#instead of avoiding it like she did before

[puppyeared]

I can teach you how to be just like me

crying all night, sleeping till three

[suugarbabe]

Origin Stories

(part 2)

summary: baby first year matty arrives at hogwarts and the first person he interacts with seems to not know him at all. matty is unsure how to feel when someone treats him like just another person instead of the dark lords son

warnings: fluff, angst, baby matty, draco being an asshole even at 11

an: thank you @musingsofahufflepuff for reviewing and editing with me. lysm <3

Sleep did not come in the form of rest for Mattheo that night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw your face twisted in disgust, a variation of the same sentence leaving your mouth, “They told me the truth about you. You’re going to be just like your father. Nothing but a murderer. Don’t ever talk to me again Mattheo.” He woke up in a sheen of sweat, panting and trying to catch his breath. 

Each intake of air felt like his lungs were shrinking; he grasped at his sleep shirt trying to feel if his heart was truly beating as quickly as it felt in his throat. The clock on his bedside table read 3:45am. Throwing back his duvet he slipped on his house loafers, glad that Feindre convinced him to take them to school. He made his way from his dorm and across the metal bridge that led to the common room. 

He looked around the expansive common room, deciding on a lounge chair in front of the fire. Mattheo curled in on himself, sitting sideways in the chair and pulling his knees up. He laid his head against the back of the chair, doing his best to breathe deeply and focus on the crackling of the fire. What finally let him fall asleep was thinking about the train ride with you. 

A shaking of his shoulders jolted him awake, “Andiamo, amico.” (C’mon, mate) He snapped his head up, seeing Theo Nott and Enzo Berkshire standing behind the chair. Enzo wore a toothy grin, his ears slightly peeking out from his hair; Theo almost looked concerned. Mattheo pulled the blanket tighter to his chin, though he didn’t remember having it when he fell asleep. 

Theo must’ve seen his confused look, speaking up again, “I noticed you weren’t in bed when I woke up to use the bathroom last night so I brought you down your covers.” Enzo nodded like he was involved with the interaction, “You should probably go get dressed, we’re going to go to breakfast and then explore the castle to see where our lessons are.” 

Mattheo still didn’t speak, instead looking briefly between the two boys. “We’ll wait for you compagno,” Theo sat down on the sofa next to Mattheo’s chair. Enzo nodded enthusiastically, following suit and sitting beside the taller boy. Mattheo silently gathered his blanket, making his way to his dorm. 

He threw his blanket back on his bed before heading to his trunk, digging for a pair of trousers and casual shirt. Students had two free days to roam the castle and the grounds before classes were to begin and Mattheo decided he was going to take full advantage of not having to wear a uniform. 

The door to the bathroom opened, Draco walking out and fixing his dress shirt in his trousers. He glanced at Mattheo as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, running both hands through his curls to fluff them slightly. Mattheo could hear the sneer in Draco’s tone as he spoke, “Is that what you’re wearing?” 

Mattheo didn’t even give him a glance, “Do you have a problem with what I’m wearing, cousin?” Draco let out an annoyed sigh, “Auntie Bella would kill you if she saw you in that.” Mattheo grabbed his wand from his night stand, grip knuckle white but avoiding actually pointing it at his family member, “Well my mother isn’t here, is she.” 

Draco rolled his eyes, “Whatever, let’s just go to breakfast. Theo and Enzo are already there.” Mattheo didn’t bother to tell him they were waiting downstairs. He personally wasn’t sure if they were doing it to be nice or if they were just trying to stay on Mattheo’s good side. 

It was hard for him to assess who was being genuine with him versus who was trying to placate him due to his “title”. He didn’t get that feeling with you. 

Mattheo followed Draco toward the common room, Theo and Enzo still sitting on the sofa where Mattheo left them. “Thought you two were headed to breakfast,” Draco questioned the soon to be dynamic duo on the sofa. “Waitin’ for Matt,” Theo nodded briefly towards Mattheo who couldn’t explain why his cheeks were warming slightly. “Yeah, Blaisey boy is saving us a spot,” Enzo gave a boyish grin. 

“You know he’d curse you if he heard you call him that,” Theo fixed the strings on his tracksuit as they started towards the great hall. Enzo shrugged his shoulders, “That’s what his mum called him on the platform. And he can’t curse me, he doesn’t know any yet.” 

Mattheo never knew how to interact with the back and forth. Never quite felt comfortable with joking with the rest of the boys growing up because his mother always told him that they were not his friends, they were his future followers. 

“Yeah but you’re not his mother, Enzo. And we all know a few curses, you know that. Our parents made sure of it,” Theo was giving a playful tone but his words held true. They all knew it. 

Entering the large doorway to the hall Draco spotted Blaise first. The latter boy had chosen a spot in damn near the middle of the table and Mattheo felt his stomach knotting again. He knew people were already going to stare at him, but this table placement felt like he was on display. 

He would’ve much rather eaten at the far end of the table, where no one would likely notice him. He’d rather eat in the kitchens with the elves. He follows the others anyway, sitting on the farthest end so there’s plenty of bench on his left. That’s something he learned very early; always know where your escape route is. 

Mattheo was too busy pushing the food around on his plate to notice you approaching. Your touch on his arm as you went to sit down was the first alert of your presence and, again, he flinched away. “M’sorr-” he starts to apologize but you’ve already cut him off, “S’okay, Matty, it’s my fault. I forgot.” 

You turn to the rest of the boys around him, “Morning! So exciting we get to explore the castle today isn’t it?” Mattheo isn’t sure if you’re ignoring it, or you just are too blissed out on magic thoughts to notice the rest of his group looking at you nearly dumbfounded. Everyone else at the table knew the rule: never touch Mattheo. Yet here you were, still unharmed at that. 

Draco’s platinum brow was raised, glancing between you and Mattheo, “I mean this in the rudest way possible…who are you?” You hum in acknowledgement, “Of course, m’so sorry I did the same thing to Mattheo on the train,” rubbing your toast hands on your jeans before holding it out to Draco and introducing yourself, punctuating your name with another bright smile.

He stares at your hand before glancing towards Mattheo. Enzo grabbed your hand instead, shaking it enthusiastically, “Lorenzo Berkshire, but call me Enzo, and this is Theodore Nott and that’s Blaise Zabini.” He nodded to the two boys on his and Mattheo’s other side. 

“Just Theo is fine,” Theo corrected, “Can I ask…what’s a badger like you doing wandering into the snake den. Didn’t you hear? We Slytherins are dangerous.” All of a sudden it feels like Mattheo’s body is not his own, like he’s shrinking smaller and smaller inside himself and what’s sitting next to you on the bench is just a shell. 

The back of his neck starts to feel damp and it's reminiscent of when he hears his mother call his name from across the manor. He’s terrified. So fearful that you’ll see the people around him as cruel and immediately associate that with him without questions. Then he’s alone again. 

“You know a badgers bite actually has a BFQ of 109,” your response to Theo’s quip is quick and easy, not a hint of defensiveness in your tone. It’s simply…informative. Your response clearly confused most of the others as well, sweet and naive Enzo the only one open enough to ask for clarification, “What the hell is a BFQ?”

Between sips of his pumpkin juice Blaise speaks for the first time since you sat down, “Bite force quotient.” Theo rolls his eyes, “Yeah, okay but what does that even mean?” You stab a sausage with your fork and set it on your plate, knife in hand as you begin to cut it into smaller pieces, “It means that a badger bite has enough force to crush bone like I’m cutting this sausage.” 

You take a bite from your fork before dancing it around in the air as you spoke, “Mmm, guess I’m just saying to mind your tone because,” you took another bite, “yeah snakes are all in your face, hissing and what not, venom blah blah…but badgers are unassuming. People see them as dumb little furry rodents so no one is quite ready when they BAM!” You stabbed a piece of cut sausage with enough force to rattle your plate and cause all the boys, including Mattheo, to flinch, “they come in for the kill.”

“Anyway, heard we’re going to actually get to learn how to fly?!” You continued with your meal like nothing was the matter, “Personally I’m quite chuffed about it, you lot already know how I’m assuming?” 

Enzo laughed nervously, scratching lightly at the base of his neck, “Yeah we kinda all already know how mostly. But ehm, where’d, erm, where’d you learn that badger thing? You read a lot?” You shrugged, continuing to eat as normal, “I mean, I do like to read. But I did a project on badgers in primary, ironic huh?” You went to nudge Mattheo with your elbow before stopping halfway, seemingly remembering his issue. 

His stomach dropped, fearing you’d never want to get close to him again. Theo spoke up, clearly still confused, “Is no one going to explain primary to us now?” Blaised sighed, though eleven he seemed to have the patience for his peers as that of a seventh year, “It’s muggle school, they start young, like six or seven years old.” 

“Muggle school?” Draco looks at you like you’re covered in filth and his voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Mattheo, “Cousin…you let a muggle sit with you on the train? With us here? At breakfast?” 

There it was again, that sinking, shell like feeling, only now any emptiness was being filled with anger. Without Mattheo’s help you were quick to quip back, “Technically my parents are muggles, I got my letter the same way all of you did. That’s why I’m sitting here.” 

Your obliviousness to the wizarding world and what each of their families and their titles held around you made you unlike any person Mattheo had ever met. He wasn’t quite sure yet if that made him scared or enamored. 

“Watch out for the badger bite, Malfoy,” Theo teased the blond and everyone laughs. Mattheo laughs too, glancing in his peripheral to see your smile reaching your eyes and that his cousins words haven’t offended or have you wanting to run. 

You take a sip of your pumpkin juice before wiping your lips with your napkin and starting to stand up. There it is, Mattheo thought, finally running. “You ready, Matty?” you’re fully standing now, hand across your middle holding your other arm. “W-what?” it was the first Mattheo had spoken since his interrupted apology. 

“To see where our lessons are going to be? We should have most of them together I would assume, unless they separate the houses for most classes, but surely not right?” Mattheo stood up quickly, his heart dropping to his stomach and he scrambled to take out the course list that he had haphazardly shoved in his jeans pocket. 

He smoothed it out on the table before holding it up next to yours, “Oh see, no worries then, we’ve got most of them together.” Theo asked to see your list, comparing it to his, Enzo’s and Blaise’s. You all had a mix of courses together, you and Mattheo seeming to have the most in similarity. 

You asked the other’s to join you both in your exploration. Theo and Enzo agreed, Blaise said he was going to find the library. Draco said he would “find things on his own”, stalking off ahead of the rest of you, keeping a pace that would ensure he was no where near the rest of you. 

“Is he always like that?” You were asking Mattheo, but Enzo answered, “Don’t worry about him, it’s not you. Well, erm…it might be you. But Malfoy doesn’t seem to like anyone really.” 

Mattheo huffed a non-committal laugh, “Yeah, including himself.” The other two Slytherins laughed in agreement. You simply looked concerned, “I wonder where that comes from.” 

You’re too kind for your own good, Mattheo thought to himself. Per usual, Enzo is eager to answer, “Oh his father is a nightmare. Real piece of work.” Theo snorted, “He’s not the only one, aye boys. Kind of a requirement with our group.” 

Enzo barked out a laugh, Mattheo gave a half-hearted grunt. He glanced over at you, trying to gauge your thoughts. You were the hardest person he’s ever tried to read. Your face just held the same look, slight concern and something else Mattheo couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he hoped to Merlin it wasn’t pity. 

All of the lessons seemed easy enough to find. Whether that was due to magic or not Mattheo wasn’t sure and he never truly had the desire or care to find out. Mattheo was just glad you were in nearly all of his courses. 

The only ones the two of you didn’t share were potions and herbology. For some terribly bloody reason potions were split by houses, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs together and Gryffindors with Slytherins. Mattheo was going to Avada himself if he had to hear his cousin and his idiot lap dogs try to get a rise out of Potter and his ginger friend all term. 

Enzo somehow lucked out and got Herbology with you, whereas Mattheo was stuck with Theo and the others. Mattheo couldn’t help the jealousy that seemed to creep into his stomach each time you complimented something Enzo did during that lesson. 

Even though you sat by him in every class, Mattheo craved your presence. He wasn’t able to describe exactly why he craved it, though. Maybe it was because you were kind. Or maybe because you were so smart and able to pick up on things easier than everyone else. Or maybe it was because you were the only person who didn’t give a rats ass who his father was. 

The conversation, or more so argument, he overheard last week, confirmed it. He was going to meet you in one of the empty classrooms to work on transfiguration spells. For someone with founder’s blood in his veins he couldn’t transform a goblet to save his life. 

“Why do you hang around him?” Mattheo heard someone ask, a Ravenclaw who he was pretty sure sat behind the two of you in charms. “Because he’s my friend?” Mattheo stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice, clearly laced with a bit of annoyance he’s never heard from you before. 

“But you know who his father is, don’t you? Haven’t you heard what he’s done?” The Ravenclaw girl was getting on Mattheo’s last nerve. He was ready to turn that corner, tell her to shut her prat mouth when you started speaking again. 

“Mattheo is not his father, gods, why does it feel like I’m repeating that to everyone these days. People need to stop trying to warn me about him and maybe try to actually get to know him. He’s a really nice boy. And very funny. You’re being kind of a bitch, Padma.” 

Padma scoffed, clearly deciding to walk another way to wherever she was headed as you turned the corner alone, nearly running into Mattheo, “Oh, wow, sorry Matty.” 

So people were talking to you about him. They were trying to convince you to stop hanging around him, not to be friends with him. But you’re not listening, his internal thoughts rang as a reminder. 

Your hand moving back and forth in front of his face brought him back to the present, “Where’d you go? Was like you were looking into another realm, is that a thing here? Can you guys, er, can we do that?” Mattheo completely ignored your inquiry and instead answered your question with another question, “Did you just call someone a bitch?” 

The bridge of your nose seemed to display a light shade of pink and Mattheo couldn’t recall ever seeing you flustered before, “They were being mean.” He couldn’t help himself, a desperate need deep inside had to see if you would admit it, “What were they being mean about that warranted that response?” 

You started walking towards your shared destination, but Mattheo couldn’t let it die. “C’monn,” he dragged the word out slightly, “we tell each other everything.” And that was mostly true on Mattheo’s part. He wasn’t so sure talking about watching his mother use unforgiveables on guests was something you needed to know; or even something you’d understand. 

“Ehm, it was you,” your voice was small, nearly a whisper that Mattheo didn’t catch. “What? What’d you say?” You huffed, stopping in front of the door to the classroom you were meant to practice in, “They were being mean about you, Mattheo. Okay? I know I shouldn’t have called her that but…ugh, I am so sick and tired of people trying to convince me that you’re a bad person.” 

That last part came out in a huff of frustration as you opened the door and walked inside. Mattheo couldn’t move. He was stuck in the doorway. You turned when you couldn’t hear his footsteps following you, “Are we still practicing?” 

“How many people have tried to convince you I’m a bad person?” He truly didn’t want to know the answer. Just asking the question made him feel like his insides were boiling. You shook your head slightly, “I dunno, Matty. I’m not exactly keeping track of every miserable git telling me my best friend is terrible.” 

Mattheo started walking towards you now, “You think I’m your best friend?” He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach seemingly in his throat and he sort of felt like he might throw up. The sound of your laugh soothed all of that out. 

“Well, yeah ya knob. Am I not yours? Don’t tell me you picked Nott over me.” Mattheo stammered for a moment, “Wha- ehm, Why did you…huh? Theo?” You laughed a little harder now, “You guys are close too, aren’t you?” 

Mattheo’s head hurt a little, “I, uh, I mean…yeah I guess. But not like you and me. I mean…fucking Salazar.” Mattheo ran his hands through his curls, tugging at the sides slightly. You held your hand up as if to calm his stammering, “It’s okay, Matty. I know I’m your best friend too.” 

He grinned at that, your reassurance. It still felt new every time you did it; he’s never gotten it as much as he has with you. “Ready to finally learn how to change a toad into a goblet?” You reached in your pocket and pulled out the amphibian. Mattheo grinned, nodding and setting up beside you. 

The next several months seemed to fly by in lessons. Mattheo never realized how much practical magic he never really learned at home. 

Feindre did all his washings and cooking, he lived in a manor that was centuries old and protected by magic so he never needed to know any repair or fixing spells, and the doors being locked or not were irrelevant as his mother just apparated to where he was if she were to punish him; she also never locked a door if she were torturing. “You need to see the weakness that leaks from those beneath us Mattheo.” 

He shuddered at the thought. He was well aware of what was going to be expected of him. He was half sure his mother only let him attend Hogwarts as a means of gaining more respect and more followers. “You want them to fear you, you’re not looking for friends, you’re looking for followers.” 

He didn’t like that either. Draco was a follower. Draco was afraid. He didn’t want that to be the only type of people around him.  

For someone who didn’t know magic was real until five months ago, you were exceptional in all your classes. You were always trying to study, always trying to soak in more information. 

The last day before Christmas holiday was no exception. You had asked Mattheo, Theo and Enzo if they wanted to start on course work for next term. They had all said no. 

Well…Enzo had looked at you like you’d grown an extra head, whereas Theo and Mattheo declined politely. Mattheo would’ve have went with you in a heartbeat, but he hadn’t packed a single item in his trunk. 

His original school of thought was that if he didn’t pack then he’d have to stay at school for the holidays. The thought of seeing his mother again made him short of breath from anxiety. 

But Draco reminded him that the Malfoy Christmas ball was happening (as it did every year) and Mattheo actually loved his Aunt Cissy. She was the only person in his father’s circle that treated him like any other boy his age. 

You didn’t mind going to the library alone. You often did when the Slytherins wanted to play quidditch. You were not quite as good at flying as they were yet, so you’d go to the library to make revisions instead. 

The content for next term actually seemed exciting to you. But everything about Hogwarts excited you. In History of Magic next term you were going to learn about the origins of wizards sports, quidditch the primary subject. 

I have to tell Mattheo, he’ll be so excited, was your only thought and you rushed out of the library, not quite paying attention to your surroundings as you crashed into someone; dropping your texts in the process. 

You heard Draco’s scoff of disgust before you heard his annoying voice, “Out of my way mudblood.” You let out an annoyed huff, bending down to pick up your books from the floor. 

“I don’t even know what that means, Malfoy. But I know you’re trying  to insult me,” you held your books flush to your chest, “your insults don’t mean anything to me you know.” 

Draco laughed out loud, taking a look at each one of his chubby minions beside him, “Do you want me to explain it to you?”

You adjusted the strap on your shoulder bag, “Not really but I’m sure you’re going to.” The malicious glint in Draco’s eye should’ve warned you of the delight he was about to get from this. You should’ve ignored him and walked away but there were three of them and only one of you. 

“You’re a filthy, little, mudblood,” Draco emphasized each work with hatred and disgust,  “Your blood is dirty, you come from nothing. Fucking Salazar, you are nothing. I honestly don’t get how the others are so blind to it.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, make any kind of retort but Draco kept going, “I’m what you call pureblood. The blood that runs in my veins has centuries of magic in it and Mattheo is the same. Enzo, Theo, Blaise, all of our blood is pure. I don’t know what little spell you put on my cousin, but it’s going to fade. 

“It may not be tomorrow, it may not even be a year from now, but he’s going to realize your worthlessness. Fuck and when he does…I want you to remember this moment. I want you to hear my voice in the back of that empty fucking head of yours telling you I told you so.” 

The tears brimming your eyes were uncontrollable. You didn’t want to believe anything he was saying, you knew Mattheo didn’t think of you like that. But there was a small part of you that couldn’t help but agree. 

“Don’t go running to cousin with your tears either, he’s the Dark Lord’s heir after all. He doesn’t need to deal with whiny babies.” Draco had to deliver one more blow for his satisfaction, him and his friends laughing in your face. 

“You’re a prick, Malfoy. No wonder everyone can’t stand you,” you wiped your eyes with the heel of your palm as you pushed passed them. 

You could still hear them laughing, mocking you all down the corridor until you turned the corner. You were supposed to meet up with Mattheo before dinner, but now you just wanted to be left alone. 

♡♡♡

When you didn’t meet him at the common room entrance for dinner, Mattheo was a little worried. Theo tried to calm him down, telling him they were running late and you probably just went to the hall already. 

But that made Mattheo more distraught, since houses don’t mix at dinner time. He was quieter than usual once they sat down, far more focus on searching the faces and backs of heads at the Hufflepuff table. 

When he didn’t recognize any student to be you, he turned to the group, “You guys didn’t happen to see y/n on the way to dinner did you? I don’t see ‘em here.” 

Enzo and Theo looked over at your house table, shaking their heads. Blaise looked a little guilty, “I wasn’t going to say anything…honestly Matt I thought maybe you had a fight or something.” 

Mattheo turned towards him, “Say anything about what?” Blaise shrugged his shoulders, a slight apologetic look in his eyes, “I saw them crying earlier, I think they were going towards the astronomy tower.” 

Instant panic spread over him, “Crying? Were they hurt? Could you tell?” Blaise shook his head. “Why do you even care?” Draco sounded annoyed, Mattheo got angry. “That's my friend, did you do something to them?” 

Draco rolled his eyes, flipping Mattheo the bird, “Wouldn’t waste my breath on a mudblood.” Mattheo slammed him open palms on the table as he stood up from the bench. 

Everyone in a ten foot radius was staring now. Draco looked terrified, rightfully so. While he only just learned reparo, Mattheo learned crucio at age 5 and he was pretty confident he could cast it on his cousin this very moment. 

Instead, Mattheo stormed off, heading straight to where he hoped was the astronomy tower. After only two wrong turns he started up the mountain of stairs. 

After only two flights he spotted you, curled in on yourself on one of the large steps with your back to the wall. Your face was hidden in your knees but the gold from the hood of your robes gave you away. 

You were crying, muffled and trying to be silent but Mattheo recognized the posture. The shaking shoulders, the small sniffles. He’d done it a dozen times himself this last summer. 

“There’s my badger…what’re you doing up here?” Mattheo’s voice was soft, gentle. It’s what he always hoped was used when he felt this way so he could only assume it’d be comforting to you too. 

You lifted your head just enough to rest your chin on your knees, “I got tired,” you sniffed again, “too many stairs.” 

Mattheo nodded, small smile on his face, “S’that why you’re crying and missed dinner? Too many stairs? Couldn’t get back down?”

You knew he was trying to make a joke, a weak smile was all you could manage before frowning once more, “Wasn’t the stairs…” 

Mattheo moved to sit in front of you, barging into your eye line, “Then what was it?” Your face scrunched and you shook your head. 

Mattheo placed his hands on your ankles, the action was so out of character for him, the physical touch. But it make you lock eyes nonetheless, “If I tell you, you have to just let it go.” 

The tilt in his head was slight but you noticed it, “I mean it Matty.” Mattheo nodded, not speaking in hopes you’d continue. 

“It was your cousin. He just…ugh,” you hid your face in your knees again, taking a deep shuttered breath. Mattheo gave your ankles a small squeeze as if to encourage you to keep explaining. 

You turned your head to the side, not wanting to look Mattheo in the eyes when you said it, “He called me a…mudblood.” 

Mattheo’s hands disappeared from your legs and it made you look at him. People had told you Mattheo could probably get angry. That his father was considered the darkest wizard of our time. 

You never really saw any of that before, but you saw a glint of it in his eyes now, “Is that all he said?” You shook your head, sinking back into the wall slightly. 

“I told him I didn’t know what that meant…then he told me I had dirty blood. Said his was pure. That all of you Slytherins had pure blood and that no matter how hard I tried…I would never amount to the same as you guys.” 

Mattheo frowned. You had started crying again and he felt like someone had just punched a hole in his gut. “He’s wrong,” Mattheo was shaking his head, “Some of the biggest sodding cowards I’ve ever seen are from pureblood families.” 

“Just made me feel really cruddy,” you snuffled, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your robe. Mattheo could feel a fire kindling inside his chest, “I’ll kill him.” 

You reached out, grabbing Mattheo’s forearm; he didn’t flinch away this time. “Don’t,” you pleaded, “you promised you wouldn’t do anything.” 

Mattheo chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Well I have to do something..” 

“Will you just sit with me for a little bit…please?” You pleaded, your hand was cool against his heated skin. 

“Yeah, erm, I can do that.” So that’s what he did. Mattheo found solace on the step one above yours. He sat as you did, pulling his knees to his chest. 

He sat with you until you felt better, calmer. Then he walked you to your common room, popping into the kitchens with you to grab a small bite since you both missed dinner. 

When he got back to his own common room he grabbed his duvet from his dorm and then back to the communal space and picked the largest couch to lay on. 

He couldn’t sleep in his dorm tonight. Draco was in there. And if he saw Draco, he knew he’d hurt him right now. And if there were two things Mattheo knew he would never do: (1) become his father, (2) break a promise to you.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Boo

Prompt: You end up taking Jack and your daughter trick or treating while Aaron is stuck at work.

Note: I know this Halloween inspired prompt is a little belated but the amount of fluff is worth it. 🥰

“I want that one!” your daughter yelled, grabbing the bigger candy bucket from Jack’s hands. A frown appeared on his face but he seemingly held himself back from acting out. The little 8 year old had way more patience than you did at his age, clearly taking after Aaron’s constant calm and controlled demeanor.

“Hey,” you spoke, crouching down to her level. “Jackers is your brother and you need to be nice to him. We don’t yell and take things away from each other.” She looked back and forth from him to you, an expression of disapproval evident. “Why don’t you try asking him nicely if you can have the bigger bucket, ok?”

You and Jack waited as she stayed silent, clearly struggling with the idea to be polite. Finally, she turned to Jack and spoke. “Can I have Jack?”

He looked over at you and then to the smaller identical bucket by her feet. “Yeah, ok.”

You sighed in relief and gave them both a big smile. For a second, you thought there was gonna be a tantrum happening before you even got a chance to trick or treat but luckily Jack came to your rescue, being the bigger man.

“See, wasn’t that nicer than yelling at Jack?” She just nodded, avoiding eye contact, probably embarrassed that she was in the wrong. “Ok, now let’s go get some candy!”

Like a switch, they were both back to being happy and excited as they ran to the door. You grabbed both of their jackets that you knew they were gonna want later on as well as your little tumbler of wine. That was your treat for the night.

Before leaving the house, you came over to Jack and plopped a king sized Snickers bar in his bucket, giving him a wink and smile once he noticed. He pretended to zip his lips shut and throw away the key, making you laugh.

The first couple of house went smoothly, your daughter clutching onto Jack most of the time, not convinced with the suspicious looking decorations outside of some of the houses. You sent a picture of the two of them to Aaron, knowing he’d want to see how they were doing even if he couldn’t be there.

Aaron: They look adorable. How far have you gotten?

You: Still on our street, but making great headway. Jack is excited to get to Wicker street where he knows they give out the bigger candy.

Aaron: Smart boy. I see he let his sister have the bigger bucket.

You: Yeah, he handled it very well. Reminded me a lot of his father. (;

Aaron: Love to hear that. Gotta go but I love you.

You: Love you too.

You put your phone away just as you heard your daughter scream and watch as she made a beeline for you, leaving Jack in the dust. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?" you asked bending down. She looked absolutely terrified as tears began streaming down her face and the little tiara on her head struggled to stay attached. Instead of answering, she just pointed over to the porch that she had just ran from. You knew then what she was referring to when you saw the dog dressed as a big spider. It took everything in you not to laugh out loud.

"Oh honey, it's a just a doggy. He's dressed up for Halloween just like you." You brushed the hair out of her eyes while she continued crying, completely unconvinced that the dog was not a gigantic spider there to eat her and waited as Jack came back over. He inspected the scene before him, obviously aware of what happened and proceeded to pull a pack of gummy worms out from his bucket of goodies.

"Here. I got you worms," he offered, forcing the candy into her hand. Just like that, the crying stopped immediately as she played with the package, trying to figure out how to open it.

"That was so nice of your brother. Can you say thank you sweetie?"

"Thank you," she repeated. You gave Jack a ruffle on his head and pulled him in for a hug. He was literally the sweetest boy you knew.

"Alright, Jack. You want to lead the way to the next street?" He shook his head in excitement and wasted no time in showing you the way.

After walking up to the first house and receiving two big chocolate bars, he was practically racing to the next house for more.

"Not so fast Jack, stay close." you told him, scanning your surroundings, knowing anything could happen. Your daughter followed in step with you, busy gnawing on some gummy candy that you were sure was gonna end up keeping her up all night. Just before you all reached the next house, someone caught your eye. The tall figure was a bit far away but became increasingly clearer, the closer you got. Jack was the first to identify him.

"Daddy!"

You watched him run ahead and into the arms of your husband, who was still dressed in his work attire. In that moment, you were entirely grateful to the Bureau for their strict dress code. The dress pants, FBI windbreaker, and holstered weapon had you thinking all kinds of dirty scenarios in your head you'd like to play out with him but for the sake of your toddler children, you decided to indulge your fantasies later.

You and your daughter walked over, a gentle smile on your lips as he set Jack down to give her a hug. "Well this is a pleasant surprise." you greeted, giving him a kiss once he came back up.

“Case wrapped up sooner than expected. Figured the team could use an early night considering the occasion."

You pulled him in for another kiss, this time, a slightly longer and deeper, earning a curious hum from him. "What was that for?"

Absentmindedly, you played with his tie and looked up at his boyish expression. "I just really like your Halloween costume."

Being the ever observant special agent he was, it didn't take long for him to understand what you meant as a knowing smirk played on his lips. "I see."

"Daddy, up," your daughter demanded while pulling on his pant leg, interrupting the moment.

“Of course sweetheart.” He propped her up on his hip and gave you one last look before turning his attention to them. “Lead the way Batman,” Aaron spoke to Jack in his costume.

All of you followed after the young boy, it not taking long for both of their candy buckets to fill up and their sugar high to come crashing down. Your daughter had fallen asleep in Aaron’s arms on the walk back and Jack walked hand in hand with you, his pace a lot slower than earlier.

Once in the house, you helped Jack separate his candy while Aaron put your daughter down for bed. "The Twix are my favorite. Dad can have the pretzels and you can have the lollipops," he offered, pushing the less interesting candy towards you.

“Alright. I’ll keep all of your candy in a very secure safe place,” you reassured him, putting his little pile into a ziplock bag. “Why don’t you go get changed into your pj’s and brush your teeth.”

He listened without a fuss, a tired yawn making its way out of his mouth as he shuffled down the hall, passing by his dad who gave him a high five.

You watched him make his way over to you, a playful glint in his eye, his arms snaking their way around your waist before he placed a gentle kiss against your neck. "I thought I could run us a bath. Maybe give you a massage afterwards." His murmured words sent a shiver through you, your body reacting immediately. You turned to face him, your hands slowly pulling down on his jacket zipper, your eyes locked with his.

Leaning in, his lips met yours with a burning passion you loved. Like that was the last kiss he'd ever have. His hand cradled your head, fingers entwining in your hair and as he stepped closer, the faint smell of cologne from that morning still lingered on his clothes, overstimulating your senses. Your hands rested themselves on his torso, grabbing at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it right off his body as his breath hitched, telling you he felt the same way.

"Daddy!" Jack called from down the hall, bringing the both of you back down to earth. He was probably waiting for his nightly bedtime story you made sure to give him, all cuddled up in his bed, surrounded by his numerous stuffies and dressed in his Batman pajamas.

You pulled away from Aaron, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

"Wait for me," he spoke lowly, stepping back from you before heading towards Jack's room, ready to give the shortest bedtime story ever.

[dissapointu]

Drabbles: Arcane Characters with a Partner Who Got Hurt

————————————————————————-

Jinx

Jinx freaks out when she sees you with a bandaged arm, her eyes wide as she grabs your hand.

“What the hell happened? Who did this?!” she demands, scanning you for other injuries.

When you try to brush it off, she pouts dramatically. “Nope, not buying it! You’re sitting down, and I’m fixing this!”

She rummages through her workshop for a med kit, her frantic energy softening as she carefully tends to you. “If anyone ever hurts you again, they’re dead meat,” she mutters, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Vi

Vi freezes when she sees the scrape on your forehead, her fists clenching.

“Who did this?” she asks, her voice low and controlled, though her eyes burn with anger.

When you insist it’s no big deal, she shakes her head, gently tilting your chin to examine the cut. “Doesn’t matter. You’re my priority right now.”

She patches you up with a surprising gentleness, muttering under her breath, “If I find out who did this…”

Sevika

Sevika doesn’t say a word when she notices your limp. She simply crosses the room, scoops you up, and sets you on the couch.

“Explain,” she demands, her tone leaving no room for argument.

When you downplay it, she snorts. “You’re terrible at lying.”

She patches you up herself, her hands surprisingly steady. “Next time, call me before you get yourself into trouble,” she mutters, though her protective gaze never wavers.

Silco

Silco’s sharp eyes narrow as he notices your injury. “How did this happen?” he asks, his voice dangerously calm.

You stammer an excuse, but he doesn’t seem satisfied. Instead, he motions for you to sit.

He personally applies the ointment to your wound, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You should take better care of yourself,” he murmurs.

His tone is firm, but there’s a glint of concern in his expression that he can’t entirely hide.

Vander

Vander’s brow furrows deeply when he sees you cradling your wrist. “What happened?” he asks, his tone a mix of concern and frustration.

When you try to shrug it off, he sighs, shaking his head. “Let me see.”

He carefully examines your wrist, his rough hands surprisingly tender. “You need to be more careful,” he scolds lightly, wrapping your wrist in a bandage.

Afterward, he pulls you into a hug. “I can’t have you getting hurt like this.”

Ekko

Ekko rushes to your side the moment he notices you wincing. “What happened?”

When you try to downplay it, he frowns. “Don’t do that. If you’re hurt, just tell me.”

He grabs his med kit, kneeling in front of you as he patches you up. “Next time, I’m sticking by your side,” he says, his voice tinged with guilt. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Jayce

Jayce’s heart sinks when he sees the bruise on your arm. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?”

You try to laugh it off, but he shakes his head. “No, seriously. Talk to me.”

Once he’s sure you’re not seriously hurt, he lets out a sigh of relief. “You scared me for a second there,” he admits, pulling you into a gentle hug.

“You’ve gotta let me protect you better, alright?”

Viktor

Viktor notices the scrape on your knee immediately. “You’re hurt,” he says, his voice soft but firm.

You wave it off, but he grabs the first aid kit from his desk. “Please, let me help.”

He kneels down, carefully cleaning and dressing the wound. “You need to take better care of yourself,” he murmurs, his worry evident in the way his hands tremble slightly.

Once finished, he gives you a small smile. “There. Good as new.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s sharp eyes catch the cut on your cheek the moment you walk in. “What happened?”

When you shrug it off, she places her hands on her hips, giving you a stern look. “Don’t downplay this.”

She grabs her med kit, her touch gentle as she cleans the wound. “You have to be more careful,” she says, her voice soft but insistent.

Once she’s done, she presses a kiss to your uninjured cheek. “I’ll always take care of you, but let’s try to avoid this next time, alright?”

[robinbuckleyluvr]

⊹˚˖⁺ check you out - robin buckley

masterlist | requests

Summary: goodness! imagine robin buckley accidentally says she was checking you out...

Warnings: she/her pronouns used on reader

Notes: this was lowkey hilarious to write

Word count: 698

⸻��༺ 

The door opened, the familiar bell signaling the entrance of yet another customer. Robin barely had a second to look up and catch herself from dropping the VHS tapes she carried as she watched a girl come in. Steve was just as dazzled as Robin, he stumbled out his usual “Welcome to Family Video!” line, and Robin just… stared.

Robin and Steve made eye contact, both exclaiming “Dibs!” at the exact same time. 

“She looks like she would be into more intelligent conversation anyway,” Robin raised her eyebrows.

“Uh, rude?” Steve joked, making his way over to the girl before Robin could even respond, “Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Robin sighed and crossed her arms, scouring her mind to think of an excuse to replace hush Steve away from the girl.

“Hey, uh, need any help around here? What are we browsing for today?” Steve flirted as he approached her.

“Just looking, I don’t have anything in mind,” she responded, a lack of interest filled her words, but it was a hint a guy such as Steve wouldn’t really get.

Robin, clearly amused, watched Steve’s desperate commentary, her mind running faster than ever. Okay, Robin, think! He is totally dumb and will fall for anything. You just have to come up with something that he will actually believe.

“Steve!” Robin exclaimed, “Can you please come help me? The computer is totally jammed again!” 

Steve sighed at Robin’s words as he muttered an apology to the girl, who didn’t really seem to mind as she kept on looking around. 

Robin stepped back as Steve approached the computer, and before he knew it, Robin had approached the girl already. Steve sighed and rolled his eyes as he realized the computer was working perfectly, watching Robin hurry away to speak to the girl instead.

“Hey! Hi, do you need any help?” Robin smiled nervously.

The girl offered a kind smile, “Thanks! I’m just unsure of what to get. Just looking for something to watch over the weekend I suppose.”

“Cool cool cool,” Robin breathed out, “Well, are you a rom-com kind of girl? Or do you like sci-fi movies and stuff?”

“Oh gosh…” She laughed, “Not a rom-com girl I don’t think… I avoid watching them alone. It's saddening, I prefer sci-fi for sure. I love horror, does that help?”

“Understandable! I’m the same,” Robin smiled, “But uh… sci-fi and horror! I can work with that.” She spoke shyly as she scanned the ‘horror’ shelf that stood behind the girl. 

The girl stood there quietly next to Robin as she looked around, Steve stood watching them from afar, having his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he noticed the girl checked Robin out — something Robin, of course, had completely missed. 

“How about…” Robin spoke as she reached over to grab one of the VHS tapes, “‘The Shining’! A total classic. It’s one of my all-time favorite movies. Have you seen it before?”

“Are you joking? I love that movie. Wouldn’t mind re-watching it, I think.”

Robin’s face lit up as the girl accepted her request. “Alright! You’re all set then! I’ll just get you checked out.” Robin paused, flustered, “I mean, I’ll check you out—Not check you out like that, uh, check out your movie! Not that I wouldn’t, you know, check you out. I mean, wait, that’s not, I mean, get your movie checked. You checked. For the movie that you’re renting! Which… yeah — pay there?” She motioned to the counter and walked off, her voice increasingly getting higher with each word.

As she followed Robin to the counter, the girl shook her head slightly, a shy smile forming as she did so. 

[gothcsz]

part nine of the neighbors series. i just had to write this... it was too good of a thought to keep just in my head! javier going back to helena after you rightfully tell him to get lost for standing you up. he's not into it but decides to fuck her anyways?! this man and his unhealthy coping mechanism: sex. smh. this takes place after part seven 🖤

javier peña x f!reader. ~1.5k word count. spanish heavy (translated), s m u t, honestly javi just comes with his own warning at this point, angst (as always)

Javier winces as the door to your apartment shuts in his face, the sound echoing louder than it should in the quiet hallway. He stands there for a long moment, his heart lodged firmly in his throat as guilt churns in his stomach.

He’d known, from the moment you opened the door in that beautiful dress, that he’d made a colossal mistake. He’s not sure how the fuck he’s going to make things right between you.

He sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. The way you masked the hurt he caused with dismissiveness and a sharp, cutting comment before turning him away somehow stung worse than if you’d just yelled at him.

His feet feel heavy as he trudges back to his apartment, the guilt following him like a shadow. 

When he opens the door, Helena is there, sprawled comfortably on his couch with her legs crossed and a glass of whiskey in hand. She looks up, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she watches him close the door behind him with a slow, almost reluctant motion.

“Eso fue rápido,” (That was fast) she comments, “¿Todo bien?” (Everything okay?) she tilts her head slightly, her gaze curious but not overly concerned.

Javier stands at the threshold of his sunken living room, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his thoughts. He doesn’t answer immediately, too busy replaying the image of you in his mind.

She sets the glass down and stands, closing the distance between them.“Puedo ver el conflicto en tus ojos, Javi. ¿Tu vecina te gritó o que?” (I can see the conflict in your eyes, Javi. Did your neighbor bitch at you or something?) she teases, resting her hands on his shoulders before letting her fingers curl into the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Her touch pulls him out of his thoughts momentarily. “No,” he replies, his tone low, “Pero me porte como un culero y me siento mal por como la trate.” (But I acted like an asshole and I feel bad about how I treated her)

She raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking into an amused smile. “You’re an asshole to everyone,” she says lightly, brushing a kiss along his jaw.

He scoffs, his frown deepening. “¿Qué? No hagas ese ruido—sabes que tengo razón.” (What? Don’t make that noise—you know I’m right) she chimes in as she continues with her affectionate touches. 

Normally, he’d lean into it, let her distract him the way she always does. But tonight, it feels hollow, like a cheap salve for a wound cut too deep.

She notices his hesitance, pausing as she cups his face in her hands. “Nunca he visto a nadie tan interesado en lo que hace su vecina. Should I be worried about her?” (I’ve never seen anyone so into what his neighbor is doing) she’s half-teasing as her gaze searches his face for an answer, but Javier avoids it, the hesitation clear in his brown eyes even as he tries to shrug it off.

“No,” he attempts to be nonchalant with his reply, “Solamente tengo ojos para ti, hermosa.” (I only have eyes for you, beautiful) His hand slips down to grip her ass, trying to redirect the moment, trying to bury the ache of guilt beneath something physical.

She narrows her eyes slightly, skeptical but willing to let it slide. “No mientas, Javier,” (Don’t lie) she murmurs. “Tengo suficiente de eso con todos los hombres en mi vida.” (I get enough of that from all the other men in my life)

Instead of responding, he leans in and kisses her, rough and insistent. She doesn’t push for more answers, letting him take what he needs, but she doesn’t miss the edge of hindrance in his touch.

“Si necesitas hablar de algo, sabes que aquí estoy,” (If you need to talk about something, you know I’m here) she says softly, more serious now as their lips brush together.

“Me ayudas más cuando no hablas,” (You help me more when you don't talk) he mutters before pulling her closer. She nips at his bottom lip, and it’s enough to spark the familiar lust between them.

Urgent touches, clothes discarded in a trail to the couch, and soon they’re a tangled mess with a throw blanket lazily thrown over their bodies.

She sinks down onto him, her lips on his neck as she whispers dirty encouragements against his skin.

It feels good—sex with Helena always does—but it’s different tonight.

No matter how tightly he shuts his eyes, no matter how hard he digs his fingers into her hips to ground himself, his mind keeps drifting back to you. To the way your lips trembled just slightly before you masked it, to the look in your eyes when you told him to ‘have fun vetting his lead.’

“Javi…” Helena’s airy moan pulls him back briefly, the clench of her around him sending a spark up his spine. He leans in to kiss her, messy and urgent, but it’s not to deepen their connection—it’s to keep her quiet.

The last thing he wants is for you to hear this, for you to know just how badly he’s handled things tonight.

Large hands move around to knead at her ass, guiding her movements, but his touch lacks its usual fervor.

The thought of you fills every corner of his mind even as he tries to lose himself in her. Your excitement that day by the fountain, the shy smile as you invited him out, and the way that smile disappeared the moment you saw him walk in with Helena.

And when her orgasm begins to crest and she’s shuddering around him, he barely notices, too consumed by the ache in his chest that no amount of physical release can fix.

She notices. She always does. Her rhythm falters slightly as she leans closer, her lips skimming his ear. “Pareces distraído.” (You seem distracted)

“Estoy bien,” (I’m fine) he growls, “Sigue moviéndote así.” (Just keep moving like that)

For the sake of not ruining this moment, she says nothing else, though he can feel the slight hesitation in her movements before she settles back into the pace he’s been guiding her toward.

Her breath hitches, her fingers tangling in his hair as she rides him, and he leans his head back against the couch, letting his eyes fall shut again.

It still doesn’t help.

Helena’s nails rake lightly down his chest, and he shivers, but it’s not desire that ripples through him—it’s frustration. With himself. With this situation. With the way he’s here, with a beautiful woman in his lap, and all he can think about is how badly he’s screwed things up with you.

Even as he drives her to her peak, there’s no satisfaction in it for him. His body is moving on autopilot, chasing a release that feels more like an obligation than a need.

When he finally comes, her name is the last thing on his mind. Yours, however, lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to lash out.

He bites it back, swallowing hard as she digs her nails into the skin of his shoulders, a guttural groan muffled against her neck, his hands clutching her ass like she’s the only thing tethering him to this moment of fleeting pleasure. 

The instant it’s over, he feels heavier than before, the guilt settling back over him like a dense fog that refuses to lift.

Helena collapses against his chest, her breath warm and uneven against his neck. She’s still for a few seconds, and then she lifts her head, her dark eyes searching his face.

“¿Seguro que estás bien?” (Are you sure you’re okay?) she asks softly, concern threading through her voice.

Javier exhales sharply, avoiding her gaze as he gently shifts her off of him. “Estoy bien,” (I’m fine) he repeats for what feels like the millionth time, his words clipped. He stands, grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor and pulling them on hastily.

She watches him in silence, wrapping the blanket around her naked form, unspoken questions hanging in the air. He can feel her studying him, trying to piece together the puzzle of his distraction, but he doesn’t have the energy to reassure her. Not tonight.

He grabs the carton of cigarettes and lighter from the coffee table, his movements practiced, almost automatic. The flick of the lighter illuminates his face briefly before the glow fades, the cigarette catching with a faint crackle. He takes a deep drag, smoke filling his lungs before he exhales, watching it swirl toward the ceiling.

“¿Te vas a quedar?” (Are you staying?)

She doesn’t answer right away, licking her lips. “No. Tengo otros planes.” (No. I have other plans)

Relief floods through him, and for the first time since they started hooking up, he’s okay with her walking out the door. He nods, tapping ash into the tray on the table.

“Bueno entonces, cuidate. Here,” (Well then, take care) holding the cigarette between his lips, he fishes his leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a wad of cash, walking over and holding it out to her.

Her eyes drop to the money, her expression tightening. “Javi, ya te he dicho como me siento con esto.” (Javi, I’ve already told you how I feel about this)

“¿Qué?” He shrugs, speaking around the cigarette between his teeth. “Te estoy pagando como lo hacen todos los demás.” (What? I’m paying you like everyone else does)

“No eres como los demás.” (You’re not like the others)

They lock eyes, the tension between them heavy and tangible. His exasperation simmers, then bubbles over. He tosses the money onto the coffee table with a thud.

“Entonces no lo tomes. Me vale madre.” (Then don’t take it. I don’t give a damn)

Helena stands, redressing and stepping into her heels. Javier finishes his cigarette with slow drags as she collects her things. She swipes the cash on her way out, crumpling it in her fist.

“¿Ves lo que te dije? Eres un culero con todos.” (See what I told you? You’re an asshole to everyone)

He doesn’t flinch but his jaw flexes, a muscle ticking as he watches her brush past him, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

She stops at the door, one hand resting on the knob as she glances back at him. “No sé qué está pasando entre tú y tu vecina, pero necesitas arreglarlo porque odio cuando actúas así.”  (I don’t know what's going on between you and your neighbor, but you need to straighten it out because I hate it when you act like this)

With that, she unlocks the door and leaves, leaving him standing there in his living room, now feeling worse than he did before and he has no one to blame but himself.

He stares at the spot where she stood, the remnants of her perfume lingering faintly in the air. He doesn’t move for a long moment, caught in the crossroads of her parting words.

Finally, he curses under his breath and heads to the bathroom. The cool tile beneath his feet as he flips on the light, the hum of the fluorescent bulb filling the room. He leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain edges so tightly—his knuckles go white.

The faucet sputters to life with a twist of his wrist, and he splashes cold water onto his face, droplets streaking down his cheeks and dripping onto his bare chest. It does nothing to clear the haze in his head.

When he looks up into the mirror, the man staring back at him looks just as wrecked as he feels.

This isn’t sustainable and he knows it. He can’t keep making a mess of every little thing in his life, can’t keep masking his despair with sex, whiskey, and cigarettes.

But knowing is one thing. Doing is another.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @almostfoxglove . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @phry-k . @larascorneroftheworld . @marisemonteiroo . @samanthajonees . @yellowbrickyeti . @bambisweethearts . @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack . @picketniffler . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @94namkooksworld . @prose-before-hoes . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[mydearestbeloved]

Movie night with jinwoo, reader and either jinho or jinah where they watch The Descent. When the creatures appear and chase down the group, reader's and jinwoo's hunter instinct kick in and they start animatedly discussing how to best take the hoard down like taking advantage of the creatures' sharp hearing, using the complex structure of the cave etc. out of work habit. Meanwhile, jinho/jinah is there like this isn't a horror movie anymore you guys are ruining the mood 😭

This scenario fits them so well I almost can't believe it 😂

Unfortunately, I'm really bad at anything horror in general. There are only some horror comic/anime that I can stomach just because of their art/animation. Live action is a hard pass, I apologize. I'm a bit better at thriller though 🙏

So, I could only do so much research on The Descent without traumatizing myself. And since I'm not sure if I can put this scene in Trial Player AU official story despite this fitting so perfectly in Jinwoo's and Reader's dynamic, I hope you'll enjoy this short blurp I managed to write somehow:

---

The living room was cozy, dimly lit with the faint glow of the TV as The Descent played on the screen. Jinwoo, you, and Jinah were huddled together on the couch, surrounded by snacks and blankets. The eerie silence of the cave scenes drew everyone’s attention, the tension building as the group of explorers stumbled upon the terrifying creatures.

When the monsters lunged out, Jinah let out a yelp, clutching a pillow to her chest. But instead of joining her in the panic, both you and Jinwoo leaned forward, eyes narrowing, the gears in your heads visibly turning.

“Did you see that?” You said, pointing at the screen. “They rely on sound to hunt. If they just stayed completely still and silent, they could avoid detection.”

“True,” Jinwoo replied, nodding. “But if they had to fight, the creatures are blind. You could take advantage of that by using misdirection—maybe toss something to make noise and attack from a different angle.”

“Exactly! And the cave’s layout is complex enough to set up ambushes. Funnel them into tighter spaces, limit their mobility—”

“Or use the stalactites as natural weapons. It’d take some effort to break them, but with the right leverage, they could cause a collapse to take out several at once—”

“ARE YOU TWO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” Jinah’s voice cut through your animated discussion, her face a mix of horror and exasperation. She looked between the two of you, utterly scandalized. “This is supposed to be a horror movie, not a Hunter Strategy 101 seminar!”

You blinked, momentarily startled by her outburst. “But we’re just��”

“NO!” Jinah jabbed a finger toward the screen. “The whole point is to feel scared and helpless, not to turn this into a tactical training session! Do you even realize how much you’re ruining the mood?!”

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “We’re just… analyzing.”

“Stop analyzing! The monsters aren’t even real!”

“But Jinah,” you interjected with mock seriousness, “if you think about it, the group could totally survive if they—”

“OUT!” Jinah threw a handful of popcorn at you, her glare enough to make you and Jinwoo raise your hands in surrender.

Jinwoo smirked as he leaned back into the couch, clearly amused by his sister’s frustration. “Alright, alright. No more strategy talk.”

Jinah huffed, hugging her pillow tighter. “Good. Now let me enjoy the movie before you two decide to strategize about how to survive Jaws next week!”

You stifled a laugh, whispering to Jinwoo, “Bet we could totally handle Jaws too.”

Jinah groaned. “I heard that!”

---

Thank you for your ask! 💞

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters): Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Story Synopsis: 

R&B singer/songwriter, Jameson Lucas, is well known as a charming playboy. The latest in his line of ‘loved em and left em’ behavior? Imani St. Cirie, an emotive singer/songwriter herself. A common sense pulls them in opposite directions – friendships are tested, old flames resurface, and new opportunities threaten to tear them apart for good. In this industry, dreams can make or break you – but what happens when love becomes the gamble of a lifetime?

Chapter Synopsis: Jameson deals with being denied access to his heart's desire and flashes back to the start of their romance while Imani wrestles with her feelings present day. Warnings: Smut (18+), toxic relationship, possessiveness, profanity, usage of the n-word (if you're white and read it, you owe us $20), manual stimulation (fingering, okay?), dick size mention, dirty talk -- if we missed anything, let us know! Word Count: 5.3k Divider Template: @cafekitsune Notes: The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

There will be alternating POVs between our leads.

CHAPTER TWO: Someone to Love

he was blocked. jameson watched his repeated texts and calls go unanswered. the texts said delivered but never read. this was when he was supposed to decide if he was going to stick around for another round of bullshit with her. flashes of the night before came to mind...and he knew the answer was 'yes'. she was ignoring the fuck out of him but he knew imani loved him. she may be able to live without him...but she loved him. maybe that would be enough. "yo, are you listening to me?"

jameson blinked at his best friend, giving the man a blank stare. ellington dupree had been his friend and writing partner for damn near a decade. their connection was instant. where jameson was blessed with a wealthy and well-known mother, ellington had gotten it out the mud. he was a man that knew music inside out all his life. he had a work ethic that jameson envied. it was why he only produced music with ej -- they balanced each other out. where he allowed muse to take over, ej controlled the music. he didn't let it control him. even now, they were supposed to be working on a track from his new album but jameson couldn't seem to find his focus. all he did was wait for imani to call him back.

"yeah, i heard you." "then what i say?"

he gave ellington a glare before rising from his spot on the couch. "something about the horns." ellington tsked, kicking back in his chair before shaking his head. "i said that shit ten minutes ago, nigga. we on a whole nother track. what's up with you?"

jameson didn't answer -- instead he redirected his attention to his phone, texting imani again as he exited his friend's home studio. he heard ej calling his name but descended the stairs anyway.

he watched as another text went through and the message popped up delivered. jameson rolled his eyes, tossing his phone onto the couch as he stared at the ceiling with his hands on his hips. this girl was going drive him crazy.

"are you insane?" "i'm not in the mood right now, e." "yeah, no shit. but you need to get in the mood for something other than imani. YOU wanted to release this album at the top of the year. YOU said you were ready so they've already started promoting the shit."

he lifted his head to deny that he was stressing over imani but the realization hit him hard. "how the fuck you know i was texting mani?" jameson watched as ej rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable on the couch. "how the fuck wouldn't i know? you always get tense and weird over her. it's been a while since she had you fucked up like this though. what happened?"

jameson sighed, closing his eyes to avoid the look on his friend's face when he confessed the truth. he sat down opposite ej and leaned back onto the cushions.

"we fucked." "bullshit." "it's true." "WHEN?!" "last week." "i thought she was dating...what's that nigga name? the football nigga!" "they broke up two months ago." "how the fuck you know that?" jameson gave ej a look and avoided the obvious answer. "oh, you are insane." "it was random. we didn't plan that shit." "she probably didn't." "and what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "fuck it sound like?"

his eyes opened as he frowned at ej. if anyone had seen how bad it could get between he and imani, it was ej. "i didn't go over there to have sex, man. i just...i wanted to see her. i've missed her all this time. i just couldn't take that shit anymore."

a flash of sympathy crossed his best friend's face but it disappeared within a moment. "don't do this, jamie. don't. you can't walk down this road with imani again."

ej was probably right, jameson knew that. but he also knew that he wasn't walking away from her again. he glanced over at the phone that he abandoned, willing it to ring or beep or something. anything to let him know she gave a shit. "can't help it." he murmured to his best friend. "i want her."

this was the biggest night of his life...and he found that he didn't care. his gaze was stuck on a woman who had walked past him. none of this shit really mattered anymore. he wanted to know her. he had a tony award. he had two grammys already. he was nominated for another three that night but as he leaned over in his seat to watch her saunter down the rest of the aisle, jameson found himself smiling for entirely different reasons.

"i want her." he said bluntly. only ej acknowledged him. he said 'huh?' but his gaze followed her the same way jameson's had. 'ohhhh' was all he uttered, giving a laugh.

she had her back to them so he had no idea who the hell she was but he had the urge to. four awards from his own and he wasn't watching the stage. he wasn't talking to his collaborators or friends to the right of him. he was watching her. a couple of people rose to let her into her seat and jameson found himself doing the same. he stood to his feet, adjusting his tux's jacket as he made his way towards her.

ej called his name but he didn't respond. this was more important. he got to the aisle and dropped to his haunches, learning forward to catch her eye. he recognized her then. imani. there were people next to her who peered over at him in confusion but jameson's smile was only for her. 

"excuse me." he said softly, bracing his hands against the seat next to him. she looked at him, eyebrow quirked at his audacity to interrupt her conversation. "hi. i just...i'm sorry. i just wanted to come tell you something you already know. you're the most beautiful woman i've ever seen in my life."

if she recognized him or was impressed by his attention, it didn't show on her face. jameson watched her give a little laugh and haughtily respond. "thank you." she said. "how many other women have you used that on tonight?"

"none." he replied honestly. "i saw you and next thing i know, i'm over here practically on my knees to talk to you." jameson ignored the woman next to imani clearing her throat. it was a public conversation but he carried it on as if they were the only two in the room. free from a relationship that had lost it's fire, jameson hadn't been looking for anybody. he wanted to invest in his career again and after two hit albums -- it was time for something new. money, cars, clothes, and women had been his life since he was eighteen and old enough to spread the thighs of any and every woman in hollywood. he'd been over it. but this was important. getting this girl felt like it'd be life changing.

he leaned forward, offering the woman his hand. "i'm jameson." he surprised himself by giving his full name. often, he introduced himself as james. nobody actually in his life called him jameson but his mother. he had the urge to hear his name from her lips. "i know who you are, ms. imani st. cirie. future best new artist winner." her eyes lit up at the fact that he had recognized her. she hadn't topped the charts yet but he knew it was a matter of time. her music was raw. real. she touched people and he knew her time was coming.

when she took his hand, he brushed his thumb against the back of her fingertips. the people they had their hands stretched across didn't matter. hell, he had forgotten other people could hear them when she responded. "nice to meet you jameson." she said. "you can call me ms. st. cirie. your face looks so familiar. i just can't put my finger on it."

jameson laughed out loud -- loud enough that people on the aisle in front of them turned to identify the sound. he'd been famous from birth. paparazzi shots of him hanging off his mother's hip had been tagged in people magazine. pictures of them at the park. his high school yearbook had been blasted across myspace and twitter. and when he started making music himself? well, he became a teen heartthrob at 19. he didn't believe her but he liked that she didn't fall over him. "that's strange." he replied with a shrug, slowly grinning at her. "but since you can't remember, maybe this is your chance to get to know me...personally. i'll be honest, ms. st. cirie -- i'm dying to get to know you."

her gaze roamed his face but her lips curved into a smile. "and why should i do that?"

"i heard i'm a good time." "and this is where the line of women come in, yes?" "we're not talking about other women. we're talking about you and me, ms. st. cirie."

imani gave her friend a look and the friend automatically rose, shifting down a seat. her gaze came back to him and she nodded her head, wordlessly giving him approval to sit next to her. jameson rose from his position at the end of the aisle, ignoring the ache in his calves and thighs. he'd been squatting for so long but hadn't noticed it. all he saw was the fact that he was making strides towards what he wanted.

"you don't feel this thing between us?" he asked her curiously. somehow, he had sat without losing contact with her for longer than a few seconds. he switched the positioning, holding her hand in his right. she tsked, yanking her hand from his grasp and shook her head. "i don't feel anything. i just think you're funny."

jameson leaned towards her, keeping his voice low enough so that it would take others effort to eavesdrop on their conversation. "i could tell you shit you already know. that you're the most beautiful woman i've ever seen. that i want you so bad i don't really know what to do with myself. would that help? i want you. and from the way you look at me, i think you want me too. so what are we going to do about it?"

"that was a good line, jameson." "i'm not giving you lines. i'm trying to get you where you need to be." "need to be?" "definitely." "you so fucking cocky." "i got reason to be. ms. st. cirie...will you go out with me?" "you don't give up, do you?" "no. not easily."

he could tell that she liked that. despite giving him a hell of a lot of attitude, her fingers fidgeted nervously on her lap. she either liked him or didn't know how to say no. jameson reached for her hand again, gently stilling her fingertips. she didn't seem alarmed or afraid then. she relaxed before meeting his gaze.

"no pressure. i think you're beautiful. i admire your mind. your music. your talent. give me one chance to show you that." determined to not miss out on the good thing sitting right next to him, jameson did his best to show her he was serious...but he took a risk and lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her thumb -- the first contact between them that wasn't totally innocent.

his gaze flickered up to hers and he knew he had her. she went soft, leaning in as if she were going to let him kiss her -- but she remembered where they were. "And the Grammy for Best R&B Performance goes to...U Don't Have to Call! James Lucas!"

jameson didn't move from his seat. he didn't take his eyes off her. imani looked between him and the stage, expecting him to go up but he didn't. this was more important. eventually, ej got up. his best friend gave the speech that jameson likely would have given but he didn't hear the words. imani leaned closer so he could near her, whispering "okay. one date." against his ear.

jameson smiled, turning his head to offer imani a kiss. not even twenty minutes after meeting and he was going for it. he had always been an ambitious man. just as he hoped, she took him up on the offer. she leaned in and their lips met. it was brief but served as the spark that ignited their obsession with each other.

it took two whole weeks for their schedules to line up. photoshoots, interviews, and a sudden trip to new york had kept him from what he really wanted. anticipation had been a bitch but they filled the time in between with texts and phone calls. he had discovered that imani was both smart and funny. she could make him burst out laughing over the smallest thing. she seemed to be a good person and that appealed to him. he seemed to really be into this girl. so much so that he browsed her instagram, constantly looking for things she liked. what flowers she enjoyed. people she liked having conversation with. knowing little things about her had spiraled into wanting to know everything about her. he was down so bad that ej had been disgusted when he walked into studio in the middle of the night and caught him giggling on the phone with her like a teenager.

finally, they got to see each other again. standing alone in the vastness of the getty museum, he and imani kept their fingertips intertwined. the only sounds were the soft echo of their footsteps on polished floors. The museum had been closed for the night, but the director had made an exception just for them — a private tour. No crowds, no distractions. Just the two of them and all the art they'd agreed to pretend they were paying attention to. jameson's kept straying to her. everything about her was mesmerizing. the way her hair fell into her eyes, the cute little way she'd snuggled into him when he hugged her when he met her outside. the sweet way she swung their hands as they walked. he was gone over this girl and didn't know what to do about it.

“so,” she said, breaking the silence with a teasing tone, “you go to museums all the time or is this just to impress me?”

he glanced around, his eyes glinting with amusement. “it's all for you. you got me stalking your instagram to see what you like. i saw you went to several museums around the world so..." he shrugged, looking at her to see she was surprised at what he'd said. “but what do you like?” she asked him. jameson laughed. "you." he answered easily enough.

she fell silent again as they continued on. the views of los angeles almost as magnificent as the art. they entered a gallery that seemed to be a study in light and shadow, with large, dramatic sculptures. he was comfortable even in the silence with her. felt like they were the only people in the world, the art surrounding them like a secret they were sharing, just the two of them.

“i think i like you too.” imani said softly. her tone didn't hold the same teasing as before. she was serious. jameson dipped his head to get a good look at her and stopped walking to face her. "why do you sound so sad when you say that?"

"because i don't know if i can trust you." imani said softly. jameson couldn't promise to be the picture of fidelity. he'd cheated once before in a relationship but that didn't seem to be the best thing to say to a woman you wanted to be with. "you can trust how i feel about you. i swear -- i have never felt like this in my life. you got me kicking my feet and twirling my hair and shit, girl. i got it bad." she gave him a short laugh, shaking her head, but he was pleased to see her smile again. "you gave me a chance for a date now give me a chance to show you that i want to be your man."

"my man? you moving kind of fast, ain't you?" "hell yeah. i'm trying to lock you down before a billionaire prince pull up on you out of nowhere." "you can't compete with a billionaire?" "absolutely not. i can't buy you a private island." "then what good are you?" "i can sing. i'm good looking. i give good dick. which reason work for you?"

"boy, bye!" imani pulled away, laughing abruptly as she waved him off. jameson followed closely, not wanting her to go too far from him. "where you going?" he asked her, holding on to her hand. imani snorted, pointing at the art across the room. "over there because you playing!" jameson's laughter echoed through the space and joined hers as she tried to shake him off. "nahhhh. come play with me over here."

her smile deepened, a challenge flickering in her eyes. "i'll play with you later." jameson stepped closer to her, pulling her close. "i'ma hold you to that." even in heels, she stood a few inches shorter than he was. he couldn't get over how fucking beautiful she was. pretty ass dark brown eyes. pretty ass nose that lead down to full, gorgeous lips. he couldn't even think about her body. he liked everything about this girl and acting like he didn't wasn't possible.

his hand moved to the small of her back, fingertips splayed as he kept her body against his. "you hungry?" imani nodded her head, her hands braced against his shoulders. jameson moved them side to side, swaying even though there was no music playing. "i got you. let me take care of you."

they ate dinner in the museum, specially made by a private chef --totally surrounded by art. jameson was pleased to see that she was excited. he was just as giddy. imani sat on his lap as they traded stories about work, their inspirations, and what they each wanted out of a relationship. they found they had several things in common -- big things and little things. family relationships, foods, even their favorite Disney movie. it was all the same. jameson wasn't the type to believe in love at first sight but he really did start to wonder if god put this woman in his life for a reason.

they left holding hands. he let her slide into his benz, intent on driving her home to complete an evening of being the perfect gentleman. the drive to her malibu home was filled with jokes, conversation, and singing along to songs on the radio. the tension between them remained but it was joined by comfort. they were truly starting to understand each other.

by the time they arrived to her place, he had made up his mind. he was going to give it all he had. he liked imani st. cirie -- and hopefully, she liked him too.

the warmth of the car enveloped them as jameson slid to a stop in front of her home. the chemistry between them made saying goodbye difficult. he didn't want to say goodnight to her. jameson turned the car off, attempting to gather his thoughts. he didn't want the last thing he said to her to be stupid. when he turned to say something -- he found imani was already staring.

it was like they moved at the same time. he unbuckled his seatbelt and before he could say a word, she had done the same. the world outside faded away as he damn near crowded her in the passenger seat. he could feel her heart race, each beat echoing in his head. he leaned in, their lips meeting briefly, before he heard her panting.

the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if they were both savoring the sweetness of their new attraction. But soon, it deepened—hunger replaced hesitation. their lips moved in a rhythm that felt both familiar and foreign, pulling them deeper into each other's orbit.

imani moaned as his tongue found hers and jameson couldn't believe how good it sounded. he placed his hand against her thigh, grasping tightly as if he could pull her any closer. the middle console kept them further apart than he wanted them to be. when her hand came down and pulled his fingers higher up her thigh, jameson didn't hesitate.

her hands framed his face, thumb gently brushing his cheek as they kissed. his hand moved further up her thigh, brushing against the silk fabric of her dress. when the pad of his thumb brushed against her panties, she gasped.

it felt like an eternity before she caught her breath and gave him a quick moan. with expertise, jameson swept her underwear aside and pressed his thumb between her folds. she was already wet and made it easy for him to wedge his finger into her. imani's lips parted in surprise when he pressed against her. jameson took the opportunity to bite her lower lip -- brushing his tongue against it as her thighs tightened around his hand.

"i can't make you moan like that again if you don't keep your legs open. let me in." he whispered when he released her lip, pleased when imani immediately opened her legs for him. she reached down and pulled her dress higher, hips rising from the seat as she did so. he caught a flash of the thongs she wore as she pressed her ass to his leather seats.

they were both breathless, not taking the time to go inside her house or even move to the back seat. imani reached for him again, pulling his head across the space and kissing him deeply as jameson's hand went right back between her legs. she whimpered and moaned as he played with her clit -- teasing them both by thumbing and then circling the sensitive spot. by the time she was whining against his mouth, his dick was hard.

to his surprise, imani reached across the seat and placed her hand in his lap. the surprise spurred his fingers forward. his index and middle finger were soaking in her wetness as his thumb tapped her clit. imani's head fell back as he hissed, breaking the kiss to shake his head. "let me focus on you."

mani didn't pull her hand away. instead, she grasped his dick -- squeezing gently as her hips rocked onto his fingers. they slid in and out effortlessly. jameson twisted and delved deeply, pulling a variety of noises from the back of imani's throat. "she talkin' to me, mani." he prompted her. she groaned, riding his hand as quickly as she could. "you hear her? i bet i can make her talk some more."

the squelching and squishing echoed through the car. his palm and other fingers were soaked as the wetness ran down his hand. imani nodded her head, breath catching in her throat as he twisted his fingers and looked for that spot -- that one spot that he knew would have her screeching within the confines of his car. when he found it, she froze -- her whole body slumping back against the seat. "yes! y-yeah. just like that." she cried. jameson followed her, watching her face as he picked up the pace. he spread her juices across her clit with his thumb. when she shut her legs around his hand again, he used his free hand to grasp her thigh. "don't run from it. let me have it."

there he was, leaning over the center console, doing his best to make her cum less than an hour after their first date had ended. he kissed her lips gently, moaning with her as she shuddered. "i--i'm--cum" she whispered, words escaping her as she struggled to give him just three. "i know, baby. i feel it. let go. i got you."

jameson nodded, licking his tongue against her quivering lips. she opened her mouth for more and he sucked her tongue into his mouth, kissing her deeply as imani came around his fingers. she squeezed him tightly but he didn't stop. those two fingers kept thrusting, thumb kept flicking at her clit until she squirmed out of his grasp. her hand moving from his lap to grasp at his wrist. he was hard as fuck, eight and a half inches practically throbbing in his boxer briefs as he tried not to nut on himself.

he forced himself to slow down then -- pleased when she whimpered and asked for more kisses. jameson supplied them happily, stroking her insides with his fingers to calm her down. when she was sated and humming happily against his mouth, he pulled his hand back. they watched each other for a moment -- imani blinked at him as he licked his fingers clean.

jameson's gaze swept down her body as if he wanted to remember her just like that -- legs open, panties pushed aside, pussy wet and satisfied from his efforts. once his hand was 'clean', jameson reached over again and righted her clothing. imani still hadn't said a word. even when he opened his door to get out of the car. when he opened her door, he offered her his hand -- the same one he'd used to get her off.

imani took it and exited the car. she didn't seem to be in a daze anymore. "this was...a wonderful date." she told him softly. "i wonder what you'll come up with next time." before jameson could say a word, she pressed her hand to his chest and lifted her head to give him a kiss. he accepted it happily, greedily even. they stood like that for a moment, kissing on the sidewalk. his arms wrapped around her waist, fingertips finding their way to that delicious ass. jameson squeezed briefly and imani broke the kiss. "call me." she told him with a smirk before walking away.

he didn't know if she smirked because she could feel how hard his dick was when she kissed him or if she knew that he was going to call her as soon as he got in the car. either way -- he was pretty sure that this girl was going to be the death of him.

her best friend sat across the room, sketching designs for her portfolio. if she wasn't so distracted, she would have noticed imani scrolling through her texts. she had unblocked jameson and found a flurry of text messages.

how are you? i miss you. can we talk? baby, i think we need sit down and talk this shit out. i love you, imani. i'm not fighting it anymore. please call me

how is it that he made her want to forgive him? it was like when they were talking or when he was in front of her -- she forgot the horrible shit he had done. she forgot the affair, she forgot the way he confessed. she forgot the way he only seemed to give his all when he felt like she was moving on from him. she hated the way he infiltrated her mind when she was with someone new. it seemed like she was doomed to keep falling for jameson -- and the thought scared her.

"just do it. you know you want to."

imani's gaze shot up from the phone to see genie peering over at her from her drawing table. despite being gorgeous enough to be a model, genie adesanya preferred to design the clothes. her curls were pinned to the top of her head and the glasses she wore were circular -- making her eyes appear even larger and more adorable.

she was southern by birth but her father was a lakers legend. a jersey-hanging-in-the-rafters-at-staples-center kind of legend. everybody loved genie. even jameson. she and he had practically been raised together when his mother and her father spent a few years dating but ultimately decided to remain friends. as close as they were, once imani stepped onto the scene -- she and genie became best friends. she took her side over jameson's. always. despite being total opposites persona wise, nobody understood imani better than genie did.

"he's blocked so i do not want to do anything." imani retorted, wrinkling her nose at her friend. she didn't bother to deny that they weren't talking about jameson.

genie got up from her drawing desk, smiling at imani as she made her way across the room and bounced down onto her friend's lap. imani quickly shoved her off with a snort and the two ended up slap boxing each other. "don't lie to me, girl!" genie yelled at her, avoiding imani's hands as she rolled off the couch and onto the floor. "you've been moping and sighing around here all week. you hiding from him?"

of course she was. jameson knew where genie lived but imani hoped that if he approached her there, genie wouldn't let them sneak off together. she was sick of falling into the same pattern with him. fight, break up, fuck, fall in love again. wash, rinse, and repeat. "i'm tired of this shit with him, genie." imani admitted, sighing softly.

genie sat up and pat her hand against imani's. "i know. but...the heart wants what it wants, mani. i'm not saying you should listen to me. i'm bad at love. I've made so many mistakes. but i can see what you really want. i know you. it's why i know jameson has lived in your head rent free for years, girl. and you live in his. i'm not saying you gotta trust him immediately. just -- just text him back. maybe it's a mistake but what if it isn't? what if y'all get it right this time?"

a true romantic at heart, imani admired genie's belief in love. she just wasn't sure she trusted it. she remained silent as genie gave her time to process. she returned to her drawing table, picking up the pencil and finishing her sketches in silence.

imani fiddled with her phone for a moment before groaning out loud. if this man broke her heart again, she was going to fucking kill him.

[ imani ] : what are you doing next week? [ blockdt unless horny ] : nothing. you want me? [ imani ] : i guess we can talk then. [ blockdt unless horny ] : why wait until then? wya? i can come there. [ imani ] : i'm at genie's but don't come here. [ blockdt unless horny ] : why not? [ imani ] : i need a minute, jamie. i didn't expect this and i don't know if this is the right decision for me. [ blockdt unless horny ] : i understand. i do. but baby, you and me have something. i fucked it up before but i'm not gonna fuck it again. i can't lose it twice. [ imani ] : we can talk about it next week. [ blockdt unless horny ] : okay. what day? [ imani ] : Thursday. i'll be back from Italy then. [ jamie ] : i already miss you. [ imani ] : i'll miss you too 🙄 [ jamie ] : lmfao i'll take that. i'ma do right this time, mani. i swear on my life. [ imani ] : we'll see. [ jamie ] : yes, we will. i try not to make mistakes but when i do, i only make them once. i'll be the man you deserve. i promise. [ imani ] : i really want to believe you [ jamie ] : we can start there, baby. that's a start.

[jam3sacaster]

“Miss Baddingham, you are bad news.” PT1

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / You, Lord Baddingham’s daughter, encounter Mr Declan O’Hara on your first day at Corinium… 💋

18+ FANFIC / SMUT. Medium length? Reader character aged at 21.

Alone in your father’s office at Corinium, you take the opportunity to snoop around his personal belongings. As a father, he was much less than devoted, but your mother had somehow managed to persuade him to let you uptake a small office job — faxing documents, organising fathers diary but most importantly, shadowing Declan O’Hara for journalistic experience. “What are you doing?” Tony Baddingham asked, tightly suited and lips pressed together in common anger. “Sorry, Dad. Just… having a look.” You sigh, taking a seat at the other side of his desk. Tony reclined in his seat ahead of you, leather brogues resting in front of your face and arms clasped behind his head. “So… no fuck ups today. Don’t speak to Declan unless you’re spoken to, don’t fax anything that you’re not told to, don’t leave until I’ve told you to.” Your father instructs you, and keeps a close eye on you, rolling your eyes. “Yes, Dad.” You drone, rising from your seat and taking a step towards the door. “I mean it. I’ll be watching.” He ominously informs you once again. Exasperated with his tedious words, you swing open his office door and slam it shut.

“That’s about the right reaction for leaving his office.” Declan chimes as he hurriedly sped past the office, clicking his fingers at you to follow him. How brilliant — a whole day with two chauvinistic pigs instead of one. “You shouldn’t click at me. I would’ve followed you anyway.” You tut, slouching after him to his personal office. Declan didn’t respond, but pushed his office door open for you to sit down. “Right, much to do today. Did ya’ check the notes ‘ya dad gave to ‘ya?” He grunts, lighting a cigarette and taking a seat in front of you. Avoiding eye contact the best you could, you exhaled and lit a cigarette of your own. “I don’t read anything that Dad tells me to. Cunt.” You spit, rolling your eyes. Declan couldn’t help but laugh — there wasn’t a truer sentence said, in his opinion.

“Ya’ not too keen on him then?” He asks, glancing up at you from his mounds of paperwork. “No. He’s a pig, rude, and cheats on my mum all the time with this Cameron girl.” You utter, eyes scanning the windows of the office, willing the universe to allow a glimpse of the woman that ruined your parents marriage. “I think we’re going to get along,” Declan begins, before clearing his throat, “Cameron’s good at what she does, but I don’t see why Tony’s so interested. She’s twenty years younger than him, fa’ fucks sake.” His words feel like a twisting knife in your stomach. It took a lot to come to terms with your fathers infidelity — your mum handled it so well, but seeing her sitting alone in the lounge every night was simply too much for you to bare.

“Are you married?” You question the Irishman through an elongated puff of your cigarette. He visibly takes a moment to carefully consider his response, placing his paperwork back down on the desk and looking up at you. “I was. Not really anymore.” He states. Furrowing your brow, you can’t help but speak with an upturned nose. “Not really? How can you not really be married?” You ask.

“The same way ya’ father is not really married anymore.” Declan snaps, his harsh tone unwavering. Ouch. But, being the self-assured Baddingham that you are, you continue to probe him. “So you’re a cheat?” You snidely remark. “Not me.” He replies, tapping ash from his cigarette and maintaining intense eye contact with you. For once, you were left speechless. If there was one thing you had inherited from your father, it was most definitely your self-important, highly confident personality. Lifting your foot up underneath the desk, you raised it up Declan’s leg, stroking down the length of it gently.

•

“What are ya’ doing?” He quizzes, fighting the urge to smirk at your boldness. “I’ve watched your show. I love the way you pick apart your guests. It’s always been a dream of mine to have you bend me over that chair and fuck me senseless.” You wink, simpering at your own comment. Coughing in a flurry of both sheer shock and exhilaration, Declan’s gaze widened. “Listen, Miss Baddingham, you are bad news.” He mutters softly. In all honestly, there was nothing more than Declan would love to do than your suggestion. But the hypocrisy of being intimate with you after chastising Tony so heavily for sleeping with Cameron was too much for him to swallow.

Scraping your chair across the floor, you clambered onto your knees and crawled under Declan’s desk. Screwing up his face in confusion, Declan kept a close eye on the happenings outside his office. Briskly unzipping his trousers and pulling his erect cock from his boxers, you awaited for his gruff moan as you swirled your tongue around the reddening tip. “Fuck, ya’ such a naughty girl.” He grunts, scrambling for a pen from his drawer in order to feign busyness. Desperate to draw out this pleasurable experience for him, you sucked at the tip for a few moments, smirking through a full mouth as you watched his squirming legs from the corner of your eye.

Placing a gentle hand on your head, Declan stroked his brutish fingers through your hazelnut hair, his spine shivering from intimacy. Taking a deep inhale, you take as much of his 9 inch girth into your mouth as possible, saliva escaping from your lips as your head bobs slowly. Glancing up at him with sparkling eyes, Declan allowed himself a profound moan — the risk of it all heightening his senses. Chronically in need of Declan’s release, you maintain your tempo, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

“Look at me whilst I’m in your throat.” He orders, pushing your chin up with his finger and moaning as he gets to see your wide, pure eyes. Raising your hands up to grab a hold of his thighs, you pushed your limits even deeper, speeding up and keeping him towards the back of your throat. “Fuckin’ hell. If ya’ keep going like that, ya’ gonna make me cum.” He spat out, but his words only spurred you on even further. Eyes watering and nose sniffling, you continued your passionate assault on his cock — lust taking ahold of common sense. Your incessant deepthroating became all too much for Declan, and his thighs seized furiously as he shot his sweet load down the back of your throat, coating the soft palate of your mouth. Swallowing it without a second thought, you scooted yourself out from under the desk as Declan hurried to zip his trousers up. Staring at him longingly as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, you winked at him with fluttering eyelashes. “I can’t believe we just did that. Ya’ fuckin’ minx.” Declan beamed with pride.

The door of Declan’s office was prized open, and it took Declan a few moments to fully grasp the mischievousness of the situation he found himself in this afternoon. Tony Baddingham, eyes ablaze with fury, bellowed as deafeningly as his lungs could manage, “What the fuck is going on?” Truly, it baffled you for a moment how someone would be in the know of your sexual escapade. That was until you turned to your side, and three quarters of the office looked on, twiddling their thumbs and pretending in futile that they hadn’t witnessed you on your knees for Declan O’Hara. It’s very possible that you may both be in a slight bit of trouble.

[jane-morgendorffer]

He’s sixteen years old when his cousin introduces him to the thing that will eventually kill him. His mum, usually overly protective (and in his somewhat expert opinion, absolutely too paranoid for her own good), doesn’t even try to stop him. It’s a good thing she doesn’t, because he’s already caused her a lifetime of stress in that decade-and-a-half he’s been alive so far and it’ll only get worse when she finds out he’s fallen so deeply in love with his own killer that he’ll lie to everyone -her included- for the chance of getting there quicker.

He’s eighteen when he finally gets there. He’s spent the past two years working hard, but it’s not enough to just work hard. He’s also got to be better. Better than the guy behind him. Better than the guy in front of him. Better than himself. It’s brutal. A slow death that kills him with every day he grinds himself into the ground. But he carries on anyway. Because it’s something you either have or you don’t and he’s had it since the moment he was born. He was made for this. Has been since long before he even knew what this was. When his mum calls (which she does every week), he makes sure to tell her about the progress he’s making. How quick he is. How strong he’s getting. She doesn’t understand, always eager to change the subject to something pointless like what he’s going to do on his days off or if he’s eating well, but he thinks she’s proud. Secretly, he doesn’t mind if she isn’t. He loves her anyway and, in return, she doesn’t bring up the worry that has replaced the space he’s left behind.

He’s twenty-one when people finally start to realise what he’s known for years. He’s the youngest candidate to pass selection. An asset to not only his team but his country as well. A man destined for bigger and brighter things. He calls his mum. She says the right things, but the pride doesn’t flow as easily as it used to. Instead, she rattled on about Christmas plans and pointedly avoids the fact that he has achieved something most people could only dream of. He tells her that. Loudly. She says the only dreams she’s having these days are having him come home in a casket. (She apologises straight afterwards. She always does. And it’s easy to accept the apology when she’s there on the other end of the line, but they both know the damage is already done.)

He’s twenty-five when he starts to enjoy it. If he was good at what he did before, he’s godly at it now. Which should be the hubris talking, but he knows it isn’t. It’s not just him. He’d say the same about anyone in the 141. Not just because he loves them, which he does, but because they truly are the best people he’s ever known. It’s twisted, in a way, how easily he finds talking to them while the calls from his mum go unanswered. How easily he’d replaced one family with another. But they understand him in a way no one else ever could. And, yeah, he loves some of them differently (in a thick, cloying way that he’ll need another decade to fully understand) but it’s not more. But he still loves his mum. The same way he loves old films and the memory of his childhood bedroom. He just doesn’t go home for Christmas as much anymore. Though, the more he thinks, the less he’s sure about whose benefit that was really for.

He’s twenty-eight when he’s shot in the head while doing exactly what he was made for. It’s funny, really, in the same way that the lieutenant’s jokes are funny. Which, is to say, not really funny at all. But that’s what he thinks of in that flash of a second between being alive and being dead. The jokes. ‘Hey! What do they call a brilliant sergeant who died in the afterthought of someone else’s fight?’ He doesn’t hear the punchline, but he thinks he might hear his name being called in the distance.

He’s still twenty-eight when three men spread his ashes from his favourite spot. It’s a private affair. Words lost under the weight of what had been and what never would. They don’t invite his mum. She wouldn’t understand their grief anymore than she had all those years ago when his cousin had brought him home with a fire in his eyes.

He’s still twenty-eight when his mum buries the idea of him in their local graveyard. His teammates don’t attend this funeral. Call it same. Call it respect. It doesn’t matter either way. She’s happier without them there. If she knows the casket is empty, she doesn’t show it. It’s better that she doesn’t. It’s a nice ceremony. His favourite flowers at the graveside. His favourite food at the wake. Guests are gentle with her in a way he never was. It’s an honour they say. But she doesn’t understand that any more than she understands why this had to be what he was made for. And maybe that’s better. It’s too late for her to convince him of anything else now anyway.

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦 ᵃᵐᵇᵉˢˢᵃ ᵐᵉᵈᵃʳᵈᵃ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Headcanon. Romantic/Wholesome. SFW. General, overall headcannons Ambessa Medarda with you (Arcane). 𝘼/𝙉 ;; First Arcane fic here! I hope you guys enjoy! Might add onto this if it's really liked.

11.21.24

— Ambessa never outright claimed to be with you, but everyone knew. It was impossible to ignore the way she looked at you, how her piercing, commanding gaze always softened in your presence. The unspoken bond between you was clear, even to the most casual observer. — She was undeniably fond of you.

— Though you weren’t dating, engaged, or married, the connection between you two was undeniable. You spent an absurd amount of time together, always by her side, offering her your company whether it was necessary or not.

— You weren’t a servant or a subordinate—don’t get it twisted. You were much more than that. A close confidant, a trusted companion, and perhaps something more—though Ambessa would never admit to loving you.

— Ambessa valued you too deeply to treat you as anything less than an equal, refusing to order you around or regard you as just another soldier under her command. — She called it “fondness,” never putting a more specific label on her emotions. For her, it was simpler that way. It wasn’t a romantic love, nor did it stem from sexual desire. What she craved was your presence alone. You were her calm amidst the storm. — For example, during her rare moments of downtime, such as lounging on a couch and indulging in fresh grapes, she’d still ask for your company. To her, it didn’t matter what she was doing—whether doing paperwork, working out, indulging in wine, or doing absolutely nothing—you needed to be there. Your presence was as essential to her.

— This respect and value she placed on you extended far beyond what others might have expected. Ambessa, known for her formidable strength and unshakable pride, showed refusal in indulgence. She avoided the temptations of foreign escorts or other offered pleasures, choosing instead to keep her dignity intact when you were around. She wouldn’t dare lower herself in your eyes. — Instead, when on expeditions in foreign lands, she turned her attention to things she thought you might enjoy.

— During a visit to Piltover, for instance, to see her daughter, Mel Medarda, Ambessa chose not to indulge in distractions. She dismissed her guards and subordinates, deciding instead to explore the city with only you by her side. It was a quiet, intimate moment—just the two of you walking through the bustling streets. — Mel was unsurprised to see you. She had grown accustomed to your constant presence in her mother’s life, even before her exile. In truth, Mel recognized the subtle influence you had on Ambessa—a quiet thread of reason tethering her mother to a semblance of humanity. If you weren’t there, Mel suspected, a few more heads might have rolled over the years.

— And yet, you didn’t seem disturbed by Ambessa’s brutality. At most, you were slightly unsettled, but you understood her. You saw the reasons behind her actions. That was enough for you.

— You accepted her for who she was, flaws and all, offering her something she rarely allowed herself: unconditional companionship — You’ve become her moral compass in a way she’d never admit. She catches herself pausing before making decisions, wondering how you’d react or whether you’d approve. — You’ve introduced her to softer moments in life. For example, you’ve convinced her to take small breaks to watch sunsets, sit by the waters, or enjoy simpler meals without grand banquets. She doesn’t say it, but these are some of her favorite moments. — Because of you, she has developed a subtle patience. Where she once might have resorted to immediate, bloody solutions, she now considers alternatives—though she’ll always default to force if her hand is forced.

— Ambessa doesn’t openly show affection, but her actions speak volumes. She remembers every small detail about you—your favorite foods, your preferred wine, the exact temperature you like your tea—and ensures they're always available wherever you go.

— She doesn’t say it outright, but she makes sure you're warm in cold climates by draping her signature red cloak over your shoulders.

— Ambessa always positions herself between you and potential threats, even in mundane situations like crowded markets or political meetings. Her protective nature is subtle but unyielding, her large figure easily covering you. — Whenever she returns from a journey without you, she always brings back a small token—a beautifully carved trinket, a rare flower, or a piece of jewelry she claims “caught her eye” from the market.

ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉᵈ

[cufff-it]

À DEUX PAS

PART III : CHEMINS CROISÉS

pairing: kylian mbappé x reader

A/N: A little bit rushed, but i hope you will enjoy it! :)

Bondy, Summer 2013

Kylian had grown distant, a shift that Y/N struggled to ignore. Their usual rhythms of texting late into the night, meeting up at the park, or exchanging playful banter during family dinners felt disrupted. Kylian’s time was increasingly occupied by football practice and, much to Y/N’s unease, Inès.

Inès wasn’t just a classmate anymore; she had become a regular in Kylian’s circle. And while Y/N tried her best to dismiss her own discomfort, the sight of them together—a shared laugh, a casual touch on the shoulder—was impossible to ignore.

It all came to a head one warm July afternoon. Y/N had wandered into the park, expecting to find Kylian kicking a ball around like he always did. Instead, she found him leaning close to Inès, their heads tilted toward each other, the sun casting golden halos over their features.

For a moment, Y/N thought she might have imagined it. But when Kylian’s lips brushed against Inès’s, reality hit her like a train.

She turned on her heel and left, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the pounding in her chest.

The Rift

Y/N tried to carry on as though nothing had happened. She told herself it didn’t matter; Kylian was free to do what he wanted. After all, they were just friends. But her avoidance was obvious.

When Kylian knocked on her door later that week, she hesitated before answering.

“Hey,” he greeted, his usual grin missing. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, I haven’t,” she lied, her voice sharper than intended.

“Y/N, come on. What’s going on?” His tone was laced with frustration.

She crossed her arms, looking everywhere but at him. “Nothing. You’ve been busy. With football. And Inès.”

There it was, the name hanging heavy between them. Kylian’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

Kylian stepped closer, studying her face. “You saw something, didn’t you?”

The question hung in the air, and Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She didn’t answer.

Kylian sighed, his tone turning defensive. “Look, I don’t get why you’re acting like this. I can be friends with other people. Or more than friends. It’s not a big deal.”

Y/N’s head snapped up at that. “Not a big deal?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “Kylian, you’ve been avoiding me all summer. You barely talk to me anymore unless it’s convenient for you. And now you’re…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“What?” Kylian prompted, his irritation evident. “Now I’m what? Kissing someone?”

The bluntness of his words stung, and Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. “Forget it,” she muttered, turning away.

“No, we’re not done,” Kylian said, stepping in front of her. “You don’t get to act like this and then walk away. If you have something to say, say it.”

Y/N clenched her fists, her voice shaking as she finally snapped, “Fine. I miss you, okay? I miss us. And I hate that everything feels different now. You’re different.”

Kylian stared at her, taken aback. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Y/N…” he started, his tone softer now.

“Forget it,” she said again, brushing past him. “Have fun with Inès.”

🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬

For the next few weeks, Y/N and Kylian barely spoke. Whenever she saw him around the neighborhood, he was with Inès or practicing football. She convinced herself that this was just how things were now.

One afternoon, Lina came over, sensing something was wrong. “You’ve been quiet lately,” she said, flopping onto Y/N’s bed.

Y/N shrugged, pretending to focus on her book. “Just tired.”

“Is this about Kylian?” Lina pressed.

Y/N’s silence was all the answer she needed.

“I saw them at the park,” Lina admitted carefully. “Kylian and Inès. They looked… close.”

Y/N felt a pang of hurt but masked it with indifference. “Good for them,” she said, though her voice wavered.

Lina gave her a look. “You’re allowed to be upset, you know.”

“I’m not upset,” Y/N insisted, though the tears threatening to spill said otherwise.

🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬

The tension came to a head at a neighborhood barbecue hosted by Kylian’s family. Both Y/N and Inès were invited, and the awkwardness was palpable.

Y/N tried to avoid both of them, sticking close to Lina and the other kids from the neighborhood. But when she accidentally bumped into Inès near the drinks table, the girl smirked.

“Hi, Y/N,” Inès said sweetly, though there was a hint of condescension in her tone. “Kylian told me so much about you.”

Y/N forced a polite smile. “That’s nice.”

Inès leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “You know, he and I are really close now. It’s funny how things change, isn’t it?”

Y/N felt her temper flare. “Yeah, things do change. But some things don’t. Like knowing someone’s true colors.”

Inès’s smile faltered for a moment before she recovered. “It must be hard, watching him move on.”

Before Y/N could respond, Kylian appeared, sensing the tension. “What’s going on here?” he asked, looking between the two girls.

“Nothing,” Inès said quickly, her smile returning. “We were just talking.”

Kylian’s gaze shifted to Y/N, his brows furrowing. “Can I talk to you?”

Y/N hesitated before nodding. They walked a few steps away from the crowd, the summer breeze carrying the sound of laughter from the barbecue.

“What was that about?” Kylian asked, crossing his arms.

“Ask her,” Y/N said, nodding toward Inès.

Kylian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, you’ve been acting weird all summer. Can we just talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” she snapped. “How you’ve replaced me with her?”

“That’s not fair,” Kylian said, his voice rising slightly. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding me. And now you’re picking fights with Inès?”

Y/N felt a surge of anger. “I didn’t pick a fight! She’s the one—”

Kylian cut her off. “You need to stop. This… obsession with me? It’s not healthy, Y/N.”

The words hit her like a slap. “Obsession?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Kylian said quickly, but the damage was done.

“Wow,” Y/N said, laughing bitterly. “You really think I’m obsessed with you?”

Kylian reached out, but she stepped back. “Y/N, wait—”

“No,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’ve had enough. Enjoy your summer, Kylian. And Inès.”

She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, regret etched across his face.

🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬 🚬

That night, Y/N lay in bed, replaying the conversation in her mind. She hated how things had spiraled, how years of friendship had unraveled in a matter of weeks.

But maybe this was how it was meant to be. People grow, they change, and sometimes, they drift apart.

As she stared at the ceiling, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t spend the rest of her summer dwelling on what she couldn’t change.

It hurt, but she knew she had to let go.

[blablablabla-ur-mom]

Every day that we get closer to tgr being released, I become.e just a little more unhinged. So here is my theory for Jeremy's backstory and elodie maybe being alive.

(This has no real chance of being canon but hey we got tsc through being delusional. )

So we know Jeremy has an older brother (gonna call him Joe for convenience cuz I forgot his name) that he avoids like the plague, and Stuart said elodie was bought by an arms dealer.

Young teen Joe joined a gang in secret and quickly started working his way up the ranks. Now one of the gangsters had a friend on the other side of the world, that happened to sell guns. This friend is the arms dealer that bought elodie.

A little while before the banquet, the arms dealer visits his friend. Joe tracks him down and tries to buy a weapon

The dealer refuses because reasons and instead Joe waits for him to meet up with his friend and steals a gun.

Joe does who knows what with the gun, and soon realizes that he just fucked with an arms dealer. So he tries to pin it on his little brother Jeremy.

Jeremy, who is at the banquet, is completely oblivios to his older brother sneaking in and planting an unregistered firearm into his bag. He is completly unaware when event security walks up and tells him he has to leave. Then he's at the station, shaking his head because he doesn't know how a gun got into his bag he doesn't now how any of this happened! But the police don't believe him and in the end his parents have to do a lot of shit to cover this up. The dealer knows better than to go after him because he is a governors son. And Jeremy never again trusts cop because how the fuck did they not see the guilty look on his brothers face.

I made a previous post about elodie being alive and one of the responses said she may have been bought to be used as target practice. I hate this idea but I'm running with it.

Flash forward a few years and elodie is 14/15. She is malnourished, covered in scars from bullets she could not dodge, and is barely there. But she is a Moreau, and she will endure. She will endure until her captors either kill her, or she finds a way out and back to her family. Not her parents, but the brother that was taken from her, he is her only family, the only thing that has kept her going these long years.

one day, she hears gunshots, not unusual but the amount of shots is. And there men grabbing her and taking her somewhere, and she's kicking and screaming because she thinks this is the end. Then they put something over her mouth and everything goes dark.

She wakes up in a hospital room with two strange men sitting across from her. They're speaking a language she doesn't understand and have to bring in a translator. They ask for her name but takes a few moments for the translator to understand her because of how hoarse her voice is. "My name is Elodie Moreau"

She finds out her brother sold out their family, that the fbi have been investigating her family and the contact her mother sold her too. She finds out Jean is alive.

Jean and Jeremy are at home when they get a knock at the door. It's an agent and he saying Jean has to come with him. Instead of taking Jean to the building where they took his confesion, they take him to a hospital. He's confused for all of a second when he steps into the room. Then he sees her. The sister he thought he'd lost is sitting there. To anyone else she would have been unrecognizable, but he knows. He kniws because he's dreamt if seeing those very same gray eyes again for years. She may be covered in wretched scars that make him want to throttle his parents, but she's there.

[madhatterbri]

Tag Team | D.P.

Summary: Fem!reader is part of the TJD 2.0 & has been giving attitude towards her family since Raquel joined in. After a disagreement Liv suggests reader to take a walk, Reader then bumps into Tiffany Stratton who doesn’t have time with a reject. When reader demands a match with Tiffany from Pearce, Damian comes in asking for a match with Ludwig. Adam Pearce decides to do a mixed tag instead. Reader & Damian refuse to team up but realize they have no choice. After reader & Damian win, reader looks at Priest with dark eyes & kisses him. Backstage; TJD 2.0 watch with their mouths hanging open.

Requested by: Anonymous

Happy Friday Night Smackdown, babes. ❤️

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @keytothewardy @missbmc94

Anyone who had the misfortune of walking past Y/N knew to move out of the way as fast as they could. Nostrils flared, face hotter than the sun, and her chest heaving, she needed to avoid anyone and everyone at all costs. Apparently, Tiffany Stratton didn't get the memo.

"Awww, did your new family kick you out already?" Tiffany Stratton pouted. Y/N tried to push past her. The blonde wrestler stood in her way.

"I don't have time for this. Move," Y/N growled.

Tiffany didn't move a muscle. "It's Tiffy Time. Everyone has time, but it's me who doesn't have time for a little reject,"

Y/N balled her fist but stopped. Nia Jax was probably lingering somewhere in the shadows. The disgruntled wrestler currently had no allies with her since Liv and Raquel were now best buddies. She shook her head and walked away. There was only one person who could resolve this.

"I want a match with Tiffany. Tonight, next week, I don't care. The clock has struck midnight on that little bi-"

"I want a match against Ludwig, Pearce," Damian interrupted.

"Excuse me. I was here first," Y/N pointed out. Damian rolled his eyes and put his hand in her face.

"As I was saying. I need a match against Ludwig,"

Adam Pearce looked between the two wrestlers. An idea popped into his head.

When he saw Y/N slap Damian's hand out of her face, he knew this was the perfect plan.

"You want a match with Tiffany," Adam started and looked at Y/N. He turned to Damian. "And you want a match with Ludwig. Looks like we got an intergender match next week on RAW,"

"No, no, no, no, hold on. I'm a former champion. I don't need someone that'll slow me down," Damian insisted.

"I'm a former champion," Y/N mocked. "Congratulations, you lost it when you acted like a bully to your friends,"

"You two play nice and get your matches or not. What is it going to be?"

Damian and Y/N stared at each other. With hate filled eyes, they knew they had no choice but to accept the conditions.

"You will be hearing from my lawyers," she spoke. With a stomp of her foot, Y/N stormed away.

Damian sighed and rubbed his face in his hands. "Women,"

"ADAM!" Chelsea Green's shrill voice screeched.

The RAW general manager pinched his nose. "Tell me about it,"

Y/N stared in shock when the referee raised her hand along with Damian. They beat Ludwig and Tiffany clean. No outside interference or drama. She had been on a losing spree, and she couldn't believe it. Her tag team partner hadn't been as annoying to work with as she thought. Damian was an excellent partner and sometimes even sweet.

Her eyes worked their way up the Archer of Infamy. His bare chest heaved while trying to catch his breath. He just performed South of Heaven on Ludwig to seal the win. Y/N shook her hand out of the referee's grasp. She walked over to Damian.

With dark eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned down to hug her. She kissed him. A sweet peck with her eyes closed. She pulled away before Damian could process what happened to him.

As the audience roared, Y/N rolled under the bottom rope. She sat on the apron of the ring. Her head was in her hands as she thought about what she had just done. Damian was public enemy number one to her group.

Y/N slipped off the ring. She started to walk up the ramp. Her eyes avoided looking into the camera and the towdy crowd.

Meanwhile, in the back, the new Judgment Day stared. Their mouths hung open in shock.

[venerawrites]

I see Sasuke content I immediately follow🫡

I'm here to ask for childhood "friends" (more like frenemies) where they first met while he was still under Orochimaru (the reader being one of the many experiments Orochimaru just keeps for the sake of having but never actually uses so she's just hanging around the place without anywhere else to go).

The reader being the type that's not intimidated and likes to bother him, especially he's the only one around that's close to her age that's not batshit insane, in response to his snappy silly emo attitude? ofc growing up together in that place and some thoughts after they mature/like a time skip? if it takes a romantic turn or not it's up to you I'll like it either way :3 thanks a bunch! - a fellow Sasuke enthusiastic

author's note: that request is so sweet! I loved doing it and I hope you like it as well. I decided to do a friendly/platonic fluff since recently I wrote a lot of Sasuke romance, haha. Also, I saw "she" in the request, so I am rolling with a fem! reader. Thank you so much for sending your idea and I hope you enjoy! <3

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Go away."

Furrowing your brows, you tiptoed behind his seated figure, before setting your chin on his shoulder as you watched his rough fingers engraving kanjis on the blade of his sword. You studied the written symbols with interest, recognising the words "power", "revenge" and "justice". Due to the reflection of the candle next to you, you couldn't make the whole text of what he was writing, but what you saw was more than enough for you to form your opinion.

"You just made your weapon twice as uglier."

Sasuke sighed at your comment, closing his eyes as he tried to summon all the patience he had within. One could presume that he should be used to someone bothering him, given that during all the years he has been alive there has always been someone who tastes his patience.

First, there were the fangirls. Not dangerous, but really annoying and suffocating. Through the years the young Uchiha had to hide in the weirdest places, such as bushes, bins and even stacks of hays, just so he can avoid confrontation with them.

Then, there were Naruto and Sakura. Both of them equally bothersome and both of them people, who couldn't really avoid no matter how hard he tried. There has been more than one occasion during which he cursed the day he got paired with them in a team. To this day, he couldn't get rid of them, as they persistently followed him around despite him making it more than clear he does not want to go back to Konoha.

But him leaving did not bring him peace. Because now instead of the blonde idiot and the pink-haired weakling, he had to deal with Orochimaru and Karin breathing down his neck all the damn time. The girl did not bother him that much anymore - with time he learned to ignore her, zoning out every time she opened her mouth.

The snake-like ninja, however, was entirely different matter. Sasuke felt his eyes on the back of his head all the time, studying him, his movements, his behaviour. The Uchiha was nothing more than an experiment for him and he realised that. But he needed the power and the knowledge to defeat Itachi, and if having to deal with a creep was the price to p

"Honestly, who is going to read all that? Is your plan to bore your enemies to death or something?", your curious tone brought him back to reality and his fingers gently slapped yours as he saw the reaching for the blade. A small gasp left your lips and you retracted your hand, directing a small glare in his direction.

And then, on the top of the list of people who love to get in his space, was YOU.

You and him had an interesting... relationship. You were one of the many experiment subjects Orochimaru kept in the base after the conducting of his clinical trials. As part of the famous "Project 71" - a year long experiment during which the man tested the effects of different drugs on the system and the long-lasting results from daily usage. Many have lost their lives and while the snake-like ninja discontinued it years ago, he left the few remaining alive subjects inside the base.

Initially it was a mystery for Sasuke why you were chosen to be part of the experiment in the first place. You were not a ninja or a healer, you didn't seem to have any extraordinary knowledge or skills, and also came from a poor farming family from the outskirts of Suna.

"Do not underestimate the power of the ordinary civilians, especially the ones coming from the desert", said Orochimaru one day when he saw the young Uchiha watching you and the other subjects being examined by Kabuto, "They are capable of adapting to changes in a way even the most well-trained shinobi can't. Perhaps the strongest people are not forged by war of battles, but of the harshness of life itself."

His theory seemed to hold true. From all of the surviving subjects, the majority were ordinary people from Suna or nearby small villages. For 'people of science', like Orochimaru preferred to call himself and Kabuto, it was expected, yet exciting result. For Sasuke, however, it was another confirmation he needs to get out of here as soon as he reaches his full potential. And while he tried to stay away, it was YOU who found your way toward him.

The first time you saw him was the day of his arrival - a snobby and gloomy boy, who liked to produce noises of disapproval or disgust rather than use words to voice his feelings. Straight away you didn't like him - this place was full of freaks and a sad boy with a vendetta was no different in your list. However, the more time passed, the more you realised that his company is indeed not that bad.

For starters, he rarely talked. Sasuke liked to mind his own business and you could often see him going to train by himself or sneak out in the middle of the night. Where he was going, you didn't know. The one time you tried to follow him, you ended pressed against one of the cave's walls with his fingers tightly wrapped around your throat.

"If you value your life, stay away from me."

His words that night went through one ear and out of the other. Did you value a life in captivity, waking up every single day in fear if you are going to be experimented on again? Not really.

So despite your initial reluctance, the mystery around Sasuke Uchiha was drawing you like a moth to a flame. You knew his goal was to get stronger so he can kill his brother, but nothing else. Where were his friends? What was he planning to do after he killed Itachi Uchiha? Was he going to ever go back to Konoha?

You often voiced your thoughts and questions out loud, the majority of which he ignored. And while he didn't seem enthusiastic to engage in a conversation with you, he never turned you away, like he did to Karin or Kabuto, so you took this as a sign that you weren't entirely insufferable in his eyes. Probably sounded like a poor excuse, but in a place like this, being tolerated was the closest thing you could get to a 'friendship'.

And you desperately needed one. You needed human interactions without the fear the other person is holding a needle behind their back.

Surprisingly, even for himself, Sasuke also found solace in your presence. Even though you spoke a lot, you never crossed certain boundaries and you didn't pry into his past. Your chatter was mainly focused either on how bored you were or on trivial things, like the weather or Orochimaru's work. And while the young Uchiha rarely 'participated' in what was supposed to be a dialogue, there was a certain comfort in having someone around you who is not a ninja and keep things light. With you, he could allow himself to partially lower his guard and rest, away from the haunting thoughts of gaining power and getting his revenge.

"Anyway, I am bored", your voice brought him back to reality as you plopped yourself on his bed, while he continued engraving his sword.

"Not my problem."

A loud groaned escaped your lips as you laid back and started at the ceiling. Your eyes followed the few cracks which moved toward the wall, forming irregular patterns that reminded you of lighting bolts. Well, it seems even the protege Sasuke Uchiha is not special enough to get a proper place to sleep, which is not crumbling. Of course, his bedroom was way better and bigger than the tiny space you and all other experiments shared, but it was still surprising to see that great ninjas do not live in 'luxury' either.

There was a brief moment of silence during which Sasuke stopped working on his blade, before throwing a bored look your way.

"Why don't you go and bother someone else?"

You opened your eyes only so you can roll them at him, before letting out another groan. It was always the same thing with Sasuke - you would go and bug him, he would pretend he didn't like it and ask you to leave, but you both knew he didn't mean it so you wouldn't. It was a routine at this point, one which you were not sure if you could or even wanted to break.

"There is NO ONE else to bother", you say as a matter-of-factly, while lifting yourself on your elbows, "What are you writing anyway? Seems like a whole novel at this point."

Sasuke's hand paused and he closed his eyes, while taking a deep breath. He counted to five, before opening them again and focusing on his weapon again.

"It's not a novel and it's none of your business."

He heard the bed squeak under your weight before you flopped on your belly and rested your head on your palms, while facing his back.

"You are pretty boring for a friend, you know?", you hummed under your breath while kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

"We are not friends."

Instead of being insulted, his words made you grin.

"No need to be shy now", you chuckled, tilting your head, "We spend most of our time together, we talk... Well, I talk mainly. But you listen, so we are friends."

Sasuke finally stopped his works on his blade, only so he can turn toward you and look at you with a blank expression.

"We spend time together because you would not stop bothering me", he points out, before his eyes focused on your kicking legs falling back to the bed, "And do not get on my bed with your shoes on!"

You glanced at your feet, before turning your attention back to him and letting out a dramatic huff. Mumbling some incoherent things under your breath you reached for your sandals and untied the laces, before kicking them off your feet. Moving your gaze back to him, you raised a brow as if asking 'happy now?' to which he just let out a small 'hm' before turning his back toward you again.

"Do you want me to stop bothering you?"

Sasuke didn't acknowledge you or your question in any way, but at this point you knew him well enough to know the answer is 'no'. Even when he liked to act all grumpy and annoyed, you knew he didn't talk with anyone else in the base despite the attempts of other to strike a conversation to him. In a way that made you feel only special - sure, he was not super nice to you, but at least he never pushed you away or insulted you, like he did to everyone else.

Time passed and you stayed silent, feeling you may start to push his boundaries if you continued with your questioning. So you just laid there, humming a quiet tune under your breath, while your fingers gently followed the crinkles on his bedsheet. Finally, after what felt forever, Sasuke turned toward you and lifted the sword against his chest, his eyes carefully examining the result of his work. His dark eyes moved toward yours and he moved the weapon closer to you, so you can take a look yourself. You frowned, your attention dancing between his sword and his face, full with expectation. "What I am supposed to look at exactly?"

He scoffed, a sign he was starting to get annoyed, as he cleared his throat and pushed the blade closer to your face. You instinctively flinched back, confusion written all over your face. What was he expecting from you? A compliment? An approval? A commentary on his neat handwriting?

"Take it", he commanded impatiently and you did, your finger brushing against the words written on the metal. You could see the all of the words now, written from the tip all the way down to the hilt: "strength", "power", "persistence", "patience", "revenge" and finally "justice". Your thumb stopped on the last word, gently following each line of the word, before you abruptly pulled away and almost threw the sword back in his lap. His dark brow arched upwards as he caught it mid-air, his tongue clicking in annoyance.

"You could've handed it to me, instead of throwing it."

"Sorry", you muttered, yet there was no real regret in your tone. Sasuke continued to eye you with expectation and you met his dark gaze, determined not to cave under the pressure of his heavy silence. But the Uchiha had this invisible power about him, the one that made everyone else bow to his will, and after a few minutes you couldn't hold your ground anymore

"What?", you snapped, your patience wearing thin, "Do you want me to compliment your calligraphy skills?"

Sasuke clicked his tongue again, his eyes narrowing just the slightest as he continued to study your face. You were a smart woman - probably the smartest one here - despite not being a ninja. One of the things he always appreciated about you was the fact you often read his thoughts and feelings without the need for him to say them out loud. As someone who was not great with words, he often found this ability of yours comforting.

But now was not one of these moments.

Were you really not understanding what he wanted from you or were you just trying to mess with him?

"Do not play stupid! It doesn't suit you."

With these words he turned his back toward you again, before he started wiping the cold metal with a wet cloth. You stared at his back for a few seconds, before letting out a tired sigh.

"I just...", the words died in your throat, as you licked your lips while trying to formulate your thoughts in such a way so it doesn't offend him, "I don't really understand why you would do that to your weapon. We ALL know your whole existence is to find your brother and avenge your clan, and yada-yada-"

"They are not just random words", Sasuke interrupts you, his tone sharp. His glanced at you with the corners of his eyes and you immediately straightened up, not expecting him to take your words so seriously. Sure, he often gave grunts or eye-rolls as a response to your questions, but now something felt off. Almost, as if you somehow insulted him.

"Okay", you say slowly, moving toward the end of the bed, "What are they then?”

The Uchiha gently placed the weapon back on his desk, before turning fully toward you. His dark eyes bore into yours as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"They are reminders", he says slowly, his fist clenching and unclenching as he moved his attention to his hands, "Of who I am... Of what I am fighting for."

You couldn't help but let out a loud snort, making him immediately look back at you with narrowed eyes. He should've expected that. For all the time he knew you, you often showed interesting and, sometimes, inappropriate reactions during serious situations. Were you always like that or did the drugs Orochimaru has put in you in the past somehow altered your brain chemistry, he didn't know, but he found it both irritating and somehow intriguing.

"What's so funny?", he asked flatly, crossing his arms before his chest.

Covering your mouth with your hand, you tried to stifle your laugh before your cleared your throat. Was it a smart idea to laugh at the second most powerful ninja here, after Orochimaru? Probably not, especially when you did it to his face. But Sasuke was Sasuke and you could not always take him seriously.

Not when he was taking himself SO seriously all the damn time.

"Reminders? Why, are you afraid you may forget your life goal or something? I thought you knew what you wanted pretty well by now."

With a roll of his eyes, he lifted one hand and flicked you against your forehead. You immediately winced and rubbed the sore spot, but your expression softened as you saw the edges of his mouth twitching just the slightest upward. "Idiot."

Without saying anything more he turned around, continuing his work on cleaning his sword. Once his back was facing you, you allowed the small grin that you've been holding back stretch across your lips. You stood up from the bed, making a few steps toward his seated figure before resting your head on his right shoulder.

"If that is going to make you feel better", you started, your eyes focused on the work his hands were doing, "I think your handwriting is pretty. If I was a terrorist or whatever type of people you kill in your free time, I would totally feel honoured to be killed by such a beautiful sword with such inspirational words written on it and-"

Before you can finish, he flicked your forehead once again, before moving his shoulder back and forth to get you off him.

"You seriously need to find a new hobby", he stated, not even looking at you, "Other than annoying me."

A playful laugh left your lips and his expression softened. As you were thinking of a smart comeback, he reached forward the bottom drawer of his desk before getting a small bundle of books, tied together with a red string. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched him hand them to you.

"What's this?", you asked unsure if you should take them or not.

"Books."

Sasuke turned his head to look at you while pushing the bundle closer to you.

"I can see that", you gave him a deadpan look, "But why are you giving them to me?"

Your question seemed to irritate him once again and he clicked his tongue, his head tilting to the side. You never seemed to stop asking questions, even when the answers were ovious.

"Because they are for you", he said before moving his eyes back to his desk. He felt your fingers brushing against his as you took the bundle from him, carefully untying the red string before you let out a small gasp.

In you hands were the first three tomes of "Handbook of the Trinket Maker". You saw one of the books in Kabuto's library once during one of your routine blood tests and the same evening you mentioned it to Sasuke, saying how you wished you could make something. As you were taken quite young by Orochimaru and the subjects here were not allowed access to the library room, you lacked both the knowledge and the skill of what is usually expected of someone your age. You learned a lot - sometimes by watching some of the ninjas train or going though Sasuke's notes - but it was not near as much as you wished to be.

But since that one time you have not mentioned it and you definitely did not expect for the Uchiha to remember and get you your own brand new books.

"Thank you... I..", you pressed the books against your chest, while looking down at him, "But why?"

Sasuke remained focused on his weapon, through his shoulders seemed more rigid than before.

"You said you wanted to learn. Hopefully it actually makes you find a new hobby", he grumbled under his breath, giving a last wipe of his blade, before putting it in its scabbard. You bit your tongue in order to hold back another smart comment, realising it must be way more awkward for him than for you. Sasuke Uchiha was not a man who did kind gestures and while his motivation did raise a question mark in your head, you decided not to question it.

With a soft smile, you landed a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it.

"Thank you", you said again, a warm feeling forming inside your chest. He hummed in response, before turning toward you and giving you one of his rare smirks.

"Just make sure you don't blow up the hideout", he said as he stood up, his body towering over yours. You rolled your eyes, but you could not stop the loud laugh leaving your mouth.

"No promises", you shrugged your shoulders as you started to walk backward toward the door. Once your hand was on the handle, your gave him one last look, your lips stretched in a grin.

"I will make sure to show you what I learned first thing tomorrow", you puffed your chest, the excitement of your new possessions and the opportunity to finally be able to do something buzzing inside your chest.

Sasuke only stared blankly at you, his usual stone faced mask back on.

"No need-"

"Yeah, yeah", it was your time to interrupt him now by waiving your hand in the air while you pushed the door open with your foot, "See you tomorrow, Sasuke! And don't forget... revenge, life, power... Uh... And whatever the rest of the words you need to remember are."

"Get out."

As you slipped out of the room, you gave him one last wink watching him shake his head at your antics. The door clicked shut and you hurried back to the subjects' room, your hands trembling with excitement that you finally had something yours. Something that can finally give your existence a meaning other than mindlessly walking around Orochimaru's base while waiting for the day he is going to get bored of you.

Once you were in the room, you hurried toward your bed before plopping on it and impatiently flipping open the first page. Your eyes immediately landed on detailed instructions and illustrations of various trinkets and even some weapons.

"Oh, I am totally going to blow this place up!"

cc artwork: Tobi Yong

[poetessurielle999]

"I still like you."

I feel ashamed of myself that I'd rather be torn to shreds.

The stars have barely shown up above the vast, blue skies but I know my day is over. I have spent hours doing absolutely nothing other than feeling disappointed of my own incompetency and embarrassment of my silly love.

I hoped the way I walk did not give an impression that I was trying to look for you carelessly, almost slipping on wet floors and bumping on walls.

I'm not supposed to write poetry about you nor should I bother writing letters. I should't do this if I tell myself I have to move on. But I've barely done that and I'm not so sure anymore. When I saw you, I forgot that I was excluded of everything else in my own life.

I am bothered by many things and now you completely captured every cell of my mind.

It's stupid because I know it leads to nowhere. Love is red and pink but that's all there is to it. There is no line that shapes what it could be. It's all blurry and mixed, smudged and poured on cement.

It's embarrassing how I told myself just a few days ago that I will do my best to avoid you. But now that you have said a simple, basic human greeting spelled in two words it's not even funny anymore—how you made me describe the word 'Hi' in a complicated way.

Because I feel hot despite wearing blue. I don't know—I'm afraid I wear my heart on my sleeve and it's making me lose my mind.

Before that though, I saw you earlier. With someone. It reminded me of something you told me. "I feel happier whenevet she talks to me." Yet here I am, despite telling myself it's not me, my mind seems to say he did like me because he's happier with me. But that's so shameful. It's never true. He smiles with many people, he's happier with those he vibes with—who am I to feel this way? Who am I to feel so special it hurts?

When will I finally be able to tell you, show everyone, that I'm better off without these feelings because I harbor none of it anymore? Spare me this pain of joy and comfort of suffering and let me be embarrassed of the things I've done six years ago instead.

A. "Urielle"