#inspect element my friend inspect element

[dudesrock]

[peliginspeaks]

Dizzy and bored in class so I'm just gonna start inventing new Menaces

Botheration - collected when your character interacts with situations or NPCs that just kinda piss them off

Hitting 8 reduces your Persuasive by an unpleasant amount, and gives a temporary Boon of +1 Dreaded

[ispyspookymansion]

my received boop count as the day draws to a close is an honestly staggering 58,976 boops. thanks for all of those! thats wild! thats more than a boop every two seconds!

[paw--on--heart]

[so-3i3]

honestly insane how useful just. Looking at other people's websites is for figuring out how to do things.

[affectionatemud]

desperately hoping my friends dont have Twitter to fact check this

[linoone]

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[wannab-urs]

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. 

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here. 

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH. 

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar. 

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming. 

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet. 

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners. 

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?” 

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading. 

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?” 

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.” 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap. 

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file. 

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work. 

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner. 

 “So what are your plans tonight?” he asks. 

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe. 

“Your plans? For your birthday?” 

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet. 

“Me and Murphy could take you out?” 

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,”  Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look. 

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door. 

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life. 

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve? 

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door. 

“Peña? What are you doing here?” 

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face. 

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!” 

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.” 

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware. 

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it. 

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.” 

“Fine… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you. 

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better. 

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you. 

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little. 

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip. 

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty. 

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours. 

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue. 

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips. 

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.” 

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?” 

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. 

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Come for me, baby.” 

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you. 

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you. 

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.” 

 He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?” 

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you. 

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.” 

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you. 

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter. 

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly. 

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head. 

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

[daisynik7]

Could you possibly do: Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado for Jean Kirstein - Smut (stg he needs more love on this app)

Promiscuous

Pairing: Jean x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: frenemies-to-lovers trope, one bed (in this case, tent) trope, modern day au, explicit language, smut – mutual masturbation, fingering, hand job

Summary: During your annual camping trip with your friends, you find out a little too late that the tent you brought with you is broken. With everyone’s already occupied, you’re forced to share one with Jean, who you don’t exactly get along with. Maybe sharing a small space together for one night will change that. 

Author’s Note: Hi anon! Thank you for your request for the y2k karaoke party! This idea is somewhat inspired by my main man AugustInTheWinter’s “Trapped in Your Asshole Friend’s Tent” (reddit link, +18)  except mine is more of a teaser if anything, since there’s no actual sex, hehe. I hope you like this one! I don’t write for Jean often, but when I do, I always have so much fun! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/mikeykuns.

Your tent is busted, and of course you only find out about it as you unpack it on the campsite, finding it torn up and unusable. You turn to Sasha, panicking. “It’s broken!”

She kneels down to inspect it, looking at all the parts. “There’s nothing you can do to fix it?”

“Everything is in pieces. It’s completely useless. Do you have room in your tent?”

She shakes her head. “I’m sleeping in Connie’s. And Mikasa, Armin, and Eren are squeezing into one. Which leaves only Jean – ”

“No,” you say with emphasis. “No way.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Come on. You’re only in there for a few hours each night, that’s it! Set your differences aside for once! Unless you want to sleep out in the cold.”

“I think I’d rather freeze to death and get eaten by a bear than share a tent with him,” you state, crossing your arms over your chest. 

She chuckles, taking a bite out of a baked potato she has stored in her pocket. “Fine. I’ll be sure to write that in your obituary.” She walks away from you, joining Connie by their tent, helping him set it up while you stand there, defiant, and all-too-stubborn. You look over to their right to see the EMA trio working together to assemble their big tent, but still not big enough to house a fourth person. Then, on the other side, furthest away from the others, is Jean. 

You seriously weigh your options, eventually deciding that death by the elements is worse by the tiniest margin than sleeping next to Jean. So you walk up to him, tapping on the thin fabric, pretending to knock. “Kirstein,” you call out when there’s no answer.

He unzips the entrance, glaring at you. “What do you want?”

You clear your throat, putting on the nicest voice you can possibly muster. “Do you have room for me in there?” You even bat your eyelashes, feeling more pathetic that you already do.

“What?!” he snaps, standing up to confront you. 

“My tent is broken and there’s no room in the other’s, so…”

“Fuck no,” he states, a little harsher than usual. 

“C’mon, Kirstein! It’s just for two nights!”

“Then sleep outside.”

“I promise I’ll be good!” you whine, putting your hands together in prayer, pleading. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely know you’re here,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, irritated. He yells out across the way. “Sash, Connie! There’s really no room in there for her?”

Connie answers, “Nope!”

“Mikasa, how about in your – ”

“No,” she responds immediately, the other two boys shaking their heads to confirm.

Jean groans, scratching his head anxiously, as if this is the worst thing he’s ever had to consider. Eventually, he mutters a contemptuous, “Fine. But we’re not sharing sleeping bags.”

“I never said anything about sleeping bags!” you protest. 

“I’m just saying!”

Not wanting to argue more, you ease up. “Okay, okay. Thank you. Seriously, Kirstein. I really do appreciate it.” You attempt to give him the most genuine smile you can manage. All he does is roll his eyes, zipping the entrance closed.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. After setting up camp, you all go for an easy hike on a nearby trail. Jean doesn’t interact with you, which is typical behavior from him. You can’t pinpoint the exact reason why he dislikes you so much; it didn’t start this way when you first met him several years ago through Sasha. But the more you hung out with them, the colder he’s gotten towards you. Because of this, you decided to act the same towards him, causing this hostile relationship between you two. Maybe sharing a tent tonight is a good opportunity to let bygones be bygones and finally get along.

Back at camp, you gather around the fire to roast hot dogs for dinner. Jean sits across from you, a serious expression on his face as he focuses on cooking his meal. You study him, watching the flames reflect in his eyes. He’s handsome, that’s for sure; sharp jawline, luscious brown locks on his head, an impressive stature. If he wasn’t such an asshole, you could see yourself being friendly with him, maybe even more. The thought makes you smile to yourself. He meets your gaze for a brief moment, startling you. You quickly turn your head to the side, pretending to be interested in the dirt on the ground, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. 

By midnight, with your bellies nourished with a hot dogs, potato chips, and s’mores for dessert, you all decide to call it a night. Armin and Eren put out the fire while the rest of you do a thorough job disposing any trash and putting away any of the remaining food. Everyone gets ready for bed in their designated spots around the wilderness. You especially take your time, wanting to stall as much as possible so you don’t have to interact with your tent-mate. 

Eventually, you’re the only one left outside and there’s nothing left for you to do but head in. As you walk into the tent, you quietly step inside, noticing Jean already curled in his sleeping bag to the farthest side he can reach, leaving plenty of space for you. He’s wrapped in an additional blanket, head resting on a fluffy pillow, expression the most relaxed you’ve ever seen. You grin, appreciating how cute he looks like this. 

You nestle into your sleeping bag, adjusting your pillow before you find a comfortable position to sleep in. Even with it zipped up and surrounding you, it’s still chilly enough that your teeth chatter. Holding yourself tightly, you rub your arms, hoping to create enough friction to warm yourself up.  

From the other side, you hear Jean’s familiar groan, then shuffling. Suddenly, you feel something thick envelop you. You crane your neck to see Jean near you now, his blanket covering you both. He faces you with that scowl on his face, eyes closed. “I’m only sharing so that you don’t keep me up all night,” he says.

You roll over to turn your body towards him, closer than you’ve ever been before. “Thank you,” you murmur, snuggling into your pillow. 

He doesn’t say anything else, probably drifting off to sleep by now. Although you’re warm enough, you still can’t fall into a slumber the way you want. Not with Jean so near you, pretty eyelashes fluttering, soft lips parted slightly; he is really handsome. Your chest swells, heat rushes into your cheeks. As quietly as you can, praying that he’s actually asleep, you whisper, “I’m sorry, Jean. For whatever I did to make you hate me so much.” You say it more for yourself if anything. Even if he can’t hear you, at least you’ve put it out there for the universe. 

“I don’t hate you.” It startles you when he says it in a low, gruff voice, eyes still closed. 

You swallow hard, not sure if you should continue this conversation, or let it end here. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, you decide to respond. “You don’t?”

This time, he opens his eyes slowly, blinking at you. “No. You’re annoying, irritating, always completely unprepared. But I don’t hate you.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mutter, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Sorry for always being such a nuisance to you. I’ll be sure to leave you alone now.”

He sighs. “You’re not always a nuisance, okay? And besides, you’re the one who acts like you hate me.”

“I only do that because you did it to me first,” you argue. “I don’t even know what I did to annoy you in the first place. Tell me.”

“If I start now, we’ll be up all night,” he smirks, looking smug. 

“Seriously, what did I ever do to you? I need to know so I can apologize formally.” 

He stares at you, contemplating his answer. You wait with anticipation, nervous for what he’s about to say. Eventually, he admits, “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

More confused now, you ask, “Then why do you treat me like I did?”

He sighs again, this time even deeper. “I don’t know.”

You scoot closer to him instinctually, studying his face as if that will give you a clearer answer. “You don’t know?”

He’s caught off guard by the closing distance between you. “I don’t know,” he repeats, stammering. “I just…”

Closer now, your nose mere inches from his, the heat radiating from his body towards you. “Just what?”

He gulps loudly before leaning forward, pressing his lips to yours in a delicate kiss. You don’t immediately pull back, indulging in the intimate touch until his tongue slips into your mouth. It shocks you, not because you don’t like it, but because of how much you do. You break apart, catching your breath. “What are you…” you trail off, fixated on his lips, slightly shiny now from your spit.  

He unzips his sleeping bag, freeing his hands to reach for you, caressing your cheek. “If you don’t like it, tell me now and I’ll stop.” His thumb brushes against your skin, electrifying every nerve in your body. 

You wiggle out of your confines to touch him too, placing your hands on hands on his chest, clenching his t-shirt in your fists. Something comes over you. Curiosity, lust, temptation, you’re not quite sure. All you know is that you want to keep kissing him, keep touching him, and save the explaining for later. It doesn’t have to make sense right now; all you want is to feel good. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s sloppier this time, his tongue flicking against yours, eager for a taste of you. His hand travels down your body, sliding around your waist beneath your pajama top. It ignites your skin, forgetting any ounce of coldness that occupied your body just moments before. 

“On top,” he huffs, fingers digging into your flesh. “Get on top of me.”

You obey, spreading his sleeping bag open, seeing the prominent bulge protruding from his sweats. You straddle his lap, grinding yourself on him, rubbing your clothed pussy along his shaft. He grips your waist with both his hands, watching you rock against him, biting his lip with a crazed look in his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathes out, brows furrowed in concentration, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. If you had known it would be like this, maybe the two of you wouldn’t have wasted so much time berating each other. You could have spent the last few years doing this instead.

You lean down, kissing him passionately while you continue to ride him with your clothes on. He’s unbelievably hard beneath you now, his big cock straining against the fabric. Your arousal leaks into your panties, wet and ready for him. His hands glide to your bottom, squeezing your cheeks in his hands. Soon, his fingers are hooked on your waistband, tugging them down your thighs, coaxing you to strip. You hop off him, rolling to his side to properly remove your pants, him doing the same next to you. Both of you are naked from the waist down now, lying beside each other. You reach between your legs, rubbing your fingers on your clit. He watches, fist wrapped around his cock, stroking it feverishly. “I didn’t know you were like this,” he whispers, biting his lip to hold back his moans. “Fuck, if I had known I…I would have – ”

“What, Jean? What would you have done?” you ask, playing with yourself faster, watching him jerk himself off.

“I would have fucked you so much sooner. Make you my slut.”

“You want to slut me out? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah. But only for me. I only want you to be a slut for me.”

You reach for him with your wet fingers, replacing his hand with yours, stroking him slowly. He moans, eyes blown wide at the sight. “Come here,” he beckons, stretching his hand towards your pussy. “I want to make you feel good too.”

Kneeling beside him, you guide him to you, teasing your clit with his palm. “God, you’re so fucking wet. Can I fuck you with these fingers, baby?”

The pet name is unexpected from his mouth, but it spurs you on. You nod, lifting up slightly to sink down on his middle finger while his thumb nudges your clit. A moan escapes you, unable to keep quiet. He chuckles softly, shushing you. “You don’t want the others to know you’re getting finger-fucked by me, do you? You better be quiet.” 

You stay like this, Jean’s fingers pumping in and out of your cunt while he fucks your fist. Aching for a new position, you release him, pulling him out of you so that you can straddle his lap again, this time completely nude. 

He stammers, clearly nervous. “Oh fuck, should we…?”

There is no lube, nor are there any condoms around you. It would be a bad idea to have sex under these conditions, though temptation is testing you, especially with how far you’ve already gotten. As badly as you want to be fucked, you decide not to. “Not tonight. But that doesn’t mean we can’t feel good, right?” You flick the tip of his cock on your clit, your core tight with pleasure from the intimate contact. 

He relaxes into his sleeping bag, watching you with a dazed expression on his face, moaning as you grind your pussy along his shaft, hand nestled underneath his cock, stroking him simultaneously. “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“Is that bad?” you ask, slowing your pace.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Not at all. I just didn’t expect you to be so promiscuous.” He reaches towards you, massaging your clit with his thumb. 

You whine from his touch, rocking back and forth on his shaft, almost inclined to sink down on his cock anyways. “Maybe I’m only like this with you.”

He continues to grin at you, caressing your sensitive bud faster. “Yeah, maybe you are.”

You stay like this until his cock pulsates beneath you, shooting spurts of cum onto his stomach. Soon, you’re coming too with his thumb pressed tightly on your clit, rubbing deep into you, gushing all over him. When you’re done riding out your orgasm, you roll off of him, back into your own sleeping bag. Jean stays flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his tent, his breathing gradually returning to a steady pace. The two of you remain silent, equally confused and thrilled about what just occurred. 

You decide to be the one to speak first. “So…”

He turns to you, a kind expression on his face. Have you ever seen this on him before? It puts a flutter in your belly. “So,” he repeats. 

“Should we talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” He scoots closer to you, holding your hand in his.

“This. Us,” you say, interlocking your fingers with his. Who would have though being this way with Jean Kirstein would feel so…natural?

“Right. Us.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “The truth is, I’ve been a massive asshole to you because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to express his feelings.”

“So, instead, you act like you hate me?”

He points to himself, giving you a goofy grin. “See? Idiot.”

You sigh, squeezing him tighter. “So, you actually like me?”

Smiling, he kisses your cheek. “I do. I’ve liked you for a while. If you give me a chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. If you let me.”

You don’t respond right away, contemplating the situation. Could it really work out between you two after all the petty arguments, snide remarks, contemptuous glares? It is comfortable, being with him like this. It’s better than you ever imagined. 

You snuggle into his chest, surrounding yourself in his warmth and security. “I guess we could give it a shot.”

“Yeah?” He tips your chin up to meet your gaze, smiling big.

“Yeah.”

He brings you towards him to kiss you sweetly, cradling you in his arms. “Thank you.”

You pull away, smirking at him before you whisper, “And next time, you’re going to slut me out properly, right?”

He laughs quietly, biting his lip. “Absolutely.”

[yourdarkcherry]

Seducing Rafe Cameron || Ch. 3

Summary: You were blessed with an easy life since you were born, but it’s all threatened when your dad’s business fails and you find yourself with no prospects and no education and so your only solution is to marry rich. Who’s a better candidate than the older brother of your ex-best friend from high school? So you do everything in your power to seduce Rafe Cameron, not knowing he’s the root to all your problems.

Warnings: toxic relationship, spoiled reader, sexist elements, dark content, blackcoded reader, pregnancy, physical and emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, death threats, eventual smut.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You swear that this could’ve been the worst day of your entire life. From the start to the current moment it was all a series of unfortunate events. For some reason, you couldn’t wake up at the sound of your alarm, and you only awakened at the sound of your mother shaking you awake and asking you why you’re not attending your pilates class.

With wide eyes, you stare at your clock and find it’s displaying a 10:43 AM to you. Jumping from your bed, you rush to your bathroom with a continuous string of swear words at not attending your pilates class, or even finishing any of the errands you had to run.

The clock on your car shows 11:52 AM when you finally leave your house. You don’t even wait for the car to properly heat up and instantly begin your trip to the location Rafe sent you this morning, right after his good morning text that went ignored due to you oversleeping.

Then in your frenzy to reach the restaurant on time, you rear end someone. It was the last thing you wanted, and even when you exit the car you prepare yourself for the fight the other person would initiate. It was completely your fault, you were texting Rafe letting him know you will be late.

You inspect your car first, seeing the bumper threatening to fall any minute now, then you turn your head to the side and find the van you rear-ended was pretty damaged.

“Lady! Can’t you see where you were going?!” an irritated man comments, and it gets nearer to the back of the car to inspect the accident.

You try to put on your best sorry look, and then look at the person only to take a second look. You didn’t have to look at him three times to know who he was. With his long locks, and tan skin, then to the light blue van.

This is the man Sarah was dating, and currently dating according to what Wheezie told you last night. He recognizes you too, for some reason as he also does a look back and his eyes widen for a little.

“I’m sorry, I admit my fault I was pretty preoccupied.” you say, then move back to your car to take your phone, but when you return you’re shocked to find Sarah Cameron in the flesh, standing next to him.

You stop briefly in your tracks, taken back at seeing her for the first time in years. She looks exactly as you last seen her, you blame your complex emotions at seeing her on the fact that she looks like she’s always did, and not a single thing changed about her.

“(Y/N).” she calls your name first, you clear your throat and walk towards her and her boyfriend.

“Hello, Sarah.” you greet, and then take your gaze off her brown eyes and stare at the man, “my insurance can cover you, I’ll call them right now and let them know.” he nods, and you take a glance at Sarah one last time as you feel her stare on your face.

You turn around and dial in the insurance company number, although your phone glitches before you can call and then it vibrates as Rafe's name flashes in your phone. You don’t need to be a genius to know you weren’t late but you were very much unclassy late.

The kind of lateness that cannot be blamed on women’s vanity.

You answer immediately, and after your first “Hello?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm…” you cover your forehead as you look back on the accident. “Not really, rear-ended someone.” You answer honestly.

Rafe’s voice tightens with concern. “Where exactly are you right now? I need to know.”

You hesitate, glancing around at the scene. “I’m... just near the diner on Maple Street. But really, Rafe, you don’t have to come.”

“I’m coming over,” he insists. “I want to make sure you’re okay. Don’t move from where you are.”

You wince, knowing that Rafe’s presence would complicate things even more. Sarah Cameron, his disowned sister, is right here with her boyfriend. The last thing you want is for Rafe and Sarah to run into each other. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but—”

“No arguments. I’m on my way,” Rafe says firmly. “Just stay put and don’t try to handle this all on your own.”

Panic starts to set in. You know it’s a terrible idea to let Rafe come, but you also understand how stubborn he can be. “Okay, fine. But it’s really not a big deal, and I’m dealing with the insurance already. Maybe just... wait a bit before coming?”

“Just give me a few minutes, alright?” Rafe’s tone is insistent. “I’ll be there soon.”

As you hang up, you feel the weight of the situation press down on you. You glance over at Sarah and her boyfriend, trying to avoid making eye contact. This whole thing is turning into a mess you never anticipated

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the silver lining of the situation. If Rafe shows up and helps you sort this out, he might feel useful, which you know is something he appreciates. Men often enjoy feeling like they’re making a difference, and this could be a way to turn a frustrating situation into a moment where he feels valued.

The call with the insurance company is short, you let them know of what happened abd they let you know of what to do.

When you walk closer to the van, you see Sarah lingering awkwardly close to you as she watches you take pictures of the accident. You pretend you don’t notice her while you text the pictures to the insurance company.

“So…how have you been?” she asks first.

You clear your throat, turning around to face her. “I’ve been good.” The awkward silence makes the heat of this summer feel even worse as your cheeks burn. “You?”

“I’ve been doing good too. I remember Wheezie told me that you uhm… you started this two year college in Charlotte town.” She says, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

“Yeah…the program was called hospitality excellence and etiquette.” you answer.

Her eyes widen slightly, then she tightens her lips into a tight line before she comments, “thought it was an english literature and writing program, you always did like that a whole a lot,” she then clears her throat. “You talked about it a lot back in high school.”

You nod, feeling a pang of discomfort. “Yeah, I changed direction. It seemed like a better fit.”

Sarah clears her throat, her gaze flickering between you and her boyfriend. “Well, it’s good you found something that works for you.”

Just then, your phone buzzes with a text from the insurance company: “We’ve reviewed the details and confirmed you are at fault. Please provide the contact information for the other party so we can proceed with covering the damage.”

Before you can respond, Rafe’s car pulls up, and you feel a rush of mixed emotions. You glance at Sarah, who seems equally tense, and then back at Rafe as he steps out of the car.

You manage a strained smile as you finish texting the insurance company. The weight of the awkward situation settles heavily on your shoulders. As Rafe approaches, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

Rafe’s eyes meet yours, and you see his expression shift from concern to confusion as he takes in the scene. Without needing any introductions, he asks, “Is everything okay?”

You try to sound calm. “Yeah. Just trying to get the insurance stuff sorted out.”

Rafe’s gaze flickers to Sarah, his tension palpable. He doesn’t need any introductions to understand the situation. Sarah’s discomfort is visible as she shifts her weight, unable to meet Rafe’s eyes. Then, Rafe steps close to inspect the accident.

When Sarah’s boyfriend comes closer, he asks, “you talk to insurance yet?”

Before you could answer him, Rafe shields your vision of the man. “Give me your phone. I need to talk to insurance,”

“Oh, yeah sure.” you hand him your phone. “But why?”

He steps so close to you, allowing you to take whiffs of his spicy cologne and the sight of his pretty blue eyes hitting the sun so perfectly. Then his voice drops lower, “I just don’t trust that pogue, maybe he saw your car and decided to break check.”

You blink at him in cluelessness, “why would he do that?”

“To take your money, of course.” Rafe answers. “But don’t worry, I’ll let insurance know how to handle it.”

He takes your phone from your palm, your fingers brushing ever so slightly but still sending shocks throughout the rest of your body nonetheless.

He starts speaking to the insurance company, his voice low and authoritative. You watch him handle the situation with a blend of relief and unease, his presence both a comfort and a complication.

Meanwhile, Sarah stands awkwardly, her gaze flicking between Rafe and the damaged van. Her boyfriend, clearly frustrated, starts to mutter under his breath, but he doesn’t press the issue further with Rafe present.

You can’t ignore the tension in the air. The silence stretches as Rafe talks on the phone, his tone firm and decisive. You can’t help but notice how effortlessly he takes control of the situation, and despite everything, you find yourself grateful for his intervention.

When Rafe finally hangs up, he hands your phone back to you, his expression serious. “I’ve given them the details and made sure they know about the potential for fraud. They’ll be in touch with you soon.”

“Fraud?!” Sarah and her boyfriend repeat in disbelief, and exchange a shocked look before Sarah steps closer to Rafe. Her hands on her hips as she glares at him, “why the fuck would there be a possibility for fraud?”

Rafe meets her gaze evenly, not backing down. “Because it’s not uncommon for people to stage accidents to make a quick buck. It’s better to be cautious and make sure everything is above board.”

Sarah’s eyes narrow, her face flushed with anger. “You don’t know that. You’re just making assumptions.”

Rafe’s tone remains calm, though there’s a hint of annoyance. “I’m just protecting (Y/N). It’s my job to ensure everything is handled properly.”

Sarah’s boyfriend, still simmering, steps forward. “Look, we don’t need any more complications. This is already a mess.”

Sarah only looks between you and Rafe with that look she used to get when she’s connecting dots in her head. You feel like you should avoid her gaze, and cower in shame should she find out. Except, you don’t.

You have nothing to feel shameful about. She did sleep with your boyfriend in high school and betrayed your trust and broke your friendship just like that. So you think she can handle the little discomfort she will get at finding out that you and her brother are dating.

Sarah looks detached, her gaze distant as she processes Rafe’s comments. She pulls her boyfriend away slightly, her voice tight with control. “Fine, we’ll discuss it. Just… (Y/N),” she calls and you look at her as she continues, “give me your number so I can contact you about it.”

Rafe shakes his head, his expression firm, “she’s not giving her number to you. I’ll give mine to your boyfriend instead. He can handle the details and get in touch with me if needed.”

Sarah’s frustration is palpable, but she holds back her retort. She gives a curt nod, accepting the compromise.

Her boyfriend takes out his phone, and Rafe quickly gives him his number. As they exchange contact information, Sarah’s eyes flicker with a mix of emotions��anger, resignation, and something else you can’t quite place.

When Sarah and her boyfriend walk to their van. Rafe looks at your car, “you cannot drive this till it gets fixed.”

“Yeah, it’s another accident asking to happen.” you answer sadly.

“It’s okay though, I’ll take it to the shop and get it fixed for you.” He said, a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding.

“Thank you, Rafe.” you tell him. A switch in your head flips, then you add, “you’re so helpful, I wouldn’t have known what to do without you.”

His eyes slightly widen, taken off-guard at your words and attitude but he doesn’t seem like he hates it. Trying to pretend that you don’t notice the effects your words had on him, you stare at the clock on your phone.

“Your lunch break ends at 1 right?” you ask, and he hums as he directs you to his car that’s parked haphazardly. You climb up to the passenger seat of his car, then buckle in your seatbelt. When he enters his car, you say, “I feel bad for wasting your lunch break.”

“You didn’t, I’m just glad to see you.” he says, and you resist the smile that’s forming on your face but you fail.

He doesn’t see you as he starts his car once again. “I have a little more than twenty five minutes left of my lunch break, so I’ll just drive you home.”

The ride back is quiet, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. You can feel the tension from earlier slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of calm. Rafe’s presence, while sometimes intense, has a way of grounding you. You sneak a glance at him, noticing the way his hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

Seeing Sarah must’ve affected him just as deeply as you—if not more.

You decide that not speaking about it is the best option. If he didn’t bring it up first, then you won’t utter a single word.

The memory of seeing his disowned sister and seeing your ex-best friend would be buried for now.

Thankfully, your house wasn’t that far from the accident place. As you approach your place, Rafe speaks up, breaking the silence. “You sure you’re okay? That was a lot back there.”

You nod, your eyes meeting his briefly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, I guess.”

Rafe pulls up into the driveway of your house and shifts the car into park. “Well, if you need anything, you know you can call me, right?”

His offer is genuine, but there’s something in the way he says it that makes your heart skip a beat. You nod again, feeling the weight of the day starting to lift. “Thanks, Rafe. I really appreciate it.”

He turns to face you fully, his expression softening, “you don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to help.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Then, before the moment can stretch too long, you reach for the door handle, “I should probably get inside.”

Rafe nods, he says as he’s watching you hold your purse, “I’ll check in with you later, okay? Make sure everything’s sorted out.”

You step out of the car, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Relief, gratitude, maybe even a bit of something more. Before you could close the door, you linger slightly as he watches you.

He was so helpful and reliable today, and you don’t really want to let him go just yet. You want to talk with him more, be around him. You try to pretend that it’s all for the plan, and not because of a deep want within you.

“Uhm…why…why don’t you come inside?” you ask.

His eyebrows almost raise up to his hairline comically. You look at the black leather of his seats, shyness taking over you. “I could make you a sandwich, I feel bad just for sending you to work like that.”

He opens his mouth to speak, and you fear that it’s a rejection, so you hastily interrupt him as you look at your fingers. “Something quick, I’ll take like one minute making it for you, and your break finishes in exactly twenty minutes.”

“Sure…I’d like that.” he says genuinely, and you finally look up to him to see him smiling.

He kills the engine, and then gets out of his car. You walk side by side to the door, your heart beats faster with each step.

When you reach the door, your fingers fumble slightly with the keys, but you manage to unlock it, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, trying to sound casual, though your voice betrays a hint of nervousness.

You walk further inside to the kitchen, feeling his presence following you. As you enter the kitchen, you set your purse on the counter. Then you start gathering the things you need for a simple sandwich from the fridge, and you bring it all to the island.

He sits on one of the chairs facing the island. He looks around a little, taking in the clean kitchen then he asks, “is your mom home?”

You glance at him as you’re taking bread slices out. “Probably not, she might’ve gone out for the afternoon,” you reply, your voice a little quieter than usual as you focus on getting the sandwich together. You can feel Rafe's eyes on you, and it makes your movements slightly more deliberate, more aware of every little thing you’re doing.

He hums in response, leaning back in his chair, still watching you. “How was your pilates class?”

“Oh…I didn’t go, woke up late actually.” you answer honestly. Focusing on spreading the mayo on the other slice of bread.

Rafe’s gaze sharpens slightly as he listens to your response, though he maintains a relaxed posture in the chair. “Woke up late, huh?” His tone is casual, and you don’t think much of it as you focus on the sandwich. His eyes are still fixed on you, watching your every movement with a kind of intensity that you chalk up to concern.

“Yeah, just one of those mornings,” you say lightly, now spreading mustard on the bread. You glance up at him, catching his steady gaze, but it doesn’t faze you—if anything, it makes you feel like he’s paying attention, like he cares.

He hums again, the sound thoughtful. “You know,” he says slowly, “I could help with that. Making sure you don’t miss anything important.”

You look up at him, tilting your head in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the island, his eyes still locked on yours. “Just thinking… I could check in on you in the mornings. Make sure you’re up and ready. We wouldn’t want you missing out on anything.”

You smile at the offer, feeling a warmth in your chest. “That’s really sweet of you, Rafe, but I think I just need a better alarm clock.”

Rafe’s lips curl into a small smile, and you take it as a sign that he’s just being his usual considerate self. “Yeah, maybe,” he says, and you hear a touch of amusement in his voice. “But, you know, I’m just a call away. For anything.”

“Thanks, Rafe,” you say, genuinely appreciating his concern. It feels good to have someone who’s so attentive, who seems to genuinely care about the little things in your life.

He watches you for a moment longer, and you assume he’s just making sure you’re okay after the stressful day you’ve had. When he finally leans back in his chair, he says, “No problem. Just looking out for you.”

You finish making the sandwich and place it on a plate, sliding it across the island to him.

“There you go,” you say, stepping back and leaning against the counter, trying to act nonchalant.

“Thanks,” he says, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. While he’s eating you quickly take a clean cup from one of the upper cupboards, open the fridge and pour in orange juice in it. Then you slide it to him again.

You can feel him watching you as you move around the kitchen. You open the drawer and take a new ziploc bag, then head to the pantry and place in four cookies you made. You gasp as you recalled you didn’t even give him water. He watches you with curiosity as you walk once again to the drinks fridge and take a cold water bottle.

He’s halfway finished with his sandwich by the time you slide along the cookies and the water bottle to him.

“Uhm, I made those cookies…a new recipe so I’m proud of them.” You tell him while grinning as you sit next to him.

Rafe looks down at the cookies, then back at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” he says, though there’s a hint of something warm in his voice, like he’s pleased by the attention.

You shrug, your grin widening. “I wanted to. You’ve been so helpful today, it’s the least I can do.”

He takes the bag of cookies, inspecting them for a moment before glancing back at you. “I’ll have to give these a try later. If they’re as good as this sandwich, I’m sure they’ll be great.” His tone is easygoing, but there’s a spark in his eyes, like he’s enjoying this little routine you’ve set up for him.

You beam at the compliment, feeling a flutter in your chest. “I hope you like them.”

“I think it’s safe to assume there will be a make-up date.” He says casually. You gulp nervously as you look away shyly. “Of course.”

“Tomorrow.” he says.

“I can’t, I have my girls' day plans with Wheezie, remember?” you say.

“Your car will be at the shop, who’s going to be taking you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Probably call an Uber—”

“No Uber.” His tone is final and assertive, but it catches you off-guard as you watch him quietly. So he adds, “if you need someone to drive you anywhere, just call me.”

You fight the urge to refuse. It would be too much of a hassle, but your mother told you many times that men love feeling helpful. So you smile and nod, “sure.” you answer softly.

“Great. I’ll drive you and Wheezie tomorrow then.” He affirms while standing up, then washes his hands in the sink. He grabs the water bottle and the cookie bag and then heads to the front door. You follow him to his car.

Even though he barely has ten minutes to drive to work, he still cranks his window down as you approach it. His smile is soft. “Thanks for the food. I’ll update you later about your car.”

You nod at his words, smiling back too. “Drive safe.”

Rafe’s smile deepens as he hears your soft reply. “I will,” he says, his tone reassuring. He watches you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your face like he’s memorizing every detail.

You step back as he starts the car, waving at him as he pulls out of the driveway. There’s a strange warmth in your chest as you watch his car disappear down the street, a mix of emotions you’re not entirely sure how to process. He was so insistent, so protective—it’s nice to have someone who cares that much, you tell yourself.

Out of all your candidates, you know he’s the best. He’s always been responsible.

You don’t want to believe your mother’s theories, but she’s always been right. She did tell you that Kelce is a youngest child, so he’s pretty spoiled and probably hasn’t worked a day in his life and simply would deflect all his responsibilities. Topper is an only child, he’s selfish and stubborn and most likely wouldn’t even understand why you need help in the first place.

Meanwhile Rafe, he’s the oldest brother between his siblings. He’s always knew how to be responsible—even if Ward at first claimed otherwise. You knew that Rafe is a proactive person, he wouldn’t stand still if he knew you had a problem. He would help you if he could, and if he couldn’t, he would try everything to still help.

He's the best candidate, and you would be damned if you just let go of him.

[shardechance]

𝖏𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖗

ao3 link | playlist | detailed content warnings | masterlist

pairing: feysand rating: explicit wc: 23k warnings: non con

Feyre’s a big fan of scary movies. So much, in fact, that Halloween night spent curled up on the couch and watching Poltergeist while the kids she’s babysitting sleep upstairs doesn’t sound so bad, even if it means missing out on a party or two. It’s a relatively boring night, until a real ghost appears. Rhysand, in the shittiest costume she’s ever seen, picked the wrong house to trick or treat... but scary movies aren’t scary until they’re real.

[FREAK WEEK DAY 1]

read on ao3 or proceed below for small snippet.

The movie is better than Feyre remembers it, which isn’t exactly a surprise. The first time she saw it, her sisters stole dresses from Mom’s room and dressed Feyre up as E.T. so they could stuff her in a closet. They’d instructed her to hide, and after too long spent in the dark, Feyre eventually wandered out on her own. She found her sisters downstairs, seemingly having forgotten their little sister, with the credits already rolling on the TV.

By contrast, the boys let her have her own blanket, and laugh along with her even when they don’t get the joke. They leave the last bit of popcorn for her, and even though it’s hard in the middle and the chocolate’s gone, it tastes good. There’s fifteen minutes left in the movie when Feyre’s phone buzzes in her pocket, and she’s more than a bit disappointed when she gets up to answer it.

“Be right back, boys,” Feyre sighs, flinging the blanket off her lap.

She stands in the foyer, where she can see into the living room to keep an eye on the boys and the movie, and brings the phone up to look at the screen. FaceTime Video. Lucien Vanserra.

“Hey, Lucien,” Feyre says, a bit distracted. What greets her in full and glorious outdated iPhone resolution, is half an opera mask, an open dress shirt, and the smug grin of her best friend.

“Sing, my angel of music!”

Her thumb hits the end call button before Lucien can embarrass himself further.

She doesn’t get the chance to roll her eyes, let alone head back to the boys and their movie. Before she’s even lifted her thumb from the red reject call button, his picture flashes across her screen again. Against her better judgment, her thumb slides across to green.

“Why are you such a bitch?” Lucien asks by way of greeting.

“Mind your manners, potty mouth. Tiny ears present,” she warns, turning her back to the living room as if to shield the kids from his bad language.

He snorts, shooting back something from a red solo cup. “Oh yeah? Fu—”

“Shut up!” She snaps. Her shitty phone speaker is no match for surround sound, so it’s unlikely the boys can hear from the other room, but Feyre doesn’t want to be the reason they learn their first swears. “You look like a loser.”

“What do you mean?” He lifts the mask, revealing his scarred cheek, and half a smirk. Usual golden prosthetic eye switched for a scarlet alternative. “I’m told it plays to my strengths.”

He’s gorgeous. Unfortunately, he is very much aware of that. Scars and all. Chicks dig it, she’s told. Feyre takes the last few steps to the kitchen, dropping a couple of stray candy wrappers in the garbage on her way past.

“What do you want?” she says. “I’m working.”

“Yeah, about that,” Lucien says, his tone dripping with the promise of trouble. “Ditch the kids! Come play!”

And lose the easiest hundred bucks of her life? No way. Yeah, seeing Lucien in his element, chasing the highs of what little nightlife there is to offer, flirting with boys, dancing with girls—

“Negative.” Feyre inspects her cuticles. “This is easy money.”

tag list: @velidewrites @melting-houses-of-gold @popjunkie42 @secret-third-thing @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade @jon-snows-man-bun @iftheshoef1tz

[soundlessdreamss]

PLEASE PLEASE ALASTOR X scaramouche FEM READER PLEASE ROMANTIC

Hihihihi! Welcome to my blog and of course I can write this. I am familiar with his character so I’ll do the best of my abilities to make sure it fits him! Also request are open!

ALASTOR X FEM SCARAMOUCHE!READER

( Ignore the cat, I had no idea what else to put lol :3 )

you were wandering around without any real intentions. You already lost the three most important people you trust, no you didn’t lose them. They betrayed you after you gave them YOUR trust.

as you were in your own mind thinking about all that’s happened a poster flies into your face and you decide to take it off and see what it even is. The poster read “want to be redeemed for a chance to live in heaven! Well come and visit the hasbin hotel!!” It had a photo of the hotel and a smiley face on it. You were bored out of your mind especially with all these dumb sinners, you decided why not go there then? It’s not like anyone remembered who you were before anyways.

after you flew to the hotel with your elemental skill…

It didn’t take you too long to get to the hotel, it was quite easy to see as it was big and bright. And also out in the open. You prepared yourself as you went to knock on the door but paused. What if they broke your trust like how your old friends broke it? What if you make a bad impression? What if you manage to screw everything up once you actually become friends with them?

you couldn’t let that stop you though, you made sure no one old remembers you after you completely changed your identity for the better. Sometimes it’s best to let go of the past. You knocked on the door and waited for someone.

as you waited suddenly the door burst open and a blonde haired girl appeared with a greyish/white haired girl behind her. The blonde one quickly introduced herself as Charlie and the one behind her introduced herself as Vaggie. Charlie seemed overjoyed that someone actually came to the hotel.

once you entered you noticed there was also a spider looking person, a literal human sized snake, a cat, and a small maid the size of a child. But one of the people you saw there caught your eye, he was wearing a red suit and his hair kinda looked like it had ears. You found out from Charlie that his name was Alastor.

He walked over to you and inspected your look. He found you quite intriguing compared to the other females he met in his life, and his hell life. Like the gentleman he is he grabbed your hand and gave a small kiss to it. He politely introduced himself even though Charlie already did but you didn’t mind. You decided to also introduce yourself to him.

as you were walking to your hotel room, Alastor decided to accompany you on the way there even though it wasn’t a long walk. He just wanted to help you get settled in. You guys both realized you had way more in common than you thought, not being able to trust people enough, mother issues, (😭) and also loving to give people a taste of their own medicine.

as you got to your room he offered to get you some food or tea if you’d like. You decided that tea wouldn’t be that bad as it was quite nice to drink tea during the afternoon. He made both of you guys a tea and walked you to the balcony where he opened the door for you to enter first, pulled the chair out for you, and poured you some tea. It was really kind of him even though you barley knew eachother yet.

the afternoon went by so fast as the two of you chatted about your own interests and what you liked. Before you knew it, the night had already settled in and you got a bit sleepy. You both decided that it would be time to rest and you both said your goodbyes. Maybe it would be just fine at this hotel with him around.

two months later…

you and alastor became inseparable after two months together. Like two peas in a pod, you guys were so alike and did so much fun things together! There was a secret you were hiding from him though, the fact that you were starting to grow a crush on him. (Not to worry as he was also growing a crush and attachment to you.)

it got so obvious to the other staff members of the hotel that you guys liked eachother that they started making bets on who would confess first. But they also realized how you were mainly comfortable around Alastor and trusted him the most. Which was rare for you because you didn’t wanna trust anyone anymore but he made it so hard not to trust him.

Alastor decided to be the one to make the first move because if he didn’t then you guys would’ve just stayed quiet about your feelings. You were afraid of him rejecting you and then being left alone. Again.

he offered to take you out to dinner tonight and you happily accepted. You decided to wear a dark blue dress with a sliver necklace. It felt really pretty on you. Alastor decided to just teleport you to the restaurant he made a reservation at and you guys both made your way to the table.

he of course, pulled the chair out for you to sit on before he even sat down. “sooo, what would you like to order dear?” The sudden pet name caught you off guard but he kinda spoke like that to every female so you kept your cool. “I think I’ll just have [whatever your favorite food is reader!].”

Alastor nodded and he placed your orders. In the mean time you both chatted and he started becoming a bit more touchy than usual, like if you put your arm on the table he would slowly brush his hand against it. You know the usual trying to hit on a girl movements.

after a couple minutes both of you're food came and you decided to eat. It was silent as you guys were both eating but after you were done you guys decided to stay there for a bit before leaving. Alastor grabbed your hand as you guys left and pulled you close.

“listen I know this place that I think you’ll love, just close your eyes and trust me alright? He spoke out, this got you all curious now but you just nodded as he covered your eyes and led you there.

after a couple minutes of walking he then took his hands off your eyes and you didn’t realize how close he was. But also the scenery of where he took you was beautiful for hell, it felt like it has romantic vibes in the air. He then took both of your hands and looked you deep in your eyes.

“I have been dying to tell you something dear. Please let me speak for just a couple of minutes because I simply cannot wait anymore.”

you felt your heart racing and you nodded as you waited for him to speak.

“I never thought I could find love in any way shape or form, but when you appeared you suddenly made me feel something. Like a spark was ignited in my heart. I don’t know why you make me feel this way but it’s an amazing feeling. Please dear, tell me if you feel the same.”

was he implying that he loved you? Yeah he was, he just didn’t know how to explain it because this was the first time he genuinely felt it in his heart. It took you a couple of seconds to process what he said and your face turned red from you blushing. (Very logical for your face to turn red when you blush, yes.)

you wanted to give him a kiss right then and there but you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time and you wanted to make it special.

“Alastor I feel the same way. I felt as if everyone left me and broke my trust so many times, but you never did. I know we only met a while ago but you set a spark in my heart that I didn’t know I still had.”

you and him were overjoyed that you both felt the same way about eachother. He then moved his hands so they cupped your face and brought you into a kiss. It didn’t last long but it felt good. Suddenly you heard rustling in the bushes behind you guys. And you saw six heads pop out. Charlie, Vaggie, Angel dust, Husk, Sir pentious, and Nifty.

“I TOLD YOU ALASTOR WOULD BE THE ONE TO MAKE THE FIRST MOVE!” Angel dust shouted and then the other five took out money and handed it over to him. They were seriously spying and betting on you two. It made you feel heavily embarrassed though. But in the end you got what you wanted so you ignored the embarrassment and just focused on the spark your heart felt right now.

Note: hiiiii again! Thanks for reading all of this if you made it this far. I tried my best with the Scaramouche reader but it was lowkey hard. I hope you enjoyed though!

[wolfiesmoon]

Photogenic

Mitsuya x photographer!reader (gn)

My mind was on mitsuya throughout the whole of photography class and i cooked up this idea😖💞

"Agh, no, come back..." you whined at the cat that slipped away just as you were about to take a photo. That photo was going to be award-winning! That stupid cat can't read the room at all!

You sighed, staring at the empty space the cat was in a few moments ago before turning around, still feeling a bit dejected. All your friends and fellow club members managed to get pictures of cats this week, but all of the cats have it out for you, it seems. You can never find a single one.

You started walking away, flipping through the few photos you took that day as you made your way back into the school, suddenly bumping into someone.

"Ah, I'm sorr-" you interrupted your own apology to get a good look at the guy you just bumped into. You recognise him. He's a club leader, you think.

"Oh, it's okay. Don't worry about it." The calm, gentle tone of his voice surprised you. He talks so gently with that appearance? Not that it's a bad thing, of course not.

"...Are you okay? You're staring at me really hard." He gently waved a hand in front of your eyes. You snapped out of it, feeling a little embarrased that you were staring. You didn't even realise it.

"Sorry, you just look really... photogenic, is all. My photographer senses are tingling!" He has an interesting face, that's for sure! In a good way. A very good way.

"Is that so? I never really thought of it like that. I don't take pictures of myself often, you know." He seemed a bit flattered at your unique compliment, smiling slightly at you.

A silence followed, and you suddenly got an idea. "Oh! Do you have some time? Are you busy?" You looked really excited, and he swears he saw stars shine in your eyes at that moment.

"Sure. I'm done with club activities for the day. Why?"

"For a photoshoot, duh! I was supposed to be taking photos of cats, but all of them have it out for me. And I've already established you're a good subject to photograph, too! Come with me!" You beckoned to him excitedly, already walking back outside.

Turns out he isn't half bad as a model, either. You did have a bit of trouble with the posing and your camera decided to be annoying and not save your settings so you had to recalibrate it, but you were eventually ready.

"I'm doing it in three, two, one." You snapped the photo, inspecting it.

"Ahhh... I was right! You look really relaxed and natural." Usually the first photos don't look too good since the (human) subject isn't relaxed or in their element yet. But not with him, apparently.

"Huh." He noted, looking at you with a relaxed smile.

"Let's take more!!" You suggested excitedly. Now you're getting fired up.

His eyes widened slightly when seeing your expression. You look really determined, almost scarily so. Though he supposes that it's good to be passionate about the things you love. He likes that in a person.

"By the way, what's your name? I realise I still haven't asked." You lowered the camera from your face after snapping a dozen photos, smiling at him.

"Mitsuya Takashi. Let's get along." He smiled back.

Oh, that means he wants to talk to you again, doesn't it?

How exciting. You can feel your cheeks getting warm.

.

In the evening, your club went over all the photos you took as is procedure for the photography club. You usually sort the photos and discuss your intentions with them during this time.

"How about your photo- Who is that?" your friend questioned, clicking through the photos you took earlier. The guy in the photos looked vaguely familiar.

"It's not a cat, that's for sure." The club leader joked.

"Listen, all the cats hate me so I took photos of the next best thing. Mitsuya Takashi." You smiled slightly.

"How is he even remotely similar to a cat?" Your other friend questioned.

"They're both really cute, duh." You playfully rolled your eyes.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

↳ warning: supernatural elements

↳ notes: requested by anonymous. was going to be headcanons but ended up turning into a one shot. enjoy

↳ song: ghostbusters—ray parker jr.

masterlist | commisions | carrd

This really wasn't supposed to happen.

It was supposed to be a simple job. One of the easier ones you all had gotten hired to do all month. That's what Ray had said to you as you zipped up the front of your uniform in the firehouse, and you believed him.

A customer had called in last week, sounding out of breath as they complained of a room in their house that always felt cold when they walked into it. You could practically smell the incense through the phone, and your suspicions were confirmed when you later stepped into their house.

After Peter had sarcastically made sure it wasn't just a problem with their AC unit, Janine penciled them in for an inspection a few days later, and that was that. You and the rest of the Ghostbusters went to the nearby Chinese restaurant that night and forgot all about it.

Now, you were hiding behind an overturned table as an apparition whizzed over your heads, shrieking in a language none of you could decipher.

"I thought you said this was a class one spook!" You shouted at Egon as he fumbled with a trap nearby. He shot you an irritated look through the rims of his glasses, as if to say 'what am I supposed to do', before going back to tinkering with the trap in his hand.

"Someone's gotta get out there and distract it!" Peter yelled over the noise of plates being smashes. You winced, imagining that the client wouldn't be too happy to hear that their kitchen was ransacked during the procedure. If you could even call it a procedure.

"Ray! You're up!" Winston called from his place next to you, shoving his coworker out of the hiding spot just a little.

"No way! It was my turn last time!" Ray griped. As he said that, a stray fork flew by his head, nearly missing the side of his face as he yelped and ducked further under the tables cover.

"I'll do it." You volunteered whilst reaching for the proton pack at your back. You were sure that if you looked over at that moment, you'd see Ray sending you the most grateful look you'd ever seen.

The others waited for Egon to finish preparing the trap, Peter mostly yelling at him to hurry up, as you rose from your place on the tiled kitchen floor.

The ghost turned to look at you as you let out a wolf whistle. It's hair floated wildly around its head like a crown of thorns, and you heard one of the guys from behind you gulp with difficulty.

"Hey Casper!" You grinned with what you hoped was a considerable amount of bravado. "Why don't you don't you pick on someone your own size?"

You wouldn't remember falling onto your back after the ghost charged straight at you. Nor would you remember how it slimed down into a fine mist, slipping into your mouth with a hissing noise. Bruises covering your spine would leave the evidence of a fall later on, but that was the only sign that anything had happened.

The boys watched as your eyes rolled back to reveal a milky white gaze. Peter nearly dropped the nozzle to his proton pack as you began to levitate; your chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. For a minute, it reminded him of when Gozer had possessed Dana. Although, you were his friend, not fiancé, and wearing a jumpsuit instead of a dress.

"Uh guys?"

"I'm seeing it, Winston." Ray replied without taking his eyes off of you. Wind began to pick up in the house, blowing his hair to the side as he watched you with wide eyes.

"Egon!" Peter yelled over the noise. "The trap??"

"Done!" He finally announced. "Someone hold them down!" The scientist shouted, forehead beaded with sweat as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He stood up with shaking hands, nearly dropping the trap as he stepped around the table and towards you.

Ray and Winston both grabbed your arms and legs, pulling you down from your spot in the air with a considerable amount of force. Peter attempted to push you by your chest, but was headbutted by the ghost and sent flying backwards. You, or rather the ghost occupying you, made a sound between a cackle and a scream.

"I've never wanted to punch a ghost more than I do now." Peter groaned from the floor as he hauled himself back up. He'd have to get Dana to check him for a concussion later.

"I need a stream, Venkman!" Egon stepped away from the Muon trap as if it was a live bomb. "Ray, Winston, on our count let go of them and duck!"

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Winston said as he avoided yet another kick from your boot.

The sound of an engine powering up filled the room as Peter and Egon switched on their packs, directing the end of their nozzles at you. The two men glanced at each other nervously and Egon's foot hovered over the traps pedal anxiously. You just continued to flail.

"You sure this won't hurt them?!" Ray yelled. He brought his head back a significant amount as the ghost inside of you attempted to bite at him.

"No idea!" Egon fumbled. His glasses were nearly flying off of his face with the wind, but he pushed on. "Now, Peter!"

Ray and Winston made a dive for it as two multicolored streams encased you in a bright light. The spirit inside howled with discomfort, kicking its legs in an attempt to escape.

Without warning, Egon stepped on the trap, releasing a beam that shot into the air and struck the ceiling. He knew from experience that there would be a faint singe mark left on it later, but that was the least of anyone's concerns. The client would just have to deal with it.

Taking careful measure not to bump your body into any stray debris, they guided the spirit closer and closer to the trap until its form began to separate from yours. The horrible sucking noise it made nearly coerced Egon to drop his gun to cover his ears.

One moment, you were floating in the air, speaking tongues and way too close to a piece of dangerous machinery. The next, you were laying in a pile of broken china plates as your eyes rolled back into place.

"Hey. Hey, bud, come back to us." Peter said, slapping your cheek slightly to bring you back down to earth. He had been the first to drop to the ground next to you, lifting your head up to make sure nothing had scraped it in the fall.

Ray came next from his hiding spot behind a now splintered chair, then Winston's wide eyed form, and finally Egon holding a smoking trap.

"Vitals appear to be steady." Ray said. He pulled his fingers away from the spot on your neck he had been checking, looking at the rest of them. He sighed like a ten pound weight had been lifted off his chest.

"You worry too much Stanz." Peter said, jesting. But his usual playful tone was dampened, and he didn't look up until you groaned.

"Did anyone catch the number of that bus that ran me over?" You hissed, shielding your eyes from a nonexistent bright light.

Silence.

Winston broke out into laughter first, with the rest following suit. Egon smiled as Peter giggled, and Ray was practically rolling on the floor.

"Trauma response." Egon said between baritone chuckles, only able to get one word out at a time. "Surprised this is the first time we're having one."

"Do I even have to ask what happened?" You said while pushing yourself up on your forearms. Winston just shook his head at you, and slapped you on the back.

"We'll tell you back at the firehouse, kid." He said with a shake of his head. You frowned at the nickname, but eventually let a smile crack.

The five of you sat in each other presence for a little bit, letting the laughter die down as the mood came to a stop.

"So—" Peter cleared his throat.

"—who wants to be the one that talks to the client?"

You were left sitting on the floor as they all scrambled to get out, surrounded by broken glass.

"Assholes."

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

can i request yukari and minako (seperate) reacting to their s/o finding their evoker laying around?

(Persona 3) Yukari and Minako's S/O finding their Evoker

Minako's part has a 3D render for her because I am heavily biased.

Yukari had gotten so used to having only the members of S.E.E.S enter her room, it didn't even occur to her that having an Evoker wasn't normal.

A fact she was quickly reminded when her S/O came through the door, and that was the first thing they noticed.

(S/O) "Yukari is that a gun?!"

Yukari's heart stopped for a brief moment before regaining her train of thought.

(Yukari) "Oh, jeez! Sorry, that's not actually real! It's for a club I'm part of!"

(S/O) "T-The Archery Club?"

Yukari tried her best not to act nervous, something she hoped S/O wouldn't pick up on.

(Yukari) "No, it's a different one. It's the one that you see me, Minato, and Junpei in."

(S/O) "That would explain why I see you with them all the time, but what even-"

(Yukari) "I-It's a prop basically. It looks pretty real and everything, but it's all just for show. You can't even fire bullets out of it."

It was clear from S/O's expression that they weren't buying it entirely, but upon closer inspection, they could tell that it couldn't be used.

At least, not in the way they were thinking.

(S/O) "Whew, next time warn me before you just have something like that lying around."

S/O eased up a little, chuckling as they decided not to press Yukari any further on the subject.

Something she was thankful for.

(Yukari) "Yeah, that's my bad...H-Hey, don't bring that up to anyone, alright? Last thing I need is for a rumor to go around that I'm carrying weapons."

(S/O) "Like the rumor of you and Minato going out?"

(Yukari) "Are people still going on about that?! They know we're a couple!"

Now her mind was wandering off, anger reigniting as she put her Evoker away and out of sight.

At least S/O didn't find her actual weapons hidden, including all the weird medicine, bombs, and elemental items she had stashed.

Minako was in the middle of preparing her gear for tonight's expedition into Tartarus.

She had put on the SEES uniform for a brief moment, making sure there weren't any holes in it.

The last time they went, she had been hit by a particularly nasty shadow, and she wasn't entirely confident if she had come out unscathed.

There was a knock on the door, and Minako didn't think anything of it.

(Minako) "It's unlocked!"

She replied in a peppy voice. Minako was expecting her teammates, not S/O.

(S/O) "Hey, sorry to pop in like this! I just wanted to-"

S/O stopped when they saw her evoker laying on the nearby desk.

(S/O) "W-What the- Is that a gun?!"

Minako quickly snatched up her Evoker and holstered it, quickly clearing her throat and trying to play it off.

She waves her hand dismissively in response.

(Minako) "That must've scared the heck out of you, sorry, I should have mentioned that sooner!"

S/O looked at her holster, then back at Minako.

(S/O) "Does your club make you wear that red armband?"

(Minako) "Red armba-?"

Minako clears her throat before responding.

(Minako) "It's kinda like a theatre club, but it's pretty exclusive. I was lucky enough to be invited! Mitsuru-senpai is the one who leads it."

(S/O) "A theatre club? But we don't-"

Minako cut them off before they could ask any further questions.

(Minako) "Anyways, I'm a bit busy, so what did you need?"

(S/O) "Well...T-To be honest, that gun kinda made me forget-"

(Minako) "Alright, I'll be out in a second, just close the door! I gotta change, don't make me throw the pillow at you!"

She almost forced S/O out by pushing them towards the door, quickly locking it behind her and sighing deeply to herself.

(Minako) Hopefully they bought that...Actually, who the heck let them in the dorm anyway?!

Much to her dismay, it was technically herself.

Minako had told her friends that S/O was allowed to visit her room, and that explained how they were able to come in basically unannounced.

She quickly regretted that decision. At least S/O wasn't active during the Dark Hour, thank god.