#i keep on going to reply sections (bad idea)

[fudge24-7]

Wondering if tumblr is really good for me

[puck-luck]

Like Hughes, prompt 1, hearts… I was thinking maybe she’s having a bad day and talking about her brain just not shutting up something along those lines lol

warnings: oral fem receiving on a dining room table wc: 619

“I’m sorry, Lu. I know I’ve been talking about this for a while. You must be bored,” you say sheepishly, picking at the remaining food on your plate. 

“I’m not bored,” Luke replies. “I like listening to you talk, even if you’re just venting about how work sucked today. It’s up to you if you want to keep talking about it, babe.”

“I’m sure I could talk about it forever,” you grumble. “I just hate how in my head I get over the stupidest mistakes and interactions. I know it’s not that deep, but I get so wigged out.” You stab at the pile of green beans with your fork. “I wish there was some way where I could just turn off my mind when I don’t want to use it.”

Luke quirks an eyebrow at you. “You think?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. You shrug. “It gets overwhelming to be in my brain, sometimes. It would be nice to quiet it down.”

Luke looks at you for a moment too long. “I have an idea for that,” he says. He clears his plate, then yours. 

“Luke, I wasn’t done eating,” you complain.

“I’ll reheat it for you if you’re still hungry after.” He leaves his plate in the sink, but places yours in the refrigerator. Then, he walks back over to you, taking your hand and guiding you out of the chair. He moves your utensils and glass of water to the floor, away from your feet. “You trust me?” He asks, thumbing over your bottom lip.

“‘Course,” you reply. “Always.”

Luke smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Good.” He backs you up against the table, trapping you. You hop up onto the ledge, sitting back more comfortably as Luke towers over you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your face, cradling your jaw as he leans down to kiss you until your chest is heaving and your cheeks are flushed. “I’m gonna fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head,” Luke says like he’s swearing on his grave. “But first, I’m going to eat my dessert.”

You feel a bit lightheaded and hot as he gets to his knees, undressing your lower half. His hands rake over your exposed thighs, tickling your flesh and groping the particularly meaty sections in his hands. Luke kisses over the inside of your thighs, the sensitive areas marked with suction mark after suction mark– they’ll all fade by tomorrow, so you can’t call them hickeys. He’s so sweet about the way he teases you, which lasts until you’re unable to wait any longer. You stammer out a plea for him to do more, unsure if you’re in a space where Luke will grant your requests.

His eyes lock with yours and a smirk covers his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he inches forward, sticking his tongue out when he gets close enough and flicks the tip over your clit. He’s not close enough for it to be anything more than a tease, but the touch already has you whimpering and trying to move your hips closer to his tongue. 

Instead of chastising you for being so greedy, Luke buries his face in your cunt. He went from nothing to everything at once– making you cry out. Your hands fly to his hair. Luke just closes his eyes and nuzzles into your pussy, his tongue working overtime against your clit. One of his fingers has started to trace slowly around the rim of your entrance, although he refuses to enter. 

He seems hell-bent on making your pleasure wash all over his fingers well before they even enter you– you’re in for a long night.

[cloudcountry]

Yooooooo happy to see that field of mistria are making you happy ^-^ i'd like to request reader helping march dye his hair ( lots of bickering and threatening to turn him pink instead ) but since ik you don't really like him and might not feel inspired here's another idea ( choose whichever one you feel most comfortable writing for ) how about flower picking with Celine :)

SUMMARY: when the saturday market can't come to town, you offer to help march dye his hair instead

COMMENTS: no pls wifey im very much joking w you i like march :(( hes just a bitch and im going to stab him. with a plastic sword. gently.

i dont have dividers so i am recycling my header ITS FINE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT

“Ow, would you quit pulling my hair like that?” March groans, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder, “For all that skill you claim to have you don’t act—”

“Oh will you hush?” you huff, gently tugging on a handful of March’s hair on purpose, “If you stopped squirming and whining, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad!”

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch, but you’re far too busy sectioning off his surprisingly thick hair to prepare for the (tacky) bright red hair dye.

“Why the fuck is your hair so thick?” you comment, very much amused.

“Oh shut up.” March snaps, “If I could reach back there and grab a fistful of your hair to yank around I would, you little—”

You click your tongue, interrupting him once again. “Worry about yourself, March. Wouldn’t want my hand to slip and for you to end up with pink hair, now would we?”

He grumbles again, and you giggle.

It occurs to you that, if anyone were to overhear this conversation, they’d assume you and the blacksmith were a hair’s breath away from killing each other.

You pat yourself on the back for the winning pun you just made. Holt would be proud.

“Oi, I can feel your smugness from here. Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s making me sick.”

“I was just thinking about you.” you comment offhandedly, snatching up the bottle of dye flippantly, “You must be pretty awful if you make yourself sick.”

“Don’t say shit like that, it’s weird.” he crosses his arms in his chest and sinks into the chair, his back hunched as if trying to make himself smaller.

You wonder why he’s shriveling up now. Normally he'd return your scathing insult.

Instead of asking, you opt not to. You pop the cap off the dye bottle and start applying it to his scalp, massaging it into the roots. You try not to feel smug about the way March so obviously relaxes, shoulders dropping and head falling into your touch, his breathing shifting from frustrated to calm.

You also try not to feel warm about the way he looks right now, vulnerable and soft, you try not to think about how it’s just the two of you here, with his brother who knows where, and you try not to think about the very tempting open space of his forehead, which is finally not all wrinkly for once.

You don’t want to smooth over those wrinkles with your thumb at all. And you certainly do not want to kiss them after a hard day’s work.

Even when he’s sweaty.

Especially when he’s sweaty.

You cough loudly into your arm, trying your best not to squirm where you’re standing, lest you mess up March’s hair.

Fully expecting him to turn around and scold you for ruining the moment, you’re surprised when he doesn’t move.

“You’re such a weirdo.” he says, but his voice his soft and there’s no real bite to them.

The smile that threatens to burst out of you is barely held back by your desire to keep the solemn, dare you say affectionate atmosphere going.

“So are you.” you reply, and your voice is equally as soft.

March snorts, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say it was a genuine laugh.

[oreolemur]

Streamer's Worst Nightmare

Working as a streamer, you never showed your face. It was easy to make money having a cute virtual character impersonate you, but after losing a couple of fans, money became tight. “Guess what guys?”, you asked your audience through the stream. “I’m starting an Onlyfans!”. In the chat section you had a mixture of comments complimenting and some shaming you. “I know this may be a bad idea…but at least I’ll let you guys see my face”. Looking at the chat you began to get more supportive replies. “It’ll only be for a short time until I work something out for extra cash. I hope you all subscribe and see more of my personal interests”. Waving goodbye to your fans, you immediately shut off your webcam. “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, you sighed. 

Meanwhile, there was one fan of yours who wasn’t too happy about your decision. “An Onlyfans, huh?”, the man titled his head. “I’m not too happy to hear about that y/n”. He sat in front of his computer, lurking through your socials as he scarfed down a bunch of sweets. “I should pay a visit to her soon”. Crouching at his desk, L took drastic measures to find your location. “I will have you sooner or later, my sweet doll”.

Over the next few days, you began to feel more and more comfortable with your new line of work. “I’m making more than what I do streaming”, you beamed, staring at your financial statistics. “Maybe I should keep this up. Just for a little”. Posting pic after pic and video after video, you decided to open up your messages to give your subscribers a paid one on one chat with you. “Cum to my dm’s and have a little fun with me in private, my loves”, you say, making a vid of yourself in a pink robe. “I’ll be waiting”. 

After making your final post for the day, you spent the entire night trying to reply back to the hundreds of customers who hit your dm’s. “I didn’t know I’d get this much”. Without opening the last few that came in, you got bored. “Nothing new?”, you scoffed. “It’s all the same suggestions”. Before closing your laptop, you received another message. “This one better be good”. Opening it, your eyes widened. “Hello”, it read. “At least this one has a normal greeting”, you smiled.

Messaging the person back, you enjoyed talking to them. “Wow, it’s been 30 minutes and they haven’t asked for anything special yet”. Texting them back, you asked them this. “Are you not interested in seeing anything special tonight?”. Waiting for their reply, you suddenly hear a noise in your living room. “That must be the cat again”, you sighed. Getting up from your bed, you headed that way. “Come here baby”, you signaled your pet. Picking up the furry animal, you walked back towards your room. Seeing the notification come through, you gently put down your cat. As you read the reply, your heart skipped a beat. “W-what?”. Reading the message again, you wanted to make sure that your eyes were working correctly. “Something special? Like your cute fuzzy slippers in the front doorway”, the message read. “This can’t be happening”, you begin to panic. Texting the person back, “What fuzzy slippers? I don’t have any”.  Biting his nails, L stood in front of your bedroom door, “These ones”, he said. 

Feeling a chill go down your spine, your heart beats fast as you froze. “You do have quite an interesting taste in style, doll”. Seeing the man from the corner of your eye, you turned around slowly. “H-How did you get in?”, you asked. He approached you slowly, bending down to your level as you sat on the bed. “Don’t worry about that”, he said. L’s big eyes stared at you, taking note of all of your beautiful facial features. “You know…”, he paused. “You’re more pretty in person…and short too”. He then tried to reach for your face, but you smacked his hand away. “D-don’t touch me”, you said, scooting back. L grabbed your leg, pulling you back towards him. “I’m stronger than I look. I would hate it if you made me get physical with you, my love”, he said. 

“What do you want?”, you asked. “You”, L replied. "M-me? Why me?", you questioned. "If you're some creepy fan that has a crush on me...I won't date you". L tilts his head. "Why you? You're interesting. You interest me in ways no other human has. I want to peel you open. Analyze every inch of your brain until I know everything about you”, he chuckles. Hearing him say that creeped you out even more. L leans forward with each word. As he does so, his long black hair falls around his face, shrouding his eyes from view. "I want to get inside you”. L leans forward even more, until his face is mere inches from yours. His hair, now a tangled mess, conceals his face, but you can see the glint of curiosity and hunger in his eyes. "I want... to devour you." L whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

He tried to grab you, but you dodged it. You fell on the floor, getting up quickly to run away. The man smirked. He liked to watch people try and escape him. He always caught his prey in the end. L follows you, moving surprisingly quickly for somebody as lanky as him. "Where are you going, dear? The game was just getting interesting”. You ran into the living room, tripping over your cat's litter box. "Shit!", you yelled. You got up, heading towards the front door. L chuckled again. He really liked how you were trying to escape. It was so amusing and cute to watch you try and get away from him. L continued his pursuit, closing the ever-shrinking distance between you. "Don't you know that running away only makes me want you more, my dear? The more you resist, the more I crave to devour you”. 

You tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. L was suddenly directly behind you, his lips next to your ear. "It doesn't matter. There is no escaping me at this point, darling. I'm faster. I'm stronger. I'm smarter. You will be mine." L's words send shivers down your spine. He wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling towards you to the bedroom. "Let me go!", you shouted. "Oh, you are so adorable. Trying to act so tough even though you're shaking like a leaf in my grasp. I can feel how tense you are. You know you can't get away from me, but still, you persist. It's so cute!" L continues to drag you to the bedroom, a smug smirk on his face. 

Once inside, he throws you onto the bed as he proceeds to take off his shirt. L tosses his shirt to the side, revealing his pale, lean chest. His eyes glint wickedly as he looks down at you. "Are you feeling vulnerable, my dear?”. You begin to cry, seeing him get closer and closer to you. "Please go away!", you begged. "Oh, but my darling, we're just getting started." L climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. As he does so, his long black hair falls forward, framing his face again. "You can't run from me. You can't hide from me. I will always find you." He leans down and whispers in your ear. "You're my obsession now”. He rubbed his hands through your hair, pulling on it as he brought your face close to his.  "Shhh... let me hear those pretty cries," L says, placing his finger on your lips. "I want to savor every sound that comes out of you. You're so enticing when you're scared. It's like I'm feasting on a delicious meal”.

He kissed your lips passionately, pushing his tongue past the barrier of your lips. He explored the inside of your mouth, slightly moaning. A trail of spit connected both of your lips and he pulled away. “Now…”, he said. “I want to see more of you”. His hand opened the slit of your robe, exposing your breasts. “Perfect”, L said. He pinned your arms above your head as he moved his way down to your tits. He stuck out his tongue, licking your sensitive nipples. “S-stop”, you said, letting out a small whimper. His hand traveled down to your waist, rubbing your bare cunt. “You have such soft skin”, he said, making a pop suction noise as his mouth latched on and off your tit. Your legs shook, feeling him massage your clit. “No”, you said, closing them, trapping his hand in between your thighs. “I don’t like uncooperative people, my dear”, he said, forcing your legs open.

L’s cock hardened inside his pants, making him blush. “My god”, he said, moving his hand away from your pussy, he had your arms pinned with one hand as the other moved to unbutton his pants. “I didn’t think I would get this excited”, he said. You laid there crying, wishing this situation was over with. You saw his dick poke out of his boxers. “Stay still”, he said, unpinning you. He pulled them down just enough so he can fuck you. With your legs still spread, L positioned himself comfortably between them. He placed his cock on your cunt, spitting on it. He rubbed himself on you, attempting to lube your dry pussy. “If you scream I will hurt you”, he said, shoving cock inside you. The size caught you off guard, making you cry even louder. “Take it out!”, you yelled. He covered your mouth, leaning into your ear. “I can tell it’s your first time, my love”, he slightly smirked. “I felt your hymen break”. His thrusts were slow as he placed kisses onto your neck. His teeth sunk into your skin, leaving bruises. 

Your body started to like his touch as your cunt became used to his cock. You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like it, but you liked how fucked up the situation was. “Your body is starting to relax. You don’t feel tense anymore”, L grunted. He let go of your mouth, kissing your soft lips. He bit your lower lip, drawing blood. “If you keep up this good behavior…I might just let you go”. His thrusts quickened as he felt your walls tighten around him. You moaned as his pace went faster, feeling your orgasm arriving. L rested his head beside yours, moaning into your ear. “After I’m done, I’ll make sure no one else sees your body but me”.

[cherryfyre]

Speed Dating, Figure Eight Style

The sun dipped low over Figure Eight, casting a golden hue over the sprawling lawn of the Cameron estate. The event—hosted by one of the Kooks’ most prominent families—was as absurdly extravagant as you’d expect: a speed-dating competition, Kook-style. The twist? It wasn’t just awkward small talk. Participants would be paired up at random and forced to complete a series of ridiculous couple’s challenges. The grand prize? Bragging rights, free dinner at The Pearl, and a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

Martini!Reader had no idea why she was here. Technically, she wasn’t even supposed to be. But Pope and JJ thought it would be hilarious to infiltrate the event. While they snuck into the catering tent to swipe hors d’oeuvres, you were left to fend for yourself in a sea of Kooks, feeling every bit the fish out of water.

That’s when you saw him: Rafe Cameron, standing by the check-in table, radiating smug entitlement in his crisp white polo and tailored khakis. His sharp jawline tightened when his eyes landed on you.

“Great,” he muttered, running a hand through his perfectly-coiffed hair.

“Trust me, I’m not thrilled either,” you shot back, folding your arms.

It turned out, through some cruel twist of fate—or maybe just Kelce’s bad handwriting—you and Rafe had been paired together.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” he said, stepping closer. His cologne was annoyingly intoxicating. “I’m only doing this to win. Don’t get in my way.”

“Likewise,” you snapped, squaring your shoulders. “Try not to screw it up.”

The First Challenge: “Newlywed Trivia”

The first event was a rapid-fire trivia game where couples had to answer questions about each other, despite having just met.

“Alright, Cameron,” you said, grabbing a clipboard. “Let’s make this quick. Favorite color?”

“Blue. Yours?”

“Green,” you lied, just to make it harder.

The game began, and to your frustration, Rafe was ridiculously good at guessing. He nailed your fake favorite color, guessed your favorite season (“Summer. You look like the type who likes sunburns”), and even got your dream vacation right (“Italy? That’s so basic.”).

Meanwhile, you struggled to read him.

“Favorite hobby?” you asked, scribbling.

“Winning,” he said, smirking.

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re stuck with me.”

Despite the bickering, you somehow scored the highest points, advancing to the next round.

The Second Challenge: “Obstacle Course”

The obstacle course was set up along the Cameron property, complete with water balloons, rope swings, and a three-legged race section.

“Try to keep up,” Rafe said as the whistle blew.

“Oh, please. Don’t trip over your ego,” you shot back.

It was chaotic from the start. Rafe was fast—annoyingly so—but you were nimble, darting under ropes and dodging water balloons like a pro. When it came time for the three-legged race, things got… complicated.

“Stop pulling!” you yelled, nearly falling as Rafe’s long legs dragged you forward.

“Stop being slow!”

By some miracle (and a lot of yelling), you crossed the finish line first, collapsing into the grass, breathing hard.

“Not bad, Pogue,” Rafe admitted grudgingly, offering you a hand.

“Not bad yourself… for a Kook,” you replied, taking it.

The Final Challenge: “Trust Falls”

The last challenge was designed to test trust. One partner would be blindfolded and guided through a maze by the other.

“You trust me?” Rafe asked, tying the blindfold over your eyes.

“About as far as I can throw you,” you muttered.

“Cute. Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Rafe’s guidance was steady, his voice calm as he navigated you through the maze. “Left. No, your other left. Watch the step. There you go.”

When you finally reached the end and removed the blindfold, you were face-to-face with Rafe, his smirk replaced with something softer.

“Not bad,” you said, brushing off your hands.

“You weren’t completely useless either,” he replied, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

By the end of the event, you and Rafe had somehow managed to win, much to everyone’s shock—and your own. The cheers and applause were almost drowned out by your mutual bickering as you accepted the prize.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” you said, clutching the Dom Pérignon.

“Good,” Rafe replied, leaning in closer. “Because I definitely still don’t like you.”

But the way his eyes lingered on yours told a different story….

[yourbiggestcrybaby]

Dark Side

Tom Riddle X Reader

Tom is aware you have come from a school where the dark arts are taught. He knows you can help him and he knows just how to convince you

Warnings: slight manipulation, dark arts

The restricted section of the library was quiet. Tom watched you scan the shelves, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You were so focused, so intent on finding something in these dusty old shelves. He knew what you were searching for, even if you didn’t know it yourself yet. Power. Knowledge that Hogwarts would never hand over to you willingly.

He let the silence stretch before stepping forward, making sure his footsteps were just loud enough to be heard. Predictably, you spun around, masking the flicker of surprise in your eyes almost as quickly as it appeared. A good sign. You were sharp, quicker than most, but Tom wasn’t worried about that. If anything, it made this more interesting.

"Looking for something forbidden, are we?" he murmured, keeping his voice low, watching you like a hawk. He saw the slight shift in your expression, the hint of wariness. Perfect. You were already on guard, already trying to figure him out. Good, he thought. Be curious. That’ll make this so much easier.

“Tom,” you replied, your tone carefully neutral. “Didn’t expect anyone else here.”

He smiled, just enough to put you off balance. “Ah, yes. You wouldn’t,” he replied smoothly, moving in closer, careful to make his steps calm, unthreatening. He had a knack for knowing when to press in and when to pull back, a skill that had already gotten him access to more knowledge than any other student his age. This was no different.

As he approached, he let his gaze drift to the book you’d picked up, one you’d clearly grabbed on impulse. The wrong choice, but he’d let you realize that on your own. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, amusement in his voice. "Interesting choice,” he said lightly. “But I’d think someone with your background would be interested in… other texts.”

He saw the faint flicker of unease in your eyes, the way you adjusted your grip on the book. So, he thought with a flash of satisfaction, it’s true. Your dark arts training didn’t fade as quickly as Dumbledore had hoped. He watched your expression carefully, knowing that his mention of your past would strike a nerve. It always did. People who came from the darker schools always felt that edge of suspicion in places like Hogwarts, the feeling of being an outsider, of hiding something.

“Maybe I am,” you replied, cool but not defensive. Not bad, he thought. You were trying to keep him at a distance, trying to keep control of the conversation. But you wouldn’t last long. He’d made sure of that.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he said, a hint of intrigue in his voice. He let his tone stay casual, almost amused, but not enough to hide the curiosity in his eyes. He’d learned early on that interest was a powerful tool; people always responded to the thrill of being noticed. “But Hogwarts might not have what you’re used to. Not openly, anyway.” He watched you closely, seeing the way his words drew you in. “Still, you know the things taught where you are from aren’t forgotten here. If anything, they’re just… hidden better.”

The way you studied him then, the hint of resistance, it was clear you weren’t going to give in easily. He almost smirked. Good, he thought, his pulse quickening. It’s always more interesting when they resist.

“And why are you so interested in my old curriculum?” you asked, your voice still light, but he could hear the guarded edge.

He leaned back a little, letting his posture go easy, almost dismissive, knowing how much more effective that would be than anything intense. “Oh, I’m not interested in that,” he said, shrugging slightly. “I’m interested in you.” He let that sink in, watching as the idea took root. “A student who actually knows what magic can do beyond the harmless charms and tricks we’re taught here. I’d think you know spells and techniques that others couldn’t even imagine.” He paused, just long enough to watch your expression shift. “Which, naturally, would make you quite valuable.”

Valuable. That word always worked. It was true, after all, though not in the way you might have thought. Tom’s mind was already racing, already calculating how he might use what you knew, what you dark school had taught you. And the best part was that you wanted this power, even if you hadn’t fully admitted it to yourself. That hunger—it was just under the surface, buried behind all the polite airs and restraint you wore. He’d seen it in the way you looked at certain spells in class, the ones that made the others shrink back in fear. He knew exactly how to draw that side of you out.

“Valuable?” You raised an eyebrow, keeping your tone casual. “And you think you’re the one to show me how?”

He almost laughed. Predictable, he thought. You wanted to believe you could see through him, that you weren’t impressed. But he could see it in your eyes, that flicker of curiosity. He tilted his head, letting his gaze sharpen, his expression just serious enough to make you feel like he was seeing something no one else could. “I think you have a potential that most at this school couldn’t even comprehend. Power that few would understand.” He paused, as if measuring his words carefully. “You could accomplish so much, if only you'd... let go of certain reservations.”

He watched as your expression shifted, and he knew he’d struck a chord. Yes, he thought, his pulse quickening again. Let that sink in. It was always the first step. Plant the seed, make them doubt their limitations. After that, it was only a matter of time before they came to him willingly, before they were willing to do anything he suggested.

“I know you don’t believe in the rules, not really,” he continued, his voice calm and coaxing. “And Hogwarts isn’t giving you what you need. Not truly. They’re holding you back, but you’re far too intelligent to let the Ministry’s silly morals stand in your way.”

He could almost see the thoughts racing in your mind, the way you were weighing his words, considering the possibility of everything he was offering. Yes, he thought, pleased. Think about it. Let it fester.

[steddiealltheway]

Coming back to say that this went in a completely different direction than I imagined, but I’m just gonna keep it.

Obsessed with the idea of Steve trying to be Eddie’s wingman.

Like one day Eddie is lingering around Family Video and Steve notices a girl eyeing his friend. And yeah, Eddie is cute, Steve isn’t afraid to admit that, but he’s never seen him even attempt to ask a girl out. So he decides it’s time to maybe encourage him or do it for him.

So, Steve follows this girl over to the horror section - and look at that, similar interests! - and notes that Eddie is following behind him. And yeah, the girl is pretty cute, she even has some metal looking band on her t-shirt that Steve is sure Eddie mentioned to him before. Oh! They’re definitely on the mixtape Eddie made for him. This is perfect.

So, Steve taps on the girl’s shoulder and smiles when he notices her staring at Eddie over his shoulder. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you needed any help.”

The girl replies in a higher voice than Steve expected, “Oh… I… I don’t know.” Jackpot. She’s utterly enamored by Eddie. And yeah, she should be when he’s wearing his hair in that messy bun and those jeans that fit just right.

Steve takes a moment to think about how well those jeans fit before shaking himself out of it. Weird. But he has a mission. “Well, my friend here knows all there is to know about horror movies, so I’ll let him help you.”

Steve gives Eddie a quick pat on the shoulder, noting how adorable he is when he looks panicked. He goes back to the counter and watches as the girl nervously twirls her hair around her finger, then she’s loudly laughing and Eddie looks startled. Steve tries to suppress a laugh.

Then the girl is picking a movie and thanking Eddie for his help while trailing a hand down his arm. Steve’s stomach churns. Must’ve had something bad for lunch or something, but that doesn’t explain why he feels so… angry with himself. He’ll deal with that later. But now the girl is rushing to the counter.

Steve notices Eddie lingering in the horror section, likely a little flustered by the whole interaction. So Steve winks at the girl and says, “So, I see my friend was a great help to you.”

The girl giggles in response and leans forward. “Does your friend have plans tomorrow night?” she asks then bites her lip.

“With you at nine o’clock? Absolutely. I’ll give him your number in case he needs to reschedule.”

The girl scribbles down her number on a notepad Steve hands her then they exchange notepad for her tape. “Have a goodnight!” Steve yells after her and looks down at the note. Why does he want to rip it to shreds? The front door shuts.

“What the hell was that?” Eddie asks and Steve jumps not realizing he was at the counter.

“I was helping you out, man. Being your wingman.” Steve shrugs it off and starts organizing the returns in piles by genre, struggling to find why Eddie is so pissed at him.

“Maybe let me decide who I want to ask out, Harrington,” Eddie bites out, shoving the tapes to the side.

What the hell? And Harrington? He hasn’t heard that in a while. And something about it pisses Steve off. “Well, Munson, if you actually went on dates then I wouldn’t feel the need to help you.”

“Help me,” Eddie scoffs. “I’m not some damsel in distress that needs saving King Steve.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve says turning around to try to look busy at the computer so Eddie doesn’t see the way the name gets to him.

Eddie hops over the counter as Steve is typing the girl’s name into the system and finding her past rentals. “Why not? King Steve can’t help but try to save The Freak. Why not just call it as it is?”

Steve turns around and runs a hand through his hair. “Why are you getting so worked up about this? It’s just a date!”

“I’ve never been on a date, you asshole! And I certainly wouldn’t want to go on one with a girl because I want to go on one with you!” Eddie yells then the color drains from his face as he must realize what he’s just admitted.

Steve freezes to process what Eddie’s just said. But then Eddie’s backing up and saying, “I have to go.” He turns to jump over the counter again, but Steve comes to his senses and latches onto his wrist stopping him.

Eddie slowly turns to him and whispers, “Please, don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Eddie,” Steve says still latching onto his wrist. “Just… give me a minute, and please don’t run.”

Eddie reluctantly nods at him as Steve lets go of his wrist. His eyes flicker to the door, but his feet remain in place.

Steve stares at him and processes. Eddie wants to go on a date with him. Okay. He’s had girls who have had a crush on him before that wasn’t reciprocated, and he easily turned them down. Some of them he even remained sort of friends with.

But for some reason the news is making his heart race in a good way. Like… a really good way. Almost like he wants to go on a date with Eddie. But he’s… not gay. Right?

His eyes slowly roam over Eddie, and then he stops when he realizes he’s blatantly checking him out. But when has that stopped him from checking out his friend before?

Oh. Oh shit. He thinks about the way he notices the fit of his jeans, and the way he loves when Eddie pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to expose more skin. He thinks about how he’s always been curious what it would be like for girls to kiss Eddie when he’s let his scruff slightly grow in. But then he imagines what it would be like for him to experience that. And his world kind of combusts.

He likes Eddie. Like really likes him. Not just physically but like, he loves the way he scrunches his nose up at the music Steve plays but sometimes reluctantly sings along. He loves the way his lame jokes make the corner of Eddie’s eyes crinkle. He loves that bright smile he gets on his face whenever he’s messing around with the kids. He loves whenever Eddie comes by the store and lingers for as long as he can just to keep him company.

He thinks back to the way he felt when the girl traced her hand over his arm, and the way the thought of Eddie using her number to call her made him feel… jealous. Holy shit. Oh he’s such an idiot. But an idiot who can make amends.

He notices how Eddie is practically shaking while Steve has just been standing there not saying anything. He needs to fix this. “Are you free tomorrow at nine?”

A look of betrayal crosses over Eddie’s face. “I’m not going on a date with that girl. You can’t make me straight-”

“No! That’s not… shit. That’s not at all what I meant,” Steve huffs out and runs a hand through his hair. He’s messing this up more. Shit. Okay, here it goes. “I’m asking if you’re free tomorrow to see if you can go on a date… with me.”

Now it’s Eddie turn to freeze and process. A few excruciatingly long seconds later Eddie is responding, “Are you kidding me?” Steve’s heart drops to his stomach. Eddie continues, “You’re asking me out before I got the chance to?”

Steve can’t help but burst out laughing. Eddie joins him but between laughs he says, “I’m serious! This is unfair!” For some reason this makes Steve laugh harder, and soon enough he’s wiping tears from his eyes as Eddie looks at him fondly.

“You’re free tomorrow at nine though, right?” Steve asks.

“No, but are you free tomorrow at nine o one to go on a date with me?” Eddie asks and Steve is cackling all over again.

The bell to the front door rings and Robin enters. She looks at the two and asks, “What the hell did I miss during my break? I was only gone for fifteen minutes.”

This only manages to make Steve laugh more as Eddie joins him.

[sativariddle]

⤷ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢.

other chapters here.

SUMMARY ┆ ↴

the name riddle always made your blood run cold, the malicious surname of a malicious man tasting like poison on your tongue. so when dumbledore declared that mattheo riddle would be attending hogwarts, you felt a chill of dread settle over the great hall

when? why? how could dumbledore allow this? the child of his greatest enemy now strode through the towering doors of the great hall, his presence steeped in an air of menace and cold, unspoken cruelty.

how could someone as ruthless as a slytherin ever find love? it seemed impossible—mattheo was a stranger to the very idea. but everything changes when he meets you. though in his world, love isn’t the light, joyful feeling it’s supposed to be. for him, love means accepting you, flaws and all.

WARNINGS ┆mentions of; torture, mental trauma, physical trauma, violence, characters death, drug and alcohol addiction, sexual themes, parent neglect

"excuse me, i'm just going to slip between you two—oh, sorry! i didn't mean to step on your foot."

apologies spilled from your lips, repeating endlessly like a stuck record as you made your way through the crowd of wide-eyed first years. the hogwarts express was a chaotic mess of moving bodies and luggage, and you were desperate to reach the hufflepuff compartment. "coming through, sorry!"

each compartment was filled.

you just hoped your friends had managed to find one.

as you hurried down the busy train, you passed the blue and bronze of ravenclaw's section before reaching the scarlet and gold of gryffindor. your eyes scanned the compartments and immediately landed on the familiar faces of harry, ron, and hermione.

a gentle smile tugged at your glossed lips as you pulled open the gryffindor compartment door, causing harry, ron, and hermione to look up, their eyes settling on the bubbly hufflepuff.

harry gave them a look that clearly said they would continue the conversation later, as it wasn't over yet.

hermione swiveled to face you, her smile mirroring your own cheerful expression. "good summer?" she inquired, her eyebrows raising expectantly.

"amazing!" you exclaimed, your eyes shining with delight. "the books you sent were wonderful - i couldn't stop reading them! mum said she never would have guessed i'd put the books down, i carried them everywhere." you chattered happily, hermione nodding along with every word, her smile growing wider.

"glad you did," hermione replied cheekily, turning to harry and ron. "told you she would appreciate them more than you two."

ron grumbled something under his breath, his arms crossing slightly.

harry, however, wasn't paying attention to ron's muttering. instead, he turned towards you, his expression curious.

"have you got a clue on what you're going to write for the hogwarts daily Insight?" harry asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as soon as the words left his mouth.

‘hogwarts daily insight’ was an idea you had begged dumbledore to approve for an entire four years. you argued it was only fair to keep people informed about what went on within the castle walls.

after all, witches and wizards were naturally curious—many had children attending hogwarts, so why shouldn’t they know what was happening inside?

not everyone liked the idea, of course.

some professors warned dumbledore it could lead to another rita skeeter, stirring up gossip and trouble.

but dumbledore, in his wisdom, saw potential in your vision. he trusted you completely. if anyone could handle the responsibility of such a project, it was you—no question about it.

your goal was never to create drama or make anyone feel bad. you simply reported what happened at hogwarts and submitted your articles to dumbledore.

if he deemed them unfit for publication, they stayed unpublished. but if he believed your work provided meaningful insight, he allowed it to be shared. so far, not a single one of your articles had been denied.

harry had been skeptical when he first heard hermione praising your article. but his doubts disappeared when you received requests from witches and wizards asking for stories about him. instead of running with the idea, you asked harry directly if he was comfortable with it.

when he said he wasn’t, you immediately dropped the subject.

he respected you for that—and from then on, he trusted you to handle his announcements, knowing your work would reach the entire school via breakfast readings of the daily mail.

as your articles grew in popularity, you noticed a shift in how people treated you.

some students tried to cozy up to you, hoping to get their own feature in your work, but you weren't interested in catering to petty drama or personal agendas.

'hogwarts daily insight' was the opposite of that—an honest look at life at the school. you refused to let it become anything less.

fan mail began pouring in, filled with admiration for your intelligence and the originality of your idea.

many readers expressed how much they wished you had started it sooner. you had, of course—but convincing dumbledore had taken years of persistence.

"not at the moment, harry," you say with a gentle laugh, amused by his eagerness. "we've only just boarded the train. writing about trying to find my friends' compartment isn't exactly daily insight material, is it?"

he glanced over at ron and hermione, both shooting him warning glares that clearly said, ‘don’t even think about it.’

but if there was one thing certain about the boy who lived, it was his stubbornness.

“have you heard?”

your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, clearly indicating you hadn't heard anything. "heard of what?" you asked softly, a slight frown pulling at your lips, curiosity evident in your voice.

harry glanced past you to the compartment door, double-checking that no one was lurking outside, before turning back to you.

“malfoy being a death eater—”

before he could finish, ron kicked his leg, and hermione shook her head sharply, a silent warning.

your eyes widened in shock. “what—?” you looked over at ron and hermione, their stern glares directed at harry only adding weight to his claim. “are… are you sure? that’s a serious accusation, harry—”

“—and i want you to write about it in your article, to warn the witches and wizards in the castle and—”

before harry could finish, hermione smacked him on the head with the folded article she’d been holding.

“you, of all people, should know what it feels like to be the subject of false accusations—” hermione started, but harry cut her off with a sharp glare through his round glasses, clearly recalling the events of fourth year and rita skeeter’s lies.

“It’s not false!” harry snapped.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “look, i need to find my friends. harry, we’ll talk about this later.”

harry gave you a small, appreciative nod. hermione, meanwhile, shook her head in exasperation but ultimately said nothing more. ron shrugged as if to say, what can you do?

turning on your heel, you opened the compartment door and headed down the corridor, making your way toward the hufflepuff section in search of your friends.

spotting one of them, you slid open the door to the compartment.

genevieve turned toward you with a grin, her sleek black hair swaying over her back. “well, if it isn’t my favorite little journalist,” she teased, laughing when you rolled your eyes playfully. “nice to see you too.”

“where are hannah, ernie, and justin?” you questioned, settling into the seat across from her.

“they’re looking for you. thought you might’ve missed the train,” she said, leaning back in her seat.

you nodded, smiling faintly.

the great hall was silent.

usually, the hall buzzed with the typical teenage drama: excited whispers about daily prophet headlines, eager discussions about upcoming classes, and the usual gossip that filled any gathering of young witches and wizards.

but today... today was different.

the great hall, once vibrant and sparkling, now seemed covered in a dreary, grey pallor, as if the air itself was heavy with unseen dread.

the usual joyful chatter and laughter was replaced by an oppressive silence, broken only by the occasional hushed whisper.

tense.

"now, as you know, each of you was searched upon your arrival tonight. you have a right to know why."

shivers ran down your spine, making your hufflepuff robes feel impossibly drafty despite their warmth.

goosebumps prickled along your neck and arms, and you unconsciously hugged yourself tighter, pulling the thick yellow fabric closer around your shoulders.

your quill and parchment were tucked under your arm, just in case you needed to jot something down for your article.

"once, there was a young man who, like you, sat in this very hall. he walked these castle corridors and slept beneath its roof. to the world, he seemed like any other student."

only a fool would dare say the dark lord's name aloud, and dumbledore was known for his foolishly brilliant mind. he didn't shy away from speaking the name that made grown wizards tremble: “his name? tom riddle.”

dumbledore looked at you, then at the quill and parchment tucked under your arm. you immediately spread it out in front of you, quill poised, ready to take notes on dumbledore's words.

"today, of course, the world knows him by a different name."

the great hall hung heavy with a silence so profound that you could have sworn you heard the faintest rustle of your own partchment echo as you gulped down a nervous lump in your throat.

“help will always be given at hogwarts to those who need it,” dumbledore intoned solemnly, his twinkling eyes scanning the room. “and with that, let us welcome our new student, mattheo riddle.”

riddle.

as the murmurs and whispers around the house tables grew louder and more insistent, the massive oak doors of the great hall swung open dramatically, creaking on their hinges and revealing the figure that had silenced the entire castle.

entered mattheo riddle, his presence electrifying the silence.

his eyes, shockingly brown and cold as glass, were fixed unblinkingly on dumbledore, something darker flickering in their depths.

why? how could dumbledore let this happen?

your eyes involuntarily widened as mattheo began his purposeful walk down the aisle, then darted quickly to your friends - hermione's analytical gaze fixed intently on the new arrival, ron's jaw slightly agape, and harry's expression a combination of confusion and something that oddly resembled recognition.

their eyes bulged, jaws slack, as they stared in disbelief at mattheo's confident stride.

dumbledore had allowed him to enter with barely a nod, as if the most notorious dark wizard since grindelwald wasn't his own father, walking down the aisle like he owned the place, his tanned face marred by ominous scars visible even beneath the hood of his cloak.

as mattheo approached, dumbledore didn't even extend his hand towards the sorting hat; instead, it quicly bellowed "SLYTHERIN!"

"did you see his face? it was covered in scratches—"

"—i didn't think the dark lord would name his son mattheo, it makes no sense."

"people say he’s already hexed a first year—"

"he’s kind of cute though—"

"—you’ve lost your mind, hannah—"

you let out a quiet sigh. it’s not that you’re upset with your friends for spending the entire evening talking about the dark lord’s son, but their chatter left you with hardly any time to write. they had been going on and on, leaving you no room to retreat into your parchment.

it seemed like everyone in the castle was on edge about mattheo’s arrival, openly whispering or speculating about him.

as long as your paths didn’t cross, everything would be fine. you really didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

then again, the idea of a teenage boy hurting someone felt ridiculous to you. it was such a cruel, unkind thought that you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

you stood up from the couch, feeling restless. the hufflepuff common room was busier than usual, packed with students eager to gossip about the events of the day.

all you wanted was a moment of quiet—somewhere to clear your mind away from the noise and chatter.

your friends didn’t even notice when you got up. they were too caught up in their hushed conversation, deep in thought and whispers. you didn’t want to interrupt them, so you left quietly without saying a word.

you made a point to say a quick ‘hello’ to anyone you passed in the halls.

it was a small gesture, but you believed it mattered. at a place like hogwarts, where some students seemed to drift through their days without close friends, a simple greeting might remind them they weren’t invisible—that they weren’t alone.

you could tell by their forced smiles and averted gazes that they meant well, but today just wasn't their day. their greetings were laced with uncomfortable tension, but you knew it wasn't personal - they were just having one of those days.

you reassured yourself that it was perfectly fine - after all, everyone has off days. people are human, with all their complexities and mood swings. you shrugged it off.

heading towards the library seemed like the safest option since you doubted there was anyone in there at the moment. even if there were, it’s a library—they have to be quiet.

the castle corridors were relatively empty as you walked, the few students you encountered either strolling with a friend or being escorted by a professor.

the sound of your footsteps echoed softly against the ancient stone walls, broken only by the occasional murmur of conversation or rustle of robes.

your steps quickened, eager to blend into the shadows rather than stand out as an easy target. being a hufflepuff somehow marked you as 'less than' in their eyes, and you dreaded the inevitable jabs or sneers that often came with walking alone.

the library—a place of comfort. no noise, just the comforting hum of people around you, either reading a textbook or scribbling on some notes.

it truly was a good place to get some peace and quiet.

as you settled into a chair tucked away in the corner of the library, you pulled your legs under the cold wood of the table.

your fingers absently drummed against the cover of your textbook as you tried to focus. but then your eyes flicked upward, and across the vast, quiet library, you saw him—riddle.

he stood in the middle of the library, flanked by a group of familiar slytherins: pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, theodore nott, and draco malfoy.

mattheo lounged in a chair, a cigarette dangling negligently between his fingers, smoke lazily curling around him as if he were the ruler of the room. his expression was arrogant, almost daring, as if he were inviting a challenge.

you frowned slightly, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. even from across the room, your thoughts began to spiral.

how on earth was he getting away with smoking in a place where ‘no smoking’ signs were practically everywhere?

was everyone else oblivious to the faint trail of smoke curling upward, or were you the only one who even noticed?

as if sensing your gaze, mattheo suddenly looked up, his dark eyes scanning the room.

blaise was speaking beside him, but it didn’t seem to register—his attention had already drifted.

then, his eyes found you.

snake meets badger.

an annoyed smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he locked his gaze onto yours. he didn’t look away, his expression almost daring, like he’d caught you in a private moment you hadn’t intended to share.

mattheo shook his head quietly, clearly not in the slightest amused by the way your gaze snapped back down to your parchment paper, only for you to risk a glance back up again.

you silently cursed yourself for your staring problem—a habit you thought you’d buried long ago. ever since that first-year incident, when you’d stared at snape for too long and he made an example of you in front of the entire class.

“fragile little hufflepuff,” he’d sneered, leaving you humiliated. you’d vowed to fix it after that, but old habits had a funny way of creeping back.

across the room, mattheo leaned closer to his friends, whispering something that made them snicker. whatever he said, it clearly wasn’t meant to stay between them, because within moments, the group of slytherins began to move—slowly straying from their spot and making their way toward you.

mattheo's hands are stuck in the pockets of his robes, his head tilted to the side as he watched you forcefully write down nonsense, pretending as if you had been doing it the whole time, which you should’ve been.

mattheo and his slytherin friends approach the oak table you are sitting at, and they circle you like a pack of hyenas surrounding an antelope.

they all smile wide and mocking, except for mattheo and draco, whose expressions are dark and calculating as they size you up. the others, fueled by their slytherin pride, circle around you like vultures, their eyes roving over your form.

mattheo is the first to break the silence, his voice dripping with annoyance as he flicks his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out under the heel of his dirty shoes.

"looks like we got ourselves here a little rita skeeter," he drawls, running his teeth along his bottom teeth. "fuck are you doin’ snoopin' around." you flinch as he leans in, his breath hot and stale against your face.

you knew the slytherins would inform him about your daily article—they despised it more than anyone. they’d tear it up right in front of you or ‘accidentally’ spill something on your notes whenever you were too focused to notice them lurking nearby.

above all, they knew you were too kind-hearted to write anything terrible about them in your article.

his friends continue to laugh beside him, leaning on each other for support as they all keep their predatory gazes locked on you.

you can feel the weight of their judgment as they circle you.

“i wasn’t snooping.” you tried to sound more clear, but you were so scared that your voice slightly cracked, looking at all of them through your eyelashes. “i just came here for some peace and quiet. i hadn’t got a clue you’d lot be in here, ‘m sorry—very, very sorry—”

mattheo raises an eyebrow at your cracking voice; he found it so fucking annoying. the slytherins around him chuckle, some of them sharing amused glances.

your apology seems to only fuel their desire to mess with you.

“oh, you’re sorry, are you?” he asks, his voice dripping with mockery. “how sorry are you?”

you knew they were messing with you, taking advantage of your kindness. but you couldn’t come back with a good response because all you saw were teenagers scared of their parents—at the end of the day—everyone in the castle are just kids and their first time living.

grabbing the parchment and quill you brought, you tuck it under your arm as you get up off the wooden chair. “i’m very sorry, i’ll be going now—”

as you begin to turn away, mattheo swiftly steps in front of you, blocking your path and forcing you to stop. the other slytheirns chuckle under their breaths, amused at the sight of you trapped.

his tall frame looming over you as he drawled, "whoa, whoa, hold on a second." his hand reached out, grabbing your parchment’s that were bunched up together and sending it clattering to the floor. "i don't think you're sorry enough just yet."

you didn’t want to start a problem; you hated the thought of going to sleep with a target on your back. you had to make sure you were good with everyone. “look, i really don’t want any problems. i’m really sorry.”

you dropped to your knees, desperately trying to gather the scattered parchments, your face burning with humiliation as you willed yourself not to cry, hoping that they would just leave you alone.

mattheo rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your apologies.

“sorry ‘s not gonna cut it," he snaps. "you’ve interrupted our discussion. you think a simple ‘sorry’ is gonna make up for it?”

his slytherin friends didn’t utter a single word, only adding a few laughs here and there, but you could tell they were scared shitless of mattheo.

but then again, who wouldn’t be?

you didn’t think twice and started walking away.

mattheo reaches out lightning fast, his hand gripping your wrist and yanking you back roughly.

“oh, no you don’t,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with anger. “not going anywhere just yet.”

going back and forth made the inside of your stomach twist; you just wanted to be back in the safety of your own dorm walls. “can you guys just leave me alone? i’ll be on my way, swear to you.”

mattheo looks down at you, his grip on your wrist tightening.

“temper, temper,” he mocks, his voice dripping with mockery. “you owe me an apology.”

you didn’t have to be told twice. if he felt he needed an apology, you’d happily give it to him. you hated being on people’s bad side. “i’m sorry,” you say.

mattheo arches an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your apology. “that’s it?” he quips, his grip on your wrist not letting up. “you think i’m gonna let you go with a little easly ‘i’m sorry’? you can do better than that.”

you nodded, taking this as help rather than insulting. “i’m sorry for interrupting you,” you try again.

mattheo lets out an exaggerated sigh, his eyes rolling. "yeah, i heard you say that," he sneers. "but ‘s not what you said, it's about the delivery. try again, and make it sound like you mean it."

you scrunched your eyebrows together since you had really meant it the two other times.

apologizing was something you’d always do willingly—if you ever upset or offended someone, even by accident, you felt it was only right to make amends.

“i’m very deeply sorry for intruding on you and your friends,” you said, your voice earnest. “i shouldn’t have come down to the library.”

mattheo chuckles, his eyes raking over you. "better," he hums, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "now get the fuck out of here before i change my mind. you’re also infuriating as fuck, shit pisses me off."

[sa1nts-and-s1nners]

Remember, I hate you (pt.1)

Rohan x Savannah

content: tension, banter, close proximity etc (tell me if i missed anything)

pt.2

word count: 660

a/n: This is my first fic (that I'm publicly publishing) so if you have any constructive feedback I won't mind. We didn't get Savannah's pov in tgg so I wanted to explore how she would view Rohan.

Savannah took out a pin from her fancy updo when she heard a knock at her door. I thought he wasn't coming today

She walked slowly towards the door, letting the other person on the other side wait in anticipation. It's what he deserves anyway she thought to herself, ridding the image of his body close to hers the last time he'd shown up at her door

Not a lot of things excited Savannah. The occasional challenge with Gigi or mind games with her half brother were interesting and being the queen of the court, commanding the game with the ball was her greatest joy—until the injury took that away from her

but this? this was a hell lot more than exciting

"Hello, love" Rohan greeted her as she opened the door "Almost thought you weren't going to open the door"

"Almost considered it"

"You wound me," he said dramatically, gliding inside with a sly smile. "What made you change your mind?"

"Thought I could use some help with this" she gestured towards her hair that was riddled with bobby pins and god knows what else. A wolfish smile took over his face, his real smile savannah realised with a start, immediately ignoring the effect that it had on her

"Is the unconquerable Savannah Grayson bested by a few pins?" He asked, joining her at vanity as she sat down. God, she could hear the grin in his voice. She distantly wondered if it was a bad idea letting him into her room. Probably, but at the moment she didn't care. She craved a distraction, and he was exactly that—handsome, perilous, and intriguingly unpredictable. They'd made a deal anyway. A few late night meetings wasn't going to change their goals. They were made to betray each other in the end and nothing could be done to change that course. It made this moment all the more sweeter.

He started gently picking out pins one by one, being absolutely careless with the way his hand grazed her neck. He brushed his hand through her hair, separating the bigger knots before picking up the brush. Savannah tried to keep her breathing in control and avoided arching into his touch. She couldn't lose control like she did before ever again. This was a punishment and her damnation in the sweetest form.

He carefully divided her hair into sections, brushing each one with the practiced ease of someone who had done this countless times before. Yet, the focused intensity in his eyes made it feel like he was experiencing it anew. He was gentle, as if he was afraid of her hurting her. Which was ridiculous, he'd never held back before. She met his eyes in the mirror

"Rohan?" She'd learnt to read him just as well he'd learnt to read her and she knew the effect of saying his name would have on him. She loved it

"Hm?"

"Truth or Dare?"

He paused for a second before answering "Truth"

"Why did you come here tonight?" He'd told her that he had to stop visiting her because it was no longer a calculated risk for him. Savannah had no idea what he meant by that. He lived for risks and breaking the rules so his sudden change in behaviour was baffling but she didn’t dare ask him to explain—she couldn’t let him think she cared. But curiosity gnawed at her insides

"Can I switch to Dare?"

"No"

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as his voice dropped to a whisper. "Maybe I didn’t want to be alone tonight." The closeness of his lips sent a shiver down her spine, the words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken intent.

His answer caught her off guard, and just as she was about to press him for more, he shifted the moment with a simple, loaded question: "Truth or Dare?"

She saw the challenge in his eyes and replied "Dare"

[vodika-vibes]

I saw that you asked for crosshair requests, and I had an idea I figured I'd run by you in case it gave you any inspiration. I was thinking about a kind of friends to loves situation with crosshair and his casual flirting suggesting a friends with benefits situation, but the reader says no despite clearly being attracted to him, and when pressed confesses to being afraid of falling in love with him if they hook up. idk if that's smth you want to write, just hope you focus on stuff you want to do and don't burn yourself out :)

We Could Be More

Summary: Summary: You and Crosshair are friends, only the emotions are a little…more. You’re not really surprised when Crosshair comes to you with a proposition. Friends with benefits would make sense, it’s not as if the Empire will allow you more. You’re both surprised when you turn him down.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1577

Warnings: Discussions of a friends with benefits type situation, some adult discussion, Crosshair demands an explanation when the Reader says no, discussion of the lack of clone rights

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope this is close to the idea that you had. I had fun writing it, and I'm so glad that people are feeding my sudden, and surprising, crosshair obsession. RIP me.

You enjoy your job.

You’d enjoy it more if you had your own workshop, or even a workspace that wasn’t a small, unused, section of the ship.

Hell, at this point, you’d be happy with having a chair and a desk so you don’t have to sit on the floor while repairing the mouse droids. You’d also accept a cushion, or a thick blanket.

But no.

You have to sit on the floor with little mouse droids zipping around you while you make sure they work properly.

Still, you like working with droids. They’re easy. Easier than your co-workers.

Well, easier than most of your co-workers.

You flip the mouse droid back on its wheels, and it zooms around you, chattering happily. “Alright, you’re all set,” You say to the droid, “Watch out for more Admirals.”

The little droid chatters and then zooms out the tunnel that leads to your…hallway(?) and you sigh and stretch your arms over your head. Maybe if you send a very polite email to your supervisor you can get a desk…or at least a proper cushion.

“You know,” You yelp at the voice coming from the doorway, “I think you like those droids more than anyone else on this ship, kitten.”

“Don’t do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack,” You say as you press your hand over your pounding heart. And then you drop your hand and glance up at the much taller man, “I thought you were on a mission, Cross?”

“I was, and now I’m not. Funny how that happens.”

“Ooh, you think you're funny, don’t you?” You say with an amused grin on your lips.

“Funnier than most of the people on this ship, yeah.” Crosshair leans against the wall and slides down so he’s sitting next to you, his knees raised and his arms draped over his knees, “Busy morning?”

“Isn’t it always?” You ask with a sigh, “One of the mouse droids was in the way when a member of the Imperial Guard came though, and nearly crushed him to pieces.” You gesture to the side, “It’s over there, somewhere.”

“Bad luck.”

“Tell me about it.” You say with a sigh, “It’s going to take me days to rebuild it.”

“Hm.” Crosshair hums noncommittally. “What’s the Imperial Guard doing here?”

“Hell if I know. You think anyone tells me anything?” You ask with a grin.

“Nah, but I know the mouse droids pick up audio.” Crosshair replies.

“Crosshair, are you implying that I’m spying on my coworkers, because that would be very, very wrong of me.”

“Uh-huh.”

You keep his gaze for a moment, before a grin cracks your face, “Okay, apparently the Emperor’s ship needed repairs, some kind of space debris.” You shrug, “I dunno, I don’t work on ships, I work on droids.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they could fit a ship in your hallway.”

“Excuse you, this is my office, sir.”

“And you can’t even afford a chair, or a desk. Shame.”

You laugh and bump him with your shoulder, “Rude, maybe I like sitting on the floor.”

“Do you?”

“No. I think my butt is numb.”

Crosshair’s eyes glitter with mischief, “Want me to massage it for you?”

“I don’t think you’ve earned butt touching privileges.” You counter with a sniff.

“Shame. You have a really nice one. Very round and squeezable.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a massage. It sounds like you just want to grope me.”

He shrugs, “Same thing.”

“Very different.” You correct him with a laugh.

“Not the way I do it.”

“Oh? You have a lot of practice then?”

“Well, I might be a little out of practice. I haven’t had the chance to practice my skills since the Republic fell.” Crosshair admits.

“Aww, poor thing. How ever will you survive?” You tease him lightly as a new mouse droid limps in and you grab it and flip it immediately.

“I have a pretty good idea,” Crosshair counters as he leans back against the wall, his gaze locked on you.

You hum thoughtfully as you examine the wheels.

You and Crosshair are friends, because that’s all the Empire will allow. It’s illegal for Crosshair to have relations with people. And actual relationships are out of the question. Which is a shame, you’d be interested in seeing where this, whatever it might be, could go if given the chance.

You pull a piece of metal out from the wheel well, and then set the droid back on its wheels, and it scurries away. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Crosshair stares at you, a small smirk on his lips. “I have a…proposition, of sorts, kitten.”

You arch a single brow, “Go ahead.”

His smirk grows, “When was the last time you got laid?”

Your face burns, “I’m not answering that.”

“Come on, kitten, it’s me.”

You fold your arms, “If you tease me even once-”

“I would never.”

“Yes, you will.” You grumble. Crosshair flashes, what he probably thinks is, an angelic look, and you huff and avert your eyes. “...fine, I’ve never actually-”

A broad grin crosses his face, “Kitten, are you a virgin?”

You scowl at him, “You heard me.”

He looks absolutely delighted, and you consider kicking him in the shin for half a minute. “That makes my proposition even better.”

“If you’re about to tease me-”

“How do you feel about a friends with benefits type situation?” Crosshair interrupts you.

Your words die on your tongue, and you blink at him, “...what.”

“You heard me.”

“I did, I’m just trying to process.” You admit, you hold up a finger, “I just told you that I’m a virgin, and you want a friends with benefits situationship. With me.”

“Did I stutter?”

“Just making sure I heard you correctly.”

“You did.”

You frown at him, rolling the idea around in your mind.

It’s not that you don’t want. Because you do. More than you’re ever going to put into words. Crosshair is so handsome and while he’s not kind, he is good. Good in a way that he doesn’t seem to see in himself.

You could love him, if you gave yourself the chance.

And you can’t risk that. You can’t risk him.

So, hating yourself a little, you focus your attention on him, “I’m flattered, Cross.” You say slowly, “But I think that’s a terrible idea.”

“Why?” His eyes narrow at you, “Because I’m a clone.”

“Of course not. That’s never been important to me.”

“Then what? You’re not attracted enough? I’m not nice enough?”

“Cross-”

“You didn’t flat-out refuse, you said it’s a terrible idea. Why is it a terrible idea?” Crosshair demands.

“Because.”

“Because isn’t an answer.”

“Because I’m afraid I’ll fall in love with you, and you’ll get hurt.” You say honestly.

Crosshair pauses, “...You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“I’m not dumb, Crosshair. I know it’s illegal for you to have sex with anyone. And it’s even more illegal for you to enter a relationship with someone. And the Empire isn’t the Republic, they will kill you before they’ll punish me.”

He leans back, his gaze calculating, “What if I said that I didn’t care?”

You frown at him, “I care, that’s enough for me.”

He leans in so that his face is only a few inches away from your own, “What if the Empire wasn’t a concern?”

You lean in as well, so that you're even closer, “You can’t bring down the Empire, Crosshair, you’re one man.”

“I could try, if you wanted me to.”

Your gaze softens, “As strong and broad as your shoulders are, that weight would still crush you, Cross.”

He searches your face for a moment, “What if we defected?”

“Please tell me you don’t want to defect simply so you can get laid?”

“I’m not dumb, it’s only a matter of time before they decommission me.” Crosshair says, “The Clones are expendable.”

Your hands curl into fists, your nails digging into the palms of your hands, “Cross-”

“So what do you say? If we defect, would you be willing to consider a friends with benefits relationship?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Hey, if I’m about to risk my life by running away from the largest government entity in the galaxy, I’d like to know if there are some perks on the other side.”

“Oh my god,” You push your hands through your hair, “Okay, fine. Yes. If we defected, and I knew you weren’t going to get yourself killed simply because you wanted to get your dick wet, then yes, I would agree to a friends with benefits relationship.”

He leans back, “Deal. We leave tonight.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Is it a good plan?”

Crosshair just smirks, “How many mouse droids can you call back right now?”

“...all of them, why?”

“Call them back, we’re going to rig them to blow up.”

Your jaw drops, “My babies-”

He rolls his eyes, “You have a better suggestion?”

“...no…”

“Great. Then get started. I’m going to come and get you tonight. We’re going to escape on one of the smaller ships.” Crosshair says.

“And go where?”

“Pabu.”

“I have questions.”

“My batch mates live there.”

“...I have even more questions.”

“They can wait.” Crosshair leans over to you and lightly kisses your temple, “You have work to do, kitten. I’ll see you tonight.”

And then Crosshair is gone, and you’re left feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.

[nothing-tolose]

All Because I Liked A Girl.

Part 2.

Warning: death threats, panic attack (?), lmk if i missed anything!

A/N: still kinda short anyway but yeah here it is. english isn't my first language so pls pls i hope u guys can understand t____t love u guys sm xoxo

Part 1.

🇵🇸 Daily click.

You keep your phone on screen after you saw those comments on school's blog. You couldn't tell what's happening right now, too many comments made you so hard to search the problem. You bring that thing to everywhere; kitchen, living room, porch, or even to the bathroom.

It's been two hours since you woke up and you haven't showered yet. You were too focused on your school's blog. You sit on your dining chair with a cup of water in front of you, fingers still scrolling and searching.

'Why there's so much bad comments towards me? Why do people keep mentioning Ellie and Anne in between my name?'

You keep asking the same question in your head. You have no idea. Because, oh really, what the fuck is happening right now? You didn't even do anything wrong before!

And you stopped scrolling when you saw Anne's post.

11 hours ago

@annel1se-torres

oh.. i think.. people should be know about a girl who just stole someone's girlfriend, yeah? been hiding this for months but i guess today is the right time to tell you all. aaanddd this isn't about a gossip at all since it was happened to me:)

i would never understand why did she still can smile so brightly after she stole my gf, oops, i mean.. my ex. sorry my bad ;(

there's no girls supporting girls when the one have NO SHAME 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

anyway, have a good night everyone! <3

You froze. You figured out that her post was the problem of all those bad comments, and that post finally answered your curiosity.

Who doesn't know about Anne, though? Everyone knew her as an 'IT GIRL' or something like that on your school. She was dated with Ellie back then and broke up 5 months ago. Everyone always praising her like she's the perfect one, no one could replace her. Good grades, good looking, good personality. Oh, she got them all.

You were confused. It was 5 months ago, you started talking with Ellie 3 months ago, and started dating with her a month after that. There's a little big gap between their relationship with yours, right? Why did she bring up about that and saying that you stole Ellie?

Did she really talking about you? Or you were just overanalyzing? Absolutely not. She haven't been in relationship after her break up with Ellie. If the post wasn't about you and Ellie, then who?

People in her comments section were shading you and even mentioning YOUR NAME.

@bracchiosoreuzz

I THINK I KNOW WHO ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT :0 her name starts with * right?

@annel1se-torres replied

@brachhiosoreuzz girl i know you're smart but shh 🤫

@butter-cheese777

i fucking agree w you anne, no girls supporting girls when the one have NOOO SHAAAMEEE FOR STEALING SOMEONE'S GIRLFRIEND!

@rainawastinghertime

lmfao, she's ugly tho why did ellie accept her to be her girlfriend? ugh she's not worthy to be compared with you, girl

@77-s18

ugly bitch always steal everything

@plhrmc

she should be dead fr i don't care what anyone says

@dont-lookat-m33 replied

@plhrmc hey delete that, you're going too far

@dont-lookat-m33

are you sure that she stole ellie from you? i mean, they started dating like around three months after your break up. think again, anne. im on your side if they were dating a week after the break up. she's already getting a death threat because of your post. not everything should be about you though.

@77-s18 replied

@dont-lookat-m33 guys it's her!!! use your real account you loser XD

You shouldn't have seen those comments, you should've just see the post. Those comments were worst than the first you saw before. The way Anne replied their comments, and didn't even care about the others. What's her actual problem with you? You both were never interacting before. All you know is Anne's post was absolutely a lie because you didn't even care abour her or thinking about her when you talking to Ellie for the first time until you dating with her.

It was your first time getting really really bad comments and death threats. You were definitely scared. Firstly they said they'll spit on you on Monday morning if you show up, and now they wishing you dead.

You can't stop scrolling and reading the comments, it gets worse. God, they made you scared to death. Your body starts to shaking, your hands too. You hold your tears.

Your phone buzzed when you were about to see more comments on Anne's post. Lauren calls you again.

"Hey, I just found the–"

"Lau, I.." You couldn't talk, words suddenly disappeared. Lauren can hear your breath, and you were panting. "I saw those comments. They–"

Lauren went silent, she took a deep breath, "Would you close the blog right now? Please?" Now she sounds more softer than the last call you had with her.

You nod slightly.

You swear to God, you can't hold your tears anymore. You were too scared, scared of what will happen next. What if they really spit on you? What if they give you a disgusting stare on you? And what if—

Then you cried.

You hear Lauren's voice from the call, "I'll be there in five minutes. Just sit there where you are and don't go to somewhere else." And she hang up.

Of course you're not going to anywhere. Your feet were limp, you couldn't do anything except crying.

Your phone screen was on, you can see the notifications on the screen there.

messages request from ssalxxxx

god i really hope you the worst

she's dating with you because she just wanted to make anne jealous

poor girl

messages request from qwrtxxxx

ellie was never happy with you and anne is better than you, girlie

i'll be waiting for your funeral 💘

You shut your eyes, you don't want to see it. But hey, remember that curiosity killed the cat.

messages from els <33

babe are you okay??

taglist: @backedbeansh

[spenglersweetheart]

IDEA IDEA IDEA

In the second movie, reader joins the ghostbusters again after they disbanded in the first movie and it seems everyone forgot how capable they actually are and the attitude they can have when catching ghosts

:0 oooh i can do this

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

You Forgot How Capable I Was

there's definitely a reader but this is all platonic!

WARNINGS : none!

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

YOU WERE MORE THAN HAPPY TO BE BACK WITH YOUR buddies working again. You were happy that the Ghostbusters were officially back together, back to working and catching ghosts. You were getting sick and tired of the teaching job that you had. You didn't mind teaching kids, you loved it. But sometimes, that was exhausting. So much more exhausting than catching ghosts.

But, there was something definitely off when you started back. You could barely help anyone. Or, the others wouldn't let you help them.

Whenever there was a call, they wanted you to stay behind. You didn't know the reason for this. The first time they banded, you were allowed to call on calls with them. Well, at least you could file the samples. Until that was pretty much taken away. So, sometimes you were stuck with Janine. And that wasn't a bad thing.

But you missed the adrenaline of ghostbusting. So why wouldn't they let you go with them?

There had been a call somewhere on 42nd. They four were pretty much three now. Peter had caught the flu and he couldn't go out on the bust with them. The fact that you had to beg and plead for you to join them kind of hurt, but at least you got to go on this one.

It was a bookstore. It was closed for the day because of the weird things that had been going on in there. It was pretty huge, and you had suggested to split up so that you guys could cover more ground. They pretty much looked at you like you were crazy, but they eventually agreed.

You covered one part of the bookstore. You happened to sense something on your PKE meter when you passed a bookshelf. You check in between the horror section. There it was.

"Guys," you say into your radio, "I found it, I'm gonna hold it off."

"Wait until we get there," Egon told you.

"By the time you guys get here it'll go away," you sigh, turning on the proton back.

"Y / N ..."

"Egon, I got it," you grumble, before shooting the ghost.

You weren't listening to them. Not after they pretty much forgot that you used to be a Ghostbuster, too. You keep the ghost stunned. You manage to glance behind the steam, spotting Ray on the other side of the aisle.

"Ray, I got it," you told him, bring the trap over.

You're calm. It's the three others that are slightly freaking out over you. You couldn't believe that they did that. You didn't know what had gotten into them. So, you had to prove to them.

Ray slides the ghost trap over, and you actually put it in the trap. All by yourself. Without any of the others' help.

Egon and Winston made it over to you not too long after you put the ghost in.

"You did it," Winston said to you.

You look behind you. "Yeah, of course I did," you replied, "I've known how to do this. You guys just forgot how capable I was."

You pretty much push past them, knowing that this would probably be your last bust in a while.

"We're sorry," you hear Egon's voice say.

You turn back around. "Why did you guys keep me from helping?" You ask, "I've done this just as long as you guys have. I was so happy to finally be together again as a brand. As a family. And you guys just ... I dunno."

"We were worried," Ray admitted, "Because we know how much you liked that job as a teacher. We didn't want something to happen to you. Especially because those kids love you."

You frowned. That was actually a sweet gesture. And you knew that you couldn't be mad at them forever. "Wait ... Really?"

"Really," Winston told you, "We didn't want their favorite teacher getting hurt."

"Well, that's very sweet of you guys. But, I will be fine. I have you guys. You wouldn't let anything happen to me," you explain to them, "And I wouldn't let anything happen to myself."

The other three were quiet for a while. Maybe keeping you from doing this kind of job was the wrong decision for them. You were actually a great addition to the team, and they loved having you.

"So, am I back on the team?" You ask.

Ray gives you a nod. "Welcome back to the team, Y / N."

[m1dnyt3-w0lf]

Good Puppy Part 5

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

⚠️WARNING: NSFW IMPLICATIONS⚠️

Summary: Awkward

Breakfast was awkward. Pretending to love Miguel was one thing. Pretending to love Miguel after grinding on him and then getting off to the thought of him was a whole other issue! You swore your cheeks were in a permanent blush since that moment. You did your best to keep your attention on your family, but your mind kept wandering.

The grip of his hand.

The ragged breathing.

The desperate tone.

You wanted it to happen again.

“Junebug, dear, are you listening?” Your mother’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You look up from your plate of pancakes to your mother. Everyone’s attention was on you.

“Oh, sorry, I zoned out. What happened?” You ask, feeling your cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

“The twins had the bright idea to camp outside! We’re going to make it a family thing!” Your mother recounted excitedly. “Will you come shopping with us while the men set everything up here?”

“Sure!” You reply with a smile. Time away from Miguel sounded like a godsend. Maybe then your mind wouldn’t be so horny.

“Here,” Miguel rumbled as he handed you his card, “I’ll pay for it.”

He has a black card?! You thought as you tried not to drop your jaw. You've known him for how long, and he never told you?! Why was he showing it off now?!

Was he trying to impress your family?!

“Oh, no, Miguel, we can’t ask that of you.” Your father says. Miguel only smiles. He looks so good when he smiles…

“I’m offering from my own free will.” He says coolly, gently taking your hand and placing the card in it. “Please allow me to show my gratitude for your hospitality” His eyes slid from your father to you, his eyes staring into yours intensely. “And for gifting me such a beautiful soul to love and be loved by.” A collection of “awe” filled the air.

You have never wanted to kiss someone so bad.

“Get yourself a fruit bowl, amor.” He says casually, eyes still holding your gaze. You manage to nod your head.

“Okay.”

“Can I get myself one, too?” Sammy asks.

“Sammy!” Your mother scolds.

“What? It was just a—”

“No.” Miguel interrupts curtly, never even glancing her way. Your cheeks were burning at this point.

It’s fake-it’s fake-it’s fake-it’s fake. You chanted in your head. It felt like you had to remind yourself a lot about that recently.

You were first to look away from the shared eye contact. Any longer, and you would've jumped him. You see Miguel turn away in your periphery. You clear your throat.

“So, when do we leave?”

“Junie, I will not ask again. Get the watermelon.” Your mother said sternly. Her voice sliced through your mindless fog and had your back stiffening. She only called you that when you were in trouble.

“Sorry, mom!” You hurried off for the produce section. You have been nothing but distracted since you got to the store. No matter how hard you tried, your mind seemed to trail back to this morning. You swore your mind was torturing you. It was like you were an addict experiencing withdrawal despite only having a taste. You groaned softly and rubbed at your eyes.

Focus, dammit. You mentally scolded yourself. You took a deep breath and began your tireless search for the juiciest watermelon in the bunch. Once found, you hurried back to where you last saw your family. You frown as you begin in a slow circle before picking a direction to hurry off to. One thing you hated about grocery shopping was always losing everyone whenever you went to do something else. You won't lie. It was quite annoying to have to go through. The endless up and down of the aisles, looking like a crazed person as you feverishly searched. You groan and take your phone out, only to pause at the message on your screen. A message from Miguel.

'We need to talk when you get back'

Was he discovered? Was he not able to continue this charade? Oh gods, was he going to talk about—

“You got the watermelon!” You were thrown out of your thoughts when Maggie took the watermelon out of your hold. You quickly pocket your phone.

“Oh, um, yeah.” You walk with her through the aisles. She gives you a look.

“You doing okay there?” She asks. You look at her and see the concern knitting her eyebrows together. You offer a smile.

“I’m fine.” You tell her. She looked unconvinced.

“Junie, I love you, but you’re such a terrible liar.” She says.

Say that to my relationship with Miguel. You thought before it gave you pause. Wait, no, what relationship?

“Junie?” Maggie tries again. Her hand was on your arm, both of you halting by the toilet paper. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I promise.” You say then sigh. “It’s just…”

“Just?” Maggie pressed. You huff.

“Miguel wants to talk to me about something.” You tell her. It felt nice to be able to talk about something about your fake relationship with Miguel. You pretended you didn’t have to remind yourself of that fact. “I’m not sure what it is, but I’m really worried about it.”

“Oh, Junie.” Maggie pulled you in for a hug. “I doubt it’s anything bad. Miguel loves you!”

“I don’t know—” She’s quick to brush you off.

“Please, you can see it clearly on his face and the way he looks at you! I’m surprised he could even keep his hands off you.” She says with a giggle. You feel your cheeks heat up.

“Maggie, stop.” You cover your cheeks.

“I’m serious!” Her voice comes out in a hushed tone. “I swear sometimes it feels like he’s undressing you with his eyes!”

“Maggie!” You gasped, your face red as a tomato. You gave her a light smack on her arm. She laughs.

“I’m serious! Really, don’t sweat it. He loves you. We all know it.” Maggie smiles, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Now, let's get back to mom before she blows her top.” You both giggle and hurry away.

Miguel stared at his phone as if willing you to respond back to him. He can’t keep up the charade. He couldn’t keep pretending to be in love with you.

Not while being in love with you.

He wasn’t sure how you’d react to his confession, nor was he sure if you’d share feelings. Since that morning, you’ve plagued his mine. He’ll admit, not in the most innocent ways, but he still couldn’t deny it. He really did love you. He didn’t know why it took him so long to figure it out, or why it took you grinding on his dick to figure it out, but he wasn’t about to go any longer without calling you his.

“You alright there, son?” Your father asked him. Miguel looked up from his phone and put it away. He shot your father a charming smile.

“Of course, just missing my girl is all.” My girl. It felt so right on his tongue. Just like how he hoped you felt-shock, your dad was right there! Miguel was quick to force his thoughts clean.

“I wish I could say it gets easier with time.” Your father said with a laugh, clapping a hand on Miguel’s shoulder and leading him to the backyard. “But I miss my wife every time I don’t see her.”

“Even while sleeping?” Miguel asks.

“Not at all, I dream of her in my sleep.” He sighs, making Miguel chuckle. “I am forever grateful I met her.”

“That much, huh?” Miguel asks him. Your father nods.

“Just as much as you love our Junebug.” He says. Miguel flusters a bit. Was he that obvious?

“I just hope they know.” Miguel says. Your father chuckled.

“Nothing like just saying ‘I love you.’” Your dad tells him as they rejoined Pete and the kids, who were busy setting up the tents. Miguel was surprised at how simple Your father put it. But was it that easy? Did you love him back? Or was all your blushing and hints just part of the charade? He really hoped it wasn't.

Despite wanting to talk to Miguel as soon as possible, your family somehow kept you both separate from each other. The most you were able to do was give him sparing glances as you passed by each other or met each other's eyes from across the yard. Dinner was a definite no. However, Miguel had quickly cut up his food, so his left hand was free to lay on your thigh and gently caress it with his thumb. The action left you so heated and surprisingly comforted. He wouldn't do that if what he needed to talk about wasn't good, right? You tried to focus on that thought rather than the darker thoughts that filled your mind.

Your mother had ushered everyone outside after dinner where your father had built and lit a fire. Maggie brought out the marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. The younger kids cheered. Everyone took their places around the fire. Everyone was throwing jokes and stories, laughing, and having a good time. It didn’t take long for you to forget about everything. You found yourself laughing and jumping in with your own stories, unaware of the gaze Miguel was giving you. You gasped and turned to him suddenly, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Remember Brad?!” You asked with a laugh. The very name had him rolling his eyes.

“Don’t remind me. I still don’t know what you saw in him.” Miguel huffed.

“Who’s Brad?” Sammy asks with interest.

“Oh, he was my—” You cut yourself off. Shit, you forgot. How the hell are you going to talk about your ex?!

“Their boyfriend before me.” Miguel answers with ease. “Before they knew I loved them. Worst three months of my life.”

“You never told me you had someone before Miguel!” Maggie gasped. You chuckled a bit nervously.

“To be fair, it was nothing serious.”

“Nothing about that man was serious. I’m surprised he even had a job, what with his lack of responsibility and his tendency to slack off. Really, it was a godsend when they broke up. I was able to sweep my love off their feet and show them exactly how they should be treated.” Miguel scoffed. There was something strange about his tone.

“Now, Miguel, you aren’t still jealous of their ex, are you?” Thomas joked. You looked from your brother to Miguel.

“Is that true?” You ask. Miguel clears his throat and averts his gaze.

“‘Course not. I’ve got you, don’t I?” Miguel mumbled. You couldn’t help but smile. Whether this was fake or not, it was real enough for you. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“My big grumpy man.” You whisper, earning yourself a dust of pink on his cheeks and a soft smile.

“I’m not that grumpy, am I?” He whispered back, his tone playful.

“Not to me.” You say, gazing up into his eyes as you did so. Something flickered in his eyes.

“Get a room!” Thomas called, followed by a chorus from the rest of your family. You and Miguel chuckle.

“Maybe we will!” You call out, standing. Miguel was quick to follow. You waved off your family as Miguel led you to the tent you were both supposed to share. He pulled the flap back to allow you in, crawling in after you. You laughed.

“Can you believe them? I swear they’re all-Miguel?” You turned to see him looking a bit more somber.

“Amor, this is our chance to talk.” He says quietly. Your blood runs cold.

“Wh-what is it?” You ask, spluttering slightly at the sudden change of mood.

“It’s about us fake dating.” Miguel says, a pained expression on his face. “I can’t do it.”

His words were like a slap in the face. If you weren’t already sitting, you would have staggered. You felt your heart crack and break, each piece cutting your chest open like a shard of glass. You blinked at him as if he were a hallucination.

“What?” You hated how broken you sounded. Miguel physically winced and took your hand in his. His once warm hand now felt cold as ice to you. You tried to slip away, but he held strong.

“Amor, listen to me first.” He pleaded, his own voice sounding broken. “I can’t pretend to date you because I love you.”

Finale

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged/untagged!

@crocs-blogs @madschiavelique @eveandtheturtles @obi-mom-kenobi @thelaundrybitch @symmetricalkazekage @raphsmuneca @tojishugetiddies @theshrikeandcanary @someonesrealityshifting @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @awkward-platypus

[r473n]

New KenMayu just dropped!

Kenchan x Mayuri AU modern world.

Gift for @toxictaicho and @srtruth 💜

Zaraki is a retired army guy finding it very hard to balance his internalised homophobia and the fact he is falling in love with a dude.

Mayuri is a neurosurgeon with no interest and no time to waste on a relationship, certainly not with that idiot man that keeps appearing everywhere he goes!

Fluffy, smutty, self-indulgent mess.

Mayuri's transness plays a pivotal role in this fic - I normally only mention it casually as another adjective that describes him - and there are going to be some uncomfortable conversations around transphobia and homophobia. But this is fiction, so I get to make it all end up happily, yay!

Link to ao3

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Will he, won't he

Chapter Text

He strode briskly along the sterile, white, hospital corridors. The clacking of his Louboutin oxfords echoing angrily in the quietness that surrounded him.

This better be fucking good, he thought, or they are getting shouted at until morning.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi hated the night shift. He had no problem staying awake - he’d frequently forget to sleep when he was engrossed in an exciting project - but he detested the lack of a rigid schedule and the constant interruptions, most of which were dull consultations that he wouldn’t deign to reply to in normal circumstances - when other, lesser clinicians were available.

He couldn’t really complain -though he frequently did - most of the residents were so utterly terrified of him that they rarely dared call him, unless the situation was dire.

He pushed through the big double doors of ER and was immediately hit with a cacophonous mayhem. People in blue and green scrubs rushing left and right, a patient whining somewhere, another one crying for their mommy - or morphine, he wasn’t too sure - some doctor shouting instructions that were all wrong... he shuddered. This was why he loathed coming to emergency care - there was too much noise and too much stupidity. When he was operating silence reigned, only his voice could be heard, and that was his idea of heaven.

His ears began ringing painfully. No matter how much he modified those damned cochlear implants they always failed him when there were too many sounds. He could feel the migraine approaching.

“Sir, it was me who put on the call.” Said a petite intern with big, puppy eyes. He looked so young Mayuri was tempted to ask him if his parents knew he was out at this hour. “I'm so, so sorry to bother you, sir, but Mr. Lemura already has a bleeding brain tumour.”

“Well, that would certainly explain why he is so bad at his job.” He said, massaging his temples. This was going to be a terrible night.

“Oh... I-I mean-“

“I know what you meant, idiot. Stop your babbling and give me the history.” He extended his hand, the moment the folder touched his fingers he wrenched it from the boy’s grip. “Where is the patient?”

“Oh, yes, sir! Over here!”

He skimmed through the clinical notes as he walked, trying to pay no mind to his surroundings. Nothing much for past illnesses apart from some mild liver issues, bloods showed high levels of alcohol - nothing atypical at this time of night. Reason for admit: blunt trauma to the head, suspected concussion... A drunken brawl? This asinine case was why this imbecil had woken him up?

“Here we are, sir” said the intern, holding open the partition curtains around one of the gurneys so he could walk through. The whole of the ER was compartmentalised, by drapes hanging from ceiling tracks, into small, almost identical sections that were only big enough to house a hospital bed, a table and a chair.

“Log in and find me his MRI” he muttered without looking up from the page.

“Yes, sir. I had it ready, here” placing the laptop he’d been carrying under his arm on the little overbed table, the young medic opened the tab with the results and stood as far away from Mayuri as he could whilst remaining polite.

Kurotsuchi leant closer to the computer screen and studied the 3D images for a few seconds. Ah, this is much better, he thought.

“Congratulations.” He mocked through a growing smile. “you’ve earned yourself some one-on-one time with the best surgeon in this hospital.” He turned to look at the patient and his grin faltered. The guy was in a terrible state. His face was a bloody pulp, his left arm was in a cast and his chest was covered in bandages that couldn’t hope to conceal the large haematomas spreading over his skin - which signalled many a broken rib. He looked like he’d been run over by a train, not punched by some hooligan.

Mayuri quickly flicked through the pages fearing some mistake. “This is the right patient?” he asked, frowning threateningly at the young doctor.

“Y-yes, sir... Is-is there a problem?” the poor boy’s face had quickly lost all colour. He anxiously tried to peek at the chart in Mayuri’s hands from a safe distance.

“Are you trying to tell me that this man’s injuries were caused in a fist fight?” He could feel his rage starting to bubble inside his chest. The stupid curtains did nothing to quieten the unbearable surrounding racket and now he had to deal with some inefficient anamnesis, or worse, a lying patient.

Ignoring the intern’s nervous stammering he turned his attention to the man again.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Mr. Sato. I haven’t got the slightest interest in your life, your struggles, your health concerns nor what may have caused your lesions... But, unfortunately for the both of us, in order to do my job properly, and avoid any further senseless demotions, I need to know the truth!” He took a deep breath before he continued, trying to reign in his anger and hopefully improve his pounding headache. “Now, how did you get these wounds?”

The man looked at him with a wary expression, his swollen eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I was beaten up by some guy.” He muttered as clearly as his broken jaw allowed.

“Some guy... one, single individual?” Mayuri prodded, incredulous.

“Yes! – ouch - Why the fuck would I lie ‘bout that?”

Mayuri knitted his brows - he had a point. Why would this pitiful ned lie about being beaten up by one man, if I were going to fib he’d probably excuse his loss behind some overused fabrication such as ‘there were too many to count’.

“I see.” He stroked his chin, still not fully convinced. “Well, regardless, you have a subdural haemorrhage that needs surgical correction. I will be performing the operation tonight. You can thank me later.”

“Wait, didn’t you say you’d been demoted? I don’t want you operating on me!” the man exclaimed anxiously, wincing in pain.

“I’m terribly sorry I gave you the impression that I care... Patients don’t choose their clinicians in this hospital, which is lucky for you, because you clearly make bad decisions for a living.” he sneered, then handing the intern the file he instructed “I want everything signed and him ready in an hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mayuri exited the small area with a dramatic flourish that left the curtains billowing behind him. Perhaps all wasn’t lost, the surgery was simple enough for him, but it meant he likely wouldn’t be bothered again for the rest of the night.

“Mr. Kurotsuchi! How good it is to see you down here!”

A cold chill ran down his spine. That sickly sweet voice always made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

“I was on my way out.” He announced, not looking at his interlocutor, hoping that would cut any further conversation at the root.

“Ah, of course, you’re such a busy man.” Dr. Unohana continued in a patronising tone, gazing at him with her infuriatingly calm expression.

Dr Retsu Unohana was the head of ER and one of the longest standing doctors in the hospital, which, despite her young appearance, made her into a mother figure for most newbies. They all flocked around her like ducklings afraid to get drowned by the current. She was an institution. He would never admit it, but Mayuri considered her one of the most brilliant clinicians he’d ever met. She wasn’t on his level, of course, but she was too close for comfort.

“I was wondering if I could borrow your expertise a little longer. It’s not every day that we are blessed with such a prodigious mind around here.” She said, smiling politely. She had a way to make Mayuri feel small and provoked with each vacuous compliment.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I have to prepare for surgery.” He said curtly, examining his fingernails.

“How exciting! Luckily this will only take a minute.” She pierced him with her icy stare until his will crumbled and with a derisive snort, he admitted defeat. She was a stubborn woman, she’d argue until morning, it was probably best to just go with it than try to escape her passive-aggressive coercion.

Still wearing that maddeningly benign smile, she lead the way and he followed.

“I must admit this probably won’t be as exciting as your usual cases, but I need a neurologist to double check that my patient’s cranial reflexes are intact, before I discharge him.” She casually explained as she walked uncharacteristically slowly.

Mayuri hummed in response. She was more than capable of performing a basic neurological exam, she didn’t need him to double check anything. What was she up to?

“Here we are,” she announced merrily, opening the curtains to a slightly larger cubicle. Mayuri’s mouth fell open. Sitting on the edge of the bed was the most bestial looking man he’d ever seen. His size alone was extremely intimidating, even without the blood stains over his hands and shirt. Mayuri noticed he had an old scar that ran down the side of his face and seemed to have damaged his left eye, and wondered what could have caused it. “Mr. Zaraki here has suffered blunt trauma to his skull, from a hard object, I believe it to be a pool cue?”

The man in question assented with a gruff grunt and Mayuri immediately felt a pleasurable thrill run down his spine. Oh, why is my body such a slut, he thought.

“I'm fine. I told you already, woman. No need to go wasting other people’s time!” The man stood up aggressively, his enormous frame casting a large shadow over the two clinicians. Mayuri's heart rate skyrocketed, he couldn’t tell if the sudden rush of adrenaline was due to exhilaration or apprehension, or perhaps a mixture of the two.

He glanced at Unohana out of the corner of his eye, she seemed as tranquil as if she were sitting by the seashore.

“I'm afraid your injuries might be more serious than you hope, Mr. Zaraki, and since you won’t consent to any imaging, we have to take a more traditional approach.” She explained in a sympathetic, mellow tone that felt completely out of place. “You should sit down.”

“I sai-“ the giant tried to argue, but was immediately cut off.

“You should sit down.” The second time she spoke there was no room for interpretation, she might have omitted ‘or else’ but it was certainly implicit. Her voice had turned steely so drastically that the temperature of the room seemed to drop by at least 10 degrees.

Despite her big, round eyes - that spoke of a demure innocence - and her small stature, there was a dark side to Unohana that seeped out like poisonous fumes from time to time. It was a calm, calculated type of assertiveness that was somehow so terrifying it triggered an innate flight response. She never needed to get angry, her aura was threatening enough for anyone to contradict her.

Zaraki must have felt the shift too because without further protest he did as he was told and sat back down, eyeing her cautiously.

There was a long, awkward silence before Mayuri realised that was his cue to move.

Gulping, a bit uneasy, he approached the mountainous man and sat on a chair in front of him. Even hunched over, Zaraki still appeared massive, his shoulders were almost twice as broad as Mayuri’s and his long, black hair fell limply, framing the sides of his face and giving him an even more savage look.

Mayuri forced himself to focus and proceeded to quietly examine him. A few abrasions on his powerful knuckles, a couple of bruises starting to form over his vast, muscular chest, a split on his lower lip... he examined his reflexes and cranial nerves and found no abnormalities. He was about to announce this when he realised...

“You are the perpetrator?” He exclaimed with no small amount of shock in his voice.

“Eh?” Zaraki was staring at him with an vacant expression, his mouth agape.

“Perhaps my assessment is wrong and you do have concussion.” He said testily. He suddenly felt much more comfortable around him now that he’d realised he was stupid. “Are you the man who beat up my patient? Were you in a bar fight? Is that how you got hit on the head?” he questioned, knocking lightly on his own temple.

“What are you? the fucking police?” Zaraki deflected with a hoarse, cutting tone that sent another shiver flying through Mayuri’s body.

“No...” He smirked. “I was merely wondering what kind of wild animal could have caused injuries such as my patient’s. It's nice to satisfy one's curiosity.”

Zaraki gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, he got it coming.”

“How so?” he leaned closer, catching a whiff of the guy’s intoxicating, manly scent.

“Called my friend a faggot.”

“I see...” Mayuri squirmed, reclining back in his chair. With a huge bully like this, chances were he was just a homophobe trying to defend another homophobe from being called a homophobic slur by yet another homophobe. He needed to tread lightly. Not that he was scared, but he’d been assaulted enough times in his life for being queer. It was getting tiresome.

“He seemed not too happy that my friends were kissing, so I went to see what the fuck was his problem.” Zaraki explained offhandedly with a cheeky smile. “He thought it was smart to talk to me like shit and call my friend that... so I rearranged his face with my fists.”

Mayuri felt a little flutter of hope in his chest.

“Your friends were kissing?” he heard himself ask eagerly, not even sure why he was so interested.

“Yeah. I know it wasn’t a gay bar but why the fuck can they not kiss wherever the fuck they want? They ain’t hurting anyone, right?

“Indeed.”

“They've got a right to do it just like normal people”

“Right...” he had been holding his breath all this time, waiting for the inevitable confirmation of his suspicion, and here it was. It would have been too good to be true.

“Shit, I didn't mean that.” Zaraki flinched, looking embarrassed and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that they aren't normal, they are. I meant that they should have the same rights as non lgb...gqp...ib people.”

“I believe you may have forgotten a few letters.” Mayuri quipped sarcastically, which clearly flew over the other man’s head.

“Oh... sorry.” Zaraki looked to the side and frowned, as if trying to remember the right acronym.

“Anyway, as riveting as the tales of your honourable conquest might be, I am a very busy man... If you excuse me.” He stood up, taking his gloves off with a loud snap. “I’ll ready your discharge papers and then you may go, Mr... Zaraki.”

“Oh, yeah? is that- don’t you need to do any more tests?”

The way he was looking at Mayuri was interesting, he seemed almost disappointed... or so Mayuri would have believed if it weren’t because, mere minutes before, he had been extremely keen to leave without even a check up.

“No need. I'm extremely good at my job, I can assure you. You’re fine to go home.”

Giving the man a last appraising glance, he exited the little booth, not missing Unohana’s self-satisfied, tiny smirk.

That was indeed an very odd interaction. Why had she called him to perform such a basic check and why was he feeling so flustered all of a sudden?

His ponderings were interrupted when a very pretty twink, with died eyebrows and a fashionable haircut approached him wearing a worried look.

“Excuse me, my name is Yumichika Ayasegawa. Are you Kenpachi’s doctor? Would you be able to tell me if he’s going to be alright?”

“Are you family?” he looked the man up and down.

“No, we’re friends.”

“I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge such information, then.”

A second man, bald and tall, with brightly coloured eyeshadow came towards them, awkwardly carrying three takeaway coffee cups.

“He doesn’t have any family, we’re his emergency contacts, doesn’t that count?” he asked quite aggressively.

“No.” Mayuri replied, chagrined at his tone. “Patient confidentiality is of paramount importance to me.” He lied, revelling in the man’s increasingly angry scowl. “I'm afraid if you want information you’ll have to follow the official channels, like everyone else.” He turned around and immediately walked away before they could harass him with any more annoying questions.

[projectbluearcadia]

Work-Life Balance

Lucifer x GN!MC

[ Scenario: Not only are you Lucifer's student, but you are also his spouse. Only a select few are privy to the latter information, and both of you intend to keep it that way. Nevertheless... you do want to push his buttons. ]

Wordcount - 1242

The sound of chalk tapping against the chalkboard. The dusky Devildom classroom, lit by dozens of deep blue will ‘o wisps silently buzzing around the room. The feeling of the pen grinding against your writing callus as you hurriedly copied down each complicated symbol, struggling to keep up with the chalk. The smoky, familiar smell that greeted you as the professor made his rounds to check on everyone’s work. 

This is your magic classroom. 

“As you all seem to be comfortable with basic water enchantments, we’ll be moving onto section 2.4 today,” the black-haired male announces after he’s returned to his desk at the front of the lecture hall. The glare of the will ‘o wisps shimmers off his glasses, temporarily dying the lenses blue before you shift your head over another person’s. “Has anyone read ahead of the today’s lecture notes?” I have, because I watched you write them. “No one?” 

“I have, Lord Lu—er, Professor,” someone says timidly, and your professor gives the barest hint of a smile. 

“Then would you care to tell your peers what I’m going to teach for the remainder of today’s class time?” 

“Fire magic fundamentals.” A collective groan, one which the professor quickly puts an end to with a quick look. Although he is surprisingly forgiving, every one of Professor Lucifer’s students knows that he isn’t a man to be trifled with, and not just because he and his family have been personally hired by RAD’s President, Diavolo. 

“If you’re going to groan, I frankly have no idea why you’ve bothered coming to my class,” Lucifer says, taking his time to look over the room. “This is Sorcery 101, Magical Constitution and Control. If you struggle in one area, you struggle with all of them. I do not care if you all are used to the fire affinity. You will learn from the ground up, and you will learn it properly in this class. Understand?”

“Yes, Professor…” is the resounding, chastised mumble that flows through the hall. 

“Now, let us begin by disproving a few common myths about fire magic…” Lucifer begins, and his scrawl quickly covers the board as he draws a perfect inscribed pentagram. “MC, our human student, came to my office hours to ask about this when we covered section 2.1, raw energy, and I believe now would be an appropriate time to answer their question. They asked, ‘can I shoot a fireball if I just tell the energy to do that?’ Who would like to answer that question?” You shrink a little in your seat; of course he mentions that embarrassing conversation that definitely was not during his office hours. 

Lucifer turns and nods at one of the students raising their hand, and they say: “Yeah. Fire is raw energy.” 

“You are both correct and incorrect,” Lucifer replies, and for not the first time, you feel bad for the student, but it was more kind than him normally declaring an answer completely wrong. “Fire can be manipulated from raw energy very easily, but to say that it is raw energy is incorrect. How does fire appear in the human world, MC?” 

“Er, carbon combusts in the presence of oxygen… is the general rule,” you reply. Wait, does whatever the hell happens with the sun or event horizons or lava count? 

“That is one of the ways, yes,” Lucifer replies. Dammit! “Fire requires a fuel source, and similarly, magic activation for fire requires extra energy to combust and change form. In other words, there is a secondary, constant cost to fire magic activation, similar to other magic we have covered. I would say you waste about 1.5 times more energy using fire magic over raw power.” A few of the students shrink in their seats, clearly guilty parties. “Does that answer your question, MC?” 

“...yes,” you reply, feeling a bit sulky, and Lucifer gives you the briefest snarky little smirk. Oh, he would pay for that.

~~~

“MC, I thought we agreed no more using my office hours,” Lucifer sighs as you knock on the open door to his room. It’s a quiet place, complete with a clean blackboard, a well-used box of chalk on its metal ledge and four chairs tucked tight against a long table against the wall. Lucifer’s computer sits open at his desk, facing away from you, but you know well enough he’s grading assignments right now. “You’re using time that other students need.” 

“And?” you ask, closing the door behind you. “I need you more than them, Professor.” Oh, that tone? You’re going with that tone? Here, in Lucifer’s office? 

“MC,” he says warningly, but you’re stalking up to his desk, placing your hands onto the polished wood as you bend your head down to Lucifer’s. “MC… This is not the time…” He doesn’t mean that, not in the slightest; you can hear his sternness slowly being exchanged for tenderness and desire, and you find yourself smiling as you bring one hand up to caress his soft, pale cheek. 

“Can’t you make a little time for your spouse?” you ask, and Lucifer blinks slowly at you, his crimson eyes melting further. He is melting in your hands like chocolate on a warm Halloween. 

“Darling, I love you, but I’m working,” he murmurs, returning your cheek caress. “Can’t you wait for me?”

“No,” you murmur, your lips practically touching his. Stubborn bastard won’t kiss you right now though, no, because that door could open, and then what? Some kind of student-teacher sex scandal? Oh, but the prospect of being caught is so dangerously tempting. You’d be lying if it hadn’t crossed your mind that you could live out fantasies most people couldn’t dream of, if not for Lucifer’s (and your) need for this to be kept a secret. 

“I’ve had a very long day,” he says, his eyes wandering across your face, then down your collar and lower, scanning you as if confirming for himself that you’re standing there. “And you’re pushing me, MC.” Well, that’s the intent, honeybunch. 

“You can take it out on me, Lucifer,” you whisper, “You know I can take it, and what’s the harm anyway?” 

Lucifer’s lips part, and he captures you in a kiss for a moment before you pull away, leaving him confused. 

“MC?”

“Thank you, darling; I’m all refreshed.” You straighten up from his desk. “Oh, did you think I was serious? I was only joking, Luci; we can’t do that here. Who knows what hapless student might bear witness!” You laugh a little at Lucifer’s annoyed face. He can’t argue with you on this either, because he knows damn well that you’re right, even if there weren’t a lot of students brave enough to use his office hours.

“...you’re welcome,” he replies with a slow, irritated sigh. “I should assign you 20 extra problems from the next unit.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“I think I will,” Lucifer says after a moment, a smile slipping back across his lips. “Due at midnight tonight.” 

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Perfectly,” he replies, returning back to grading papers. “In fact, let’s make it a test. It’ll be awfully difficult for you to write while your face is pressed against your answer sheet, so I’ll read it out to you, and you’ll need to tell me what the right answer is. If you fail, you’ll certainly need to come to me for some supplementary lessons.” 

Well, shit. That backfired. 

…not like you’re complaining though.

[mvltisstuff]

hello again, i’ve requested a few times (the feels and sweet nothing) and i was hoping i could request again? (i think i might add an emoji at the end bc i love your writing and will keep requesting as much as you allow ❤️❤️) anyway, i hope you’re doing well and things are going good.

i was wondering if i could request a buck fic where is partner is an artist and he finds a sketchbook of sketches of him and when he asks about it they talk about how pretty he is and how deserves to be appreciated and just making him feel super loved with it. thank you if you get to it and ofc no troubles if you don’t. take care 🥰

also is 🚒 good for a way to recognize me??

wasteland, baby! - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: omg you always have such creative ideas! i love receiving requests so always feel free :)) 🚒 = ❤️‍🔥 i also won’t be posting as frequently for the next few weeks due to finals, but after that i’ll be posting a ton!!

buck had come over to y/n’s apartment after his shift for dinner, and the scent of thick acrylic paint and primer had stung at his nostrils. he began to love the smell, as he knew that it meant she was around. he had let himself in with his key, taking in all of the perfectly placed plants and artwork on the walls.

she had a canvas that was almost complete, with just a few finishing touches. buck had walked over to it to examine. her talent was extraordinary. he knew it was out of this world, and the way she was so proud of her pieces his made his heart swell up with love.

“hi, buck!” y/n says, beginning to walk out of the hallway from her room to her art. she was wearing a pair of dark green pants and a white t-shirt which somehow complimented her beautifully. her face had small specks of blue and red on her cheeks and black and grey streaks on her shirt. “sorry it’s such a mess in here, but doesn’t this look great?”

“no, don’t worry about the mess, but how long did that take? it’s amazing!” buck stutters a big, not being able to comprehend how art like that could come out of her hands.

“thank you, love,” she replies, taking his belongings and placing them down for him. “how was work today? anything good?”

“just a normal old day, but you know it’s the 118.”

“it is never normal at the 118,” y/n smiles and gives him a cheek kiss before going to wipe her face off. buck goes to sit down in her living room on the couch, and she follows behind him with a quick change of shirt. she placed a small pizza in the oven to cook for them, and cuddled up next to him while they told each other stories about their day.

“it was wild, y/n,” buck starts. “i mean this woman literally rose from the dead after like 15 minutes, after being under a street. oh! you’re going to love this- and we saved some puppies in a sewer.”

“oh my god, are they ok?”

“they’re all fine, but i’m not sure if we are right now.”

“what do you mean?” she asks, slowly and carefully.

“you don’t smell something burning?”

she takes a deep inhale and looks over to her smokey kitchen. it wasn’t too bad, but definitely enough to make it inedible. “shit! fuck, i forgot about it!” she says, bouncing the pan up and down while trying not to burn herself.

y/n was busy discarding of the pizza when buck looked over at her with joy. he had a cheeky smile on his face and was laughing at the forgetfulness of both of them. he looked back down in front of him and the coffee table, and he saw a book that y/n always has on her. she brings it to work, to her family, anywhere she goes, she has it. it was her beloved sketchbook, filled with hundreds of small doodles and big pieces. buck has seen a lot of things in it, admiring each one before he comes across a bookmarked section.

when he flips the pages of the book, he notices that the person that is sketched and shaded looks particularly familiar. he makes note of the sharp nose and soft, but hard jaw. he sees the famous birthmark on the side of his face. he’s never looking right on, though. he’s always focused on something or has a light grin on his face. buck knows these are of him, but he doesn’t think he had any importance to be the top drawing in her book.

y/n walks back in to greet her boyfriend, “i think we might just have to ord-“ she looks at the sketches that she had put on that paper. a heat rose up into her face, reddening her cheeks and making her feel a sense of embarrassment.

“a-are these me?” buck asks, quietly. y/n nods, slowly, praying that she didn’t make him uncomfortable and that she will see him again tomorrow. “i-um..”

“you don’t have to say anything, buck. i never meant for you to see those and if you don’t like them, i’ll never do it again i swear. you just, you’re so beautiful, buck. and i love to draw beautiful things.”

“i just don’t know what to say, these are so good. i feel like you know me more than i know myself,” he says, chuckling a bit.

“you like ‘em?”

“i love them,” buck says.

“good, i just couldnt stop myself. you are always so pretty, no matter what and i want you to know that, so i tried to convey it through this. i was going to show you eventually, but i wanted to do more.”

“why me, though? you could draw anyone,” buck asks.

“no one else is you! you might have a pretty face and all but there is really nothing more beautiful than your soul. you are filled with so much love and sweetness and i’ve been dying to find a way to show you, because you are loved, evan. i love you and i wanted to put my two favorite things together. not a day goes by where i have anything but love for you.”

suddenly, the feeling in bucks chest is rising stronger, feeling like it’s going to burst. when it does, he has strong riptides of tears in his eyes. with a pure smile on his face, he passionately leaves a kiss on her lips, and he feels loved for the first time.

growing up, his parents never showed him love. he always begged for it from everyone he knew, and now he feels like it isn’t deserved. but someone, y/n made him feel like he will forever be worthy of love. and he will never forget how she fixed him for the best.