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maxlarens · 2 months

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hi lilli!! i heard angst and i came running, how about searching for each other in crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere with logan or oscar, whoever sparks the most inspo, but plot twist—not being able to be together for some reason (the why is totally up to you, feel free to ignore if this isn't your cup of tea). thank u thank u <3

kait!!! hello!!! thank u for sending this in!!! im gonna do oscar 😁 it genuinely hurt my feelings SO BADLY to not have them make up at the end of this. so i sympathise with everyone that im about to make sad it was a bad time for me too❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It's familiar, this feeling.

The squeeze of your chest, the grieving, panicking thing climbing up your throat. You've been feeling it a lot lately, every time you catch a glimpse of someone with hair the same colour as Oscar's; wearing clothes you swear that he has; a person with the same shoulders, the same gait.

You've been seeing him everywhere. You just think you have. Monaco is small… not that small apparently.

When it had first happened, at the beginning of summer break, you’d half expected to be back together within a week. For Oscar to message you and half-beg to talk to you again. In your dreams, you’d both come grovelling back to each other, apologising for cruel words, making amends for various mistakes. Then you would kiss him and you’d tell him how much you love him and things would get better.

Instead, you’ve spent weeks of your summer break totally and utterly miserable. Missing Oscar like a phantom limb. You reach for him, he’s not there. You go to text him, find a thread of messages discussing the logistics of returning the other’s belongings.

You sit in your flat and you watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row twenty two hours and forty-four minutes because it doesn’t remind you of Oscar and it occupies your time in a way nothing else can right now. You cry until your eyes are puffy and you write in a diary you’ve never touched before, because it needs to go somewhere. The feeling stuck in your throat needs to be written down said out loud and you can’t say it to Oscar, who you would usually tell everything, because he needs “distance from you right now”.

Briefly, you convince yourself that “right now”, indicates that there still might be a later for the two of you. That this thing between you that’s fallen to pieces might one day be salvaged. In the quiet moments of Lord of the Rings you spiral down a rabbit hole of ways to get Oscar back, pathetic fantasies of how you might convince him to talk to you again. Then Arwen says, “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and you cry for two hours straight.

You sob, your face in your pillow and you think that was supposed to me! That was supposed to be us! And maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re not an elven maiden giving up her immortality for a mere man, but you love Oscar. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oscar. And now… now…

Well—

It is the waiting that’s the worst.

No texts, no calls. Lando sends you a few, but you can’t bear to hold a conversation with him, knowing he’s playing both sides. And anyway, you’re just thinking about Oscar. Is he there? Is he reading your texts? Seeing the pathetic selfies of you on your couch in days-old PJs? Is he staring at your stagnant text thread just like you are? Has he blocked you?

Your every waking thought is consumed by him. You drag yourself out of the apartment for coffee down the street and you wonder what he’s doing. Has he been rotting at home like you? More than likely he’s been doing things. Playing padel with Lando, going out for lunch, training at the gym, FaceTiming his family.

You feel sick to you stomach. You can list on one hand the activities that you’ve done since Oscar broke up with you at the beginning of the month:

Sleeping, crying, watching Lord of the Rings, ordering takeout, training because you have to. Going for coffee had been a big step out of your current comfort zone. You’re wearing pants that aren’t sweatpants… you’d even showered properly for fuckssake.

You got your most noise-cancelling headphones on, blasting sad Taylor Swift (who you don’t even like. It’s just something to fill the void) and staring down the barista so you can lip-read if they’re saying your name or the words Large Oat Latte. And then—

Then. The barista is mouthing Oscar and your stomach lurches as the exact object of your ire temporary depression walks to the counter. You try to convince yourself it’s not him, you keep seeing him places but it’s never really him. But it is, that’s his burgundy shirt, his swoop of hair, his knobbly little ankles.

You release a ragged breath that you hope isn’t too loud. You duck your head, try to avoid his gaze as he turns, pretending that you haven’t seen him. Try to look occupied by your phone though you’ve only had time to open to your home screen. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you blink furiously, trying your best not to fall apart in this coffee shop.

At least he’s not with someone else, you think as a tightness crawls up your throat to settle at the base of your tongue. But he looks happy, he looks fine, he looks better than you feel right now. God, what if he’s better off without you? What does it mean that you don’t seem to better off without him?

There’s something wet sliding down your left cheek and then you see Nike trainers entering your vision, still directed firmly downward. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder— you don’t jump but it’s a near thing. You reach up to slip your headphones off, wiping the tear discreetly as you go. Then you look up and it’s him, it’s Oscar.

He’s holding out a paper cup labeled, Oat Latte and smiling at you tightly.

“They were calling your name,” he says by way of explanation.

“Right,” your voice is shaky, weak, “Thanks.”

He nods, you take the coffee, careful not to touch his hand. You’re trying to swallow down the lump in your throat that’s rising rising trying to claw its way out of your mouth. You blink away the tears filling the corners of your eyes. You can’t look at him.

You’re looking up at the ceiling instead, biting the inside of your mouth. Breathing in and out, in and out.

He says your name, and then, “Do you want to talk?”

You feel like a tonne of bricks has just hit your chest. Knocking the wind out of you. Tears, hot and wet, are slipping down your cheeks. You can’t speak, you turn around and leave the coffee shop without saying anything because surely you’ll just start crying if you open your mouth. Oscar finds you again across the road, in a dark cobbled alleyway. The heel of your hand is pressed to the middle of your chest, you’re hiccuping, trying to stifle heavy sobs that you’d much prefer to let out in the privacy of your own apartment.

“Hey,” he says, gathering you into his arms before you can push him away, “It’s okay.”

You whine, collapsing into his chest, face pressing into his shoulder, “No, it’s not.”

You cry loudly, trying fruitlessly to keep the sobs in. Oscar’s hand rubs comforting circles into your back, which makes it better until you realise it’s Oscar, which makes it immediately worse. You stay there a while. Until your eyes are puffy and your throat sore.

“Better?”, Oscar asks, the crease between his eyebrows prominent.

You sigh tiredly, shrug, “Sure.”

Your coffee is cold now, your chest feels void, hollow.

You shake your head before Oscar can say anything further, before you’re set off on another fucking pathetic crying fit in the arms of your ex-boyfriend, “I can’t talk, Oscar. I really can’t.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and swallowing some lump in his own throat.

You bite down hard on your tongue. Turn to leave the dark alley to go home, your back prickling with Oscar’s wet brown-eyed stare on you. He lets you leave. You spend the ten minute walk wiping tears before they fall and itching to run back, to kiss him, to pour all the emotion in your chest into some physical action.

There’s an awful grieving ache in your chest that’s carving out your insides and when you check your phone after walking in the door there’s a text from Oscar that reads:

I miss you. I’d really like to talk to you soon.

not sure if it was weird but the lord of the rings Mentions were kinda about how you’re in such a fragile state during a breakup that something as irrelevant to your break up at lord of the rings will make you cry for hours for no real reason. (and not to expose myself but after a break up i did watch the lotr trilogy two times in a row. told my friends and got a text from one of them asking if i was depressed 😭 like yes… temporarily alright)

send me a prompt/req + driver and i'll write something. pls check if my requests are open first 💖

#oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #💫drabbles #drabbles:op81

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flemingsfreckles · 1 month

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Replacement Part 8

Read the previous parts HERE

Warnings: general discussion of anxiety, internalized homophobia, mention of parental abuse (emotional and physical), language

WC: 3.2k

A/N: I’ll be honest, I’m struggling with my motivation to write this series at the moment so unfortunately I feel like updates will be a little far apart, but you never know 🤷‍♀️

Going back to training after the wedding was harder than you had imagined. You had to drag yourself out of bed that morning, everything in you wanting to call out knowing you’d have to see Jessie. It wasn’t just getting to training that had been hard, the hours seemed to go by slowly once you had arrived at the facility. You kept to yourself, you were quiet, you kept your head down and just tried to work and get through the hours. Training was easier said than done when your head was filled with a thousand thoughts of your own teammate kissing you.

Jessie had done her best to keep her distance. She knew you didn’t want to talk in the way you avoided her glance, choosing to stare at the floor, the way you ignored her many calls and texts for the first few days until she stopped trying. She still would send a message every couple of days, wishing you well, offering an apology, or asking to talk to you.

You knew she felt guilty, the way she’d give you a look of pity and regret when your eyes would accidentally meet or when the two of you were forced to be training partners. She didn’t push the subject, never asking or questioning what was happening between the two of you. She only spoke to you when necessary for training. It hurt, you ached to speak to her again and a small part of you ached to be physically close to her again, but you knew you couldn’t. So you kept your head down and carried on keeping your distance.

You knew your other teammates noticed. They noticed you were quiet, a couple of them asking you what was up. You brushed them off, telling them it was nothing, you just hadn’t slept well, you had a headache, you used all of the excuses most of them believed you.

Janine didn’t though. Which led to a heavy handed knock on your door on your day off from training.

“What are you doing here?” You said upon seeing Janine’s face through the opening of the door.

“You’ve been weird and I’m your friend, so I’m checking on you.”

“I’m good Janine.” Your hand finds the doorknob ready to shut it.

“I think you’re lying.” She puts her foot between the door and the door frame, her hand coming to push on the door. You watch as she takes in the sight of your apartment behind you. It was a mess, a physical manifestation of what the inside of your brain felt like. “I’m coming in.”

“Fine.” You say before turning and heading to slump on the couch. You knew this was inevitable, you knew she’d break you down and figure out what was wrong, she’d know everything in the next few hours. But that didn’t mean you’d just offer up the information easily.

Janine follows you to the couch and sits down. The way she looks at you makes you think she already knows way too much. “What happened at my wedding?”

“You got married.” You respond, stating the obvious, you couldn’t slip up, even if she already knew something was weird.

Janine rolls her eyes at you. “You know that’s not what I mean. There was something that happened with you.”

“It’s nothing.” You mumble. The tightness in your chest was already building slowly.

“Okay.” Janine clasps her hands across her lap, watching you. “I know something happened, you’ve been weird since.”

“Nothing happened.”

“That’s not what Jessie said.” Those words from her mouth make your stomach drop.

“She told you?!” You knew Jessie and Janine were close, but you didn’t expect her to tell Janine, it was her experience to share too, you just hadn’t thought about it.

“So something did happen. And no, she didn’t tell me what happened. She told me I should check on you, but she didn’t give me details. She refused.”

That’s when the panic started to creep back in. You had managed to push the memory of the kiss from your brain, suppressing it so far.

“Janine I can’t.” The tightness started to build in your chest, spreading to your throat.

“Can’t what?” She had such a concerned look across her face. You trusted Janine, she was safe, she wouldn’t scream or yell, or try to change you. She wouldn’t hit you.

“I can’t, I don’t, I, I don’t like her, I can’t want her, she’s a girl, I can’t be g-” your choke on your words before you can even get it out. You can feel your lungs burning, feeling tight, unable to catch your breath. You’re blinking hard and fast trying to keep the tears from spilling out.

“Look at me.” Janine’s hand reaches for the bottom of your face, her action floods your body with the same panic you did when your parents made a move toward your face. You flinch and try to scramble away from her. You watch as her own eyes widen, her hand immediately retracting. “I’m sorry.” She places her hand out to you, offering it, but not forcing you to make contact with her.

You let one hand reach slowly out to her. Her hand is warm, soft and you’re reminded again, this is Janine. She’s not your parents.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” She starts taking deep breaths and you try your best to mimic her. She gently rubs her thumb across the knuckles of your hand.

You’re able to catch your breath finally, now feeling exhausted. “I can’t be gay.” You finally manage to murmur the words out before another wave of tears comes out. You watch Janine’s face flash with confusion. She doesn’t say anything immediately, letting you cry while she help your hand.

The two of you stay, sitting Janine silently comforting you as you cried. When you finally catch your breath, you glance up at her. You feel embarrassed, embarrassed that you were admitting this to her, embarrassed about your breakdown. You quickly glance back down to your lap. “Sorry.” You mumble up to her.

“Don’t be.” You hear her take a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?” Janine says.

“Yeah.”

“Why not?” She asked, but you knew deep down, she already knew the answer, or at least some of it. “So what if you’re gay, that’s okay.”

“Janine, I don't want to talk about this.” A twinge of annoyance starts to make itself known in your voice. You didn’t want to talk, you couldn’t, you’d managed to push it down for so long, but here it was threatening to bubble over. You continued to avoid her eyes.

“Is that what you were told as a kid? That it was wrong, you couldn’t be gay?” You give a weak attempt at a nod and Janine continues. “Your parents tell you that?” Another nod. “Is that why you don’t speak to them?” You don’t nod to her third question, instead you shrug. The issue with your parents was bigger than just them telling you you can’t like girls, it was so much more than that.

“I am so sorry.” She says and you’re finally able to muster the courage to look at Janine’s face. “I know it’s not just as easy as me saying this, but there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting to love someone, even if that’s another girl.”

“I know, and I promise I’m not homophobic, anyone can do whatever, none of my business, it’s just I, I can’t be, that would prove them right.” You quickly realize your own panic may have given Janine the wrong idea about your views.

“Prove who right?” She asks gently, your hand still sitting in hers.

Already emotionally vulnerable, you break down at her question and you let it all out. All of the details.

You tell Janine about Grace first.

You start off by explaining she was your best friend and then about how your parents suspected the two of you were together. You tell her how your parents had thrown you out one night into the cold, with no place to go. You tell her how you had run to Grace, she was your safe place. You tell her you didn’t have feelings for Grace, or at least that you knew of. You then mention how you kissed Grace at her house. How it had felt right, but it wasn’t.

You then tell her what you endured after that kiss. You told her how your parents had brought you back home, how they lectured and screamed at you, day after day. How they drilled into your brain that being gay was wrong. You told her how confusing it all was for you. You were just a kid. You tell her how you didn’t know what those feelings you had meant then and you don’t know what those feelings mean when you had them in college and you still now don’t know what they mean.

You even tell her how your parents had hit you. It slips out, it wasn’t something you intended to share but you said it and it was too late to take it back. The moment the sentence leaves your mouth Janine’s face is filled with anger and followed by a look of hurt and compassion, the standard look of pity. Pity was something you saw often, when you mentioned you didn’t speak to your parents or siblings, pity was always the look everyone gave you.

You try to move quickly past mentioning the physical abuse you endured, instead you tell her how you were able to hide once you moved to Stanford, how you cut them off and haven’t seen or heard from them recently. When you finally stop talking the silence consumes the room, an uncomfortable tension sitting between the two of you.

“Can I hug you?” Janine asks, you only notice now that her eyes are glossy, filled with tears.

“Yeah.” You say as Janine opens her arms, letting you move into her. You’re practically laying in her lap hugging her. Her arms feel safe, they wrap tightly around you, holding you close.

“I am so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of that, no one does.” She says. “I had no idea.”

“No one does, it’s not something I usually share.” You mumble into her shirt.

The two of you stay like that, on the couch, her holding you tightly, you hugging her back, trying to relax yourself as much as you can. It feels like an hour passes by the time you decide to push yourself off of her.

“Do you want to talk anymore?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. It was nice talking to her, finally letting it all out, but at the same time it was emotionally exhausting reliving those memories just to tell her.

She nods and smiles at you. “Okay, can I ask you some things and if you don’t want to answer you don’t have to?”

“Yeah, sure.” It wasn’t like you had much left to hide at this point, you had fully exposed yourself to Janine, a couple more questions couldn’t hurt.

“Do you think you have feelings for a girl? Is that why you’re suddenly feeling like this?”

You shrug at her. “Maybe, I don’t know, it’s confusing, there’s different feelings, but I don’t know what they are, I think I’m just confused.”

“Okay, that’s fine, you don’t have to know what the feelings are or what they mean.” Her reassurance made you feel at ease, she wasn’t here to pry, to tell you to figure it out, she was hear to listen. She pauses for a moment before looking at you. “Is that girl Jessie?”

The mention of her name has your stomach turning with a mix of nerves and butterflies. You let your eyes meet hers for a moment, silently telling her she was right. Janine slowly nods at you, a small smile starts to creep across her lips which she quickly bites away.

“Okay.” Janine says. “That’s it, I’m done pestering you. I’m not going to ask what happened at the wedding, that’s obviously between the two of you, but if you do want to talk about her, you can, I won’t mention it to her.”

“Thank you.”

“For pestering you?” Janine says with a smile.

“No, for coming over, for checking on me.” You hadn’t been a fan when she showed up, but the relief you felt currently was unbelievable. It was like a weight that had been on your shoulders for years was a little bit lighter, someone knew your past, all of it. Even if it was one single person, it made a difference.

“You’re my little rookie, I’m always looking out for you.” She says a hand patting your thigh.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” You quickly request, realizing now that while you’d only told one person, that meant your biggest secret was no longer a secret.

“I wouldn’t, nothing we talked about will leave this room. Do you want me to at least let Jessie know I checked with you and you’re alright?”

“I think it would be better coming from me, I need to talk to her.” You didn’t want to talk to her, but it had been long enough, you were being selfish avoiding her, especially after she had cared enough to send Janine to check on you.

“Okay.” Janine nods. “Do you want me to go now? I know that was probably a lot. I’m sure you’re tired, you deserve a little rest.” She says starting to stand up from the couch.

“Can you stay? If not that’s okay, just I think having someone around would be nice.” You ask, the idea of being left alone in your silent apartment with your thoughts was a little too overwhelming at the moment.

“I can stay as long as you need.”

Janine stays for a few hours, the two of you play cards, she helps you tidy you apartment much to your refusal. You had made the mess in your state of chaos, she shouldn’t have to clean it, but she did anyway. You helped, tidying each room until it resembled a clean, livable space.

You then insisted Janine head home, feeling better about yourself and your mental well being, you could handle the rest of the night. As you walked Janine toward the door you thanked her again for coming to check on you.

“It’s really no big deal, we’re friends, I’m always going to take care of my friends.” She says slipping on her shoes. “If you ever need to talk again, I’m here.”

“Thank you.” As Janine goes to grab the door you speak up. “I’m going to talk to her, to Jessie.”

Janine nods at you. “Can I give you advice?” You nod letting her continue. “Just be honest with her, as honest as you can be or feel comfortable being. I know that I don’t know what happened, but she’s pretty understanding, if she did something to upset you I’m sure she didn’t mean it, just how I’m sure you didn’t mean to upset her if that’s the case.”

“Thanks.” You say, a tight lipped smile on your face. You had been able to avoid the fact that you had to talk to Jessie after this. You held open the door for Janine.

“I love ya kid, if you need me I’m just a call away.”

When you close the door you're left with a deafening silence. You look to the counter top where your phone sat. You had to talk to her. Wandering over you pick up your phone, staring at the screen as you try to force yourself to unlock it.

You finally swipe your thumb across the screen and make your way into your texts. Scrolling to find Jessie’s name and clicking on it, finally opening almost weeks worth of ignored texts. You had read most of them through the notification but you skimmed them again.

Most of them were her asking to talk to you, a couple of apologies, a couple offers to take you to coffee. The most recent text just asked if you were okay. You felt guilty reading back the texts, Jessie had been nothing but caring and concerned about you after what had happened, after you had run away from her. You hadn’t bothered to check on her once.

You took a deep breath as your thumb hovered over the call button, you could make it easy and just text her, but this didn’t seem like a text conversation. You feel your thumb make contact with the screen and before you know it the phone is ringing. It rings, and rings, and rings. Just before you’re convinced it will go to voicemail, the ringing stops.

“Hello?” Jessie’s voice comes through the line.

“Uh.” You panic for a moment at the sound of her voice. “Hi. Can we talk?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for a week now.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to talk, but I think I am now.”

“Okay, then talk.” You can hear the obvious frustration and annoyance in Jessie’s voice, her words coming out sharper than usual.

“Um.” You can’t even begin to find out where to start. You let a silence fall on the line, trying to sort your thoughts, you can hear Jessie moving around for a moment before there’s silence again. You sit, drowning in the silence, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts and also feeling completely empty. “Do you want to come over?”

“Tonight, it’s kinda late is it not?”

“I was thinking tomorrow? Whatever works, I just, I think this would be better in person. I owe you that.” You also didn’t mind the fact that tomorrow would buy you a couple of hours to prepare for what you were going to say to her.

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Okay. Ten tomorrow morning sound okay?”

“Sure.” It was uncharacteristic the way Jessie was being short with you.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” You tried to sound as if you were excited to see her, and part of you was. You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t also terrified at the idea of seeing Jessie again and talking to her.

“Okay.”

“Bye Jessie.” She doesn’t say goodbye, or even bye at all, you instead are met with the beeping of the call ending. You put your phone down before bringing your hands to your face, rubbing them hard down from your forehead to your neck as you let out a huge breath.

You now had to think of exactly what you wanted to say to her, and exactly what you didn’t want to say to her in less than 12 hours.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

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slowd1ving · 2 months

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STRESS, STRAIN: THE TALE OF YOUNG MODULUS AND A FORLORN PHYSICS STUDENT ゜゜・BLADE DRABBLE

Dealing with a stalker roommate? No problem, Kafka's got the perfect solution: staying with the unapproachable and cold Blade. Teetering the thin line between sleeping on the streets and facing his rumored wrath, it sure is hard keeping your balance when the engineering student is anything but civil. gender-neutral, physics major reader paired with college au + band au (will come into play in another part I swear) see here for some basic designs for them warnings: some violence? consumption of alcohol, arguments, blade being a dick, college au wc: 6.3k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

✧ Perhaps it’s lucky that your acquaintance Kafka finds you at your most dire of moments, or perhaps it’s your Achilles-level misfortune finally catching up to you. Dorm changes aren’t particularly infrequent, sure—but dealing with a stalkerish, obsessive roommate is definitely story-material for when you’re downing shots. Literature major Kafka isn’t one to turn her magnanimous back on whom she considers a friend, even if said friend is currently wallowing their sorrows away by complaining about the lack of available dorms to make the switch and drowning in hard liquor. ✧ Saviour Kafka, who plays for notorious metal group Stellaron Hunters (she’s a suave electric violinist), finds this a perfect opportunity to help out the cute guitarist from the rival Trailblazers! Her deft fingers are already sending a message to her pinned contact and drummer: Bladie, finally found you a roommate. Respond. It should be okay to put two college students (in bands infamous for their tense rivalry on– and off–campus) together in the proverbial lab rat cage; after all, neither of you are aware of who the other is behind the elaborate masks. It’s not like there’s a deficit of music groups at the Astral Institute—so who will ever know? Don’t ask how she knows the face behind the pretty Venetian mask. She won’t ever tell. ✧ Honestly, she’s not sure how the bad blood started (she helped spread the rumours). All she cares about is doing you a solid!

“You think the streets will accept me for who I am?” Even with your head slumped over your forearms and the smell of cheap vodka clinging to your clothes, Kafka thinks you look naively charming in the dim amber lights of a bar pretending to be upscale. And by naive, she means very naive—for real, how can a physics major be so gullible as to not question their roommate’s deranged tendencies until it’s far too late? It’s hilarious.

She’d dissect how this mood is perfectly, pathetically fallacious to your situation; yet her mind is too honed in on the buzz of her phone as Blade finally replies to her text.

“Kafka,” you bawl into a stack of papers you’d salvaged from your ransacked dorm. “What if the asphalt doesn’t like me when I’m sleeping in the streets?”

21:48 > ok.

Kafka, being an expert at metaphorical and allegorical interpretation, translates Blade-speak easily: let’s discuss this tomorrow, please and thank you.

“Found you a roomie,” she murmurs delightedly, watching with her hawk-keen eyes as you sit up drunkenly.

“That was fast, even for you,” you wipe your eyes cautiously—still wracked with the occasional hiccup. “Who is it?”

“Blade. You know him?”

✧ That sobers you right up. Of course you know him. Nicknamed Blade for how cold and unfriendly he is, you’ve personally seen him in engineering lectures: making people shiver from just his gaze alone, and on one notable occasion, making his project partner cry after his infamously harsh criticism of her proposal. It’s common knowledge that he practises various martial arts, but the rumours that circle around him like vultures whisper of how he uses them on the streets. But whilst you doubt the reliability of the latter talk, it’s hard not to picture his hands dripping sanguine when his eyes glint the same shade. ✧ Honestly, how bad could it be? It’s not like you have any other options unless you want to wake up with your roommate standing over you while you sleep again. After her, you doubt he’ll be any more of a walking nightmare. ✧ Perfect!—Kafka is a bit too enthusiastic at your reluctant nodding, but you cast it from your mind as you pack your stuff with Caelus and Stelle standing behind you like a pair of twin guard dogs. One good thing about this is that you can finally take your guitar with you (rather than storing it safely at Dan Heng’s room) to the apartment—because of course he’s too good for the dorms. Though, after experiencing your batshit roommate, you really can’t blame him for avoiding this area. ✧ Maybe, just maybe, the rumours about him being insane too are false and you can finally have a peaceful night’s rest without fearing for your life.

Yeah right. You hate him. You genuinely hate the man over in the room next door. The passage of time on your phone indicates it’s only been a week since you showed up with five boxes of belongings and a nervous smile on your lips—but the agony you’re going through prolongs this mental period to eternity.

Sisyphus embodies futility for evermore; as do you when you’re knocking on his door for the nth time to beg him to quiet down on his drums. The timings are so meticulous and calculative that you’re sure you could work out a linear sequence to this situation if you tried.

Exhausted from the laboratory job you’re juggling on top of band practice and reading on Dirac notations? No problem—Blade’s busy expressing how you feel in terms of loud crashing and banging that you hate to admit is (very technically) skilled.

Recalling your first encounter—your nervous smile and his cold indifference as you moved into the room next to his—it’s not hard to imagine that he’d be inconsiderate of you. Those red eyes had slid right past you like oil on water: judging you to be not worth his time to even greet properly. In fact, it’s like he’s trying to chase you out so you leave him alone for good.

The deep mahogany door swings inward, and you’re left facing an unimpressed, scowling Blade. With the way he’s clutching those drumsticks, you’d think he was about to skewer you—but you’re a bit too preoccupied with how he’s only sporting a pair of loose navy trousers that cascade languidly from his hips.

“What do you want?” Laconic as ever, he gets straight to the point with his question—as if he can’t possibly fathom why you’ve come knocking. Just like this morning, just like last night, the night before, the night before yesterday’s—every damned night is a problem.

“For you to invest in soundproofing,” you scowl back, too tired to keep up the fragile facade of politeness. At least when you practise with the electric guitar, you can easily hook it up to a pair of headphones and protect the sanctity of silence elsewhere. Actually, you don’t think he even knows your guitar exists with how considerate you are of your asshole roommate.

“Why should I?” he crosses his arms, looking directly down at you. If you looked closely, the slight stretch of his lips resembled a smirk—but you’re definitely mistaken, since the man never so much as smiles. The cold expression accompanying his crude words sums up his thoughts: if you don’t like it, beg Kafka for whatever other solution she has.

His inky hair sways from where it’s tied back, and you resist the urge to yank it until he sees sense.

“For better quality of life,” you grit out.

Those eyes turn into sardonic crescents. “I’m good.”

And the door is shut.

✧ Fortunately, you’ve managed to fall asleep in the middle of the practise room before on countless occasions; tuning the heavy thumping comes easy after a while when you’re exhausted and practically dead on your feet. The problem is during the day—doing your assigned reading and writing up results from practical work comes much harder when you’re constantly accompanied by the rhythmic percussion of a madman who favours metal. It gets so rowdy that you seriously consider whether he’s part of the Stellaron Hunters and knows you’re a Trailblazer—it would make sense, after all, if he was just feeling extra spiteful. However, from the trembling students claiming to be his previous roommates, this is just common treatment: him basically telling them to beat it and never return. ✧ Two can play at that game. Upon complaining to Kafka of his (rage-inducing) musical tendencies, she suggests that you get back at him with your electric guitar. Don’t ask her how she knows, no she’s not trying to instigate and watch the chaos—Kafka attempts to reassure you. You don’t trust the shady writer one bit, but both Data Analysis major Dan Heng and Environmental Studies student March 7th give the plan the go ahead. If you’re not mistaken, you can hear a touch of personal grief in the normally composed Dan Heng’s voice—something so poignantly irritated you wonder what the story between them is. ✧ Contrary to his nonchalant attitude, it’s clear he’s annoyed by the loud chords that buzz through the apartment. As soon as he picks up his drumsticks, you plug the guitar to the amps and thoroughly mess with him. You know enough from Caelus’ repertoire to place each genre of music Blade starts to play (which is limited to metal). No problem—you play various styles that decidedly aren’t metal and are so discordant with his own tempo you can’t help but keep a grin on your lips. He’s much too stubborn to knock on your door, but the irritated twitch of his eyes in the kitchen belies just how aggravating this is. And when you know he’s scrawling down notes for his classes, that’s when you’re practising your metal riffs and playing around with the fretboard. If you’re feeling particularly nice, you’ll play along to some darkwave gothic music—something relatively more calm—but these occasions are few and far between.

Chromatic eyes pierce your back while you deftly chop vegetables for your dinner. Really, now’s the best time to do work: when you’re busy with cooking and not insistent on plaguing him with jarring melodies. For someone so logical when it comes to his meticulous classwork, he sure doesn’t seem it as he leans against the counter on the other side of the kitchen—sipping water and just staring at you while you Julienne an onion.

You shoot him a withering glance as you toss the slices into a bowl on the side, and he glares at you with a matched fervour. If it weren’t for the fact that you literally don’t have anywhere else to go—Caelus doesn’t even have a couch for you to sleep on—you’d have moved out a long time ago.

It’s a rustic space: sage green cabinets filled with charming, mismatched plates and cups; glossy white counters that house various herbs and the occasional plant; a lacquered table in the middle that has a vase holding a singular dried flower. An orange lily—still retaining a vibrancy that conceals just how long it’s been there. You wouldn’t have expected this style of decor from him, but at the same time, you doubt it’s his influence so much as Kafka’s.

“Do you have a problem?” you probe icily, turning back to where you’re slicing a carrot into thin matchsticks; if there was a god somewhere, you’d hope it could transfigure the man behind you into the root vegetable you’re enthusiastically chopping.

“No.” And when he speaks again, he’s right behind you. There’s a sink to your left, but he’s much too close as his breath ghosts over the nape of your neck. Affronted, you turn around; only to watch as his eyes widen minutely, glass of water slipping out of his grasp and spilling down your front.

“You dickhead.” Your hands angrily grab at his collar—unheeding or perhaps uncaring of his reputation for violence as you feel the cold seep into your skin. You’re seething; for someone with such good reflexes, this is a new level of low in attempting to chase you out. Or perhaps it’s revenge for finally getting under his skin. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

It’s a little too late when you realise the position you’re in: skin showing through the translucent material, breathing shallow from your infuriation, face glaring right up at his.

“Sorry.” His voice rings out insincere—and there’s that damn faint smile still toying at his face as he looks directly at you with that heavy gaze. “My hand slipped.”

You shove him back, too disgusted to acknowledge him any further. Maybe if you turned back around, you’d see the tiniest pricks of red on his face as you tossed your soaked shirt into the washing machine—leaving you in a damp vest while you continued cooking for yourself. Maybe if you looked back at least once, you’d see the amusement in his eyes as you maul the bok choy on the cutting board.

Those are maybes.

There’s particular things you know for certain. One, you despise him and his existence. Two, he abhors you and your entire being—because why else would he be so insistent in making you leave out of your own volition?

✧ It’s the time of year that you hate: joint engineering classes so you can cover the materials aspect for your physics studies. Well, it’s not like you hated it from the very beginning—you’ve hated it ever since you realised that once again, you’d have to be in the incorrigible presence of Blade. While he did finally install some soundproofing in his room, he’s taken it upon himself to linger wherever you’re present. Typing up your notes on the deep maroon couch with a mug of lavender tea perched on the coffee table? He’s in the window seat, looking over a thick reference manual for tensile strengths. Going to meet bassist Dan Heng so the two of you can play around with various lines for your next song? He’s at the convenience store you briefly stop at, gazing at you before he glares at your friend. Practising a slow solo in the living room (it’s really got the best ambience)? He’s tapping out a beat that you can very faintly now hear—one that surprisingly goes with the electrifying chords. ✧ Point is, you’re ignoring him and his presence—while he’s inching ever closer. It comes to a head at the lecture hall; you decide to sit in the third row, since it’s both far from the back (where he usually frequents) and it doesn’t make you look like a beg. When you glance at his predestined seat, it’s empty—unsurprisingly as he’s there usually a minute before the professor—while the seat next to him is taken by a girl you’ve seen before. Despite his horrible personality and the (probably true) rumours surrounding him, there’s a few stragglers who genuinely want him. And you genuinely want those people to seek help because it’s clear something went wrong in their lives for them to be thirsting over a man who looks like he eats cigarettes for breakfast. ✧ He comes in late, as you expect, but you freeze as he places his bag down next to you. Aghast, you can’t help but stare; yet for once he’s not meeting your eyes, and it’s far too late to make a scene and move elsewhere—not when the professor’s just arrived and is keen to start the lecture for materials. He doesn’t talk much, but you’re so distracted by his presence pressing slightly into your sides that you forget that today the professor’s deciding on the pairs for your projects—mouth agape, you stare in shock as she assigns them based on who’s sitting nearby. To be generous, she says, yet there’s nothing generous about this arrangement as his mocking eyes meet yours. He knew, you seethe, storming out of the hall right as the class wraps up.

“I hate him.” Your molars grind bone-against-bone as you harshly press angry chords into the fretboard. “I hate him so so so so much.”

“Who are you talking about?” March 7th—in charge of the synthesiser—glances first at the bassist to your side, then back at you. Her eyes are wide in sympathy, yet it’s useless in the face of your despair.

“Blade.” Poetically, the word is accompanied by the deep twang of Smoke on the Water as your fingers move mindlessly on your precious baby. What, your roommate?—she queries. No, a pet fish—Caelus responds, but you tune them both out.

“He knew the professor would assign groups like that,” you groan. “That’s why he sat next to me.”

“He’s definitely trying to get you to leave his apartment out of your own will,” Dan Heng’s smooth cadence is somewhat soothing—and his conjecture is one you’ve come to yourself—but the accompanying baseline he’s playing to the song makes his theory sound comical. “But he won’t screw up his own project like that.”

You sigh, and the melody falls apart as you bring it to a grinding halt.

“Believe me, I know just how much he values his projects.” Your head throbs upon thinking about that poor girl sobbing, and the bassist coughs to stifle a laugh.

“What did he say that one time? ‘Your vapid idea would be better used on death row than as a functioning building’,” Stelle—the vocalist and also the only Psychology major you know who doesn’t unnervingly stare at you—imitates the deep reverberations of his voice, and you’re astonished at how it’s recalled verbatim (down to the exact adjective).

“I’m surprised it got round that far,” you suppress a smile—after all, it’ll be your head on the chopping block next. “You should’ve gone into theatre like Caelus did.”

What a waste of talent, you shake your head mock-ruefully, which quickly turns to true woe as you realise just the predicament you’re in.

✧ It’s not a complicated assignment. Well, it shouldn’t be: designing a sound structure based on the whims of the architectural class (whom you loathe); except that Blade is notorious for being a severe critic for civil engineering partnerships—like seriously, out of all hills to die on and it’s civil engineering. You begrudgingly create a new contact for him in your phone; a digital space just for him, which almost makes you throw up at the thought.

(+2 unread messages) <Dickhead> (new contact) 10:11 > library. 10:11 > east block, 20 minutes.

You stare incredulously at the chat, which is neither phrased as a question nor a request but an encrypted demand. The fuck? Infuriated, you take the break between your reps now rather than later, swilling down water while you irritably type out a reply.

No can do. < 10:15 I’m busy. < 10:16

The reply comes less than a minute later; three dots animating themselves into existence while you wipe the sweat off your face with a towel. This prick. Well, it’s not so much a reply as an acknowledgement of your words—because he doesn’t reply, but rather your phone starts buzzing and you fumble while looking at the expletive lit up brightly on the screen.

You’re sorely, sorely tempted to press the red receiver on the device.

“What do you want?” you scowl, and you hope it translates through your voice that you’re revolted by his mere radio presence.

“Where are you?” He ignores your question; voice vibrating low through your headphones, and you can’t help but shiver, just a little. Even through the thick towel, you can still feel crescents being formed in your palm from your nails—you sincerely wish you were throttling him instead.

“None of your business.”

There’s a budding migraine blossoming to life in your temple as you finally hang up. You think that’s the end of it—after all, it was literally yesterday that the groups were assigned.

But when you shoulder the gym door open—skin still damp and warm from your shower, clean clothes sticking ever so slightly to laved skin—there’s a sleek car parked outside, and you frown when Blade opens the driver’s door.

“I’m going to report you for stalking,” you grit out, pressing your body to the cool glass of the building. “How the fuck did you know where I was?”

“Kafka,” he replies simply, and of course, that crazy woman was the one who viewed your private story and sent it to him. “I’m picking you up.”

“No you’re not.” Seriously, he thinks you’re that easy to convince—

“I’ll shut the fuck up with the drums for these two weeks.”

It’s almost miraculous how quickly you slide into the passenger seat.

✧ You’ve never been in such close proximity to him before (if you don’t count that day in the kitchen). At least, voluntarily. When you close your eyes and lean back against the headrest, you can smell the faint, woody scent of his cologne. It’s different from the putrid tide of Axe the average engineering student drowns themself in—rather, it’s got the deep undertone of oud and something sweeter. You don’t expect it; maybe if he smelled like first impressions, he’d stink of blood and a dumpster fire. ✧ Don’t fall asleep—he remarks, and you can feel his eyes on you briefly. Eyes on the road, prick—you retort, but your own lids are still tightly shut. Therefore, you don’t see how his gaze traces the remaining water droplets from your shower: how his hands linger on his gear stick so he can feel the emanating warmth from your damp thigh. ✧ He freezes. Gross. He doesn’t like anyone, and only tolerates the rest of the Stellaron Hunters since they’ve seen him at his lowest and yet still find ways to bug him. And you. He wasn’t expecting you to last as long as you have. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to irritate him in your own way, and actually manage to aggravate him enough to force him into soundproofing his room. Actually, he still doesn’t know why you did that. He doesn’t know why his heart picked up slightly at the sight of you in that soaked shirt. And in the end, he still doesn’t entirely know why he chose to sit next to you for that lecture instead. It’s to annoy you, he decides. No point in deliberating too much about it. ✧ It’s surprising that the two of you don’t immediately argue over the project; some eco-facility for sports that surprisingly was chosen unanimously by the pair of you. Eyes flitting to each other and back, it was a miracle you both had the same idea somehow. And it’s surprising when despite your lack of experience in civil engineering like this (you usually opt for mechanical on projects like these), you carefully consider the missing parts in his outlines—security cameras, sound systems, and tiny edits to the structure to really amplify the architecture. ✧ He doesn’t mind your presence. That’s what shocks him. As you doze off with your head pressed into the crooks of your elbows, he doesn’t reprimand you like he would with anyone else. Instead, he places the material reference guide down and stops considering cement foundations. Before he gets the chance to poke your forehead, your phone buzzes against the table—lighting up with a name he didn’t think he’d see. ✧ Dan Heng. He knows you’re friends with the guy, but there’s a burning sensation as his eyes watch the pop-up turn into another message, then another. What does he want? In real time, there’s a particular irritation that blossoms with each new notification.

<Dan Heng> 20:19 > Are you still up? 20:19 > My roommate’s going to move in with his girlfriend, so you’ll be able to…

The message is cut off, but Blade isn’t stupid. He knows exactly what the implication suggests, and there’s a certain coolness in his eyes as he stares the message down. Isn’t this what he wanted? Yes, this is precisely the ending he hoped for: you moving out and him getting his space back to himself.

But the issue stems from Dan Heng. He can’t have that. He can’t have you moving in with that man of all people. Anyone else would be fine, he insists to himself.

Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng.

There’s a certain hypothesis he’d like to test. With your guard down like this, he snaps a photo of you with the drool leaking onto your sleeve—sending it directly to you. Just like clockwork, your phone lights up once more with a message. It’s not ‘Blade’ that’s texting you.

<Dickhead> 20:20 > [photo.jpeg attached]

He grits his teeth, clutching his textbook until his fingers ache from the strain. No, he won’t give that bastard the satisfaction of taking his roommate like this.

He’ll play nice. When you find someone who works this efficiently with you, while managing to hold their ground under his intimidating gaze, it’s hard not to want them to not scurry away.

Eat shit, Dan Heng.

✧ Somehow, mercifully, you manage to complete the project with that weirdo. It’s strange—he’s surprisingly more cordial than ever. And with his inky hair pulled into a loose bun, glasses perched on his straight nose—it’s hard to imagine he’d ever made that poor girl cry in front of everyone like that, but you’d witnessed it yourself. So with a sigh, you remind yourself that he’s just as much of an asshole as the rumours say. But, staring at him so relaxed like this, these two different Blades are hard to ever merge.

“Something on my face?” He’s still writing with his glasses sliding down his nose. He sounds irritated, as per usual, but the tiny smirk painting his face lets you know that no he’s not irritated, he’s just being an arse just as always.

“Yeah, pen,” you mutter, looking away as he finally glances up at you. When you glance back at the desk where your laptop precariously shows the still-unfinished presentation slides, he’s gazing up at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes.

It almost puts to rest the image of a dickhead.

“There’s no pen, though,” he purrs, voice low while he rests the manual back on the table. “I’ve been reading all morning.”

Nevermind—he’s as much of an asshole as he regularly is.

“Who knows,” you comment offhandedly, slowly sliding a blue biro your way as soon as he looks back down. There—you attempt to inch forward to draw on his face, but he catches your wrist from across the table between you.

You freeze. Shit, you screwed up. With how relaxed he is, it’s getting easier and easier to forget the rumours of his bruised knuckles that follow him like a shroud. His eyes glance coolly at you, then at the incriminating weapon within your fingers.

“What are you doing?” Maybe he’s the questions first, beat up later kind.

“Getting revenge.” Shameless, you think, but definitely not as shameless as getting told to effectively shut up with the drums yet having the audacity to keep going louder.

His lips part, and your eyes nearly stray to the pink colour of them. Then, he smiles—something so cynical and disturbing you can’t help but shiver and twist your arm out of his hold, all so you can watch him askance.

“I can see why people find you scary,” you shudder, tapping your biro on a square notepad.

“And you don’t?” An innocuous question, but one that almost sounds accusatory.

“Nah,” you make a disgusted noise, like you’re trying to suppress vomit. “You’re just a prick.”

In the end, that same prick ends up rolling his sleeves upon your request so you can litter blue ink upon his forearms. With how pale he is, it resembles delicate ceramics painted with cerulean landscapes. And while you do include etched illustrations and swirling designs, you make sure to include several phalluses dotted around—just so he lives up to his contact name.

“Wow,” he remarks sardonically. “Maybe you should quit physics and join the liberal arts programme.”

You ignore him, taking a few shots of your handiwork and sending them to Kafka, captioned I feel like this truly reflects his personality and making sure all the tiny dicks are in full focus.

“Maybe I should,” you shrug. “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with you, at least.”

“Likewise,” he responds, but it’s not as satisfying to think about you quitting as he thought it would be.

It’s stupid. He finds that he doesn’t want the ink to wash from his arms, not so soon.

When you log into your account to touch-up the presentation, you spot the comment he left back in the library on the presentation slides—timestamped to the exact twenty past five.

17:20 > Maybe if you stopped staring at me, we’d be done sooner.

It’s the longest sentence he’s ever typed out to you—but that’s exactly what makes it so galling.

go fuck yourself < 22:31

22:31 > ooh you want me so bad aha

You pause, staring incredulously at the text, then to where the bathroom’s situated. The water’s definitely running.

… < 22:32 damn this idiot’s really getting scammed and hacked < 22:33 crazy < 22:33 [feynman’s twin] sent laughing emoji < 22:33

22:33 > on the daily lmao 22:34 > same two old man passwords for everything

Types like one too < 22:34

22:35 > right?? 22:36 > we should be friends btw 22:36 > [Blade.] sent contact silver-W

Dang he really put a period after than name too < 22:37

22:37 > top ten edgelords 22:37 > [Blade.] sent laughing emoji

[feynman’s twin] sent laughing emoji < 22:37

It’s not until the morning when he’s looking over the (surprisingly well-done) slides that he finally notices the string of (highly unprofessional) messages that he definitely did not write.

His head throbs and his eye twitches as he reads through them—burning holes through the wall separating him and you. He hopes you receive the subliminal nightmares he’s so graciously sending you.

It’s a fiercely deliberated decision. With a heavy heart, he finally presses [backspace] on the typo next to his nickname.

He only hopes you won’t notice.

(Silver Wolf notices—immediately screenshotting the new handle [Blade] and sending it to you.)

✧ Good things come in threes. Getting through this project, not getting beat up by that nerd, and getting through the presentation smoothly. By that, you mean you do most of the speaking while Blade clicks through the slides. However, contrary to all expectations, his voice comes low and rich—neither stumbling through the knowledge nor forgetting the important parts. It’s so shocking you can’t help but stare at him; something he definitely notices, judging by the self-important smirk he sends you. ✧ Perhaps a little too good. The pair of you leave the lecture hall separately—after all, it’s not like you want to be in his presence any longer, and he doesn’t particularly want to be in yours either. But you do want the sweet energy drink that’s been chilling in the shared fridge for the past few days: as tantalising as the very nectar of the gods. ✧ It’s when you enter an alleyway shortcut that you witness her—your old roommate. Vaguely, you recall she used to have a crush on Blade (a match made in heaven if there ever was one); perhaps that’s why she’s inching towards you with a pipe that is tetanus’ wet dream—so grimy you think you’ll immediately die if you’re struck by it. ✧ All this over him?—you think with disgust as you try back out of the alleyway, only to collide with the towering body of her boyfriend: some guy unfortunate enough to be entrapped by her pretty face and definitely not her personality. She doesn’t want you, and he (aforementioned: Blade) doesn’t want her either. It’s rather tragic, but woefully you can’t spare any pity for them: not when you’re about to get beat and for what? A successful presentation with Blade? ✧ They’re amateurish enough that you manage to evade them for a minute, but the alleyway’s too narrow to slip past them, and you’ve never been in a fight like this. ✧ You’re cornered when he appears: some twisted knight he is.

“You’re late,” you heave, bruises on your knuckles and that man’s face.

“You…” Blade trails off as he sees the blood spatters on your clothes, and his expression twists into one he’s glad you can’t see—not when his broad shoulders face you in an impenetrable wall. The two idiots—Tweedledee and Tweedledum, judging by how disturbingly gullible they are—stiffen immediately upon his timely arrival.

He’ll handle it like he always does.

But it’s certainly strange. Why does he feel so much angrier than he does normally?

✧ It’s late afternoon: dusk barely kissing the rooftops of the city, stars just about peeking from the violet firmament. You didn’t ask questions when he made enough space for you to slip out the alleyway: heart lodged in your throat as you quietly sat down at the local café with blossoming pain in your ribs and fists. Stupid, you were stupid to think that crazed girl would ever leave you alone. ✧ Maybe it’s counterintuitive to feel safe when he steps into the small building. He smells faintly of blood: a terrible, metallic odour spilling onto his clothes and flesh. But beneath that, there’s a lingering scent of that woody oud—you can’t help but sink into it. ✧ They won’t bother you ever again—he murmurs as the door jingles behind both of you. You didn’t kill them, did you?—you mutter back, half-sarcastically. No, but it probably hurt quite a bit for them—he shrugs. “Let’s go home.” ✧ Home. He says that, but there’s still that offer from Dan Heng to move in with him—one you’ll probably accept. Blade may have saved you, but he’s still a dickhead who has made numerous attempts to kick you out.

“Ow, fuck,” you hiss as he dabs antiseptic on the various cuts on your hand. It’s well into the evening now, and you’re currently sitting on the bathroom counter with your injuries on full display.

So infuriating. You glare at the man standing in between your legs—unscathed completely. Worst of all, there’s a smug smile on his lips; whatever worry he might have had over you has completely dissipated.

“You couldn’t let them hit you once?”

“Bitter much?” he returns easily, swabbing another cotton ball with alcohol and pressing it against the large cut on the side of your forearm. It stings, but you grit your teeth and bear it—much too annoyed with him to show any more pain.

In this position, the resentment you feel towards him turns faint; a veil seems to obscure the burning sensation.

“You talk too much,” you seethe. “What happened to the prick who kept his mouth shut and ignored me?”

Tendrils of his jet-hued hair brush your cheek as he inches forward. “If you like, we can go right back to that—playing at my whim included.”

He hasn’t felt like this in years—back when he was still a boy named Yingxing and unmarred by the burdens life would eventually place on his shoulders.

“Let me do it myself,” you argue back.

“Nah.” Silver Wolf will pay for calling him an old man. “You won’t do it properly.”

Another brief kiss from the alcohol against your bloody knuckles, and this time you can’t hide the slight wince on your face. It takes quite a lot of self-restraint to not dent the tweezers—he should’ve done so much worse to the two who tried this, besides beating the shit out of them and getting Kafka to land them behind bars.

“That rod probably had tetanus on it,” he shrugs, rummaging around in his disused first-aid kit for plasters and bandages.

“Yeah, I thought that too,” you shudder. It's this moment of casual, same line thinking that strikes you as being far too strange. He's so close you can feel each puff of air when he exhales: practically scalding the bare skin stretched over collarbones. Too close—and if he keeps talking like this, as if he’s no longer disgusted by your presence, you won’t be able to deal with it.

“What’d you do to her?” he questions, but it’s not the ‘no wonder she attacked you’ tone—rather than that, it’s like he’s trying to prompt you into distraction.

“This is actually your fault,” you scowl, irritably casting your mind back to when she used to talk your ear off about the man standing here.

“How so?” Nonplussed, he starts rolling the bandage across your arm—evidently, he’s experienced with this sort of thing.

Stalker roommate. Stalker roommate has crush on engineering maniac. Stalker roommate sees that your new roommate and engineering maniac are one and the same—you summarise, too tired to give the specifics. He sees the way your lids flutter closed from exhaustion; for once, he’ll use Kafka to get more of the information you omitted.

“Honestly, you two freaks would be perfect for each other,” you murmur absentmindedly. At that, he pulls the bandage tighter against your skin and you draw in a pained inhale.

“You should try stand-up.” His voice is thick with revulsion, and it’s quiet for a few brief moments as he gets started on patching up the scrapes left on your back. You’re sitting on a stool now: unable to see his face but awfully mindful of how his hands brush over the skin layered over your scapula.

“You still haven’t thanked me.”

“Thank you, my aggravating saviour,” you say, much too insincerely. “But that reminds me that I’ve got good news for you. That should suffice as a symbol of my gratitude.”

What is it?

“One of my friends has a room free, so I’ll probably be able to move out soon.”

The worst part is, he knows exactly who this friend is. His hands freeze on the band-aid he’s smoothing on your skin; too absorbed in his murderous thoughts to notice how you stiffen at the prolonged gesture. He’s not jealous; these are merely stirrings of friendship—this ugly, amorphous thing writhing in his gut and condemning him to senseless anger.

“That’s not good news,” he breathes, and it’s a little too quiet as he finishes wrapping the final bandage around your bruised ribs.

For the first time ever, Kafka receives a text from Blade that doesn’t consist of just one word.

<Bladie> 20:33 > I need advice.

Oh, this is interesting.

What are friends for?—she coos, making sure to show Silver Wolf the glaring achievement in Blade’s range of text vocabulary.

He’s clearly been on the rear end of bad news; while for her, on the contrary, this just means her scheme is moving along very nicely.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Monster, Inc. 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

After a quick Google and a few reviews, you decide on a brand. You pick a box off the shelf. It should do the job as long as you apply it properly. You’re not so worried about yourself.

Something drops along the edge of your vision and you peek over. A man walks away ignorant of the card left behind. You hurry to scoop it up.

“Excuse me, sir, you dropped--” You click to a stop in your heels as he faces you. You smile as he mirrors your expression. “Peter!?”

“Hey, Missie.” His brown eyes beam back at you. “What are the odds?”

“It’s been so long. Um...” you look down at the card then wiggle it at him. “You dropped this.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

He accepts the card with a dimple in his cheek. You look at it and realise it’s nothing special. Just a loyalty card from Roasters. It is a great shop.

“Haven’t heard from you since the paper. You said you’d keep in touch.” He shifts his stance so another customer can squeeze by.

“Yeah, uh, I meant to. I’ve been really cruddy at keeping up. Work is so busy and--”

“What’s that for?” He quickly redirects as he points at the box in your hands. “You dye your hair? Wouldn’t guess it.”

“Oh, no it’s for... my boss,” you giggle.

“Your boss. Right. I’m sorry, what exactly do you do now?”

“I’m a PA. My boss is just demanding. That’s all. But it’s good pay and it keeps me on my toes.”

“Ah, I left the paper too. Started my own photography business.” He explains.

“I saw that on Insta! I follow you. Your stuff is so good.”

“You follow me but you don’t message,” he crosses his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you pout. You rattle the box in your hands. You don’t want to be abrupt but you really can’t keep Mr. Hansen waiting too long and you still need to grab shampoo.

“We should catch up. How about dinner? What are you doing tonight?” Peter asks.

“Oh, er, nothing.”

“Great. How about Zak’s? That old sandwich shop near the paper. I remember your fave; the spicy italian with extra pickles.” He grins triumphantly.

“Sure, that sounds awesome. Just... send me a message, okay? I gotta get back to my boss.”

“Sure, don’t let her work you too hard,” he steps out of your way.

“He,” you correct him. “It’s not hard work, just a lot.”

You sweep down the aisle and grab a clarifying shampoo on your way to the checkout. Even just a few minutes is too long for Mr. Hansen and in his state, you don’t expect him to be any calmer. All you can hope for is that the remover works out.

Back at the office, you measure your dread. It won’t be that bad. You can fix this. Maybe. You grabbed some dye too, hoping maybe you might be able to even everything out after.

You drop your purse on your desk and flit over to Mr. Hansen’s office. You knock and hear him groaning from inside. As you enter, he’s bent over his lap, holding his head. He sits up so fast his chair teeters. He faces your chirpy greeting.

“Mr. Hansen,” you sing, “I got everything we need.”

“Why the fuck are you so cheery?”

As you look at him, like really look at him, you find it hard not to laugh. He really does look awful. He’s not exactly your type but he isn’t too bad most days. The black dye just washes him out. He looks like Dracula if he was in a 70s adult flick.

“So, we need to wash your hair. I figured we can use your sink. I even grabbed a towel.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” He hisses.

“Sir, I think we can fix your hair.”

He scowls and stands. He shakes his head and slinks to the en suite bathroom. You follow with the bag of goodies. He looms with arms crossed as you put it on the counter and unpack.

“You can put the towel around your collar to keep the remover from dripping. Tuck it in to--”

Before you can finish, his shirt is half unbuttoned. You turn to unbox the remover and peel the seal of the bottle as you quiet. Whatever’s easier, you suppose. He hangs his shirt on the back of the door and comes back to you. You get a glimpse of his chest hair in the mirror.

“Alright, erm, bend over the sink and we need to wash your hair. How about you put the towel over your eyes--”

“I can handle it.” He snatches the towel and folders it over his forehead and eyes. He bends over the sink. His broad shoulders strain as his muscles tighten. “Don’t fuck up my hair.”

You want to tell him you don’t think it can get worse but you know better. You take one of the paper cups from the stack and crank on the faucet. You feel the temperature before you fill the cup and carefully pour it over his head. You wet all the strands and squirt shampoo onto his hair. You lather it up, scratching his scalp with your nails.

“Mmmph,” he purrs as your work away. You smile. He’s a bit like a cat. Cranky but manageable.

You rinse his hair methodically. You make sure not to get any near his face as you use your hand to redirect the water. When you finish, you help him cover his hair with the towel.

You roll in his chair from the office and have him sit. You rub the moisture of his hair with the towel and drape it around his shoulders. You pull the gloves on and mix up the remover in the bottle then take the comb out of the box. You go to Mr. Hansen as he sits, looking despondent.

“It fucking reeks,” he wrinkles his nose at the odour.

“I did warn you but once we rinse it out, you’ll be good as new.” You comb his hair back, then forward, and pull out a thin section. You slather it on precisely as you work through the strands.

As you pay close attention to your task, you feel the tension ease from him. When you get through the longer pieces on the top of his head, you push the back again. You use your gloved fingers to do his sides, rubbing in the remover on the buzzed stubble. As you do, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

Well, it’s better than him being angry. This might be the most relaxed you’ve ever seen Mr. Hansen.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #au #bad bosses #monster inc #the gray man

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fruittt-punchhh · 3 months

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Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad's best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can't help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader. Geto x reader a little bit, kinda not really. Nobara x reader (kissin’ n stuff)

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, dad's best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, female masturbation, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught in the act, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/ affectionate names, age gap (reader is 24, Toji is in his 30s), Toji calls reader (doll, slut, bitch, etc.), big dick! Toji, cunnilingus (f! receiving), jealousy, Nobara and reader kiss and stuff, sending nudes (if that makes you uncomfortable just scroll through!), public sex if you squint really hard.

TW: karaoke lmao

Word count: 7.5k (ur welcome)

Notes: why hello again cuties!🫶😭thank you for all the support. Please enjoy this part! Next part is currently in the works so it’ll be up soon-ish. As always, let me know what you think! much love, fruit punch🧃

You awake in the morning to an empty house. Toji must still be working, and your dad and brother were packing to leave already. You stretch and yawn as you place your feet on the floor, hips still aching from the rough treatment from Toji last night. You put on your house shoes as you shuffle into the living room.

“Hey, y/n! Thought you’d up and died in there, haha,” your dad says, reaching to give you a hug.

You three discuss the fishing trip, school, and your dads next big project at work. You woke up pretty late, so they were almost out the door by the time you caught them. You all exchanged goodbyes and I love you’s before you head back to your room.

You decide to clean up the mess that you had made last night, throwing your sheets in the wash along with your bikini. You try to distract yourself from the thoughts that flood your mind. You turn up the music playing in the speaker as you decide to tidy the rest of the house. You knew you’d have a busy night ahead of you, and you definitely wanted to come home to a clean house.

————————————————————————

You finished the rest of your drink as you started to curl your hair. You had previously planned to go to the club with some college friends that lived in the area. It was Saturday night, and after your experience with Toji last night, you knew you needed to get fucked up. With no new texts from him since yesterday, you figured it’d be best to forget it ever happened and just try to get laid tonight if you could manage. You swiped left to delete the messages, hoping your drink hits your system quickly.

Everything with Toji was perfect- thinking about it for longer than you had to was making you sweat. But you couldn’t help the nagging feeling of guilt deep in your core. It would crush your dad to find out that you were into older men, especially when those older men were very close to him. Plus, you and Toji were in two totally different phases of your life. You had plans to go to graduate school and well, he just sat around and drank and when he wasn’t drinking he was at work doing god knows what. You still had no insight as to what his profession was (if you can even call it that), but you knew he made enough to go out to clubs, bars, and casinos most nights of the week.

You knew Toji had a gambling problem from your father, but he made it seem like he had plenty of money to spare. Toji didn’t seem like he was rich by any means, always wearing the same cycle of workout clothes, jeans, and sweats. You don’t recall ever seeing him dressed up.

As you finish the last few curls in your hair, you run to your dresser looking for the package Toji left there yesterday. It had a fishnet bra, panties, and stockings. You really just wanted the stockings to go with your black skirt and black bra combo, but the full set was ridiculously on sale. You just had to get it. It hugged your figure in all the right ways and made you feel, for once, really fucking sexy.

You had no intentions of leaving the club without someone with you, so you decide to take a tasteful nude just in case you want to use it as a bargaining chip later. You continue with the rest of your outfit, opting for black platform boots instead of your regular stilettos. All that was left was your makeup, a shot or two, and you were good to go.

You finish the last coat of your mascara, and as you wait for your lash glue to dry, you order the Uber. Your dad had to return to work back in the states, and your brother went back to campus early. It was just you in the house. You decided to blast your music, dancing as you await your ride. You looked pretty damn good and you were ready to get laid, or at least find someone to dance with at the minimum.

————————————————————————

You walk into the club — the music was so loud you felt the bass in your heart and your ears were rattling. The DJ was doing a great job, and you knew just the thing to get you back into the dancing mood.

“Who wants shooooots?” You yell to your girlfriends, and a few random patrons at the bar. You order shots for everyone, including two for yourself. The liquor burned on the way down but you knew in just a few minutes you wouldn’t have a care in the world.

You finish your other drink as your friend convinces you to join her on the dance floor. You two take turns guessing how big everyones dick is, far too drunk to care who can hear you.

“Oh his is definitely bigger than average and he looks like he knows what to do with it,” your friend Nobara giggles, blushing as she covers her mouth. She points to a tall, pink haired man behind you, with little scars near his eyes.

“Ohmygod! Okay, n-nobara you’re literally so right bitch,” normally Nobara would never let you address her as that, but you were all too fucked to care. Your other friend mentions that the tall black haired man with the plugs looks like he’s hung, to which you agree. They dare you to go get his number, and you wouldn’t mind finding out if your speculations were true.

“Hi, I’m y/n, -sorry, s-so loud in here, hah” you yell, grabbing onto his sleeve for support.

“It’s okay pretty, I’m Geto. Nice to meet you,” he says in your ear, making shivers run down your spine. You knew he was hot but you didn’t expect his voice to turn you on that much.

Feeling all confidence being thrown out the window, you ask him, “my friends dared me to get your number and you are really cute. You can give me a fake one if you want!” You beam up at him. He was quite excited to exchange information. His phone was on a charger somewhere, so he puts his number in your phone.

“Ohmygod, you got it?!” They scream. With happy giggles they order another round of drinks for themselves and a shot for you, to congratulate you on your stunning victory.

At this point, your vision was hazy and you were far too sweaty for your own good. The DJ had started playing some of Charli XCX’s new album ‘brat’, the title of which you felt was a very applicable name for yourself.

“Holy shit-“ your other friend starts.

“S’up?” You yell.

“I know we stopped playing a while ago, but he looks like he’s got the biggest dick of them all”

You turn. Trying your damndest to keep your balance, you look towards the entrance to see none other than Mr. Fushiguro.

You knew you were fucked. He had left you on read and you hadn’t seen him since. You were confused about the relationship between you two, especially since you were back to university in a few days. You pray to god that he doesn’t notice you and turn back around, trying to shuffle more towards the middle of the dance floor. You mutter a halfhearted ‘yeah’ to your friend before you spin her around and start dancing to the next song.

Geto appears behind you and he grabs on to your waist, asking if he could dance with you and your friends. You yell back an ‘of course!’ as you all start jumping to the music.

He walked in the bar, looking to occupy his favorite seat for most of the night. He came here after he was done at the casino, usually to get a couple drinks, listen to music, and maybe get his dick sucked in the bathroom if he was lucky. He had been feeling much too antisocial lately, opting to drown his sorrows in another drink instead of another woman.

He looks through the crowd as he sees someone he never expected to go on stage.

The song comes to an end as the dj yells ‘karaoke anyone?!’ You had just finished yet another shot Geto bought for you as your friends are pushing you to the stage. You try to plant your feet flat on the floor to no avail as your balance was questionable at best. Before you know it you’re on stage, grabbing the microphone, looking out at the crowd and seeing nothing but blurry faces.

You tell the dj to play the song ‘Guess’ by Charli, just to keep the vibes going. You hear the beat come in as you start to dance on stage, currently unaffected by the hundreds of eyes planted on you and your movements. You were a shitty singer so thankfully, this song was more talking than anything.

‘You wanna guess the color of my underwear.’

‘You wanna know what I got going on down there.’

You chant as you hear your friends screaming in the crowd for you.

‘Is it pretty in pink or all see-through?’

‘Is it showin’ off my brand new lower back tattoo?’

You spin around, lowering your skirt just a hair to reveal the little heart tattoo you have on your lower back. It definitely wasn’t a new tattoo by any means, but it fit the song nonetheless. You spin around, seeing Nobara shout for you near the front.

To your surprise, you also see an all too familiar face approach the front of the stage. Toji looks up at you and you swear you see him sweating. He has a cigarette in between his lips and a drink in hand, not even dancing to the music. He was too entranced by your presence on the stage to think about anything other than you.

‘You wanna put ‘em in your mouth, pull ‘em all down south.’

‘You wanna turn this shit out, that’s what I’m talkin’ about’

You failed to pull your skirt back up from earlier, leaving little to the imagination as your fish net panties peek through the top of your skirt. You feel the beat drop as the hook comes in, charli’s voice saying the words for you this time around as you continue to dance. You sway your hips and the crowd is going wild for you. You know the beat drop is coming so you start to jump. You repeat the chorus from earlier, dancing as slutty as you can for the man in front of you. Your tits were bouncing as you jumped and you had to put your hand on top of them to keep them from escaping.

The bridge is coming as you drop to your hands and knees, crawling towards the black-haired man in front of you. He takes a final puff of his cigarette before he’s putting it in between your lips with a smirk. He takes a drink as you take a puff, blowing out the bitter smoke as you continue.

‘Guess.’

The crowd goes wild as you see everyone, excluding Toji, jumping up and down to the beat. He has a thumb tucked into his belt as he bites his bottom lip, eyeing your figure up and down. You and the crowd chant to the bridge.

“Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess.”

You finish your little dance as the outro plays. The part you had to sing was practically over, so you head to the stairs on the side of the stage.

You meet back up with your friends and they are all but losing their shit.

‘Y/n that was so fuckin’ good!’

‘Okay girl who knew you had it in you??’

‘I’m deeeeeead, you looked so fucking hot up there!!’

You fan your audience away, telling them ‘please, no paparazzi’

You feel Geto come up behind you as he congratulates you, telling you your performance was amazing. You thank him with a smile as he goes to find his friends in the crowd.

Toji must have missed you when you rejoined the crowd because he was no where to be seen. At this point, you’ve had so many drinks you can’t count. You feel a buzz in your pocket from an unknown number.

You assume it must be Geto. You search the crowd for him, spotting him in the back. You shoot him a smile as he does the same.

You remembered the picture from earlier, hoping this might signal him to take you out of here.

The nickname rings an all too familiar bell as you try to forget the ache in your stomach. You send him the picture with a heart emoji. You search for Geto again, hoping to see his reaction. You catch his eyes again as he turns around, continuing to dance with his friends. Odd. But not out of the ordinary.

Whoa. It must have worked. You anxiously await the clock as you dance to the last song of the album.

You start to push yourself through the crowd as you head towards the bathroom. You see Geto to your left, and he hasn’t moved-only greeting you with a smile and a sloppy wave. Weird. Maybe he was just waiting for you to see if you were down? Who knows, you think, as you finally make it to the bathroom.

It’s dimly lit with only red LEDS along the ceiling. It’s a family bathroom (in a club yeah right) so the door (thankfully) has a lock. You put your back against the wall as you wait for geto.

You continue to bob your head to the music as the door opens. Before you can turn your head to greet him, you are slammed against the wall with a hand up your shirt. That’s when the all too familiar scent of pine and liquor hit your nose.

“Toji?!”

You find it hard to push him away as he is grabbing every inch of your body, so possessively and full of want. He grunts in your ear as you hug him back, scratching down his back underneath his slutty white tee.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, doll. Getting up on stage, dancing like a fuckin’ stripper in front of everyone. You were makin’ me lose my mind.”

You feel so embarrassed, knowing that toji was witness to the whole performance.

“And you really think you’re slick, huh? Sending me pictures like that and thinkin’ I won’t fuck you right here in front of everybody on the bathroom floor.”

Sending pictures? Oh shit. There’s no way, I mean it had to be Geto. You didn’t recognize the area code and there were no previous messages. But that would explain his distant behavior earlier.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought I-I was sending them to some-someone else.”

“Yeah I know you did you slut. These tits and this pussy are just for me, ya’ got it? Thought you woulda’ learned that by now, seein’ as I made you squirt all over me yesterday.”

You face burns as he rubs you through your fishnet panties. You whine underneath him, desperately holding onto his arm for stability.

“I’m sorry, T-Toji. I can take some mo-more for you if ya want”

“Oh there’s no ifs. You’re going to.”

Toji crouches down and suddenly has you in the air above him. Your back is still to the wall as he lifts your right leg up, bringing your wet cunt level with his face. He throws your leg over his shoulder and scoots your left leg out, making you spread yourself in front of him once again.

He wastes no time devouring you through your panties and he doesn’t even give you the decency of pulling them to the side. He slides his tongue through the holes of your panties, drawing out cry after cry from you. All the liquor has made you too horny for your own good as your orgasm fast approaches. You thread both hands in his hair as you pull him close to you, desperate to cum.

“T-Toji, fuck, m-cumming”

He pulls off of you and drops your leg down onto the floor. Did he really just edge you?

He’s pulling your panties down your plush thighs and shoves them into his pocket. You think he’s going to finally have his way with you, until he starts standing up.

“I’m keeping these. You know better than to wear something so slutty in front of me and not expect me to devour you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little flattered, knowing he liked your outfit and everything you had on underneath. He kissed your cheek as he pulls back to whisper in your ear.

“Good girls get to cum, but you haven’t been that good have ya’? That’s for tryin’ t’show those pretty tits to some other bitch. Just know the only reason I’m not fucking you right here right now is because I wouldn’t want to pop your cherry in the club bathroom. You’re a slut, but you’re not a whore,” he says, giving your ass a hard slap as you yelp.

“Now get the fuck outta here. I’ll find you when I’m ready to leave, yeah?” He says as he turns you around and pushes you out the door. You’ve barely maintained your balance as you’re shuffling out the door as you hear it close and lock behind you.

Toji shuts the door and locks it and immediately has his pants around his ankles. Seeing you up on stage, showing everyone your tattoo that he had never managed to see, while you sway your hips directly in front of him. He saw the fishnets peeking out of your skirt and your top and he knew he had to see what you had on underneath, just as the song implied.

He decided to text you instead of approaching just in case you wanted nothing to do with him. You responded quickly, obviously very drunk, and sent him a picture that nearly had him poking someone’s eye out with his raging hard-on. He had to taste you, even if just for a moment.

His hands are working on his length furiously. He brings your panties up to his big nose, smelling them with a grunt. Covered in perfume, sweat, and your wetness. He spits on them, bringing them down to his hard cock.

He doesn’t want you to leave without him, and he’s scared you’ll go find the younger, raven-haired man to accompany you instead of him. He runs his hand over his slit, rubbing his precum all over the tip. He’s coming closer to his orgasm as he rubs your panties up and down his length. He pulls out the picture you sent him earlier before he’s accidentally cumming all over his phone screen, paying tribute to your slutty thighs and big tits as best he can. He washes his phone off and buttons his pants before he’s back on the dance floor.

You were pretty short, so Toji had a hard time locating you. He was about to ask the bartender if he’d seen you, when he catches you traipsing out the front door with a couple of friends. Were you leaving?? Surely not after the interaction you two just had.

Had he really just edged you?? In the club bathroom nonetheless. You needed a smoke break and a break in general from the flashing lights and loud music. You take Nobara and another friend outside as you pull out the joint from behind your ear. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smoke tonight, but the adrenaline rush from being on stage on top of the feeling Toji left you with was enough to seal the deal.

Toji heads towards the door, hoping to catch you and offer you a ride home before you’re gone. He had only a few drinks and would be sober enough in no time. He grabs your arm as he sees you light up your joint.

“Where d’ya think you’re going, huh?” He whispers in your ear as he pulls you close to him by your waist.

You take a deep breath, letting the harsh smoke enter your lungs and praying it will fix all of your problems. You felt a large hand on your arm, thinking it might be a security guard ready to chastise you for smoking so close to the entrance. Until that hand becomes two hands on your waist and you feel an all too familiar length being pushed into the softness of your ass. Toji had really followed you out here. Did he think you were leaving or something?

“N-nowhere, I just needed a smoke after-“

“After what?”

“Uhm, the song, that’s all,” you say, blushing as he takes the joint from your hand. You look at him surprised, not expecting the old man to be okay with smoking weed. He takes a long puff as he brings his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your nose and mouth as you kiss him back with fervor.

“Um hello? I’m right here lovebirds,” you hear Nobara say to your left.

“Jesus, s-sorry Nobara”

You pull away from Toji and you let him keep the blunt.

“Why don’t ya’ lemme’ have this? Wouldn’t want ya’ killing all your brain cells before your last semester, right? I’ll get you some more drinks when we go inside,” Toji murmurs in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Are you gonna’ introduce me to your friend here or are you two just going to fuck in the street?”

Nobara says, snapping you out of your trance for the second time that night.

“S-sorry, this is… T-Toji, the one I was telling you about,” you say as Nobara’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“This is Toji? Like the Toji?” You wish Nobara wouldn’t lay it on so thick, as if you hadn’t spent all day on the phone telling her every detail about your escapades.

“Yeah, that Toji. I’m her dad’s best friend, isn’t that right hun?”

If you thought Nobara’s eyes couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. She somehow hadn’t put two and two together that the Toji you were fucking was also the Mr. Fushiguro that your father was friends with.

“Ohhhhhhh. Ohhhh, okayyyyy. Everything is connecting now, haha. I think I might head back inside and leave you two to it. Come find me when you get back inside y/n”

“Of course, we’ll be back in just a second! You still owe me a dance,” you can barely get the words out before Nobara is closing the door and Toji is turning you around.

“Let’s sit, yeah? I’m sure you’re exhausted from shaking your ass for everyone.”

Toji pulls out a chair only for himself as he watches you sit across from him.

“Silly girl, your seat’s right here,” he says looking into your eyes as he pats his lap. You regrettably get back up and go to sit on his lap, knowing that your lack of panties would not help your arousal. You sit down and immediately feel a large rod underneath you, lined up with your cunt so perfectly, you could sit here forever.

“That’s right, good girl. Now try not to make a big mess on me, okay? These are my good pants and according to you we’ve still got some dancin’ to do,” Toji says with a smirk. He’s finished nearly half the joint now, and you can tell his high has definitely hit him. His eyes are two lines as you attempt to make eye contact with him.

“Somebody’s hiiiiiiiiigh,” you say in a singsong voice, giggling at him as you do so. He keeps puffing until you feel him shaking underneath you. You look back to see Toji giggling too. Scratch that, he was full on laughing. He was slapping his knee and everything like some old fogey. He couldn’t put the joint down now, not while there was so little left. But you were right in your assumption. Toji rarely smoked, preferring to drink when he got off work. Yet here he was, toking on the weed like it was a cigarette and he felt like he might have fucked up. He wanted to think of something sly to say back to you, but his mind was empty except for thoughts of you, as always.

“Hell yeah I’m high,” he says, giggling like a little school girl. “Wanna get back inside? I still never rewarded you for your stellar performance earlier.” Curious as to what reward he had in mind, you stand up and grab his hand. The two of you walk back inside as he leads you to the bar.

“Let me get a vodka cran’ for my lady, please”

Your lady? You were loving this special treatment, wanting to bask in it all night long. He hands you your drink as you chug it, not wanting to waste one of your hands holding a drink when it could be on Toji’s body. You two make it back to the dance floor and you find Nobara talking to a tall, fit woman with a long white braid on her shoulder. The braid was hanging in her face and you wondered if she could even see walking around in a dark night club like that.

“Ohmygod, Toji?!” She exclaims, running up to him to hug him, nearly pushing you over out of excitement. You don’t know why, but seeing him hug her back sent you fuming. You felt as if everyone could see the smoke coming out of your ears. You knew Toji wasn’t your boyfriend or whatever, but you still had some sort of feelings for him, even if they were only rooted in lust.

“Mei, h-hey, how’ve you been? It’s been a while!”

You’d never seen Toji say anything exclamatory in his life, except for when he was laying with you. You watch the two of them catch up as you grab Nobara by the hand and walk away.

“Are we leaving?! I found this cute girl and I was just about to go talk to her!” You assure her that while you weren’t leaving, you had a new mission: make Toji jealous.

Nobara suggested you go grind on Geto, which seemed like an excellent idea, if you weren’t scared for what Toji would do with him if he saw you. Besides, he was absolutely no where to be found. You checked your phone to see a missed message from him.

‘Hey, y/n, it was super nice to meet you! Had to go home, and you looked pretty occupied with your friend in the white shirt, so I didn’t wanna bother you. I’d love to get coffee sometime! x’

Jesus, you were such an asshole. You text him back, letting him know you were too fucked up to come up with a coherent response and that you would say something back that actually made sense tomorrow. You let Nobara know the bad news, but she is quick to come up with another plan.

“You definitely don’t have to, but you could grind on me if you want… or kiss me. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, you know I’m always down to help out a friend,” Nobara stammers as you watch a faint blush creep up her cheeks.

“Oh, Nobara, don’t be embarrassed. I’d love to. I’ve always thought you were cute, but you’re too good of a best friend to try and date I think,” you admit. You definitely found yourself looking at Nobara’s curves all too often when you were at the gym together.

“No, I totally agree! I mean you’re hot as fuck, but if we broke up someday I don’t think I’d be able to look at you ever again,” she says, inching closer towards you.

You wrap your hands around her waist, bringing her even closer to you.

“Soooooo……”

“Sooooooooooooo….”

You both say, trying not to make this mission any awkward than it already was. You hear the next song come on and the beat was shaking the floor. You take this as a sign to step even closer to Nobara as you put your lips on hers.

You two were moving with the music and the bodies in the crowd, as you run your fingers through your hair. You two were full on making out now, laughing in between breaths as you try your hardest not to take Nobara home instead of Toji. You didn’t really care if Toji noticed or not since you were having the most fun you’ve had all night wrapped up with Nobara in this way.

She sucks on your lip, pulling away to ask if she can touch your butt.

“Nobara you touch my butt all the time,” you say, giggling, looking up at her puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, but this is different. You can totally say n-“

You grab Nobara’s hands and reach them behind you as she grabs a handful of you under your skirt. You kiss her back as her eyes are wide open. You continue this for a while, switching places with her as you grab on her body, not wanting the moment to end.

Toji tells Mei he’ll see her later as he goes to close his tab. He had already spent far too much for his liking, and you were way too drunk to have anything else tonight. The drink he got you earlier was just straight cranberry juice, little did you know. He thanks the bartender as he puts his card back in his wallet, turning around as he felt the wind get knocked out of him.

He saw you in the crowd, tongue shoved down some red head’s throat. She was grabbing your ass as you knead her tit, giggling as you two whisper to each other.

Nobara just admitted you may actually have the biggest dick at the party, to which you can’t help but giggle. Being edged earlier made you feel all too eager for things to move further as you hear someone’s throat clearing to your right.

You pull away from Nobara and look beside you to see Toji sitting on a bar stool, a cigarette trapped between his teeth as he grabs both of his legs, trying to keep himself from standing up.

“Havin’ fun?” He says with a glint in his eyes. Not to be a perverted boy, but he could watch you do this for hours. The way you had your friend melting under your touch, gasping for more than just a kiss as you teased her for the sole purpose of making him jealous.

Nobara looks at you with a grin on her face. She leans in for another peck, as she turns away, “Looks like it worked. That was fun, we should try it again sometime. I think I might call an Uber. Getting late,” she says, yawning. She seems totally unfazed, as if you two weren’t just swapping spit for the last few minutes.

“I can ride with you!” You say before she’s interrupting you, telling you to stay with your man. You wouldn’t exactly call him that, but one thing you never did was start an argument with Nobara.

She mouths to you, “let me know if he’s good or not,” winking as she heads for the door.

“Who’s that little redhead? I like her, seems feisty. I like ‘em with a lil’ bit of attitude,” he says, smirking as he puts out his cigarette. He stands up, having had enough of his private show.

“Her name’s Nobara and she’s my friend. Who the fuck was that girl with the braid?”

“Seemed like more than just a friend, your tongue in her mouth and all.” Toji tried so hard to not let on that while he was extremely turned on by the sight, he was also entirely too jealous for his liking. Jealous was not an emotion he frequented. If he even though he might get jealous, he moved on to the next bitch that was fawning over him. But here he was, seeing red as he awaits your response.

“She is just a friend. But you still didn’t answer my question, ya’know.”

“Her name’s Mei. Old coworker. Haven’t seen her in years and last I heard, she was missing. You’ve never been excited to see an old friend?”

Oh. You thought she was definitely an ex-lover, given their tight embrace. Toji didn’t come off as the touchy type, so watching him hug her back so eagerly made you livid.

“No I have, but you look like you wanted to fuck her, I mean what is your-“

“Doll, if I wanted to fuck her I already would have. I’ve only got eyes for one person right now, if ya’ couldn’t tell.”

You walk towards him, hands clasped in front of you as you ask who this person might be.

“Probably the girl I just jacked off to in the bathroom, I think. She sent me this slutty picture and I came all over my phone as soon as I pulled up the pic,” he says, grabbing you by your hand.

Had he really cum to that picture? You didn’t think you looked all that hot, and knowing Toji, you figured he needed to watch a thirty minute gangbang video in order to get his nut off.

“Wooowwww. I mean even I need a video to cum, but you’re over here cumming to a picture? Pathetic.”

You had no idea what you just said. He yanks your hand as he quickly makes his way towards the exit.

“T-Toji I’m joking, please s-slow down! Where are we going??”

He doesn’t answer as he drags you along the street. You figured you’d get an Uber in case Toji was just being dramatic, but he snatches the phone out of your hand before you can even unlock it.

“Don’t want’ya sending any more pictures tonight little girl. We’re going to mine, pick up the pace before I carry you,” he finally says. You tried your hardest to keep up with the large man in front of you, but his stride was so big. You had short legs and you were ridiculously drunk. You try your hardest to plant your feet, forcing him to turn around. It had started sprinkling at this point, and you raise your hands above your head to keep the rain from ruining your pretty face of makeup.

“Toji, you’re too fucking fast. And you don’t have to hold my hand, you-“

Toji has had enough. The rain was picking up and like he said, these were his good pants that he did not feel like dry cleaning.

You watch Toji get into a stance as if he’s about to tackle you, picking you up under your butt and throwing you over his shoulder like a rag doll. He holds the back of your knees with his large hand as he starts to walk towards his apartment. He kept an apartment downtown due to how often he was out at the casino too late in the night to spend $50 dollars on an Uber back to the condo.

You don’t even care to protest as you’d rather have the rain hitting your back anyways. It was cool to the touch and you didn’t really mind letting this man have his way with you. You did want to play fight with him, lightly hitting his butt as you let out, ”nooooo, please don’t take me and do whatever you want to me sir”

He responds only by giving your ass a light smack before he kisses it. You couldn’t help but call him a pervert, and the sound of that word leaving your lips had him rock hard again. He was a pervert to an extent, but only for you.

———————————————————————

He plops you down at the front of his door, motioning for you to go inside after he unlocks it. You stumble in, reaching for the light switch, flicking it on as you hear Toji hiss behind you. He fumbles for the switch, turning it back off quickly.

“Too fuckin’ bright, Jesus”

He grabs your hand and walks you to the bathroom. His apartment was clean, and pretty cozy. He didn’t stay here often, so you noticed the dust covering most of his appliances. You turn on the bathroom light and turn around to ask him what his plans were for you.

“My plans? Get this makeup off and get in the bed,” he says, fumbling through the shelves to find a washcloth. You cross your arms and pout as you grab his arm.

“But Toji I want it. Want you, please”

He grabs a new bar of soap from underneath the sink and turns the warm water on, giving it a moment to heat up. He puts his hand on the counter and gives you a stern look.

“Look, y/n. You couldn’t possibly understand how bad I want you, too. But you’re too drunk and I’m the highest I’ve been in a while. Last time I checked, you were still a virgin. Doesn’t mean I plan on going easy on ya’, but we need to wait.”

You continue to pout, poking your bottom lip out. Maybe you can convince him with your mouth, and not your words. You reach for his belt buckle as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He kisses you back, hesitantly at first. You moan into the kiss, unable to control yourself. As soon as that first moan leaves your lips, he’s pulling away so he can run his hands under the warm water, adjusting the temperature so it’s not too hot.

He brings his wet hands to your face, making sure to cover every inch of your skin so this process wouldn’t take any longer than it already has.

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t be able to stop myself. Shut up and lemme help you, then we’ll get in the bed. I can sleep on the couch if ya’ want”

You couldn’t seem to take no for an answer, as you let out the most earth-shattering, loud moan you can muster. Your mouth is stuck in an ‘o’ shape as you moan Toji’s name, trying to see how far you could push the man.

Hearing that from your mouth made him feel like his cock would explode. He puts a hand over your mouth and pushes you against the wall, making your head hit the wall a little too hard for your liking.

“Have ya’ lost your fuckin’ mind? I have neighbors ya’know? I already told you no, and if you can’t take that as an answer, you’re gonna be the one sleepin’ on the couch.”

You look at him with wide eyes as he removes his hand from your mouth. He kisses the top of your head, muttering an apology for hitting your head on the wall. He grabs the soap, letting it run under the water before he lathers it up in his hands.

He brings his hands to your face and starts washing your face for you as if you were inept.

“I can wash my own damn face, Toji”

He laughs at you, still very high from the joint he stole earlier.

“Yeah, not before you poke out your own eye with those nails. Just lemme’ take care of ya’ then we’ll get in bed.”

You huff as you let him continue. You enjoyed seeing a more gentle, domestic side of him. Albeit in odd circumstances, it was still an unexpected surprise. He tells you to rinse your face off and gives you the washcloth to dry your face.

“Just throw the lashes away, I’ll get ya’ some new ones tomorrow.”

“What, these old things? They’re all natural,” you say with a fake accent. He simply reaches up and takes the pair of lashes off, dropping them in the trash.

“How do you know to do this shit anyways? Lots of experience?”

He glares at you as if you just asked if the sky is blue.

“I wash my own face woman. Makeup is just another layer of shit to wash off.”

You somehow find yourself agreeing with him as you finish wiping the water off of your neck. You start to take off your jewelry as you watch him pull his pants down as he whips out his cock.

Well, you don’t know if you should call it that, given that he was almost entirely soft now. He flips the lid of the toilet up, taking care of his bladder right in front of you. You look him up and down with questioning eyes.

“Ewww, you could have waited!”

“You’re the one starin’, doll. Look who’s the pervert now,” he says, cleaning himself off and only pulling up his boxers. “Let’s get in bed,” he says, leading you by your lower back to his bedroom.

He’s taking off the rest of his clothes on the way, leaving them scattered in the hallway. You wanted him taking those clothes off in other circumstances, but you follow his lead, taking everything off except your bra (since someone still had your panties).

“Whoa, gotta let me know when you’re getting undressed next time. Got me sweatin’ over here,” he says, trying to think of his most annoying coworkers to help his chub go down.

“You think m’sleepin’ in this? Pssshh-,” you say, laughing as you try to unclasp your bra. Your nails were too long and it was only making it more difficult.

“Here,” he starts, making his way behind you to help you take it off. He tries his best to avert his eyes, somehow feeling guilty for admiring you when you two were supposed to be strictly going to bed right now.

“I know we’re not fuckin’ tonight, but you are so goddamn perfect f’me,” he admits, letting out a breath as he watches you walk ahead of him, hips swaying so tantalizingly back and forth. Hair cascading down your pretty back. Tits so big he could see their outline from the back. He clears his throat, mentally cursing himself for jacking off earlier. If he would have just let it go down, he’d probably be fine right now. But cumming to that picture and thinking about cumming on those tits forreal had him feeling like a creep.

You wait for Toji to join you near the bed. You don’t want to overstep and you didn’t know what side of the bed he slept on. He asks what you’re waiting for, and when he hears you mumble ‘you’, he smiles so bright. You’re both totally naked now as you climb under the sheets, shivering at the cool linen brushing against your warm body. Toji sat across from you, not touching you anywhere.

“Ya’know, seeing you makeout with that girl was hot n’all, but you really pissed me off doing that.”

Pissed him off? That was not your goal at all.

“What, w-why? I was jus’ tryin’ to make you jealous is all,” you admit.

“Yeah, well it fuckin’ worked. Don’t do that shit in front of me again unless you want to see me go to prison.”

Oh. He was really serious. You could only imagine what he’d do if he saw you grinding in Geto’s lap. Thank god for Nobara.

You scoot towards him, “M’sorry, I won’t do it again, promise. Now can we cuddle please? So cold, baby,” you huff. He wraps his arms around you as you bury your head in his chest, entwining your legs with his.

“You’re lucky. Don’t do this with just anybody. And it’s takin’ all my strength not to bend you over and break you right now. Only reason I’m not makin’ you cum right now s’cuz I wanna’ give you a break before tomorrow.”

You mumble an ‘awwww’ as he tells you to shut up and go to sleep. You thank him for the second night in a row, only earning a ‘mmmhm’ from the man beside you. He’s already drifting off to sleep, exhausted from the night of work before and the long night he’s spent with you. You shut your eyes, trying to steady yourself as you feel the room spinning around you. You take a few deep breaths and finally fall asleep, knowing you needed all the rest you could get for the day you had ahead of you.

@scorpiosugar @theobsidianempress mwahahah

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baddestbittyontheblock · 5 months

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april fic recs

𖤛 hi everyone!! i've read so many great fics this month, so i hope you all enjoy my faves of april!! 𖤛

⚘ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each incredible writer!! ⚘

֍ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ֍

◈ if you’d like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ◈

lewis hamilton

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 it sounds silly by @pickingupmymercedes lewis hamilton x reader | bit of angst, self image problems, body image discussions

-reader is struggling with a self image issue and where lewis gives words of encouragement

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 lewis drabble by ^ lewis hamilton x reader

-lewis where he casually mentions in his gq interview that he has a longtime gf or wife.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 lewis blurb by ^ lewis hamilton x reader

-reader comes home drunk and Lewis reacts to seeing roscoe with those marks next morning

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 pipe down by @thef1diary lewis hamilton x fem!reader | 18+ smut, oral, fingering, reader says ‘sir’ like once, pussy obsessed lewis tbh, allusions to riding

-you were straddling lewis, stripped down to nothing but your panties.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 unexpected find by @waterlilydrops lewis hamilton x fem!reader | 18+ only, nsfw, explicit sex content, threesome f/f/m involved lewis, sex tape, reverse NTR, p in v sex, masturbation(f), slight dom/bub,spanking, dirty talk, blowjobs, mirror. If you feel uncomfortable, please exit promptly, 4k

-as you were helping lewis tide up the old apartment, you suddenly found out a video tape. however, as you inserted it into the vcr and pressed play, you realized just how interesting the content of this tape was.

lando norris

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 dad!lando blurb by @russellsppttemplates dad!lando norris x reader | fluff

-lando posting or sending his family pictures of his milk drunk babies because he thinks it is the cutest/funniest thing

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 lando blurb by ^ lando norris x reader | fluff

-reader always forgets or looses hair ties and lando noticed this so he started to always wear one on his wrist for her

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 what i'm missing by @uglyducklingofthe2000s dad!lando norris x reader | fluff

-lando comes home from a race weekend to find his wife and kids in a moment that makes him wish that he wasn’t gone so often.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 my boobs by ^ big yitties!reader x lando norris x reader

-lando loves his girlfriend's boobs and she's just got used to him in private and public, in fact half of the time others notice before she does

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 the slip up by @loveluvrs lando norris x reader

-max was streaming with lando at his place. lando drags his feet over to the stream room, sitting on a chair next to max. he was scrolling on his phone, trying to pass the time.

carlos sainz

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 cooking up some fun with the sainz’ by @eccentricwritingbaby dad!carlos sainz jr x wife!mom!reader | fluff

-y/n sainz is a successfully famous chef with her own restaurant and ever since covid, she has been cooking on instagram live once a week. fans adore the sweet interactions between her and carlos and their little baby girl.

tlou

ellie williams

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 ellie drabble by @elliesprettygirl ellie williams x reader | fluff

-ellie desperate for reader but reader is always acting hard to get just for their ego. but ellie doesn’t back down..

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 ellie blurb by @ourautumn86 ellie williams x fem! reader | +18 content, mdni

-she tries to shush you but you’re scratching her naked back and it feels so good…

woso

alexia putellas

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 the mountain is you by @ceesimz alexia putellas x reader

-barcelona. once a place that felt like home to you, yet now as you clamber into the back of your taxi outside of the airport, it's the same but different.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 golden key to the sweet life by ^ mom!alexia putellas x mom!reader | fluff

-there was something intoxicatingly endearing about the way alexia interacted and whole-heartedly cared for her family and friends' children.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 our sun is setting by ^ alexia putellas x reader | mentions of homophobia and grief for a parent. It's quite a heavy fic, please keep that in mind.

-"i told my mami about you today."

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 close your eyes by @ktgoodmorning alexia putellas x reader | mind-numbingly fluffy, inspired by the song "close your eyes and count to ten" by grouplove

-you and alexia take a moment to yourselves on your wedding night, soaking in your time together.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 familia by @barcaatthemoon alexia putellas x reader | fluff

-how alexia realizes that you're the one.

alessia russo

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 make yourself at home by @p0orbaby alessia russo x reader | SMUT 18+, not explicit but smut adjacent, oral (alessia receiving)

-all you want is a quiet night in with alessia, and tooney?

call of duty

simon riley

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 simon blurb by @cntloup simon riley x reader | smut

-it's safe to say simon is utterly and completely devoted to you.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 ghost losing his ring by @ch1n1tahwrites simon riley x reader | fluff

-he was just coming back from a long mission, awaiting to be in his wifes arms in his big comfy bed.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 tommy by @simonrileysfavteacup simon riley x reader | fluff

-he came out looking exactly like his father. he acted exactly like him. he didn’t sleep, he had nightmares too often, he loved watching telly, he wouldn’t sleep without you near him, and so much more.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 the next of kin by @soapybutt17 simon "ghost" riley x wife!reader, oc daughter (cassandra "cassie" riley), john price | mentions of injuries, drug consumption, slight angst, mostly fluff, 1.6k

-simon needed to update his contact information, as dodgy as he was for giving everyone even a glimpse of his private life, he did so. who would have ever thought that it would become handy after an injury left him high on painkillers and needy for his girls back home.

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 like mother, like daughter by @anangelwhodidntfall dad!simon riley x reader

-in which you and ghost have a baby girl who loves to copy your facial expressions

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 olderbf!simon by @heavenbarnes simon riley x reader | fluff

-thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

celebrities

harry styles

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 that 4am cry by @signoferoda dad!harry styles x mom!reader | fluff

-harry’s daughter has a set routine when it comes to her night time feed

✦ dividers by @cinnamoncafe, @saradika-graphics, @thecutestgrotto, @silkholland ✦

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sister-lucifer · 7 days

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Taken To Another World

⊹₊⟡⋆A Multifandom Fantasy AU Themed 5K Celebration Writing Challenge⊹₊⟡⋆

Special thanks to @ghostboneswrites2 for inspiring this!

Interested? Keep reading!

There will be two prompts for each genre; a pair for fluff, a pair for smut, a pair for angst, and a pair for horror. Each prompt comes with its own criteria, so read carefully!

How To Participate:

Reblog this post (for reach! thanks!)

Pick a prompt (or multiple)

Write your fic

Post it and tag me (feel free to send it to me directly if I don’t see it!)

Use the tag #lucifer’s 5k fantasy challenge

The fandoms this challenge is open to are as follows:

Obey Me!, Creepypasta, Marble Hornets, Batman (and all related media), Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure (all parts), and any original characters/universes.

Don’t see your fandom? You’re still free to use these prompts (and please tag me if you do so I can see it,) but it unfortunately will not count as an entry for this challenge!

Rules:

Feel free to pick multiple prompts, but you cannot enter more than one fic per prompt!

The fics can be part of your own ongoing series, but they must be able to stand alone as their own piece without the additional context of the series

Please state which prompt you chose somewhere on your post

Feel free to cross post your work to another site such as Ao3, but please, do mention that it was part of my challenge

Anyone can participate in this challenge, however I ask that minors stay away from the NSFW prompts

You are free to bend the prompts as you wish, there is no mandatory time period or setting

My inbox and messages are always open if you need to ask questions, consult me, or just want to discuss ideas!

The fics can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character; relationships can be platonic or romantic as you wish

Some prompts are written with pairs in mind; feel free to modify this to fit in as many characters as you’d like. Poly relationships included!

Absolutely NO incest OR pedophilia under any circumstances

NO AI, NO using other people’s writing, and NO using a piece you’ve already written

Pay attention to the criteria! Prompt 1 will have a required quote, and Prompt 2 will have a required plot point/action

The Deadline is currently undecided. This will be updated soon

Winners:

I will choose up to 3 finalists for each prompt. The finalists will be presented in a poll, and the readers will choose the winner.

The winner of each prompt will get their own shoutout/promo post including an analysis of what I liked about their fic, & at least 3 fics I recommend from them and why.

Does all that sound like fun? Good! Here’s your prompts:

Over The River, Through The Woods…

Fluff + Faeries

Prompt 1: In a fit of rebellion, a naive royal flees from the castle and into the woods. They stumble upon a faerie who, against all they’ve ever been taught, seems rather…kind.

Necessary Criteria: “Anyone can do a good thing if they try.” / “Well…how often do you try?”

Prompt 2: Fae don’t often leave their villages, except to gather. Unfortunately, one foolish faerie has found themself entangled in a trap left behind by a human hunter. Even worse, the human has returned to see what they’ve caught; although, they seem far more curious than hostile.

Necessary Criteria: One of the characters teaches the other a new word in their native tongue.

Magic Begins In Superstition, And Ends In Science…

Angst + Alchemy

Prompt 1: The job of an alchemist’s apprentice is rarely an easy one. Magic is a fickle mistress, after all. When the apprentice’s companion tries to pull them away from their work, the argument gets heated, until the pressure becomes too much and causes an intense explosion…literally.

Necessary Criteria: “You’re not even smart enough to understand what I do, and you think you get to tell me when to stop working?!”

Prompt 2: The alchemist’s work is starting to consume them. Blinded by their pursuit of knowledge, they recklessly decide to slip a bit of their newest experimental concoction into their companion’s meal without their knowledge. The alchemist convinces themselves this is all for the greater good, and surely nothing all that bad could happen, but soon comes to regret it.

Necessary Criteria: A horrible transformation.

The Tongue May Be Twice As Sharp And Thrice As Lethal As The Blade…

Smut + Swords

Prompt 1: A rivalry between two swordsman gets a bit out of hand when the pair decide to make a salacious bet over a duel: whoever loses must play submissive to the other, starting from the moment they drop their sword.

Necessary Criteria: “Don’t think I’ll surrender that easily.” / “Mm, I didn’t think you would…I like it so much more when you’re fiery.”

Prompt 2: A courageous knight rescues a royal from the clutches of peril, and their majesty simply can’t let their hero leave without thoroughly rewarding them for such bravery.

Necessary Criteria: The pair narrowly avoid being caught in the act.

Cursed Is The Man Who Dies, But The Evil Done By Him Survives…

Horror + Hexes

Prompt 1: Foolish explorers accidentally wander into a witch’s garden. One of them can’t resist plucking a berry from a bush, not giving it a second thought as they swallow it down, only for the horrific consequences of a curse to start taking form the next day.

Necessary Criteria: “Please…you have to tell me you know how to make this stop.”

Prompt 2: While treasure hoarding is generally frowned upon among honorable bounty hunters, some simply can’t kick the habit. This quickly proves to be a terrible mistake, though, as a cursed trinket starts to warp its owner’s mind and plunge them into a darkness that turns them on the one they love most.

Necessary Criteria: Creative use of an everyday object as a weapon.

Final Reminders:

Most importantly: Have Fun!

Make sure to read the rules carefully!

You’re always free to ask questions!

Tag me in your entry + use the tag #lucifer’s 5k fantasy challenge!

Happy Writing, everyone!

(even if you don’t plan to participate, please reblog and share this post so others will see it!)

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almostgenerallyalways · 2 years

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mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door.

2022

Jake UT [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

2012

You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

2022

You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

#tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick fic #why am i like this i stg

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runnning-outof-time · 7 months

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A (Debatably) Lovely Dinner | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) has her family over for a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. Her father and uncles tell her that it tastes lovely...but are they actually thinking that?

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 1773

A/N: this is the first daughter!reader fic I’ve written in a bit - I hope it’s good. I’m excited to be writing requests again! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories!

(Y/N) wrang her hands together as she looked over all of the pots that were currently boiling on the stove. She took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to compose herself and shake the nerves from her body.

"You're doing great, love. It's going to be a good meal," her husband, James, offered some encouragement as he came up behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her head as he pulled her into his chest.

"Maybe I should have accepted the catering offer? There's a lot of people coming over," she expressed her worry, eyes still focused on the pots. She then began to wonder why she even agreed to hosting her family in the first place.

"This is going to be extra special because you made it all," he told her, kissing her temple once more before letting her get back to work. "And your cooking is wonderful," he complimented her, sending a smile her way as she turned to look at him.

She smiled back, although it wavered due to the nerves she was still feeling, watching as he exited the kitchen before she got back to work.

(Y/N) was bringing the final dish to the dining table two hours later. She smiled at everyone who was waiting patiently for dinner to start and took a deep breath as she moved to stand behind her husband's chair.

"James and I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight. I hope that you enjoy what I've prepared for you to eat," she gave a small speech, her nervous smile still present as she then sat down.

"Let's eat then, eh?" Tommy suggested, smiling at his daughter from the opposite end of the table. He was proud of her for this vast spread that she'd managed to cook up. It smelled wonderful to him.

Comments of agreement came from around the table as everyone began taking dishes and spooning helpings of the food onto their plates. (Y/N) watched as this happened, wanting to make sure all was well; filling her plate last.

Dinner began quietly, the sounds of forks hitting plates the only thing to be heard. (Y/N) couldn't help but sneak a few glances around the table, wanting to see if there were any problems. All looked fine to her.

Somehow, she didn't manage to catch her uncles, John and Arthur, throwing sideways glances at each other in between each bite they took. Something about the taste seemed off to them. Whether it was the seasoning on the roast, or the choice or cut of the vegetables, the food wasn't exactly pleasurable to eat.

But the pleased look on their niece's face told them that she was happy to have the family over, eating a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. They couldn't even think of ruining things for her by bringing up the fact that her cooking was well under par.

And besides, Tommy seemed to be fine with eating it, and he never ate anything.

Dinner continued and small talk was made. The usual discussion of business between the Shelby family had been swapped for stories of the past and the men making arrangements for their annual hunting trip that was fastly approaching.

All was well until (Y/N) decided to ask the table for opinions on the food. "How has everyone been enjoying the food?" She wasn't sure if she was being too upfront in asking for opinions, but no one had offered any prior to her question, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't dying to know their thoughts.

"Lovely as always, darling," her husband, James, was the first to share his thoughts on it, sending her a smile as he cut himself another piece of the roast.

"Thanks, James," she smiled back at him before looking out to the rest of the table. No one else's eyes met hers; their gazes cast down on their plates. Maybe that means they really like the food, she thought to herself. "Dad?" she asked after a few moments had passed. Tommy looked up at her, his brows raised as if to say 'what?' "What do you think?" she asked, curious to know what his thoughts on the meal were.

"It's good, love," he told her, nodding as he grabbed his glass of whiskey, "really good."

"Thank you," she chirped in response, feeling extremely pleased with herself. She grabbed her fork and knife then and went to cut a piece of the roast.

"Well I think that..." another comment started to come out, but it was abruptly stopped. "What the bloody hell was that for?" the voice belonged to Linda Shelby, and she was now glaring daggers at her husband, Arthur. Arthur had his brows furrowed as he glanced between his wife and (Y/N), a bit of an uneasy expression present on his face. "Spit it out, Arthur," she snapped in a harsh whisper. Arthur said nothing of sustenance though, instead just shaking his head and muttering "don't," under his breath.

"Were you going to say something, Linda?" (Y/N) asked, her curiosity peaked as she focused on the blonde woman.

Linda shared one last look with her husband, who was still discreetly shaking his head, before she plastered a smile on her face and turned to look at the younger woman. "I was just going to say that...that...this is a lovely dinner, (Y/N)," she finally shared her opinion on the cooking, although it may not have been originally what she wanted to say. (Y/N) took it though, a smile breaking onto her features.

"Aww thanks so much, Linda. I was so worried about this dinner. I'm so happy to hear that everyone is enjoying it," (Y/N) expressed her previous worries with the group, earning a chorus of 'no it was good’ comments in response.

Overly pleased with herself now, (Y/N) was smiling from ear to ear as she continued eating her dinner. Just wait until they try the dessert, she thought to herself, pride flowing through her.

The Shelby men followed James into his study after the dessert plates had been removed from the table. (Y/N) had decided to take the women around for a tour of her new home, a tour which the men felt they didn't need to join. All five of them had a glass in their hand, and they were seated on the chairs that were positioned around the mantle.

"I don't know how you do it, James," Arthur said with a sigh as he brought his glass back to his lips. He took a drink and then let out a sigh after swallowing it.

"Do what?" James was confused by the older man's statement.

"Eat (Y/N)'s food daily," Arthur didn't beat around the bush. "I mean, she's me neice and I love her, but the food she cooks is fucking terrible."

James nodded slowly in response to Arthur's statement, a knowing look present on his face as he looked like he was fighting a smile. He then took a look at Tommy, checking the waters before sharing information about the daughter of a man who could do some nasty damage if he said the wrong thing. He wasn't surprised to see his father in law looking at him.

"Well how do ya do it?" John broke the silence, signaling to the other man that he'd been taking too long to respond.

"She's my wife," he began, a smile forming on his face, "I've learned to love every part of being with her."

"Ah you've gone soft, lad," Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the response he got before he set his sights on his brother, "and you, Tom…how do you do it, brother?"

Tommy laughed to himself as he heard the question. He brought his whiskey up and took a sip, pausing for a moment longer before finally answering the question: "guess it grows on you." His response was simple, and he followed it with a shrug.

"You both have not a clue what you're talking about," Arthur commented with a shake of his head, "John, help me out here. It's nothing against (Y/N)...her food's just downright terrible, right?" he looked to his younger brother for some back up.

"Right," John nodded, raising his glass in agreement.

"Good man," Arthur praised his brother for answering in line with him.

"I think her cooking's good," Finn chimed in from where he was sitting by the fire.

"You wouldn't know what's good for ya, Finn," Arthur dismissed his youngest brother's opinion. Finn shook his head and looked at the fire, wondering why he decided to add his two cents in the first place.

Silence fell in the room then, and James couldn't help but keep thinking about his response to Arthur's question. It made him chuckle as he realized that maybe he hadn't been completely truthful with what he had said.

"What's funny?" John asked, catching the other man's laugh.

All eyes were on him in an instant. He could tell by their intent gazes that he wouldn't be able to get out of this one. "Nothing...it's just that," he paused, letting out a breathy laugh as he shook his head, "I will admit that her cooking has been harder to learn to love than the rest of her," he shared what he'd been thinking.

John and Arthur immediately began laughing, both happy that they'd gotten the young man to break and share his actual thoughts on their niece's cooking. They knew that he felt the same as they did just by the vague response he gave earlier, but hearing it cemented the victory.

"It took me a while too. You'll get there," Tommy cut through the laughter of his brothers to offer his son in law some advice. James smiled at Tommy, happy to know that maybe he'd be able to get used to it, just like his father in law had.

(Y/N) was sitting with the rest of the women in the front room. She'd become quiet, letting the others continue their conversation about the latest fashion trends. She had too much on her mind.

A smile was present on her face as she thought back to the dinner, and all of the lovely comments she received from her family. Giddiness bubbled up inside of her as her mind went to thinking about what she would cook for their next family dinner. She couldn’t wait to have them over again!

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x daughter reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x daughter reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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twinksrepository · 3 months

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Lucifer's Melancholy

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Lucifer X F!Reader

CW: Implied sexy times, naked, implied shared shower, sort of secret relationship, established relationship

Word count: Roughly 2.2K

A/N: Lucifer is being mopey and you decide to ask him about it.

Pretty much after reading the story for the card, this thought popped in my head so I decided to write it down.

Images belong to Solmare.

Sitting with your feet tucked partially under you and a book in your hand in Lucifer’s room on the couch you feel your nose twitch. Well, and the faltering of the gloved hand that was rubbing your calf as Lucifer let out another sigh, clearly not reading his novel.

It had become a small part of your nightly routine, sitting with him for an hour or so. Since your return to the devildom things had been … a little different between the pair of you. Like the two of you were trying to find a balanced state. Lucifer didn’t want the entire devildom knowing you were his, yes his brothers knew, along with Diavolo, and Barbatos, but even that small group still had the avatar of pride on edge.

As for you, you were trying to adjust to no longer being stuck to just phone calls and text messages with your devilish partner. You craved the sensation of physical intimacy, of feeling your smaller hand in one of his gloved ones. Or his arm curled around your shoulders. Lucifer, being one hundred percent against personal displays of affection meant you were denied that craving.

After a few days of sulking with Mammon, who was oddly rather understanding of his brothers’ logic, you had had enough and stormed into Lucifer’s study.

Several hours later, pressed against his chest with his cloak being the only thing covering either of you, you’d reached an agreement. The two of you would try and act the exact same way you did before you left the devildom, friends in public where Lucifer would still call you out much as he had in the past. The compromise was that after dinner, Lucifer would try and not be a workaholic, with the two of you doing something together.

Often times, it was exactly like it was now. You curled up against the arm of the couch with Lucifer beside you. Sometimes it was both of you listening to one of his cursed records or having a glass of demonus or just talking softly. The main thing was he was far more hands on and satisfied your need for physical contact with your other half.

So hearing him sigh this much in the span of one night with the slightest frown marring his handsome features you know something is bothering him. With his next sigh, you reach out to grab your bookmark before turning to him. “Is something the matter?”

Watching his face there isn’t much of a chance in his expression as he lifts his eyes from the pages he isn’t reading to regard you. “..Hm?” A pause as if your question has taken him off guard. “Oh, nothing major.” You quirk your mouth in disbelief at his answer while crossing your arms against your chest. “What? Is there something on my face?” Closing his book before using his free hand to brush his fingers along his chin as if sweeping something away.

“Come on Lucifer.” Shifting more on the couch and grinning internally at the hand on your calf that moves to remain in contact with you. “It’s no use trying to hide it! Something’s bothering you.”

“It’s not as if I’m trying to hide anything.” His tone is neutral but you catch a hint of annoyance in his tone. “It really isn’t a big deal.” The second part is lower, almost as if he’d mumbled it as an afterthought, except Lucifer does not mumble. Ever.

“It does matter if it bothers you.” Propping your elbow into the couch so you can lean your face against your knuckles as you face him, taking his hand from your leg to trace the seams of black leather that encase his fingers.

“It’s so minor that it’s hardly worth discussing.” Sending him a look of disbelief before his frown disappears. “... But yes, you’re right. It’s bothering me enough that you were able to pick up on it.” A playful grin replaces that thin line as he lets you do what you want with his hand. “Seriously, I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

A soft laugh bubbles up from you and you feel yourself flushing at his teasing. “I’m sure you still can. I’m just slowly getting better at reading your moods Mr. Stoic. Or maybe I have a small advantage at reading your moods.”

A wink sent his way that has him shaking his head at your antics. “It truly is ridiculous. You’re going to be sorry you asked. It’s about something that happened yesterday. I stopped by the Demon Lord’s Castle on student council business after you left me. When I got there, I overheard Diavolo and Barbatos discussing something.”

As Lucifer tells you about the events of yesterday you listen your eyes locked on his, almost laughing at the bite in his tone over Barbatos’s baking abilities. “...So, that’s what happened. It’s not like I feel as though he was comparing me to Barbatos. But..” Tilting his head as if in thought you wait as he tries to word his grievance. “How do I explain it?”

“Maybe you’re feeling a little conflicted over it?” You know him well enough to know he isn’t sad or upset about the comment, regardless of how you cut it he is the avatar of pride, and hearing that from Diavolo would be a blow.

“Yeah, maybe that’s it. I’ve never felt like I was competing with Barbatos before, like I was inferior or superior.” Dropping his head back against the couch you can see the twitch of his eye as he mulls over his thoughts. “I’ve never even challenged him to see who made better cookies before. And yet, the idea that Diavolo is so certain I would lose doesn’t sit well with me.” Internally you’re pumping the air, it is his pride that’s been wounded and has him upset, maybe you really are getting better at reading him beyond the surface level of his micro-expressions.

“Okay, why don’t you try making some to see how they turn out? I think that might help settle some of your thoughts about it.”

“Me? Make hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies?” He looks so surprised at the thought you almost squeal at how cute he looks. “You’re right.”

“Just learning that now?” Teasing him before he swats his hand from yours with a smirk, choosing to ignore your words.

“Maybe I should stop sitting around thinking about it and do it. Take action.” You grin, pulling away and standing up before trying to tug him to his feet.

“I think that’s a great idea, how about I come with you?” It doesn’t take much prodding before he agrees, citing how you are rather good in the kitchen based on the days you’re on cooking duty. You see this as a new chance to bond a little more and not just in the confines of his massive bedroom.

“...I don’t understand. How did they turn out like this? I was trying to make hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies. But these don’t even look like rolled cigar cookies. And they were supposed to be sweet, but these are so spicy they could kill a man.” Glancing at you after staring at the curled cookies on the sheet you watch his shoulders slump. “You’re covered in flour from head to toe.”

“Hey!” Of course you are, Lucifer was so focused on trying to make his cookies that when he was rolling the dough out he inadvertently covered both of you in flour. “You’re one to talk Lucifer. You’re just as covered in the stuff as I am. It’s a good thing you left your cloak and gloves in another room.”

Watch the frown return on his handsome face you swallow some of your pride down, lifting one of the cookies from the tray. The things you do for your prickly demon. “...You aren’t seriously planning on eating that, are you? You’d better not. I’m not even sure they’re edi-” As you bite down you see his shoulders slump once more, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As soon as the first crumb hits your tongue you feel your eyes water. Maybe all the times you’ve been cursed with eating Solomon’s cooking has been to prepare you for this moment. “It isn’t so bad.”

“You’re lying. You look as if you’ve just swallowed a mouthful of dirt.” Attempt at lifting Lucifer’s mood? Failed. “There’s no need to try to finish that for my benefit. One bite is enough.” It’s your turn to let your shoulders slump. “There’s no way I can feed these to Diavolo.”

“But you’ll let your partner eat them?”

“You chose to bite one.” His voice has no pity for you, far more concerned with his failure or so it seems to your eyes. “Why don’t we pretend they never existed? They’ll be our dark little secret.”

It might be breaking the rules, but you are in the house of Lamentation. And it is just the two of you in the kitchen. Stepping closer and placing your hands on the sides of his face. “You’re fine just the way you are, Lucifer. You’re so talented at so many things, I don’t think anyone is going to fault you over the fact you can’t bake cookies.”

“Are you trying to comfort me?” His voice might be flat but him leaning more into your touch gives him away. “It’s not as if this really bothers me. After all, think about it. If we take Diavolo’s comment and turn it around he said that making hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies is the only thing Barbatos does better than me. In every other area, I compare favorably.” That self-assured prideful grin on his is back on his face and you feel your toes tingle at the sight. “That’s what it comes down to, right?”

“Now there’s the confidence I’m used to from the avatar of pride.” Stepping away from him to start cleaning up the mess and cookies before anyone comes in to try and eat them.

At least until Lucifer’s voice cuts through and makes you pause. “It’s got nothing to do with confidence. I’m simply stating a fact. One other thing, thanks to a certain someone acting as the devil on my shoulder and convincing me to make those cookies, I haven’t had time to feel down. Focusing all my energy on the cookies ended up putting me in a better mood. I have you to thank for that, my Little Lamb.”

Hearing him tack on that little nickname at the end has more than just your toes tingling, how he can say it in such a way that you’re ready to melt takes you by surprise every time. “I’m glad, and hey. There’s always next time if you wanna try again, I had fun baking with you today even if I know next to nothing about hellfire mushrooms. Maybe we can try it again sometime?”

“Maybe. I don’t know how many centuries it’ll be before I try my hand at those again, though. I’ve learned my lesson.” You try to keep the frown from your face, he just said those, he didn’t flat out refuse the offer of baking again in the future. “Anyway, look at us.” Waving his hand at both of your figures again. “We’re really covered in flour. It’s awful. Look, even your cheeks and the tip of your nose are white.”

You can feel the fire start to burn along your skin as he casually reaches up to brush the fine powder from your face with gentle fingers. His eyes are focused on the patches which are promptly removed from your cheeks. Sometimes you question if he knows the effect he has on you. “There we go. Got rid of that. Hey, what’s with that embarrassed look? You’re bright red.”

“I’m flustered, not embarrassed. I swear you do this stuff on purpose.” Grousing a little at him as you turn away to try and hide your furiously blushing face. Even the tips of your ears feel like they’re on fire.

“If you’d like, we could take a shower together.” That. Has your head whipping around quickly to look at his smug expression.

“I ummm… sounds great!” Your voice is more like a squeak than its usual tone, excited by the offer since it is a rather tantalizing idea.

“I was only joking.” Slapping his chest just sends a puff of flour into the air and Lucifer laughs at your reaction. At least before he grabs your hand and pulls you closer to slot his lips against yours. “Or am I?” It’s always a power play with him, but you don’t complain as he guides you to the bathroom without running into anyone else in the house.

The next morning you feel terrible. You and Lucifer got a little too distracted in the shower (as well as after) and poor Beel ended up eating all of the cookies. A second lesson for you is to not let Lucifer use his charms to seduce you away from your attempts to finish cleaning up after a misadventure.

#obey me fanfic #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me gender neutral mc #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #lucifer obey me #lucifer om #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb

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toracainz · 7 months

Text

Shrike

Masterlist

Summary: Things with Marc have been…touchy to say the least. Can things get better?

Pairings: Marc x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing. Established relationships. Verbal conflict. Break up. Physical conflict with some asshole. Knife but no harm to reader. Everything is wet but not how you think. hurt/comfort. angst/comfort. i mean I hope the comfort is there lol.

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: this is for my first-ever fic request. never thought someone would ever want to ask me of all people for a fic. I hope everyone likes it. it kind of got away from when writing it sooooo lol

Things were fairly quiet in the flat as Marc enters looking exhausted. It doesn’t take him long to notice the sound of the shower running. You were home. Just great. With an exasperated huff, Marc makes his way to the chest of drawers to quickly pack for yet another mission. Grabbing the things he was looking for he begins to shove them in a bag, trying to hurry out of the flat before you can notice, but he was never that lucky.

The shower turned off as he was putting the last couple things in and in a rush Marc runs into a chair with a loud thud and a “Fuck!”

“Marc?” You called from the bathroom, hoping it was him and not some burglar, as you stepped out, wrapped in your towel. He had been gone for quite some time with no word on if he was okay or when he’d be coming back. You and Marc had been together a while now, so long that he actually trusted you enough to tell you about Khonshu and what being his avatar meant. It was a bit hard to believe at first, until Marc summoned his suit in front of you…there’s no denying it then. So you came to understand that what Marc was doing was for the greater good, that he was out there helping good people and punishing bad ones. The first few times he left on a mission, you were worried sick and oh so relieved when he got back no matter how long that would be for…but after a while, after many discussions about just a simple text being enough, some kind of indication he was alive and maybe even when you would see him again him being away also brought frustration and maybe a little anger. While fights had become frequent when his missions were brought up, you both managed to make up and move on…until it happened again.

“Shit…” Marc muttered under his breath, “Yeah!…yeah, it’s me. Just stopped by to grab some things…got a uh…long trip ahead.” He knew what was about to come, another fight, another round of the same old thing.

“That’s it?! You’re just grabbing things and going? Were you even going to say ‘hello’? Or ‘I missed you’? Or ‘I love you’? Just grabbing things and avoiding me now?” Your tone became more and more agitated with each question. You had been waiting for him to come back, like you always did, and had been looking forward to spending time with him. Did he seriously need to go on another mission right as he was coming back from one??

“I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“Do you even know what day it is? Of course I’m home, Marc.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Spector. How many more times do I have to ask you, to beg you to just send me a message or call me? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you really just didn’t give a shit.” By now you’ve shed the towel that was wrapped around you and began to dress yourself. You were fuming and you truly wondered if he did care, if he could change.

“Is that what you think?” Marc let out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head, his grin at your accusatory statement beginning to turn sour. “You’d like that wouldn’t you. To be right about me, huh? Someone who doesn’t give a shit about us, about you? Fine…you know what you’re right. I’ll save you the trouble and just get the fuck out of here.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Is he fucking serious right now? That’s it. “Good. And don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” The words felt cold even to you, but what else could be done? Sleepless nights, the secrecy, the blatant disregard for your relationship…you were basically like another goldfish for him and the flat your tank, just waiting for Marc to come back and feed you the little flakey sorry excuses for quality time or physical touch. It’s time to find open waters.

Marc couldn’t believe you, he didn’t believe you, that you would seriously leave. If he’s being honest with himself (which let’s be honest he can rarely be honest with the people he cares about let alone himself) he’s surprised you haven’t left him before now. Maybe he really is a piece of shit that doesn’t care…no, he can’t think like that. You’ve fought before and you make up and…everything’s okay. That’s right. You’re the one constant in his life and he really does look forward to seeing you after his missions…everything’s going to be okay.

He looks at you, intense brown eyes assessing you for your bluff…of course you’re bluffing…he shakes his head letting out a puff of breath through his nose before turning and walking out the door, shutting it a little harder than intended but not quite a slam.

Unfortunately for Marc…you weren’t bluffing.

As he makes his way out of the flat and on to his next mission you had begun to pack your things, anger simmering into frustration and heartbreak as tears roll down your cheeks. You try to steady yourself but you can’t stop the tears. Grabbing your things, or as much of it as you care to take with you, you walked out and locked the door. With the key in hand you looked it for a moment and sighed.

“Goodbye, Marc Spector.”

You knelt down and slid the key under the door, turning away and headed home.

~*~*~*~

Marc tries to quietly enter the flat like he had weeks earlier…once again he hadn’t called or texted you to update you on his mission, how he was, when he was coming back. This time however he was going to be able to just relax a while. Knowing things were left not on great terms, he had been ruminating on how to make it up to you. “I won’t be here when you get back.” The whole time he had been away those words stayed with him, he would tell himself you didn’t mean it, that you would still be here. After all, you were so patient and understanding of him, his past, and trying to help him make a better future.

Marc wasn't the best at keeping people close, especially the people he cared about. He told himself the reason he never called or texted you while on a mission was for your safety, he didn’t want anyone catching wind of him having something or someone to lose. He told himself it was the same reason that when he returned from a mission he would never come directly home. He would always stay at his storage locker a night or so or even stay somewhere else entirely before making his way back to the flat to see you. Of course he never expressed this. That would have made too much sense, made things too easy. And Marc was never good at making things easy, especially for himself.

He walked around the flat, looking for a sign you might be here. He didn’t see your bags or your laptop anywhere and he didn’t hear the shower or sink so you weren’t in the bathroom.

“Babe???” He called out. Maybe you were hiding? Yeah right, not really any place to hide in this open floor plan flat. “Baby???” Still he called out hoping just maybe you were hiding. He started back to the front of the flat, thinking you might have been in the kitchen (maybe with your headphones in listening to music) and he just didn’t notice. Marc was beginning to feel like a kid that had gotten separated from their parents at the grocery store. But when he got to the kitchen it was empty. Now he was beginning to panic. Maybe someone had found out about you and took you. He was already jumping to the worst possible scenario.

Clenching his fists, he hung his head trying to think of what to do, how to find you. His hands found their way into his curls as he gave them a tug getting more and more desperate with each passing second. That’s when the glint of something metallic flashed at him from a spot on the floor in front of the door. Confused and intrigued, he slowly approached it as if it might suddenly attack, but once he got closer he felt like he would have preferred a key monster attacking him.

Your copy of the key.

He knelt down, picking it up, examining it. This was definitely your key. Realization came crashing down on him. You really meant what you said. He really fucked up.

“Shit…SHIT!!”

He had to find you. He never wanted it to end like this, hell he never wanted it to end in general. It was one of those moments where you don’t truly appreciate what you have until it’s gone. Marc grabbed his jacket and keys and started back out into the chilly London night, thunder rolling in the distance. He had to find you and apologize. You deserved at least that. He told himself that even if you didn’t take him back, even if you didn’t forgive him, he wouldn’t blame you or be upset, you had every right to be upset. He fucked up royally after you begged him to be better. Maybe next time he would learn from his mistake, if he allowed himself to find someone else…but he didn’t want anyone else.

He managed to find a flower shop that was just about to close. Briefly summarizing his situation the shoppist took pity on him, letting him buy a small bouquet. Marc felt that if it was too big his apology might seem insincere or that he was just trying to bribe you to come back. No, the size he got was modest, but not puny. He hoped you would like it, even if you no longer liked him.

With an aching heart, he begins the trek to your place. You both hadn’t talked about moving in together just yet, but maybe if Marc hadn’t been such an ass maybe you could have.

~*~*~*~

The past weeks had been…hard, to say the least. You had gone home and cried and got angry and cried some more. By now the pain, though still fresh, had simmered down a little. You didn’t want things to end that way, but Marc just wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t change. It was hard having him gone so often, worrying if he was alright even knowing the suit would heal him. You just wanted to have him near you, hold you, and you wanted to do the same to him. He’s a good man deep down, but he just can’t seem to get out of his own way.

Your friends had been taking you out on the town since you broke things off with Marc, trying to get your mind off of it all. It worked, sometimes. Other times you would call it an “early” night and head back to your flat. This was one of those nights.

You had dressed cute, a very flattering outfit in both fit and color. You had a drink or two but nothing crazy, not like one of your friends. They all decided to stay out into the early morning, you however thought about your bed and sleeping in. The sound of your shoes against the sidewalk was really the only sound around in this sleepy part of town, aside from the thunder that seemed to get closer. Heaving a sigh, you cursed at yourself for not having brought a proper jacket or umbrella, but you were close to your neighborhood so maybe you could get there before it truly started raining. Now the bed was sounding even better than before, rain outside, cozy blanket, your comfort movie on, the feeling of being watched…your steps were no longer the only ones heard echoing in the night air. Your thoughts were yanked from the blissful thoughts of home to the very present moment and the gravity of just how alone you are this late at night.

You don’t dare look back, so you start to walk a little faster…the other steps picking up their pace too. Again and again, until you’re practically running, but try as you might those other steps are quicker. A strong arm suddenly grabs you from behind as a hand quickly covers your mouth as the body begins to carry you into an alley as rain begins to sprinkle down. The man harshly presses you against the hard exterior of the building…a glint in the dim light…a knife coming to hover in front of your face. As the rain begins to come down truly, it hides the tears that had begun to roll down your cheek.

“Hey, pretty lady. Where’s your friends, hmm? Seen you walking this way couple times…watching that ass move down the road. But that isn’t all I want. Give me your purse, your phone, anything of value…now.” His voice was harsh and his smell somehow still carried through in the rain. You hate how close he was, close enough to know things about him you never wanted to know. As he shifts against you, adjusting his hold on you, you can’t help but whimper in fear.

“Come on now! Don’t have all night pretty thing…out with it.” He barked in your face as your trembling hands began to comply, handing him your things.

“P…please just…please don’t…” Trying to catch your breath at this moment proved nearly impossible. Your heart pounding against your ribs, your lungs doing the same as your hastened breath matched your heart. This couldn’t be happening, why was this happening.

The man tucked your things away, to where you didn't know and didn’t care. You let out a whimper of fear of what might come next. The cold rain beating down on the both of you made you feel even more helpless, especially when a figure was suddenly standing at the entrance to the alley you had been dragged in. It was difficult to make out his features with the way the street light was lighting him from the back. Anxiety spiked as you began to wonder if this was another creep wanting to get in on the action, if they were a weird team or something, but more than anything you hoped it was some kind soul who would help you…though you were quickly running out of hope.

“Oi, what are you looking at huh?” The creep challenged the figure, so they obviously didn't know each other. You glanced around hoping the man would be distracted enough that maybe you could make a break for it, but before you could hatch a plan the figure was headed towards the both of you. “Are you deaf?! You better walk the other way and mind your business, yeah?!”

By now you had closed your eyes, you didn’t know what to do, words were failing you. All you wanted was to be home in bed and for all this to be some sick nightmare brought on by the night's tiring events. The sound of plastic hitting the ground was nearly drowned out by the pattering of rain. In an instant you were colder than before. Was this it? You stood there trembling as time seemed to drag on one agonizing second after another. You realized the creep was no longer caging himself around you, there was a thud and splash of a body hitting the puddling rain on the ground…then a repetitive thunk, thunk, thunk.

Your eyelids felt like they weighed a ton as you slowly opened your eyes, raindrops collecting on them before inevitably falling to your cheeks. And there you see the second man, pummeling the creep until he’s just a groaning barely writhing mess on the ground. When the man stood he gave the creep a swift kick to the gut causing him to cough and wheeze as the man wiped his knuckles clean before retrieving your things…and pocketing them himself. Oh shit, no this can’t be…not another asshole. Your legs could finally hear your brain’s commands as you started to hurry to the alley opening, the crunch of plastic as you stepped on what the man had dropped.

A strong, forceful, calloused hand grabbed your arm as you let out a scream. “NOOOOO! LET GO!!!” Somehow your fight had returned as you pulled against the man’s grip, his other hand coming to grab your arm. He was…saying something, but you didn’t want to hear it, you just wanted to run.

“BABY!!”

You froze, your eyes snapping to look at the man holding you still, eyes wide from adrenaline, fear, and shock. The street light no longer casting a shadow over his features, now the light shone on his damped tan skin and making his wet curly hair glisten.

“M…Marc? Marc…” You couldn’t help it, seeing him there feeling his grip holding you steady, everything came crashing in. A heartbreaking sob clattered from deep inside. Marc reached up, cupping your face in his hands.

“Shhhh…shhh it’s okay baby, it’s okay. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe.” His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks before slipping behind to pull you in close. The rain beat down on you both as Marc held you until you had managed to calm down enough so your thoughts could catch up with what was happening.

“Marc, you…how did you…why are you…?” You stuttered as his hand reached up, gently wiping your hair out of your face where it had clung to your skin.

“I uh…I was coming to see you…to apologize. Wanted to get my thoughts together on what I wanted to say…felt like walking was the best way to do that. Well, walking where I could. That’s when I heard a bit of…what was happening. I was already ready to step in and do something…but when I saw it was you I just saw red. Baby, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” The way he looked at you, his chocolatey brown eyes seeming so dark in the late night, you still didn’t understand.

Marc carefully and slowly let go of you to pick up the plastic wrapped bouquet of flowers, now slightly trampled and looking a little rough.

“These were…these were for you. Though, I don’t blame you if you don’t want them now.” He turned the bouquet this way and that to examine the little bit of damage they sustained. Looking back at you, clearly still in shock, he hands you the bouquet and begins to take off his jacket, putting it around your shoulders. The jacket shielding you, it was warm and helped take the chill from your skin. Putting his arm around you, he began to lead you out of the alley and down the sidewalk to your flat. Once at the door, he helped you to unlock it.

“Well, um…you get inside and get warm.” He stood there a moment, not sure what to do really. Should he come in? Would you even want him to come in? Maybe you should call one of your friends to come over…Marc doesn’t believe you’d want him to stick around too long. So, he begins to take a few steps away from you and the door.

“Why did you come to find me, Marc? The flowers? What is…what is happening here? I mean—thank you, for saving me. For—for being there, I just…I don’t understand.” Shaking your head you still tried to make sense of what felt like a very strange sequence of events. You looked at him, like really looked at him. The man you thought you’d never see again except for an awkward exchange at a pub or a tesco. He resembled a sad puppy that had been left in the rain.

“That’s probably the shock. You’ll want to lay down for a while…like I said, I wanted to—to apologize. For being an ass, for not listening to you, for all the times you begged me to do something and I never did. Look,” Marc took a deep breath, his shirt now beginning to cling to his body. “I am in no way expecting you to forgive me or take me back or give me a second chance cause quite frankly I don’t deserve it. You asked me so many times to do something so simple and I had convinced myself that by me not doing that—not texting you or calling you—I was protecting you. That I was making it so people wouldn’t find out about you…and I should have just told you that. I am so sorry. If I had—if I had maybe you wouldn’t have been out tonight. Maybe you would have been back home waiting for me to come home, you wouldn’t have…” his chest began to rise and fall as his breath hastened.

He did this. He caused this domino effect where you could have gotten seriously hurt. It seems no matter what he does, he can’t help but hurt the people he cares about. Maybe it is better that he just not get close to anyone…as much as it breaks his heart.

While Marc had begun to spiral you made your way down the front steps over to him, taking his hand in yours.

“Marc, stop that. None of what happened tonight is because of you…sure I might have been somewhere else, but some creep could have found me any other night. He could have found me while you were gone on your mission, but,” you quickly added, giving Marc a stern look, stopping him from saying that that would have been his fault too for not being here, “you can’t blame yourself for that. Marc, do you know how long I’ve just wanted an apology? An acknowledgment of how you were hurting me.” When those words left your mouth, Marc brows knit together, causing that crease between them to appear, he looked positively gutted. Of course he was hurting you, there didn’t need to be some weirdo in the middle of the night or some enemy of his to cause you pain—he was already doing that.

“I know…and I should have said it a long time ago. I should have because you deserved that much…that’s why I came out to find you…why I got the flowers. I—You deserved better. I understand why you left and I’m sorry it had to end like that.” He did everything he could not to look at you, he thought if he did his heart would hurt more than it already did. “You deserve far better than someone that doesn’t realize what he has until it’s gone.”

Your hand reached up, gently cupping his rain slick cheek, the both of you thoroughly soaked by now, but not wanting to leave the other despite the rain. When Marc felt the warmth of your hand on his cheek he couldn’t help but lean into it, damn he missed this.

“Oh, Marc…damn it. I never wanted to leave. I wanted you to work with me. It broke my heart to leave, but I didn’t see any other way. You didn’t seem like you wanted this to work…wanted us to work.” Your other hand came up to move his hair from where it stuck to his skin like he had yours. This really hit Marc hard. He wanted to be with you, couldn’t imagine life without you. Well he got a glimpse of it tonight and the horrid taste it left in his mouth was something he wished to never taste again, but that wasn’t up to him.

He took a deep breath, a calloused hand coming to hold yours against his cheek.

“Come inside, Marc.”

“I—I shouldn’t.”

“I wasn’t asking. You say you don’t want a second chance, that you don’t deserve one, but if anyone deserves a second chance it’s Marc Spector.”

His eyes snapped up to find yours, slightly widened at this news. “Baby…”

“Marc, I love you. And I want you in my life, but if this is going to work, if we’re going to be together…some things have got to get better. All I’ve done since I left was think about you. So…promise me, if we do this, that things will get better.” You stepped closer to him, your body pressing against his as his other hand comes to rest on your waist.

“I swear. Baby, I swear. I’ll text you, call you, send postcards, anything you want. I’ll make it up to you, all the times I fucked up.” He pulled you closer, arm wrapping around you.

“Marc, let’s take this a step at a time. Okay? A new start. How does that sound?”

“Like heaven on Earth. Like I’ve been reborn.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his flowery statements. Marc could be goofy when he wanted to, you felt like he was only able to relax when you were around and you didn’t mind that. It meant that you made him comfortable, that he felt like he could let down some of his walls and let you in.

Hearing your laugh made his heart lighter, a smile spreading across his lips. Marc was in awe of you, of your features, your laugh and voice, and your saint-like patience. He found himself leaning in, eyes drifting down to your lips, yours doing the same. You couldn’t help it, not with how close he was and how his hand held you against him.

“Marc,” you breathed out before his kiss took your breath away. He pressed his lips to yours like it had been a lifetime since he’d kissed you. The rain didn’t seem so cold anymore as you both embraced.

taglist: @saberlight1 @roseqzpd @rosecentaur1916 @ahookedheroespureheart @sleepyamaya @parkeepingparker @lockleysgrl @marc-spectorr @vermillionsails @harrys-tittie @n0ripeaches @missdictatorme @bitchyglitterfox @spacecowboyhotch @randomchick546 @teacupcollector @local-mr-frog @stevenknightmarc @ahookedheroespureheart @mccn-bcys @juneknight

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction

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anadiasmount · 10 months

Note

imagine you're a celeb, and jude slides into your dms but you're having none of it because duh he's a football player and you know better than to get yourself involved with guys like that, but then you meet at an event and he's flirting but he's kind of intimidated by and you find it amusing but you still don't bug and he's litterally trying for months, months to get you to go on a date with him, and when you finally agree he's realised he's completely in love with you and you kinda are too but you're still guarding your heart because you don't want to lose him but you guys make it work and you become the it couple, private but not secret.

hii! you should also totally check out the fic @20-th-centurygirl posted, that’s called “work for it” as it’s similar to this anon post! please check it out it’s so so good 😣😋🤍

ik jude has mentioned he’s shy when meeting new people or just is in general, so this is making me think of shy! jude when meeting you.

he’d come across you after overhearing a couple of his england teammates talk about you, how you were this shiny new star that has taken over the internet rapidly. that same day he’d look over your profile completely falling for you. the posts you’d dedicated to friends, to charity, and selfies. he wouldn’t hesitate and quickly follow you. liking a few recent pictures and an old one where he liked by accident as he scrolled through your page.

a couple days later he continues to think about you, whether it was at breakfast with his teammates, during training, recovery, hell even if he was trying to fall asleep! your smile and bright eyes would consume his dreams and the reasons for his zoneouts, “yo jude, you good?”

he’d replied with a nod and quickly takes his phone out to send you a dm. he feels slightly embarrassed and shocked to when you don’t respond or bother following back, making him overthink if he should delete the reply. but instead he would find himself at the club with his mates, reacting to your recent story many weeks later.

you scoffed and laughed showing your friends who was hitting you up. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested, you were, but you knew you couldn’t trust him let alone yourself if you would be around him. you have commitment and trust issues after your very public break up, not being able to make friends easily as you did before.

5 weeks would pass by and you would continue to get notifications from jude, biting your cheek anxiously debating whether you should follow back or not. after a recent dm he’d sent you, you’d made the decision to follow him back and just react to his latest message. jude felt like you were ignoring him, which kinda pained him.

jude felt like you were playing hard to get and this would mess with his head after seeing you at a social event in madrid. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, drinking the last bit of his whiskey before having the courage to go over and introduce himself to you.

he would notice the small tint of pink on your cheeks as you had to look up at him, he felt immediate butterflies in his stomach, a tinge of nervousness now invading his system. “hello, i’d like to introduce myself, i’m jude. jude bellingham,” you would accept his handshake.

jude blinked rapidly, eyes roaming up and down your beautiful figure, becoming intimidated by your beauty and the way you made yourself feel and look confident. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you,” you’d smirk at the small shaky breath he released.

watching him stumble over his words trying to form a sentence. he’d be unable to look you in the eye for more than a couple seconds or he would be a mess.

while you know you shouldn’t get involved with a footballer, it felt right with him. jude would constantly check in with you, to see how you were, what you were up to, discussing his and your plans, wanting and offering to hangout bit you would turn him down at every opportunity.

while he slowly lost hope, he wouldn’t give up until you agreed because he had fallen madly inlove with you, even though you were stubborn to him. months and months later, on a special occasion where you would be in madrid again, you find yourself wanting to see jude after so long, texting him if he was still up for the date he suggested.

his palms grew sweaty and with wide eyes, he agreed without hesitation. he needed to see you, hold you, talk to you, just be close and never let go. even though he could tell you were afraid that night told him that the way he felt for you, was the same towards him.

“can i say something?” you’d ask him, watching as he shifted his full attention towards you. “i’m still kinda new to this whole thing… my last relationship was super public and honestly i don’t want that right now,” jude felt his heart sunk, his stomach wanting to throw up the food he’d just ate.

“if you’re still interested, i would love for us to continue having nights like this. i’m sorry for constantly shutting you out, i just have major trust issues and i don’t want to go through what i did again… i’ve healed…” you offer a small shy smile, jude’s eyes searching for hesitation or something that would hold him back.

“of course i am. and i respect you for telling what you did just now, it takes courage and a lot of healing, but you giving me a chance is making me the happiest man in the world y/n… i like you so much, i will protect you from anyone, okay?” jude grabbed your small hands and kissed them softly, but then quickly attached to his face where you kissed him.

the two of you would become the most talked about pair and couple after making it official, often invited to do interviews and shows together. he would soft launch you for months, driving even his teammates insane, but he was madly inlove you with, you were his adoration from here on out. “i love you jude…”

“i love you, princess.”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fluff

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garciaasfluffypen · 10 days

Text

things are changing (and only for the better)

pairing: jemily x adhd!reader word count: 2.8k warnings: dialouge heavy, alcohol use, discussions of ethical non-monagamy/polyamory a/n: please please PLEASE tell me if i get anything about polyamory wrong in this series. i myself am not polyamorous, and i want to do this justice. if i'm doing anything wrong or harmful in my writing please let me know.

it had been weeks since you had a girls night with emily and jj, and you were thanking all the gods out there that you finally got to have one.

the team had been whisked off on three back to back cases, leaving everyone begging for the weekend off. once it was granted, the first text you got before you even left the office was a message from jj stating “our house, wine, 30 minutes?” with an outstanding “YES PLEASE!!” being sent back within seconds of receiving the text from your favorite blonde. emily and jj had been amazing to you since figuring out about your adhd diagnosis, and knew how deliberating it could be if you weren’t on your medication. the inattentiveness had been your downfall multiple times, but your team knew how to accommodate you and make sure all of your needs were met to ensure you could work at your full capacity. specifically jj and emily.

being on the medication around the team was very important to you. it was something you had been weary of, keeping them from seeing your adhd funks. it still was something you didn’t want to subject them too just yet. despite being on the team for a few years and being friends with them for longer, you had done a good job at keeping the full nature of your funks away from the team and frankly… you wanted to keep it that way. the only person who had seen you in your funk so far was hotch, but that was because you had fallen asleep at the office on a thursday night and didn’t get the chance to pick up your meds on the way home from work. and besides, you didn’t want to hear it from them, about how stupid you were for not taking your medication when you relied on it to keep your brain from shutting down. it had happened before, you forgot your meds at your apartment and had a date that ultimately ended up in you staying at your exes place. when you woke up the next morning and realized, they were upset when they realized you would be in one of your funks and practically shoved you out the door.

you’d hate yourself if you lost emily and jj like that.

you shook yourself out of your thoughts and grabbed the fruit platter you had picked up from sam’s club on the way to the house, heading over to the side door that you knew led straight to the kitchen. emily and jj were quietly talking to themselves by the counter, sending a wave of worry through you. they couldn’t be talking about you, right? they invited you over, they wanted you here, they--

“y/n!” jj’s eyes lit up as she saw you, coming over and pulling you in for a hug. “i was starting to think you didn’t want to come.”

“i wanted to get the fruit platter you guys like.” you sheepishly replied, a red hue covering your cheeks. “i felt bad coming empty handed.”

“you know you don’t have to bring us anything, lovey.”

your heart jolted as emily called you lovey, the nickname naturally falling out of her lips. lovey… you liked that.

“i know, but i wanted to.” you shrugged. “it's the least i can do for all you’ve done with me the past couple weeks.”

“you having proper accommodations is important, y/n. we want you to be comfortable.”

you smiled at the brunette. “it means a lot to me, really, and i never really properly thanked you for being so attentive to everything.”

jj came to squeeze your hand. “you don’t need to thank us. just being here is more than enough.”

the blush found it's way back to your cheeks as you looked down, barely registering the look emily and jj shared before you felt a finger under your chin, lifting it to make you look into emily’s eyes. that was something new, something she had never done with you before.

and you… liked it?

“what were you feeling for dinner?”

“i’m not super picky,” you paused. “on nights like these i typically do something easy like mac and cheese or ramen or something but we don’t have to do that if you guys want something else.”

emily chuckled, a loving glint in her eye. “if you want mac and cheese, we can get mac and cheese.”

“i don’t want to make you guys special order me mac and cheese, you really don’t--”

“y/n.” jj locked eyes with you. “it’s on us tonight, promise. go put on your cozy clothes and get comfortable, yeah? we’ll get dinner set.”

“i don’t want to be a bother…”

“you’re never a bother, not to us.” jj paused. “is your rejection dysphoria acting up again?”

“a little bit.”

“do you want to talk about it?”

“can i get a glass of wine in my system before we talk about it?”

“of course. now go get cozy, i’m ready to curl up on the couch and shit talk all the stupid people we’ve run into over the past few weeks.”

jj watched you as you chuckled and sauntered off to the main room before quickly turning around and running to grab your go bag before heading back in. emily came up and wrapped her arms around jj from behind, placing her head on the blonde’s shoulder.

“y’know, this could be the last moments of us without y/n in our lives.”

“emily!” jj swatted at her arm. “don’t you dare say that.”

“i’m just saying!” emily shot jj a joking look. “considering how they reacted to the finger under the chin, i doubt that will be an issue we’ll need to worry about, though.”

“i hope so.” jj turned so she was facing emily. “i really like them, i like them a lot. and i want them to know that i can love both of you equally.”

“and we’ll explain it to them if they decide they want to be our girlfriend, yeah?” emily squeezed jj’s hands. “we’ll take it one step at a time.”

“do you think they like us?”

“i would sure hope so, or else they wouldn’t be here.” emily looked to jj. “do you think they don’t like us?”

“it’s hard to tell with them, i’ll be honest. i’m just nervous they’re going to say no and everything is going to be messed up. i don’t even know if we fully explained the polyamory thing to them.”

“i don’t think we did either, now that i’m thinking about it.” emily bit her lip. “okay so we start with that then.”

“we start with that.”

emily and jj found a restaurant with something all three of you would want before ordering, making sure it would be there in a timely manner before heading out into the living room. emily went to change into her comfy clothes first, leaving her in a pair of yale sweatpants and an old shirt of jj’s that neither of them knew the origins of. returning with the wine she had been itching to pull out all week, emily plopped herself down on the couch and handed you a glass, smiling at you fondly as you took it while you bounced a mile a minute, talking about something you had seen on tik tok on the jet earlier. jj changed into the flannel pants she had stolen from emily eons ago, a pale blue oversized t shirt sitting on her small frame. jj came and sat on the other side of you, the way the three of you typically sat during girls nights, both women giving you all the attention you could desire while on one of your tangents.

something was off, though. you could feel the vibe shift about an hour and a half into the night, your meals all discarded on the coffee table while you and emily nursed another glass of wine. jj had opted for her favorite beer at that point, the bottle opener sitting next to an empty styrofoam container with the discards of jj’s meal. your energy slowly faded as the dread started to set in, the rejection sensitive dysphoria feelings coming in full swing. you felt yourself start to get into a daze, fingers playing with the hem of your tee as you stared off into space. it took emily a minute to realize what was happening before she placed a supportive arm around you and pulled you close, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“what’s up, y/n?”

“the vibe is off.” you said, quieter than you had been the rest of the night. “something’s wrong.”

“well, we did want to tell you something.” jj started. “it’s not bad. nothing bad is happening right now, but we were holding off on telling you in case you didn’t…” she paused. “how do i say this without sounding like an asshole?”

“we’re scared that you’ll see us differently after we tell you what we want to talk to you about.”

“okay…” you looked between them, noticing genuine concern. “i’m gonna need more wine, aren’t i?”

emily chuckled, the smile you know and love crossing her features. “well, that depends on how you take what we’re about to tell you.”

“i don’t need to be scared, right?”

“not at all.” jj squeezed your hand, coming closer to you on the couch and leaning into your other side. “unless you see like a ghost or something. then you can be scared.”

you chuckled. “i doubt there’s going to be a ghost in your house, jayje.”

“you never know!” jj smiled slightly, glad that you weren’t too deep into the feeling of despair and could joke with her. “all kidding aside, are you in a mental state to have this conversation or do you want to sober up a little bit?”

“no no, i’m okay.” you nodded. “as long as i don’t stand up. that’s when it’s all going to go to my head.”

“understandable.” emily rested her cheek against the top of your head. “remember how you saw me talking to tara about that girl i saw who i wanted to get to know?”

“um.. i think so. the one from the coffee shop?”

“exactly.” emily paused. “it didn’t work out, unfortunately, but that was partially because we hadn’t even began talking about this.”

“so, as you know, we've been exploring the idea of… seeing other people.” jj piped in, pausing to pick her next words carefully. “but we never fully explained to you what we meant by that.”

“we’ve been exploring polyamory.” it was emily’s turn to pause, gauging your reaction. “the two of us, sharing another partner.”

“cool.” you smiled, relieved it wasn’t something horrible. ”have you found anyone yet?”

you could have sworn you saw both emily and jj visibly relax.

“well, thats the thing. we’re not sure if they realized they were being flirted with… or that we’re interested in them that way.”

you popped a grape in your mouth. “tell me everything, how does this work? wait! tell me about them!”

emily smiled. “well, they’re easily one of our favorite people ever.”

“have you known them long?”

“about five years, give or take. em, when did we meet them?”

“god, what was it… christmas of twenty nineteen, right?”

interesting. you met the team in twenty nineteen after penelope dragged you to a girls night just after thanksgiving. what a coincidence.

“they’ve been friends with us for a while. we’ve only recently started flirting with them about six months ago.”

jj smiled fondly. “although like em said, we can’t tell if they’ve realized we’re flirting with them yet.”

“so they’re a bit aloof. that’s charming.” you smiled at them. “i’m so glad you guys found someone, i fully thought you guys were flirting with me these past few months.”

there was an awkward pause.

“wait… why are you… am i the someone?”

emily cleared her throat, grabbing for her glass of wine. oh.

oh.

“i am the someone.”

“we like you, y/n.” jj grabbed your hand. “more than a friend. and i know that sounds weird, and you can say no- we’re not pressuring you to do anything or make any decisions tonight.”

“i…” you paused. “how did you… are you guys okay? like, relationship wise?”

“we’re more than okay, i promise.” emily squeezed your other hand.

“we’ve been talking about it, just the two of us, for a few months.” jj licked her lips. “the only other person who knows is tara, she’s gotten us in touch with a great support group that has everything we need to know about getting started.”

“both of us realized we wanted something more, but didn’t want to end things at all.” emily explained. “we figured out that both of us had too much love to share with just one person, we wanted to share it with someone else.”

“so… wait, can i ask questions?”

“of course, babe.”

“how would this work? the three of us?” you paused. “you’re… married.”

“we know it won’t be easy, since you’ll never be able to officially legally be with both of us unless some magical law goes into effect that changes the world's view on polyamory. but, it would be like any normal relationship, but you would get both myself and jj. there would be boundaries and rules, and we would talk about those only if you want to give us a shot.”

“we would want you to be as happy and relaxed and comfortable as you can be. everything is open to be talked about, especially when it comes to your comfort levels. and like we said, you can tell us to shut up whenever you want and we would.”

“and if i were to ask to kiss emily?”

“then i would say yes, do it.”

“and the same goes for jj?”

“i would want you to do what makes you the happiest.” jj kicked emily’s shin. “i mean, i’d say yes.”

“sorry i’m… i’m trying to wrap my brain around this. it’s being slow. you guys like me?”

emily chuckled. “yes, lovey. a lot.”

“more than you know.” jj nudged your shoulder lightly. “is that okay? that we both like you?”

“you know i’m queer, of course it's okay.”

“but are you okay with that?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” you looked between emily and jj. “have you gotten turned down before?”

“not in this aspect, no.” emily answered. “but yes, i have been turned down plenty of times.”

“and i dated men in my past.” jj chuckled. “do with that information what you will.”

“yeah… men are stupid.” you chuckled. “okay so, hold on. i’d be dating both of you then?”

“only if you want to.”

“we’re not pressuring you at all. you can take some time to think about it-”

“- no no, it sounds really nice. dating both of you.” you smiled. “i just never thought…”

“y/n, no matter what you think, you are loveable.” jj turned your face to look you in the eye. “you are loveable and you deserve the world.”

“and we want to give you the world.”

“we’d give you the universe, if we could.”

“so what do you need from me?”

“your word.”

jj looked at you, a stern look overtaking her features. gods, did the room just get warmer?

“you tell us yes or no, and we go from there. we don’t want you to-”

“the answer is yes.” you stumbled over your words, jj’s look affecting you more than you thought. “i’d love to be your girlfriend.”

both emily and jj let out a sigh of relief, bringing you in for a hug. it was real, it was happening. they didn’t read the situation wrong and you liked them back. you liked them back, and you said yes.

“in that case, as our girlfriend, what do you want to do?”

“can i kiss you?”

“of course you can.”

you turned to jj. “and then can i kiss you?”

“please.”

“then it's settled. i give you some smoochies, we binge ice cream and watch silly reality tv.” you smiled, nodding once. “the perfect night in.”

emily and jj chuckled at your happiness, bringing you in as close as they could muster. you turned to emily first, placing a small peck on her lips to test the water before cupping her cheek, smiling into the kiss. you then turned to jj, who simply smiled widely at you before meeting you in the middle for the kiss. while it was an interesting scenario, you found yourself feeling comfortable. you were in the arms of two of the most important people in your life, and things were going to change.

but they were changing for the better.

#oh to be loved by you (two) universe #jemily #jemily fanfiction #jemily x reader #jemily x reader fanfiction #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau fanfiction #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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