strict business relationship with Lucifer to ensure that all the gathered information was to his benefit and liking, you later allowed a friendship with him because he helped you see light in this hellhole. If you had taken your life, you wouldn’t be enjoying your afterlife or meet him

“Are you really seriously happy with that thing?” Lucifer asked as his face twisted to one of disgust and maybe anger when his eyes darted over to the demon humming a joyful tune while baking with a ridiculous apron You hummed, looking up from your tablet and pausing your search, “If you’re referring to Alastor, then yes, I am.” Lucifer let out a childish groan, plopping his chin in his palm, “Why is it that tacky piece of—” He cut himself off when he heard your giggle. At time he thought you were giggling at his name-calling, but you were looking at Alastor with a soft gaze before you caught yourself and turned back to Lucifer. He smiled along, “Maybe he’s not too bad if he can make you smile like that.” “Like what?” You tilted your head, not following. You blinked twice when Lucifer suddenly lean extremely close to you with a smirk, you raised a brow, “What are you doing? “Oh, darling!” Alastor sang, immediately came over and swatted Lucifer away from you like a bug. Before you could make a comment, he showcased a tray of freshly fried donuts. “I glazed it with some sugar. I can make more flavours, if you so desire, My Dear.” You picked up one and tried it, “Taste great, Alastor.”

Even though Lucifer is happy for your own happiness, he can’t help but want to rile up Alastor just to show that Radio Demon you had a close friendship with The King of Hell. When you were still in slumber mode, he warned Alastor thoroughly that if you were to cry under any circumstances, Alastor’s gonna answer to him

You found it odd how you were somewhat surrounded by people now. Just a year ago, you were trying to get Alastor out of your home and living your dream life. But now, you were in a hotel of all places. You wonder what your life came to really

Your eyes landing on Alastor, you can’t help but smile fondly. Your biggest change was letting someone else into your life and you like it. You can’t deny that Alastor was on the extreme side, but it was all his way of showing affection, so you can’t deny that any longer. They say time will time, and they proved Alastor was a devotee to your affection 

It was a mystery why you accepted the gang’s invitation to drink when you were heading to the kitchen for some food, since Alastor was out to visit Rosie. It left you drank and a talker, you were more energetic and carefree than usual, a completely different side. When Alastor came back, everyone was quick to scatter, not wanting to explain themselves to the Radio Demon for your state

“Alastor! Welcome back!” You waved, hopping off the high chair while holding onto your wine glass, wobbly but careful not to spill. “You’re very late today.” “Apologises, My Dear, Rosie was introducing me to some new shops for your steak.” Alastor took the wine glass away and threw it into the bar where Husk was hiding under, he held onto your hand to balance you, “What have you been doing, Darling?” “Oh, nothing. Charlie and the others invited me to drink, Husk made me this bubbly drink that’s a bit… bubbly!” You giggled, planting your face into Alastor’s front, hugging him as you snizzle at him. “Very bubbly.” Alastor looked up to glare at the bar, though void of the culprits that put you in such a state. You avoided alcohol for a reason. He picked you up, holding you like a princess. “Well, My Dearest, time to head back to your room then.”

This state of yours was a wild card to Alastor. Sometimes, you were highly aware of your surroundings and played flirty, sometimes you were sleepy, sometimes you were talkative, sometimes you were cruel. It was like different sides of you were fighting for dominance

He have only seen you sleepy once when he added alcohol into the meal for taste, you fell asleep before you finished your food. The next day he inquired and you told him your drunken states, strictly telling him to not let you drink alcohol or put them in your drink or food. So he was puzzled how Charlie and the others got you to drink

Boredom got you to do a lot of things. Try out new hobbies only to revert back to your old ones in a matter of days. An intensive obsession that doesn’t last long, a frequent phenomenon with you. That’s why you were adamant about him leaving you, you think Alastor will get bored of you and leave out of the blue when you had no time to prepare

Alastor was well aware, though he had no idea where this rooted from, he proved you wrong by staying with you all these years without fail. He’ll continue to do so too

“Ask me something. I’ll answer.” You shifted to sleep on your side, eying Alastor who was cleaning up the mess you’ve been. “Anything.” “Dear, you’ll regret this. I won’t take advantage of your drunk state.” You pouted, “I won’t regret it. We’ve been close. I don’t mind letting you know things, I’ll not answer if I don’t feel comfortable, okay?” Alastor hummed, snapping his fingers to change your clothes to something more comfortable for sleep, then he took of his coat to place it on an armchair. He sat down on the bedside, “Are you sure, Dear? I will ask anything.” “Yeah.” You hugged onto a soft toy nearby “Why did you kill yourself?” “...My life wasn’t worth living.” You muttered, your eyes downcasted. It was a lucky thing that Alastor’s back was to you. “I didn’t see a meaning in my life, every day it was like I was torturing myself.” “Why are you hesitant about accepting connection, affection and love?” You chuckled drily, “That’s so direct, Alastor.” You hummed and closed your eyes, recalling memories of the past when you were alive. “I loved connection, I loved affection too. I never understood love. I had so many friends when I was younger, like a kid, but I realized they weren’t friends and it was a form of bully. I thought my family cared about me but when I wasn’t useful, they pushed me aside.” Alastor moved his hand to you, wiping away a tear that escaped your closed eyelids. “I’m sorry to hear that, you don’t deserve that.” Despite his gentleness to you, he was seething with rage. “No wonder you were pushing me away, Darling.” “I thought I had the love of my life though. He confessed first, I ignored it then accepted it. Then he and I broke off. Afterwards, we’re back together again. He called me clingy, annoying, he regretted giving me his love. So I broke it off. Then he came back to me, saying he was wrong. I was desperate. I accepted, thinking it was the last. I shouldn’t have accepted.” You took a deep breath, your eyes opened, glassy and dull “He’s not worth your time and energy, Doe.” Alastor sat properly, letting you lie in his lap while he played with you hair. “Forget him.” He almost growled, he controlled himself so his claws wouldn’t sharpen. “Forget all about him.” You closed your eyes once more, leaning into his touch. “I killed myself in my sleep. I wanted to sleep forever and ignore all the suffering around me. I don’t want to hear their laughter, I don’t want to see their smiles, I don’t want to sing them praise and congratulations. I don’t want to know about their achievements while I was… I don’t want it…” “Shhhhh… Darling, it’s alright.” Alastor looked down at you, bringing your fluffy blanket up to you. “You don’t need to care about them, you have me with you now. Whatever you desire is yours.”

The promises and whispers of giving you the world, in exchange for your presence in his life. You believed you took Alastor for granted. You were indifference to his affection and care in the beginning, when he showed you such extreme to protect and defend you (even when it’s not needed), you were scared that he saw you as the next entertainment

So you kept pushing him away. Showing him to the door when he was all healed up. You knew it only took that long because he was worsening his wounds to stay longer. It was a cliche tactic and you saw through it. When that didn’t work, he said he had to stay to replay you for your kindness. A rarity in Hell, which you agree. But you told him, “It was only to amuse myself.”

Alastor merely laughed and commended on your honestly. Freshing, as he claimed. Everything you did to get him away from you, it only drew him closer and closer to you. To the point where you have to take a break from it all, to clear your head and think. The hotel, it was perfect, so you sent him there. Maybe he’d find better entertainment there

But then he gave you reports daily, an excuse to hear your voice and feel your presence through the radio. He spotted a loophole. You found yourself looking forward to his reports. Even letting him visit once for a ‘job well done’ reward. He delayed his return to the hotel and you didn’t complain

You told yourself not to fall for him. Don’t let history repeat itself. Save yourself the heartache. This was Hell, no way would someone like Alastor devote to you just because he loves you. No way. Don’t hope. Don’t expect. If you do, you’re putting yourself up for a nasty fall

When you heard that Alastor’s old friend Mimzy came over, completely ignoring the way he treated a soul he owned that went by the name Husk. The next day, you found yourself on the streets searching for this Mimzy character. She didn’t have a good reputation, but who does in Hell. You felt your anger raising when she spoke of Alastor’s name left and right to take whatever she wanted

Before you knew it, you had fired a shot at her. You left before she found you. You left yourself slip. Why now? Why? What made Alastor different? Lucifer saved you from a quick suicide after your arrival to Hell, you didn’t feel the same with him as you did with Alastor. Why? WHY?

You thought you had a piece of mind when Alastor told you the exterminations were targeting the hotel first. This will end your mistake. This will save you the fall. You gave Alastor your order, “Protect the hotel and the Princess must be aided to the best of your abilities.”

To see things end, you stood a safe distance away from the battle. Your eyes on Alastor who took up the role of battling against Adam. You should have smiled that Alastor’s chances of winning was slim, but you found your heartbeat quicken as anxiety rose

The back of your mind shouted at you. Alastor will die. Adam’s an angel. He has angelic powers. Save him. Can’t let him die. One strike from Adam and Alastor’s history. You’ll be free. Wait. No!

Your hands moved as you brought out a spare blank book, you opened it and the winds picked up around you. The pages all came out, flying around you. You teleported between your enemy and your (potential lover) friend

The moment you activated your teleportation, you made your peace, you love having Alastor around you. You love his presence. You love him

Note: I ended up writing too much again. And what's with all those asks suddenly??? So shocked to get that. What ever started them???

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

@nevermore-ramblings 

@justboredforreal 

@youroneandonlysimp 

@falsemain

@scenteddelusion5

@anni1600

@readergirlstuff

[meazalykov]

commercial

alessia russo x actress!reader (requested)

summary: pairing up with a footballer for a commercial changed your life

based off of the adidas commercial she was featured in before the women's world cup in 2023

you never thought filming a commercial would bring you to london. 

being an actress with a hit hbo series and a partnership with adidas kept you busy, traveling constantly between coasts, countries, and continents. 

this job felt different. you’d always admired women’s sports, so when your agent called you with the news that adidas wanted you for their new campaign promoting the women's world cup, it felt like an honor. 

empowering women, celebrating athletes—it was something you could get behind since its what you cared about. you said yes without a second thought. 

now, with a plane ticket in hand, you were ready to make it happen.

the moment you step off the plane at heathrow, london’s summer breeze hits you—crisp, slightly cool, and carrying the scent of rain and freshly brewed coffee. your driver, an older man with a kind smile, helps load your bags, and you’re soon winding your way through the city streets. 

as you look out the car window, everything feels vibrant and alive. red double-decker buses whizz by, people spill out of cafes, and there's a constant hum in the air. 

despite being a little jet-lagged, you’re excited—more excited than you've been for a job in a long time.

the next morning, you arrive on set for the commercial shoot, and it’s a whirlwind of motion—producers barking orders, cameras being set up, and the smell of fragrancelingering in the air. 

a production assistant greets you almost the second you step out of your car, a polite smile on their face, speaking rapidly into their headset.

"y/n, so glad you could make it! we’re just about to start introducing everyone. can i take you to meet the other talents– the footballers i shall say?”

you nod, straightening your posture and reminding yourself to relax.

 

just another job, just another set. yet the excitement buzzing in the air makes your nerves tingle. the assistant leads you toward the back of the set, where a few women stand, laughing easily with one another. 

you recognize them immediately.. lena oberdorf, mary fowler, and alessia russo. you’d seen their photos in the media. never having enough time to watch ninety minutes of football, you still knew how good they were.

lena is first to notice you. 

“y/n!! you’re kidding?!!” she says to mary with a friendly smile, sticking her hand out. “nice to meet you.”

you shake her hand, grinning. “nice to meet you too. i’m a big fan of your game.”

“and i am a big fan of yours!!” lena says, seeming genuinely pleased. “looking forward to working with you today. the concept seems fun.”

mary and alessia both chime in their greetings.

there’s a moment of small talk as you chat about the campaign, the concept, and the filming schedule. but as you exchange introductions, your eyes keep drifting back to alessia. 

there’s something about her that draws you in—something in the way she carries herself, confident yet laid-back, with a gaze that's intense but kind. and when her eyes meet yours, you swear you see a flash of something else, something that makes your heart skip.

“so, you’re an actress..” alessia says finding small talk, leaning in a little closer. her voice has a certain lilt to it. warm, curious.

“yeah,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady, 

“i’ve been working in television for a while, but this is my second sports commercial.”

“oh, really?” alessia tilts her head, her blonde hair falling to the side as she studies you. 

“guess we’re both kind of stepping into each other’s worlds for this one. i’ve never done a commercial myself unless it was for arsenal.”

“well, from what i’ve heard, you’ll be great,” you say, and it’s not just a compliment. you mean it. 

you’ve heard from your assistant about alessia playing for the england national team. she must be amazing. 

alessia chuckles softly, and you catch the way her eyes sparkle, like she's genuinely enjoying the conversation.

“we’ll see,” she says, that easy confidence still there but with a playful glint. 

“just don’t laugh at me if i mess up my lines.”

you shake your head, laughing. “only if you promise not to laugh at me trying to dribble a football.”

“deal,” alessia says, flashing you a grin that makes you wonder just how often she uses that smile to get what she wants. 

there’s something magnetic about her, and as much as you try to focus on the task at hand, your mind keeps circling back to her.

soon, it’s time to start filming, and the director calls everyone to their positions. the first scene you're shooting together is a lighthearted setup in a grocery store, meant to highlight how sports are part of everyday life. 

you and alessia are supposed to be casually shopping, pretending to pick out items until a boy accidentally passes a football to alessia, who starts dribbling the ball fantastically.

the idea is to show how these footballers are stars both on and off the pitch—effortlessly cool, effortlessly themselves.

you’re on the camera for the attention, the familiarity of many people seeing one of their favorite actresses on screen. 

as the cameras roll, you find yourself struggling to stay in character—not because you're nervous, but because you're genuinely awestruck. 

alessia makes it all look so easy. she maneuvers the ball around her feet effortlessly, as if it’s a natural extension of her body, and at one point, she jumps up and crosses her legs to move the ball up in a seamless move. 

the crew claps and cheers after the director says cut, and you have to remind yourself to look casual, to pretend like this is something you see every day.

"you okay there?" alessia whispers when you find yourself staring for a second too long. 

"yeah, totally," you reply, trying to play it off. "just, you know, impressed. you're kind of amazing."

“kind of?” she teases, raising an eyebrow. “i’ll take that, i guess.”

you both laugh, and the rest of the shoot continues with an easy flow. 

the chemistry between you translates on camera, and the director nods approvingly after each take. 

by the time you wrap for the day, you're already regretting that it has to end so soon.

as everyone’s packing up, alessia walks over to you, her expression a mix of mischief and curiosity. 

“hey, i know you’re busy with your job but... do you have any plans while you're here in london?”

“not really,” you say, glancing down as you fidget with your hands. 

“i have some interviews coming up in new york soon, but other than that, i’m kind of free.”

“oh,” she says, her voice light but her eyes steady on yours. 

“how about we grab dinner tonight? there’s this great italian spot not too far from here—i thought it might be nice to hang out without all of the chaos.”

you don’t even have to think about it. “yeah, i’d like that a lot.”

later that evening, alessia takes you to a cozy restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of london. 

it’s intimate, dimly lit, with exposed brick walls and a menu that makes your mouth water the second you open it. the conversation flows easily—surprisingly easily—and you talk about everything from football and acting to travel, family, and your favorite shows outside of the ones you’ve been in. 

it feels like you’ve known each other for longer than a day.

“so, you travel a lot for work,” alessia says at one point, sipping on her lemon water. 

“ever get tired of it?”

“sometimes,” you admit. 

“but it’s also kind of amazing. i mean, many people would do anything for the opportunities that i’ve been given—like getting to meet people like you for example.”

alessia laughs softly, shaking her head. “you’re flattering me.”

“maybe,” you say with a playful smile, “but it’s the truth.”

alessia leans back in her chair, and there’s a look in her eyes you can't quite place—somewhere between admiration and something deeper, something that makes your stomach flip. 

“you know, you’re not what i expected,” she says, voice gentle but sincere.

“what do you mean?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“i don’t know, someone... a little more hollywood, i guess?” she shrugs.

“i get it. luckily i’m not from hollywood, i am from new york.” you smile. 

“that’s nice to hear.” alessia giggles. 

the conversation continues late into the night, and by the time you both walk out into the cool london air, you’re standing a little closer than necessary, arms brushing as you make your way down the street. 

she walks you back to your hotel, and when you say goodnight, there’s a moment—a heartbeat of silence—where you both just look at each other, and you feel it. 

something more than just a bond that was formed in one night.

“goodnight, y/n,” she says softly, lingering for just a second before turning to leave.

“goodnight, alessia,” you reply, watching her walk away, already replaying the night in your head.

the next few days fly by in a blur of filming and hanging out with alessia whenever you can. 

you text constantly, even when you're both too busy. a couple of weeks later you’re in new york city with castmates on your show– and alessia is with arsenal finishing the season. 

she sends quick messages between training, silly selfies with her teammates, and voice notes that make you smile every time you listen to them. 

it’s not long before you’re both sharing pieces of yourselves you don’t usually let others see. 

when alessia heads off to the women's world cup with england, you don’t expect to miss her as much as you do. 

you haven’t seen her since that night in london. her messages get shorter, more sporadic as the competition heats up, and while you understand—she’s busy, focused—you can’t help but wish you were there to cheer her on in person.

and then, one day, you get a text from her: 

wish you could be here. can't wait to see you soon!

your heart skips a beat, and without thinking, you open your laptop, check your schedule, and find a two-week window. 

before you can second-guess yourself, you’re booking a flight to australia.

when you finally arrive in australia, the world cup is in full swing. 

the streets are filled with fans, the excitement is in the air, and you find yourself caught up in the energy. 

on the day of the final, you’re practically buzzing with nerves and anticipation. you dragged one of your castmates to come with you across the globe, just to see alessia live. 

you find your seat, your heart pounding as you look out over the pitch.

when alessia takes the field, you can’t stop grinning. you cheer loudly, the sound almost getting lost in the roar of the crowd, but you know she hears you—somehow, you just know. 

the match is intense, every pass and tackle pulling you deeper in. but as the final whistle blows, it’s spain who takes the victory, and the stadium is filled with a mix of cheers and groans. 

your heart sinks as you watch alessia’s face fall, the disappointment clear in her expression.

as england’s players walk off the pitch, heads hung low, you feel helpless, wanting nothing more than to comfort her. 

you’re not sure if she’s even seen you in the stands, and you hesitate, unsure of what to do. 

then, you see leah, one of her teammates that became one of your favorites, give alessia a nudge and nod in your direction.

alessia looks up, scanning the crowd until her eyes land on you. for a moment, she’s still, and then she’s moving—walking quickly toward you, her face a mixture of surprise, relief, and something that looks like hope. 

before you know it, she’s right in front of you, and you’re pulling her into your arms, holding her tight as she buries her face in your shoulder.

“i’m so proud of you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd. 

“you were amazing.”

she lets out a shaky breath, holding you close. “i didn’t expect to see you here.”

“well, i couldn’t let you play in a world cup final without me,” you say, smiling softly as you pull back just enough to look into her eyes. 

“win or lose, i’m here for you.”

alessia’s eyes soften, and for a moment, the weight of the loss seems to lift. she cups your cheek with her hand, her thumb gently brushing against your skin, and you lean into the touch, your heart swelling with something warm and undeniable.

“thank you,” she whispers, her voice filled with emotion. and as the noise of the stadium fades into the background, all that matters is this—being here with her.

“maybe i can stay in london for a while, to make you feel better if thats okay?” you hug her again, holding her knowing that the world cup loss is still in her mind. 

“that is more than okay, y/n.”

masterlist

[hobie-enthusiast]

UNLIKELY CLASH !

— rulebreaker!hobie brown x perfectionist!gn!reader

— enemies to lovers, swearing (more than last and fuck too), mutual pining, making out, small bit of harassment, rebellious teens, confused feelings, getting together

— hobie brown was everything you weren’t, so maybe that’s what attracted the two of you together so well (pt. 2)

— here part two gang! honestly i have an idea for part three in mind but if that’s something u honestly want pls lmk asap

— part 1 | part 2 (here) | part 3

The next couple of weeks were.. odd between you and Hobie.

Even after a heartfelt confession about the pressure you felt, you still had a reputation to uphold. You kept treating him the way you normally did; ignoring him and pretending he didn’t exist.

At first, this didn't really bother Hobie. He was used to chasing after you, messing with you and poking fun at the student council president. But he was getting bored. The small bits of making you late to class or taking up your time were amusing, but he wanted more of a reaction from you.

When he started interacting less and less, you grew confused. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked the attention and small interactions.

Though it was small, being late and skipping class (very rarely at this point), made you excited. It made you feel.. alive in a way.

But all that was dissipating. And you were upset about it.

You sat in your room after a long school day, mindlessly scrolling through your computer. Your parents had asked that you try and find a prom outfit, but that became boring really quick. You could never wear something truly exciting; just some fancy outfit plain coloured with fancy hair.

A knock on your window startled you from your thoughts. Glancing out, you see Hobie looking in, motioning for you to open the window. You walk over confused, deciding to open the window.

"Brown? It's.." You glance back at your alarm clock. "..10 pm. What are you doing here?"

"Awe, come on sweetheart. After such a confession, shouldn't we be on a first name basis?" He says, inviting himself into your room.

You scoff. "One, no, as you don't use my first name. And two, you can't be here! My parents are right down the hall!"

Hobie shrugged as he looked around your room, analyzing the decor. He noticed the clean desk you had, along with a neat bookshelf of many scientific books and knick-knacks. It suited you, every detail down to the way your game console sat neatly on your TV stand, not a speck of dust in sight.

"Did you show up just to judge my room?"

Hobie shook his head. "Nah, came t' ask ya somethin'." He said, sitting on your desk chair. "Up for an adventure?"

"Excuse me?" You question, taking a seat across from him on your bed. "When?"

"Now."

You know Hobie was.. absolutely crazy in some ways. But this? Going on a random adventure on a Friday night, and asking the person he wants to go with by entering their room via window was.. not the kind of crazy you would categorize him as.

You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms. "You serious right now?"

"As serious as I always am." He responds with a shrug. "'s up to you. We'll be gone 'till tomorrow. Either 'u're up for a challenge or not."

A challenge he says? Hobie knew that you could be riled up from being challenged to do something. Perfectionists always had to win in his eyes.

And he was right.

"Give me five minutes."

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Next thing you knew, you were on a train from your isolated little town to Brooklyn itself. Hobie blindly led you onto a train, told you to not worry about tickets, then let the train take you both to the destination in mind.

Of course Hobie remembered what you said at the tree. He had been holding onto it for a while now. He knew you wanted to go to a city, do whatever you wanted, just for a little bit. And he was going to be the one to give that to you. Why? Well, that's a question he couldn't answer for himself.

"Brooklyn?" You questioned, looking out of the train window. "Why Brooklyn?"

"You said it under the tree. Ya wanted to go to the city, no?"

You nodded slowly, looking back out the window with a small smile. Of course you were flattered that he remembered your words. At least, you were hoping he did, you practically poured your feelings out.

Once the train stopped, you both stepped out of the station to admire the tall buildings towering over you. Hobie couldn’t help but be amused at the way your eyes shined at the new scenery. He practically came here everyday.

But he couldn’t tell you that. Not without plausible answers to the inevitable questions.

“So..” You turn to look at him, eyes still bright. “What do we do?”

He shrugs, hands in his vest pockets. “Whatever ya want. ‘s ‘ur day, no?”

"But I don't know where to go. I've never been to the city before."

Hobie's eyes widened for a moment, shocked at your words. You were really so sheltered you hadn't been to the city right beside your town? The thought alone was crazy to Hobie. He never understood why adults were so.. controlling.

He sighs, walking ahead. "Follow me then. I'll show ya ‘round."

And so you did just that. You followed Hobie around the city, taking in the sights he's showing you. All around the city, passing and weaving through people, making sure you had a nice time.

There was something you noticed. Before Hobie took you somewhere, he provided you with options on where to go. He didn't force you to go one place with him. He didn't strictly follow an itinerary. He always asked what you wanted to do, giving you full control of the day.

It was.. refreshing. This sense of freedom was exactly what you needed. To feel the fresh air of the city without worrying about impressing anyone. Hobie wasn't judging you, and you certainly weren't judging yourself.

The end of the day came quicker than your liking, and the two of you were on the rooftop of an apartment complex. The sun was setting behind the tall buildings, and Hobie brought the two of you some noodles to eat (he definitely didn't steal them).

You take a bite, setting the cup down with a sigh. "Today was.. actually really nice. I don't think I ever felt that, free before, if that makes sense?"

"Don't worry, you can say it." Hobie said, nudging your arm.

You roll your eyes with a small smile. "Mm.. guess I can. Thanks, Brown."

"Y'know, you can call me 'obie, swee'heart." He responded, shrugging. "'s better than m' last name, I think."

"I can't give you that satisfaction. Not yet."

Hobie raised an eyebrow, a shit-eating smirk crossing his face. "Yet?"

You're ready to correct yourself, but the words die in your throat. You couldn't help but like the sound of "yet". It meant more time with Hobie.. and you enjoyed that. Hobie's company was something you were starting to crave. Almost like a drug.

Hobie glanced over at you. "Gotta admit, didn't expect ya t' come with me. Considerin' 'ur parents don't know ya snuck out."

“Yeah well..” You sigh, looking out onto the building with a soft smile. “Maybe I just needed something different.” You finish, looking over at Hobie.

You’re suddenly very aware of how close the two of you are to each other. Hobie’s eyes flicker; your eyes, your mouth, and back a couple times. It’s almost like.. he was asking you for something. The longer you both stared, the more tempted he became, and you honestly couldn’t blame him.

So why did you pull away?

As soon as he started leaning in, you pulled back, clearing your throat. His eyes widen before narrowing, scoffing gently. Guess he misread the situation.

You really couldn’t tell him he didn’t.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The next weeks Hobie Brown didn’t show up to school.

You had a feeling you were the cause. Brushing him off like that was such a dick move on your part. You knew that. You wanted nothing more than to find him and run to him, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

But you couldn’t. You had an image to maintain. A reputation. All the trust you worked so hard to accumulate would go down the drain in an instant.

Of course.. Hobie may be worth that.

Hobie to you is worth that risk. All his rule breaking and crazed adventures are just what you need in your life. Something that gives you the freedom you longed for.

But you had to go and screw it up. And now here you were, three weeks after the incident, at your locker with a guy trying to talk you up.

“C’mon, [Name], just one night! It’ll change your life!”

You groan, slamming the locker shut. “Dude, I said no. Can you stop?”

“Why? I gotta know why!” He persisted, grabbing your wrist as you tried walking away.

You yank your arm away, trying to escape. “I don’t owe you that! Let me go.”

“Not until you-”

“Hey.”

You turn at the sudden voice, shocked at who it belonged to. There stood Hobie Brown, eyes filled with anger.

“They said, let go.” He said, grabbing the guy’s arm and yanking it away. “Learn t’ take a hint, aye?”

The guy’s eyes narrowed. “And who do you think you are, Brown? Their boyfriend?”

“As a matter of fac’-”

Then, Hobie turns you to him, bringing your lips to his. No warning, no asking, nothing. Just does what he’s been craving after three weeks of disappearance.

Everyone in the hallway around you two watched with shocked faces. Nobody could have seen this coming, not even you.

A thousand thoughts rushed through your head as Hobie kissed you, but one screamed to push away. So you did, giving him a shocked look before grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the scene. You drag him to a storage closet, shutting the door.

“Brown, what the hell was that?!” You immediately ask, eyes narrowed. “What, do you disappear for three weeks then kiss every person you were hanging out with? What the hell?”

Hobie sighed, leaning against a shelf behind him. “Guy needed t’ be taught a lesson. Made sure he won’t bother ya.”

“I can do that on my own!” You respond, shoving an accusing finger in his chest. “Where have you been?!”

“Thinkin’.” Is all he responds with.

You groan. “For three weeks? Shit Hobie, I..” You words fall short. You want to say it.. squeeze it out. “I.. missed you.”

Hobie’s eyes widened as he takes in your words. You.. missed him? He never would have seen this coming; a confession from the president in a dingy storage closet? Not on his bucket list.

Your eyes watch Hobie, doing that same pattern he did on the rooftop; eyes, mouth, eyes. You wanted to kiss him again.. feel those lips again on yours. No.. you needed it.

You know what? Fuck this perfect image.

You grab onto Hobie's vest, pulling him in to connect your lips. Your rough with your movements at first, closing your eyes tightly and latching onto him with a white-knuckle grip. Hobie's eyes widened for a moment before they showed a more prideful look, kissing you back with just as much emotion.

His hands find placement on your lower back, pulling you into him as the kiss escalates from one to many. Hobie was like a starved man, slotting his leg in between yours to support you, pushing you back against the shelf and knocking over some cleaning supplies.

That could be fixed later.

Your original intention of one passionate kiss to show him how you felt turned into many heated kisses. The bell for class was drowned out by how into the moment you both were.

“Fuck.. Hobie..” You whisper, diving back in for another kiss.

Hobie groaned in turn, pulling you impossibly closer. “Shit sweetheart.. can’t say m’ name like that.”

“Hmm.. why’s that..?”

“‘s gonna drive me crazy..”

Suddenly, the doorknob to the closet rattles, causing you both to pull away. Your eyes go wide as Hobie grabs it from where he stands, bringing one finger to his lips to make you stay quiet.

The person on the other side tries to open the door, but ultimately fails. They groan and mumble something before walking away. Hobie looks over at your expression, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He whispers, planting a kiss to your jaw. “Or are ya gonna keep pretendin’ you’re too good for it?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you take his hand. "Nah, not this time. Come on."

some ppl who wanted to be tagged (🫶): @serenn08 | @rksses | @youronlyauthor | @dotheyevenknowmars | @xoxobabe

[flippinpancakes64]

can you please write about how the cullens would react if they thought their so was dead?? like maybe Alice had a vision or someone thought they saw them get killed butttt they're actually alive

The Cullens thinking their S/O Died

I originally told myself I was done for the night since I already have three posts written and cued to be posted.... but I just kept thinking about this one sooooo

Sorry if this doesn't make sense it's like 2:30 am lol

Thank you for requesting and I hope you like this!

Edward:

You left earlier that morning to go to a job interview in the city

He kissed you goodbye, watched you walk out the door, and thought that would be it

He was just sitting around, watching some football game that Emmett had on the TV when he saw the familiar beginnings of one of Alice's visions

She has so many throughout the day that he really only half pays attention to it

But once he sees your face he is fully alert

You swiping his credit card to buy a subway ticket, you onboard the train, the train crashing, you dead

Instantly he is up

He knows that Alice's visions are only a possibility

But too many of them have come true for him to ignore this

He calls you, nothing

He texts you, nothing

He checks the statements for his credit card and he sees the pending purchase of one train ticket

His heart drops

Instantly he flies out of the door, running as fast as he can to the subway station

There's a crowd of people running up from the tunnel, trampling each other in their attempt to get out

Smoke plumes out, he can smell fire and gasoline

And just as he's about to run down there to see if he can find you, find what's left, maybe even save you, he hears a voice

"Edward? What are you doing here... oh my god! What happened down there?!"

It's you

You, alive, healthy, and drinking a coffee

Before you can question him further on what happened he is wrapped around you, holding you so close you feel like you're being crushed

Your interview was cancelled last minute so you went to go get a coffee before coming home

Edward says you're never going on the subway again, sorry

And maybe never leaving the house without him again

Alice:

The two of you were out and about, having a day shopping at the mall

She was crafting outfit after outfit in her mind while you sat in the dressing room, waiting for her to bring her next outfit in for you to try on

You leave the room to see her still flitting about the store, pulling various items off the racks and holding them up to the items already overflowing in her arms

You call to her that you're going to use the bathroom, and she hums a little to let you know that she heard you before continuing with her planning

She hears you walk away before a vision flashes harshly into her mind

You walking into the bathroom, two people with guns having an argument, you caught in the wrong place at the wrong time

She instantly drops everything she was holding

All of the clothes hitting with a thud to the floor

She doesn't even register the store attendant yelling at her to pick up her mess before she is sprinting out the room

But she doesn't even make it two paces outside of the store before she hears two gunshots, one right after another

She runs fast, she doesn't care that people might see that she's way too fast

She follows the scent of blood to the bathroom and hears cries of pain from inside

But then she smells you

Not inside the bathroom, but across the walkway

She turns and there you are, standing at a little boutique directly across from the bathroom, staring with your mouth wide open

In the next breath, before you can even blink she is right in front of you, hanging onto you like a koala and hurriedly explaining everything that just happened

After you catch your breath and she finally lets go, you turn your head to the boutique and look into the window

"So... is now a bad time to say that I think this dress would look pretty on you?"

She just laughs and kisses you so hard

Jasper:

You're out on a trip with your friends

Not too far away, just about two towns over

It's your best friend's birthday and they wanted to have a little weekend trip to celebrate

You'd left earlier that morning

Promising Jasper that you'd call when you all got there

But it's been hours

4 hours, 27 minutes, and 39 seconds

Not that he's been counting or anything

The drive should have taken 30 minutes max

So why haven't you called?

He's already tried to give himself every explanation

That you're busy, that you got caught in traffic, that you just forgot

But as the hours go by he's getting more and more anxious

He's already called and texted a couple of times, but you haven't even read the messages

He's about to call again as he feels a rush of anxiety come from Carlisle's office

In the next moment the man is down the stairs, doctor's bag in hand, throwing his coat over his shoulders

"Carlisle, what's happening?"

"Three people have just been rushed to the clinic. There was a car accident nearby. They veered off the road in the middle of the woods... who knows how long they've been out there..." he says gravely, and rushes out the door

If Jasper wasn't anxious before, he definitely is now

Before Carlisle can pull out of the driveway, Jasper throws the car door open and sits in the passenger seat

As soon as they arrive, he flies out of the car

He's examining every inch of the clinic

He doesn't even care about the strong scent of human blood in the air

He's looking for one more familiar

And he doesn't find it

He begins questioning all of the police officers nearby, asking if there were more people, if there was a second car, or if they've seen you

They kick him out

He follows the scent again to track the car

At the scene he sees the car that crashed

A bloody heap of metal

But no you

Suddenly he hears a mechanical buzz, but not from his phone

No, he recognizes the cute jingle

It's easy to find your phone hidden amongst the treeline

Your friend picks up and he explains where he found the phone

Hearing your voice on the other side is like hearing an angel

He goes home to get a car before driving it to you

The kiss he gives you before he leaves again to let you enjoy your trip is filled with love and happiness

Rosalie:

You Rosalie had gone out

She needed one more car part before her greatest car restoration ever would be complete

She was driving that very car, a 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air that she had been fixing up for a couple months

She'd saved it from a scrapyard, and it was missing pretty much everything that a car needs to function

But after months it was finally done

Almost

The car needed only one simple thing, new gears for the window cranks

She rolled up to the auto parts store and parked the car outside

You said you wanted to stay in the car, preferring to sit

She said she would only be a minute

It didn't take her long to find the piece she needed

As she was about to check out she saw a crowd of people lined up at the front door and a couple people running outside

Through the large windows at the front of the building she could she huge flames and black smoke surrounding a bright teal car

Her bright teal car

That you were inside of

Her mind worked a mile a minute as she dropped the steel parts to the floor

The cranks don't work, that means the windows can't open

She locked the car, that means you couldn't open the doors

She replaced the glass to make it bulletproof, that means you can't break the glass

You are inside of that car burning alive

As she runs up she sees four men behind her car, next to the trunk

And in the middle is you

Covered in soot with a couple of scratches

But breathing, alive

She runs up and hugs you so tightly you can't breathe

"I'm so sorry, I locked the doors, and the windows! How did you get out?"

"The trunk... I'm sorry Rose, I tore the backseat out"

She turns to see the trunk of her car open, with the backseat completely pulled out place

And all she does is laugh and kiss you

Emmett:

The sky was a dark grey, and thick clouds were covering the sun

The Cullens stood in their baseball uniforms, waiting for the ball to be returned so Rosalie could pitch it again

Up to bat was Emmett

A heavy metal bat was swinging in his arms

He shot you a wink out of the corner of his eye, and turned his attention back to Rosalie

With a huff she focused, and threw the ball to Emmett so fast you couldn't even see it

You heard the loud crack of thunder ring from Emmett's bat, but almost as soon as you heard it, you felt it

Like a ball made of pure fire, the baseball hit square into your chest

The force of it knocked you straight off your feet and sent you flying into the woods behind you

A good 30 feet at least

And as if that wasn't enough, your back collided with a tree, knocking the tree over and onto the ground

The force of it knocked you unconscious, which would probably be a blessing in this scenario tbh

Everybody was quick to run to your side, Emmett and Carlisle taking position up by your head

Carlisle wasted no time in picking you up and running to take you to the clinic

And of course Emmett followed

He held you in the back seat of the car, whispering apologies and professions of love into your unhearing ears, promising that he will never do this again

It takes a couple of hours and maybe two or three surgeries, but you do wake up

And Emmett is by your side the whole time

He was fully prepared to turn you if he needed to

But the moment he sees your eyes open and your doped-up smile, he finally relaxes

"You're pretty cute... are you single?"

"Darling, I just hit you with a baseball going the speed of a jet plane-"

Esme:

Your brother was getting married and asked if you would attend

Of course you said yes

But there were no plus ones

And it was tropical

Which meant flying to an island somewhere all by yourself

Not only is it nerve-wracking to travel alone, but it was also going to be boring

So Esme promised that she would have her phone on her at all times so you could facetime her if you wanted to

She even paid for your wifi on the plane

You had been on call with her for hours at that point

From the time you got out of your taxi, found your way to your terminal, went through TSA, and finally boarded your plane

It was about halfway into your flight and the conversation had naturally slowed down

You were only occasionally exchanging words

When suddenly your service cut out like a light

No warning, no crackling before, and no explanation

She tried calling you back, but nothing

She tried texting, but nothing

She was getting worried

And it definitely didn't help that only about 20 minutes later, the news anchor started talking about a plane that just crashed in the Pacific

Which is where you were

A couple hours off the coast of California

Which is where you were

From Spirit Airlines

Which is the plane you were on

She was beginning to panic

Alice couldn't see you either

She was just getting silence

Cue the whole house panicking

She went through every phase of grief in the span of a couple of hours

She was convinced you were gone, but at the same time she didn't want to believe it

Suddenly her phone started to buzz

"*Yawn*, Hey Esme. Sorry about that, I guess I fell asleep... *yawn* anyway what were we talking about?"

Stunned silence

She just laughs incredulously

Carlisle:

It's just another day the clinic

Slow, boring, a couple of broken arms, a couple pregnancy tests, nothing special

When he hears the sirens of an ambulance pulling up outside the main entrance

Like bats out of hell, three paramedics come rushing in, towing a gurney with someone on top of it

Someone that smells a hell of a lot like you

His heart drops, his breathing stops, he freezes

The paramedics are talking quickly but he can only hear broken phrases

Cliff... fell... severely injured... needs help... lost blood...

All he can smell is you

All he can see is the shirt that Alice got you

The shoes that Esme lets you borrow sometimes

The color of your hair

But no face

The face is smashed in, presumably from the aforementioned fall that the EMTs were talking about

He tries his hardest, he does everything he's supposed to, but when the monitor flatlines, there's only one more option

Just as he raises your wrist to his mouth to bite, his phone vibrates in his pocket

He wants to ignore it, but something tells him not to

And on the face of his apple watch he sees a text message

My Love: "Heyyyyyyyyyyyy... can I use your credit card to order some pizza??? I'm STARVING!!!! :)))"

You later explain that those were clothes that Alice had donated

Apparently no one washed them, so they still held a lot of your smell

He took a week off of work from the clinic after that

Vampire! Bella:

So Jacob never actually got rid of the motorcycles

After you see him and Renesmee ride away on one of them one day, you ask to try it out

Under her watchful eye, Bella helps you learn how to ride

One day, after a couple months of successful rides, you decide to take it to run some errands

Bella didn't see an issue with this, seeing as you were skilled, and let you go all by yourself

But she very quickly regrets that when she gets a rather ominous text from you that just says "help" and nothing else

Her mind starts running a mile a minute

She asks for Edward and Alice's help to hunt you down

She expects a lot of things when she finds you

She expects blood, bones, a crash, metal everywhere, and you dead

But what she finds is you standing in a parking lot trying to shove four large bags of items into the tiny space under the seat

She's so relieved she could cry

Of course, you're confused as to why your girlfriend suddenly comes out of nowhere and gives you the most bone-breaking hug she could muster

Why the fuck would you text me like that?!?!?!?"

"Like what?"

"Like this!"

"Oh... my other messages didn't send... sorry!"

No more motorcycle :(

[sassycheesecake]

MEET AND GREET DAY 4:

#21, Wing Spiker Shouyou Hinata of the MSBY Black Jackals

Hinata is such an easy guy to get along with. He makes friends everywhere he goes

Even though you were nervous, the M&G went really smooth, as if you have known each other for years

the longer you two talked, the more stuff you realized you have in common

It went from talking about One Piece and volleyball to if the cereal or the milk should come first into a bowl (you did receive a few strange looks from the staff members but Bokuto and Atsumu are gleefully proud of their youngest teammate talking and flirting with you and actually succeeding at it considering his teachers were idiots)

You part your ways after the M&G and you're excited to see the next game (big kudos to your best friend for gifting you season tickets)

"Was I seeing this right? Was Hinata actually flirting with someone?" Shion asks Meian in a whisper in the locker room after the game, still shocked that their youngest kouhai is highly interested in someone or something else besides volleyball

Hinata is more cheerful than usual in training sessions and work out

He tells his teammates all about his excitement every day

"Have you guys seen their smile?". "Aren't they the most beautiful person alive?" "I can't wait to see them again, I look for them wherever I go, hoping I would randomly catch a sight of them on the street.", "I am telling you guys, I am going to marry this person!"

The next time Hinata saw you at the M&G of the game, he asked you out, resulting in you two going out for dinner at a small Brazilian restaurant and Hinata tells you all the stories from Brazil, about his old roommate Pedro and how he has known some of his current teammates since high school, etc.

Yet even if Hinata is a big storyteller, he asks you about you as well, learning things about you and falling for you deeper and deep, the more minutes he spends listening to you

You spend the night at his place and for the next morning, he prepares some different types of açaí bowls, since he still needs to follow his diet plan, but unsure about what you like to eat, he also made some pão de queijo and some tapioca pancakes

It was so good and Hinata confessed that he really likes you and wants you to be his s/o

When Hinata had training again, he first told Bokuto and Atsumu about his date with you, and later his other teammates, to his opponents, to his family to his friends from Brazil

That man is so proud to have you as a romantic partner and cheers you up with his smiles and jokes on bad days, makes you feel like the only person in the world

[creativewritersposts]

Fucked up - Nico Hischier (part two)

summary; Nico Hischier x reader

Part one: click here

warning(s); angst, argument, insecurity, FLUFF , maybe grammar errors

author's note; hi lovely people out there! At first thank you so much for ✨100✨ followers. So many people asked for part two. Hope you like it, like I do!

tags; @hockey-hischier13 🌟 --------------------------------------------------------------

"I'd like to invite you to Switzerland, meeting my family."

This sentence hunts you until now. Two weeks later after getting the news from Nico. Your only reaction was "I'm not sure", secretly you'd jump into a sea for him, if he asks for it. You promised to change your clinginess.

He just sent you the ticket if you want to join. That's it. He did not visit you, he only left a voice message.

Maybe you did the wrong decision to fly to Switzerland and running after a man who feels annoyed from you.

"Babe!", Nico's sunglasses mirrors your face in it, kissing your cheek because you moved your head, that he couldn't kiss your lips. You don't feel deserved to get kissed.

"Hello, Nico", you smile and drive without a conversation to his parents house. It's a cute one, like in one of these Switzerland prospects everyone knows. "Are", he pauses between," are you okay? Like are we okay?", his brown eyes meet yours, him on the driver seat, parked. "We're cool", you nod and open the door.

"I'll take the bags", he smiles and walks into his family home.

You feel way too much familiar in this house. Maybe it's a red flag for him. That you feel too comfortable.

"Nice to meet you!", his mom comes out of the kitchen, hugging you tight, "you are way more prettier than Nico described me", she giggles and looks at you, "I'm Katja!".

You mumble a thank you, until you come in and meet the rest of his family, sitting in their garden. "are you cold? I can give you my jacket", Nico whispers these words through your shoulder after a few hours and the gone sunset. "I'm ok", it's a liar. You're freezing and everyone can see it, like your blue lips. Nico looks confused, you love this clothes. You begged for this jacket for months. "I'll go to bed", you smile thankful in the family round, leaving Nico's siblings and parents behind you.

"I'll go with you", he says goodnight to all and walks into the house with you. "I'd like to shower", you ask for his permission, "you don't need to ask me", Nico observes you, completely insecure, leaving him. You're literally running away from him, like fading apart when he wants to talk with you.

"Hi", he looks at you, smiling seeing you with a towel around your body after showering and him sitting on your shared bed. "hi", you avoid his eyes, random searching clothes in your bag.

Maybe he doesn't like cellulite. Maybe it's a red flag for him too.

"I'm the luckiest man alive to have you, my family loves you too", he smirks in completely chill. "I'm glad you're happy now",comes out of your mouth, your chest hurts. Deep inside your soul. Your soul is shit.

Your soul is a red flag. Without changing he couldn't loving you. Nico stares at your face, aren't you happy? You acted weird for weeks now, he posted a funny selfie just to geg your attention (usually he would never do this for a woman) but you didn't react.

"Aren't you happy?", he asks. "Sure", you bite on your lip, you hate to lie. "What's wrong?", Nico takes your arm, petting it. It's a lovely gesture for a man who feels disgusted about you.

"Can you ever love me the way I am?", you can't blink away the tears anymore.

"Wh-", he looks annoyed.

"You don't owe me anything, I should be happy you're still dating me", you shrug your shoulders. "Wh-", he starts again.

"of couse you're lovable", he gets worried. "I fall more and more in love with you", he explains his feelings, "no you fell in love in someone who I am not! Maybe I'm clingy and I'm annoying and love to spam-", you're sobbing your pain away.

"I miss your spamming and I also miss your real smile", he lovely whipes your tears away from the cheeks, his hands are shaking.

"I stress you out and you don't want to ask me to be your-", you whisper exhausted about the whole situation.

"My mom told me if a woman drives you crazy it's real love", he pets your hair, calming you down.

"I'm not lovable!", you sob, "you are", he promises. "I wanted to ask you tomorrow if you want to be my girlfriend. I'm sorry to let you feel this way!", he clears his throat. "Can you please be like yourself again?", he kisses your hand, holding it in his.

[disneyprincemuke]

love like this * aa23

alex may be the reason your parents are separating, but he proves to you that soulmates still exist

pairings: alex albon x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of divorce

notes: the alex albon tag is waYYYY too dry and i can't keep waiting!!! so i aM TAKING MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS!!! also, inspired by that one scene in the office

(f1 masterlist)

alex was having a great day. he'd woken up with the sun shining brightly on the right side of the bed. to make it even better, he's on his way to spend the day with you.

he had everything planned out: he has a list of activities you could do, movies you could watch, and places to walk at in case the day dragged on too long to stay in. he has a bouquet of flowers pressed against his chest and takeout from your favourite restaurant. he's very excited to finally just lay back with you after a stressful couple of weeks.

that was until you opened the door for him. you were glaring at him like you've never before with your phone pressed up against your ear..

he's in shock when you ignore his lean for a welcoming kiss. you don't even acknowledge the flowers in his hands. you just leave the door open and turn around, walking further into your apartment.

alex walks in hesitantly, slipping off his shoes. typically, he'd leave it by the door under the shoe rack. judging by your mood, however, he neatly places it on the rack.

he loses you in the apartment so he just invites himself in to place his presents on the table.

"love?" alex calls out softly, dragging his feet against the cold tiles of your apartment. "i brought us food."

he finds you in your bedroom, just having ended your phone call. "i got your favourites from your favourite downtown. care to have a meal with me, love?"

you whirl around, now tears in your eyes. "what did you say to my dad?"

alex raises an eyebrow, lips parted in shock at your accusation. he's only met your dad once - 3 days ago after flying in. he knows they clicked because he's found himself a new texting buddy. he's even secured your father tickets to the final race this year, supposedly.

"what do you mean?" alex is careful with his tone. the last thing he wants to do is end up in a fight with you.

"that was my dad on the phone," you point to the device that's on the other side of the bed with your other hand on your hip, "he called me to say that he's filing for a divorce."

alex tilts his head. he's very empathetic, truly, but it's difficult to know what to say to you when he doesn't know what's going on. as far as he knew, he didn't have anything to do with this. "i say this in the lease oblivious way possible... but, why is it me?"

you huff, looking away as tears start to fall out of your eyes. you're very close with your parents and alex knows that. "he said he knew after our dinner that night." you wipe the tears away roughly and look back at him. "what did you say?"

"i," alex trails off at a loss for words. he's trying his best to recall the evening word per word, but nothing comes up. nothing that would warrant your father wanting a divorce from you mother. "my love... i don't know. i didn't say anything to him, i swear!"

"there has to be something." you sound defeated as you drop yourself back into your bed, arms spread out as you stare at the ceiling. "they've been together longer than i've been alive. there's no way this came out of nowhere."

but he really doesn't know what it is. "do you want me to talk to him?"

"no!" you shriek, sitting up quickly at his proposition. "you've done enough, alex! don't talk to my dad!"

he stands at your door, shoulders slumped and mouth gaping wordlessly at you. you do feel bad that you're taking it out on him. but your dad didn't elaborate further when he told you. he said he'll do it in person when he arrives at your apartment.

"i'm sorry," alex finally says. "i don't know what i could have said for this to happen... but i'm so sorry."

the doorbell echoes throughout your apartment, followed by a loud knock that's softened by your distance from the door. you sigh, shaking your head slightly as you get to your feet. "that's my dad."

"okay," alex nods, walking towards your bed. "i will stay here until you've talked. okay?"

you nod, muttering back a soft "okay".

you don't say another word as you pass him. but there's a warmth that explodes within your arm when his hand wraps itself around your elbow.

"i love you," alex says, tilting his head as he anticipates your response.

you nod weakly. "i love you."

the next 10 minutes pass by very slowly. from the comfort of your bed, alex heard nothing but silence for the first few minutes. suddenly, the apartment drowned in your sobs while you dad tries to calm you down.

it took everything in him not to come out to get you in his arms. he hates it when you're upset.

he tried not to eavesdrop on your conversation. not that you'd even spoken loud enough for him to make out words from either of you. so he settled for instagram, but even that wasn't entertaining enough to keep him occupied.

so then he moved on to tiktok, but that was too overstimulating for his head. he just wanted it all to be over and have you explain everything to him.

what kept everything moving quickly was when a notification from george came through, prompting a quick game of 8ball on message. it was entertaining: the insults from george as he slowly won.

but his eagerness to shove the win in his friend's face is quickly forgotten when he hears the front door close. the phone is thrown into your duvet and he pads towards the door.

he creaks it open, popping his head through the door. "my love."

"alex," you sigh from your door, hand still clutching onto the handle. you choke back on a sob at his name, falling to your knees.

"hey!" he runs to your aid, arms instinctively wrapping around you. he brushes his fingers through your hair as he sits back and pulls you into his lap.

your face is buried in his shirt as you continue to cry.

"i'm sorry about everything, my love," he hums, cheeks resting on the crown of your head. you clutch onto his shirt with everything you've got, still in disbelief at how everything crumbled down so quick.

your parents had always been your role model. their relationship was the clear benchmark to what you looked for your whole life. never did you think that the love of your life would be the downfall of that.

"it's," you take a deep breath and exhale shakily, "it's okay."

"is it," alex isn't sure he's ready for the answer, "really because of me?"

you nod, the tip of your nails tracing the design on his shirt. "my dad..."

"i'm really sorry. did he tell you what i said that caused all this?" alex has had his fair share of separated parents. he's been through this before, but he was fairly young when it happened.

perhaps it never gets any easier despite age.

you nod again. you lift your head and scramble slowly to untangle yourself from you. "he did tell me what happened," you whisper. you crawl to the empty spot in front of alex, mimicking his position - legs crossed and back pressed against the wall.

you reach forward to take his hands into yours. "when we went to dinner and i left for the bathroom... he told me that you told him how much you loved me... and how you feel when i walk into the room.

"the way that i make everything better, especially on days where everything just doesn't seem right. and how... i make you want to be a better version of yourself," you swallow the lump in your throat, your grip tightening around his hand that you could barely feel yours. "about how sure you are that i'm your soulmate. i guess he had never felt that way about my mum even after all these years."

alex is slightly appalled. all of those were said to your dad in confidence. none of those were supposed to get back to you, because he truly believed that it could lose meaning if you find all of that out.

but you've never been loved like this before. and truly, it felt exhilarating to know that love like this exists. and you've found it in the one person that made your heart flutter when you're together.

"are you okay?"

"i'm okay," you nod. you give his hand a final squeeze before getting to your knees. you throw your arms around him, bumping your head very lightly into the wall behind him. "thank you."

"what for?"

"for loving me the way that you do."

he tightens his arms around your waist, his face buried into your shoulder. "and thank you for showing me what love really is."

[crguang]

imagine in kafka violinist AU, reader works in a classical music record store or maybe even an instrument store and kafka decides to check out the place and they meet after so long ☹️☹️

[ ok, i'm imagining it. this has no right being over 3,5k words but i swear sev and i do think of cute scenarios with them... sometimes. ]

“now i am stuck between my anger and the blame that i can't face, memories are something even smoking weed does not replace.”

//

She’s sixteen again, boredly waiting around with the back of her head against your locker and a biology textbook nestled in her arms. People walk by her impatient gaze holding hands firmly, complaining loudly so everyone shares their annoyance, half-asleep as they drag their feet across the school hallways, and she watches them pass her by in silent judgment. They are all so uninteresting, so mundanely boring, and her eyes soon grow hazy following the shift in her thoughts while she waits. She remembers the movie tickets she still has to buy behind your back before Friday, then tells herself she will have time to take the bus to the movie theater on Wednesday after class when neither of you have music practice. She knows you dislike horror movies, but she finds them funny and she really wants to see this one. You’ll refuse when she asks you to come with, then begrudgingly take her hand when she produces the tickets from her backpack because you feel guilty about her already spending money on an outing for the two of you. She forgot the leather gloves she loves so much this morning, too hurried to make sure they were indeed put in her coat yesterday evening, so she’ll ask for one of yours before heading to the bus stop. Despite it only being minutes away, you’ll absentmindedly throw it her way. She smiles to herself. Her head lowers and she takes a quick glance at the thin watch around her wrist: ten minutes until the final bell. You’re late. With a disgruntled noise at the back of her throat, she straightens up and adjusts the strap over her shoulder. She won’t stain her perfect attendance record because you missed your 7 AM alarm, she’ll demand explanations at lunch and enjoy how you avert your eyes from hers in embarrassment. 

You’re not sitting at the back of classroom 311B waiting for her with your lunch on your lap, and her lips curve downward into a displeased pout. You didn’t show today, then. She wonders if you got sick between last Friday and now and makes a mental note to come knocking on your door after practice, if only to make sure you’re still alive even if you’re moaning in misery. She drops her backpack on a chair, plopping down at a nearby desk. Her AP Maths homework is laid out on the surface and she spends the free hour getting ahead in her classes within the quiet room, her cheek lazily resting on her palm.

As her literature teacher expands on the use of literary devices in creative writing, she thinks she might bring something to your house later. You were weird Friday and you’re missing practice, she’s now sure you’re feeling unwell. Peach gummies should do it, maybe, you’re so easy to please. You still have that shitty drawing the both of you made together when you were eight plastered beside the album posters on your wall. She hates looking at it every time she comes over but you threaten to have it framed, so she rolls her eyes and ignores the glaring reminder of her attachment staring down at her mockingly. 

Kafka blinks rapidly and her vision instantly focuses on the fading tendrils of cigarette smoke swimming in the air in front of her. The roll is secure between her index and middle fingers, pointing towards the open back window of her sleek black car. She regains her bearings. Her gaze darts to the driver’s seat where Blade’s head leans back on the headrest, eyes closed and arms crossed as he awaits new instructions. Her lips stretch into a small smile at her ridiculous train of thought and she looks outside the window, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth. There’s nothing to see, only passersby and concrete buildings, the front doors of multiple stores aligned on the narrow street. She takes a slow drag and allows the tobacco smoke to sit on her tongue before exhaling softly. She calls it reminiscing during a moment’s reprieve, but that would require the act to be voluntary and peaceful. It’s happening more frequently recently, her mind escapes her for a few minutes as she smokes and it’s starting to defeat the purpose of her cigarette breaks. This weight you hold, impossible to forget, is now slowing her down instead of feeding her ambitions, and anything that is not actively serving her is unnecessary. These memories are unnecessary. They’re pathetic, the same moments rotate through her mind in a broken loop she’s unable to pull the plug on, yet so undeniably haunting. The lack of control over her own thoughts irritates her to no end, her fingers are tight around her violin’s neck, her right arm stiff and reminiscent of the first time she held one in her hands. Another breath past her lips and she makes up her mind. 

Kafka puts out her cigarette on the ashtray resting on the cupholder to her left. She reaches for a pocket mirror in her handbag and flips it open, observing the makeup on her features. Her lipstick has faded a little in the middle of her bottom lip, so she reapplies it carefully. It’s an alluring peach color, her favorite. She smacks her lips and smiles to herself as if to make sure there isn’t a crack in her impenetrable facade, then puts the mirror back where it was initially and sprays her signature perfume over her pulse points. Kafka shakes her head, carefully brushing the dark magenta strands of her bangs away from her cheeks. She sits in the car for another moment, bracing herself, then unlocks the back door.

“Be back in a few, Bladie.” 

The driver doesn’t flinch when the car door shuts firmly behind her. Kafka lowers her prized sunglasses over her eyes. The car is parked a couple of minutes from the vintage record store she’s heard mentions of prior to traveling to Europe for performances, the street is better explored by foot and having her vehicle positioned directly in front of the store while she pondered things would have attracted unnecessary attention. She strolls down the decorated street and its colored asphalt the way she had almost three weeks ago, taking in the local shops and restaurants. Though it’s the middle of the day, only a little past one in the afternoon, the place isn’t as crowded as it usually is when she drives by (twice a week, for three weeks now.) She checks out the window apparel of two clothing stores then decides to step inside another time. She makes it to the record store a minute later and stands in front of the large window offering a glimpse of its interior, an index finger rhythmically drumming against her thigh. It’s empty, save for a blonde woman with a purple streak dyed into her hair that she’s seen work the floor before. Kafka checks the small watch around her wrist. It’s around the same time she passes by on her way to practice. She pushes the door open and steps inside.

A small bell rings out, announcing her presence, and the blonde worker doesn’t even look up from the thick textbook laid on the register counter. She scribbles away, brows furrowed in concentration. Kafka ignores her in turn. Her fingertips trail on packaged vinyls as she makes her way to the jazz section of the store, taking note of the relative stillness of the space with only low radio music to fill the silence. Her heeled boots clack along the ceramic floor with every leisure step. She’s waiting, pausing in front of a particular record and turning it over in her hands, aware of the other person in the room. She listens deeply while she pretends to read the cover and the perpetual easy smile on her lips widens infinitesimally at the sound of cardboard boxes getting ripped open in the backroom behind the register. She glances at her gloved hands. Steady as always.

“Holy fu—!” The blonde worker exclaims in surprise then quickly collects herself enough not to swear, clearing her throat once. 

Kafka’s disinterested gaze lands on her. She closes her textbook with a thud and leaves her post at the cash register to stand in front of her in record time, a gleam in her eyes and a grin on her face like she just won the lottery.

“Are you Kafka? The violinist?” Her voice lowers conspiratorially and she slightly leans forward in excitement. 

Kafka tilts her head to the side in amusement. “I might be.”

The woman takes a breath and claps her hands together over her lips in a praying gesture. “You have no idea how much you just brightened my day, Kafka. Can I have a picture, if it’s not too weird? My phone’s in the backroom, I can go get it. It’ll be super quick.”

She’s promptly walking away before the other can reply, a bounce in her step. Kafka follows her figure until it disappears past the door. She turns back to the record in her hands, then puts it back on the shelf to continue browsing the aisle. She’s not looking for anything in particular but if she does leave the store with a few more records under her arms, she won’t complain.

“They asked for me personally?”

“Yep! Go, go, I’ll take care of this batch.”

Her ears pick up on the conversation happening in the backroom, the voices getting louder as they approach the front of the store, and her next exhale is audible despite herself; yours still sounds the same. She reminds herself that she already smoked ten minutes ago.

“But who are they?”

“I don’t know, a customer. Just go!”

“Fine, jeez…”

Kafka lifts her gaze to the backroom door the moment it’s pushed open and instantly meets yours. She’s taken by the sudden sunlight in the room, all of it on your features; softly tracing the curve of your nose and the bow of your lips, resting over your cheek like a warm palm, sun rays kiss half of you and hold you close in a way she’s no longer sure she remembers the feel of. If she could tear her eyes away, she would notice the afternoon sun reflected on every surface of the store, a detail previously overlooked. There are bags under your eyes and something so small grows into a striking detail because this is her first time seeing them on you.  Your hair is put away from your face today, different than it was last week when Blade drove past the place, every line and shadow is  presented for her viewing pleasure and she drinks them in during a suspended instant. You’re older. That fact shouldn’t surprise her, she feels ridiculous. Her hands are immobile in the air, two vinyls between them brought up for comparison, and her mouth unknowingly twitches downward, about a hundred words she refuses to say push each other to be the first out of her lips, but she keeps it tightly shut. Your eyes widen the next second— for someone who always closely keeps track of time, she doesn’t know how much has passed since your eyes first met— and Kafka’s lower to your bobbing throat. Your hand goes to your rapidly rising chest and you turn your back on her as if frightened. 

“S-Serval, are you sure you don’t need help?” The tremor in your sentence and your averted gaze pulls Kafka out of her thoughts. She almost rolls her eyes at your lame attempt to run from her. Again. 

“I’m sure! Everything’s good here!”

You lean forward and try to regain control over your breathing for a few seconds, shoulders tense, before you slowly turn on your heel to face her once more. Guilt. She recognizes it easily, it’s laced in the curve of your brows and your colored irises. You swallow another time, your hands limp at your sides, and look at her helplessly. Out of the kindness of her heart and against her petty wish for you to keep that haunted look on your face, Kafka helps you out. 

“…I’m hesitating between these.” She holds up the records in her hands.

You blink. It takes you another moment of silence to register her words, and when you do, you reluctantly begin to make your way to her. Your steps are short and slow like you’re walking to the gallows, Kafka can’t help the bitter amusement in her smile. She feels a strange sort of vindication from your behavior, her past hesitation now forgotten. She watches you get closer through the filter of her sunglasses. You stand next to her a polite distance away and glance at the vinyls she’s holding.

“…What are you looking for?” You avoid her gaze and take the records she hands you, instead reading over the album titles and songs. 

Kafka doesn’t look away from you. “Something… relaxing. Slow tempo, the kind you sway to.”

You put the records back on the shelf and reach for another, presenting it to her. “This musician’s good.”

“Mmm. You listened to it?”

“Not this album, but some of his other songs. His music always has the same theme to it, it might be the vibe you’re searching for.”

“What theme is that?”

She knows what it is, she already has a copy of that record at home. It’s a childish delight to witness your reluctance to answer, but she doesn’t care.

“Regret.”

Kafka lets the following pause stretch longer than necessary. She finally tears her eyes from your form to continue browsing the shelves, fingertips trailing over the numerous records neatly stacked one next to the other. She walks some steps away from you as she skims the artists’ names and tilts her head your way when you hold up a different album for her to decide on. She makes a show of pondering about it before asking for another option. She does this for a while, finds a reason to criticize every record you present to her and observes the rapidly deepening frown on your lips. It’s stupid, she thinks fleetingly, how easily you turn back into a child in her mind. You made that face whenever you missed a note in the middle of practice, too. You lifted your eyes in exasperation just like this after another one of her lame jokes, too. You often fiddled with the beads necklace on your collarbone back then as well. Kafka looks away. It's a silver dog tag now. 

“What about this one?” Your tone is slightly more clipped than it was five minutes ago. She ignores it. “It’s a collection of ballads–- older New Orleans swing, soulful, soft. I’d say it’s what you’d like to listen to based on all of your critiques. You’d sway to that, right?”

Kafka takes the record and carefully looks it over. It’s a good suggestion and most of the songs on there are so far personally unheard of, on any other day she actually would have bought it. She puts it back on the shelf where you found it, then faces you.

“Maybe a decade ago. I might be in the mood for something more Romantic, actually.”

You pause, a little taken aback. Your thumb and index fingers take hold of the tag around your neck. “Uh… okay. I’d consider those ballads romantic, though.”

Kafka chuckles quietly. “The era.”

“…Right.” You turn away from her in embarrassment. “That’s another section, then.”

“Lead the way.”

Since she’s the only customer in the store at present, you can’t escape from repeating the same frustrating pattern as before: you suggest a record, it is “not quite what Kafka is looking for”, and she follows that comment with passive aggressivity so subtle that you would have been fooled by her harmless smile if you didn’t already know what she was referring to. Kafka can see your growing exasperation but you have different tells now, it’s all in the purse of your lips and the curl of your fingers at your side. The way you speak, your eloquence when expressing yourself and describing music and the knowledge you bring to the table allows her to fill in some of the blanks washed out by time and space. You’re becoming irritated and she is learning you through it. You work in a record store, you don’t question any of the musical terms she employs and you clearly know what you’re talking about when recommending diverse pieces to her. You haven’t given up on the medium, then. Kafka pushes her relief aside.

“What is it that you’re looking for in particular?” You ask, aggravated after yet another shot down from her and crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a crease between your brows but she notices your shoulders have relaxed significantly since you started conversing.

Kafka doesn’t even have to think about that one. “Violin sonatas.”

She’s not looking at you, pretending to read over the back of a record, but she can almost hear the grinding of your teeth as yet another moment of silence is filled by the pop music over the radio speakers. Though she can’t help the bitterness growing around her organs like mold, neither of you actually acknowledge knowing each other before this afternoon. What is left unsaid spreads to every corner of the store, suffocating fumes charged with your guilt and her hurt, and you both stand in the middle of it, stubbornly breathing in the toxic air. 

If anything, Kafka commends your efforts in attempting to maintain your composure. Your chest falls with a soft exhale and you return to the shelves, browsing the selection with her preferences in mind. She glances at her watch. She has a commitment in an hour, she didn’t think this would take as long as it had. She briefly remembers Blade waiting around in the car, probably dozing off behind the wheel until she returns. 

“Here,” you speak and her head lifts to look at the vinyl you’re handing her. “It’s a miscellaneous collection. If there’s an exact sound that you want, it’s likely there.”

“I already have this one.” A white lie. Kafka doesn’t take the record, instead raises her eyes to yours. “I thought maybe this store would have something out of the ordinary, given its local reputation.” Her gaze boredly sweeps over the empty store before settling on you again. “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

“Enough,” you’ve finally had enough of her implications, she watches you put your foot down with rapt attention. “What do you want me to do, record my own shitty playing before you’re satisfied?”

Shitty? She almost scoffs, personally offended. The missing key to her art, shitty?

“Maybe. Would you run from that as well?”

Your features first twist in shock at her dry reply, then twitch involuntarily as you try to mask the hurt that laces the natural curve of your bottom lip. You blink, averting your eyes the way you so often do now, and Kafka pauses at your reaction, almost daring you to contradict her. Another awkwardly charged silence falls upon you both. You seem to have many of those. She’s tempted to break it with a nonchalant remark, but the words freeze on her tongue at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and trembling lips. She stands and stares as you bring a hand to your face, uselessly attempting to reign in the emotion drawn across the lines of it. By the looks of it, you try very hard but are ultimately unable to stop your throat from bobbing with every difficult swallow and your lashes from fluttering to keep the sting of your eyes at bay. You’re suddenly taken with emotion, and Kafka stares in disbelief concealed as apathy. You briskly walk past her and make a beeline for the register counter, using its surface to support your hands and turning your back on her again. The distance could not be clearer, this time dug by her own hands. She hears your shuddering breaths, watches the growing tension in your back and shoulder muscles, and a sensation she does not recognize stops her from uttering anything. You look small, you sound weak, and it goes against every thought she's had of you for the past decade. It goes against the space you occupy in her mind--- unrelenting, expansive, insisting. You are not the teenager she sees when she looks at you nor the quiet child she thinks of when she's had too much to drink, you are simply a crying stranger she has no right to unravel, and yet she finds it difficult to look away.

Kafka is uncomfortable, rooted where she stands, and for once at a loss of what to do. She's relieved from doing anything as the blonde worker from earlier, Serval, stalks into the room with a frown bending her lips. There's no trace of her previous excitement, she immediately rounds the register to place herself next to you and rests a kind hand on your back, murmuring concerned inquiries that you can only shake your head to. Serval faces Kafka with a perfected customer service smile, all past pretenses gone.

"You should go, I'm sure a bigshot like you has more important things to do in a day than linger here."

Kafka smiles. "I do." She adjusts the silk gloves over her hands and spares a last glance at your back. She reaches into one of her coat pockets, steps closer to the register, and slides a sleek card with a minimalist design toward you with two fingers. "If you want to put your shitty playing to use."

The entry bell rings out as Kafka walks out of the record store.

[marnikula]

Hey! I was wondering if you would be able to write a post about a Derek x reader where Derek is in the hospital after getting shot and the reader is just so distraught and bursts into his room, but plot twist, no one knows that they are in a relationship except for Garcia, who let the reader know, and they are all so confused.

Also, I imagined it as a female reader, so if you are comfortable, could you do that?

Hey! Sure, I can do that for you😊

Not my best work, sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy none the less

CW: Injury, female reader, mentions of gun shot, hurt / comfort, talks of deatb

✨Enjoy!✨

You have never felt your heart drop so quickly and so violently into your shoes before that moment. "He just went into surgery, I don't know how long it's going to take for him to come out, I called as soon as I could."

Derek was shot. He was in surgery. He was shot. Shot. He could be dying. He could be dead.

Shooting out of your seat you grabbed a bag and flung all of your necessities in it, letting Garcia know you were on the way before hanging up the phone. He was in California, 6 hours away by plane and you hadn't even bought tickets yet, you didn't have anywhere to stay. You knew you were being rash rushing to the other side of the country without a plan, but you didn't care. The love of your life was on an operating table and you weren't there.

Hailing a taxi to the airport you finally took the time to book a flight, thanking whatever higher power there was for the fact that the soonest flight out was in less than an hour and praying that you would be able to make it.

===============================

Rushing into the hospital, your bag still in hand, you ran up to the front desk.

"I'm looking for Derek Morgan's room, he was shot, can you tell me where he is" even to your own ears your voice sounded frantic, like you were hanging on by a thread. And to be honest you were, you just needed to know that Derek was okay. "What is your relation to the patient?" "I'm his girlfriend"

After getting his room number from the nurse you practically flew up the stairs, not having the patience to wait for an elevator. Seeing his room you moved even faster, breaking into a sprint and almost knocking a tall and lanky man over in the process. Shouting your apologies behind you, you were met with a door, slowing down just in time to not run against it.

You were in such a flurry of relief seeing Derek alive and awake that you didn't even register the rest of the people in the room as you rushed in, dropping your bag at the door and enveloping him in a hug. His good arm reached around you and hugged you back as tightly as he could muster, which was still pretty tight considering he had just woke up from anesthesia.

Kissing the top of your head Derek spoke the first word between the two of you: "Hey princess, what are you doing here?" You shoved yourself out of his embrace, still sitting on the bed and letting the agitation you felt show on your features

"What am I doing here?! Seriously? You got shot and went into emergency surgery and you're asking me what am I doing here?!" "Whoah baby, calm down, I'm fine, doctors said I'll make a full recovery, no lasting damage except for some scarring" your reply followed, with a smack against his good shoulder as well "Don't you ever, and I mean *EVER* do that to me again, do you understand?! I was so scared that I would loose you" "Baby, I'm so sorry that I scared you, but I'm fine now, and I promise to try my best not to get shot again. It ain't exactly fun you know. Now do I get a kiss or what?"

A loud clearing of a voice broke the two of you out of your little world. "Are we perhaps interrupting something?"

"Rossi, man, I respect you and all, but please, get your and everyone else's asses out of my room so I can spend some time with my girl"