#if you’re wondering why they are color coded

[mikeluciraphgabe]

Gabriel: Who’s better? Me or Luci?

Michael: you

Raphael: You can’t pick a favorite kid-

Michael: Lucifer’s not my kid. He’s not even my dog. He the dog’s kid’s pet.

Lucifer: I resent that but also fully support it

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

[forlix]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[amyrahrose]

Content warning: Sukunaxreader smut, penetration, multiple positions, dominant Sukuna! , unprotected sex (Wrap it up!), pet names, Sexual theme, Adult theme, talking her through it, although it is sometimes not mentioned <READER IS BLACK FEMALE CODED>, BUT ALL ARE WELCOME TO ENJOY! ❤️

Authur's Note→ 18 and Under, GET TA STEPPIN! I know for sure this will be broken into parts, however I'm not sure how many parts will be to this. I just decided to get back into writing little dabbles here and there so I'm honestly just testing the waters with this. Slightly proofread (English is my first language, but even the baddest of Bitches still make mistakes! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) ) I do hope you guys enjoy! 🤎

Synopsis: You’ve decided that you would begin your fitness journey. Accompanying your best friend, today’s the day where you’ll being taking working out and going to the gym seriously (well kind of). Lacking motivation and ready to go back home to lounge around to watch some TV and pig out, that all changes when suddenly you meet this drop dead gorgeous as hell man. Will he be the inspiration you need to continue your new lifestyle?

Part 1 found here →→ GYM RAT: PART 1

w.c» 2.1 K

It was Tuesday night, and you found yourself pacing back and forth in your apartment bedroom, forgetting that you had Jade on Facetime to help you pick an workout outfit to wear to the gym with Sukuna tomorrow. 

“Girl I don’t know why you’re stressing over an outfit, ya’ll going to the gym not Ruth’s Chris.” Jade rolled her eyes at you jokingly. She thought it was cute how you were trying to make sure you were prepared for your gym date with Sukuna, but she also knew how bad you can overthink things, causing you to freak-out and panic. 

“I know, I know but I still want to look like I’ve been to the gym before.” You stated back desperately. You know it sounds silly, but you wanted to make a good impression, even if it was just a workout session. 

“Honestly Y/n, I swear you set unrealistic goals. You could show up in a trash bag and that man would still be into you.” Jade tried convincing you but to no avail. You were dead set on having the perfect workout attire to flaunt in for Sukuna. 

“Well what about this, oh no wait what about this one?” You had two different sets in both of your hands, shoving one after the other in-front of the screen for Jade to critique. 

Realizing that nothing she was saying was going to help the situation she caved in and took a good look at both outfits. The first was a high-waisted leggings and sport bra set in a rich, deep brown color and the other was an all into one, low cut design with a low scoop back and cross-body straps in all black. Remembering how Sukuna was looking at you as if he was going to devour you, she figured the later would surely set him over the edge. 

“Let’s go with the all black, give my man something to work with.” Jade cackled out while wiggling her eyebrows up and down at you. You laughed nervously because you knew she was going to pick that one. To be honest, you wasn’t sure why you grabbed that one in the first place when you set out to go to your local department store shopping for gym attire. When you seen it you knew it was something that was going to turn heads and demand attention, more importantly Sukuna’s attention, prompting you to hurry up and toss it inside your shopping cart before deciding against it. But now you wish you did change your mind. You knew you could pull it off, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you would be coming off too strong, or desperate, by wearing it. 

“You asked for my opinion and I gave it to you. You’re going to look amazing in it Y/n. You’ll definitely get worked out- uh I mean get a good work out in it.” Jade said quickly before you caught her statement. Noticing you were still too wrapped up in choosing between the two outfits, she blew out a breathe of relief at you not catching what she said. That most definitely would’ve sent you in a frenzy and make you not want to go to the gym at all. 

“I know, but are you sure? Like really, really sure.” You asked again. You knew you were too much inside of your head about the matter, but you needed reassurance. Looking back up to Jade you caught the look she was giving you and knew she was about to give you a piece of her mind when all of a sudden you squealed in shock from the incoming call flashing on your screen. 

“Y/n what the hell is wrong with you?” Jade asked bewildered. She watched as you hurried and ran to your vanity looking over your appearance before rushing back to her wide eyed. 

“It’s him, he’s Face timing me!” You stated, looking back at Jade in shock. It took her a moment to figure out who it was you were talking about before she smiled devilishly and wiggled her eyebrows once more. 

“Well what are you doing still on the phone with me? Answer him! Oh and show him your choices for tomorrow and see what he thinks.” She proclaimed. Before you could argue, she hung up the call leaving you to fend for yourself. 

Shaking your head and exhaling out a deep breath, you answered Sukuna’s face time call with a small smile. 

“Heyyy you.” You answered shyly. You mentally slapped yourself for how you answered the call. 

“What am I, 12?” You thought to yourself. 

Sukuna’s deep laugh pulled you out of your head, making you look at him and his surroundings. He was obviously at the gym, you heard the clanking of weights and the gym’s music in the background. He was staring back at you, looking like sex himself. His hair pushed back with sweat, making you just now notice how it was dyed pink, and a hue of pink across his cheeks signaling that he must have just wrapped up his workout session. 

“What’s up ma?” His raspy, deep voice sounded off into your phone’s speaker. The sound stirring up a feeling deep inside your stomach, making you want to record his voice to be played over and over. 

“Uh nothing much, I was just on the phone with Jade. You know, nothing too crazy.” You replied with a small smile. You kept your gaze transfixed on Sukuna, taking in his handsome features. 

“God this man is so fine.” 

“Mh, what was that mama?” He asked while he placed his phone down. He was now in the guy’s locker room, checking himself out in the mirror. 

“Shit”, you whispered to yourself, “Nothing, I didn’t say anything.” You answered, half stuck on the fact he heard you and also the new nickname he’d given you. Your brain was short fusing at the sight of him now peeling off his sweat drench compression shirt, revealing his abs to you once again. Your mouth watered at the sight while you unconsciously clenched your thighs together. If he pulled the stunt in-front of you tomorrow there was no way in hell you were going to make it through the workouts. 

“Oh yeah, what ya’ll were talking about?” Sukuna asked, trying to hold in his smirk. He most definitely heard your remarks and he knew exactly what he was doing by taking off his shirt, soaking up your reaction. He felt he dick come to life by the sight of you clenching your thighs together. How he wished he was over your place right now, seating comfortably in between them. 

“Well.. she was uh-she was helping me pick a outfit for tomorrow.” You answered quietly. You’re not sure why you gave out the information, thinking he might think you’re crazy for discussing something as ridiculous as that. 

“Oh yeah? Let me see what you came up with.” He replied while shuffling through his gym bag. 

Caught off-guard by his response, you were certain he would have just questioned why you would go to great lengths as that. You watched him for a little bit as he looked around in his gym back, thinking he must’ve have been joking until he turns around to look at you with his brows shot up in curiosity. 

“Well ma, you ‘gon show me what you got?” He asked with a chuckle. He found you cute with your shy girl expression. He turned back to his bag, finally finding his towel so he could prepare for his shower. 

You blew out a breath you didn’t even realizing you were holding and thought the hell with it, he was going to see you in it regardless, what’s the harm of you showing it to him now?

“Well okay, if you insist.” You said while holding up the gym set Jade picked out. You waited anxiously until Sukuna turned back around to gauge for his reaction. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine mam-” Sukuna stopped, sucking in a breathe. He took in the black set you had selected and fought with himself to keep in the low growl threatening to come out. Taking it in, he found it hard to keep out the thoughts of how your body would look in it. The way the front would hug your tits, or the way your sweat would be cascading down into the dips of your back, or how the way it would mold around your plump ass. He closed his eyes, trying to stop himself while he was ahead, but it didn’t stop the rush of blood going to his dick, making his gym shorts uncomfortably tight. 

“So- what do you think?” You asked timidly, you were still too wrapped up in overthinking your outfit choice you didn’t catch the internal battle Sukuna was having with himself over it. 

Trying to be nonchalant about it, he shook his head slightly while offering a small smile. 

“I think it’s good Y/n, whatever you’re comfortable in, that’s all that matters.” He said in a low tone. You looked at him curiously, wondering why the sudden formal change. Not trying to let it get to you, you offered a small smile back at his input. 

“Okay, if you say so.” You replied back. There was a beat of silence between you to before you let out a giggle at how intense he was staring at you. 

“So you called just for me to look at you flex?” You asked, lightening the mood again. He blinked wide eyed before chuckling.

“Nah ma, just making sure you don’t flake on me tomorrow is all.” You sighed in relief at him going back to his nickname for you, helping quiet your nerves a little bit. 

You smiled at him while shaking your head no. 

“Nah, I’m locked in. I wouldn’t bail on you.” You respond back. That causes him to smirk before replying back. 

“Good, wouldn’t want a good outfit like that to go to waste.” He joked back, causing you to put your head down shyly. 

“Ha, nah we wouldn’t want that.” You giggled out. You looked up, catching him watching you with the same smirk etched on his face. 

“What?” You asked, having him watch you the way he was, was doing something to you. 

“Nothing ma, Ima see you tomorrow, alright?” He stated while throwing his towel over his shoulder. 

Shaking your head yes, you both said your goodbyes before hanging up the phone. Placing your outfit back across your vanity, you plopped on-top of your bed still smiling like a fool at your phone. 

Sukuana’s POV

He groaned lowly as he placed his hands around his dick, slowly stroking it up and down. He tried desperately to get the thought of you out of his head as he took his shower, but nothing he did was working. Every time he tried to think of something else, his thoughts always came back to you. 

Drawing in a breath, he threw his head back as the water from the shower head caressed his skin and helped lubricate his motions as he picked up pace. Flashes of you entered his mind. Seeing how you would look in the gym outfit you flashed in-front him not to long ago or the way he imaged how you plush, thick lips would feel wrapped around his dick, or how well your pussy would mold around his dick as he thrusted relentlessly into your velvety walls. His thoughts ran wild with all the things he would do to you and with a flick of his wrist over his swollen tip it was all that it took to send him over the edge. 

“Y/n.” He moaned out, forgetting his surroundings but ultimately not caring if anyone heard. He continued with his lights strokes, watching as ropes of cum shot down the shower drain. 

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath as he tried to regulate his breathing back to normal. He could only hope he doesn’t act this way around you tomorrow or he wasn’t sure how things would end. 

Before he could stop himself, thoughts of you came rushing at him again and he silently cursed at himself as he felt his dick harden again. Knowing it wouldn’t go away on it’s own, he began to slowly stroke himself again to ease the relief. 

You were going to be the death of him. 

© 2024 Amyrahrose. Please do not translate, copy, plagiarize, or repost (sharing links is fine 🤎) without my permission. You will only find my entries/content on tumblr!

[biteyoubiteme]

blueberry float

fem!reader x huening kai

synopsis: you get carried away after a day on the beach with your surfer boyfriend

warnings: 🔞!! slight nipple play, oral (f!rec), marking, tummy love, public/semi-public sex, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.83k

an: you cannot tell me kai doesn't give off surfer vibes, he is so summer coded its unreal. this is apart of my float event check out the other memebers fics! feed back appriciated :)) not proofread sorry [m.list] [float m.list]

Kai has seen you in a bikini before so this time should be no different. only you’re standing under the outdoor shower head rising off the salt of the ocean, the sand dotting your skin, head leaned back as you run your fingers through your hair. That strappy swimsuit is the perfect pink color against your skin. droplets of water sliding down between the valley of your breast, dripping along your stomach, your thighs. he had done a double take when you had taken off your loose gauzy button-up shirt. he had seen you naked more times than he could count but something about so little fabric was making him hard, the illusion of your nipples outlined in the fabric drawing him in.

he had been trying to ignore you as much as he could, staying out on the water longer than he thought he would. but it was hard to look away when you were laid out on your towel, turning every half hour to tan, he didn’t know if it was harder to see the curve of your ass or the way you almost spilled out of your top. he wouldn't be able to stay out on the dying waves, tae and Gyu already drying off next to where you’re rinsing, the sun already hanging low in the sky. Kai also knew that once the rest of them made it back to the little beach house you guys had rented he wouldn't be able to get you alone. The walls were so thin he could hear when the other members walked around, the muffled conversations they had. He wasn't very good at being silent when it came to you.

Even when you started to dry off, your towel hanging around your shoulders covering most of your body he couldn't get the image out of his head. He was so out of it he didn’t hear Yeonjun calling for him wondering why he wasn't following after. distracted as he paddled after the rest of them.

you were no better off than Kai as you watched him come out of the water. the swim trucks he wore, heavy with water hanging on his hips just right and sticking to his thighs. he was wearing a skin-tight water shirt, the black material clinging to every ridge of his arms, chest, and stomach. he was shaking his head off the water, hair stuck to his temple. his surfboard tucked under his arm as he made his way over to rinse off.

He gave you a tight smile as he hit the faucet, leaning his board against the wooden rail people kept their towels on. He stood under the stream, tossing his head back and running his fingers through his hair. you watched him flex, the water making the material of his shirt shiny, a perfect map of every line making up his body. you tried to hold your towel out for him but he shook his head putting it back around you. the boys talking about what we should have for dinner. “I think we're going to do a lap around the beach,” Kai added, putting an arm around your shoulder. the boys nodded, taking his board with them as you were led away from the direction they were going.

“Are you okay?” you ask, arms circling his waist, he still wasn't looking at you only making his way past a few people sitting around on the sand.

“yeah I'm good,” but his voice is strained from trying to keep losing his cool. but the way you were leaning on him was pressing your boob right against him, every glance down to you was directed at your exposed cleavage. he was trying to not make it obvious he was hard but it wasn't helped that he could only feel the ache of your absent hands on him when you were this close already. It wasn't until you were past the few larger rocks separating the beach into smaller sections that he turned to you, wrapping your face in his hands and kissing you breathlessly.

Kai was fervent, sloppy with his need as he curled his fingers in your hair, nose brushing against yours. He wanted you close to him, one hand sliding down to your waist to push your hips into his. your gasp at how thick and hot he was in his swimsuit was caught in his throat. his kisses down your jaw, as you ran your hands over his stomach, trying and failing to curl your fingers into the fabric. “please,” he groaned against your neck, “I need you, I want you so bad,”

“here?” you ask looking over his shoulder, “anyone could see us,”

“I'll be quick,” he mutters already pushing the towel away, letting it fall to the ground, “I promise, I just can’t wait anymore, and we haven't had sex the whole time we've been here because those stupid thin walls,” he’s kissing down your throat, teeth grazing over your pulse, “please, please,” he begs between every peck.

It wasn't often that Kai was this needy, trying to grind into you, fingers almost bruising against your hip to try and pull you close to him for any friction. it didn’t take much thought to agree, the images of him all day running through your mind. the way he caught a wave, the cocky smile he wore when he stayed up longer than his friends, all the clinging fabric, everything about today was making you wet. “promise to be quick,”

he was nodding, pulling away to lay out your towel on the sand for you, pulling you down so that you were laid out on your back.

Kai sat on his knees wishing he had his phone to take a photo of you. He reached out tugging on one of the stings holding your bottoms on effectively untying them.

he leaned over you leaving hot open-mouthed kisses down from your collarbone to your chest. groping you over your bikini top, teeth grazing over your covered pebbles nipple. “you can’t leave marks we’ll be here all week my concealer will be washed away when we go swimming,”

“But you brought the black one-piece right?” he slid down kissing over your ribs.

“yes,” you nod, twisting your fingers in his hair. “So wear that one because I don’t think I’ll be able to function seeing you back in this one, do you know how difficult it is to hide a boner in wet swim trunks?”

you giggle as he presses his lips over your stomach, licking and nipping your flesh. He loved to leave you covered in little bruises, from your chest to your thighs he didn’t stop and your tummy was his favorite spot. leaving bites along his path, burying his face against your soft skin.

“All day I’m trying to think about anything but you all wet and then you stand there looking like I should lick up every drop of water,” he bites the strap still tied at your hip tugging it with his teeth until it’s undone and you’re bare for him.

“you said you would make it quick,” knowing Kai could spend hours between your thighs if you let him.

“I wanna kiss this pretty pussy before I ruin her,” he ghosts his lips over your clit making you chase the feeling. hips lifting enough for Kai to hold them down.

he swipes his tongue through your folds drawing a line from your entrance to your clit before latching on and sucking you hard enough to have your back arching a strangled whine leaving your lips. you want to be quiet but as he laps up your wetness you’re struggling to keep your bodies to a minimum. one of your hands sinking into the sand next to you, grains sliding between your fingers doing little to keep you sane. and then he’s prodding your entrance with his tongue nose bumping your clit in perfect synchrony.

you push him further into your cunt not caring if he can breathe when you’re cumming. his name on your lips as you come down finally letting him up. He wastes no time in freeing himself from his trunks dragging the head of his cock through your wetness making your legs twitch. “no time for much prep but I know you can take it,”

you feel the stretch of his mushroom tip as he pushes in slowly inch by inch. his eyelids heavy as he’s swallowed into your still thumping walls. “Sucking me in so good,” he moans pressing his pelvis to yours.

you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips needing him as close as possible when you’re this exposed. but even if someone walked around the rocks right now and saw you two you don’t think you would even notice.

Kai buried his nose behind your ear, kissing anywhere he could as he gave shallow thrusts. As much as he could say he would finish fast he forgot that as soon as he was back between your legs. your warmth so inviting he would lay still just cockwarming you without a care in the world. but then you were moaning, “Faster, please hyuka,” nails trying to scratch his back through the fabric of his shirt. squirming under him for friction.

following instructions he picks up speed finding his pace without much effort. hips knocking yours the wet sounds of his movements hidden behind the sound of the surf.

he was whimpering into your ear before planting both hands on either side of your head to find more leverage. His head thrown back, wet hair hanging against his forehead, throat exposed making you want to kiss his adam’s apple. He was close, sloppy thrusts and soft moans proof enough. He slipped one hand down between you two pinching your clit enough to not hurt.

he was buckling, shoulders curving in as you felt him twitch inside you, body falling forward as he came still cautious enough to not crush you. you could feel his hot cum fill you, your thighs weak as you followed right over the edge with him. both of you trying to stifle your moans to no avail.

you’re still trying to catch your breath when Kai laughs, “There was no way we could have stayed silent in the house, everyone would have known,”

“So in public it is,” you giggle, pushing the hair away from his face and behind his ears. “I can’t be blamed, you looked too good,” he planted a single kiss to your lips, “I wouldn’t be able to last another minute if you put this one on again,” he smiles, flicking at the straps around your neck.

When you two are cleaned up and Kais is tying your swimsuit bottoms back up he looks up from his knees. “you know you have sand everywhere, maybe I should help you out in the shower to get it all off?”

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬 | an original oneshot series depicting toji’s life with you right after he left the zenin clan.

a/n: not a plot-driven series ! the genre of the oneshots here will range from heavy angst to (mostly) fluff, but generally, this series will depict toji’s life as it complies with the events of the ‘hidden inventory’ canon arc. please feel free to send prompts or ideas in my ask box!

•´¯`•. 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣𝙚: 𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 .•´¯`• | the first years he spent in tokyo.

ੈ‧₊˚ ep: miso soup

-> toji will never forget his first night away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.

ੈ‧ ep: death by uwu (toji’s version)

-> “hello officer? i think i’m being murdered.” toji’s convinced you’re trying to kill him. the murder weapon? your gummy grins and stolen kisses.

ੈ‧₊˚ ep: i could be pink, i could be purple !

-> (18+) in which toji notices how you color-code your outfit every time you see each other…and promptly makes a game out of it in hopes it’ll cure his gambling addiction.

ੈ‧₊˚ ep: i’ll give you my sunshine

-> in which toji hears the words “happy birthday” for the first time.

ੈ‧₊˚ ep: blossoms in brine

-> your anniversary’s coming up and toji’s wondering why bouquets are so damn expensive.

.•´¯`• 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙬𝙤: 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 .•´¯`• | the happiest years of his life.

ੈ‧₊˚ ep. 01: make you mine

-> toji finally lets go of his cursed name in favor of yours.

ੈ‧₊˚ ep. 02: let you break my heart

-> toji recalls the second time he fell hopelessly in love.

ੈ‧₊˚ ep. 03: beware of kisses

-> “you really are your mother’s son,” toji grumbles to megumi as the little brat yet again refuses another kiss from him.

[innerfare]

Sanji Fluff // Angst Compilation

Summary: A compilation of Sanji angst and fluff from my multi character posts (You're Wounded, Brushing Your Teeth Together, Flowers, Type of Date, You See His Cabin, Fighting and Making Up, Paradise, Nightmares, I Love You, You're Jealous).

Genre: Fluff // Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

You’re Wounded: 

Fusses over you while you see to your own wound, feels like they dodged a bullet, blames themselves for any harm that comes to you. “Never again,” they promise themself, bringing you a hot cup of tea to soothe you. 

Brushing Your Teeth Together: 

Slings his arm around you, gets a little too distracted by the sight of you brushing your teeth, ends up standing there with his mouth open and his toothbrush hanging out. Ends up speed running his when you’re finished so he can follow you out of the bathroom. 

Flowers: 

Classic red roses, at least a dozen at a time. He’ll buy you roses in shades of white and pink, as well as the occasional yellow, but a dozen red roses is his go to. He also makes very good use of the petals. Doesn’t need a special occasion to present you with a bouquet. In fact, he always makes sure you have fresh flowers on your nightstand. Additionally, he’s learned to cook a few dishes with edible flowers in them for you, presenting you with all manner of chamomile, chive blossom, and pansy dishes. 

Type of Date: 

This man will take you on the best picnic of your life, a picnic so good he’ll have you wondering why you ever thought restaurants were the epitome of fine dining. It won’t just be delicious, it will be an aesthetic dream, with a wicker basket, checkered blanket, and even a small bouquet of flowers in a glass jar. If he takes you on a picnic beneath the stars, he’ll light candles and be sure to have an extra blanket to keep you warm. Oh, and champagne. Definitely will open a bottle of champagne. 

You See His Cabin For The First Time: 

Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo. 

Fighting and Making Up: 

He’s far too protective over you, and it causes a lot of fights. He treats you like a china doll, and though that can be quite nice at times, he needs to understand you’re not made of glass. Alternatively, he’s the type to get upset with you for being too friendly to other men. There was also a miscommunication where he cooked something you didn’t like and you weren’t exactly gentle in your reaction to it, you thinking he already knew you didn’t like that thing when he didn’t actually know, him thinking you had an issue with his cooking and not an issue with one of the ingredients. He’s the type to bring you flowers even if you were in the wrong in order to jumpstart the making up process. Your fights never last long because Sanji can’t sleep, can’t eat, can barely even pull himself out of bed if the two of you are on the outs (early childhood trauma can be that way). 

Paradise 1: 

Wandering through a flower field and picking some of the more beautiful blooms that catch your eye, sprawling out on a picnic blanket in the late morning to bask in the sweet scent, enjoying the breeze as it ruffles your hair, weaving some of the flowers you picked into a delicate crown that they wear proudly while the two of you share sweet kisses. 

Paradise 2: 

Waiting until late evening to meet beneath a peach tree, speaking at first in hushed tones, worrying someone is on to the two of you, eventually forgetting about all of that and settling into easy conversation about nothing and everything simultaneously, him jumping up to pick a peach for you to have as an evening snack, you taking advantage of the last bit of light to carve both of your initials into the tree trunk. 

Nightmares: 

You’re in the clutches of his brothers while his father watches on in approval, and he’s trying to save you but to no avail. Suddenly, he’s seven years old again- too small, too slow, too weak to put up a fight, completely at the mercy of his brothers. Only, they aren’t tormenting him, they’re tormenting you, and from the looks on their faces, they sure are enjoying it. The look on your face, though, is one of complete anguish. And then you scream in pain, and he’s awake again, sitting up in bed with a sheen of sweat on his skin, the image of your face in such pain burned into his brain. He doesn’t register that it was only a nightmare until he puts eyes on you, and even then, it takes him several days to recover from the nightmare. 

I Love You: 

Sanji technically confesses first, but you’re the one who actually says those three words. He’s holding your hand in both of his, clutching it close to his racing heart, as he looks down at you, telling you all the ways you make his life better, all the things he’s looking forward to doing with you, all the energy he’s going to put into keeping you happy, healthy, and safe. And the words just sort of fall from your lips. He stops mid sentence, eyes wide and mouth open. The seconds drag on in silence before he’s pulling your lips to his. Both of you are very generous with these three words, saying them often and in public. If you ever hang up the transponder snail without telling him you love him, he’s calling you right back to make sure everything is alright. (Also, not really relevant, might do a separate post about this, but Sanji is definitely a heart-shaped jewelry sort of guy. He just is. Certified lover boy.) 

You’re Jealous: 

Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[holylulusworld]

Sewer rat (2)

Summary: He broke your heart. Now he must pay for it.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Mobster!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, scared reader, Bucky is scary as shit, mentions of a breakup

Sewer Rat (1)

Sewer rat masterlist

Prey. That’s what you are to James Buchanan Barnes. Well, at least you’re not a sewer rat to him. As long as your information is useful to him, you’re safe.

For how long, you don’t know. He’s, just like Tony, a cold-hearted man unable to feel compassion or love. Sadly, you realized too late that Tony Stark could never love you.

“Let me get this straight. Tony threw you out with nothing but a towel. Still, you got this.” Bucky holds up the little black book. “How did you manage to steal his black book in only a towel?”

“My bathrobe,” your voice cracks, and you drop your gaze. “Did you not wonder why I fought tooth and nail to get my bathrobe, not a pretty dress or at least shoes?” You lift your head to look Bucky straight in the eyes. “The moment Tony Stark stepped into my life, I knew it was too good to be true. Whirlwind romances and men fulfilling your every wish always come with a catch.”

“You hid the black book in the bathrobe, didn’t you?” Steve smirks. He’s impressed you thought about hiding something so valuable for hard times.

“In the first months, I was on cloud number nine, but the façade crumbled. I slowly realized that Tony is not the man he loves to pretend he is. I didn’t think he’d treat me like he did last night.”

“How did you get your hands on his black book?” Bucky is still not convinced you are telling the truth.

“He’s sleepy after—” You bite your tongue and look away. “You know, sex. I couldn’t sleep and got up to get some water. I saw his little black book and phone lying abandoned on the kitchen counter. He was so eager to fuck me in the kitchen, he forgot about it.”

Bucky clears his throat. He shudders; imagining Tony and you going at it is the last thing he wants to think about. “Go ahead, tell us everything.”

“I knew Tony had lots of these black books. He uses them for notes. I sneaked into his office and stole a new one,” you lick your lips as Bucky opens the black book to check on the first names. “That night, I copied the book, writing every contact and code word down. When I came back to the bedroom, Tony was awake. I didn’t get the chance to hide the book somewhere else but in the pocket of my bathrobe.”

“Smart girl,” Steve praises. “This probably saved your life. We are not the kind of people protecting others for free.”

“I know,” you wrinkle your nose. “If you’re not useful, you can rot in hell.” You chuckle humorlessly. “I’m not delusional nor blinded by my undying love for Tony. He showed his true colors, and all I got left is the little book in your hands and all the things I memorized to help you bring his business down.”

“I will check on the information. If you tried to trick me, the things Tony said and did to you will be a pleasant memory.” Bucky’s features darken for a moment. “Steve, ensure she gets food and show her the way to the guestroom.”

“Please come with me.” Steve holds his hand for you. You look at his large hand but refuse to take it. So far, they haven’t proven to be better than Tony. “Alright.” Steve shows his palms. “You don’t trust me. That’s fair. We don’t trust you either.”

Slowly getting up, you take a deep breath. Bucky is still reading the names in the little black book. You only hope he won’t betray you too after you hand the only leverage you hold over Tony.

“The information is gold,” Jake grins while explaining every little detail he found out about the people on Tony Stark’s payroll. “He pays cops, politicians, civil servants, and prostitutes,” he laughs. “Man, even taxi driver. That man seems to be obsessed with staying informed.”

“We will start with the less powerful people. The taxi driver he pays,” Bucky points at a name in the black book. “We will talk to him first. Make sure he knows if he fucks with me, he’ll die.”

“Got it, boss,” Rumlow hums. “Do you want him in one piece, or can I rough him up a little?” He smirks at Bucky.

“We don’t want him to shit his pants yet. Bucky wants to talk to him, not scare the shit out of him. Maybe it’s enough to offer more money than Stark to him,” Steve huffs when Rumlow gets a knife out, grinning. “No violence before we tell you so.”

You’re starving. Until now, you didn’t know you were hungry. It’s been hours since Tony kicked you out of his house and life. It feels odd to give in to a primal need while your heart still lies in shambles, shattered on the ground.

“Good, isn’t it?” Bucky sits down on a chair at the kitchen counter next to you. He looks at the sandwich his cook made for you. “I hope they made something you’ll like for you.”

“I’m not picky,” you murmur before taking another bite. Bucky’s presence in the kitchen can mean two things. Your information is valuable to him, or he wants to kick you out too.

“You know,” he leans closer to steal a pickle from your plate. “I saw you at one of his parties a few months back. You helped a waitress pick up glasses after another guest bumped into her. I knew that you were different at that moment.”

“People are rude; the world too. This doesn’t mean I have to be rude too,” you sniff. “Maybe when it comes to Stark. He deserves to catch hell.”

“That guy,” Bucky steals another pickle from your plate. “Your friend. Do you think he was involved in this shitshow? I mean, he comes back to town to marry and wants to meet up with you out of a sudden.”

“If you already know all the answers, why ask questions?” You muse. “I guess he was paid to get me in trouble. I just don’t know who is behind this conspiracy and why anyone wanted Tony and me apart.”

“We will find out,” he says, eyeing the second half of your sandwich. “Your information was correct. So far. We will see if you are as valuable as you believe you are.”

“I’m not, but this,” you tip your forehead. “I memorized every shady deal and name. Whatever you want to know about his organization.”

“Jake, my smart little tech nerd, is working on finding out more about your friend and his involvement in all of this. If you are helping me, I’m helping you.”

“Quit pro quo, Mr. Barnes,” you reply, and hold out your hand.

“Quit pro quo, doll,” he says, and grabs your hand, making you squeak. "But,” he leans closer to whisper in your ear, “if you try to trick me or fuck me over, you’ll end up six feet under.”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[desperate-gay]

millie bright x reader where reader plays for arsenal and they are sneaking around because they thought that their chelsea and arsenal teammates wouldn’t approve of them fraternising with the enemy as it were. in reality both teams already know and are seeing how much they can hint towards it and embarrass them without letting on that they know. maybe you could even in include some of the chelsea and arsenal girls teaming up to do this. sort of like romeo and juliet but make it comedy

Romeo & Juliet

Millie Bright x fem!reader

summary: a “forbidden love” is revealed to many

“-What are you doing here? Someone’s going to see you!” You whisper shout, pulling the person in by their wrist and peaking your head out the door into the hallway to see if anyone is around. Thankfully there wasn’t.

You were looking through your suitcase before a series of knocks interrupted you. A little confused as to why someone was knocking at your hotel door at 11 at night, you went to open the door and noticed it was your secret girlfriend Millie Bright.

The main reason your relationship is a secret is because of the color of your uniforms. Hers being the dark blue for Chelsea and yours being the bright red for Arsenal. Two players on rival teams falling in love; ironic isn’t it?

If you both played for the same country it would be a little different, but sadly, you don’t. What’s worse is that you play for the USWNT, everybody’s sworn enemy it feels like, although everyone loves you no matter where you’re from. They obviously don’t hate players from the country, but since they’re extremely competitive, they have to keep up their tough front.

“Well, nice to see you too, love.” Millie snickers, slumping down at the end of the hotel mattress with a big thump, squirming in her place to get comfortable. She opens her arms for you to slot yourself on her lap and hug your arms around her neck.

“Sorry, I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you.” You sigh, pecking her cheek softly while nuzzling your face into her neck, trying to get as close to her as you can. Her tattooed arm trails underneath your shirt, rubbing at your stomach as she presses tiny kisses along your jaw.

“I’ve missed you too. I have also missed letting the TV run while I get my way with you.” She whispers suggestively, continuing to trail kisses in any place she can reach, making you hum in pleasure.

“Ooo! Look at the sky!” You hop off the blonde’s lap and open the sliding door to go onto the balcony, leaving the defender winded by your sudden disappearance. She sighs with a fond smile, shaking her head before getting up to follow you.

Millie’s arms loop around your waist as her chin finds a place down on your shoulder. Her muscular figure wraps around you comfortably while you both gaze up at the stars in the sky.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” You ask, rocking back and forth slowly with the taller girl’s body against yours.

“Almost as beautiful as you.” She teases, placing a kiss on your neck.

“You’re so cheesy.” You say in fake disgust with your tongue hanging out your mouth to prove your point further. Her fingers pinch your side, warning you to keep your mouth shut.

“I guess listening to Sam’s and Kristie’s calls all the time rubs off on ya.”

You both look at the sky and the people walking up to the hotel for a little bit until you catch a familiar blonde looking up at you with a puzzled face and a hand over her eyes to block the light from the lamppost. Of course, it had to be the Lionesses captain and your fellow Arsenal teammate.

“Shit! Mills go inside. Code red, I repeat code red!” Before your girlfriend can protest, you’re already shoving her through the glass doors and shutting it along with the curtains.

“Now what was that for?” Millie stands with her arms crossed over her chest, wondering why exactly their peaceful stargazing was interrupted by you yelling and pushing her into the hotel room.

“Leah might have just seen us from the sidewalk.” You bite your nails at the confession before peaking out the glass door to see if the girl is still down there. Running a hand through your hair, you begin to pace back and forth wondering if Leah has seen you with the Chelsea defender.

“Leah as in my England captain and your teammate Leah?” Millie asks, trying to process everything that just happened while making sure you’re talking about the same person.

Before you have the chance to answer, the sound of knocking appears at your door, causing your eyes to widen. You look out the peephole and notice Leah standing there with her familiar scowl on her face.

“Oh my god, we’ve gotta hide you.” You push at her back and drag her into the bathroom, gesturing for her to get into the shower.

“I don’t want to go in there!” Millie protests while whispering so she doesn’t alarm the girl who is currently still standing on the other side of your hotel door.

“Either you go in there right now, or you stay and explain to your captain that you’re in a long-term relationship with an Arsenal and United States player.”

“In the shower, I go.” She hops in so you can close the curtain right away and head over to the front door. You look at the mirror next to you and fix your appearance to the best of your ability.

Opening the door, you greet the other defender with a smile, “Hey, Lee. It’s pretty late, what are you doing here?”

You welcome Leah in, gesturing for her to sit either on your bed or on the little chair in the corner, but she chooses to stand.

“I just thought I’d say goodnight to my dearest friend, but I thought I saw someone else on the balcony with you.” She quirks an eyebrow towards you, waiting for you to answer her not-very-obvious question.

“Nope, just me.” You chuckle nervously.

After a few seconds of silence, Leah lets out a big sigh, “Thought I’d just say hey since I saw that you were up. Guess I’ll get goin’” Just when you’re about to think she’s leaving when she heads over to the door, she turns around and asks, “Do you have any extra tissues? Russo and Mccabe just finished watching The Notebook for the first time and used it all.”

“Umm yeah, I’ll go grab that for you-“

“No, it’s okay. I know where it is.”

Leah misses the panicked expression on your face when she heads into the bathroom. She looks under the sink and grabs the extra box before making her way back out by you. You almost sigh in relief when she doesn’t notice the tall figure standing behind your shower curtains, but you refrain yourself so she doesn’t ask questions.

“Goodnight, Lee. See you tomorrow.” You wave her out the door, closing it and locking everything you can so no one with a key card can get in. Hands grab at your waist making you jump at the sudden contact but relax hearing the familiar voice of your brick wall of a girlfriend.

“That was a close one. I think that calls for a long night of cuddles, don’t ya think?” She asks, jumping onto the mattress with her arms wide open, waiting for you to join her. You laugh at her childish pout and shuffle your body to fit into hers, resting your head on her chest.

“I love you.” You mumble sleepily.

Millie places a peck on your forehead whispering back, “I love you too, sweets. Get some sleep.”

—

“You actually saw Mills in the room with her?” Beth asks with a shocked expression on her face.

“Yes! Her bun was literally peaking over the shower curtain. Y/n/n thought I didn’t see Millie on the balcony with her when it was so obvious seeing how much bigger she is compared to our tiny Gooner.” Leah states as everyone rolls their eyes at yours and Millie’s attempt to hide your relationship.

The Chelsea and Arsenal players caught onto your relationship quickly when they caught you sneaking off into a materials closet to snog each other’s faces off. With the many attempts of the two of you trying to keep it a secret, they thought it would be fun to let it keep happening to get a little laugh in.

Everyone 100% supports you guys in every way. They think you both complement each other well and you’re basically a match made in heaven.

“Don’t get me started when I saw Millie get all lovesick on the phone a few weeks ago. When I asked her who it was, she tried to say it was Daly.” Sam shakes her head, taking a sip out of her drink. A bunch of the girls, both red and blue, decided to hang out in one of their rooms to have a meeting about you two.

“Do you think they’ll ever realize that they’re not as subtle as they think they are?” Niamh questions to which the whole group responds in a series of no’s, shaking their heads at your guys' obliviousness.

—

“Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass- ah!”

One second you’re walking around, next you’re being yanked away by an unknown source. You had time to spare before you had to go out on the pitch and practice, so you decided to stroll around and get a little pregame walk in.

“Beautiful singing there, love.”

“Warn a girl next time, almost gave me a heart attack.” You exclaim, pushing at her chest in fake offense which doesn’t even make her move an inch because of her string build.

She grips your waist and softly presses you up against the corner wall. Her lips begin to pepper all over your skin, from your cheeks to your collarbones.

“Mills, someone’s going to catch us.” You protest weakly, too consumed by the feelings of her kisses pressing lightly at all the right spots.

“We’re tucked away in a corner, no one will see us, darling.” Her voice vibrates against your neck, causing you to let out a soft giggle, melting the heart of your lover. “I miss you.”

You grab her cheeks with both of your hands and swipe the loose strands of hair that have fallen out of her bun. “You just saw me last night, baby. We’ll get to see each other again.”

“Yeah, but I had to sneak out in the early morning so no one would notice me leaving your room which is hardly romantic might I say.”

Your eyes remain on hers, roaming every detail of the different hues of blue splattered in her eyes. She smiles back at you and places her hand over yours that continues to stroke her cheek.

Snapping out of your little love bubble, you clear your throat and ask, “Is there any reason you stopped me from my regular pregame stroll?”

“Oh just wanted to come and wish you luck, but also let you know that there are no hard feelings after we destroy you.” She smirks, straightening her posture and showing off her new captain band.

“That’s so funny because I was just going to say the same thing.” Millie rolls her eyes at your mocking tone and threatens to walk away, but you grab her wrist and pull her back into you. “Good luck kiss?”

The defender huffs but leans in anyway, never being able to deny you. It first starts as an innocent peck but then you pull her back in for another and things start getting more heated. After a minute of her tongue in your mouth, you pull away gasping for breath while giggling slightly in the slight haze you’re in.

“Thank you for that, hope it makes you feel better after Arsenal beats Chelsea’s ass!”

And it turns out, you weren’t wrong. Arsenal won 2-1 with a goal from Lacasse and Russo. There were a few chances of you scoring a header but with a certain captain’s hands on your waist, whispering her thoughts about you had you distracted.

Safe to say that you’re not on your best game when playing against Millie Bright.

You’re now shaking hands with all of the other team when you approach the blonde. You both begin to talk while drinking out of your water bottles just chatting away. Millie leans in for a hug which you accept and take in her big embrace.

“Oi! You were already off kissin’, you can be separated for a little bit now.” An Irish accent interrupts you, making you pull away with a shocked look on both of your faces.

Your fellow Arsenal teammates stand next to Chelsea’s as they all stare at you two with amused expressions. Millie stands awkwardly, stuttering at the fact you two were caught while you gasp and point your finger at all of them.

“You all knew?!”

—

“Hardy har har, we get it. We weren’t as secretive as we thought we were.” You roll your eyes at everyone’s continuous teasing.

After the game, everyone agreed to go out and have a few drinks at the pub down the street since there’s a little break in the season and everyone has free time. The whole group besides you and Millie decided it was time to share all the times they either caught or suspected the two of you, many of the stories being incredibly embarrassing.

Millie is sitting on the booth with you on top of her, legs sprawled across her lap. One of her hands rests comfortably on the spot where your skin is exposed, right next to your belly button while her other holds onto her bottle of beer. You continue to sip on your cocktail as everyone turns to their separate conversations.

The blonde below you taps on your stomach, making you shift your attention to her, seeing her neck crooked up with her lips pursed. You let out a small laugh and lean over to press a few short but equally sweet kisses to her lips. Millie smiles in delight before the sound of fake gagging can be heard from across the table.

“Can’t you guys go swap saliva in the privacy of your own room?” Katie once again interrupts but ends up getting hit on the back of the head by Caitlin.

“You all better turn away because what I’m about to do is not PG!” Without warning, Millie grips your jaw with one hand and pulls you into a sloppy kiss, kissing the life out of you and dramatically making loud noises to peeve the other girls, causing your nose to crinkle at the disgusting sounds.

You push her away and hang your tongue out, showing your obvious fake displeasure. A few of the girls whooped at the public display of affection while others covered the eyes of the innocent ones. Everyone gets their laughs and jokes out, trying their best to patter on your so-called new relationship.

You’re laughing with Leah and Alessia about their little game disagreement when you notice how quiet Millie has been. You look over and see her staring into space so you wave your hand in front of her face, bringing her back onto earth with a small smile.

“Why don’t you let your hair down, baby? Loosen up a little.” You rub your thumb on the apple of her cheek while swiping away a strand of hair that fell down on her cheek.

“Mm, might have to wait till after we get to the hotel because the things I plan on doing to ya require my hair to stay out of the way.” A deep crimson red coats your cheeks before you look over to the side, sipping on your drink to avoid the lustful stare from the tattooed woman.

“Cheekyyy,” Sam says having slid over closer to you two for whatever reason.

Millie is quickly guiding you out the door, bidding your goodbyes to everyone and ignoring the wolf whistles that follow you out the door. After your rewarding night, you both equally decide to share your relationship with the world, so when you have up to thousands of notifications, you shut your phone and nuzzle your face right back onto your girlfriend’s chest.

—

liked by samanthakerr20 and 86,564 others

mbrighty04 rivals to lovers?? @y/nofficial

view all 720 comments

y/nofficial my favorite trope!

↳ mbrighty04 mine too!

flemingenthusiast y/n to chelsea?!

↳ y/nofficial ew.

↳ leahwilliamsonn she’s ours forever

samanthakerr20 they never shut up about each other

↳ mbrighty04 don’t get me started on you and kristie

[descendantsramblings]

Just a short cute thing where Fem! Reader and Maleficent are dating and Mal just loves teasing her gf by turning into her dragon form in small

Pure fluff, thank u :>

“Short cute” is speaking my language rn. So glad to be back to writing long stuff but between these and writing a layout for a Dead Boy Detectives fic I needed a good head canon or Drabble 🖤

Also I wrote and edited this whole thing while on the clock at work so forgive me if something is a little odd, I HATE typing on mobile because it’s easier to get typos.

Play

Maleficent x Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: watching her girlfriend study can get just so boring

Warnings: descriptions of Maleficent turning into a dragon but it’s really nothing (at least as a horror and body horror fan it’s absolutely nothing but I’ll warn you just in case), fluff

Word Count: 1.1K

Pic because finding gifs of my girl (who’s almost always background or literally on Hades lol) is so hard

She can’t say no one warned her. Of course, Maleficent thought her girlfriend hung the sun, she was humanities own light source. All aglow when she was excited and warm enough that the dark fae was constantly convinced she had a fever. She was obsessed with her, but that doesn’t mean the rest of her friends lied when they said dating a hero kid could get so boring. Not that (Y/n) in general was boring, it was actually pretty easy to get her running around with the villains, but when she felt like being good? She could get obnoxiously good. Like straight As helping out in soup kitchens type of good. Which if the pixie was honest, she found that side of her girlfriend extremely endearing. Sometimes she even wonders if that sweet half of her is what saw Maleficent as worthy for her. Not that she’d ever admit to that out loud, it would wreck her image. If the fact that she could watch the girl complete mundane tasks in complete infatuation didn’t already kill her image. Or at least she normally could watch her like that.

The girl had been studying for an hour, rewriting her notes in a decorative and color coded way that she swore made it easier for her to study. “Rewriting it makes me think about it harder, Mali. Engraves it into my memory.” It sounded like an excuse to her, seemed to her that the girl just liked to look at pretty things. Not that she minded, whatever she wanted to do was fine by her, (Y/n) was her own woman. And Maleficent loved to be the pretty thing she was looking at, so who was she to complain about other ones? But Mali was starting to wonder if she and Tinkerbell had something in common. If she didn’t get her girlfriend’s attention soon she was sure she’d just fall over and just die. She was growing weaker by the second, she was positive of that. And getting the girl’s attention away from swirling pretty calligraphy into a notebook was proving to be impossible.

Every nuzzle to her neck was met with a playful push. Kissing her face just earned the pixie a “Mali, doll, I’m working.” It was infuriating. Why let her in if (Y/n) only planned on ignoring her? Her pale arms make their way around the princess’ waist, face falling against the girl’s back with a dramatic sigh. “I’m almost done, Doll. Just two more pages.” Two more? That won’t do, she needs more attention now. “Come on,” she drags the word out pulling away from her girlfriend with a whine. “Since when are you so good?” “I’ve always been good, Doll. You’re the villain between us, remember?” She uncaps a different pen, readjusting the notebook before her. “You don’t seem so good when you’re out running around with me and the other VKs. You ask how high when Uliana says just just like Morgie does.” It gets her a hum, pen tapping against the page in the speedy pattern. “Yeah well, if I make Uli happy she’ll do my hair. No one else here can braid like she can.” Mali laughs, “Fine, then if we can’t cuddle, let’s go see if she’ll do your hair. Give me something.” “I’ll be done soon.” She scoffs, lightly smacking the back of the girl’s shoulder, “You said you were doing homework.” (Y/n)’s eyes roll, sparing the girl a look over her shoulder, “Studying is homework, Mali.” Now her eyes roll, throwing herself back on the bed, “This isn’t studying. Studying is reading over notes, this is some other thing.” She hums, “Maybe that’s why my grades are higher than yours.” It’s a playful remark, the girl poking her tongue out at the pixie before turning back to her work.

She wants to play? Okay, they can play. She cuts a look to the girl, a pen cap held loosely in her mouth as she delicately drags a pen brush across a page. She was distracted enough. Turning into a large dragon took far too much energy from her, but a small one? One that could fit right in the girl’s lap? That was easy. Maleficent could barely feel it as her bones gave way. Shoulder blades and vertebrae stretching out to form the structure of wings. Purple scales forcing their way through pale skin, tearing their way into veins to beseen. She hasn’t let wings of any kind come out in so long, it felt heavenly. The stretch making her suppress a whimper. She desperately needed to do this more, instead of just when she felt the need to harass her way into getting what she wants.

Slowly, careful not to make too much noise, she flaps her wings, once, twice. By the third time, when she realized the sound wasn’t alerting (Y/n), she knew she could take flight. Fluttering through the dorm, she lands on the girl’s dresser, blowing a small puff of flames onto a candle then settling beside it. Waiting, glowing green eyes trained on the girl who had playfully become her prey. The smell of smoke would alert her, it always did. Lilac and smoke slowly and softly fill the air, making the princess look up, worried eyes glancing around the room before landing on her dresser. “Really? You’re that desperate for me?” Desperate? No, she was anything but that. While her eyes are away from the page, Maleficent takes flight again, swooping up the pens the girl was using before fluttering over her head.

“Mali, you’re just prolonging how long it will be before I can lay back and cuddle with you. You know that, right?” Her hand shoots up for her pens and the dragon flies closer to the ceiling. “This is ridiculous, you are being ridiculous.” Pens clatter into the wastebasket by the girl’s desk, the dragon swooping in to fill the girl’s lap before she can get up to retrieve them. “Are all fae this needy or just you?” The question is met with a nuzzle against her stomach, the dragon refusing to get too close to her skin in case she’d scratch the delicate stretch of flesh.

Sighing, the girl closes her two notebooks, pushing them to the side before she lays back. “If I take a little study break will you let me finish my work without whining?” The dragon crawls up her stomach, tilting her head to the side. Sweeten the deal. “If we cuddle?” Letting out a sigh, Mali curls up on the girl’s chest, her head laying just so close to her heart she feels as if she’s hearing the lubb-Dubb of it in her own head. “You’re not gonna turn back into a girl for me? Made you wait so long that I only deserve scales?” It’s not a complaint, not a real one at least. Her nails digging into the space between two wings, a glorious scratching sensation that makes Maleficent’s eyes lull closed. She was never above playing if the Royal wanted to play. She was always the winner of the girl’s long games.

[scremogirl]

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

Mentions of blood! Mentions of Death! Mentions of mutilation! Mentions of Murder, GN! Reader, NReader/Diolouge uses a lot of black colloquialisms/AAVE *slightlyyyy black coded but only for the speaking bits. NO APPERANCE MENTIONED!* READ THE NOTE AT THE END PLZ! (●’��’●)ﾉ Part 2 here Part 3 here

Halloween.

The day where people grasp the fact that the summer's over and the seasons have finally changed. Corny decorations on front porches, masks in windows to scare unaware customers, and people dressed as slutty cartoon characters.

You loved the last one. You’ve always worked hard on your costumes; from a small cameo in the school yearbook to entering contests and pageants. You loved fashion, everything about it. The different fabrics, colors, patterns; you cherished it all. So, it’s no wonder that’s what you’ve chosen as your destined career path. You somehow managed to get into the third most prestigious fashion school. I say third because the first one you applied for, was full of egotistical French exchange students who do nothing but compare their lives at home to their lives in America. The second… well, you don’t want to talk about it. Regardless, you’re so grateful your talents have been recognized.

That leads us to now. At the biggest fright fest of the year. Your professor decided that if everyone got at least a 95% or above on the unit test, he’d take the whole class on a field trip to the annual Freak do Shek Carnival. A free trip and creating a new costume? You’ve never studied harder in your life. You spent days working on your costume; hoping to win the annual costume contest.

“Breaking news! The killer know as the “Mask Maker” is still on the loose and is currently suspected to be in the Witchwood area. It is recommended for all residents to stay indoors travel in groups-,”

Your heart sinks.

No, no, no! Why does it have to be now? Why here? The area you lived in was one of the safest in the city! Police patrolled regularly, security systems were available to all, and most people have been traveling in groups these days. So, why? You look at your friend, Malika, who no doubt received the same alert as you did, judging by her face.

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now!?” She yells in frustration. You all have arrived at the festival and the bus has already taken its leave. Unless you call an Uber, there’s no way out; but then again, with a killer on the loose, no person would be dumb enough to let any stranger in their car. You tell your teacher your concerns, but does he listen? No.

“We’ll be fine,” , “just travel in groups,” , and “make sure you check in with everyone at least every 15 minutes,” is all he says to shake your worries. Great job by the way. With that, he goes ahead with another one of the chaperones, probably on their way to get drunk on cheap beer and look at young girls. Pig.

“I know I ain’t stayin for damn sure,” you chuckle at Malikas abrasiveness and nod your head in agreement.

“Who’s gonna pick us up though? We all came here on a bus and no Lift driver is stupid enough to let strangers in at this time,” you both sigh and end up agreeing that she’d call her boyfriend to come get you. The only downside is he lives in the next county. That means 3 whole hours plus some that you two have to try and rid your paranoia.

“How ‘bout we go check out the costume display for the upcoming show? Maybe scope out some the competition?”

“You know what Malika, that sounds like a great idea,” she holds out her arm and you take it , laughing your way down the hay covered dirt path wearily dodging scare actors. Unbeknownst to you the glowing eyes of one of the masks are filled with anything but fake intent.

“Hey, Mal? Is he on the way yet?” You two have already viewed the display, concrete knowing you’re gonna knock everyone at the park. So you decided that maybe a little sightseeing wouldn’t be that bad.

“Ugh! He said he’s on his way but knowing him, that means he just got in the shower,” with a deep sigh she puts her phone back in her pocket.

“Look,” she continues

“ How about we go get something to eat and enjoy what we can. I mean, we did wait all year for this,” you’re a little hesitant but you end up caving; fried oreos do sound good right now.

The walk to the concession stands is filled with jump scares from actors, Jack, o lanterns illuminating your path and the laughter of children and adults a like. The environment reminds you of why you came here in the first place, maybe there is nothing to be worried about.

Oof!

“Oh I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” to wrapped up in the scenery and nostalgia, you failed to notice one of the actors scrambling by. You hear the muffled laughter of Malika and try your best not to strangle her to cover up your embarrassment. Fortunately , it was just the water that spilled on them; Unfortunately, your oreos lay spread eagle on the ground. However, even with a soaked costume and powdered sugar all over their boots, they remain in character. Only giving you a tilt of the head, a grunt, and tightening their grip on their axe. The eyes that lay behind the papier-mâché mask boar deep into your soul, the white contacts holding something deep and dark. The feeling of guilt is slowly washed away and replaced with anxiousness. Man, they're getting employee of the month. Still, you feel bad so you grab the napkins from your back pocket and gently wipe their mask, some of the fake blood coming off along with the water. Hmm, these effects are off the chain too.

As you clean them up you can’t help but to think that they’ll join the costume contest, definitely giving you a run for your money. You're snapped out of your thoughts when Malika pulls you along the road, whining about how upset she is because she didn’t get to snag one of your Oreos. Making your leave, you look over your shoulder one last time, only to find those same white eyes trailing your figure.

My god, you're even more beautiful up close.

“Personally, if that happened to me I’d kill myself,” once again, your friends laughter snapped you outta your own mind. You just giggle and brush it off.

“Shut up! It’s not like I did it on purpose! Besides he was kinda fine not gon’ hold you,”

“I know right! the way he titled his, had a tear running down my leg not gon’ lie,”

“Girl… don’t you gotta man? Like… on his way here?”

“Shhhh don’t ruin the fantasy,”

Two hours have officially passed, the same old texts between Malika and her boyfriend, this time however he was actually in the car. She had pressed him to turn on his location for safety, you could never be too sure now can you? He should’ve been here by now but with how crowded the festival is getting, you can’t blame him. Thankfully, the contest is just about to start! Going against your better judgment, you and Malika thought that being apart for about 15-20 mins wouldn’t hurt. She’ll be waiting in the audience while you go change anyways.

Rushing to the changing rooms you fail to notice another contestant coming towards you just as fast. For the second time this night you managed to bump into someone.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean I-,”

“Watch where you’re going bitch! Y’know how long it took me to make this thing?” You look to the left and then to the right trying to figure out who the fuck they think they’re talking too.

“Look I didn’t mean it, I’m sorr-,”

“Yea yea whatever, just stay outta my way next time. Besides, it’s not like you're gonna win this thing anyways,” just before you were about to give them a piece of your mind, the manager stepped in and separated you two. Jeez now this is gonna take even longer than you expected. You thought it was only fair to let Malika know shoot her a quick text. “No worries, babe! Gill's location says he’s here already so Imma grab us a quick bite to eat before I look for him and we head to you. See ya soonnn❤︎︎!!!”

Good; that buys you just enough time. After getting changed and checking your reflection for the hundredth time, you step out feeling as confident as ever. Just as you exit the stall, you hear the worst blood curdling scream of your entire life. You look over to your right and see that asshole from early and that guy with the really nice axe murder costume. Your eyes have to be deceiving you! One of their legs is completely severed, blood dripping from the stub left behind. Slash marks, deep and crooked, adorn their arms and remaining leg. They Look as if their limbs could snap off at the slightest breeze. They cry and groan as they reach out to you. Following their eyes the crazed murder shifts his eyes to you. Their weapon of choice freezing in their hands mid swing. Their victim continues to moan in pain and crawl away, begging and pleading for someone to save them. But…you just laugh.

“I see what you're trynna do here, and it ain’t workin’. Your costume is good but it isn’t better than mine. Assholes,” the last part is mumbled under your breath as you walk away. Even though you presented yourself in this prideful manner, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that bubbles inside you. You tried really hard this year, let’s just hope that everyone else thinks you did too.

CHOP

Finally. Holding up the severed head he smiles, crooked and eerie. The bitch wouldn’t stop screaming, but at least he gets to see the look of fear in their face forever.

“Hey! What the hell’re you doing!?” hm? Turning around he sees the manager from earlier, standing before him with wide eyes filled with shock and anger. He can’t have his plans be ruined by a little slip up! He didn’t mean to act so impulsive but he couldn’t help. Nobody talks to you like that; not if he had something to do about it. Swinging his weapon of choice up on his shoulder, he’s about to take a step before he’s interrupted.

“Didn't I tell you guys to keep all spare props in bags because of the fake blood?! It gets everywhere and I’m the one who has to clean it up!” They shoved him to the side before grabbing a large trash bag from the cart they lugged behind them; simultaneously grabbing a mop and bucket. Continue to grumble about how “they don’t get paid enough for this” and “all the newbies are irresponsible”. But hey, free disposal.

“Sh, sh it’s okay; it was never your fault,” you tried comforting her but to no luck. All she can see is red as the burning hot tears streaming from her eyes ruin the makeup she spent so long on

“Okay?! It’s not okay (Y/N)! He said he was stuck in traffic all the while he was toungin’ down some bitch in a slutty cat costume. Very unoriginal btw!” You try to keep your giggle in for her sake. You kept trying to tell her this idiot wasn’t any good for years but nooo “the dick was too good to let go,” and apparently, someone else thought so too. Her weeping continues before she builds up the courage to speak again.

“All I wanna do is go home; fuck this competition,” you smile seeing her personality shine through her sadness just a little.

“Yea, fuck this competition,”sure you’re sad about to being able to participate this year, but with your best friend in distress and a serial killer on the loose, you can’t help but to think that maybe you could wait until next year. Ordering the Uber, you suggest that before it gets here, you should check in with your teacher first. Of course you don’t have his number and you're sure your other classmates are not worried about their phones unless they’re snapping pics and recording for their stories . You send them a quick text to your classes group chat and look for the exit.

“He really is a dick, you don’t need him,”

“Yea, I know. Besides, maybe that axe guy will take care of him for me,” she giggles but you don’t find it funny at all.

“What?”

“Yea, I saw him outta the corner of my eye when I walked in on he who shall not be named about to fuck that other girl,” she rolls her eyes and continues walking but you remain stationary.

“You gotta be joking,“ she turns around and gives you a quizzical look so you continue further.

“He and another dickhead I bumped into put on this whole show to get me to drop outta the contest. Lost limbs, fake blood and everything. I don’t know what his problem is, but he needs to leave me the fuck alone before I get the manager, on some Karen shit”

“Now that I think about it, he has been high-tailing us ever since we’ve got here,” she freezes before looking at you dead on. She wipes away the tear stains and brushes her nose against her sleeve before scanning the area.

“You don’t think it’s Kee-,”

“No! Don’t. It’s not him. It couldn’t be,” she holds up her hands in defense before pulling you along to get the hell up outta here. It goes dead silent, tension filling the air. It couldn't be him! It’s just some rando whos jealous of your skill! But…your mind was just playing tricks on you. That feeling of paranoia started to rise again and the flashbacks felt like they were hitting you in waves. She saw this and decided to speak up before it got worse.

“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I really didn’t mean to-,” this time it’s your turn to cut her off. You offer her a light smile and hold her hand in yours before squeezing.

“It’s alright. Besides, who needs men anyways. You’re all I need,” she gives you an even brighter one, her usual self returning, before squeezing just as hard, laying her head on your shoulder while you walk.

“Yea, fuck men,” you two laugh in sync before changing the conversation to what you’ll do when you get home; maybe a Horror movie marathon and some junk food will cheer you up. Who cares, the night has just begun for you and there’s no way anything was gonna ruin it.

Watching you walk away a gloved hand slams into a tree. Dammit! You won’t get away so easily. You’re his. Nobody else’s. He’ll make sure of it. Starting with her.

Hello everyone!!!! Hope you enjoyed the first part of my Halloween special. I’m breaking this down into 3 parts because I’m afraid people will think it’s too long if I put the whole thing on tumblr. I will be making an Ao3 and the whole fic will be posted without any split up. When it’s created and up I’ll let you know. Hope you enjoyed Loves!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎.

-Love, Sosa❤️

[jazzsonly]

౨ৎ blurb. ౨ৎ

ɢᴏᴏᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ɴ ɢᴏ

pairing(s): tara carpenter x gn!reader

warning(s): none. y/c/e=your color eyes.

summary: ❝ Oh, why'd you have to be so cute?

It's impossible to ignore you, ah

Why must you make me laugh so much?

It's bad enough we get along so well ❞

────────✯────────

tara carpenter couldn’t stand you.

she hated your perfect smirk smile, that slightly showcased your teeth which slimly caught your tongue between them. she hated your sea of y/c/e, and how they twinkled whenever you looked at her. she hated how you always managed to smell so sweet, she swore your scent drug her for miles. and so and so,

but most importantly she hated how you kind you were. every movie night, you brought her some kind of gift—wether that be a single rose or just the entirety of her favorite snacks. it drove her crazy, made her melt, it made her hot and cold all at the same time.

god, and it didn’t help that you guys got along so well. the way you agreed on almost every horror movie fact there was. or the way you managed to teach her things she didn’t even know revolving her own favorite horror movies.

why? why did you have to do and be all these things knowing she couldn’t have you, knowing amber had dibs on you. wether you were aware of it or not, tara just wished you’d stop making her heart bleed your name when she had a code to follow.

girl code.

“y/n’s here!”

chad words cause a race, both amber and tara perk up at your name, managing to stand at the same time. they waited for you to enter like some type of knight in shining armor and you had to pick which princess you wanted.

little did they know, you already knew which princess you wanted.

“wassup man,” you pull chad into a quick ‘bro hug.’

tara couldn’t help but squint her eyes, you had two roses in your hand this time. normally, you always and only had a fresh red one for tara but this time you carried a yellow one too.

“yellow for the pretty lady,” you hold the rose in front of amber, who had a smile so wide it was almost creepy.

“thank you, y/n.”

you sheepishly smile, “of course.”

“and for you,” you hold out the red rose for tara, who contemplated for a second before taking it.

since when did you give amber a rose too? did something happen between you two that she obvious to?

“you okay?” tara wanted to give you a petty answer but that sweet smile, and those eyes.

“yes, i’m okay. will you sit with me tonight?”

you squint your eyes, wondering why she’d ask when: “you know i always do.”

despite amber’s punching glare tara couldn’t suppress her satisfied smile, she knew it was bad to feel this way about a friend’s crush but when you made her feel like your number one girl what more was there to do.

no one had ever done the little things you do for her, not even chad (who she were awkwardly friends with now.)

“tara, come help me prepare the popcorn.” amber grits.

“oh, i got it. you guys can relax.” you go to stand from the seat you had just taken, (right beside tara.)

“oh no, babe, we got it.” amber pauses her death stare, to beam at you.

“uh ok,” you look to tara for reassurance.

oh my god, those doe eyes.

“we got it.” she softly pats your thigh, before following her best friend to the kitchen.

once the pair reach the kitchen, amber whips around, an angry bird she was. “tara, what the hell was that?”

“what?”

“i told you to back off. i told you to stop accepting their roses, and what do you do? you don’t even just accept it, you make them sit with you for movie night.”

the carpenter subconsciously rolls her eyes, “amber, they always sit with me, and why would i stop accepting their gesture? that’s just rude.”

“tara,” freeman huffs. “you know how long i’ve been trying to get with y/n and you’re trying to steal them from me.”

tara pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue. i can’t steal something that never belonged to you.

“amber, you’re being ridiculous. y/n and i are just friends.”

“mhm, sure seems like you want it to be more.” the dark haired girl points, before pushing past tara while you walk in.

“everything okay?”

“yeah, she’s just really iffy about extra butter.”

you laugh, “just make two bowls. silly thing to argue about.”

“yea.” a silly thing indeed.

“i hope you liked your rose, it wasn’t as fresh as it normally is. once amber asked me to give her a rose too, it took me forever to find a fresh one for her.”

amber asked you for a rose? huh, tara never had to.

“she asked you for one?”

you turn your back, pressing the popcorn button on the microwave. “well, not exactly”

“,she mentioned how i always give you one and i assumed she felt some type of way so i figured why not get her one too.”

“hm…” tara’s tongue once again fishing around the inside of her cheek.

she wouldn’t lie and say this didn’t boost her ego against her best friend.

“she’s been very clingy lately, i hope she got the yellow rose message.”

“yellow rose message?”

“yeah, you know all the rose colors mean something when you give them to somebody. yellow is for friendship.”

you friend-zoned amber?

“then what’s red?”

“love.” you announce, being occupied with the second bowl of popcorn.

“love?”

“of course, what else did your think it meant? we get along very well tara, i thought you got the message…”

“you don’t feel the same?”

tara rapidly shakes her head before any words could even come out, the last thing she would want to do is reject you.

“no no, i mean—yes. yes, i do feel the same.”

you beam that smile at her, “ok good.”

━━━ 👩🏽‍💻

[kyu-piddy]

Messy love triangles….

Leona x reader x riddle mayhaps⁉️

Ranking a singular twst love triangle on how messy it is

An: The more I write for Leona the more I find this man hilarious. Who knew petty men were this funny to write about?

Gn reader x Riddle, Leona

Trigger warnings: Swearing

900 words

Riddle vs Leona

There’s people that you wonder how they have beef. They’re not opposites, they’re not too similar, but there’s something that doesn’t quite click with them.

In the case of Riddle and Leona, their beef is over you.

Riddle is a fool I tell you. He might be a great student, he might be Mr perfect in anything and everything pertaining to stuff your parents would be proud of, but he is indeed a fool.

He will, very loudly and stupidly, call you his good friend to the Heartslabyul dorm while blushing up a storm as soon as you’re less than 10 feet away from him.

You were commenting in passing to Ace and Deuce how the history of magic assignment is really hard? There comes Riddle in the next morning carrying back breaking books on the topic, with sticky notes color coded to how important he thought that information was.

Did you complain about not being able to sleep properly? Riddle has brewed you a potion that is said to help sleep and prepared a brochure with every habit of yours that is making sleep evade you.

And yet he is not using the evidence to reach a sound verdict. He is instead looking pretty stupid and/or overbearing to everyone around him.

Trey and Cater are laughing their asses off at the interactions between you both.

If it was someone else it could be heavily considered that they were faking it, but it’s Riddle after all.

Mr. Lionman is, like always, emotionally constipated as hell.

Leona might be lazy as balls, but he is no idiot. He’s actually rather brilliant and also not blind, so the moment he sees Riddle interact with you, it’s on sight.

Verbally that is. Leona isn’t that trigger happy with people that he could snap like a twig.

He probably already suspected Riddle's crush on you just by hearing you talk, which he did in fact make an effort to stay awake for, but actually seeing the red short stack turn into a human prawn would piss him off sooooo bad.

This man is incredibly petty. He has never once actually tried in his classes, but seeing as that would make Riddle mad, he’s showing up at 8:00 am on the dot to every class and scoring 100 after 100 in every test he can.

Meanwhile Riddle’s jaw is glued to the floor.

He doesn’t really understand why Leona is rubbing his successes in his face, which does piss him off, but what pisses him off the most is how Leona is showing it off to you too??? How dare he!

Riddle should be the one that comes to you with his perfect tests, offering help all gentleman style.

Treys sweets are another weapon in Riddle's arsenal, but Leona is indeed a cheeky bastard that practices the age old “all is fair in love and war”.

Ruggie is going to be very busy making sure those sweets taste awful, and also trying to feed you with stuff “Leona” made.

Speaking of Trey, he’s going to have to make a decorated cake saying “You like ____” for his housewarden. Otherwise man will stay in the dark.

It is shocking news to Riddle once he figures it out, while everyone else sort of just… nods their heads and pretend it is such riveting new information.

“Trey, I have delved deep into my psyche and have reached the conclusion that my feelings for ___ aren’t exclusively platonic.”

“Oh, really now, Riddle?”

oH reALly NoW RiDdLe

Leona is also a contender for the most obvious crush on campus to those that know him.

Ruggie and Jack probably have a bet going on when Leona will confess. (Jack thinks it will be when the sun explodes. Ruggie is more akin to the hypothesis of the heat death of the universe coming first.)

Riddle is the one most likely to confess.

He believes in doing things the proper way so confessing is the way to go.

Man is redder than his hair and holding a script he wrote.

It’s really sweet actually. Riddle isn't some romantic bard of legend, but he writes down his feelings in the best way he can: with legal jargon.

Leona’s sixth sense is activating and he is running to match his rival.

Once again, metaphorically. He can’t be bothered to actually run.

He is putting his head on your shoulder, whispering into your ear…

“I know you like me, herbivore.”

Hell no! This man did not spend the time he did around you and planning how to get your attention to turn back around and say it’s you who is in love with him! Step on his tail or knee him on the groin cuz he deserves it.

For a Leona love triangle, this one isn’t that bad. I’d give it an A.

Any love triangle with two overblot boys tends to be really messed up, even after said overblot, but Leona and Riddle don’t have that much prior beef that turns the love triangle into a biohazard.

Leona will have his good ol inferiority complex to keep him company if rejected, but he doesn’t feel like he is in that much direct competition with Riddle, which spares him some of the heartache that a love triangle with Vil or Malleus would give.

Riddle will be haunted by his perfectionism and romantic stupidity if rejected, but he’s one of the more stable post overblot boys, so you don’t have much to fear. Probably.

[afreakingdork]

Attempted Execute of Non-Executable Memory - Chapter 7

RotTMNT Michelangelo x Kendra

I have always been in awe of @pegibruno 's art and it was such an honor to gave them do the titular chapter art for this series!

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings/Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Revenge, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Dating, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Love Confessions, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Step-Parents, Neglect, First Kiss, First Generation Immigrant Kids, Acculturation, Loss/Removal of Cultural Identity, Incarceration, Prison Time, I flesh Out Kendra’s Character, Character Exploration, Character Study, I Give Kendra a Backstory

Synopsis: After hitting the lowest of lows, Kendra has carved out a simple life for herself. She’s content enough to live this way until opportunity walks through her place of employment in the form of an orange turtle mutant. She just needs to get close enough to him to plant a virus in his infuriating brother’s servers, but will she be infected long the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 🧡 Previous

“I’m going to your apartment!” Mikey danced through what was very much not her front door and continued to sing.  “I’m going to your apartment!”

“Not if you keep that up.” Kendra breezed by him into the store.

Mikey lowered the volume, but continued to sing the phrase.

She picked up and stuck him with a basket. 

He took it like a prop and she mistakenly made eye contact with the shop’s attendant.

The cashier at the desk looked up against her long lashes. “Been wondering when you’d be back.”

“Shut up.” Kendra strode down the familiar aisles to the one she needed.

The woman’s laughter chased her.

Mikey was first caught looking back at the employee and then at all the colorful packaging. “She seems nice.”

“Oh, yeah. So nice.” Kendra growled out. “So easy to upkeep a rainbow Mohawk when your uncle owns the store and you get shit for free!!”

Mikey looked up the fluorescent lights and waited to see if the lob would land.

There was obvious grumbling from across the store.

“Always someone.” Kendra glared at the shelves of dye.

She shouldn’t be here yet.

She needed to get everything else first. “This way.”

“You do get judged a lot.” Mikey followed.

“Thanks.” She retorted bitterly as she got to the developers.

She tossed a bottle into the basket.

“Like more than me.” He went on.

“That was code for ‘knock it off.’ I’m not in the mood.” She hissed as she passed him.

“I wonder why.” He went on regardless.

She ignored him and went over a mental tally of what she had at home. Most of her stuff had definitely expired which had prompted this impromptu trip to the beauty shop she frequented. Her mixing bowl and brushes were still usable. She had a plethora of ratty towels and all the clips necessary. She could get by on what bleaching products she had so it was just developer and hair dye that was missing.

He caught her eye and turned to her openly. “Like your vibe is not inviting it, so why does it happen?”

“Don’t know. Always has.” She stunted out as he continued to be endlessly stubborn.

“Is it the hair?” He wondered.

“Mikey.” She tried to put a finality in her tone.

“I know. I hear ya. I just…” He shook his head.

“Look, I don’t know and you sure as hell don’t. If I find out, maybe I’ll tell you.”

He softened a little. “I’ll take it.”

“You sure you can spot check this?” She let her doubts leak to cover up his gooey expression.

“Yup! Been there, done that on my own! Nearly burned all the hair off of my head.” He tossed his locks.

They were well maintained to her eye.

He came up into a salute. “You were clear: I’m here to watch and nothing else. I will point and maybe help out only if there’s a spot you can’t reach.”

“Easy, solider.” She pushed his plastron gently.

“Sir, yes, sir!” He tossed his arm out in an act, but smacked a shelf.

He caught all the items before they hit the floor and juggled them in his arms as he failed to get them back to their places.

She stepped in to help him. “You’re a mess. I should have asked someone else.”

She had no one else.

She hadn’t had anyone else in years.

She could have done it alone, but there had been mistakes.

Spots.

This was the first time in a long while that she could do this and save money by doing it herself. It wasn’t like her family friends supported her color. She’d been shelling out way too much on doing this at a salon. It always felt like an annoying waste when she knew how. She’d been doing it since she had virgin hair.

That time she permanently stained Deborah Ricci’s tacky yellow bathtub.

The woman had been forced to redesign her whole gaudy color scheme.

Jase had spotted her back then until she had gotten Jeremy into it. They had dying parties. There was hair management. They used to mask on weekends and watch movies. They weren’t good times; they were simply times.

Of the past.

Kendra moved to her section of purples.

Her exact shade wasn’t in stock, so she evaluated for the next closest.

She didn’t care as long as it pretty much read what she wanted it to.

She was here.

She was saving money.

Mikey was useful because he could catch those annoying spots.

She had cleaned up her apartment for this.

One payment for another.

The stupid balancing act.

“You know art or whatever, right?” Kendra asked without looking.

His voice closed in. “Yup! That was my other credential.”  

“Which do you think between these? I like this brand.” She held up two similar shades of purple for him.

He hummed loudly and clearly was juggling two boxes of his own.

One orange.

One cyan.

She stared a little too obviously at one box. “What are those?”

“Huh?” He looked like he had forgotten he was holding anything.

He laughed.

He held the orange up beside his face. “What do you think? This is so my color, right?”

His lashes fluttered.

He squished closer to the box that matched his mask.

“Yeah, sure.” She stepped forward with the purple boxes out like a plea. “What’s that one?”

Her eyes hadn’t moved.

Mikey followed her gaze and lit up.

“Oh, this one’s yours!” He offered it.

“No.” Her eyes followed. “It’s not.” 

He stared. “Uh… Yeah, it is.”

“No.” She shook the boxes with purple hair dye. “This is. I’m asking you which one.”

“Oh, yeah. I was thinking about that.” He closed the gap.

The cyan box got closer.

“Of those two, the one on the left. Er, your right. I always mix that up.”

She hadn’t looked away.

“But I was thinking… Are you sure this isn’t your color?” The cyan dye shifted in his hold. 

“What are you talking about?” She spat.

He didn’t flinch. “You’re wearing it right now.”

She didn’t have to look.

There was her signature cyan lipstick.

There was a cyan splash across her otherwise drab hoodie.

She had thrown it on just for the sake of going out.

Something to cover up her bleached and stained top that she wore when she did her hair.

That didn’t mean anything.

“It’s not.” She told him with a voice that could cut glass.

Again, he was somehow immune to the barbs. “I’m gonna be straight up and you can get as mad as you want.”

Her gaze finally moved to his face.

“Do you even like purple?”

Her lips parted and it sounded like a crash to her ears.

He was impudent.

He should be scrubbed from the Earth.

How had she let this happen?

She let a man in that would say something like that to her face.

She had let him get close enough.

For what?

He knew nothing.

They were kindred spirits.

They had nothing in common.

He was a fool.

A jester.

She had kept him in her court because she found him entertaining.

She knew the real reason for fools.

Control the masses.

You allowed one wretch within your means to make fun of you. It gave the others the illusion of freedom to do the same. They could laugh along, but that was it. The royalty still ruled with an iron fist. The jokes kept them passive. It made them think they could entertain their complaints. In reality, they were offed one by one.

Heads rolling.

That was what Kendra sought.

Totalitarian rule.

She didn’t need to keep a fool.

She was in no position.

She would get another when the time came.

She had one who was assigned to her since matrimony.

Jase looked better in bells than he ever did in anything else.

“Obviously.”

He continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Cause like I get your old group had the name in it, but that was because it was your school mascot and it’s not even just what you’re wearing right now. I don’t think you own much purple. I mean I haven’t seen your house yet, but, you have, what? No purple clothes that I’ve ever seen.”

She couldn’t speak for fear his stupidity would make her stutter.

“Or food! Not that… there’s a lot of turquoise or purple foods, but…” His brow creased with his mask. “That’s a bad comparison. What else have we done?”

She was still holding those purple dye boxes.

“It doesn’t matter!”

Like a buffoon.

“It just seems like-”

She was the clown.

He was still talking.

It was makeup, she thought then.

Not like her lipstick, but everything.

Everything she put on was a costume.

It was her power.

It was pretension personified.

What else could she do?

She’d never been the tallest.

She’d never been the fastest.

She’d been the smartest.

She was the first amongst anyone to realize a brand.

She then crafted her own bit by bit.

From tomboy to trendsetter, she had tried out a series of hats in a store until a random person walking by complimented her beret. It was a comment along with some song she hadn’t been particularly impressed by, but she would own it. They would love her; she would make them.

Her hair came later.

After the jacket design.

After Jase.

After Debroah Ricci.

The bathroom redesign.

The internal version of herself smirked, but it felt empty. The void of her mind was aflame, but the fire wasn’t purple. Her avatar, a digital one as that made the most sense, was purple lighting. It struck the wasteland and filled it with teal flames. 

It was wrong, she screamed without a mouth.

That was not her color.

Her color was-

Why had she chosen purple?

The Purple Dragons.

She was the leader.

She had built her brand on that stake.

A tech club that won awards where there hadn’t been anything prior to her.

She’d clawed up with her nails. The ones she couldn’t paint because any would be ruined by all the typing. Her hair was fair game. From a black flag, she rose the sails of her turning tides. She chose the most electric color that was also the cheapest. The tub had been ruined with her first round of bleach. She fried her follicles, but what arose was her.

Purple.

When people saw her they thought of that.

Purple Dragon.

She hadn’t been one in years.

A hacker.

That violated her parole.

A convict.

Patently true, but not one she filed beside her name.

Purple.

She was purple.

She was.

She had to be.

Had she ever changed her lipstick?

That predated it all.

It was a faraway memory, but it struck down her avatar.

Right into the cyan flames.

A clip started of her going through her mom’s makeup and getting scolded. If she was so interested then she should get her own products to ruin. She was taken on a transformation trip all her own and it was there that she picked the first audacious color that caught her eye.

Her mom grimaced even though she still made the purchase. That neon swatch heralded in years of evolution. It was no longer some swatch that rubbed off her lips after a few minutes of wear. It was eventually upgraded to a custom formula made at a lipstick lab. She no longer had to ask; a refill was her automatic Christmas present every year.

It grew beyond her lips. 

She chose teal sneakers for a new school year. There was once a seafoam bedspread donning her mattress that had since been tossed out. Her entire decor centered around fringed frames and binders in aquamarine.

When had she ever chosen purple?

She picked it because it said something.

It was supposed to say her name.

Had it?

Did it?

When had it not?

Cyan muddied her purple avatar.

The flames burned through the exterior.

Revealing what lay beneath. 

Something chosen for the sake of it.

No deeper meaning.

Because it had caught her eye.

She liked it.

She liked the way it sat on her skin.

She had tried other lipsticks, but they weren’t as satisfying.

She liked to be electric.

Bright.

The CYMK pressed for print.

Layered colors.

A true leader and a purest form.

When she turned back a tear was sliding down her cheek and Mikey was still talking.

He was downright babbling.

She looked at him and saw he had only a box of purple in his hands now.

“I dug through the stock and compared and this one isn’t listed! This is it though, right? This is your current color? I’m so sure it is. I was going to ask the cashier, but yeah, we all know that wasn’t about to happen. Like I need her help. I have an eye for color and this is it. I’m sure. I’m like 98% sure, but I can make up the other two. You know we can mix color? I know how to blend! I’ve watched hundreds of hours of those palette matching videos. I love the way they smear, but I hate the sound! I just watch them on mute, but that’s not important. What’s important is I was talking out of my ass and I’m sorry, but I got the color, didn’t I…!?”

She looked at the box.

Her preferred brand and, damn him, her exact color.

Or what was.

Maybe it was time to move on.

“Where is it?” She spoke thickly through her tight throat.

“Where’s what?” He blinked wide at her.

“The other one… You said teal. It’s cyan.”

“The box said teal.”

A bubble of anger rose and popped in a way that made her stomach feel fizzy. “Where is it!?”

He fumbled the purple box like a volleyball and barely caught it.

In a full rotation of his body, he expertly swapped it out for the cyan dye and presented it to her.

“You don’t have to-”

“Stop.” She took it from him and stared at the shade.

It was a little too blue based on the art, but her thumb on the box paired well enough with it.

“If this looks bad, you’re paying for the fix.”

“Done.” He spoke stunned.

She glanced at the purple.

She watched it go.

Back on the shelf where it no longer had a tag.

The last of its kind.

“Let’s go.” She turned. “You got the basket?”

“Yup!” He grabbed it because he had actually set it down and followed her to the counter.

“This.” Kendra slammed the dye down in front of the employee. “And that.”

She stepped to the side in perfect time so Mikey could make some noise putting the basket down. “Much appreciated!”

Kendra stared at the little one-off products around the register like candy.

“That’s new.” The employee spoke as she rang her up.

“Is it though?” Mikey spoke in her stead.

“Uh, yeah. Who are you, by the way? Buy-or-leave doesn’t have friends.” The employee pointed at Mikey with a bottle of developer.

“Aw cute.” Mikey chirped. “Your nicknaming skills are on par with your color knowledge.”

“Excuse me?!”

Kendra’s head whipped around.

“I mean either you or your stylist is spinning the color wheel, but it’s crazy someone shoved violet in-between red and yellow. It’s ROYGBIV and I know my orange. Don’t they teach that in like, kindergarten?”

The last item passed the scanner and the employee dove under the counter.

Mikey covertly swiped the items into the bag.

The employee popped up with a mirror in hand and was desperately rotating her head to get a glimpse of her mohawk.

Mikey seemed to wait for a particular move before he slammed a few buttons on the computer screen and the pay now option popped up. Kendra patted down for her wallet, but Mikey beat her to that too. He swiped his card for the chip and then confirmed the purchase with another stretch of his arm across the counter.

“What the fuck!?” The employee hissed at her reflection.

There was a ding of a completed transaction and her attention shifted.

“Hey!”

Kendra caught the bag and ran.

“Put orange in its place next time!” Mikey hollered as he chased her.

The employee continued to yell after them until they got several blocks away.

There Mikey puffed with laughter which interfered with his breathing.

“What was that!?” She elbowed him as they slowed to a regular walking pace.

“I noticed it the second I saw her! Why’d she do the colors like that?” He continued to chuckle. “So off.”

“What if I can’t go back!?”

“I mean maybe I can’t go back, but why wouldn’t you?” He addressed her openly.

“She’s pissed at both of us! I brought you there!”

“Find somewhere else? She sucks.”

“It’s closest to my apartment!”

“Eh…!” He strung out the syllable before a light bulb went off. “I get to go to your apartment!”

She made a move like she was going to shove him into traffic and he readied himself. She didn’t do it, as much as she wanted. Instead, she bumped into him and stayed close. With her head down, heart beat anxiously out of her ears. The teal hair dye felt heavy in the box.

Mikey adjusted ever so slightly after the wave of surprise had passed and offered his arm.She pinched his skin for the sake of it. He clearly squirmed, but didn’t retreat. For that, she slunk her arm through his. They walked in silence that she thanked him for with her prolonged contact until he slowed.

She checked out and found he had taken them as far as he could before he didn’t know where her apartment proper was. She pulled on him gently before getting her arm free and pointing. She caught his hand in the process and he allowed himself to be led with a smile. Only the bag of products crinkled as she dodged into an alley and then turned down a narrower one. It was out into a back plaza where she hooked a fire escape.

It came down with its usual rusty creak and she made the perilous journey up it as she had many times before. She could feel Mikey oozing unsaid questions behind her, but he kept his trap shut. She knew it was strange that this was the only way to access her apartment, but it was because of this and the building’s absent owner that she was able to afford this much.

They turned a corner and there was her door.

She could hear Mikey’s jaw drop at the sight of a door on a fire escape.

She dug out a key and unlocked it. “Wait til you're inside.”

He nodded furiously and she opened the door for him.

“Don’t say shit.”

He checked with her before he ducked in through her threshold. She followed and nabbed the bag from where he was stuck. The door closed behind them and she left it for now. She would come back and lock it, but first she went to drop off the items in the bathroom. When she returned Mikey was still staring at her studio apartment and the mattress on the floor that had been messily made.

“How are you always so quiet and so loud?” She complained as she did up three locks.

“I don’t have a bed frame either.” He blurted out.

She looked up from the last lock and turned to him.

“I sleep in a hammock.”

“What? Like outside?” Her face screwed up in confusion.

“What?! No!” He seemed to think better. “Well…?”

“You’re still in the sewer with the rest of them?” She tossed the question as she gestured for him to follow.

It was only a few steps to her tiny bathroom where they clearly both weren’t going to fit. “Not the sewer exactly. You can get there from the sewer, but it’s an old subway depot.”

“Huh.”

“Can I say what I’m most surprised about?” He blurted out suddenly.

She rolled her eyes.

She had heard it all before.

She had only had a few visitors, but it was always the same.

No one could believe she lived like this.

“Sure.” She stunted out. “I’m stuck with you for the rest of the afternoon so keep that in mind.”

She unearthed a color bowl and brush along with a silver shampoo she hadn’t remembered she had.

She was reading the label when Mikey finally spoke up.

“There’s no electronics. No TV. You don’t even have an alarm clock.”

She looked up in her vision without moving her head.

Had someone mentioned that?

She couldn’t recall.

Maybe about her lack of a computer.

“Call it rustic.” She decided.

Mikey snorted.

“What?” She glared at him in the mirror as she used the sink below it as a platform to mix the bleach powder she had with the developer she had just purchased.

“Rustic is for cabins.”

“Uh huh.”

“You wouldn’t be caught dead in a cabin.”

“You don’t know.”

“You like hiking?”

“No.”

“Do you like outdoors?”

“Not really.”

“Bugs?”

“Turn around.”

Mikey spun and saw a cockroach crawling up the wall that she had spied in the mirror.

He screeched, recoiled, and flung a fireball at it that expertly scorched the thing without burning her wall.

She turned her head to view him where she was stirring. “And here I pegged you as an advocate for bug lives.”

“Not cockroaches. Nah!” He shuddered.

“My roommates that don’t pay rent.” It was a joke that amused her and she finished up mixing her first bowl. “I’m gonna start with the back. There’s a computer chair propping up my clothes rack and a stool with my phone cord wrapped around it. Grab those.”

He went to search for the necessary items as she yanked her hoodie off.

She left it on her bed and Mikey returned with the chairs.

“Take your pick.” She waved him off. “Turn to the wall for a second.”

He set the chairs down and dutifully did as he was told.

She dropped her leggings in one fell swoop and snatched up a pair of athletic shorts that had fallen off the side of her bed. She threw them on as they were disposable if they got product droplets on them. When she was clothed again, she smugly summoned Mikey and sauntered over to show off that they had a strip lining of purple. He took his assessment fast and returned her gaze with an equally smug look that said he knew that they were expendable for the process. She turned her nose up at him and went to her vanity to section her hair off.  

He set the computer chair ready for her like a throne and hopped up on the stool, which teetered beneath him.

She scooped up a blob on her brush and started painting bleach on. “What are you, anyway? Eagle Scout?”

“Todd Scout.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Nature’s not really my thing either.”

She eyed him in the glass.

“Come on, admit it.”

“Fine. It’s boring.”

“It’s pretty.”

“I guess.”

“The trees. Being able to breathe. The water.”

“The booming quiet. The bugs. The lack of general humanity.”

“I thought you were going to say AC.”

“I don’t even have AC.” She met her own eye.

Mikey had to turn. “We can find you one of those window ones. I saw some good deals on a resale site.”

“’We?’”

“Yeah. I’ll show you the marketplace I use. I’ve got a good eye.”

That wasn’t her point, but she let it slide. “Purple’s a bitch to strip. This’ll take a while so bring it up.”

Mikey bobbed with laughter that shook his stool.

“What?”

He flapped a hand at her.

“Mikey.”

“Phrasing!” He quacked.

“It’s true.”

“I believe you.” He puffed with giggles.

“You’re thinking of your idiot brother.” She finally started painting bleach into her hair. 

“I am.” He admitted.

“Gross. Y’all are too close.”  

Mikey grunted as he popped upright. “Hey! Don’t be nasty!”

“Me?” She gave him an exaggerated look.

“Yes! I was thinking about how hard it is to get him to take off his battle shell sometimes!”

For a split honest second, Kendra couldn’t help but agree.

A lifetime ago when they had stolen said objects, the lot of them had waited hours for him to finally deactivate all three so they could remote in.

Before that he had endlessly used one or all of them in a rotation.

It was only for a moment and she was back.

“Sure…” She dragged out the word as a tease.

Mikey wriggled with irritation. “That bleach is boiling your brains!”

“It’s going to, with the amount I’ll need. How’s the coverage?”

“Get…” Mikey turned his head and demonstrated with a point to his own. “Here, above the bottom on the right.”

She nodded and started to paint with her eye on him.

He nodded appropriately and she coated the strands. “Good job though.”

“I’ve done this before.”

“No, talking about Donnie. I appreciate it.”

“It was like five seconds.”

“Five seconds more than before; I love my family.”

She continued to apply bleach. “Sorry your favorite brother got in my way.”

“He’s not my favorite.” He responded immediately.

That gave Kendra a quick pause.

“Gotta be second.”

“You rank them.”

“Yup.”

She chuffed. “Now that doesn’t sound like you. I can hear your whiny voice. ‘I love all my brothers equally.’”

“I do!”

She didn’t bother giving him a look; he surely felt it.

“It’s just that… sometimes they get on my nerves and I put them in an order that changes based on my mood which is a nice little dose of revenge because they totally lose it when they drop a spot!”

“Spoken like a true youngest.”

“Coming from what? An only child!? That’s the vibe you give off!”

“Step.” The word felt punctuated as she began to move around toward the front of her head.

“How many?”

“One.”

“Huh.”

“Jason.” She felt the need to name him. “Jase.”

“Who’s older?”

“Me, barely.”

“So it wasn’t really-?”

“I was stuck with him.”

“Oh, like that.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a big oldest child complaint, pretty sure. Raph hated me when I was younger.”

Kendra paused to think.

“My favorite.” He clarified.

She turned her head a little to glimpse him.

He shared the look.

Her eyes darted away.

“Kendra.” He openly scolded.

“What?”

“You don’t know which one he is, do you?”

“It’s not my fault!” She bristled.

“We’ve been dating for months!”

That felt like a cold shock. “You barely talk about them!”

“I-!” His complaint died in his throat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of thick bristles painting strands of hair.

“That’s weird. I guess I haven’t… Huh.”

She didn’t want to, but she felt the same chilling confusion.

She had lost her way.

Here, Michelangelo was, in her apartment, willingly sharing information she could use and she hadn’t thought twice about. She now knew for sure that they all still lived together underground. He openly approached the topic of Donatello and she didn’t immediately bite his head off. He openly confirmed that Donatello didn’t rank highly which meant it would be easier for her to scam said man without upsetting this one.

The bleach fumes must have been getting to her because she paused.

Why did she care how Mikey felt?

She was supposed to ditch him when this was over.

Plant the virus and be rid of him.

Months.

They had been dating for months.

She had been the one to invite him here.

She hadn’t even plotted out any talking points to get her closer to her supposed goal.

Was that still the point?

She was meant to ruin the symbol of Genius Built.

The grandiose golden boy was going to become a new type of poster child.

So why didn’t she feel like she particularly cared anymore?

She went back to bleaching her hair because that’s what she was doing. She could now see the locks turning blond as the blueish color of the bleach sank into the layers. It stripped the fading hues because that was the chemical process taking place. Her old brand was being dissolved in real time to make room for her new one. Whether it would become teal or cyan depended on whatever convention best fit the marketing.

She felt empty and liminal in a way that one felt amidst great change. It was a sensation that she usually only took on as a precipice. For her, it was one to fling herself over and never look back. She had already done the climb and sailing off the cliff was the goal. The achievement beyond what was tangible and it had never been one she had to think about. There was always a clear goal post to head towards in the sky.

Except there hadn’t been in years. She worked the bleach deep into her stubborn roots. It was just like those garden beds where the top crop had to be cut free before she could access the weeds. She had been shorn for a while now but had cowered instead of growing once again. Her roots were suffering in a visible way because she was suffocating. Doing this, right now, was a step, but she had no direction or plan.

Nothing had changed.

She was still the deadbeat felon who could barely afford to cover her rent, let alone eat. She carted around a loudmouth who, no matter how hard she tried, would never fit her usual lackey mold. He stubbornly walked beside her. She added the last bit of slop to her hair and glanced at him.

He was quietly pondering to himself, but felt her eyes and looked up. “You pretty much got it!”

“Yeah…” She looked at the sink before reviewing her application. “Which one is Raph?”

“Red.”

“So Lee… Leo? Is that the last one?”

“Blue, yeah.”

“Confusing…” She told the strangely calm version of herself.

The one that put up with this.

“You guys match with another thing besides colors.”

“Bandana styles?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, Leo and I show head and the other two don’t.”

“You have hair.” She emphasized as she set a timer for the bleach to do its work. 

“Didn’t always.” 

“You match, so where’s Leo rank?”

Mikey clammed up.

“Last.” Kendra smirked.

“I love him! We match mask styles!”

“Did you do it to make up for not getting along with him?”

He gave a horrified gasp. “We get along!”

“Always, right? Just like how Raph hated dragging your baby butt along.”

His mouth audibly snapped shut.

“I get you guys do the hero thing, but it doesn’t have to be all the time. It’s a job, right?”

“I guess.” He sulked.

She felt like she had both misstepped and not.

She chased the latter feeling because it was a strange one.

She didn’t usually have this sort of foresight outside her person.

Another odd sensation for the book of today. “You’re orange. You like orange, but you don’t like when that’s all you are.”

She could feel him watching her closely.

“You grew up as part of this set and it’s… I don’t know. You don’t need my permission, but it’s okay or whatever for your life to not be about them!” She sped up as she went on because her chest twisted up around the statement.

The foreign feelings stuck in what should have been the black hole in her heart and made it all too tender.

Mikey was especially quiet.

She checked the timer as if she could rush the process. This all unnerved her for a reason that she couldn’t quite place and she was getting sick of the stacking unknowns. Her hair was a smoothed image in the mirror and she decided then to similarly unruffle herself. There was no point in sulking in what she didn’t know and her time was better spent working on what she did. “Gonna get ready to rinse.”

She still had twenty odd minutes, but decided to widdle it away. He stayed behind as she ducked into her bathroom with the bottle of shampoo. She left the door open behind her as a point. She sat on the toilet as it was buddied up to the tub. It was the perfect place to hang her head over when it was time to turn on the tap. 

She spent several minutes finally reading that bottle. She spent a few more doing a quick check of her email. The last went down to resolving her will and she got the water going to her preferred tepid by the time the alarm sang. She pulled down the handheld shower head. It was the one modification she had really done to the place and she was absolutely taking it with her when she left whether she had to rip it out of the wall or not.

After a thorough rinse, suds, and rinse again, she cleaned her hair until the tingles subsided before she realized she had forgotten her ratty towel. “Mikey!”

“H-here!” He spoke on a bit of a delay.

“Can you get me…? Ugh! It’s like my ugliest towel! Tie dye when it shouldn’t be!”

“One used for dyeing, I’m going to look around!”

“Yeah! It shouldn’t be far.”

“Found it!” He chirped near immediately. “Can I…?”

“Door’s open! Geez! Give it, hurry up!” Blond tips dangled in front of her vision.

He appeared behind her and the cotton brushed her hands.

“Thanks.” She stunted out before scrubbing her head right there.

“We’ve… always… only had each other…”

“What?” She twisted the towel up on her head before sitting back to view him.

“My family.” He looked at her meaningfully from where he leaned in the door jamb.

She felt similarly stripped and small sitting on her toilet lid. “Oh...”

He rubbed his arm. “Sorry… I’ll just…”

“No…” Her hand raised and she flicked her fingers at its audaciousness. “No, I mean… I…”

He leaned against the old wood for the pressure.

“Don’t… expect any gooeyness!”

His expression grew fond.

“I don’t know! I guess it makes sense! You were all cooped up underground for years or whatever! Then you went straight to saving the world or whatever it is that you told me! I guess that makes it hard! When all you have is each other. When the city… seems really big and maybe not to you because to you it’s new, but to your parents it’s a totally different city than they knew, so they’re homebodies and they’re doing their best, but it feels like you gotta escape that oppressive feeling…”

Her voice felt too loud.

“But you’re you! You wanted to show your hero-dad up or whatever! You’re part of some set, but you’re your own piece and getting older, that’s all leaving the nest and not even the most understanding parent is going to agree with everything you do because that’s life. You’re living it. Not them. You gotta stick it to them and stick to your guns… even if… if you fail…”

She had to move and stood.

He expertly swung against the jamb like a second door and she exited.

She approached the mirror and took a deep breath. “I usually bleach twice, but I am so over this.”

He watched as she unraveled the towel. The blond didn’t look right against her skin, but it was lighter than she expected. She turned side to side and the wet follicles slapped against her cheeks.

“This might work though…”

“I want to color it.”

She snapped her head at him and had to wince when some of her hair smacked into her eye.

“Let me.”

When she could see again, it was like viewing fire from a man who could create it in thin air.

For the first time in the last few hours she felt a surge of sureness.

A comfort that she could depend on and she breathed out her lung capacity. “Okay.”

No threat.

No comment.

That was it. 

“We need to dry it first.” 

She sat in the computer chair and he wheeled her into place. She watched as he moved around her vanity like it was his house. He found her ancient hair dryer before she could tell him where it was. He got the plug going and took a second to depress the breaker. With a firm air, he only had to make one adjustment for the length of the cord before he turned the dryer on his palm. He waited for it to warm up before he readied himself for her. 

She bowed for him to go ahead and he got to drying her hair. With light sweeps of his hands, he worked down through her roots to eradicate all moisture. Her dirty blond locks puffed up as they were free of their downy liquid and grew to a lighter dry shade. It strengthened her resolve that this would work and her faith grew in time. 

Mikey squashed the last of the anxieties that she would never entertain. She paid attention to him out of curiosity and nothing more. If he was secretly a hairdresser on the side, she would believe it. She would need to look up his cosmetology license and finally get him on having lied to her about something at least partially nefarious.

The way he cleaned the bowl of residual bleach said he had no finesse of the sort.

He only had his own experience, which he showed in asking for foil.  

She had only the cooking type to spare in an oversized roll. She did some light internet research to see if it was applicable and it seemed like it was. Mikey prepared a pile of sheets before he checked the bowl and brush a second time. He found them satisfactory and snapped her damp dye towel to lay it over her shoulders like a cape before he got to work.

“You know, your hair being a little yellow’ll work. I’m pretty sure this cyan is too blue.”

She tried not to move too much as that fluttering in her chest cavity returned. “You forgot gloves.”

“Nah, I like to feel my paint.”

“And dye your hands.”

“I’m pretty dark already.” He showed her his palm in demonstration before bringing it right back to start painting her strands.

“And your clothes?”

He paused for that one.

She looked at him from around the first swipe of cyan in his hand.

He shot over to the sink for a wash before he yanked his top off.

“Hey!”

“Problem?” He flexed for her.

“Stop! Don’t strip in my place!”

He laughed. “It was your idea.”

“I didn’t say ‘take your clothes off,’ I said ‘ruin them, loser.’”

“You did not.” He chastised and went back to her hair.

“Well, I should have.” She pulled up her legs to get comfortable.

He went on coloring her hair until he seemed to relax amongst the paint.

“You good?” She asked before she could think better of it.

“This is helping.”

“I was too harsh, huh?”

He shook his head.

“I have a hard time believing you.”

“You have a hard time believing anyone.”

“I wonder why!?”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“This is why Red got tired of you. I bet you were like this when you were younger, but worse.”

“I absolutely was. Terrible twos who? I was terrible til like twenty.”

He wasn’t usually self-depreciating and she frowned.

He caught it as he folded some foil. “Obnoxious, not terrible.”

“Not much different.”

“It is.”  

“You believe everything your family tells you?”

“Do you?”

They had a stare off.

“Okay, let’s be each other’s judge. I’m hearing a whole lot of us needing perspective here. We swap back and forth sibling stories.” He suddenly spun her chair around.

Her vision rotated until she landed on his scorching gaze.

Her stomach flipped and her scowl turned down to squash it back into place.

He cock a knowing grin.

“No competition allowed. Got it?”

He broiled the statement into her skin until her cheeks burned and she had to look away. “Fine! Calm down… Geez…”

He was more gentle in replacing her chair so she could see herself. “And when you have new hair we’ll put out our verdicts on whether we were bad or not.”

“I never said I was.”

“You tried to convince me that you were beneath me on our second date.”

That was an oversimplification, but he would get her on semantics.

“I’ll start?”

She stared at him through the mirror before giving a curt nod.

“During one of our first official sleepovers ever, I made Leo so mad that he went to dad, but he couldn’t, ya know, go home because we were home…”

She shared a tidbit about how her household stopped buying jello because Jase had one allergic reaction. It then went back to Mikey who used the allergy angle and how he ate peanut butter with his fingers. He apparently put Raph into epileptic shock by scratching an itch he couldn’t reach with the substance under his nails. It pinged back to Kendra, who had to take a dive off a trampoline to save Jase at one of the Ricci family gatherings and the escalation continued.

They bounced off each other in the usual ping-ponging of verbiage until they were soon just complaining about family instead of talking about how they wronged them. It was exaggerated groans of commiseration and champing at the bit to get the next tale in. Judgment was passed early and flippantly. Mikey clutched his pearls a few times, but with Kendra’s relentless press, he snuck in small comments on how he agreed. The color was applied along with a timer and they continued to talk straight through to when it went off.

“Look now or later?” Mikey asked her firmly.

“It needs to be washed first.” She told him with the same gravity.

He nodded and turned her away to get the foil out. She tried peeking, but he took great care in tucking her hair back and out of her periphery. She put on a growing scowl until she wriggled in place and he had to badger her to stop. She hated how much she appreciated when he was poignantly stern and with it when he finally pulled away.

He whipped the towel from her shoulders and a shriek died in her throat about how it would stain her shirt.

He had pinned her length up at some point to keep from doing that exact thing.

She looked to see him holding the towel up like a cover to block the mirror.

She couldn’t see his face, but felt his toothy grin from behind it.

She rushed to the bath and called to him for forgetting the other shampoo.

With a quick scrub and a lengthy loss of color that always seemed to be too much, the water eventually ran clear.

“There’s another towel.” She called with urgency.

“Which?!” He sounded like he was already looking.

“A white one! Clean! I bleach it!” She tried not to look at the swatch of hair right between her eyes.

“White. White…” Mikey’s voice moved until it headed her way. “White! Got it!”

It appeared to her left and she scrubbed it over her head.

There was cyan transfer.

Her heart skipped and she allowed it.

It felt like monumental fate as she took the three steps from the toilet to the vanity.

Her image appeared in the dirty mirror with uncharacteristically wide eyes.

Joy, if she had to label it.

Perfectly wet and dark cyan locks spoke to her eye that they would dry the exact shade she wanted.

For one second, her vision welled up.

She then looked right past it as she grabbed the counter and leaned forward.

Her reflection looked back at her as a cyan avatar.

She could easily command the flames with this.

🧡 NEXT 🧡

I can't believe we're already here... My deepest thanks to my betas @tmntxthings and @unrestrainedhotsoup

[2-dsimp]

Monster rule 101: Don’t play with fire around your Mothman!—————-:—:————

Mothman! Dabi x monster hunter! Fem reader

—————-:—:——————:————:————-:——

🔞MDNI🔞

C w: Humiliation, asphrodiasic, slight mind break, degradation, praise, NFSW, monsterfuxking, overstimulation, breeding, impregnation, usage of cunt

—————-:—:——————:————:————-:——

You were on a mission.

A very dangerous mission that was a code gold also known as Legendary. Meaning that the monstrous threat was equivalent to a whole country being wiped off the map. However, due to certain circumstances only one solider could be dispatched to deal with the golden threat.

The reason for that being because of how hyper sensitive the Mothman is to overcrowding within its territory. The team dispatch leader decided to proceed with the utmost caution lest they trigger its frenzy mode. Which would ultimately result in the loss of lives country wide, burning underneath the raging pure blue flames of the otherworldly demon.

<< Have you located the Mothman? Over >>

“Yes I’ve got eyes on the area sir, permission to proceed?”

<< Permission granted. Over >>

You were chosen out of a select few individuals for being the cream of the crop, to carry out this dire mission to save all of mankind. If you could succeed then you’d be set for life! Having the fame and the riches that come along with it, all in exchange for exterminating the deadliest bug humanoid in existence. You’d say that’s a fair trade, since it was high risk high reward type situation.

But as you approached the abandoned cave you could feel a sense of dread wash over your entire being.

You were being watched.

You could feel the sweat accumulate upon your lush chocolatey skin littered in goosebumps. Then you heard a sharp chuff that echoed off the walls, seemingly the Mothman enjoyed watching you squirm from his focused attention.

Venturing even deeper into the unknown you tightly grasped at your equipment, a tool of reassurance you could say. That happened to be a flamethrower. Yes, out of all the weapons you chose a hazardous contraption that resembled a dragons breath.

Why? Mostly because you thought it’d be cool to go out in a blaze of glory should you happen to fail in your conquest to get the target in check. But it was also strategic in a way, since moths were attracted to light. You’ve had to find some kind of way to draw them out.

Too bad you didn’t get the chance to use it before you’re snatched into furry arms that secured you to the monsters chest. Which vibrated from his snarky greeting.

“You took too long enough for my liking doll, now shall we get down to business already? “

You could feel his bulge press up against the your ass, rubbing between your cheeks.

“I’m feeling a bit pent up”

He rasped impatiently into your ear, boy did his voice do wonders as it spiked your arousal. But you had a job to do, unfortunately. Gathering your composure you asserted yourself to the monster.

“You already know why I’m here right? Mr. Mothman.”

You could feel him chuckle darkly against your neck, highly amused by your sense of professionalism. Even while having his dick steadily grind against your back, covering you in clear fluids. Making your thighs shake in excitement.

“Obviously, but just call me Dabi, dollface. You’re gonna wear it out in a few moments might as well get a lil practice in ya?”

You were dumbfounded. Could he be implying what you’re thinking—

“Judging from the look on your pretty face, I’m guessing your little agency didn’t fill ya in on our little inside deal huh?”

He purred

You could feel his loosened grip completely leave your body. Allowing you to be able to face the Mothman hunched over in all of his 7ft glory. He had tuffs of black fur covering his toned ripped chest, arms, and legs. His overall body type was lean and slender. The dark colored wings sprouting at large from behind, before being folded back neatly into place. To avoid you from seeing his jagged scars littered across them.

“All I can say is that you’re in for one hell of a ride once I get my hands on you Baby. So Outta the kindness of my heart I’ll give you a 5 minute head start—”

He paused, as you gave him an warm embrace of your own. Grinding against his bulge that continued to grow even further against you. He looked down at you in disbelief, but it wasn’t before long until he connected the dots.

“ Don’t tell me, You’re one of those monster fanatics aren’t ya?”

To be quite frank yes. You were an absolute fan of monsters, you fantasized about getting close and becoming friends with one. But now you were gonna be the mate of a code legendary?? You couldn’t believe your luck. Plus it was the mission you were given, so as the loyal solider that you are. You gratefully accepted your fate with no questions asked.

The Mothman merely laughed in the irony of it all, a monster hunter wanting to be fucked by a monster it was so priceless. A devious smirk planted on his face As he bended over down to your height charred lips barely touching the shell of your ear only to whisper darkly of a precautionary warning of what you’re getting into.

“ You do realize that I’m in heat right doll?”

He reached his hand down running his tempered claws down the fat of your thick ass giving it a tight squeeze before hooking your leg up to leave some room for him to freely press his huge twitching bulge against your moist mound.

“I’m barely hanging on by a thread, so Don’t hold anything against me if I lose control got it?”

It wasn’t long until you were on the brink of being fucked to death by the Mothman of your dreams. face pushed down into the cocoon like nest he prepared in advance as his extended feeler limbs sprouted out from his sides, to grasp at you from behind hooking onto your waist. Keeping you grounded on his intrusive dick. While his primary arms wrapped around you tightly to play with your breasts that jigged violently from his ruthless thrusts from behind.

“You’re sucha pretty lil thing for me aren’t ya?”

The strong pheromones that wafted off from his wings made you feel so vulnerable and helpless within his smoldering embrace. You couldn’t keep count of how many times you’ve came alone from him just penetrating your cervix. It was as if you were on cloud nine enjoying the way his cum covered cock kept digging even deeper inside your snug snatch trying to ensure that you’d get pregnant with his brood.

“Your slutty pussy just can’t seem to get enough of my dick, don’t worry doll I’ll make you take all of it”

He murmured eyes staring down dangerously at the way your pliant body bended to his ministrations. He payed close attention to the way his dick continued to be devoured by your juicy cunt. That sucked and messaged his thick cock inside the hot mesh of your inner walls determined to be flooded with his baby batter.

“ Mmh D-Dabi please I can’t—!”

You babbled dumbly with drool hanging down from the corners of your fucked out plump lips. As the intensity of his rapid heavy thrusts began to increase its assault against your quivering quim.

You tried to crawl away from yet another approaching high that was dead set on crashing down on your senses. But his firm grip on your neck yanked you back into reality.

“ Aye Dollface don’t ever try to fuckin crawl away from me again, you’re mine you got that?”

Dabi hissed, giving you a sharp tug on your butterfly locs and a harsh bite on your shoulder as a fair warning.

The cave was emitting loud strange sounds from the inside, alerting to anyone from around the area to vacate the premises immediately. In case the Mothman were to come out of his home and start wrecking chaos. But little did they know that Stowed away deep inside the cave for a whole week did you lay beneath the Mothman in all your naked glory.

Freshly fucked all the way to Sunday during his still ongoing heat cycle. Where the only thing covering you was his semen that painted your caramel skin from your breasts down to your overused cunt stuffed to the brim with his cum that trickled out from your puffy pussylips. Only to be pushed back in by his long veiny dick just to ensure that the next of his kin would live on inside your womb.

Hey At least you prevented a worldwide tragedy, right?

[bullet-prooflove]

The Evidence Locker: Sam Carver x Reader

Tagging: @goldensunshine91 @foxfabled @kmc1989 @district447 @caffeinatedwoman

Prequel to:

Playing For Keeps - Sam regrets what he said about your first night together.

Big Heart - Sam takes care of you after noticing you're in pain.

Five Stars (NSFW) - Sam's realises his handyman skills do a little something for you.

Sam realises he has feelings for you in the evidence locker of OFI Headquarters. The two of you have been working on an arson investigation together, trying to tie the most recent one to a couple of fires he worked on five years ago when you end up going on a treasure hunt through the archives in the basement.

It’s cramped in there, the imposing metal shelves a little rickety, there’s barely enough room for one person let alone two. You’re constantly bumping arms, shoulders, hips trying to search for the boxes you require. Each tiny shred of physical contact makes him feel like there’s a thousand tiny fireworks erupting through his synapses.

It doesn’t help that because of the evidence, the place is temperature controlled. You’re wearing a sports bra under that crisp white shirt, one that does nothing to hide the hardness of your nipples as you brush past him. The shelf behind you wobbles, and he puts a hand out, using his weight to steady it, bringing his entire body flush against yours.

Christ you feel good, the perfect fit and he imagines stripping that shirt back from your shoulders and getting his mouth all over your chest. You’d be sensitive he thinks, and he wonders if he’d be able to make you come just from paying attention to that particular area. The idea of you riding his thigh as he teases your nipples with his tongue causes a stirring in his pants. His cheeks colour as he looks into your eyes because he knows you must be able to see the heat in his gaze, the yearning, the want.

Your stare strays beyond him, to something on the shelf behind him and your entire face lights up. He thinks he might just fall in love in that moment because he’s never seen something so captivating in all his life.

“We found it.” You say, slipping past him and the moments broken because if there’s one thing he’s learned about you over the past few weeks, it’s that if you get focused on something, your entire attention is on that task.

“I have ADHD.” You had told him when you’d first started working together. “I can get a little fixated sometimes.”

He’s noticed the little tricks you use to get around it, the timers, the color coded priority lists, you need to do things in a certain order, accomplish one thing at a time. Then there’s the pacing, you need move when you think, to talk out your thoughts. They emit from you in a rush, gaining momentum, building until the solution appears or you make a connection. He’d found it disconcerting the first couple of times because he’s reserved, he’s not used to being around someone so expressive but now it’s like poetry in motion, watching you work. He gets how you earned your rank, you’ve turned your condition into a super power, one you use to combat assholes who like setting fire to shit.

“Give me a hand Carver.” You say interrupting his thoughts. “Use that height for something useful.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He says and a flush creeps up your throat.

It's then that he realises that those feelings he’s having, they may not be so one sided after all.

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